In Contra Costa, One Man's Homeless Outreach Mission Comes to an End

F
or the past dozen years or so, Doug Stewart has spent most of his nights in places most people would never choose to go. He treks through urban woodlands and along dark and dangerous train tracks in Contra Costa County, seeking the out-of-the-way places where those with no permanent shelter are camped out.

Stewart wears a bulletproof vest and, at first glance, looks like a cop. But most people he approaches seem to like him. That's because they know who he is and what he's about.

"You can talk to them for five or 10 minutes," Stewart says of the people he encounters. "No one else has talked to them all day, and you can talk to 'em for five or 10 minutes, make them feel like they're worth talking to still. That's part of providing them services."

Stewart took on this mission more than a decade ago. He started by handing out hot dogs to homeless folks in the community of Pacheco, next door to Concord, where he sat on a municipal advisory council.

"It just seemed like every meeting we were talking about homelessness," Stewart says. "What I really found out is that after about 4:30 in the afternoon. there was nothing for 'em."

For the past five years, Stewart has run Contra Costa Homeless Outreach, an agency he created to distribute all sorts of aid to people living on the streets.

"You can't just offer homeless services eight hours a day," he says. "Homelessness is not an eight-hour-a-day operation. It's important to be out here 24/7."

Stewart and his two outreach workers -- who together cover a territory stretching from Richmond to communities in eastern Contra Costa County -- get a torrent of calls once night falls. The calls come from police, public service agencies and people who need shelter for the night. Stewart works the streets in response, handing out food, blankets, clothing and medicine. He offers people rides and passes out hotel vouchers and bus tickets.

I rode along with Stewart on one of his nighttime drives through Martinez. It was after midnight when he spotted an older man, hunched over at a bus stop. Stewart knew him. His name was Mark.

Mark was visibly drunk, and Stewart got out to gently warn him the cops wouldn’t let him stay all night and that he should move.

"I don’t move as fast as I used to," said Mark, who uses a walker to get around.

Stewart gave Mark a ride to a different bus stop, one that’s a little more discreet.

"If the police come, you tell them I put you here, OK?" Stewart said. "If somebody comes and bothers you, you tell them I put you here."

Stewart won't be helping Mark, or any of the other hundreds of people he's gotten to know over the years, for much longer. He's "retiring" -- quitting to move on to something else -- later this week.

The constant scramble for funding has taken a toll, Stewart says.

The Martinez Police Department provides one of seven grants that have funded Stewart's outreach unit this past year.

Martinez Police Chief Manjit Sappal says Stewart knows how to connect people with the network of services that are available in a way that police don’t.

“Doug can be far more approachable, and when we partner with him we get the benefit of his building those relationships,” Sappal said.

Sappal says he’s concerned about the void Stewart will leave behind. Sappal says he plans to hire one of Stewart’s employees to pick up where he left off.

Stewart says that to carry on, you need to be ready for the harsh reality he has seen night in and night out.

"You gotta be prepared for whatever's in front of you, whether it's dangerous, sad, disgusting, whatever," Stewart said while making his rounds one evening.

He says he's torn about ending work he knows has been important to so many.

"I feel bad, you know, I do," Stewart says. "This takes a little chunk out of you every night. You cannot continually go out every night and see despair and sadness and be OK. It doesn't work like that."