ABC anchor Diane Sawyer spent two minutes last December telling the country how Brattleboro's First Baptist Church wanted to sell its historic Tiffany window to save its winter homeless shelter.

Three months later, Melinda Bussino wishes people knew all the facts.

Bussino didn't see Sawyer's broadcast — nor did she need to. She got her first glimpse of the stained-glass treasure 50 years ago upon her baptism at age 12 and now eyes it regularly as executive director of the Brattleboro Area Drop In Center, a separate nonprofit that runs the shelter.

A spate of national news reports has sparked a $100,000 window bid, thousands of dollars in church donations and a search by town artists and historians for a local savior. But however the congregation decides to proceed won't necessarily lead to a happy ending for the shelter and the homeless people it serves.

Bussino is grappling with a larger untold story — one faced by hundreds of Vermont social service providers wrestling with a growing number of needy and a second round of government budget cuts.

Last year, the state balanced its budget in part by reducing aid to the Drop In Center and numerous other nonprofits by 14 percent. The Legislature now is considering more than $30 million in further human service cuts that, according to its economist, would trigger the loss of nearly $24 million in federal matching funds and 1,000 to 1,400 jobs.

"It's the piece the community hasn't seen," Bussino says, "and didn't get out to the national press."



'The most at risk'

A century ago, the Gothic brick First Baptist Church spilled with members and money as it dedicated an arched Tiffany depiction of St. John the Divine in memory of former Vermont governor Levi Fuller. But by last fall, the congregation was down to a few dozen stalwarts and an $8,000 bank account.

Staring at a $34,000 annual bill for heat alone, members voted 20-4 to sell the window, prompting the Associated Press to share the news with every media outlet in the country.

"The story grew a life of its own," Bussino says, "because it was so compelling."

It just wasn't complete. The unabridged version — the one that mirrors the challenge of human service agencies statewide — starts at Brattleboro's Morningside Shelter, one of almost a dozen year-round homeless shelters in Vermont.

Morningside used to make do with 24 beds and a small staff that helps the homeless find housing and jobs. But during the current recession, it consistently has 30 to 40 people waiting an average of three months for entrance.

Cue the Brattleboro Area Drop In Center, a nearby nonprofit that offers free food, clothing, staff assistance and a place to sit down during the day.

"People can use the phone, look for apartments, do laundry if they need to," Bussino says. "We have a washer and dryer and a shower — and a huge water bill."

The center's insurance, however, doesn't allow it to easily host overnight visitors. And so it paid for people to stay in motels until, running out of money, it transported them to out-of-town shelters.

"We were traveling as far as Burlington to get people into beds," Bussino says.

That's when she asked the Area Interfaith Clergy Association to help create a winter "overflow shelter" for anyone who couldn't find a place at Morningside, a "dry" facility that prohibits alcohol and drug use.

Most churches, fearing intoxicated strangers, politely declined.

"People who have alcohol in their systems are the most at risk of freezing to death," Bussino countered.



'Quite clear to all'

The First Baptist Church, already running a Wednesday night soup kitchen, offered space rent-free. The overflow shelter opened just after Thanksgiving 2007 on nights with more than 4 inches of snow, high winds, ice or temperatures below 16 degrees. By spring, 49 people had stayed a total of 679 times.

But many arrived ill because they didn't have a consistently warm and dry place to sleep. The next winter, the church shelter remained open nightly from November 2008 through a stormy April 2009. Those served tripled to 151, while overnight stays rose six-fold to more than 4,000.

This winter may be milder, but the overflow shelter is hosting as many people as ever.

"Some are going to work, some have cars," Bussino says. "We have one woman who's working in Manchester and driving back and forth because it was the closest place she could find a bed."

Several families have slept in the Sunday school rooms, including one with a 4-month-old baby. But it wasn't until the church proposed selling its window that the press arrived. To tell the story in the most uncomplicated and understandable manner, reporters have focused on the church and the shelter.

"No one wants to see this Tiffany go," the Rev. Suzanne Andrews was quoted by the Associated Press. "But when it came down to the question of do we sell the Tiffany to keep our doors open for the ministry of God, then the decision became quite clear to all of us, that this Tiffany window — as beautiful as it is — is a material thing."

But the story isn't as simple as save First Baptist and save the homeless. The church also houses the soup kitchen, Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and the Brattleboro Pastoral Counseling Center. Closing would affect many programs and yet wouldn't shut any down — it instead would force them to seek other space in a town with few free options.

Bussino appreciates the church — leaky roof, aging furnace and all — but she'll relocate the shelter if need be. She's more fearful of budget cuts to her own program.



'Big question mark'

The Drop In Center is one of hundreds of organizations that recently received a letter from the Vermont Agency of Human Services warning of a 3 percent cut in state aid.

"With the temporary increase of federal funds from the stimulus package coming to an end and state revenues continuing to fall short, there is a gaping budget hole of approximately $150 million," the letter says. "Significant reductions will be imposed."

Although the center doesn't pay rent for its overflow shelter, it compensates the church for heat, electricity, water and extra insurance. Last winter the nonprofit covered most of that with a $26,000 state grant.

"This year it will be a miracle if we see $2,600," Bussino says.

The church needs the center's funding just as much as the center needs the church's free space. But Bussino doesn't expect other revenue sources to make up the difference, especially after past reductions forced staffers to see their modest pay frozen or cut.

United Way of Windham County, which gives the center part of what it gleans from the community, has raised only 79 percent of this year's goal.

"We believe we'll be coming in quite short," says United Way Director Carmen Derby, who'll be happy to cap the campaign at 85 percent.

And no one knows what will happen to the nearby Vermont Yankee nuclear power plant, which last year gave the center $33,000.

"It's all a big question mark," Bussino says.

Because her center receives government money, Bussino hasn't joined her congregation in debating the window sale.

"I intentionally have stepped away from it — I can't have any appearance of conflict of interest or breaking of federal church and state boundaries," she says. "We are simply a non-rent-paying tenant. We do not get involved in church decisions."



'An eye-opener'

That doesn't mean the shelter isn't supported by the faithful. Some 90 volunteers from the local Christian, Baha'i, Buddhist, Jewish and Muslim communities take turns serving dinner and then staying from 7 p.m. to 1 a.m. or 1 to 7 a.m.

"It's an eye-opener for people," Bussino says. "They find out these are individuals who are just like you and me, they just don't have a home."

To help more people, Morningside Shelter wants to break ground this spring on a $150,000 expansion at its year-round building a mile south of the church. Morningside Executive Director Paul Capcara had hoped to start last fall but needed more time to reap $100,000 in grants before launching a $50,000 community fundraising drive.

"Everybody's cutting back," Capcara says, "at a time when the need is growing."

The Drop In Center, for its part, reports a 30 percent rise in demand at its food shelf.

"We never used to see people who drove," Bussino says, "and most of the time now our parking lot is full."

Reducing assistance for the needy, she argues, is penny wise but pound foolish. Cut health benefits and people do without until they wind up in the hospital. Cut employment and housing assistance and people do without until they wind up on the street.

But what happens, Bussino continues, when the safety net lowest to the ground no longer hangs? Closing the overflow shelter and moving people to the cheapest motel in town — a seemingly affordable $35 a night — would cost almost $150,000 a year to accommodate current numbers.

That said, Bussino doesn't believe the shelter is the ultimate solution. On warmer nights, she sees at least one man sleeping on the center's back porch.

"If you have 18 guys sleeping on a church floor, it gets crowded. There's no privacy. We issue earplugs because people snore."

That's why homeless advocates are promoting the continuance of their assistance programs.

"People can't pull themselves up by their bootstraps," Bussino says, "until they get boots."

"A bed for the night is important," adds Capcara, "but if you don't want to worry where people are three months from now, you have to get them stabilized and hooked into the support they need to live independently. Having the resources to meet that need is the challenge."



kevin.oconnor@rutlandherald.com