In Commentary
By Scott L. Stearman, special to the Beacon
12:05 am on Wed, 10.10.12
The Bible's wisdom literature warns that people perish where
there is no vision (Proverbs 29:18). Vision, it is implied, is a gift given to
a few so that the many might prosper. It is a rare and beautiful gift, this
vision that leads people to life.
It is rare, but in every generation there are those who find
it, or maybe those who are found by it when circumstances insist. In either
case we in St. Louis have been fortunate to live in the same city as a
visionary named Lynne Cooper.
Cooper, who very recently retired as president of Doorways Interfaith HIV housing, found the foresight, compassion, energy and pure gumption to save thousands from homelessness and certain death. In the process, Cooper protected countless others who would have been affected and potentially infected by those with HIV. Without a home, those infected with HIV are not only much more likely to get sick and die, but they are many times less likely to take medication. In the case of HIV, this means you are more likely to infect those with whom you may share needles or have sex.
Today, Doorways provides housing and care for 1,000
households affected with HIV/AIDS each year, has an annual operating budget of
$5 million, and has brought more $100 million of competitive housing dollars to
Missouri. Just 25 years ago Doorways didn’t exist. The difference between then
and now can predominately be traced to Lynne Cooper.
In the late 1980s many young men were dying well before
their time. HIV, then just beginning to be understood, was taking lives,
decimating families and engendering fear along a large swath of the U.S.
population. St. Louis was hardly immune. Some in the local community were
talking in terms of sin and retribution. Others heard a call of compassion to
help the sick and the dying, while the vast majority were simply ignoring the
issue.
Cooper, a nun, began to meet with a few concerned clergy and
community leaders. In those early meetings, there were representatives from the
Catholic Archdiocese, a local rabbi, and ministers from Episcopal, Lutheran,
Methodist, Presbyterian and United Church of Christ traditions.
As the group began to discuss the outstanding need of people
infected with HIV, they came to
recognize that stable and secure housing was essential. This early vision, that
safe housing is a prerequisite for effective treatment of HIV, has since been
born out through research. For those who are HIV positive, housing is health
care.
In 1988, this group founded Doorways, an Interfaith AIDS
Residence Program. They did so with four apartments. This small initiative of
clergy and community leaders knew they needed dynamic leadership. In 1989 they
asked Lynne to be the executive director. The board would change her title to
president in 1996 and upon her retirement the board has made her,
"president emeritus." But titles can never communicate all that her
visionary commitment has meant to this organization or to the local community.
Today Doorways offers rent, mortgage and utility assistance
to more than 700 households each month and apartments for 280 people, including
80 children. It provides residential care for 36 people too ill to live
independently in Missouri's first residential care facility for those with
AIDS. Its mission also includes programs for AIDS housing in outstate Missouri
and Illinois and a "Jumpstart" for 20 single parents living with AIDS
who receive help with rent, utilities, education, transportation, food and
childcare.
Cooper retired from Doorways at the end of September. Tom
and Carol Voss, supporters of the organization, hosted a party in honor of her
career at the Ameren headquarters. Moving speeches were given by clients and
staff. One of the most poignant moments of the evening was Evelyn Cohen’s
description of those early derelict apartments, where Lynne was not only the
administrator but the plumber.
As a local clergy person, I have known of Doorways for about
four years and have been on the board for about a year and a half. In full
disclosure I now consider Lynne Cooper a personal friend. But I expect that is
true of the vast majority of people who have met her; she emanates a charisma
that draws you in, a compassion you can’t help but take personally.
I saw this in great effect when at my first board meeting we
spent a couple of hours poring over byzantine budget sheets and financial
reports. It was all very dry. All the economic challenges of our day were there
in spades.
As we came to the end of the afternoon, a couple of the most
darling little girls you've ever seen, about 5 years old, both with pig tails
and summer dresses, came up to the glass door of the conference. They smiled
and waved. I waved back.
They weren't as interested in me as the cookies on the table
in front of me. Lynne Cooper saw this and immediately took the platter out to
them — to their evident appreciation, displayed in toothy grins. They lived in
the housing complex. Their parents, poor and sick, where being housed, and
these young lives were being saved, because of those facts, figures and budget
sheets.
Cooper has been that rare leader who could drop everything
at a moment’s notice for the all-important task of delivering a cookie, and who
at the same time can get her head around unfathomable HUD residential requests
and arcane governmental budget requirements.
That capacity of embracing the personal and corporate has
made her a very effective manager. Obviously she didn’t build the organization
by herself. She has been known has a very effective mentor to young leaders —
some of whom now run other human service agencies.
Opal Jones is one such mentee, hired by Lynne several years
ago. She told me that Cooper gave her the grace to make mistakes, but if
something didn’t work out as expected; she expected that you would take
responsibility.
“Cultivating leadership within the organization,” Opal said,
“was very important to her.” In conversations with multiple Doorways staff,
past and present, it seems Cooper imbibed the powerful advice of Pope Gregory
on pastoral care: Like the Good Samaritan apply both wine (which stings and
cleans) and oil (which comforts and soothes) to the wounds of those for whom
you are caring.
Cooper’s leadership hasn’t gone without notice. She served
on President Clinton’s Advisory Council on HIV/AIDS and has received numerous
positive citations and awards. The most recent came on the evening of Sept. 22
when Cooper was awarded the “Individual Equality Award” by the Human Rights
Campaign.
In her acceptance speech, Cooper referenced the Erik Erikson
theory of development: Mature adults reach a stage of either “generativity or
stagnation.” The former is marked by finding lasting meaning and purpose often
by investing in the next generation. It
is Cooper’s contention that the LGBTQ movement has progressed to generativity.
The idea is that the local community has created numerous programs and
institutions that help engender health and happiness. These programs are
staffed by the energy and dedication of many people in the gay community even
though AIDS is no longer a “gay disease.”
Here is part of what Cooper said: “Having reached this adult
stage of generativity, our movement has gotten over its narrow selves. We are
now proudly Lesbian, Gay, Bi-sexual and Transgendered. Our tent is big; it is
inclusive.
St. Louis Effort for AIDS is no longer the gay organization,
it is the education organization. Food Outreach takes care of people with HIV
and cancer regardless of their orientation. Doorways is pondering how housing
can prevent HIV among all varieties of homeless young people. These agencies
are no longer segments of a gay movement, they are leaders and teachers about
how to deal with any disease, how to address poverty itself, and what every
human being deserves in food, housing and knowledge to life a full life. We are
no longer just taking care of ourselves. In our maturity as a movement, we are
leading the way in this world to a better more empathetic humanity.”
I think she is right about this. If so, she is largely to
blame.
