Recovering from recovery
City-funded drug rehab program operated a party house

By A.C. Thompson

Note to the health department: Perhaps you should take a good, long look at some of the drug rehab programs getting city money. If William Scott Oliver's story is any indication, at least one of them, Baker Places Inc., could use a little scrutiny.

Oliver spent nine months in a Baker Places residential program for people dealing with both HIV and drug addiction, and his observations, first reported in the Bay Area Reporter, are damning.

Located in a run-down apartment building at 785 San Jose Ave., the program shut down Feb. 1, a few months after Oliver made a detailed complaint to the San Francisco Department of Public Health.

Oliver, 41, said he had trouble with the program – which was home to 15 people – from day one. When he moved into the house in April 2003, he discovered a handgun hidden underneath the mattress in his bedroom. Apparently, Baker staffers weren't overly concerned about it.

"You found a gun under your bed," a Baker manager acknowledged in a letter to Oliver, which the Bay Guardian obtained. "Your case manager collected the gun and brought it to her supervisor. The gun was taken to the police station the same day by the program director. We had considered the issue closed as of that day and saw no need for any further reporting."

Oliver said the gun was a portent of chaos to come. He claims methamphetamine use was rampant in the building. "One guy had been using for a year and a half, and they never piss-tested him," griped Oliver, who said at one point his flatmate was big on bringing home hookers and street tweakers. Oliver got so freaked out that he rented a motel room in the Castro for a while.

For Oliver, who survives on $13,000 annually in federal disability assistance, the program posed other challenges. He says Project Open Hand, a group that provides free meals for the indigent and ailing, refused to deliver to the house because the door buzzers didn't work.

In Baker's letter to Oliver, the nonprofit blamed the doorbell problem on the building's owner. The program also chastised Oliver for repainting the flat without the permission of management.

But Baker copped to many of his allegations, saying, "We were fully aware of the problems that the clients have been having in regards to substance abuse and unauthorized guests, in part because of your communication. It was unfortunate that you had to experience such a hellacious time with them."

Oliver's odyssey hit a turning point in mid November when his roommate, who'd been shooting speed for more than a month, went on a six-day speed binge. "He said, 'I've been using, and I need your help,' " recalled Oliver, who took his roomie to see a Baker counselor. That counselor, according to Oliver, refused to place the cranked-out roommate in a detox facility.

Incensed, Oliver outlined the situation in a formal grievance filed with the health department, which sent him a letter Nov. 13 saying it had received his complaint.

Shortly thereafter, Oliver got word that Baker, a $14 million operation with facilities all over town, would be shutting down the program – and that he would have to find a new place to live by Feb. 1. In a one-sentence letter sent in late December, Baker stated, "You will be required to secure alternate housing and vacate."

Baker, not surprisingly, paints a very different picture than Oliver does. While medical confidentiality rules bar Baker officials from commenting directly on the situation, executive director Jonathan Vernick did speak to the broader issues Oliver raised.

Vernick said rent control laws make it difficult to boot residents who are running amok. "There's not much we can do about it," he said. "We can't say, 'You have to leave right now.' So we have to work with them."

The San Jose Avenue program, he explained, was designed to be short-term, with residents typically staying for 8 to 10 months. When residents are ready to move on, "we always spend time and effort and energy helping them find suitable housing," he said.

Baker's exodus from San Jose Avenue had nothing to do with Oliver's complaint, according to Vernick, who said, "We left that building because of difficulties with the management company that ran the building."

Over at the health department, spokesperson Eileen Shields also said that the shutdown is apparently unrelated to Oliver's grievance and that her department never ended up inspecting the facility.

At this point Oliver is angry Baker didn't offer him a room in one of the nonprofit's other – hopefully less hectic – houses, since he isn't having any luck finding another apartment renting for $365 a month. His boyfriend, Tom Hogendijk, figures Baker management is retaliating against Oliver for blowing the whistle. "This man has been a model resident and client of the program, and he's been asked to leave," Hogendijk said.

"We take all grievances seriously and respond seriously," Vernick replied. "We never take any retaliatory action against our clients."

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