There were a few things in the “plus” column: years of employment in numerous jobs, a wonderful son who had somehow thrived in spite of his quirky single mom and some good friends. No matter what happened to me it couldn’t be much worse than what I’d already been through–or the risks those South-Central children faced every day.

In 1985, I was vice president for advertising at Jon Douglas, a big real-estate company, when I reached the bottom of my drinking history. I went into a hospital program to get sober and started going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Five weeks later I resumed my job. Working through the 12 steps of AA kept me on track and gave me a new focus: service. I found that by helping others I became less self-involved.

I was also in charge of community affairs at Jon Douglas, and was always looking for places that the company could contribute money to in the local area. More and more, I found that the real meaning in my job was coming from volunteer service.

In 1988, three years sober, I read a newspaper article about gifted teachers in Los Angeles, including Jefferson High School advanced-placement chemistry teacher Roland Ganges. The story sparked an idea. I proposed to Mr. Douglas that he support one of these outstanding teachers, who could in turn help hundreds of kids. He agreed.

But when I called, Mr. Ganges said, “Thank you, but I don’t want money. I need your time.” I really couldn’t imagine what he was talking about. What could be more valuable than money? He pressed me to come to South-Central and meet with him and the children. When I did, it changed my life. These students were so eager, so receptive, so bright. It took so little to encourage them.

Using my own model of growth through service, I decided to pair students with volunteers from the company. Side by side, they assisted the elderly, gathered blankets for the homeless and worked tirelessly on two huge fund-raisers we organized. As they shared these experiences, something miraculous happened to both the children and the adult volunteers: they became more committed to the importance of community–and more tolerant of each other’s differences.

Seeing the students thrive was a reward better than a six-figure salary. So I started looking for a job in philanthropy. I thought I was this hot-shot executive and anybody would want me. Much to my surprise, nobody wanted me because I had no experience in the nonprofit world. Everyone discouraged me from quitting advertising and leaving my lucrative income behind.

Then one day a friend asked me what I really wanted to do with my life. I thought for a moment and said that I wanted to open a safe house across the street from Jefferson High School, where the students could go after school to get off the dangerous streets, get a healthy snack, watch TV and do their homework.

The next day I left my position at Douglas. Six months later, with one volunteer and a few hundred dollars, I opened A Place Called Home in three rooms in a church. Twelve children showed up and agreed to the terms of our contract: no weapons, no drugs, no graffiti.

Some of these kids came back with a friend, and the day after that with a sibling. As the number of children grew, we were able to attract more sponsors to fund our growing programs. Today we have our own 10,000-square-foot building. We see more than 300 youngsters–ages 9 to 20–come through our doors every day. They are a diverse group: African-American and Latino, straight-A students and hard-core gang members. The facility now includes its own school, in addition to a library, computer lab, recording studio and a small staff of devoted workers and volunteers. In addition to their schoolwork, the children can do dance, yoga, kick boxing, poetry, doll-making and more. Youth groups meet to deal with drug, alcohol, gang, family and social issues. We’ve even organized a group called Mothers Against Violence to try to find new solutions within the family to the epidemic of street violence.

Our goal is to reclaim the children from the streets and make the neighborhood safe. It’s a big job. We’re just getting started. Does it take a village to raise a child? I say yes. Can one person make a difference? In spite of obstacles, shortcomings and impossible odds, I say absolutely!