When Jeremy Morris interviewed and begged for a job at the Sacramento 24-Hour Fitness, Manager Cory Copeland had no idea that his new employee was homeless and would secretly live there for the next three months.
There were so many complications and so many ways for Morris’ plan to go wrong. However, there was also everything he needed: showers, juice bar, lockers, and a nearby shopping center and grocery store. As long as he went to bed exactly at 10 p.m. and woke up by 6 a.m., and no one saw him crawling in and out of the play tube in the kid’s center every night or paying off the other two employees who were in on his situation, Morris was fine. He made $16,000 in commissions during his short-lived three months as a trainer at the fitness center. He was fired when someone saw him carrying a pillow across the gym.
With a little money to fall back on, he quickly applied for a college scholarship. It was a small southern school called South Eastern Louisiana, which he attended for a year and half before transferring to a bigger state school, Louisiana State University. After spending a semester at LSU, Morris’ hard-earned fitness money quickly ran out. He had no family to fall back on, no scholarship to depend on and no familiar, homegrown faces or friends in the region. It was a very low point in his life.
Morris was forced to move into an abandoned house in Hemmond, La., for the summer. The house was 150 years old, covered in cobwebs, and infested with rats and mosquitoes. He used one blanket to cover his entire body head to toe in order to avoid the pests and dust, despite the 100 percent humidity of Louisiana heat.
For two weeks, Morris survived on $60. He drank rationed Gatorade and consumed exactly one McDonald’s cheeseburger a day. He started throwing up and sleeping all day. His body started to cave in. One day, at a critical low point, he thought to himself, “If I died here right now, people wouldn’t know.”
Morris was not about to let that happen. He picked himself up and drove to Baton Rouge. He did not know where to go, so he parked in a Wal-Mart and slept in his car for three nights.
Morris then got dressed in the one outfit he owned – a suit. He went to the first church he could find: Greenwell Spring Baptist Church.
The senior men of the traditional, southern church were impressed by the young man who arrived early to church wearing a suit, only to realize he was living in the nearby Wal-Mart parking lot.
By the grace and good will of Greenwell Spring, Morris was lifted off his feet and onto solid ground. He was given a house, a job and a political connection. Tony Perkins, the 2002 U.S. senatorial candidate, was a member of the church. Perkins immediately saw potential in Morris and made him his personal aide.
On a whim of political activity and traveling, Morris visited Dallas. He saw the Southern Methodist University campus and immediately fell in love with the columns and grandeur of Dallas Hall. He still wanted to finish school and had a dream of participating in politics. Enrolling at SMU would be like crossing the finishing line of a lifelong race.
However, Morris’ race is far from over. He graduates this May with a double major in political science and history. After graduation, he will take a year off to work with “Tony” and then go to the Dedman School of Law.
Morris says his strong conservative values, business skills and sense of humor will give him the edge as a politician. Above all, Morris said, “When politicians try and show compassion for the homeless, they never truly understand.”
