Editors Note: While the doors of the shelter are closed,  South Suburban PADS continues to meet the needs of those men, women and children who settled in the south suburbs following Hurricane Katrina. Even as they continue to rebuild their lives, it seems important to share the story of PADS most unique sheltering experience. 

Looking back it was a perfect storm that created an amazing moment in time. Hurricane Katrina had smashed New Orleans. The resulting floods then devastated the city and its neighborhoods. While it was impossible to predict, the impact of those events would bring about the creation of a perfect partnership. A partnership which grew from a grassroots melding of a local non-profit organization, a municipality, the staff of a state facility and the community at large. 

 It was a seemingly quiet Friday in early September. One of those days when the topic of homelessness was interspersed with talk about plans for the long Labor Day weekend and anticipation abounds. The tragedy of Hurricane Katrina and the floods which followed the breach of the levies was on the lips of staff members and guests alike. Little did anyone imagine how close we were soon to become to the events happening in New Orleans. 

South Suburban PADS connection to the evacuees’ of the city known as the Big Easy began that Friday with a phone call from the Springfield, Illinois office of the Bureau of Homelessness, which is part of the Illinois Department of Human Services. The IDHS staff member informed us that Gov. Rod Blagojavich was planning on extending an invitation to displaced residents of New Orleans if shelter options could be identified. The caller asked if we could contact the Faith Communities which normally serve as shelter sites and ask them if they would be willing to open their doors to provide pre-season shelter to our intended visitors. 

The call ended casual conversation as all available staff members were drafted into making phone calls. Six hours later the effort had netted mixed results. Some Faith Communities were anxious to help, others were not and others were simply unavailable. Tired and ready for the weekend I ended the day with a call to Springfield to report our results. As a closing comment I shared a thought offered by a former employee of the Tinley Park Mental Health Center and suggested that the facility offered more options for mass shelter than the individual churches and synagogues. The comment drew the response, “It was considered and passed over earlier.” 

At this junction it is necessary to point out that one should watch what they ask for. My phone rang just before 10 p.m. that night and a familiar IDHS voice asked, “Can PADS help if we take your suggestion?” While my offer to meet with TPMHC staff the next morning seemed innocent, in hindsight it launched PADS and hundreds of volunteers into one of the most memorable events in the organization’s 15 year history.  

Before I explain many of the events which unfolded over the next 90 days it should be noted that many of the days, especially during the initial weeks of the operation, melted into one another. So while I believe the events happened in the following order, I cannot provide a day-by-day recollection. Also, hundreds of names came and went during this period of time. In order to avoid missing, or incorrectly spelling, anyone’s name, I am going to limit the listing of individual names. 

God bless everyone who offered their time, talents and financial support. 

The initial meeting with TPMHC staff was very invigorating. Although their staff was limited, most of the facility’s supervisory employees were on-hand for the 9 a.m. holiday weekend meeting. And, they were anxious to take on the unknown challenge. 

I had already contacted the South Suburban PADS Board of Directors President and started the wheels moving toward a mid-day meeting of the Board and key Faith Communities. I also contacted the Chicago office of the Red Cross and issued my first yell for “HELP!” 

The morning meeting ended with a tour of Spruce Hall and a chance to witness the massive amount of plumbing problems this mothballed building contained. While the State of Illinois had its downsized staff working all night to tackle the plumbing, electrical, HVAC, painting, elevator and sanitation issues of the building, they had only scratched the surface. Closed for at least 18-months, it was obvious that Spruce Hall had been serving as the parts department for those buildings which were in operation. By all appearances, when the facility was vacated the staff walked out of the building and locked the door.  

As we exited Spruce Hall through the office area workers were scrapping the mildew-ridden carpeting off the floors and someone said, “You have to remember. This building was never supposed to be used again.” At that moment I was beginning to believe they were right. 

Heading to South Suburban PADS office in Chicago Heights for the emergency meeting with our Board and Faith Community representatives I received a call from the Red Cross confirming their willingness to provide cots and on-site guidance on how to establish a disaster shelter. While my contact was offering “whatever else we can do”, there was no mention about food or volunteers since they were deployed to the hurricane area. 

The conference room was filled when I walked through the door. I remember thinking how unreal it seemed that so many people were available on such short notice. Everyone listened intently as I described how PADS was being asked to staff the shelter site 24-hours a day and provide dinner each night of the week. I shared how TPMHC was planning to initially provide the breakfast and lunch each day as well as basic security and facility support. 

No one in the room grimaced when I described the condition of Spruce Hall, or the fact that the building needed to be ready to accommodate 125 people by the end of the day on Monday. I explained how TPMHC staff had said the word “fluid” had been adopted as the key to the project. 

A truer word has never been spoken. 

The meeting ended with a unanimous vote to move forward. Everyone agreed to spread the word that volunteers would be needed starting at 9 a.m. on Sunday and throughout the holiday weekend. It seemed that the quickest way to communicate the need was through the PADS network of Faith Communities and upcoming worship services. While everyone headed off to call others, PADS staff members headed to the phones to call as many churches and synagogues as possible. As the day ended all we could do was wait for the morning. 

A 5 p.m. call to my counterpart at TPMHC provided the first indication of what lay ahead. When I asked if the Red Cross had called to offer their services, I was informed that the conversation was going on all day. They went on to say that the Springfield office of the Red Cross got word that the Chicago office was going to assist the Tinley Park operation. “It’s been hitting the fan ever since” is the quote I can remember. 

It was my first lesson in the politics surrounding the national response to Hurricane Katrina. It seems the proposed shelters in Tinley Park, Maywood and Elgin were going to be State of Illinois operations and that made them Springfield based. Springfield based operations apparently were to be served by the Springfield office of the Red Cross, not the Chicago office and it would take an afternoon of phone calls and the governor’s office to straighten out the mess.   

To this date I cannot tell you how the matter was resolved. The only outcome from the political jockeying was that the Red Cross never provided any sheltering assistance. No advisors ever arrived on site, no food services and no more phone calls. A team from Freeport, Illinois did spend about 12 hours in Tinley Park helping evacuees register for the Red Cross’ one time financial assistance. 

As the sun set that Saturday no one had any idea what was about to happen. The word had gone out to anyone who was within phone contact. Would anyone be attending worship services to hear our plea? Would they listen? 

The next day began with an 8 a.m. meeting at the TPMHC. The early morning meetings would become a daily staple throughout PADS presence, but this gathering would forge the partnership between South Suburban PADS, the Tinley Park Mental Health Center and the Village of Tinley Park. The term fluid was used over and over again. It was the answer to the questions of “when will the evacuees arrive”, “how many people can we expect”, “what kind of needs can we expect our new guests will have” and “when will they arrive”. 

While few if any answers existed for the questions, everyone agreed that each of the parties would do whatever was necessary in order to “get it right”. Filled with a sense of cooperation and teamwork the meeting ended and we all headed to Spruce Hall to see what work was needed and if anyone would answer our call for help. 

What we found was a parking lot full of cars. It was early in the day and at least 100 people were already on hand. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the temperature grew and so did the number of volunteers. Volunteers were everywhere you looked. So many volunteers had arrived that they quickly exhausted the cleaning supplies on hand. So the call went out amongst the volunteers that more supplies were needed and people suddenly started arriving with their own mops, buckets, sponges and rubber gloves. 

If you were one of the seemingly few south suburbanites that did not visit Spruce Hall during the three month shelter period allow me to point out the building is round. Once you get above the ground floor the hallways have no beginning and no end. Every room can reached by going to the right or heading to the left. The hallways were lined with huge windows which overlooked a courtyard and therefore provided a person with one of the few clues as to their location.  

The floors are divided into three living areas and the living areas into approximately 10 rooms which appeared capable of housing up to six people. While we had no idea as to how many people were heading our way, we were given a working figure of 125 individuals. The number meant we could house everybody on the second floor and use the third floor for programming and storage. 

Cleaning was going on everywhere. Bathrooms were being scrubbed as soon as the plumbers repaired them. Then, when the drains backed-up another crew would clean it again. Walls were being scrubbed, windows were cleaned and floors were washed and washed and washed again. Garbage was being moved out one load after another and the volunteers kept coming. 

To try and capture the scores of volunteers who were streaming onto the site we set-up a table, staffed it with a PADS employee and armed her with a ream of newly created volunteer sign-up sheets. There she sat, hour after hour after hour, surrounded by people of all ages and backgrounds who just wanted to help. Everyone had questions and we had only one answer, “Fill out the form and we will get back to you.” 

Banking on 15 years of PADS experience and the hope that natural leaders would come forward to help organize the dozens of activity areas which were being established throughout the facility, I deputized everyone who approached me saying, “You need to do …..” The charge I remember handing out most often went something like, “Great idea, get a group of volunteers together and take care of it.” Almost without fail the unsuspecting and newly deputized volunteers accepted the challenge and tackled the job at hand. 

Fortunately the south suburbs are filled with natural volunteer leaders and throughout the effort those leaders kept emerging. Unfortunately, so many leaders came and went so fast and so often that it was impossible to properly thank them or to even record their names. This would probably be my greatest regret. 

By the time the day ended an estimated 500 people had offered their time, talents, sweat and materials. Yes, materials of all sorts started arriving. Such a wide range of goods were dropped off at the entrance that we simply referred to it as stuff. Food stuffs, cleaning stuff, beverage stuff, hygiene stuff, decorating stuff and clothing stuff.  

To attempt to understand the volume of clothing which was donated over the first days of the effort you need to picture the circular Spruce Hall courtyard and the fact that the courtyard was open on the eastern and western ends. The openings were 40 feet wide, 20 feet high and covered by the second floor of the building. The clothing began gathering in the western opening and like the story Jack and the Beanstalk, it just kept growing. By the conclusion of day one the clothing had been sorted, boxed and about to be stored. As the days progressed the clothes followed the same process, over and over and over. As fast as it was moved out, the area filled up all over again. 

While natural leaders rose to the surface, I knew the success of the project depended on the availability of some key players. While South Suburban PADS has experience in handling volunteers, Together We Cope of Tinley Park has a tremendous amount of experience handling stuff. So the call went out requesting their assistance and thankfully they agreed to take charge of the overwhelming amount of in-kind donations. 

Not only did TWC bring staff, volunteers and years of know-how to the effort, they agreed to establish and staff an on-site clothing and supply room backed with the resources of the resale shop they operate in Tinley Park. As the river of clothing continued to flow, TWC filled their storage area on the third floor of Spruce Hall, the storage area within their building and the 24,000 square foot building which formerly housed the Tinley Park Library. And the clothing donations kept on coming. 

Clothing wasn’t the only stuff which needed attention. An exhaustive supply of soap, shampoo, toothpaste, tooth brushes, deodorant, brushes and every type of hygiene and personal care product one could think of began appearing at the eastern entrance to the building. Fortunately, one of those amazing volunteers stepped forward, asked if they could help and found themselves deputized and in charge of that particular supply room. Not only did she perform a miracle in organizing and carrying out the responsibility she acquired in those early hours, but, looking back, she carried out her work throughout the effort. 

As the hour grew late that Sunday and the last volunteer headed to their car, one had to be amazed at the day’s events. Spruce Hall was starting to look habitable. The arrival time for our guests was possibly Labor Day but that was still “fluid”. The one thing we did know was tomorrow was another day. Only time would tell if the flow of volunteers and stuff would continue. 

The 8 a.m. planning meeting was well attended. Amidst discussions of security, parking, the media, arrival times, communications and health services was the conversation on what to name the effort. Since the project was state sponsored, part of the name seemed obvious. After some bantering someone offered the idea that our commitment was to provide the evacuees with hope. Thus, Spruce Hall was to be named the State of Hope. And, by days end a huge banner proclaiming the same was hung at the eastern entrance flanked by banners from the Village of Tinley Park and South Suburban PADS. 

Our hope that the volunteer turnout on this day would reflect the outpouring of the previous day definitely materialized. The short drive from the meeting held in the TPMHC Administrative Building to Spruce Hall was crowded with the cars of volunteers. TPMHC security officers were positioned along the roadway to direct traffic and help volunteers locate parking places in the lots which now had overflowed their borders into the open areas adjacent the building.  

PADS staff members were on hand to meet, greet and direct volunteers to one of the many areas where people were busy “getting ready”. While the fact was conditions were greatly improved, things still looked less than pristine. The heavy traffic volume through the hallways and living areas meant every area needed another good cleaning. 

This Labor Day would certainly live up to its name. In preparation for the outpouring of donated labor and the coordination it would require, the help of PADS former volunteer coordinator was recruited. The decision had been made to treat this new effort just like the development of a new shelter location. The idea that “many hands make easy work” had served PADS well for 15 shelter seasons. Who better to handle this seemingly overwhelming responsibility than the woman who managed the development of PADS shelter volunteer force for nearly eight years. 

As people again poured onto the site seeking to record their name on the growing list of future volunteers, she could be found huddled with her newly deputized associate strategizing about how they could turn a pile of names into dependable teams.  

Working with a PADS board member the trio would make hundreds of telephone calls, turning pieces of paper into living, breathing site workers. People who, for the present time, said they were willing to share their life with people who had been washed out of their homes. 

The first pieces of “great” news in this area were delivered by two of PADS existing faith community shelter teams. Both Living Springs Community Church of Glenwood and New Faith Baptist Church of Matteson announced that they would staff a 24-hour period each week. These teams would even provide the necessary meals. In fact New Faith Baptist Church thought they could handle two days each week. 

Together, these teams would provide shelter coverage for Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Now all we needed to do was either shorten the week or coordinate four more days of meals and shelter volunteers. 

By the conclusion of the project over 5,000 people would volunteer to serve. Every one of those people wanted to be the first people to serve. The “lucky” volunteers, those who were called first, would be those names either listed on the papers on the top of the pile, or those who answered their phones, returned their messages or who actually reported for  duty. 

Typically 25% of those people who initially volunteer change their minds before working for the first time. During the initial weeks of the State of Hope effort that number rose to heights in excess of 50% of the people who completed volunteer sign-up sheets. However, the volunteer coordination trio worked undaunted. 

Their ultimate achievement was to successfully staff every shift, hour and minute. 

Additional members of South Suburban PADS staff and the board of directors, both current and former, had stepped forward to take on major aspects of the project. People were handling the coordination of food teams, the development of a health care strategy and the creation of a logistics plan for the arrival of up to 125 people.

As the list of tasks requiring attention grew so did the number of volunteers who were reporting for work. Thankfully people were still willing to be deputized. One such group of deputies was the ladies of the Red Hat Society. While hundreds of people were being put to work, the idea of food, water and other refreshments never crossed anyone’s mind. At least, until they arrived on the scene.  

Suddenly there were red hats everywhere. Buckets with water, juices and soda appeared in an area adjacent to the eastern entrance and the door most commonly used to enter and exit the building. Then the food arrived. But, who had time to stop and eat? The Red Hats had an answer for that too, as they established a very informal delivery system for those volunteers who couldn’t tear themselves away from the work at hand. 

Throughout the preparation phase they were on-hand with food and refreshments. Their presence, however, was ongoing since one of the ladies announced she was a former postal inspector and queried whether we wanted a post office established on site. A simple yes created a whirlwind of activity which resulted in the establishment of the State of Hope – United States Post Office Substation – Tinley Park, Illinois 60477. Conveniently the post office was housed on the first floor of the building, in the last office before the exit door which opened onto the Red Hat Society refreshment station. 

Not only did the State of Hope have the first recognized and functional post office amongst the Chicago area evacuee shelters, our post office was open and staffed by the same volunteers throughout the shelter operation. Hats off to them. 

As the Tinley Park ESDA volunteers started to bring in the green fold-up cots the second floor began looking like a residence. Volunteers were charged with doing everything they could to try and remove the institutional feeling from the very institutional setting. Bulletin boards were created, pictures were hung and televisions were installed. Signs designating the living quarters or “pods” as either “female”, “male” or “families” were placed with arrows directing people around the circular corridor.  

One group of volunteers tackled a room across from the second floor elevator and converted it into a children’s play room. Another group discovered a wealth of sheets, towels, pillow cases and blankets in a former linen room and began assembling sets for each of the cots. While this effort may sound relatively easy it must be noted that the linen room was filled from end to end and top to bottom when the building was closed. Volunteers needed to dig their way into the room just to begin sorting its contents. 

South Suburban PADS established the shelter’s headquarters in room #103. Borrowed desks, old file cabinets and some salvaged chairs from other parts of the building provided the furnishings for the operation. Without a clue as to what we would need, supplies, paperwork and even an office volunteer was borrowed from PADS main office in Chicago Heights. Since she said she was willing to help she immediately was deputized as the office manager, a title to which she kept attaching the word “interim”. 

Somewhere during the afternoon I had a chance to gaze out on the courtyard from a second floor window. The comparison to an ant colony continues to stick-out in my mind to this day. Volunteers were everywhere. Picnic tables were arriving by the truckload, grown men were trying to put together portable basketball standards (and being outdone by their teenage sons), refrigerators were placed in every pod, clothes continued to arrive and the plans for the arrival of our guests continued to be fluid. 

Earlier I mentioned that one of our staff members had positioned herself at the entranceway and was answering questions and taking completed volunteer registration forms – as far as I could tell she hadn’t moved from her post in two days. 

By day’s end we had a plan. We knew what we were going to do from the moment the first hurricane evacuee stepped on site. The brilliant plan included staffing plans and a full logistical schematic. Now we were challenged to take bright ideas and turn them into training plans. While we had the benefit of a holiday weekend to pull off the miraculous conversion of an inoperable, uninhabitable  psychiatric facility to a friendly and welcoming residential building, people would be returning to work on Tuesday. Who was going to join us on Tuesday to help welcome our new friends? 

Before the volunteers headed for home we spread the word that 150 people would be needed to serve as the welcoming party and the volunteers needed to report at 7:30 a.m. A training would be conducted in the morning and we anticipated people to start arriving at 1 p.m. 

PADS staff members decided to take one last walk through Spruce Hall before heading out for a short night’s rest. All the rooms seemed ready to go and were awaiting their occupants. The first floor community room which would serve as the dining hall was clean, organized and had silk flowers on the tables. As we exited the building we discovered some unexpected guests resting on a picnic table in the courtyard. Included in the group was Illinois State Senate President Emil Jones and State Senator Rev. James Meeks.  

Senator Meeks spent most of his time on his cell phone while Senator Jones simply relaxed. Yet, as the staff later compared notes, we realized the political game was in play again. It seems those who were close enough to hear could decipher the phrase “but Rod” being repeated from the audible side of the conversation.  

While its impossible to say for sure, its possible the call was setting the stage for the dramatics of the next day. A day which would begin before sunrise and end after the sun would rise the following day. As the early birds gathered in the State of Hope courtyard they would be joined by volunteers throughout the day until approximately 200 people were on hand. 

Late news from Springfield informed us that the operation was still fluid. We were still expecting 125 people, but were told that they might arrive at Midway or at O’Hare Airport. At various times we were informed that all of the evacuees (approx. 350 people) would be screened at the Elgin Mental Health Center, the Allstate Arena, a military hangar or on site at the State of Hope. 

The possibility that 350 evacuees from the flood waters of New Orleans would arrive at the State of Hope and require medical screenings never phased the health care team put together by the South Suburban PADS Homeless Healthcare Network Coordinator. Over the previous two days she marched her broken leg and new cast all over the campus, coordinating medical volunteers, recruiting other medical professionals and establishing a medical clinic adjacent to the dining area. Medical resources from throughout the Southlands poured into the State of Hope and, while no information was forthcoming from the Illinois or Cook County Departments of Public Health, the team was ready. 

By 12 p.m the volunteers had been trained, divided into hospitality teams, been sent throughout the facility to check, recheck and check again that everything was in place. Gathering again in the courtyard we sent the volunteers into the dining room to enjoy the lunch we thought our new guests would be eating, since their arrival was delayed to mid-afternoon. Then the arrival was postponed to 5 p.m. Then the arrival was delayed to 7 p.m. 

No one wanted to leave the State of Hope. Everyone was bored. 

Finally the announcement came that the evacuees would arrive somewhere between 1 a.m. and 2 a.m. The volunteers were sent home and asked to return at 1 a.m. 

And most of them returned. At 1 a.m. an estimated 100 trained volunteers were back in the courtyard joined by another 100 people who just appeared, ready to help. Soon the word spread that the planes had landed at O’Hare Airport at 11 p.m. and all of the evacuees were bused to the House of Hope Church on the far southside of Chicago. The House of Hope just happens to have the Rev. James Meeks as its pastor. 

Word also included the information that the State of Hope would be hosting 40 single males, 40 single females and 40 members of families. While we celebrated our great planning, I think we all felt it sounded to good to be true. 

The night air had a definite chill and yet it was electric. On Tuesday the parking lot was filled with the vans of every Chicago television news department. Now, in the early morning hours, the media trucks lit the night and the site resembled a campground. Still there were no guests. 

Then suddenly at 3:30 a.m. we heard the buses were heading south on I-57. 

Finally, at 3:45 a.m. five buses rolled into the State of Hope parking lot. Two hundred volunteers flanked a pathway leading from the buses to 20 picnic tables filled with intake teams. Then the first evacuee exited a bus and thunderous applause greeted them. Hospitality teams greeted each person as they stepped down from the bus, assisting people with their baggage and settling them at one of the tables. 

Volunteers brought soup, drinks, snacks and medical teams where necessary. Volunteers collected demographic and family information, provided an ear for all concerns and offered a smile for each of the weary travelers. As soon as the forms were completed, the hospitality teams escorted each family into the lobby of Spruce Hall for room selection and then up to the awaiting pod volunteers who provided each person with a new set of sweats, toiletries and a place to sleep. 

It took over 72 hours to prepare for the arrival and less than one hour to process and settle 95 men, women and children into their new temporary home. Within two hours of their arrival almost every guest is asleep and the entire second floor living area is quite. The first of hundreds of shift teams soon arrived and as I descended the stairs it was obvious that we had achieved our first goal. 

It was only a flight of stairs, but the distance from the quite sleeping area to the first floor seemed huge. Opening the door I joined the tumult. Volunteers were rushing through the hallways to process the newly created paperwork. Outside, the media circus was in high gear. All of the local television stations were clamoring at the entrance for interviews. 

While everyone was respecting the metal barricades which had been set-up, every reporter was trying to figure out how they could reach an evacuee for an interview. The media clamor went on day and night for several days. However their push to get in was dwarfed by the flow of people looking to volunteer, donate goods or simply say they were there. 

It seemed that whoever wasn’t approaching the front entrance must have been trying to call. Volunteers manning two telephone banks answered the constantly ringing phones from early in the day until late, late at night. The never stopping ringing at Spruce Hall was mirrored at PADS main office in Chicago Heights where the phones never stopped ringing. 

What an outpouring of concern. It was as if we held tickets to the upcoming White Sox playoff games (although who knew). 

Those who couldn’t get through the phone lines were sending e-mails to the newly established website. Clergy from throughout the region started appearing at the gate looking to minister to those who had been through so much. Everyone wanted to reach an evacuee. Our job was to make sure our new guests had their privacy. And, once again we reached our goal. 

Looking back it was probably the presence of the media that finally grabbed the attention of state officials. For, we soon had an official Illinois Department of Human Services media person on site. Their presence was the start of what would be a growing involvement of state and county government and it would take almost two months before the innocence of the perfect grassroots partnership would totally wear off.   

The next three weeks seemed to melt into one long day. An unbelievable amount of tremendous accomplishments seemed to fill every day. Over that period of time PADS established a full-time on site office which, under the direction of its new office manager, brought organization to the chaos. A group of site managers from PADS emergency shelter program formed the core of a training body which made sure every shelter volunteer understood their role and responsibility. Whether it was 3 p.m. or 3 a.m. a member of that team was on hand at the start of each shift to provide the volunteers with a thorough orientation to the State of Hope. 

A group of deputized volunteers took roles of leadership and established a series of guest services offices to help the evacuees find lost or deceased relatives, reconnect with missing children, travel to new homes in other parts of the country or find answers to a whole range of questions and needs. One amazing volunteer took on the role of donations coordinator and quickly discovered how to get whatever the State of Hope needed – just ask. 

By the time October rolled around the team of volunteer food coordinators had secured food teams to provide dinner meals for every evening until Christmas time. These dedicated individuals then secured commitments to obtain lunches through November and they were on the way to finding sources for breakfasts. 

PADS staff members were providing medical case management services, employment services and housing services from the time our New Orleans guests awakened later on that first Wednesday. Their assistance not only was in place throughout the State of Hope operation, but continues to this day. 

It is impossible to appropriately share the story of the tremendous work which people did without rambling on for another dozen pages. These efforts continued even as the State of Illinois began to slowly excuse people from their responsibilities. The TPMHC staffer who warned us that first day that everything would be fluid was letting us know then what we would ultimately discover one day at a time.  

What price innocence? By mid-October state officials let us know that they were planning on contracting for the services PADS and the partnership was providing for free. First it was going to be the meals.  Then we learned that the state wanted to provide another Chicago organization with a contract to be on hand if we needed help. When we explained that help was not needed they explained that they were going to sign a contract anyway. When PADS explained that it was not willing to stand-by and have the taxpayers of Illinois pay for the services which were being delivered for free, we were informed our services were no longer required.  

If you read the newspapers you have probably seen a figure for one of the contracts signed by the State of Illinois for the agency they contracted with to serve during the month of November. The figures for the food and any other contracts have not been released to date.