Since my 2019 visit to Community First! Village, Austin's model for housing the chronically homeless has grown and flourished
It was a 98-degree day in June of 2019 on the outskirts of Austin, Tex., but the humidity made it a steamy 118. Bay Area born and raised, I felt like I was sitting in an oven as I waited on a shaded bench for Alan Graham, the founder of Community First! Village (CFV). At the time, CFV was a 51-acre master planned development in the northeast part of the city providing housing and support for people who have struggled with chronic homelessness. Nearly six years ago, the successful program was slowly becoming a model for the nation. A Jan. 8, 2023, article in the New York Times tells a similar story to the one I told in 2019, though CFV has grown quite a bit since my visit. Though not without its problems, the program continues to flourish.
I was glad to read in the Times piece that one of my favorite neighbors at the village, a talented artist originally from Germany, Ute Dittemer, is still living there with her husband, Michael. When we met in 2019, the couple had moved to CFV just two years prior. They struggled with homelessness for 10 years after Michael, a house painter, injured his back. “Mobile Loaves had a trailer as an art studio and we would go there and paint,” Ute explained. “They would take us to church markets on weekends so we could sell our art and make money … Now we work, we have a home, we feel secure, and that’s so important. …” I was in awe of Ute’s diminutive, incredibly detailed clay pieces which she was molding for a chess set someone had commissioned. Another of Ute’s clay chess sets sold for $10,000 at an auction, allowing her to purchase her very first car in her mid-sixties.
A former real estate investor and developer, founder Alan Graham’s journey began when he volunteered at his church handing out bagged lunches to the homeless and realized that being mobile could increase the number of meals served. He bought a green minivan, which turned into a fleet of food trucks. That led to his first nonprofit, Mobile Loaves and Fishes, which has served more than 5.5 million meals since 1998. As Graham got to know the people he was helping, he saw the biggest thing lacking in their lives besides a home was community. He also realized that for less than $5,000 he could buy a used RV, so he bought several and began dreaming of building an enormous RV park that would not only provide housing but also an extended family support system. In 2008, Austin’s City Council voted unanimously to lease a 17-acre plot of city-owned land to make his dream a reality, but residents fumed, fearing a reduction in their property values and an increase in crime. The plans fell through, as did several more, so Graham gave up the idea of building within Austin’s city limits.
In 2012, Graham acquired land in a part of Travis County about 30 minutes northeast of Austin where zoning laws limited the power of neighbors to prevent it. After raising $20 million in private funds, he doubled the size of the community two years later to 51 acres, which provided RV and micro housing to 170 formerly chronically homeless residents. In the fall of 2018, they broke ground on phase two, which included an additional 24 acres, 310 housing units (including the nation’s second 3D-printed tiny home), a 20,000-square-foot medical facility, and more room for organic farming. When I was there in 2019, Graham told me of his plans to expand an additional 127 acres to accommodate another 2,000 homes. He broke ground in the fall of 2022.
A DIGNIFIED INCOME AND ACCOUNTABILITY
As I waited that hot summer day, a golf cart driven by a man with a neatly trimmed silver beard pulled up. He was wearing a baseball cap and khaki shirt emblazoned with the Mobile Loaves and Fishes logo, and a silver crucifix pendant around his neck. “I’m Alan Graham,” he said, tipping his sunglasses. “Hop in.”
He was holding a report titled, “San Francisco’s Homeless Crisis: How Policy Reforms and Private Charities Can Move More People to Self-Sufficiency.” I asked where he got it. “Someone from up where you live,” he said in his Texas drawl. “I get this stuff from people in the Bay Area all the time.” I asked him if anyone from the Bay Area had visited. “We get ’em, sure. No one from San Francisco, though,” he replied. “The problem is politicians are afraid to let go of something they think they own. It’s about innovation and the government isn’t very innovative. On the federal level, the Department of Housing and Urban Development is all about ‘housing first,’ but can you imagine a tech company leaning on just one solution? Housing is a piece of the puzzle, but it’s not going to get a city like San Francisco out of this. That $12.5 billion they say it will take? That’s not going to get them out of it, either. It’s a human issue; it’s about the government admitting they can’t do this. Money and housing alone won’t solve homelessness, but community will.”
As we zipped along the grounds, Graham pointed out the various parts of the village, including a medical clinic, an addiction treatment center, a barbershop and salon, and a dog park. “We love animals here,” he said, which was music to my ears. One of the biggest problems with the traditional shelter system is pets are often not welcome, and most people won’t leave their pets. That, Graham said, adds another barrier to getting people off the streets. Along with the ability to bring their pets, Community First Village further sets itself apart by allowing residents to stay as long as they wish, but they must pay rent, which in 2019 covered roughly 40 percent of the $6 million budget. “If our neighbors miss rent, they’re asked to leave, but it doesn’t happen very often,” Graham told me.
While he doesn’t like to throw numbers around, Community First has a retention rate of around 86 percent. “We have three rules here: You must pay rent. You must obey criminal laws. And be mindful you live in a community — if your dog poos in the yard, you must pick it up. You see how clean and orderly it is? If you want to live like a pig, go live in the woods.”
The reason people don’t pay their rent usually has to do with drug or alcohol addiction. While Community First makes treatment options readily available, sobriety isn’t required. “What we are doing is harm reduction. We’ve done four studies, and there’s an 80 percent drop in drugs and a 60 percent drop in alcohol when people come here. To us that’s a tremendous victory. If you’re the only victim, and you want to trash your body, you can do it ’til the cows come home. But if your use spills into the community, we will get involved. We don’t want your dealers here. We will stop that. If you’re stealing from me to feed your habit, we’re gonna have a problem. If you don’t make it to work and pay your rent, you’re gone.”
There is a sense of peace and order, but even with Graham’s watchful eye, it’s not a panacea. Despite its remote location, police respond to calls at CFV daily, usually about drug dealers trying to gain entrance. Over 50 percent of residents have felony criminal records, but sex crimes or a recent history of violent offenses results in disqualification of eligibility to live in the community.
AIRBNB MEETS TINY TOWN
Near the entrance we stopped at a row of trailers and tiny homes called the Community Inn, where people can make reservations for a stay via Airbnb. “They’re always booked,” Graham beamed. “Sometimes folks come to experience what we’re doing here and sometimes they have no idea where they are.” Visitors range from attendees of Austin’s renowned South by Southwest festival to those wanting a weekend getaway, and some are so transformed by the experience they become “missionals” — people who aren’t homeless but choose to rent a micro home or RV and become part of the community. Current missionals range from retired attorneys to tech executives who commute daily from the village to work in Austin.
We cruised through the micro home area, known as Tiny Town, where each unit is connected to single occupancy showers and restrooms as well as outdoor kitchens with barbecues. Homes rent for $225 to $375 per month (air conditioning is an additional $35). The smoky, luscious aroma of Texas barbecue wafted through the air as we pulled up to a home where three men relaxed on the porch. “Hey Butch, whatcha cooking?” Graham asked. “Ribs,” Butch said through a big grin. “You need to come by later and have some, Alan.” Graham rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “We need to have a barbecue competition,” he said, but the neighbors are way ahead of him. “Already happenin’ on Aug. 7…” An impromptu brainstorming about categories began (“You gotta have ribs, brisket, and chicken,” Butch insisted, while Graham and the others pull for pulled pork). “Come by the office tomorrow,” Graham said as we whizzed away. “I’ll buy the trophies.”
PRACTICE WHAT YOU PREACH
During my visit, it was apparent the neighbors knew Graham well and connections ran deep. I asked if he was at the village every day, as we arrived at a charming navy blue micro home with cream-hued shutters. “I’d say so,” he said, inviting me up the steps. “I live here.”
The porch, dotted with pink and red flowers and shiny green foliage, leads to 399 perfectly appointed square feet that made me wonder why anyone needs more. Graham and his wife Tricia obviously agree — it’s a significant downsizing from the 3,000-square-foot home in Westlake Hills where they raised five kids and resided for 35 years.
As he showed me around, Graham reflected on a meeting he attended at Austin’s City Hall the night before. “They overturned three ordinances that criminalized homelessness and approved a new 100-bed shelter. The community was mostly for it, and I think our fingerprints are on this. We’re showing what can be done when a city, a community, comes together. The problem is always NIMBY. In San Francisco, they vote the most liberal agenda on the planet, but when it comes to welcoming the broken and battered into their neighborhood it’s ‘Oh no! It’s one mile from an elementary school and that’s far too close.’ The progressives have become the elitists.”
I asked if there are differences in the populations at Community First versus San Francisco. He shook his head no. “We serve the chronically homeless — like the Tenderloin in San Francisco — and they’re redeemable. I believe 80 percent of the folks in the Tenderloin are redeemable. Then you’ve got the drug addicts and the severely mentally ill. We’ve got people off the rails in a giant way, and they need a different level of care. I know that reality — my mother was profoundly mentally ill, and I had to institutionalize her when I was 18. That has to be an option.”
FARMERS, ARTISTS, AND AUTO MECHANICS
Back in the golf cart, we cruised by the farm where we saw a herd of goats (“Neighbors make soap, and we’re getting certified for milk”) and the beehives (“We had the honey tested and a good amount of the pollen came from Cannabis plant”). Free-range chickens produce dozens of eggs per week; there are hundreds of fruit and nut trees, an acre of organic vegetables, and a tropical geodome. Farming is another job source for neighbors, Graham said, and the entire village can have as much food as they want. In 2023, residents earned a combined $1.5 million almost exclusively onsite as farmers, gardeners, landscapers, cooks, hospitality workers, artisans, and auto mechanics.
At the bright, colorful Community Market, Graham proudly showed off the crafts and artwork for sale created by neighbors like Robert Maresh. “He’s a gifted artist,” Graham said as Maresh showed me one of his paintings, a stunning swirl of blues and greens woven into images of a shaman, cacti, and horses.
When we reached Community First Car Care, Graham told me that Toyota approached him, offering to set up the shop and train neighbors to provide oil changes, inspections, and auto detailing. Nearby Goodness Press offers screen-printing services to individuals, volunteer groups, and businesses. At the blacksmithing shop, I asked if people bring their horses for shoes. Graham broke into a belly laugh. “You really are a city girl,” he teased. “They make art objects and iron gates . . . things of that nature.”
Graham told me at the time that much of his fundraising efforts relied on Austin philanthropists. He recently set a $225 million goal for two upcoming expansions and $150 million has already been secured from the Michael and Susan Dell Foundation, the founder of the Patrón Spirits, and others. Non-monetary help has come from the philanthropic arms of nationally recognized local brands like Tito’s Handmade Vodka, which made a large land grant. Early on, Graham partnered with Austin’s famed Alamo Drafthouse to build the Community Cinema and Amphitheater, which hosts free movies all year for anyone who wants to attend. “This is one of the ways our Community First neighbors earn a dignified income,” Graham said. “They work in the Community Grille making food, they serve concessions, and they earn 40 percent of the sales.”
One of our stops, however, was a reality check — a memorial garden with a granite columbarium where the ashes of late residents are laid to rest. “Most of them don’t have family,” Graham said, his tone suddenly somber. “We’re their family. Each one of their names is etched in that granite.” By the time they arrive at CFV, Graham explained, most residents have lived outside for a decade or more. Whereas the average life expectancy in the United States is around 80, the median age of death for CFV neighbors is just 59. This past year, 18 residents passed away. Graham told me then, “Memorials are a more frequent part of life here than we’d like.”
As the afternoon wound down, a welcome breeze whistled through the trees. We stopped at the center of culinary operations, run by Graham’s son, Keaton, who has a degree in petroleum engineering from the University of Texas but told me that he always had an affinity for cooking. They make the food for movie nights but were in the process of expanding: the wholesale bakery was taking orders from outside, including homemade brioche buns and birthday cakes, and they had recently catered a $100-a-head party. “There’s a pride that happens when neighbors see the happiness from a client who isn’t expecting such good food to come from the formerly homeless,” Keaton said. His dad nodded in agreement. “Everyone thinks the homeless are helpless; that they’re the dumbest population, but I tell people that in an Armageddon you better make friends with them cuz they know how to get things done, not the rich people living in condos.”
Passing a brand-new mobile home, I asked Graham if it was possible to build housing in a costly place like the Bay Area without spending six figures per unit. “This model comes delivered for $36K,” he said. “Fully furnished, it’ll rent for $430 plus electric and propane. A 320-square-foot RV is $410. You’ve got to be creative.”
As of my visit in 2019, Graham wasn't taking money from cities or counties, the state, or the federal government, but that changed in Jan. 2023 when Travis County granted the organization $35 million from the American Rescue Plan Act to build 640 units as part of its expansion. A few months later, Graham got even more surprising news: The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development approved the use of federal housing vouchers to subsidize CFV rents, not only adding another layer of sustainability, but also perhaps making the model more attractive to expensive locations like San Francisco.
Before we parted ways, Graham reiterated his belief that politicians are not equipped to solve the homeless crisis. “For them it’s all financial, but it needs to go from the transactional to the relational. Profound, catastrophic loss of family is the number-one cause of homelessness … everything else is a result of those past traumas, and the loneliness and desperation that settles in. The money is there in San Francisco times a billion compared to Austin, but not the vision or the passion or the focus. At the end of the night, we all need to be tucked in by another human. When the people with the money get that, they’ll get it in a big way.”
What a great success story. Never will happen in SF, homelessness is a cash cow!!