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	Staff Photo/Karl Pittelkau John Brothers last spring founded the Middleburg area Youth Center for northern Fauquier and southern Loudoun kids.

On a street called "Crack Avenue" in the heart of Minneapolis, something terrible gave the 15-year-old a voice strong enough to fuel change in a neighborhood known only for crime.

John Brothers lived across the street from an elderly woman who was raped in her home.

"She was a fixture in the community as much as a stop sign," the 29-year-old recalled.

Shortly afterward, Mr. Brothers went to a neighborhood meeting. He listened to people talk about snow removal — not the horrible crime that had just taken place.

He’d never stood up to speak before. But this time, Mr. Brothers did. The teenager yelled at those who kept silent about the real problems.

Others followed suit. Soon, the neighbors rallied together and held a march.

"It was the first experience where I learned if you stand up, good things can happen," said Mr. Brothers, who moved to the Middleburg area two years ago.

In the spring of 2002, he decided to stand up for local youth in northern Fauquier and southern Loudoun. They needed things to do, places to go. They needed to be a part of their community.

"He is one of those people who can’t stand by and watch a child miss out on something he or she needs to be successful," his wife Arlene said.

So Mr. Brothers founded the Middleburg-area Youth Center, an organization that provides young people with activities and reaches out to make sure children get what they need to grow up healthy and productive.

It’s the same kind of program that saved him as a child.

The oldest of three sons, Mr. Brothers grew up in poverty in Minneapolis, Minn.

His father — who has since died — became disabled after suffering a back injury. When unemployment benefits ran out, he worked on and off. His mother, Donna, held several jobs — bookkeeper, hairstylist, machinist.

The family always relied on public assistance to make ends meet.

When Mr. Brothers was a sixth-grader, fire destroyed the ground floor of their complex. City workers hung large, conspicuous signs on the home that read: CONDEMNED. But they had nowhere else to go. The electricity was occasionally turned off because of fire hazards.

After the family found another place to live — in a second floor apartment above their landlord — the city condemned it, too, when the owner never took out his garbage.

For 2-1/2 years this went on, until the Brothers family found an apartment on "Crack Avenue."

"There was drug activity, but it was a step up," Mr. Brothers recalled.

As a child, he never fully realized the severity of the situation. His parents made sure of that. They enrolled him and his younger brothers in football programs, usually in wealthy communities. During the summer, they took him to parks that offered activities and free lunches.

"My mom and dad were so good about it," Mr. Brothers said.

Donna Brothers — who became an activist for the homeless — carted him to community meetings in church basements.

With no money for transportation, his dad would walk across the city to watch his games. He couldn’t afford a ticket to get in. But he would sit outside, just to be there. His parents sold their blood plasma to make sure their kids had money to go to a homecoming game.

But poverty sometimes proved humiliating.

Mr. Brothers, then a fifth-grader, and his dad once stopped to eat at a homeless shelter. A sign on the door warned that a TV station with cameras would be there.

"In fifth grade, you want to be like everybody else. So I would hide my face."

Two months later a report on the city’s homeless aired on the news. His face was the story’s lead image. It also ended up on the side of a bus, a "poster child" for Minneapolis poverty.

"I wanted to change schools . . . I’m unbelievably happy I grew up that way. At the time, it probably sucked. But I’m grateful I went through that."

It made him who he is. He knows poverty, what it’s like to be "different" from everyone else. Now a successful, educated adult, he uses those experiences to help others.

Mr. Brothers earned good grades in high school and became president of student government. He hung out with a group of friends who were expected to go to college.

He wanted to go, too. He got a full academic scholarship to the University of Saint Thomas in St. Paul, Minn. He received a bachelor’s degree in political science and a master’s in public administration.

Today, Mr. Brothers serves as director of Washington D.C.’s office on homeless children. But that’s just his day job.

He also directs the Middleburg-area youth center.

It seemed most Fauquier organizations are in Warrenton, Mr. Brothers explained. In Loudoun, youth activities are concentrated in Leesburg.

Years earlier, youth programs helped Mr. Brothers lead a relatively normal childhood despite his poverty.

"He considers himself so fortunate to have overcome obstacles in his life . . . he feels a responsibility to pass on, to new generations, the kindness that benefited him," his wife Arlene said.

Most of his friends that grew up on "Crack Avenue" never broke free from poverty.

"It’s very, very difficult to break the cycle," Mr. Brothers explained.

Two years ago, working as national director for a youth organization called America’s Promise, Mr. Brothers saw programs for kids all over the country. He wondered why the Middleburg area lacked them.

"Having the center there gives kids a safe place during after-school hours and opportunities to serve," said Stephanie DeNicola, director of the Fauquier chapter of America’s Promise.

Mr. Brothers’ philosophy: "Any community should be able to support all of its community."

He met with local business people, as well as church and school officials. In just a year, 40 organizations have become partners. The Plains and Middleburg town councils have passed resolutions of support. A youth council has been formed.

The center organized a film festival that drew more than 100 children, holds video game tournaments and takes part in charities. They’ve secured 400 books, health insurance, eye exams and glasses for kids.

Through the center, local youth are learning child and pet care.

Despite its successes, the center still has a long way to go and a lot more people to reach, Mr. Brothers concedes. And he plans to be around to see it through.

"Last week a girl said she didn’t have money to get school pictures. I remember what that was like," Mr. Brothers said. The center secured money for the child’s photographs.

"He can really relate to us," said Sam Seidenburg, 15. "He’s easy to know right away. He brought this whole thing together."

Fraley Coles, 18, likes how Mr. Brothers looks at things. "He’s more open-minded. He’s fun. He’s kind of a kid."

At a monthly meeting last Thursday with 10 youth council members, Mr. Brothers made announcements before turning over the room to 13- to 18-year-olds.

The topic that night: Recruiting more members for the council.

"How do you wanna do it?" he asked them.

The kids chatted eagerly. Maybe they’d each bring a couple of friends.

"How do you create diversity? If you brought your own friends, that’s not addressing diversity," Mr. Brothers prompted.

"The beauty of this," he later said, "is they all come from different economic classes and sit in one room to talk about how we can make the community better."

At the end of the meeting, Mr. Brothers praised them. "You guys did a good job. That was a good job. So we can chill. Is there anything you wanna work on?"

His voice is casual, his nature agreeable and easygoing. The kids adore him.

"I’ve never seen John not be able to connect with a child," Mrs. Brothers said.

His past makes sure of that.

You may contact Kristin Davis at 347-5522, extension 28, or by email at kgdavis@citizenet.com