A man who has Mayor Wilson's ear

Lance Orton turned his life around. Now his eyes are on the whole city

Lance Orton (right) is chair of ShelterPortland, a nonprofit Mayor Keith Wilson launched to demonstrate that the city’s homelessness problem could be solved.

Lance Orton has come a long way in six years.

A homeless heroin addict just looking for a place to sleep, he was taken in by a religious mission, got serious about his future and now runs that agency, renamed CityTeam Portland.

Call it lived experience, street cred or lessons learned the hard way, Orton has something Portland Mayor Keith Wilson—the man who would end unsheltered homelessness in one year—does not have. He also has the mayor’s ear.

In April, Orton became chair of ShelterPortland, a nonprofit Wilson launched to demonstrate that the city’s homelessness problem could be solved. The idea involved a few overnight shelters in churches that took in higher-functioning people, providing minimal services with the assistance of volunteers.

ShelterPortland’s direct work was modest, but its directors have become Wilson’s sounding board on his most critical mission as mayor.

“I volunteered [to become chair] because the board wasn’t doing anything,” Orton told the NW Examiner. In the first months on the board, “Keith was giving us updates.”

That soon changed.

“Given the pushback, that has now shifted to us advising him,” he said.

Orton’s personal recovery story tells him it will take more than overnight shelters to turn hopeless lives and the city around.

“Low-barrier shelters alone are not the answer,” he said. “Getting people off the street has value. That’s something that has to happen, but you can’t take people directly from the street into recovery.”

The mayor’s plan includes recovery services down the road, but the immediate emphasis has been on simply providing a place to spend the night. Day centers, recovery support and transitional housing were always in the scheme, but Wilson’s laser focus on reaching 1,500 overnight beds dominates public perception.

“The mayor doesn’t do a good job of telling that story, explaining that it’s not just about shelter,” Orton said. “I don’t know why.”

The legally dictated 1,500-bed prerequisite (a number derived from a percentage of people sleeping outdoors during the most recent point-in-time count) before Portland’s no-camping ordinance can be enforced has consumed all discussion.

Wilson has been saying arrests for camping cannot be made until reaching that arbitrary number, which will not be achieved by Dec. 1 without picking up the pace. There are now 430 beds, which will rise to 630 beds when the Northrup Shelter is in full operation in December. Still, that would be only 42 percent toward the goal of 1,500.

“ShelterPortland meets with him monthly, and we tell him where we think he should pivot,” Orton said.

That advice now includes “intensive outreach” with homeless people on the street to begin Nov. 1.

“Ten new outreach workers have just been brought in” to do that work, he said.

They will attempt to persuade loiterers to enter a shelter, which Orton contrasts with the more lax “compassionate outreach” now going on. They will also learn the names individuals as the first step in tracking their progress.

As Wilson plows toward the 1,500 magic number, Bybee Lakes Hope Center has been discussed as a possible site for 300 low-barrier beds. That deal has not come about, so the pressure to find sites in existing neighborhoods mounts.

Orton admires Wilson’s commitment to soldier on.

“He’s not doing this because he wants to be popular,” Orton said. “He did his research, and he’s going to stick to it. I kind of admire him for not backing down.”

Orton can imagine circumstances that might merit reconsideration, but he has not seen such to date.

Even eruptions of dissent among the 580 attending the July town hall at the Armory did not shake Orton’s or the mayor’s faith that his plan will win out in the end.

“I thought the pushback at the Armory was going to be stronger,” Orton said. “There was a surprising amount of support.”

The audience certainly applauded many of Wilson’s objectives, but the most resounding reactions were hostile to the specifics. When he announced that no IDs or sex offender registrations would be checked for entry into shelters, many guffawed or booed. When Wilson deflected blame for mismanagement at the River District Navigation Center, more angry voices were heard.

CityTeam

When he’s not advising the mayor on his biggest initiative, Orton is preparing for a big moment in his own program’s future.

CityTeam bought the 1889 Overland Building at Northwest Fourth and Davis streets last year and will open its 110-bed treatment program next month. In addition to the organization’s headquarters, the 27,000-square-foot building will move residents in stages from recovery (six to eight months) to job training and on to independent living, which typically takes another 12-18 months.

In its old building in the Central Eastside, 41 men graduated last year. A year after leaving, 83 percent of graduates are sober, held living-wage jobs and were housed, Orton said. After three years, 76% still meet those three markers.

In 2016, the brick structure was impressively restored. A commercial kitchen was installed. The atrium cutting through the top two levels is the centerpiece.

The atrium gives recovery residents, who live on the second floor, something to look up to on the third floor, where “graduate students,” who may hold jobs offsite, enjoy more independence.

David Dickson, who led a homeless outreach program for the Downtown Neighborhood Association and met Orton at Revitalize Portland meetings, said, “I can’t think of a person I have more respect for in the homeless field.”

Dickson also respects CityTeam’s approach, going beyond placing people in housing.

“We forget that the most important thing for self esteem is a job,” he said. “Housing alone does not solve the problem.”

Made in Old Town

CityTeam’s move to Old Town had a lot to do with Jessie Burke, the president of the Old Town Community Association and an Old Town business operator who sees commercial revitalization as the district’s most critical need. Burke helped Orton acquire the Overland Building when Multnomah County intended to use it for its own housing programs.

Dickson said Orton’s ability to earn the respect of Burke and the local business community set him apart from other nonprofit players in Old Town.

Orton’s partnership with Burke is about to reach a new level with plans for CityTeam graduates to work at Made in Old Town, an ambitious shoe innovation and manufacturing company acquiring several buildings in the heart of Old Town. Burke’s husband, OTCA Treasurer Jonathan Cohen, is a MiOT partner.

Orton recalls his introduction to Burke, who asked him to serve on the OTCA board.

“I knew if I didn’t get on her good side, I would be fighting her daily,” he said.

One of her first requests of him was to join her in a demonstration against a food giveaway organized by an anarchist group known as the Portland Free Store. The Free Store had provoked confrontations through a series of events, held without acquiring city permits, that blocked streets and commandeered the Lan Su Garden parking lot.

“I said, ‘Are you crazy?’ I am absolutely not going to show up and pour gasoline on the fire,” he told Burke.

The March counterdemonstration did indeed become somewhat explosive. About a dozen Portland Police officers were tipped off about the counterdemonstration and stood on guard, creating the appearance of over-policing on behalf of a well-connected operative.

A videographer calling himself John the Lefty asked Burke what the demonstration was about, and she falsely claimed she was acting on behalf of the Portland Bureau of Transportation to underscore the importance of getting permits. She did not reveal her connection to the OTCA.

Cohen was there too but would not give his name, denying he even knew what the event was about.

The scene became fodder for a NW Examiner cover story, “Power couple sics cavalry: carry a big stick and don’t give your name.”

Orton said he agreed with the thrust of the Examiner story that organizational leaders should identify themselves and the organization they speak for.

MiOT was the subject of a May Portland Mercury investigative piece headlined “Power moves: a community organization is calling the shots in one of Portland’s oldest neighborhoods.”

The subhead, laid out the premise: “The Old Town Community Association has been a key driver of development and investment in Old Town. Much of it comes with financial gain to its members.”

Orton read the piece but didn’t know what to make of it.

“Made in Old Town is a good thing for the district,” he said, “and it seems to be on the up and up.”

Belief in mayor’ mission

Orton and Dickson believe in Wilson’s mission. They also believe in his character, compassion and capabilities.

As informal advisers in the mayor’s sphere, they think his stumbles owe to things he could have seen coming.

Orton and Dickson are among the few who can transmit such ideas to Wilson.

Both say overnight shelters, the core of Wilson’s plan in his first year, are not a solution to homelessness and should not be painted as such.

Wilson’s emphasis on getting homeless people into shelters is clouding the vision of further steps needed to make superficial gains permanent.

The mayor is hearing that advice. ShelterPortland board members “tell him where we think he should pivot,” Orton said.

Their influence led to opening 50 high-barrier beds at Bybee Lakes Hope Center in February. That was followed by negotiations to add 300 low-barrier beds at Bybee Lakes that ended when the mayor learned they could not be ready by Dec. 1.

Despite some disagreements over strategy, Orton holds the mayor in highest regard. He has seen him personally guarantee continued funding to a shelter operator who blasted him in the news media.

Dickson says the same thing.

“I believe 100 percent in his integrity,” he said. “His heart is as big as it can get. He loves Portland.”

The mayor’s problems have come in implementation.

“I wish he would have involved people before decisions are made, make them feel they have a stake in this,” Dickson said. “He didn’t fully communicate the bigger problem to Portlanders.”

Dickson saw the willingness of citizens to roll up their sleeves and reach out to people on downtown streets during the COVID era. Similar volunteer efforts took place in the Pearl District, where some of the same people now say no to the Northrup Street Shelter.

Wilson was to speak at a major forum organized by coalition of homelessness agencies, Dickson said, “but just then the Northrup shelter hit and the Pearl absolutely went nuts,” including neighborhood leaders who had been on board with his agenda.

“He is now dealing with the genuine anger of the community,” Dickson said.

Still, he thinks Wilson can get through this period and have success in the last three years of his term.

“Let’s cross our fingers that Keith’s going to see the light,” Dickson said.

NW Examiner poll

The NW Examiner polled readers on the Northrup Shelter on Aug. 26, receiving 224 responses.

Do you favor the Northrup Shelter?

Yes 8%

No 73%

Only with enhanced enforcement 18%