November 24 1972

It was 11:30 p.m. I had just gotten back from visiting Aunt Joan in New York and was talking with Barb and Ronnie when Frostie comes bounding up the stairs, shouting, “Barb! You gotta do somethin’! Morroccos is tryin’ to swoop on me and Donald! They draftin! (translation: the local gang was enlisting new members - I’m still learning the language).”

Barb went downstairs and saw two guys she knew from the morroccos and four strange guys.

Ronnie and I were arguing about whether God could take care of a person.

“But He way out there somewhere.”

“He’s right here.”

“No!”

“Yes, He is.”

“NO!”

“YES. God is in here, He’s on the street - and if you’re a Christian, He’s in you!”

“Well, He in me, but He ain’ out here.”

“Ronnie, the Bible says that God’s love protects you like a fort.”

“A what?”

“A fort.”

“Oh, man. Dig yourself, lady.”

“If you could walk down the street with four walls around you, you’d be safe wouldn’t you?”

“No!”

“Now listen, ...if you had four walls around you, you’d be safe. God’s lo-”

Ronnie made a sudden movement to hit me. I automatically swung my hand up just in time to block the movement. His hand landed against mine with a slap. Ronnie looked at me, as if the question were settled.

"Now! See? Ain' nothin' happnin', lady."

How do you convince a 14-year-old kid who's been in the hospital with a punctured lung from the knife of a gang member, who stabbed him as he and a friend were walking home from school?- He's sure about what he's talking about.

Frostie's voice carried upstairs. "I'm goin' upstairs an' get a knife!"

"Frostie, don't be stupid!" Barb snapped.

"You gotta DO somethin', lady!"

About then a group of guys dashed down 2Oth street. Frostie yelled, "They after Jo-Jo, Eddie, and Jeff! C'mon, Barb! I ain' goin' in!"

Barb went in for her coat and I went for mine; and she and I and the two guys went out into the cold night.

"Where'd they go?"

"Let's go up this alley."

"No, that's not a good street to go up."

"I saw Eddie and Jo-Jo run down Cambridge."

"There they is!"

Jo-Jo and Eddie came out of the shadows. "Man, they after Jeff," they told us. "South Fifth Street is pullin' with morroccos tonight lookin' for him because he used to be in their neighborhood!"

"C'mon, let's find him!" We all had visions of Jeff thrown away in an alley or abandoned house, all beat up or stabbed.

Or else hiding somewhere.

"Jeff knows better than to stay out and play with these guys," Barb said. "He probably ran into his house. Why don't you go see?"

"We been there!"

We started walking down the street looking for Jeff. Ronnie was right beside me, hanging on me. At first I thought he was just trying to be forward, but then I remembered: all of this was probably bringing back unpleasant memories for him, and some pretty anxious feelings.

"From now on I'm carryin' a knife," Frostie said. "C'mon, Barb."

"Let 'em mess wit' me, I'll shoot 'em!"

Some girls joined us on Corinthian Avenue. "Morroccos out draftin' tonight. They chased Jeff down here!" they said.

By now there were about fifteen of us. As we crossed Girard Avenue, a police car drove by.

"I wish he'd circle back this way," Barb said. "I hope Donald's all right. He doesn't have a key to get back into the center."

"He prob'ly at Gerald's house," said Frostie.

"Jeff! Hey, Jeff!" kids were calling.

We were now by the wall of the T. B. sanatarium on Girard. From within the darkness behind the wall a voice answered.

"Jeff! That you?”

"That's Jeff!"

"Hey, man, don' go in there. Morroccos might be layin' for us.

"Jeff, it's us," someone called out cautiously. "C'mon out, man!"

We all kept walking, looking uneasily at the wall. At the corner a big man walked up--Jeff's father.

"Jeff in there hidin' out from morroccos!"

"He safe now," his father snapped. "He ain' got to run from nobody."

Then Jeff stepped out of the shadows and joined his Dad. As we headed back to 20th Street, a cop car pulled up to the curb.

A plainsclothes cop jumped out, headed for the kids, looking really mean. Then he looked at Barb and me and stopped dead in his tracks. I guess our presence made him realize it wasn't just a bunch of kids looking for trouble.

"That's a boot cop," muttered Frostie. "They'll shove it up your ass too." A boot cop is a cop who's known to be really rough.

Barb and I walked all the guys home. "They're (the morroccos) probably all high," Barb said.

"High on what?" I asked. This stuff was all new to me.

"Oh, wine, marijuana, carbona (cleaning fluid), glue," said Ronnie glibly. "What difference does it make?"

Footnote:

(I had just graduated from college in May, come on Summer Staff in June, after being told about the Teen Haven ministry from my college roommate from Pennsylvania and who was also our room leader (BJU had four to a room). I had tried out for a traveling drama group, but didn't make the cut. Was very disappointed. Didn't want to teach in a segregated Christian school system. Had read The Cross and the Switchblade by David Wilkerson when I was just thirteen in a Sunday School Serial Handout - and it horrified and yet touched me. Took my best friend to New York to visit my Dad's side of the family the summer after my Junior Year. I hadn't seen some of them since I was about ten. While reuniting with my Aunt and my Grandparents in New York, I decided to go to the Teen Challenge Center (David Wilkerson's organization). My girlfriend Arlene wasn't feeling well that night, and I was determined to go - even though I was scared to death. I called the center and there was a service that night and they welcomed me to come and as I said, I was determined to go. I was scared to death. They had given me directions - and there a two block walk from the subway exit to the Center. I pictured myself walking though a gauntlet of menacing gangs and drug dealers all the way to the center and wondered if I would make it there alive. As it turned out, it was very innocuous walk, I don't even remember seeing anybody on the street. They welcomed me to the service and afterwards a young man who had been in and out of their recovery program and was presently back in graciously saw me back to Greenwich Village to my Aunt's apartment on the subway - I think he may have even walked me all the way to my door - I don't remember. He was very gracious in the face of my hesitation and mistrust which I tried to hide. In all my years of going in and out of New York City at all hours of the day and night and living there from time to time - I've never had a bad experience relying on the help of strangers - whether it was asking for directions, or just striking up a conversation. People were courteous and helpful even when uninvited. Odd, isn't it.

Christmas Vacation my senior year, I flew to Argentina to see my Dad, whom I hadn't seen since I was thirteen. He had remarried and I had a little brother who was about three or four years old.I'd had a love-hate relationship with my Dad growing up - he was at times emotionally and physically abusive - and scary. At other times he was wonderful. It took a certain amount of courage to fly down to Argentina by myself to reunite with him, to tell the truth. And to that relationship, I attribute the fact that I was so driven and uncomfortable around boys. I had virtually almost no dating experience. BJU didn't help with their formalized dating process and note system - although a few fellows tried. But with the six-inch rule, how could you get past certain things or make connections even. I had lots of dreams and desires and crushes and humiliations and disappointmets and mostly hit dead ends. And in high school as the half Italian kid with the weird name and the unwieldy curly hair (in the sixties), I didn't exactly fit in. A theme throughout my life. As a tall kid with size ten shoes, they didn't make clothes to fit me until the 1990's! Hairdressers didn't know how to cut my hair until the 1980's. It was when Blacks started wearing Afros that I came into my own. My family would tease me about having a birdsnest in my hair.

Anyway, one or two of the guys I met in jr high thru high school tried as well. But one that I really liked, my best friend also liked - geez I don't know what my problem was. I adored Jimmy Payton but I pushed him away. I think I was angry. I didn't really have these problems as a preteen - had grade school sweethearts - even necked a little. Hee.

But I digress. When I returned to BJU my senior year and didn't make it on the drama team I thought I would like to go into an inner city ministry and my roommate and our room leader (BJU had 4 to 5 people to a room and triple bunkbeds - and no air conditioning) Mary Stewart told me about a youth organization in her area called Teen Haven - with headquarters in Lancaster PA, and a camp outside York, PA, and outreaches in Philadelphia and in Buffalo, New York. I applied - and they accepted their first summer staff from BJU - with some reservation I think. I believe they sent out a recommended reading list of contemporary black thought - Malcolm X and others - to all prospective staff..

So after I graduated I reported to duty as a Teen Haven Summer Staff member. I still had some fears about having to go through gauntlets of street gangs whenever I stepped outside the door - but we met the kids, and they gave us a week's orientation at the Susquehanna Teen Haven - and eventually I grew quite comfortable going about myself - being the only white face on the bus - and the only pale skin in the swimming pool. As Teen Haven Staff - Teen Haven had started about the same time as Teen Challenge - in the early sixties, we were known and accepted.

At the end of the summer, Barb Staples, one of the Directors, asked if I would be interested in staying on as full time staff. I was, and thus commenced a training period in which I lived at the 20th Street Teen Haven Center with Barb and some live-in teens - Barb has raised so many children - (yes, we lived at our Centers, got free room and board and a starting salary of $15.00 a week. The center received $7 a week per person for groceries and meals).

Anyway, it was during this period after all the experiences of the summer and about a two month break-in period as a full time staff member that I started keeping my Teen Haven Diary. I had never really journaled much in my life, but once I got started ... it all came out ... everything around me and everything within me, the past, the present, and my dreams for the future ...

Just another short note. When I first started, the kids might as well have been speaking a foreign language. At BJU we didn't even listen to modern music, rock and roll. It was at Teen Haven that I was introduced to Soul Music. Anyway, I think I got about 60% of what the kids were saying when I started out and it took me about six months to learn the terminology - which thinking back on even the more recent past, was a situation I found myself in. To help myself I even started a dictionary ...