SAN FRANCISCO IS CENTER OF DRUG TREATMENT PUSH

The achingly thin, ghostly pale blond 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 like this one in the tough 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, eliminating 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," a client named
Angelique says 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," she says. "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 like 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 Hispanics, 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 pot at 11, sold drugs in the city's
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 five-, 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 pot 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, the 21-year-old heroin addict, 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.