Will Homeboy Really Close It’s Doors?

I know I have been a broken record on this topic. But I honestly cannot imagine a Los Angeles without Homeboy.

So, with a brand new AP story [below] on Homeboy’s perilous circumstances, I thought it was time to do a quick numbers comparison that I have been meaning to do for some time.

When I return from Boston I will follow-up in more detail. But here are the broad strokes of the now very immanent probability that Homeboy will have to turn out the lights on all its services—and how it’s services compare to those that the city is funding.

First of all let me explain that Homeboy would not close its businesses-–Homeboy Silkscreen, Homeboy Bakery, the Homegirl Cafe et al—-as they are self supporting.

It is those free services that would have to go: tattoo removal, job training and placement, psychological counseling, legal services, GED classes, parenting classes, case management, and more.

More than even the services, Homeboy is a safe haven. A community. A rare place where men and women may redefine themselves. This is why approximately 8000 people from all over LA County came to the Homeboy Industries offices in 2008 in the hope of getting help to turn their lives around. The flow of clients has only become greater this year.

It is these services that are teetering at the abyss.

Now the AP has a story on the issue.

*****************************************************************************************************************

BUT BEFORE THE AP STORY, HERE ARE SOME FACTS TO CONSIDER:

Despite what the AP story suggests, the promised $500,000 from Villaraigosa’s office has yet to materialize. (It is supposed to come in September.) And the fact that the mayor’s office has bought t-shirts for its own funded gang programs from Homeboy Silkscreen, while certainly a nice gesture, is neither a grant nor a donation. It is a purchase. Ditto taking staffers to lunch at Homegirl Cafe.

And about that 8000 that Homeboy served last year: In July, the Reverend Jeff Carr, the head of the mayor’s gang program, gave his progress report to the city council. At that time, Carr told the council that, in the period between January and July, his 12 contracted gang intervention agencies had referred a total of 144 people to services similar to those that Homeboy provides—“case management, job search
assistance, educational, and financial counseling.”

I’ll say that number again: 144.

Since January to July is a half year, let’s cut Homeboys client volume in half, making it 4000 people served in a like time period.

So that is 4000 versus 144.

Yet, despite the fact that it is doling out millions in gang violence reduction money elsewhere, the city has not given its largest and most successful gang intervention agency a single penny.

Could somebody please explain the practical rationale here? I still cannot seem to grasp it.

And if someone knows of a way to see these numbers differently, please, by all means, tell me how I have it wrong.

But do it soon. Time is now running very short for Homeboy.

**************************************************************************************************************

Okay, enough lecturing from me. Here’s a chunk of the AP piece:

The Rev. Greg Boyle has walked through gunfire to quell gang violence, gotten sworn enemies to work peacefully together and redeemed hardcore criminals. But he never thought money would be the downfall of the nation’s largest anti-gang program.

After Friday, however, all bets are off at Homeboy Industries. The Roman Catholic priest’s 21-year-old effort to rehabilitate gang members by offering jobs, counseling and schooling, will run out of cash — the result of an economic recession that has ripped a $5 million hole in the nonprofit’s budget this year.

“It’s safe to say I’m losing sleep over this,” said the snowy-bearded Jesuit who won international acclaim and was chronicled in a book and documentary film. “I have 400 employees counting on me and 12,000 more who walk through our doors every year.”

In a modern building in Boyle Heights just east of downtown Los Angeles, Boyle provides help and hope in a one-stop-shop for getting lives back together.

Under his slogan “nothing stops a bullet like a job,” he hires reformed gang members in a bakery, silk screening shop, and cafe he founded to employ and train youths who crave a second chance but who are shunned by traditional employers.

He also provides classes to equip young adults for life such as driver’s education, parenting classes and high school equivalency and to help them deal with their violent pasts underscored by criminal records, drug addiction and post-traumatic stress disorder.

For many former gang members, Homeboy Industries is like walking into a home they never had.

Rosa Crespin said she desperately wanted to change her life after serving two years in juvenile lockup for stealing cars and assault and after having a baby in May. She applied fruitlessly for about 200 jobs, until she entered Homeboy and was hired to do clerical work.

“People will always judge you by what you were,” said the 18-year-old whose arms and fingers are dotted with tattoos — the symbols of gang affiliation. “Here, people understand where you’re coming from. It gives you a shoulder to lean on that you can do it. People walk out changed.”

Boyle’s combination of compassion, practical skills and rules — employees are subject to random drug tests — has made his program a model for gang intervention across the country and abroad.

Homeboy is one of few agencies that have proven success with a population traditionally difficult to reach, said Beatriz Solis, director of healthy communities for The California Endowment, which recently gave Homeboy $500,000 for mental health programs and has donated to the nonprofit since 1999.

But this year Homeboy started to run into financial trouble — contributions from foundations and corporations dried up, government contracts were slashed in half, and state budget woes made collecting bills for past contracts impossible, including a $310,000 tab owed by the Division of Juvenile Justice for mentoring young parolees, said Mona Hobson, director of development.

The nonprofit, which carries a top, four-star ranking from nonprofit analyst Charity Navigator, has lost about 40 percent of its $9 million annual budget.

Boyle, who is fighting leukemia, has managed to push Homeboy from payroll to payroll the last few months — $350,000 every two weeks for salaries and bills. He’s gathered $200,000 through Web site donations, put Homeboy merchandise online to ramp up sales, frozen new hiring and extended cafe hours to serve dinner on weekends.

Hobson has reached out to foundations and corporations she hasn’t tapped before and that’s resulted in a trickle of contributions.

But Homeboy is now hitting a dead end.

Read the rest.