Watching over 1-year-old Nazaira Gibson, who's dozing in a baby carrier on a Saturday night at the Straight Street ministry in downtown Roanoke, Carol Corvin said she hopes the child's unwed mother acts her age: 17.

In the next room of the outreach charity's converted warehouse, Gelesha Gibson plays video games, shoots pool and just hangs out with about 60 other teens. She's also under watchful eyes, those of volunteer counselors such as Jeff English, a veteran Roanoke police officer. "Some kids here know that almost everyone has given up on them -- the schools, their parents, sometimes even the police, but not us," he said.

And not Corvin, who works at First Baptist Church on the other side of Luck Avenue. "Everybody makes mistakes. I'm not here to judge. I'm here so a 17-year-old mother can be a 17-year-old tonight and not worry about her baby," she said.

Straight Street is a nonprofit, low-budget, high-human-maintenance operation whose founder, Keith Farmer, calls it a parachurch. There are big-screen televisions, a 10-foot stone fireplace to lounge by, a 1950s diner-style cafeteria and a nondenominational Christian worship sanctuary.

"We offer the God stuff here, but we don't shove it down anyone's throat," the 43-year-old former nursing home manager said.

Indeed, Straight Street, which survives on donations from Roanoke businesses, churches and individuals, is more about believing in people whose faith in themselves may need a boost than conventional religion. "They accomplish a tremendous amount of good with very few resources," said Bryan Smith, pastor of First Baptist Church on Third Street. "Love for your fellow man goes a long way."

To be sure, Straight Street hits a bump now and then. Some of its youthful constituents, most in the age range of 11 to 19, occasionally misbehave enough to warrant discipline. "If they don't treat others the way they should, they have to sit out," meaning they're banned for two weeks, Farmer said. Police volunteers such as English can't always be present, but disruptions force Farmer to call for on-duty law enforcement only about once a year.

More disappointing are the willing departures of youth who don't return. Lionel Bentley, 23, a volunteer and Northwest Roanoke resident who enjoyed Straight Street as a teen, said, "I have had friends who needed this place, but they stopped coming and slipped away. And I have cried."

His tears are because for some, Straight Street could be the last safety net preventing a free fall from the protections of society. Indeed, those without wherewithal will find welcoming confines at 333 Luck Ave. S.W. There are recreational activities on Fridays and Saturdays, with addiction counseling, mentoring, tutoring, Bible study and other services during the week. The ministry is holding an open house from 2 to 5 p.m. Saturday.

Straight Street's turf isn't the same ground covered by such community centers as the YMCA and Boys and Girls Clubs.

"Straight Street is great. There's no way we can service all the kids, and they're open a lot later than we are on weekends," said Becci Emanuelson, executive director for the nonprofit Boys and Girls Clubs of Southwest Virginia's four locations. The Boys and Girls Club in Roanoke has been closed for a $1.5 million renovation since October, and is scheduled to reopen in August.

There are no millions of dollars in donations being requested or received by Straight Street. The charity consists of just two employees, including Farmer; an annual payroll of $52,000; and about 80 volunteers. It provides free help and easy access. There are no memberships, no computer check-in, no demand for identification cards and no forms to fill out -- except perhaps for a voluntary prayer request.

A quick look at some of those anonymous pleas on file at Straight Street speaks volumes about who comes through its doors and the emotional baggage they bear. One lists the following problems: "Mom's alcoholism, cousin's coke addiction, family involvement with alcohol, Eric's temper, pray about dad getting another job." Another's request: "Pray that my mother stays clean and away from drugs."

Some are ever so brief, such as this appeal, asking only "for a home."

In fact, Straight Street itself had been without a permanent home for three years before opening its remodeled 15,000-square-foot location in December. Structural problems forced the program out of a much smaller building at 109 Luck Ave., where it had been housed rent-free since 1996.

Farmer came across the current building, a cavernous empty Appalachian Power Co. storage facility. The utility, while declining to donate the building, agreed to sell it for the relatively bargain sum of $250,000, down from its original asking price of $400,000, Farmer said.

Wachovia Bank approved his mortgage request and, thanks to donors, the remaining balance is about $80,000.

During the three-year renovation, Straight Street operated rent free in space provided by First Baptist Church. Farmer estimates that at least $100,000 in remodeling has gone into his new facility, but most of the materials and labor were provided by such businesses as F&S Building and Remodeling in Northeast Roanoke. Gary Feazell, the owner, said he was introduced to Farmer after a Sunday church service in 1994 and was intrigued by the Straight Street cause.

"I'm always looking for people doing things to better our community. And if you have a need, you're welcome at Straight Street," he said. "I just want to help."

So does Don Eckenroth, owner of Gentle Shepherd Hospice in Northwest Roanoke. He has picked up the tab for hundreds of hours of counseling for substance abuse and other ills by professionals to whom Straight Street refers some teens, their parents and young adults who attend its Sunday night socials. "They don't have to worry about a bill," said Eckenroth, who declined to estimate the cost of the counseling he has been paying for since 1994.

Eckenroth rarely encounters the people whose counseling he pays for. "I don't need to know who they are," he said.

Such support for Straight Street is built into its new abode, and for free. The new four-stall bathrooms came from S.J. Conner & Sons plumbing in Northeast Roanoke. Carter's Cabinet Shop in Northeast Roanoke produced a 40-foot counter for Straight Street's cafeteria. The 15,000-pound limestone fireplace is a laborious gift -- taking four men two weeks to complete -- from Gerald Allman Stone Masonry in Southeast Roanoke.

On Saturday nights, the human dividends seem plentiful. Playing Scrabble in a foursome, 19-year-old Camber Stump said, "This is a good place to be. You feel safe and accepted."

She has been a Straight Street regular since age 14, finding it a refuge from troubles at home.

Gelesha Gibson, walking into the sanctuary for the 20-minute Saturday night sermon delivered by student pastor Jonathan Archer, said, "This is my church. I can come here to play, too, and bring my baby."

On the Net: www.straightstreet.org