The Las Vegas Youth Ambassadors fine-tune teens’ stage talent

Kimberley McGee

Thursday, July 29, 1999 | 10:06 a.m.

On any Saturday morning, a handful of dedicated teenagers can be found tirelessly practicing a cadence in a mirrored community center room, their toes and fingers involuntarily tapping and snapping to the 27th rendition of the a cappella tune.

"If it wasn't for this," 17-year-old Guiddo Benites says, "I'd be asleep till 2 in the afternoon."

"Or (watch) cartoons," 15-year-old member Sarah Day adds.

"I'd still be sleepin' " 14-year-old Andrew Mueller says with a sigh.

"This" is the Las Vegas Youth Ambassadors, a nonprofit performance group that gathers 13- to 17-year-olds weekly under the watchful eye of president and local entertainer Kahlil Walton. Under his direction, the dedicated students fine-tune their singing and dancing talents -- and personal characters.

"They may not all become performers," Walton says, following the group with his eyes, ears tuned for a note out of place. "(But) I wanted to show them that hard work can be worth something."

So far, hard work has gotten the group an opening gig with Paul Anka, a half-time show at the Fiesta Bowl and an appearance at a celebrity dinner for the ShoWest movie convention.

To be a member of the group, founded in 1997 by 25-year-old Walton, the teens must be committed to learn tricks of the talent trade, as well as a few life lessons.

"(The program) teaches me positive reassurance and patience, persistence," Andrew says.

"Dedication," 16-year-old Jason Poidomani adds.

"It helps bring out confidence and teaches you a lot of respect (for others) ," says Kristen Mueller, who at 12 is the youngest member. "And the people are really close."

The teens say they like that their input into the programs is important; they choose their own songs, choreograph numbers and help plot stage positions.

"They are going to be different people (after this)," Walton says. "They haven't even scratched the surface."

At a practice at the Whitney Community Center in Henderson, 14-year-old Krystle Holford stands before the semicircle of seated fellow members who have come to practice in their stage "silks" -- colored silk shirts and black pants -- with their shoes shined and polished.

Holford sings "Yes, Jesus Loves Me" in a soft, wavering voice, arms rigid and crossed at the wrist over her waist. When finished, she smiles shyly and heads for the safety of her folding chair, glad it's over. She expresses the raw talent that Walton looks to bring out in the group.

Deanna Wilson, 21, music instructor for LVYA, sees the true talent peeking through new members and watches it blossom until the teens are walking with heads high, confident in the knowledge that they can be proud of their work.

"Through performing and singing in front of their peers, there are things they didn't realize they had in them and we are just pushing that out," Wilson says. "They come in here and they hang back (at first), and then they see something they want to do and they lead. The kids don't realize they can be a leader."

Wilson met Walton through the Air Force singing group, Tops In Blue, in which Walton had performed before leaving the military. Walton now plays Octavius the Wizard nightly in Caesars Palace Magical Empire and spends his days drumming up donations, appearances and publicity for the group.

What spurs him on is his love of the stage and his own childhood frustration that experience was so expensive.

"I wanted to start something free," he says. "There's all these talented kids out there" with few affordable options to gain professional knowledge of what the young members liken to a sport.

"Some kids are into sports, singing is my thing," Jason says.

"It's free and I find that very remarkable," Andrew says. "It's important to find (opportunities) like (this) out there."

Wilson sees the program as more than a free talent session.

"They are not just learning to perform, but how to be good role models," she says.

As the eight students gather in a circle around 20-year-old vocal director Kenny Bruce, the personalities of the group weave together to create a team. One member snaps her fingers to provide rhythm, another provides the right key for a voice out of tune. They listen to their collective sound, heads turned toward the tones, cracking smiles when a voice breaks from the smooth croons.

"It's like a whole other family," Sarah says. "If I have problems in school, I know I can talk to anyone here."

The intense program has made for tight bonds between the members.

"There's peer pressure at school, but here, there's just pressure to strive for the best," Sarah says.

They depend on each other to make it seamlessly through any practice or performance, or they start over from scratch, repeating a routine upwards of 50 times in one day.

"If anybody messes up we have to start all over again," Guiddo says. "I would get kind of (frustrated) but then I knew if they didn't get it (right), then I didn't. It's a team."

Once the kids turn 18 they have to leave the group. They either go on to pursue a performing career or, more often than not, they move on to other occupations.

"But they will always have this as a memory of something that they did, and the lessons that they learned," Walton says.

And that's more than an afternoon parked in front of the TV or a trip to the arcade will do for their future.

"I'm looking to the future," Jason says. "This group prepares me for the future. ... I could be hanging out on the streets, out there somewhere."

Bruce adds: "It's good to see youth that aren't just standing on the corner. They always come in prepared, you can tell when they don't. They are (dedicated)."

Walton recruits members from performing arts classes in area schools in early fall. They are shocked to find they aren't just working for a grade anymore, but for the pride in their work.

"I thought (Walton) would be on our case more," Guiddo says. "(But) it's more my responsibility -- you have to do your vocals, do your dance (at home) and if you don't do it, you won't be any good."

"It's not worth it" if they don't practice at home, 15-year-old Alecia Wilson, a two-year veteran, adds.

Adiel Rhodes, 14, notes that Walton relentlessly pushes the members. "I thought it would be easier but I'm going to walk away knowing I (can do) what I have to do."

They say they think they are good when they enter the program and walk out feeling they are even better than they thought they ever could be, in body and soul.

"They think they know how to sing when they come in," Walton says. "But we teach them how to breathe, how to smile, sing out ... hold the microphone."

Once past the basics of stage presence, Walton teaches them to appreciate music.

"They didn't know who Paul Anka was," Walton says. "They don't know Motown, they don't learn the (history) of music in the classroom like this."

Walton wants to take the group on a world tour with the help of a yet-to-be- found corporate sponsor.

"They will have to set up themselves, put up the lights, the microphones," Walton says. "It will really teach them to be self-reliant."

"You have to be prepared to adjust," Guiddo says. "This teaches us to work in any situation."

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