After retrieving an electric leaf blower from the manager’s office at the Sunset Motor Inn, Steven Dupont headed across the parking lot on a warm afternoon last week to continue his fall lawn cleanup project.
Dupont, 56, doesn’t work for the 18-room motel off Route 10 in West Lebanon. He’s actually a long-term guest who enjoys making himself useful.
“I do better when I have things to do,” Dupont told me. “I like being outside.”
Just not 24/7.
Before moving into the Sunset four months ago, Dupont was homeless. He spent parts of the spring and summer in a tent off the Appalachian Trail in Hanover.
This summer, Dupont qualified for the federal Emergency Rental Assistance Program, or ERAP for short. In response to the COVID-19 pandemic, Congress passed two bills to assist people struggling to pay rent and utilities. Since March 2021, more than 23,000 New Hampshire households have received $230 million in ERAP assistance.
The state has used some of the federal money to provide temporary housing at motels and hotels for needy people at risk of homelessness. Arguing it must protect the privacy of recipients and motel owners, the New Hampshire Housing Finance Authority, the quasi-state agency overseeing ERAP, won’t say how much. But it’s safe to say it’s in the millions.
In September, 750 to 900 ERAP recipients were living in motels and hotels due to a lack of available apartments, the Granite State News Collaborative reported. More than 50 of the recipients, including Dupont, were staying at motels in Lebanon.
But their ranks are dwindling by the week — and not because their fortunes have changed. Last month, the U.S. Treasury announced it’s not sending any additional ERAP money to New Hampshire and many other states beyond Dec. 29.
With winter fast approaching, “it’s the worst time of year for this to happen,” said Lynne Goodwin, Lebanon’s human services director.
Around noon on Oct. 28, a Friday, Dupont received word from the Sunset’s manager, Pinkal Patel, that his ERAP funding had run out. He needed to vacate his room by the end of the day.
“When I was younger, it wouldn’t have bothered me,” Dupont said. “I’d go drifting somewhere. But I’m not geared for it any more. I didn’t know where I was going to go. All I could do was get my backpack and walk out of here.”
Hoping it wouldn’t come to that, Patel put Dupont in touch with Goodwin, who was hearing for the first time about his abrupt loss of ERAP funding.
In this part of the state, a Berlin, N.H.-based nonprofit called Tri-County Community Action Program handles applications and payments for temporary ERAP lodging. Goodwin and Dupont told me they tried calling Tri-County, but got a recording.
Having no luck reaching Tri-County, Goodwin turned to Patel, who said Dupont could stay through the weekend at no charge. The motel was “very generous,” Goodwin said. “They didn’t want to kick him out into the cold.”
In New Hampshire, municipalities are responsible for finding housing for residents who are experiencing financial hardship and at risk of homelessness. With most, if not all, homeless shelters at capacity, local welfare administrators are turning to motels.
Goodwin has negotiated a room rate of $159 per night with the Sunset — considerably less than the $289 that Tri-County is paying. As of last week, the motel was housing 10 ERAP recipients, Patel said, but they’re not all Lebanon residents.
I emailed Tri-County CEO Jeanne Robillard about Dupont’s case. She forwarded my questions to the New Hampshire Housing Finance Authority, whose spokeswoman said the agency couldn’t talk about individuals receiving ERAP assistance “due to privacy requirements.”
When I stopped by the Sunset on Wednesday, Patel told me Dupont was a model guest. Knowing that he doesn’t like “sitting round,” she’s happy to let him work at sprucing up the motel’s yard.
Dupont grew up in northern New Hampshire, where he’s had his share of troubles. Newspaper reports indicate he has a criminal record for drunken driving and assault. He’s spent several years behind bars. “I was a drinker,” he said, “and in a rough spot.”
A few years ago, he moved to Lebanon to enter a residential treatment program at Headrest, a nonprofit that’s assisted people with substance use disorders for more than 50 years. Later, Dupont got a job at a Lebanon convenience store; however, a bum knee made standing on his feet all day too much. He also struggles with mental illness and takes prescription medications for depression and anxiety, he said.
Dupont lived at a boarding house in Lebanon until last spring, when interactions with other tenants soured and the landlord asked him to leave.
He took his belongings, including a tent and sleeping bag, and moved into the woods until he learned about housing through ERAP.
The Sunset is a big improvement, he said. He warms cans of soup and beef stew in his room’s microwave. He rides Advance Transit to stock up at Listen’s food shelf. The Lebanon nonprofit and Goodwin are working to find him subsidized housing. His criminal record, however, makes that challenging.
The tough-on-crime crowd might not have much sympathy for Dupont, who I’d argue has paid his debt to society and should be allowed to get on with his life.
He showed me around the Sunset’s grounds. Behind the motel, he’s cut brush to improve the view of rooms overlooking the Connecticut River. On clear late afternoons and evenings, guests can now see how the Sunset got its name.
“This was all grown up,” Dupont said, pointing proudly to the top of the steep river bank.
We walked to the lawn’s edge, where Dupont sits on wood chunk with a bird’s eye view of the Connecticut.
“It’s beautiful out here,” he said.
Jim Kenyon can be reached at jkenyon@vnews.com.
