ADDICTS FIND SENSE OF FAMILY A POWERFUL THERAPY IN REHAB

Voters Supported Treatment Over Prison For Nonviolent Drug Offenders;
San Francisco's Walden House Is One Example

SAN FRANCISCO -- The achingly thin, ghostly pale, blonde woman with
too-bright blue eyes sits for only a few minutes, waiting nervously
among a dozen people seeking drug and alcohol abuse treatment at
Walden House.

Then she heads for the door.

"She said she doesn't belong with 'those people,'" says Chris Canter,
a staff member who followed her outside and chased her down to talk.
She never returned.

In truth, the woman in her 20s has much in common with other members
of the Walden House "family."

They smoked crack and shot heroin. They abandoned their children and
robbed stores. They snatched purses and sold their bodies.

California has embarked on an ambitious experiment to divert
thousands of these nonviolent drug offenders out of the prison system
and into community treatment programs such as this one in the Mission
District.

Treatment is tricky. Chemical dependency doesn't disappear after
addicts swallow a magic pill or learn to "just say no." Addicts'
treatment needs are as varied as their drugs of choice.

However, experts agree that behavior modification is a necessary part
of any successful treatment program and the longer addicts stay in
treatment, the better their chances of staying clean.

Walden House, established in 1969, focuses on a "reparenting process"
- -- examining one's life, ridding oneself of bad habits and growing up
all over again.

Between 25 percent and 45 percent of Walden House clients
successfully complete their treatment programs, with residential and
older clients doing better than outpatient and younger ones. Six
months after graduation, 70 percent to 80 percent reported full-time
employment or school attendance and general satisfaction with their
lives.

"If you listen you will see the love of the staff members," says a
client named Angelique during a break at a recent anger management
workshop, part of her densely scheduled day. "Once you stop being
angry and stop feeling sorry for yourself ... once you start trying,
everything falls into place."

At 32, the petite woman has 10 children but custody of none. She
desperately wants Walden House to work for her. It's her "once in a
lifetime chance, and I don't have any more chances left. ... It's
either use drugs and die or go get help."

Sixty-one percent of Californians passed Proposition 36 last
November, despite opposition from police, prosecutors and prison
officials. The measure requires treatment rather than time behind
bars for those convicted for the first or second time of being under
the influence of drugs or possessing drugs for personal use.

The initiative provides $120 million annually to treat 37,000 drug
offenders, funneled through county governments based on local drug
arrests, treatment caseloads and population. The state has already
distributed $60 million in startup funds.

But it's not enough to clear the state's already lengthy waiting
lists for treatment, and experts fear much of the money won't go to
the most effective programs.

The new law, which goes into effect July 1, doesn't specify what type
of treatment offenders receive, and Canter and others believe that
most will be directed to outpatient programs, which are less
expensive but also generally less effective than residential programs.

A 1994 study showed that cocaine use decreased by 67 percent one year
after completion of a long-term residential program; that's compared
to a 57 percent decrease after outpatient treatment. Unemployment
dropped 13 percent and 7 percent, respectively; law breaking
decreased 61 percent and 36 percent, respectively.

Still, addiction experts said say there will be cost savings, citing
another 1994 study that found every treatment dollar saves taxpayers
$7.46 in money not spent cleaning up after addicts' crimes and health
problems.

While exclusive retreats such as the Betty Ford Clinic charge as much
as $1,400 a day, treatment need not be so costly. At Walden House,
which is supported by local, state and federal funds and private
donations, residential treatment costs about $78 a day and
outpatient, about $3.

Addiction is an equalizer. Walden House's population is 43 percent
female, 39 percent white, 35 percent black, the rest a mix of
Latinos, Asians and other races. Nearly all had lost their jobs;
about half are parents.

All say they want to jettison their destructive habits. Walden House
helps by making the roughly 100 clients follow a very structured
routine. It begins with a loudspeaker wake-up call:

"Good morning, family. It's 6 o'clock."

Breakfast follows at 6:30, the house gets cleaned at 7, and the
morning meeting's at 8:30. Lunch is at noon and dinner's at 5 p.m.
The remainder of the day -- until lights out at 10 for newcomers, 11
for everyone else -- is packed with workshops and group therapy
sessions.

Walden House does operate as a family. Staffers are on hand to lead
discussions and a physician and psychiatrist are on call, but the
residents -- calling each other "brother" and "sister" -- run the
house.

Because many addicts come from dysfunctional families, Walden House
tries to teach what being family really means. Client learn to share
feelings, be honest about fears and insecurities and better
understand and support each other.

There are dozens of rules: no violence or threats of violence, no
contact with addicts not in treatment, no name-calling, no
sunglasses, no Walkmans, no sleeping during the day, no feet on
chairs, no eating in bedrooms, no borrowing anything, no sex.

Mistakes are "learning experiences." Punishments are "contracts."

Residents range in age from 18 to 57. Many have tried kicking their
habits many times, sometimes with outside help.

Talon, a heroin and crack addict, came to Walden House -- his eighth
treatment program -- after spending almost a year in jail. He's 21.

"You have to be in jail with nothing and realize how much life is out
there and how much I took life for granted," says the one-time model
and acting student. "It took me five or six months to start thinking
about that. You can do a lot of rehabilitating by yourself in jail."

Talon, whose clear skin, chiseled features and stylishly baggy jeans
belie his troubled background, says his father is an alcoholic and
his mother a recovering drug addict. He first smoked marijuana at 11,
sold drugs in the Tenderloin district at 15 and was hooked on heroin
by 18.

"Society is hard on people," he explains. "You're always being looked
at, you're always being judged. Life is hard. There's a lot of things
to throw you off. When you use drugs you feel on top of the world.

"I've thrown my life away and I refuse to do it anymore." He says he
has been clean for a year.

Many at Walden House say they feel trapped in a cycle of drug abuse
that grew into a 5-, 10- or 20-year habit.

Paula, a 15-year crack smoker, is about a month into her second stay
at Walden House. She has been in six residential treatment programs.
She's 44 now and fed up.

"You just get tired of doing the same thing over and over and over
again," she says. "You're just tired of being tired."

Joseph, 39, a daily marijuana smoker for 15 years, has been hooked on
crack since 1993. With pants hanging off his hips and hollow cheeks,
he could be mistaken for a starving refugee rather than a waiter in
some of the city's swankiest restaurants.

He says he's been fired by the same employer three times and has
squandered every penny he's earned on drugs.

"My life has been dedicated to escaping my life," says Joseph, who's
been in day treatment about six weeks.

The key to staying clean and sober seems to be completely trading in
one's old life for a new one: Moving to a different neighborhood,
surrounding oneself with friends and family who avoid drugs and
alcohol and recommitting oneself to recovery every single day.

But staying clean is a daily battle.

Talon thought he was up to the challenge.

"I've made the decision to quit doing drugs and drinking," he said in
late January. "If you use drugs, you're dead already. ... People get
addicted to relieving themselves. Giving up on life is drug
addiction."

Talon quit treatment less than three weeks later.

Angelique, the mother of 10, stayed at Walden House for five months
before graduating to a halfway house where she was supposed to be
reunited with her kids.

She disappeared two days later.