Mark Mitchell used to spend his winters in a tent. Now he’s a construction foreman.
He walks or rides his bike to work every day, visiting on the way his old friends who sleep under Lansing’s bridges and in parks.
They see him as he walks around and shares encouraging words, sometimes in a suit, as he pushes people to get into housing.
“Hey, it’s Mark Mitchell,” one man yelled at him, from across the fountain at Reutter Park in downtown last week.
Mitchell smiled and waved. They used to share a tent together, he said.
It takes a lot of hard work to survive on the street, Mitchell said, and he urged his friends to work just as hard to get into housing.
“Winter’s going to be bad,” Mitchell told another group of friends, the night before it would get to the low 40s.
He urged them to go to a coat drive the next day and to stock up on blankets.
“This is my home,” he said. “This is where I found myself homeless, this is where I found myself addicted to drugs and going through depression.”
He said he became hopeless at times, which is why he’s now a relentless optimist.
“If we are given the opportunity, given the resources and not just the resources but the aftercare support necessary to keep me in a house, this is the result,” Mitchell said, of himself. “Lansing has an opportunity to change. We can help guys just like me, who all it took was somebody to be patient and persistent.”
Tony Vincent sees two possible winters: He could be spending his fourth winter in a makeshift shelter in a wooded area of Lansing, where he presides as “mayor” of the established Fallen Angels encampment, home to about 50 people.
Or — and this is the winter he’s hoping for — he could get placed in some kind of housing along with everyone else at the site who wants it.
One problem? It’s not just his encampment. There are a lot of people all over Lansing who need housing, more people than shelter beds.
“There’s 400-plus people on the housing list. It takes time,” Vincent said. Almost everyone at the encampment, he said, has been signed up on a list for housing, and he hopes that most of them will get a chance and take it.
“They’ve got to work at it,” Vincent said. “I hope they do.”
Winter is coming
When winter comes, there simply won’t be enough emergency or shelter beds in Lansing to house everyone who needs one, said Susan Cancro, executive director of Advent House, one of the groups that helps people who need housing, identification cards and other resources.
The Fallen Angels encampment is on private wooded property on Lansing’s north side, behind industrial sites near the city’s Dietrich Park and Piazzano’s restaurant and within earshot of the Grand River.
The encampment gets a lot of attention, rightfully, but is only one part of a much broader challenge, Cancro said.
There are hundreds and hundreds of people in and around Lansing who are living in cars, tents, behind stores or navigating couches with no stability, she said.
And it’s getting worse.
“It’s a problem of our economy,” Cancro said.
Housing costs are increasingly driving people out of traditional housing, she said.
Today, her organization and others are hearing from people who would never have considered themselves to potentially be homeless, but a health problem or losing a job or having an unexpected expense can quickly drive someone from comfortable living into a more desperate situation.
It can take time to get people into shelters, Cancro said, because of the bed shortage and funding issues.
What are the options?
Since last winter, several local shelters, including City Rescue Mission of Lansing, New Hope and Loaves and Fishes, have added beds or buildings and are able to do more with drop-in visitors, said Kim Coleman, the city’s Human Relations and Community Services Department director.
“We are prepared to operate and staff warming centers when forecasted cold snaps or severe weather create risk,” Coleman said. And that would include heating, basic amenities and connecting people to longer-term housing resources and likely be set up at neighborhood community centers.
The city and partners had 480 emergency shelter beds last January, she said, which includes designated space for domestic violence situations as well as 21 emergency hotel rooms.
Those hotels were paid by the city and Holy Cross Services last winter, but Holy Cross has run out of funding for those hotels this winter, said Shelbi Frayer, interim director of New Hope Community Center, Holy Cross’ shelter at 430 N. Larch St.
The 30-day hotel stays make a big difference, said Frayer, a former Lansing deputy mayor, but 30 days is typically not long enough for someone to find permanent housing and they will often have to leave before finding a better option.
Holy Cross has 100 beds for men and 34 for women along with 22 dedicated for veterans and funded through the Department of Veterans Affairs. It also offers a day center, a place where people can get fed, charge phones, get social services and wash up.
City Rescue Mission of Lansing, which is in the process of expanding, had 280 people stay at its three shelters during a cold night in October: 123 at its women and children shelter, 106 at its men’s shelter and 51 at a drop-in center.
As the October cold began, Mitchell walked alongside a woman he had met at the Capital Area Transportation Authority station. They went to the City Rescue Mission, where she began the process of getting temporary shelter.
More families are becoming homeless
Frayer said there are more people coming to shelters and that the winter will bring people who were able to make it work until the temperatures dropped.
“Winter tends to bring people into shelters, Frayer said, “and there are more families than ever before.”
She has visited the Fallen Angels encampment, along with other sites in the city, and asked some people what it would take to move them into a shelter.
It ranges. Most shelters aren’t equipped to take pets, many don’t take families or don’t take fathers, some shelters have rules about sobriety or they’re religious or have restrictions on coming and going, and some people have had bad experiences in the past, Frayer said.
It’s home for now
For others, like Willie Hayes, one of the encampment’s longtime residents, an encampment outdoors is where he wants to stay.
Hayes said — as he busied himself getting his tent ready for winter — that he prefers living in the encampment to the strict rules of a shelter.
So far, with temperatures falling into the mid-30s, it’s been easy enough to stay warm with blankets in his setup: a tent on top of pallets with a small couch inside, insulated on the floor, protected overhead with tarps and surrounded outside by walls of evergreen branches to block wind.
A small space heater, he said, will help him get through the toughest nights. He just needs a longer extension cord.
What are the solutions?
One solution for Lansing is a plan to start a pod community of 50 modular units, which resemble small RVs, and those would be for people who are ready to move from homelessness into housing.
The city purchased a $640,000 set of units from Kalamazoo, but it requires a multi-acre site that will need to be certified by the state as a campground, which will require site preparation work along with electric and plumbing.
The pods are a good step because they add another option, Mitchell said, but more needs to be done to address the issues that are driving people into homelessness, such as housing costs, addictions and health care.
Since the plans were introduced, city officials have acknowledged that the heated-and-cooled pod community, with no site identified, will likely not be ready for several months.
Not until after this winter.
Another winter for the encampment?
Just like Vincent, the encampment itself may not be around for a fourth winter.
The city has sued the two private property owners, seeking to get them to enforce no-trespassing notices and allow the encampment to be broken up, citing fire risks and poor sanitation.
One property owner agreed to settle several weeks ago, and half of the encampment has been clear-cut of trees and is fenced off.
It cut the community in half, forcing people to live closer together and making it more difficult to access the site, Hayes said.
Ingham County Judge Rosemarie Aquilina, who is overseeing the lawsuit, has taken a personal interest. She holds weekly hearings in her courtroom to get updates from the city and the remaining property owner, along with encampment residents like Vincent and many of the service providers.
The judge noted that she wore a jacket that morning. It’s going to get too cold to wait until after winter to provide housing solutions.
“This is a situation where we need real options, viable, now,” Aquilina said last week. “These are human beings and, honestly, this is a nationwide problem. Wouldn’t it be terrific if the city of Lansing were the example of how to partner together to resolve this around our country?”
The judge said there needs to be a lawful way for residents who can’t afford even $5 a day at a regular campsite so they could survive at a city-sanctioned campground instead of being booted from one place to another.
Aquilina pressed city and state leaders to work faster and find housing for more people.
Steven Ogilvie, an attorney for the remaining property owner, JAJ Property, acknowledged some humanitarian concessions: The company is allowing a hose for water, and Ogilvie agreed to let the city to bring in more fire extinguishers.
But, Ogilvie said, the company continues to want the people to leave but may offer some basic human kindnesses.
Aquilina said those kinds of gestures would only be seen in a positive light.
The judge acknowledged an update from the city that at least 30 of the residents have gone through housing paperwork. She said there may be some at the encampment who opt not to try for housing.
“That is their American right to choose to live outdoors, just not unlawfully on someone else’s property,” she said, asking the city if there was a way to get the pod community up quicker or set up an alternative and lawful campsite.
“I don’t want anyone dying, frostbit or otherwise harmed because everyone is looking at 2026,” Aquilina said. “We have a problem today. It’s October 2025. I am not waiting until 2026.”
Can the pods happen quicker?
Assistant City Attorney Matt Staples said the campsite designation involves complicated regulatory steps overseen by the state but he would try to get an answer by this week’s hearing.
The judge offered to help.
“If I need to make phone calls or we need to subpoena someone in or there’s something we need to do, bring it in here,” she said. “Because I don’t think the state wants anyone out there to die or be otherwise harmed. They have a public interest as well.”
The judge said she’ll crack open her Rolodex and work with city and state officials to expedite the new pod community or find an alternative.
As Vincent left the courtroom, he said having more people fighting for his encampment residents could be what changes his winter.
“It feels good that a lot of people have been sticking up for us lately, and really the whole time,” Vincent said. “There’s never enough blankets. I don’t want to be out here this winter.”
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Justicebrown
Mark Mitchell is a complex character who finds himself navigating the difficult waters of homelessness, yet he perceives his situation in a way that sets him apart from others. Living at Rise, a transitional housing program, he often attends meetings and activities aimed at personal development and community engagement. However, Mark’s perspective on his living situation clouds his interactions with others, as he struggles to reconcile his self-image with the reality of his circumstances.
Despite residing at Rise, Mark insists he is not homeless. This belief may stem from his desire to maintain a sense of dignity in a challenging environment. He often dresses well and presents himself in a polished manner, attempting to create an image of success that contrasts sharply with the experiences of many of his peers. Mark’s efforts to appear superior can alienate him from others who share similar struggles, as they may perceive him as out of touch with the reality of their collective experience.
During meetings at Rise, Mark often positions himself as a leader or authority figure, eager to share insights or advice. He seems to relish the attention and validation that come from speaking in front of others, which may serve to bolster his self-esteem. However, this behavior can be detrimental, as it fosters a sense of competition rather than community among the clients. Instead of promoting solidarity and support, Mark's approach can create tension and divide within the group.
Moreover, Mark's reluctance to fully acknowledge his situation may hinder his personal growth. By denying his homelessness, he risks missing out on the valuable lessons that can come from vulnerability and authenticity. The meetings at Rise are designed to facilitate healing and connection, yet Mark’s focus on projecting an image of superiority prevents him from engaging deeply with the resources and relationships that could aid his journey.
In conclusion, Mark Mitchell’s experience at Rise highlights the complexities of self-perception in the face of homelessness. While he strives to distinguish himself from others through his appearance and demeanor, this approach can ultimately be isolating. By embracing his reality and the shared experiences of those around him, Mark could foster genuine connections and tap into the support available to him at Rise, transforming his journey into one of true personal growth and community engagement.
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