Since 2014, Stover, now 53, has been unable to work.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
She rented rooms and ate donated food while languishing for nine years on three waiting lists for a Section 8 housing voucher, a federal program that pays a portion of rent for those who are low-income. In January, after the roof collapse, she applied for an \u201cemergency\u201d housing voucher intended to eliminate the long waits for unhoused people under a new federal program funded by COVID-19 relief money.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
After tracking down disability documentation, Social Security and birth records, a letter certifying she\u2019s homeless and then undergoing a criminal background check, she waited for her voucher. And waited.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
For weeks, then months, she pulled her Mazda SUV into the parking lot along Seventh Street in Recreation Park, where bathrooms are open 24 hours a day. She tried to find places near other people, some of them parked and homeless like her.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
\u201cI\u2019m a woman out here by myself,\u201d she says. \u201cIt\u2019s scary and lonely. People don\u2019t understand how lonely it is.\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Her only constant companion was her dog, Sam, an attentive Anatolian shepherd who likes to shake hands.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Two months ago, the city at last issued Stover an emergency voucher. She was elated. The voucher meant she would pay only 40% of her income, around $400, on rent.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
She had no idea that getting the voucher\u2014long promoted as a \u201cgolden ticket\u201d out of homelessness and into a better life\u2014would only usher in the next phase of struggle.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
\u2018A very discouraging situation\u2019\u00a0<\/b><\/h5>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Subsidized housing has been around since the 1970s, but rental-assistance vouchers for housing took off in the 1980s when the Reagan administration sought to do away with the notorious public housing projects that were often plagued by crime and drugs. With vouchers, the thinking went, people would have more choice over where they live and a chance to move to more affluent areas that would spur upward mobility<\/a>.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n At a federal cost of $23 trillion, vouchers have since become a central pillar in the government\u2019s strategy to prevent homelessness.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n But only about one in four people who qualify actually get one; there are 12,000 people on Long Beach\u2019s Section 8 waiting list, which has been closed since 2016.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n A year into the pandemic, the federal government spent billions more to give Long Beach and other jurisdictions across the country a new batch of so-called emergency vouchers specifically targeting those living in cars, shelters and on streets. The goal was to get them into housing, fast, with supportive services.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n That hasn\u2019t happened. For many recipients, these vouchers have come to represent a dead end, not a new beginning.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n One recipient, who had been living at the city\u2019s subsidized motel at the Days Inn and has yet to find a landlord willing to take her voucher, says bluntly: \u201cThey\u2019re about as useful as toilet paper.\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Just 38% of the 582 people who received an emergency voucher in Long Beach have managed to sign a lease since the program began in May 2021, according to data from the federal Housing and Urban Development Department.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Paul Duncan, manager of the city\u2019s Homeless Services Bureau, says progress has been slow, in part because it took months for the city to sign contracts for case management\u2014a federal requirement unique to this program\u2014resulting in some individuals not getting the help that experts say is critical.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cWe didn\u2019t have a lot of time to prepare,\u201d Duncan says.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Duncan blames the dismal lease rate on the tight rental market and on landlords who won\u2019t rent to these tenants, despite the more lucrative financial incentives unique to the emergency voucher program.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Landlords, for their part, have said the city offers little in the way of support in dealing with problem tenants. And when given a choice of sometimes dozens of applicants for open units, they say it\u2019s safer to pick people with jobs, good credit, a rental history and money upfront.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cIf you get a bad tenant, the city says it\u2019s your problem,\u201d says Ed Arnold, who rents to a few Section 8 tenants.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Caught in the middle are people like Stover, who says she\u2019s been turned away by landlords repeatedly once they learn she has a voucher.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cThere is a perception out there,\u201d she says.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Stover says she had been promised a backhouse near the Traffic Circle, but the landlady reneged. And she was sure she would get an apartment near Rosie\u2019s Dog Beach, where Sam could play on the sand, before being told it had been rented.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n She\u2019s now found a one-bedroom near Rec Park, but hopes the landlord is willing to wait for the city to conduct an inspection, a requirement of the voucher program. In the meantime, she\u2019s been able to stay in a hotel thanks to donations from some community members. But time is running out there, too.\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cI didn\u2019t realize how hard it was going to be,\u201d she says. \u201cYou go to so many different apartment buildings and management companies. It\u2019s a very discouraging situation.\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Stover was among the 3,296 counted as homeless when the city conducted its annual survey in January, reflecting a startling 62% increase since the last count in 2020.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n In releasing the new figures, the city said 400 people granted emergency vouchers were at that time still looking for housing. Had they been successful, the city said, the number of unsheltered individuals in Long Beach would have dropped by 20%.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Statewide, roughly 40% of people with emergency vouchers have been able to use them; in Los Angeles, that number is just 6%.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n The central problem, many acknowledge, is that there isn\u2019t enough available housing to make the vouchers a truly effective weapon in combating homelessness. In today\u2019s tight rental market, landlords don\u2019t want to bother with vouchers, which come with paperwork, inspections and other requirements\u2014along with negative perceptions of prospective tenants.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cIt\u2019s hard for any intervention to be effective when there\u2019s nowhere to go,\u201d says Christi Economy, a researcher with UC Berkeley\u2019s Terner Center for Housing Innovation.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Duncan, the city\u2019s Homeless Services Bureau manager, conceded as much. In fact, he said he wouldn\u2019t advocate for more spending on vouchers when there\u2019s simply not enough housing to go around.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cThere’s 582 people with vouchers looking for a place, but there\u2019s not 582 apartment listings out there,\u201d he says. \u201cThere\u2019s maybe 100, 150 on a given day.\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n As a result, many who\u2019ve obtained the vouchers find themselves whipsawed between hope and despair, which, they say, exacts an emotional toll at a time when they’re already struggling.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cI feel like I\u2019m trying to do everything right,\u201d says Roshni Mercadel, 31, who got her emergency voucher in February but still hasn\u2019t been able to use it. \u201cIt gets you down.\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n For 18 months, until recently, Mercadel had been living in a federally subsidized room at the Days Inn on Pacific Coast Highway as part of Project Roomkey, an effort to get vulnerable homeless people off the street during the pandemic.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n By then, she was pregnant with a son, was clean and sober and had a job doing office work for a company that manages sober living homes. She also had met with case workers at the city\u2019s hub for social services.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n And she had her emergency housing voucher, which she hoped would give her and her newborn a permanent roof over their heads. Instead, Mercadel says landlords repeatedly turned her down, citing her poor credit score.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n On Sept. 30, Mercadel was forced to leave the Days Inn as the funding for the Project Roomkey came to an end<\/a>. Although she\u2019s still been unable to use her voucher, she did find a temporary place for her and her 1-year-old son with the help of Councilmember Suzie Price.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n While Price was canvassing for her mayoral campaign, she met a woman in East Long Beach with a spare room. Price connected her to Mercadel, who had been calling the councilmember\u2019s office.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Still, given events so far, Mercadel says she has little reason to believe her voucher will amount to much more than an empty promise.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cIt\u2019s very frustrating,\u201d she says.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Ed Arnold, the landlord who has rented to some Section 8 tenants, grew up in the Carmelitos Housing Project in North Long Beach before working his way out of poverty, becoming a fire captain in Los Angeles and eventually investing in real estate.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Though he has misgivings about renting to people with vouchers, he encouraged landlords and property managers to attend a meeting in August to talk about the new emergency voucher program. Among the 170 rental units he owns or oversees in Long Beach, seven are rented to tenants with vouchers.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cI do believe in the Section 8 program,\u201d he says. \u201cI truly believe in it. Especially veterans. They need the help and they deserve our help.\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n It\u2019s the right thing to do, he says, but not easy. And it\u2019s hard to convince landlords to do it solely because they should.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n The two biggest reasons they resist, Arnold says: They are afraid they won\u2019t be able to evict tenants for violating lease provisions and they don\u2019t want to deal with the government any more than they have to.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Some landlords said in interviews they would consider more voucher-supported tenants once the county\u2019s eviction moratorium expires at the end of this year.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n But Alison King, director of the Housing Authority in Long Beach, says the moratorium doesn\u2019t change anything.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cI\u2019m not sure why people use that as an excuse,\u201d King says. \u201cIt\u2019s not specific to people who are subsidized.\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n King did acknowledge that Section 8 and the emergency voucher programs do have more strings than the usual landlord-tenant relationship.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n The Housing Authority, for example, must be notified if a person is being evicted and why. Vouchers also require an inspection of the unit before a lease is signed. This includes ensuring there are no rips in the carpet that could cause a fall, no cracked windows, a railing for a staircase of three or more steps and a working stove and refrigerator.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cIt\u2019s pretty basic stuff,\u201d says Keith Cunningham, whose portfolio of properties includes about 35% voucher tenants. \u201cIt\u2019s stuff that, as a landlord, you should want fixed.\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n To entice landlords, the new emergency vouchers offer more incentives than traditional Section 8 vouchers, including an additional $2,500 that can help cover things like higher security deposits and paying for rent during possible delays in getting the tenant into the building.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n The rents paid by both the Section 8 and emergency voucher programs are adjusted based on ZIP code<\/a>: The voucher would, for example, cover up to $2,343 for a one-bedroom in the Belmont Shore area and $1,595 on the Westside. The average monthly voucher subsidy in Long Beach is $1,241 a month, according to HUD data.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Almost all of the units on the city\u2019s listing<\/a> for Section 8 landlords are located in Downtown, West, Central and North Long Beach. Southeast Long Beach had no listings\u2014seemingly defeating the voucher system\u2019s goal of promoting upward mobility.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Despite her predicament and the wear of disappointment, former stuntwoman Stover is upbeat, almost winsome, in recounting her ordeal. She attends to Sam, her dog, who\u2019s had digestive and other health issues over the past few months as life in her car wore on.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cI\u2019m not going to give up,\u201d she says, her eyes certain and hopeful beneath long brunette bangs as she crouches to pet Sam.\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Close by is Christine Barry, who over the years has become a nagging advocate on behalf of the city\u2019s homeless. Where Stover is sweet, Barry is relentless.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cHelp this woman,\u201d Barry says, incredulous, as if talking to government officials. \u201cShe is a woman living in her car, in a park, alone.\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Barry at times interrupts Stover, filling in gaps when she forgets details: There was the confusing letter Stover got from the city about needing a stove and refrigerator for one place\u2014\u201cI\u2019ll buy you one,\u201d Barry barked\u2014and the fact that Stover had to search for apartments herself, on Zillow.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cShe got zero help from the city, none,\u201d Barry insists.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n And that help is critical, according to a recent four-year study<\/a> of whether vouchers have been successful in the Los Angeles region.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Barry and Stover met on Nextdoor, a neighborhood social media site, where Barry, 71, is somewhat of a celebrity\u2014a hero to some, an annoyance to others. At the time, Stover hadn\u2019t heard a thing about the status of her voucher.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Barry, who founded a nonprofit four years ago<\/a> to help the homeless, asked a police resource officer, Rich Armond, to intercede on Stover\u2019s behalf. A week later, she says, the voucher arrived.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Though the city and others cite the dearth of housing inventory as a reason for the low success rate of the vouchers, it is an open question whether people like Stover have received the help promised under the emergency program.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Duncan says the city has done what it can to serve a population that is often hard to help. Some of the people who received vouchers have been on the streets for 10 to 15 years, he says, and \u201csometimes they don\u2019t present in the best way\u201d for landlords.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n The city now has 25 case workers assisting those with emergency vouchers, about one case worker per 20 clients. They are supposed to assist with filling out paperwork, guiding tenants through interactions with landlords and helping track down documentation and listings.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n But it took nine months to sign contracts with four nonprofits that would be charged with providing this help. Duncan says it took time to put out a \u201crequest for proposals,\u201d vet the organizations and then find qualified staff.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n It\u2019s not clear how many people got vouchers before caseworkers came aboard, but the rushed timeline, Duncan admits, wasn\u2019t ideal.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Voucher recipients interviewed by the Post almost universally say they were forced to navigate the application process and the housing market alone or were lucky enough to receive help from organizations and people outside the system.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Kevin Yarbrough, an Army veteran, says the process of getting a voucher\u2014he qualified for a veterans program called VASH-HUD\u2014and finding a place was beyond frustrating.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cI went to all the events, all the hoopla, where they\u2019re shaking hands and congratulating themselves,\u201d he says of housing bureaucrats. \u201cIt felt like someone opened a door for me, invited me in, but there was no one at the party when I arrived.\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n He would take buses to the Veterans Affairs building in West L.A. to get a certain piece of paperwork, only to find that the person whose help he needed was on vacation. The application process alone took six months, he says.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Veterans do get added support through the VA, and Yarbrough says the employees are good\u2014but turnover is high. Things get delayed, overlooked and suddenly people stop answering their phones.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n When he received his voucher, he was handed a map, apartment listings and some phone numbers of property managers.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n He was asked to leave his prior place earlier this year after the owner said he was selling the building, which meant Yarbrough had 60 days to find a new place in order to keep his voucher. \u201cI looked at 30 apartments, one every other day. There was no vacancies. \u2018We\u2019ll put you on a list,\u2019 they said.\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n In May, Yarbrough, 59, eventually did find an apartment in Downtown Long Beach, but, he says, \u201cI had to sell my sanity.\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n The authors of the four-year study on vouchers in Los Angeles County, which ran from 2016 through early 2020\u2014before COVID-19 hit\u2014say the pandemic likely worsened the situation, as services went online and homeless individuals had less access to places like libraries, where they could use the internet. Agencies and nonprofits also struggled with staffing shortages.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n As rough as it is in a normal year, the authors estimated that a third fewer people found housing in 2021, likely due to logistical challenges and lack of help.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Richard Glassman wasn\u2019t having it. He was going back and forth with a commenter on Nextdoor who argued that homeless people are victims. Glassman retorted that no, a good number of the homeless are criminals who\u2019d been let out of jail early and were, in fact, victimizing others by committing crimes.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Glassman, 62, a retired correctional officer for youth offenders in Ventura County, is skeptical of just about everyone.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n But on this day he was moved by a woman named PJ Stover who jumped into the conversation thread on Nextdoor.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n She explained that she\u2019s not a criminal, that people can just fall on hard times. He asked to do a background check on her\u2014he would pay for it\u2014and she agreed. When it came back clean, he met Stover at a grocery store and bought her some food and supplies, and later took her dog to the vet. She refused to take any cash.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \u201cI thought about her after, how hard it must be living in a car in this heat,\u201d he says.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/img.lbpost.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/10\/03142542\/1003-Lisa-2-1110x637.jpg\")
<\/a>\r\n‘Nowhere to go’<\/strong><\/h5>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/img.lbpost.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/10\/03115644\/0930-Homeless-8-1110x725.jpg\")
<\/a>\r\n\u00a0\u00a0A tough sell\u00a0\u00a0<\/b><\/h5>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
\u2018Help this woman\u2019<\/b><\/h5>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/img.lbpost.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/09\/28165723\/0914-Lisa-1-1110x666.jpg\")
<\/a>\r\n\u2018No one at the party\u2019<\/h5>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/img.lbpost.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/09\/28165737\/0928-Mugs-8-1110x681.jpg\")
<\/a>\r\n\u2018Just a home\u2019\u00a0<\/b><\/h5>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/img.lbpost.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/10\/17152345\/1003-Lisa-0-1-795x1024.jpg\")
<\/a>\r\n