For a number of years, my family lived in northwest Indiana, just south of Chicago. Or as local folks refer to it somewhat blandly, “The Region.”
Over the last few decades, The Region has become mostly a post-industrial sacrifice zone, with a few places managing to keep up middle-class appearances (Valparaiso, Munster), quite a few more perpetually on the brink of failure (Michigan City, Hammond, La Porte), and a few in dire straits (Gary, East Chicago).
Big Steel is now Small Steel, still operating, except with a much smaller workforce. The hollowed-out former steel city of Gary could be described as a smaller Detroit, but with bigger problems (mainly an almost complete dearth of economic activity).
Somewhere around 2012, I happened to be a speaker at a men’s event at our church, after which a genial mustachioed guy came up and apologized for arriving late for my talk. He asked if we might meet for coffee sometime and we did.
Rick was a very friendly character who loved to talk about his visionary ideas, most of them hatched during his time as a salesperson in higher-end electronics store in local malls. It took a few minutes speaking with Rick before you detected that he tended to the grandiose, with his frequent referrals to Nicola Tesla as a fellow inventor and Rick’s unusual occupations as an “earthologist” and a “solutionist.” Only gradually did I realize Rick had a bipolar condition which kept him from regular employment (he had last worked somewhere around 1996) and had finally alienated his family and many friends.
Despite all this, Rick’s gregarious and voluble nature gave him a remarkably wide personal network in the area. At one point, he was forced to move apartments and the mayor of the town, knowing of Rick’s condition, drove over in a pickup to help him make the move.
Somehow I became one of Rick’s inner circle which meant he would occasionally ask me to sit in on sessions with his therapist. Or to join him in pointless conference calls with a “business advisor.” All these conversations were exercises in futility, with Rick rambling wildly, unable to focus on his issues.
One of which was his recklessness with his tiny monthly Social Security support checks and the subsequent threats of losing his Section 8 housing vouchers essential to keeping his housing affordable.
Attempting to help Rick meant being drawn into his incessant big talk about his ideas. These filled dozens of notebooks, usually amounting to no more than a sentence or two. (“Get all the aging rock stars together for a global tour for world wellness.” “Create a 24/7 online channel of soothing music and images using the catalogues of famous musical artists.” “Write a memoir—Rick’s World!—to explain to people what mental illness is really like.”)
Rick was surprisingly enterprising and persuasive with people. Years ago, he saw the Robin Williams movie “Patch Adams”, about the doctor who dressed up as a clown for child patients. Rick somehow tracked down the original Patch Adams in a nearby state and now speaks with him every few months.
Rick also believed that his abundant ideas would be of interest to top execs like Jamie Dimon of JP Morgan Chase and several other titans of industry. Needless to say, he never succeeded in reaching Dimon but Rick’s phone list does include a couple of Dimon’s personal assistants, as well as those of the CEOs at Walmart, the National Institute of Health, and Radio Shack. Apparently these assistants continue to take Rick’s calls, listen patiently to his latest ideas, and then politely ring off. This makes him happy, with a sense of being in touch near the top and close to a financial bonanza of some kind.
Rick’s erratic behavior has brought him close to eviction a couple of times over the last decade but friends—including myself—have always managed to round up funds, often from the local St. Vincent de Paul groups at area churches, in order to stave off disaster.
After our last group rescue, I made an effort to inform myself about various forms of guardianship and payee options, in hopes Rick would agree to turning over his Social Security income to some kind soul willing to work with him in order to help keep his bills paid. Rick absolutely refused to consider the idea.
Subsequently his non-payment of rent due to expenditures like the Peter Gabriel concert he felt he had to attend in Chicago this summer has finally cost him his Section 8 status. In the last month he received a court-ordered eviction notice ordering him to move out last week. Two days ago the angry landlord came by with two policemen to inform Rick he had until 5 PM Sunday, December 10, to clear out, taking his huge collection of old stereo equipment, papers, and personal memorabilia somewhere else. (For years, Rick has also paid for three storage sheds of personal stuff.)
I’m “watching” all this from afar, as unfortunately I no longer live in The Region. And Rick’s few remaining friends nearby him have no easy solutions either.
At this point I want to note Indiana’s ranking nationally for mental health support: 43rd. This largely explains Rick’s inability to get consistent care, whether from case workers watching out for his medications and diet, from possible assisted living options (which he obviously needs), or from licensed psychiatric care (as opposed to local, somewhat informal psychological counseling).
And now, having exhausted as well as exasperated almost all members of his personal network, Rick’s eviction is looming, with life in a shelter in a neighboring town an awful possibility. As of this writing, one social services agency working with Rick informs me they will be calling a staff meeting this coming week in hopes of helping him avoid disaster.
Finally, what I know of eviction—in Indiana or elsewhere—is largely from the excellent Substack, “Housing is a Human Right”, authored by Fran Quigley of the U. of Indiana School of Law. Fran also writes for Jacobin and Common Dreams.
Fran writes:
I think you are right to about the link between Indiana’s neglect of mental health services and neglect of the rights of renters. With housing costs being such a core determinant of homelessness and Indiana’s housing being relatively cheap, why would we have such high rates of evictions? It is because we make evictions “fast, cheap, and easy” here. (See “How Indiana Courts Can Prevent Evictions” linked here.) At every turn, we neglect the needs and the rights of those who are most vulnerable.
A legal note: I was puzzled by the landlord coming by with two police officers to threaten Rick with moving out. That sounds more like an intimidation tactic to force a move out than a formal move-out attempt, as the constables/sheriffs would physically put Rick’s stuff out and allow the landlord to change the locks. And my apologies if I have not been clear about the unofficial “lockouts”—they happen a lot, but they are 100% illegal even in Indiana. We explain that a bit more in our “12 Rights of an Indiana Tenant” linked on our clinic page: https://mckinneylaw.iu.edu/practice/clinics/health-human-rights.html.
Since this Substack’s title does contain a reference to Catholicism, I should note that Rick’s several rescue campaigns over the last decade (meaning, hurried efforts to put together his rent arrears money) were supported by the St. Vincent de Paul groups at several area parishes. All of them, I discovered, already knew Rick well and had covered various bills of his from time to time. So good on ‘em, say I.
Last minute update: Rick just called to say his vindictive landlord has turned off his heat. (The high there is in the low 40s currently.) I’m pretty sure this is illegal since the sheriff’s office has issued a “Christmas moratorium” on evictions through January 8.
Note: In the next installment of Street Catholic, I will recount my experiences—partly edifying, partly comical—as part of a group hoping to create a Catholic Worker house in the city of Gary. (It was actually the bishop’s idea!)
See you next time—peace.
Sad story, i’ve been around similar folks. Im sorta fringe, but oddly successful, so they gravitate to me. It doesn’t rub off.