October 31, 2005, U. S. News & World Report, Thriving In The Zone, by Deborah A. Pines.

The Harlem Children's Zone, which serves 8,600 low-income children on 60 New York City blocks, isn't doing much new: It has smart-parenting classes; it has all-day preschool; it's phasing in a K-12 charter school. It has tutoring and mentoring and antiviolence initiatives.

The angel is in the details--in the superior way the zone delivers its programs with the help of a skilled staff, wealthy backers, and, most important, a 53-year-old executive named Geoffrey Canada, a brainy, driven leader with rare crossover appeal. "He's got the street walk and Harvard talk," says Ray Marte, one of Canada's first students. "He can talk to the block and the boardroom," says Shawn Dove, a former Zone staffer and Canada protege.

And can the man talk. Canada, at 6 feet, looks Jordanesque with a shaved head, graying goatee, and gangly build. And he sounds Clintonesque, deploying humor and outrage, statistics and stories to make his case for saving kids. "It's not rocket science we're doing here," he likes to say. "It's harder than rocket science."

Still, the Harlem Children's Zone is in many ways a success story in a field starved for them. From its headquarters at 125th Street and Madison Avenue, the program provides a full network of services to an entire needy neighborhood. It combines educational, social, and medical services, covering participants from birth all the way through college.

Canada has two key aims: to rescue large numbers of impoverished Harlem children and, in so doing, to provide an irresistible model for policymakers to adopt and fund. They are indeed no small tasks. The first requires changing the Harlem mind-set so that more than just the super-resilient few succeed, he says. "If we can get Harlem to the place where passing is the normal thing, staying out of jail is normal, guys growing up and getting jobs is normal, that, to me, is victory."

Clear vision. So far, and perhaps not surprisingly, Canada has been most successful with younger children. Large numbers of "Baby College" graduates report reading and singing more often to their children and getting up-to-date immunizations. One hundred percent of the past three Harlem Gems (preschool) classes tested "school ready." And while only 11 percent of Promise Academy's 100 kindergartners initially tested above grade level, 80 percent had reached that point by the end of the school year.

Older children have been more challenging. Of last year's 100 sixth graders, only 10 percent initially tested at or above grade level. At the end of the year, 19 percent reached that point in math, 39 percent in English. Canada, however, isn't daunted. The sixth graders may improve more gradually and at greater expense, but by 12th grade, he says, "it will be clear we can save them."

That sort of confidence informs Canada's view of leadership: "You have to have a clear vision of what you want to accomplish. Then you have to be able to articulate that vision so others can see it as clearly as you. . . . You must simply never give up--even if you doubt at times."

What isn't clear is how much time Canada has. Donors may grow fatigued. Canada may lose the spotlight and his "It Guy" status as an expert consulted by youth agencies from as far away as India. More immediately, he may not meet a key 2007 milestone--adding an extra 31 blocks to the 60-block Zone, which began in 2001 with 24. Marian Wright Edelman, president of the Children's Defense Fund, concedes these are stingy times for public funding. But, she says, "if anyone can do it, it's Geoff Canada."

Canada grew up in the South Bronx. His father left the family when Canada was 4, and his mother raised him and three other sons alone, working at menial jobs and sometimes taking welfare. In his memoir, Fist Stick Knife Gun, he says that he drank as a teenager and got into street fights. But he stayed in school and earned a scholarship to Bowdoin College.

One of Canada's favorite measures of the Zone's success is a map covered with stickers showing where 110 Zone alums last year attended college. In his own office are personal photos--and a few ghosts. Absent from one group photo are about a half-dozen siblings and friends killed by inner-city violence. The family photos are missing one of Canada's older brothers, John, who died at age 22 after a freak basketball injury.

When Canada, a third-degree black belt who still teaches tae kwon do, joined the Zone's predecessor agency, Rheedlen Centers for Children and Families, in 1983, his focus was more on saving lives. He ran after-school antitruancy and antiviolence programs. After he took over Rheedlen in 1990, the $2.5 million program, which was serving 1,500 children, grew and diversified. But Canada was still impatient.

Waiting lists at Rheedlen frustrated him, making him feel that they were saving just the lucky few. A presentation from now Savannah, Ga., Mayor Otis Johnson on holistic services for poor children in specific geographic areas inspired him. The Edna McConnell Clark Foundation offered Canada $240,000 to design a new program--and millions more if milestones were met. When Canada held a retreat and asked middle managers to "dream the perfect Harlem," the ideas flowed.

But the single most influential factor was, Canada says, "Stan." Stanley Druckenmiller, a fellow Bowdoin alum, billionaire hedge-fund manager, and poker player, was on Rheedlen's board of trustees when Canada proposed the Zone. "I was struck by its boldness," Druckenmiller says. "And, frankly, from anybody else I would have dismissed it as too utopian and unattainable. But watching Geoff over the years, I thought it was crazy not to take a shot with this guy."

In 1998, the two decided they couldn't meet fundraising goals with the existing board. So Canada says he did one of the toughest things he's ever had to do. "I had to tell people they'd gotten us to a level where we didn't need them anymore," he says. Druckenmiller became chairman and brought in more Wall Street high rollers who contributed significantly to a new building and to the Zone's current $36.3 million annual budget. About 70 percent comes from donors and foundations, 30 percent from government.

Nancy Roob, president of the Clark Foundation, calls Canada "the most fiercely determined leader I've met." He is "laser focused," says Richard Murphy, Rheedlen's founder and former head. A demanding boss, Canada requires staff to be punctual and to "bring their A-games." He keeps meetings short and to the point. He fired four Promise Academy teachers in its first weeks when they didn't meet expectations. "You have to have great people," Canada says. "And you can't be afraid of being with folk who are more talented than you. You have got to allow people who are really good to do what they do without micromanaging them."

Canada encourages constant program revisions to improve the Zone's reach and results. To get more Baby College participants, for instance, the Zone staff canvasses the neighborhood and offers incentives: raffles for a $50 gift certificate at the end of each class and for a full month's rent at the end of the program. The staff even makes wake-up calls and helps get children dressed for the day.

Role model. Canada's older brother, Daniel, credits their mother, Mary Canada, with teaching the importance of education and public service. When Mary Canada realized that by the fourth grade Daniel still couldn't read, she railed at the schools: "You will not ruin my children." Then she quit her job and went on welfare until she finished teaching her sons what they had missed. She also stressed, "Your gifts are not for your use. They're for God's use," says Daniel.

Growing up, Geoffrey was a "people person," Daniel recalls, and a "chameleon who could change to fit whatever situation he was in." As a leader, Geoffrey Canada says he strives to show no fear. "I learned from the street stuff in the Bronx, if you're in the middle of some fight and the person who is your leader is scared, you can forget it; you're packing and running."

He has strong views on other aspects of leadership. "You have to recognize what you're really good at and not good at," he says. "You also have to be able to decide if what you're really good at is still a key requirement of your job. I'm really good at working with kids, but, unfortunately, that's not what my job is about these days."

He is also all too aware of the tendency of many leaders to self-destruct. "Too many leaders have wanted to steal the money, to sleep with the secretary, or they wanted to be king," he says. "I honestly think this is a higher calling than just me and this group."

Does anything scare him? "The only thing that really worries me is that we won't get a chance to really do this completely before I don't have the stamina to continue at this pace." Great leaders, he says, "have to be indefatigable. The ability to work long hours, under stressful conditions, for many years, is a requirement--and it's something people often overlook."

For now, he is working 24-7. On a hot summer night, Canada, in a baseball cap, khaki pants, and a "HCZ TEAM" T-shirt, steps before a crowd of 4,000 Harlem parents and children. They have just finished watching a series of impressive children's performances after the 11th annual Zone peace march ended at a band shell in Marcus Garvey Park. Canada, misty-eyed, grabs the mike. He pauses, maybe assessing the state of his rescue work, before saying, "This is the hope of Harlem we're looking at."

BORN: Jan. 13, 1952 EDUCATION: B.A., Bowdoin College; M.A., Harvard Graduate School of Education INSPIRATION: When Canada was 12, he sliced a finger with a knife he carried for protection in his rough neighborhood. He kept the injury a secret, and it never healed. He says the crooked finger "keeps the urgency of [our] work with children at the forefront of my mind."