The new mandate: First, find them a home
Runell McKnight, 25, had no place to go with her two young children after she broke up with the man she was living with.
Today, both women have apartments of their own, with each a beneficiary of programs that aggressively promote the notion that, above all, the homeless need homes.
That may seem obvious. But only recently has federal policy pushed this approach, prompting some cities to revamp how they deal with homelessness.
In Philadelphia, this new philosophy has challenged how things are done and created tension between social-service agencies as well as more intense competition for federal funding.
The city, which spends $98 million in federal, state and city funds on homelessness, works with more than two dozen social-service agencies that promote what was once the standard in care: Bring the homeless into shelters, treat them, train them, and eventually move them into a permanent and affordable home.
But five years ago, the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development began placing a premium on programs that offer housing to the most chronically homeless: those living on the streets or rotating in and out of shelters for years.
Those people represent from 10 percent to 20 percent of the nation's overall homeless population, but consume 50 percent of the spending on homelessness, said Philip Mangano, executive director of the Interagency Council on Homelessness, the agency established by Congress to oversee federal initiatives for ending homelessness.
"They're the most visible, most vulnerable, most disabled, most likely to die, and most expensive," Mangano said.
In 2006, Philadelphia lost 40 percent of its HUD funding for homeless programs because its bid - made collectively for all social-service agencies - sought too much for services and not enough for permanent housing for the chronically homeless.
In December 2007, the city regained its funding after every homeless agency cut its budget for services by 25 percent. Reflecting the new national focus, the project that got the most federal funding was a planned facility for permanently housing 79 homeless inebriates or addicts living on the streets of Center City.
This new approach, known as "Housing First," is designed to quickly get people into their own homes - not shelters - and then to connect them with services depending on their needs.
Harmon, for instance, was placed in her own apartment without any requirement that she first be clean and sober. Horizon House, a Quaker-affiliated nonprofit that works with the mentally ill, subsidizes her rent and provides her with mental health services, counseling, and a caseworker.
McKnight needed only a one-time housing grant to help keep her out of a shelter.
Phyllis Ryan, executive director of the Philadelphia Committee to End Homelessness, which runs the SafeHome program that assisted McKnight, said homeless people are languishing for too long in shelters.
"The current system treats everyone like they need to be fixed," Ryan said. "People are in a housing crisis. Instead of going into shelters, they need to go into their own place and then be offered - but not required to use - services to build stability."
But others see the cuts in services as giving short shrift to homeless families. These critics say the larger issue is the lack of affordable housing for quickly moving people from shelters to independent living.
"We're sending a message that poverty, serious trauma, domestic violence, childhood developmental delays, and addiction can all be fixed with an apartment," said Gloria Guard, president of the People's Emergency Center in West Philadelphia, which has an annual budget of $6 million.
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Deborah Harmon's life unraveled in 1995, after she tried to burn down her home in Philadelphia and lost her job as an executive secretary.





