Private outreach groups say they offered privacy, personal touch

By CINDY HORSWELL Copyright 2005 Houston Chronicle On the day before Katrina struck, the Rev. Scott Neal stopped for coffee at a local gathering place run by his wife in Mont Belvieu where he learned his town was being overwhelmed by an influx of evacuees. The Chambers County town (population 2,300) is east of Houston off Interstate 10, the evacuation route for those fleeing the Aug. 29 storm into Texas. One of Neal's church members rushed over to tell him that the Red Cross shelter at the senior citizen center was already full and turning displaced residents away. Anxious to fill the void, Neal said, "Here are the keys to our church. Open the door for these people, and we'll figure the rest out later." His tiny church, Eagle Heights Fellowship housed in what once was a dance club on Texas 146, is among an untold number of private shelters that have gained little attention compared with the mega-shelters at Houston's sports and convention centers. Nonetheless, these private shelters, which are not certified by the Red Cross, have been running around the clock for as long as three weeks by the sheer grit of volunteers who have found their own resources. Neal said he initially asked his town's Red Cross shelter for help but was told none was available because his workers weren't trained or certified. However, FEMA and the Red Cross have since offered services such as job assistance and home placement to private shelters. Operators of the small shelters, mostly in churches where some of the first evacuees sought refuge in Texas, believe their guests may have fared better with more privacy and personal service than those at the mass shelters. Organizers of private shelters say they were able to cut through red tape that often binds government and charitable organizations while still working alongside these agencies to assure evacuees never missed any benefits. As quickly as the doors opened at Eagle Heights, the building was filled with almost a hundred evacuees. " ... within three hours, we had beds for everyone and food and drink," Neal said. Word spread through e-mail and a notice placed on a Baptist Association Web site that the church needed help. Aid then poured in from all over the country. He pointed to a 4,000-square-foot warehouse behind the church that is stocked full of supplies. "We hardly had to cook any meals ourselves, because of all the cooking teams. They fight over who gets to feed them. I have 10 more days booked," he said. Volunteers built showers in the back of the church and installed three washers and dryers. At the same time, the town's police chief, J.D. Whitman, and the West Chambers County Chamber of Commerce solicited funds to give every evacuee � including the children � a $25 card to buy gas or other needs at a local discount store. San Jacinto Methodist Hospital doctors and nurses even made a house call there. "Blessings have been raining down on us," said Lucille Jones, an evacuee who spoke for many of the others in the shelter. "We didn't have to go through what some did at the larger shelters. It was like heaven here and we are grateful for it. They made us feel like family." She is one of 12 children born to 78-year-old Annie "Mame" Wallace, whose 67-member extended family constituted more than half of the evacuees at this shelter. The Wallace clan had initially planned to stay at Mont Belvieu's Red Cross shelter � the same place the family spent one night last year after fleeing Hurricane Ivan. But after an 18-hour drive, the nine-car Wallace caravan arrived to find the shelter was already full. The family members were relieved when Eagle Heights opened its doors. "They've been so good to us," Jones said. A few miles away, Old River Baptist Church has also turned a dozen Sunday school rooms into private family suites for 90 evacuees. "Each Sunday school class has adopted the family that is staying in their room," said Rev. Danny Biddy. The evacuees chose to come there rather than be transferred to the George R. Brown Convention Center when Red Cross closed its area shelter. cindy.horswell@chron.com