A 911 MESSAGE TO BLACK AND WHITE MEN IN AMERICA!

McCAIN AND OBAMA MOVE OVER: LEE IACOCCA FOR PRESIDENT!
By Harold Bell

Remember, Lee Iacocca, the man who rescued Chrysler Corporation from its death throes? He has a new book titled, “Where Have All the Leaders Gone?”

Lee, how about jail? Lee Iacocca, sounds like my echo. Its just like he is preaching to the choir, here are some excerpts from his book.

'Am I the only guy in this country who's fed up with what's happening? Lee, I often ask myself the same question, “Am I the only guy in the black community who’s fed up with what’s happening?” Where the hell is our outrage? We should be screaming bloody murder. We've got a gang of clueless bozos steering our ship of state right over a cliff, we've got corporate gangsters stealing us blind, and we can’t even clean up after a hurricane much less build a hybrid car. But instead of getting mad, everyone sits around and nods their heads when the politicians say, 'Stay the course'

Stay the course? You've got to be kidding. This is America, not the damned 'Titanic'.

I'll give you a sound bite: 'Throw all the bums out!'You might think I'm getting senile, that I've gone off my rocker, and maybe I have. But someone has to speak up. I hardly recognize this country anymore.

The most famous business leaders are not the innovators but the guys in handcuffs. While we're fiddling in Iraq, the Middle East is burning and nobody seems to know what to do. And the press is waving 'pom-poms' instead of asking hard questions. That's not the promise of the 'America' my parents and yours traveled across the ocean for (we had different modes of transportation. I've had enough. How about you?I'll go a step further. You can't call yourself a patriot if you're not outraged. This is a fight I'm ready and willing to have. The Biggest 'C' is Crisis!Leaders are made, not born. Leadership is forged in times of crisis. It's easy to sit there with your feet up on the desk and talk theory. Or send someone else's kids off to war when you've never seen a battlefield yourself. It's another thing to lead when your world comes tumbling down.

On September 11, 2001, we needed a strong leader more than any other time in our history. We needed a steady hand to guide us out of the ashes. A Hell of a Mess. So here's where we stand. We're immersed in a bloody war with no plan for winning and no plan for leaving. We're running the biggest deficit in the history of the country. We're losing the manufacturing edge to Asia, while our once-great companies are getting slaughtered by health care costs. Gas prices are skyrocketing, and nobody in power has a coherent energy policy. Our schools are in trouble. Our borders are like sieves. The middle class is being squeezed every which way.

These are times that cry out for leadership. But when you look around, you've got to ask: Where have all the leaders gone?' Where are the curious, creative communicators? Where are the people of character, courage, conviction, omnipotence, and common sense? I may be a sucker for alliteration, but I think you get the point.

Lee, lets keep it real, they are being called “Troublemakers and Agitators.”

Name me a leader who has a better idea for homeland security than making us take off our shoes in airports and throw away our shampoo? We've spent billions of dollars building a huge new bureaucracy, and all we know how to do is react to things that have already happened.
Name me one leader who emerged from the crisis of Hurricane Katrina. Congress has yet to spend a single day evaluating the response to the hurricane, or demanding accountability for the decisions that were made in the crucial hours after the storm.

Everyone's hunkering down, fingers crossed, hoping it doesn't happen again. Now, that's just crazy. Storms happen. Deal with it. Make a plan. Figure out what you're going to do the next time.

Name me an industry leader who is thinking creatively about how we can restore our competitive edge in manufacturing. Who would have believed that there could ever be a time when 'The Big Three' referred to Japanese car companies? How did this happen, and more important, what are we going to do about it?

Name me a government leader who can articulate a plan for paying down the debit, or solving the energy crisis, or managing the health care problem. The silence is deafening. But these are the crises that are eating away at our country and milking the middle class dry.

I have news for the gang in Congress. We didn't elect you to sit on your asses and do nothing and remain silent while our democracy is being hijacked and our greatness is being replaced with mediocrity.

What is everybody so afraid of? That some bonehead on Fox News will call them a name? Give me a break!

No Lee, black folks are scared they will be kicked off the Corporate Boards, lose their cushy jobs at the networks or be exiled from the “In Crowd.”

Why don't you guys show some spine for a change?

Had Enough?

Hey, I'm not trying to be the voice of gloom and doom here. I'm trying to light a fire. I'm speaking out because I have hope I believe in America. In my lifetime I've had the privilege of living through some of America's greatest moments. I've also experienced some of our worst crises: The 'Great Depression', 'World War II', the 'Korean War', the 'Kennedy Assassination', ‘Dr. King’s Assassination’, the 'Vietnam War', the 1970s oil crisis, and the struggles of recent years culminating with 9/11. If I've learned one thing, it's this: 'You don't get anywhere by standing on the sidelines waiting for somebody else to take action. Whether it's building a better car or building a better future for our children, we all have a role to play. That's the challenge I'm raising in this book. It's a call to 'Action' for people who, like me, believe in America. It's not too late, but it's getting pretty close. So let's shake off the crap and go to work. Let's tell 'em all we've had 'enough.'

Lee, with Pimps in the Pulpit and crooks and sex deviants holding public office, it sounds like good advice to me! This book should be required reading in our community. We have a tendency to listen to white folks! Some of us really think your ice is colder.

DR. KING A DREAM MAKER 1963 / BARACK OBAMA A DREAMER 2008

Dr. King delivers his 1963 "I Have a Dream" speech

On Thursday August 28, 2008 in Denver, Colorado Barack Obama before 85,000+ and millions more watching by television throughout America accepted the Democratic Party’s nomination to run for the President of the United States of America. The nomination makes him the first black man ever nominated to lead a major party in its bid for the White House.

There are times in our life where certain events take place and you remember exactly where you were and what you were doing. Forty-five years ago on August 28, 1963 I was headed to downtown Washington, DC with several of my college friends from Winston-Salem State University. Barney Hood my roommate and teammate from Decatur, III wanted to be here for the March on Washington so bad he convinced a friend to put an airline ticket on her credit card. New York City and Winston-Salem basketball legends, Jack Defares and Carl Green drove in from the “Big Apple.”

We all met at Ben’s Chilli Bowl on U Street NW (recently celebrated 50 years in business). We then walked to the famous Florida Ave. Grill another DC eatery landmark for breakfast. It seemed like everyone had the same idea, when we arrived every seat was taken. I had an inside connection, a waitress by the name of Mae. If you wanted to be seated in a booth you had to wait your turn in line but if you sat at the counter you could be seated right away as seats became available. Today I needed a booth because I was traveling with out of town guest. Despite the long wait the home fried apples and potatoes, grits, bacon, eggs and hotcakes made everyone forget the long wait. I did not hear one complaint. It was a beautiful Saturday morning without the hot and humid weather known to the Washington community in August.

We decided to start our participation in the March by walking from the Florida Ave Grill to the mall (approximately 5 miles). We had a great time lying and signifying all the way to the Reflecting Pool on the mall. I don’t think any of us realized the significance of the March until years later, I know I didn’t. I had no clue I was just happy being with my boys.

I now look back and picture the thousands of people gathered here, back then you would have had a hard time trying to convince me there were not a Million marchers in DC that day. The official count was 250 thousand (a quarter of a million) had advanced on the mall to hear Dr. King’s now famous speech “I Have a Dream.”

Forty-five years later the benefactors of “I Have a Dream” are now on Fortune 500 Corporate Boards, Bank Presidents, Mayors, Governors, Coaches, Managers and General Mangers of sports franchises throughout the sporting world. There are too many who think they got there by themselves.

My DC family roots go back to 1893. I grew up in a housing project in NE Washington, DC. My mother was on welfare raising three boys alone, a fourth brother was being raised by my grandmother. In 1963 I was still trying to avoid going to hell in a hurry as my Brown Middle School Principal William B. Stinson had said. He predicted to my mother I would not live to get out of high school. I am glad I fooled him.

I am a benefactor of the March on Washington and Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech. Today Thursday August 28, 2008 I have not only lived to get out of high school but through my non-profit organization Kids In Trouble, Inc. my wife Hattie and I have helped hundreds of others get out of high school and beyond. My innovated programs aimed at troubled children here in the DC metropolitan area and sports talk pioneering efforts in radio and television are now common place. They have been adopted in communities all over America. Annual community organized Christmas toy parties for needy children and the phrase “Inside Sports” were started and coined here in Washington, DC.

I never dreamed the March on Washington and Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech would one day find me interviewing some of the greatest athletes and sports personalities in the World. Personalities such as, Muhammad Ali, Red Auerbach, Hank Aaron, Jim Brown, Wilt Chamberlain, Dr. J, Angelo Dundee, Gale Sayers, George Foreman, etc. have all been guest on Inside Sports

The March and Dr. King’s Dream has also allowed me to break bread and have the ear of some of the most powerful politicians in America, men like President Richard M. Nixon, Strom Thurmond (R-S. C.), Bob Dole (R-Kan), Lou Stokes (D-Ohio), etc. my Middle School Principal would never have dreamed it. In November of this year Hattie and I will celebrate 40 years of marriage and in December we will celebrate 40 years of hosting and coordinating Christmas toy parties for needy children. Dreams do come true.

The three former Winston-Salem State University students who joined me for the march made their own impact. The late Barney Hood would go on to become a teacher and businessman in his hometown of Decatur, III, Jack Defares would become a teacher in the New Jersey school system and Carl Green found fame as a star player on the World famous Harlem Globetrotters. Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech looked like it touched and influenced all four of us.

My Spingarn high school teammate Andrew Johnson remembers that day, the March and the speech all too well. He had a front row seat on the Reflecting Pool. He was a working DC Metropolitan Policeman assigned to the march (that is Officer Johnson looking up and standing directly under the left hand of Dr. King). My friends and I were located in the crowd somewhere near the middle of the Reflecting Pool. Andrew says “It was one of the most amazing demonstrations I have ever seen. People were all over the place some literally on top of each other. The march was so peaceful the DC Police Department could have taken the day off. The march ended that evening and 250,000 people left town as quietly as they had come in.

In the troubled Shaw/Cardozo area of Washington, DC Andrew and I would later join forces to fight juvenile delinquency. My job as a Roving Leader (Gang Buster) for the DC Recreation Department and his as a foot patrolman would make this reunion possible. Officer Johnson would later be promoted to the rank of detective. His law-enforcement career would end as a "Top Cop" for the Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA). With the DEA He made it to the rank of supervisor before retiring in 1995. Today he can be found tutoring inner-city children and serving as an active member of the Board of Directors of Kids In Trouble, Inc. Forty-five years after the March on Washington and Dr. King's "I Have Dream" speech, Andrew Johnson is still trying to make a difference.

We never thought in our life time we would see a black man make a serious run for the White House. The Presidential bids by Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton were never taken seriously by black folks or white folks. They both had hidden agendas. In 2008 they were quietly reduced to spectators and cheerleaders like the rest of us.

We are hoping that the August 28, 2008 nomination of Barack Obama will inspire another generation of minorities to be all that they can be like Dr. King's "I Have a Dream" speech inspired us on August 28, 1963. Barack Obama is living proof that dreams can come true.

TENNIS: A GAME OF LOVE!

U. S. OPEN TENNIS TOURNAMENT

BERNIE CHAVIS SHOWING LOVE-LOVE & LOVE

On September 3, 2008 a former hoop star turned amateur tennis player Bernie Chavis will make history as an author on the hollow grounds of the U. S. Tennis Open. Bernie is a native Washingtonian who now lives in the suburb of Meadowbrook, Pa. He will showcase and autograph his new book titled “The Games of Tennis-An African American Journey (Breaking Racial Cultural Barriers in Tennis and---Society).”

His journey is far from his roots as an outstanding all-around athlete in the DC Public schools of Washington, DC. Bernie was All-Met in football and basketball at Eastern High School. He parlayed his athletic skills into a basketball scholarship to Villanova University in Philadelphia. The city of brotherly love has been home ever since.

His remarkable journey into the elitist World of tennis takes a hard an objective view of the not too friendly love affair between blacks and whites. Despite the groundbreaking efforts of tennis greats Althea Gibson and Arthur Ashe in the 50’s and 60’s “LOVE” has nothing to do with it.

Unlike most outstanding athletes who are born with that competitive spirit Bernie knew when to quit. When he discovered he could no longer run and jump with the young boys on the talented rich basketball courts of Philadelphia he walked away. His next court would be a tennis court. It was there he could apply the same techniques that made him an outstanding basketball player to play at the highest level capable—foot work and hand and eye coordination. He fell head over heels in love with the game. The most enjoyable aspect of his new World, he could compete and play with men his own age. Once on the tennis scene he discovered the many doors that were closed to people of color on the other side of the net.

Bernie remembered growing up in a segregated Washington, DC (the Nation’s Capitol). He never forgot the second class citizenship experiences of his hometown. He says, “One of my first recollections highlighting the impact racism concerned the Howard Theater, the most popular movie and entertainment center in Washington’s black community.”

He had a difficult time trying to figure out why was it that white folks could flock to one of the busiest sections of the black community and have an All-Access Pass but he was forbidden from entering any of “their” establishments anywhere in the city.

Bernie’s childhood friend and my high school teammate, Spotswood Bolling, Jr. was a part of a landmark decision handed down by the U. S. Supreme Court in 1954. He was a part of the Brown vs Board of Education decision. The decision was Bolling vs Sharpe and ruled upon on the same day by the same Supreme Court.

There were two different decisions made because Brown vs Board of Education was national and Bolling vs Sharpe was to insure desegregation locally. DC then as now had no Congressional Representation it is still called “the plantation on the Potomac.”

In the early1980s shortly after turning to tennis as an alternate athletic outlet, Bernie discovered “The more things changed the more they remained the same.” While playing tennis at the Garden Fair Tennis Club located near his home he developed a personal friendship with the manager of the facility, Bob Fossler. One day Mr. Fossler indicated to Bernie that all the tennis boards he was involved had begun to seriously discuss the need to diversify the composition of their organizations and to engage people of color. Remember this is almost 40 years after Jackie Robinson and Athea Gibson made their professional debuts.

He then invited Bernie to be a member of one of those boards. Upon his recommendation Bernie submitted his application and was accepted. His membership placed him on the Board of the United States Tennis Association Middle States Philadelphia Area Tennis District. Thus began his roller coaster ride inside the sport of tennis’s dark and blind side.

Bernie joining the USTA was just appetizer, he has served as National President of the American Tennis Association (ATA), the oldest African American sports organization in America. President of the U. S. Professional Tennis Registry (PTR) in the Middles States Section. He would later be named the first black to serve as President of the USTA Philadelphia Area Tennis District (1994) and the first to referee a USTA national championship tournament, the Men’s Senior Grass Court Championships at the Germantown Cricket club in Philadelphia. In 2005 he was named a “Living American History Maker” by the Berean Institute of Philadelphia. Like Frank Sinatra, Bernie has taken the blows and did his way.

I would love to be a book on the shelf to witness and capture the re-actions of friends and foe during the signing. The more interesting moments will be to see if any of today’s black tennis stars and future black stars show up to support his courageous effort to make their paths easier. Richard Williams the father of tennis stars Venus and Serena will be the first in line and I am betting his daughters won’t be far behind. On the other hand James Blake the bridesmaid of the men’s tour will distant himself until he sees the William sisters purchase their first book. His advisors will caution him to keep his distant.

The Games of Tennis-An African American Journey is a must read for every person of color who thinks that they have arrived and that includes parents, teachers, coaches and all advocates of children who claim they are making children first.

The book reflects the thinking of America and how it really feels about people of color. During Bernie’s journey he discovered that every black face he saw was not his brother and every white face was not the enemy. He has never forgotten that it was all white men who made the decision of Brown vs Board of Education and Bolling vs Sharpe. Their decision was based on Love-Love and Love.

Books available at http:/www.barnesandnoble.com/ http://www.amazon.com/ http://www.borders.com/ /

ART MONK: NICE GUYS DON'T FINISH LAST!

Art Monk’s induction into the NFL Hall of Fame was a long time coming. He is one of the best reasons why the players and coaches should decide who is worthy of entry.

Monk played 16 years in the NFL and should have entered the hall on his first year of eligibility. He was denied entry for 13 years because there were many in the sports media (writers, columnist and editors) who didn’t like his attitude when it came to the sporting press. He learned early in his career the members of the media could not be trusted. They ran hot and cold, especially those in the Nation’s Capitol, home of the Washington Redskins.

He never thought he was obligated to give and interview and answer their stupid questions like “what were you thinking when you dropped that ball for a touchdown” or the classic question asked of QB Doug Williams by a reporter at the 1988 Super Bowl, “What does it feel like being a black QB playing in the Super Bowl?” Monk never played their game during his entire NFL career. He knew 90% of the writers surrounding his locker after each practice and each game never played the game. Many would not know the difference between a post pass pattern and the Washington Post newspaper.

One major league baseball manager was heard to say “The qualifications to be a sports writer in America all you need is a driver’s license.” Art Monk could not have agreed more.

During his acceptance speech I think the most provocative statement he made was when he said, I was fine with the waiting game you guys were playing. I am honored to finally be inducted into this sacred fraternity, but football does not define who I am.”

What was Art Monk on a football field? On Sunday afternoons in football stadiums around the country he was Mr. Consistent, Mr. Clutch and Mr. Dependable. Monk was drafted in the first round (18th pick overall) of the NFL draft by the Washington Redskins in 1980 out of Syracuse University. He was a running back at Syracuse but the Redskins immediately made him a wide receiver. They have had a lot of success in turning running backs into great wide receivers. Running backs like Bobby Mitchell and the greatest wide receiver in Redskin history, Charlie Taylor. Taylor was an electrifying runner after the catch, he could entertain and thrill you with a short catch over the middle or a long catch down either sideline. He was also a devastating downfield blocker. In my opinion Art Monk is second only to Taylor on the All-Time great wide receivers who played for the burgundy and gold.

Roland ‘Bubba’ Grimes and Bryce Bevill are DC homegrown and Syracuse alumni. They are the co-authors of a new book titled “TOTAL FOCUS of Character, Academy, Discipline, and Faith.” Grimes says, “I remember the day the skins drafted Monk after trading away 12 years’ worth of first round picks under Coach George Allen. None of us had heard of the guy but from day one he was an absolute stub on the football field and many of us tried to learn his game and follow his work effort.



Art Monk befuddles the sports media with his discipline and focus. Not only has he excelled in football but he also is just as accomplished in his walk with Christ and leadership in his own home. These are very difficult domains to balance in the NFL with all the travel and temptation at every NFL stop. However, I think the guy’s life is truly just beginning now that he can invest more time into his family, community and his role as a trustee at our alma mater, Syracuse University. Now is the time that he can be outspoken and advocate on any stage for anything that tugs at his heart.”

Art Monk’s 14 year career with he Washington Redskins was a highlight reel of consistency. He once set an NFL record with a catch in 164 straight games. When it was 3rd down and five yards or longer we all knew who the quarterback would be looking for. He wore number 81 Art Monk. He was a quarterback’s best friend and cornerback’s worst enemy. He was a nightmare to most cornerbacks who seldom stood taller then 6 foot and over 180 pounds. Monk was 6’3 and 210 pounds. To see him running in your direction was double jeopardy. The cornerback was left thinking “Is he coming to knock my head off or to catch a pass?” Advantage the wide receiver. I will take a great wide receiver over a great cornerback on any given Sunday. The wide receiver knows where he is going and the cornerback has to guess. The cornerback on an NFL team is usually the team’s best athlete. The cornerback position is the most difficult on the field. Congratulations to Darrell Green on his induction. His NFL 20 year odyssey and tenure was unbelievable.

When Art Monk retired after the 1995 season he held the career record for receptions (940). He was a three time Pro Bowl selection and a first team All-Pro in 1984. Monk played on three Super Bowl Championship teams. In 1984 he set an NFL record with 106 receptions in a season. He was named to the All-Decade Team for the 1980s. Where is the media beef?

He was never a controversial personality in the locker room or in the community. There were never any whispers about drugs and he was never seen chasing skirts all over DC like many of his teammates. The one thing that I admired about Art Monk, even though he was surrounded by flawed teammates who where pretending to be Christians, he never allowed their behavior to interrupt his walk with God. Dexter Manley is his friend and not his leader.

Unlike most of the players you would usually see gathering at midfield to pray after the conclusion of a hard fought game, he was serious about God and his place in his life. He was a model citizen. Art Monk was a great catch for the NFL Hall of Fame.

HONOR BLACK WOMEN? NOT ON MY WATCH!

Radio One's son and mother team carrying shareholders to the bank---their bank!

by Harold Bell

Read this with caution, if the shoe fits---wear it. I hate to rain on other people’s parade, but this was one parade I found too good to pass up. Yes I think black women should be honored, my grandmother and my mother, but not today’s black woman. Black America is in shambles today because of a majority of black women have left black men hanging out to dry. Most of their meteoric success has come at the expense of her man.
Affirmative action was more beneficial to white and black women then to black men. Instead of black women becoming “The spook who sit by the door,” they became the spook who blocked the door.

The system discovered through affirmative action they could hire white and black women and fill their minority vacancies and meet their government quotas. Therefore, the black man became the invisible man.

The powers-to-be has long seen the black man as a threat to its empire. Their main concern was that integration brought black men too close to their white women. Today’s board rooms and corporate offices are running over with black women who for some reason think they are on there on merit and some are, but too many are there at the expense of black men.
There are over a one million black men incarcerated in American jails. This is by no means a coincident. Our black male children’s blood is flowing in our streets in urban settings throughout the country. But black women are nowhere to be found.

On Sunday June29, 2008 a 19 year old black male child was murdered in his jail cell in a Prince George’s Maryland correction facility. Ronnie White was accused of killing a Prince George’s County Policeman. This vigilante act in 2008 denied him his day in court as required by the Constitutional and Civil Rights act of 1964. Where are the black women standing up for their men and male children. Have you suddenly forgotten that during slavery the corporate office and boardroom was The Master’s kitchen and bedroom? Your 21st century actions speak for themselves---your voices have become silent and mute when it comes to standing up for your man.

Ronnie White was murdered in his jail cell a month ago. The State Police and FBI have a captivated audience of nine suspects who had access to White and still no arrest! I started a forum days after his death and not one black woman has cried out in the forum, but you think you should be honored?

You were once the backbone of the black community. Have you forgotten the sacrifices made by Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman, Mary McLeod Bethune, Angela Davis, Athelia Gibson, Rosa Parks, Betty Shabazz, Coretta Scott King, Jackie Joiner Kersey, Rachel Robinson, Barbra Jordan Shirley Chisholm, C. Delores Tucker, Winnie Mandella, Rachel Kennedy, Madam C. J. Walker, Isabel Sanford and Amy Tyler Bell. I remember them or recall their stories of how they stood for something and just didn’t fall for anything.

What have you done to be honored except ride in on the coattails and accomplishments of the real heroes who opened the doors for you?
In black America today, the black man has literally been kicked to the curb by white America and their “Spooks that sit by the door.”

There is a joke going around on the internet about the KKK holding their last and final meeting of this century. The Grand Dragon explains to those that are gathered on why he is turning in his robe and hood for jeans and a T shirt. He says, “There is no need for our services any more, black folks are killing each other at a record rate and black women and preachers are selling out the black community like there is no tomorrow.” This joke is closer to the truth then we care to think.

In the Nation’s Capitol for example; there is Radio and TV One and there sits the Queen of media fraud, Cathy Hughes. The Washington Post who helped put her in a position of power to steal her stockholders blind wrote two front page stories on her in the Business section of the paper on the same day (Friday March 9, 2008). She almost had the entire front page to herself. The story was titled “Losses and Static For Radio One” it starts out with a bang, it reads, “Urban broadcasting Radio One yesterday said it lost $18.3 million in the first three months of the year.
The loss, which came to 19 cent a share, compared to a profit of $744, 000 for the similar period a year earlier. The Lanham company struggles have led it in recent months to sell stations in markets around the country, change programming, and invest in internet offerings.

Still its stock has fallen below $1 to its lowest levels since Radio One went public nine years ago. Shares closed at 86 cents yesterday (May 9th). Cathy’s son Alfred C. Liggins III, the company’s chief executive said, ‘our stocks have been crushed.’ In a conference call with investors he acknowledged ‘since my family is the largest shareholder, when the stock is below $1, it is very painful.’

Let me tell you how much pain Cathy and her baby boy Alfred are in. In the second story columnist Steven Pearlstein writes, “This is also the story of a management team and a tight knit board of directors who have overreached in their strategy, underperformed in executing it and sometimes put their own interests ahead of those of their shareholders.

It gets worst because of accounting errors Radio One is under investigation by the Securities and Exchange Commission for backdating stock options. They restated several years of earnings. Despite these obvious thievery and fraudulent acts DC Mayor Adrian Fenty is planning on renting Radio One space in downtown Washington for $1 a year. Birds of a feather flock together!

The most egregious example of their greed is the new compensation package they have provided for themselves while the company sinks like the Titanic. Alfred for turning in the worst financial performance in company history will receive $1 million for having been underpaid for the past three years as well as a 70% raise that will bring his salary to $980, 000 and the opportunity to match that in a $980,000 potential bonus. His mother who is Chairman of the Board and has no clear defined executive responsibilities according to the Washington Post will receive an annual base salary of $750, 000 a year, along with a potential bonus of $650, 000. That compares with a 2007 salary and bonus of $250,000. How painful is that?

The shareholders are being carried to the cleaners in a shopping cart. They have seen their stock fall by 95%. In 2004 a share of Radio One’s stock was worth $27. 00 today that same stock is worth 86 cents. What makes Cathy Hughes any different from what Enron and CEO Kenneth Lay did to its stockholders?

The black female charade continues with Cora Masters Barry the former wife of former Mayor Marion Barry is a convicted felon. In 1988 she was known as Cora Wilds and was Chairman of the DC Boxing Commission. She pleaded guilty to federal charges related to double dipping and stealing money from the commission. Her atrocities as chairwoman are well chronicled (Washington Post and City Paper July 2008.) In 2008 she has re-invented herself at the expense of our children. She has found a way to keep her groove and hustle on. She is the founder of the SE Tennis Center a non-profit organization for inner-city children. The center is run by the Mayor Fenty and the DC Parks and Recreation Department. Birds of a feather flock together.

Ms. Barry is frequently seen in the company of Orcena Williams the mother of the dynamic duo of pro tennis, sisters Venus and Serena. During her tenure as Commissioner she was the subject of many of my commentaries heard on my sports talk radio show Inside Sports. The late Dr. ArnoldMcKnight was my former college teammate and roommate. He was the Director of the SE Tennis Center. He confided in me “Once a thief always a thief.”

Time and space will not permit me to name the rest of my catalog of today’s black women who have sold black men out, but they would include, DC Delegate Eleanor Holmes Norton, Congresswoman Maxine Waters, and Bill Clinton White House and Coca-Cola flunky, Alexis Herman. The banking industry is overrun with black women who have us sold out led by Barbra Goliday at Wachovia in Virginia. In media black women have been selling us out for so long most networks and newspapers have a for sale sign posted at the entrance of their buildings. These are just a few of the names that come to my mind.

Black women should first honor their children, their men and then themselves. Black men already have enough problems we don’t need any more help, especially from black women.

MS. FRANCES MURPHY: THE FIRST LADY OF BLACK MEDIA!

IN APPRECIATION


Mrs. Frances Murphy was the patriarch of the Afro-American newspaper. She was a sister, mother, grandmother, aunt, cousin, friend and guardian of the black community. Mrs. Murphy was a giant in media and in our community. The Afro-American newspaper is one of the oldest Black newspapers in America.

She gave me my first opportunity to hone my skills as a writer when she allowed me to write commentaries and columns in the Afro in the 70s.

It all started when I gave Ms. Murphy one of my commentaries at a community meeting we were both attending in DC. I had written the commentary for my sports talk show Inside Sports, never thinking I would see it in the newspaper. Two weeks later there it was in the Editorial section of the Afro along with the typos and bad grammar all corrected.

The published commentary inspired me to continue to improve my writing skills. This was long before my commentaries and columns appeared in the Washington Post and other print media outlets around the country. She gave her approval for me to continue to write and reveal the darker sides and controversial sides of sports that included stories on Georgetown basketball coach John Thompson and boxing icons Sugar Ray Leonard and Don King, all heroes in the black community. The only time these stories were hear or read in the media was on “Inside Sports.”

These were stories the Washington Post would dare not touch until the Afro published them first. The Washington Post followed Inside Sports and the Afro’s lead when it came to reminding the black politician and athlete who he was and exactly where he came from. Two months after my commentary on “John Thompson Up Close & Personal,” the Washington Post published the first of a two part series on the basketball icon with the second part of the series never appearing in print. This was surely a cover-up.

Mrs. Murphy and I would see each other in the community and we would pass each other like ships in the night. We would always speak and move on. In 1980 I would see Mrs. Murphy at Face’s Restaurant on Georgia Ave. NW. having lunch. Face’s Restaurant was then a popular hang out of the movers and shakers in the black community. I stopped by her table as I was leaving to thank her for her support. She looked up at me and said, “Hi Mr. Bell, congratulations on being named Washingtonian of the Year, what a nice honor. I like what you are doing with our young people keep up the good work.” In 1980 I was the first sports media personality ever named Washingtonian of the Year by Washingtonian Magazine. I was honored again by Mrs. Murphy’s kind and thoughtful words.

In February 2007 I was honored by Tom Joiner on his morning show heard in 142 markets throughout the country and I was the featured story on Americablackweb.com during Black History Month. The story was titled “Living Black History: Broadcasting Icon Harold Bell the Visionary Behind Inside Sports.”

On November 15, 2007 I was involved in one of the breaking stories on the 4:00 pm and 6:00 pm news on NBC TV4. The story was “Good Samaritan Rescues Child From Subway Tracks.” On November 26, 2007 again I was cited by Tom Joiner on his morning radio show and again I was the featured story on the Americanblackweb.com. The story was titled “DC Broadcast Pioneer Lauded For Rescuing Girl Who Fell Onto Subway Tracks.”

I pay tribute and say thanks to Ms. Frances Murphy “Three Times A Lady” for honoring and helping me to become all that I could be in the community and in sports media. She allowed me to take stands and make statements that others in print media dared not.

Ms. Murphy proved that no man is an Island and we all need a helping hand in this “Game Called Life,” her hand had no boundaries in the black community.

ESPN: THERE WOULD BE NO BLACK MAGIC WITHOUT WHITE MAGIC!

Black Magic forgot Curley Neal and Red Auerbach





ESPN’s airing of “Black Magic” chronicling the rich history of black basketball in America was a buzzer beating jump shot to win and a controversial foul call at the end the game to lose. It was also the most watched documentary in the history of ESPN television. The first segment aired in 1.2 million homes beating the old record of 1.1 million. The four hour two-part television show carried black basketball from the playgrounds, high schools, colleges and on to its final destination---the NBA. This brought full circle the hopes and dreams of most black athletes, a life in the fast lane of professional sports. For some it was their only way out.



The show’s title, “Black Magic” was the footprints in the sand of the man who revolutionized offensive guard play in basketball---Earl Monroe. He is also a part-time magician (he made a lot of people and facts disappear in Black Magic). Never the less, I found the show to be enlightening and educational even though I lived most of it. I was a student/athlete and played football and basketball for the legendary Clarence “Bighouse” Gaines at Winston-Salem State. During my era (59-63) I was the only athlete under 6’5 he permitted to play two sports. Tim Autry and Emit Gil my football teammates could not chew bubble gum and dribble at the same time but they were tall. He called Tim and Emit “My Special Effects.”

My freshman year I scored 27 points in a losing effort in the annual Alumni vs. Varsity basketball game. My friend and mentor the legendary Jack DeFares had returned to Winston-Salem to finish work on his degree. He lobbied for me to play for the shorthanded alumni. It was easy to see why Jack was a New York playground legend and an All-Time great at Winston-Salem. He simply said, “Keep your eyes on me and follow my lead.” His slick ball handling and moves to the basket was responsible for me leading both teams in scoring. Bighouse knew I could do two things well, catch a football and score on a basketball court. But he made it clear that he had only one basketball and it belonged to Cleo Hill. Like it or not I had to wait my turn. I satisfied my hunger for the game by playing at the local YMCA and on the Inter-Mural team.

I was in a unique position at Winston-Salem State I was there to compare three of the greatest players to ever play for “Bighouse,” Jack DeFares, Cleo Hill and Earl Monroe up close and personal. I was there for the return of Jack DeFares, I was there for the departure of Cleo Hill and I was there to witness the arrival of Black Jesus better known as Earl “The Pearl” Monroe among other names.

Hopefully, Mike Wise of the Washington Post was watching ESPN and received an education on who was the first and last word when it came to “The Improviser” of guard play in the NBA.
Mike Wise and his colleagues at the Washington Post are the best examples on why we need to celebrate Black History 365 days of the year if we don’t our youth would believe that “Pistol Pete” Maravich revolutionize guard play in the NBA. He wrote those exact words in his column during the NBA All-Star Weekend last month. Pete was a great player in his own right but he was no Pearl. Black Americans must be careful of what we read and who we read. Don't hold your breath looking for Mike’s column saying, “I made a mistake.”

I was there also to encourage the late great legendary Red Auerbach to step in support Earl Lloyd’s induction into the Basketball Hall of Fame. The NBA had overlooked his career. Thanks to Red the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame finally inducted him in 2002 as a contributor. He was the first black to play in the NBA. The CIAA barely beat the NBA. Fifty years after graduating from West Virginia State they finally pulled his number for induction into the CIAA Hall of Fame in 2000.

Black Magic participants Al Attles and Earl Lloyd were two dear friends and inspired me to be all that I could be. I was in Landover, Maryland when Al and the Golden State Warriors upset and beat another close and dear friend K. C. Jones. The Warriors beat the Washington Bullets in four straight games to win the NBA Championship. Al and K. C. made pro sports history by becoming the first two Black Americans to face-off in a championship final.

The enlightening stories for me, started with Perry Wallace, Athletic Director at American University and the first black to play at Vanderbilt University, the perseverance of NBA player Bob “Butter Bean” Love and without a doubt the hidden story that Ben Jobes was one of the greatest college basketball coaches of all time. Coach Jobes’ accomplishments and basketball success stayed under the radar of major media for decades. ESPN’s Black Magic made it perfectly clear he could have easily been a success on any level, but was denied recognition because he was black.

The real story of the NBA lynching of Cleo Hill by the St. Louis Hawks was long overdue. In Black Magic there was mention of Cleo being the greatest player of his era. He could have been the greatest player of any area where he was allowed to play.

Cleo had every shot imaginable. He is the greatest offensive basketball player I have ever seen with the exception of Washington, DC’s Elgin Baylor. He was “Michael Jordan” in North Carolina long before Michael Jordan. Jordan didn’t really blossom into a great offensive ball player until the pros. Cleo was a basketball icon and legend on Tobacco Road long before his pro career. To believe it you had to be there to see him. When Cleo played you would have thought the ACC Tournament was being held on the campus of Winston-Salem State. White folks traveled from all over the state to see him play. Cleo Hill was worth the travel time and price of admission. There were times when our own students could not get into the games. There was nothing Cleo could not do on a basketball court. His offensive arsenal consisted of left and right hand hook shots, set shots, a jump shot from any and everywhere, a great rebounder when he needed to be, he was fearless driving to the basket and he was a 80% foul shooter. Cleo could dribble the ball up court to break the press and dribble out the clock. He was no slough on defense either, when “Bighouse” needed someone to stop the other team’s hot shooter, he looked no further than Cleo or teammate Tommy Monterio.

Cleo was drafted No. 1 by the St. Louis Hawks in 1961 and everything was uphill from there. When he arrived in St. Louis the KKK better known as The Nest was waiting for him. The Nest consisted of players Bob Pettit, Cliff Hagan and Clyde Lovellet. They did everything but string him up by his neck. When Coach Paul Seymour took a stand against The Nest the owner Ben Kerner fired him. When Cleo returned to campus to finish up his classes to graduate after his rookie year he was a beaten man. He would come around to our room and sit and talk with Barney and me for hours about life with the St. Louis Hawks. His story was something out of the 1800’s. In 2008 little has changed black men are still having their ideas and goods stolen and are asked to go in the backdoor and side doors to re-claim them. Spooks are still sitting by the door (CBS' James Brown, BET's Bob Johnson, etc), opening it for some and closing it for others.
When we start to talk about the injustices of the sports establishment you have to look no further than Coach John McLendon.

White coaches led by the legendary Dean Smith stole his ideas and made them their own. The basketball establishment led by the white media had fans believing for years that Coach Smith invented “The Four Corners.” A strategy devised by Coach Mac to take time off of the clock in the closing moments of a game while sitting on a lead.

How can you vote one of the greatest innovators of the game into the hall of fame as a contributor? Check the records and see if Adolph Rupp and Dean Smith have Contributor before or after their names. In all fairness if Coach Mac is a Contributor than every coach who followed James Nasmith into the hall of fame is also a Contributor. The word “Contributor” needs to be changed, as it relates to Coach Mac and Earl Lloyd. If history is the judge “Brothers and Sisters” in media will see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil and write no evil.

Johnny McLendon was definitely “An Officer and a Gentleman” he was in a class by himself when it came to having a compassion for helping others. Johnny Mac was a pleasure to be around. He is one of the best examples on how one can be a class-act and black folks will Player Hate on you anyway. Barney Hood and I would often talk about Coach Mac and how he would always be uplifting when talking about his friends and former players. Fairness is a lesson that never seemed to have rubbed off on some of his colleagues.

The man many of us called “Big Daddy” when others called him Bighouse would some times forget we were watching him. He could be very selfish and self serving. Bighouse had a big heart but he could also be heartless. He went ballistic when his friend and colleague Coach Tom “Tricky” Harris of Virginia Union hired a white coach, Dave Robbins (in-focus). Coach Gaines and Harris were poker pals and shared a lot of basketball history. When his buddy hired a white coach he felt betrayed. Bighouse slowly burned when CIAA Commissioner Leon Kerry (out of focus) and his cohorts hijacked the conference right before his eyes. Some of the things he said about his colleagues and student/athletes made many us wonder whether he really liked himself. None of us escaped his wrath including me, Cleo and Black Jesus.

In many ways we have taken on the characteristics of the establishment. When it comes to fairness it is becoming a lost art in the black community. We have also become more exclusive instead of inclusive. Black Magic for example; How were the contributions of icons Sam Jones (It is rumored he wanted to get paid), Spencer Haywood, Curly Neal and last but not least Red Auerbach and Walter Brown of the Boston Celtics overlooked?

Sam Jones is in the NBA Hall of Fame and voted as one of the NBA’s 50 Greatest, he could have easily added more insight. His mentors were two of the greatest coaches of all time, Johnny Mac and Red Auerbach. Without Red’s contributions “Black Magic” would still be out of focus and a dream deferred. Spencer Haywood’s contribution turned the plantation mentality of college basketball andthe NBA into a “Pay Day Heaven” for today’s NBA players.

In a landmark decision Spencer successfully challenged in court and won his case to enter the NBA draft before graduation. He became the first ever NBA Hardship case. Every NBA player making over $5,000 owes him a debt of gratitude. He should be in the NBA Hall of Fame and a member of The 50 Greatest Players ever, for his play on the court and his legal battles in court. He was working in the community long before the NBA CARED and he put the POWER in Power Forward. He is being Black Balled by the NBA for standing up to be a man in America and for his alleged drug use. If drug use is one of the criterias used for his induction, than the hall should be almost vacant. One of the show’s characters, drug dealer Pee Wee Kirkland is a New York Playground basketball legend and former Norfolk State player. I saw some his best customers in “Black Magic.”

Curly Neal is a graduate of Johnson C. Smith University and his name is synonymous with the internationally known Harlem Globetrotters. Curly is known by more basketball fans World wide then Michael Jordan. Johnson C. Smith is one of our oldest black HBUC institutions in Black America. It was founded in 1867 as Biddle Memorial and named Johnson C. Smith in 1923. The Queen City of Charlotte, N. C. is the home of the most famous black college basketball tournament in the country (CIAA), they were also left out of focus in Black Magic!
How could Black Magic forget New York basketball icons Pop Gates, Jack DeFares and Carl Green?

Sound bites we could have done without: Some things are better left unsaid, playground and NBA Broadcast legend Sonny Hill describing former Tennessee State and New York Knicks’ guard Dick Barnett was definitely out of focus. He said “Dick Barnett was a functional illiterate.” Dr. Dick Barnett graduated from Tennessee State and now holds a PHD Degree. Sonny Hill never graduated from college and holds no degrees!!!

ESPN NBA studio analyst and Winston-Salem State alumnus Stephen A. Smith and basketball scrub at Winston-Salem State was blackballed from the show for stepping on “Superman’s Cape.” 'Bighouse' was having trouble winning games at the end of his career (828 wins) and Smith writing for the Philadelphia Inquirer made the mistake of calling for his firing. He has been out of bounds and out of focus ever since. What is my excuse for being out of focus? I am nobody's Yes Man and I walk and march to a different drum beat.

A DIRTY BALLPLAYER WITH AN ANGEL'S HEART!

IN APPRECIATION

They called him "Redball"

John B. Sample Jr. was born and raised in Portsmouth, Va. and was known to friends as Happy, Blade, Reds, and Red ball. He died suddenly in his hometown of Philadelphia in April 2005. He was sixty-nine years old. I received a call from Johnny’s friend basketball legend Sonny Hill with the bad news. After the death of legendary basketball Coach, Clarence “Bighouse” Gaines’ I had a conversation with his wife Clara and she said, “Harold I never thought Gaines would die.” I felt the same way about Johnny Sample even though I knew better. One week earlier I had just spoken with Johnny before heading south to the memorial service for “Bighouse.” He said he was going to try to make it, but I didn’t look for him. Johnny was notorious for not showing up, but I don’t ever remember him giving me his word and not keeping it. He was always there for all of my celebrity tennis tournaments, media panel discussions, award programs, radio and television talk shows, etc. Compared to today’s pro athlete when it came to keeping his word, Reds was a Saint.

I remember first seeing Johnny Sample in Washington, DC in 1954. He was a member of the Maryland State football team and they were in town to play Howard University at the Cardozo High School football stadium. I was amazed that he didn’t wear thigh and knee pads, he worn his pants skin tight. The shoulder pads were so small it didn’t look like he had any on. His level of play that day was like a Man among boys, Howard University was no match for Johnny Sample and his teammates. It was here that I came away with the impression that Johnny Sample was indestructible.

It would be years later before I would meet Johnny face to face. It was at a Baltimore Bullets’ (Wizards) basketball game at the Baltimore Civic Center. He was a member of the Baltimore Colts football team. He was standing around outside of the bar during halftime laughing and talking with anyone and everyone. I decided to go up and introduce myself and we have been great friends ever since. It was easy to like Johnny Sample, he had an outgoing personality and he made you feel like he had known you all of his life. There was nothing phony or pretentious about him. If you didn’t want to hear the truth you didn’t want to be around Johnny Sample.

Michael Cooper is one the greatest running backs to ever come out of Philadelphia and he was one of Johnny’s closest friends. He played at North East high school and Michigan State. Michael remembers when he was invited to the Washington Redskin camp in 1964 for a try out by then Coach Bill McPeak. It looked as though Michael was a sure bet to make the team until one day Coach McPeak decided it best he go on the Redskin taxi squad. Johnny disagreed with the coach’s decision and let him know in no uncertain terms. He would run through a brick wall if you were his friend. Michael recalls his many acts of kindness for his friends. He says, “Johnny Sample was not a fly by night friend, if you needed him, he was there.” When his friend and teammate the legendary “Big Daddy” Lipscomb was mysteriously found dead in Baltimore, the NFL claimed he died of an overdose of drugs. Johnny knew for a fact he didn’t do drugs. he said, “Big Daddy” was scared to death of needles." He sued the NFL for $100, 000 dollars to clear his friend’s name. The price of winning was too expensive; the NFL “Blackballed” him from its Hall of Fame.

Coming out of Maryland State College he was one the best running backs in the nation. In 1955, he was voted unanimously by The Pigskin Club of Washington, DC as its “Player of the Year” for the Central Intercollegian Athletic Association (CIAA). He was the first ever player from a Historical Black College selected to play in the College All-Star game in Chicago. His NFL career would be controversial, but his athletic skills were superior. His mouth often got him into trouble, but his play on the field would often be his ticket out of the NFL doghouse.

During his eleven year NFL tenure he was one of the most feared defensive backs in pro football. Roy Jefferson a former teammate and All-Pro wide receiver says, “If you caught the football in his territory you were going to pay the price.” Hall of Fame All-Pro wide receiver Frank Gifford of the New York Giants was so fearful of Johnny that he once saw him on a New York street corner and ran to the other side against a red light to get away from him.

Johnny Sample played for four NFL teams, the Baltimore Colts, Pittsburgh Steelers, Washington Redskins and the New York Jets. He earned two championship rings and one Super Bowl ring. He was the co-captain with QB Joe Namath of the New York Jets when Namath boldly predicted that the Jets would win the Super Bowl in the 1968-69 season. He is the only player in pro football history to win World Championships in two different leagues (NFL and AFL).

In 1969 Johnny walked away from the game that he loved. He was much more than a great athlete he was a student of the game. Johnny could disrupt the flow of a game by calling out the offensive play as the opposing team came out to line up. The QB would immediately call a timeout and cuss Johnny out as he made his way to the sideline. There were many who thought he would be a great NFL coach, but he had burn too many NFL bridges.

Immediately after retirement he went to work on his first novel, “Confessions of a Dirty Football Player.” This book outlined the mercenary world of professional football. In an interview on my television sports talk show “Inside Sports” NFL Legend Jim Brown asked the question, “Johnny were you a dirty football player or just a hard clean player?” His response, “I was never dirty, except when I played against you.” All Jim could was laugh.

Johnny was not one to just sit around after his NFL career. He became an entrepreneur and owned a ticket agency and sporting goods store called, Sample’s End Zone. He later taught himself the game of tennis and quickly excelled. He was the number one player in the country in the United States Tennis (USTA), 45 and over category for several years running. He would later serve as a tennis official for the USTA, Wimbledon, U. S., French and Australian Opens and chair umpire, linesman and referee for the USTA. His inner-city youth tennis program was one of the largest and best run in the country. Tennis to him was all about, love, love and more love.

In February of 2004 he was inducted into the CIAA Hall of Fame in Raleigh, North Carolina. This was almost fifty years after he had graduated from college. The first question he asked when he took the microphone, “CIAA what took you so long?” Johnny and I had often talked about being “Blackballed” by the system is one thing, but to be “Blackballed” by your own people is a tough pill to swallow.

Johnny Sample’s induction into the Hall of Fame could not have come at a better time. In this case better late than never. This was definitely a highlight in his long distinguishing odyssey into the world of politics and sports. During his induction speech he asked me to stand up and be recognized as the pioneer in sports talk radio. He was always reaching and giving something back. He served as a member of the Board of Directors of Kids In Trouble, Inc. for over two decades. Johnny Sample was honored with the Kids In Trouble, Inc. Life Time Achievement Award in Washington, DC in 2003.

He also excelled as a sports talk show host on W-H-A-T Radio in Philadelphia from 1988 to 2004. Johnny used his sports talk show as a vehicle to improve the growth of his community. As a community advocate, he was instrumental in several projects. The crown jewel was the Million Man March in 1986 when he organized seventy-three buses from Philadelphia and parts of New Jersey to Washington, DC. In my world he was a special man. I was honored that the family named me an Honorary Pallbearer for the great Johnny Sample. Make room in heaven here comes a dirty football player with the heart and smile of an Angel. “Redball” it was my honor.

BLACK ANGER: 40 YEARS AFTER MARTIN

Dr. Martin Luther King

Four hundred years after we were kidnapped and brought to America against our will, we are still not good enough. Through slave labor America has become the greatest country on the face of the earth but black folks are still seen as the last, the least and the less. First, we were sold out by our brothers and sisters for what would add up to today as pennies on a dollar. In 2008 there are some who are still selling us out for pennies on a dollar. Yes, there were “Spooks Who Sit by the Door” in Africa. Little has changed since we were brought here by boats and ships from the most beautiful Continent in the World. Instead of second-class citizens we are now third class citizens behind America’s “New Negro”—Hispanics.

Many of our ancestors were among thousands and thousands who never made it to the shores of America. On the high seas an illness or a defiant look from a slave could mean a watery grave on the bottom of the ocean. It is by far the worst lost of life in American history, there are no comparisons.

The Powers-To-Be in America are often heard asking the question, why can’t American blacks pull themselves up by their boot straps like the Jews? How can we pull ourselves up by our bootstraps if we don’t have boots? Or many can be heard saying “Black folks need to get over slavery and reparations.”

I am getting over slavery and reparations but I can’t get over the assassinations of the Rev. Martin Luther King, Malcomb X, President John Kennedy and his brother Bobby and forty years later we are still singing “We Shall Over Come.” I can’t get over the lynching of Emit Till, or four little girls blown up while attending church, Megar Evers gunned down in his driveway by cowards, black and white civil rights marchers in Selma and Birmingham, Alabama bitten by dogs, fire hosed, by Jim Clark and Bull Connor and their redneck cops beating on human heads as if they were drums. Let us not forget the three young men in Mississippi two black and one white brutally murdered while trying to register blacks to vote or the black brother dragged to his death behind a pick-up truck by racist rednecks in Texas. The evening television news was our witness. These hideous acts took place during the life times of Rev. Jeremiah Wright, Barrack and Michelle Obama, Louis Farrakan, Condoleeza Rice, Barry Bonds and yours truly. We should forgive but never forget. Our anger has been earned. Racism is as American as “Apple Pie.”

Jews who were more despised by European Americas than blacks infiltrated American society by changing their names and blending into the landscape. Changing our names and passing for white would have been very difficult. Our dark skin, broad noses, thick lips and big butts would have given us away every time. In 2008 that has not stopped some blacks with dark skin, big noses, thick lips and big butts from thinking they are white. They think money can change the racist attitudes of rednecks like O’Reilly, Don Imus, Pat Robertson, Russ Limbaugh, etc. Not in our life time.

I have always found it amazing that in American history lore there is the claim that Christopher Columbus discovered America. My question, how can you discover a land that is already occupied by Native Americans? The land was taken by Europeans who raped, robbed and killed Native Americans and then made them “The Bad Guys” in the movies of Cowboys versus Indians. After stealing the land they boarded ships to the continent of Africa to hijack slave labor to build their homes and harvest their crops, FREE labor.

Most history books written by the Powers-To-Be fail to mention that we are descendants of Kings and Queens and not hoodlums and thugs. According to them there is a “New Bad Guy” in town, Rev. Jeremiah Wright, Barry Bonds, Louis Farrakan, Barrack and Michelle Obama. This sister and her brothers have no record of theft, murder, rape, trafficking drugs or white collar crime, but they are being held to a different standard.

There are some in media led by racist radio and television talk show host Fox News’ Bill O’Reilly who believe that Obama is guilty by association. I have been a broadcaster in talk radio and television for over three decades and Bill O’ Reilly is as racist as they come in so-called major media. Barrack’s position not to appear on O’Reilly’s television show is to be admired and respected. Who needs him?

Just like our ancestors were sold out by their own people, O’Reilly has black caddies like Juan Williams of Fox News and former BET founder Bob Johnson to support and carry his racist baggage. Juan and Bob have plenty of company in black media. They can easily be found resembling “The three little monkeys” sitting on the fence hearing no evil, speaking no evil, seeing no evil and writing no evil. Their names are too many to mention for this column.

Some blacks would have us believe that former President Bill Clinton was Black America’s first

Black President. If you ask those same blacks to name one piece of legislation that he passed while in the White House to enhance the growth of Black America they will take on the posturing of “The Three Little Monkeys.” There are black folks who would have us to believe we owe Bill and Hillary. I wonder why? Could it be because Bill was seen on the Arsenio Hall television show playing the saxophone, or seen in New York City at Sylvia’s Soul Food Restaurant eating fried chicken or having the Queen of Soul Aretha Franklin in concert at the White House? There is an old saying “People who don’t stand for something will fall for anything” meet Juan Williams and Bob Johnson.

Senator Barrack Obama is one of the most qualified men in America to be the next President of these United States. If you need further proof check out the man occupying today’s White House. The only thing Bill O’Reilly and his spooks that sit by the door can find to disqualify Barrack are the angry sometime sermons of his minister, Jeremiah Wright. What happen to the First Amendment, freedom of speech provided for all in the Constitution? Then there is Michelle Obama and her revelation saying, “I have never been so proud to be an American as I am now standing here today.” Suddenly those words makes her a traitor and unpatriotic? How many times have you or I seen shameless acts perpetrated by Americans on others that have made us ashamed to be an American?

Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice recently told the editors and writers of the Washington Times that “America has a birth defect.” She criticized the very founding of the nation, saying ‘it is not a very pretty picture. See, we had slaves. Descendants of slaves did not get much of a head start and I think you continue to see some of the effects of that.” Was the Secretary of State being a traitor or unpatriotic? I don’t think so!

Dr. King must be turning over in his grave to see the sad state of our schools, health care, and unemployment in our inner-cities. Our black churches and publicly held offices are dropping the ball while being overrun with ministers and politicians resembling the corner pimp.
I don’t think Dr. King gave his life to have a Black man voted in as Mayor of the Nation’s Capitol and then watch him hire a female Asian-American to run a school system that is 90% black. The new Chancellor Michelle Rhee has never held an administrative position in a school system.

Fenty then hired a white female Chief of Police and her second in command is a white female, since their hiring DC has become "The Wild, Wild West." When was the last time you heard or read where a white male was gunned down on our city streets? Men dying by gun violence in the streets of DC for 2008 has been 90% black.

Mayor Fenty's chief of staff is white, and his Fire Chief is white. Washington, DC is a city with a black population of better than 70%. Mayor Adrian Fenty’s Administrated staff is 90% white and gay. Black men in America are some of the best and the brightest but they must not be feeling very good about themselves right about now in Mayor Fenty's Washington, DC. Where does a black child look for a role model in the Nation’s Capitol that looks like him or her?

We have been in this country for over 400 years but Congress and the Senate re-visits the Civil Rights Act every 10 years to make sure Black America’s Civil Rights are protected. We have to prove we are worthy every ten years? Brother, are you angry yet?

There has always been justice and just-us in courthouses around America. The Justice Department should change its name to Just-Us Department. One of the best examples is American prisons, they house more inmates (2.1 million) than any other country in the World. Blacks make up only 12% of the entire American population but we are 41.2% of the prison population. Young black men are in the most danger of falling prey to this unequal system of justice. One third of them between the ages of 15 to 29 years is under supervision of the courts or is in jail.

Prisons in America are BIG business and are listed on the Wall Street Stock Market. They are being built all over the country (most underground) and the Wardens are all white millionaires. Their number one customer is----young, gifted and black. Jesse Jackson a Martin Luther King confidant described black America’s progress best when he said, “First class jails and second class schools.” Black children are dropping out of school twice as fast as white children. This helps makes us the last, the least and the less.

When we start to talk about double standards let us take a look at America’s favorite past time---baseball. The great Jackie Robinson broke the color line in 1947 as a member of the Brooklyn Dodgers. In 1972 Curt Flood of the St. Louis Cardinals challenged baseball’s plantation mentality. He challenged the Reserve Clause. The clause restricted players from moving freely from one team to another. The league was made up of 26% black players when Flood challenged the Reserve Clause. In 2008 black players in Major League Baseball are at an all-time low 7%.
The average salary of a Major League baseball player in 2008 is three million dollars. Therefore, it is probably no coincidence that black players are being phrase out. Like Martin, Jackie and Curt died in the prime of their lives fighting racism in America. Are you angry yet?

Those same misguided black politicians who help closed down a badly needed DC General hospital in the Nation’s Capitol celebrated Opening Day at the new stadium smiling for the cameras. The hospital served and saved the lives of thousands of black folks in the Southeast and Northeast corridor of the Nations Capitol for decades. The politicians who are evidently baseball fans could not find a few million dollars to keep open a life and death facility. When all is said and done they will have to come up with over 700 million dollars to pay for a new baseball stadium for a team that rarely finds its way into the win column. Are you angry yet?

Barry Bonds is the greatest all around baseball player to ever play America’s favorite pastime. Last year he broke the Major League Baseball record for homeruns. He surpassed the legendary Babe Ruth and Hank Aaron on the all-time list. Opening day he could not find a job in baseball. He has been accused of using steroids. There is no concrete evidence that he did. During the time he was accused there was no law in baseball against using steroids. Without a snitch the Powers-To Be have no case. But that has not stopped Bill O’Reilly and his spooks that sit by the door from circling the courthouse like sharks. Barry is now being accused of lying under oath according papers filed in court proceedings. In the meantime he is sitting on the bench of Life waiting for a call from some courageous owner who needs a Designated Hitter in the worst way. Something is wrong with this picture.

I will never forget watching 60 Minutes on CBS television years ago and Morley Safer was interviewing Arthur Mitchell. Mr. Mitchell is the founder and Artistic Director of the legendary Dance Theatre of Harlem in New York City. During the interview Mr. Mitchell seem to be frustrated by the fact he had to beg for money from the system to keep his fledging theatre afloat. Mr. Safer looked him directly in his eyes and said “You sound like you are angry.” Mr. Mitchell never missed a beat, his response, ‘You show me a black man or woman in America who is not angry about the state of Black America and I will show you a black man and woman who need to see a psychiatrist.’ I could not have said it better myself.

GODFATHER OF THE CIAA: BIGHOUSE GAINES

The many faces of "Bighouse"

IN APPRECIATION

On Monday April 18, 2005 college basketball lost one of its true “Giants.” Winston-Salem State University’s Clarence “Bighouse” Gaines died at the age of eighty-one. “Bighouse” won more games (828) than any other black college coach in the history of college basketball. The 2006 CIAA Tournament being held in Charlotte, N.C. would pay tribute to his memory.

When “Bighouse” retired in 1993 at the age of seventy-one he was the number one winning active coach black or white in the country. Despite the nay sayers “Bighouse” could have easily coached well into his seventies if the talent pool was still available. In 2006 Joe Paterno of Penn State won the “Big Ten Championship” at age 80.

The athletic talent pool at Black Historical Colleges has been depleted and diverted with money under the table by Division I Colleges. The promises of television exposure, million dollar pro contracts and a blonde in every classroom has been offered to the black athlete for well over three decades. Black Historical Colleges have not been able to match the package so they have followed the old adage “If you can’t beat them join them.” They have done so without financial success or a Final Four or Rose Bowl appearance. The losers are Black History and Black Historical Colleges. For example, the once vibrant CIAA Tournament is almost down to a “Skeleton Crew” as schools jump to Division One. The anticipated move by Winston-Salem made ‘Bighouse’ sad. He was big on black history. The CIAA Tournament has moved from city to city like a gypsy caravan chasing the almighty dollar.

Despite the raids conducted by Division One schools for the black athlete “Bighouse” has left a legacy of a winner on and off the court. He touched and won thousands of student/athletes’ hearts and minds with “Tuff love” during his forty-seven years on the Winston-Salem campus.

He left behind two families, first, his one of a kind wife Clara, a daughter Lisa and a son Clarence Jr. The second family was the athletes and students who called him “Daddy” on campus. There were hundreds more he touched on other Black Historical colleges around the country. He was like a rock star during games and at the CIAA Tournament, many of his players thought they were the stars, but “Bighouse” usually stole the show. It seemed like everyone wanted to talk with or touch him in those two settings.

I met Coach Gaines through an introduction by my high school Coach Dave Brown. ‘Bighouse’ was no stranger to the Nation’s Capitol. He was a graduate of Morgan State University in nearby Baltimore, Maryland. He was nobody’s dummy, his major was chemistry. He coached in the first ever CIAA Tournament in D. C. held at old Turner’s Arena. My introduction took place during the summer of 1958 in a pool hall across the street from my Spingarn High School campus during one of his recruiting trips. Coach Brown was the legendary D.C. high school coach who led NBA Hall of Fame player Elgin Baylor by the hand until he finally graduated from high school. The rest is NBA history.

Along with my three siblings I was the product of a single parent home. I was on my own after my mother had been institutionalized after suffering a nervous breakdown in 1958. My bed was where ever I could find a vacant car.

My Brown Middle School Principal William B. Stinson had predicted to my mother that I would not live to get out of high school. In 1958 it looked as though I was going to hell in a hurry and I would make Mr. Stinson look like a prophet.

I left Spingarn High School in the middle of my senior year under a dark cloud. I had questioned my basketball coach William Roundtree’s decision to bench me for putting myself before the team. The following day in anger I punched one of my teammates in a pick up game during gym class. I then defiantly made a decision to transfer to rival Eastern High School. The teammate I punched Charlie Mayo (later my roommate at Winston-Salem) said, “You are a dam fool to leave Spingarn.” It looked as though I was uncoachable and unteachable. I had been kicked off the baseball team in a similar situation by Coach Leo Hill and coach Brown had locked me on the school bus during halftime of a football game for discipline reasons. Things got so bad when people would see me coming they would say, “Here comes trouble.” “Trouble” would become my middle name.

As I was preparing to join the Eastern High school basketball team, Spingarn lodged an official protest with the Superintendent barring me from playing. Now mad at the world I returned to the streets and the poolroom on Benning Rd. in North East D.C. I called home.

Enter, Clarence “Bighouse” Gaines, I will never forget that summer day in 1958 when he walked through the pool room door like he owned it and asked, “which one of you guys is Harold Bell?’ I took a minute before I responded I was not sure if he was a cop or a Bounty Hunter, but I thought to myself “I had never seen a cop or Bounty Hunter that big.” After I identified myself he sat down in a chair and waited until I finished my game. His first question to me, “Son are you really interested in going to college?” My response was ‘yes sir.’ His next words were ‘I am Clarence Gaines and I am the coach at Winston-Salem Teachers College in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. If you interested in going to college you must first graduate from high school. Check with Coach Brown when you do.’ He got up and left the poolroom without another word. I was left thinking, ‘Where in the hell is Winston-Salem Teachers College?’

The visit from Bighouse would turn out to be a lifesaver. The life he would save would be my own. Bighouse and Winston-Salem for almost five decades would be the “Life Line” in the East Coast corridor (Boston, New York, New Jersey, Phila. and D.C.) for many lost souls like me.

The following school year Coach Brown made it possible for me to attend neighboring Fairmont Heights High School in Prince George’s County, Maryland. It was here that I would be eligible to play another year of athletics. He knew being able to plays sports would be the hook to get me back into school. It took me four years but I finally graduated. My proudest moment came when I looked out into the audience and saw that Coach Brown and my mother were in attendance for my graduation. Winston-Salem here I come.

My arrival on campus in August 1959 was an eye opening experience. I discovered “Southern Hospitality” really existed. The people in Winston-Salem were so friendly it actually scared me it took me a while to adjust to the people and the city. I kept looking for someone to pick my pocket or pull a pistol and rob me every time someone said “hello or have a nice day.” Meeting nice people everyday was a new experience. Growing up in the streets of the inner-city had bankrupted me culturally.

My first run in with “Bighouse” came as a result of my telling him in no uncertain terms I expected to be a starter at the wide receiver position on the football team. He looked at me like I was crazy, “Bighouse” had a unwritten rule that freshman were to be seen and not heard during their first year on campus. When the season started Elwood “Mickey” Robinson and track star Robert Jackson were the opening game starters. There was little doubt Mickey Robinson my “Homie” (Armstrong HS in DC) was the greatest college wide receiver I had ever seen on the college level bar none. Robert Jackson could not catch a cold if he was standing naked in Chicago during a winter storm, but he could run like the wind and outweighed me by fifty pounds. There was really no need for Jackson to catch anything due to the fact the greatest college running back during that era was Nelson Guthrie. When Nelson was not running the ball, Mickey was catching it.

The 1959 Winston-Salem Rams football team was the greatest and most talented team in the history of the school. The talent and characters on that team were unbelievable. We lost the CIAA title to rival North Carolina A & T on a controversial punt return for a touchdown in the closing minutes in our final season game. It was a great year despite the lost. I spent most of the year on the bench with the exception of playing time Head Coach William “Puffy” Conrad found for me during the games already decided in the third or fourth quarter. Coach Conrad and “Bighouse” had been teammates at Morgan. He was a great coach and a wonderful human being, but “Bighouse” had the last word as Athletic Director. Coach Conrad was the calm during my stormy relationship with “Bighouse.” He would often say, “Kid be patient your time is coming, just keep catching the ball.”

“Bighouse” was a control freak. He made sure knuckleheads like me knew he was in charge and called the shots in athletics and campus politics. For example, I remember my younger brother Earl hitchhiked from D. C. for homecoming to see me play. We beat St. Pauls College 56-0 and every body played but me. I got the message.

After the football season “Bighouse” turned all his attention to his first love, Winston-Salem basketball. I was looking forward to the season. Since I was from D.C. and played basketball at Spingarn High School “The House” that NBA legend Elgin Baylor built. My credentials were undeniable, or so I thought. I considered myself to be a pretty good basketball player, but “Bighouse” had other plans for me in that arena. When I showed up for practice he called me into his office and said, “Son you need to hit the books, your grades are not up to my standards.” I knew in my heart he was right, but I was defiant anyway. He finally said, “I have only one basketball and that ball belongs to Cleo Hill, so get the hell out my office.”

I would be forced to take my basketball skills to the college campus’ Intra-mural league program under the banner of “The D.C. Five.” The team consisted of all Washingtonians and we easily won the league championship, but “Bighouse” was not impressed. In the meantime, Cleo Hill and the Rams’ basketball team were taking names and kicking ass. Cleo was one of the best players in the country and his basketball skills were the talk of the state of North Carolina.

Our home games were played on campus and were all sellouts. If Ram students were not careful and did not arrive at the games early their seat would be taken. White folks traveled from around the state to see Cleo Hill. He had an arsenal of shots that included a two-handed set, left hook, right hook, and a jump shot. He was also a deadly foul shooter once he got on the line. He stood only 6’2 or 6’3 but he could jump out of the gym and he was the team’s top defender. In times of need he could become the ball handle and break any press. The native of Newark, New Jersey was the complete basketball package. Cleo Hill was Michael Jordan in the state of North Carolina long before Michael Jordan.

The burning question for decades has been “Who was the best Cleo Hill or Earl Monroe?” Cleo was the most complete, Earl, the most electrifying. They both were worth the price of admission.

There was the school tradition of the Alumni playing the varsity before the regular season kicked off. Jack DeFares was a New York City playground legend and Winston-Salem basketball legend in the 50’s. He had returned to campus to finished work on his degree. I am still not sure but I think “Bighouse” gave Jack instructions to take me under his wing. The Alumni was a few bodies short for their game against the varsity my freshman year and Jack convinced “Bighouse” to let me suit up. I started the game and scored twenty-six points in a losing effort. “Bighouse” looked at me frowned and said, “You still ain’t playing.” Finally, my junior year I was allowed to suit up thanks to my roommate Barney Hood and Jack DeFares. Barney was another in a long line of great jump shooters “Bighouse” had recruited out of Chicago. During card games on road trips he would badger “Bighouse” to give me an opportunity to play. Barney would later laugh about winning my position on the team in a poker game with three (3) kings “Bighouse” had three (3) jacks.

On Sunday mornings Wake Forrest players Billy Packard (National College Basketball television analyst), All-American Leonard Chappell and their white teammates would travel from across town and play pick games in our gym. When graduation and the NBA draft rolled around Cleo was the Number One pick of the NBA’s St. Louis Hawks. Cleo was destined for the NBA Hall of Fame, but racism, envy and jealousy by his white teammates led by Bob Petti, Cliff Hagan and Clyde Lovelette chased him out of the league in two years.

My freshman year rebellion cost me dearly I flunked out of school. I remember “Bighouse” coming to the dormitory room one morning and making it official. He didn’t come there gloating with “I told you so.” He seemed disappointed that I was too hard headed to listen. He said, “You have let Coach Brown and your mother down.” I also remember him saying ‘We don’t have money for summer school for athletes who flunk out.’ The conversation was much like the one in the poolroom when we first met. He got up and quietly left the room without another word.

There were several more weeks left in the school year and so I stayed around to wait for a ride back to DC. There was this empty feeling about going back home to nothing. My mother was still institutionalized and my three brothers were scattered around the city living with relatives and friends. A few days before heading home “Bighouse” paid me another visit. He was knocking on the dorm door like he was pissed off. I didn’t know what to do he had been promising to stick his size 13 shoes in my butt if I didn’t straighten up.

My teammate the late Dr. Arnold McKnight (Chairman DC Boxing Commissioner) reminded me on the ride down to Winston-Salem how he vividly remembered “Bighouse” and I had stood on campus on opposite corners one Sunday after church and exchanged words. He then pointed to his foot and gestured to me to come on over to the other side of the street. Needless to say, I kept my distance. The knock at my dorm door made me think that maybe he was coming to satisfy the urge before I left for D.C. “Bighouse” then shouted, “I know you are in there and I got a key, so open this dam door.” I held my breath and opened the door. He entered with a demand for me to sit down and that was a relief. I was expecting to be knocked down after all the “Wolf tickets” I had sold him during the school year. He didn’t beat around the bush he got straight to point and said “Coach Brown has send money for you to attend summer school, now we have got to find you a place to live and a job.” He got up and left the room and I sit down on the bed and cried.

It was hard for me to believe that someone really cared about me. The friendly environment of Winston-Salem residents, students, and teachers had won me over. Now the man we called “Big Nasty” only behind his back had reached out to give me a second chance in “The Game Called Life.”

My new residence would be 2015 East End Boulevard the home of Clarence and Clara Gaines. I remember one morning a week later after taking up residence on East End Boulevard “Bighouse” woke me up and told me he had found me a job and a place to live in the city. My week in their home was another lesson in responsibility. I earned my keep by cutting the grass. The landscape of their home was like the side of a mountain, all up hill. The summer heat made it an unforgettable task and a new place to live and a job away from “Bighouse” and East End Boulevard was music to my ears.

My new home was with a wonderful lady whose name escapes me and my new job was at
R. J. Reynolds Tobacco Company. They were the number one employers in the city. My job on the tobacco assembly line during that summer was almost as hard as mowing the grass. “Bighouse” got me through summer school and my first summer away from D.C. It was difficult being away from my mother that long.

My life’s work with at-risk children in the streets of the inner-city “Bighouse” also deserves an assist. During the summer months I would often try to give the inner-city youth I worked with camping experiences out of town. Dave Bing a Spingarn alumnus and NBA Hall of Fame player provided them with their first camping experience in 1969. The experience took place in the Ponkonos Mountains in Pennsylvania. Here they would meet Detroit Piston NBA Hall of Famer Bob Lanier and the late John Brisker. There were camps run by NBA pioneer Spencer Haywood in New Jersey, the John Chaney/Sonny Hill camps in Philadelphia it was here they met NBA legends like Earl “The Pearl” Monroe and Bill Bradley. Last but not least was the “Bighouse” Gaines camp on the Winston-Salem campus in North Carolina. This was the camp that made the biggest impression on the young men. With the exception of Brisker and Haywood all the NBA players they met were all voted among the Fifty (50) Greatest to ever play in the NBA. The man they remembered most never played in the NBA----“Bighouse.”

The Sent A Kid to Basketball Camp and my annual Christmas Toy Parties for Needy Children have been copied by every community involved organization in the country (pro sports and media included). In 1973 the original Inside Sports became the format for what you see and hear on sports talk radio and on television today.

My National impact in the community and in sports talk radio and television shows I owe to Coach Dave Brown. Coach Brown was the inspiration behind everything that I accomplished in the Game Called Life, he was there doing the good and bad times. "Bighouse" sit on the fence, I never really knew which side of the fence he was on. He was an aka Don King.

I remember there were several events honoring him that he was cordinating behind the scenes. There were folks like Billy Packer being use as the MC and other white media types on the dias, but I was never extended an invitation. When I would ask him about the omission he would brush me off saying "I didn't have anything to with that event, someone else sponsored it." If you believe that I have some property I would like to sell you in Iraqi.

It was those king of snubs that really worked to my advantage, "Bighouse" was much like today's system, we have to prove ourselves over and over again.

My last face to face confrontation or debate with “Bighouse” was in a hotel hospitality suite in Chicago. The occasion was, the Winston-Salem Alumni Association hosting Unity Day on June 25, 2004 at the Palmer House Hilton. The program headliner was the First Annual Clarence “Bighouse” Gaines Scholarship Award for Unsung Heroes. I was one of fourteen recipients honored, receiving the award for community service. In the hospitality suite before the reception “Bighouse and I were debating the Winston-Salem State University Sports Hall of Fame and the selection process. I questioned how could there be such a hall of fame on campus without Nelson Guthrie and Mickey Robinson two of the greatest football players of his era? My next question was how could Mary Garber a white sports writer for The Winston-Salem Journal been inducted into the Hall of Fame before a black sports writer Luix Overbea? Mr. Overbea covered sports on the Ram campus and kept us in the spotlight when there was no coverage in the local paper.

Our discussion then switched to one of our on going yearly debates, Georgetown Coach, John Thompson. I considered John a fraud and a Fat Rat, “Bighouse” saw him as as the real deal and a Fat Cat! The debate was a standoff because he wasn't giving an inch and neither was I. He finally threw up his hands and said 'Harold for your information Nelson will be inducted this year, at least you are consistent.'

“Bighouse” and I were born on the same day and month May 21st under the sign of Taurus the Bull. We shared several birthdays together here in D.C. during our forty-five year relationship. It has been said, “They are like two Bulls in a China closet.” Others have described our relationship as one of “Love and Hate.” I loved him and he hated me or he loved me and I hated him, but loved was always the common denominator. He reminded me of three other sports icon friends of mine Muhammad Ali (Boxing), Red Auerbach (NBA) and Jim Brown (NFL). Ali, Auerbach and Brown just by their presence in a room made other men feel small and insignificant. “Bighouse” had that same kind of effect by just being himself.

“Bighouse” and I didn’t get a chance to have one of our face to face discussions at the last homecoming because of his health. I missed last year’s CIAA Tournament in Raleigh, North Carolina. But it would be in Raleigh, where “Bighouse” would receive his last living tribute. The CIAA honored its All-Time greatest team, three of the ten players honored played for him, Cleo Hill, Earl Monroe and Carlos Terry. He was also honored and named one of two coaches on the All-Time greatest team. He was still stealing the spotlight even as he made his exit.

When I heard of “Bighouse” passing I had mixed emotions about attending the Memorial Services in Winston-Salem. I could not sleep during the night leading up to the services wondering if he died mad at me. But I knew I had to attend the services out of my respect for Mrs. Gaines, Coach Brown, my mother, my wife Hattie T and myself. Standing in the receiving line before the Memorial Services I was emotionally drained and apprehensive as I approached Ms. Gaines. She looked up at me, smiled and said, “I was hoping you could make it.” I wanted to cry but too many people were watching and I could feel the stare of “Bighouse” checking me out from above. No matter how mad you got at Coach Gaines, your anger would dissipate whenever the First Lady was in the house. Lionel Richie’s vocal classic “Three Times a Lady” best describes Mrs. Gaines’ contribution to the “Bighouse” basketball legacy. His daughter Lisa and son Clarence Jr. were definitely ‘Daddy’s babies and mommy’s maybe.’ They were living proof that an apple does not fall to far from the tree.

Despite his shortcomings and imperfections I am thankful that I had an opportunity to go one on one with him and take a couple of jump shots---Up Close & Personal.