Angels
House
© 2007 by Tony Hearn
Chapter Seven
All went as it should at The Open Door through the
holiday season and into the early Spring. I was becoming a bit lonely. On
occasion the volunteers to cook and serve the daily meal, except on Sundays, failed
to show up. My tennis shoes, at that time, would go into overdrive. I had the
system down fairly well. I would press a homeless person I knew and trusted to
help me through the meal and to clean up afterwards, always a chore,
particularly on Saturdays when we served the meal at noon. But we always made
it through somehow.
During February of 1983, I got a kidney stone. Very
painful, but I was determined not to miss a meal. I gritted my teeth, and I
discovered a helpful therapy. I found the pain eased when I would run up and
down a set of stairs leading from the kitchen down to the gymnasium. It worked to help me pass the diamond in the
rough! One late afternoon, I had to go! To the restroom, I mean. And then the
damn thing came out and landed in the urinal. I grabbed it! It was my trophy! I
did have a real diamond ring, given to me by Lelise Folse in the summer of 1982
when I met here at Barton Springs. She was a beautiful young lady who became a
movie actress appearing in "The Terms of Endearment" after she left
Austin and arrived in Hollywood. But, sadly, the ring was among the things that
were stolen in the burglary at Angels House. She and I used to fool around when
I wasn't cooking and serving at The Open Door. Perhaps more on her later.
Life was considerably better after the passage of
the kidney stone – that is, until a tooth fell out. Apparently, the glue didn't
hold the cap on a bicuspid. But a dentist agreed to glue it back for me, pro
bono. I still have it in my mouth though the surrounding natural teeth have
fallen out. I was always suspicious of the work done on my teeth by that
dentist whose office was in the Nix Medical Building in downtown San Antonio.
He had placed the original cap in my mouth. He charged me $40 in 1981 for his
faulty work. He used a cap a size larger than belonged there. You've got to
watch some people!
I'm sure I can remember other events during the
Winter and Spring of 1982-3. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to
recruit volunteers to cook and serve the meals, but I was paying my bills with
the small sum I was receiving monthly. I was also making many friends with
people on the street, the chronic homeless, as I called them. I started a
homeless bible study class. We met in a little area in an alcove above the gym.
I introduced a new feature along about March. I told the men that I had large,
sturdy plastic bags, the kind that served as liners for garbage cans.
One morning, I announced to the group who gathered
for free coffee and sweet rolls, "I'll promise anyone who fills up one of
these with litter from the streets around Saint David's Church that I'll take
care of his needs for the night!"
I had no takers on my promise. But one young man who
was homeless raised his hand. "I'll do it for nothing!" he said.
"Well," I said, "God will bless
you!" The other men jeered good-naturedly. The young man took the plastic
bag and left. The group continued to sit around drinking coffee and eating
donuts.
Not an hour had passed when all of a sudden the young
man was back in the alcove. He was out of breath.
"Brother Tony!" he said, "You won't
believe what just happened!"
"Try me!" I responded.
"Well, I was out picking up litter along Brazos
Street and a man in a business suit came up to me. He told me he saw me
gathering the trash and putting it in the bag like you asked me to do." he
said.
"Well, the man asked me my name. I told him,
and the man told me I looked like a person who was willing to work," the
young man continued.
"Well, the man offered me a job to take care of
his ranch up in the Hill Country. He said he'd pay me if I would work like I
was picking up the litter. He said he'd give me room and board plus money every
week." The young man was almost jumping up and down. "He's to meet me
back here at 4:30 this afternoon. He'll take me to my new job!"
I watched the other men taking in all the young man
said. The room became very quiet.
"Can I have another bag? I've already filled
this one!" He held out the bag. I took it and gave him another.
"I'll see you at 4 p.m. Can I wash up in the
restroom in the gym?" he asked.
"Be my guest!" I said. "I'll even
give you a new pair of jeans, work shoes, socks, and shirt and jacket.
"You've made my day!"
I did lead a number of the homeless who were regulars
at The Open Door on expeditions to pick up litter around downtown. They were
more like "forced marches!" Saint David's was a block off the 6th
Street Scene. Glass beer bottles adorned the alleys and sidewalks after a night
on 6th Street. Aluminum cans were never a problem. There were poor persons who
collected them for their redemption value. These people still came for a free
meal at The Open Door. Several times we had a problem when someone stole a sack
of cans out of a collector's shopping cart. We tried not to call the Austin
Police Department when we had trouble. It became an incident.
Such incidents, however, did get reported to the
rector of Saint David's Church. I had been told to keep him informed of
everything that went on in or around the gym, particularly on the church
property. Staff at Saint David's attended a daily meeting. I went as the
director of homeless services. I heard that some members were complaining about
the homeless. An elderly parishioner stepped in a pile of human feces one night
when she came to the church to attend a Ladies' Altar Guild meeting. It – news
of the incident – was spread all over the church – not the feces. But it was a
fact that too many homeless had begun to use the church property as the toilet
of choice when the building was locked down after The Open Door closed for the
night.
The initial enthusiasm among the church members
began to wane as the excrement increased. The building did take on the odor of
holiness. Rev. Bethell asked me to speak to those who attended the free meal.
"Please ask them to leave the property immediately," he told me. I
could find no fault with such a request. I began to enforce it. Several
homeless were told they were uninvited to the evening meal. By mid-May, it was
only a matter of days until The Open Door was asked to find another location. I
began a search in earnest for other premises. Our time at Saint David's was
coming to an end.