Brings stinging message to packed Harris-Stowe meeting
By K. Curtis Lyle
For the St. Louis American
The Bill Cosby express rolled into St. Louis on Monday evening. In the main auditorium of Harris-Stowe State College, a full house sat at rapt attention as Cosby alternately regaled and scolded his audience.
The evening began with a video mini-documentary presenting the fall from grace and subsequent rise from the lower depths of big-time imprisonment of Johnny Williams. He is identified on tape not only by name, but also by his prison inmate number, 528864.
Williams is an impressive man. This makes his current situation even more disturbing.
Williams tells a story of being sexually abused as a child. In his analysis of his own dilemna, he says he now recognizes that the hurt dealt him has caused him to pass it on to others, who are as innocent and as vulnerable as he was.
He elaborates on his former, incorrigible state by describing its inevitable consequence: He was sentenced to eight months of administrative isolation. This is also known as the “hole.” While in the hole, he had the
soul-shattering experience of being born again and accepting Jesus Christ as his personal savior.
The soundtrack to the film features Williams’ own music powerfully driving home each point his speaking voice makes. He is articulate, handsome, even
photogenic. He was an athlete of note at Pittsburgh State College.
All this information brings home the tragedy of his crime, arrest and sentencing. He won’t be released from prison for eighteen years. His crime: an armed robbery from which he netted $56!
This film was a hard act to follow.
Post-Dispatch columnist Sylvester Brown, a principal organizer of the evening, was, however, up to the task. In his opening remarks, he powerfully reflected upon his own upbringing as a “lower-economic person,” a phrase quoted from Cosby’s controversial May 18, 2004 speech, delivered to a Washington D.C. audience at the commemoration of the Brown vs. the Board of Education decision.
This “lower-economic people” phrase – and several others implying that poor black people need to get their act together, educationally, parentally, linguistically and morally – set off a firestorm of criticism and praise that
continues to drive the basic internal dialogue that the evening was supposed to address.
Following Brown were several speakers who delivered inspirational stories. Some worked. Some seemed to fall a little short of the mark.
Audrey Ferguson, Missouri Teacher of the Year for 2003, was particularly impressive. She spoke of her 34 years as a teacher in the St. Louis Public Schools; she spoke with intelligence and heart; she spoke from experience. She recalled her mother and father and the discipline they imparted to her; she talked about the tutoring regimen that she underwent as a child between the third and seventh grades that made her into an A student.
George Cotton Sr. talked of the example that 497 black men set when they
descended upon Vashon High School determined to root out the trouble and troublemakers that had turned St. Louis’ showcase inner-city high school into a battleground.
The stories that didn’t hit the mark were mostly from young people who were uneasy in a public forum or, conversely, perhaps a little to full of themselves. But, the crowd remained attentive and was generous in
bestowing its blessings.
Cosby took the stage admitting that he was, in fact, preaching to the choir. His impeccable comic timing was balanced by the seriousness of the occasion and punctuated with reflections on his youth.
His remembrance of things past was tinged with an aura of sadness. At times, he seemed a bit confused by the refusal of contemporary poor black people to embrace his ideal world of loving community anchored by traditional parenting. The clash of those who are still willing to sacrifice for children, family and nation versus the relentless aggression of contemporary and youth culture seemed a puzzle that was beyond his present comprehension
Cosby chided his mostly Christian audience to be as courageous as the “Black Muslims” who are willing and able to penetrate the projects and bring a modicum of order to an essentially chaotic and deadly social milieu. But, his analysis lacked the basic information that the Black Muslims historically are products of those very projects and profoundly understand the language, gesture and tone that enable one to survive there.
Toward the end of the evening, Cosby’s speaking voice became a pleading one and seemed to make some in the audience a bit uncomfortable.
At one point, he mused that being the first-born in his family, gave him responsibilities that he was unwilling and, perhaps, unable to shoulder for a number of years. Closing in on his seventh decade, Bill Cosby’s responsibilities seem greater than they have ever been, and his shoulders appear to be as “big as they wanna be.”
