WORKERS, PARENTS GIVING DIFFERENT ACCOUNTS OF VIP EXPERIENCE

Since 1968 sheltered workshops operated by Hillary Schmitzehe have created opportunities that previously did not exist for physically and mentally handicapped adults in the region. Almost all of those who have become part of a sheltered workshop, group home or supported living apartment owned by Hillary Schmittzehe have intially embraced the opportunity.

But some have come away with very negative impressions. Handicapped workers and their parents have made claims of fraud and human rights abuse that have allegedly taken place over decades.

In recent years, these issues have received greater attention as a result of federal and state investigations. Although little has been discussed openly, citing fear of retribution, private discussions among some handicapped workers, their families and others have been intense.

At the same time, allegations against VIP have taken different families with decades of experience in area sheltered workshops by surprise. VIP managers and owner Schmittzehe have always treated their children with care and respect, these families say. Without VIP Industries, they don't know what they'd do with their adult, handicapped children.

The following story presents these various experiences:

A couple like any other

Just like countless other couples, Danny and Nancy Biri of Cape Girardeau have a wedding anniversary this month. It has been four years since the Biris were married at the Mormon church on West Cape Rock Drive, much to the displeasure of their previous employer, they say.

"He tried to tell me that living with a woman was a pain," Danny Biri said, describing conversations he had with Hillary Schmittzehe, operator of VIP Industries.

The Biris met in 1993 at VIP's sheltered workshop in Fruitland. Both are mildly mentally retarded and say they enjoyed their work. Nancy assembled small parts by hand, and Danny cut grass and handled other outside maintenance chores at the workshop.

Danny earned 50 cents an hour to start, but it didn't make much difference since most of his needs were taken care of through Medicaid and supplemental Social Security income. This paid for housing at a group home in Perryville, and later in Jackson.

But Danny couldn't always get access to his money. When he wanted to make a purchase, he and other residents at apartments operated by Schmittzehe told staff what they wanted to buy, and how much was needed. At times, Danny said, it took weeks of haggling to get his money.

He had asked for money to buy a one-piece work uniform at a convenience store for six months, he said. Requests for funds to purchase new shoes took a couple months, he said.

Once, Danny said, he wanted to buy flowers on Valentine's Day for Nancy. A staff person at the assisted living apartments told him to get flowers from a convenience store rather than a florist. It was cheaper, Danny was told.

Sometime around Christmas in 1995, Danny and Nancy chose to make their relationship permanent.

"We were sitting in her apartment and we decided to get married," Danny said.

When workshop and apartment staff informed Schmittzehe of Danny and Nancy's plan, he made a visit to the workshop to talk with them. Schmittzehe used statistics to show how unhappy married couples could be, Danny said.

When he wasn't able to deter them, Schmittzehe said that Danny should get a vasectomy and Nancy should have a hysterectomy.

"He told us to have surgery so we couldn't have children," Danny said.

When Schmittzehe was recently asked about the Biris and the suggestion that they have operations before marriage, he said he could not recall Danny or Nancy, but he would never have made such a request.

Danny sought assistance from Dale Smith, who was then manager for the Fruitland workshop. Smith told Danny that he would support the wedding.

Even though Danny and Nancy were their own guardians, Schmittzehe tried to talk their relatives into influencing their marriage decision, Smith said.

Smith met with the relatives, too. He also spoke to other VIP staff about arranging the wedding.

"If Hillary would have known what was going on at that time, he would have fired all of us," Smith said.

Later, when Smith said Schmittzehe did become aware of the wedding plans, he told his boss he would talk with representatives of the state Department of Mental Health if any problems were caused.

The wedding went ahead successfully.

A year later the couple moved out of Regency Apartments in Jackson to rent their own apartment in Cape Girardeau. They are still living on their own, with assistance from Smith, who operates a home health service.

Nancy works as a line attendant in a cafeteria, and Danny helps care for the grounds at their apartment complex.

Danny bought himself a lawnmower, even though they have to keep it in their apartment. He said he just wanted to exercise his freedom to buy what he wanted when he wanted.

"I think we have more fun now," Danny said.

Fighting for Joel

Ella Jean Pleasant believes others can learn a lot from her mentally handicapped son, Joel. She has.

When she returned to Missouri from Virginia after her marriage broke up in 1988, she learned that Joel would not be welcomed in Jackson public schools as he had in Virginia schools.

"When he enrolled in Virginia schools at 12, no questions were asked," Pleasant said. "Missouri is so backward."

When she went to enroll him, Joel walked into the high school principal's office and shook hands. He shook hands with the vice-principal, too. But the school officials rolled their eyes at each other when Pleasant talked about enrollment.

"They didn't want to accept him willingly," she said.

Pleasant turned the issue into a battle that lasted eight months. In the end, after bringing Joel to Jefferson City to speak to a hearing board for the state Department of Elementary and Secondary Education, she won.

Joel still experienced negetive comments and attitudes while attending Jackson High School, but they didn't stop him from graduating in 1992.

In a scrapbook that chronicles Joel's life, photos show him in a cap and gown, smiling broadly.

Two years before graduation, Joel began working part time, three days a week at VIP Industries sheltered workshop in Fruitland. He continued on that schedule after finishing school, since his left side is weaker and he tires quickly, Pleasant said.

Joel enjoyed the workshop. Even though he was being paid 48 cents an hour, Pleasant wasn't alarmed.

"I thought that maybe it was the price you paid for job training," she said.

It wasn't until 1995 that other figures made her ask more questions. On her son's Medicaid statement, it showed that Regency Management, an affiliate of VIP Industries, was billing the state for Joel's transportation on dates that he had not worked. It amounted to $417.78 that Medicaid would reimburse Regency Management for services not provided to Joel, Pleasant said.

When she confronted VIP and Regency Management operator Hillary Schmittzehe about the charges, he said a computer error was responsible. It would be corrected, he told her.

Prior to this, she had received repeated requests from VIP for her personal financial information and Joel's Medicaid number. Pleasant tore up the forms, she said.

She later discovered that a VIP supervisor had Joel sign a agreement to choose Regency Management as his service provider. This allowed Regency to bill Medicaid for services provided to Joel.

On Joel's next Medicaid statement, the same mistake was repeated. But the overbilling now was $781.76.

In October 1995, Pleasant took her son's Medicaid statements to then congressman Bill Emerson. He was appalled, she said.

After meeting Emerson, Pleasant began talking with investigators from the state's Medicaid fraud unit. More conversations with investigators and appearances before state and federal grand juries followed.

In her last conversation with the state Medicaid fraud unit in May, Pleasant said she was told the investigation was complete, and was now in the hands of attorneys.

Throughout all this, Joel has continued to go to work three days a week at the sheltered workshop.

"I think they'd be afraid to make it hard on Joel now," his mother said.

This perseverance is for a bigger purpose. The workshop concept is worth supporting, Pleasant said, but now she just wants it to change.

"A lot of parents just settle for what it is because they think that's all a kid deserves," she said. "I want a workshop for Joel. But I want different conditions, and a different boss."

A good working girl'

When Don Hanscom's daughter, Donna, only began to walk at two years old, he suspected something.

But it wasn't until tests were performed through Johns Hopkins Medical Center four years later that he knew for certain. Donna was mentally retarded.

"It would have been a shock to anyone," said Hanscom, who was a career Navy seaman at the time. "They said she would be like a 6-year-old when she was 18."

As Hanscom moved his family around the world over several years, he and his wife made an effort to keep Donna's life as equal to her sister's as possible. In schools, she would participate in gym and later home economics in regular classes and special education for core subjects.

Once in junior high, Donna walked off from school. Hanscom disciplined her by sending her straight back to school, just as he would his other daughter, he said.

While living in San Diego, Calif., Donna could have gone to a sheltered workshop, but she would have had to make bus transfers. Hanscom didn't think it would be safe.

"As parents, you're wrong if you're not protective," said Hanscom, who now is an officer for the Cape Girardeau County Sheriff's Department.

Hanscom brought his family to Cape Girardeau in 1984, and a year later he learned about VIP Industries. Donna, now 39, has been working at sheltered workshops in the county ever since.

Donna could not work outside the workshop, Hanscom said, although she lives on her own in Jackson's Regency Apartments. The state does offer "job coaches," who will work with a handicapped person and her employer to clarify the needs of both.

But this is not for Donna, Hanscom said. His daughter just cannot show up on time.

"She is not a person for supported employment," he said.

But she loves her job, and relationships at the sheltered workshop in Fruitland. It makes up the bulk of her social life, Hanscom said.

"She gets so frustrated when she is not at the plant," he said. "She is a good working girl."

But Hanscom has seen problems in how some things are handled by VIP Industries. His vantage point is different than many other parents, since he has been a Senate Bill 40 Board member in the county for about 10 years. The board oversees distribution of a tax levy of over $500,000 annually to service providers for the handicapped.

Before Hanscom and his wife decided together with Donna that she should move into Regency Apartments in Jackson, they wanted to be sure of her safety. Rumors of sexual assaults bothered them, Hanscom said.

The Hanscoms sat down with Sue Wallis, vice-president of VIP Industries, and got answers to their questions before Donna moved in.

Hanscom said his daughter is better off now living in her own apartment. He has seen her change tremendously.

"When she lived at home, she really didn't care where her things were," he said. "Now she fixes her lunch and has her clothes laid out for the next day before she goes to bed."

If Hanscom moves anything out of place in the apartment, his daughter will let him know, he said.

Hanscom handles Donna's Social Security disability checks himself. But he doesn't examine her quarterly Medicaid statements as often. The statements show what health related services provided to Donna are paid for by the federal government.

Some time ago, Hanscom noticed charges from Regency Management on his daughter's statement that were incorrect. When he spoke with Schmittzehe about these, he was told that a computer error was responsible and it would be fixed.

After looking at Donna's most recent Medicaid statement, he saw charges by Regency Management for transporting his daughter seven days a week to Fruitland. She does use a shuttle van to travel between her apartment and home, but the trip is from Jackson to Fruitland five days a week.

The ongoing error bothers Hanscom, but he said he prefers to deal with the discrepancies personally.

Hanscom hopes the end result of any ongoing investigation is positive for VIP Industries. Donna enjoys her work, and he wants her and the other workers to be happy.

"If VIP shuts down, where will the kids go?" he said.

Jeffrey's independence

Jeffrey Seabaugh lives in the fast lane. Some part of him is always in motion.

At home in his apartment, he'll continue talking while he folds socks, gets up to put them away, finds more clothes to pick up, walks to peer out his window, goes back to sit on his couch and folds more clothes.

Seabaugh, 28, is mentally handicapped and out on his own. He said he likes this better than the 10 years he spent working for VIP Industries.

"I wanted to go higher and higher," Seabaugh said. "That's the reason I got out."

Seabaugh started at VIP after he completed school because he wasn't given any other options after testing by the state Vocational Rehabilitation office, he said. He moved into Regency Apartments in Jackson for similar reasons, given to him by his parents.

The first paycheck Seabaugh received was for $20. His mother told him it wouldn't even pay a phone bill, he said.

At the end of 10 years, he had checks of $120 for two weeks of full-time work. His rent, subsidized by Social Security checks, was about $200 monthly, he said.

Nevertheless, Seabaugh struggled with staff at Regency Apartments to get hold of his money. This was common for handicapped residents at the apartments, he said, since nearly everyone he knew signed their checks over to Regency Management, another non-profit firm operated by Schmittzehe.

Schmittzehe has said that of the 350 clients served by Regency Management, only 40 or 50 release their money from personal control, usually through consent of a guardian.

While living at Regency Apartments, Seabaugh typically got $7 in spending money a week, he said.

But it was just enough to sneak out and play pool. Seabaugh would spend $5 at a time, and sometimes get beer.

Beer and visitors past midnight were not allowed at Regency Apartments, he said.

When Seabaugh asked to get enough money to buy a mattress, he was told he didn't have enough funds on his account.

When he left VIP and Regency two years ago, he given $1,000 in savings from his account.

Seabaugh thought the supervisors at VIP were mean.

"No matter how fast I'd work, they'd yell all the time," he said.

But he did enjoy putting together coathangers at VIP.

Now Seabaugh works at the Cracker Barrel restaurant in the dishroom. He earns $6.06 an hour. With about $400 in monthly Social Security income and rent payments of $475 split with a roommate, Seabaugh said he can afford to play more pool now. And friends don't have to leave after midnight.

For Rebecca's sake

Billie Roth has four daughters, but her youngest, 42-year-old Rebecca, is special. That's why Rebecca works at VIP Industries sheltered workshop in Cape Girardeau, Roth said. Roth and her husband have always wanted the best for Rebecca.

They could tell Rebecca was retarded at four months old, Roth said. She didn't walk until she turned 2, and her speech didn't develop normally.

"We just decided to do our best by her," Roth said.

They tested her abilities with a psychologist at Southeast Missouri State University. She was also tested to see if she had other disabilities by doctors in St. Louis. The Roths hired private tutors.

"We wanted her to be able to read," Roth said.

Her philosophy about education for the handicapped is to give them as much as they can absorb. This is why Rebecca has been enrolled in public school special education programs all her life, Roth said.

Although Rebecca had some regular classes in junior high and high school, Roth said she and her husband didn't want her constantly in a normal classroom setting.

"Inclusion is fine for those who want it," Roth said. "I just want what's best for my child."

When Rebecca was 16, the Roths decided their daughter could work part time at VIP Industries' Cape Girardeau sheltered workshop. It was something that Billie was closely familiar with, since she had campaigned strongly for the creation of a county tax to support a sheltered workshops in Cape Girardeau in the 1960s.

She had known VIP operator Hillary Schmittzehe since the mid-1950s, as both were active in Democratic politics, she said.

The conditions at VIP Industries first sheltered workshop at 533 Good Hope St. weren't good, Roth said. Rats ran throughout the building. But Roth worked to improve conditions, she said.

"I've always been a fighter for my kids," Roth said. "Rebecca just gets a little more of it."

Opportunities to fight have presented themselves.

Roth recalls an occasion when her daughter was improperly touched by a supervisor. She let Schmittzehe know, and the supervisor lost his job, Roth said. Another time, a disabled man brought nude photos to work, showed them to Rebecca, and tried to fondle her. Schmittzehe barred the man from the workshop.

Roth praises the VIP staff's professionalism and commitment.

"There are people here that will go with parents to the Social Security office if there is a problem," Roth said. "Most of us as parents wouldn't be able to do this by ourselves."

Roth forced herself to learn about supplemental Social Security income and how Medicaid benefits are won and lost. She makes sure her daughter stays Medicaid eligible, since private insurance would cost $350 a month.

"Some parents expect their children to be taken care of without any effort from them," she said.

Roth has sought out opportunities to make life better for the handicapped in general. Besides serving as a board member for several Schmittzehe-operated organizations, she is currently a member of the county's Senate Bill 40 Board. The board distributes tax money for handicapped services.

She also served at one time on the Missouri Planning Council for the Developmentally Disabled, a state board appointed by the governor made up of representatives from 11 regions.

"I'm interested in helping people," Roth said.

Rebecca's life is made complete by activities through the workshop. Roth rolls out a list of activities that her daughter participates in: fishing with help from the VFW is coming up; bowling, in which Rebecca carries a 150 average; and line dancing is a favorite. Rebecca has been going for three years with a group from the workshop to Gordonville for dances, and she is getting good at it, her mother said.

"Most clients would not know what to do if it wasn't for VIP," Roth said. "It is the only social life they have."

Recent criticism of VIP stings Roth. After she was appointed by then Gov. John Ashcroft to the Missouri Planning Council for the Developmentally Disabled, Roth said she visited many workshops across the state. This showed her how fortunate Cape Girardeau is. Only Sedalia, Mo., had a sheltered workshop with standards as high as VIP, she said.

This is why Roth is ready for another fight.

"I'd hate to see anything happen to VIP," she said. "I'd rally against it."

A place where Patty fits

Long before he had a daughter with Down syndrome, William Ansberry worked in a Cincinnati, Ohio, mental institution and provided recreation for handicapped children.

"They had everyone there from six months old to 80 years old," Ansberry recalled. "It really fit the sense of the word institution.' "

Ansberry and his wife knew from the birth of their daughter, Patty, that she was mentally handicapped.

"Some doctors at that time would have recommended putting her in an institution," he said. "That was the way they thought then."

The Ansberrys didn't think like that. When they moved to Cape Girardeau in the 1960s, they found like-minded people, such as Hillary Schmittzehe.

"We started by going to Association of Retarded Citizen meetings," William Ansberry said. "We thought why not get more involved. It's the future of parenting handicapped children."

With some assistance, Patty started in a preschool sponsored by the Association for Retarded Citizens. Her parents became involved in forming the area's first sheltered workshop.

The commitment has been consistent. William has been a VIP Industries board member going on 20 years now, while his wife Ruth has served on the county's Senate Bill 40 board for eight years.

When Patty turned 16, the Ansberrys had complete confidence in allowing her to work part time at the workshop.

But they did argue that first day. They weren't sure whether to let her ride in a van to work, or take her themselves.

"It was hard at first, letting her go with people we didn't know," Ruth said.

But the Ansberrys had seen how Schmittzehe ran the workshop, and they liked it.

"You don't have to be here long to see that the focus of the workshop is the clientele," William said. "Anyone who is not comfortable with the handicapped would not work here."

Patty has never experienced problems with workshop supervisors, William said. But he has heard staff members complain about each other in front of handicapped workers. Schmittzehe doesn't tolerate such behavior very long, William said.

William will come to the workshop unannounced from time to time, just to walk around and observe. He wants to be sure his daughter and others are treated decently.

"I'll come down here to look around, since I feel like it's my duty," William said.

The Ansberrys have had billing discrepancies from Medicaid turn up on Patty's quarterly statements in the past. Regency Management has charged Medicaid for transporting Patty from Cape Girardeau to Marble Hill to work. It took four months to correct the error, William said, and it hasn't shown up on statements again.

Getting Patty to work is easy, her father said.

"We take her with us everywhere," he said. "And we take a lot of trips together. But she'll always say: 'Next day -- workshop.' "