Tucked in the shadows of one of America’s bleakest public-housing developments sits a tiny red brick building that is more than a firehouse.
Though nothing on the outside announces it, this building has become a community center. The firefighters who work there have become counselors, mentors and pals to the youngsters of Robert Taylor Homes.
The firefighters of Fire Engine Company 16 at 40th and Dearborn Streets hand out advice and used clothes. They tutor students in academics and hygiene. They patch wounds and bike flats. And they offer discipline and hugs.
Just as important, these 20 men–and nearly all of them African-American–serve as role models in a neighborhood lacking father figures.
“I go there because they are respectable people,” said Antonio McLaurin, 11, who visits the fire station daily. “They don’t curse. They talk right. They don’t gangbang.”
At a time when the courts are weighing the merits of affirmative action in the city’s fire department, residents of Robert Taylor and community activists argue the city needs more of these role models.
Of the nearly 5,000 employees in the fire department, about 20 percent are African-American. Blacks make up about 38 percent of the city’s population.
“So many times in this community, the black men these kids see do not have jobs and have not completed their education,” said Betty Greer, principal at Hartigan Community Arts Specialty School, which serves the children of Robert Taylor.
“With these firefighters being so active in the community, the kids get to see a professional black man doing a positive job. That kind of influence just cannot be measured.”
Engine Company 16 sits amid a four-mile stretch of Chicago’s worst public housing: Stateway Gardens to the north and the Robert Taylor Homes to the south. The station also responds to calls at the Ida B. Wells and the Dearborn complexes.
As recently as 10 years ago, the firehouse operated like many fire companies in the city: Doors remained closed, and firefighters didn’t interact much with neighbors.
As a result, the relationship between residents and firefighters suffered. Vandals broke the firehouse windows, and thieves stole equipment and vandalized firefighters’ cars.
“There wasn’t a whole lot of respect for us,” said Kirkland Flowers, who has been with the company for eight years and helped start the new programs. “We were isolated from the problems out there. We saw them and we knew about them, but we did our job and minded our own business.”
The rapport improved about seven years ago when firefighters adopted what was literally an open-door policy. They rolled up the station’s steel garage door and left it open nearly 20 hours a day.
When they opened the door, they also opened their hearts. Kids–from tots to teens–began venturing inside. They came to get bandages for their cuts and scrapes. They stopped in to use the bathroom. They came for advice on everything from how to get along with their siblings to how to get into college.
“They were desperate for attention,” said Lt. Arthur Lewis, who initiated the open-door policy. “They’d find any reason to come because a lot of them simply needed a father figure.”
Ten-year-old Marcus Boswell peeked into the station a few years ago after he had fallen down the stairs in his apartment building.
“They made me better. They gave me a lollipop,” Marcus said. “Now, I go there everyday. They help me learn. They play catch with me. They are like my big brothers.”
More Top Picks Best Twin Mattresses
The firefighters set up a bicycle-repair shop in the basement and taught kids to fix their own bikes. They established a tutoring program, and instructed children in chess and baseball. For the adults, they collected secondhand clothes and invited area residents to take what they need.
They also set tough guidelines on who is allowed into the station: Youngsters must be in school. Hands and face must be clean. Hair must be combed. Swearing, fighting or gang signs are not allowed.
“They teach us how to act right,” said William George, 11. “They teach us not to gangbang. They tell us to finish school so we can get a good job.”
Three years ago, firefighters initiated an attendance program at Hartigan. Pupils with perfect attendance received monthly prizes. At the end of the year, those with perfect attendance and A’s and B’s got bicycles
The firefighters gave out 90 bicycles last year, and the attendance rate at the school jumped to 94 percent from about 85, Greer said.
Firefighters also try to teach youngsters to resolve their differences. As two police officers searched a teenage boy this week in the parking lot near the firehouse, Flowers used less invasive means to solve another neighborhood issue.
As a preteen girl stood at the firehouse insisting she had not stolen a bicycle, Flowers sternly but gently insisted otherwise. He then explained the ethical and legal consequences of taking what is not yours. The dejected youngster left with a promise to return the bicycle.
“You’ve got to teach them right from wrong at an early age,” Flowers said as three youngsters climbed on his arms and legs. “We can make a difference.”
They’ve made a difference in 11-year-old Makia Evans’ life. “I do better in school now because I don’t want them to get mad at me,” she said.
Some firefighters such as Rocky Morris offer a deeper commitment. Morris stepped into Antonio McLaurin’s life two years ago when the 11-year-old seemed in desperate need of guidance.
“I was real scared for my son because the environment was getting to him and he was messing up in school,” recalled Antoinette McLaurin, who lives at Robert Taylor with Antonio and her three other children. “I’ve seen kids selling drugs at 8 and 9 years old, and I was afraid that influence would get to Antonio.”
So McLaurin, who was a friend of Morris, brought Antonio to the firehouse. The firefighter admonished him and told him to focus on his schoolwork. Morris also volunteered to take the youngster along as he worked his second job as an electrician.
For the last two years, Antonio has earned between $20 and $40 a week helping Morris do electrical work. The two also attend weekly Muslim services at a mosque.
“He’s been blessed,” McLaurin said of her son. “He’s doing better in school, and he’s becoming a fine young man. I have a lot more hope for my son now.”
For Marcus Boswell, daily interaction with the firefighters of Engine Company 16 has given him a specific goal.
“I want to be just like him,” Marcus said, pointing to Lewis. “He’s teaching me how to be a man.”