WAI'ANAE — Hundreds of homeless people still live on the beaches for miles in either direction of the state's first 24-hour emergency homeless shelter, yet beds at the facility sit empty every night.

Five months after opening, the facility has yet to be filled, and officials have not convinced most of the homeless to even stop by and look at the shelter, much less take up residence.

Week after week, officials walk the beaches, urging those who live there to give the shelter a try. But progress is slow.

"What we have been doing here is inviting people to come up and take a look at the shelter — even if they don't want to move in," said Darryl Vincent, site director of U.S. Vets Hawai'i, an organization that operates the Wai'anae Civic Center emergency homeless shelter.

On a recent afternoon, Vincent and a U.S. Vets outreach team visited the estimated 180 beach dwellers in 60 tents at Ulehawa Beach Park No. 1. With them was Kaulana Park, the state's Wai'anae Coast homeless solutions coordinator.

Darrell Suzuki, 49, who has lived on the beach with his girlfriend for four years, listened politely to the pitch.

"It's a good thing, trying to get people off the beach and whatnot," said Suzuki, after Vincent and Park had moved on. "I would encourage other people here to do it."

But it's not for him, he said.

"I'm pretty much settled in."

OTHER SHELTERS FULL

Meanwhile, other emergency homeless shelters, such as Honolulu's Institute for Human Services, fill up nightly and often must turn people away.

Part of the reason is those shelters are not around-the-clock facilities. The Wai'anae shelter is more than a place to spend the night, Vincent said.

"We're not just running a shelter; we're running a program," said Vincent. "So there are rules and stuff that they have to follow."

That program is part of a five-year plan to move the coast's unsheltered homeless from the beaches, help them achieve self-sufficiency, and get them into transitional shelters. The eventual goal is for them to move into mainstream housing as productive members of society.

Officials knew the task would become more difficult after the glow wore off from the success in the shelter's first few weeks.

The first wave of beach dwellers that left neighboring Ma'ili Beach when it was closed to them in March consisted largely of those new to homelessness, people who were willing to accept a helping hand from the state.

"It will get more difficult, as their problems are deeper than most of the families we've touched thus far," said Park. "You can expect that some people have more substance abuse issues and mental health problems."

New figures from U.S. Vets indicate how the shelter is doing.

The shelter had room for up to 24 more people on July 31 — the end of the first five months of operation — the group said. Of the facility's 117 units, six family units remained vacant. All the single units had been filled.

Nearly 21 percent of the 343 people served between March 1 and July 31 had gone on to some kind of housing, some with family or friends, others to transitional housing. However, 17 people had been evicted because of program noncompliance or rules disagreements.

"We have some pretty strong programs here," said shelter director Cathie Alana, who added that new families are scheduled to move in soon. "And the message that we do put out is that we are zero tolerant — for drugs, or for any kind of violence. And not everybody is willing to comply. Sometimes it takes awhile for people to actually get from Point A to Point B."

'TOO MUCH RULES'

More than 24 people — nearly 8 percent of the 343 served in the first five months — decided they liked the beach or other places better and moved out.

Twice, Kristy Kalani, a single mother of three, has entered the Wai'anae emergency shelter in the past five months. Both times she has walked away, most recently about two weeks ago.

Kalani and her three toddlers are once again living in the tent city at Kea'au Beach Park in Makua.

"Too much rules," said Kalani, 24. "They're just too strict. It's a good place. I kind of liked it there, you know — a roof over your head, and meals. And they're all good people there. It's just that when I would get in trouble they would keep me locked down. And their rules apply to our kids, too. If our kids mess up, they write us up."

Kalani said her problems related to her children, ages 1 to 4. She said she did the best she could with them, but she was continually being written up for not supervising her children. Once she was given a 30-day "lockdown": confined to the facility.

A SUCCESS STORY

"I couldn't go nowhere. I was cooped up. My kids was running wild. And during that whole lockdown, it was just one problem after another with my kids. One write-up after another."

Still, there are times when she thinks about the advantages of the shelter.

"Sometimes I wish I was back over there," she said. "Just for my kids' health and stuff. But then, it's the rules. They gotta ease up on the rules."

Vincent and Alana say the shelter door remains open to those who have drifted away. They are always willing to work with those who would like to give it another try.

There have been successes. Three families recently moved into area transitional housing, they said. And others are on their way.

At least one former veteran beach dweller who had vowed to resist the shelter now says it has changed his life.

Stan Maka, 55, said his doubts were based on fears about a loss of freedom and unfounded rumors.

Now, as a facility resident, his lot is improving. Maka attends all the required training and learning programs, and he has completed his 40 hours of community service work.

As for the rules, "You get used to them," he said.

"I don't even go to the beach anymore," said Maka, who lived at Ma'ili Beach Park for two years. "I stay away. All that's a part of the past for me."

Reach Will Hoover at whoover@honoluluadvertiser.com.