Jackie Roberson:
Buffalo’s Son, Meadville’s Blessing
Jackie Roberson was running late for our interview. The Executive Director of Meadville’s Family Children & Community Association, he had to drive an older gentleman, a veteran, to Espyville in the FCCA van. The man’s inoperable truck was stuck there, 20 miles away, and he needed to get its VIN number so he could apply to a program from the VA that helps vets pay for things like truck repairs. If the man could get the truck running again, he and his wife could get back on their feet.
Jackie explained the situation to me later. It was a perfect introduction.
At the FCCA, formerly the YWCA, Jackie, along with his staff and a host of volunteers, ministers to needs that are wide, varied, and often urgent. His days and weeks are a sea of particulars, things you’d expect from the director of a social service organization—meetings, program events, grant application deadlines—but also one-off obligations and a cascade of the unforeseen. Plus, the man has a hard time saying no. Near the end of our hour together I got a look at his large date book. Every page was a cloud of ink, insertions on top of insertions. It reminded me of the image of the social safety net, each day its own bulging net, catching all it could get to. And I’m sure Espyville wasn’t even on the page.
And yet there’s nothing frazzled about Jackie Roberson. Just the deep calm of commitment.
He grew up in east Buffalo, N.Y., “a church boy,” as he says. Despite periods of real poverty (with rats in the house at one point), Jackie started life with a foundation of faith, pride, and dedication to others. The hero in this early story is his mother, Denise Roberson. She, along with her aunt, R. Willis Weasly, raised Jackie and his siblings, making sure they had what they needed. “They grew us up.” He watched his mother “get it out of the dirt, honestly.” She worked multiple jobs, and, when Jackie was 10, she bought a vacant lot on Masten Avenue, and built a house for the family “from the ground up,” a fact that still astounds him. At 74, Denise lives there to this day. “And she’s still working.”
Almost from the start, his mother, their church, and the family’s own struggles taught Jackie compassion, that “any of us could need help.” It wasn’t hypothetical. So helping is what the family did. For Jackie the habit of committing to people this way, investing in community and the lives around him, was later solidified through the mentoring of Pastor Keith Scott and the social ministry that he guided—and Jackie took up—at the Perry Projects, an African American community in east Buffalo.
Ten minutes of conversation made it clear that he also brought his own God-given equipment to this work: an enormous and ready heart, a mind that tracks a dozen detailed situations at once, endless patience in face of bureaucracy, and the capacity to connect with any kind of person, without judgement. These gifts emerged early. At the age of 14 he was named Youth of the Year by the YMCA of Greater Buffalo. Four years later, he was himself a pastor, working for the social outreach church Remnant House.
With all that anchored Jackie to his hometown, you wouldn’t guess he’d leave. Then he met Heather Moore. She was, and is, a professor and administrator at Allegheny College. They met in church. She’s from Buffalo and was home on a visit. Eventually Jackie got brave and asked her out on a date. And then tragedy nearly struck. “I lost her number.” He laughs. “That was horrible, man. I was getting ready to lose the biggest blessing of my life.” Then he got really brave and asked her again.
In 2018 Jackie and Heather married, he moved to Meadville, and they started growing up a family of their own: Elijah, now sixteen, Jackie’s son from a previous marriage; and Isaac, the Meadville native, who just turned five.
Jackie discovered that in Meadville "if you need something and you put it out there, the community comes and helps you"
Meadville is not Buffalo. Jackie is still getting used to a few things here, and there are some Buffalo things he misses, including the bold activism and solidarity of its large African American community. But he has felt, from the start, deeply welcomed by folks in this town, and he counts living and working in Meadville among the blessings this turn in life has brought him. Like Buffalo, he says, this is a place where, “if you need something, you put it out there and the community comes and helps you.” The FCCA’s expansive reach under his direction has depended on an army of volunteers, an active Board of Directors, and dependable community support. He lists dozens of names, too many for this space.
Under Jackie, the number of programs the FCCA now runs, hosts, or enables—the number of people the organization materially helps—is astonishing. He mentions the following, but thinking of his date book, I knew this list was a long way from complete:
* the Pre-K Counts program— 11 preschool classes, all over the county, staffed by the FCCA, grant-funded and free to needy families, M-F 7am-3 pm, all school-year long;
* the Developing Greatness program, a mentoring experience for young people (ages 12-24) that cultivates self-discipline and life skills, with eye-opening field trips to places like Detroit and Gettysburg;
* Community Baby Showers, a program (in partnership with W.I.C. and funded by a private donation) that helps expecting mothers celebrate the new lives they are bringing into the world, and gifts them basic items for infant care they would otherwise lack;
* Community Meals—Thanksgiving dinner is the headline grabber, but people in need are getting sustenance and fellowship all year round at the FCCA, including breakfast every other Saturday;
* the Blessing Box, the cupboard in front of the building where anyone can donate non-perishable goods and anyone can take what they need;
* the FCCA Basketball program, a hoops camp, started last year, where young people can compete in a safe and free way, and grow up a bit more (this year the program is connecting with kids in the Cleveland Cavaliers youth basketball program);
* Toys for Tots, hosted by the FCCA for the first time this holiday season;
* Shelter Area Meadville (in partnership with Erie United Methodist Alliance)--when the temperature drops below 25￮, the blue light at the back of the building goes on and the shelter (the gym, filled with cots, staffed by trained volunteers) opens to anyone, 8pm - 8 am.
Thousands of people benefit from this juggernaut of service. Times are always tough and now they’re tougher. Eighty families are already registered for the next round of Community Baby Showers. The FCCA hosted 60 people this Thanksgiving, with another 900 meals delivered around the county. Four thousand children got presents through Toys for Tots last year, and, at the time of this writing, the organizers expect at least as much “business” this year. And the Blessing Box? “It is always jumping,” Jackie says.
How does he know who’s truly needy, who qualifies for all the free stuff? He doesn’t. “I’ve seen Mercedez Benzes pull up to the Blessing Box, and I’ve seen clunkers.” Non-judgement is an article of faith for him. “If we have it, let’s give it. And God will give us more.” He wraps blanket acceptance around all his work. “We want our organization to be a place where people can be themselves.” The shelter accepts anyone who obeys its rules. “They can have an addiction or some other struggle. We just want them to feel comfortable.” He pauses. “Somebody loves this person.”
On my way out Jackie shows me around the building’s first floor, a warren of small and big rooms, an industrial kitchen, a room set up for eating. Donated goods compete for space with stored furniture and the materials of other programs. It’s disorienting. Then we get to the big basketball court, created when they filled in the swimming pool, defunct since 2009. The walls are covered with bright mural art. This is where they set out the cots for the shelter. It’s also where the Toys for Tots event now happens. Everything’s on top of everything. The need of this world is dizzying.
“Can you keep all this up?” I ask him.
“I don’t know. That’s a good question. I’m trying to back off some things.” Turns out he’s referring to community service work beyond his job. (He’s president of the local NAACP chapter, on the MLK Scholarship board, on the local Hospice board, in Kiwanis.) So I had my answer.
If Jackie Roberson can’t say no to anyone, he can’t say it to himself, either. Thank God.
Under Jackie the number of people the FCCA materially helps is astonishing