"If I see anyone getting ready to throw down and get into it, I see what I can do," he says. "I don't turn my back on anyone. But if these guys choose not to listen, that's on them."
Kelly goes over to the patrol car, talks with the officers, asks what the boys are charged with and writes down the court date. Then he walks to the home of one of the teens, where the boy has settled on the couch. He's wearing a gold ring shaped like a dollar sign.
Kelly says he will attend the youth's hearing, speak on his behalf and ask the judge to give him community service at the Open Door program. It won't be like picking up roadside garbage, but the boy will have to work.
"I didn't do nothing," the youth frowns.
"Yes, you did," Kelly says. "Technically, in the eyes of the law, you did. All you had to do was walk away. You know that. You just had to walk away. No one needs to overreact in these situations. That's how these problems start. Now, how old are you?"
"Eighteen."
"Eighteen! You're grown," Kelly says. "You have to take responsibility for yourself. You're grown now. We learn from these things, youngster. We learn from these things and we move on."
He squeezes the boy's shoulder and turns to leave. As Kelly descends the front steps, the boy's younger sister tugs his arm. "Reverend Kelly. Reverend Kelly," she says. "I know how to spell 'consequences.'"
"All right," he says. "Go ahead."
In Kelly's after-school program, children are required to learn a certain vocabulary.
"Consequences!" she shouts. "C-o-n-s-c-e-q-u...No, wait. Lemme try again!"
"Awww."
"No, wait! Lemme try again."
Kelly climbs into his Blazer and drives away. Behind him, the girl skips along on the sidewalk. "Consequences!" she shouts. "C-o-n-s-e-q-u-e-n-c-e-s. Consequences!"
OPEN DOOR
At the back of Harrington Elementary, in a pale-blue cafeteria smelling of pizza and antiseptic, sit more than fifty first- through fifth-graders, scratching away at arithmetic problems, practicing spelling words, squirming.
"Quiet!" an aide says. "No talking."
"Everyone please sit down."
"Come on, now. Where are your manners?"
This is the after-school program of Open Door, which offers homework help, one-on-one guidance, playground games and other alternatives for kids who might otherwise return to empty homes, Nintendo sets and street corners.
Many of the children in this room come from single-parent households. The majority are black, many are Hispanic, and some straddle the edge of poverty. By the time they hit high school, almost all will feel the pull of street gangs.
This is also where the lives of Leon Kelly and Lloyd Lewan intersect. Here and in similar rooms at Columbine, Manual and West, they try to anchor kids caught in uncertainty and bad influences.
"These are two people doing what they believe," says Goldberg. "Part of it obviously is a shared feeling and emotional philosophy, but a lot of it is just the brass tacks, hardcore figuring out how to raise funds, write grants and get people on board and improve the efficiency of the program. I've never seen either one shrink from a challenge or throw up his hands in despair, which in this business is easy to do."
Attorney Keith Tooley agrees. "Lloyd and Leon have been good for each other," he says. "Leon continually reminds Lloyd of what the street problem is about, and Lloyd helps Leon focus and expand into new areas. Leon always had tremendous energy and tenacity. Lloyd has been a mentor. The guidance Lloyd gave him to focus and be efficient was key."
"To look at them, you wouldn't think they'd talk to each other in a streetcar," says Jane Withers, owner of Hub Cap Annie and a former Open Door boardmember. "They're years apart, from different cultures, from different educational backgrounds and from different religious backgrounds. But they're best of friends."
"You couldn't find two people who are more different," says Anderson. "They're a regular Mutt and Jeff. Or Laurel and Hardy."
"They both have a lot of kid left in them," Withers adds. "You never know which one is going to be the rascal."
Today, as in the early days, Lewan concentrates on the big picture while Kelly works in the trenches. Open Door now operates an annual budget of about $250,000, which covers salaries for five employees, insurance and supplies, with a little left over for trips to Elitch Gardens, "scared-straight" tours of Canon City and visits to corporate entities such as Channel 9 and Lewan & Associates.
"Twenty years ago these people wouldn't even talk to me," Kelly says of the corporate types. "They would have been afraid of me. But once you're willing to make a change and believe in yourself, others will believe in you, too."
As always, the energy in this afternoon's program comes from Kelly, who is practically mobbed when he arrives at school. Kids hug his legs, grab his big hands and whisper in his ear. Kelly pats their heads, caresses their cheeks and slips in a pair of stained and rotted false teeth.
