Lunchtime at Watkinson

Watkinson School is a small college prep school on the border of Hartford and West Hartford in Connecticut. I attended Watkinson School from 1969-73. Seems like many of my adult friends had negative high school experiences. This was not the case with me. For me,Watkinson provided a stimulating learning enviornment and to this day I have friends who I met while attending school at Watkinson.

At the time I attended Watkinson,there were 120 students attending from Grades 7-12. As such,here’s how lunchtime was handled:

Every 2-3 weeks a lunch table seating chart was posted on the bulletin board. Each table had about 8 chairs to it and outside of one Seniors only table,each had a teacher as the head of it. The changing of the lunch tables always created a stir at school.It provided relief for some and agony for others. I always looked first to see what teacher I was assigned to. For me this determined how fun lunchtime would be or which was more likely or not to keep the troublemakers at bay. I most enjoyed being assigned to Jack Chatfield’s (history teacher) table. Other enjoyable teachers were Mr. Roger Richard,and Mr.Robert Devine. I hated being assigned to Col.Leiby’s table. Col.Leiby was my math teacher..and I flunked his math classes. Col.Leiby loved to hand out demerits (marks for bad behavior),and virtually every demerit I received at Watkinson was thanks to Col.Leiby. 5 demerits meant Saturday detention. Lunchtime was no fun with Colonel Leiby.

Next,I would look to see what students were assigned to my table. When I first attended Watkinson in 9th grade,there were 3 students I hated to be seated with..the late Bruce Edwards,Mike Morgan,as well as the late Steve Shea. They created trouble for me to which I’ll explain a little later. They all left Watkinson after my 10th grade year and after that,I had no problem with any student I was assigned with. Any lunchtime spent with Bob Loy,Josh Eddy, Glen Elliott,Bob Watts or any of the girls I had secret crushes on was a plus.

When it was lunchtime,we’d find our assigned tables. Once we found them,we were required to stand behind the chair till a prayer was said,usually by a faculty member or a member of the student council. To sit before the prayer was an automatic demerit. Once the prayer was said,we could be seated,however if a teacher happened to be late for lunch,we would have to stand till the teacher was seated. One of the reasons I got along well with Jack Chatfield was besides being a stimulating teacher,one of his first actions was to say “The hell with this formal B.S”! A student late for lunch got a demerit.

At each table,2 students were assigned as waiters or waitresses.Every student had their shot at it..there was no escape. We were responsible for bringing the lunch to each table as well as cleanup. Here’s where it was important NOT to have a troublemaker at your lunch table because if you did,they were sure to make messes and if a teacher didn’t catch onto it,in the short time one had between being dismissed from lunch and the beginning of the afternoon class,you were stuck cleaning up the mess they intentionally would leave.

After lunch was finished and waiters and waitresses had cleaned and removed the lunches,there was an announcement period given by faculty members and often the Student Council President. My freshman year at Watkinson Tom Ekwurtzel was the Student Body President. I liked his announcements..they were often funny and with references to music I liked. I looked up to Tom and said to myself that when I become a Senior,I wanted to be one just like Tom.

Lunch announcements also served as comic relief,especially when they were given by Athletic Director Lloyd McDonald..he of the New Zealand accent and colorful terms. (Took me years to discover what a “Drongo” was) “Riiight now after lunch the Varsity Basketball team will be playing the American School for the Dead err Deaf” He was just predicting the outcome as we’d lose to them by 40 and 50 points.

News of Watkinson's Varsity Basketball Team,which I was part of often provided comic relief at lunchtime..

After announcements,we’d be dismissed from the lunchroom. There was often a few minutes between the end of announcement and the end of class..that is if you have a big mess to cleanup by a troublemaker. Seniors at Watkinson were allowed to smoke cigarettes on the Senior steps back then. I didn’t smoke cigarettes then,but during my senior year,I’d find my way to the back of the soccer fields to enjoy a different kind of smoke..

.But that’s another story for another time!

The Bust

It was COLD on this 1974 January evening in Anchorage Alaska. This was my first winter in Alaska and thus far the winters seemed every bit like the ones described by Jack London in his books. It was those descriptions in White Fang,Call of the Wild,and To Build a Fire that in part drew me to Alaska in the first place and when offered a scholarship to attend Alaska Methodist University,I jumped at the opportunity to begin my own Alaskan Adventure,and in the process,shocking the homefolks who had me pencilled in to attend American University in Washington DC.

Alaska Methodist University was a tiny liberal arts college in Anchorage. At the time I attended,it was a college of 400 students total. I began attending Alaska Methodist University(or AMU as we would call it) in the Fall of 1973
I loved it. It was a beautiful campus nestled away in a wooded area of Anchorage.It wasn't uncommon to encounter moose on the way to class.

Attending a college 5,000 miles away from my Connecticut home also gave me an opportunity to spread my wings like never before. It was the freedom of not having to answer to parents every night. 2 years previous to attending AMU,I had begun smoking marijuana. Now my mom had accused me of smoking marijuana years before I actually did,thanks to my involvement in the Eugene McCarthy anti Vietnam War Presidential campaign as well as sympathetic comments I'd make about hippies and the hippie movement,but now as I began to attend parties and concerts,I had been facing the spectre of mom waiting up for me and checking for red eyes.

Now I was free from Mom's watchful eyes and it didn't take long to find other students who loved to toke up too..

During the fall months,there was nothing like burning a joint or two in the Alaskan woods surrounding the campus..after all we were enjoying a plant surrounded by trees,with a view of the mountains and interrupted only by moose sightings.

There was a group of us who would gather in the woods at about the same time after classes. Over that joint or two,we'd discuss the latest campus happenings,catch up on gossip and map out future plans before dispersing into our various dorm rooms.  That's not to say marijuana wasn't smoked in the dorm rooms,it was,but although Alaska had the most lax laws regarding marijuana usage at the time,this was a college run by the Methodist Church and there were major penalties at hand should one be caught. Keeping a watchful eye on such activities in the men's dorm was the dorm director Mr.Darryl Peterson .

At a campus as small as AMU's it didn't take much to know who the potheads were and Darryl Peterson proved to be quite adapt at busting them. It bothered Darryl greatly that a month before,by using marijuana code words in my campaign statements,I had become the first Freshman elected to AMU's Student Assembly
I seemed to always elude his busts either by leaving a dorm room just before he busted the room or by just not stopping by a room I'd normally stop by on the day it got busted.

Once the heart of winter hit,it simply became too cold for our group to gather outside thus all of our gatherings took place in various dorm rooms.

There were 3 rules that were important to adhere to if one was not to be busted. Rule #1 Always have the window open no matter how cold it was. Rule #2  Always put a towel at the door and Rule#3 Should someone knock on the door,always be silent.Trust the person at the door to identify themselves. It was okay to leave music on because often students left music on even if they weren't present.

On this particular January night,the decision was to gather in the dorm room of Noburu Yamaguchi.Yamaguchi was an exchange student from Nagoya Japan. He wasnt a pothead like the rest of the group,but he couldn't understand how my roommate and myself could get higher grades and even make the Dean's List with the amount of marijuana we would consume on a daily basis.Yamaguchi being the curious sort befriended my roommate and myself and even toke up with us on occasion.

Also gathering in the room was my roommate David Trent.David,like me was also from the East Coast (Baltimore) and who also blew off attending Yale University in order to have his own Alaskan Experience.

Also in the room was Floyd Bedford from the South Side of Chicago.Floyd was the only other black student on campus and would often point out if not for that fact,we'd never hang out.Though Floyd would smoke with the group from time to time,he never quite got our seeming obsession with "reefer"

Jake Shelton,a Tlingit Indian from Ketchikan in Southeast Alaska. Jake,along with his girlfriend,Cheryl Luther,a Caucasian woman from Cantwell Alaska. Jake knew Alaska like none of us in the room and Jake also knew where to score the best weed.

There was Pat Ligada and Trina Hagar. Pat was a pothead who gathered with us because not only did she liked the weed,she also liked Floyd. Trina had three reasons to be in the room Pot,Floyd and my roommate David

Soon to be joining us would be Mike Murran,an Eskimo from Barrow Alaska

Normally,these gatherings would take place in the early evening,usually after dinner was served on campus,but for some reason,this gathering was put off till later in the evening. Cheryl,Pat,and Trina were going to have to be careful as no women were allowed to be in the men's dorm after 9pm. We hurridly let them into Yamaguchi's room.

Dorm rooms at AMU were not very large,and to have 7 people with a 8th coming made for a rather full room,but it was COLD outside! Cheryl,Pat,and Trina had a cold walk to make from the woman's dorm to the men's dorm,so to keep things cozy,Yamaguchi's dorm room windows remained closed,

This was a fun,interesting and lively group to be around. The different perspectives just based on the different places we came from meant there was never a dull moment amongst us,but we liked each other and before you knew it,the joints started burning and the music would start flowing. The Alaskans in the group were particularly interested in what David and I were listening to because the relative isolation of Alaska in 1974,no live TV and few radio stations meant that because of our East Coast connections,we were privy to a lot of music Alaskans were not exposed to. I cant recall what music was playing,but it's a good bet it was something like John McLaughlin's Mahavishnu Orchestra,Miles Davis or John Coltrane.

We were all having a great time and the room was getting rather smoky,but Mike hadn't shown up yet and we were trying to save our last joints for the evening for when Mike arrived

Mike Murran was a pretty big guy and when he was about to enter a room you knew it. He had a knock that one could hear from the other side of the dorm. Mike had a big booming voice too.Sometimes,he'd bug other people in the dorm because he was so loud and at different times,we'd ask him to cool it.

Pat was getting anxious,it was getting late and she wanted to smoke the last joint she had in her hand when we heard the door go BOOM BOOM BOOM! We all cheered! Mike was here! BOOM BOOM BOOM All of us in our unique voices and ways shouted out COME IN! Yamaguchi in his Japanese accent repeated the words twice Pat lit the joint and Jake opened the door as smoke came billowing out of the dorm room.

Mike Murran wasnt at the door.Darryl Peterson was. Darryl was there to pass on news about the dorm.He made that announcement,then instructed us to remain in the room till he returned. When he returned,he had his assistant with him as well as the Woman's dorm director. Pat,Cheryl,and Trina were instructed to stay in the room with their dorm director as Darryl had Yamaguchi,Floyd,Jake,David and myself go into the adjacent dorm room which happened to be David's and mine. Mike Murran arrived just as we were being marched into my room.

Darryl began to read off what we were up against. We were immediately being placed on probation. Another on campus bust and we'd be kicked out of the dorms and anyone on scholarship could see their scholarships affected. That meant me. Yamaguchi should the Exchange Professor hear about it,he could face deportation to Japan where he would be treated as if the Police had busted him. Japan's government never took to marijuana busts kindly.

Darryl seemed to be particularly happy with this bust. In one fell swoop he had busted an outspoken Student Assemblyman,both blacks on campus,in Jake and Cheryl two of the most popular people on campus,a Japanese exchange student and overall some of the biggest potheads attending Alaska Methodist University.

I began to ponder the moment..both with what I was facing and how Darryl Peterson was approaching this bust. I was also baked..baked on a level that Cheech Marin and Tommy Chong would havebeen proud of in 1974. I began to laugh uncontrollably. Gut level laughing..you know..the type of laughing that brings tears to your eyes. The longer Darryl went with his presentation,the harder I laughed.

Needless to say,eventually this pissed off Darryl and his stopped his presentation to address me.

"You're in a lot of trouble David,do you think that's funny?"

The smart thing to do would have been to stop laughing,but I continued to laugh as I replied to him
"I CANNOT BELIEVE HOW STUPID WE WERE THIS TIME"

January 4 1965

On January 4th 1965,I turned 10 years old. In 1965,I wanted to be President of the United States. In 1965 desiring to be President of the United States at 10 years old was not a popular ambition amongst other 10 year olds. Generally what you heard was kids wanting to be firemen,policemen or baseball players. Add to the fact that in 1965,given social conditions at the time along what what Bob Marley would refer to later as "mental slavery",there was a widespread belief at the predominently black CA Barbour School in Hartford Connecticut's North End thought of a black President as an impossible goal and by many kids,the ambition for me to be President was viewed upon as "acting white." For me,aiming for the White House at 10 years old in 1965 meant giving kids one more thing to tease,ridicule and threaten me about.

One person who didn't scoff at my ambition was my Mom. She in fact was thrilled by the thought. Mom was a Civil Rights and Democratic Party activist. In addition,Mom was born and raised in Washington DC. The White House and Capitol were just minutes away from the house where she grew up. One surefire way to make my Mom mad in addition to bringing up my Dad was bringing up the name of Richard Nixon who she remembers for taking his kids out of the DC Public Schools the moment the schools desegregated. Mom's political hero was Minneapolis Mayor Hubert Humphrey who she remembered for making a fiery speech in favor of the adoption of a Civil Rights Plank in the Democratic Party's 1948 Platform.  I remember Mom screaming with excitement at the TV when at a news conference,President Lyndon Johnson announced he would nominate now Senator Hubert Humphrey as his Vice Presidential running mate. That was my Mom. All she did once I made my ambition known was to push for me to make good grades,talk to me as to what careers I might want to pursue on the way to the White House,and on our family's summer trips to Washington,she would take me to the halls of Congress. I was impressed that Connecticut Senators Abraham Ribicoff and Thomas Dodd both knew my Mom on a first name basis. When at school classmates would tease,ridicule and threaten me for being Me,I could always find comfort in my Mom's encouragement and belief. While she would acknowledge that there would likely be added obstacles due to being Black in America,she'd always tell me "You can accomplish whatever you want if you put your mind to it."

Mom also encouraged us Daniels Brothers from an early age to think for ourselves and to stand up for our beliefs. I believe she probably questioned herself for stating that beginning in the Fall of 1964.

CA Barbour School was going to hold mock elections for Grades 4-6. I was in the 4th Grade. Mom at this time was working on behalf of the Johnson-Humphrey campaign. Mr.Eugene Green,my 4th Grade teacher was a friend of Mom's. Prior to the mock election,Mr.Green decided to decorate the classroom with posters and flyers of various candidates.Mom was happy to supply the classroom with posters and literature from the Johnson-Humphrey campaign as well as every other Democratic candidate on the ballot. It endeared Mom to most other students as part of the mock election project was for the students to bring in something about the Presidential candidate that they liked.

But where was the Republican literature?

At this point it was time for me to take action. I knew Mom hated the Republican candidate for President,Barry Goldwater,primarily due to his opposition to the 1964 Civil Rights Act. My grandmother felt as if she was witnessing a contrarian in the making.."Why do you have to be so contrary?" she would say to me. "If the wall was red,you might say it was black just to be different"
Armed with that information and seizing the opportunity to stand out,I informed Mom that I was going to support Barry Goldwater in the mock election. I knew why she hated him,I also knew by watching the news that he often wore Cowboy gear and rode horses. I liked Cowboys thus in my mind he couldn't be as evil as everyone was making him out to be.

When I look back,thinking about how Mom felt about Goldwater,knowing how active she was on behalf of the Johnson-Humphrey team,for her to go to Goldwater Headquarters to obtain a Goldwater poster for my school project might give someone just a glimpse of who my mother was. I still had to deal with talks like "Do you know what he stands for?" and warnings about if I'm going to be President how I better not be guided by blind ambition. If I talked back,I risked comparisons to Richard Nixon or my Dad,then you knew she was real mad and that it was time to back off

I was the only one from Grades 4-6 to vote for Goldwater and Goldwater lost in a landslide similar to CA Barbour School's mock election.

For my 10th birthday,a party was held at the Parma Restaurant in Downtown Hartford. A number of the neighborhood kids were in attendance along with their parents.
The Parma was an Italian Restaurant and we were all treated to a nice Italian meal. I cant remember anything except how I loved the Italian bread.

"Why?" One might ask "would a birthday party for a 10 year old be held at a downtown Hartford restaurant when such a gathering could have easily been held in the Daniels house or any number of houses in the neighborhood?

Mom,being who she was knew the Parma Restaurant was frequented by Hartford's politicians. Hartford's Mayor at the time,William Glynn made an appearance at this party,What was interesting about that appearance was Mom and Mayor Glynn had clashed in the past. I remember overhearing a heated phone conversation over a "Letter to the Editors' piece she wrote in the Hartford Courant criticizing him. At the same time it was clear that Mom was well respected in the neighborhood and it was best not to alienate her too much. Also making an appearance was the North End's City Councilman,West Indian born Collin Bennett

Already this is pretty heady stuff for a 10 year old who wants to be President,but a 10 year old,no matter how "heady" the occasion might be, still appreciates the traditional birthday ice cream and cake and the opening of presents.

I got a couple toys and a little money..the last present came from Mom in the form of two envelopes.One smaller One larger.Mom told me to open the smaller envelope first. It was an Eastern Airlines flight to Washington DC!  No Daniels Brother had ever flown in an airplane before!The Daniels family usually drove to Washington DC and we travelled to DC in the summertime,not in January. The thought of seeing my Granddaddy in January alone was exciting enough,but Mom said to open the second larger envelope.

It was a formal invitation to the Inauguration of President Lyndon Johnson and Vice President Hubert Humphrey. Apparently Mom forgave me for voting for Goldwater.



A postscript:Sometimes what goes around does come around as years later as a parent,there I was witnessing in a High School Debate,my daughter Rose as the only person speaking out against the Legalization of Marijuana..

Caroline

It's now been over 25 years since Caroline Saunders passed from this Earth. I've loved others since then and there have been more who have passed on since then.. .In other words life moves forward.

 I found myself listening to for the first time in a long time the music of (Reggae Artist) Judy Mowatt and for a moment it all came flooding back.. Some people make a profound impact on one's life even if they are in ones life for a short period of time. Caroline Saunders was one of those people.

It was one short year beginning at what was then called Five Corners Saloon on the West Bank of Minneapolis. The local reggae band Les Exodus was playing. We hit it off immediately.

At the time of our meeting I was a worker-owner-manager at the New Riverside Cafe,a vegetarian restaurant known on the West Bank as the Biomagnetic Center of the Universe. She worked at the Minneapolis Sexual Violence Center. We both were leading active lives,but she in particular. Prior to her work at SVC,she had spent a year in England running a Bed and Breakfast.Before that she had spent time in Africa. 
Our first meeting was an all night meeting,but it was agreed at that time that this would be a "see you when I see you" type relationship..no strings attached. We proceeded that way,sometimes meeting for coffee at the Riv or going out to dinner but then sometimes go days without speaking to each other.These are pre cellphones,pre internet days mind you.
One night,I learned that there would be reggae music being played at the Red Sea Bar on the West Bank,naturally I called Caroline..no answer One reason the New Riv was called the Biomagnetic Center of the Universe was that it was a social hub on the West Bank. One never knew who might walk in at any given time. Another female friend of mine with no plans for the evening dropped in.We then made plans to go to the Red Sea together. I had no sooner than paid the cover charge and was looking for a table,when I spotted Caroline..with another man!  Our tables were within eyeshot of each others. Pleasant introductions were made at the beginning of the night. Throughout the night,I did notice Caroline looking back at my table..that's because at different times,I was looking at her table. When my friend and I got up to dance,guess who ended up dancing next to us? Caroline visited my table,I visited Caroline's table. While we left the Red Sea with the people we came with,Caroline and I realized then perhaps we had strings afterall..

I shouldn't have been surprised given her travels,but nonetheless I was surprised that Caroline,living in the affluent Twin Cities suburb of Edina would feel comfortable hanging out in the Holtztermann Building on the West Bank.. For those unfamiliar with West Bank history,the Holtzermann was a early 1900's department store converted into apartments. Most were actually rooms with a few one bedrooms sprinkled in. Bathrooms were shared as well as kitchen space. I lived in one of the few rooms that didn't have a roach problem. Its occupants were an assortment of Riv and Hard Times Cafe workers,hippies, musicians,U of M students,junkies and alcoholics. I was making the best out of a life I felt I had due to various choices thrown away on the junkheap.

 I had been wrestling with a 7 year writers block but was beginning to come out of it thanks to a writers workshop at the Playwrights Center I had gotten connected with.2 things were coming out of my pen. The first was a play called Malcolm X Meet Peter Tosh. I didn't know what the other piece was except that it was a story,it was autobiographical,it dealt with issues of race,recalled a certain era as well as a near marijuana bust at the Canadian Border during a roadtrip. The play was due for a reading at the Playwrights Center. Up until this one particular evening,the only other person who had read any of my writing was my Riv Coworker Mitch Olson. Mitch and Caroline were my audience when I read the roadtrip story. Mitch kept me from throwing my play into the garbage. Caroline,who at different times smiled laughed and cried as I read shared words with me that made me think perhaps there was life past the junkheap. I hadn't had many folks as cheerleaders or believers in my abilities in life. Someone actually encouraging me to believe in myself. Caroline,upon learning I was a baseball fan,introduced me to her Dad,a diehard Baltimore Orioles fan.

Judy Mowatt was performing at another West Bank Bar,the Cabooze. I hadn't heard from Caroline in a few days,and besides I often attended shows alone. I was towards the front of the Cabooze stage when Judy Mowatt entered. Soon after the show began,someone from behind put their arms around me. I turned around,,it was Caroline. In social settings and at reggae shows where we both knew a lot of people,it was common for us to be social butterflies. This particular show however neither of us moved from our spot. In between one of the songs,Caroline said to me "Lets do an East Coast roadtrip to Vermont,Connecticut where I could meet yout Dad and New York!" I always admired Caroline's sense of adventure and willingness to live fully. I hadn't had that for myself since my Alaska days. I said yes. We had to go separate ways at the end of the show.

                 A week later she was gone..struck by a bus driver,later to be discovered to be under the influence of alcohol while riding her bike on the Nicollet Mall.

Later I ended up working across the street from the corner where Caroline was struck down at the Barnes & Noble Bookstore on Nicollet Mall. I viewed going to work there everyday as reclaiming that space,but when August would pass,I'd find myself melancholy.

I hope she knows I'm still writing and sharing.

What Do We Do with the Art of Monstrous Men?

To begin, let me share the link which has inspired what I'm about to share. It's rather lengthy,but I think worth the read:

https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2017/11/20/art-monstrous-men/

With all the recent scandals in the news,there's been many a conversation regarding how to deal with the men accused of crimes. It's been an issue I've wrestled with for years and for me it's personal.

Let me tell you why.

Stan Brakhage is a name not widely known by the General Public,yet if you were to read almost any book about film or the history of film,you will come across the name of Stan Brakhage. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stan_Brakhage

George Lucas,Martin Scorsese,and the creators of South Park all list the works of Stan Brakhage as major influences in their careers.The University of Colorado's media center bears his name.  Stan Brakhage also happened to be my ex father in law and my daughter's grandfather. During the time I was married to his daughter,we'd spend time at his and his wife's cabin in the mountains outside Boulder Colorado where we'd watch his films and listen to the stories of his interactions with the likes of Allen Ginsberg,James Baldwin and Ezra Pound. My marriage to his daughter was a difficult one and it ended shortly after Rose turned 2.

Being a product of divorce and having it happen after vowing not to have it happen in my own life,needless to say it was rather devastating. I spent more than a few hours reflecting on what went wrong and eventually saw a counselor.

During the time of our marriage,my wife would talk about being abused. I never paid it much mind. Such things were not discussed in my household growing up and don't all kids regard their parents as abusive? Or so I thought. Through counseling,I later learned that the issues in our marriage had its roots in childhood abuse. I decided to confront Stan Brakhage with what I had learned. Prior to this,I had a pretty good relationship with Stan. It quickly changed after my confrontation. His last words to me were "I will destroy you"

By doing such things as paying my now ex wife to keep me in court for the greater part of 18 years,and having swindled me out of money I was going to use to finish my degree,he certainly helped to make my life difficult,but failed in his goal to destroy me.

Couple years before his passing,the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis honored Stan Brakhage with showings of his films and topped it off with a Brakhage lecture. I wrote a brief performance piece for the occasion and had every intention of disrupting his lecture,using the performance piece to let the world know about the "Other Stan Brakhage" On the day of his lecture,I backed off. My reasons were 1. I didn't want Stan to use my piece as an excuse to get back at my daughter in any way,and 2. With Rose reaching pre teens,dealing with esteem issues,and not liking very much the fact that one parent was a struggling writer and the other was a housecleaner,I felt it important for Rose to see success connected to her family. There will be time for her to hear the other side,but the fact is her grandfather was one of the most influential people in film.

Though he wasnt an artist,I've had to wrestle with issues around my own Dad. My Dad was Hartford Connecticut's first black doctor,was involved in the initial research on Sickle Cell Anemia,and established a Health Clinic in Hartford specifically geared towards low income patients.He was once named Connecticut's Man of the Year and was well known and highly respected in the Hartford area.(His golfing buddy was former Connecticut Senator and Vice Presidential candidate Joe Lieberman)

He would also often fail to pay child support and when I was in third grade he gave me a black eye and beat me on a level that nowadays would have gotten him arrested. I'd get angry when I'd see him drive up in his new Mercedes or hear about his summer home in Cape Cod knowing that my Mom was often having to ask my grandfather for assistance when my Dad wouldn't pay. For years my idea of success was skewered by my Dad thinking if he is the definition of success,I dont want to have anything to do with it.

There was a period as an adult when I went through a long period of unemployment. I had been denied Unemployment Insurance and things were pretty bleak. I had never asked my Dad for money previously but things were at a critical juncture and given his dodging of child support,I didn't feel guilty in asking for help. He turned down my request for a few hundred dollars but at the same time paid the Rev.Jesse Jackson thousands to come to Hartford when my Dad's stepdaughter went to the media with accusations against my Dad threatening his position at the Health Clinic. Jackson was instrumental in keeping my Dad's position as well as running my Dad's stepdaughter out of town.

Can I say my Dad was a monster? On one level I can say yes. I also know that my Dad helped thousands and to this day I hear from people telling me how Dr.Daniels helped them out.I know who my Dad was. It doesnt take away who he was for others. At my Dad's funeral,I learned from my Dad's second family,I was known as the person who could confront my Dad and get away with it.

There's a beauty and tragedy in being human..

A Daniels Thanksgiving

When I was living in Minnesota,I'd often think to myself, "No matter how many friends you have,the holidays are a reminder that you're not from Minnesota." Minnesotans,more than any other place I've lived tend to remain in Minnesota,and if they do leave,they tend to return sooner or later. Minnesotans have family to celebrate the holidays with.

I had a few Thanksgiving invitations over the years and sometimes I would attend. More than once however,I'd get the feeling that the invitation was coming from a place of feeling sorry for me that I had no family to go to,and I'd almost always would feel out of place no matter how sincere the invitation was. Luckily there would be the Thanksgiving Dinner at Palmer's Bar where no one was out of place.


Colorado on the other hand is a land of transplants. I can count only a handful of folks that I know that were born and raised here, with my own daughter being one of them. For many living in Colorado,traveling home whether due to finances,job responsibilities,or both is out of the question,thus Thanksgiving becomes a solo affair. In overhearing or participating in various conversations,I've heard everything from people planning to work on Thanksgiving to those looking forward to a mountain hike. Somehow,being alone for Thanksgiving in Colorado doesn't seem as out of place as being alone in Minnesota would sometimes feel.

Thanksgiving 2017 for the Daniels clan was originally to be held in Phoenix Arizona. 7 years ago at Thanksgiving in Phoenix marked the first time in 12 years that the Daniels Brothers were together. My daughter and my niece were also present. This year grandchildren were to be present..then my brother Austin got a new job that requires him to move from Phoenix to Northern California. My Uncle Bob and Aunt Rose live in Denver and historically the Denver family would gather at their house for food and football for the holiday. This year however with Uncle Bob and Aunt Rose in their 90's and in failing health,Thanksgiving is being limited to the immediate family.

Looks like my Thanksgiving will be spent at the Nob Hill Inn,a dive bar on Denver's Colfax Avenue where there will be beer,food and football and like Palmer's where no one feels out of place..

To all of you wherever you are,Happy Thanksgiving!

Radio Airwaves and Hoops

Before the internet or cable tv came into existence, one of the best ways to get a perspective from outside one's home town was to have a good antenna on your radio, station surf at night,and hope for clear airwaves. No matter what,one had to count upon a certain degree of static as well as stations fading in and out..

From my Hartford Connecticut home,the New York City stations came in the easiest..sometimes with very little static. All news all the time from 1010 WINS was my go to station. Some nights I’d get WTOP in Washington DC which was always fun because I knew that was my grandparent’s favorite station and I’d always feel connected to them by listening. I’d also get WBZ in Boston,but there was something about that Bostonian tone that irritated me,so I seldom tuned in.

I’d do most of my listening while doing homework on our dining room table. One night while station surfing I came across a station that was not from New York or Boston. It was coming in fairly clearly and the broadcast captured my attention immediately. The station was WHAS in Louisville Kentucky and the broadcast was an ABA game between the Kentucky Colonels and the Indiana Pacers. The ABA! ..American Basketball Association.

From its inception in 1967,I had declared myself as a fan of the ABA. Already a budding rebel,I took to the idea of a sports league challenging the existing order. I liked their Red,White and Blue Basketballs,and loved the idea that one got three points for shots made from 25 feet out. There were also Connecticut connections to the league. Growing up,I’d listen to University of Connecticut basketball games and one of its former stars,Wes Bialosuknia had signed with ABA’s Oakland Oaks. Hartford had a minor league basketball team called the Hartford Capitols. I would attend their games.My favorite Capitols player was ‘Spider” Bennett who upon the league’s inception signed with the Houston Mavericks.

There was one problem in following the ABA. They had no TV contract. They only had one player in Rick Barry (who jumped from the NBA) recognizable to the general public.The media regarded the ABA as a minor league thus only seldomly were their boxscores published in the newspaper. It’s first year only its first game highlights were shown on TV and a Life Magazine article on the New Jersey Americans was about as good as the coverage got. To follow the ABA,one had to studiously check the sports section as even daily scores and standings were published sporadically. A subscription the The Sporting News helped,but there was also word of mouth. I knew this league was right for me as one of its early superstars was named Mel Daniels..no relation but having the name was good enough.

The league went through some rough times in the beginning..bounced paychecks,poor attendance,franchises moving from city to city.There were always rumors of its soon demise,but somehow they managed to survive and by the time the 70-71 season rolled around,they had been successful in signing some of college basketball’s better players such as Kentucky’s Dan Issel,North Carolina’s Charlie Scott as well as Spencer Haywood from the University of Detroit. It was in that season where WHAS came across my airwaves.. Once discovered,Kentucky Colonels games became a regular part of my homework routine. The broadcast team was Van Vance and Cawood Ledford. Cawood Ledford would also do University of Kentucky games and from the accent alone,you knew he had to be a born and bred Kentuckian.

I had called myself a New Jersey Americans turned New York Nets fan,but it was hard not to become a fan of the Colonels. They had Issel,sharpshooters in Louie Dampier and Daryl Carrier.Walt Simon had played in Hartford against the Capitols and Spider Bennett,but what I loved most were the characters on the team Cincy Powell,and Jim “Goose” Ligon. The NBA of the late 60’s -early 70’s was a buttoned down league. Great basketball players but little flair. The ABA was different and signed players who for one reason or another banned from the NBA and players who wouldn’t fit into a mold. Cincy Powell liked to talk and wasnt afraid of giving himself credit for being the star of the game those times when he was.Listening to Cincy Powell and Cawood Ledford post game was like a downhome version of Ali and Cosell. Goose Ligon was a forward for the Colonels. A stint in prison kept him out of the NBA. Average scorer,great rebounder,but his greatest role with the Colonels was as an enforcer. His elbows were weapons when rebounding.He wasnt afraid to make hard contact on the floor and would openly dare opposing players to mess with him. Goose Ligon was my favorite and when I found myself playing high school varsity basketball,I patterned much of my game after that of Goose Ligon.

Then there was the experience of finally listening to the ABA on a regular basis. Colonels always did well attendance wise,but games in Pittsburgh one could hear the dribbling on the court and what players and coaches were saying and you knew there were rabid fans in places like Indianapolis and Salt Lake City

The following season,the Colonels signed my favorite college player, Jacksonville University’s Artis Gilmore. That season,the ABA began playing NBA teams during the exhibition season. A game between the Colonels and the NBA’s Milwaukee Bucks featuring Kareem Abdul-Jabbar was treated like a championship game by Kentucky’s broadcasters.(Colonels lost and Jabbar outplayed Gilmore)

Over time it seemed like the ABA began to gain more respect. ABA players such as Spencer Haywood were having successful careers in the NBA,and an occasional All Star Game and Championship series would be broadcast on TV. By the time I left Connecticut for Alaska,I didn’t have to tune into WHAS for ABA coverage as WOR in New York began to broadcast Nets games. Of course by then,there was quite the buzz over an old University of Connecticut rival,a player who I thought was going in over his head by leaving the weak Yankee Conference where he played college ball to a league I was convinced was every bit as good as the NBA now. His name? Julius “Dr. J” Erving.

I was living in Alaska when the ABA’s leading franchises left to join the NBA. I hated to see the Kentucky Colonels left out of the merger deal,but in Alaska there was no NBA or ABA Basketball to listen to anyhow..