Dying homeless: Mourning death of drinking buddy

Thursday, August 28
(updated 7:52 am)
By Jeri Rowe Jeri Rowe
Staff Columnist
Kenny Odekirk sits on cushions outside an empty building on High Point Road west of Greensboro on Wednesday.

Kenny Odekirk sits on cushions outside an empty building on High Point Road west of Greensboro on Wednesday.

Neslon Kepley / News & Record

GREENSBORO — Michael Keith Cooper died alone last week beside one of our busiest roads, surrounded by a bank, a convenience store and two churches.

He was homeless.

Michael lost his battle with an ailing heart and the bottle. Initial autopsy results show he died of coronary heart disease and cirrhosis of the liver.

He's another one gone from our city's most forgotten population.

At least, that's what Kenny Odekirk thinks. He was Michael's good friend. They once shared a tent, food and alcohol. Kenny is 38, a Greensboro native. He's homeless, too.

This week, Kenny came back to the spot beneath the eaves of Ethan Allen Furniture because he thought Michael was slain, and he wanted to find out why.

But he also wanted to remember his friend, a quiet, generous man from Lexington who, like him, downed alcohol like bottled spring water. Michael's preference: Natural Ice.

I found Kenny on Wednesday, lying on two dirty seat cushions, sipping what was left in a plastic bottle of Aristocrat Vodka. His hair pasted to his forehead, he had been awake since 5:30 a.m. and hadn't eaten anything.

"When you live out here, things like this happen," he told me. "You have a place to go home to. I don't. Michael Cooper didn't either."

In our city of pretty buildings and big-time development dreams, 10 to 20 homeless people die on the streets every year.

That figure comes from the Rev. Mike Aiken, executive director of Greensboro Urban Ministry, a nonprofit that helps the homeless with shelter, food and clothing.

"This shouldn't happen in a city like this," Aiken said. "In my understanding of faith, every human being has the right to food, shelter, clothing and medical care, and we have to find a way in our community and nation to remedy that."

Our city is trying. Today, homeless advocates will give an update about a proposed day center for homeless people. City officials have allocated $200,000 toward the effort.

The center coincides with a state-funded program that homeless advocates call the "10-year plan."

Guilford County became one of three communities statewide last year to receive $644,000 in state funds. The goal: help homeless men and women find housing and services to right their lives.

The program has worked. Mitch McGee, the housing support team coordinator, says it serves more than 50 people and has an 80 percent success rate.

But McGee says the program has a waiting list, the grant money will run out in June, and there's no guarantee that Raleigh will renew the program.

"You have to be conscious of the fact that the folks we deal with aren't people's most favorite folks," McGee says. "You know, it's the panhandlers and stuff, and during economic crunch time, people will say, 'Why spend money on those things?' ''

The Rev. Willis Johnson Jr. has an idea why.

Since March, he's worked on planning the day center. He also pastors Shiloh Baptist Church, an historical African American church on Eugene Street a short walk from Greensboro Urban Ministry.

Johnson sees homeless people every day.

"What our new residents are looking for is not just pretty buildings and condominiums, but also social responsibility," he said. "Because at the end of the day, what we do for the least among us reflects on how we all will be treated.

"And that is a powerful exercise for a growing city."

That brings us back to Michael. And Kenny. And Eric Hecht, the branch manager of First Citizens Bank, the business beside Ethan Allen Furniture.

For months, Hecht gave food and clothes to Michael, Kenny and their homeless buddy Frank. He also talked to them about their struggles, their favorite music and their opportunities to get off the street.

Now, Michael is gone. Died a few dozen feet from where Hecht worked.

"You realize this is a human being," said Hecht, a 33-year-old married father of one. "He had problems. But he died in the street, and he could have been someone's father, son, uncle, you name it. Who is he leaving behind?"

Right now, it's Kenny.

Contact Jeri Rowe at 373-7374 or jeri.rowe@news-record.com