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DEEPER Below: The nowclosed center, built in 2001, at Hancock and Finzer streets. Right: PCC Field Day in 1945, with Jackson Junior High (later renamed Meyzeek Middle) in right background. Archives and Special Collections, University of Louisville bit A Photo by Gail Kamenish Losing a Legacy After 115 years, Smoketown's "saving grace" — the Presbyterian Community Center — closes. By Anne Marshall 28 LOUISVILLE MAGAZINE 10.13 O n 17 acres in the heart of Smoketown, pufs of dirt rise and dissipate, the earth's gentle tantrums upon bulldozers' blows. From above, surrounding streets must look like tape strips holding the rest of the neighborhood down. Redevelopment of the Sheppard Square housing projects began in December. Over the last several months, the yellowish, boxy buildings dating back to the 1940s — known as "the bricks" by those who lived there — have been demolished. In their place, the wooden frames of tidy row houses stand. For construction to begin, roughly 270 households relocated, temporarily hollowing the neighborhood. Te $142 million HOPE VI renovation of Sheppard Square combines federal, local and private dollars and will transform the historic area sandwiched between Phoenix Hill and Shelby Park. Named for plumes of smoke billowing from brick kilns in the area, many slaves searching for freedom settled in Smoketown after the Civil War. Over time, a thriving African-American community grew, bringing a library and school for black Louisvillians, jazz venues, churches and storefronts. But Smoketown's greatest historic footnote comes courtesy of Muhammad Ali. As a kid he trained at the Presbyterian Community Center (PCC), an organization dedicated to providing meals, education, health care and other social services to low-income families for 115 years. In August, with much of the nearby population dispersed, PCC closed its doors. Funding had dwindled. A changing neighborhood identity factored in as well. When the renovation of Sheppard Square is complete in two years, a new set of residents ranging from low to upper-middle income will call Smoketown home. "We've been doing this since 1898," says Grover Potts, the chair of PCC's board of directors. "And we've been doing it in an area that has one of the lowest per-capita incomes in all of metro Louisville. Is that going to be where we are when HOPE VI is fnished? I doubt it. We want to remain fexible but we need to remain relevant. If (the neighborhood) was going to be gentrifed, well, do you need a community center for that?" I t's a sunny afternoon the week after PCC's shutdown. Lawrence Wilbon, who worked at PCC for eight years and was named executive director last year, walks into a lobby with most of the lights of, bathed in gray. Pictures still clutter bulletin boards. A vacuum purrs. But the place feels asleep, not like the PCC of the past: basketballs bouncing, laughter, and in the library, computer keys tapping. Wilbon, a tall, friendly man in his mid-30s, warms a cup of gas station cofee in a microwave. It will double as lunch today as he cleans out his ofce. While the closure of PCC has left him searching for work, he's more concerned with the kids who regularly popped into the center.