Building Bridges--and Trust : Priests’ Program Plants Seed of Hope for Gang Members

As three Catholic priests take an afternoon stroll through the streets of the gang-infested Logan-Lacy neighborhood, a tough-looking youth hangs out a second-story window of a run-down apartment building, waves his arms enthusiastically and shouts, “Padres!”

The warm greeting is typical of the reception that Brendan Smith, Stan Bosch and Christopher Smith receive as they make their way through this neighborhood, greeting some of the neighborhood’s toughest gang members and their families by name--and usually with a hug.

Tattooed teen-agers, many with criminal records, openly show their affection for the three clergymen, who have established a remarkable trust and rapport with gang members in a community where suspicion and fear are a way of life.

“As priests, we get that trust and we try to use that in a positive way,” said Christopher Smith, who became pastor of St. Joseph’s Catholic Church four years ago. “It’s important that we’re out there and that the kids have a sense that we are adults that they can trust and feel connected to.”

Many of the youths, members of a single gang that claims the area around the church as its turf, participate in an extraordinary weekly outreach program called “Building Bridges,” run by the priests at St. Joseph’s, which is located in the heart of the neighborhood.

Left outside the church is the macho posturing and talk of retaliation against rival gangs, behavior which is part of everyday life in a neighborhood plagued by poverty, drugs and violence.

Instead, these brief respites from the turbulence beyond the church door are marked by serene, unlikely images of teen-agers singing, drawing and holding hands in prayer.

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This is a place where, together with the priests, the gang members have mourned the death of six of their “homeboys” killed in gang warfare since the outreach program began in November, 1992.

Although many of the teen-agers say that it would be impossible for them to leave their gangs unless they leave the neighborhood entirely, the outreach program seems to have planted a seed of hope in some who had previously seemed resigned to their fates.

“I thought before that there was another way to live, but I didn’t know how to make it happen,” said 17-year-old Carlos Madrigal. “I didn’t think I was going to make it. But now I think I’m going to make it.”

The meetings typically draw 15 to 20 youths each week, depending on “who is in jail,” Bosch said. He said the encounters give him a chance to get to know a group of kids he describes as “the most lost.”

The relationships the youths have developed with the priests and other volunteers at the outreach meetings are the only positive encounters many ever have with adults.

“They talk to us and are interested in us,” said 17-year-old Robert Ordaz. “They give us ideas of what is right and wrong. Other guys don’t have this chance that we have. Instead of being outside, I spend two hours here where it’s safe. If you’re in the streets, you could be shot.”

The three clergymen have been joined in the outreach program by a group of volunteers--professionals from various walks of life--who have also developed relationships with the gang members.

But the priests remain the spiritual backbone of the effort. Although the three are not affiliated with one another in an official capacity, all live within the church compound and their individual interests brought them together for this effort.

Bosch, 39, who is head of Trinity Missions, a school housed in the church’s old convent, had worked with gang members in East Los Angeles for two years before coming to Santa Ana. He also had worked as a probation officer on the East Coast before being ordained.

Christopher Smith, 41, said he had “not a clue” what faced him as pastor of St. Joseph’s Church when he arrived from another Orange County church. But he expanded on his more traditional roles as a pastor and began to take a more active and visible role in the streets after meeting Bosch.

“I didn’t expect that I would be doing some of the things I’m doing in this parish,” the pastor said. “And although I was a little hesitant at first, I haven’t felt threatened or afraid.”

Bosch said, “We connected very much and realized that we had a lot of the same hopes and dreams for the area. We realized that these are our people and we belong to one another.”

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They were joined in their vision by 65-year-old Brendan Smith, who has been a full-time Catholic chaplain in Orange County jails and juvenile detention facilities for the last decade. He resides at Trinity Missions with Bosch.

Brendan Smith, who met many of the gang members when they were incarcerated and at their most vulnerable, is a crucial link in continuing those relationships once they are released.

The clergymen say many of the gang members have developed an increasing reverence for St. Joseph’s, which was built more than 50 years ago at the corner of Minter Street and East Civic Center Drive.

A six-foot brick wall that surrounds the church was built last summer with the help of some of the gang members. Remarkably, it has remained virtually the only blank space in a neighborhood that is splattered with gang-related graffiti.

“Every day that there’s nothing on that wall is a victory,” said Christopher Smith. “The church has become a sacred ground. We told them that we need them to help us care for our place.”

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The neighborhood is located in the heart of a city where there were a record 48 gang-related homicides in 1993, more than double the number in any previous year in the city’s history.

The three priests have presided over the funerals of eight victims of gang-related violence from their parish, which encompasses the turf claimed by five gangs.

Among those killed last year was 17-year-old Alex Cordova, victim of a drive-by shooting on North Garfield Street on New Year’s Eve, 1992, two months after the outreach meetings began.

Cordova had been among the first gang members to attend the gatherings, and his death had a profound impact on his friends, many of whom then began attending the weekly meetings in his honor.

“A lot has changed,” said one 17-year-old, Cordova’s best friend, who asked that his name not be published because he fears retaliation. “I realized that once you’re dead, you can’t come back. I saw Alex’s mom suffer and I didn’t want to see my mom suffer like that.”

As recently as two weeks ago, a car drove by and several shots were fired from it into the crowd as the group was gathering for one of their meetings. No one was hit.

“There’s been so much heartache,” said volunteer Anne Roth. “We’ve watched six kids (from the neighborhood) die in a year and some I knew very well. That’s been the hardest part, actually losing the kids and realizing the present danger that continues to face the kids still with us.”

The priests admit that it has been difficult, and sometimes impossible, to reach some of the more violent, hard-core gangbangers, many of whom are constantly in and out of jail or juvenile hall.

But, they remain undaunted.

“You have to have a commitment to the long haul,” said Brendan Smith. “It can easily be discouraging if you are looking for immediate results and if you try and approach it as only you having something to give them. It’s more of a mutual learning from each other.”