This is the first in a three-part series on homelessness in Montana.
When winter approaches, the streets turn cold, and these kids turn to each other. Few of them have jobs and fewer yet have stable homes. They are among legions of homeless – or at least precariously sheltered – youths across Montana.
Their numbers are hard to determine, as they are more likely to resist surveys than older homeless and less likely to take full advantage of available services, which would help locate them. They are, in nearly every regard, off the radar. They are Montana’s invisible youth.
But here in Kalispell they are being found, and Shawn Stipe is leading the charge. Stipe, owner of the Dragons Den tattoo shop in downtown Kalispell, has taken several dozen at-risk teens and young adults under his wing, providing a place to hang out at night and offering job counseling. He is also introducing them to local service providers.
On any given day, Stipe said there are up to 50 or more of these drifters at Woodland Park in Kalispell. At night, they hang out near the Sawbuck Saloon and Casino because they say the police ran them off from their old hangout on the corner of Third and Main streets.
A few have homes and family members they trust, but most view their fellow group members as their true family and lifeline. And now with Stipe, they have a new reason for hope.
“He’s our dad,” said Karrolyn Robinson, 19. “He’s our saving grace.”
Robinson’s boyfriend, 21-year-old Robert Lake, corrects her: “Call him a saint.”
In August, Stipe opened up a nightclub on U.S. Highway 2. His plan is to add a restaurant and another branch of his tattoo shop at the same location within the month. While the club’s admission fee is $5, more than what many of his patrons can afford, Stipe allows the youths in for free if they help set up and take down the club each Friday and Saturday night. It gives them a safe place to go on weekends, instead of wandering the streets and drawing the interest of police.
Stipe first became aware of the group – which used to call itself the Third and Main Street Kids and now goes by the name of the K-Town Saints – through a friend. Then when Stipe opened the club, he reached out to them. The philosophy behind his benevolence is basic: “Nobody else is doing it and I’m not going to put up with it.”
“Honestly, I don’t think anybody in the community has stood up to help them,” Stipe said. “So they’re latching on to the first one who does.”
Tracking Montana’s homeless population is an inexact science. When it comes to minors and young adults, the accuracy really plummets. Sherri Downing, a coordinator with the Montana Council on Homelessness, said many young homeless are mobile couch surfers, which is the case for most of the K-Town Saints. Some don’t consider themselves homeless, even if they are by definition. Downing said a person is homeless if he or she doesn’t have a “safe, stable nighttime address.”
Also, teenage drifters often bounce in and out of foster care, are runaways or have gotten thrown out of their homes. This makes it hard to keep track of them. Annual homeless surveys are administered in Montana under a U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development mandate that requires the count to take place on a single day. Combining the inefficiency of a one-day survey with the inherent difficulties of counting young homeless, Downing said available statistics are hardly representative of the true population.
“Probably that’s the tip of the iceberg,” Downing said.
Bobb Buzzas, a coordinator with the Montana Continuum of Care Coalition, said the most focused effort to count the state’s homeless youth occurred between 2003 and 2007. A program called Runaway and Homeless Youth tracked this elusive demographic in communities throughout the state.
The findings, he said, shocked local officials – there were far more young drifters than anybody could have guessed. Using a HUD formula, the study estimated there were 603 homeless between the ages of 16-21 in 2007, which again was considered a significant undercount.
Shelters and transitional living providers, as well as other services, help calculate statistics. In the Flathead, there is the Samaritan House and A Ray of Hope, as well as the emergency shelter Flathead Youth Home. But they fill up fast and aren’t permanent solutions. Also, younger folks often prefer to stay mobile and crash with friends. And some minors are scared of getting placed in a group home, Buzzas said.
“We have an awful lot of hidden homeless, particularly through the youth,” Buzzas said.
On a recent Wednesday, Stipe invited officials from the Flathead Family Planning Clinic to his tattoo shop to hold a seminar discussing personal health care, with an emphasis on sexual education. About 30 of the K-Town Saints showed up. Because of the large turnout and the enthusiasm from those in attendance, there are now other weekly meetings planned.
Jennifer MacFarlane, a family planning counselor with the clinic, said she was encouraged – if not caught unaware – by the turnout, but stressed that her services are only one drop in the bucket. The youths need stability in other areas of their lives to maximize the full potential of family planning efforts. Several in attendance had kids or were pregnant.
“Getting a roof over their heads – getting food – is their main priority, not how to put a condom on,” MacFarlane said.
Stipe plans to work with a variety of agencies. In the meantime, he’s holding daily job counseling sessions for the K-Town Saints, teaching them fundamentals such as how to complete a resume and how to prepare for a job interview. He reminds them to take out their piercings and act professionally in front of employers. Stipe also wants to employ them himself when possible – there will be a number of odd jobs available when construction begins on his restaurant and shop.
Given the opportunity and the guidance, Stipe said, there’s nothing these youngsters want more than to improve their lives.
“They’re committed to this,” Stipe said.
Without exception, each member of the K-Town Saints refers to the group as “family.” They spend nearly all of their time together, day and night. Many have little to no relationship with their biological families. Some are drifters from out of state, while others are local kids trying to navigate a harsh world. Lake, who migrated here several years ago from Washington, echoes a common sentiment within the group: “Without them, I have nothing.”
Several years ago, Lake found himself with nothing to show for two years of college and a stint in the U.S. Coast Guard. He packed up his bags and moved to the Flathead, where he found a job in Whitefish. But he was fired and thrust into the streets, a lost soul sleeping on snow banks in a T-shirt and shorts. This is how the K-Town Saints found him – they recognized one of their own. Between them, they usually manage to find enough couches or floors to pass the nights.
“If it wasn’t for this family, I would be dead,” Lake said.
Drugs and drinking are not allowed at Stipe’s club. Also, Stipe said there is “no peer pressure, no teasing and no harassing.” A DJ plays electronic and hip-hop music deep into the night and the kids dance and flirt like any other group of young adults. This setting offers a big first step toward stability, but Stipe knows there’s much more to be done.
But his efforts have at least brought the K-Town Saints to the attention of local agencies. While many in the group already are on food stamps and Medicaid, other available services aren’t being used. Lil Dupree of the Community Action Partnership in Kalispell said she is shocked by how many are in the group and said her agency hasn’t “seen the majority of them.” But she hopes that changes.
“We are here to help,” Dupree said. “Basically what we would want to see from someone coming in is a desire to build their own lives. We would be happy, really happy, to see them walk through our door.”