Dropcents
29.2.12
Man shot to death outside Miami Gardens house of rapper Rick Ross
Even though rapper Rick Ross owns it, the house looks pretty typical for a working-class South Florida neighborhood: Two garden chairs on the porch, a pastel paint job that has seen better days, a chain-link fence around the perimeter.
What wasn’t typical: the yellow police tape surrounding a bloody body in the front yard.
Ross, performer of Live Fast, Die Young with Kanye West, wasn’t saying anything publicly Wednesday about what happened on his property.
Police say they don’t consider Ross a suspect but want to talk to him as part of the investigation into the shooting death of Gregory Paul Nesbitt, 39.
“Here’s a guy standing close to a fence and someone comes and shoots him,” said police spokesman Bill Bamford. “We’re trying to figure out why he was confronted there.”
Ross, who lives elsewhere, apparently uses the house as a recording studio and lets friends stay and go. Ross was not at the house, 3203 NW 181st St., at the time of Wednesday’s shooting and police didn’t say what Nesbitt was doing there.
Nesbitt has been mixed up with trouble before. He has a criminal history in Miami-Dade dating back to the 1990s, with charges that include armed robbery, disorderly conduct and marijuana possession. He was convicted of grand theft auto in 1994.
Miami Gardens officers were summoned to the area of Northwest 32nd Avenue and 181st Street about 7 Wednesday morning to investigate the sound of gunshots.
“When officers arrived, they discovered the body,” Bamford said.
Someone shot Nesbitt several times. Police say they have no motive or suspect yet.
His body was just inside the gate that leads to the front door. An Infiniti SUV belonging to Nesbitt was towed from the property by police.
According to Miami-Dade property records, the house is owned by William L. Roberts II, stage name Rick Ross. The rapper, who grew up in nearby Carol City, also made nonmusical headlines last year when he suffered two seizures in October, one of which left him unconscious on a flight from Fort Lauderdale to Memphis.
Wednesday’s homicide at his house comes two days after another fatal shooting in Miami Gardens. Two drivers got into a dispute and one apparently shot the other on a city street. Police said Raul Idrovo, 28, was apparently chased by Lemuel Rosario, 31, who repeatedly fired at Idrovo until he shot him in the head after the two had exited their cars.
Black History has importance (REFLECTING IMAGES)
Anyway, one of the pollsters knocked on the front door of one of those western Pennsylvania homes. A woman came to the door. The pollster asked her if she was voting for John McCain or Barack Obama. The woman turned around and yelled, “Honey, who are we gonna vote for?” A male voice yelled out from the back of the house, “We’re votin for the nigger. The woman calmly turned and repeated to the pollster, “we’re voting for the nigger.”
When I first told my wife, Joyce, this story, she thought that I was joking. I wasn’t. It happened. It was reported in newspapers. It was posted on the Internet.
And, in a backhanded true-life sort of way, it lets us know that what Dr. King was addressing two score and six years ago is actually a dream half done.
Speaking of seeing, I see puzzled looks on some of your faces. Wasn’t this supposed to be a speech about The Dream Achieved? Where’s this man going with this? Stay with me, okay?
The original title of Dr. King’s 1963 speech was “Normalcy—Never Again.” That wasn’t exactly a title that would flow off anybody’s tongue or stir anyone’s soul. So, it didn’t take long or much imagination for Dr. King’s wonderful words to become the “I have a Dream” speech. Nor did it take long for his speech to get white washed by the mainstream media.
In his speech, which was delivered at the March on Washington for jobs and freedom, Dr. King talked a little about his dream but a lot more about the American nightmare. He spoke less about what he hoped our nation would do and much more about what our nation had not done. That’s the part of the speech that gets little play on TV or radio. So, I’m going to read a key part of what Dr. King had to say. Before I say what Dr. King said, let me caution you: I’m going to say it without the wonderful flow or rhythm you’re used to hearing in Dr. King’s speech. I want you to hear the words stripped of the passion and flavor.
"In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men - yes, black men as well as white men - would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked 'insufficient funds.'"
When Obama takes his oath of office tomorrow I want you to think of it as earnest money…not that we’ve been paid in full. There are still some matters that need to be cleared from the books.
Right now, there are one million black men unemployed. That’s what Dr. King was talking about.
Right now, half our children drop out city high schools before they graduate. That’s what Dr. King was talking about.
Right now, there are a million black men locked up behind bars. That’s what Dr. King was talking about.
And here’s something he said in his Dream speech that could have been a sound bite from him after Oscar Grant was murdered by an Oakland transit cop two weeks ago: “We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality.”
I’m hoping that President Obama will be hearing Dr. King.
Since he launched his presidential campaign, Barack Obama has been talking Lincoln but I suspect, that he was thinking King.
Well, come tomorrow, the time will be now, for President Obama to cash and carry some of that urgency.
When he swears in tomorrow, the time will be now for President Obama to also pay some old dues to those African American giants that shed blood, sweat and tears to make his presidential dream come true.
If these men and women hadn’t done what they did, Barack Obama wouldn’t have been able to do what he has done—or what he will have to start doing beginning tomorrow.
Thanks to his predecessor, Obama has a lot of doing—and undoing--to do.
And there’s a lot more that we can’t expect a President Obama to take on. Some of it is on us. Before the Dream can really be achieved, we’ve got to take care of our own business.
Right now, only 25 percent of black children have a father in the house. That wasn’t Dr. King’s dream.
Right now, our youth are killing our youth in record numbers. That wasn’t Dr. King’s dream.
Right now, our senior citizens are afraid to leave their homes at night; afraid they’ll be mugged or murdered. That was not Dr. King’s dream.
So, right now, I say that when President Obama is sworn in, that we flip the script.
Let me remind you of the prophetic words in Dr. King’s Memphis speech, he spoke these words the night before he was murdered.
“I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain top. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people will get to the Promised Land.”
Obama, obviously, is there. A lot of us are there with him. But there’s still some dreaming to do and work that must be done. None of us can afford to forget about those we’ve left behind. We owe it to Dr. King’s vision.
Thanks and God bless.
February is African American History Month
The Library of Congress, National Archives and Records Administration, National Endowment for the Humanities, National Gallery of Art, National Park Service, Smithsonian Institution and United States Holocaust Memorial Museum join in paying tribute to the generations of African Americans who struggled with adversity to achieve full citizenship in American society.
As a Harvard-trained historian, Carter G. Woodson, like W. E. B. Du Bois before him, believed that truth could not be denied and that reason would prevail over prejudice. His hopes to raise awareness of African American's contributions to civilization was realized when he and the organization he founded, the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History (ASNLH), conceived and announced Negro History Week in 1925. The event was first celebrated during a week in February 1926 that encompassed the birthdays of both Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglass. The response was overwhelming: Black history clubs sprang up; teachers demanded materials to instruct their pupils; and progressive whites, not simply white scholars and philanthropists, stepped forward to endorse the effort.
By the time of Woodson's death in 1950, Negro History Week had become a central part of African American life and substantial progress had been made in bringing more Americans to appreciate the celebration. At mid–century, mayors of cities nationwide issued proclamations noting Negro History Week. The Black Awakening of the 1960s dramatically expanded the consciousness of African Americans about the importance of black history, and the Civil Rights movement focused Americans of all color on the subject of the contributions of African Americans to our history and culture.
The celebration was expanded to a month in 1976, the nation's bicentennial. President Gerald R. Ford urged Americans to “seize the opportunity to honor the too-often neglected accomplishments of black Americans in every area of endeavor throughout our history.” That year, fifty years after the first celebration, the association held the first African American History Month. By this time, the entire nation had come to recognize the importance of Black history in the drama of the American story. Since then each American president has issued African American History Month proclamations. And the association—now the Association for the Study of African American Life and History (ASALH)—continues to promote the study of Black history all year.
(Excerpt from an essay by Daryl Michael Scott, Howard University, for the Association for the Study of African American Life and History)
About This Year’s Theme
This year's theme "Black Women in American Culture and History" honors African American women and the myriad of roles they played in the shaping of our nation. The theme, chosen by the Association for the Study of African American Life and History urges all Americans to study and reflect on the value of their contribution to the nation.
Executive and Legislative Documents
The Law Library of Congress has compiled guides to commemorative observations, including a comprehensive inventory of the Public Laws, Presidential Proclamations and congressional resolutions related to African American History Month.
Influential Black Figures: Cornell West
West, Cornel (b. 1953), essayist, public speaker, social activist, and major figure in African American academia. Cornel West was born in Tulsa, Oklahoma, on 2 June 1953. His mother was an elementary school teacher who later became principal; his father, a civilian administrator in the air force. Both of his parents attended Fisk University. The family, including West's brother, Clifton, moved often. They eventually settled in a middle-class African American neighborhood in Sacramento, California. West graduated with a degree in Near Eastern languages and literature from Harvard University. He received his doctorate in philosophy from Princeton University. As director of Princeton's Afro-American Studies Program from 1988 to 1994, and as a professor in Harvard's Department of Afro-American Studies since 1994, West is one of several high-profile scholars who have strengthened African American studies programs. He has taught at America's most prestigious universities and has lectured at many others. The blend of skills and styles employed by West inspires adjectives from his admirers and critics; unadorned nouns seem unable to capture his complexities.
West is a prolific essayist and author. His first book, Prophesy Deliverance!: An Afro-American Revolutionary Christianity, appeared in 1982 and attempts to synthesize elements of African American Christianity and thought, Western philsophy, and Marxist thinking. In 1988 West published Prophetic Fragments, a collection of essays that discuss similarly disparate elements. The American Evasion of Philosophy: A Genealogy of Pragmatism (1989) engages populism and race, class, and gender issues. The Ethical Dimensions of Marxist Thought (1991) and Keeping Faith: Philosophy and Race in America (1993) continue the discussion of those ideas in the context of modern America. Prophetic Thought in Postmodern Times and Prophetic Reflections: Notes on Race and Power in America also date from 1993. Throughout his career West has also produced collaborative work: Post-Analytic Philosophy (1985), edited with John Rajchman; Breaking Bread: Insurgent Black Intellectual Life (1991), cowritten with bell Hooks; Jews and Blacks: Let the Healing Begin (1995), authored with Michael Lerner; The Future of the Race (1996), with Henry Louis Gates, Jr., and with Roberto Mangabeira Unger, The Future of American Progressivism (1998). West's contributions to journals, popular magazines, and essay collections are myriad. His most influential book is Race Matters (1993), a short collection of essays that epitomizes West's careful attention to African American culture.
As a literary figure West is not easily categorized. His strength lies in his interdisciplinary focus. West synthesizes diverse topics in his writing leading to a careful control of language that is often poetic in its precision. He participates in African American oral and musical literary traditions with a spontaneous, performative element in his work that is as much a legacy from his grandfather, a Baptist preacher, as it is a language borrowed from jazz and rap. In his writing he legitimizes all forms of African American speech and bends them to effective use, employing language as a polemical weapon for social activism. This crafting of language and blending of genres mark West's literary style.
Cornel West's contributions to African American literature and thought range across disciplines and worlds to comment upon African American life. His work exemplifies synthesis and innovation.
Influential Black Figures: Michael Eric Dyson
Born on October 23, 1958, in Detroit, MI; son of Everett (an auto worker) and Addie (an aide in the public schools) Dyson; married second wife, Marcia Louise, June 24, 1992; children: Michael II, Maisha
Education: Carson-Newman College, BA (magna cum laude), 1982; Princeton University, MA, 1991, PhD, 1993.
Memberships: Democratic Socialist Society of America.
Career
Preacher and minister, various Baptist churches; Chicago Theological Seminary, instructor, later assistant professor, c. 1989-92; Brown University, Providence, RI, assistant professor, c. 1993-95; University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, c. 1995-97; Columbia University, visiting distinguished professor, 1997-99; DePaul University, Chicago, IL, Ida B. Wells-Barnett University professor, 1999-2002; University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, PA, Avalon Foundation professor, 2002-.
Life's Work
Hailed as one of a group of "new intellectuals," scholar Michael Eric Dyson is a longtime professor and lecturer, and an author who addresses issues of race and culture in such diverse publications as Christian Century and Rolling Stone. He has published seven books, including the well-received Making Malcolm: The Myth and Meaning of Malcolm X and I May Not Get There With You: The True Martin Luther King Jr. He has also appeared on popular talk shows, taught academic courses on gangsta rap and hip-hop music, and even testified before congressional subcommittees on various issues of concern to black Americans. Washington Post correspondent David Nicholson noted that Dyson "belongs to a group of young intellectuals who may yet define our view of black American culture as did their predecessors Ralph Ellison and Albert Murray."
"Young" is an important operating word when describing Dyson. Most professors do not become nationally known while still in their thirties, nor do they often head university departments at that age. Dyson did both while still in his mid-thirties, due in part to the success of his books and the strength of his journalism. Philadelphia Inquirer book critic Carlo Romano called Dyson a "crown prince ... to the two most established black male intellectuals: [Cornel] West and ... scholar Henry Louis Gates, Jr."
Young Spirit Tainted by Racism
Born on October 23, 1958, in Detroit, Michigan, Dyson grew up in a comfortable middle class family. His father was an auto worker, his mother a para-professional in the city schools. In a piece published in Details magazine, Dyson suggested that, due in large part to his age, he was somewhat isolated from the bitter civil rights struggles that occurred in the 1960s. "I was nine years old when Martin Luther King, Jr. died," he said. "I had never heard of him before then. I remember a newscaster interrupted the regular programming and broke the news. My father, sitting in his chair, went 'Hmph.'; A hmph that said both 'I can't believe it' and 'How predictable.' That was my initiation into the world of white and black."
Dyson was an active youngster and early on he developed his oratorical skills by delivering speeches to the members of the Baptist church he attended. When Dyson was a teenager, a well-meaning neighbor gave him a full set of the Harvard Classics. This standard literature of mostly white European authors may not sound like preferred reading for a black teenager, but Dyson devoured the whole set. "I was reading Two Years before the Mast and also getting my [link to black culture through black musicians like] Smokey Robinson," he joked in the Philadelphia Inquirer. Dyson even earned a scholarship to a well-known and respected boarding school in Michigan. Everything seemed to be falling into place for Dyson, but that all changed once he actually arrived at boarding school at the age of 16.
At school Dyson first discovered that he had been living a life of segregation. All of the schools and clubs he had ever belonged to had been made up of African Americans, and he had had very little contact with people of other ethnic backgrounds, especially those with white skin. It wasn't long before Dyson began to feel uncomfortable around his classmates, who treated him poorly, often wrecked his dorm room and possessions, and used racial slurs when referring to him. According to Dyson in an America's Intelligence Wire article, "It was very jarring to me, like a sense of Hitchcockian Vertigo." Dyson began to lash out against other students and the boarding school in general, and it was not long before he was expelled.
Dyson returned to public high school and graduated in 1976, but by that time he had become a teenage father-to-be and was living off the welfare system. His responsibilities to his yet-unborn child led him to accept a series of jobs in maintenance and auto sales, but he lost his employment just weeks before his son's birth. Dyson also was known on the streets as a hustler and a gang member, and it seemed as if this lifestyle, a style he blamed on racism, was going to be prevalent throughout the rest of his life.
Religion Led to Education and Culture
Through everything, Dyson continued to attend his Baptist church and, along with religion, he slowly began to rediscover his love of oratory. With the assistance of his church pastor, Dyson studied and became a Baptist minister by the time he was 21. Along with taking on the new title of minister came an increased appreciation of his responsibilities. According to Dyson in America's Intelligence Wire, his quest for education came about because "I needed to have a better future for my son." He traveled south to Tennessee's Knoxville College to attend divinity school, and later transferred to Carson-Newman College in Jefferson City, Tennessee, where he earned a bachelor's degree with high honors in 1982.
After doing his undergraduate work, Dyson began to hone another of his talents, and took up employment as a freelance journalist. This was in part to improve his writing, but it was also a way for him to raise money to help his younger brother, who had gone to prison in the early 1980s for second-degree murder. He worked for numerous magazines and newspapers, his specialty being African-American popular culture and music. Three years later he began his career in academia by accepting a graduate fellowship at Princeton University. While he was completing his master's and doctoral degrees he also taught at Princeton, as well as at Hartford Seminary and Chicago Theological Seminary. He earned his Ph.D. in 1993.
Although many scholars distance themselves from popular culture, Dyson chose to focus on topics of interest to mainstream readers. With three years of experience in journalism after his undergraduate work, he became a regular contributor of record reviews to Rolling Stone, a popular columnist for Christian Century and The Nation, and reviewed books and films for newspapers. His first book-length collection of essays, Reflecting Black: African-American Cultural Criticism, was a collection of many of his articles, including pieces on racism in the seminary, filmmaker Spike Lee, entertainer Michael Jackson, sports star Michael Jordan, and black religious leaders as diverse as Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X. By addressing himself to some of pop culture's icons, Dyson noted in the book that he was attempting to resist "the labored seductions of all narrow views of black life, whether they be racist, essentialist, or otherwise uncritically disposed toward African American culture."
Wrote on Malcolm X's Life and Lessons
Dyson embarked on his book Making Malcolm: The Myth and Meaning of Malcolm X after a confrontation with some of his black male students at Brown University, where he taught in the early 1990s. The students objected to the presence of whites in Dyson's class on the radical Muslim leader, claiming that the whites "discuss things they don't know about," especially Malcolm X's life and philosophy. In response Dyson decided to write a "comprehensive and critical examination of what [Malcolm X] said and did, so that his life and thought will be useful to future generations of peoples in struggle around the globe," according to the book's introduction.
Making Malcolm was published in 1995, and the target audience was hardly just a group of ivory tower academicians. The book's dust jacket included praiseworthy notices from figures such as Angela Davis, the Rev. Jesse Jackson, Senator Carol Moseley-Braun, and rapper Chuck D of Public Enemy. Oxford University Press marketed the work through mainstream booksellers such as B. Dalton and Waldenbooks, recognizing that the audience for Making Malcolm would extend far beyond the scholarly community.
Los Angeles Times Book Review critic Natasha Tarpley declared that in Making Malcolm Dyson exhibits "great respect, sensitivity and love--a balance Malcolm himself mastered." The critic added: "Dyson assesses Malcolm's role in the resurgent black nationalism(s) of this generation's young black artists and students. ... [and] criticizes this generation for failing to learn Malcolm's greatest lesson, that of self-criticism; for seeing only the parts of Malcolm, of ourselves, of our struggle that we want to see." In the Washington Post Book World, Salim Muwakkil praised Dyson for his "willingness to embrace [Malcolm X's] complexity," a quality that "lifts this volume above those so far that have sought simply to shape Malcolm's message to serve their particular passion." New Yorker correspondent Michael Berube concluded that "Dyson gives us Malcolm as 'public moralist'--and a study that is as substantive and comprehensive as 'public' cultural criticism of such a figure can hope to be."
Explored Gangsta Rap in Academia
In the wake of the reception for Making Malcolm, Dyson addressed another issue in the black community: the cultural significance of gangsta rap. Dyson began writing articles on artists such as NWA, Ice Cube, and his personal favorite, Tupac Shakur. Slowly, he gained a reputation as an authority on rap music, even being asked to testify about it before a congressional subcommittee and, according to the New Yorker, being lauded by Chuck D as a "bad brother."
Dyson furthered his study into the world of rap with his third book, Between God and Gangsta Rap, in 1996. The purpose of the book, according to Dyson in the Wichita Eagle, was to put gangsta rap in its cultural and social perspective. "Gangsta rap often reaches higher than its ugliest, lowest common denominator," he noted, adding that "misogyny, violence, materialism and sexual transgression are not its exclusive domain. At its best, this music draws attention to complex dimensions of ghetto life ignored by most Americans.... Indeed, gangsta rap's in-your-face style may do more to force America to confront crucial social problems than a million sermons or political speeches."
Dyson also took gangsta rap into the classroom. He first tested the waters at the University of North Carolina, where he was a professor of communication studies and the head of the Institute for African-American research. He offered a class on the effects of gangsta rap on societal values, particularly within the African-American community. The class was an overwhelming success, and students fought to get in during every semester between 1995 and 1997, before Dyson left North Carolina to becoming a distinguished visiting professor at Columbia University. At Columbia he continued his trend of connecting gangsta rap with different facets of life, including religion, family and, to many people's surprise, literature and poetry.
Rose Through Academic and Literary Worlds
Dyson's reputation for intense cultural studies is not the only reason that many people in academia are familiar with his work. Many critics and readers also consider him a cutting-edge historian as well, one who has attempted to provide a critical intellectual perspective on historical figures who have attained iconic status within the black community and in society at large. Already starting down this path with Making Malcolm, Dyson began work on a book in the late 1990s on the public and private life of Martin Luther King Jr. In order to have time to write his new book, Dyson left Columbia University in 1999 to take on a post as the first Ida B. Wells-Barnett University professor at DePaul University in Chicago. With a lighter class load at DePaul, he was able to fully delve into the works, personal letters, and correspondence of Martin Luther King Jr. In 2000 he completed his research and published I May Not Get There With You: The True Martin Luther King Jr. The book "offers critical insights into the literal and symbolic meanings of the life of [that] Southern preacher, civil rights leader, and public intellectual," according to an article in the Western Journal of Black Studies. The same article added that Dyson "takes issue with ideological constructions of King which reduce his memory to a selective reading of the 'I Have a Dream' speech." Dyson contends that focusing on the speech has often obscured "the radicalism of King's activism ... disconnecting him from the vibrancy and vitality of his sustained revolt against segregation and other social evils," according to the Western Journal of Black Studies. Dyson concludes that by knowing history as it actually was, each person can explore why Dr. King put forth the messages that he did, and choose for themselves how effective his methods were, as well as explore the meanings behind his messages.
In 2001 Dyson published a book on the life of rapper Tupac Shakur titled, Hollar if You Hear Me: Searching for Tupac Shakur. Instead of using the traditional biographical format to explore the life of the gangsta rapper, Dyson employs a series of essays on topics such as family relations, street violence, education, and religion to explore the world that Shakur has created through his lyrics and his public image. Much like his university courses, Dyson's book on Shakur is intended to educate the general public on the importance of hip-hop and gangsta music, not only in understanding black culture, but American culture as well.
In 2002 Dyson accepted a position as an Avalon Foundation professor in the humanities and African-American studies at the University of Pennsylvania, where he refined and focused his teachings on gangsta rap and moved into hip-hop music as well. At the University of Pennsylvania he taught a class dealing with the life and lyrics of Tupac Shakur, examining how Shakur's image and presence changed the way listeners perceived his messages on issues such as family, religion, and violence. Courses such as this are very important to Dyson. As he told America's Intelligence Wire, they attempt to create a bridge between two generations that will "connect civil rights identity to hip-hop culture and ... forge a connection between older and younger Americans, especially black Americans."
Dyson continued to publish new books, including Open Mike: Reflections on Philosophy, Race, Sex, Culture and Religion in 2002 and, in 2003, Why I Love Black Women, a work extolling the virtues of African-American women. The success of his books has led to increased visibility for Dyson, who has appeared on talk shows and at book signings in many American cities. Berube included Dyson when he wrote in the New Yorker about a "generation of African American intellectuals [whose] work has become a fixture of mall bookstores, talk shows, elite universities, and black popular culture." Berube added: "Plainly, they have consolidated the gains of the civil-rights and Black Power movements in at least this regard: they have the ability and the resources to represent themselves in public on their own terms." Robert S. Boynton, in an Atlantic Monthly essay, felt that Dyson is part of "an impressive group of African American writers and thinkers [who] have emerged to revive and revitalize [the role of the public intellectual]. They are bringing moral imagination and critical intelligence to bear on the definingly American matter of race--and reaching beyond race to voice what one calls 'the commonality of American concern.'"
Reflecting on his current position as a man of letters and sought-after commentator, Dyson told the Philadelphia Inquirer, "I have to constantly negotiate the tension between past neighborhood and present neighborhood." He added that his success "is affirming, of course, but it also feels awkward. I think of myself as a Trojan Horse. I don't have an earring in my nose or ear. I don't have my hair combed back in a ponytail, or rough-hewn. I look like an insider. But there's a whole lot of Negroes inside of me. There's a whole lot of black men inside of me. And when I get in somewhere, I let them out."
28.2.12
Influential Black Figures: Sidney Poitier
A native of Cat Island, The Bahamas, (though born in Miami during a mainland visit by his parents), Poitier grew up in poverty as the son of a dirt farmer. He had little formal education and at the age of 15 was sent to Miami to live with his brother, in order to forestall a growing tendency toward delinquency. In the U.S., Poitier first experienced the racial chasm that divides the country, a great shock to a boy coming from a society with a black majority. A determination to find and create opportunities for blacks was born in him because of the poor treatment he received on the streets of Miami. At 18, he went to New York, did menial jobs and slept in a bus terminal toilet. A brief stint in the Army as a worker at a veteran's hospital was followed by more menial jobs in Harlem. An impulsive audition at the American Negro Theatre was rejected so forcefully that Poitier dedicated the next six months to overcoming his accent and performance ineptness. On his second try, he was accepted. He was spotted in a rehearsal and given a bit part in a Broadway production of "Lysistrata," for which he got excellent reviews. By the end of 1949, he was having to choose between leading roles on stage and an offer to work for Darryl F. Zanuck in the film No Way Out (1950). Poitier's performance as a doctor treating a white bigot got him plenty of notice and led to more roles, each considerably more interesting and prominent than most black actors of the time were getting. Nevertheless, the roles were still less interesting and prominent than those white actors routinely obtained. But seven years later, after turning down several projects he considered demeaning, Poitier got a number of roles that catapulted him into a category rarely if ever achieved by a black man of that time, that of starring leading man.
One of the films, The Defiant Ones (1958), gave Poitier his first Academy Award nomination as Best Actor. Five years later, he won the Oscar for Lilies of the Field (1963), the first black to win for a leading role. Poitier maintained activity on stage, on screen, and in the burgeoning Civil Rights movement. His roles in Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (1967) and To Sir, with Love (1967) were for their time landmarks in the breaking down of social barriers between blacks and whites, and Poitier's talent, conscience, integrity, and inherent likability placed him on equal footing with the white stars of the day. He took on directing and producing chores in the Seventies, achieving success in both arenas. Although he has reduced the frequency of his roles in recent years, he remains one of the most respected and beloved figures in American cinema of the twentieth century.
In 1963 he became the first black man to win an Academy Award, for his role as Homer Smith in Lilies of the Field (1963).
When he came to New York from the Caribbean to become an actor, he was so impoverished at first that he slept in the bus station. To get his first major role in No Way Out (1950), he lied to director Joseph L. Mankiewicz and told him he was 27, when actually only 22 years old.
Sits on USC School of Cinema-Television's Board of Councilors.
Stanley Kramer approached him about co-starring in The Defiant Ones (1958), which made him a bigger star, but admitted that if he did not take the role of "Porgy" in Porgy and Bess (1959) for Samuel Goldwyn it might kill his chances to get the role in The Defiant Ones (1958) as Goldwyn had that much clout in Hollywood.
Appointed an Knight Commander of the Order of the British Empire in 1974. Although this is often mistaken to have been an honorary knighthood, it is actually a substantive knighthood, as Poitier is a citizen of The Bahamas, a Commonwealth realm which at the time of his appointment recognized the British Honours System. He is thus entitled to be known as Sir Sidney Poitier, but does not himself use this title.
His Stir Crazy (1980) was the highest grossing film directed by a black filmmaker until Scary Movie (2000), directed by Keenen Ivory Wayans almost 20 years later.
Of Haitian ancestry from his father's side.
While trying to sing with some fellow actors in Off-Broadway theatre he found he was tone deaf.
Younger brother of Cyril Poitier.
In the 1960s, for many of his films, he was paid in a way known as "dollar one participation" which basically means he begins collecting a cut of the film's gross from the first ticket sold.
Has an honorary doctorate degree from Shippensburg University of Pennsylvania.
Fluent in Russian.
First black actor to place autograph, hand, and footprints in the cement at Grauman's Chinese Theatre (June 23, 1967).
Premiere Magazine ranked him as #20 on a list of the Greatest Movie Stars of All Time in their Stars in Our Constellation feature (2005).
Was named #22 greatest actor on the 50 Greatest Screen Legends by the American Film Institute
Was nominated for Broadway's 1960 Tony Award as Best Actor (Dramatic) for "A Raisin in the Sun," a role that he recreated in the film version of the same same, A Raisin in the Sun (1961).
Future wife Joanna Shimkus encouraged him to direct his first film, Buck and the Preacher (1972), after he and the original director could not agree creatively.
His performance as Virgil Tibbs in In the Heat of the Night (1967) is ranked #55 on Premiere Magazine's 100 Greatest Performances of All Time (2006).
His performance as Virgil Tibbs in In the Heat of the Night (1967) is ranked #20 on Premiere Magazine's 100 Greatest Movie Characters of All Time.
During the early 1980s a man named David Hampton conned his way into the homes of several wealthy and prominent New Yorkers (including a dean at Columbia University) by falsely claiming to be Poitier's son. Playwright John Guare, fascinated by the way the story illustrated the magic that the mere mention of Poiter's name held for people of his generation (especially white people), based his play "Six Degrees of Separation" on Hampton's story. The play was adapted into the movie Six Degrees of Separation (1993) in 1993, with Will Smith as the character based upon Hampton.
Along with Gary Cooper, is the most represented actor on the American Film Institute's 100 Most Inspiring Movies of All Time, with five of his films on the list. They are: A Raisin in the Sun (1961) at #65, The Defiant Ones (1958) at #55, Lilies of the Field (1963) at #46, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (1967) at #35, and In the Heat of the Night (1967) at #21.
His performance as Detective Virgil Tibbs in In the Heat of the Night (1967) is ranked #19 on the American Film Institute's 100 Heroes & Villains.
Along with his name uttered in the lyrics, a photograph of Poitier is held by Busta Rhymes in the 1998 rap video "Gimme Some More".
Received the Screen Actors Guild's Life Achievement Award.
His role in The Bedford Incident (1965) marked the first time he would play a role in which his character's race was not an issue.
Considered for the male lead for The Owl and the Pussycat (1970), opposite Diana Sands, who had played the part of "Doris" on Broadway.
Prostate cancer survivor.
Has four grandchildren and two great-granddaughters [2008].
Is a long time friend of singer, fellow actor and activist Harry Belafonte. They were born 9 days apart. They met in New York at age 20 before either was in show business.
National Player of the Year
Expect the bottom feeders, once they really start examining Kentucky's Anthony Davis, to really think about what winning this year's lottery will do for a team. The Kentucky center is the most polished true big man, even with only one season under his belt, to come out of college since Tim Duncan. Maybe since David Robinson. Shaq, powerful as he was coming out of LSU, wasn't as polished offensively as Davis is. This kid isn't just a game-changer, he's a franchise-changer.....
27.2.12
Facebook spies on phone users' text messages, report says
INTERNET giant Facebook is accessing smartphone users' personal text messages, an investigation revealed today.
Facebook admitted reading text messages belonging to smartphone users who downloaded the social-networking app and said that it was accessing the data as part of a trial to launch its own messaging service, The (London) Sunday Times reported.
Other well-known companies accessing smartphone users' personal data - such as text messages - include photo-sharing site Flickr, dating site Badoo and Yahoo Messenger, the paper said.
It claimed that some apps even allow companies to intercept phone calls - while others, such as YouTube, are capable of remotely accessing and operating users' smartphone cameras to take photographs or videos at any time.
Security app My Remote Lock and the app Tennis Juggling Game were among smaller companies' apps that may intercept users' calls, the paper said.
Emma Draper, of the Privacy International campaign group, said, "Your personal information is a precious commodity, and companies will go to great lengths to get their hands on as much of it as possible."
More than 400,000 apps can be downloaded to Android phones, and more than 500,000 are available for iPhones - with all apps downloaded from Apple's App Store covered by the same terms and conditions policy.
According to a YouGov poll for the newspaper, 70 per cent of smartphone users rarely or never read the terms and conditions policy when they download an app.
Influential Black Figures: World B Free
Many current Cavs fans jumped on the bandwagon once The King started leading the train.
Others became Cavs fans when the Daugherty-Nance-Price era provided some hope.
Yet one more group entered the fray long ago during the Miracle of Richfield years in the mid-1970s.
But most will forget (or choose to forget) the mess the franchise was in between those Miracle of Richfield and Mark Price-led teams.
The truth is that the Cleveland Cavaliers were close to being extinct in the early 1980s.
Ted Stepien, the eccentric owner of the Cavs during that time period was running the team into the ground.
A series of ill-fated personnel moves and cost-cutting decisions were putting the franchise in danger of being forced to move to some other city.
People began to question whether or not it was a good idea to have a basketball arena 30 minutes from the City of Cleveland in the middle of yet-to-be developed Richfield, Ohio.
During the cold and blustery winters of northeast Ohio, many in the inner-ring suburbs who supported the Cavs’ team just did not want to make the trek south.
The teams’ play on the court was ugly and the attendance figures were even uglier.
It was only a matter of time until the NBA cut the cord on Cleveland.
But in stepped what seemed to be an odd savior at the time, World B. Free.
World was one of those “characters” of the early 1980s basketball. He legally changed his name from Lloyd to World and played with an undeniable flair.
Free was initially given the nickname “World” by a friend on the Brooklyn playgrounds because of his ability to hit shots from "around the world." In addition to his incredible range, Free had a spectacular 44-inch vertical leap and a wild array of dunks.
He twice finished second to George “The Ice Man” Gervin for the league scoring title, once scoring over 30 points per game in the 1978-79 season with the San Diego Clippers.
Despite his prolific scoring averages, Free bounced around from Philadelphia, to San Diego, to Golden State before arriving in Cleveland in his eighth season in the league.
By the time he reached Cleveland in December of 1982, his incredible jumping ability was gone. He became better known as a selfish gunner than anyone who could possibly lead this miserable team out of its doldrums.
By 1984, the Cavaliers were the laughing stock of the league. They had not made the playoffs since 1978.
The team had undergone numerous coaching changes. One, Bill Musselman, would not even make it through a single season.
They lost 52, 45, 54, 67, 59 and 54 games from 1979 to 1984.
To make matters worse, Stepien had traded the No. 2 pick in the draft to the Los Angeles Lakers for Don Ford, who would play only 85 games in two years for the Cavs.
That No. 2 pick would turn out to be future Hall of Famer James Worthy.
The league office had to institute what many called “The Stepien Rule” because he traded away first-round picks to the Dallas Mavericks in 1983, ’84, ’85, and ’86. NBA officials would have to approve any trades made by the Cavaliers.
Burt Graeff (writer for the Cleveland Press and co-author of the book CAVS From Fitch to Fratello) reported that then-Dallas coach Dick Motta “said that he was afraid to go to lunch because he would miss a call from Ted Stepien.”
Even after trading for Free, the Cavaliers were a disaster. He would lead the team in scoring at nearly 24 per game in 1982-83, but it never translated to wins.
A year earlier, Stepien would sell the team to George and Gordon Gund. The Gunds attempted to change the whole culture of Cleveland basketball.
They hired a young George Karl to coach the team, and even changed the team colors to orange and blue (from their standard wine and gold).
In that 1984-85 season, Free would carry the team on his back to the playoffs after a wretched 2-19 start. He would average 22.5 points and 4.5 assists during the regular season.
Although they would lose to Larry Bird and the powerful Boston Celtics, he brought excitement back to northeast Ohio. Each game would be a nail-biter decided in the closing moments.
World would score over 26 points and dish out nearly eight assists per game at the age of 31. Nearly all of those points would come from long-range (before the NBA instituted the three-point arc).
Helping the team make the playoffs for the first time in seven years was not his only contribution to Cleveland Basketball. More importantly, it was the way he played the game that got people to actually become fans of the Cavs.
After years of attendance figures more suitable for junior high sports, the Cavs were selling out seats for the first time in years.
He would only play one more season in Cleveland, but his play almost single-handedly saved the franchise from moving to another city.
World B. Free now spends his time as a great ambassador for the game and is a front office member of the Philadelphia 76ers.
Among his many duties, Free runs basketball clinics and does public speaking, helping young children learn the game of basketball as well as the game of life.
If or when the Cavaliers hang a National Basketball Association Championship banner from the ceiling of Quicken Loans Arena, the team should hang the jersey of World B. Free right beside it.
25.2.12
A father dedicated to helping his son
The son swears the father saw it all coming.
Kyrie Irving ticks off the milestones as if they were fresh produce on a weekly grocery list.
"In eighth grade," Irving said, "my father told me I would wind up as the best guard in the state of New Jersey. In my senior year of high school, he told me I'd be the number one player in the country. Then, in college, he told me I'd be the number one pick in the draft.
"He laid out all the necessary steps for me. It was up to me what I did with them."
Irving continues to cement his role as the young cornerstone of the Cleveland Cavaliers, leading all NBA rookies in scoring with 18.1 points a game. (He also dishes out 5.1 assists).
He will be a member of Team Chuck in Friday's NBA Rising Stars game, the second player selected after Clippers sensation Blake Griffin.
"I thank my father," Irving said. "He did things the old-school way. No shortcuts. Nothing guaranteed."
The father swears it was the son who saw it all coming, who wrote down "GOAL: PLAY IN THE NBA" on a slip of paper when he was in the fourth grade and pulled it out whenever someone doubted that a spindly high school freshman barely 5-foot-8 could ever make it to the pros.
Drederick Irving was Kyrie's measuring stick. Each summer he'd line up against the mark in their home, recording his father's 6-foot-4 frame.
"I want to be bigger than you," Kyrie told his dad.
"You will be," his father promised.
He had reason to believe that was true. After Drederick's dreams of an NBA career were snuffed out by a failed tryout with the Celtics, he played in New York's Pro Am league, gliding up and down the asphalt courts exuding grace in an otherwise hardscrabble game.
Kyrie was only a toddler in a stroller, yet his bright eyes followed the action, followed his father. Afterward, when released from the constraints of his perch, Kyrie would clamor for the ball, dribbling with one hand, his steady gaze fixed on Drederick.
He was 13 months old.
"And I have the footage to prove it," Drederick said.
He brought the boy everywhere, but then, what choice did he have? When Kyrie was 4 and his sister, Asia, was 5, their mother, Elizabeth, died suddenly, leaving Drederick to care for two confused, heartbroken children. His own grief needed to be tucked away during the hectic daylight hours of raising two active kids. Only when they were tucked in safely was Drederick free to sob himself quietly to sleep.
He wanted more for his children than he had. As one of six children growing up in the Mitchel housing projects in the Bronx, N.Y., Drederick saw too much too soon. He was a child on welfare whose father abandoned him when he was 6, whose mother, Lillian, worked two jobs to keep the family afloat. Drugs and crime and guns were everyday obstacles, and Drederick recognized education and basketball would be his escape.
"I consider myself a good man," Drederick once told Kyrie, "but I want you to be a better one."
Drederick moved his small children to New Jersey and enrolled them in private school, but he brought them back regularly to the Mitchel projects.
"I was there almost every weekend," Kyrie said. "I got to be in the same environment my dad was in. I was basically a kid playing on a jungle gym in the projects."
Drederick commuted to Wall Street, where he was a financial broker. For years he worked for Cantor Fitzgerald on the 105th floor of the World Trade Center.
Eight months before 9/11 he changed jobs, accepting a position with Garvan Securities on the 40th floor of the same building.
"I was there three weeks and I didn't like it," Drederick said. "I can't really explain it. I just had a bad feeling in my stomach about it."
He moved to Thomson Reuters at 3 Financial Square but walked through the World Trade Center building each morning from the train station.
On the morning of 9/11, he was striding through the lobby of the twin towers when a thunderous noise knocked him backward.
"I thought the boiler exploded," Drederick said. "The boom was so loud, the force of wind so powerful. There was shattered glass everywhere."
Within seconds, chaos ensued: collapsing walls, screaming people, suffocating smoke.
"All I could think of was, 'I've got to get to my kids,'" Drederick said.
He pushed his way to the exit, but there was a logjam at the door. People were frightened to leave the building because so much debris was falling from the sky.
"I stuck my head out and tried to see, but I couldn't tell what it was," he said. "Pieces of the building, pieces of the plane, a lot of paper ..."
He dashed across the street, dodging chunks of steel, then began frantically dialing his friends at Cantor Fitzgerald. He tried his former boss, his former secretary, a slew of buddies with whom he shared his hopes, his dreams, his proud stories of his children's accomplishments. Nobody picked up. He glanced up at the building, at the flames licking the top floors, at the smoke engulfing the towers.
"I was standing there watching the debris fall from the sky, and then I realized, 'That's not debris. Those are bodies,'" Drederick said.
"It has taken me years to get that image out of my mind. I still have dreams about 9/11, to be honest. It was a horrible day. I lost so many friends."
Drederick knew he needed to move away from the towers, which quickly became choked with dust and death and despair. His cell phone was useless and the roads were blocked. For a moment, panic took hold. What if he didn't make it? Who would take care of his children?
Ten-year old Kyrie and 11-year-old Asia were at school when the 9/11 attacks began. Kyrie sat quietly as one parent after another, their faces ashen, burst into the building and gathered their children in their arms.
"There were a bunch of teachers crying, a bunch of them leaving the classroom," Kyrie said. "No one knew what was going on.
"Everyone else left with their parents. My sister and I had to wait until school got out."
The babysitter was waiting for them at home, transfixed by the horror unfolding on the television. The solemn reports did little to soothe two terrified siblings who just wanted to throw their arms around their dad.
Drederick could not reach them. Phone lines were down, the trains were grounded, so he began walking toward his old neighborhood.
"I was afraid Asia and Kyrie would think I still worked for Cantor Fitzgerald," he said. "You don't know if kids that young pay attention when you change jobs."
"I don't know why my father would say that," Kyrie said. "I knew exactly where he worked. I also knew he had to pass through the twin towers every day.
"I was worried. Really worried."
Drederick walked nine miles from Wall Street to 137th street and Alexander Avenue in the Bronx, a journey that took more than six hours. He was able to reach his friend Larry Romaine, who drove to Drederick's home to assure his children he was alive and safe.
"I told my children there was a guardian angel looking over me," Drederick said. "How else can you explain it?"
That horrific day haunted him for years. As his children grew, Drederick became even more hands-on, stressing academics and encouraging athletics. He coached Kyrie until the eighth grade, impressed by his young son's poise and resolve.
When Kyrie reached high school, Drederick enrolled him at Montclair Kimberley Academy. After Kyrie led his team to a state prep championship, it became apparent he needed better basketball competition, so he completed his final two years at St. Patrick's in Elizabeth, N.J., where he also won a title.
By then, nearly every college in the country wanted him.
It was so vastly different from Drederick's basketball experience, which often left him overshadowed, first by his close friend Rod Strickland, who would later star in the NBA and become Kyrie's godfather, then later by his Stevenson High School teammates, who seemed to play a little more, score a little more, shine a little brighter.
Drederick drew initial interest from UConn, James Madison and Boston University, but when it came time to pass out scholarships, no one came calling.
It wasn't until BU lost a recruit that head coach John Kuester and assistant Rodney Johnson decided to take one more trip to the Mitchel projects to see what the Irving kid had decided.
Their fine car and their long trench coats set off alarms. Drederick was not a troublemaker, but the dudes that came asking for him sure looked like cops.
"Hey, can you tell me where we can find Dred Irving?" Kuester asked.
"Aw, he's dead, man," his neighborhood friend answered.
"Oh, how terrible," Kuester said. "We're from Boston University and we came to offer him a scholarship."
"A scholarship? Yeah, he lives right down there, two doors over," the boy said.
Drederick Irving went on to score 1,931 career points for the Terriers. His one NCAA appearance was a lopsided loss to Duke, which, more than 20 years later, came knocking for Kyrie.
The son inked with the Blue Devils, was limited to 11 games his freshman year after a toe injury and still became the top choice in last spring's draft. Kyrie went pro with the caveat that he'd complete his Duke degree in five years.
"He's halfway there," Drederick reported. "He gave me his word."
Kyrie claims the transition to the NBA has been seamless, devoid of pressure. Because he was born in Melbourne, Australia, while his father played professionally for the Bullen Bombers, Kyrie could compete in the 2012 Olympic Games for Australia. He'd rather play for the U.S., but so far he hasn't been asked.
His father figures that could change.
"This whole thing is a fairy tale," Drederick said. "Kyrie always hoped to play in the NBA, just as I did.
"He made it, so I feel like I've made it, too."
Kyrie will be 20 on March 23, but his steady gaze remains fixed on the man who devoted his life to his son.
"If you are fortunate to have a father like I have," he said, "you're given a foundation. You can be content with that, or take it and run with it, like I did.
"My father is the one who told me to want more. My father is the one who told me not to settle."
Drederick has remarried and has a new daughter, London. He beams when he talks of Asia, who is thriving as a junior at Temple University.
He commutes back and forth from New Jersey to Cleveland to make sure his son is comfortable, and safe, and will be in Orlando, Fla., to watch Kyrie perform during All-Star Weekend. It is an exhausting schedule, but Drederick won't hear of changing it.
Last time Kyrie came home to West Orange, N.J., he shimmied up to the wall, which showed him at 6-foot-3½, still short of his father's mark.
The son swears he will never reach the heights his father has.
The father swears Kyrie Irving accomplished that a long time ago.