Monica Yant Kinney | Giving their time to Camden kids

As they set out the cookies and cocoa and plugged in the DVD player, the few who run Urban Promise wondered whether the many would come.

The Camden nonprofit has been bombarded by the kindness of TV-watching strangers since 20/20 devoted an hour to the plight of good kids in a tough town. They've called, e-mailed, and even driven a 24-foot truck full of donations down the New Jersey Turnpike.

But anyone in the business of changing children's lives knows there's a big difference between writing a check and giving the intangible gifts of time and commitment.

Money is nice, but humans are priceless. Hence the open house on an icy night last week (and another one next Saturday at 10 a.m.) to see just how moved people are to do right by children who've been done so wrong.

"I've never had a kid call me and say he's really irritated that so-and-so asked about his report card or wished her a happy birthday," Urban Promise's executive director, Bruce Main, tells me before the event.

"It's human nature. We like being remembered. A lot of our young people don't have that or, if they do, not much of it."

"Our phones started ringing 10 minutes into the show, and they haven't stopped," development director Steve Tuttle explains. "People realize there's poverty in this country, but these kids put a face on it."

Tuttle awaited more faces. Dozens of people said they'd go to the open houses, the first step toward volunteering.

Despite the weather, 20 prospects filled the chairs Thursday night. A chef. A teacher who works with insects. A stay-at-home mom wanting to share her graphic-design skills. A lawyer and a social worker who've raised their kids and want to help guide someone else's. A woman who grew up in Camden and discovered after moving to Haddonfield that "Camden has my heart."

Chantelle Fitzgerald, 25, is a drug rep whose sales territory includes Camden. She sees a lot from her car. She wants to get out and help, "tutoring kids or chaperoning field trips."

Cliff Adams, a 48-year-old caterer from Pleasantville, N.J., has no children and plenty of free time.

"A lot of what changed my life growing up was people who weren't related to me taking an interest," he said. "Teachers, family friends, someone with a kind word."

The would-be do-gooders learned that even small gestures go a long way. The retired truck driver who dabbles in construction might be just what Urban Promise needs to keep its buses running and buildings up to code. The executive assistant at Campbell's Soup would be a godsend in the unstaffed office.

Many want to work one on one, tutoring in reading and math. When a woman asks whether she can take needy kids down the Shore or to her home for a weekend, Main pauses, then answers as delicately as possible.

"As time progresses, as we get to know you and you us," he says. "We could broaden the circle of what we would allow."

At the end, as volunteers filled out forms and searched for $15 to pay for background checks, Urban Promise staff updated them on their inspiration.

Billyjo, the teenager profiled on 20/20, is taking classes at Camden County College. He worked as an extra in Pride and Glory, an Ed Norton-Colin Farrell movie filming in New York.

Moochie and her sisters will enroll at Urban Promise's school in the spring.

And Ivan, the superhero-loving kindergartner who dreamed of a house with curtains?

Last week, his family moved into an East Camden apartment renovated by the good folks at the St. Joseph's Carpenter Society and stocked with donated food, furniture and toys.

"He has more curtains than windows," a smiling Shannon Oberg tells the sniffling, sighing crowd. "They're all Superman."