ÁñÁ«ÊÓƵ

ST. LOUIS — Grace House is where unhoused people go when they have nowhere else to turn.

A stone’s throw from Interstate 70 in the Old North neighborhood, the homeless shelter is in an old Episcopal church building. Built in 1845, the stone structure with a tower overlooking the interstate has served in many capacities.

That is too often the story of St. Louis. The city, once the fourth largest in the country, is full of beautiful brick and stone churches and schools that were once the centers of vibrant communities. Now, many of those century-old facilities have been repurposed to serve folks whom prosperity left behind.

So it is at Grace House.

“These are extremely vulnerable people who have no other options,� says Brian Eagan, the shelter’s director.

Run by the nonprofit , the shelter opened in January 2023 with $1.2 million from the federal American Rescue Plan. It is St. Louis’ only “safe haven� shelter, a federal designation for a shelter that has a low barrier to entry.

That means Eagan serves a population with substance abuse and mental health issues. Most of the folks in Grace House, which has 25 beds, have been kicked out of other shelters or don’t qualify for them. They come to Grace House after being on the streets, or sometimes when local hospitals or social service agencies call.

Serving such a population isn’t cheap. There are 15 staff members at the 24-hour shelter, providing case management and other services. But the plan — getting folks into transitional or permanent housing — works, Eagan says.

He points to statistics from the Missouri Homeless Management Information System to make his point: More than 50 percent of the people at Grace House have what is termed a “successful exit,� meaning they end up in some form of housing. And 75 percent of the people who leave don’t end up in a homeless shelter again. The statewide average for a successful exit from a homeless shelter is 14 percent.

Here’s why all those numbers matter: Grace House is running out of federal funding. It needs an infusion of cash — soon — or it’s going to shut down.

“The money is running out,� says Chris Stephen, chief executive officer of St. Patrick Center, which is an arm of Catholic Charities. “The blessing of (the American Rescue Plan) is it created funding so this could be built. The curse is that it is a one-time pot of money.�

Stephen said St. Patrick’s Center is working with the city and various funders to try to keep Grace House open. It costs about $700,000 a year to run the facility.

As much attention as the homeless community gets in St. Louis — particularly when a tent encampment goes up and the city shuts it down — the challenge of serving that vulnerable community is nowhere near as dire as in some other cities. At a recent East-West Gateway Council of Governments meeting, Samantha Stangl of the House Everyone STL nonprofit suggested that recent counts put the total St. Louis unhoused population near 2,000 people.

In October, local government and civic leaders plan to hold a summit for a regional plan to move folks into housing more quickly. Following a philosophy known as “Housing First,� the leaders hope to improve on a patchwork approach that has too long been a part of the region’s strategy on homelessness.

Eagan has a slight twist on that philosophy that he applies in his shelter. “Housing first, but not housing only,� he says.

His point is that one approach doesn’t work for everybody. That’s why Grace House exists — to serve those who don’t have other options.

The shelter has a wait list of 40 people. The cost to taxpayers to serve unhoused folks who aren’t in shelters is about $35,500 a year, according to the . When making his pitch for resources to keep Grace House open, Eagan turns those numbers around: “The 97 people we have removed from the cycle of homelessness have provided St Louis taxpayers about $3.5 million dollars in savings,� he says.

Therein lies the conundrum facing nonprofits and government agencies that serve the unhoused community. Serving vulnerable communities is expensive; not serving them costs even more.

As Grace House shakes the trees for money, Eagan and his staff help make sure the folks in those 25 beds take the steps to find a permanent roof over their heads — one that isn’t in an long-vacant church.

“I love all my residents with my whole heart,� Eagan says. “But once they leave, I never want to see them again.�