Reversal of misfortune
OK, so Mitt Romney isn't the fraud that I feared he might be, that fear having been expressed on Friday when I detailed how he had slashed more than $400,000 in funds for wintertime homeless beds. Romney had vowed four years ago to never target the state's most vulnerable residents.
On Friday morning, Romney told reporters he was restoring the money that would shelter about 330 more men and women on winter nights. His aides called homeless shelters early Friday afternoon to let them know the funds were on their way. Romney's spokesman, Eric Fehrnstrom, confirmed the reversal for me yesterday.
"He restored the money to the homeless account and will take the cut elsewhere in the $25 billion budget," Fehrnstrom wrote in an e-mail.
So what does it mean? It means some idiotic state bureaucrat couldn't see the people through the numbers and should probably be stripped of his or her calculator before doing similar damage. It means that the governor's constant religiosity should include a little more compassion for the poor and a little less zeal against gay marriage.
Most important, it means that homeless shelters around Boston were setting up new beds for the beginning of winter, courtesy of Romney having the guts to acknowledge a mistake.
This is exactly what they were doing yesterday at the Boston Rescue Mission on Kingston Street, where they got around 80 more emergency beds with the additional money.
In fact, if anyone ever had even a molecule of doubt over whether programs for the homeless actually work, they need only talk for a few minutes to Dennis Gaskell, the head cook and so much more at the Boston Rescue Mission.
Gaskell was exhausted yesterday, having cooked 45 turkeys over the weekend for the shelter's annual Thanksgiving feed on Sunday. When he's not cooking, he's counseling addicts on how to get clean, advising homeless people on how to land a job, roaming Boston Common in rain and shine, telling the downtrodden the steps to take to begin changing their lives.
He should know. He was an orphan. He bounced from institutions to foster homes to jail. He spent 18 years living on the streets of Boston. He was arrested 49 times, including being accused of attempted murder of his brother that he said he can't remember.
"I was walking through Downtown Crossing a year ago, and police mistook me for someone who just robbed a bank," he said. "They threw me in the car, and the cop said, 'Wow, you've been arrested 49 times.' That's the only reason I even know the number."
Nine years ago, he arrived at the Boston Rescue Mission. While other programs failed to take hold, this one did in a significant way. The mission workers put him into detox for his heroin and alcohol addictions. He slept on cots night after night after night. At one point, he lived there for 3 1/2 straight years.
Eventually, the shelter hired him to be the night supervisor, running the show, quieting the constant problems that are inevitable in the thankless business of sheltering the homeless.
"I've been there, and the guys know I've been there, so I get a lot of respect from them," he said. "A lot of addicts and alcoholics can recognize who's been down that path. It's easier for them to talk to someone who's been there, rather than a higher authority."
Gaskell's now been sober for nine years. He has a car, an apartment in Jamaica Plain, a wife named Eva who cleans office buildings at night, a steady job, and a legion of admirers.
"He's an amazing character," said the Rev. John Samaan, president of the Boston Rescue Mission.
"I see broken people coming into that mission every day," Gaskell said. "They extend every kind of help to anyone who comes through the door. We don't say, "Sorry, we can't help you today.' "
What Romney did on Friday when he reversed the cut was something all too rare in public life: He made a difference.
Brian McGrory is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at mcgrory@globe.com. 
