Home |  Elder Rights |  Health |  Pension Watch |  Rural Aging |  Armed Conflict |  Aging Watch at the UN  

  SEARCH SUBSCRIBE  
 

Mission  |  Contact Us  |  Internships  |    

        

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 





Aging Ex-Cons Find a Home

By Jason B. Johnson, San Francisco Chronicle

June 15, 2004



Next to the Metropolitan Baptist Church in San Francisco's Bayview neighborhood is a home for older men who have spent most of their adult lives behind bars for crimes like attempted murder, drug dealing and robbery. 

Now well into their 50s, some of them senior citizens, these five residents find themselves struggling to start over again. In this three- bedroom apartment on Newcomb Avenue, they abide by a list of strict rules -- no smoking, no visitors after 10 p.m., and a cleaning schedule. They also get counseling and take part in a weekly support group. 

The residential program began four months ago, the latest service offered under the three-year-old Bayview-Hunters Point Multipurpose Senior Center Ex- Offenders Program. Organizers select residents for the program from current and former inmates who have used their services. Officials believe it is the first residential program of its kind in the nation. 

The Bayview may not seem like the best place to move these former inmates back into society. The neighborhood has seen a recent spike in violence, and there is easy access to drugs. But it is also where these men grew up and where many of their families still live. 

"These guys, they're trying to get their lives back together," said outreach worker Kenneth Rogers. 

By the time Herman Alexander, 55, moved to San Francisco from Atlanta in the mid-1980s, he'd already served six years in the Georgia state penal system for armed robbery, aggravated assault, theft and attempted murder. 

Once here, he figured out how to rob BART machines of their tickets, which he then sold to commuters at a discount. That offense landed him behind bars several times for stints ranging from six months to a year. 

Alexander has been out of prison since 1997, but has had trouble keeping a permanent home, due in part to a drug problem. He's been clean for seven months, and has been living at the house since March. 

Sitting in a kitchen filled with bulk-size boxes of cereal, Alexander looks out a window onto a nearby street corner where a slender young man with a baseball cap appears to be selling drugs. 

"I'm in the war zone every day," Alexander said. "I see it every day, people getting killed, people smoking dope." 

Alexander used crack for 12 years. At his lowest point, he was little more than skin and bones sprawled in an alleyway at Fifth and Bryant streets with a crack pipe hanging from his mouth. 

Alexander said the larger society has no idea how destructive drugs have been to communities like the Bayview. 

"It makes you a zombie," Alexander said. "You lose your family, you lose your dignity." 

Drug addiction is what all the residents in this home have in common, and it's one of the main obstacles they must conquer to turn their lives around, residents and program officials said. 

Freddy Kidd, 54, grew up in San Francisco, raised by his father. His brother is a San Francisco police officer whom he sees often. 

Kidd was 23 the first time he went to prison on a drug-possession charge. He swore he'd never go back, but soon was dealing heroin and cocaine to feed his drug habit. He's served time in state prisons at San Quentin, Folsom and Tracy. 

Kidd said he was an athlete in high school and played semipro baseball. One day a friend offered him some heroin. He snorted it, threw up, then felt the high kick in. 

He spent the next 30 years chasing that initial high. 

"And I never did get that feeling again," Kidd said. "It never felt as good as it did that time." 

Kidd, who has been clean for six years, did about 14 years behind bars. Most of his days in prison were spent lifting weights and being part of a singing group. 

"We done seen and done it all," Kidd said of himself and his housemates. 

Organizers of the ex-offender program have kept in touch with about 300 former inmates age 50 and older who have used their services over the past two years, keeping track of what they are doing and where they are. They also continue to provide clothing and hygiene products for some of them. 

The former inmates in the program all come from San Francisco, but have done time in county jails and state prisons. 

Program organizers realized the need for housing after seeing how many of their clients were struggling with homelessness. 

"(At shelters) they get their stuff stolen because they're seniors; they get picked on because they're seniors," said program director Frank Williams. 

In 2003, San Francisco's county jails held 1,206 male offenders age 56 and over, and 389 female offenders age 51 and over. 

And data released last April showed there were more than 13,000 prisoners statewide age 50 and older in state prisons. 

At a recent support group meeting, ex-offenders sat around a table at the center, trading stories about their lives. 

"Man, there are so many traps out there for a man who's been away so long, " said Stephen Young, 63. 

Ulysse Bill, 72, a volunteer counselor, told the group it was never too late to change. Bill was in and out of jail from 1952 to 1995. At age 65, he finally overcame his addiction (he declined to say what he was addicted to), went to City College of San Francisco, and now works with other addicts. 

"I didn't turn around till I was 65 years old," Bill said in a deep, gravelly voice. 
At its second annual In the Trenches Awards ceremony organized by the center's ex-offender program in July, officials plan to recognize 30 ex- offenders who have changed their lives and become productive members of society. 

Program and church officials are looking to expand the program by acquiring and turning a nearby six-unit building into housing for ex-offenders, said the Rev. Shad Riddick. 

When Riddick first heard about the need for housing, he offered the apartment units owned by his church, despite some skepticism among the congregation at having hardened criminals living next door. 

"I got biblical with them," Riddick said with a smile. "I said the Lord would say, 

'I was outdoors and you did not shelter me.' And I didn't want to be standing before the Lord and hear him say that." 



Copyright © Global Action on Aging
Terms of Use  |  Privacy Policy  |  Contact Us