Moving from condemned apartments brings uncertainty for some

WEST FRANKFORT, Ill. (AP) - When Donald Childers hears a clatter and scratch from the ceiling of his apartment, he has to tell himself it's likely just a squirrel running along the roof, not mice scuttling above his head.

Childers was among the dozen or so residents forced to relocate in November from 101 W. Main Street in West Frankfort after a court deemed the building uninhabitable and ordered it to be torn down. The city had been in a legal battle with landlord John Mize for several years about its condition. Mize declined to comment for this story.

Inside the ramshackle apartment building, mice and other animals ran freely from one room to another, floors bowed or caved in place, and plumbing leaked, causing ceiling tiles to collapse and sometimes filling units with sewage odor. The heating system in parts of the building consisted of a network of electric space heaters.

After the city gave a one-week notice to occupants to vacate the building, churches and community organizations stepped in to help relocate residents.

Childers lived at 101 W. Main St. off and on for more than 20 years. Now, he stays on the second floor of the Shaw apartment building in West Frankfort. From the recliner placed in his living room, facing the T.V. showing Charles Bronson in 'œThe White Buffalo,'ť Childers can look and see his old home just a block or two away. He said he sometimes feels like he's going to wake up and be back in Apartment 8.

His new digs are a stark contrast to the conditions at 101 W. Main St., which he described as 'œmisery.'ť He has a laundry facility in his apartment, and he can leave dishes in the sink without fear of attracting bugs and rodents. He can take his eye off his coffee cup without worrying he'll find a roach floating in it when he comes back to it.

'œI'm still not used to this place,'ť he told a Southern Illinoisan reporter on a recent visit. He was terrified when he saw the order to vacate, but said the community support he received was invaluable.

'œIf it wasn't for people helping me out, I wouldn't have been able to do this,'ť Childers said.

On such short notice, community organizers like Connie Howard sprang into action to help residents plan for their next steps. Howard worked with local community action agency Crosswalk to navigate programs that could provide rent assistance - this meant some help with things like deposits or first month's rent for approved rentals.

Howard also organized donations of household goods like beds and sheets - residents were told to leave much of their belongings behind to reduce the risk of bringing an infestation of rodents or bugs with them to their new home.

Howard had just started her Trinity Methodist ministry for the poor and housing insecure weeks before the announcement that residents at 101 W. Main had to go - she felt this was divine timing. But she said since her team worked to help residents, her eyes have been opened wide.

'œI think we have been shocked at the amount of need,'ť she said, adding that substandard low-income housing and housing insecurity aren't just local to West Frankfort.

West Frankfort Mayor Tom Jordan said he was so proud of the way his community stepped up to help, but echoed Howard's thoughts. He said the problem of affordable, low-income housing has struck West Frankfort hard. He said programs like Section 8 housing and other government-assistance programs seem to almost come with a contractual obligation to stay poor.

Jordan said he sees time and again people who might want to find work or dig themselves out, but can't because of what they could lose. He said state guidelines about how much a person can make to qualify for food or medical aid can keep people where they are.

'œHow do we punish people who want to work more?'ť he said. The tightrope act of balancing assistance and incentive is one Jordan said he didn't know how to solve.

But what was clear for Jordan, and others, is that a person shouldn't have to lower their expectations of humane living conditions just because they earn less.

Joe Staley said self-worth was like currency when low- and fixed-income people looked for housing. It's how living in a place like 101 W. Main St. was manageable.

'œYou gave that up just to live there,'ť he said.

Staley was one of the residents moved out of 101 W. Main St. in November. He lived upstairs for seven years with his cat in a cramped one-bedroom apartment. The window above his bed let water in whenever it rained, and he heated his apartment with his gas stove. His cat got fat on mice, he said.

Staley now lives in a tidy apartment behind the hospital in Benton. He said the place is quiet and, like Childers, said small things have been liberating. Leaving fruit on the counter without worrying about pests has been huge, as has been having his own shower. When he lived in West Frankfort, he had to share a bathroom and shower with others living on his floor.

Possibly the most meaningful change came at Christmas. Staley said he had his children and grandchildren to his home to celebrate the holiday. Ten people gathered with him.

'œ(It was) the first time all of them have been together,'ť he said. He said the party might have gotten a little loud, but his neighbors didn't seem to mind. In fact, the only neighbor Staley said he'd met came to bring him Christmas dinner.

Not everyone landed as well as Childers and Staley. Howard said some refused help from the church and Crosswalk. Some had rental histories that proved too much for local landlords, while others had found options that fell outside the scope of Crosswalk's grant funding.

Wanda Stein Gruby is currently staying with her sister in West Frankfort, and isn't feeling good about it. She came to stay here because the deal she struck with a friend fell apart.

Stein Gruby in November moved in with friends who were charging her $150 a month to sleep on their couch - other friends were renting the other rooms. But Stein Gruby said the conditions were unbearable for her. Constant arguing, police calls and unclean conditions sent her to the emergency room from stress.

She didn't want to speak ill of her friends, but said she felt like they had taken advantage of her situation. Still, she said, 'œit was nice enough of them to give me a place,'ť but she wishes she had taken Crosswalk up on its offer of rental assistance.

Stein Gruby said she's now on a lot of antidepressants and has no idea what her future holds.

'œI'm lost. I really don't know what I'm going to do,'ť she said. She said she feels like she has fallen into her family's lap at a time when they should be enjoying themselves.

No matter what she says, though, her family is happy to have her. Jonathan Sheckles is Stein Gruby's brother-in-law, and said he didn't like the place she had gone to stay, and added that taking her in wasn't a burden.

'œI'd rather her be here than out on the streets,'ť he said.

With all the uncertainty facing her, Stein Gruby said it's been hard for her to let her apartment at 101 W. Main St. go.

'œIt may sound crazy, but I miss that place,'ť she said.

For the others, the struggles of living on little income are still very real. But they are at least facing them from the comfort of a safe, clean place to live.

Staley couldn't come up with too many downsides about where he's staying now. But one did stick out, though it was more a complaint from his cat - she misses the mice.

'œI'm kind of happy to see them go,'ť Staley said.

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Source: The (Carbondale) Southern Illinoisan, https://bit.ly/37EHBA5