Angels on the devil’s fields

The cops had mostly gone and a few candles flickered on the Morgan Street pavement, where a little over 24 hours before gunfire killed one kid and wounded others, the result of a quest for respect of the kind one craves on these streets, which lately have become fields for the devil’s harvest.

The death of 18-year-old Corey Butler is the kind of tragedy that can mistakenly make a kid a hero because he died like someone in the movies. The shame of it is that if not for the drugs and the guns and the other bad stuff, this was a kid who could have been someone.

On Morgan Street a guy with a hard stare was asked what can be done to make things better, to save lives. Eyes peeking out from under a baseball cap narrowed as the guy responded that it is too late for his generation, the 18 and 19 and 20 year olds.

“You’ve got to help the kids,” he said. “The young ones. Maybe you can help them.”

Indications are that the current clarion call – if it lasts – will result in more things being done.

But things are already being done.

Most people might not have heard about them, but in quiet, unassuming ways there are people making good things happen.

In churches, schools and even on street corners are those who go about battling the devil’s work, slowly, saving one life at a time.

A community-based group called Boyz 2 Men is one such endeavor.

Founded in 2006 by Joaquina Alvis- Simmons, a mother who didn’t feel enough resources existed for her own children, it’s open to anyone.

Behind the door of a storefront easily missed by the uninitiated, there was Saturday night a small gathering of boys and a few girls, even a few parents.

They sat in fabric-backed chairs like you might see in a church hall.

The mentors are volunteers. They accept phone calls about everything from homework to street problems with parents or a neighborhood. Saturday night they could have been watching the Mets lose the World Series. But the children come first.

One of the mentors, William Scott Jr., talked about the program as the kids patiently waited for the meeting to start, about how once high school is over for a kid – through graduation or unilateral decision to depart – the activities that might have kept them from being eaten up by the street disappear.

“You had a support system and now that support system is taken,” he said. “We reach them by giving them activities in the community. We have dance lessons, a lot of activities, lock-ins. We don’t just mentor.”

Maurice Stewart, one of the mentors, said there is a renewed emphasis now on serving the older ones, those 18 and 19 and 20-years-old, and will likely be more.

“We need to change their ways of thinking, their way of seeing things, to take their thoughts away from the negativity,” Maurice said.

Corion Butler, a youth minister who has done this for a while, and leads the group, stood behind a short lectern.

Seated before Corion were the kids.

They answered questions. Like the one who was asked how things were going in school and told on himself. Yes, there was a conduct problem, he confessed.

Gently, non-judgmentally, Corion told him to do pushups. The boy complied, good naturedly. The other kids did not ridicule, they didn’t judge, either.

“What is honesty?” one little boy asked, when it came time for the kids to pose questions. Elders gave their view. The boy listened. The other kids listened, and participated, in other discussions.

When it was done Corion headed back home.

He wants any kid or parent who thinks they can benefit from the program to call him. The number is 985-232-9529, even though he’s got a lot to do this week. His mind is very much on the kid that got away, the one who rejected the help he knows too well can be a lifeline.

Corey Butler, who died on Morgan Street, was his brother. •