A home of second chances: Dale House gives struggling youths skills for life in family setting

George Sheffer stands in his office, thumbing carefully through a thick folder and stopping occasionally over the newspaper clippings he’s held onto over the years.

There’s the boy who was paralyzed in a shooting. The girl who graduated as valedictorian. The boy who was shot by his mother over a pack of cigarettes. And the one who shot a shop manager during an attempted robbery.

With each clip, Sheffer tells a story. The incident that paralyzed the boy also saved his life. The valedictorian was such a bright girl. The boy who was shot showed signs of a brighter future.

The one who shot the manager? Sheffer visits him in jail.

“Yep, I’m his daddy,” he says, tucking the folder away.

In some ways, they’re all family. Each clipping mentions someone who once stayed with Sheffer in what began as an idea to help troubled kids and evolved into today’s Dale House Project — a state-licensed and -funded residential child care facility esteemed by the state Department of Human Services and the Division of Youth Corrections.

It’s grown over nearly 40 years from two Dale Street buildings to five, and each year it brings a new group of kids who learn to call this place home and the people there family.

There have been some “neat” success stories, Sheffer said: the former resident who became the first female fire chief in her community; the one who became a top car dealer in Denver; kids who call or write to say they’re doing great, have a job, joined the Navy.

They don’t always walk out of the Dale House straight into successful lives. For many of the more than 3,000 kids who have stayed at the Dale House, living independently can be a struggle.

But what sets the program apart, Youth Corrections and Human Services officials say, is that its staff keeps caring about the kids, keeps giving them second chances. The Dale House staff is there to congratulate them on success, or to visit them in jail on their birthdays. To let them know they haven’t been forgotten.

“Many of our kids trip and fall, but even when they trip and fall, the Dale House will always take them back and keep working with them,” said Ann Freeman, southern regional director for Youth Corrections. “Even when there’s no money attached, even when the kid’s been through a lot, been to jail, the Dale House will always take them in. As long as they’re willing to try.”

A little direction

Some days, Sheffer says, he could throw his hands in the air. Other people ask why he does this work.

“They say, you know, ‘Why do you waste your time on these kids?’” he said.

The kids can be difficult to reach. Many have histories of drug or alcohol abuse, absent parents or rap sheets. There’s a cabinet in Sheffer’s office with a box of the contraband he’s confiscated over the years: A fork twisted to wrap around knuckles with the spikes sticking out. A ski pole with nails driven through the end. A fake gun.

At the heart of it, though, Sheffer has a deep commitment to kids who have had it rough. A favorite quote of his is from Mother Teresa, who said the “worst disease a human can suffer is feeling unwanted.” He believes these kids are of special concern to God.

Years ago, Sheffer and his roommate opened their home to the kids he worked with as a volunteer at a detention center. And he grew up around kids who “had it rough.”

His father, George Sr., worked for the nondenominational Christian youth ministry Young Life, directing the Chicago division from 1948 to 1956. He helped city kids and those in gangs.

In the early ’70s, he moved to Colorado Springs, home of Young Life’s headquarters, and in 1971 received a grant from a pharmaceutical company to start a leadership school for city kids.

When that didn’t work out, the company allowed the Sheffer family to use the grant to start a home for street kids. It became a crash pad for the lost or wandering, who would stay for several nights at a time.

These were the early years of the Dale House Project, founded by George Sheffer Sr. and his wife, Martie, and George Sheffer Jr. and his wife, Jane. The younger Sheffer’s brother and sister also worked with the project. At the time, it was a Young Life special project.

“We gave the kids a place to stay, maybe a little direction,” Jane Sheffer recalled.

In 1976, the Dale House became certified as a child care facility, enabling Human Services officials to make referrals. They sent kids who were in the system because of abuse, neglect or extreme conflict at home and those who wanted to be emancipated. Some were sent from foster families.

Each year, eight recent college graduates join the Dale House as primary caregivers. They are given room, board and a small stipend as they earn credits toward a master’s degree at Fuller Theological Seminary. Each primary caregiver is typically assigned two kids. They take them to appointments and job interviews. They’re there to talk to them and to support them.

The Department of Youth Corrections also sends kids to the Dale House to complete their sentences.

George Sheffer Jr. replaced his father as director, and in 2000 Dale House became an independent nonprofit. In 2002, its main office relocated to an old mansion down Dale Street. A school was added.

Today, the Department of Human Services pays the Dale House about $3,350 per month per child in the program, said Lee Hodge, manager of youth resources for the department. Youth Corrections pays about $3,500 per child per month, Freeman said.

Typically, about 20 kids, most from Youth Corrections, stay at the Dale House at a time.

The mission remains the same: Give the kids a home. Give them the skills for independent living. Give them a family, a support system. Make them feel wanted.

Time to grow up

On a sunny Wednesday evening, Monument Valley Park is crowded with teenagers talking and laughing. There’s a man grilling and talk of a basketball tournament after dinner. A girl complains she doesn’t want to play.

Sheffer stands in a gazebo and introduces the visitors: Two former residents who came back for dinner and activities. A boy with faded tattoos and a girl dressed in brightly colored clothes wave, and the others cheer. One teenager leads a prayer before dinner.

It’s family night, one of two each week.

How do you show love for a child who has possibly never had it?

“I mean, it’s kind of like this setting right here, where everybody’s just kind of hanging out — we’re together, we want to be together, we want to be around each other,” said Makana McCarty, who trains primary counselors. “A lot of these kids don’t have that. A lot of these kids don’t have people who want to be around them all the time.”

The staff takes them to Disneyland, to summer camp. They hang posters in the house to note successes.

They care about where they are and how they’re doing. For some of the kids, this makes all the difference.

Troy Bosco said he was a “hard-headed” 15-year-old who was self-destructive and angry when he arrived at the house in 1985. His parents had divorced early in his life and he had bounced between the two before moving in with his grandma.

While at Dale House, he got in trouble at school and was suspended. He expected yelling when he walked in to talk to Sheffer about it.

Sheffer looked up as Bosco entered, and Bosco could see he was crying.

“He said, ‘Troy, I don’t know what to do to help you,’” Bosco said. “He said, ‘I care about you and I see you self-destructing and I don’t know what to do because I really care about you.’ I saw this man truly cared about me and was worried about where I was going.

“I think that was the saving grace for me.”

McCarty tells the kids to peel back whatever label has been placed on them.

“I tell them, ‘If you take that sticker away, take everything away, tell me what you want me to know about you,’” he said. “And it’s pretty interesting to hear what they have to say. A lot of them say stuff like, ‘I’m a lovable guy’ or ‘I want to do well, but I just don’t know how.’”

Through group and individual sessions, the Dale House tries to show them. The kids learn how to apply and interview for a job, how to grocery shop, how to cook. They work toward GED diplomas and get jobs.

Bosco, now 40, is among the top car brokers in Denver. He’s married and has a son in college.

He still talks to Sheffer.

“Honestly, I don’t know that I would actually be here if it weren’t for George and the Dale House,” he said. “And I get choked up when I say that, but it’s true. They do a very, very good thing there, and I believe in it with all my being.

“It’s my family and my home. I have great relationships with my mom and dad now, but that will always be home. They still, to this day, care.”

Success of the program

Leaving the Dale House successfully means a resident has saved $2,000, and has an apartment and a job. He’s learned to cook, pay rent and deal with landlords. Some have earned a GED diploma or enrolled in college.

About 75 percent of the kids successfully finish the program, Jane Sheffer said.

“We get this question all the time — what’s your success rate?” she said. “And it depends on how you define success.”

It doesn’t work to look at recidivism rates, Freeman said. Freeman, Hodge and the Sheffers agreed it might take a couple of years for people to apply what they learned at the Dale House.

But the program plants the seed.

“What we have found is that eventually, when they get to a point in their lives when they say, ‘You know what, I don’t like this life I’m living,’ they know how to do a job interview, how to dress for it. They know the skills,” Jane Sheffer said. “They will know what to do when they decide they want to be an adult. So many kids come back and tell us, ‘You know, I just wanted to be a kid.’ And it didn’t work out; they got in trouble.”

Lucas Lancaster stayed at the Dale House for about eight months before he ran away last September. The 20-year-old had been in the system since age 15 after using drugs and being uncooperative on probation. He lost hope when his mom died of a heart attack while he was home on visitation from a treatment center.

“I just kind of gave up a little bit,” he said. “Nobody was really out there for me, it seemed like.”

At Dale House, he lied to staff, continued using drugs and alcohol. Then he ran.

Two months later, he was jailed again and afraid the Dale House staff wouldn’t forgive him.

He was in the park for family night on a recent Wednesday, smiling as he talked about his future. The Dale House, of course, accepted him “with open arms.” He’s out of jail and works at a catering company. He wants to go to school to be certified as a nursing assistant. Twice a week, he returns to the Dale House for family night. He says he believes he might get it right this time

.

“I just want to do something else. I already know what the bad lifestyle gets you. You can either change what you’re doing with your life, you get locked up or you die.

“I got another chance, which I didn’t deserve. Somehow, some way, I got another chance.”