Pubdate: Sun, 15 Aug 2004
Source: Roanoke Times (VA)
Copyright: 2004 Roanoke Times
Contact:  http://www.roanoke.com/roatimes/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/368
Author: Laurence Hammack
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/find?136 (Methadone)
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/racial.htm (Racial Issues)

METHADONE CLINIC DIRECTOR FACES DISCORD

The hiring of Letitia Malone, a black woman, is decried as "plantation
politics" by the proposed clinic's chief critic.

As juvenile justice administrator for Roanoke, Letitia Malone has seen
her share of crisis and controversy.

She came to the area seven years ago to help run a troubled juvenile
detention center and has more recently been involved with programs for
at-risk youths at group homes in residential areas.

Her new job - director of a planned methadone clinic - could prove to
be the most challenging.

Malone's recent hiring by CRC Health Group, which plans to operate the
outpatient drug treatment center at 3208 Hershberger Road N.W., has
immediately thrust her into an ongoing controversy.

The appointment of Malone, a black woman, is being described by some
as "plantation politics," or an attempt by CRC to defuse opposition to
the methadone clinic in the black community by winning over some
members and making them stakeholders.

"CRC knows what they are doing," said Jeff Artis, chairman of the
board of the Roanoke chapter of the Southern Christian Leadership
Conference. "They have engaged in a pattern of trying to play the
black community for suckers, and we see through their games."

Even though Malone appears to be "eminently qualified," Artis said,
"you have to ask whether or not CRC is using plantation politics with
this appointment to shut us up."

Other black leaders have praised Malone's hiring. CRC officials said
it was not their intent to divide and conquer the community.

"She is from the community. She is African-American. That's reality,"
said Joe Pritchard, vice president of operations for the company's
Eastern region. "But if she didn't have the qualifications, she
wouldn't have been considered for the job."

Pritchard said Malone's experience in the criminal justice and
substance abuse fields makes her a good fit to run the clinic, and her
community ties will prove useful in working with nearby residents who
fear that the clinic's patients will cause problems in the area. The
clinic is expected to open in November at the earliest, Pritchard said.

"I think people will see this as a positive thing," Pritchard said.
"But if you don't want to see the positive, you'll see the negative."

This is not the first time race has played a role in the methadone
clinic controversy.

Ever since plans for the Roanoke Treatment Center became public in
November, some people have accused the company and city officials of
selecting Northwest Roanoke as the path of least resistance for an
unwanted project.

Those concerns are rooted in a mistrust of city government that dates
to the 1950s, when an urban renewal project displaced residents of the
historically black neighborhoods of Gainsboro and Northeast to make
room for highways, the Roanoke Civic Center and other projects.

In public meetings about the methadone clinic, mistreatment of the
black community has been raised nearly as often as concerns more
commonly associated with the drug treatment centers - that recovering
addicts will bring crime, drug activity and traffic congestion to the
surrounding area.

The perception that Northwest Roanoke is a dumping ground was only
strengthened in December, when plans for a different methadone clinic
in Southwest Roanoke County were dropped in the face of widespread
opposition.

"Dumping a methadone clinic in Northwest Roanoke, after white folks
kicked it out of Roanoke County, is nothing more than economic racism
at its worst," Artis said during a recent community meeting.

That meeting was unusual in that SCLC officials were joined by a
representative from the National Association for the Advancement of
Colored People, the other major black organization in the city. Del.
Onzlee Ware, a Roanoke Democrat who has been facilitating community
meetings about the clinic, said it was the first time in 20 years that
he had seen the local SCLC and NAACP chapters sitting at the same table.

"This is a momentous occasion as far as I am concerned," Ware told a
crowd of about 50 who gathered at the William Fleming High School cafeteria.

But as soon as NAACP chapter president Brenda Hale began to speak, it
became apparent that she and SCLC officials view the issue
differently.

Hale emphasized the need for methadone treatment for addicts of
opium-based drugs such as heroin and OxyContin, one of a number of a
prescription painkillers that have been abused with increasing
frequency in the region.

Methadone clinics have a "long record of success," Hale said, adding
that the recovering addicts who patronize them are not the criminal
characters who have instilled so much fear in the neighborhood.

"I feel there is a lot of misinformation about the methadone clinic,"
Hale said.

After that meeting, Hale and other NAACP officials sat down with CRC
officials at the Hotel Roanoke. The company has said it plans to meet
with different segments of the community in the months before the
clinic opens.

The way Artis sees it, it's just another example of plantation
politics.

"Brenda Hale has sold out Roanoke, Va.'s black community by meeting
with CRC Health Group and agreeing to help the company open their
methadone clinic on Hershberger Road," Artis wrote on a Web site
devoted to the topic.

Hale's response: "How can you sell out something that you never
owned?" The point, she said, is that the methadone clinic has as much
a right to provide treatment as drug addicts have a need to receive
it.

"The philosophy of the NAACP - be it local, state or national - is
always to work for the good of the people. All people," Hale said.

At recent meetings with the NAACP and some local black ministers, CRC
officials have discussed plans to form an advisory committee that
would allow local residents to have input in the clinic's operation.

Artis and the SCLC are planning something different. They have pledged
to confront the clinic head-on with pickets, economic boycotts and
other forms of nonviolent protests. "If the clinic opens up, we're
going to shut it down," Artis said.

Meanwhile, Malone said she is looking forward to starting work at the
Roanoke Treatment Center.

Dealing with drug addicts, at-risk offenders and crisis is nothing new
for Malone. The New York City native, who has worked with the Atlanta
Police Department and as a state community affairs manager in St.
Louis, came to Roanoke in 1997. She took a job as assistant
superintendent of the city's juvenile detention home. There, she
helped resolve overcrowding problems that had led the state to place
the home on probation.

Later, Malone took a city job as juvenile justice administrator,
supervising programs that provide services to underage offenders and
at-risk youths. She became interested in the methadone clinic with no
particular desire to work there, she said.

After visiting a clinic run by CRC in Galax, Malone suggested that the
Roanoke facility be used for other community services - youth
programs, parenting classes, faith-based initiatives - when the
methadone patients were not there. Because the clinic's hours will be
from 5 a.m. to 2 p.m., she reasoned, the clinic could easily be
expanded into "a promising force in the community."

CRC liked the idea so much it hired Malone.

Malone, who recently left her job with the city, plans to run a tight
ship at the clinic. "It's not going to be a hangout for your everyday
street heroin addicts," she said. Most of the patients will be
OxyContin addicts who have jobs to go to after receiving their daily
dose of methadone, she said.

"There's a need for substance abuse treatment in the area," Malone
said. "And I just think it will be a great opportunity for me to get
involved in the community."
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MAP posted-by: Larry Seguin