By David Palmer
Put the “neighbor” back in the “hood.” That’s the rallying cry of Dr. Fitzgerald “Fitz” Hill, president of Little Rock’s Arkansas Baptist College. It’s a timely message as we reflect on the recent rioting in Ferguson, Missouri and other communities. Ten years ago, Fitz resigned his collegiate head-coaching job at California’s St. Jose State University in search of a higher calling, and on February 1, 2006, he found what he was after in Little Rock, AR. On that date, he was named 13th president of the city’s historically black Arkansas Baptist College. Fitz, who is black, had an agenda when he signed on which includes four core values:
1. Working with the churches and faith based organizations to improve the moral climate of their communities based on God’s Word.
2. Focusing on rebuilding the African American family.
3. Creating educational access with support toward success.
4. Creating an entrepreneurial mind-set for building independent and sustainable urban neighborhoods and communities like those that existed prior to the passing of the Civil Rights laws.
In the wake of last summer’s rioting, shocked citizens are once again hard pressed to come up with solutions, and I turned to Fitz, whom I had met six years ago, for comment on what it would take to put the “neighbor back in the hood.” His experience with Arkansas Baptist over the past eight years makes him especially well qualified to comment on the subject of inner city woes. Located in the middle of what was once possibly Little Rock’s worst neighborhood, Arkansas Baptist’s principal building, Old Main, was built in 1883, nine years after the College opened its doors. When Fitz arrived, Old Main was on the verge of extinction. Its bell tower was gone, floors and walls were crumbling and the exterior walls were near collapse. Demolition was definitely an option.
But Fitz had other plans. Under his direction, Arkansas Baptist undertook a $6.2 million fundraising campaign and by 2011 Old Main re-opened its doors. Students once again filled its halls and chapel services resumed. Enrollment went from 184 in the fall of 2006 to nearly 1200 students five years later. I met Fitz in 2008 as part of a small group of Arkansans—prison directors, educators, and four of us from Fellowship Bible Church (FBC) led by Paul Chapman, a member of FBC’s staff, and including two of us with a special interest in substance abuse and recovery. We were visiting the Cleveland Correctional Center prison for men in Texas seeking answers to the problem of inmates continuing to re-offend after they are released. “Recidivism” is the name for it.
The Cleveland prison has a unique approach to reducing recidivism– the Prison Entrepreneurial Program (PEP) launched in 2004 by Catherine Rohr, a young woman who had achieved success in investment banking and other private sector pursuits. PEP’s rigorous program takes inmates, whose skills as drug dealers and gang leaders put them behind bars, and makes successful businessmen and responsible citizens out of them. The centerpiece of its curriculum is a four-month, Harvard-style master of business administration program, and it has attracted national attention.
Regrettably, Rohr, five years into it, became improperly involved with some of the inmates in the program. She resigned and the PEP board replaced her and continues to build aggressively on her good work. Early studies showed that after five years, the PEP program had reduced recidivism for participants to fewer than five percent, way below the national average of 69 percent. It is now five years later, and on a bright October day I visited Fitz for an update on the college and especially about Arkansas Baptist’s car wash operation and on the overall entrepreneurial focus.
First, the car wash. In 2006, the corner of Martin Luther King Drive and Wright Avenue at the south edge of Arkansas Baptists campus was considered by authorities as the most dangerous corner in Little Rock. Where these streets intersect, there was a car wash, liquor store and nightclub. In 2006, there were 36 criminal offenses at this intersection. The club and liquor store and the car wash, which served as a parking lot on weekends, were all implicated in the crimes that took place at the intersection.
In 2007, in an effort to create a safer educational environment, Arkansas Baptist purchased the car wash with the goal of making a viable business out of it and cleaning up the crime ridden corner. Fitz persuaded a private developer to put up a $50,000 challenge gift to restore and rebrand the car wash, and the college raised an additional $50,000 through small donations of $2,500 or less to match the challenge gift.
By 2009, the car wash had become a thriving business yielding profits to buy up and demolish boarded up homes in the immediate neighborhood. There were no crimes reported that year. People sometimes refer to the project with a smile as an “auto baptism” because of its goal of cleaning up more than dirty cars. In mid-October, I met with a group of prison inmates at Arkansas Baptist’s new $3 million plus Scott Ford Center for Entrepreneurship and Community Development. The inmates are staying at Hidden Creek, an FBC managed half way house, and I was particularly interested in addressing the substance abuse issue with them. Of the 13 men and women, ten said drugs were implicated in their arrests and incarceration (80 percent which seems to be the common number). I told them my story, as someone in recovery myself, and gave them autographed copies of my book, “Pathways to Serenity. Overcoming your addictions one day at a time.”
Fitz says, “education that promotes job creation through economic development is our approach for putting the neighbor back in the hood.” As to the ongoing disintegration of black families, Fitz says, “Nearly 70 percent of all African American families are not led by men. We must restore the African American family by promoting interactive parenting skills and promoting adult and youth participation in mentoring programs.” Drug abuse (including alcohol) is a major factor in the decline of families, both black and white, and must also be addressed far more aggressively.
For those who seek to help Arkansas Baptist College in its mission, Fitz says with a smile, “You don’t have to travel to a third world country to serve. Our neighborhood is available.”
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