Solution to homelessness: a home

Amenities include a security staff and a six-story mural-like glass mosaic on one side of the building, touted as the largest of its kind in the world. Catholic church services are held next door, but residents aren't required to take part in any religious activities.

Many obstacles confront building permanent housing for the homeless. Across the country, homeless advocates must cope with the "not in my backyard" sentiment.

"There's an effort to force them out to more remote locations, which are much worse for the people they're trying to help," says Maria Foscarinis, executive director of the National Law Center on Homelessness and Poverty. "They're far removed from jobs and services that people need."

Barbara Poppe, executive director of the Community Shelter Board in Columbus, acknowledges that bringing neighbors on board is a struggle. "It has been very hard to have the general public understand that permanent, supportive housing is not an emergency shelter," she says. "We go through a process of working with neighbors to have them understand what the project is going to be."

Money is another issue, since the rent is often subsidized. In Columbus, officials turned to federal and state grants in addition to private donations, Ms. Poppe says.

Then there's the matter of proper tenant behavior. Many homeless suffer from both mental illness and drug addiction, Poppe says, but they still must follow rules or be kicked out.

Still, simply being able to take a shower and wear clean clothes can make a huge difference in how people behave, she says. "Their whole stature changes. They often are unrecognizable from their prior life."

Mary Connor may fit in that category. A few years ago, she called her car home after mental problems forced her to leave her job as a computer engineer. She's still considered disabled, but now has her own room at Villa Mandel. She spends her days with friends such as Ms. Lopez and Mr. Johnson.

On a recent afternoon, Ms. Connor talked with Johnson about preparing a building Christmas party and getting together with other residents for a holiday trip to a Hometown Buffet restaurant.

She also reflected on having a home of her own in one of America's most expensive cities.

"Without this," she says, "I don't know where I'd be living."

For years, cities have been giving one-way bus tickets to the homeless. The idea of "Greyhound therapy," as it's sarcastically known, is to turn a homeless person into someone else's problem.

But now, one major American city is working to transform this long-derided approach into a legitimate strategy.

To reduce the homeless population, social workers in San Francisco have been sending homeless people to a very familiar location - home.

Since the "Homeward Bound" program began in February 2005, the city has spent about $125,000 to put nearly 900 homeless people on buses.

The catch: "We'll only send them to a place where they have relatives, close friends, or social workers who commit to us that they'll take care of the person," says Trent Rhorer, who oversees San Francisco's social services programs.

"It's much different than saying, 'We'll ship you up to Seattle because you want to go there, even if you don't have any resources up there either,' " he says.

Does it work? At least one homeless advocate is skeptical.

"It's a step nicer than putting someone on a bus and saying, 'Get out of here,' " says Juan Prada, executive director of the San Francisco-based Coalition on Homelessness. "But we don't know what follow-up is done, and it doesn't resolve anything" for homeless people who don't want to leave the city they call home.

Mr. Rhorer says there is follow-up, and fewer than a dozen people have returned to San Francisco after availing themselves of the program.

"The overwhelming number of people are still with their relatives or friends," he says, "and a few of them have jobs."

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