EAST ST. LOUIS • On a recent day in her old neighborhood, track superstar Jackie Joyner-Kersee stopped by 1433 Piggott Avenue. Visiting the site, she said, helps her keep life in perspective.

A vacant lot littered with liquor bottles remains where the shotgun-style home of her childhood once stood. She recalled running relays around the block and practicing the long jump by leaping off the front porch.

As she looked over the open field, a beat-up truck parked across the street bellowed a continuous moan, struggling to start. A dozen people gathered in a nearby front yard, some of them sitting on plastic milk crates placed around a 55-gallon drum.

"It's just a different generation," Joyner-Kersee said, smiling.

People eventually started drifting closer to Joyner-Kersee, who wore a red-white-and-blue sweat suit, 16 years after her last Olympic competition in Atlanta.

One man asked for an autograph. Another yelled, "JJK is in the house!" Some passers-by just paused to take a good look.

Larry Floore, 55, told her how happy he was to see her after many years. "I can't forget you," he said.

Their conversation passed the initial excitement and delved into details about Floore's friends and relatives. They visited more than 10 minutes. Rather than move on, she kept asking him questions. Do you ever see Timothy? Where's Keith? Ohio? What part of Ohio?

At a tavern across the street, the Honey Nest Lounge, Joyner-Kersee is similarly revered.

"Nobody is going to say anything negative about her, especially in here, or they will get whopped," said John Dancy, manager of the Honey Nest. "She is the toast of this city."

Joyner-Kersee turns 50 in March and, although she is several years removed from her track achievements, business leaders around the world still pay to hear her thoughts about staying competitive at high levels. In recent months, she has spoken in Singapore, Amsterdam and London. She splits her time between a home in unincorporated St. Louis County, near Town and Country, and a home in Los Angeles.

But the pull of her hometown still tugs at her. The highest hurdle of her career still stands there — a community center that bears her name. It opened to great fanfare, only to become a disheartening lesson in poor management. Its closing was a hit on Joyner-Kersee's reputation, which she is working to regain. With the help of an angel investor, the center reopened a year ago and is slowly trying to build momentum.

Joyner-Kersee is exploring other opportunities to reach underserved African-American communities. And she continues to motivate young athletes who run on the same worn-out streets that she once did.

"No matter how far you travel or how far you go," she said, "I always come back to reality."

'MIRACLE ON 25TH STREET'

Jackie Joyner-Kersee's life story is well-known and documented in her autobiography, "A Kind of Grace." Her family didn't celebrate birthdays. They didn't have hot water. On cold winter nights, she slept on the kitchen floor with the oven open to stay warm. Her mother told her not to look out the window when gunshots went off at the tavern across the street.

When she was 9, Joyner-Kersee signed up for track at the Mary E. Brown Community Center, which still stands next to her old block. She heard speakers there, played sports and met mentors.

The hometown girl went on to win six Olympic medals in the 1980s and '90s, was lauded as one of the best athletes in recent history and became an international star. She did it all with asthma.

President Bill Clinton once told Joyner-Kersee in a phone call that she inspired the youth of a nation. She still holds the world record — 7,291 points — in the heptathlon.

When the center of her youth closed several years ago, Joyner-Kersee set a goal to open a state-of-the-art facility in East St. Louis. She said she wanted to give kids in a city that most people don't want to visit the same opportunity she had — the exposure to a bigger world.

A foundation she formed gathered $12 million in initial donations, with pledges from the likes of Nike, the Danforth Foundation, Monsanto and Anheuser-Busch. The Jackie Joyner-Kersee Center opened in 2000. A local politician called it the "Miracle on 25th Street."

Thousands of people played on football, baseball and softball fields spread across 37 acres of manicured lawns. There were indoor basketball courts with seating for 1,200 people. There were community and computer rooms. A cafeteria often fed children who were used to missing meals.

A decade later, however, the center was shuttered. Encouraging stories of success were overshadowed by cash flow problems and a culture of complacency.

"There are people who thought JJK is here, now something is going to happen," said Andrew Theising, author of "Made in USA," a book about East St. Louis. "People will sit back and not help row the boat. As strong as she is, as successful as she is, even JJK couldn't do it alone."

Joyner-Kersee, who served as board chair of the foundation at the time, said the center lost hundreds of thousands of dollars from the start for not meeting construction goals. Once the center was finished, she said, managers spent more than was budgeted trying to do too many things.

She was eventually called on to help make payroll. She said she poured about $500,000 of her own money into the center.

In 2009, financial support dried up after news reports of a $450,000 contract benefiting an organization managed by Robert Kersee, Jackie's husband and former coach. The foundation also revealed in tax filings that other friends and family were on the payroll.

The foundation lost its state tax-exempt status in 2009 for not filing annual audits.

When the center finally closed in 2010, at least 32 full- and part-time employees had lost their jobs. Weeds grew chest high in the baseball diamonds. Unpaid bills stacked up as foreclosure loomed.

Meanwhile, Joyner-Kersee and her husband were fighting a personal financial battle. The IRS filed a series of liens against the couple from several years of unpaid taxes and penalties. Joyner-Kersee said the source of the trouble was disagreements over deductions.

A NEW LIFE

The fate of the center became an albatross around Joyner-Kersee's neck. During that time, she said, she lost about $200,000 in speaking engagements that were canceled around the country.

"It was tough for me to deal with because I had never been on that side before, where I was the one that was hurting, and you never knew where you were going to get the support from," she said through tears.

Then a second, more modest life for the center sprouted from the ruins when it opened again in January 2011.

The East St. Louis School District agreed to lease the center for five years and to pay to keep the electricity on. The district uses the building for athletic events and practices.

Also, an anonymous "Christian couple" from Illinois took over the debt left on the building and other unpaid loans and bills, according a recent audit. The amount topped $1 million.

God "wants us to serve the needy and serve the poor," said the donor, who asked not to be identified. "I don't think you can find more needy people and more poor people than in East St. Louis. God put me in a position to help that community."

The donor, a businessman, said he's active in planning for the center to assure its programs move in the direction he wants. Should it go poorly, he said, he still has authority to foreclose on the building. But he doesn't expect that to happen.

"I know where (Joyner-Kersee's) heart is, and I know what she wants," he said. "She wants to give back and make those kids' lives better. And that's what I want."

The center has been open again for a year now, but the reputation of the foundation that controls it needs to be rebuilt to encourage a portfolio of donors, rather than rely on one major donor.

Since November, the foundation has been back in good standing with the state of Illinois. Joyner-Kersee doesn't directly run the center but helps with programs and remains president of the board. She and her advisers are trying to use the Mathews-Dickey Boys' and Girls' Club as a model for the center "in order to regain credibility, integrity and accountability," according to a recent audit.

While there used to be a nearly $2 million annual budget, costs now are largely covered by outside groups. There is only one paid employee. And there is a push to continue to find partners and only offer programs that are paid for.

"Everything is moving in a good direction," said Martin Luther Mathews, CEO of Mathews-Dickey Boys' and Girls' Club, which is paying the salary of the sole employee at the center.

LESSONS LEARNED

Several people grew up in East St. Louis and became famous. Star tennis player Jimmy Connors. Jazz musician Miles Davis. Hall of Fame tight end Kellen Winslow. A U.S. ambassador to the United Nations, Donald McHenry.

In his time, McHenry, 75, dealt with diplomatic flare-ups in the Middle East and Africa, including the Iran hostage crisis. He doesn't come back to East St. Louis much anymore. Most of his relatives are gone, and an elementary school named after him has closed.

"It was a city from which the very beginning that was set up in a way that was doomed to fail," McHenry, a self-described "realist," said by telephone from Virginia.

But even though trying to help can be frustrating, he said, "it's always worth the effort."

For her part, Joyner-Kersee said her commitment has not waned. The help of volunteers from her youth has stayed with her.

"I just don't think that East St. Louis should be a forgotten city," she said.

She's pursuing other efforts, too, such as helping a project to expand urban farming around the country. And she is in the middle of negotiations with St. Alexius Hospital as it tries to create a $4 million breast cancer center in south St. Louis. The clinic would use MRI technology to screen for malignant tumors that are hard to detect. She helped come up with the idea after being scared by a screening that eventually came back clean.

"To some degree, it's inspirational and you hope that carries through," Lisa Moylan, chief nurse at the hospital, said of putting Joyner-Kersee's name and face on the clinic.

Looking farther ahead, Joyner-Kersee said she might write another book, this one about hard lessons learned.

"I hear a lot of people talk about how they want to build community," she said. "There are some do's and don'ts."

Be skeptical of newfound friends. Don't rely too much on one name. Realize that the heavy lifting begins after the building is built. Don't just surround yourself with people who like you.

Joyner-Kersee now spends about 60 percent of her time in the St. Louis area. She juggles speaking engagements in front of athletes, children, and business, community and government leaders.

As for the IRS problems, another lien was filed in St. Louis County as recently as December for unpaid income taxes. The couple still owe at least $1.4 million to the IRS. Joyner-Kersee said a payment plan is in place now, and the situation is under control.

TEACHING SUCCESS

When she is in town, Joyner-Kersee stops by the center in East St. Louis to help lead high school girl track athletes in a program called "Winning in Life."

On a recent afternoon, she got down on the floor in tights to stretch out with the teenagers. The legendary Olympian easily reached past her toes, in formation of jumping over a hurdle. She worked on flexibility exercises with the girls.

Then, sitting at tables, she encouraged them to be responsible.

"What is it going to take to be successful in the classroom and on the field?" she asked. "You cannot have one without the other. You can't be on this team if you don't get up and go to school every day."

She asked each girl what her goals are.

Some have times and distances they want to beat. Many want to win state. At least one young woman said she wants to win a gold medal.

"Now if you go on and do great things athletically, that's fine and dandy," Joyner-Kersee told them. "But to me, striving to be a great person will allow you to do great things in whatever field you choose to pursue."

There were a few yawns, but most of the girls paid attention.

"She's an inspiration, and then she's cool," said sophomore Christina Burch. "She got rich and came back. She never forgot where she was from."

Joyner-Kersee said later that giving up on the center, and her hometown, isn't an option.

"If I choose to do that, then it says a lot about the lack of character versus sticking with it," she said. "I believe in me. And I believe in the dreams of the young people. I can't allow that to be tarnished."