Saving Their Community

Anacostia, which is just a few blocks from Capitol Hill in Washington D.C., has been called one of the worst neighborhoods in America. It is polluted by poverty, drugs and violent crime.

The murder rate there for African-American men is so high that some see themselves as an endangered species. It's cut off from the rest of Washington by the Anacostia River, which is as polluted as the neighborhood.

Saving both the river and the neighborhood is the goal of a group that teaches young people about the environment, and uses that experience in an effort to change the neighborhood and their lives. reports.

Police say that so far this year, more than half the murders in Washington were committed here -- earning Anacostia a reputation as one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in America.

"Anacostia's always been a haven for the poorest people. This is where they dump their trash and dump the people, who I guess the city didn't want to see," says David Smith, who was born and raised in Anacostia.

"There was a statistic that we were told in elementary school. I'll never forget. In the third grade, we had a special person come in to tell us about the statistic that if you were a black man growing up in Washington D.C., you had a 1 in 21 chance of making it out of D.C. alive before you were 18."

That's still the perception, because most of those homicides are young African-American men.

"We're about three blocks from the capitol right now," says Smith. But in reality, he says, "It's like 10 miles, maybe 10 states."

That reality is something Smith is trying to change by recruiting young people from Anacostia to join the last thing most of them ever considered -- an environmental program. He showed 60 Minutes a work site where they're building a river walk.

Smith is the field director of the Earth Conservation Corps (ECC), a local environmental organization that puts young people to work cleaning up their neighborhood and their lives.

LaShauntaye Moore joined the ECC when she was 20, and a single mother living in a homeless shelter. She says joining seemed like a good opportunity: "Only job that I could get was working at McDonalds or something. And so, you know, I figure, why not do something where I can further my education and get money to go to school -- instead of just flipping burgers all day?"

Darius Phillips had already been shot four times, when Lashauntay told him about the ECC. His violent behavior had earned him a nickname, "The Big Hurt."

"I was Superman out on the street," says Phillips. "If somebody need protection, then they would call me. Or somebody wrong somebody. Or I needed to get my money, I was gonna get it. Because my name carried so much weight."

Bob Nixon, a Hollywood producer and environmentalist, started the Earth Conservation Corps. He came to Washington 13 years ago to do a TV special, and ended up staying.

"I came here because I thought, you know, point out the problem, and the cavalry would arrive and I'd go back to making feature films," says Nixon. "I'm still waiting for the cavalry, you know?"

Nixon had been looking for a place to start an environmental project and found it along the Anacostia River. "I was reading the New York Times and I saw a picture of a creek in the Anacostia River. It was just choked with tires and it was a national disaster," he says. "I was, like, that was like, 'OK, I'm calling those guys. And we're gonna take some of those kids that live near that creek and put them to work.'"

The money to get the ECC up and running came out of Nixon's pocket, and from a $50,000 grant from the Coors Foundation. From the beginning, there has been an emphasis on restoring the river, one of the dirtiest in America. Much of the pollution comes from sewage that flushes into the Anacostia after a heavy rain.

"So every time it rains half an inch, it's about 70 plus times a year, raw sewage comes boiling out of this overflow," says Nixon.

According to the Environmental Protection Agency, 2 billion gallons of raw sewage is dumped into the Anacostia every year.

"[The agenda of the Earth Conservation Corps is] to give young men and women from Anacostia the chance to reclaim their community and their own lives," says Nixon.

Each year, the ECC gives that chance to 20 young people, as long as they make a commitment to do 1,700 hours of environmental work over a year. They're paid just under $400 every two weeks – that's less than $5 dollars an hour, and below the minimum wage. If they fulfill their commitment they receive a $5,000 scholarship.

But Smith says the ECC is not about the money. It's about teamwork, responsibility and change.

"Do you think that you can change people here?" asks Bradley.

"Absolutely not. I can't change anybody," says Smith. "But what I can do is I can provide an opportunity for those that seek change."Rodney Stotts was one of the first members of the ECC. He sold drugs before joining the ECC, and made approximately $15,000 on a good week. He now makes $100 a week. "Tremendous difference," he says.

So why did he do it?

"You get tired of walking out the door, and you have to keep a gun with you," says Stotts. "And you get in a car, you can't just sit down and put your seatbelt on, let your car warm up. You gotta keep looking around and keep the pistol on your lap. I mean, you can't enjoy life. You can't feel proud about anything that you have, because it was ill-gotten gains."

Stotts took part in the ECC's first project, removing nearly 5,000 tires that had been dumped into this creek. What proved more challenging was getting people from violent backgrounds to work together.

"In the beginning, we had corps members bringing guns to work to kill each other, because everybody -- attitudes clashed so much. It was a new experience for everybody," says Stotts.

"This isn't easy. This is sort of life and death stuff," adds Nixon. "Better to be hard on them, and hope they make it. I mean, you know, we're not like holding hands here. We're trying to give them the tools to survive."

Since the beginning, they have filmed or videotaped almost all of their projects. In 1994, the ECC began one of its most ambitious undertakings – returning the Bald Eagle to the nation's capital after a 50-year absence.

With the Fish and Wildlife Service's participation, the ECC built the young eagles a nest, fed them fish with a rope and pulley, and monitored their activities for months.

Finally the day arrived to see if those eagles could fly. Corps members sang "I Believe I Can Fly," as the eagles were released. Between 1994 and 1998, 16 eagles were released. Some were named for corps members who had been killed – victims of violent crime. Brenda Richardson, a social worker with the ECC, remembered Monique Johnson, the first corps member who was killed: "She really didn't deserve that." Johnson, from that first group of recruits, was murdered three months after she started.

In 1996, Gerald Hulett was stabbed to death over $10. And a month later, Benny Jones was beaten to death with a lead pipe.

And that was just the beginning. Richardson says that nine members have been killed since the organization first started.

"We had no idea that this kind of thing would happen to us," says Richardson. "We have the wonderful opportunity to educate these kids, to watch them turn into these wonderful human beings. But the one thing we cannot protect them from is their own neighborhoods. They find something here, and then, before they even have a chance to run with it, they get gunned down."

That's what happened to Diamond Teague, 19, the ECC's poster boy. He was a high school honors graduate with great expectations. He was shot to death on his front porch.

"He was the only one probably in that entire crew that was squeaky clean. So no one believed it," says Smith.

The morning after his murder, Teague's death barely rated a mention in the local newspaper.

"We just decided, 'So, OK. Since they don't want to write about it, we're gonna do it,'" says Moore, in a group interview. "We're gonna make sure that he won't be forgotten. Or he'll be brushed under the rug as just another drug dealer or robber killer who paid his dues, got killed.... We didn't want it to end up like that. So, our media arts team took on the task of telling his story."

His story is told in their documentary called "Endangered Species." What's the message they want to get out with this film?

"The message, I believe, is you have no idea what the hell's going on, right here in our nation's capital," says Nixon.

The Earth Conservation Corps knows they can't change the world. But they feel they can help to change one river, one neighborhood, and a handful of people.

Many of those who complete the program, like Moore, who graduated and got a job, say the ECC changed them.

"I love the fact that I'm a professional woman," says Moore. "I love the fact that I don't have to wait on a welfare check for the first of the month. I like that feeling. I never want to lose that feeling. And being here put me in this place. Before I got here, it was welfare. Now that I'm finished, it's working girl. Yes, thank you. So, I'm very happy."