A small core of people can get a lot done.
The neighborhood playground at Four Corners has been falling into disrepair — its equipment worn by a generation of kids who are now parents themselves. Neighbors noticed and decided to do something.
Greg Freeman Park at Four Corners has long been the neighborhood hub. Even before the playground existed, something was always happening there. One of our neighborhood artists placed a Big Boy statue on the corner, holding a giant foam corn dog — a nod to the famous St. Louis statue holding his sword in front of the Art Museum. One day, a kid, apparently inspired by the university students who used to steal that sword, made off with the foam corn dog to use on his friends’ heads. Retrieving it from that kid and returning it was my introduction to Bill Christman, who has left his own mark on this corner.
In 1997, the site was a parking lot. A chance conversation between Laure Porterfield, then Executive Director of the Skinker DeBaliviere Community Council, and a new mom named Katrina Stierholz sparked a three-year effort to change that. A small committee of neighbors — Andy and Linda Cross, Beth and Joan Bender, Nancy Kramer, Betul Ozmat, and Katrina Stierholz — worked with Porterfield and the community council to raise money and clear the hurdles standing in the way.
The hurdles were real. The site needed work, and the question of long-term maintenance had to be solved before anything could move forward. Two voices made the difference: Dan Skillman, the St. Louis Parks Commissioner, backed the project, and Pastor Miki Merritt of New Cote Brilliante Church of God made the case plainly — whatever the complications, this was for kids, and kids should not be denied a clear good.
Seed money came from aldermanic funds through Lyda Krewson, then the neighborhood’s alderperson. That initial commitment unlocked grants from the Dana Brown Foundation, the Whitaker Foundation, and the Enterprise Foundation — roughly $35,000 in total from public and private sources. But the grants weren’t the heart of it. Direct donations from neighbors ultimately made up more than half of all the money raised, driven by flyers, mailings, and a series of neighborhood events.
One of those events is hard to forget. Bill Christman designed a bonfire in the parking lot that would become the playground — a towering teepee shape built from wood salvaged from old projects. Neighbors turned out, local emergency services stood by, and a flaming arrow lit the teepee. The fire was so large and loud that everyone went quiet, feeling small and grateful.
The neighborhood completed what it started. Time passed, and that playground has been in near-constant use. With time and the impact of all those small hands, the playground needs some tender care. Some of that initial committee have moved away, and one, Joan Bender – who was a rock of the neighborhood’s stabilization efforts – passed away years ago. Like trees planted, that group left a mark that benefits future generations. Now, a new group of neighbors is doing it again. It proves what has long been understood here: you don’t need a movement. You just need six to eight people who care and show up.
