Neutral Zone still making a difference in kids' lives

It's a quiet Friday night at the Neutral Zone, but this time, coordinator Rosella "Rose" Sloan doesn't mind.

She opened the Lynnwood gymnasium doors an hour ago, and her volunteers are nowhere in sight. So it's up to her to pat down the first 23 youths who show up, checking them for weapons and drugs, locking away zip-top baggies containing their cigarette lighters, wallets and cellphones, making sure their clothes don't signal gang affiliations.

At first glance, the free late-night program seems barely recognizable from its mid-1990s heyday, when up to 200 youths showed up each Friday and Saturday at Terrace Park Elementary School in Mountlake Terrace.

Gone is the high-profile political support, the scores of dedicated volunteers, the churches making sandwiches, the off-duty cops shooting hoops, the big-name grants, the AmeriCorps partnership, the after-school tutoring program.

The past few years have been tough. The Neutral Zone has moved three times since 2000, settling into its current home, Scriber Lake High School, in fall 2001. Bad timing is blamed as much as anything for its decline.

Its initial move to Lynnwood coincided with a change in executive directors, the departure of its devoted creator — John Turner, Mountlake Terrace's former police chief — and a downturn in the economy, which dried up grants and donations.

"It just all came down at once. It's amazing that it still exists," said Chief Scott Smith, Turner's successor, who sits on the nonprofit's board of directors.

Though the last full-time director was paid $39,000 a year plus benefits, Sloan works for free. At its peak, the Neutral Zone operated on a $150,000 budget. Now, Sloan keeps it going week to week with a handful of volunteers, about $8,000 in annual donations, including fund-raisers by the Exchange Club of Edmonds, and the moral support of its board.

The board recently faced a choice: close temporarily and spend $3,000 to hire a professional fund-raiser to raise the program's profile in the community and maybe ensure its long-term survival, or keep its doors open for three more months to protect the dozens of local youths 12 to 20 who depend on it.

They chose the current kids, such as Domingo Gaona, who knows he's fortunate to have that haven. Six months ago, some older teens in his neighborhood got the 15-year-old dangerously drunk on Jack Daniel's. He found his way to the Neutral Zone, where Sloan called for medical help. He ended up at a hospital.

T.J. Brooks, a Lynnwood police officer, dropped by the program Friday during his shift. He has been involved with the Neutral Zone since 1995, first in Mountlake Terrace and now in his own territory.

"Hey, Brooks," Gaona called, as he saw the officer walk by. "Remember me?"

Brooks, who had found Gaona passed out in a restroom that night, stopped to chat. "I'm not doing that anymore," the teen assured him.

Forging genuine and meaningful relationships between police and youths — including many they knew from past arrests or disturbances at their homes, or simply from street-corner hangouts — was a hallmark of the original program. Gangs and gang violence were on an upswing in the early 1990s, and the Neutral Zone was a groundbreaking concept, offering street toughs, as well as other youths, a safe place to spend weekend nights.

"We did some things that were a bit daring," recalled Turner, now the homeland-security manager for Snohomish County's Department of Emergency Management. "For example, we would let gangbangers come — we just had no raggin', saggin' or baggin', as we used to say."

"Raggin' " refers to color-coded bandannas used to announce gang affiliations; the uniform included saggy, baggy pants. The modern Neutral Zone has retained those rules.

The program's original 2 a.m. closing time raised eyebrows, as did the Neutral Zone's tacit acceptance of smoking by allowing youths to take two organized smoke breaks. Organizers discovered that was the only way to keep attendance steady into the night because youths aren't allowed to return after leaving. Those rules remain intact as well.

Some city leaders feared that the program — which drew gang affiliates from all over the region, as word of mouth spread — would increase local crime. Instead, Turner documented a steady decline in local gang activity and youth crime.

In 1999, Turner flew to Washington, D.C., to be honored by the National Crime Prevention Council.

But he's even more proud of the impact he's had on individual youths, some of whom later returned to say thanks.

Don "D.J." Sweet, 28, knows where he'd be without Turner and the Neutral Zone.

"It's the only reason I'm still alive. I definitely would have been killed," said Sweet, now a firefighter with Camano Island Fire and Rescue.

Four gangs operated on the Mountlake Terrace block where his family lived, he said, and he got "beat into" the Northwest Crip Posse when he was 14. When the Neutral Zone opened a year later, he was among the first in line, drawn by the allure of free food and the chance to play basketball until 2 a.m.

Volunteers made him pull up his "half-mast" pants, stash his blue bandanna and straighten his ball cap, which worn tilted to the right meant Crip. And then they straightened out his life. He volunteered with AmeriCorps and got help finding scholarships to attend Everett Community College.

Somewhere along the way, Turner showed up at his house and took him for a ride in his squad car.

"He said, 'You're a great kid, and I love you,' " Sweet recalled, and then bluntly told him he had to make something out of his life.

Now he's married with kids. He's sorry to hear of the Neutral Zone's troubles.

"I know there's some kids in there right now, just like I was," Sweet said. "And they're too dumb, and they don't realize nothing's wrong. They just need to pay attention to what [the volunteers] are giving, get the most out of it before they make the ultimate mistake."

"Teen nights" flourish throughout the county now, but Neutral Zone leaders say their program remains unique. It's free, it's open later, and it attracts a mix of street jocks shooting hoops, rockers and alternative kids, and youths who don't feel comfortable anywhere else.

"It's for kids at risk — that means for that segment of the population that doesn't normally go to Boys & Girls clubs and Y programs. They don't feel like they fit in. I don't think you need a sociologist to explain it fully," said board President Richard Gibson, a retired minister.

T.T. Brown, who came with her 16-year-old uncle, said: "Other places you feel like you can't be yourself. But here you can."

Gangs are making a comeback in the area, police said. Although they aren't a visible element of the current Neutral Zone population, many of its kids come from dysfunctional families or live in neighborhoods with negative influences.

One large group of regulars stopped off Friday evening at Lynnwood Lanes and Roll-A-Way. Brooks and his partner responded to a disturbance complaint outside the roller rink, then walked around the building and caught a 15-year-old boy who allegedly was just about to light a marijuana pipe.

He went to the Denney Youth Center in Everett. His friends, along with his 12-year-old brother, moved on to the Neutral Zone. They did a double take when they saw Brooks standing inside the doorway but went inside anyway. They headed straight to the food table, loaded with free doughnuts, muffins, cake and other day-old treats Sloan had salvaged that morning from a supermarket.

It makes for a long day: If she's not at the grocery by 6:30 a.m., the goodies go to a food bank.

She clearly needs help; a dozen new volunteers would transform her life. But the kids make it all worthwhile.

"Parents come in, once in a while, to say thank you," she said. "But when a kid tells me thank you, that makes my day. That's when you know you're making a difference."

Diane Brooks: 425-745-7802 or dbrooks@seattletimes.com