Update: Another nonprofit says it hopes to continue the bus service in two weeks. Read more.
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Claremont — Gianna Gregorutti took one hand off the steering wheel of the Community Alliance Transportation Services bus on Thursday morning as she drove west on Main Street and made a quick and silent sign of the cross.
“That’s my Father’s house,” the 77-year old driver said, gesturing toward St. Mary’s Catholic Church.
The prayerful gesture seemed particularly appropriate this week, when her long career as a bus driver is about to end. Community Alliance has suffered $100,000 in annual shortfalls over the past three years, and the nonprofit’s leaders project it would lose another $150,000 were it to continue operation over the next 12 months.
Over the summer, the organization’s leaders worked with state legislators, county commissioners, other nonprofits and area municipalities, but were unable to find a replacement service to provide residents with the 30,000 rides that help them access medical care, shopping and other destinations along bus-run corridors connecting in Claremont, Newport and Charlestown.
This is the bus service’s last week in operation.
Gregorutti moved to the United States from Italy shortly after World War II. Two decades ago, after 30 years as a hairdresser, she wanted to vary her routine, so she sought the bus-driving gig, securing a commercial driver’s license and driving, at her peak, 50 hours a week.
She loves the work, she said.
Gregorutti and her riders said they’ve formed a community, “the morning group,” rattling through the city and enjoying a social interaction based on the shared experience of riding the bus together.
“Here comes the judge!” she said at one point, looking toward a well-dressed man walking down the street.
Though she’s been doing the sign of the cross several times a day for more than 20 years, most of her passengers have never noticed.
To Stephen Fitch, a passenger in the small bus, the revelation of Gregorutti’s silent ritual was a gift, an added bit of knowledge about someone he’s come to consider a friend.
“He’s very quiet, and very pleasant,” Gregorutti said of Fitch. Fitch’s crisp white T-shirt and short hair were neat and tidy, and he had a direct, intense way of speaking.
He grew up in the area, but for 28 years he lived in San Diego, where he worked for the Padres, providing services to those who held tickets to the private boxes.
“I considered it a privilege to work for a baseball team,” he said.
A year and a half ago, he suffered a stroke; he said he’s lucky to be alive and on his feet, though continuing effects have rendered him unable to work. In March, he moved back to the Upper Valley, into Marion Phillips Apartments, which provides housing for seniors and people with disabilities.
“I was concerned how I was going to get around,” he said. “So when I found out they had this bus service, I went, ‘oh my goodness, you’ve got to be kidding me. It’s perfect.’ ”
Once a week, he takes the bus to Market Basket and spends roughly $60 on food. Fitch planned to buy more on Thursday, but was concerned that if he got too much milk or produce, it would spoil.
“That’s the problem,” he said.
“Does your brother have a car?” asked Cindy Buckner, who was sitting across from him.
“He does,” Fitch said. But the thought didn’t bring much comfort. “I hate to have to bother him with rides. I want to be independent.”
His pantry is pretty well-stocked, he added, meaning that he plans to wait a while before sounding a call for help.
Buckner and Katherine Cheney, another rider, live in Sugar River Mills Apartments. Cheney, who calls Gregorutti “Mom,” explained that the blanket she was crocheting was resisting her efforts to square it off, and likely would wind up more of an oval shape.
After the bus service closes down on Friday, Buckner and Cheney plan to stitch together solutions, which might prove more expensive. (In-town fares for the bus service are $1.50, and monthly passes range from $25 to $35, though it did not appear to be rigorously enforced on Thursday).
Buckner has a doctor’s appointment at Valley Regional Hospital, one of the regular bus stops, on Oct. 7, which will be reason for her to spend $10 on a taxi ride to and from her home.
But because of the expense, she’ll have to be more conservative in her other trips. She’ll walk when she can, she said — when it’s warm enough.
Both of the women said the bus provides them with more than transportation: it gives them an opportunity to get out into the world and chat with friends about this and that.
“It’s better than sitting home alone,” Buckner said.
Cheney has tremors, which makes walking difficult for her.
Walking also is not a great option for Pam Williams, who boarded the bus with Pete Grenier, her boyfriend of 33 years, and promptly slid a paper-wrapped cruller across the bus dashboard.
“Is that my treat for the day?” Gregorutti asked.
“She doesn’t get a chance to eat much, that lady,” Williams announced to the passengers. “She’s on the run, that girl.”
Grenier and Williams held paper coffee cups from a local cafe.
“I don’t ride very often. I walk all over this town,” Grenier said.
“You’ve been getting lazy,” Williams said.
“I’ve been getting lazy,” Grenier said, as if he’d just had the idea himself. He worked at LaCrosse Footwear for 22 years; after it closed, he worked at Wal-Mart for five years.
“Plus,” he joked, “I want the coffee. If she’s going to buy, I’m going.”
Williams knows exactly when she began relying on the bus — June 12, the day after doctors told her that her macular degeneration had advanced to the point that she had to give up her car. They told her to start taking the bus daily immediately so that she would know the routine well enough to access community resources when she became completely blind.
“My doctor said to get on every day, but now I won’t be able to,” she said. “It puts me in a really bad way.”
What will happen to patients like Williams who need transportation to Valley Regional remains uncertain.
Gaye LaCasce, senior director of development and community engagement at Valley Regional Healthcare, said the entity was not in a position to step in to fill the void by providing transportation to its patients.
“We have nothing that can take the place of a bus service,” she said by phone on Thursday. “But we are telling people there’s non-emergency medical transportation.”
LaCasce, who also serves on the board of the Community Alliance, said area municipalities, including Claremont, have a legal obligation to help Medicaid patients to get medical treatment.
“Each city has a responsibility to this community of people to find a way to provide transportation,” she said. “We’re telling people to please call the city if you can’t get (to the hospital).”
She said she had no specific knowledge of whether Claremont had anything in place to provide transportation to residents; messages left for the city attorney and city manager on Thursday were not immediately returned.
Gregorutti has been instructed to bring the bus to a drop-off spot in Enfield today, at the end of her last route.
It’s a shame, she said. People need rides. They need food. They need medical services, including dialysis.
“I’m holding back tears,” Gregorutti told one regular passenger.
She can’t bear to abandon them all, so she’s passed out her phone number to a select few, telling them that she can come pick them up, maybe once a week, if they need a ride.
“We’re here to help, you know,” she said, “and I’m going to try to do what I can.”
Matt Hongoltz-Hetling can be reached at mhonghet@vnews.com or 603-727-3211.
Clarification
Valley Regional Healthcare administrator Gaye LaCasce said municipalities have a legal obligation to provide transportation to Medicaid patients to get medical treatment. An earlier verison of this article did not specify which patients LaCasce was referring to.