RACE TO THE FINISH
Like any number of countless incidentals, I don’t recall his name. What I do remember is that he was one of many outspoken Black men who had a lot to say about just about everything during the outspoken 60’s. On this occasion he was advertising his reason for leaving the Nation of Islam. He said he had been a loyal member-follower attending services and doing his prescribed social tasks. In August of 1965, word spread fast and furious that Los Angeles was afire with Black anger. In the early hours with the noise and confusion, someone in his or her excitement announced that “The revolution is on!”

Along with his fellow Muslims, the brother scrambled to the Los Angeles mosque which, at the time, was on South Broadway. There was an infectious tension in the air. A lot of hasty stories circulating about what different brothers had seen or heard en route. But the real excitement was over what their instructions would be: Where to go and what to do. The whole experience of what it had meant to be a Muslim Black man came to a head at this high pitched moment. A veritable point of no return.

It was not long before the instructions were announced: “Go out there and sell some papers!” (Huh?) Many did just that. This particular brother left the mosque...never to return. For him the challenge and the response were unbelievably out of synch. He felt he had been let down; he was thoroughly disappointed. He no longer had no had a good reason reason to return to the mosque. Subsequently he found other “causes”, other ways to handle his energy, frustration and anger.

Some 32 years have passed since then. A recent issue of the Los Angeles Times begins an article in the following (equally unbelievable) fashion:

“Recent race-related attacks, including an alleged police attack in New York and the touching death of a black Virginia man, underscore the need for a national dialogue on race...” (emphasis added)

It is widely known that the New York Black man, a Haitian, was sodomized with the handle of a toilet plunger. What is not as widely known is that the Virginia Black man “...Garnett Johnson...was doused with fuel, burned alive and beheaded ...” Yes, in 1997.

DOWN FRONT! is really hard pressed here not to dip into a readily available list of gross profanities. Really gross!!! To be gentle, we’ll simply conclude: the newspaper’s suggested response is inconsistent with these horrific violations. Need one speculate on what the outcome would have been if the racial representation were reversed in either or both of these instances?

It takes a huge supply of ignorance, gall or utter stupidity to even think that any form of dialogue is called for after a man (woman or child) has been set afire and beheaded. We are generally prepared to come up with inadequate responses like, “To do such a thing is primitive, barbaric, unfitting for the end of the century.” Sure. It’s unfitting for any century! But to think that incidents of this nature will be debated by well meaning race commission appointees is asinine. The only need for dialogue is what might be heard in a courtroom. Or perhaps between the known perpetrators and their fellow inmates! They need their butts whupped...royally. Vengeance? Violence? You betcha! Sorry, but sometimes selling words or selling newspapers just won’t get it.

KEEPERS OF BROKEN PROMISES AND FEMINISTS OF FOLLY
As of this writing, the Promise Keepers are still on their way to the Washington Mall. The great American media machine has already cranked up and the nay-sayers are tuning their strident voices. There is the worry that the organization is aligning itself with the politicos of the raunchy right; that they are overwhelmingly white and that they want their wives to stay in their wifely places...or something like that. DOWN FRONT! says to this collection of men, “Right on...Righteously!”

And to the feminists, the equally brief message is, “Shut up!” [Oh, that’ll surely win a lot of friends and supporters for DOWN FRONT!] Ironies and contradictions simply abound around this place - meaning throughout this country. Let’s start with the sometimes overlooked reality that violent crime is rampant. Not much of an argument there. Then look at who is jacking up or maintaining the pattern: Men. Then look at the long list of terrible abuses (criminal or close to criminal in nature) inflicted on women. Men again. Family havoc, war, kidnapping, robbery, more war, drug trafficking, discrimination, graffiti, car jacking, drive or walk by mayhem, bank “stick ups”, grand or mini theft auto, money laundering [perhaps the only kind of laundering males are really good at], child support avoidance, ad nauseam. Here they are again: Men! Those same feminists would be angry that the list is much too gentle, too doggone short. We might well be in agreement on that point.

Fact is, whatever men are willing and able to do to clean up their truly ugly act is both fitting and overdue. If they are overwhelmingly white, so be it. That just happens to be an American demographic. White men have been anything but guiltless when it comes to inflicting pain...of all sorts. If there are African American or Latino or Asian men in the mix at the Mall, so be that as well. Women (and children) from those respective communities have not been spared the hurt and neglect that men can (and do) inflict so callously, so often.

So if the dudes want to travel to D.C. by motorcycle, bicycle, jet plane or, (like 9 from California who left in August), by foot, peace and love be with ‘em.

Those committed to this particular cause are at the very least wise enough to realize two very important lessons. First and foremost that they have screwed up. And in an ego-based country/society like this one is, that’s a major realization-admission; and secondly, that they need help in undoing what’s been done. The kind of help that doesn’t come from a therapist’s couch or a traditional community meeting or by appealing to equally confused and circumspect politicians. No, they “simply” put their agendas and their very lives at the feet of God with total confidence that they will return to their respective places (as fathers, sons, lovers, brothers, uncles and grandfathers refreshed, renewed and, most important of all, better men.

It may not matter if the big dream of the Promise Keepers - that the world will be abetter place - is realized. That is out of their raised hands. What does matter is that they will have made a personal pledge [just like a million strong Black men did not so very long ago] to take responsibility for what they do within the confines of their own homes and on the streets of their own communities. Their small acts won;t make headlines; but some small place somewhere will in some small way be better. If that’s the best we all can hope for, that’s more than enough to be grateful for.

DOWN FRONT! again says, “Right on, Promise Keepers. Keep promising, keep praying, keep doing. Your detractors may not be understanding, but with the healing balm of time, they will eventually become understanding”

“BOOTY CALL” - VISUAL MALAISE
In the good old days I found plenty to complain about; but that really wasn’t so bad because I was able to offset the complaint with a smile. But there are limits to everything, and I cannot smile about community garbage. And that a well deserved designation for the movie/video, “Booty Call.” My new awareness and perhaps even sensitivity had me slowly roll the credits more than once in order to identify the script writer(s). Gotta say it: The culprits are one Takashi Bufford and someone who obviously hides behind the genderless label, Bootsy. Is it a he, a she, an it?

Backing up just a bit, I remember a recent visit to the UCLA Research Library and finding, to my pleasant surprise, a copy of NOMMO. The latter is the newspaper of the campus’ Black student organization. One eye-catching editorial lambasted what was called the “new minstrels.” And how accurate that was. Movies and videos offer a wide variety of visual garbage which has all but wiped out the hard-earned pride of the 1960’s. (You’re still right, Marvin. What’s goin’ on?)

Anyway “Booty Call” may not demonstrate how very low Black men and women will go to: 1) degrade themselves (yes, even as so-called professional entertainers, 2) degrade other Black people and 3) say and do on screen whatever it takes for a hefty paycheck. It’s a toss up whether or not such activity is prostituting or pimping. But it comes pretty close. The bottom of the debasing barrel can’t be too far away. My bent toward realism notwithstanding, it was hard to believe some of what went on before my very eye in “Booty Call.”

Of course, there's always a kicker. If we don’t push the envelope (i.e., go to the limit) in being offensive to one another, there is always someone else who will. So, we are “introduced” to an effeminate Chinese waiter [a calling which in and of itself is not bothersome] who not only swishingly chides, “Nigga, please!” but reaches into the raucous realm of rap for a battery of choice/crude phrases of reference directed toward the equally foul-mouthed Black woman. Back and forth they go like two sailors...far from civilization. It has never ceased to amaze me that no other group of people who inhabit the planet “do it to themselves” as do Black people. We do it and - with unbelievable impunity - keep right on steppin’.

So, “Booty Call” among other things serves as a vivid contemporary reminder that the past is very much a part of the present and that ironically, there may be a positive twist to the expression “ethnic cleansing” and the first application of the metaphorical detergent goes straight (Do not pass ‘Go) to the world of entertainment.

THE UNFORGETTABLE ONES
Who can forget Readers Digest? There is perhaps no place in this country that one can go and not find a copy of this interminable little collection of popular literature. The dentist’s office, the dentists home, hundreds of libraries, millions of coffee tables. It’s like a good plague that cannot be escaped.

Well, one feature has always intrigued me: “The Most Unforgettable Character I Ever Met.” The contributor would (and probably still does) submit a piece on someone who had a strong and enduring impact on the contributor’s life.

With some title modification, DOWN FRONT! offers its version of “The Unforgettable Ones”.

Lee Stokes - There is a person who every youngster gets to know quite well from a very early age. It’s none other than the neighborhood barber. And I remember so warmly and vividly, Lee Stokes. Medium height, bespectacled and “chunky.” But there were dozens of other “old men” who met that m.o. So that was certainly not what set Lee apart. Rather it was his hearty welcome each and every time I walked into the shop and his constant chatter. It was years later before I first heard the term, “motor mouth” but it certainly would have been most fitting for Lee Stokes - who, by the way was referred to by us younger ones as “Mr. Stokes.”

He knew everything and everybody and spoke to and about everything and everybody. He defied the alleged truism that a person could not do 2 things well simultaneously. Lee was a top, side and back of the head craftsman and a stuttering, stammering human being. He had a raucous laugh that brought instant joy. He was a friend. He is missed.

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