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• Apricity Contract Packaging employs about 100 people each year at its northeast Wisconsin and Milwaukee locations.

• The organization is one of few nationwide devoted strictly to employing people who are recovering from addiction. 

• Workers say the environment helps them hold a job and gain confidence as they build sobriety. 

• But it doesn’t work out for everyone, with some new hires opting out during orientation or in their first few days. 

• Employees who want to stay get support if they aren’t performing up to standards or relapse.

Mellisa Edwards didn’t have a job for a decade as she struggled with drug addiction. 

That changed last March, when she got a job doing packaging and assembly work at Apricity Contract Packaging in Appleton and moved into a nearby residential treatment home. 

Edwards got off to a rocky start. She missed shifts because she didn’t want to get out of bed, leading her supervisors to write her up. But her co-workers helped her rebound. They’re taking on the same challenge of staying sober while showing up to work.

Apricity Contract Packaging is run entirely by people recovering from addiction. Roughly 100 people work at the northeast Wisconsin and Milwaukee locations each year, building sobriety and stable employment records free of the many obstacles found in typical workplaces.

Apricity leaders say they’re catering to workers who employers often overlook. While there’s been a push in recent years to make workplaces more “recovery-friendly,” few organizations nationally strictly employ those in recovery. 

“We offer employment in a safe environment where people aren’t necessarily impacted by some of the judgment and that fear of somebody looking into their history with substance use,” Apricity Contract Packaging President Dan Haak said.

Nowadays, Edwards always shows up to work on time, and she earned a perfect score on her last performance review. She plans to stay at the job for at least another year, until she finishes her probation. 

“I love it here … (Other workers) know what you’re going through, so they can relate very well,” Edwards said. 

Leaders aim for their jobs to be transitional, for workers to build “a foundation of recovery and safer behaviors,” then move into new jobs with more confidence, Haak said. But there’s no limit to how long people can stay, and many stay for years. 

“We try to motivate them as much as we can … to show them they have a career ahead in this and everything else, if they want one,” team leader Andy Geurden said. 

A unique operation

Haak began working at the plant at his counselor’s recommendation in 1998, when the organization was known as STEP Industries. He climbed up the ranks over the years and is now president of the plant. 

“I came out of treatment and didn’t have a driver’s license, didn’t have a car, and had a terrible work history, because when I was using, getting up in the morning was hard,” Haak said.

Many find themselves at Apricity in the same shoes. 

Countless challenges can stand between people recovering from addiction and employment, like rocky work histories, criminal records, a lack of reliable transportation or judgment from employers.

Keeping a job can be just as hard. Someone in recovery might need to work around scheduled drug tests or other legal appointments. They may struggle to avoid situations where substances are present, such as workplace happy hours. Their probation officers might need to meet with their bosses. 

“People don’t necessarily want to open up and discuss all of those things, especially in an interview and say, ‘Oh, I need to leave work early to go take a drug test three days a week,’” Haak said.

Instead, at Apricity, one’s recovery is implied — and understood. That allows employees to focus on getting their lives back on track. 

“I would keep (my recovery) kind of hidden, and that can kind of be a barrier for me not really getting to know people,” said Jason Koehler, who has worked at the plant for two years. “Here, everybody kind of just knows it already. It’s not really even an issue.”

Apricity formed in 2018, when two addiction recovery programs merged. Meaning “the warmth of the sun in winter,” the company’s name is a metaphor for those coming out of a dark period in their lives. 

Efforts to reduce the stigma — including state resources to help employers hire workers in recovery — haven’t erased the challenge of finding work. Apricity remains one of few places in the country focused entirely on workers facing these challenges.

Funded through grants and revenues from its services, Apricity offers two residential treatment facilities, a peer support and recovery coaching program, 24/7 on-call recovery coaches, four sober living homes and, finally, the packaging plant. 

While not a requirement, many plant workers have been through Apricity’s treatment program or stayed in its homes, safe places to land for those who have poor rental histories, eviction records or ongoing legal cases that make it difficult for them to enter a lease.

‘How to be a good employee’

On a late January morning at the Appleton plant, a pair of employees die-cut and packaged pieces of a tissue paper flower craft kit. Another team collapsed tri-fold poster boards and packed piles of them into branded boxes. Lindsey Jackson drove a forklift around the floor, moving stacks of finished packages. 

The hands-on work varies daily. Companies get a 5% tax rebate to hire Apricity for packaging or assembly projects, often because they need extra short-term labor, equipment or space. 

The daily grind at Apricity teaches people “how to be a good employee,” Haak said. 

Employees are held accountable for the basics: clocking in on time, dressing appropriately, properly calling in sick and staying productive. Leaders focus job interviews on the employee’s recovery, rather than their work history. They work around drug court dates, probation obligations or treatment appointments. They organize transportation for those who need it.

“It’s huge for self-esteem. I think people in recovery are struggling with all kinds of stuff from a mental health standpoint,” Haak said. “Being employed gives you a sense of purpose. It gives you a sense of self-worth.”

Not everyone succeeds. Some new hires leave during orientation or soon after they start work. 

“Sometimes people, they start to make up excuses after the first couple of days, and we say, ‘OK, well, what do you want? We aren’t forcing you to be here. It’s up to you. You can leave if you want, you can resign if you want. It’s not gonna hurt our feelings,’” he said. 

Employees who want to stay get support if they fall short or slip up. 

Human resources manager Rachel Hasenzahl creates “relapse prevention plans,” evaluates employees’ performances and helps them move up or toward the jobs they want. Over time, motivated staff can move into leadership roles, earning more, overseeing a crew and learning skills like forklift operation. 

Apricity hopes employees will stay a while, build work history and skills, and eventually move on. About 40% do, often at other local manufacturers, like Plexus Corp., Pierce Manufacturing and Great Northern Corporation.

But with no set end date, some workers stay for years, climbing the ranks. Many higher-ranking staff started in the program and now help others. Some who leave struggle without the robust support for recovery Apricity provides.

Hasenzahl once left to try other jobs, but found it difficult to handle the way alcohol was embedded in workplace culture. She eventually returned to the packaging plant, where she now has a decade under her belt. When she relapsed, as some employees do, Apricity staff helped her back to sobriety. When she wanted to advance, leaders worked around her class schedule so she could study human resources at Fox Valley Technical College. 

Before Apricity, Koehler bounced between jobs and was unemployed for two years. Since he started working at Apricity two years ago, he’s rented his own apartment, saved money and taken on a lead role on the packaging floor. 

“People kind of look to me for questions and (I’m) becoming a leader again, proving to myself that I can do that again,” Koehler said. “People can trust me to do that for them.”

Like Koehler, several employees said the most important thing they’ve gained from the job is confidence. 

“It took a little bit, but I can actually stand the person I see in the mirror when I wake up in the morning now,” Geurden said, “thanks to the staff and everyone having my back.”

Miranda Dunlap reports on pathways to success in northeast Wisconsin, working in partnership with Open Campus. Find her on Instagram and Twitter, or send her an email at mdunlap@wisconsinwatch.org.

Work, recovery and second chances on a Wisconsin manufacturing floor is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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For Char Brandis, a hobbyist photographer in Appleton, the darkroom is her happy place. 

But being outside of the professional photography industry, Brandis often found herself working on projects alone, without the support of an artistic community.

“I was doing a lot of art just on my own, in my basement,” Brandis told WPR’s “Wisconsin Today.”

Then, she started volunteering with Photo Opp, a nonprofit organization founded in 2021 that opened up a visual workspace in downtown Appleton two years later. 

“Coming into Photo Opp and meeting all of these new friends and people that share that passion has been a game changer,” said Brandis, who now serves on the organization’s board and helps to run events.

Photo Opp is the brainchild of Graham Washatka, John Adams and Mark Ferrell, three local multimedia professionals who wanted to create a place for visual artists in the Fox Cities to come together.

After years spent renovating a century-old former synagogue, Photo Opp opened its brick-and-mortar home base to the public in late 2024. There is a gallery and event space on the upper floor, with small studios and a community darkroom on the lower level. 

“It was really important for me to be able to create a space that was beautiful and interesting and unique and inspiring,” co-founder Adams told WPR. “That way people — no matter if they like photography or not — would come in and feel welcome and be like, ‘I want to hang out here.’”

That community ethos runs through Photo Opp’s programming, which welcomes professionals, amateurs and total newcomers to hone their craft side by side. Monthly film development nights, which launched last year, have been especially popular. 

“Experience levels range anywhere from having never touched a camera before and interested in learning, all the way to professionals that have been in the industry for decades,” Brandis said. “It’s really about putting those people next to each other to learn and develop techniques and experiment — and fail — with their art form.”

Developing community and connection, one film roll at a time

For the founders of Photo Opp, it was important to build the organization from the ground up in response to what the community was asking for.

One of those needs was for a local place to develop rolls of film. In late 2023, Appleton’s last local photo shop, Murray Photo and Video, permanently closed its doors after more than 30 years in business. Now, the leaders of Photo Opp hope the nonprofit model can help fill this gap.

“We were like, ‘OK, we see a need. We want to keep this art form inside of our community. We should do something,’” Adams said. “We decided to open up our film lab to be able to respond to that community need.”

At Photo Opp’s lab, community members can drop off rolls of film and get them developed, with prices starting at $12 for development only and $20 to include high-resolution digital files.

The service has already proven popular, with Photo Opp fulfilling dozens of orders each week. Adams believes that’s in part because people are returning to analog formats like film photography as a break from the digital world. 

“I think we all want to disconnect right now a little bit from our phones, from our computers, and slow down and think about what we’re doing,” Adams said.

This trend is especially pronounced in the younger generation. Photo Opp has been visiting schools in surrounding cities like Green Bay and Neenah to host workshops with first graders through college-aged students.

The organization also welcomes classes to take field trips to the Photo Opp workspace. The idea is to get young people involved in learning about photography and videography beyond what they can shoot on their smartphone.

“We’re taking more pictures than we have ever before because of smartphones, but we spend so much less time with them,” Brandis said. “But when you put a camera, whether it’s digital or film, in your hands, you’re really working with a photograph that you intentionally slowed down and took. And now you’re projecting it and then creating something tangible and genuine.”

“There’s just something about that first time in the darkroom when you slide your print into the developer and you watch your image come up,” she added. “That’s just magical.”

Photo Opp’s next film development night is on Feb. 8. See the full calendar of events on its website.

This story was originally published by WPR.

Community darkroom in Appleton brings the art of film photography to a new generation is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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More than a decade ago, I covered the opening of a tuition-free charter school aimed at growing the Fox Cities’ advanced manufacturing workforce. 

Students are still enrolling at Appleton Technical Academy, getting hands-on experience, accessing paid apprenticeships and completing courses for college credit. 

So I wondered: How is the school really doing? Has it met the goals education and industry leaders set? 

I pitched the idea to reporter Miranda Dunlap, and she dug in. 

Her reporting shows mixed results, and it’s a strong example of the type of solutions journalism we prioritize at Wisconsin Watch. 

Solutions journalism is just what it sounds like: rigorous, evidence-based reporting on responses to problems. 

Every solutions journalism story reports on four elements: 

• The response to the problem.
• Evidence on how the response is (or isn’t) working.
• Insights.
• And limitations. 

ATECH was created to address a shortage of advanced manufacturing employees in the Fox Cities. 

The response from local industry and education leaders was to create a public charter school housed inside Appleton West that would not only introduce students to these careers, but also jump-start their journey to a certification or degree in the field. The story examines how the school got started, the application process and the four areas students can choose to study. 

Nuance comes in with the evidence. Data or anecdotes fit the bill. Miranda’s story includes comments from ATECH students about why they chose to enroll. Their thoughts illustrate the need for the school. 

However, the industry leader who helped found the school told Miranda ATECH didn’t become the employee pipeline he hoped. His business is no longer closely tied to the school. 

The limitations of ATECH vary. The cost to run the school is one challenge. It takes a lot of metal to teach students how to weld, for example. School leaders look for donations from businesses to help with supplies and equipment. 

They also mentioned a stigma that the broader public has against technical education. 

Insights tend to be the trickiest pillar. I try to answer this question when I look for insights: What nuggets of information would be important to know if I were trying to implement this response in my community? 

For ATECH it’s the need for industry mentors. The school needs those connections not only for students to meet professionals working in the field, but also to teach ATECH educators how to use the latest technology. 

Miranda also includes context about the push for more career and technical education training, as well as how these efforts are funded at the state and federal levels.  

I hope you read her story to get a full, unvarnished look at how ATECH is doing. 

And if reading this sparked an idea for a story, send it my way: jzvandenhouten@wisconsinwatch.org. 

ATECH story shows how we focus on solutions is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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• ATECH opened over a decade ago to create a pipeline of students interested in advanced manufacturing careers. 

• Many students at the charter school like the hands-on classes, take advantage of paid apprenticeships and earn free college credits. 

• But school leaders say they struggle to attract students, fight a stigma that surrounds technical education and afford equipment and tools.

A cacophony of humming, drilling, banging and buzzing fills Appleton Technical Academy’s cavernous lab. 

In one corner, a student drills ventilation holes in a piece of metal that will eventually be a firepit ring. Another cuts through a thin piece of metal with clippers. Shrouded by red vinyl curtains, several students weld metal, sending blue sparks flying through the air.

As more schools embrace career and technical education, scenes like these are increasingly common in high schools nationwide: fewer students gripping pencils at desks; more wielding expensive tools and receiving hands-on training for their future career. 

Part of that trend, Appleton Technical Academy (ATECH) opened a decade ago to ease the region’s shortage of advanced manufacturing workers. Today, many of the students love their hands-on classes, enroll in paid apprenticeships and collect free college credit before continuing on to trade school. 

But it hasn’t been without difficulties. The school has struggled to attract students, combat a persistent stigma around technical education and afford the pricey equipment and tools it requires. Plus, it’s hard to determine if the school has met the original goal of producing local manufacturing employees. 

What’s happening at ATECH shows how preparing Wisconsin teenagers to eventually fill workforce holes, especially amid the state’s dearth of skilled trade workers, can be a tall task.

ATECH lead teacher Paul Endter spends his lunch breaks and free time trying to grow local support for the school and get more students interested. 

“I continue to tell people we’re the best-kept secret in the Fox Valley, and that’s not by design,” Endter said. “I wish I had more people who wanted to get involved.”

Born from industry needs

In the early 2010s, Jared Bailin, CEO of Appleton-based Eagle Performance Plastics, was struggling to find enough advanced manufacturing workers. The plastic manufacturing leader thought introducing high schoolers to the jobs would help. 

He took the idea to Greg Hartjes, who was principal of Appleton West High School at the time. Hartjes is now the school district’s superintendent and has always worried about students who don’t mesh with traditional high school education structure — students who, he says, “perhaps didn’t want to sit in English class and read Shakespeare,” but rather wanted “their hands in the work that they were doing.” 

Together, they built ATECH, a tuition-free charter school inside Appleton West that aims to prepare students for manufacturing jobs. They secured state grants to fund the launch, and Appleton voters approved a district referendum that put $2.4 million toward renovating labs and classroom spaces.

The school opened in the 2014-15 school year. Here’s how it works: Students can apply to the school at any point, but most enroll their freshman year. They choose to specialize in one of four growing industries: electronics and automated manufacturing, machining, mechanical design or welding. 

At first, students take a small number of classes that introduce them to the basics of manufacturing alongside the traditional courses required of all high schoolers, such as language arts and math. Students gradually take on more courses aligned to their specialization, such as programming for electronics students or blueprint reading for machining students.

Beginning their junior year, students take free college classes that earn both high school and Fox Valley Technical College credit. The classes chip away at a certificate in their focus area, which can shave thousands off tuition for students who enroll in technical college after graduation. Some juniors and seniors can work for local employers as paid youth apprentices during part of the school day, earning money and gaining work experience. 

“ATECH kids are kids that wanted to use their hands along with their brain in learning,” Hartjes said. 

That’s the reason senior Izzy Chappell enrolled. On an early December morning, she dipped into one of the lab’s eight welding booths wearing a helmet to protect from the harsh UV rays and flying sparks. She put the finishing touches on a welded metal skull sculpture she entered in a regional SkillsUSA competition that night. 

“Other classes are hard,” Chappell said. “This comes easy to me.” 

Getting students excited a struggle 

ATECH leaders hoped the school would be a magnet for students, but getting them interested has been a challenge.

The school debuted with 56 students. Enrollment has fluctuated a bit over the decade, never reaching the district’s goal of 120. In the 2024-25 school year — the most recent year with available state data — 68 students enrolled.  

Leaders chalk the lower-than-desired enrollment up to several difficulties: The district doesn’t provide transportation to charter schools, meaning these students typically have to find their own way to school. A jump start toward a career simply doesn’t resonate with many teenagers as young as 14, who Endter said are more motivated by sports or where their friends go to school. 

And most of all, ATECH leaders find many families still see college degrees as the gold standard. Despite growing investment in career and technical education programs nationwide and the critical need for skilled workers in Wisconsin, they say a stigma still plagues technical education, leading many to believe it’s for students who don’t perform well in school. 

“I think a misconception often is that it’s not rigorous, and it’s not for students that have an aptitude or are intelligent,” Hartjes said. “That’s not the case. We’ve given kids an opportunity to really learn using both their hands and their head.”

When ATECH was brand new, a state grant helped the school afford TV commercials and mailers. That money is long gone. Nowadays, Endter visits nearby middle schools to talk to students about career education. They organize tours and career fairs, where ATECH leaders try to entice students with the spacious labs and high-tech equipment.

“It’s not for lack of trying, you know?” Endter said. “But again, as an incoming eighth grader, charter schools represent something different. For some kids, different is good. And for some kids, different is not. So many kids don’t know what could or should be the best pathway for them.”

Meeting workforce needs?

Sophomore Noah Siong enrolled in ATECH because his brother graduated from the school and went on to open his own car repair shop. 

“That kind of opened the gateway to me,” Siong said. “It was like, ‘Oh, this stuff is pretty cool.’”

Siong wants to pursue a career in metal fabrication after graduation. Hartjes estimates hundreds of students like Siong have learned “skills that have prepared them for careers” over the last decade. But it’s difficult to know exactly how many students have gotten jobs that use the skills they learned at ATECH.

Wisconsin, like many states, doesn’t have a system connecting education and employment data, according to a 2024 Education Commission of the States analysis. The evidence ATECH leaders collect is largely anecdotal, but Endter said it indicates the vast majority either continue to technical college to finish their programs or turn their youth apprenticeships into full-time jobs after graduation. Endter estimates about 10% pursue a four-year degree. 

Bailin, the Eagle Performance Plastics CEO, said ATECH hasn’t produced as many local manufacturing employees as he hoped when he helped create the school.

“It didn’t really come out the way I would have hoped,” Bailin said. Eagle has hired between one and three apprentices from ATECH each year. He estimates roughly half have moved into full-time jobs, but it hasn’t been enough to produce the pipeline of machining employees he wanted. The company is no longer closely tied to the school, Bailin said. 

In a measure of its academic performance, ATECH’s state rating has averaged a score of 58, which the Department of Public Instruction (DPI) defines as “meets few expectations.” Hartjes said the hands-on skills students learn are not reflected in the state’s rating system. For example, the college classes students take, however advanced, don’t factor into the school’s rating.

“If they were … tested on their aptitude for mechanics, I guarantee you that they would outscore many other students across our state,” Hartjes said. “If they were being tested on those different things that we focused on, I guarantee you that their knowledge, their experience and their aptitude is going to shine through. But, you know, they don’t.”

‘Just can’t fund all of this’

“I’m going to teach you about different kinds of metal!” technology education teacher Carrie Giauque shouts so students hear her in the noisy lab. She pulls scraps out of a large trash barrel filled to the brim, identifying them to the students crowded around her: “Carbon! Steel! Aluminum! Galvanized steel! Copper!”

Behind them, sheets of metal are stacked floor to ceiling. The school goes through countless sheets teaching students the basics of welding and metal fabrication. It’s ATECH’s largest expense.

“It’s a lot less costly to have 30 students sit in math class,” Hartjes said. 

Despite needing costly materials, ATECH’s state funding is determined by the same formula as all other schools in the district, so it relies on grants and donations to make up the difference. To date, the school has received $266,000 in donations toward equipment and curriculum. 

“A lot of the learning exhausts materials, exhausts some of our resources,” Hartjes said. “(We’re) having to get support from our local manufacturing community, from a financial aspect, because as a school district, we just can’t fund all of this.”

Endter said ATECH also badly needs mentoring from industry employees, who can teach students and teachers how to use the complicated technology they receive as donations. In one classroom, a large robot sits untouched in a locked box after a college donated it. ATECH employees don’t have enough experience with the programming language to teach students how to use it.  

For their part, employers are often stretched too thin to offer up staff to mentor teachers and students. Eagle Performance Plastics used to send someone to ATECH to teach students about a pricey machine it helped buy, but there weren’t enough interested students to make the trip worth it, Bailin said.

Inside ATECH, a “sponsor wall” is decorated with the logos of organizations and employers that have invested in the school. Two-thirds of the spaces are empty — a visual reminder of the school’s need for added support. 

Endter jokes he wears “27 hats” trying to find it. 

“Every hour that I am not teaching, including working through my lunch hour, is dedicated to phone calls, emails, site visits, networking, cold calls,” he said. “You name it. I am doing it.”

The work could soon pay off. Beginning in 2024, Appleton students between kindergarten and fifth grade began taking weekly STEM classes. Endter hopes that will spark interest in career and technical education. 

“I’m on the precipice,” Endter said. “And I’m hoping that there’s going to be this giant surge of students who are looking for opportunities.”

The dilemma isn’t unique to ATECH. Many schools are eager to provide this kind of technical education, Karin Smith, a DPI education consultant, said. However, the equipment and tools are costly, and many schools are struggling to fund basic offerings. (Appleton expects a $13 million deficit this school year.) 

Wisconsin is one of five states that don’t designate state funding for career and technical education programs, relying solely on federal funding. Many states allocate more funding to school districts specifically for these programs because the federal dollars alone cannot meet the costs, according to Advance CTE, a nonprofit representing state career and technical education leaders.

“In Wisconsin, we have used (the federal funds) to, generally speaking, keep the lights on,” said Sara Baird, DPI’s career and technical education director. 

State Superintendent of Public Instruction Jill Underly requested the 2025-27 state budget include about $45 million in career and technical education grants to districts. Gov. Tony Evers suggested a pared-down version of $10 million, which was scrubbed by the Legislature’s Republican-controlled Joint Finance Committee and not included in the final bill. 

“We’re seeing tremendous growth and tremendous interest in expanding CTE,” Smith said. Still, school district leaders are frustrated by the lack of funding for it. “They are feeling like their hands are tied behind their back,” she said. 

“We can’t do this alone … Every school has a tech ed teacher who is desperately trying to get kids excited about career pathways,” Endter said. “They need business support. They need donations. They need mentors in the classroom.”

Miranda Dunlap reports on pathways to success in northeast Wisconsin, working in partnership with Open Campus. Email her at mdunlap@wisconsinwatch.org.

‘Can’t do this alone’: An Appleton school prepares students for skilled trades. It’s not easy. is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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• The founders of Ebb & Flow Connections Cooperative host emotional CPR training to community members and run a community living room in downtown Appleton. 

• Lynn McLaughlin and Karen Iverson Riggers have trained more than 2,500 people in ECPR in roughly seven years. 

• Their approach to teaching social connection has proved successful enough that groups in several other counties want to replicate it, and several state entities say the model is a method for building connection to prevent suicide. 

• The effort is grant-funded, and the community living room requires space and volunteers.

Karen Iverson Riggers scrawls on a giant notepad as the 12 people around her call out rules they think should govern the next two days they’ll spend together: “It’s OK to cry.” “Authenticity over correctness.” “Judgement-free zone.” “Say it messy.”

The group — a mix of mental health professionals, children and family workers and curious residents — is kicking off an “emotional CPR,” or “ECPR,” workshop, a community public health training teaching how to assist someone in crisis or emotional distress.

Training leaders Iverson Riggers and Lynn McLaughlin have dedicated the last several years to encouraging northeast Wisconsinites to deeply connect with one another — and giving them a free community space to do so — in hopes they can combat the social isolation many feel today. 

“This is not an individual problem. It’s not like you are doing something wrong because you’re lonely or feeling isolated,” Iverson Riggers said. “This is a community design issue … Lots of folks are being forced to work themselves to death without having any free time to engage in any kind of community or connection.”

The pair founded Ebb & Flow Connections Cooperative, which runs a Community Living Room in downtown Appleton. They describe it as an “unconditionally welcoming” space, where community members can socialize, play games, hang out or confide in certified ECPR practitioners. 

“There’s no requirement to belong,” McLaughlin explained. “You just do.”

Their approach to teaching social connection has proved successful enough that groups in several other Wisconsin counties are now trying to replicate the resources they offer. Plus, several state entities say their model is a method for building connection to prevent suicide. 

With funding from the Medical College of Wisconsin, the pair spent two late-October days in Oshkosh training Winnebago County residents and workers. 

Attendees practiced how to effectively listen to and assist people who are struggling, as a means to prevent self-harm and further distress. After the workshop, they’d be considered an ECPR “practitioner” and could go on to eventually work as a listener in a living room.

A place to ‘just be’

The pair’s idea for bringing more northeast Wisconsin residents together was born several years ago, when they were sitting in Iverson Riggers’ living room, discussing the unhelpful ways people typically respond to those struggling with mental health issues. They also lamented the general loss of “third spaces,” or places outside of home or work where people casually connect with their community without a cost barrier.

“So we said, ‘You know, what if there was a space where folks could go and could just be?’” Iverson Riggers said. 

That question led them to devise the idea of the Community Living Room, where people could do just that. 

In 2023, they received a grant from the Community Foundation for the Fox Valley Region, which they used to launch the concept as a pop-up event in different places — the local library, community gatherings, the children’s museum. There was always food and several ECPR-certified listeners in attendance. 

Thanks to the relationships they built hosting pop-ups, a local developer gifted them space to open a permanent downtown Appleton location in October 2024. They pay just $1 in rent annually. 

“It was created to break down all the barriers that people find to seeking support,” Iverson Riggers said. “There’s no appointments and no forms. There’s no requirement of a certain kind of identity or diagnosis. There’s no requirement about how you engage.”

Inside the space, which resembles a large apartment, several cozy couches invite visitors to get comfortable. There are tables to sit at or partake in board games or puzzles. A small kitchen area with a fridge is stocked with fresh snacks. A poster on the wall permits people to take what they need — clothing, food, safe sex tools, hygiene supplies and even Narcan. 

“It just says something about creating a space … where we can go and connect and feel welcome without having to buy anything, without having to be a certain way, without having to conform to whatever the rules of the space are,” Iverson Riggers said.

How people use the space varies. Some simply pop in for a snack or a drink or to use the bathroom. Two visitors regularly come in and practice playing the guitar. Others want to connect one-on-one with the “listeners” trained in ECPR — at least two people who have taken the training are paid $50 per hour to be present. 

While the staff are trained to help people who are experiencing emotional crises and are more than ready to assist if needed, the living room aims to be a “prevention space,” they said. They believe that if people feel less lonely and isolated, or know they have somewhere where they can get support, they may not reach the point of crisis.

“You know, it’s not just this joy-filled, ‘everything is peaceful’ (place),” McLaughlin said. “We’re learning how to navigate conflict in community. We’re learning how to support people in distress, in community.” 

Since they started offering community ECPR workshops roughly seven years ago, they’ve helped train more than 2,500 people. 

For years, they felt they were “pounding the pavement” to spread the word about their ideas for connecting neighbors. Now, they’ve turned a corner and have seen a steady increase in demand. 

Community members across Wisconsin, including in Winnebago, Brown, Sauk and Sheboygan counties, have shown interest in replicating their approach. Prevent Suicide Wisconsin also shared Ebb & Flow’s approach in its 2025 Suicide Prevention Plan as a model for using peer support to reduce deaths by suicide.

Thanks to this, Iverson Riggers and McLaughlin expect they’ll soon be “overwhelmed” with interest. The increased attention has come with its own challenges — they had to cut back on meetings with people who want to replicate their approach in other counties. It’s also been hard to keep up with the demands of “chasing down funding” and keeping the downtown Appleton space in shape, Iverson Riggers said. 

Lanise Pitts, a practitioner certified in ECPR, said she was drawn to the warmth of the cooperative and kept returning to events after she attended the training. The Community Living Room allows her to connect with people from different circles and different career paths that she would likely never meet otherwise, she said. 

“When people just come in, it’s just like being welcomed to somebody’s house. Come in, find something to do, kick your feet up,” Pitts said while curled up on a couch in the living room. “When they leave, after we’ve done puzzles or colored or played card games or music games or had a 30-second dance party, it’s just like the weight gets lifted. Like you might come in with a lot of baggage, but when you leave out, you’re leaving some of that behind, and it just kind of dissipates.”

The Community Living Room currently has funding to be open two days a week. See a schedule here. 

Miranda Dunlap reports on pathways to success in northeast Wisconsin, working in partnership with Open Campus. Email her at mdunlap@wisconsinwatch.org.

Feeling lonely? Appleton’s Community Living Room offers an antidote to isolation is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.