Home invasion: The Arizona Training Program at Coolidge is the only home some developmentally disabled people have known

At an on-site adaptive workshop, one older woman is having a new wheelchair molded for her. A physical therapist is present, as is a nurse, and they position her just so. Next, the master of the shop — a woman who's worked at ATPC for more than 30 years and knows the contours of each resident's changing body — begins the pour.

In a therapy room, one of the Arrington twins is positioned in a recliner designed to help him stretch. Around him, the lights are low. Being inside the room feels a little like being at a rave — there are flashing lights, lava lamps, and glow-in-the-dark decorations hung at every angle. No matter where Arrington or the other five people in the room look, there is something to keep them visually stimulated.

More than 100 of the people who live here are diagnosed with severe or profound disabilities, and therapy like this is how the staff keeps them active. No one spends all day in any one room. They all go to work, their retirement program, or therapy every weekday.

A tour of several of the living cottages reveals clean quarters, where most clients have their bedrooms decorated however they want (Spider-Man is popular here). Each room feels individualized with photos, some over 50 years old, of family members, and personal belongings such as china dolls (in a glass case) purchased for the residents. The facility just bought a $10,000, high-tech bathtub to help caretakers bathe their fragile clients. One cottage is outfitted for the sight-impaired. Three-wheeled bikes are parked outside others.

In the living room of one of the homes, a woman named Margie sits at a piano. Margie is thought to have autism, though no diagnosis was made when she was a little girl. If she'd been born today and treated with modern methods, her life could have been much different, staffers say.

Margie is probably a genius. She reportedly started playing the piano by ear when she was 2. She can play any song after hearing it once, the staff says. She has a piano at ATPC, but she wants a new one. Hers isn't tuned right, Margie says. The family and friends support group is saving to buy her a replacement.

On that same March afternoon, Margie sits on the bench, fingers poised on the keys. She has quite an audience today — five strangers on a tour and a few familiar faces. She grins and settles in to play.

As her audience quiets down, Margie presses the keys. The song is "Amazing Grace," and she performs every verse perfectly.

In light of how familial ATPC feels, it's easier to understand why parents, guardians — and some others — are so insistent it stay open.

Elliot Gory, the psychologist who has worked part time at Coolidge for 30 years, says the clients here are safe. He wonders if it might damage them to move so late in life.

"I get into every nook and cranny. The staff is caring, gentle, and they're skilled. I talk with staff who have known the client I'm working with for 20 years," he says. "There's always the risk of trauma if you relocate someone who is older. There are negative health effects and on top of that, these are people with developmental disabilities who are not resilient. They have difficulty accepting change."

A visit to Hacienda de Los Angeles, the only other large Intermediate Care Facility for the Mentally Retarded in the state, shows a place similar to ATPC. It's newer; one wing was just completed last year. It's also a lot smaller. The facility near South Mountain has 60 beds; 39 are full.

Residents at Hacienda all share bedrooms, most of which are considerably less personalized than the rooms at Coolidge, though no less efficient. The age range at Hacienda is different as well; it has residents as young as 6 and is equipped to take care of babies.

In the early afternoon, all residents are split into small groups to listen to music and work on arts and crafts. The facility has a playground adapted so that even wheelchairs can be placed on the swings. There's a pool, and a local Kiwanis club funded the construction of an apartment where family members can stay when visiting.

Aside from the location and the number of beds, it's not much different from Coolidge. But no one is trying to shut Hacienda down.

Hacienda's executive director, Bill Timmons, has led the effort at the Legislature to close ATPC.