It’s right up there with picking on widows and orphans.
Oprah Winfrey and Brooke Shields swear by the Kristin Brooks Hope Center, a national suicide prevention effort that is about to have its central identifier—the phone number 1-800-SUICIDE—snatched by a greedy government agency.
The center exists because its founder, H. Reese Butler, decided, in 1998, to light a candle instead of curse the darkness after his wife, suffering from post-partum depression, died by suicide. To launch the effort, Butler sold his house and used money from his wife’s life insurance and malpractice settlement.
Annually, 1-800-SUICIDE helps half-a-million souls contemplating suicide. It’s totally confidential and effective—11 national hotlines, including 1-800-PPDMOMS and 1-877-VET2VET, tap into a network of 200 certified crisis centers with precision and speed.
The geniuses in the bureaucracy couldn’t hope to come up with such a brilliantly simple scheme. So they’ve tried unsuccessfully to replicate it at over six times the cost and naturally enough covet the hotline number, its network and traffic.
Don’t suppose anyone of them ever read, Robert Fulghum’s “All I Really Need to Know, I Learned in Kindergarten.” This one a five-year-old could figure out: “Play fair. Clean up your own mess. Don’t take things that aren’t yours.”
And, what a mess!
U.S. Health and Human Services Secretary Michael Leavitt is asking the FCC to permanently reassign 1-800-SUICIDE to HHS. But, this request is based on behind-the-scenes shenanigans in the bowels of the bureaucracy and innuendo: Butler “has a reputation on the hill,” wrote an HHS aide. The Center recently got another ninety-day extension— until October 22—to comply with the FCC request.
And, just how did this private sector initiative in which volunteers are its core strength; innovation its hallmark; and its very existence helps maximize resources by ending duplication, as federal advisory recommendations require, come to this point?
Well, back in 2000, Butler accidentally sat in the same row as some powerful senators at a mental-health rally while visiting DC. Before he knew it, he was thrust in the spotlight, telling this high-wattage group one key fact: Less than 10% of crisis centers and their workers were certified.
Sen. Ted Kennedy, D-MA, having just lost a friend to suicide, quickly read Butler’s proposal for rectifying the situation, telling him, “Most of what we do is (off-color word) and this is good.”
Six weeks later the bill passed the Senate by Unanimous Consent amidst impassioned pleas from senators including Sen. Harry Reid who recalled the pain of his own father’s suicide.
The legislation directed the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA), which resides within the vast Public Health Service, to administer the grant.
KBHC received less than $1.5 million in federal funding annually (2001-2004), issued as a subcontract. The bulk of this money went toward sophisticated IT advancements needed to meet the evaluation requirements of the grant, while providing, Butler said, “new ways to link callers to help and hope.” The landmark evaluation proved hotlines work.
But, in spite of this success, SAMHSA decided, in 2004, to issue awards, worth over $3 million annually, for a new hotline just like 1-800-SUICIDE.
Go figure.
But, things got worse.
After a three-year odyssey that included being left curbside by a Teamsters subtenant and working out of a mosquito-infested row house, the Hope Center recently moved to decent Foggy Bottom offices and is thriving with private sector funding.
Strangely, the liberal lions have been largely silent over the fate of the Center. It took Sen. Sam Brownback, R-KS, to cry foul. Then, Sen. Tom Coburn, R-OK, equally appalled, asked Secretary Leavitt to review the FCC request.
Hopefully, when the Bush Administration discovers its underlings erred—which Help Save 1-800-SUICIDE illumines—they will apply that other kindergarten rule: “Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody.”
Mary Claire Kendall, a Washington-based writer, served as special assistant to the assistant secretary for health, U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, from 1989-1993.
