BY B.G. GREGG
The Cincinnati Enquirer
Cathy Kearns was one of the easy people to remove from the welfare rolls. Mentally and physically capable of working, she has a high school diploma and some skills for today's booming job market.
Once so dependent on welfare that she received checks while working, leading to an arrest for fraud, the 37-year-old Westwood woman was ready for a change.
"Welfare became a trap," she said. "When you are first on welfare, you have a refrigerator full of food, you don't pay taxes and you can buy things you want. But it is a trap, and it makes you feel bad about yourself."
Pushing people off welfare has been relatively easy in the two years since federal reforms began and the year since Ohio instituted its own rules. Welfare reformers have benefited from a good economy. Recipients with some skills and education have taken the warnings seriously and left the welfare rolls of their own accord.
Now it gets difficult.
Success has brought new challenges: helping those left behind and stabilizing those who have taken jobs, like Ms. Kearns.
"I think there was a perception that if people went to work, they would be fine," said Carol Gibbs, director of ACT Inc., a private agency working with Hamilton County's Department of Human Services to keep people off welfare. "That's not the case. Many people didn't understand the barriers."
While the country has saved billions of dollars by removing people from the rolls, it may have to spend billions more to help those still on welfare and to ensure that those who have taken low-wage jobs don't end up worse off than when they were drawing a welfare check.
Those doing the reforming predict that the public will not mind their tax dollars being spent this way.
"If the person is working and getting some assistance, I think everybody in the country would prefer that, (rather) than if they weren't working," said Col Owens, an attorney with the Legal Aid Society of Cincinnati who sits on the county's Human Services Planning Committee, which guides its welfare reform efforts.
Looking ahead
Reformers say the effort will improve conditions for future generations.
"Children learn from their parents," said Lora Jollis, Hamilton County's welfare reform executive. "If you have to start a job today making $6.50 an hour, you may never be comfortable. But you have role-modeled for your children. They've seen the right thing to do."
Because of a good economy, welfare rolls were decreasing before the federal reform law took effect Oct. 1, 1996. From June 1994 to June 1996, nearly 600,000 American families left the welfare rolls, including about 80,000 from Ohio, Kentucky and Indiana. Numbers were said to be dropping even before 1994.
That rate has accelerated in the past two years, with slightly more than 1.4 million American families leaving the rolls, 102,000 from Ohio, Kentucky and Indiana.
But welfare recipients seldom have the education or skills to earn decent wages. In a national study released Tuesday, the Manpower Demonstration Research Corp. found that most welfare fathers who took jobs from 1994 to 1997 ended up in low-paying, dead-end jobs.
"They're not leaving the welfare rolls to become white-collar executives," said Cary Willis, communications director for Kentucky's Cabinet for Families and Children. "It's service industry and maybe some manufacturing."
Two examples are Ms. Kearns and Timothy Binford.
Both are former welfare recipients now working low-paying jobs. Mr. Binford and his wife are trying to support four children between the ages of 5 and 15. Ms. Kearns is a single mother, trying to support a 22-month-old boy.
Both recently ended up at ACT Inc. because they could not meet their obligations on their limited incomes.
Originally, Mr. Binford, 40, of Kennedy Heights, dropped out of high school and took a job with a heating and cooling company. "I didn't think there was any reason to go back to school because I was making good money," he said. "Today isn't like it was 20 years ago when a young man could drop out and find a good job."
Ms. Kearns graduated from a private boarding school in Indiana. She went to work taking care of the mentally retarded.
Both made mistakes. Mr. Binford started doing drugs and lost his job. Ms. Kearns, not making what she considered enough money, applied for and received welfare while working, leading to her arrest.
Both say they've cleaned up their acts and they're happy to be off welfare. But neither is well off.
Mr. Binford does dock work for $9.25 an hour, 30 hours a week. His wife works, too, and they stretch every dollar.
"I took my kids on a vacation to Kings Island, but we got free tickets," he said. "We ate before we went because we couldn't afford to buy the food there."
Ms. Kearns recently took a job at $6.50 an hour doing assembly-line work. She doesn't receive health insurance until she's worked 1,500 hours -- no guarantee.
On the edge
Money problems nearly put both back on welfare.
Mr. Binford and his wife share a 1984 Chevy Caprice to get to work in the suburbs. He works the night shift; she works days, so someone is always home to watch the children.
A few months ago, the car broke down.
"I called human services and told them I was in a situation where I might go on aid again if the car isn't fixed," Mr. Binford said.
Ms. Kearns bought a 1985 minivan two months ago for $700, and it recently broke down. She doesn't have the money to fix it, so she now takes a bus to work in the suburbs.
Both were helped by ACT Inc., which was set up by welfare reformers to help people in just these situations. ACT fixed Mr. Binford's car and helped pay some bills he was behind on, and ACT helped pay some of Ms. Kearns' bills, too.
"The people we help need somebody that says, "Let me wipe the slate clean where you can breathe for a while and then go on,' " ACT's director, Ms. Gibbs, said.
"I was getting ready to get sucked right up," Mr. Binford said. "It doesn't take much."
Those who work with the poor know how true those words are: Most of the working poor are a broken-down car or a doctor bill away from serious trouble.
Many ask for help from social service agencies. In Hamilton County, agencies from the Salvation Army to the FreeStore - FoodBank to the Drop-Inn Center Shelter House have reported increases in need this year. Just last week, the Drop-Inn Center put out an emergency request for food.
Other forms of aid
Governments have not abandoned the former recipients. They're stepping in with child-care vouchers, transportation assistance, job training and free medical insurance for children.
But a lot of this assistance is paid for with public money, and when the country started clamoring for welfare reform five years ago, much of that noise was based on saving money.
"The feel I get from the public is that they don't particularly resent spending tax dollars for services that are really needed," said Ms. Jollis, Hamilton County's welfare reform executive. "I think where the American public got dissatisfied with welfare was when we were just handing out checks and not asking, "Is your life any better?' in return."
Mr. Willis, of Kentucky, said he remembers reading a poll that confirms that.
"It asked the question, "Do you want to spend more money on welfare?' and the answer was "Hell, no,' " he said. "Then a little bit later, giving people a little time to forget that question, it asked "Do you want to spend more money on people in need?' and they said, "Sure we do.' I kept it. I loved it."
But the working poor are not the only challenge facing governments. There are still those on welfare because of long-term problems such as substance abuse or mental illness, or because they have limited skills or education.
"Everyone has value to contribute," Hamilton County Commissioner Tom Neyer Jr. said. "There will be those whose value is too difficult to assess, but we are unnecessarily dooming someone if we don't at least try to assess their value to the community."
Mr. Neyer is working with a county committee that is concentrating on how to help those unprepared to leave the welfare system.
Some will never work. They're not mentally capable, due to some physical condition or ailment. This group may be eligible for Supplemental Security Income, and governments are rushing to enroll them.
Others first need treatment for substance abuse, or counseling for domestic violence. Ms. Jollis said she wants Hamilton County to conduct "exhaustive evaluations" on those left on welfare. "We need data," she said. "We have to be able to demonstrate to state and federal governments what this population is really like."
The harder cases
But many are capable of working, and Kentucky's Mr. Willis said states and counties will have to work harder and try different approaches with those who are left.
A key: teaching proper work habits.
"If you have a job that starts at 8, and you take 20 minutes to eat breakfast, 20 minutes to get to work and 20 minutes to take a shower, you better set your alarm for 7," Mr. Neyer said. "Some people have never had that role model. They were supposed to pick this up from watching their parents and didn't."
One of the most promising solutions for Hamilton County is to contract with local agencies, churches and other organizations to hire the more difficult-to-place recipients. The county pays the employer, the employer keeps a cut and then pays the employee the rest.
Welfare? Sure, but in another form.
"It is welfare for people who are truly, truly at the bottom of the barrel, and I think the American public would support something like that instead of just handing people money and saying, "Have a nice life,' " Ms. Jollis said.
The drawback to "make-work" assignments is that the recipients are still technically on welfare and the clock is ticking. Under federal law, a person is allowed only five years of welfare benefits in his lifetime.
The clock is ticking on counties, too. They're required to meet "work-participation rates" -- 40 percent starting Thursday -- with their welfare recipients.
Ms. Jollis said work-participation rates have slipped now that Hamilton County is dealing with the hardest-to-serve population. Last month, a group from Hamilton County met with state lawmakers asking for leniency in dealing with this group.
"If I really want to meet work-participation rates, I would take every client that comes in here and I would put them in a dead-end job and keep them on welfare and get credit for them," she said. "But that is not the human thing to do. We have to start them on the way to some kind of future."
