09/03/2026
Every Sunday, the sound of basketballs bouncing on the hardwood fills the gym at the Bartlett Center in midtown St. Joseph.
For the group of men who gather, it’s about much more than basketball. Some have been coming to Bartlett Center - and the schools that occupied this historic site - for most of their lives. Others arrived only recently.
For Dan May, the connection reaches back to elementary school. Inside Bartlett Center hangs a photo of a Horace Mann School class from 1967. May is in first grade in it. More than half a century later, he is still coming back. May remembers Bartlett as a place for neighborhood kids to gather and says its importance hasn’t changed.
Dennis Reed has also been connected to Bartlett for most of his life. He participated in afterschool and summer programs growing up and estimates he has spent about 20 years playing Sunday basketball at the center.
“It’s just part of the community, part of our history,” Reed said. “A lot of people, this is all they’ve ever known. This is it.”
Brian Siela and Walter May also remember coming to the center as kids. Siela walked to the Bartlett Center from his great-grandmother’s nearby home and May attended Bartlett Center dances. They’ve played basketball together on Sundays for years and the tradition continues today, with as many as 10 or 12 men gathering for their regular Sunday shootout.
For Kaleb Carlson, the story began more recently. He started going to the center about two years ago, shooting baskets regularly on the outdoor courts. The Sunday regulars noticed him and eventually invited him inside to join them. The invitation became far more meaningful than simply joining a basketball game.
“It was my outlet to get off drugs,” Carlson said.
His experience illustrates something Bartlett Center has provided in different ways and to different generations throughout its history: a place to belong, as an elementary and high school and as a community center.
A gym can just be a place to play basketball. But when people continue walking through its doors year after year, generation after generation, it becomes something more: a place for friendships. A childhood memory. And sometimes, a second chance.
