Newgate Mission

Newgate Mission a hive of activity - Longview News-Journal: Features
Newgate Mission a hive of activity

By Charlotte Stewart cstewart@news-journal.com | Posted: Saturday, June 5, 2010 12:00 am | Original Story

He sat in the front office with a backpack at his feet.

"I'm waiting for a break in the conversation to ask Terry Hardgrave if I've got any mail," he said.

"I get my mail here now," said Greg Baird about Newgate Mission, "and my lunch."

He is homeless, he said. Looking for work.

"But I'm a construction worker without tools and without transportation. Looking for work in construction without transportation is — well — it ain't happening," he said.

The voice of Jeanne Laurinec, the mission's executive director and an Episcopal priest, bubbled through her office door.

"I'll be right with you," she said. Glancing over toward Baird, Laurinec exclaimed "He was our savior last week." Then she disappeared behind the door.

Baird said he had fixed the air conditioning. It was a matter of condensation line back up. He had poured acid into the pipe and ran a snake through it. He shrugged as he told the story of the repair, as though it was nothing.

"I'm glad I could do it," he stated flatly. He said he could do a lot of things, if he were given a chance. But it's hard for any man to get a job right now, and especially hard for one only a month out of prison.

Laurinec walked out of her office with a young man who was hanging his head low. He had come to the mission high on crack, and she couldn't have it, she said. He slowly meandered out the front door.

"OK," she said to the journalist. "What can I do for you today?"

But as the journalist tried to answer, an elderly man emerged from the back of he mission where people had gathered for lunch.

"I need to make a call," he said very loudly and somewhat desperately.

Eyes fixed on Laurinec, he weaved his way through the crowd between them.

"It's long distance. Can you make a call for me?" he asked. He needed to call another mission in Livingston.

Laurinec would not make the call for him, she said, but he was welcome to use the phone.

A look of relief washed over his tense body, but only momentarily. With furrowed brow, he said he did not know the telephone number.

"Call 411 and ask for it," Laurinec told him. He thanked her as he smiled a smile so broad, it looked practically wider than his very slim body.

Laurinec headed for the kitchen, talking as she walked.

"This is actually a very light day. It's the (beginning) of the month and those that get a check just got it, so we've got an easy crowd.

A couple of girls, both about 8 or 9 years old, wondered aloud when they could eat. Yes, they agreed, they love chicken spaghetti.

A server behind the food line tells Laurinec to grab a hat. "I'm serving today," she explained that a server must wear a hat. "I wear a lot of hats," she joked.

Ladies first

Upon noting a particularly vivacious woman in the crowd, the journalist asks if she minds telling her story.

"Oh, you don't want to talk to me," declared Vicki Bell. "I've got too much to say."

She spoke the truth.

Bell, 54, said she had suffered a stroke in 2004, and had not been able to work.

"These are the people that fixed me," she said as she looked around the room. "There were some awesome ladies here — still are some awesome folks here. ?"What they're teaching here is love. I don't just mean they said it." Reaching over and grabbing the journalist as she gave the journalist a big squeeze, "I mean they showed me love."

"I don't know where I'd be or what I would be doing without the people here," she said of the mission. "I love it. I am loved."

Though less demonstrative, Julie Snyder echoed the sentiment.

What would she do without the daily lunches at the mission?

"I might starve to death," she said, explaining that her food stamps (Lone Star card) did not get her through every meal. She said she had been hospitalized for low potassium. "I have to eat right," said the slight 53-year old.

Bike to work

The mission has a lot more going on these days than feeding people spiritually and physically.

"We've got the bike program," Laurinec said.

A bicycle can change a life, she noted, telling the story of a man who had a job at a restaurant and had ridden the bike to work each day, until a house fire destroyed it.

He was walking to and from work, in the dark, in the heat, an hour and a half each way.

"Can you imagine?" she asked, wide-eyed.

The program has given away 33 bikes, she said.

"For $75 I can get a deal on a bike and change a life," she said passionately.

She hopes the community will see the value in it and help out. "I promise this is a great use of $75," she said.

She wishes more people in the community would drop by for lunch. "I want people to see what we've got going on," she said.

They're studying Revelation, the choice of the people, she said. There is also a computer lab and the daily emergency requiring immediate help for something — like steel-toed boots.

But that's another story.