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RICHMOND HEIGHTS — For almost three months, Julie Pogue ran her household out of two adjoining hotel rooms.

Her three younger kids zipped between beds and desks, dodging piles of laundry and inventing games, while her two older children supervised and took all their classes online, there at the Homewood Suites, just across from the St. Louis Galleria.

The family lost their rental in January, victims of an inattentive landlord and a dilapidated home. Pogue searched for a new place. But she gets subsidized housing through federal vouchers, and four-bedroom houses in the program are few and far between.

Her hotel bill, paid for by the Housing Authority of St. Louis County, hit almost $6,700 by the start of March. And she was already fed up with hotel living.

"It's not homey to be around a bunch of strangers," Pogue said. "I was pissed off, depressed, and just very uncomfortable. It made me feel like a failure as a mom."

But Pogue, who is Black, had an unusual group on her side. A team of white women — friends, moms and advocates — decided they would help her find a home. It was, to them, their duty to right the wrongs of the past.

Finding an apartment is almost always laborious. But Pogue's situation is an example of an uncommon and intractable problem: A four-bedroom that qualifies for a Housing Choice Voucher — the federal program that allows private landlords to rent to low-income tenants, subsidized by taxpayers — is exceedingly rare.

While more apartments are being built in St. Louis, they're not of the affordable type. New luxury units, and increased demand, drive rents higher. The metro area's occupancy rate, over the past five years, has crept to near 95%.

At the same time, while demand for subsidized housing — often called Section 8 — has been relatively flat, four-bedroom units are rare: They're just 7% of the total, or less than 500 out of 6,600 in St. Louis County's program.

Pogue's last home was a four-bedroom house in Wellston. The split-level with a brick facade had a persistent water leak, and by the end, Pogue was convinced it had mold. Her 3-year-old daughter, Ayla, has asthma and went to the hospital every few weeks, she said.

In mid-January, the county housing authority terminated its contract with the building owner, nonprofit Rise Community Development, and gave Pogue 17 days to move out.

A Rise representative recently said he had no idea the unit was in such disarray.

Vatterott Properties, which manages Rise rentals, did not return calls seeking comment.

The Roundtable

Help for Pogue arrived last October, when she was trying to get her landlord to fix the Wellston house. She connected with Carmen Ward, a volunteer at St. Louis Mutual Aid, a nonprofit network of residents who deliver food and supplies, provide financial and emotional support, and link people to their neighbors.

Ward tried to get someone to fix Pogue's home. But Ward, who is Black, said she couldn’t get anyone to engage. At the end of the line was often a white voice, she said, who wasn’t listening.

After about a month of not getting anywhere, Ward sent Pogue to a group called the Reparations Roundtable.

The Roundtable is a collection of Americans who believe they should make reparations — direct payments — to the descendants of slaves, as amends for the wrongs of white America.

There, Pogue met Jackie Gold. Gold, who is white, assembled a team for the job.

The team hunted for homes, called landlords and built a spreadsheet documenting the search. By the end, it contained more than two dozen properties, with notes: “Doesn't look big enough,� or “Awaiting repairs, probably won't work with timeline,� or “Looks too small.�

They filled out applications for Pogue, and even paid for them, $30 to $50 each, or about $200 to $300 in total.

The county housing authority, in the meantime, had moved Pogue and her family to the Homewood Suites. The housing authority's executive director, Shannon Koenig, said Pogue's situation is not typical. She could only recall one other time, in 2018, when a public housing client was put up at a hotel.

Gold, 37, a mother of two, said she and her kids met Pogue and her kids at playgrounds, to get them out of the hotel for a bit. The two mothers bonded.

“It's become a relationship that has evolved from a random Facebook message to something that will be long-lasting, which I could have never predicted,� Gold said.

After more than two months of searching — and $11,000 in hotel bills — Pogue finally found a place to live. She stumbled onto a home one day online, and contacted the landlord herself.

A good sleep

In mid-April, Pogue and her children moved into a tidy brick bungalow with an A-frame entryway, a trimmed hedge and yellow daffodils out front. 

Emmett Avenue is tucked away just off Airport Road in Ferguson. Pogue calls it peaceful. She's looking forward to the weather warming up.

“I feel like in this area, you'll for sure see more get-togethers than violence,� she said.

Pogue, 35, said she lived in foster care as a child, left home at 15 and was homeless as a teenager, sleeping in abandoned houses. She ended up at the Haven of Grace shelter, a nonprofit on Warren Street in Old North St. Louis that takes in pregnant, homeless women. Pogue said the stay gave her the lift she needed then.

The Housing Choice Voucher program gave her a similar lift in 2012, she said.

For the months they lived in the hotel, Pogue said she felt drained. Now she’s relieved. She can think clearly. She can plan the cleaning business she hopes to open. She can prep for dinner — a task much easier with a full kitchen. The first week in the home, she made baked pork steaks, rice, greens and cornbread. The kids couldn't get enough, she said.

She's glad to have an appetite again, too.

“While we were in the hotel, I did not want to eat,� Pogue said.

One recent night was the first good sleep she could remember. Her kids all had their own beds — or had one on the way.

She felt like she had a foundation to build from.

“It all just fell into place,� she said.