The merchants' dread was an old refrain: If you build it, they will come.
Dunton, who did not return calls from New Times, made no secret of his dismay during DTMA meetings in July. Visions of street people panhandled in his head. A homeless woman came into his restaurant, he said, wearing no bra. Bums were already downtown, drinking and urinating in public. Why bring in more?
"I don't have a particular problem with it as long as it's run properly," says DTMA member Sue Ferry, whose Oldtown Coffeehouse is near the motel.
"The shelter, from what I'm told, is not going to accept drinkers and drug addicts, but those are the type of people attracted to places like that," says Pat Davis, an antique-store owner and current DTMA president. The association itself, she says, took no stance on the shelter, but she opposes having it there.
"If they're turned away, where are they going to go?" Davis asks. "I'm not sure exactly where [the shelter] should be located. But certainly not on our major tourist attraction."
At its meeting of July 17, after making a list of conditions designed to appease merchant concerns, the city gave its tentative nod to the Star Motel. Among the conditions were nighttime security lighting, adequate staffing and a minimum of loitering around the property.
Falance claimed triumph. Prodigal House would open by the end of the year. "We got the miracle loaves and fishes," he says.
The joy was short-lived.
Within weeks, in actions taken under the pretense that St. Theresa's guest activities had suddenly been unearthed, city and county officials issued cease-and-desist orders against Falance and St. Theresa's, charging him with unlawful and improper operation of a homeless shelter.
"That was a last resort," says City Attorney Charlotte Wells. "We're still not standing on the corner watching their every move."
A beleaguered Father Falance says, "They're trying to excite me into another heart bypass. But the Catholic Church don't close because a guy dies."
Falance has big plans for Prodigal House. The homeless passing through town with no work and no bed will have a decent place to stay. He's going to open up one section of the motel for about 30 or 40 people within a few months, then refurbish the rest until he can sleep 75 people in all.
"We're getting them in this town," he insists. "Our object is to sleep them and move them through. But if they come here and want to live here, we can't stop 'em."
Plants, flowers, iron grating, that should keep the merchants happy. "It certainly won't degrade Route 66," he says.
And in the meantime, St. Theresa's nightly guest count hovers dangerously close to its limit, awaiting the eventual inspection that could land Falance in trouble again.
One of the weekly phone surveys that ran in a local paper last month asked whether Falance should be required to bring the church in line with city codes. Everyone who called said no.
"The rank-and-file people don't seem to have a problem with the concept that a church should be allowed to do certain things that a business can't," Giamporcaro says.
Kingman Mayor Anderson says Falance can't be singled out for special treatment because of his mission, but neither she nor anyone else can provide a good answer as to why authorities looked the other way in previous inspections, then decided to stop. The answer she does provide is rather breathtaking.
"You see the needs of these people," she says, "but how far can a city or county agency go in ignoring a health hazard just to provide a roof over someone's head?"
On a cold morning beginning to warm with the sun, Kathy and Dean Dilbeck round up their bundled kids and get ready to board a bus. The driver is spelling out the itinerary while Kathy holds Dean Jr. snug in her arms--they'll stop in Barstow, then transfer to Bakersfield.
Dean haggles over carry-on luggage. They can't afford to lose anything. Kathy boards with the kids, and Deiane climbs on and waves to cars leaving the adjacent McDonald's parking lot on old Route 66.
"I'll be back," Dean says. He chuckles and motions at a nearby woman, large and blond, wearing flip-flops and draped in a shirt with a mallard-duck motif. "Look at the way people dress. It's trapped in the '60s. It's small. There's no gangs. I like it here."
And a journey resumes--one more family goes Greyhounding down the interstate.
