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"I've been telling people an idle mind is a devil's workshop," Wilbon says. He wasn't surprised when the board of directors announced the closing to PCC's staf of 10. Te center had been struggling to pay of around $1 million in debt it owed on an attached early-childhood-development center that opened in late 2010. (Tere are no plans to close that facility, which boasts 50-plus kids.) Also, donations dropped with the limp economy, especially after Sheppard Square's demolition. "Tere's a perception with the razing of Sheppard Square that we weren't serving anybody," Wilbon says. "So we would have to always contend with that." PCC had battled low attendance. Last winter the center went from serving 100 kids dinner on weekdays to 10. Plummeting head counts don't fare well on grant applications. A little more than two-thirds of PCC's funding relied on grants, donations and some state dollars; Metro United Way covered the rest. In an efort to bounce back, PCC staf handed out bus passes. Tey visited families in their new homes. It worked. Tis past summer up to 200 children were running around the premises. But it wasn't enough. Wilbon says over the last several months he furloughed employees, cut hours. A few times he withheld his paychecks to ensure his staf's checks cleared. As he talks, his brown eyes sag a bit. Bronchitis scratches at his chest. Te last year has worn on him, he says, sitting opposite a wall where a three-year plan to strengthen PCC hangs in vain on long pieces of butcher paper. Colorful Post-it notes are tacked on like Christmas ornaments. Wilbon decided to leave his position even before PCC's board shut the organization down. Two sudden deaths in his family this year coupled with the stress of PCC's fnances led him to resign at the beginning of August. "I felt like I was getting cynical," he says. "Tat's not me. Tat's not my personality." A host of unknowns now tug at him and others with ties to PCC. Among the largest concerns: Will the center's legacy fade in the new Smoketown? Opened in 1898-'99 by the Rev. John Little and six Presbyterian seminarians, what was then called the Hope Mission (north of Broadway) and Grace Mission (Smoketown) provided a host of programs to the poor, primarily African-American youth of the neighborhood. (Te missions merged as GraceHope in 1964, consolidating in Smoketown.) Early-20th-century photos show women at PCC learning to sew, kids practicing carpentry skills, a doctor examining a baby. A group of eight young African-American boys pose with their 1926 basketball team, the word "HOPE" stitched into their jerseys. Troughout the century, the www.ymcalouisville.org www.shalimarlouisville.com 10.13 LOUISVILLE MAGAZINE 29