JOURNEY FROM ADDICT TO DRUG CZAR
by Faye Bowers, Staff writer of The Christian Science Monitor
Copyright (c) 1997, The Christian Science Publishing Society

Kattie Portis can spot different kinds of heroin China
white and red. She knows how much the drug sells for on
Boston playgrounds. And she's had runins with the law.
Ms. Portis was hooked on heroin for five years in the
1960s. But realizing how much her six kids needed her
she entered a drugtreatment program, got her highschool
equivalency degree, and went on to earn bachelor's and
master's degrees. She has run her own drugtreatment center
for women for 20 years. But now Portis is vaulting into a
bigger role: She is Boston's first drug czar. Like many
American cities, Boston is jumping to action as teen drug
rates are surging and a cheaper, morelethal heroin is
hitting the streets. The formeraddictturnedcrusader
begins her new job today. And although there's no blueprint
for success in this new business, Portis is determined to
be part catalyst, coach, and cheerleader for change in the
Boston area, where she thinks the time is right. "People
want change. They are afraid for their children," Portis
says. Boston is not alone. Studies over the past five
years show that more youths are experimenting with drugs at
younger ages. And despite the record $ 15 billion the
government spent fighting the drug war last year, more
illegal substances are available on playgrounds today at
the lowest prices ever. While the Clinton administration
has appointed retired Gen. Barry McCaffrey as national drug
czar, several cities have created parttime positions for
drug officials. Chicago has had a fulltime substanceabuse
policy position for nearly three years. But many experts
see these new jobs as primarily good public relations
tools. Sure, the drug officials focus public attention on
the problem, the experts say, but they also provide a
platform for their political leaders to show they are doing
something about the drug problem. Verbal messages from
parents, teachers, and politicians are important, says John
Walters, a former deputy in the drug policy office of the
Bush administration. But "talk is hollow and ultimately
makes young people more cynical if the talk is not backed
up by action." PORTIS, a slight and savvy grandmother, is
determined to act. With her knowledge of the drug
underworld, and success in helping others kick drug habits,
she intends to do more than boost Boston Mayor Thomas
Menino's popularity. She plans to bring together all the
people and programs she has come in contact with, as well
as network with antidrug officials in other cities.
Stretching her long, lean arms on the table in front of her
in a recent interview, Portis is all business. Rolling up
her sleeves, she ticks off the problems she sees and points
to ways to correct them. First, she says, the problem of
supply needs to be attacked, and that's where the police
come in. She says drug sellers are as organized and smart
as the people who conduct market surveys for local
supermarkets. She says it's no accident that just as the
use of crack the most common street drug here in the late
'80s and early '90s began to subside, that dealers
switched to heroin. Today a bag of the drug sells for about
$ 5 on the streets. And needles, which once turned off many
users, are no longer needed; heroin can now be smoked or
snorted like crack and cocaine. The other side is curbing
demand, she says. "We have to get the community singing the
same tune." Portis is tired from just having completed the
final two weeks of her last job while fulfilling the
appearances the mayor's office has scheduled for her, but
she speaks emphatically about mobilizing the community. She
says police officers who once followed her around the
streets to arrest the prostitutes she was trying to help
are realizing that even their children are not immune. And
judges are getting tired of locking up the same people over
and over. And, she says, thousands of women who went
through her drug treatment program are ready to hit the
streets to help. Of utmost importance, Portis says, is
binding families and communities together. "We have
children who have grown up in homeless shelters who don't
have a lot of hope," Portis says. "We have to teach them
selfhelp, not welfare." Where she grew up in rural
Alabama, she says people looked out for one another. If
parents of one family worked, or a woman was raising
children alone, neighbors pitched in. Portis wants to bring
that kind of community to Boston. She also intends to
network with people like Susan Weed, who has been Chicago's
director of substanceabuse policy since October 1994. Ms.
Weed says she is anxious to speak with Portis as well. She
says that after three years, she has learned many lessons
and has much to share. Weed says she is proud of her
office's accomplishments, but cites three favorites. It
just received a charter to start a school for kids coming
out of substance abuse treatment. A nonprofit corporation
will run the school, which will open for 50 students this
summer. "I think we're going to have 15 applications for
every slot," Weed says proudly. Her office has also begun
an alcohol and drugfree "Safe Night" program on New Year's
Eve. And Chicago opened the country's first juvenile drug
court in October.