CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- Barry Copley had just seven cents in his pocket and the clothes on his back when he stepped off a Greyhound from North Carolina six years ago.

Addicted to drugs and alcohol, Copley had lost his six-figure job as a mechanical engineer and was out on the streets. He bummed money from relatives until his sister in Charleston got fed up and sent him a one-way bus ticket.

"I thought about suicide -- a lot," he said, seated at the dining table at Samaritan Inn, the transitional home for homeless men. "I called AA and told them I think I need some help. By the grace of God, the guy I spoke to worked here. He brought me over here."

That single phone call changed Copley's life. "It was unbelievable, a big house where guys cooked their own meals. I came here, got a new direction on life and took advantage of it. Do you know what it's like to be able to come in, open up the refrigerator and there's food?

Now 52, Copley has seen life from both sides.

"When career day came in high school, I didn't say I want to be an alcoholic, an addict and homeless," he said. "I have degrees from two universities.

"I had a big house, a boat, motorcycles, everything. I used to drive to work, and I'd see people on the street. I had no feelings for them. I thought they chose to be that way."

Then he became one of them. "Economic conditions, time, people become homeless overnight.

"You get into that condition, you're almost too embarrassed to ask for help," he said. "I'd dive in a dumpster to grab a half-eaten sandwich. I forgot what it was like to have a shower, brush your teeth."

Copley didn't get into the Samaritan Inn right away. There's a 30-day evaluation period, plus a waiting list for one of the 12 beds, said Debra Payne, director of the Religious Coalition for Community Renewal, which founded and operates the home.

"When people come in, they interview with staff and they interview with the guys, then they make recommendations."

Many, but not all, have addiction problems. Staff members make sure those with needs get proper treatment. Psychologist Mark Goldman coordinates weekly roundtable discussions -- the only mandatory group meetings -- while Marty Minter offers advice on finances and career development.

"She's helped make the shift to career jobs," McCormick said. "We don't want day jobs."

Everybody works or goes to school. They take turns making dinner, and fellow residents grade their cooking skills. Those who earn the most stars win gift cards, Payne said. "If they don't know how to cook when they get here, they learn."

Unlike many group homes, residents are on their own at night. Staff members go home at 5 p.m., but are on call around the clock.

"The idea is guys learn responsibility," McCormick said. "If they're not able to manage their lives between 5 and 8 in the morning, they're not going to make it on their own. And the guys help each other. That's the key."

The honor system has its limits, though. "We have a zero-tolerance program," Payne said. "If they go out and get drunk or use drugs, they're out."

Copley eventually earned a spot at the Inn. He found a job -- parking cars for a Catholic church. Bit by bit, he regained his self-esteem.

"You learn trust here," he said. "When you come here, you don't trust yourself, let alone anyone else. You learn to trust what Mark [Goldman] tells you."

CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- Barry Copley had just seven cents in his pocket and the clothes on his back when he stepped off a Greyhound from North Carolina six years ago.

Addicted to drugs and alcohol, Copley had lost his six-figure job as a mechanical engineer and was out on the streets. He bummed money from relatives until his sister in Charleston got fed up and sent him a one-way bus ticket.

"I thought about suicide -- a lot," he said, seated at the dining table at Samaritan Inn, the transitional home for homeless men. "I called AA and told them I think I need some help. By the grace of God, the guy I spoke to worked here. He brought me over here."

That single phone call changed Copley's life. "It was unbelievable, a big house where guys cooked their own meals. I came here, got a new direction on life and took advantage of it. Do you know what it's like to be able to come in, open up the refrigerator and there's food?

Now 52, Copley has seen life from both sides.

"When career day came in high school, I didn't say I want to be an alcoholic, an addict and homeless," he said. "I have degrees from two universities.

"I had a big house, a boat, motorcycles, everything. I used to drive to work, and I'd see people on the street. I had no feelings for them. I thought they chose to be that way."

Then he became one of them. "Economic conditions, time, people become homeless overnight.

"You get into that condition, you're almost too embarrassed to ask for help," he said. "I'd dive in a dumpster to grab a half-eaten sandwich. I forgot what it was like to have a shower, brush your teeth."

Copley didn't get into the Samaritan Inn right away. There's a 30-day evaluation period, plus a waiting list for one of the 12 beds, said Debra Payne, director of the Religious Coalition for Community Renewal, which founded and operates the home.

"When people come in, they interview with staff and they interview with the guys, then they make recommendations."

Many, but not all, have addiction problems. Staff members make sure those with needs get proper treatment. Psychologist Mark Goldman coordinates weekly roundtable discussions -- the only mandatory group meetings -- while Marty Minter offers advice on finances and career development.

"She's helped make the shift to career jobs," McCormick said. "We don't want day jobs."

Everybody works or goes to school. They take turns making dinner, and fellow residents grade their cooking skills. Those who earn the most stars win gift cards, Payne said. "If they don't know how to cook when they get here, they learn."

Unlike many group homes, residents are on their own at night. Staff members go home at 5 p.m., but are on call around the clock.

"The idea is guys learn responsibility," McCormick said. "If they're not able to manage their lives between 5 and 8 in the morning, they're not going to make it on their own. And the guys help each other. That's the key."

The honor system has its limits, though. "We have a zero-tolerance program," Payne said. "If they go out and get drunk or use drugs, they're out."

Copley eventually earned a spot at the Inn. He found a job -- parking cars for a Catholic church. Bit by bit, he regained his self-esteem.

"You learn trust here," he said. "When you come here, you don't trust yourself, let alone anyone else. You learn to trust what Mark [Goldman] tells you."

Fifteen months later, Copley "graduated." That was almost five years ago. "I found happiness. I have a home now, a big house. It's not a new house." He runs his own business.

"A lot of that comes from being here," Copley said. "I realized, if I wanted to get back on track, you have to follow the rules. One was leave the bottle and drugs behind."

Residents usually stay at least six months, McCormick said. "By graduating, they have to meet three conditions: Clean and sober, have a job, and a home.

"We've had years where 85 percent graduate, we've had years with 35 percent." Some fall off the wagon after they graduate, he said.

Matt, 25, (he asked not to be identified fully) hopes to follow in Copley's footsteps. He's the home's senior resident, with 20 months under his belt.

The Huntington native might have seemed to be on the right track -- he entered Marshall University at 16 and studied there almost three years -- but he found drugs early in life.

"I started using at 12 and was into very heavy narcotics by the age of 14. My priorities shifted from the white picket fence and 1.5 kids to the fringe side of life," he said.

"I ended up in a treatment center in Jefferson." But when he mouthed off to counselors there once too often, he was asked to leave.

An employee at the men's shelter in Charleston led him to the Samaritan Inn. He's working at a restaurant this summer and plans to pursue a degree in sociology, with a minor in philosophy, this fall at the University of Charleston. "I intend to do my graduate work at Case Western," he said.

"This is a program that goes far and beyond," he said. "It's different. I've seen people from all over the country come here to see how they do it."

Samaritan Inn has treated more than 500 men since it opened its doors in the former Knights of Columbus house on Quarrier Street, Payne said. She hopes many of those men will return for the center's 20th anniversary party July 17 and 18.

On Friday, graduates will meet for a private reunion at 5:30, to be followed by a reception at 7 for all former residents and board members.

The celebration concludes Saturday with a 6 p.m. dinner in the First Presbyterian Church Fellowship Hall. Tickets are $20. Folks who donate $100 will also receive a limited-edition print of a Doug Goebel drawing of the Inn.

Also on tap Saturday is the debut of the Wall of Fame, a plaque to be hung in the Inn's entrance hall. "It will say 'Samaritan Inn,' and have our motto, 'Do the Next Right Thing,' in quotes," McCormick said.

The plaque will honor graduates. "We have selected five people, those who are out at least five years and have a continuing connection with Samaritan Inn. Each year, we'll add names, two or three more each year."

Copley, a likely candidate, just misses out this year with fewer than five years since he graduated. He remains a strong supporter.

"If you tell people you're from the Samaritan Inn, you can get a job," he said. "There are other places you can go ... but there's no place like the Samaritan Inn. Anywhere in the Kanawha Valley, this place is viewed with respect."

For more information on the Samaritan Inn and its reunion, call Buz McCormick at 304-541-3327.

Reach Jim Balow at ba...@wvgazette.com or 304-348-5102.