Mental hell, continued

by Kristen Lombardi

This year, however, workers weren't so lucky. In another partial veto, the governor cut $10 million from the $25 million salary-reserve line item, designating the money for workers earning $25,000 or less. (The original item had targeted those making less than $39,000.) But although the legislature overturned roughly $500,000 worth of vetoes, the House leadership -- i.e., Tom Finneran -- failed to bring this cut up for a vote.

The oversight has left mental-health professionals stunned. By the time the remaining $15 million reaches thousands of workers across the state, each will end up with a raise of just 23 cents per hour. "It's pathetic," says Carol Phillips, a group-home worker in Methuen. Right after the bungled override, she recounts, several Local 285 and 509 members visited one prominent legislator's office. When asked how the veto had been allowed, the legislator snapped, "Everybody has their hands out!"

Phillips bristles. "How can politicians begrudge us three percent raises?" she says. "The $45,000 [raise that] Cellucci got would cover my agency's shortfall."

Cellucci spokesman John Birtwell contends that his boss has made progress. It's true, he admits, the salary reserve has been reduced. Since 1997, however, the governor has funneled $93.5 million into this fund. "Our willingness to address the problem of low-paid workers should be recognized," he insists. He stresses that the partial veto does not indicate waning commitment; the governor simply weighed past contributions in his decision.

Birtwell further dismisses criticisms that Cellucci hasn't allotted enough funds for mental-health services. Although the DMH lags behind some departments, he says, criticizing that "presupposes other needs aren't as great." Privatization "has brought improvement in mental-health resources," he asserts. "There's enormous financial commitment."

As the adage goes, however, actions speak louder than words. And the latest blow to the salary reserve only reinforces suspicions that Cellucci and legislators don't have the political will to acknowledge policy failures. The initial $25 million represented a fraction of what's needed -- and still, politicians couldn't deliver. (Bringing private workers' salaries into line with state employees' would cost an estimated $400 million.) Providers may face a growing crisis, but this, as Ripple says, "hasn't resonated" with state officials. "It's a political problem," he says.

None of this is surprising, given that the mentally ill have long been disenfranchised and overlooked. Mental-health workers, as a lobby, pale when compared to such political powerhouses as teacher, firefighter, and police unions.

But workers and their allies aren't about to give up. Right now, conversation has turned toward radical, eye-catching tactics that could be used to spark reform. Some observers hint at "aggressive action" from the unions -- camping out before the State House, hounding legislators. Others suggest that workers, thousands of them, should coordinate a statewide strike.

Other observers have become convinced that filing a lawsuit is the best way to capture political attention. For months now, the Alliance for the Mentally Ill and several legal associations have been considering a suit against the state for willfully denying services to mentally ill residents. Sympathetic legislators like Senator Therese Murray (D-Plymouth), who chairs the Health and Human Services Committee, have even challenged advocates to sue because, she explains, "we're not providing services we're supposed to, yet we have the resources to do it."

Whether such drastic measures pan out remains to be seen. Meanwhile, the system crumbles more each day. Clients fall into crisis, workers lose incentives, and clinics stray further from providing quality care. Even the promising signs for reform -- such as increasing union activity among workers -- seem in jeopardy.

Richard Sherman sums up the sentiment: "There's deep anguish in the mental-health community. Question is, will we see more action or more people giving up?"

It's an uphill battle for sure, and one that provides a valuable lesson for the likes of Al Gore.

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Kristen Lombardi can be reached at klombardi[a]phx.com.