Mission of Mercy
DONEGAL TWP — Although few around Chicora knew him, many had seen Billy Hicks on the road, walking 12 miles round-trip to town, where he purchased feed for a host of animals.
Hicks and his pets, both wild and domestic, had been living for 20 years in an abandoned farmhouse, where the floors have reverted back to soil and blankets hang in place of a door.
A wooden sign hangs over the door in hand-painted Arabic letters.
"It says 'In the name of God, the compassionate, the merciful,'" Hicks explained. "I agreed to have that put up because I thought it would keep me in a religious state of mind."
Compassion and mercy were demonstrated in April when Hicks met an 8-year-old boy. The meeting led to a snug new cabin built through donations by volunteers.
Unlike his previous space, Hicks' new home has adequate heating.
"That Warm Morning (wood) stove has definitely made a difference," he said last week from his quaint wooden porch. "I was always cold down there. I was always hustling for firewood."
The boy, Dakota Sweeney of Fairview Township, met Hicks through his neighbor and family friend, Ken Tack. Among few to approach Hicks, Tack began offering Hicks rides some years ago after repeatedly seeing him on the road.
Hicks, who estimates his age at 63, moved onto the secluded property about 1980. He was acquainted with the former owners, who sold it to a man in Kuwait.
Instead of offering impromptu rides, Tack eventually began arranging to drive Hicks to the store and bookmobile, a favorite destination.
"Periodically I would take someone with me," said Tack, 63, a retired pastor and member of St. Paul's Community Church in Fairview Township.
While visiting one day with Dakota, Hicks and Tack discussed the state of the farmhouse, showing signs of imminent collapse."The slate roof had gone bad (and was) leaking down into the sun-baked bricks. The brick had exploded in a matter of weeks," Tack said."He had hay bales holding up the roof upstairs," said Dakota, now 9.Returning home from the visit, Dakota approached his father, leading him back to meet Hicks."I told dad to come look at what this guy was living through," he said. "(I told him) the man's house is falling down — that he needed help."Somewhat surprised, Jeff Sweeney complied."Dakota's not one to play wolf with me. ... I knew I had to get up and take a look for myself. I said, 'Do you even know where this Billy lives?'""I'll show you. I know where it's at," Dakota answered.Although the drive was about seven miles with multiple turns on back roads, Dakota had memorized the way.A maintenance worker at the Butler prison, Sweeney, 46, saw immediately the house was beyond repair. After some discussion, he and Tack launched the building project."The first thing was to get permission to be able to do something," he said. That included going through tax roles to locate the landowner, already aware of Hicks' presence on the land. "(He said) 'That's fine. Do whatever you have to do,'" Tack recalled.Subsequent steps included approaching Tack's brother, an architect in Hershey, to draw up plans for a 24-by-14-foot cabin. Tack also introduced the project idea at a men's breakfast and to the Christian community through the East Brady Ministerium and the Petroleum Valley
Ministerium, estimated to include about 20 churches of multiple denominations.Dakota's role also continued. His pastor, Randall Forester at St. Paul's, was already aware of Hicks. To encourage support from his congregation, Forester called Dakota up in front of them to make a plea for help."In the community there are numerous people who need help. ... As a pastor I say that all the time. People kind of tune it our after a while," Forester said."Dakota said 'Somebody's got to do something,' and that was what spurred us to action. If a child can see it, why can't we?"Although relocating Hicks would have been easiest, Forester said building anew was the only option."He really didn't want to move anywhere else," Forester said. "He wasn't receptive, because he's comfortable where he's at."So a tiny cabin without plumbing was planned near the farmhouse, where the ducks and chickens could remain.Within weeks, donations came forward. Supplies were offered for the project, estimated to cost about $12,000. Due to donated materials, costs came closer to $2,800."If it wasn't donated, it was very inexpensively given," Tack said.Church groups and individuals then came forward with cash. Even Judith Oshlick, the Donegal Township building permit officer, waived the application fee.To facilitate "Project Safe Shelter," the township labeled it a temporary cabin with the agreement it eventually would revert to a storage shed.Those decisions resulted after presentations by Dan Mourer, Hicks' mailman, who along with Tack had been maintaining contact with Hicks."He's a special case. That's what warmed my heart," Forester said. "Just because there are laws and regulations out there, it doesn't mean you can't get things done."
When construction began on Labor Day weekend, volunteers emerged — as many as 20 at a time. Dakota's mother, Kathy, fed them from a tent-turned-kitchen on-site. Dakota continued pitching in."(Dakota) gave up football practice and football games to work on the project," said KathySweeney, 44. "This is more of a life lesson: for him to work on the project."The Sweeneys said word-of-mouth also drew aid, facilitating completion within two months."I was taken by surprise once it got started," Hicks said.Hicks moved into the cottage Oct. 23, with modest furniture gifted by merchants.On Nov. 1, the group conducted a formal dedication patterned after one Kathy Sweeney encountered during Hurricane Katrina mission work."We had 30 some people there for his open house and dedication service," she said."I presented him with a candle. Pastor Randall gave him a Bible. Dan Mourer, the mailman, gave him the key to the door."We sang songs. It was so awesome to hear Billy's voice singing."
