The Winding Stairs That Led to Childhood: Remembering St. Mary's Open Gym

More Than Just a Gym

Ask anyone who grew up in St. Joseph during the 1990s or early 2000s about St. Mary's Open Gym, and chances are you'll get the same reaction—a smile, a laugh, and a story they haven't thought about in years.

For many of us, St. Mary's wasn't simply a place to play basketball after school. It wasn't just somewhere to pass the time until our parents got off work. It was where friendships were built, rivalries were settled on the basketball court, life lessons were learned, and for many kids, it became a second home.

Today, conversations around St. Joseph often include one familiar complaint: "There's nothing for kids to do." Whether you agree with that statement or not, there was a time when hundreds, if not thousands, of local kids had a place they couldn't wait to get to every afternoon. That place was St. Mary's Open Gym.

The Climb Everyone Remembers

Long before you ever stepped onto the basketball court, there was one obstacle every kid had to conquer.

The stairs.

Not just any stairs, but the old winding staircase that seemed to stretch on forever. Three stories up. As kids, it felt like climbing a mountain. Looking back, they probably weren't nearly as intimidating as we remember, but every former Open Gym kid can still picture them perfectly.

Those stairs became part of the experience. They marked the transition between school and freedom. By the time you reached the top, you could already hear basketballs bouncing against the hardwood and kids laughing inside. Friends were waiting just beyond the door, and another afternoon of competition, fun and memories was about to begin.

A Place That Didn't Need Much

If someone walked into St. Mary's Open Gym today without knowing its history, they might wonder what made it so special.

The truth is, there wasn't much to it.

The gymnasium was the heart of everything. Pickup basketball games started almost as soon as the first kids arrived after school and continued until it was time to head home. Some afternoons there were only a dozen kids. Other days there were twenty or more. It wasn't about the numbers. It was about the people.

At one end of the gym sat a stage that held ping pong tables and pool tables. Some kids rarely touched a basketball because they were too busy trying to win another game of pool or keeping a ping pong rally alive.

Off to the side was the game room. Looking back, it seems almost impossible that such a small room could hold so many memories. There were board games, craft supplies, and a television hooked up to a Nintendo or Sega. It didn't matter what game was in the system. If someone was playing, there was usually a crowd gathered around, waiting for their turn or offering plenty of unsolicited advice.

Near the entrance sat the small office where everyone checked in. Every kid signed their name before heading into the gym. Inside the office was a small refrigerator stocked with soda, bottled water and snacks that you could buy with a dollar or two in your pocket. It wasn't much, but somehow buying a cold drink there after an afternoon of basketball just felt different.

There was also a small bathroom tucked away nearby.

That was it.

No giant entertainment complex. No expensive attractions. Just a modest gym, a few rooms and a place that somehow became one of the most important buildings in many of our childhoods.

The Man Behind the Handshake

Every place has someone who becomes synonymous with it.

For St. Mary's, that person was Garold Frump.

To us, he was simply Mr. Frump.

His handshake has become the stuff of legend. If he grabbed your hand, you knew exactly what was coming. His grip was unbelievably strong, and watching kids try not to react brought him endless entertainment.

But that's not why we remember him.

Mr. Frump cared.

Almost every afternoon he would make his way through the gym, checking on kids before heading into his office. He asked about school. He wanted to know how you were doing. If you were struggling, he'd encourage you. If you were making poor choices, he'd let you know that too.

He believed kids deserved structure, respect and accountability.

When Mr. Frump walked into the gym, everyone noticed. The games continued, but there was an understanding that it was probably a good time to stop fooling around quite so much.

Looking back, you realize he wasn't just running a youth program.

He was quietly mentoring an entire generation of North End kids.

The Big Brothers We All Looked Up To

While Mr. Frump set the tone, the supervisors helped make St. Mary's feel like home. Many readers will remember names like Dusty Summers and Ryan Steele, along with several others who spent countless afternoons watching over the gym.

Their job wasn't simply making sure everyone signed in or enforcing the rules. They became part of the experience. They played basketball with us instead of just watching from the sidelines. They shot pool, challenged us at ping pong and joked around with us. They weren't much older than many of the kids who came there, which made them feel more like older brothers than supervisors.

For a lot of us, those relationships mattered. They gave us positive role models during a stage of life when many kids desperately needed them.

My First Job

St. Mary's eventually became more than the place I spent every afternoon.

It became my first job.

I was around fifteen years old when I started working there during the summer. Five or six of my friends were hired as well, which made it feel less like work and more like getting paid to spend the summer at our favorite place.

Each weekday we helped prepare lunches for roughly sixty children attending summer school. We'd unfold tables and chairs before they arrived, bag lunches, serve the kids, clean everything afterward and put the room back together once everyone had eaten.

We also swept floors, cleaned the gym, straightened the game room and helped keep everything looking presentable.

Once the work was finished, there was usually time for a pickup basketball game.

At fifteen years old, getting paid to spend the day with your friends, help younger kids and play basketball wasn't a job. It was a dream.

Looking back, I couldn't have asked for a better first job or a better group of people to share it with.

More Than Basketball

For some kids, St. Mary's was simply somewhere to play. For others, it meant much more. Not every child had a stable home life. Not every kid had parents waiting when they got off the bus. Some simply needed a place where they felt safe for a few hours each day.

St. Mary's gave them that.

It gave kids a place where adults knew their names, where someone noticed if they didn't show up for a few days, and where they were encouraged instead of ignored.

It kept kids active.

It kept kids connected.

And in many cases, it probably kept kids out of trouble.

That's something you can't measure with attendance numbers or budgets.

The Doors Closed, But the Memories Didn't

Like many community programs, St. Mary's Open Gym eventually came to an end. The exact day the doors closed isn't what most of us remember. What we remember is losing a place that had been part of our daily lives for years.

Around 2018 and 2019, members of the community made an effort to bring St. Mary's Gym back. There was hope that another generation of kids could experience what so many of us had.

Unfortunately, the conversation never gained enough momentum. Concerns over costs and the investment required ultimately outweighed the vision, and the idea quietly faded away.

For many former attendees, it felt like more than the loss of a recreation program.

It felt like the loss of a piece of childhood.

Could St. Mary's Exist Today?

It's a question worth asking. In an era where parents worry about screen time, juvenile crime, isolation and finding positive activities for teenagers, could a place like St. Mary's make a difference?

Many of us believe it could. It didn't need expensive attractions. It didn't need the latest technology.

It simply needed caring adults, a basketball court, a few games and an open door.

Sometimes that's all a kid really needs.

We Remember

Every town has places that define a generation. For many North End kids, St. Mary's Open Gym was one of those places.

We remember racing up those winding stairs after school. We remember waiting for the next basketball game. We remember playing pool on the stage, crowding around the Sega, buying a soda from the office refrigerator and signing our names before heading into the gym.

We remember Mr. Frump's bone-crushing handshake and the conversations that almost always followed it.

Most of all, we remember how that place made us feel.

Safe.

Welcome.

Included.

Important.

St. Mary's was never just a gym. It was a community. It was a classroom without desks. It was a place that helped shape who many of us became.

Years later, the lights may be off and the doors may be closed, but if you ask anyone who spent time there, they'll tell you the same thing.

The memories never left.

Share Your Story

Were you one of the kids who climbed those winding stairs after school?

Do you remember Mr. Frump, Dusty Summers, Ryan Steele or another supervisor who made an impact on your life? Did you spend hours shooting baskets, playing pool, battling your friends on Nintendo or Sega, or simply hanging out until it was time to go home?

If you have photos, stories or memories of St. Mary's Open Gym, we'd love to hear them. Share them in the comments so together we can preserve the history of a place that meant so much to so many people in St. Joseph.

Because buildings eventually close.

But the memories made inside them can last forever.