THE FACES OF MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES
Sometimes It Wears a Mask

What would make a 28-year-old  pilot, lock the door of the cabin barring the other pilot from entering, and crash the plane taking not only his own life, but that of 149 others?

What would cause a Public Relations powerhouse - who is also a licensed clinical therapist - orchestrate major events with top celebrities, only to come home and cry afterwards? 

What would cause a Wellesley-educated, author, and political insider  miss the signals of her daughter's issues with depression - even though she had previously experienced her own? 

And what would cause a 15 year girl - the victim of a vicious beat down  in a fast food restaurant captured on camera and splashed across newspapers, TV and computer screens - proudly declare that she is "Famous," now? 

The common denominator here is a reflection of the range of complex mental illness issues that affect a variety of people in a variety of different ways. The symptoms often go undiagnosed, misdiagnosed, or hidden.   

News of the crash of Germanwings Flight 4U 9525, killing all aboard was horrific enough without the unsettling revelation that the co-pilot, Andras Lubitz, deliberately crashed the plane. 

According to French newspaper, La Parisian, Lubitz had been diagnosed with depression in 2009, exhibited suicidal tendencies and had been treated with anti-psychotic drugs. He clearly kept his illness well-hidden - investigators later found torn up "doctor's notes" in the trash in his home. Notes that apparently never made it to his work supervision to keep him out of the cockpit that day.

Recently I attended an event at the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, in Harlem, hosted by public radio station WNYC's Cindy Rodriguez - "Breaking Point: New York's Mental Health Crisis."  Participants included health care professionals and advocates who are fighting against the stigma of mental illness as well as improved treatment options for those affected.

Among the speakers was New York City's First Lady Chirlane McCray. She spoke candidly and passionately about issues involving depression in her own life and that of her family -- her parents dealt with depression and her daughter is currently receiving counseling. Ms McCray told of her depression in her teen years and how she used marijuana and alcohol  to try to cope with it. She also spoke of missing signals in her daughter's behavior: "I thought, well my daughter is a teenager, she's just rebelling -- that's what teens do...My advice to parents is if you feel something isn't right, trust your instincts."

Another speaker was PR entrepreneur  Terrie Williams, who has represented a long list of stellar clients such as: Eddie Murphy, Janet Jackson, Master P, the NBA and the late attorney, Johnnie Cochran. Terrie has long shared her issues with the severe depression she sunk into years ago. Thankfully she emerged from it to become a major force in mental health advocacy. Her book, "Black Pain - It Only Looks Like We're Not Hurting," focuses on what she calls the "mask," that many depressed individuals wear to hide their pain. 

She spoke with emotion about coordinating public relations events with major celebrities only to "come home and  cry." It escalated to a point where she would not leave her apartment, severing contacts even with close friends, until one day some friends came to get her and encourage her to seek counseling. 

She went to a therapist and after a few minutes of seeing Terrie in tears, the therapist said, "You are clinically depressed."

Yet despite being armed with an MSW degree and being a  licensed clinical therapist, Terrie  said: "I didn't have the language to describe how I felt..." As part of her mental health advocacy Terrie has also written "Stay Strong" Simple Life Lessons for Teens," aimed at helping teens cope with the difficult, emotionally stressful, teen years. She has also addressed The United Nations' World  Mental Health Day and serves on the NCAA Mental Health Task Force.

As for (I won't use her name and make her even more "famous"!) the 15 year-old victim of a group assault in Brooklyn McDonald's, her response was to post: "EVERYONE like IM Famous now," on her Facebook page the next day along with a selfie showing off her remarkably unscarred face. I don't know anything about her background or medical history - but her bizarre reaction to being pummeled by a group in full view of bystanders who offered no help - cries out for some professional help. 

According to Mental Health America, a leading community-based advocacy organization, 19 million Americans suffer from clinical depression. Women are nearly twice as likely as men to have it, and those with a family history are at higher risk. African-Americans also tend to be more susceptible. There are many groups and individuals working to treat mental health and advocate for those affected. But the biggest battle may be around the stigma of mental illness. No one wants to believe that they are "losing their mind" or my "mother is acting crazy."  And how, we wonder, is depression different from the normal "blues" that we all get from time to time.

Here are some signs and symptoms of depression:

• persistent sad, anxious or "empty feelings
• feelings of hopelessness or pessimism
• feelings of guilt, worthlessness, or helplessness
• irritability, restlessness 
• loss of interest in activities or hobbies once pleasurable - including sex   
• difficulty concentrating, remembering details, and making decisions
• insomnia, early-morning wakefulness or excessive sleeping
• overeating, or appetite loss
• thoughts of suicide, suicide attempts
• aches or pains, headaches, cramps or digestive problems that do not ease even with treatment

So the face of mental illness could be that of a major city's  First Lady, PR mogul, airline pilot - or the 15 year old who thinks getting beaten up at McDonald's makes her famous. 

Or it could be your face or the face of someone you love. Getting help is the first step - it could mean the difference between disaster and making a positive difference in your life and the lives of others.

IN DEFENSE OF NATIONWIDE
Why Child Safety Should Not Be Off On Super Bowl Sunday 

The impassioned outcry over the Nationwide Insurance Super Bowl ad - which apparently dampened the spirits of the chicken wing eating, Bud-guzzling, Katy Perry ogling TV audience, has gone from excessive to infuriating.

The amped up rage has almost equaled the calls for Seahawks' Coach Pete Carroll and quarterback Russel Wilson to be publicly shamed in the town square (which I totally understand this being a sporting event). 

If you have not seen it (welcome back from Antarctica) the ad depicts a fair-haired suburban looking, white youngster. At first it seems that he is having  typical adolescent fantasies: riding his bike beside his dog, getting a sloppy, albeit unwanted, kiss from a "girl" on the school bus, and finally hang gliding  through the air. It ends with him saying words to the affect of: "I'll never be able to do these things because I'm dead." Then  woman's voice over talks about how accidents kill more children than almost anything else will.

Shame on Nationwide?

No! shame on the media bashing by the likes of (for openers) The morning news show trio -"Today Show," "Good Morning America," and "CBS This Morning." Oh what a downer! they all nodded and momentarily lost their Colgate smiles when discussing the "best and worst Super Bowl Ads." 

Sorry - for the buzz kill - but did you news folks see the NFL's ad on domestic violence? Didn't that ruin your Bud buzz just a bit? The one about the woman dialing 911 within earshot of her potential (or actual) abuser and pretending she is ordering a pizza? It ends with the 911 operator telling her that the police are on the way as the camera pans a room in disarray where perhaps a struggle or assault has occurred.  A well done ad. Albeit a weak NFL reaction to their own  issues of domestic violence and the broader issue of allowing ads in the Super Bowl and every other game that objectify and portray women in a stereotypical, often degrading manner.   

I have worked in PR and advertising for decades. I have also taught at such major institutions as the S.I. Newhouse School of Communications. And I have been in some of those rooms when people make decisions about what goes public in campaigns and commercials. I was not privy to what the Nationwide people were thinking in their rooms or what they really wanted the ad to achieve. But if  -- as they have said -- it was to "create a conversation" about the serious issue of accidental deaths among children, then that is not only acceptable, it is admirable. That "conversation" is a worthy one - every bit as much as the domestic violence one is. Even if for 48 seconds it dampens your Katy Perry "spectacular half time" thrill.  

In 2010 - the most recent statistics of deaths from children ages 0 - 19: Per 100,00, the number of deaths from "unintended injury" is 8,694. Many, if not most, of these deaths of young people were preventable.      

Homicide?: 2,808 per 100,000. Suicide?: 1,933. Both more widely covered by the news media. 

But to me, by far the most compelling statistic is how many times (or how few) the kings of TV morning news and their 24/7 counterparts have covered he issue of rates of accidental deaths of children over the past year.

Maybe they will after the furor of deflatgate and Bruce Jenner's "transition" settles down.

8,694 dead in 2010. Is it an accident that it is not a major news story?             

MARVIN GAYE AND HARRY (MY BROTHER)

One - world famous. The other - famous in his own world.

Not much in common except their birthdays. Separated by nearly ten years, Marvin Gaye - unabashed stubborn kind of fella, and Harry Singletary, perhaps equally unabashed and almost certainly as stubborn.

April 2. That's the day each was born. Each talented, bold Black men in a world and time when that could be fraught with troubles. (Cue up "Trouble Man" on your devices).  Each had successes in life beyond their demographic expectations, although Harry's were in a much more simpler way.

But as the wise Einstein said: "Every thing is relative..."

If I were writing a dictionary it would read: Marvin Gaye: gifted, amazingly talented, complex soul (read David Ritz's "Divided Soul" for the sordid details).  Maybe even add: "way ahead of his time." Although another great, Miles Davis, taught us this in a Playboy interview decades ago when the interviewer said: "Miles you are so ahead of your time..." Miles responded: "You can never be ahead of your time. The best you can be is on time. Everyone else is just behind the times..."

Or words to that affect.  

When Marvin died - was murdered - got his dad to help him commit suicide -- however you interpret it. After the initial shock the next day (this was pre-internet!) I needed to see how the almighty New York Times (and it still was then) would characterize Marvin Gaye in 1984 America. On the page one reference to his obit inside, in the midst of the accolades about his singing they said it - they used the word: "smart"

Yessss!!

Not that he needed validation from the Grey Lady - but for it to characterize him as he was and not cloud it as merely "talented," "great performer," etc. was important. It was important in the same way that few in the media ever say that highly talented Black quarterbacks are "smart." They are "athletic."  Some even have a "good work ethic." But as team leaders and commanders on the field -- that doesn't seem to be enough to make them "smart."

But Marvin was  -- and nobody can deny. We first knew it with the landmark, ground-shaking "What's Going On" album in 1971. Before anybody talked about the environment ("Mercy, Mercy Me") and few Black "soul" singers talked too loud about the war in Vietnam. But Marvin looked into his brother Frankie's eyes when he came home from there and then looked perhaps differently at the guys in the neighborhood hooked on smack and penned the haunting "What's Happenin' Brother."

That to some was Marvin's real beginning - coming out of or even outgrowing the Motown mold. He had to almost hold Motown czar Berry Gordy hostage to get the album done Marvin's way. And he was the first Motown artist to insist that Funk Brothers (call the the "house band" if you will but they were the soul of nearly every Motown song!) be credited on his album cover. 

The years passed and Marvin - as we all know by now -- reached some of his highest heights, with tunes like "Let's Get it On,' Sexual Healing" and lots of other music that you knew might make your woman hot - but understood that if Marvin was in the area you would go home alone that night. He also had many of his and lowest lows. We know the sad ending. The crazed father and the son who could no longer reconcile his own existence.

Then there's Harry, my brother. Anything but in conflict with dad - the man he always admired most. He said once in a revealing moment - and he didn't have many - that he "could never be the man daddy was." Strange in a way, for dad was a North Carolina bred, Sanitation worker who came to New York after he and mom married along with legions of Blacks in his generation in the great migration north to big cities looking for a better life. Dad certainly provided one for us when housing projects (though not without some serious dangers) provided a means for working class people who had to rely on public housing, public health and public education, to make a decent life and a better one for their kids.

Harry and I born and raised in the big city had bigger aspirations.

Growing up I was the quiet one with the stutter. Harry more outgoing and boisterous.  He could do things - he liked to draw and he was good at it. An avid reader books were always around him - he devoured magazines and newspapers as well.  As an overweight child he developed some hip problems and needed surgery. Nowadays you get a replacement and you could be up and around in no time. A dear friend of mine had hers on her 80th birthday!! But back then Harry was banished to crutches and basic inactivity for six months. the school recommended a home tutor, a nice German lady,  but warned that he would probably be "left back." 

Harry wasn't having it. He would not be one of the "left back kids" and worked diligently  with the tutor. There he sat, legs on a chair, crutches up against the wall, books spread across the kitchen table.  He resumed his education at the appropriate grade.

Always a creative spirit, Harry wrote a play in his early teens about our neighborhood, the Lower East Side of Manhattan. He wrote about the gangs, the dances, the Doo Wop music - in the era of wavy hair and stingy brim hats. He loved acting and enthusiastically performed in school and church plays.  And he designed his Lionel train sets around a town backdrop which included paper-mache houses and other buildings he made from scratch. So realistic and creative were they that his designs drew people from around the projects to come by the apartment to see them on Christmas Day.  

The time came when Harry got tired of being picked on as the "fat kid" so he went to the library (this is pre-Internet, workout videos, etc.) and got what few books they had on nutrition. He began making his own meals (to our mother's chagrin!) and bought a set of weights which he used diligently to workout. In no time he lost nearly 25 pounds! That reinvented him and jump started his confidence. He utilized his 6-foot 6 frame on the court and became a neighborhood basketball hero. Harry was also a snappy dresser and had the cool countenance to go with it. He was dubbed "Big Harry" by folks. Harry even had the exact outfit on that Marvin wore on the back cover of the "Whats' Going On" album.  When I showed him the cover, he said of his birthday mate; "Yeah, that's my man, Aries - I got that same outfit!" 

To befit his image and his love for cars - he worked two jobs - including a grueling cleaning job  sweeping and mopping the floors in the then newly built Lincoln Center, to purchase the car he had his eye on - a silver grey, mint-condition 1961 Cadillac. The four-year- old car looked as if had just rolled off the assembly line at Detroit!

Harry went on to some early successes -- like Marvin but on a "regular people" level. He got a job at Bankers' Trust - at the time one of America's top ten banks -- as a loan officer. Very few Blacks then held such positions in major banks. And Harry did so without a college degree - only a diploma from Commerce High School. He not only did personal loans, but mortgage loans and handled corporate accounts for The Everything Card. That was a precursor to MasterCard and the like.

After a brief marriage to a nurse followed by an amicable divorce. Harry took a few other jobs, but some of the stream seemed to leave him. Harry in someways -- like Marvin -- was plagued by what many Black men who are talented, perceptive, energetic and yes - smart experience. It is as if their insights are almost too clear and their inner searches too searing to not leave painful residues of what is discovered. Like the time Harry told me that in a room at the bank there was a six-foot map of Manhattan against a wall. On it was a "red line" circling the Harlem area. Yes "red-lining" was alive and well then. That meant these were areas where loans or development was not likely - or impossible to occur because of race.

Coming of age back then, even as a successful Black man as Harry was, sometimes one had the experience of a child who has peeked into the closet on Christmas Eve to see the toys "that Santa is bringing..."

There was in that period of the 60s and 70s some much promise. Much of it realized much of it snatched away. Like Diana Ross put it in her tribute song about Marvin:

            "There was so much hope for a brighter day

              Why were you my flower snuffed away..."

My brother did not die at the hands of a psychotic father. He loved our dad and admired him. And although Harry had no drug addition as Marvin had -he was not totally devoid of the issues that our generation got involved in for comfort or recreation or to escape the awful realization that life may have been better had you not seen things so clearly. 

So his cause of death was a non-headline grabbing heart attack, with diabetes, alcohol, and tobacco as side issues.  

Marvin and Harry. Both made their mark, both impacted people. Marvin's legacy lives on in his music and videos. Each day a young person somewhere around the world will hear about him or come across his music online and Marvin will be back to life.

Harry will live on in the hearts and minds of many - through photos, remembrances or quiet thoughts. We had a great chat the day before he passed in 2008 - 100 days after daddy. I'm certain that he found some of that peace which had eluded him for some of much of his later years.

And I'm certain he's getting a big fat kick out of all this attention his little brother is giving him...       

  

        

Mrs. Doris Jefferys and What Else I Learned in Seventh Grade Earth Science Class

Beautiful fall afternoon! Seventh period, next to last class before the end of the day. Mind focused straight ahead on the weekend - Thanksgiving coming up soon too! 

But before that had to get through the dreaded next class -- math! Math for the 8th period on a Friday was awful as root canal or that feeling of the "spins" when you lay down after  night of drinking - the worst!

Mrs. Doris Jefferys was one of about three Black teachers (although we were still "Negro" then) in my ironically named Charles Sumner Junior High School 65 on Manhattan's Lower East Side. 

Mrs. Jeffreys was what I now know to be of that upper crust, well-educated, Southern Middle Class and had every bit of elegance that came with it. That was all alien to even we Black students, for although nearly all of our parents were from the South, none of them was from this part of the socioeconomic food chain of multi-generational, Black professionals. She belonged to a special class that was a peculiar side benefit of segregation - Black people teaching, training and nurturing other Black people to be the best - always.

She was medium brown with flawless skin and although clearly from our parents' generation, did not giveaway any age save for streaks of grey in her immaculately coiffed hair.  Elegance indeed and an accompanying grace. There was not a shred of arrogance or condescension in her voice or her manner to any student in this class which reflected the Lower East Side - Jewish, Italian, Irish, Puerto Rican Chinese and Negro. Mrs. Jefferys' demeanor was much of what we thought a college professor's would be. You felt special being taught by her. 

That Friday, strangely, my Math teacher, Mr. Schwab, came to the open door and beckoned Mrs. Jefferys out into the hall. He placed his hand on her shoulder and said something in a low tone. I could see her place her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp.     

She nodded and quickly composed herself returning to the classroom. I'll never forget her expression, it started as a slight smile. Then she gazed upwards for a second as if contemplating her next words carefully:

"Well I guess as future scientists" she began, "I need to share this with you."  

Her pause seemed long. I recall thinking - maybe Mr. Schwab had an emergency and had to go home early - no Math class YAY!

But then her face turned undeniably serious.

"We have just learned that President Kennedy was killed in Texas..."   

Everyone gasped, a few girls screamed, I was sitting next to an Italian-American girl name Donna. Donna had long straight hair pulled into a ponytail -- she looked like the girls in the movie "Grease" years later. She wore these glasses that were pointed at the edges - like Batgirl.

She let out a scream and tears literally shot out of her eyes towards here glasses in a straight stream like they were shot out of a water gun. She became hysterical and a couple of girls went to her. Then Mrs. Jeffreys walked over to console her with a hug. Donna spent the rest of the class in tears.

I remember getting a burning sensation like hot pepper had been poured into my my nose. I was truly shocked.

A few moments later Mrs. Schwab returned and told Mrs Jeffreys that it although President Kennedy had been shot, it had not yet been confirmed that he was dead. These were the days long belong the internet, and what lie ahead for the next four days would be the first 24/7 news cycle.  

They dismissed the school after the 7th period, sparing us, at least, 8th period Math. We walked home in shock. Adults were crying and sobbing along the way.  People were stopping strangers and telling them what they had heard, others asking for updates. My older brother, Harry, told me later that he was walking past the AT&T headquarters building coming out of the subway. "When I heard people saying the President was shot," he said, "I thought they meant the President of AT&T ! I thought maybe some guy thought his phone bill was too high."

When we got down to PS. 1, where many of us had gone for elementary school, the flag was at half mast -- we knew then.

I got home an my mother was ironing clothes. it was one of only a handful of times that I ever saw my mother emotionally shaken.  

"Is he alright mama," I said with a Hail Mary's hopefulness.

She shook her head, "No he's gone."

President Kennedy had played a special role in the hearts of Black people. He was viewed as a "savior." For years afterwards you could see two pictures in many Black homes, side-by-side - Martin Luther King and John F. Kennedy. 

I said to my mother what my first thoughts were: "We got a bad president now!"

All I knew (or most Black people) was that Johnson looked mean and had a Southern drawl. You could easily picture him pulling you over across the Mason-Dixon line, state troop hat on glancing down at your "northern" license plates, hand on his gun, and saying "you in a heap of trouble boy!"

As it turned out it couldn't have been further from the reality. LBJ pushed hard for civil rights legislation and a slew of important social changes that today some dismiss as a "liberal agenda." Yeah - but take a moment and think of you would be now without them! 

Years, later I did run tin Mrs Jeffreys again - this time I was a Junior at Sarah Lawrence College. She was with Mr. Jones, another Black southerner who taught me. But he was more of the poorer class. His disheveled demeanor belied his intelligence and sharp wit. He was a large man - not at all afraid or intimidated of some bonafide  tough guys in my school. (Think Sidney in "To Sir With Love.")  Mixed it up with several of them, never lost. You get the feeling Mrs Jeffreys would be in DuBois' camp and Mr Jones in Booker T Washington's. But in reality I'm sure they could embrace both.

That day I told them about some of the other students they had taught who were doing well . Mr Jones just smiled and said, "I'm so proud of all our Black children." Mrs. Jeffreys smiled and had tears in her eyes.

I hugged her and gave him a firm handshake. I am proud to have had them as teachers - and lucky.

I don't know if they were around to see President Obama get elected - but I'm sure they would be proud of that too. And they should know that people like them played a role in Obama getting to the White House.

He should know that too...  

HOW "PRISONERS" MAKES AN UNDERSTATEMENT ABOUT RACE

"Prisoners" is a top-notch "Saturday-afternoon" thriller. It will literally keep you on the edge of your seat.  The theater was so quiet during the film you could hear every popcorn crunch.

Not to spoil it,  I won't tell you anything about it, except to say that the young daughters of two close families go missing and the worse is feared. But there is also something else missing.

One family portrayed by Hugh Jackman and Maria Bello,  go with their two children to a Thanksgiving dinner at the home of  friends Terrance Howard and Viola Davis. Outstanding acting all around, by the way.

In the early scenes the couples do what friends do -- the adults drink, gossip, dish, and laugh, while the children, in another room tend to their own childhood entertainment.

What's missing here is any acknowledgment at all that one couple is white and the other is black. Not one comment about race in America, or Obama. Not one corny ethnic joke or any hint of racial tension (or even awareness of race for that matter) in this small suburban Pennsylvania town. Its as if this is perfectly - well normal. 

Maybe it is. But this is the movies, and most films are either "white" or "black." And although its a lot easier to identify the "black" ones, we can also readily identify the obligatory "black" characters superimposed in white silhouette in films and TV shows.

But "Prisoners," perhaps because of its strong writing, acting and fast pace, leaves the race question at the gate shortly after the film begins. There were brief moments when I wondered if the two families would be treated differently by the various authorities, but there was not even a subtle trace of that.

That is a good thing, and maybe art is lagging behind imitating life in issues of how we "all get along."

But I am not one who believes we are "post-racial"  because President Barack Obama is - well is he black or  bi-racial?  I guess either is a sign of progress.

We as a society are not post-racial in the same sense that we say post season. Post season is a similar phrase, in that it means something very different by how one is affected by it. If your team made the playoffs that's one thing. If it did not, then you will have to wait until another season has come and gone.

Clearly - and thankfully - there are many in this society, especially those under 40, for whom racial identification will have less of an impact on their lives. That of course is mostly true of those who have adequate income and education level, a fact subtly made in "Prisoners." Although clearly not wealthy, both families own more than comfortable homes, have more than one car, and Viola Davis is a veterinarian. There is no harbinger of a plant closing or of businesses fleeing the town. All of this makes it a bit easier to seem  post-racial.

But in the world outside of the film, it is still nearly impossible to get many people's heads around the fact that those uncomfortable, buzz-killing issues over race are still front and center in the lives of many. Just try to get major league sports teams to understand that they should not use logos and names that are offensive depictions of American Indians. They cling to those characterizations like some southerners cling to the Confederate flag - symbol of a war they lost nearly 150 years ago.

And as much as they try to deny it there are elected officials in Washington willing to bring the nation and perhaps eventually even the world, to the brink of financial collapse because the President is not white.

There's nothing naive about "Prisoners" in the way it deals with child abduction and the human drama that accompanies it. Ultimately it is not naive about race either. Some people get past it. And getting past it is a big step towards getting over it.  

But for many people its wait until next season....

 

"CAR 54" WE MISS YOU! 

What We Learned (or remembered) About Race, Class, and Culture 
in New York City From "Car 54 Where Are You" 

Long before "Barney Miller" or the often depressingly somber "NYPD Blue," there was a TV comedy show about cops in a New York City police station - the fictional 53rd Precinct in the Bronx in the early 1960s.

This was when most NYPD cops were working class Joes - before frequent pay raises and dynamite pensions propelled them into the middle and upper middle classes. When they lived in the five boroughs. Patrolmen (as they were called in the days before women patrol officers) Gunther Toody  (Joe E. Ross) and Francis Muldoon (Fred Gwynne) lived in the Bronx borough they patrolled -- not colonials in Nassau or Rockland County. Toody lived in a walk-up with his wife. Muldoon, a bachelor, lived in a modest house with his mother who rented out spare rooms.

These were the days long before it was the Boogie down Bronx.

I just finished watching several episodes on DVD - did not remember any of them (quite young when the show debuted) although I remembered the characters vividly. But most of all I remembered the feel of New York City, where I grew up. And the cops looked like cops did then. These were the days before the silk and satin look of "Miami Vice." These guys, in their off-duty clothes could just as easily have been plumbers, construction workers or sanitation men.

In addition to being funny and well-acted, "Car 54 Where Are You?" depicted New York as it was when men carried lunch pails to work instead of attache cases. And  like the best of the well-written TV shows, you felt as if you really knew the characters - even those with smaller roles.

But most importantly, "Car 54 Where Are You?" was one of the first integrated shows on television. When I said this to a friend of mine, he said: "Well how could you have a TV show about New York cops in the 60s and not have any Black ones?"

Believe me, they did. There were more Martians and extra-terrestrials on television in the first half of the 1960s than Black people.

One of the regulars was Frederick O'Neal, Officer Wallace. A tall impressive looking Black man with even more impressive real-life credentials. The Mississippi-native had appeared in some other TV shows, and films including Anna Lucasta, a breakthrough 1958 film with a largely Black cast starring Eartha Kitt and Sammy Davis, Jr. O'Neal also founded the American Negro Theater and later - the British Negro Theater. He went on to become the first Black president of the Actors Equity Association, a position he held for many years. O'Neal grew into a major labor leader in America, along with his civil rights activism.One other major accomplishment: He ranked high on the "master list" of  President Nixon's political enemies. Bravo!

Then there was the  53rd Precinct dispatcher,  well-known to Black audiences, comedian Nipsey Russell. Russell was a familiar figure at Harlem's Apollo theater and other largely Black venues. In real-life he was a decorated World War II medic who served in Europe, rising from the rank of private to Lieutenant. Russell was also known for his uncanny ability to make up rhymes -- a talent that kept him as a regular on game shows such as "The Match Game," "Pyramid," and "Hollywood Squares."  He was also the first Black ever to host a game show - the short lived, "Missing Link."  Russell also appeared on Johnny Carson's "Tonight Show," Ed Sullivan," and in the 1990s was  recurring guest on Conan O'Brien.     

There was lots of other diversity in the show. You could regularly hear names tossed about like Katz, Rodriguez, O'Brien, etc - that reflected much of New York City.

And there was Al Lewis as Leo Schnauzer, Jewish cop with a shrewish wife. He went on to become "The Munsters" Grandpa character, but more importantly to some, was his political  activism as a died-in-the-wool leftist activist. Lewis got his start in vaudeville and spent some time in Broadway shows as well. After "The Munsters" he became a  radio commentator for Pacifica radio station, WBAI-FM, in New York, which provided a platform for his political and social views. He took on many powerful politicians and interests. Lewis even ran for New York governor on the Green Party line and garnered over 52,500 votes. That was enough (by New York state law) to guarantee that the Green Party have a line on the ballot for at least four years.  

"Car 54"'s  Producer/Director was Nat Hiken. It was not Hiken's  first journey into the "integrated" realities of life outside the TV world. That  was "The Phil Silvers Show," frequently referred to as "Sgt. Bilko," after the main character. "Bilko" featured a diverse group of white ethnics - Italian, Jewish, Irish, etc. And the occasional appearance of a Black soldier, one of whom was Godfrey Cambridge, who, throughout the late 1960s through the mid 1970s became a frequent guest on TV shows such as "Jack Paar's Tonight Show, where his intellect on politics and social issues could be displayed. That intellect, by the way, had gotten him a full scholarship to study medicine. Instead he dropped out his junior year to pursue acting. Cambridge was nominated for Broadway's Tony Award for "Purlie Victorious," and appeared in films such as the controversial  "Watermelon Man" (where he portrays a white man who colors himself black)  and "Cotton Comes to Harlem."

With all this "reality" TV going around, "Car 54 Where Are You" reminds us what is really possible when you put true talent in front of and behind the camera.

ANOTHER "FINGER-CROSSING MOMENT" FOR BLACK PEOPLE

It has happened again.

Twice.

Every Black person of a certain age (perhaps, sadly, most any age) has had these moments. You hear of a heinous crime on TV, radio, online. And as you gasp from the ghastly details, you cross your fingers and say "God, I hope whoever did this wasn't Black."

Because you know - that no matter what your station in life, your pay grade or education - the ones who perpetrated this action will affect you. Strangers will look at your differently, act differently - maybe even with hostility. Some who know you might also. A co-worker may ask - no demand -- to know why "Black people do such things and why unless a white person kills a Black person you don't get upset. And what about all the white people who get robbed, raped and killed by Black people?"

The biggest problem is that you feel that somehow you are responsible. It is hard not to. That this was one of our own. That you live your life going through the motions, consciously or unconsciously, to make the case for your race, to prove that Black people are competent, smart, well-deserving people who are victims of slavery and decades of horrendous slavery and racism.

And here they come to mess things up. For the race. For you.

It had been a while for me to have such feelings, they do occur with less frequency. But then the jogger got shot in his back by a bunch of joyriding thugs.

At first I thought "God that's awful - but Oklahoma? Hmm not too many Blacks there. it wasn't Oklahoma City, right? But then came the faces of James Francis Edwards, Jr., Michael DeWayne Jones and Chauncey Allen Luna in all too familiar orange clothes and mug shots.

Chris Lane was 22-years old and from Australia. He came here to play college baseball and I'm sure with hopes for more. Some day I might have seen in Yankee Stadium. His life, his dreams are worth remembering, as are those with less "credentials" who lose their lives in senseless street violence that doesn't make the papers. Chris was out jogging, as I do most mornings, when the bullets struck him in the back. The stomach churning reason one of the three youths gave was: "We were bored, so we decided to kill somebody..."

Before one could even stop shaking one's head, another "fingers crossed moment" came today.

An 88 year-old World War II veteran was robbed and beaten to death in Washington state. Delbert Belton had survived bullet wounds on Okinawa -- one of the fiercest battles in the war -- to die like this. We lose World War II veterans at the rate of almost 100 a day. They are all almost gone, the generation  that truly saved the world and built this nation. They are generation of many of our parents. Just imagine your parents. His son said that his dad was "the victim of senseless violence" and blamed the city of Spokane for this tragedy. Again, once the horror of this began to subside, when I first heard Washington state I thought "not a lot of Black people there either." And once again the knot in the stomach, and shame, and the anger and frustration.

And don't you know FOX News was all over this one. They have taken considerable heat from many with their coverage of the the Trayvon Martin murder, the protest movement it has created and the Zimmerman trial and verdict. So on the local FOX TV station in Spokane, you can watch the video of the suspects while reading the scroll at the bottom of the screen which says:
White World War Two Veteran Robbed, Killed By Black Suspects."

Great. Now they get even for the way poor old, good citizen, Mr. Zimmerman has been treated. Mr. Zimmerman of the "community watch,"  according to news accounts, has just bought himself a brand new shotgun. This model weighs in at less than 7 pounds, 26 inches long. And the description reads "it holds an impressive 12 rounds..."

This is not your Grandpa's shotgun.

When my parents moved back to North Carolina after they retired, my dad (who grew up in rural North Carolina and was a military police officer in the US Navy during World War II) bought a shotgun for home protection. He kept it unloaded in the closet. It fired one bullet at a time. But then that was dad.

Many will think these feelings are foolish, unnecessary outdated. "Why would someone like you think  that what these common street thugs affect how people see you?"

If you don't know the answer, then you have never been worried about being "stopped and frisked" or had to wonder if the state trooper's gun is going to go off as you reach for your driver's license.Or had "the talk" with your sons about how to act when approached by the police. (Maybe we should extend that "talk" to include community watch folks too?")

I thought more about this today while watching some coverage of the events leading up to tomorrow's March on Washington which is part commemoration and part rejuvenation of  a movement.

In a different time years ago, it was not usual for a Black police officer to see a group of youths committing a crime - even a minor one like talking loud at night, or graffiti, or other such behavior, and say to them: "you making it hard for Dr. King. He's down there fighting for your rights and you messing up here making us look bad." Sometimes this was followed by a smack or kick in the butt.

Yes it these incidents are still tragic regardless of who commits them or who the victim is. And without a doubt Black-to-Black crime carries its own set of  pain and frustration.

And I often wonder if those "fingers crossing moments" will ever go away. Hopefully they will continue to lessen. Or perhaps those moments are a good thing. A thing that makes me remember to not forget that there are still plenty of struggles left in this post-racial society.