Good news seems increasingly rare these days, so when a truly inspiring, uplifting story surfaces, one tends to take notice. Such was the case of NRPA President and CEO Barbara Tulipane, accompanied by several of her colleagues, during a recent visit to Philadelphia Parks and Recreation. During a tour of the city’s many incredible parks, one park professional made such an indelible mark on Tulipane and her companions that his name is regularly invoked months after the trip. Anthony Washington, director of Nelson Playground and Waterloo Pool, struck a chord that has resonated not only with those of us at NRPA who have already heard his incredible story, but, more importantly, with hundreds of children who have come through his after-school, summer and sports programs. Washington’s dedication, selflessness and optimism are infectious and frankly necessary in a landscape where hope is too easily abandoned. His story is a critical reminder to all of us in the park and recreation industry that what we do can and does make a remarkable difference in the lives of the children and families our programming touches.
“Somebody Needed to Do Something”
Washington grew up in the same rough and scramble North Philadelphia neighborhood in which his playground and pool are currently located. A foster child, Washington wisely took note of the generosity of the couple who adopted and raised him — “They took me in at one-and-a-half, raised me and gave me everything,” he says. “I never had a need or want they didn’t satisfy.” Washington attended St. Barnabas Church with his family each Sunday and developed a strong proclivity toward charity and kindness. On Saturdays, Washington spent his time at Nelson, running and playing with his cousins.
Later, Washington graduated high school and attended Cheyney University, America’s oldest historically black institute of higher learning, and obtained his bachelor’s degree in architecture, drafting and design. Upon graduating, Washington took a job with the City of Philadelphia as an assistant street lighting engineer, making “pretty good money,” he recalls. Not long into that career, however, a different path appeared. “Sitting on the steps [of my home] I watched a young man I went to school with get killed for no reason,” Washington says. “At that moment, I decided somebody needed to do something. At any time, that could’ve been one of my cousins.”
The “something” Washington was searching for was closer than he could’ve imagined, and after meeting with like-minded North Philly natives James McCain and Levi Canada, a plan was formulated to reopen Nelson Playground. “I was the only one with a degree, so I was the only one qualified to take the [civil service] examination,” Washington says. “I resigned as the assistant street lighting engineer and became the supervisor here at Nelson. I’ve been here since 1992.”
Washington could not have predicted his life would come so completely full-circle, but his spirituality and enduring connection to the neighborhood where he grew up gave him a feeling that he was headed in the right direction. “After I saw Maurice [Williams] get killed, I knew I had to do something — stand up as a man,” Washington says. “You have a lifetime to make money. [Coming to Nelson] wasn’t a career change for me, it was a life change. It was about these children and making a difference. I began to do something for someone else, to pay back part of the debt I believe I owed to my mom and dad who basically did everything for me.”
“Enjoy Life”
Nelson Playground closed entirely for most of the 1980s — the grounds fell into disrepair and became a haven for anyone looking to buy, sell or use drugs. The violence that inevitably accompanied the crack epidemic showed this area no mercy — Washington recalls the discovery of a young woman’s dead body in Nelson Playground’s small recreational building solidified the location as permanently out of bounds. It was even featured on an episode of the now-defunct television show “America’s Most Wanted.” “Initially when we began programming here, it was hard to get the children to come because of the history of this facility,” Washington says.
Washington racked his brain to come up with creative ideas that would bring children back to the playground and convince their parents it was a safe place to play. Always a lover of nature, Washington figured employing the charms of a few furry friends couldn’t hurt. Even today, in the back room of the small recreational building nestled among books, computer stations, board games, sports event trophies and Washington’s office area is a small menagerie. Ferrets, a cute rabbit, a very large snake and several terrariums containing various lizards and tarantulas serve as mascots and community pets at Nelson. “The first thing I did was introduce the animals, and once I got the kids to come in and take care of them, I began sports,” Washington says. “A lot of the children at that time hadn’t had, for eight years, a playground or place to play sports because this place was shut down.”
Washington started flag football, traveling basketball, in-house basketball, Little League international baseball teams, soccer and even archery — most programs were co-ed and most were incredibly well received. “I use sports as a way to communicate,” Washington continues. “A lot of kids in this impoverished community use sports as a way to escape — to get away from their life’s conditions.” It wasn’t long before Washington implemented mentoring as well as after-school and summer programs, supported by a small cast of friends and colleagues who helped facilitate them. Washington’s face lights up especially when describing the annual camping and ice skating trips he organizes for the kids each year — trips intentionally modeled after the ones he enjoyed alongside St. Barnabas’ Father David Gracie as a child. “When I was young, Father Gracie took us to Boston — they have this huge lake that freezes over,” he says. “That’s the first time, at 8 or 9 years old, that I experienced ice skating on a lake. From that moment it was something I wanted to expose everyone to.”
Certainly Washington had a cache of experiences he wanted to share with his kids at Nelson, but more than that, he wished to convey that there was life beyond the tough streets of their neighborhood and that each child had it within himself to seek out something positive, even in the face of crushing inequality. “I think what a lot of people don’t recognize in an impoverished community like this is that everything is so serious to the minute,” Washington says. “You don’t take anything for granted. So there’s very little time for leisure activity, recreational activity or anything. You don’t know how to enjoy life. So, we try to instill that in kids — enjoy life. Make basketball part of your regular regimen. If it’s bowling or golf, make it a part of your regular regimen. When you become an adult, that [activity is] part of your life. That’s your outlet to relieve some of that stress.”
Washington is supported in his mission by a core group of adults and teens who help coach and mentor the dozens of children who depend on Nelson’s programming. Many of these individuals have worked with Washington from the beginning, or started out as children in his after-school and summer camps and grew into roles as counselors and mentors in their own right. Even Washington’s wife, Marybel, began as a youth worker at Nelson — now she’s a teacher in Philadelphia public schools and helps her husband run summer camps in the off-season. A brief expression of worry mixed with pride crosses Washington’s face when he considers the dozen or so teens who left for college this fall — “I’m losing a lot of that group,” he laments. “Hopefully I’ll gain some more [mentors] from the younger children in the youth group now, but the ones I’ll lose this year have been with me for about eight years. They’ve been tremendous.”
Washington does receive a small amount of financial support for his work from grants and donations, as well as funding from Philadelphia Parks and Recreation. A substantial amount, however, comes out of Washington’s own pocket. When his basketball league needs balls, it’s Washington who often foots the bill. Same goes for other recreational equipment, school supplies and even clothing for his charges. And he makes sure none of this proactive problem solving slips past his teenage and younger mentors and employees. “Something I do with all my staff is I tell them, if I can help you get a job working here at the playground, I ask that you help one child,” he explains. “So each person on my staff takes one child and they give that child $25 a week. And the child works or does a chore at the playground. I try to drive [this process] so I have the next person to fill that gap when someone moves on.”
Washington developed two mentoring programs – Just Us Guys, which targets young boys and teens, and Phenomenal Little Women, which is aimed at Nelson’s female contingent. The latter program has been on hiatus for the past five years or so, as Washington seeks funding to support it. There’s a sense of urgency to that mission, too — the everyday pressures of growing up are challenge enough for budding adults, and Washington recognizes that despite his best efforts to support every child in his care, sometimes dedicated mentoring isn’t enough. “We lost a young man who was a part of our program — Tyree Williams — he took his life,” Washington recalls. “He graduated from school this year, he has a daughter who’s 2 years old, he and his fiancée were living together and I guess life got too hard for him. I thought Tyree would come to me, because he’d always come to me and ask my advice. But in this instance, he wrote a letter and took his own life… That’s the second time in my life I’ve ever felt like, was there something more I could’ve done to make a difference? …The kids will all tell you something I’ve said from day one — life is about a bunch of circumstances. And the decision you make today will affect your life tomorrow. No matter how small or big that decision is, it can have a lasting effect.”
“My Job is Not Done”
Washington can rattle off a dozen success stories of the children he’s seen come through his program, graduate high school and college and move on to helm successful careers and families. There’s Craig and Curtis Barkley who also graduated from Cheyney and now both work as educators in prestigious Philadelphia schools. Or Effrain Perez, who entered the Marine Corps and became one of the elite soldiers assigned to protect the White House. Perez is now running a tackle football team for area youths in a rec center not far from Nelson Playground, a career move he credits Washington with inspiring.
On the day this writer visited with Washington, the story of Beneniah Anderson was fresh in his mind. A dubious success story, Anderson went to prison for robbery, and while there, enrolled in a work-ready trade program that taught him how to manufacture, refurbish and upholster furniture. Just a day before our interview, Washington was moved to receive a present from Anderson in the form of a gorgeously constructed chair — all dark wood and covered with a rich, grey brocade fabric. A note accompanied the chair, explaining Anderson’s role in making it and thanking Washington for his years of careful mentorship and support. Recalling his initial receipt of the gift, Washington, a large, affable man, is moved to tears — “I am not a person who cries because of physical stuff,” he says. “But sentimental things tend to pull it out of me. Like with Ben yesterday — I had to pull myself together because I was shocked. I didn’t expect it. And to know that when I used to talk to this kid, some of the times I didn’t think he was hearing me. And when they came yesterday with the chair and the letter, I was shocked. It just shows you what it means to these children to be there for them.”
Washington does have designs on retiring — at 47 years old, he fantasizes that in eight years, “I’ll be 55 years old, my youngest son Mark will graduating and headed to college, and I’m moving to South Carolina,” he says, laughing. But, it’s stories like that of Anderson, the ghostly reminder of Maurice Williams’ murder and the wise observations of his wife that ground Williams and remind him his journey as Nelson’s leader and champion may not end according to his ideal vision. “My wife keeps reminding me it’s God’s decision,” he says. “If it’s meant for me to be here to keep driving things, so be it.”
In a separate conversation with Washington’s wife, she acknowledges nobody quite knows what will happen to Nelson and Waterloo if or when her husband retires. She’s possessed of the same sort of calm that emanates from Washington — life is what it is, and it’s up to them to set an example of how to handle it with grace, maturity and compassion. Maybe not every child grows up to become a college professor or elite Marine, but all will take something away from the games, camping trips, sports competitions and simple interactions with Washington. “I say remember — just a word you share with a child can make all the difference in the world,” he says. “And that’s giving back. Some people associate giving back with always being there and being in the trenches — no, it’s not. It’s how you share and how you move people.”
Washington’s is a philosophy all too lacking in today’s age of radical self-sufficiency — that a little bit of support can go a very long way. “I know they say if you help or save one [child], you’ve done your job,” he says. “But for me, to lose [a child] is asking, are we doing our job? And that’s my biggest thing. If everybody thought the same way I do, would that make our system better? You never know. But I tell everybody, I know what I have to do here. My job is not done.”
Samantha Bartram is the Associate Editor of Parks & Recreation Magazine.