'The Foundry is God's cocoon' By Dave Parks
Birmingham News staff writer

Bill Heintz was hitchhiking from San Antonio to Corpus Christi, Texas, in 1972 when a cattle truck pulled over, and the driver waved him aboard. There was no passenger seat, and the driver spoke Spanish. Heintz settled down on the metal floorboard, bouncing uncomfortably along, unable to see where he was going or talk with the person who was driving him there.

"I had a that moment," he said. "I got honest with myself: `You know, you idiot, why you're here, don't you? Because you're lazy. Because you don't want to work. Because all you want to do is party. And guess what that brought you - a cattle truck chauffeur. You might as well get in the back with the cows. That is how much your life is worth.'"

So Heintz turned his life toward sobriety, faith and eventually, Bessemer, Ala. Now, at age 63, he directs what state officials say is Alabama's largest residential drug and alcohol treatment center, The Foundry.

It has sprung up quietly in Bessemer, a city with more than its share of urban decay, crime and drugs. The Foundry has an extensive campus, and it provides Christ-based recovery services to about 225 residents. The Foundry has a long waiting list, turning away hundreds of people a week.

When Heintz, an interdenominational minister, and his wife, Michelle, came to town 12 years ago, they took over what was then the Bessemer Rescue Mission, a typical overnight shelter in a corner building. They had no experience treating addiction.

In 1996, the Heintzes and a small staff converted the shelter into a treatment center with eight beds. They took in people like Tony Collier, who was dropped on their doorstep after a near-death experience with vodka.

"I was an Absolut alcoholic," Collier said.

His alcoholism led to despondency, and while in Huntsville he attempted suicide by swigging down a half gallon of vodka.

"It did not work," he said. "I woke up the next day in Huntsville Hospital. The first thing I saw was this doctor telling me how lucky I was to be alive. I thought, that is the worst possible thing I could have ever heard."

Collier was transferred from the hospital to a private treatment center, but because he was uninsured, he was driven to the Bessemer program and dropped off. He started out sleeping in the pantry with a chair propped up against the door because he was terrified of the other residents.

But his fear disappeared as he listened to Heintz's powerfully persuasive talk about how to beat addiction through honest work, self-evaluation and Jesus Christ.

Collier was in the treatment center's first graduating class, and like many other graduates to follow, he joined the staff and stuck around to help build the program. "Here I am today," he said, smiling.

Recovery campus

The Foundry now has a campus of 15 buildings, primarily in downtown Bessemer. Its enterprises include an automotive repair shop, a used car lot, a video production studio and what is described as one of the largest thrift stores in the nation.

It has a staff of 50 counselors, administrators and managers, including a full-time doctor who operates a community clinic. Its new chapel holds 700 worshippers and is often full.

All of this was done without government money, even though at times it was offered.

Kent Hunt, associate commissioner for substance abuse at the Alabama Department of Mental Health and Mental Retardation, said he has talked with Heintz several times about the possibility of funneling state support to The Foundry.

"He's not interested in any public money," Hunt said. "He knows that along with public money would come some strings, and he's able to operate without that.

"You've got to take your hat off to him for that."

Residents volunteer their labor to run The Foundry's businesses, and the treatment program provides them with food, clothing, housing and rehabilitation services.

Residents pay a $395 intake fee and stay 12 to 18 months. A recent poll of graduates indicated that 60 percent remained clean and sober a year after leaving the program, officials said.

Private treatment programs can cost thousands of dollars a month and often are available only short-term. People with long-term addictions often need costly, long-term treatment, authorities say.

Jesse Milby, a psychologist and addiction expert at the University of Alabama at Birmingham, said Heintz appears to have solved the dual problem of treating addiction: finding a method that works and finding a way to pay for it. "He's on to something."

Milby recently finished a study in which homeless people with addiction problems were provided six months of housing, work, counseling and social support. The result was 50 percent of one group of participants maintaining sobriety a year after the program ended.

The cost of such a program would be $12,000 to $15,000 per person, and money like that just isn't available for addiction treatment, Milby said.

"People like me are studying it, but if we don't have grants, we don't have a program," he said.

Heintz said The Foundry has a $5 million-a-year budget, with 70 percent of that covered by earnings from its businesses.

The biggest moneymaker is SuperThrift Outlet, a former Kmart on Bessemer Super Highway that has a whopping 91,000 square feet of retail sales space. It's packed with donated merchandise, and according to The Foundry's 2005 IRS Form 990, the store brings in more than $2 million a year.

Heintz himself earns a modest salary. According to the 2005 IRS report, he was paid $52,812 a year as executive director, and his wife was paid $45,687 as head of community outreach.

The Foundry relies on financial donations to pay about 30 percent of its operating costs, Heintz said. It is about halfway through a $3 million capital fund drive. The money will be used to renovate women's living facilities and expand The Foundry's capacity to about 300 residents.

Founded on faith

Heintz credits The Foundry's success to the team of people who created the program and to the Almighty.

"It's been a God thing from the beginning," Heintz explained. "I would never, ever try to take the glory for what's going on here. Lives are being changed, but only God gets the glory."

His description of how The Foundry works is simple.

"The Foundry is God's cocoon where he takes hurting people, puts a web around them and transforms them into who they were created to be," he said. "This is what I tell people: `God has created a place for you to have a scholarship to go to a one-year college and learn how to be you.'"

He said reasons for addictions are complicated and often horrible. "One guy told me from the time he was 7 until the time he was 13 his father had sex with him every day," Heintz said. "We deal with people who are dealing with a lot of emotional trauma."

In addition, people fighting addiction are often plagued with guilt and the stigma of the outlandish things they have done under the influence of drugs or alcohol.

Just ask Charlie Gordon, 38, of Homewood, who has been at The Foundry for seven months.

"I robbed banks," Gordon said. "I did 10 years in prison."

He gave his life to the Lord while in prison, but when he was released he found himself gravitating back to the old, dangerous behaviors.

"I decided to bear that burden myself," Gordon said. "I failed miserably. I relapsed."

So he came to The Foundry and now is working with the prison re-entry ministry, which has about 40 residents at The Foundry.

"I have found freedom in Christ," Gordon said. "There's a peace there. There's a strength there that I don't have on my own."

Heintz said reliance upon Jesus Christ is essential to recovery. "It takes a greater force to help a person get out of himself and overcome," Heintz said.

Then, people need to work hard and take time to heal. On a routine day, residents of The Foundry rise at 5:15 a.m., have breakfast and are in class at 7. A second class at starts at 8, and residents go to work from 9 to 5.

Residents of the program say they must randomly provide urine for drug and alcohol tests. A positive result brings instant expulsion.

A 30-day recovery program is unrealistic for people with hard-core addictions who have lost everything, including their self-respect, Heintz said. There is no quick fix for an addiction that took years to establish.

"God can deliver you," he said. "But changing the mind-set, the habits, the way of doing things takes time."

dparks@bhamnews.com