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• Wisconsinites have called or texted the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline more than 345,000 times since it launched in July 2022. 
• States including Illinois and Minnesota have implemented telecommunications fees on phone bills that fund 988 in their states.  
• Other states have allocated long-term funding through budget appropriations or by introducing legislation to fine AI companies when their chatbots fail to refer people in crisis to mental health resources. 
• Wisconsin officials say the line’s growth surpassed all projections they had, and the organization that coordinates the service is continuously recruiting counselors. 
• Despite bipartisan support for the lifeline, lawmakers have failed to enact a permanent long-term funding mechanism for it. 

Every year, millions of people in crisis dial three numbers — not 911, but 988, the national suicide and crisis lifeline. People like Cadence Van Beek, who used the lifeline as a sophomore at Melrose-Mindoro High School in Melrose.

During a mental health crisis, Van Beek worried she would be placed on a waitlist or hurried through the process. Instead, a  counselor patiently  helped her de-escalate her feelings. At the end, she informed Van Beek about local resources in Jackson County.

“It didn’t feel rushed … She took her time with me, and she was very kind – just a kind soul,” she said.

Van Beek’s conversation is one of over 345,000 texts or calls to the state lifeline since its launch in July 2022. A recent JAMA study found that in the first two and a half years, suicides among 15- to 34-year-olds were 11% lower than expected, corresponding to nearly 4,400 fewer deaths.

Yet despite the line’s proven success and increased demand, long-term funding remains uncertain. Unlike other states, Wisconsin has not passed legislation to permanently fund the service. And Wisconsin trails most states in the share of calls answered in-state.

In May, Van Beek visited the state Capitol and presented lawmakers with a solution: Fund 988 like 911.

Since 2009, Wisconsinites have paid a telecommunications fee on their phone bills for 911, currently 75 cents per month. Twelve states, including Illinois and Minnesota, have enacted a 988 fee to fund the service.

Illinois and Minnesota had in-state response rates of 90% in July — compared with Wisconsin’s 81%. The rest of the calls are routed to a national backup center, which can mean less knowledge of local resources and longer wait times.

When Van Beek visited Madison with the Wisconsin Office of Children’s Mental Health, she set up a posterboard with her research and told legislators her peers rely on 988. 

“988 has always kind of been a given,” she told Wisconsin Watch. “We always kind of assume that it’ll be there … The possibility that there might not be enough counselors on the line because of funding for 988 and funding for those counselors just makes me a little worried.” 

State struggles to keep up with increased demand

Family Services of Northeast Wisconsin operates Wisconsin’s 988 line. Senior Vice President Tana Koss said the crisis team planned for a moderate to high level of calls when the three-digit number was launched in 2022. 

“Still, Wisconsin has blown all numbers out of the water and continues to … The demand from Wisconsinites for this service has surpassed every model of projection that was available to us,” Koss said.

Family Services is still recruiting counselors to keep up with the need. Koss attributes the increase to lingering mental health effects from the COVID-19 pandemic and the lifeline’s accessibility. She celebrates more people using the service, which she views as a reflection of reduced stigma.

Wisconsin received over 11,200 calls in July alone – and responded to just over 9,000 of them in-state. Only eight states had the same or worse in-state response than Wisconsin.

“The longer a person waits on the line, the more likely they are to disengage … When you’re in queue, our primary center gets an opportunity to answer. If we’re not able to, then our backup center gets an opportunity to answer. And then, if they’re not able to, it goes to national backup,” Koss said. “So the sooner in that process you can have the staff available, the more likely you are to engage that caller.”

Still, the state has improved its answer rate over the past few months — growing from 74% in January to 81% in July as demand increased. 

“Purely from the administration of the service … we want (the answer rate) to get to 90%, and had the growth not gone up even a little bit more than anticipated, we would have been there.” Koss said.

So, should Wisconsin officials enact a 988 fee, a recurring appropriation or even consider legislation that Ohio and Illinois lawmakers have introduced to fine AI companies for failing to address suicidal ideation? Koss doesn’t care, as long as it means Wisconsin won’t have to depend on federal funding or the state’s biennial budget cycle.  

“I’m not personally attached to any route,” she said. “I think the request that I would have and advocate for is sustainability over the long haul because what we’re projecting is this growth hasn’t stopped.”

The case for state funding

Every two years, the National Alliance on Mental Illness’s Wisconsin chapter pushes for 988 funding in the state budget, said Julia Polk, the group’s advocacy coordinator. Last year, Gov. Tony Evers’ budget recommended $12.2 million for the lifeline, but lawmakers approved $7 million.

“What we would love to see is that we can educate our legislators on why 988 is so important and why it’s important to fund it long term, and get them in the next state budget to say, ‘we’re going to permanently fund this,” Polk said.

Polk also said delays from the Trump administration in making grants available are part of why advocates want to secure reliable state funding for the lifeline. 

“It’s a lot of us and other advocates, and the 988 Lifeline and the state government having to just trust and hope that those grants will become available,” she said.

Waiting for confirmation on an anticipated federal grant last year left officials fearing the funds had disappeared. In response, state Rep. Ben Franklin, R-De Pere, and state Sen. Jesse James, R-Thorp, authored a bill that would have required the state to provide grants to agencies that administer the 988 Lifeline.

“988 has proven to be highly effective and used frequently amongst Wisconsinites and is a vital service we should be funding,” Franklin said during a committee hearing on the bill in June 2025.

However, the bill included no funding attached. It failed to pass in the Senate and did not come up for a vote in the Assembly.

The federal government announced a grant funding opportunity in January and provided Family Services about $4.5 million per year for the next three years, according to Koss. But that still leaves a gap, since the state needs $12.2 million per year to fund the service. 

Officials included  $7 million for the lifeline in the 2025-27 biennial budget, but Koss said Family Services needs the next budget to match that. She knows a $6.195 million deficit is coming in 2028.

“We didn’t slow down with recruitment, but administratively, it’s stressful when you have these delays on giant parts of the funding,” Koss said.

Franklin’s Democratic opponent in the November election, Brandy Tollefson, is a De Pere School Board member. The issue is personal to her, and not just because she hears about the youth mental health crisis from school social workers, counselors and teachers.

“I myself went through the experience of having my stepbrother die by suicide years ago, so I know what happens to a family when this happens and the impact it has on families,” Tollefson said. “I fully support working with any Democrat or Republican who wants to get this permanently funded.”

Tollefson echoed other Democrats’ criticisms that Assembly Bill 303 lacked the critical funding needed to ensure 988 would get financial support. Franklin did not respond to requests for comment in time for publication. 

“There was a lot missing from it to make it a bipartisan bill that people could get behind, because the details just weren’t there,” Tollefson said.  

Connecting with younger generations

Megan Zimmerman, NAMI Fox Valley’s outreach program director, educates local schools about mental health and promotes 988. She said many people hesitate to call 988 because they fear emergency services will get involved, but in reality, law enforcement or emergency services respond to only 0.4% of callers in Wisconsin. Counselors resolved the other 99.6% of calls by providing support, coping strategies and resources. 

“Even outside of 988, I think when someone expresses that they have suicidal ideation – like they’re having thoughts about it – I think that scares people,” Zimmerman said. “They almost immediately triage to like, ‘OK, this person needs to be hospitalized.’”

Zimmerman noted the person who calls 988 doesn’t have to be the one who is in crisis, as she often calls 988 with her clients.

“If I can get an individual to agree to have that conversation on the phone with someone, and I’m there to support them in whatever way they need, that is just as good of an outcome as telling them to go home and call it themselves, which they may or may not follow through on,” she said.

Van Beek, who always considered herself the “therapist friend,” often recommends 988 to peers who confide in her. Once, when a friend shared distressing details about her home life, Van Beek quickly realized she wasn’t equipped to handle the conversation. 

“I just realized I’m a high school kid, and I can’t take this on,” Van Beek said. “I don’t have the knowledge to help you get to where you need to be with the situation. So that’s an instance where I recommended calling or texting 988 and just going through with that. And she did.” 

The 24/7 chat feature, introduced in 2024, particularly appeals to her generation and was helpful when she had to use it.

“Gen Z in general, we’ve always been behind a screen,” Van Beek said. “988 gives youth the option to text it, and I always have liked that, because talking or maybe even going in person can be overwhelming for youth, and I can personally relate to that.” 

Amid increasing reports of generative AI enabling suicides, proposed legislation in Illinois would fine AI companies for not addressing suicidal ideation and deposit the money into a 988 trust fund. Companies under the legislation would face a penalty of up to $15,000 per day if they don’t refer users to crisis services like 988 when they express thoughts of self-harm. 

Zimmerman said the chat feature of 988 has led her to encourage students to message the lifeline instead of an AI companion. 

“Every suicide prevention presentation I give, especially in a school, I just always stress (that) I know it’s easy to bring up ChatGPT or your Claude or your Gemini or whatever it is, and start essentially texting or chatting that feature,” Zimmerman said. “But I always really encourage people to instead think about 988 … because then you’re getting a real live human being.”

Having graduated as president of her high school’s Raise Your Voice mental health advocacy club, Van Beek recently began studying psychology at the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater, where she wants to continue raising awareness about mental health. 

“The events that I participate in, whether it’s through NAMI or NAMIWalks — the mental health walk that we do — it has never felt like a chore to me,” Van Beek said. “I’ve always felt like that’s my purpose.”

This story was produced as part of the NEW (Northeast Wisconsin) News Lab, a consortium of five news outlets.

Despite bipartisan support, 988 Crisis Lifeline faces funding shortage 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 first election issues story reported and produced by the Northeast Wisconsin News Lab (NEW News Lab for short) was published Wednesday. 

The consortium of newsrooms includes the Post-Crescent in Appleton, the Green Bay Press Gazette, the Green Bay Press Times, Wisconsin Public Radio and yours truly — Wisconsin Watch. 

The collaborative effort formed in 2021 to advance in-depth local reporting on important topics. Previous seasons of the NEW News Lab focused on racism as a public health crisis, lack of affordable housing, local school funding and coverage of local judicial systems.

This time around, leaders from the partner newsrooms used feedback from the Local News Landscape Study conducted by researchers at the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay to decide which issues to cover. 

Reporters from the Post-Crescent and Press Gazette will focus on public safety and education. 

The Green Bay Press Times called dibs on the environment. 

WPR will tackle the economy. 

And here at Wisconsin Watch, we’re reporting on health care. 

One thing I appreciate about the NEW News Lab is the collaboration. Working with fellow journalists toward a common goal is part of why I love this work. 

We hope this coverage helps you make informed decisions when you head to the voting booth in November. 

And if there’s an issue the NEW News Lab is not focusing on that matters to you, reach out to Wisconsin Watch’s statehouse team. They’re covering a different set of issues ahead of the election.

Find stories on issues that matter ahead of the November election 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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Bryn Schraven is no stranger to death. When Schraven was 19 years old, their dad died in a car accident in the middle of their small Wisconsin town. A mountain of paperwork soon piled up, and so did the comments from well-meaning community members.

“It was very tragic and very sudden … I had some issues feeling unheard by the funeral director and funeral company I went with,” Schraven said, “and I felt a little hurt by some of the things that people said to me at that time because people don’t know how to talk about death and dying.” 

Neighbors said things like, “At least he’s in a better place,” or asked if Schraven was wondering if he was in heaven. As Schraven sat down for breakfast on the morning before the funeral, a waitress shared her experience of seeing the accident happen in uncomfortable detail.  

“I decided at that time that I wanted to be part of the change … I have to be able to help somehow and turn this negative experience into something more positive for other people,” they said. 

Schraven started reading books about grief and death, researching what other options were out there. They discovered the term “death doula” – a trained companion who helps people through the processes of death, dying and grief. 

How it works

After spending years training with various death doulas, Schraven started a business this year called Silver Glass Deathcare to help others through the experience of loss and to change the conversation around death. They provide support in the form of death education, planning end-of-life rituals for people and their pets, and being with individuals in their final hours. 

“A lot of people seem to have this idea that talking about death is going to bring it on faster,” Schraven said. “That’s a big misconception that I see a lot, is that I’m morbid for wanting to talk about death and dying and grief, and it’s simply not true.” 

Similar to how a birth doula helps clients make a birth plan, Schraven and other death doulas will create a custom death plan for each person, allowing people to express their wants and needs for their last few hours. This could include dimming the lights, choosing what music to play and deciding who they want to take shifts at their bedside. 

Schraven, who is nonbinary, usually opts for a more gender-neutral term instead of doula: death companion or deathwalker. They created Silver Glass Deathcare with the goal of reaching out to members of the LGBTQ+ community, who can have a unique relationship to grief and death. For example, some might want a nonreligious approach to funerals or a bedside vigil that doesn’t involve a church. 

Others might not be married to their significant other, which means that legally, their family would decide what to do with their body, Schraven said. Filling out an Authorization for Final Disposition form allows people to designate someone to carry out their final wishes. 

“After you pass away, there’s a chain of custody that determines who is in charge of what happens to your body,” Schraven said. “Your spouse comes first, and if you’re not married, then it’s your family – your parents, your next of kin – and not everybody in the queer community has a great relationship with their next of kin.” 

‘It happens to all of us’

Schraven trained extensively by taking classes with death doulas across the country, including Erin Merelli’s Deathschool Evolved and La Mort’s School of Sacred Death. Merelli said Schraven stood out for their dedication to the queer community. 

“There’s always one or two students in each of the sessions that really stand out for their passion in this space, for the experience that they’ve already had in it and for the vision they have of where they want to take it and how they want to serve,” Merelli said. “And Bryn definitely showed up as that person.”

Merelli trains hundreds of death doulas throughout the country and said businesses like Silver Glass Deathcare are important to spread this type of work to different communities and regions.

“For any movement, for any type of culture shift we’re hoping to make, we need a broad range of diverse and dynamic voices,” she said. “It’s not my voice alone, and these ideas are not my ideas alone.” 

In Merelli’s classes, Schraven learned that death isn’t always a taboo subject. In some Muslim or Hindu traditions, for example, it’s common for the deceased’s family to wash and prepare the body to be buried or cremated. 

“There are a lot of cultures out there that are less shy about death than we are, and they hide it less,” Schraven said. “I think that that’s really important in as far as spending time with the person that you’ve lost after they’re gone.”

Schraven wants to let families know that this is an option and suggests a ritual that acknowledges each part of their loved one’s body, one at a time — their head, eyes, ears, hands and heart.

“It’s just a really beautiful way to say, ‘We honor your body and what you did for us while you were here, and we are giving you the opportunity to go and be at peace,’” Schraven said.

Schraven is also starting a death and grief book club at Author Apothecary & Bookstore in Oshkosh, which will meet the last Thursday of the month starting Sept. 24. The goal is to normalize the conversation around death and dying through discussing books like “Lost Souls Meet Under A Full Moon” by Mizuki Tsujimura.

“I don’t advocate for censoring death,” Schraven said. “It happens to all of us, and the more openly and freely we can talk about it, the better prepared we are for when that eventuality happens.” 

This story is part of Meet a Neighbor, an ongoing feature series focused on the people who make a difference in northeastern Wisconsin. Know someone we should spotlight? Nominate them here.

Oshkosh death companion helps LGBTQ+ community navigate death, grief 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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• Nebraska and Montana implemented the new work requirement rules for Medicaid recipients earlier this year. 
• In Nebraska, officials say there’s been confusion about basic eligibility, with some people who should have received exemptions being denied coverage due to procedural errors. 
• Montana leaders stressed the importance of communication, particularly to Native American tribes, who should be exempt from the new rules. 
• Officials in Wisconsin say they’re implementing ways to automatically determine whether someone is working or if they’re required to follow the new rules. 
• Federal officials also narrowed the definition of medical frailty, meaning that people who have Medicaid because they are too medically frail to work will be required to prove their condition and the fact that it prevents them from working.

Starting in January, some Wisconsinites must prove they meet federal work requirements to enroll in Medicaid. Around 63,000 people are at risk of losing coverage, state officials say. It’s part of an effort by the Trump administration to reduce “waste, fraud and abuse” in the program and reduce federal spending by $326 billion over 10 years. 

As Wisconsin prepares to implement the measures detailed by the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, states like Nebraska and Montana have already put work requirements into effect. How the process is unfolding offers key lessons for states like Wisconsin facing a Jan. 1 deadline. 

Who needs to meet work requirements?

The new Medicaid requirements apply to states like Nebraska and Montana that voted to expand Medicaid to families living at 138% of the poverty level — with the exception of a few states that submitted a waiver to partially expand Medicaid, like Wisconsin. 

That program, called BadgerCare Plus, applies to individuals who live at or below the federal poverty level — $33,000 annually for a family of four — as compared to the $45,540 income limit for expansion states.

Only childless adults aged 19 to 64 under the BadgerCare Plus program must meet work requirements — about 200,000 people, according to state officials. That means parents of dependent children under age 19 and people with coverage other than BadgerCare Plus, such as SSI Medicaid or home- and community-based service programs, are exempt.

Other exempt groups include Native Americans, pregnant or postpartum people, caregivers of young children or disabled individuals, veterans with a total disability rating, participants in addiction or rehab programs, and those too medically frail to work. 

Starting Jan. 1, 2027, new BadgerCare Plus applicants must show they worked, volunteered or attended school for at least 80 hours in the previous month, or prove they were exempt for that month. 

Current BadgerCare Plus members will face the requirements beginning in March 2027. They  must show they met the work requirement in any one month of the last 12, or that they are exempt. They can show they received at least $580 in income in a single month or completed combined activities adding up to 80 hours. 

In July, Wisconsin Department of Health Services Secretary Kirsten Johnson told reporters officials aim to automate the process as much as possible.

Those system changes will cost an estimated $10 million in the first year, Wisconsin Medicaid Director Amanda Dreyer confirmed, which will be split between the state and federal government. 

Nebraska’s early lesson

Nebraska became the first state to implement the new requirements on May 1. 

Officials began to disenroll Nebraskans who didn’t meet the requirements on Aug. 1. Nebraska Medicaid Director Drew Gonshorowski told Tradeoffs in July roughly 200 people could lose coverage on that day. The state Department of Health and Human Services has not released official numbers. 

The state sent more than 75,000 letters, 38,000 text messages and 10,000 emails to notify people of the change. Amy Behnke, CEO of the Health Center Association of Nebraska, told Wisconsin Watch some residents still had basic eligibility questions. 

“There’s some confusion over who the work requirements apply to and who they don’t apply to,”  Behnke said. “The communication that went out from the state was pretty lengthy. It was about four pages long and at a collegiate reading level, and so it was a lot for somebody to digest.” 

It’s also hard to know whether someone is part of the Medicaid expansion without contacting the state directly. 

“Our health centers don’t have a really good way of being able to look that up,” she said. 

Her organization supports Nebraska’s federally qualified health centers, which provide low-cost medical care and help people apply for Medicaid. 

She’s already seen patients have their Medicaid applications denied due to procedural errors. One woman was denied because she didn’t meet work requirements — even though pregnancy made her exempt.

“She was able to get her Medicaid restored,” Behnke said. “But that’s always been our fear – that somebody’s not going to know that they’ve lost their coverage until they show up to pick up a prescription or they show up for a medical appointment.” 

Residents can call the state’s Medicaid help line, but wait times have stretched as long as 90 minutes, Behnke said. She recommends states consider hiring additional caseworkers, which Nebraska has not done. 

“They are hardworking individuals (at the call center), and there is just an additional load of work and information that’s needed that comes with these requirements,” Behnke said. 

Wisconsin DHS plans to use the additional FoodShare staff secured last year to help with implementing Medicaid requirements, Johnson said, noting the increased budget will add flexibility for other staff to help Wisconsinites. 

Behnke urged Wisconsin to prioritize flexibility in implementing the program. She highlighted that Nebraska requires members to meet requirements in just one month of the last 12 and allows individuals to self-attest to medical frailty — policies Wisconsin DHS confirmed it will follow. 

A balancing act in Montana

Montana also implemented work requirements on July 1 — the first state to do so after the U.S. Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services released stricter guidelines on medical frailty. For three months, Montana enrollees won’t be penalized if they fail to document community engagement hours. 

Dr. Aaron Wernham, CEO of the Montana Healthcare Foundation, said the effects won’t become clear until Oct. 1 – the first day the state begins to disenroll people. The foundation estimates 29,000 people could lose coverage. 

Wernham said it remains unclear how Native Americans, who are exempt  from the requirements, will be asked to document their status. The state had limited interaction with the tribes and other stakeholders on how to communicate the change, he said, and urged Wisconsin officials to engage those groups now. 

Wisconsin could improve implementation by working with partners such as Covering Wisconsin to develop forms, define medical frailty and plan outreach, Wernham said.

Montana has effectively automated systems to determine whether someone is working, Wernham said. But automatically verifying medical exemptions has been more difficult as officials struggle to access claims data, the Montana Free Press reported. 

Defining medical frailty

The challenge comes as federal officials have tightened the definition of medical frailty. Rather than automatically exempting people with certain medical conditions, the rules require people to prove their condition and show that it significantly prevents them from working. 

The tightened medical frailty definition has overshadowed concerns over Montana’s ability to automate processes, Wernham said. 

“There are many patients with cancer that may have a disease that will be lethal if not treated, and yet they might not be too sick to work,” Wernham said. “The real question is, what’s going to happen with those people who have a very serious illness, any doctor would consider them medically frail, and yet it may be hard to say they’re too sick to work?” 

For the first year, people can self-attest that they are too medically frail to work. Wisconsin  officials confirmed DHS will rely on self-attestation and existing diagnoses codes, reassuring providers they would not have to determine medical frailty. But in 2028, states will have to determine how to verify those exemptions while risking federal audits.

Montana and other states should outline their plans for monitoring who is disenrolled from Medicaid and the potential impacts, Wernham said. That’s something Wisconsin has done by  announcing that roughly 63,000 are at risk of losing Medicaid due to a lack of work history on file. 

“States aren’t always eager to share their data, especially if it doesn’t look good with the public,” Wernham said. “But the fact is that transparency with regard to data on this program leads to better government.” 

State budget woes

Medicaid funding is often the largest source of federal funds for states, so it can have a big impact on their budgets. State Medicaid budgets could be reduced by an estimated $665 billion through 2034 under the One Big Beautiful Bill Act.

This leaves officials with few choices: raise taxes, cut other programs or cut Medicaid — which would mean reducing provider rates or limiting benefits or coverage. The Congressional Budget Office estimated 10 million more people will be uninsured nationwide by 2034 as a result of the new law. 

The cuts could affect the entire health care system, even those who are insured, said Vaishu Jawahar, director of policy programs at the national health care advocacy nonprofit Protect our Care. 

Programs could be cut or premiums will increase because hospital budgets will be strained. Hospitals could face more uncompensated care as more uninsured patients seek treatment, tightening budgets and potentially increasing costs for privately insured patients. 

Jawahar said people who lose insurance may forgo preventive care until their conditions become severe enough to require emergency treatment.

“They’re still going to have to provide care to uninsured people who will come in sicker,” Jawahar said. “… And so, how do hospitals make up for that? They will have to hike costs on people with employer-based insurance.” 

Medicaid cuts are expected to hit rural hospitals hardest. A March report by Public Citizen found 446 hospitals nationwide were at risk of closing or reducing services due to cuts. Samantha Peck, rural hospitals and clinics program manager for the Wisconsin Office of Rural Health, manages funds that benefit critical access hospitals across the state. 

About 13% of patients in Wisconsin hospitals use Medicaid, but Peck said critical access hospitals in Door County, Oconto, Shawano and New London average about 48% of patients on Medicaid, leaving them particularly vulnerable if more patients lose coverage. 

Maternal and mental health programs could be among the first cut, Peck said. 

“The biggest worry is that community hospitals will start reducing service lines,” Peck said. “What we’re already seeing is a reduction in maternal care, specifically labor and delivery.”

Clinics prepare to help Wisconsinites navigate changes

NorthEast Wisconsin Community Clinic, a free and low-cost health center in Green Bay, is educating people about the new requirements with its mobile outreach vehicle. 

In 2025, 47% of the center’s clients were on Medicaid, which means it’s preparing its budget to receive less federal reimbursement next year. Executive Director Kim Franzen said the clinic will continue serving the uninsured.

“While I’m concerned, I want to make sure that as a health center, it’s our responsibility to take care of people regardless of their ability to pay,” Franzen said. 

Franzen worries people might not realize their coverage was denied before racking up medical bills. 

“If you lose your Medicaid, now a person could potentially have four therapy sessions (before realizing) that ‘Oh, I didn’t know my coverage lapsed,’ and then as an organization, we have to step back and go, ‘OK, so do we bill the person? Do you write off the expenses?’” she said. 

Adam VanSpankeren is the navigator program manager for Covering Wisconsin, which receives federal funding from the Affordable Care Act Navigator Program and responds to calls about health insurance.

Despite recent funding cuts, VanSpankeren hopes people affected by the changes call Covering Wisconsin for help.

“I don’t love that people are affected, but that means we’re going to be able to help those people,” VanSpankeren said. “It’s the people that don’t call us that I worry more about.” 

This story was produced as part of the NEW (Northeast Wisconsin) News Lab, a consortium of five news outlets.

Some states started Medicaid work requirements early. What can Wisconsin learn? 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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• Social media videos started popping up earlier this year with users complaining about the cost of living in Green Bay, other cities in Wisconsin and other battleground states. 
• The people posting the videos make claims that run the gamut – some factual, some misleading and some totally false. 
• Wisconsin Watch and Sunlight Research Desk looked into the trend, but couldn’t determine who – if anyone – was paying the creators to make the videos. 
• If the videos were paid for, creators not disclosing that paid relationship could be in violation of federal prohibitions on deceptive advertising, one political advertising expert said. 
• Republicans and Democrats are increasingly paying for user-generated content, raising questions about the future of election campaigning in the digital age.

In May, TikTok user @lifewithjacob1 uploaded a 20-second video blasting Green Bay’s rent prices. 

“Why is rent in Wisconsin so expensive right now?” he said. “I’m on a website looking for a new spot. I can’t find anything under $4,000 in Green Bay, Wisconsin.” 

He went on to post more than 100 more, bemoaning skyrocketing prices for gas, housing and even dinner at Culver’s. Almost every video on the account, which was created in May, focused on how expensive life is in Green Bay. 

The problem? Many of the videos seem to be pure fiction. 

It’s not just that the average rent in Green Bay is a quarter of what he claims, according to July figures from Zillow. It’s also that his name isn’t Jacob, and it’s unclear if he’s ever lived in Wisconsin. 

Through a reverse image search, Wisconsin Watch and Muckrock’s Sunlight Research Desk identified the man in the videos as Connor Printz, a self-described “user-generated content creator” who gets paid by brands to make social media posts that don’t look like ads. It’s a burgeoning industry, and one that many Americans may never have heard of — though they’ve likely seen these kinds of posts. 

This model is spreading nationwide as dark money groups try to sway voters stealthily by hiring social media creators to push their agendas. Wisconsin Watch and Sunlight Research Desk identified more than a dozen users publishing near-identical messaging about the cost of living in battleground states — claims that oscillate between factual, misleading and downright false. 

The videos targeting Wisconsin don’t mention specific political parties or candidates, but they’re strikingly similar to videos where creators in other states supported or knocked certain candidates — part of what MS NOW called a “secret paid influencer campaign.” 

It’s unclear who, if anyone, is funding the videos about Green Bay and Wisconsin, or what the goal is. Printz declined to answer questions, and the videos and biography on his account have since been deleted, a phenomenon common with short-term social media campaigns.  

The videos themselves do not indicate whether they were paid for. If they were, one political advertising expert said, creators not disclosing that paid relationship could violate federal prohibitions on deceptive advertising. The trend raises questions about the future of political campaigning and the reforms needed to protect elections in the modern age.

Meanwhile, though many of the statistics the creators shared are false — Green Bay is often hailed as a particularly affordable city — the posts speak to a question increasingly on Americans’ minds, one that could prove pivotal in upcoming elections: Why is everything so expensive?

Making money on misinformation?

To try to understand who is behind the Green Bay videos, Wisconsin Watch and Sunlight Research Desk researched creators using public records databases, scoured campaign finance records, conducted reverse image searches, interviewed elected officials representing the city and compiled more than 5,000 videos.

Among the findings: The person shaking his head disapprovingly over the high cost of living in northeast Wisconsin is a former college basketball player turned social media creator whose LinkedIn profile says he’s based in Los Angeles. 

While @lifewithjacob1’s TikTok bio said he was “Green Bay born and raised,” his Claremont McKenna College basketball webpage says he’s from Waterbury, Connecticut, and attended high school in Connecticut and Massachusetts. 

Printz claimed to live in Green Bay and sometimes referred to moving from California to Wisconsin in TikTok videos posted under the @lifewithjacob1 account. Wisconsin Watch and Sunlight Research Desk found no evidence he has ever lived in Wisconsin.

Today, according to his LinkedIn, Printz works as a user-generated content creator through SideShift, a platform where organizations hire content creators. His account states he manages between six and 10 social media accounts at a time, “completing campaigns for brands.” SideShift did not respond to Wisconsin Watch’s questions. 

According to the American Marketing Association, user-generated content is “sponsored content that looks and feels like genuine customer posts.” While the person on screen has likely received payment or free products, the videos are meant to feel like they’re ranting or raving about something of their own accord. It’s typically a cheaper way to advertise than making sponsorship deals with high-profile influencers or celebrities. 

When those posts endorse or recommend brands, products or services, federal law and platform policies require they be labeled as ads or sponsored content. TikTok did not respond when Wisconsin Watch asked if its policies require such disclosures for videos like Printz’s.

Political organizations are increasingly buying this form of content, eager to leverage its authentic — and often undetectable —  feel. 

Both political parties are hiring influencers to build online enthusiasm for their candidates. Democrats have poured tens of millions of dollars into these secret influencer campaigns since their 2024 election defeat, according to a New York Times report. The influencer firm Creator Grid, which has received funds from the Republican National Committee and the National Republican Congressional Committee, boasts connecting “Republican candidates with the internet’s most powerful conservative influencers,” the Times reported.  This election cycle, MS NOW reported that influencers received payment to post favorable content about politicians in California and Michigan and attack a candidate in Illinois.

Wisconsin Watch and Sunlight Research Desk found similar videos about the cost of living in cities across the country: La Crosse. Milwaukee. Madison. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Charlotte, North Carolina. Atlanta, Georgia. Many of the users creating these videos have similar usernames, including @rantswithsaum, @rantswithcarlyy or @rants.with.k. Wisconsin Watch contacted several of the users behind the accounts but none responded.

It’s unclear who paid for the videos Wisconsin Watch identified. The Sunlight Research team searched spending records for registered political action committees and political candidates in key swing states but found no evidence of payments to the influencers or influencer platforms tied to these videos. And while Wisconsinites will elect a new governor in November, spokespeople for candidates David Crowley and Tom Tiffany both said they had not paid for or even seen the videos in question. 

What is clear is that this type of political content is in demand: Wisconsin Watch found a listing on SideShift from “Project Bullhorn” offering creators $1,500 monthly to “speak on the rising crisis of affordability in the United States ahead of the 2026 midterms.” Project Bullhorn is one of several influencer efforts the New York Times reports Democratic donors are funding. A leader of the initiative declined to answer questions from Wisconsin Watch on the record. 

‘More expensive than NYC’

From May through July, Printz posted roughly two videos a day about Green Bay’s cost of living.

In May, he claimed gas prices in Green Bay soared to almost $7 a gallon. While the Iran war has driven fuel prices up, prices at local pumps peaked this spring around $4.50 a gallon. 

“Is Green Bay, Wisconsin, actually more expensive than New York City?” Printz asked in a June video, recounting the experience of a friend who purportedly moved from the Big Apple to Packerland, anticipating a lower cost of living. 

“Guess what? It was just as expensive. Rent prices were crazy. Gas was crazy. Culver’s is so expensive, more than almost every restaurant in New York City,” Printz said.

In another video, he said tuition at Wisconsin colleges now cost $70,000 annually. 

“Just makes you question if it’s worth it now,” reads text on the video of Printz repeatedly shaking his head. According to CollegeBoard data, Wisconsin’s public universities charged in-state students $10,600 on average in 2025.

@wisconsinwatch

💵$4k rent? $7 gas? More expensive than NYC? A deluge of TikTok and Instagram videos are making outlandish claims about Wisconsin’s cost of living. In some cases, the people behind them – self-described “user-generated content creators” — are using fake names or don’t even appear to live in Wisconsin. The videos seem to be part of a growing trend of paying influencers to post on political topics, often without any disclosures. Here’s why it matters. Read more at the link in our bio.

♬ original sound – Wisconsin Watch

In addition to the overblown numbers, locals might spot other faux pas. In one video, Printz asks for feedback from his “fellow Wisconsiners,” a term that would make any self-respecting Wisconsinite cringe. 

Green Bay resident Allyson Brunette started seeing the videos pop up in her TikTok feed around May. The inaccuracies were obvious, she said, especially the part about $4,000 rent. 

What was less obvious was where all these videos came from. She clicked on the creators’ profiles and discovered that not only did they often follow each other, but some of the users following them were making parallel videos elsewhere. 

“It seemed that there was almost this network of these avatars with similar usernames and almost identical content in different cities and states across the U.S.,” said Brunette, who wrote to Wisconsin Watch in May about her suspicions. 

“I was like, am I nuts? I think this is a coordinated effort,” Brunette said in a July interview. “What immediately struck my mind, as someone who’s 38 and lived through the Facebook misinformation of the last few elections, was: Is this gearing up to shift political (opinions) before the gubernatorial election?”

Brunette isn’t the only TikTok user raising the alarm about these types of claims. On many of Printz’s videos, commenters called out misinformation and offered the facts. 

“Obvious rage bait,” wrote one user in response to the claim that Green Bay is more expensive than New York City.

“Literally nothing you said is true,” wrote another.

Is it legal?

Experts say this novel influence model seems to test the limits of laws governing campaign finance and advertising. 

Christopher Terry is an associate professor of journalism and mass communication at the University of Minnesota who studies political advertising. He told Wisconsin Watch these types of videos could potentially violate state and federal law, even if they don’t mention candidates, parties, elections or products.  

Paid posts are a form of commercial speech, which is not subject to the same First Amendment protections as standard political speech, Terry said. If creators don’t disclose that they were paid to create posts, that could violate the Federal Trade Commission prohibition on deceptive practices, Terry said, though he noted the agency has not enforced that policy against social media influencers to date.

“It has warned a bunch of them. It has threatened a ton of them, but it has not actually brought an enforcement action against any of them,” Terry said.

Any posts that mislead voters about candidates or referendums could also potentially violate a Wisconsin statute barring “false representation … intended to affect voting in an election,” Terry said. 

“Any chucklehead in any northern Wisconsin bar will give you an opinion on a political thing … That’s fine,” Terry said. “If he’s paid to think that and paid to sit in the bar and talk to people about it, that’s something else, right?” 

Meanwhile, democracy advocates have called on the Federal Election Commission to clarify laws to explicitly require that influencers post disclaimers indicating who paid for their political content.

Prices, misinformation on the rise

While many of these videos are riddled with false information, they channel popular frustrations over real spikes in prices.

“Gas is not $7 a gallon in Green Bay, and average rent is not $4,000. But they’re both more expensive than they used to be … It’s simply true that people are anxious and concerned about the cost of living,” said state Sen. Jamie Wall, D-Green Bay. “And I hear that from people across the political spectrum.”

Across the country, consumers have been sour on the economy for years, said Joanne Hsu, who oversees the University of Michigan’s Surveys of Consumers. The monthly consumer sentiment survey, first conducted in 1946, asks Americans how they feel about the economy and where it’s headed. 

The answer in recent months: still not good. When survey workers asked Americans in June about their personal finances, 56% brought up high prices without being prompted. 

In Green Bay, where the average home value is about $290,000, the cost of living remains relatively low. But local residents are feeling the strain of rising prices too, state Rep. Amaad Rivera-Wagner, D-Green Bay, said.

Still, he fears the misinformation could stifle Green Bay’s future. 

“That’s one of the most frustrating things about social media is that we are now fighting an army of misinformation, sometimes by innocent bystanders, but sometimes by bad actors,” Rivera-Wagner said.

“This is where that confusion can actually cost or have real impact,” he said. “There might be people in and around our community or businesses thinking about moving or working in our community, and they’re seeing a larger narrative that is not only inaccurate, but doesn’t actually talk about how much work we’ve done to make Green Bay still one of the most affordable places to live in the state or the country.”

Meanwhile, rising costs could shape the outcome of midterm elections across the country this fall. American adults ranked inflation and the high cost of living as the most important issue in every Marquette University Law School Poll national survey this year. President Donald Trump has drawn criticism for largely dismissing concerns about high prices.

“It doesn’t feel good to be told the economy is doing great when you feel like you’re stretching to make ends meet,” Hsu said. 

Anna Massoglia, Michael Nolan, Jason Dearen and MuckRock’s Sunlight Research Desk provided research and data analysis for this story.

$4K rent? $7 gas? Inside the internet campaign insisting Green Bay is ‘more expensive than NYC’ 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.

Reading Time: 7 minutes

This story is part of a collaboration between Wisconsin Watch and Door County Knock, exploring the factors that make pet ownership in Door County a pricey challenge. Read Wisconsin Watch’s story here. 

Click here to read highlights from the story

• Pet owners told Door County Knock about how they struggled to find rental properties that accept their furry friends. 
• Places that do often charge additional deposits tack on monthly charges per pet ranging from $25 to $75 or more and implement weight and breed restrictions. 
• Officials with the Wisconsin Humane Society say 24% of people who surrender a pet statewide cite housing as the reason. 
• Experts say dogs in particular can increase insurance costs, as dog bites are the number one claim under homeowner’s insurance nationwide. 
• Landlords say the extra deposit and fees help cover damage and labor costs for picking up after pets when owners fail to do so.

Owning a pet and finding rental housing can be difficult, especially in a tight rental market like Door County. As of May 2025, Sturgeon Bay’s vacancy rate — the percentage of total housing available – was less than 1%, and local housing experts say the rest of the county is similar. 

Add pet policies and extra fees, and finding affordable rental housing when you have pets is an even bigger challenge. 

Laurel Grey moved to Door County with two dogs and two cats. She had to stay in a motel while she was looking for housing, before selling her home in Onalaska. Grey said she called every place she could find and eventually got into a property in Sturgeon Bay. 

The apartment’s pet policy included an extra deposit and a $50 per animal per month fee — an extra $200 a month. Three of her pets died before apartment management changed the policy to prohibit pets, except for service animals or emotional support animals (ESAs). 

Though Grey’s remaining dog was grandfathered in and allowed to stay, she said, the monthly fee was raised to $75 per animal per month. The issue of pets and housing is one of economic inequality, she said. 

Anybody who can’t afford to own a home or chooses to rent is either not allowed to have a pet or has to pay significantly more in housing costs, according to Grey. 

“Do you realize how classist that is?… I used to be judgy of surrendering pets, but there may truly be no other option for some people,” she said.

Shelters feel the fallout

Housing insecurity and a lack of affordable pet-friendly housing are among the biggest reasons animals are surrendered to the Wisconsin Humane Society, according to Corey Viars, the organization’s media specialist for its Green Bay and Door County campuses. 

When people surrender pets to the Humane Society, they fill out an intake form that includes the reason they are doing so, Viars said, and “housing” is cited by 24% of people across the state. Of that number, almost half are related to moving, and a third are related to landlords not permitting an animal. 

“One of the most common reasons for surrender is moving and simply not being able to find pet-friendly housing,” Viars said. Pet deposits and pet rent increases add additional barriers to pet ownership, he added. 

The Door County Humane Society does not have as many animals as some of the other campuses, according to Viars, because it is one of the smallest campuses in the state. However, seven animals were adopted from Door County during the first week of August, he said. 

Strong emotions are almost always involved when people are giving up a member of their households. 

“Our intake desk is an emotional place, and those surrendering due to financial or housing reasons are no exception,” Viars said. People are “heartbroken” when they have to surrender a beloved pet because they have nowhere to go with them, he added.  

More than just a pet

Pets are more often than not a member of the family, according to Door County veterinarian Dr. Sherry Billett. 

In her practice at Peninsula Veterinary Hospital, Billett said she has seen firsthand the “substantial and oftentimes quite devastating” emotional impact of having to give up a beloved pet, but it is not a very common occurrence among her patients.

Most of the pet owners she encounters refuse to give up a pet and continue to search for housing, she said, even if it means moving out of Door County. 

“This is not hard to understand since, in the vast majority of cases, pets are members of the family, so it makes sense that the same loving dedication be extended to them as well as human family members,” Billett said in an email. 

She is aware of cases where a pet owner has to move to an assisted living or similar facility that will not allow pets, and others where individuals and families have difficulty finding any housing that will allow pets even with a deposit.  

Billett also sees the numerous benefits of caring for pets that extend beyond emotional well-being, she said. 

“Pets provide many people with the type of loving daily caretaking interactions that help prevent loneliness, that promote responsibility, that provide a reason to care for their own personal health in order to be able to take care of their pets, and that facilitate meeting other people when out on a walk or at a park,” she said. 

Officials say this is particularly important in a community with one of the largest aging populations in the state and which has identified loneliness and isolation as one of the top community health concerns. 

Aging and Disability Resource Director Jennifer Fitzgerald said she has also seen firsthand how pets help alleviate isolation and improve quality of life for both pets and the ADRC’s consumers. This becomes especially important when older adults lose a spouse, she added. 

ADRC clients encounter housing challenges involving pets, according to Fitzgerald, but the agency does not get directly involved. Rather, it provides people with a housing list as a resource, she said.

The risks landlords weigh

The Door County Economic Development Corporation keeps an inventory of available rental properties in the county, although it is not exhaustive, according to Executive Director Michelle Lawrie. However, the inventory can provide a snapshot of what pet owners encounter when looking for a place to live. 

The list contains 42 properties, and 21 of them explicitly identify themselves as pet-friendly. The rest do not specify whether they allow pets. 

Rebecca Willoughby is the property manager for SCS Sturgeon Bay Estates, a market rate housing development. All of the properties owned by SCS are pet-friendly, she said, but they have restrictions against certain breeds. 

A $250 deposit is required for pets, as well as a $50 per pet per month fee, Willoughby said. ESA and service animal owners are not charged additional fees or deposits. 

The deposit and fees are to offset the costs of pet damage, she said, such as cats or dogs urinating or defecating indoors, or scratching things. Cat urine can be especially difficult to remove, she said. Renters sometimes do not pick up after their pets outdoors, which leads to more labor for maintenance services, Willoughby added. 

The tight rental market in Door County does not factor into the policy, she said, and renter eligibility hinges on things like income qualifications and other leasing criteria. 

Dog-related liability is a real insurance concern as well, according to Andrew Franken, president of the Wisconsin Insurance Alliance. 

Insurance costs for property owners can be impacted by the presence of a dog, Franken said, and all companies handle the issue differently.

Nationally, dog bites are the number one claim under homeowner’s insurance. In Door County, there were approximately 63 dog bites reported to the Door County Department of Health and Human Services in 2025, according to data provided by county staff. 

When a dog bites someone a second time in Wisconsin, there is an automatic “double damage” law. It means the dog owner can be liable for twice the amount of damages if the owner knew about the first bite. 

Breed restrictions

Pet-friendly rental housing often specifies what types of dogs can live at a property. 

Larger dogs are disproportionately affected by restrictions, Viars said. Fifty-pound weight limits are common, and some insurers and rental companies do not allow specific breeds. Pit bull terriers, Doberman pinschers and Rottweilers are often the focus of these types of restrictions, according to rental industry sources. 

The Humane Society has stopped labeling dogs by breed, according to Viars, because breed identification can be inaccurate. 

“When we used to assign a breed, it was often a guess proven wrong by DNA tests,” Viars said. “We focus on the personality and attributes of each individual dog during adoption counseling.” 

Knock contacted Door County rental properties represented in DCEDC’s inventory to find out more pet policy details, and they ran a gamut of restrictions, with several mentioning breed and weight limits. 

What does ‘pet-friendly’ mean?

Among Door County property listings, the following pet policies were indicated: 

• no additional pet fee
• $25 per month per pet
• $45 per month per pet
• $50 per month per pet
• $75 per month per pet
• $250 deposit per pet
• half-month’s rent
• breed/weight restrictions

A renter with two dogs might be looking at an extra $100 per month in pet rent. That’s $1,200 a year before any deposit. Landlords say the fees correlate directly to expected costs brought on by animals. 

Balancing pets, people and housing 

The Humane Society said more pet-friendly affordable housing would result in fewer surrenders. The problem is not only a Door County one, according to Viars, but state and nationwide. 

Many of the people in Grey’s apartment complex are older adults — she herself is 69 — and she knows at least a dozen residents who would take a cat. One of her neighbors, who just turned 80, moved into the complex after a divorce, she said. She used to own cats and she adores them, Grey said. 

“It’s just sad. She’s someone who is lonely, who would benefit from having pets,” she said.

Emily Small is a reporter for Door County Knock and a Report for America corps member. Contact her at esmall@doorcountyknock.org.

Pets can make finding a home harder in Door County’s housing market 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.

Reading Time: 7 minutes

This story is part of a collaboration between Wisconsin Watch and Door County Knock, exploring the factors that make pet ownership in Door County a pricey challenge. Read Knock’s story here. 

Click here to read highlights from the story

• Rural residents, like those in Door County, bear the brunt of the veterinarian shortage, which leaves local clinics overbooked and unable to offer emergency services. 
• The nearest emergency veterinarian is in Appleton, though one will soon open in Bellevue. 
• The demand has placed increasing pressure on veterinary professionals, with burnout a common problem and high suicide rates among veterinarians. 
• UW-Madison’s School of Veterinary Medicine is the only training program for vets in the state. It only accepts 100 students annually due to a lack of physical space. 
• UW officials hope to renovate the vet school’s facilities to expand the class size.

Right after Wisconsin’s historic snowstorm in March, Jessica Chase’s dog started seizing on the floor of her Sturgeon Bay home. In five-minute intervals, the episodes grabbed control of Capri, a shepherd, husky and Rottweiler mix.

Panicked, Chase called the nearest emergency veterinary hospital: BluePearl in Appleton. The 24-hour vet is roughly a 90-minute drive for Chase on a good day — and likely much more that day, given more than 2 feet of snow blanketing the streets. 

Chase couldn’t fathom driving that far while her dog lay seizing in the back seat. She also didn’t know if she’d survive that long. Then, staff warned she could be waiting several more hours upon arrival, as the hospital was at full capacity. 

Less than 12 hours after her first seizure, Capri died on the kitchen floor. 

“It was the most mortifying experience ever,” Chase said. “It’s basically like my baby.”

For Door County pet owners like Chase, options are slim when crisis hits. The nearest emergency veterinarian is between one and three hours away, depending on how far north on the peninsula they reside. 

The dearth of options means residents must forgo care or make nail-biting drives with sick pets. Sometimes they arrive too late. 

Thanks to veterinarian shortages and Wisconsin’s limited capacity for training new vets, the problem is getting worse. And it’s not just an issue in emergencies: Many rural pet owners must also look far or wait long for routine vet care. 

There’s no easy solution. Existing Door County vet clinics are too overwhelmed to offer emergency services, and there are likely not enough doctors or patients to justify opening an ER facility. 

“I feel like if we had a clinic near us, even a half-hour away, it would have been much more reasonable to have someone look at her, than just having to sit there with our dog dying and there’s nothing we can do,” Chase said. “There was nobody to really call and talk to. Nobody walked us through it. No one gave us advice.”

Overwhelming demand

Peninsula Veterinary Hospital in Sturgeon Bay receives at least five calls a day from people who need emergency care. Staff work patients into the schedule if they can. But often, they’re not equipped to treat the issues, lacking the proper tools or staff.

“It’s like going to your family doctor with a broken leg,” said Amy Hults, a certified veterinary technician at the clinic. 

It was easier for residents to get by when BluePearl operated a facility in Green Bay, about 35 miles closer than Appleton. But the facility closed in early 2025. The company never offered a reason why. 

Nowadays, residents regularly complain about the issue to one another and on social media. The discourse gets louder in the summer months, when an influx of vacationers arrive, many unaware of the limited care options.

The chorus of complaints just may not be large enough. Research has shown that it takes a population of 100,000 people to have enough clients to sustain a round-the-clock facility, Door County vet Dr. Sherry Billett said. Door County is home to 30,000 year-round residents and welcomes more than 2.5 million visitors annually.

Other barriers stand in the way: Specialized equipment is pricey. The facility would need enough doctors and support staff to cover the clock — a notoriously difficult thing to find. 

Peninsula Veterinary Hospital has been trying to find a new vet for “a long time,” to no avail, Hults said. With high housing costs serving as a barrier — the average home value is nearly $440,000 according to Zillow — it’s challenging to get new hires to move to the county.

“Because of the overwhelming demand, we need to schedule appointments several weeks in advance, and sometimes even months in advance,” Billett said. “We hear from callers on a regular basis that other clinics are not taking any new patients, which adds to our case load.” 

They’ve gotten creative to fit in more patients, including overlapping bookings and having owners drop their pets off for the day, so they can work them in between appointments.

Burnout is a constant battle, Billett said. It’s stressful to juggle treating different species daily and handle the emotions of animals’ caretakers, she said. Suicide rates among veterinarians are high.

“That said, it is also an incredibly emotionally and psychologically rewarding profession for the right people,” Billett said.

Where are the vets?

So where are the right people?

There’s only one training program in the state: the University of Wisconsin-Madison’s School of Veterinary Medicine, where roughly 2,500 students vie for 100 open seats yearly. About half of the graduates will stay and practice in Wisconsin. 

The school isn’t churning out enough graduates to make a serious dent in the state’s shortage.  And its lecture halls and laboratories don’t have enough physical space to expand enrollment.

“We are capped out at the number of students we can admit because … the facilities just literally cannot fit any additional folks,” said Dr. Jonathan Levine, dean of the vet school.

“More and more people want to do this career, which is wonderful. It’s a terrific career,” he said. “The challenge is having enough spots to accommodate qualified, excellent applicants.”

To someday change that, UW-Madison is beginning to examine how it can renovate buildings and “expand our class size to meet the needs of Wisconsin and the region,” Levine said. 

Student debt also plays a role in where veterinarians choose to practice, said Dr. Jen Quammen, president of the American Veterinary Medical Association. AVMA data shows veterinarians’ average student debt upon graduation climbed to nearly $175,000 in 2025.

“Food-animal, rural and public health careers typically pay less than companion-animal practice in metro areas, so many graduates find themselves balancing where they feel called to practice with where they can realistically afford to practice,” Quammen said. 

Not all of these graduates work in emergency facilities or pet clinics. There’s demand for vets in many fields, Levine said, including research, at drug development corporations or in pathology. 

“It’s all those things that have sort of combined over the last decade to drive very high demand, and the supply of veterinarians is limited,” Levine said. “In rural communities it’s been particularly challenging, and that is not a new story. It’s … a decades-old story.” 

Solutions elusive

JoAnne Rosenfeld believes her Boston terrier, Butch, would still be alive if Door County had an emergency vet. 

In April, Butch began seizing while he slept, spinning his body in “jerky spurts” and yelping in pain. Rosenfeld and her son scooped up Butch, limp and struggling to breathe, and brought him to the car for the 90-minute haul to Appleton. 

Butch, almost 4 years old, died 18 miles from the destination. Rosenfeld pressed on, hoping CPR could save him, to no avail. 

“Heartbroken, despondent, anguished, heartsick and sad beyond belief,” Rosenfeld wrote in a letter with other local advocates, asking that county leaders and vets come together to find a solution. 

She offered one: Door County vets rotating weekends to be on-call for emergencies. 

“If there are 10 vets willing to help, their duties would be just once every 10 weeks, about five times a year, only nights and weekends, which would not interfere with daily activities,” she wrote.

Local clinic workers say such an arrangement isn’t realistic, as they’re already fighting burnout. 

“There is no way that a doctor or nurse could work their full 40- to 50-hour workweek and still be capable and fresh for after-hours or weekend emergencies,” Billett said. “This would add to the stress and the burnout that it is already a constant battle.”

While emergency care inside county limits seems unfeasible, closer help could soon be on the way. National chain Veterinary Emergency Group (VEG) will soon open a new 24-hour emergency location in Bellevue, about 40 miles closer than BluePearl in Appleton. Its website says the Brown County location is “coming soon,” and a ribbon-cutting will be hosted on Aug. 27. 

VEG’s site offers no contact information for the new branch. The company did not respond to a request for comment. 

But closer care would be a welcome relief for Sister Bay resident Nancy Treleven, who has driven a six-hour round trip to get care for her French bulldog, Winston. 

“It’s just scary when you’re in the car with a pet that’s not well,” Treleven said. “I’m focused on driving, but I’m completely stressed because I’m worrying about how my dog is doing, and if I’m gonna get there in time, and what happens if everything’s not OK, and I can’t make it back home tonight. Where am I staying? What am I doing?” 

Nationally, legislation addressing the problem is in the works. AVMA is advocating for Congress to pass the Rural Veterinary Workforce Act, which would offer $120,000 in student loan relief to veterinarians who commit to three years of service in rural shortage areas. 

Editor’s note: A caption in a previous version of this story misspelled the name of Brienna Derbique.

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.

Vet shortage overwhelms clinics, leaves owners to drive hours for emergency care 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.

Reading Time: 2 minutes

My predecessors at Wisconsin Watch have done some amazing reporting on people experiencing homelessness in Wisconsin. 

A big question came up when I started my internship – how can unhoused people get help? 

There’s no simple answer. Homeless shelters and nonprofits for low-income families are still extremely limited by resources, available beds and caseworkers. And counties, especially rural ones, simply don’t have enough shelters. Some may not even have a single one.

So when I set out to answer this question, I knew that doing some light research online and making a list of shelters would not be enough. Plus, those lists already exist. At Wisconsin Watch, we spend time thinking about how our stories can fill information gaps and serve our communities. 

This resource guide has been many weeks in the making. The process started with going out in the field, talking to people with lived experience, listening in on meetings and watching homeless system leaders do their work.

I asked them: What don’t people understand about homelessness and the network of resources available?

Here’s what I heard about what’s needed: 

• A guide that walks people through the process, instead of just a list.
• More information about how the homeless response system works.
• A printed version to distribute widely.
• A resource that clears up misconceptions and stigma around homelessness.
• Information on how to help and get involved in your community.

If you read more, you can get the answers to questions like “How many people are homeless in my region?” 

You can also download a flowchart on how to access homelessness resources in northeast Wisconsin. If you want to help, I’d love it if you could share the flowchart online, or print it out and put it somewhere in your community. Let me know if you do.

Still have more questions? I’ll try to answer them. Email me at acode@wisconsinwatch.org.

Listening shaped our homelessness resource guide for northeast Wisconsin 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.

Reading Time: 9 minutes

Click here to read highlights from the story

• Wisconsin Watch spoke to community leaders in northeast Wisconsin to understand how support systems work, how people who are unhoused can get help in each county and who counts as homeless. 
• Officials explain how waitlists for housing programs work, how they’re funded, why people who are unhoused are more visible in cities and ways people who have housing can help. 
• The story includes links to resources and a flowchart available for free download.

An estimated 1,200 people are homeless in northeast Wisconsin — and that could be a vast undercount. Nonprofit leaders say shelters are at capacity on a regular basis and a lack of affordable housing is contributing to the problem. 

According to the National Low Income Housing Coalition, someone would have to work 112 hours per week at minimum wage to afford a modest 1-bedroom rental home in Wisconsin. Amid rising costs, Jackie Baumgart, director of youth services for Foundations Health & Wholeness, says rural counties Foundations serves have few homeless shelters.

“We need a shelter or three in every county … If there was somebody to call and get somebody in every time, we could do wonderful work, because it wouldn’t always be in crisis,” Baumgart said. 

Experts say there are misconceptions about who counts as homeless and how the homeless response system works. That prevents people from accessing resources and contributes to stigma around homelessness. 

To understand how support systems work, how to get help in each county and who counts as homeless, Wisconsin Watch put together a guide of frequently asked questions about homelessness informed by interviews with community leaders in northeast Wisconsin. 

Click here to download a free flowchart on how to access homelessness resources in northeast Wisconsin.

How many people are homeless in my region?

Homelessness is measured nationwide by a “point in time” (PIT) count — a snapshot of all the people experiencing homelessness on a single night. The federal government requires this to happen annually in January, but all counties in northeast Wisconsin conduct an additional summer count in July. 

During the PIT count in January, volunteers found 560 individuals who were living in shelters or on the street in Brown County. Other counts can be broken down into coalitions that include multiple counties. 

Northeast (Florence, Marinette, Menominee, Oconto and Shawano counties): 83 people

Lakeshore (Door, Kewaunee, Manitowoc and Sheboygan counties): 224 people

Fox Cities (Calumet, Outagamie and northern Winnebago counties): 330 people

To count someone as homeless, volunteers must speak to people who seem to be living on the streets to confirm they’re unhoused. Those who are sleeping on the couch of a friend or family member don’t count. This means many people aren’t included in the count who might be considered homeless, especially in rural areas. That’s important because the PIT count is indirectly tied to the amount of grant funding designated for each region.

Who is considered homeless?

The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development, or HUD, breaks its definition of homelessness into several categories. These categories determine which programs or aid you can apply for. 

Category 1: Literally Homeless

This includes who most people generally picture when they hear the word “homeless” – anyone who is unsheltered and could be sleeping outside, in a tent or in a car. It also includes people living in a temporary homeless shelter or using hotel vouchers. 

Category 2: Imminent Risk of Homelessness

This category includes individuals or families who will lose their housing within 14 days of applying for homeless assistance and who lack resources to obtain other permanent housing.

Category 3: Homeless Under Other Federal Statutes

This group includes unaccompanied youth under age 25 or families with children who don’t meet the previous definitions, but still lack permanent or stable housing, which often means living in someone else’s home due to economic hardship. Referred to as being “doubled up,” this could look like someone sleeping on a friend’s couch or staying in another family’s basement. Category 3 can also include youth who are living in motels, hotels, trailer parks or campgrounds due to lack of alternative options. 

In the 2024-25 school year, over 20,000 students in Wisconsin were homeless, including 15,400 who were “doubled up,” according to data from the Wisconsin Department of Public Instruction. Although this category is considered homeless under the federal definition, doubled up students don’t qualify for most federal homeless assistance. Instead, they are supported by the McKinney-Vento Homeless Assistance Act, which requires each school district to designate a homeless liaison and provide transportation for students experiencing homelessness.

“A majority of our students experiencing homelessness are living doubled up,” said Kristine Nadolski, state coordinator of Education for Homeless Children and Youth. “It’s a big piece kind of missing in other counts, and I do think that our students are still under-identified.”

Category 4: Fleeing/Attempting to Flee Domestic Violence

Anyone who does not have a residence due to fleeing or attempting to flee domestic violence is placed in Category 4. Specific shelters exist solely for domestic violence survivors that provide crisis intervention, counseling, support groups and legal advocacy.

Categories cover broad swath of people

Overall, these four definitions encompass a wide variety of people who aren’t usually included in the broader public perception of homelessness. Eliza Cussen is the community engagement director for Pillars, a shelter and low-income housing agency in Appleton. She said some people might not consider themselves homeless even though they fit one of these definitions.

“If you have moved in with your mom because your landlord raised your rent and you couldn’t swing it, you might not identify as homeless,” Cussen said. “So that can make people really hesitant to call for those services, or think that they are deserving.” 

How do I get help?

There are many ways to find services, including calling 211, your county Aging and Disability Resource Center or your local government. If you’re seeking shelter, you should probably access Coordinated Entry as a first step, which will place you on a list that all organizations in your area can pull from based on your eligibility. 

211: https://211wisconsin.communityos.org/, dial 211, or text your zip code to 898211.

Findhelp: https://findhelp.org/ 

Manitowoc, Sheboygan, Door, and Kewaunee counties — You are under the Lakeshore Homeless Coalition and Lakeshore CAP.

• Coordinated Entry: Lakeshore CAP 920-694-0041​
  • Lakeshore CAP Resources by County 
  • Door County Lakeshore CAP Resource Guide 
  • Door County ADRC Resource Guide 
  • Food Resources outside of Brown County  
  • Manitowoc County Lakeshore CAP Resource Guide 
  • Manitowoc and Kewaunee County ADRC Resource Guide
  • Kewaunee County Lakeshore CAP Resource Guide
  • Manitowoc Public Library Community Resources  

Brown County — You are under the Brown County Homeless and Housing Coalition.

• Coordinated Entry: House of Hope 920-884-6740, Wise Women 920-883-7202, Golden House 920-435-0100
  • Brown County Homeless and Housing Coalition Resources
  • Brown County Places to Go 
  • Brown County ADRC **Please note: Newcap is closed**

Marinette, Menominee, Oconto, Shawano Counties – You are under the Northeast Homeless Coalition.

• Coordinated Entry: Foundations Health & Wholeness 920-381-7533  
  • Shawano Area United Way Resource Guide for Shawano and Menominee counties
  • 2026 ADRC Wolf River Directory **Please note: Newcap is closed**
  • Oconto County Food Resources
  • Food Resources outside of Brown County  
  • Marinette County ADRC Resource Guide **Please note: Newcap is closed**
  • Tri County United Way Resource List

Outagamie, Calumet, northern Winnebago Counties  — You are under the Fox Cities Coalition

• Coordinated Entry: Liz Crowley, city of Appleton 920-832-6460
  • Fox Cities Housing Coalition Resources
  • Pillars Community Resources 
  • Calumet County ADRC 
  • Oshkosh / Winnebago County Housing Authority Resources
  • City of Appleton Resources 
  • Outagamie County ADRC 
  • Fox Valley Food Pantry Brochure 
  • Fox Valley Street Smart Resources 

Other resources:

• Free and low-cost medical clinics: The National Association of Free and Charitable Clinics 
• Homeless liaisons in Wisconsin schools: Wisconsin Department of Public Instruction Homeless Liaison Directory 
• Food banks: Feeding America Find Your Local Food Bank tool 
• Step-by-step guide to getting help from the National Alliance to End Homelessness
• Job Centers of Wisconsin 
• Northeastern Region Domestic Violence Services Directory from End Domestic Abuse Wisconsin

How do waitlists for housing programs work? 

Waitlists are managed through a system called Coordinated Entry, which is designed to streamline the housing application process. Rather than operating on a first-in, first-out basis, the system prioritizes people based on their level of need.

Organizations statewide can access this list and pull people who meet their requirements when a spot opens up. To be put on the Coordinated Entry list, people are asked questions about their chronic disabling conditions, medical needs, the length of their homelessness and more.

Instead of calling every housing program in your area to get on a waitlist, you will already be on a list that they can see and pull from. They can figure out your eligibility.

Who gets the highest priority depends on the different requirements of each agency. You will also be asked about things like veteran status or if you are fleeing domestic violence. Applicants are also asked which counties they would consider moving to, allowing them to access housing if a spot opens elsewhere. 

How are these programs funded? 

Regional Continuum of Care programs distribute federal funding for homelessness service organizations. Milwaukee, Dane and Racine counties have their own CoCs, while the Balance of State CoC oversees the rest of the state through regional coalitions. 

Each federal grant is designated for specific types of support, such as homeless prevention, emergency shelter — through HUD’s Emergency Solutions Grant — or the CoC’s motel vouchers, permanent supportive housing for the chronically homeless and transitional housing with the goal of helping residents achieve stable housing elsewhere

Successful applicants must meet one of HUD’s homeless definitions, in addition to other eligibility requirements. Grants are sometimes designated for specific populations like veterans, domestic violence victims, youth or individuals who are chronically homeless. Plus, anti-poverty nonprofits and homeless shelters often don’t have enough beds available for the existing homeless population, which is why people sit on waitlists for months or years. 

A recent HUD memo announced broad changes to Continuum of Care funding. Josh Benti, homeless initiative project director for the Greater Green Bay Blueprint to Prevent and End Homelessness, said CoCs across the country now must compete for 40% of HUD’s budget based on criteria like criminalizing homelessness. Previously, 10% of funds were competitive. 

This represents the Trump administration’s broader shift from the Housing First model, which prioritizes providing permanent housing for people and then addressing the root causes of their homelessness.

On Aug. 7, a district court ruled in favor of a coalition of state governments – including Wisconsin – to effectively block HUD’s 2026 notice of funding, saying HUD failed to provide the proper notice and public comment period required.

Why do I see more homeless people in cities?

Rural homelessness is usually harder to see. It’s more common for people in rural areas to live out of their cars or doubled up with a family member or friend, especially since there aren’t as many shelters. Lots of people might not even consider themselves homeless if they are sleeping on someone’s couch. 

Because rural areas are sprawling, with many people doubled up, homelessness can be harder to count. That means rural coalitions may report lower numbers in the PIT count, which indirectly reduces federal funding.

Rural areas also have fewer resources — like shelters or supportive housing — forcing more people to relocate to Green Bay or other cities.

But the solution isn’t always to move. Shawano Area Matthew 25 Executive Director Kendra Brusewitz said people used to being homeless in Shawano might struggle to adapt to living in a larger city. She sometimes encourages people to relocate, but only if they don’t have any support systems in their community. 

“Affordable housing is a challenge everywhere,” Brusewitz said. “So it’s not healthy for anybody to make all these promises, too, of like, ‘Hey, if we just get you to Green Bay, you’ll have all of these opportunities and resources,’ and then they’re in a community that still has the same issues, and then they don’t have supports there either.” 

How can people who have housing help?

Many organizations that don’t provide shelter still interact with people experiencing homelessness and can benefit from understanding how the homeless response system works. These organizations can help brainstorm community-wide solutions, Benti said.

“Housing is something that affects us all, either housed or unhoused … Our hospitals aren’t homeless providers, but they provide services to those who are experiencing homelessness,” he said. “Our employers hire and employ people who are experiencing homelessness. … So, it’s getting all these systems to work and communicate and collaborate better.” 

People who want to help can donate if they have disposable income or volunteer with organizations serving people experiencing homelessness. Volunteering can start with contacting a local shelter or attending a coalition meeting. 

Northeast Coalition (Shawano, Oconto, Marinette and Menominee counties): Contact Abby Ries at abby.ries@wibos.org

Brown County Homeless and Housing Coalition: https://bchhcwi.org/get-involved-2/ 

Fox Cities Housing Coalition: https://www.foxcitieshousing.org/calendar 

Lakeshore Coalition (Door, Kewaunee, Manitowoc and Sheboygan counties): https://lakeshorecap.org/ 

Even if you can’t donate or volunteer, you can still help fight the stigma surrounding homelessness. Brusewitz said she welcomes tours of the SAM25 shelter for greater community understanding. 

“We’re not a big city, but we do have people who are struggling,” Brusewitz said. “The stigma with homelessness, too, of like, ‘Well, they should just get a job,’ or ‘Maybe they should just quit doing drugs or drinking,’ and that’s not always the case.” 

Ryan Graham, homeless systems manager for the Wisconsin Balance of State Continuum of Care, said widespread homelessness reflects a broader affordability issue, with many people just one crisis away from losing their housing. 

“What you’ll see is we have all these people who just can’t afford basic needs or can’t afford their current housing, and they’re one bad event from becoming street homeless,” Graham said. “If we don’t have any kind of homeless prevention or diversion programming to stop that from happening, you’re just increasing the bottleneck that we have at our crisis response system, which we don’t have enough of already, right? So it’s really a tough environment across the country, but in particular in a lot of our rural counties.”

This story was updated to reflect that the Coordinated Entry system places people on waitlists for federally funded housing programs. It was also updated to correct the fact that Continuums of Care organizations distribute funding for homelessness service organizations. Wisconsin Watch regrets the errors.

How to get help: A guide to homelessness resources in northeast Wisconsin 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.

Reading Time: 5 minutes

Editor’s note: This story was produced as part of the NEW (Northeast Wisconsin) News Lab, a consortium of six news outlets.

Three Democratic candidates tried to convince voters that they were the best shot to unseat Republican U.S. Rep. Tony Wied in the 8th Congressional District.

To a crowd of about 50 on Aug. 3 at the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay’s Christie Theatre, the candidates tried to differentiate themselves to voters heading into the Aug. 11 primary election. The winner will go against Wied in the Nov. 3 general election, vying to represent nearly 737,000 people across 11 counties in northeastern Wisconsin.

On substance, their positions often aligned, on issues such as the environment, culture and the rights of Indigenous tribes, but they deviated some on public education and health care.

They were most divergent on style and their read of the Democratic Party.

Rick Crosson, a former Green Bay School Board member, doubled down on his tactic of growing the Democratic Party’s appeal as an insider, saying there was “absolutely nothing wrong with being a Democrat” or being an insider to “fix any and all issues that we may be dealing with.” He said his political icon was the late U.S. Rep. John Lewis, a civil rights leader from Georgia.

Katrina deVille, a musician who has campaigned on being a political outsider and democratic socialist, said, “We don’t even have a left party in this country anymore” and “we have to vote for something different.” Her political icons are New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani, U.S. Sen. Bernie Sanders and U.S. Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.

Mark Scheffler, a former wealth adviser who’s billed himself as a progressive independent, said Democrats “need to expand the base to include open-minded independents and even open-minded conservatives that are abandoning the Trump administration.” He considered former Department of Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg as his most esteemed political figure.

Here’s what the candidates said during the forum.

On winning a historically red district

Winning was top of mind for Scheffler and Crosson, so much so that Scheffler said it was the best word to describe his campaign.

The district has not elected a Democratic representative since 2008, when Rep. Steve Kagen won the seat before losing in 2010 to Republican Reid Ribble.

Scheffler said his strategy to winning was targeting those who have felt neglected by the Democratic Party. He pointed to voters in rural communities, whom he said the Democratic Party hasn’t done enough to connect with, and people in business, whom he said the Democratic Party hasn’t been welcoming enough of.

Crosson argued he had built a broad coalition that could win across the political spectrum and that he had “attached myself with every group you can name.” He said he’d gotten a neighbor of Wied’s to put up a Crosson yard sign and that a Republican former state treasurer had told Crosson that he’d nudged his Democratic wife to vote for him.

And asked what made her the best candidate, deVille positioned herself as a foil to Republicans and “the biggest eff-you that people can send to the federal government” being a transgender woman.

“Any time I’ve had to deal with a Republican politician, they crash out,” deVille said. “The minute I walk in the room, they can’t even look at me, and they just crash out, and it’s fantastic.”

She touted hosting town halls at gun ranges and her position as a Second Amendment advocate.

On breaking with the Democratic Party

Asked if there was a specific policy on which he would break from the Democratic Party when voting in Congress, Crosson said, “If I had anything to offer our party at this point in time, it is: We need to have a conversation about who we are, and do we have bias that’s running through our party that needs to be addressed and have the honest dialogue about what inclusiveness means?”

For deVille, it was gun rights. She argued that more gun laws would only deter law-abiding citizens and that more enforcement and focus on mental health care rather than legislation were needed.

For Scheffler, it was gerrymandering. He criticized both Republican and Democratic efforts to draw favorable district boundaries and said that “partisanship should never come at the price of an individual’s right to vote.”

On what they would do in Congress

The candidates aligned on much of their stances on abortion and transgender rights. They all said they would:

• Vote to codify the right to an abortion in federal law.
• Support equal opportunity and access for transgender people.
• Not take money from political action committees.
• Support a tax on billionaires.
• Support increasing funding to Social Security by raising the cap on payroll taxes.
• Support free four-year public college tuition.
• Support a universal, federally funded child care program.
• Support banning drilling leases on public land.
• Support increasing the size of the Supreme Court.
• Decriminalizing marijuana.
• Banning members of Congress from trading individual stocks.

Crosson said he would back the John Lewis Voting Rights Act, which would create a more stringent process for states and institutions to make changes that could affect voting rights.

He argued the size of the military needed to be reevaluated as it currently “is not based on a strategy or a vision,” he said.

Crosson said that health care was a universal human right and that there was enough money to expand Medicaid, but did not go so far as deVille or Scheffler to say he supported a universal health care system.

Only deVille said she would oppose introducing term limits on members of Congress.  

DeVille also said that she supported abolishing the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency and that she would introduce articles of impeachment against President Donald Trump on her first day in Congress. She argued that the United States needed to be more open to free trade with the rest of the world.

She said she would support the CEO Act, a bill that would tax company heads for making at least 50 times what their company’s average worker makes.

She also said she would introduce legislation to “ban voucher schools.”

Scheffler said he would eliminate the Internal Revenue Service as part of his proposed policy to revamp the tax code with a singular sales tax. He argued that Republicans would be on board, that it was a progressive tax and that libertarians would be supportive with the need to file annual taxes being gone.

He also promoted his idea for the Great Lakes region to become the world’s largest market for biomass. Under the plan, farmers would be paid $400 an acre to grow “fibrous pulp” that would be sent to the region’s paper manufacturers, Scheffler said. He framed it as a sustainable method to reduce the area’s dependency on foreign-grown sources for the local paper industry and as a policy that would protect against tariffs.

Jesse Lin is a reporter covering the community of Green Bay and its surroundings, as well as politics in northeastern Wisconsin. He also writes a weekly column answering reader questions about Green Bay. Contact and send him questions at 920-834-4250 or jlin@usatodayco.com.

Democrats for 8th Congressional District seat argue they’re the party’s best shot against Tony Wied 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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Local news matters, but we journalists have work to do when it comes to delivering the information people value most, according to the northeast Wisconsin residents who took part in the Local News Landscape Study. 

Researchers at the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay’s Center for Civic Engagement spoke to 251 people who call Brown, Kewaunee, Oconto and Outagamie counties home. Community members shared what they think about local news, what topics they feel informed or uninformed about, where they get news, and more. 

The Greater Green Bay Community Foundation commissioned the study through the Press Forward Northeast Wisconsin chapter, of which Wisconsin Watch is a member. 

What people said

Study participants value local information. However, areas they consider top priorities, like health care (76%), public safety (70%), the local economy (54%) and education (49%), they don’t feel well informed about. 

While many people get their news from social media and digital outlets, television remains an important news source for many residents. 

Trust in local journalism is stronger than social-media-based sources. However, people shared concerns about bias, sensationalism and repetitive coverage with researchers. 

Some people reported feeling underrepresented and want more news coverage that reflects their lived experiences. 

Participants pointed out several barriers to accessing local news, like paywalls, limited coverage of certain communities or issues and relevance gaps. 

Local news has spurred civic engagement for nearly half of survey respondents, motivating them to vote, volunteer, attend events or donate to a cause. 

What comes next

I found the whole study fascinating. 

One area I keep going back to is section 3.2 (page 27 of the PDF), which presents key themes about “what matters most to residents.”

I hear so many of these same thoughts when I interact with people, from friends and family to community members. They share their frustrations about out-of-state stories on the local TV newscast. They wonder how the reporting process works and where journalists get the information we report. They want to watch or read the facts and make up their own minds – not be told what to think. 

I agree. Here’s how Wisconsin Watch plans to use the results of this media landscape study to shape our coverage in northeast Wisconsin. 

Astrid Code is our Scripps Howard Fund intern, and she’s reporting on issues affecting rural communities into the fall. Read her work so far here. 

The Northeast Wisconsin News Lab (NEW News Lab) – a consortium of newsrooms that collaborate around a given theme – is working on election stories about the topics people said matter most but they don’t feel well informed on. Wisconsin Watch is focusing on health care. 

Our weekly newsletter, Northeast News, aims to be an antidote to some of the negativity survey respondents said overwhelms them. Our rotating feature sections aim to spotlight community members and nonprofit organizations making a difference; shout out fantastic small towns and funky places off the beaten path; and offer community members a space to share their diverse, fact-checked opinion essays.

We’re brainstorming more ideas to fill the gaps highlighted by the study. In the meantime, let me know what stories you think deserve more coverage. Email me at jzvandenhouten@wisconsinwatch.org. 

Are you on Medicaid and concerned about losing your coverage? Reach out to Astrid to share your thoughts: acode@wisconsinwatch.org.

How our journalists will fill information gaps in northeast Wisconsin 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.

Reading Time: 4 minutes

Nancy and Brian Breedlove visited the Oshkosh Tool Library in mid-July hoping to borrow a hand truck, also called a dolly. 

The Oshkosh couple needed to move heavy items out of their garage before workers installed an epoxy coating on the floor. 

A story in the Oshkosh Herald pointed the Breedloves to the Oshkosh Tool Library, 300 S. Koeller St., Suite R, in Oshkosh. Nancy Breedlove figured they would stop by before they rented or purchased the equipment they needed. 

“We’re grateful that the facility exists and to learn that there’s all kinds of stuff here,” she said. 

The Breedloves are among 140 people in the Oshkosh area who are members of the tool library, which opened in September 2025. And the effort is picking up steam: In the month of June, the tool library recorded 51 loans – its largest amount thus far, said volunteer Jacob Klaameyer. 

A year of planning

Organizers, including Klaameyer, met at a Repair Cafe in Oshkosh and voiced support for a tool library and makerspace in a community survey. They spent a year making their vision come to life. 

The organization is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit. Klaameyer said its governance structure was intentionally established as an organizer cooperative. That means the volunteers who power the Oshkosh Tool Library have an equal say in the organization’s future, as do its members. 

If, for example, organizers found a new space and wanted to relocate the tool library, the decision would come up for a vote during a monthly meeting, Klaameyer said. Monthly meetings are open to the public, and organizers make the Oshkosh Tool Library’s financial records available on its website. 

“(For) options that are going to affect everybody, we would engage the membership,” Klaameyer said. 

Up and running

The tool library has more than 558 items available for community members to borrow. The most popular items include pressure washers, a wet vacuum and fans. Large pieces of equipment like a 3D printer, a CNC machine and a band saw are available for use, as well. 

One of Klaameyer’s favorite spots is the space’s “free materials” section. It’s a wall near the door with drawers of nails, screws, nuts, bolts, washers and all kinds of miscellaneous small parts people can take – free of charge – to complete a project. 

And people don’t have to have a project in mind to visit the tool library. The organization hosts free workshops led by volunteers, including sewing machine basics, intro to Linux, bat and butterfly house construction and bike maintenance. Community members can also reserve space at the tool library for meetings or gatherings free of charge. 

Volunteer Allegra Van Rossum, of Oshkosh, appreciates learning new skills directly from people at the tool library, rather than turning to the internet. 

“I think the best part about it is the social connections between people and the learning … Just having the knowledge of people like Jake or someone who will know ‘Oh you should use this tool’ – I think that’s underrated,” she said. 

Collaborative projects

Besides checking items off their own to-do lists, tool library volunteers collaborate on group projects. Their latest effort is called Make a Village. Klaameyer said they’re constructing a microshelter modeled after Conestoga huts used to house people in Eugene, Oregon. 

“We started this project because we want to not only have the tools accessible to our community, but also help these tools solve community issues,” he said. “And I just thought it was a great opportunity to both practice woodworking with others, but also have a tool for advocacy for that sort of change in our community.”

Once complete, the microshelter will hit the road on a trailer. Klaameyer wants to show the finished space to local elected officials to see if microshelters could be part of the community’s response to homelessness.  

That kind of collaboration makes the effort worthwhile for Klaameyer. 

“My favorite part is when people show up and we build things together,” he said. 

How to join

People have to be at least 18 years old to become a member of the tool library, and they must live in Winnebago, Outagamie or Fond du Lac counties. 

Loans typically run for seven days, though Klaameyer said they can be extended to 14 days. 

Members must sign a liability waiver and a tool use agreement. 

Tool library organizers maintain a calendar on the Oshkosh Tool Library website with workshop information and open hours for every month. Community members can drop in during open hours to set up an account, complete their registration paperwork and check out equipment. 

There’s no cost to join the tool library. However, they appreciate donations, Klaameyer said. 

Learn more

Visit the Oshkosh Tool Library during open hours at 300 S. Koeller St., Suite R, Oshkosh. It’s located behind Takiza Mexican Cuisine. 

Check https://oshkoshtoollibrary.neocities.org/calendar for a list of upcoming events and monthly hours. 

Community organizations in need of tools can contact the Oshkosh Tool Library by email at oshkoshtoollibrary@gmail.com. Klaameyer said the tool library has a surplus of basic tools community groups can take for free. 

Donate to the Oshkosh Tool Library online here. 

This story is part of Community at Work, an ongoing feature series focused on community organizations that make a difference in northeast Wisconsin. Who should we feature next? Email jzvandenhouten@wisconsinwatch.org. 

Oshkosh Tool Library helps neighbors build together 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.

Reading Time: 5 minutes

Click here to read highlights from the story

• Business owners and individuals have mobilized to provide food, water and supplies to those impacted by Monday’s tornado and to clear fallen trees from the area.  
• Wisconsin Watch spoke to several people about why they volunteered their time and resources. 
• Waverly Beach Bar & Grille distributed 500 box lunches daily through Thursday to help affected community members, who include its own employees.  
• Organizations like Operation BBQ Relief provided food to survivors and first responders to “give them just a couple minutes reprieve from all this.”

A walk around downtown Menasha reveals the heart of devastation after an EF3 tornado surged through parts of Neenah, Appleton and Menasha on Monday at 11:56 a.m., traveling 12 miles. Ceramic roof tiles lie shattered on the sidewalk, trees bend at unnatural angles, downed power lines block streets and roofs are torn from churches and homes. 

Community members are still recovering from losing homes and businesses, and thousands of residents remain without power two days later. But the neighborhoods hit the hardest buzz with activity. Chainsaws roar on every street as volunteers clear trees to reopen roads and protect what’s left of people’s houses. 

Roy Eckberg, a meteorologist at the National Weather Service in Green Bay, told Wisconsin Watch the tornado developed quickly as two storms merged.

“Typically, most tornadoes, you probably get a few minutes to maybe 10 minutes (of warning), but in this case, the rapid development was something I’ve never seen in northeast Wisconsin,” Eckberg said. “It was that fast. It was shocking.” 

Ben Clemmer, who lives just a mile away from severely damaged businesses including Mandersfield’s Home Bakery and Tony’s Bar, was working from home when the tornado hit. 

“It was pretty crazy looking. You know, there’s that kind of freaky storm glow that people talk about. That was very real … Seeing trees bending basically all the way over to horizontal was kind of incredible,” he said. “The surprising part, I guess, to me, is that there’s any trees left.”

Since he had a generator, Clemmer set up a phone charging station outside his house Tuesday so neighbors could maintain access to critical updates and communication. Downed power lines left the entire city – about 18,000 residents – without electricity, according to the Associated Press. 

He’s one of many community members eager to help disaster survivors. Businesses and individuals have mobilized to provide food, water and supplies and to clear fallen trees.  

Helping hands reach out

Jesse Hieb, of Muskego, drove his truck around the worst-hit parts of Menasha, handing out water and Gatorade bottles from a cooler with James Enderle, outreach pastor for Living Savior Lutheran Church. Hieb has experience with disaster relief, including when a flood hit Muskego last August.

“Pop’s (Pub) down in Muskego is trying to put together supplies from that community,” Hieb said. “They were hit with a flood last year, so they’re just trying to pay it forward. So we’re gonna go down, pick those supplies up, come back up tomorrow, do the same thing. Drive around with ice cold water, trying to just help people get through the day.” 

Local business owners transformed their restaurants into food distribution sites, like Waverly Beach Bar & Grille, which planned to give out box lunches from 1 to 4 p.m. daily through Thursday. 

Even though the restaurant wasn’t hit by the tornado, Operations Director Dion Block said many employees were impacted, and residents began using the space as a temporary shelter while waiting to return to their homes. He ordered 500 box lunches per day from his supplier Monday night and mobilized his staff to hand out meals and water on Tuesday.

“We range from people who just lost something like a fence or a tree that damaged their house to … multiple employees whose families lost their home,” Block said. 

Tornado survivors with no place to stay were bused to Christ the Rock Community Church, which continues to provide overnight shelter. 

Emlyn Thomas of Operation BBQ Relief, a nonprofit disaster relief organization, gave out bratwurst at a tent just outside Christ the Rock. He was serving food at a National Night Out event in Chilton on Monday evening when he heard news of the tornado. He immediately packed the leftovers, drove to the Appleton area and served first responders. 

“Tornadoes usually are very narrow in their focus; it’s a line,” Thomas said. “This was not that narrow. This was pretty wide. I have never seen a firehouse destroyed. Station 41 was leveled. So this is in some ways unprecedented.”

Operation BBQ Relief began in 2011 after an EF5 tornado hit Joplin, Missouri, and now deploys volunteers to disasters across the country to provide barbecue meals to storm victims and first responders. Thomas said his crew will stay outside Christ the Rock until Thursday at minimum. 

“We call it the one hot meal that matters,” Thomas said. “Some of these folks, short of it being you lose a kid, this is the worst day of their life. They’ve lost everything. Your wedding pictures are in somebody’s yard 25 miles away. Every possession you had is gone. We can show up and we can give them just a couple of minutes reprieve from all this.”

Chris Ghobrial, owner of 18 Acres Food Truck, drove up about an hour and a half from Watertown and was giving out smashburgers outside of Christ the Rock on Tuesday. 

“It’s just part of our outreach program to give back to the communities that are in need, especially because we’ve been blessed with what we have and want to reciprocate the blessings,” Ghobrial said. 

‘Learning to cope’

A curfew remains in effect from 10 p.m. to 5 a.m. for the village of Fox Crossing and the city of Menasha. A boil water advisory also remains in effect for some Fox Crossing water utility customers. As of Wednesday morning, crews restored electricity to parts of Menasha, but thousands of Outagamie and Winnebago county residents still lacked power.

Two days after the tornado, Clemmer said the community is grappling with the long-term implications of rebuilding. 

“There’s lots to do, and yet sometimes it feels like there’s nothing you can do about it,” Clemmer said.

“We’ve started to transition from the initial shock of the event to now shifting more fully into a recovery mode. It’s just kind of learning to cope, I guess, with the new situation, … what do you have to do to … continue moving forward.” 

Officials are asking nonresidents to avoid traveling to Menasha and not to self-deploy to affected areas. Winnebago County officials are circulating a resource guide with information on cooling and charging sites, food, Wi-Fi centers, shelters, medical equipment and ways to donate. Volunteers can sign up to be officially deployed at Volunteer Fox Cities or in person at 1478 Midway Road.

Miranda Dunlap contributed reporting to this story.

Volunteers mobilize across Fox Cities after tornado 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.

Reading Time: 7 minutes

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• The Pulaski Community School District summer school program attracts more than 2,500 kids – 68% of the district’s enrollment. 
• The free program has become a lifeline for parents at a time when affordable child care can be hard to find. 
• Students can sign up for fun classes such as cooking and swimming lessons. Those who need academic support get it. 
• One of the biggest challenges officials ran into initially was – ironically – child care for educators. Now there’s “a babysitting room” where fellow teachers and students interested in early childhood education take care of a handful of babies.

On a Thursday in early July, more than 1,000 children flooded the halls of Pulaski Community Middle School. Heaps of backpacks were piled in corners of classrooms and hallways. Bikes crowded the racks outside. At lunchtime, lines of children snaked around the building as they waited for hamburgers. 

Summer school: a phrase usually wielded as a threat to keep students on task in the classroom.

Not in Pulaski. 

For six weeks each summer, the northeast Wisconsin village’s middle school transforms into the “place to be,” instead of a punishment.

More than 2,600 kids — 68% of the school district’s enrollment — sign up for summer classes ranging from knitting and cooking to swimming lessons and science experiments. Students who need extra academic help get it, but the focus is on exploring new interests, spending less time on screens and nurturing kids’ creative sides in a way classwork doesn’t always encourage.

At a time when affordable child care can be hard to find, the free program has become a lifeline for the community. Signing up for classes is as competitive as queuing to buy Bruno Mars tickets, staff said — the most popular classes fill up in minutes. 

“You get to see a lot of kids from other schools that you don’t get to see normally,” sixth grader Xiomara Lloyd said as she strung beads to add to the stack of bracelets on her wrist, each adorned with her nickname, “Xio.” “I love it.”

The classes help students build a positive association with school, explore new hobbies, get offline and into the real world — and, of course, learn. 

“There’s a lot of anxiety and different things as soon as they get close to those (school) doors because now they’re asked to do a lot of things that are difficult for them to do,” said Pulaski Area Community Education Director Mark Heck, who leads the summer school. “But when we can have them come in and have great success and really enjoy it, that’s a win.” 

‘A little different type of learning’

Walking through the halls is like stepping between different worlds. 

In one classroom, students dressed in Halloween costumes have a dance party. In another, students take turns using American Sign Language to describe emotions. Upstairs, students cook pizza from scratch in a home economics classroom. And in the gymnasium, shrieks and shouts echo as kids play an intense game of dodgeball.  

But the chaos is organized — every classroom has at least two adults, and kids wear a badge printed with their name and their schedule, so adults know where they belong if they get lost. 

“Summer school is stuff that you learn new, like swimming floats, or you learn how to make diamond art, or even make hearts made out of clay … Summer school lets you have fun in the summer, if you don’t know what to do at your house,” said elementary student Ava Lentz. 

And it’s not all fun and games. Those behind in classes or on tests take reading and math classes designed to catch them up. Several teachers also host tutoring sessions.

But generally, the classes take a more creative approach. That includes a science class where kids gleefully partake in a series of science experiments — on that Thursday, they combined soda and Pop Rocks and watched the fizzy reaction. 

“It’s really great learning, but it might not be exactly what they’re learning during the school year, where (educators are) worried about standards, and worried about the tests that they’re going to be getting kids ready for, and things like that,” Heck said.

“All of those things are very important, but during the summertime we can do a little different type of learning.”

That philosophy has guided the program for two decades.

When Pulaski leaders launched the summer school 22 years ago, it was a small program consisting of one or two classes at several schools because the state would only fund a few hours a day. 

Busy parents begged for a full-day program. Not long after Pulaski schools started offering afternoon programming at a cost, the state’s rules changed. Now, schools can get funding for eligible programs all day, all summer long. So Heck dreamed of something bigger.

“I just had this idea in my head that was going, ‘I think we could do something a lot better than this.’ … I want to make a program where your kids say, ‘No, I want to go to summer school,’” he said.

Nowadays, they do. 

Kids beg to sign up to be where their friends are. About 68% of the district’s 3,800 students will enroll in at least one summer school course. Signing up for classes is “an Olympic sport,” staff say. Parents take off work to refresh the computer. They post to Facebook the night before registration, wishing each other luck. The best classes fill up in minutes. 

It takes a village

Keeping such a behemoth summer school running smoothly takes a village. But in the tight-knit community, it works. 

The district employs roughly 130 teachers, 25 classroom aides, various high school and college students and other community members to keep over 2,500 students busy. 

“When we hire our teachers … The first thing I say is, if you weren’t here right now, what would you be doing?” Heck said. 

Those answers often become classes. For example: A local farmer teaches kids about horses, even bringing in equestrians as guest speakers and taking kids to visit the farm animals. Two food service workers teach students how to cook. A hobby fisherman took students to different ponds in the area during a previously offered course. 

Running such a major operation has also brought challenges. It was tough getting all of the departments — transportation, food, academics — on board. But that’s much easier to do in a small district like Pulaski, Heck said. 

Ironically, another major challenge: child care. 

Many educators have young children who are too young to attend summer school but still need care during the workday. Without viable child care, they couldn’t commit to working in the warmer months. 

The district’s solution: One classroom is transformed into a “babysitting room,” where fellow teachers and aspiring early childhood educators change diapers, make bottles and keep a handful of babies entertained. 

For aspiring educators like Cori Adelman, who studies early childhood education at Northeast Wisconsin Technical College, the room offers hands-on experience working with young children. 

The program has become a workforce pipeline, too. Heck estimates about 15 young adults who first worked summer school have since returned as full-time educators either in Pulaski or in neighboring districts.

‘A lifesaver’

Affordable child care has become increasingly difficult to find, and securing spots in summer camps is notoriously competitive. For that reason, the free summer school that turns away no one has become a lifeline for local families.

Parent and Pulaski Area Chamber of Commerce Executive Director Stacey Von Busch said her kids have participated in the camp for years, calling its affordability a “lifesaver.” 

“To have something like this in our community, where we don’t have to drive 30 minutes to get our kids to (other camps), is huge,” she said. 

The district provides bus transportation for students who need it, and thanks to a federal grant, children can eat breakfast and lunch at school. 

While by law the school must be tuition-free, the district may charge modest fees for supplies, such as beads for making bracelets or yarn for knitting and crocheting. Course fees range between $0 and $40 for each two-week term. 

The school is funded by the state — Wisconsin schools can receive funding for summer school classes that meet certain academic requirements. Rather than paying schools a flat amount for each student, the state bases funding on the total instructional time students attend. Therefore, Heck is on a mission to keep enrollment high: More students involved equals more funding.

That includes everyone. Parents of children with disabilities often struggle more to find summer schools and camps that serve them, Heck said. He didn’t want that to be the case in Pulaski. 

Many of the district’s special education employees staff a classroom dedicated to children with disabilities. That includes those who require federally mandated “extended school year instruction,” an individualized academic program meant to stop students from regressing over break. 

“I look forward to this every year,” said special education teacher Tessa Badtke. “You just get to know them in such a different way because there’s not this academic pressure like at school, so you can just build these relationships.” 

And then, Badtke said, students have a better school year. Heck agreed. 

“What’s the win out of it for us? We got our kids to walk through the school doors and actually not be angry and upset when they came in,” Heck said. “They’re coming in and they’re happy. Our hope is maybe next year, when they come back in the fall, they’re coming in and they’re saying, ‘I’ll give it a chance.’”

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.

This story was updated to correct the number of students who attend summer school. Wisconsin Watch regrets the error.

A Wisconsin school district made summer school fun. Now 2,600 kids show up. 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.

Reading Time: 9 minutes

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• Newcap was a leading provider of homeless services for 10 counties: Brown, Florence, Marinette, Menominee, Oconto, Shawano, Forest, Langlade, Oneida and Vilas.
• The organization’s abrupt closure in March left counties scrambling to fill the gaps. 
• In Shawano County, for example, residents no longer have a year-round homeless shelter. 
• Furthermore, Newcap took the lead in three regional homeless coalitions, and its staff served in key roles, fulfilling responsibilities for Coordinated Entry, the point-in-time count and federal and state funding. 
• Newcap’s Brown County federal grants have been transferred to House of Hope and Foundations Health & Wellness.

It’s been more than three months since the anti-poverty nonprofit Newcap closed, laying off 90 employees and leaving more than 100 low-income households on the brink of homelessness. For Shawano County residents, that means losing their only year-round homeless shelter. 

At Safe Haven domestic abuse shelter in Shawano, Executive Director Mindy Lohff started getting dozens more crisis calls and observing more unsheltered people on the streets or in wooded areas.

“We’ve seen an increase in our shelter stays directly, we’ve seen an increase in the calls for looking for shelter,” Lohff said. “Unfortunately, if they aren’t actively fleeing domestic violence or sexual violence, they’re not eligible (to) stay here, and there’s nowhere for them to go in Shawano County.” 

It’s not just that Lohff has nowhere to direct unsheltered people in Shawano. Newcap was a leading provider of homeless services for 10 counties — including Brown, Florence, Marinette, Menominee, Oconto, Shawano, Forest, Langlade, Oneida and Vilas. In 2025, Newcap had the capacity to provide nearly 250 beds across those counties, from emergency shelter to permanent housing. 

These mostly rural counties have been rocked by Newcap’s abrupt closure March 31, which came amid financial challenges and leadership changes. Former CEO Cheryl Detrick was placed on leave shortly before the nonprofit closed its doors and filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy, revealing that it owed nearly $4 million to creditors. 

The nonprofit’s closure reveals how the loss of a single agency can have a staggering effect, especially in rural areas where resources for the unhoused are already few and far between. As a federally designated regional leader — or Community Action Agency — Newcap held the keys to funding for many programs and can’t be easily replaced by a single organization. 

Working together on shelter solutions

Shawano Area Matthew 25 is a seasonal overnight homeless shelter open from Oct. 15 to May 15. Newcap’s closure means Shawano County residents no longer have a homeless shelter to turn to during warmer months. Newcap also led Shawano’s homeless coalition, meaning it controlled state funding for SAM25. Executive Director Kendra Brusewitz said she’s still waiting on $12,000 in funds. 

Over the summer, SAM25’s resource center is still open, providing food, showers, laundry and other assistance. 

“We just continue to see an increase in the numbers coming through our resource center,” Brusewitz said. “Not having a place to refer people, families to in the area during the summer months is challenging.”

Without Newcap, nonprofit leaders realized there was no longer a way for Shawano County residents to access Coordinated Entry – a prioritization list that matches people with housing resources throughout the state based on their eligibility. 

Safe Haven and SAM25 teamed up with Shawano Area United Way to form a coalition, educating local officials on housing needs and brainstorming solutions. Brusewitz and Lohff took charge of signing people up for Coordinated Entry. 

“We’ve actually had clients getting pulled for the housing assistance because they wanted to move to other counties, so that’s been great,” Lohff said. 

They’ve also applied for grants to fund a housing coordinator for Shawano County and collaborated with Bonduel middle and high schools to make hygiene kits. The coalition’s efforts aren’t funded, nor are they part of anyone’s job description. But Shawano community leaders feel it’s necessary.

“A lot of us have lived here, grown up here, and we’re so passionate about it, so some of (the work) may be slightly out of the scope, but it’s so important,” Lohff said.

Support for survivors

Newcap’s grants allowed victims of domestic violence in Shawano and neighboring counties to obtain permanent housing, which is vital since Safe Haven is an emergency shelter, Lohff said. So far, no agency has been identified to permanently take on the grant. 

“The financial assistance for them to be able to obtain the housing has vanished,” Lohff said. “Within the realm of domestic violence, so many of our clients experience financial abuse … and that’s one of the reasons why they don’t leave that abusive relationship, is because their abuser holds finances over their head.” 

Rainbow House, a domestic violence shelter serving Marinette and Oconto counties, was similarly left as one of the area’s only providers after Newcap closed. Executive Director Courtney Olson told Wisconsin Watch she’s received a “steady increase” in calls since then.

Like Safe Haven, Rainbow House cannot respond to general calls for housing. As it is, its waiting list for domestic violence clients continues to grow, which means ensuring their safety in other ways.

“In response to these long waits, we are working hard to keep survivors safe in their own homes whenever possible,” Olson wrote in an email. “That means offering more on the security side (cameras, cell phones, panic alarms, lock replacements, temporary restraining orders) and working with landlords to remove the person causing harm from a lease rather than displacing the survivor.”

A ‘long, slow road’

Regional Continuum of Care programs distribute federal funding for homeless shelters. Milwaukee, Dane and Racine counties have their own CoCs, while the Balance of State CoC oversees the rest of Wisconsin through regional coalitions. 

Although based in Brown County, Newcap also served as the lead agency for the Wisconsin Balance of State’s Northeast Coalition — in Florence, Marinette, Menominee, Oconto and Shawano counties — and the NWISH Coalition – made up of Forest, Langlade, Oneida, and Vilas counties. 

The loss of Newcap comes at a time when national funding for Continuum of Care programs is already uncertain. President Donald Trump’s proposed 2027 fiscal year budget would eliminate the Continuum of Care program, reducing all homeless assistance funding by $400 million. 

Meanwhile, the 2026 budget will require the Wisconsin Balance of State to compete with Continuum of Care programs nationwide for a greater portion of funding based on the Trump administration’s priorities. An estimated 1,287 people could lose their housing in Wisconsin, according to the National Alliance to End Homelessness. 

The Balance of State is acting as a temporary lead for the Northeast and NWISH coalitions, ensuring the “point-in-time” homeless count happens – an essential step to securing federal funding – and filling vacant board positions. 

Balance of State homeless systems manager Ryan Graham said they’re essentially starting from square one, and they won’t be able to replace Newcap easily. 

“Now, it’s about, ‘How do we rebuild some kind of homeless response in that area?’ because the agency that pretty much did all of that and provided the capacity to do it is no longer there,” Graham said. “They were the coalition lead, they were the point-in-time lead, they were the state funding lead.” 

Graham has been impressed by organizations like Safe Haven and SAM25 stepping up, but finding an organization qualified to take on Newcap’s responsibilities is still hard. 

“It’s going to be a long, slow road, “ Graham said. “Hopefully, it won’t be too slow, but we’re really starting from scratch in a lot of areas, especially in the Northeast and NWISH Coalition, as far as building a homeless response system.”

Federal grants transferred to Brown County nonprofits

Even in Brown County, where organizations do exist to take on Newcap’s clients, it’s still not that simple. 

When Newcap closed, the 134 households that depended on federally funded programs were immediately put at risk of homelessness. Public officials advocated to get four federal grants transferred to local organizations and waited nearly a month after Newcap’s closure to receive confirmation from the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development. 

House of Hope in Green Bay will take on three of the four grants, but Director of Community Engagement Beth Hudak said it’s collaborating with multiple Brown County agencies to manage cases for Newcap’s former clients. 

“One of the biggest lessons we learned … is that when one agency holds all of the funding – does all of the work – when something happens, our community is devastated by it,” Hudak said. “What we really want to make sure we’re emphasizing in the future is having many, many more organizations involved in all of this work.” 

House of Hope’s primary mission is to serve homeless youth — not to provide permanent housing for adults, which some of the grants stipulate. But according to Hudak, HUD said House of Hope was the only agency qualified to take on the grants. 

“I don’t think we really had an option … HUD said that it was either us or the contracts would go to other parts of the state,” Hudak said.  

House of Hope will personally take over a $440,000 grant for youth rapid rehousing in Brown County. Through working with other agencies, it hopes to find subrecipients for a $1.1 million permanent supportive housing grant for individuals in Brown County. 

The third grant was specifically designated for supportive housing in rural northeast Wisconsin. Hudak said House of Hope is working closely with the Balance of State’s Northeast and NWISH coalitions even though they have yet to receive access to the grant funds.

Foundations Health & Wholeness, also based in Green Bay and primarily serving youth, will take on the fourth direct federal grant from Newcap, which provides nearly $300,000 for a youth mobile outreach program. 

Jackie Baumgart, director of Foundations Youth Services, said the grant fits into the work they’re already doing: engaging with homeless youth where they’re at since their access to transportation is often limited. 

“Why we were approached for this is because we do community-based services, and we don’t have specific offices where everybody works,” Baumgart said. “So our staff are out in the community … Our hope is to have a counselor go out and do a mental health check-in with young people that wouldn’t otherwise be able to access these services.” 

The organization will also take over Coordinated Entry for the NWISH and Northeast coalitions, filling another gap left by Newcap. Baumgart said her nonprofit plans to operate with more transparency and collaboration with other organizations. 

“My vision for what to do versus what has been done is to change it up a little bit and make it a more publicly known list for housing … I really want to make sure that we are teaching other organizations how to use it, when to use it, how to take people off of it, when to put people on, so that it’s not us doing all the work,” she said. 

Moving forward

In Green Bay, Newcap’s closure has made way for a unique new homeless shelter that takes in people who have been banned from other shelters in Brown County. Although controversial, Safe Haven Hope Center received a permit in May to use one of Newcap’s former buildings to shelter 19 individuals. 

Safe Haven technically rents the property from Newcap, which means Executive Director Cathi Oreto isn’t sure if it will be able to keep the property as Newcap liquidates its assets. But for now, she’s moving forward with a harm-reduction approach, offering a community-centered shelter with an extremely forgiving policy.

“We know that we’re going to have to ask people to leave, but when we ask them to leave, we’re going to ask them — and we have asked them — to leave for today and come back tomorrow,” Oreto said. “It doesn’t matter if it’s the first time, 10th time, or one millionth time, our exit strategy is the same.” 

Meanwhile, a Brown County coalition is making sure the point-in-time count still happens on the night of July 22. Although Newcap led the point-in-time count for the past five years, Hudak said some Brown County Homeless and Housing Coalition members have participated for decades. 

“I think we have it pretty well handled,” Hudak said. “One of the biggest issues that we’re coming across is just sort of a lack of data transfer, so some of the more in-depth information that Newcap had, we don’t necessarily have access to because of how quickly they closed.” 

In the future, Hudak said they’ll make sure the entire coalition has access to PIT documentation, instead of just one organization. It’s part of a broader effort to build interdependence between local anti-poverty nonprofits to minimize the impact of one closing. 

That network includes community members, too. Hudak said volunteers are always needed, and anyone who cares about homelessness can provide a fresh perspective. The NWISH and Northeast coalitions are also looking for members.

“All of our coalitions are always looking for more people to be in and support the work, and you don’t have to be a service provider to do that … Having outside perspectives is hugely, hugely important for making sure that we’re doing the best work that we can for the people that we serve,” she said.

‘There’s nowhere for them to go’: Newcap closure leaves northeast Wisconsin counties scrambling to prevent more homelessness 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.

Reading Time: 5 minutes

When 15-year-old Amelia Culotta stepped into the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, her whole world transformed. 

Walking through the airport’s 400-foot display of Atlanta’s role in the civil rights movement and African American culture, she saw her history reflected back at her for the first time.

“There was more history on one wall than I’ve ever had in school,” Amelia said. “Like, ever.”

Growing up in Green Bay, she was used to being one of the only Black girls in her grade and had never visited a city like Atlanta. Seeing the racial diversity among people living there was a culture shock in the best way.

“Before then, I just felt like, ‘Oh, this is how everything goes, my small world is how all the rest of the world is,’” Amelia said. “It didn’t feel real when I was walking off the airplane because I didn’t realize how much life I haven’t seen, and I was missing.” 

Moments like these are why Rhonda Chandler created Lovin’ the Skin I’m In, a nonprofit dedicated to supporting and empowering girls of color in northeast Wisconsin by giving them experiences like Amelia’s.

Small group meetings grow into nonprofit 

When Chandler moved to De Pere with her husband more than a decade ago, they were the first Black family in their neighborhood. For her three kids, transitioning from Charlotte, North Carolina, to a school district with less than 2% Black enrollment wasn’t easy.

“When we sent our children off to school, that’s when they started having a lot of challenges … It started with name calling, all of the things, microaggressions, etc.,” Chandler said. “My oldest daughter … really had a hard time struggling to fit in, finding her people, being accepted.” 

Chandler knew something had to change a few years later when her youngest daughter started experiencing the same bullying and microaggressions.

“I vowed I was going to do something different,” Chandler said. “I was not going to have the same pattern repeated that my older daughter had, so I kind of went into action mode.” 

At first, she started inviting other Black families who shared her daughter’s experiences to her home for monthly meetings in her basement. In 2020, Lovin’ the Skin I’m In was officially established as a nonprofit, motivated by nationwide protests against police brutality and racial injustice. 

“During George Floyd and Breonna Taylor’s murder is when it was kind of like an ‘aha’ moment for me, and I was like, this is bigger than just my girls, or just keeping it in my basement,” Chandler said. 

A 2014 report by the Annie E. Casey Foundation ranked Wisconsin as the worst state in which to raise African American children based on test scores, employment and poverty rates. Not much has since changed. In 2026, Wisconsin ranked 8th overall for child well-being, but had the worst racial disparities for Black and white children in the country for metrics like children living in high-poverty areas or not graduating on time.

And the school district Chandler lives in – De Pere – still enrolls less than 2% Black students a decade later, according to data from the state Department of Public Instruction. 

Having been a social worker for about 30 years, Chandler strives to provide a welcoming environment that girls may not feel at school. 

Lovin’ the Skin I’m In now runs regular meetings during the school year at local elementary, middle and high schools, providing peer support and cultural education. Guest speakers have taught students about hair care, career development and mental health, and field trips include going to see DRUMLine Live, based on the marching band tradition at historically Black colleges and universities.

The Women’s Fund of the Greater Green Bay Community Foundation awarded Chandler the 2026 Nancy Armbrust Impact Award for her service to over 700 community members in northeast Wisconsin, and her organization continues to grow. Last month, Lovin’ the Skin I’m In launched a weeklong summer camp for elementary and middle school students called the Summer of She. Students learned sailing with Green Bay Sail & Paddle or entrepreneurship at a local Black-owned business, developing new skills and building community.

Having outgrown Chandler’s basement, families meet monthly at Life Church in De Pere. She said the group doesn’t shy away from hard topics in their discussions. 

“We have hard conversations, so sometimes that can be challenging … We talk about how the issues with immigration may affect our families, or what’s happening at school, or the political climate, and the mistreatment in our community and in our world,” Chandler said. “We talk about those things because it’s life and it’s going to affect our family.” 

‘They don’t have to limit themselves’

Prior to her trip to Atlanta, Amelia had been participating in these support groups since elementary school. Now a rising sophomore at De Pere High School and a member of the school’s Black Student Union, she’s seen the program grow up with her in the years since Chandler started it. 

“What we were talking about was just learning about self-confidence and being a part of a (predominantly white institution) … I’ve learned that being an African American girl in Wisconsin isn’t easy,” she said, “but it also gives me the voice to teach and to also learn.” 

Her trip to Georgia in March was part of Lovin’ the Skin I’m In’s second annual cohort introducing a group of a dozen high schoolers to HBCUs such as Clark Atlanta University, Fort Valley State University and Spelman College.

“It was so shocking, just stepping into the airport, the difference in the community … I was like, oh my gosh, I’m in a whole different world,” Amelia said. “And I feel safe for the first time in a long time.” 

As a graduate of Clark Atlanta herself, Chandler facilitated visits with Black sororities and plans to continue working with seniors on college applications, letters of recommendation and scholarships. 

“Some of our girls had never been on an airplane before, haven’t been out of state, any of that,” Chandler said. “So giving them that opportunity and … them being able to go and see those universities where there’s representation and know that they don’t have to limit themselves – they can go to school out of state.” 

The trip was an eye-opening moment that empowered Amelia to keep speaking out against institutional racism. Seeing historical exhibits like the one in Atlanta made her even more aware of the flaws in the education system.

“I think people struggle understanding things because they aren’t taught things, and the problem isn’t because of them, the problem is because of what they’ve been taught … I sit with the remarks and the hate every single day,” Amelia said, “and being a part of Lovin’ the Skin was good because it taught me how to deal with that.” 

Amelia also hopes to continue the legacy of Chandler’s daughter, who was the president of De Pere’s Black Student Union. She wants to help organize an assembly with guest speakers that would teach students about the impact of racism. 

“Do people know what racism is? Not really,” Amelia said. “They know the word. It just sticks out – it’s like a big bad word – but no one really knows what it’s associated to, where it came from, how it impacts people of color. That was never taught.”

This story is part of Community at Work, an ongoing feature series focused on community organizations that make a difference in northeast Wisconsin. Who should we feature next? Email jzvandenhouten@wisconsinwatch.org.

‘I feel safe for the first time’: Brown County nonprofit uplifts girls of color 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.

Reading Time: 6 minutes

Editor’s note: This story discusses suicide. If you or someone you know may be experiencing a mental health crisis, contact the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by dialing “988.” 

Laurie Doxtator hasn’t been sleeping well lately. 

That’s been the case since she moved out of Amanda’s House last fall. 

She spent nearly three years working toward her sobriety at the long-term, sober living home for women and their children in Green Bay. She also became a leader — helping housemates navigate the communal quarters and feel supported. She was three years sober from alcohol, eight years sober from heroin and free of all other drugs when she left.

But Doxtator has hit bumps along her sobriety journey since moving in with her older brother, less than seven miles away on the Oneida Reservation, where she’s an enrolled Oneida Nation member. 

While still avoiding heroin and alcohol, she recently began smoking marijuana again — about once a day to ease her grief. That’s typical with recovery. Progress rarely moves in a straight line. 

As Wisconsin Watch reported last year while chronicling her move out from Amanda’s House, grief has remained an undercurrent for Doxtator, who has endured losing a range of family members.

But joy and fulfillment have been there, too — including at Amanda’s House, where she learned to cope through a daily routine marked by affirmations. 

She knew leaving wouldn’t be easy. Establishing new routines would take time. Moving in with her brother meant returning to where she previously used substances and was surrounded by negative influences. 

“I wish I could just go and hide,” Doxtator said. 

But she now has tools to cope and move forward, and she has support from outside of Amanda’s House. That includes visits to the Recovery Nest, part of the Oneida Comprehensive Health Division, which offers holistic healing and growth for those seeking recovery. It’s a place to process her emotions and connect with coaches who can relate. 

“I had a slipup in my journey but it happens, it happens no matter what,” she said. “I’ll get back on track. 

‘Deep down I hurt’ 

While crafting a turtle medicine wheel at a Recovery Nest event in May, Doxtator left the room in tears. The pit-pattering of rain against the window had stopped as the dark blue-and-gray sky outside gave way to sunshine. 

Doxtator sat at a table surrounded by her fellow recoverees, including coaches Stephanie Skenandore and Kristy Bedolla. A volunteer prepared “Indian tacos” featuring made-from-scratch fry bread. As part of a cleansing routine, the recoverees passed around a shell with burned sage, a process called smudging that’s intended to rid evil and negativity from the room. The women teased each other like family.

“I laugh and giggle but deep down I hurt,” Doxtator said. 

Doxtator had just learned of another family member’s death. This time, a cousin. That’s why she attended that evening’s Recovery Nest gathering. She recognizes that trauma and grief can spiral into old habits if not addressed. A day earlier was the one-year anniversary of her brother Earl’s death. 

“I better get over here before my mind starts wandering,” Doxtator recalled telling herself that morning. 

She planned to attend her cousin’s funeral that evening. It would be a traditional Oneida Nation arrangement, similar to ceremonies for Earl and the two children she lost. 

As Doxtator’s 62nd birthday approached, she stared down a maze of dates marking the deaths of loved ones. Spring and summer are particularly hard each year, Doxtator said. She lost her mother and a son in those seasons, too. 

Paula Jolly, who co-founded the Mandolin Foundation with her daughter and later opened Amanda’s House after her daughter’s overdose death, understands the difficulties of grief and loss — especially as she helps people facing the same hardships her daughter faced. She jokingly warns people not to interrupt her when she’s cleaning her office — it’s how she copes with frustration. 

Jolly has never struggled with addiction herself, but she regularly attends 12-step meetings. She just finished two years of therapy after realizing that the characteristics of alcoholism and family dysfunction she experienced growing up had carried into her own life.

“Everyone’s like, ‘oh my gosh, I can’t believe you’ve been through all that and you keep moving,’” Jolly said. “I don’t have any choice. This is what I was put here for. I just do the best I can. Some days are messy, that’s just the way it is.” 

A familiar face on the road 

Challenges like Doxtator’s prompted Recovery Nest to start in the first place.

The need for a safe place to connect with others in recovery while leaving toxic influences behind illustrates why Recovery Nest still matters, Skenandore said. Drawing on her own experience with addiction and recovery, Skenandore understands what it takes to stay sober and how easy it is to return to substance use patterns. 

Skenandore and Doxtator share more than a commitment to recovery. They’re also cousins who have known each other since childhood, even bowling together in a league at Red Carpet Lanes in Green Bay. 

“I get to tell some of my cousins, they can’t get rid of me no matter what because they’re a cousin on both sides,” Skenandore said, laughing. 

In her Recovery Nest role, Skenandore wants to make sure Doxtator and her peers know they have supporters who back them no matter what. 

“We’re not a treatment, we’re just here to walk with them and be that extra support for them.”

When working with Native peers, Skenandore builds on her understanding of the intergenerational trauma many tribal communities have experienced. Growing up, she thought the drinking in her family — and learning to open a beer can at an early age — was normal. Skenandore said she doesn’t remember what initially prompted her to seek treatment. 

“When I went, I went drunk, and I don’t remember the ride,” she said. 

“I never realized until after I became sober… that it really dawned on me how much trauma there is,” Skenandore said. “We haven’t been able to change it. It’s slowly changing, it’s not a quick change.” 

Even if it’s difficult to break cycles of intergenerational trauma in their communities, Skenandore and Bedolla see promising signs for the future as a culture of recovery and sobriety emerges in their children’s generation. 

A new look for a new chapter 

Doxtator’s hair is now even shorter than before. After moving out of Amanda’s House last year, she chose a new style to mark a fresh start. 

She previously taught a grief class at Recovery Nest and knows that participating in the program helps manage her recovery. She hasn’t regularly attended recently, but she’s planning to change that.

 “They miss me,” Doxtator said. Her coaches hope she will eventually lead the classes again, where she once led candlelight conversations. 

Living with her brother gives her more freedom than Amanda’s House did, with its rules and structure. But she’s not sure she was ready for it. 

Doxtator said she regrets restarting smoking, but she’s determined to break the habit again. “It’s up to me … I will get through this.”

Editor’s note: After being interviewed for this story, Doxtator and Jolly participated in a Wisconsin Watch Public Square community event, where they reflected on what it was like to share their stories. Read more here.

Laurie Doxtator faces recovery’s next test 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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• Students from the age of 11 to 18 can enroll at career-focused summer camps at Lakeshore College. 
• The June camps focused on culinary arts, manufacturing and information technology careers. 
• The camps introduce students to high-demand careers when they’re young, which leaders hope will spark their interest and help fill worker shortages.

In mid-June, roughly a dozen young teens wearing white chef coats lined up at stations inside a classroom resembling a real industrial kitchen. 

They gingerly cut slices of avocado, cucumber and mamenori — soy paper — before finally using a bamboo sheet to roll the ingredients into a log of sushi. 

Their instructions, delivered by a Lakeshore College instructor, looked much like lessons given in a real college class. But the students weren’t getting graded — they were attending the college’s summer camp, designed to introduce them at a young age to high-demand jobs in the region. 

Across the Cleveland, Wisconsin, campus that week, students between the ages of 11 and 18 learned the basics of culinary, manufacturing and information technology careers. It’s all part of a growing push by education and workforce leaders to expose students to high-demand careers long before they graduate high school, hoping early exploration will help fill worker shortages. 

In just three days, Haiden Taylor learned to cook hummus, tzatziki, pizza, and, her favorite, doner kebab. It was her second year enrolling in the camp. As she heads into her senior year of high school, she’s now considering culinary as a career.  

“I like working with people. I like working with my hands. I really don’t see myself at a desk job,” Taylor said. 

It all offers kids much more exploration and hands-on learning than Electro and Maintenance Mechanic instructor Kaven Lewis had as a kid. Then, people discouraged skilled trade work, he said. Events like the summer camp feel like proof that this is changing today. 

“It was … ‘Go to college, get an education,’” Lewis said. “Now it’s like, ‘Trade school, that’s where all the money is going to be.’ It’s kind of cool to be in the middle of that transition … It’s cool to see these kids coming in and being more interested in that blue collar, hands-on type of career.” 

Opening students’ eyes

On the other side of campus, a group of children between ages 11 and 13 appeared dwarfed by the cavernous garage they gathered in. 

The children focused intently on assembling a mousetrap-powered car kit, hoping to build the fastest car to win the drag race that took place in the hallway. 

The activity involved trial and error — one student’s car detonated at the starting line — but in the process, they learned how different factors impacted speed, torque and the distance the car traveled.

Down the hall, in the welding and fabrication lab, students learned to shape metal into spatulas. When they were asked how many of them took it as an opportunity to engineer gifts for the upcoming Father’s Day holiday, nearly every student’s hand shot in the air. 

About half of the students who come to camp are already dead set on what they want to do when they grow up, said Ben Reynolds, chef and culinary arts instructor. The other half have no clue. 

“It’s really fun to see the ones that aren’t sure, and then by day three they’re like, ‘yup!’” Reynolds said. 

That was the case for student Claude Judd, a 10th grader who signed up for culinary camp just for fun. 

The lessons “definitely opened my eyes a little bit,” she said, and she’d now consider a career in culinary arts. 

Workers needed

Initially supported by grants and now funded by the college, the summer camps have been put on by Lakeshore for years. The subjects and careers students explore vary annually based on feedback from college faculty and the campers themselves. 

The careers highlighted this summer — including manufacturing, culinary arts and information technology — are among those employers in northeast Wisconsin have struggled to fill.

For example, restaurant cook gigs are one of the fastest-growing in northeast Wisconsin, projected to add 740 jobs between 2022 and 2032, state data shows. 

Cooks and food preparation workers in the northeast region made an average salary of $34,550 in 2025. Data shows such academic programs have mixed results in actually setting participants up to make more money. According to an analysis of earnings data from Open Campus and The HEA Group, not all culinary programs in the state lead students to higher earnings than the average high school graduate. 

In contrast, welding and metal working jobs are expected to grow by about 10% during the same period, adding 430 jobs. Technical college job training programs for these careers usually set students up to make at least $15,000 more than the average high school graduate, and sometimes up to nearly $30,000 more. 

Even if students don’t leave camp committed to a particular career path, college leaders say they’re gaining confidence and communication skills. 

“At this point in their collegiate journey they’re getting that question of, ‘What do you want to do?’” Reynolds said.

The philosophy that drives the summer camp program is similar to what Reynolds tells his teenage son.

“I don’t expect you to know what you want to do your whole life. I just expect you to go experience things and try things and find out what makes you want to get out of bed.”

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

Lakeshore College summer camp introduces children and teens to hands-on, in-demand jobs 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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Editor’s note: This story contains topics of domestic violence and abuse.

When Kimberly Johnson mustered the courage to leave her abuser, she hoped the Christine Ann shelter in Winnebago County would be a refuge.

Johnson said she didn’t leave her abuser when he went to prison for beating her, or when she got evicted because of the damage he and his friends caused to her home. It took her years to get away, and when she did, there was only one place she thought to go. 

What she didn’t expect was to be turned away.

Johnson is one of several domestic abuse survivors who, after what they describe as bad experiences with the Oshkosh shelter, left negative online reviews. Their stories raise questions about where survivors can turn when a shelter of last resort shuts them out. 

Christine Ann Domestic Abuse Services Incorporated, or CADASI for short, has long stood as a community pillar for domestic violence victims in Winnebago County. 

The center was founded in 1984 and renamed in 1991 after Christine Ann Schambow, who was murdered by her husband. That same year it moved to Algoma Boulevard near its current location a few blocks from the Fox River. In 2024, the shelter relocated again to a new 64-bed facility that provides legal and mental health services and up to two years of housing support.

When Johnson first arrived in 2024, she was assigned to an apartment with other women. She found a job as a cook at UW-Oshkosh and began to gain back some of her confidence.

But three days after she started working, she received a week’s notice to vacate. 

Johnson asked her counselor if she could stay until she received her first paycheck because she had nowhere to go. She recalled being told, “Well, we’re not a homeless shelter, (and) we feel that’s why you’re here, because you’re homeless.”

About two days later, after Johnson had asked her counselor how to file a grievance and discussed the situation with her roommate, who was also being kicked out, she heard a knock at her door. Her counselor, another shelter employee and two police officers were there.

Johnson said they accused her of threatening to “beat up” a CADASI staff member and told her she had 10 minutes to pack all her things before they would be removed.

Johnson recalled spending several days sleeping outside the Salvation Army in the freezing cold, before eventually being accepted into a homeless shelter. She said if she had not gotten into that shelter when she did, she would have gone back to her abuser.

Wisconsin Watch spoke with several former CADASI clients and domestic abuse survivors who reported being turned away, along with statewide advocates and government officials, about accountability for domestic violence agencies serving survivors’ needs. 

CADASI Executive Director Carly Hirsch said in an email that the organization is unable to respond to questions from Wisconsin Watch, but wrote in a statement that CADASI is “committed to empowering individuals and families, regardless of race, ethnicity, religion, gender identity, sexual orientation, or ability … by providing education, promoting safety, and offering compassionate support (while) always honoring the confidentiality of those we serve.” 

Former clients speak out

On websites like Charity Navigator and Indeed, CADASI’s shelter has overwhelmingly positive reviews for financial openness and working conditions. 

But out of the 62 service reviews for the shelter on Google, 17 are negative, and those reviews have overwhelmingly more likes than the positive ones. CADASI’s corporate office, which is listed separately online from the shelter, has only one review, which is negative. 

Wisconsin Watch confirmed the negative reviews with names attached were all from real people located in or near Winnebago County at the time. Among CADASI’s online reviews, three other women said the organization had kicked them out.

Jennifer, a single mother of three, said she sought support from CADASI sometime between 2011 and 2015 for an emotionally, financially and sexually abusive relationship. Jennifer, who wished to be identified by her first name, was often living in her car at the time.

She initially found the center’s programming to be helpful. She took a choice and consequences class with a former advocate whom she described as “awesome.”

“She would help me out when I was kicked out and didn’t have a job, but my kids needed something like a Halloween costume. She’d give me gift cards,” Jennifer recalled.

After that advocate left the center, however, Jennifer said things took a drastic turn. She got into an argument with her abuser, who told her he had contacted a legal advocate at the shelter. CADASI then abruptly canceled her services, refusing to speak with her or provide alternative resources because staff claimed a conflict of interest.

“Christine Ann has the right to decide who they can allow services or what a conflict of interest is,” she recalled the advocate telling her after repeated phone calls asking for an explanation. 

Multiple sources said CADASI used the phrase “conflict of interest” when refusing or withdrawing services, though it does not openly define this term. The nonprofit organization’s GuideStar profile says it has a conflict-of-interest policy, but it’s not publicly available on its website.

The United States Office for Victims of Crime says that “when a conflict arises between a victim’s interests and those of the victim assistance provider or program, the provider should verbally disclose the situation to the victim, refer the victim to an alternate provider, and/or consult a professional regarding appropriate resolution of the conflict.”

The experience ended up following Jennifer, who went back to her abuser. When she attempted to leave him again, she said Harbor House in Appleton, a CADASI partner, refused to serve her. 

She also said when she was hired for a job at Garage for Good in Neenah — a low-cost auto repair garage opened by CADASI and Harbor House for domestic abuse survivors that closed in 2020 — the job offer was rescinded the morning she was supposed to start working.

“Not only would they not help me, but now I can’t even have a job,” Jennifer said. “I finally got a job, and it was going to be good and I’ll make decent money so I’d be able to support myself, and I don’t have to go back. … And then the rug was just pulled out from under me.”

Jennifer didn’t talk to anyone about her experience with CADASI for a long time because she thought “no one cared.”

“The worst part about that was then when I left (my abuser) finally, permanently, I needed help, and I knew I couldn’t go to the Christine Ann center,” Jennifer said. 

Rejected survivors

CADASI is transparent about its inability to help all survivors in its community due to limited space — a nationwide problem as domestic violence shelters face funding cuts and uncertain futures. 

Advocates with Wise Women Gathering Place, a Green Bay nonprofit that provides culturally specific services to Native American victims of violence, told Wisconsin Watch that dozens of their clients have been turned away or abruptly kicked out of shelters across the state, particularly in the last few years. 

CADASI’s website notes that before the shelter moved and expanded from 37 to 64 beds in 2024, it turned away about 50 survivors annually for capacity reasons. But Johnson questioned that claim, saying her unit had five empty beds prior to her eviction. She said she saw two empty apartments on her floor and empty apartments throughout the third floor. 

Donna Prost said she was fleeing abuse and living in her car when CADASI turned her away in 2021. She said the shelter appeared mostly empty each time she visited, even though staff told her there was no room for her. 

CADASI declined Wisconsin Watch’s request for data on its occupancy rates, citing “the safety and confidentiality of (its) current and former clients,” though the shelter reports biannual point in time occupancy numbers to Wisconsin Balance of State Continuum of Care, which tracks homelessness.

Data from 2014 to 2025 shows CADASI has rarely been near capacity during the two nights each year the homeless advocacy organization recorded its occupancy rates. In half of the counts, occupancy rates were less than 50%, dipping as low as 13.5% in July 2022. The shelter has not exceeded 100% capacity during the counts since 2014.

A Wisconsin Balance of State Continuum of Care spokesperson told Wisconsin Watch a shelter might not appear full if it houses a family in a single unit with more beds than there are family members.

CADASI’s 2024 tax form, known as a 990, says the shelter provides families with private rooms, while single adults of the same gender may share rooms. The form also says the shelter does not limit how long clients can stay, though its website says housing is offered for up to two years.

Organization leaders did not respond to requests for clarification about the homeless counts and their bed capacity. 

After being turned away from CADASI, Prost returned to her abuser. “I had nowhere to go. I was selling my home at the time (and) ended up backing out of that,” she said.

She approached CADASI again in 2023 for help filing a restraining order due to an escalation in the abuse. She said CADASI was ultimately unhelpful — despite Winnebago County instructing people to contact CADASI for help with restraining orders. Prost ultimately completed her restraining order with help from the local library.

“I would probably have been killed somewhere along the line (without it),” Prost said. “I wouldn’t say (CADASI) was mean or anything like that … but both times they just didn’t want to be bothered.”

Carl, a 40-year-old Wisconsin military veteran who asked to be identified by his middle name because he feared retribution and wanted to protect his coparenting relationship, said a social worker friend encouraged him to call CADASI in 2018 for therapy resources after he showed her a video of his ex-wife verbally abusing him. He was hesitant to do so, half-convinced that he just had a “crazy ex.”

When he called the organization’s 24-hour helpline, Carl said it took time to convince the advocate on the other end that he wasn’t an abusive husband seeking help to stop abusing. Instead, he said, he wanted someone with whom to talk through his experiences. 

“I finally made her realize that, in my mind, I was a victim, and the response that I got will stick with me forever. She laughed,” he recalled. “She laughed at me and said that this was a women’s shelter. That they existed to protect women from people like me. (She said) men are not victims, and that I should just go check out the homeless shelter or something.”

Carl’s account was echoed by an anonymous online reviewer who said he filed a complaint with the shelter. 

The man said staff told him by phone he could stay after his girlfriend was arrested for domestic violence, but staff turned him away when he arrived because his presence would be a “conflict of interest” and that “women felt scared having a male stay there.” 

Studies show as many as 32% of Wisconsin men experience intimate partner violence, rape or stalking. CADASI’s websites and brochures say it serves “people of all backgrounds, genders, ages, ethnicities, sexual orientations, and abilities.”

CADASI receives annual government funding from the Wisconsin Department of Children and Families (DCF), the state Department of Justice (DOJ), Winnebago County Health and Human Services, the cities of Oshkosh and Neenah’s Community Development Block Grants and FEMA-EFSP. State law prohibits organizations that receive state funding from discriminating. 

Oversight and redress 

Some of the concerns raised about CADASI relate to a lack of transparency surrounding grievance and nondiscrimination procedures for clients. 

CADASI’s website says it encourages clients to report discrimination “promptly” after it occurs. According to GuideStar, a clearinghouse for nonprofit information, the organization “aim(s) to collect feedback from as many people (they) serve as possible” and makes additional efforts to collect feedback from “marginalized or under-represented people.”

The profile also says the organization has difficulty getting people to respond to requests for feedback because it lacks technology to “collect and aggregate feedback efficiently.” It says CADASI staff “find it hard to prioritize feedback collection and review due to lack of time.”

CADASI does not specify what its procedure is for collecting feedback, nor for addressing discrimination complaints or client grievances. CADASI declined to comment when asked by Wisconsin Watch.

Johnson said that when she asked an advocate how to file a grievance report two days before being kicked out, the advocate refused to explain the process. She still wants to officially report her shelter experience, but like many survivors in similar circumstances, has “no clue” where or how to do so. 

A Wisconsin DCF spokesperson told Wisconsin Watch that domestic violence agencies receiving DCF grant funds are contractually obligated to have a grievance process for staff and clients. If a client has completed the program’s complaint/grievance process and does not feel that the complaint has been resolved, the person can submit a complaint to DCF’s general complaint form. DCF lacks a complaint process or records database specific to domestic violence shelters.

Should DCF identify “instances of concern or non-compliance” with grant requirements for a shelter, DCF said the program agency must “take immediate corrective action” or work with DCF on a Corrective Action Plan in serious cases. If the shelter doesn’t comply with the plan requirements, DCF said it may terminate the grant agreement.

Responding to a Wisconsin Watch records request, DCF said it received a complaint about CADASI in 2019. The complainant accused the organization of sharing her address with her abuser, denying her shelter due to medical needs and not preparing her for her court hearing or helping her with transportation.

Currently, all DCF-funded shelters must provide temporary housing and food, educational arrangements for school-age children, emergency transportation, a 24-hour crisis line and an intake process for clients.

In response to the complaint, a DCF spokesperson said the agency had a conversation with CADASI and shared the results of the conversation with the complainant. The agency was “satisfied” with the outcome of the conversations, the spokesperson said without providing more detail.

End Domestic Abuse Wisconsin, a statewide coalition that works to “educate shelter and program volunteers and advocates, law enforcement, legislators, and community members to provide safety and support to survivors,” also has a multistep process for approaching grievances, communications director Elise Buchbinder told Wisconsin Watch.

When a client or survivor reaches out to End Domestic Abuse Wisconsin about a negative experience with a local agency, the coalition first tries to address the issue on a program level. The coalition may contact the agency informally to inquire about any problems, offer gaps in support and work alongside the agency to address survivor concerns.

The second step, Buchbinder said, is to bring the problem to the organization’s board members. The board is typically responsible for developing the policy, procedures and regulations of an agency, evaluating its programs’ performance and addressing client complaints.

Two former CADASI board members declined to comment for this story, and others did not respond to requests from Wisconsin Watch. 

Finally, if End Domestic Abuse Wisconsin receives many complaints about a shelter or agency, or if it is unable to address disputes locally, the coalition would contact the program’s funders and grant managers — including the DCF — as well as elected officials and the media. 

Buchbinder declined to comment on whether End Domestic Abuse has received complaints about CADASI.

The final option for survivors seeking redress is to contact the Wisconsin Department of Justice (DOJ), though its oversight also applies only to the shelters it funds, and even then is “limited” and “not regulatory” in nature.

When the DOJ receives a complaint about a domestic violence shelter, it first decides whether the complaint “relates to the terms and conditions of (its) grant” for that shelter. If it doesn’t, the DOJ either forwards it to an outside agency or returns it to the complainant.

“The DOJ generally does not have the authority to act on complaints regarding conduct that is not contemplated by the terms and conditions of the domestic violence shelter’s DOJ-administered grant program,” the agency said.

Discrimination complaints, for example, must be handled by the U.S. Department of Justice, but the Wisconsin DOJ typically assists complainants in submissions. 

When the DOJ finds that a grant recipient violated program conditions, it will typically work with the shelter or affiliated statewide coalitions to “achieve compliance,” sometimes attaching special conditions to grants or reviewing and revising the shelter’s policies.

In severe cases, the DOJ says it may reject future funding requests from the organization.

Some advocates argue that there is too little oversight or accountability for domestic violence agencies across the state. Shelters across Wisconsin, particularly in Winnebago County and the Fox Valley, have accumulated negative online reviews over the years.

Wise Women Gathering Place advocate and Oneida Nation member Julia McLester said many clients have faced discrimination from domestic violence agencies, including in Winnebago County. Advocates have called the police on clients and referred them to psychiatrists for practicing cultural rituals, discouraging some survivors from working with non-Native advocates altogether.

Nationally, more than half (55%) of Native women have experienced physical violence from an intimate partner. 

McLester has worked with the Wisconsin Coalition Against Sexual Assault to create a racial inclusion checklist for domestic violence agencies, but the idea hasn’t gained traction.

“Mainstream agencies need to be learning and growing and being accountable to how they provide training, trauma-informed care training, diversity, equity, inclusion skills, and accountability, how to check our own implicit biases so that it’s not creating harm to people coming in the door,” McLester said.

The aftermath of abuse

Buchbinder attributes the struggles many survivors are facing with Wisconsin shelters and coalitions to a systemic lack of resources for the survivors and agencies, rather than any ill will by the organizations.

“Our communities will continue seeing individual cases of escalated crises at the local program level due to an overarching lack of survivors’ needs being met,” Buchbinder said. “When an advocate is forced to say ‘no’ to (survivors’) basic needs due to lack of adequate resourcing, further escalation of crisis is too often a tragic outcome.”

Wise Women Gathering Place communications person Brenda John, who is also a member of Oneida Nation, echoed that statement. “The people who work in these settings, they care about victims … their resources are stretched thin as well, so they’re doing the best they can with what they have.” 

Nevertheless, they emphasized that institutional and societal responses to domestic abuse victims can inflict long-term trauma, such as feelings of shame and embarrassment that discourage survivors from seeking services. 

Following her eviction from CADASI, Johnson said she lived in a motel before being forced to live in her car. Now 56 and living with her mother, she struggles to find employment and lacks many of the resources needed to pursue her dream of attending college. 

“They were supposed to do everything they said in their ads,” Johnson said. “At that point I’m telling myself I am so broken, I don’t even know where to begin. And I need guidance, and I need help, and I’ve always been the type of person I will never ask anybody for anything. … I will not beg, you know? And that’s how they made me feel, like I had to beg for it.”

Jennifer said she felt like CADASI “slapped me in the face and victim-shamed me” and was “destroyed” for years after her experience. She remembers weeping in her aunt’s backyard when she was moving herself and three children into her aunt’s two-bedroom apartment. She called the suicide crisis hotline “too many times to count.” 

Though she managed to get a restraining order against her husband, Prost said that being turned away from CADASI made her life extremely stressful. The worry and fear keep her awake at night, even after her husband died in January 2025.

Carl said his CADASI experience was “shattering on a level (he) didn’t quite understand and wasn’t prepared to deal with.” Like Jennifer, he continues to coparent with his abuser without guidance.

Carl said a friend wanted him to go on a “warpath” against the shelter after hearing about his experience. But he advised against it. Carl doesn’t want the scrutiny and doubts anybody will believe him.

“Who are people going to believe?” he asked. “This one dude, or this shelter organization that has been active in the Fox Valley for who knows how long?” 

Still, many of the people Wisconsin Watch spoke with are healing after saving themselves from their circumstances when no one else would. 

They have gone to therapy, found jobs helping others and focused on building better lives for their children. By speaking up, they hope to raise awareness about how society treats abuse survivors and draw attention to the need for more empathy and transparency in the institutions that are supposed to help.

“I still have this dream in my head that I want to start my own shelter, get my own nationwide domestic abuse shelter going and not do this to women,” Johnson said. “It’s my life and my livelihood. How could you just disregard me like I’m less than a dog?”

Editor’s note: This story corrects the name of the local college in Oshkosh where Johnson worked as a cook.

An Oshkosh domestic abuse shelter has been panned online. Survivors describe what they experienced. 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 trend of older adults staying in the workforce is reshaping what retirement looks like in Door County. 
• Many retirees seek jobs in the county’s booming tourism industry, offering the chance for them to interact with people, as well as earn extra cash. 
• A local nonprofit organization matches older adults seeking work in Door County with employers. 
• Wisconsin Watch and Door County Knock spoke to several people over age 65 who continue to work for various reasons.

When James Carson, 72, retired to Washington Island a decade ago, he envisioned the next stage of his life as many do: leaving the workforce, volunteering, traveling, caring for his family. 

Instead, unexpected medical expenses and the rising cost of living soon forced him to pick up two service industry jobs to make ends meet. Today, he regularly clocks in seven days a week, logging 45 to 50 hours. 

Door County is home to one of Wisconsin’s oldest populations, largely thanks to its status as a serene retirement destination. But like Carson, more of those older adults and retirees are returning to work. Unwilling or unable to quit for good, they’re picking up jobs to afford the rising cost of living, to stay social and to become involved in the community. 

The trend is reshaping what retirement in Door County looks like today as people live longer and life becomes more expensive.

Carson wishes he would have saved more aggressively – he “was kind of naive” about retirement. He also thinks people have false ideas about what it looks like. 

“You cannot live on Social Security, and unless people have a very good retirement plan, they’re going to be hurting,” Carson said. 

Given Door County’s booming tourism industry, many retirees like Carson seek out hospitality and customer service jobs. Even for those not driven by finances, these gigs offer the chance to interact with others. But others simply continue their careers past retirement age or pivot fields.

To meet the demand from job-seeking older adults, local employment services nonprofit We Are Hope runs a program to match them with employers. Executive Director Kim Carley said the organization served more people in the first half of 2026 than it expected for the whole year.

“The need is definitely, definitely there. The majority of it is that social connection, but you do have that small population that financially they need to work still,” Carley said. “Not everybody in Door County is rich. The cost of living has really affected things right now, too.”

Wisconsin Watch and Door County Knock spoke with several workers over the age of 65. Together, their stories create a changing image of what retirement and aging look like today. Keep reading to learn more about their jobs.

James Carson

Age: 72

Job: Bartender

Former career: Amtrak conductor

Town: Washington Island

Why: Money

“Everyone wants to talk to the bartender,” Carson said. “I’m well-suited for the job.” 

Carson was not always a confident speaker. When he was younger, he stuttered badly. A fifth grade teacher helped correct it, he said, “and I haven’t shut up since.” 

Being well-suited for his job may be a good thing, but Carson did not think he’d still be working at 72 years old, especially not in Washington Island’s demanding summer service industry.

Carson and his wife, Stacey, bought a house there about 10 years ago, after he retired from a 20-year career with Amtrak. Stacey spent summers on the island growing up, and her parents live there now. 

He envisioned volunteering and traveling, and the couple would care for Stacey’s aging in-laws, he said. For the first year or so, that was what he did. Jim served on their church council, worked with a developmentally disabled young adult, volunteered for the island’s nonprofit Art & Nature Center, and gave back to a community he said welcomed them with open arms. 

“Until reality kicked in,” he said. The cost of living, including utilities, groceries and ferry travel, ate away at the couple’s savings faster than they anticipated. Jim needed eye surgery, then knee surgery. 

He quit volunteering and returned to the workforce, where he has remained for the last eight years. Between shifts as a prep and line cook at Nelsen’s Hall & Bitters Club and as a bartender at the Albatross Drive-In tiki bar, he works seven days a week during the busy tourist season.

“I’m working more aggressively this summer to bank against having to continue to work this much next year,” Carson said. But with the fluctuating economy, higher grocery bills and gas prices, that might change. Ideally, he would like to only work for another two years, he said. 

Mentally, Carson enjoys talking to people and has formed good relationships with the island’s youth — the Albatross is a popular hangout spot — but physically, the work takes its toll. The knee surgery made it harder to be on his feet all day and he falls into bed exhausted every night, he said. 

“I’m doing better than most. I hear about folks splitting or foregoing their medications and going to food pantries,” Carson said. “I’m not there yet.” 

Cindy Good 

Age: 71

Job: Retailer

Former career: Software and business consulting

Town: Sturgeon Bay

Why: Keeps her busy

Cindy Good plopped down on the chartreuse furniture clustered at the front of her store, The Naked Sheep Yarn Shop & Gift Boutique. At 2 p.m., it was her first time sitting that day. 

Good, nearly 72, is exhausted. But she said she’ll continue working “as long as my body will hold out.”

She retired at 70 after a career in software and business consulting. She once thought that she’d work part time at most at her age and take advantage of having more time to read books or catch up on knitting. But before she could do that, she and her sister opened a second venture: a yarn store on the west side of Sturgeon Bay. 

The store sells yarn, knitting tools and other tchotchkes. They also host classes, social knitting groups and crafting events. Good regularly bounces between handling orders for inventory, checking what’s in stock and helping customers with their knitting projects.

“There are days when I wake up and I think, ‘Oh God, why didn’t I just fully retire?’” she joked.

But in reality, she knows why: She feels the need to keep busy. 

If she quit working, her Social Security payments would provide enough money for her to live on. But she recognizes the rising cost of living that influences other working retirees in the area. For instance, no houses in the area are for sale at the price she and her sister bought theirs for. 

“We have friends that have money and they travel and do all that kind of stuff,” Good said. “That was sort of my goal, but I don’t have that kind of money. I was thinking I would do a trip a year or something, but now I’m here.”

Good loves Sturgeon Bay’s tight-knit feel and the downtown location of her business. In mid-June, business had just started picking up as tourism season began. By July, the street will bustle for their busiest month.

Maybe, she considered, once business is where she wants it to be, she might take those yearly trips.

Charlene Keith

Age: 68

Job: Door County Maritime Museum associate

Former career: Grocery distribution

Town: Sturgeon Bay

Why: Social interaction

Charlene Keith never envisioned herself retiring. 

Five years ago, she technically did. But she went right back to work. After two and a half years, she decided to finally slow down — but not fully. 

“If I sat home, I would just drive myself crazy,” Keith said. “I have to be doing something.” 

She reached out to We Are Hope, where MatchUp program leaders recommended a part-time opening at Door County Maritime Museum in Sturgeon Bay. 

Here, she works the front desk, welcomes visitors, sells tickets, stocks the gift shop, keeps tours running on schedule and closes the museum at night. 

It’s a far cry from her grocery distribution career, where she navigated difficult roles and recalled everyone around her being unhappy. Nowadays at work, “everybody’s happy to be where they’re at,” she said. Most of Keith’s co-workers are retirees, too.

“It’s just fun. It makes me believe that it can be done. I thought everybody was unhappy in (their job),” Keith said. “You hear people say if you have a job you love, then it’s not really working, and I thought, ‘Yeah, that doesn’t happen.’”

Keeping busy brings her joy. She enjoys seeing guests’ excitement over the museum’s exhibits.

Keith lives and shares expenses with her sister, so she doesn’t necessarily need the part-time wages to get by. But she sees why finances motivate other people her age. 

“It’s expensive to live, but people are living so much longer,” Keith said. “Unless you’re a millionaire and can travel, what would you do with yourself? I mean, I guess there’s people that sit around and fish for hours every day, but I’m not that kind of person.” 

Lee Engstrom

Age: 87

Job: First responder

Former career: Factory quality control

Town: Washington Island

Why: Keeps him busy

At 87 years old, Lee Engstrom is almost certainly among the oldest in Door County, according to county Emergency Services Director Aaron LeClair. He may be the oldest first responder in Wisconsin. 

Engstrom is a fourth-generation member of the family that owns and operates Sunset Resort on Washington Island. He grew up in Michigan and spent summers helping his grandparents at the resort. He always dreamed he would end up there full time.

That dream came true when he and his wife, Janet, moved to the island in the late 1980s after he retired from a 30-year career in a factory’s quality control department. 

Engstrom was not ready to stop working completely. He got a job with the local hardware store and did some plumbing work on the island. When he turned 62, he started getting Social Security and quit those jobs, but still needed something to keep busy. 

He became an emergency medical responder, then got certified as an emergency medical technician and joined the island’s volunteer fire department. Today, he spends 80 to 100 hours every two weeks on call as a first responder because he enjoys it. He also does maintenance and odd jobs around the resort.

At 87, he did not think he would still be working, he said. 

“I didn’t think I’d be alive,” Engstrom said. “When is it going to stop? As long as I feel good like this, I’ll just keep going. I have slowed down some, though … I’ve got fake ears, fake eyes and fake teeth. Everything else is original.” 

Unless there’s a rescue call, being on standby doesn’t take much time. Engstrom just needs to be dressed near the emergency services facilities in case a call comes in — easy enough on an island. He’s happy to be one of the responders on call during the day because many of the younger volunteers are working their regular jobs during that time. 

Engstrom focuses on patient care when he goes on calls. His primary objective is to make them feel comfortable and cared for once their medical condition is stable, he said. 

When there is a fire, Engstrom’s primary job is to fill the tender truck — a mobile reservoir that supplies water to hose trucks when fire hydrants aren’t available. Rural departments often use them. 

“I’m too old, and not as agile, to be going around dragging hoses and that kind of stuff,” he said. 

For a while, fewer and fewer new recruits became island first responders as agencies statewide saw dire staffing shortages. But a recent influx of younger people has changed that, he said. 

Financially, he and Janet are doing fine, and they have family who support and help them. But he enjoys his work — especially interaction with patients and knowing he provides a valuable service to his beloved island community. 

When he does stop for good, Engstrom said he might golf more, keep working in his shop and do what he can to help at the resort. He would also continue his daily cruise around the island with Janet, he added. 

“Whatever I’m doing, I enjoy taking the ride with my wife for a cup of coffee,” he said. 

Jeff Gildersleeves

Age: 65

Job: Door County Parks Department maintenance staff

Former career: Manufacturing plant management

Town: Gardner

Why: Money

Jeff Gildersleeves is no stranger to physical labor. The 65-year-old works for the Door County Parks Department’s “mow crew.” The part-time gig lasts from May to October, and he spends his days hauling equipment, mowing, trimming trees, planting grass seed, picking up trash and tackling other tasks to maintain the county’s parks. 

Gildersleeves’ first job as a teenager growing up in Door County was picking cherries and strawberries during summer. He loves the outdoors, and the work suited him well, he said. He went on to obtain a degree in biology and wildlife management, which he used to work for the Department of Natural Resources.

When Gildersleeves and his wife were expecting their first child, he switched careers and took a job at a chemical production and manufacturing plant in Milwaukee. He retired in 2021 and returned to Door County with his retirement benefits and a plan. 

According to Gildersleeves, a local company was offering an Employee Stock Ownership Plan. If he worked there for at least three years, he would receive his full investment and returns, enough to supplement his retirement savings from the Milwaukee job. 

Three months before his three-year anniversary, Gildersleeves got injured on the job. He needed surgery to repair a torn left rotator cuff, and that was it, he said. “I only got 20% of my investment back.” 

Today, the mowing job is replacing that lost income.

“We thought at 66, 67 we’d be able to sit back and enjoy life, but with the economy the way it is, and health insurance costs?” Gildersleeves said. “My wife has some hefty prescriptions. Social Security is not enough to live on.” 

The physical part of the job can be hard, he said. “You think you are physically fit until you’re out there doing it.” 

Beyond the manual labor, Gildersleeves guides younger employees. His supervisors value his experience, and he has a good rapport with the teenagers on his crew, who listen to him, he said. 

Doing something valued and worthwhile is good for his mental health, he said, but he is not sure how long he’ll continue. 

 “Until I’m unable to work anymore,” he said. 

He has a small IRA put away and a pending lawsuit against the Door County company where he was injured, but he said he doubts he will see any settlement money. He knows one thing for certain: He would like to remain in his own home for as long as possible. 

“I don’t want to sell off and go to a nursing home,” he said. “I watched my in-laws do that, and it’s not a good way to live.” 

Kathy Bandstra

Age: 76 

Job: Therapist

Town: Sturgeon Bay

Why: Is fulfilled by her career.

Kathy Bandstra returned to school in her 40s to become a licensed clinical social worker. Her sixth decade began before she paid off her student loans. At 68, she started considering retirement. 

“I retired in June of 2018 because my financial person said, ‘Don’t ever retire in the winter, because that’s too depressing,’” she said. “I followed his advice.” 

By the next month, though, she already returned to work part time for a private practice. A year later, she shifted to volunteer as a hospice worker during the COVID-19 pandemic. Then she moved from Racine to Door County and began volunteering at the area’s Aging and Disability Resource Center.

“I still felt like something was missing … It just felt like I could do more with the skills I had,” Bandstra said. “And I still had the energy to do it. And volunteering doesn’t pay you anything. I like making some money.”

People had told her that it was hard to find affordable mental health services in her new home county. She rented an office in Sturgeon Bay, opened her own business and offered services on a sliding scale to help people afford care. She couldn’t offer her services for so cheap if she wasn’t retired and receiving Social Security, she said. 

Now, at 76, Bandstra regularly sees several clients a day in person and through telehealth. She helps people through distress and trauma with cognitive behavioral therapy and eye movement desensitization and reprocessing therapy.

Continuing to work gives her the freedom to go out to eat, get a new car if needed and cover expenses that pop up outside of bills. If she stopped working, she might have more time for her hobbies — making clay pots, writing her memoir, doing open mic readings. But she would miss feeling helpful to others. She also feels her physical and mental health has improved because she keeps going. 

Bandstra believes people largely have false ideas about what retirement looks like. She thinks “it’s unrealistic to look to retire,” period. If clients continue to see her, she’d like to work into her 80s.

“I don’t know if some people would want someone that’s old enough to be their great-grandma,” Bandstra said. “But the people that stopped coming to me didn’t say that they thought I was too old or anything.”

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.

Emily Small is a reporter for Door County Knock and a Report for America corps member. Contact her at esmall@doorcountyknock.org.

Door County is a retirement destination. So why are more older adults still working? 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.