Photos by Tanner Beggs

“It has been non-stop,” Carla Hughes says. It’s opening week for Hope Village, a transitional employment center on South Washington Street that’s home to three brand-new restaurant concepts. Behind the counter, a young woman steps up onto a stool to manage the cash register as she takes a coffee order. In the kitchen of the deli, behind large windows, employees prep vegetables for the salad bar. Next door, workers set out tubs of Blue Bell, preparing to open the ice cream parlor.

About half of those employees have developmental disabilities.

Hughes steps aside as a customer enters, allowing Tanya, an adult with Down syndrome seated by the door, to serve as the official greeter. Tanya quietly welcomes the customer, then walks over to Hughes for a hug. Her morning shift is ending.

Hughes gives Tanya her full attention. “Look at everybody smiling at you!” she encourages Tanya. Then she returns to the subject of Advo’s new public-facing businesses.

“I’m a social worker. I’m not a restaurant person,” she says. Hughes and the Hope Village team have been working hard to stay on top of the logistics of what was supposed to be a soft summer opening. It turned into what can only be described as a high-profile, community-wide launch event, weeks ahead of the official mid-August ribbon cutting.

“We certainly thought our community was going to embrace it,” Hughes says. “Obviously. They paid for it! But I never in a million years thought it was going to be this.”

She stops once again to greet Eric, an enthusiastic young man who was sacking groceries at United before he applied to work at the deli. Hughes then waves at Ben, a quiet man who first thought he would only be comfortable washing dishes behind the scenes, but has since begun working the cash register in preparation to work the drive-thru window.

Hope Village had been a dream of Advo Companies and the Advo Hope to Opportunities Foundation since 2012. Hughes, Advo’s founder and board president, and Jeremy Bradford, the Foundation’s vice president and development officer, have been fundraising for this multi-phase project since 2018.

The public was eager to see phase one of the project—these public businesses—finally open. They arrived in droves. They brought friends. They posted on social media about it. Teachers stopped in to see former students employed by Hope Village. College students caught up with former high school classmates. Parents of young children with a disability ordered ice cream—and basked in the comfort of a place where no one stared at disabilities, and where everyone knew they belonged.

“The challenge has been having enough food. And enough ice cream,” Hughes says. Blank Spaces had already completed large-scale murals throughout the campus by opening week, and thankfully most of the kitchen equipment was in place. But some of the furniture hadn’t yet arrived. Televisions and media boards weren’t yet operational. 

But the employees? The employees were hard at work, having a great time operating Special Blends Coffee and Tea Shop, Jeffrey’s Deli, and Scoops with Smiles Ice Cream Parlor.

The Hope Village businesses are the result of nearly $6 million in fundraising to create opportunities for children and adults with disabilities. It’s part of a multimillion-dollar campaign to expand the Advo campus beyond its original vocational workshop and residential program into something much bigger: Hope Village, a daycare facility, a print shop offering screenprinting and embroidery, an athletic complex and more.

Hughes, Bradford and the rest of the team introduced Brick & Elm to employees and guided us through the operations.

Special Blends is a full-service coffee bar serving coffee beans roasted locally by Palace Coffee Co., with a menu of espresso-based drinks including lattes, mochas, protein-infused products and pastries.
Special Blends is a full-service coffee bar serving coffee beans roasted locally by Palace Coffee Co., with a menu of espresso-based drinks including lattes, mochas, protein-infused products and pastries.
The pace at Special Blends is noticeably slower than most local coffee shops. That’s intentional, and most customers come in with expectations calibrated for patience. Hughes points to LaShonda, who’s operating the cash register. “If she has a hard time counting out the money, they’re not pushing her, so she’s able to learn,” she explains. When customers extend grace, workers like LaShonda gain confidence and valuable experience.
The pace at Special Blends is noticeably slower than most local coffee shops. That’s intentional, and most customers come in with expectations calibrated for patience. Hughes points to LaShonda, who’s operating the cash register. “If she has a hard time counting out the money, they’re not pushing her, so she’s able to learn,” she explains. When customers extend grace, workers like LaShonda gain confidence and valuable experience.
Tanya works a few hours each morning as a greeter inside the door of Special Blends.
Tanya works a few hours each morning as a greeter inside the door of Special Blends.
Several years ago, Hughes was giving a public tour of Advo’s workshop and group homes, sharing her vision. One of the visitors agreed about the need for the program, but asked, “Does it have to be this nice?” Hughes was taken aback. Her eyes shine with tears recalling that question. “Why shouldn’t it be nice?” she recalls thinking. If we want nice things for ourselves, she asks, why would we not want nice things for our neighbors with disabilities? “People don’t always see the value in their contributions. They’re not ‘less than.’ There’s so much that they have to give. For too long, they’ve just been put in the back.”
Several years ago, Hughes was giving a public tour of Advo’s workshop and group homes, sharing her vision. One of the visitors agreed about the need for the program, but asked, “Does it have to be this nice?” Hughes was taken aback. Her eyes shine with tears recalling that question. “Why shouldn’t it be nice?” she recalls thinking. If we want nice things for ourselves, she asks, why would we not want nice things for our neighbors with disabilities? “People don’t always see the value in their contributions. They’re not ‘less than.’ There’s so much that they have to give. For too long, they’ve just been put in the back.”
In its vocational workshop, Advo contracts with a number of businesses to perform labor-intensive tasks, from sorting clothing to shredding documents. It provides meaningful work and income for adults with disabilities, but it also takes place in a private, controlled environment. “It’s kind of behind the walls. This is very public,” Hughes says. “That’s exactly why we did this. Everything that happens in the workshop, we control it. We can intervene.” The community engagement side of Hope Village removes that luxury—and it’s for the benefit of employees, who gain experience in a real-world environment characterized by unpredictable customer interactions. Hope Village puts adults with disabilities right in the center of customer interactions. “A couple of people we have working here now have had community jobs that had been unsuccessful,” Hughes says. “The reason they’ve been unsuccessful is because of an interaction, either with a coworker or a customer, that just demolished their self-esteem. That was my biggest fear. But I think everybody coming here understands the vision and has embraced the vision. They’re coming with a different mindset.”
In its vocational workshop, Advo contracts with a number of businesses to perform labor-intensive tasks, from sorting clothing to shredding documents. It provides meaningful work and income for adults with disabilities, but it also takes place in a private, controlled environment. “It’s kind of behind the walls. This is very public,” Hughes says. “That’s exactly why we did this. Everything that happens in the workshop, we control it. We can intervene.” The community engagement side of Hope Village removes that luxury—and it’s for the benefit of employees, who gain experience in a real-world environment characterized by unpredictable customer interactions. Hope Village puts adults with disabilities right in the center of customer interactions. “A couple of people we have working here now have had community jobs that had been unsuccessful,” Hughes says. “The reason they’ve been unsuccessful is because of an interaction, either with a coworker or a customer, that just demolished their self-esteem. That was my biggest fear. But I think everybody coming here understands the vision and has embraced the vision. They’re coming with a different mindset.”
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Scoops with Smiles Ice Cream Parlor exclusively serves Blue Bell ice cream. Don’t miss the cheerful murals designed and executed by Amarillo’s own Blank Spaces—including painted, ice cream-shaped ceiling panels.
Scoops with Smiles Ice Cream Parlor exclusively serves Blue Bell ice cream. Don’t miss the cheerful murals designed and executed by Amarillo’s own Blank Spaces—including painted, ice cream-shaped ceiling panels.
The King family enjoys ice cream on a late-summer morning.
The King family enjoys ice cream on a late-summer morning.
The Hope Village leadership team includes Rick McElroy (general manager), Ashley Bennett (food service manager), Jeremy Bradford (vice president, development at Advo), Carla Hughes (president of Advo), and Richard Thorne (COO of Advo).
The Hope Village leadership team includes Rick McElroy (general manager), Ashley Bennett (food service manager), Jeremy Bradford (vice president, development at Advo), Carla Hughes (president of Advo), and Richard Thorne (COO of Advo).
Special Blends is a full-service coffee bar serving coffee beans roasted locally by Palace Coffee Co., with a menu of espresso-based drinks including lattes, mochas, protein-infused products and pastries.
Special Blends is a full-service coffee bar serving coffee beans roasted locally by Palace Coffee Co., with a menu of espresso-based drinks including lattes, mochas, protein-infused products and pastries.
The 50-plus employees represent a blend of adults with disabilities and traditional workers. Some come with experience. Others undergo two weeks of concentrated training from Advo job coaches. The interest within the disabled community surprised even Hughes. “We thought we would hire everybody from Advo,” Hughes says about the weeks leading up to the opening. “We were going to hire 15 individuals with special needs, so we had a job fair and we posted it to Facebook. We had 62 people with special needs show up for our job fair.” They decided to make their team bigger, and interviewed them just like you would for any other job. “One [young man] we interviewed, I asked, ‘What are your strengths?’ And he said, ‘I like people.’ And I said, ‘Well, that’s what we need.’ It just makes your heart feel so warm,” Hughes says.
The 50-plus employees represent a blend of adults with disabilities and traditional workers. Some come with experience. Others undergo two weeks of concentrated training from Advo job coaches. The interest within the disabled community surprised even Hughes. “We thought we would hire everybody from Advo,” Hughes says about the weeks leading up to the opening. “We were going to hire 15 individuals with special needs, so we had a job fair and we posted it to Facebook. We had 62 people with special needs show up for our job fair.” They decided to make their team bigger, and interviewed them just like you would for any other job. “One [young man] we interviewed, I asked, ‘What are your strengths?’ And he said, ‘I like people.’ And I said, ‘Well, that’s what we need.’ It just makes your heart feel so warm,” Hughes says.
The menu at Jeffrey’s Deli includes an Italian grinder sandwich and chopped barbecue brisket. The smoked meats are legit: The deli is managed by pitmaster John Blanda, one of the former owners of Nine Line BBQ. In fact, around the holidays, the deli will take orders for smoked turkey and ham.
The menu at Jeffrey’s Deli includes an Italian grinder sandwich and chopped barbecue brisket. The smoked meats are legit: The deli is managed by pitmaster John Blanda, one of the former owners of Nine Line BBQ. In fact, around the holidays, the deli will take orders for smoked turkey and ham.
The menu at Jeffrey’s Deli includes an Italian grinder sandwich and chopped barbecue brisket. The smoked meats are legit: The deli is managed by pitmaster John Blanda, one of the former owners of Nine Line BBQ. In fact, around the holidays, the deli will take orders for smoked turkey and ham.
The menu at Jeffrey’s Deli includes an Italian grinder sandwich and chopped barbecue brisket. The smoked meats are legit: The deli is managed by pitmaster John Blanda, one of the former owners of Nine Line BBQ. In fact, around the holidays, the deli will take orders for smoked turkey and ham.
L-R: Austin, Dwayne and Brendon WORK IN THE DELI KITCHEN
L-R: Austin, Dwayne and Brendon WORK IN THE DELI KITCHEN
“We started thinking about what’s most important in our community, as far as what employers need,” Hughes says. It’s not custodial or janitorial help. It’s kitchen prep, line cooks and even public-facing positions. “They need cashiers. They need to be in the front line of working with people. And so that’s when we thought, OK, let’s do a deli.” This deli just also happens to serve as a transitional employment classroom. Jeffrey’s Deli is named after Jeffrey Britt, son of Lewis and Jennie Britt. He could never talk or take care of himself, and doctors thought he might not live longer than 5 years. Jeffrey defied the odds and survived into his 30s. “He lived at home with his parents, but he came to us during the day. His parents were amazing. And so when we started this, they said, “We want to honor Jeffrey.”
“We started thinking about what’s most important in our community, as far as what employers need,” Hughes says. It’s not custodial or janitorial help. It’s kitchen prep, line cooks and even public-facing positions. “They need cashiers. They need to be in the front line of working with people. And so that’s when we thought, OK, let’s do a deli.” This deli just also happens to serve as a transitional employment classroom. Jeffrey’s Deli is named after Jeffrey Britt, son of Lewis and Jennie Britt. He could never talk or take care of himself, and doctors thought he might not live longer than 5 years. Jeffrey defied the odds and survived into his 30s. “He lived at home with his parents, but he came to us during the day. His parents were amazing. And so when we started this, they said, “We want to honor Jeffrey.”

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