Abstract
Duane Drotar shares his experience growing up in the Buckeye-Woodland neighborhood, then living on the Near West Side for many years. Drotar highlights how the Near West Side was an example of "richness" in terms of offering a setting for being in community with people of diverse backgrounds. Drotar's background in psychology and theology has shaped his role as an outreach worker in various agencies and community non-profits throughout the years in the Cleveland area. He discusses his choice to live next door to St. Herman's House of Hospitality (Franklin Boulevard and West 44th Street), which provided meals and overnight lodging for homeless people and resisted efforts by some in the community to close it down. Drotar also shares his work as director of the 2100 Lakeside Men's Shelter as well as with other organizations and initiatives to support and empower the homeless.
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Interviewee
Drotar, Duane (interviewee)
Interviewer
White, Bali (interviewer)
Project
Near West Side Housing Activism
Date
7-17-2024
Document Type
Oral History
Duration
84 minutes
Recommended Citation
"Duane Drotar interview, 17 July 2024" (2024). Cleveland Regional Oral History Collection. Interview 544010.
https://engagedscholarship.csuohio.edu/crohc000/1275
Transcript
Bali White [00:00:02] Going to get my bearings. And we’re live. Hi, everybody. It’s Bali White here with the Cleveland Regional Oral History Project. Today I’m here with Duane Drotar at Bishop Cosgrove Center. It is July 17, 2024. First and foremost, how are you?
Duane Drotar [00:00:16] I’m good. Good to be with you, Bali.
Bali White [00:00:18] I’m glad to have you. So, could you introduce yourself, kind of when and where you were born?
Duane Drotar [00:00:25] So, my name’s Duane Drotar. I was born in 1952, which means that I’m 72, and I grew up in Cleveland, Ohio, in the Buckeye-Woodland neighborhood, and went to St. Benedict’s Parish and School. And that was a real interesting time. It was back when Cleveland was really segregated everywhere. And so, you know, the Hungarians were here, the Slovaks were here, the Italians were here, Blacks were here, the Polish were here, you know. And so it was a time where people typically stayed in their own neighborhoods and ate their own food and spoke their, you know, the language of, you know, mostly from eastern European country that they came from really intact, you know, Baby Boom kind of time. And so the church I belonged to was provided an incredible amount of activities for kids. So it was a real rich, rich period of my life. Played basketball, football, baseball, learned how to play tennis, went on a swim team, you know, I mean, cross country. So sports was a big, big part. And many of the teams that I played on won the city championship. And so it was like the server, Boy Scout, Cub Scout, sang in a choir. So anything that got me out of the house, you know, and it was at a time where you can leave on your bike in the morning and come back at night, you know, the only requirement was to get home before dark, you know, so real rich. And then I ended up, instead of going to Benedictine, which was only a couple blocks from my house, I ended up going to St. Ignatius High School. And, you know, so that was a little bit more of the same. You know, I played city championship basketball team there and met a lot of good friends, but I was one of the only people from the city, actually, that went to the school there. And then from Ignatius, I ended up going down to Cincinnati, Ohio, and went to school at Xavier. And that was, really, for me, provided a turning point, being away from home, the community that the school provided, and the need to work to get through school. I did play basketball there for a year, and then inevitably took six years to graduate and degrees in psychology and theology because of the work. And the work took me into the beginnings of, really, community work. For me, even though I had experienced what it was like to live in a vibrant community, you know, and had a lot to do with kind of meeting the, you know, the needs that I had that, you know, weren’t being met at home or whatever. So I moved- I was the only kind of White person that moved into this black community that, and I became a teacher, a coach, and I ran a recreation center and start working in more of the social work kind of areas of my life. You know, kids coming out of jail, methadone clinics, you know, a lot of different social service stuff started in Cincinnati. Then I moved back to Cleveland because my mother had died, my father had a stroke, and I had two brothers that were both disabled in their early twenties. And I had a sister, so there was four of us kids, and my sister was a nurse. And coming up, I spent so much time outside the house, I didn’t really grow in really close-knit relationships with my brothers and sisters. I mean, we ate all the time, and we did this, but it wasn’t that. So I decided to come back to Cleveland, and I initially came back because of an offer to coach and to run a retreat program at St. Ignatius High School, so on the Near West Side. And so that’s what got me to move when I first moved into the Near West Side itself. So, religious background, I was, you know, raised as a Catholic serving mass. And then, you know, actually, when I was young, I ended up serving mass every morning because that was back when every priest had to say a mass. And there was Abbey, St. Andrew’s Abbey, which is a Benedictine monastery close to my life. And most of the priests there taught, you know, or worked at Benedictine High School as part of their background. So I ended up being kind of an outreach worker for this church. So real quickly in my early twenties, I became familiar with- Back then there weren’t many shelters. There wasn’t many treatment programs. The only treatment program, there was only two in Cincinnati at the time, and one was run by this outfit called the Talbert House. And it was kind of a methadone program because back then, there was a lot of heroin and narcotics on the streets, and so a lot of the mental health stuff was only happening at the mental state hospital. There wasn’t a lot of the community supports that are available now for, it was all institutionalized back then. It was just the beginnings of releasing people from the institutions. Same thing with people coming out of jail. There was some programs that were just started where you offer per diem for kids that couldn’t give back to their families and to help them with resettling and jobs and that. So Cincinnati was like that. I spent a lot of time, some time teaching and coaching, but. And then inevitably, I purchased a home, and it was called- It was on Jonathan Avenue, close to I work, but in Evanston, Walnut Hills area, and started a Catholic Worker House. You know, it had eight bedrooms. And so there was a mixture of folks in that house that, you know, were coming out of treatment or coming out of jail or coming out of the institutions, along with some other folks who were like-minded and wanted to live that more simple life of hospitality and service.
Bali White [00:07:55] So was this house, this Catholic Worker House, was it a part of the Cleveland Catholic Worker Community?
Duane Drotar [00:08:00] No, this was actually in Cincinnati. And at the time, there was only one other. The only other Catholic Worker group did not. They were doing some feeding down in the Over-the-Rhine area, and they had some overnight stuff in a small house. But I knew the people that ran it went down there. But this was just kind of wasn’t really associated with the Catholic Worker movement locally. You know, when I did come back to Cleveland, there wasn’t a Catholic Worker in Cleveland at the time. But since I was head of the retreat program over St. Ignatius, I took about nine kids for a Christmas retreat and went to Joseph’s Home, Joseph’s House and Mary’s House, and visited a Catholic Worker in New York and got some sense of what they were doing there. There was a lot of other things that were part of that retreat. We lived in the Bowery and went into Harlem, and, you know, it was kind of a retreat. But back in early ’84, 1984, there was a group of us that got together and explored the idea of setting up a Catholic Worker House here in Cleveland. Or to just look at supporting each other’s desire to live nonviolently in the world. And there were some of us that had been practicing tax resistance and have been, you know, part of some of the sit-ins and demonstrations, you know, through that era of the seventies and eighties. And so the Catholic Worker decided to- There was probably, inevitably there was, you know, I don’t know, around 16 people that got interested in exploring this possibility. And there was a storefront, actually, on Lorain that at the time had just closed as a food co-op. And so we decided to- Some of us were working in the area. At the time I was working as an outreach worker. You know, there’s a Westside Catholic Center you might have heard about, and there was Cleveland Healthcare for the Homeless provided some connection with people that were outside. And so some of us, because we were working in those agencies, went to the Catholic Worker and invited them to consider the possibility of opening up the storefront for hospitalities because there was no overflow shelters in Cleveland at the time, and the ones that did exist were full. So some people were just kind of caught fending for themselves outside. So there turned out to be, you know, 16 of us, and everybody signed up. And one of the individuals that were part of that kind of assigned two people per night to open up, you know, this facility. And so it was on- Actually happened on my birthday, March 19, you know, 1985, the Catholic Worker opened up the first overflow storefront in Cleveland. And so I was paired with somebody that night, as everybody else was paired. And it turns out that the person I was paired with inevitably became my wife. And so- And then we ended up having three children and then living in the Near West Side for their whole growing up years. For me, they lived there from. I moved in, in 1983 and just didn’t move out until recently to do retreat work with homeless people. So that was kind of the beginnings of that journey.
Bali White [00:12:28] So actually, could you describe what the Near West Side looked like upon your arrival at that time, when you moved there?
Duane Drotar [00:12:35] Sure. Sure. So, you know, I was. My background was in psychology and theology. So my undergrad and master’s work were in theology mostly. And that led me to social services. And so the initial jobs that I had in the Near West Side in Cleveland were at places that provided a connection with, you know, the kids in the projects. You know, there was Lakeview and Riverview, and there were a little more gang things going on there. So Spanish American Committee, you know, there was the poor Appalachian kids that were here. The Hispanic kids were here. And so after I had worked, you know, at Ignatius, that first job, I ended up, you know, working at some other- I ran a free meal program at Bethany Presbyterian Church, you know, worked at Westside Catholic Center, was involved with family transitional housing, and they started a pilot project that has now exploded, but it was called Money and Mailboxes at the time that inevitably became Mental Health Services for Homeless Persons. And presently it’s called Frontline. So there was mental health work. There was work with people coming out of jail. There was, you know, walking with people, accompanying them through the addictions. And that was the beginnings. I lived right at West 28th and Detroit in a small, small $60 a month rent apartment during those early years, and started working at St. Malachi’s, ran their outreach and program, and during this time, inevitably started working at the center. But the status on the Near West Side, there had been one effort at kind of gentrification that happened on Jay Avenue, you know, back in the day, and this was before- It was the- It kind of was an individual effort. It was kind of close to the [West Side] Market, close to some of the amenities that were around. But for the most part, the Near West Side was filled with renters primarily. There wasn’t much home ownership at the time. There was some. And the folks who did own their homes were typically old residents who had been around, you know, on the Near West Side for a long time. But there was kind of the white flight and, you know, that happened, you know, during the seventies and eighties. And so there, there was, I’m just looking at the different areas of the community. It was Lakeview and Riverview that kind of hug the river. And then on the Near West Side was more heavily populated. The side streets, especially south of Lorain and a good number of parts north of Lorain were inhabited by more people that didn’t have access, just kind of surviving their income. They can pay rent and get some food and transportation, but they were still making decisions about whether I could get my medication or give my kid a uniform to be able to send them to school. So it was back then, in the late seventies and eighties, there were some outreach programs that came. Churches came together because they were getting a lot of poor people to their doors. And so they decided to come together and organize. And so the Westside Catholic Center was an outgrowth of a number of the churches in the Near West Side deciding that, you know, it’d be better if clothing and food and showers or whatever were handled and to relieve some of the constant doorbells that were being ringed. So Westside Catholic Center was established back then, and the churches all got together and they decided to create an evening meal every night of the week. So each church shared the responsibility of a different meal. And they would oftentimes recruit, you know, suburban churches to come in. So it might happen at Malachi’s, or it might happen at St. Pat’s or Franklin Circle Church, or it would happen at these different churches. But- And sometimes those churches kind of adopted that as a mission for themselves, you know, so they would have volunteers in the church that would actually cook and serve the meals on the Monday night at Malachi’s or the Tuesday night at St. Pat’s. St. Pat’s would bring in sometimes every week, they would have a different church come in that would help them with that evening meal. So there began to- It was the beginnings of services. There were many other services that supported the work of individuals that were dealing with mental health crisis. A lot of these agencies morphed into become bigger agencies, but there was counseling services, and there was an array of other programs that provided some support. But it was typically the Near West Side was poor in nature. There was beginnings of folks who had entered the Near West Side from the suburbs because they decided that they wanted to live in, you know, back then, it was- The Catholic Church was, you know, pushing the idea of living in close proximity with the poor, you know, and to explore ways that our lives, resources, gifts can possibly be extended for those who are marginalized or more vulnerable. So there was actually families that moved in from the suburbs with this kind of Catholic Worker spirit of supporting some of the early endeavors on the Near West Side that inevitably led to this becoming inevitably kind of a place where it’s almost like, on some levels, a networked social service. I wouldn’t say haven, but it was a community. It was taken care of, the most vulnerable. And, you know, part of that was, you had mentioned about St. Herman’s, but anyhow, that’s what it looked like. I inevitably moved off of West 30th and Detroit over to 28th Street, to a place that was condemned and redid it and began family there. And then inevitably, when the kids were still real young, I was approached to consider moving next door to St. Herman’s House of Hospitality, which was serving three meals a day and providing overnight hospitality. And it was one of the only overflow sites in town. So it was barraged, and they were packing people in every which way and so the community was very upset because they perceived St. Herman’s as being kind of a magnet for people all over the city to come to eat and to find shelter. That was a perception. But the reality was, at that time, probably 85% of the people who came to St. Herman’s lived within a mile of St. Herman’s. You know, they were just had to make hard choices about food and rent and medication or getting kids off to school. So St. Herman’s was really, you know, meeting the needs as many of the other churches of the area, to local folks who were, you know, you know, facing some real financial challenges in their life. Well, this upset many, many people who wanted the Near West Side to become downtown housing. There were- And so they really were looking at the school systems, but it was never perceived as a safe place to live back through the seventies and eighties, and so there was an outcry to close St. Herman’s. And the city, so the, you know, the powers to be kind of ended up putting pressure on St. Herman’s and said, you know, you can’t do what you’re doing because you don’t have permits. It ain’t safe, you know, you know, sprinkler systems, and you got people overnight sitting in chairs, and then, you know, you’re feeding all these people, and it’s just, there’s not enough room. You don’t have a dining room. You don’t have a place for people to sit. You know, it just was just kind of. So that effort got organized, and some of the people in the community got wind of that and knew what was really happening at St. Herman’s and knew many of the people who were getting services there, because St. Herman’s, even though it would never say it wasn’t part of the Catholic Worker, it was the leadership there from the orthodox priests that we’re running at, was absolutely the Catholic Worker motto. So.
Bali White [00:23:28] Could you kind of share where that was located at, St. Herman’s?
Duane Drotar [00:23:32] Yeah. So it was right at, right at 44th and Franklin Boulevard. So you had St. Herman’s, and next door you had this famous Franklin Castle, you know, and back in the day, it was owned by Judy Garland’s fifth husband, who was real connected, you know, in Cleveland, and, you know, was known as being haunted and it was kind of a- Franklin Boulevard used to, at the time, be kind of the Millionaire’s Row of the west side. It wasn’t quite like Euclid Avenue and Millionaire’s Row there, you know, where Cleveland State is. But, you know, the Labor Day parade went down Franklin Boulevard. You know, it was the- You know, there was a promenade that went around the reservoir where the garden is, you know. You know, there was a- So it was, you know, President Garfield used to drive, you know, ride his horse in from Mentor to preach at Franklin Circle Church, you know, and, you know, right there. So Franklin Circle, with all the Victorian homes that lined it at one time, was the cream of the city. All the streets around it were the working people for those people that owned those businesses. But by the time I moved in and was aware of the Near West Side in the early eighties, all those homes couldn’t be afforded and so they were all rooming houses. Most of them were, you know, boarding houses, rooming houses, and, you know, kind of a landlord collecting rents and not really putting much back into the building. And so the majority of them were in disrepair, and even though there was a few, I think there were only three people that owned the homes from West 25th to West 45th when I moved in next door to St. Herman’s. So we purchased that home because they needed variance to expand their- And there was this big controversy, you know, and meetings that was run by the councilperson, and the person that was, you know, they lived in a neighborhood around St. Ignatius. That was the councilperson, I mean, the congressman, congresswoman from that neighborhood. And so there was a big discernment process, and it was going back and forth, back and forth, what to do, and we tried to get the facts out there for who the people were. And so inevitably, you know, once the house was purchased, you know, the neighbors got the one to say of whether or not they could get the variance to build on the dining room. So the house that I moved into had been abandoned for about eight years, and a lot of the overflow from St. Herman’s that couldn’t get in there would crash in right next door to it. So it was, you know, I had been kind of stripped and abandoned, and really- But my wife and I, and she was pregnant with our third child and two small kids that were only three years old and one at the time, we decided to make a move and to be a presence next door to St. Herman’s, because many of the people that were there I knew, and the threat that everybody saw coming from them was just from a place of fear. So, your question again?
Bali White [00:27:47] Yeah, so St. Herman’s House of Hospitality. So I guess, what exactly were the services it provided?
Duane Drotar [00:27:56] Back then?
Bali White [00:27:58] Yeah.
Duane Drotar [00:27:58] Well, they served three meals a day, as they do to this day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They provided at that time, overnight hospitality to a fixed number of people. I think it was, you know, close to 20 people, let’s say, as an average. And they had probably about eight of those people were living there constantly, helping with preparing the food, dishes, distribution of the food.
Bali White [00:28:31] Similar to Catholic Worker itself?
Duane Drotar [00:28:33] Yeah, and were doing it right out of there. And so they helped with maintaining the inside and the outside of the house that served this, and they had services, and, you know, but it was run real similar to a Catholic Worker House itself.
Bali White [00:28:53] Who exactly started St. Herman’s House of Hospitality?
Duane Drotar [00:28:58] Yeah, so it was started back in the seventies by an orthodox priest who had this calling, and I believe his name was, for purposes of interview Father Gregory. And early on, there was this gentleman that actually, I think, was a student at Cleveland State who began volunteering there. His name was Father John Henry. Well, John Henry. And so he was kind of adopted by the order, and he became, started studying to become a priest, inevitably became the abbot and ran- And he was helped by other members of that denomination, but it was kind of a one or two man show with the helpers of formerly homeless people that ran and, you know, were providing, you know, close to a couple hundred meals a day. When you look at, you know, all three meals, they were providing clothing, you know, they, you know- And of course, the neighbor on the other side from me was completely- Wanted them gone. Mickey Devinco. So he- And then there was a house that was in between the two of them, which was very strangely set on fire and torched right at about the time where there was serious conversation with Habitat for Humanity to inevitably convert it. Back then, they were just doing new housing here in Cleveland to a four family, but for people of low income to be in there, which really was not really up the alley of the owner of the Franklin Castle at the time. So it ended up, what happened was, after that fire, which actually was set on two different occasions, St. Herman’s was able to actually buy, get access to that land and create a buffer between them and the Castle itself. So the garden that exists there now and the outside kind of place of hospitality was something that came in early on from there. So they expanded. They ended up- It took a year or so, but they created a dining room, they created a storage down below. They created, you know, space for— To satisfy the needs of the city that wanted to close them down because they didn’t have A, B, C and D.
Bali White [00:32:01] Okay, and then, so you were raising your family, like, right next door. Can you kind of share what that was like at the time?
Duane Drotar [00:32:09] Yeah, well, the desire to stay on the Near West Side for my wife and I at the time was really because we wanted our kids to grow into a place that had, you know, diversity. You know, Near West Side was always a diverse place, rich and poor living together, from its inception. And in that kind of mixture, there was a school at the time in the neighborhood. It was affiliated with St. Wendelin’s and, you know, St. Malachi’s and St. Pat’s. And St. Pat’s School closed down. And so, you know, to kind of make sure the Ursuline sisters kind of started a school called Urban Community School back in the day. And so we were attracted to the diversity, you know, one-third Black, one-third Hispanic, one-third White, you know, I mean, type of the diversity of that education, but also, you know, so that our kids would have an opportunity to be amidst richness. And the way we define richness is that diversity and being comfortable with a wide variety of folks from not just racially or socioeconomically, but also in different places in their own path towards wholeness, you know, and we felt that that would- That was one of the reasons why we decided to actually move in next door to St. Herman’s. So St. Herman’s, you know, they ran it like a monastery. I mean, you know, there was a boarding house on the other side of us that was loud music until the wee hours. With St. Herman’s, I mean, there was a vow of silence going on after 8:00, you know, and they, you know, I lived there for, you know, over 20 years and, you know, as a neighbor, I mean, there was always interesting things going on. There were always- And I just wasn’t next to one family, but I was interrelating every day with dozens and dozens of people that were my friends, because by that time, I had spent a lot more energy working and starting different agencies that provided us and our family with a connection with those who were in transition. So.
Bali White [00:35:05] Sure. Could you, I guess, share a little bit about the individuals you’ve encountered through all of that?
Duane Drotar [00:35:11] Yeah. So sometimes we live under the illusion that our efforts are kind of one way really making a difference in the lives of people who might not have opportunities that you create the connection with or the support for. But really, it isn’t about feeling good, but when people invite you into their lives in a personal way and you come to appreciate, not just the challenges, but come to appreciate how amidst the resilience to survive that trauma or that pain, what it leaves with, how it changes an individual and creates a gift that you cannot find anywhere else. Folks who’ve had to, there’s a lot of us that just spend a lot of our energy trying to stay out of hell. There’s other people who’ve been through hell and got to the other side and the richness that those survivors bring to the world. And the sad point is that it’s not- It’s really not recognized, you know, because, you know, we just look at gaps and deficiencies. We don’t see assets and gifts. We don’t see the incredible abilities that are available, especially when we spend a lot of time, you know, running to the rescue and seeing people as victims, you know, that need this, they need housing, they need this, they need that. They need recovery work, you know, support. They need mental health support. They need food, they need clothing. You know, all they do is need, and so the sad thing is, is that many of the agencies become rescuers. You know, they become- And then, you know, the people that need support, instead of being a model of empowerment that sees their gifts and invites them to be part of the solution, you know, we end up, you know, the neediest get the first dibs on stuff. And so that creates an energy that really ends up being counterproductive because it creates senses of dependency and entitlement and also doesn’t provide a connection. So that the conversion, the mutual transformation that’s available in relationships with those who are different than us or are challenged differently than we are, that open up to us an awareness of our own fear and our own ways that we limit ourselves that sometimes we don’t recognize because, you know, we’re college grads, you know, you know, we don’t go from crisis to crisis to crisis because, you know, financially, we have a little bit more of the wherewithal and we got roles, you know, and we got importance, and so we miss it. We miss the gift that’s always been available there. I was in class today here, and one of the women in the class talked about how she loves to garden and grow flowers, and she comes here to Cosgrove, and there’s a courtyard that is just oftentimes just overcome with weeds. And it could be, it sits right outside the dining room, could be an absolute sanctuary for people to sit and get peace and quiet and just breathe in the beauty around them. But we see it as like, who’s going to take care of it? Who’s going to water the plants? And you have people, five people or six people in this class today of 20 raised their hands, said, I would like to be part of that. I got skills there. I have grown my own food. I love flowers. I would love to, you know, but here they are right there. I mean, this might not be the best example, but there they are, you know, right there to make a place beautiful. And it’s not- You know, the people here just to provide the food and the showers and, you know, they have. NEOCH comes up for support. You know, we got, you know, different agencies that are available to provide outreach in different ways, but so burdened by the overwhelming need that there’s no structure. There’s no structure to call forth the gifts to be part of the solution, especially in their own lives. And that’s something in all the different agencies. Agencies, you know, the churches and then, you know, all the agencies that exist that sometimes that’s a gift we miss.
Bali White [00:41:02] Absolutely.
Duane Drotar [00:41:02] Yeah.
Bali White [00:41:03] So earlier, you kind of mentioned briefly a little bit about the Catholic Worker and the house itself and the Storefront. So while you were working in outreach and involved with St. Herman’s House of Hospitality, were you also like, going to the community dinners with the Catholic Worker sometimes?
Duane Drotar [00:41:23] Well, after the opening of the Catholic Storefront, that was only open for half a year or something, and it became— The need became great. So there was a couple of us that were actually working for Cleveland Healthcare for the Homeless at the time and where the women’s shelter is now, Norma Herr at 2219 Payne. We worked out of there, and I was in charge of outreach on the Near West Side. Different people had different things, and they were providing healthcare. There was nurses, and it was- It’s called Care Alliance now, but back then, it was Cleveland Healthcare for the Homeless. So there was a team that was actually doing some pretreatment work and outreach, medical outreach, and mental health outreach for folks. And so my efforts ended up going to setting up what they call Project Heat. And inevitably, it turned out to be about half a dozen different public building space in the downtown area. Homeless people would go there after everybody left the city from their jobs, and they’d sleep there and get up and leave before anybody came up. And so that went on for years. And so my efforts and ended up going towards housing in a more emergency level instead of the Catholic Worker motto at that time. But during that time, I started opening up homes myself. So we began to do hospitality in houses that were abandoned and were being sold. You know, the house on Franklin Boulevard that used to. was turned over to the VA for a board and care situation, a live in board and care situation that had kind of gone out of business, that was empty. And there was a house. There was a gentleman from the Catholic Worker that had really premature early death and had lived in a house on West 45th Street and wanted that to be used in the purposes of Catholic Worker. So turned that building over to myself to operate. And so I began to become involved with housing on the Near West Side that provided housing for, you know, either kind of sleeping rooms with recovery support or homes for the milieu that were homeless and in transition themselves. And so got involved a lot with relationships with landlords. Back then, there were many landlords on the Near West Side that were providing affordable housing for people. And, you know, they really wanted a connection with people that they didn’t have to advertise and deal with an unknown. They could go with somebody that knew the person would be good for their house and had the income. And if anything went wrong, they could just call one person and you could go and have that conversation and to help transition that situation and help the landlord. So they never had to go get a lawyer. They never had to spend money there. They didn’t have to worry about clean outs. They didn’t have to worry about furniture, you know, and so they kept the rents low because they had a relationship with somebody that act as a liaison. So if there was a house that opened because somebody got a better apartment or got married and moved out or whatever, you know, we would get the phone call and say, hey, I got an opening. Who do you got?
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