Phoenix cools its homeless

PHOENIX — Bottles of water don't last long these days at the Lodestar Day Resource Center in downtown Phoenix. One homeless person after another grabs an ice-cold bottle, untwists the cap, and drains it in an instant.

"That's so good," says Nicholas Travis, who is living at a nearby shelter while working to get his life back on track after a stint in jail. "They keep us well stocked."

Water is a precious commodity in Arizona generally, but for the homeless, access to it can become a matter of life or death. With much of the West sizzling — temperatures in Phoenix have climbed above 110 degrees for 12 straight days, the third-longest such heat wave in state history — people living on the street are at just as much risk from exposure to the elements as they are in the Northeast during the harsh blasts of winter.

"Living outside, whether summertime or wintertime, is both dangerous and life-threatening to the homeless," says Michael Stoops, acting director of the National Coalition for the Homeless in Washington. "Phoenix," he adds, "has had a sorry history in dealing with the issue."

That's changing, say experts in Arizona. After 30 homeless people died during a similar hot streak in 2005, officials and faith-based groups in the Phoenix area redoubled efforts to coordinate services for the homeless, ensuring that they have access to shelter, water, and food during the most dangerous times of day.

"The community responded," says Jacki Taylor of the Arizona Coalition to End Homelessness. "And not just in Phoenix. There's been a statewide effort to reach out and help care for our men, women, and children on the streets."

In 2006 — the year the National Coalition for the Homeless designated Phoenix as the 17th meanest city in the U.S. (out of 200) for how it treats the homeless — about 7,300 homeless people lived in the metro area, according to Taylor's group. The number statewide was 14,960.

Phoenix has added hydration stations and "low-demand centers" for women, men, and families, says Taylor. These large, cooled rooms have cots or mats on the floor to temporarily house people who can't find spots in permanent shelters.

The United Methodist Outreach Ministry, which runs the centers for women and families, is full this summer. Calls from families seeking shelter have roughly doubled since the heat wave struck, says Nichole Churchill, community relations manager for UMOM.