But for the 130 to 150 men who stay at the Men's Emergency Drop-In Shelter on the Capitol Square each night, "home" shuts down at 7:30 a.m., regardless of subzero weather.
The men are woken up from their beds, mats or blankets on the floor around 5 a.m. and lined up for a quick breakfast. They're then ushered out the door so the shelter can prepare to feed and house the record-high numbers of homeless guests for another night.
Porchlight, Inc., which runs the drop-in shelter in addition to a daytime facility on Madison's south side, has sheltered more homeless people this winter than ever before.
According to Porchlight Director of Emergency Services Jack Longert, the main shelter and two overflow shelters have well exceeded their combined capacity of 120 since Nov. 1. On one night in January, the shelters housed an all-time high of 152 men.
"We'd rather work on [our current problem] than have people die of exposure," Longert said.
And even during relatively mild weather this December, the number of shelter guests increased by 25 percent compared to the previous December.
The number of men served has been going up since 2005, when Porchlight increased the number of shelter nights available. Numbers increased even more last year, with the organization providing 34,000 shelter nights — the total number beds occupied at the shelter over the course of the year — compared to 28,000 in 2004.
Nevertheless, Porchlight doesn't turn anyone away, Longert said, unless he or she violates shelter rules, which prohibit guests from being drunk or high. Otherwise, everyone who lines up to be admitted at 5 p.m. gets a place to sleep, whether it's in a bed or on the floor.
Still, the increased numbers have taken their toll on Porchlight's budget, and to a larger extent, on the staff.
"When we're crowded to the max like we are, it puts a lot of stress on the staff to maintain [the shelter]," said Porchlight Manager Glendall Braud, who has worked at the shelter for 22 years.
Cold weather also places a strain on the occupants themselves, many of whom are disabled.
"For guys like us that have to walk on these canes, it gets to be so many people in here that it's like playing that game Twister trying to get through," said Demarcus Jones, a 50-year-old diabetic who uses the shelter regularly.
But overall, he said, it's "not too bad."
An emergency home
Grace Episcopal Church sits proudly on the corner of West Washington and Carroll streets — its limestone exterior and red Gothic doors are a distinguished presence on the Capitol Square.
Directly across the street, the State Capitol dome looms over the church's steeple, while behind the sanctuary lies a small courtyard.
The Men's Drop-In shelter, though, occupies a windowless basement beneath the church, where the homeless live, as they so often do, hidden away from plain sight.
Upon descending the flight of stairs into the shelter, the smell of stale sweat pervades the air.
Keeping the men clean is a chore, explained Manager James Willis — many of the homeless are mentally ill and refuse to take showers. Sometimes the staff has to force them to.
"This is not a glamorous type of job," Willis said.
To the left is the communal bathroom, to the right a small room for the most severely disabled guests. Beyond these lies row upon row of bunks and mattresses — one refuge for the male homeless population of Dane County.
An entryway in the far wall leads to the kitchen, the manager's office and the lone washing machine.
It's around 7:30 p.m., and the five volunteers in the kitchen are hurrying to prepare a beef stew for tonight's dinner.
The shelter draws on a base of 1,500 volunteers from more than 60 organizations. And as two of them add peas and carrots to the stew, volunteer Rose Wood tells them to "stretch it out."
"It seems like the food goes through a lot quicker" now that the shelter is serving so many men, said volunteer Dave Manion.
Wood, a cheerful woman who makes a point of talking to each guest as he comes through the line, had been planning to decorate the kitchen with a head of cabbage dressed up "like a Mr. Potato Head." Instead, the cabbage goes into the salad.
Despite the strains of feeding more men, the shelter is "holding [its] own" with food and hygienic supplies, Braud said, since donations typically increase during the winter.
But the intense cold has caused a shortage of winter clothing.
"We're lacking in gloves and long underwear and hats at this point, because of the shift in the weather," Braud said.
Waiting for Disability
Off to one side, a tall man with a well-trimmed beard butters huge platters of bread. He looks just like the rest of the volunteers, who come from local churches.
But appearances can be deceiving. The man has been staying at the shelter off and on for four years now.
"You think of a homeless bum drunk, sitting in the corner in a pile of garbage," the man said. "[But] there are a lot of guys out here … that if you passed them on the street, you wouldn't even have any idea [they were homeless]."
According to Porchlight statistics, approximately 40 percent of the men who stay at the shelter have some form of income from jobs or from government services, like disability checks.
But such benefits are scarce and becoming scarcer.
"Things have definitely changed in the last few years in terms of what (benefits) people can get here," Longert said.
Many of the men are eligible for Social Security Disability benefits, which provide federal assistance to both physically and mentally disabled citizens. But the Social Security administration has generally been reluctant to approve their requests.
"They just deny a lot of applications," Porchlight Executive Director Steve Schooler said.
As a result, applicants must appeal the denial, Schooler said, a process that usually takes two years. Thirty percent of the people using the shelter are currently waiting for disability benefits, while many more have simply given up.
The Dane County Interim Assistance program is designed to aid applicants while they wait for an appeal, but it only serves 30-40 people in the entire county at any given time and usually not the men who use the drop-in shelter.
"If you went to the shelter you'd find at least double that number who would be eligible (to receive funds)," Longert said.
Among those currently in disability limbo is 58-year-old Albert Finley, who has been waiting for a hearing date since November. Finley hasn't been able to work for more than two years due to medical problems in his legs. He suffers from arthritis as well as cartilage loss in his knees and gout, which has caused his right ankle to swell up significantly.
"I need surgery, but now I can't afford it," Finley said. "And I can't afford nowhere to stay — I don't have no income at all. The only thing I get now is the food stamps and somewhere to sleep and lay my head."
Years of being overweight and kneeling to perform carpentry work finally caused Finley's knees to give out in October 2004. After he went down into his basement one day and "had a hell of a time trying to get back upstairs," he went to get an X-ray.
The doctors told him he needed operations on his knees and right ankle.
"They said one day I'm going to step off a curb, and my ankle's just gonna shatter 'cause the cartilage in there is wore out," Finley said. "It's really scary."
The doctors wanted to perform what Finley described as a "patch job."
"It would be just like … a club foot," he said. "I wouldn't have no kind of movement in my foot, but he said that I wouldn't have no more pain."
Because of the intense pain he is in, Finley prays he'll get the disability benefits he needs to pay for surgery, even if it means a loss of mobility.
"Some days I almost cry," he said.
The frigid temperatures worsen the pain, so Finley said he avoids the cold during the day by playing cards with other homeless men in the basement of the Capitol. Even so, he spends a good deal of time walking around Madison with everything he owns on his back, trying to acquire the pain medications listed on his medical card.
Besides painkillers like Vicodin, the card contains seven prescription medications. Since he returned from Chicago last year, he has not been able to purchase any of them.
No clear consensus
Schooler said he does not know what is causing the increase in the number of men at the shelter. However, he can point to a number of problems that contribute to homelessness in general.
"We know there's a lack of affordable housing; we know that wage rates are not up to the level of affordable housing costs," Schooler said. "That's no different [than in the past]."
Increased poverty rates may be compounding the problem further, according to Lynn Green, director of the Dane County Department of Human Resources.
"There are indications of growing poverty in Dane County," Green said.
The Department of Human Resources oversees 55 percent of the county's budget, Green said. Rising caseloads in medical assistance and food stamp programs, she added, have been caused by a 20 percent increase in low-income students at Madison public schools in the past decade.
Some officials believe out-of-state homelessness may be contributing to the problem in Dane County, as well.
"Part of the problem is you have a lot of good shelter places attracting people," said County Board Chairman Scott McDonald. "It's not easy to end homelessness because we're not just dealing with our populace."
But according to Schooler, the data collected by the drop-in shelter staff indicate otherwise.
"That's not true," Schooler said, referring to the theory that an influx of out-of-staters may be contributing to the increase in shelter use.
According to the Porchlight intake numbers, 72 percent of guests are from the state of Wisconsin, with 49 percent from Dane County.
Whatever the causes, the increase in use at the drop-in shelter has not been matched by an increase in funding.
"The state has given us a little more money because of the increase," Schooler said. "But they have cut us through last year."
Porchlight will receive $76,000 from the state this year, as opposed to the $115,000 it received five years ago. Funding from the state and the county make up three-fourths of Porchlight's budget, and most of the rest comes from donations.
According to Green, county funding for homeless services has in fact increased by 1 percent, despite decreasing federal and state funds.
Of the $1.8 million the county spends on housing services, she said roughly $1 million goes to emergency shelters.
This amount, Green said, is not legally required of the county and is far more than most counties dole out.
"It is a totally unmandated service that the community has decided to invest in," she added.
Still, several officials said the county needs to do more to fight homelessness.
"The county has not done a very good job of prioritizing homelessness within the budget," said City Council President Austin King.
Ald. Mike Verveer, District 4, agreed with King.
"I don't want to come across as saying … we're doing all we can [to combat homelessness]," said Verveer, whose district includes the drop-in shelter. "All levels of government could — and should — do more."
Regardless of the debate over causes of the increase and what government actions, if any, they entail, Schooler said Porchlight will continue to operate as it has been.
Just another night
All the talk about helping improve affordable housing and increasing other programs for the homeless seem far away from the basement beneath Grace Episcopal. There, life goes on despite cold weather and tight budgets.
"It's almost like don't nobody really give a damn, man, about us," Jones said. "A lot of us are not bad people. We're just in a bad situation with no help."
Jones said he is thankful, though, for the shelter and the assistance it provides.
"I don't feel lucky to be in this place," he said. "I feel blessed to be in this place."
Finley said the Madison shelter is far better than shelters he's been to in Chicago. Although it may be crowded, Finley has a certain fondness for the place.
"It's almost like a home," he said.
