New York City Takes Steps to Increase the Safety of Employees at Homeless Shelters

The huge, turreted castle that looms over Bedford Avenue in Brooklyn is the first stopover for many of New York City’s homeless men. Some call it Castle Grayskull after the forbidding fortress in the Masters of the Universe stories.

The building, a former armory, was turned into the Bedford-Atlantic Men’s Shelter in the early 1980s and serves as an assessment center and gateway to the city’s network of homeless services. As many as 350 men at a time are evaluated there for treatment programs and other shelters.

Shantal Gadson works the 4-p.m.-to-midnight shift, handing out dinner, bed linens and mail. A line of men sometimes wait at the guarded entrance, which is equipped with a metal detector and an X-ray machine. A sign posted on the wall warns: “Assaulting social services personnel is a felony punishable by up to 7 years in prison.”

“As I come to work,” Ms. Gadson, 36, said, “I think, you just never know who you’re dealing with on a daily basis.”

As New York City has struggled with a crisis in homelessness in recent years, shelter workers like Ms. Gadson go about helping those who have no one else, sometimes risking their own safety to do so. The fatal shooting in April of Ana Charle — the first shelter worker known to be killed by someone in the city’s shelter system — has focused attention on these employees in recent months and prompted city officials to review security measures at the city’s 256 homeless shelters, some of which are operated by nonprofit providers.

The Department of Homeless Services has increased security at some shelters, conducted on-site security assessments, and met with shelter directors and staff members to address their concerns. It has also worked to expand reporting and monitoring of violence and other disruptions at shelters, and to develop a new safety training curriculum for all shelter and program workers.

City officials have also set up an interagency task force to examine efforts to provide shelter to high-risk populations, which include people who exhibit serious mental illness and violent behavior. The task force will have representatives from homeless services; the health, hospitals, police, probation and correction departments; and the Mayor’s Office of Criminal Justice.

Gilbert Taylor, the commissioner of homeless services, said the city was committed to supporting those who “do heroic work each day” by providing shelter and helping rebuild lives. “Their job is difficult, critically important, and we commend and admire their dedication to assisting those in need,” he said.

Christy Parque, executive director of Homeless Services United, a coalition of New York City nonprofit homeless services providers, called the interagency task force “the right step forward” because people often wind up in the shelters after being discharged from other places and programs without housing in place.

“Resolving problems faced by the shelter system isn’t the sole responsibility of D.H.S. and shelter operators, who for years have been asking for increased support and funding for their programs, including for security and case management staff,” she said.

But some advocates for homeless people said the city’s efforts do not go far enough.

Mary E. Brosnahan, president and chief executive of the Coalition for the Homeless, an advocacy and direct service organization, said that until more permanent housing is created for the homeless, even the best efforts of shelter workers “will be blunted.”

“Workers like Ms. Gadson are the unsung heroes of the emergency shelter system, often toiling in oppressive conditions with staggering caseloads,” Ms. Brosnahan said. “But even the most dedicated and talented person can’t overcome the daily chaos and decades of institutional inertia which continue to characterize many shelters.”

Ms. Charle, 36, was the director of the Bronx Boulevard Men’s Shelter, which is operated by Project Renewal, a nonprofit provider. She was stalked and abducted by West Spruill, a former resident of the shelter, as she left work on April 27, according to the police. He forced her to undress in her car, and when she managed to escape, naked, he chased her down the street and shot her multiple times. Mr. Spruill, 39, has been charged with second-degree murder, first-degree manslaughter and criminal possession of a weapon.

Afterward, homeless services officials dispatched three more security officers, known as “peace officers,” and a supervisor to the Bronx shelter. The shelter already had a metal detector at the entrance, an X-ray machine and video surveillance.

“People who work in homeless shelters see the potential in each client and, despite the challenges, show up to work each day committed and determined to make a difference and help individuals who are homeless renew their lives,” said Mitchell Netburn, the chief executive of Project Renewal.

Ms. Charle’s killing shocked shelter workers across the city. Many said they were aware of the risks of working in shelters, particularly those in high-crime neighborhoods, with people who may be battling mental illness or drug and alcohol addictions. Some said they saw themselves performing a necessary public service, like police officers or firefighters.

“It hit close to home because that could have been me or one of my colleagues,” said Liciele Blunte, 38, a caseworker at the Bedford-Atlantic shelter for five years.

In Ms. Blunte’s office, some men become loud and irate and start yelling. Something as small as turning down a request for car fare can set off a tirade. At times, she calls for a security guard to escort someone out, telling the person to come back when he has calmed down.

Still, Ms. Blunte stays. When a man recently came to her after being released from prison with no identification cards, she helped him apply for a municipal ID. She was excited when he actually got it. “A couple of my clients didn’t follow through,” she said. “Progress is being made; you actually see clients moving forward.”

Homeless services officials said that reports of violence against shelter workers are so infrequent that they are not tracked separately. Instead, they are included in a category known as “critical incidents,” which also includes nonviolent situations such as thefts, power failures and medical emergencies.

There were 962 critical incidents in shelters in 2014, up from 927 in 2013, as the population in shelters swelled to 59,000 from 47,000. Still, homeless officials said critical incidents appeared to be declining. There were 206 episodes in the first three months of 2015, the most recent data available, compared with 251 in the same period the year before.

At the Bedford-Atlantic shelter, where 81 security officers are on patrol, some workers said they routinely took precautions.

Andrea Bowden, 43, a supervisor of social services, tries to walk out with other staff members at night. In 11 years at the shelter, she said, she has never felt threatened by the shelter’s residents. In fact, some of them look out for her. When they see her leaving, she said, they tell her, “Get home safe.”

Kathleen Wardlaw, a caseworker, makes sure to find a parking spot close to the shelter and lets security guards and other staff members know when she is leaving. One night not long ago, Ms. Wardlaw, 41, was caught off guard when a homeless man waiting at the entrance followed her outside to ask her how to get a bed. “I was uncomfortable,” she recalled. “I didn’t want to continue walking to my car with him following me, so I turned around and went back in with him to answer his question.”

Many of the shelter workers have other job options but find their work at the shelter fulfilling. Their salaries are modest, though comparable to those at other city agencies. Community assistants earn $28,675 to $37,201, caseworkers $36,577 to $62,644, and social services supervisors $45,144 to $72,378.

Ms. Gadson, who started as a community assistant at the shelter in the past year, gets cursed at almost daily. “Sometimes I chuckle,” she said. “Sometimes I don’t. I’m like, ‘O.K., you’re done now.’ ”

As a teenager, Ms. Gadson would go with her mother, Linda Bruns, to her job as an assistant superintendent at a Manhattan homeless shelter. She found the place smelly, and the residents scary. She would ask her mother how she could work at a homeless shelter. “She told me her job is rewarding when the guys would tell her, ‘Ms. Bruns, I found an apartment’ or ‘I found a job,’ ” Ms. Gadson said.

Now it is Ms. Gadson who is asked that question. “It can definitely be intimidating to people,” she said. “But when you get inside and see these people and they tell you their stories, it’s really like any other job.”