‘Atlanta’ recap: Season 2, Episode 7: The great Drake scavenger hunt Stunting is all a facade

Season 2, Episode 7 | Champagne Papi | April 12

Keeping with the theme of the past two episodes, Atlanta returned with yet another solo excursion. This time giving us the long-awaited Van episode.

The writing was on the wall after she and Earn’s falling out in episode four, and last night’s installment only solidified one truth — getting over someone is hard. The opening scene with Van and her squad (Tami, Candi and Nadine) featured an all-too-familiar conversation about birth control and the disdain for condoms. But it was also the beginning stages of Van’s ultimate plan, and one that has become so customary when attempting to move past a former love interest. “Do it for the ’Gram” is a disease that has infected nearly all of us at some point. And Van had a full-blown case of it.

She’s on Earn’s Instagram stories and instantly plummets into her feelings when she sees him with another woman. From there, the plan is hatched. She’s going to this party hosted by Drake (more on that in a moment), and if nothing else, she’s going to stunt for social media. Not because she necessarily wants to have a good time, but because she wants Earn to see her with Drake. On the surface, it’s a foolproof plan. It’s Drake we’re talking about here. She’s bound to be the muse for one of his future songs, and the last thing Earn would want to hear is Drake singing melodies about meeting Van at his New Year’s Eve party. But on the flip side, it reveals how sadly inauthentic people become on social media.

The Drake house party is exactly how you’d expect a Drake house party to look. From the shuttle in a parking lot taking the girls to the mansion to the one chick forging a Drake invite to wearing footies over shoes so as not to scuff up his marble floors, everything seems to fall into place. Even down to the gummy edibles, which aren’t exclusive only to Drake — every party has edibles if you know the right person to ask — but I’d imagine there’s no shortage at a Drizzy party. From there, the girls split up. All, in their own way, on the hunt for Drake.

Before moving on, let’s give it up one time for the Drake marketing department. Just days after the release of his already smash single “Nice For What” and the simultaneous drop of the superstar-laden video, he now has his own episode on arguably the hottest show on television. As I previously said about Atlanta, nothing Drake does is without careful, meticulous planning. He knew this episode was on the horizon, and it wouldn’t have surprised a soul if “Nice” somehow appeared in the episode.

Nevertheless, the entire experience is a wash — falling in line with a theme of the entire season where the idea of heroes is destroyed. Not Drake himself in particular, but the idea of being around a superstar of that caliber. None of the girls finds Drake. Tami bounces early with her DJ boo to a T-Pain party, which should have been a clear indication Drake wasn’t at his own party. Candi is too caught up on an interracial relationship at the party to care about anything else — but she did give us one of the most hilarious scenes of the season when she cussed out the white girl on the couch. Van, who thank the heavens avoided the creep whose cousin is Drake’s nutritionist, finds out Drake is Hispanic (while actually wearing Drake’s clothes she took out of his closet because, no, that’s not weird at all). She also learns all the pictures from the party with girls posing for selfies with Drake were actually life-size cardboard cutouts. Again, the allure is destroyed, and no number of Instagram filters can change that reality.

However, it’s Nadine, tripping off an edible for the majority of the entire episode, who actually tied the whole thing together. It made sense that she and Darius, who was randomly at the party too, connected on a spiritual level. At a party overflowing with Drake innuendos and shallow conversations, Nadine proved to be Yoda. Perhaps the credit goes to the weed, but she saw through all the nonsense.

By far the most fun I’ve had at a party in the past two years was Dave Chappelle’s Juke Joint in New Orleans for NBA All-Star Weekend in 2017. They put your phone in a pouch that can only be unlocked once you leave. The whole point is to omit the dependency we all have to want to be on our phones during a party. We always feel the need to Snap everything or put the “fun” part of our lives on Instagram. It’s superficial. And in the process we forget what we actually come to party for. It’s not even about us having fun. It’s making sure whoever follows us sees we’re having fun. We’re all guilty of it — myself included.

So, yes, Nadine was right. We’re all jaded by a lifestyle that, at best, is fleeting and, at worst, isn’t who we are to begin with. Who says marijuana has no redeeming qualities? Take that, Jeff Sessions.

Grant Hill speaks out about the nation’s opioid crisis The NBA legend is on his way to the Hall of Fame, but he won’t let that overshadow his latest passion

On Sept. 7, millions of basketball fans will witness NBA playmaker Grant Hill’s induction into the 2018 Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield, Massachusetts.

Hill helped Duke win two NCAA titles (’91, ’92) and was the ACC Player of the Year. He boasts a 19-year NBA career, including seven All-Star selections, and he’s now part-owner of the Atlanta Hawks.

But his accolades do not overshadow his community work and his latest passion: fighting opioid addiction.

Hill has teamed up with Choices Matter, a campaign designed to empower and encourage surgery patients to proactively discuss postsurgical pain management, including non-opioid alternatives, with their doctors. He partnered with the campaign once he realized its goals were aligned with his.

“It’s been fun and it’s been consistent, and aligned with how I believe in terms of playing against pain and the campaign, and just really try to make people aware there’s an epidemic right now in our country and this is just a way to try to minimize that, and to try to prevent people from going down that road that we know so many have as a result of overprescription of opioid pain medications. So it’s important, it’s the right thing, and I’m excited to be a part of it.”

During his NBA career, he underwent 10 surgical procedures and was prescribed painkillers. His short-lived brush with opioids ended when he asked his doctor for an alternative to the painkillers.

“I had so many surgeries during my playing days. And as you go through your pain management process, you are exposed to so much, so many opioids. I just never liked how I felt,” Hill said.

“So I’m given a bunch of pain meds to manage my pain,” he said. “And I just felt horrible and did not like how I felt, and could not wait to get off. At that point, you start investigating, talking to doctors, trying to get a sense and understanding of what it is you’re taking. And at that time, the internet was just sort of in its infancy. But you realize how dangerous and addictive these drugs are, but that was the only protocol that was around.”

He went through more surgeries, but before one of his final operations, he was exposed to an alternative, eliminating postsurgery pain meds.

“It’s like, wow, there’s another option,” Hill said. “Having that exposure, that experience, and also understanding that at the same time this opioid epidemic is occurring, [I’m] really just trying to make people aware as they go through their surgical procedures that there are options for pain meds, that there is an alternative.”

Hill describes his alternative as a block, “a numbing agent that they insert into your body and it lasts for three or four days, which is typically the time period where pain postsurgery can be where it intensifies and can be problematic. Once that block wears off, typically the pain has started to go away and you had no exposure to any opioids.”

A United States for Non-Dependence report, conducted by the QuintilesIMS Institute and issued in September 2017, found that enough opioids were prescribed in 2016 for every man, woman and child in America to have 36 pills each.

“Anytime you have surgery, and whether you’re an athlete, whether you’re a weekend warrior, whether you’re a stay-at-home mom … whatever it is or whatever you do, and whenever you’re considering having surgery, you want to be able to sit with your doctor and really understand what you’re about to embark upon, not just from a pain management standpoint but also just understanding what the surgery is, what they’re doing and what the recovery is,” Hill said. “And if anything I’ve learned through my 10 surgeries during my career is really to educate yourself. And I think the same thing goes in terms of what are my postsurgery pain management options.”

According to Choices Matter, 1 in 3 families in the United States is affected by addiction. Hill, who is the father of two daughters with his wife, singer-songwriter Tamia, takes his responsibility to educate his children about drug use very seriously.

“As a parent, that’s part of your responsibility, to try educate and inform, and then try to use your own experiences,” Hill said. “Dad’s had surgeries, Dad’s taken these things, Dad doesn’t like how they made him feel. And having this type of back-and-forth, I think as a parent, is healthy and important.”

In October, President Donald Trump declared the epidemic a public health emergency. On Nov. 4, 2017, Hill showed his support for ending the epidemic by appearing at the Atlanta 5K Run/Walk hosted by the nonprofit organization Shatterproof. He’s also part of the organization’s national campaign, Rise Up Against Addiction, which works to end the stigma of addiction. More than 58 teams participated in the event that raised more than $1.75 million for the crisis in which only 1 in 10 Americans seeks treatment and 141 people die of an overdose daily, according to Shatterproof.

“It was a great event. It was cool to see folks who are recovering, had been through it or maybe had a family member who had been through it, and sort of just coming together and bringing awareness, raising money. … There’s a real sort of community that it can really galvanize, and I saw that firsthand,” Hill said.

According to an article in The New York Times, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention shows studies that reveal the opioid drug death rate is rising among blacks between the ages of 45 and 64. “Drug deaths among blacks in urban counties rose by 41 percent in 2016, far outpacing any other racial or ethnic group. In those same counties, the drug death rate among whites rose by 19 percent,” the article reveals, finding that the drug fentanyl is one culprit.

“I’m not an expert when it comes to politics, but I think there needs to be a serious conversation,” Hill said. “I think we need to bring in folks who are experts, bring in people in the medical profession to have open and honest conversation, to discuss it.

“So much of this is the result of people being overprescribed from doctors and there being drugs left over, and people using them and becoming addicted,” Hill said. “You don’t need 50 pills for a surgery. Trust me. I’ve had 10 of them, I know. That’s when you have issues. That’s when stuff is hanging around and it gets in the hands of the wrong person … And next thing you know they have an issue. I do think the conversation needs to be had and there needs to be pressure put on our government officials to do something.”

Martin Luther King Jr’s funeral, a photographer and a photo that still makes us cry The story behind Moneta Sleet’s Pulitzer Prize winning photo

The proverb says that April showers bring May flowers. T.S. Eliot preferred the darker side, proclaiming April the “cruelest month.” For journalists, April showers can also mean Pulitzer Prizes.

This April also marks 50 years since the murder of Martin Luther King Jr. on April 4, 1968, and thus 50 years since the publication of a famous photograph showing the grieving widow of the fallen martyr. Coretta Scott King mourns at the funeral of her husband, her little daughter Bernice resting her head upon her mother’s lap.

Moneta Sleet, Jr.

Getty Images

That iconic black-and-white image of the veiled widow was taken by a man named Moneta Sleet Jr. (For the record, he used a Nikon camera with a 35 mm lens, with Kodak Tri-x film.) The following year, 1969, Sleet received news that he had been awarded a Pulitzer Prize. At that moment, Sleet became the first black man to win a Pulitzer and the first African-American journalist to win one as an individual rather than as part of a journalism team.

(The poet Gwendolyn Brooks won the prize for literature in 1950.)

It was in 1947, remember, that Jackie Robinson (whom Sleet also photographed) broke the color line in baseball. It took another 22 years before a black man crossed that line in the Pulitzer competition.

From 1955 until his death in 1996, Sleet worked for the Johnson Publishing Co. His images, especially in Jet and Ebony magazines, documented every step of the civil rights movement. Beyond that, he captured the work and achievements of black celebrities, performers and politicians in every corner of the country — but also in Africa and around the globe.

Sleet’s eyes were not on a Pulitzer Prize but on a higher calling: to document the life and times of a marginalized and persecuted people in all aspects of their lives, through triumphs, troubles and tragedies.

The historical collection Capture the Moment: The Pulitzer Prize Photographs describes Sleet’s most famous image and how it came to be captured on April 9, 1968:

“It has been just five days since a sniper’s bullet killed the civil rights leader. Coretta Scott King has discovered that the pool of journalists covering her husband’s funeral does not include a black photographer. She sends word: If Moneta Sleet is not allowed into the church, there will be no photographers.”

Mrs. Martin Luther King, Jr., comforts her youngest daughter Bernice, 5, during services in the Ebenezer Baptist Church, 4/9.

In a Johnson Publishing collection of Sleet’s work titled Special Moments in African-American History, 1955-1996: The Photographs of Moneta Sleet, Jr., Ebony Magazine’s Pulitzer Prize Winner, Sleet offers his own, more modest version of events:

“There was complete pandemonium. Nothing was yet organized because the people from SCLC [Southern Christian Leadership Conference] were still in a state of shock. We had the world press descending upon Atlanta, plus the FBI, who were investigating the assassination.

“We were trying to get an arrangement to shoot in the church. They were going to pool it. Normally, the pool meant news services: Life, Time and Newsweek. When the pool was selected, there were no black photographers from the black media on it. Lerone Bennett and I got in touch with Mrs. King through Andy Young. She said if somebody from Johnson Publishing is not on the pool, there will be no pool.

“We … made arrangements with AP that they would process the black and white film immediately after the service and put it on the wire. Later, I found out which shot they sent out. … The day of the funeral, Bob Johnson, the executive editor of Jet, had gotten to the church and he beckoned for me and said, ‘There’s a spot right here.’ It was a wonderful spot.

“What I noticed … this was prior to the funeral — was the little girl fidgeting there on her mother’s lap. I could relate to that, being a father and having a child close to the same age. Mrs. King was sitting there, stoic and stately, but it was specifically the child who I was thinking about at the time.”

In a profession whose practitioners are expected to bring a certain detachment to their work, Sleet saw no reason to apologize for his commitment to the cause of racial equality or for his emotional involvement with those he photographed.

“I wasn’t there as an objective reporter,” he once said. “I had something to say and was trying to show one side of it. We didn’t have any problems finding the other side.” The side of racism and intolerance.

At the same time, his professional standards gave him the foundation to create his best work. He said of covering the King funeral: “Professionally, I was doing what I had been trained to do, and I was glad of that because I was very involved emotionally. If I hadn’t been there working, I would have been off crying like everybody else.”

In the Johnson collection of his work, there is a beautiful photo of Sleet and his family. They are beaming. His daughter sits on the floor holding telegrams of congratulations. Sleet is holding his Pulitzer Prize. This is from the May 22, 1969, edition of Jet magazine:

“You must be joking” were the words Moneta Sleet uttered when informed that he had won the 1969 Pulitzer Prize in news feature photography. “I knew that it was a good photograph, but I knew there were lots of good photographs in the running. So, there’s no need of my lying, I was quite happy to win the award. And my wife, Juanita, and the kids, Michael, Gregory and Lisa, were thrilled.”

At the time, magazine features were not eligible for Pulitzer Prizes. Sleet’s image became eligible because of its distribution by The Associated Press.

The Rev. Kenny Irby, a veteran photojournalism leader and a former faculty member at the Poynter Institute, knew Sleet and looked up to him as a role model and mentor. Via email, he responded to questions about Sleet and his legacy:

As an African-American, a photojournalist, a pastor, and a father, what do you see when you look at the famous photo taken by Moneta Sleet?

I see great pain and promise in this photograph. Moneta gave me a copy in 1996 after the Olympic Games, which was his last major assignment. For me, it’s the obvious pain for the murdered martyr for justice and peace. I see the promise in his daughter Bernice, who would pick up the baton of her father’s work. And I see the promise affirmed by Moneta’s Pulitzer Prize, an honor which paved a path for me and generations of other photojournalists.

This is a black-and-white photograph. What do you see technically that interests you?

The elegance of the black-and-white composition has long transfixed me. I love the stark white dress of Bernice, juxtaposed against the black dress and glove. Then there are shimmering shades of gray that flow from the veil throughout the photograph. Yet, the sadness of the eyes in the photograph says all that needs to be said.

Access is so important to any successful photojournalist. What did it take for a black photographer in the 1960s to get access to important social and political events?

That’s a really great question. It took courage and connections. It was actually Coretta who took the bold stand and insisted that Moneta would be the pool photographer while there was one other photographer inside. Flip Schulke, who was white, also had a relationship with Dr. King.

For Jet and Ebony magazines, Sleet covered the civil rights movement, issues related to Africa, the black social and celebrity scene. How would you summarize his contribution to journalism?

Simply put, he was one of the trailblazers — a tremendously kind human being, a great journalist and nurturing mentor to many.

‘Atlanta’ recap: Season 2, Episode 5 and Episode 6: From the barbershop to ‘ATL Sammy Sosa’ — Donald Glover’s show is on a brilliant run When Teddy spoke about Joe Jackson, Richard Williams, Marvin Gay Sr. — that was the crux

Season 2, Episodes 5 and 6 | Barbershop and Teddy Perkins | March 29 and April 5

Atlanta is an amazing summation of parts when it manages to feature all of its main characters (or at least the majority of them). But it can absolutely carry itself during its solo episodes — the last three shows being concrete evidence. The last two in particular, featuring Paper Boi and Darius, illustrate the show’s range, creativity, and outright quirkiness. It should come as no surprise that the two episodes — Thursday night’s was 41 minutes, with no commercials — set off with two seemingly opposite conversations.

Barbershop is a community gathering. It’s a situation just about every black man or woman can relate to: their relationship with an unreliable barber/beautician. And given LeBron James and Nick Saban’s current cold war over who owns the rights to the holy space, it’s only right that Atlanta represents a most accurate depiction. The things black men do, out of loyalty to our barbers, is nearly limitless.

Perkins is enigmatic, at times outright scary, and yet jocular.

Atlanta is two-for-two with solo Paper Boi episodes, dating to season one’s memorable B.A.N. And, from Willie (Katt Williams), Tracy, and now Bibby, the supplementary characters this season have been fascinating. The only thing missing now is a solo Tracy episode, though some might consider episode two his true coming-out party. With Barbershop, Donald Glover’s Atlanta again firmly establishes its cultural relevance. It tapped into a most sacred institution, and did so with unprecedented nuance and hilarity. The episode may just end up going down as the show’s magnum opus.


That being said, if Barbershop was the episode that brought us together, Darius’ (Lakeith Stanfield) first solo venture, Teddy Perkins, is on the other end of the spectrum. The obvious, low-hanging fruit description is that the episode felt like a prequel to or a remix of the Oscar-winning Get Out. Perkins is enigmatic, at times outright scary, and yet jocular. All of which makes sense when realizing who the episode is based on. But the 41-minute airing, with no commercials, comes with its own set of bullet points:

• Buying Confederate flag hat, and coloring out letters for it to read “U Mad,” is one of the subtle and brilliant nuances that has become a trademark of the show.

  • Love Darius — but he was tripping with no map, going to that house by himself. There’s absolutely no way any black person should ever go to a big house with hardly any lights — by themselves. That’s just not what we do.
  • Bless the musical directors of this show. Stevie Wonder’s “Evil” was a perfect touch. Was I the only one who peeped how they only referred to Wonder in the past tense, though?
  • Since we’re on the topic, too, who goes to move a piano by themselves?
  • Thank God for the comic relief that was Paper Boi, Tracy and Earn in the drive-through talking to Darius on the phone. In that moment, you did feel like Paper Boi had temporarily become “Rod” (LilRel Howery) from Get Out?
    • The “U dead yet” text about took me out.
  • Who else thought Teddy was his brother Benny? And, who else either said — out loud, or to themselves — “N—–, get out the f—ing house!” when Teddy cracked open the door as Darius was rummaging around upstairs? And then again when he went into the room with the suit on the mannequin.
  • When Teddy spoke about the different fathers — Joe Jackson, Richard Williams, Marvin Gay Sr. — that was the crux of the entire episode. Teddy was either the father or Benny was the father. I just can’t make out which. All I know is, they weren’t brothers.

Which brings me to my final thought. Nothing this show does or implies is by coincidence. So Benny killing Teddy has to be some bizzaro ode to Marvin Gaye’s death — the anniversary of which was Sunday. Methinks Benny was the son, Teddy pushed his son too far to become a musical savant which, like Marvin, forced his son to become secluded and holed up in a house with him. Only this time, it isn’t father killing son, but the reverse.

Am I looking too far into this? I’m probably looking too far into this. But couldn’t that be the point of the entire episode? It was such a drastic reach from the previous, lighthearted escapades of Paper Boi and Bibby the Barber that you almost have to try to rationalize the episode. It’s hard to grade Thursday night’s episode because, in so many ways, we’re all still trying to figure out what it is we just watched. My mind is fried. I’m going back to watch the barbershop episode to relax my mind and let my conscience be free. Teddy Perkins (aka ATL Sammy Sosa) won’t be giving me nightmares this week. That much I can promise you.

In honoring Martin Luther King Jr., Dance Theater of Harlem tells its audience to ‘keep movin’’ Dancer Carmen de Lavallade and civil rights activist Xernona Clayton were feted at the company’s season-opening performance

Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination in Memphis, Tennessee, 50 years ago reverberated through society, bursting through in riots across the nation but also in less obvious decisions. It was King’s death on April 4, 1968, for instance, that prompted Arthur Mitchell to found the Dance Theatre of Harlem.

Mitchell was on his way to Brazil to start the National Ballet Company of Brazil. But in the wake of King’s death, he decided to return to Harlem, New York, the following year and founded a dance company and school in the basement of Harlem’s Church of the Master.

Wednesday night, 50 years after the death that ultimately led to its founding, Dance Theater of Harlem opened its performance season at New York City Center with a celebration of King’s legacy. It did so by honoring one of his most trusted deputies, Xernona Clayton, and dancer Carmen de Lavallade, who brought a magic to the stage that exalted in the joys of blackness.

Last month, the company had announced its new season with a video starring its students that connected the movement of dance with The Movement.

Wednesday night, the students recreated the performance on stage, accompanied by Tony Award-winning singer and actress Lillias White singing “Keep Movin’.” They even added a quick Wakanda salute to the choreography.

The program connects social movements with bodily movement, and so the company honored Clayton with a performance called Change, introduced by Michelle Miller, a correspondent for CBS who called Clayton her “fairy godmother.” Besides her work on civil rights, Clayton became the first black person to host a talk show in the South in 1967 and later went on to become an executive at Turner Broadcasting in Atlanta.

Besides heading King’s advance team, Clayton was a close friend of the King family. She’s featured in the new documentary King in the Wilderness, where she revealed how she used her own makeup compact to hide the clay filling King’s face as he lay in his coffin after Coretta Scott King expressed horror at the job done by King’s undertaker.

In a nod to the oft-unseen women, like Clayton, of the civil rights movement, Change featured three women dancing to the vocals of the Spelman Glee Club. At one point, the onstage lights dimmed and the atmosphere grew ominous. The voices of the Glee Club rang out — Don’t let nobody turn you ’round — and the dancers emerged, arms interlocked, determined to power through whatever followed.

Clayton addressed the movement’s gender gap in a phone interview Wednesday morning.

“I resent the fact when people said Dr. King was a chauvinist. I said, ‘Everybody was!’ Men didn’t give us women the same regards that we deserved then,” Clayton said. “We get some of it now, of course. With a lot of effort it brought us to this point now where we’re doing better. We’re not really there yet, so I don’t want anybody to think that we think we have arrived when it comes to maximum inclusion. You certainly knew at that time that women had a role to play, and it was the distant background role, but everybody was doing it.”

“I resent the fact when people said Dr. King was a chauvinist. I said, ‘Everybody was!’ Men didn’t give us women the same regards that we deserved then.”

Civil rights leader Xernona Clayton in Atlanta, June 12, 2017.

Marcus Ingram/Getty Images for Hyatt

If Change was a recognition of struggle, the evening ended in full-on celebration with a performance of choreographer Geoffrey Holder’s Dougla, recreated under the supervision of Leo Holder, the son of Geoffrey and de Lavallade.

Judith Jamison, the artistic director of Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, and a mentee of de Lavallade’s, introduced the performance. “It’s a work that proves that being a black ballet dancer does not mean leaving your culture behind,” she said.

Dougla is also a reminder that there is more to blackness than pain, grief and triumph over trauma. It’s a dance that tells the story of a wedding ceremony between African and Hindu. De Lavallade beamed as she watched from the audience, clapping her hands, which were encased in gloves covered in silver sequins.

“For me, this means don’t stop,” de Lavallade said after the performance. “Just keep going. You can contemplate, but you have to move forward in contemplation. There’s so much going on. You can’t let outside influences get to you, and that’s what’s happened. You can’t do that. You have to keep your eye on the prize — isn’t that what [King] said?”

Bernard Lafayette Jr. was with King in Memphis just hours before he was killed The two men met at the Lorraine Motel to discuss the start of the Poor People’s Campaign

It was about 9 in the morning on April 4, 1968. Bernard Lafayette Jr. had gotten the final details of his mission from Martin Luther King Jr.

Later on that fateful day in Memphis, Tennessee, Lafayette would pack his luggage at the Lorraine Motel and head to the airport for a flight to Washington, D.C., the site of his assignment.

Eight years earlier, Lafayette had been a classmate of civil rights pioneer John Lewis at the American Baptist Theological Seminary, a predominantly black institution in Nashville, Tennessee. In 1968, he was the national program administrator for the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC), the guiding light of the civil rights movement in the 1960s.

The charismatic and magnetic King was not only the president of the SCLC but also its spiritual force and moral conscience. King and Lafayette met alone in Room 306 that morning to discuss media relations for the Poor People’s Campaign, a monumental undertaking designed to bring national attention to U.S. poverty as the SCLC pivoted toward economic rights. That’s why King and the SCLC were in Memphis in the first place: to help the city’s sanitation workers, mostly black men, address their concerns regarding low pay and dangerous working conditions.

Lafayette, the national coordinator for the Poor People’s Campaign, was to conduct a news conference on April 5 at campaign headquarters in Washington. And the media-savvy King wanted the message to be clear.

“He wanted to make sure I mentioned the inclusiveness of the Poor People’s Campaign,” Lafayette told The Undefeated. “He wanted everyone to know that this was about more than black people. It also was about helping poor whites, Native Americans and Mexican-Americans.”

In this Jan. 16, 1968, file photo, Martin Luther King (left), accompanied by Rev. Bernard Lafayette, talks about a planned march on Washington, D.C., during a news conference in Atlanta.

AP Photo/Charles Kelly

At the end of the conversation, King told Lafayette, “We are going to institutionalize and internationalize nonviolence.”

By sunset, those words proved eerily ironic.

When Lafayette arrived in Washington, Walter Fauntroy, the D.C. city councilman and Washington point person for the SCLC, wasn’t there to pick him up at the airport. That’s when Lafayette had an inkling that something was awry.

He called the headquarters of the Poor People’s Campaign, at 14th and U streets in Northwest Washington. That’s when Lafayette found out King had been shot on the motel balcony in Memphis.

Later, Lafayette called The Associated Press and United Press International wire services. Two pay telephones at once — with the AP in his left ear and the UPI in his right.

“Then, the UPI reporter started crying on the phone,” Lafayette said.

That’s when he first learned King had died. Moments later, Lafayette hopped in a cab to 14th and U.

There, he called the Lorraine Motel. Andrew Young, the executive vice president of the SCLC, told Lafayette not to return to Memphis. Fly to the SCLC headquarters in Atlanta instead, he said.

Lafayette then canceled the D.C. news conference scheduled for the next day.

a funeral for which to prepare

In 1968, Lafayette, at 28 years old, was a veteran of the civil rights movement. In 1960, he had participated in the sit-ins to desegregate lunch counters in Nashville, along with Lewis, Diane Nash and James Bevel. In 1961, Lafayette was one of the original Freedom Riders, along with Lewis, Jim Zwerg and William Barbee, as they tried to desegregate public interstate travel in the South amid physical attacks from angry white mobs.

Lafayette also was one of The Children, a book written by Pulitzer Prize-winning author David Halberstam 20 years ago that focused on eight college students, all of whom attended historically black colleges or universities (HBCUs), in Nashville who vaulted to the forefront of the civil rights movement.

Lafayette’s alma mater of barely 100 students, the American Baptist Theological Seminary, is now called American Baptist College and was granted an HBCU designation in 2013.

In 2018, Lafayette, now a 78-year-old minister, makes the 22-mile drive from his home in Tuskegee, Alabama, to Auburn University on Monday afternoons to teach the principles of global leadership for nonviolence, employing the teachings of King and Gandhi. Lafayette’s Alternatives to Violence Project, started in 1975, engages prison populations in conflict reconciliation and is used in 60 nations.

In the 1960s, Lafayette even wrote songs and sang with the Freedom Singers and Nashville Quartet. They sang freedom songs at such venues as New York’s Carnegie Hall, including the “Dog Song,” which was about the irony of dogs from black and white families playing together in rural Southern areas while the children of those same families couldn’t mingle because of segregation. That history has been preserved in more than one Smithsonian museum.

Another singer exhibited his reverence for King and the movement. King’s funeral was scheduled for April 9, 1968; the Academy Awards were set for April 8. Entertainer Sammy Davis Jr. and other stars threatened to boycott if the ceremony wasn’t rescheduled, according to the book Inside Oscar.

Davis, during an appearance on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson on April 5, declared, “I certainly think any black man should not appear. I find it morally incongruous to sing ‘Talk To The Animals’ [from the Oscar-nominated movie Doctor Dolittle] while the man who could make a better world for my children is lying in state.”

Yes, Hollywood stopped for King; the Academy Awards were rescheduled for April 10.

“Sammy and several other movie stars came to the funeral,” Lafayette said. “They viewed Dr. King as a star, just like themselves. That’s why they came.”

Some SCLC members bandied about the idea of treating King’s funeral like the royals of Buckingham Palace in England, as in the splendor of men wearing top hats and coats with tails.

“Some of them wanted to treat him like royalty,” Lafayette recalled.

But they ultimately thought better of it, instead opting for the images of King’s legacy.

As King had said, in part, in his previous “Drum Major” address from Feb. 4, 1968, “I won’t have any money to leave behind. I won’t have the fine and luxurious things of life to leave behind. I just want to leave a committed life behind …”

Martin Luther King Jr. (seated, center), Andrew Young (far left, back row) and Bernard Lafayette Jr. (far right, back row) with a group of people in 1967.

Courtesy of Bernard Lafayette Jr.

Keep it simple, the SCLC decided. Hence regular men’s attire. And a mule-drawn, wooden farmer’s wagon to carry King’s casket, symbolic signs of poverty.

The “Drum Major” sermon served as King’s eulogy, per widow Coretta Scott King’s request.

The next two months were both utterly miserable and marginally productive for the SCLC. King’s successor, the solid but less magnetic Rev. Ralph David Abernathy, was determined to launch the Poor People’s Campaign, undoubtedly one of King’s most ambitious projects, which originally was scheduled for April 22.

King’s master plan: put issues such as jobs, unemployment insurance, a reasonable minimum wage and education for the poor on the national front burner.

The day after Coretta King led a women’s march on Mother’s Day on May 12, a collection of plywood tents and shacks were constructed on Washington’s National Mall. It was called Resurrection City, with a population of about 3,000. Rev. Jesse Jackson was named its mayor.

Then came the rain. “It seemed like for 40 days and 40 nights,” Lafayette remembered. “And, man, it was muddy.”

His post-campaign analysis: “It was very challenging and difficult. It was Dr. King’s idea, but he wasn’t with us. So we had to glean from him what we thought was his interpretation of the campaign.”

Lafayette spoke of a bizarre backstory to the campaign: For many of the nation’s poor, especially in the rural South, their only mode of travel was by mule. Therefore, some of the campaign participants wound their way to the nation’s capital by mule-drawn wagons. The federal government authorized some staff members, Lafayette said, to make sure the mules were equipped with special shoes for travel on pavement and soil as well as the correct food.

What about special precautions for the impoverished human beings making the journey? “No, the people had to care for themselves,” Lafayette answered.

The campaign did result in a few lesser victories, such as the federal government allocating free surplus food for distribution in hundreds of U.S. counties in need and agreements with government agencies to hire the poor to lead programs for the poor.

Abernathy, of course, desired more impactful actions, but he had to settle for the pocket-sized ones.

A half-century after the assassination of King, the implementation of the Poor People’s Campaign and the prophetic “Drum Major” speech, a part of King’s legacy was displayed on March 24 in Washington.

His granddaughter, 9-year-old Yolanda Renee King, spoke in Washington at the March for Our Lives rally against gun violence. She told an international audience: “My grandfather had a dream that his four little children will not be judged by the color of their skin, but the content of their character. I have a dream that enough is enough. And that this should be a gun-free world, period.”

She was part of a remarkable scene mixing the past and the present before our very eyes. And it was a gun that killed her grandfather, a horrific murder by a white man that triggered race riots and street violence in at least 100 cities nationwide.

Said Lafayette: “That’s why I have great hope for the future. These young people are making sense, and they seem very determined. You call it passing the torch.”

For Lafayette, Yolanda Renee brought back memories of his last conversation with her grandfather at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis.

On that fateful day, 50 years ago.

Andrew Young on MLK assassination: ‘You’re going to heaven and leaving us in hell’ Every moment of April 4, 1968, stays fresh in the mind of the former top lieutenant for King

He was the U.S. ambassador to the United Nations. He served in the U.S. House of Representatives. He became only the second African-American mayor in Atlanta’s history. Perhaps most impressive, Andrew Young operated as one of the top lieutenants for Martin Luther King Jr.

When the drum major for justice was assassinated at 7:01 p.m. Eastern time on April 4, 1968, on a balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee, Young rushed from the parking lot below to his side.

“People say, ‘Andy, why don’t you take a rest?’ ” said Young, 86, referring to his nonstop travel from his Atlanta home during the past 50 years to promote his various causes for the disadvantaged between delivering speeches on King’s message of nonviolence. “Well, I mean, I stay active because, right now, I can still see Martin’s blood on that sidewalk, and I can still remember the way the bullet tore into his spinal cord.”

Every moment of that day stays fresh on Young’s mind, and he gave his first-person account of what he saw and felt before, during and after King’s death to The Undefeated.


I was in court all day long, and Martin had closed on such a poignant note the night before [at Mason Temple in downtown Memphis], when he came out to speak with a fever in the pouring-down rain. But there were 11,000 or 12,000 people there, and he dragged himself up, and that’s where he made that famous speech, ‘I’ve been to the mountaintop, and I’ve seen the promised land.’ He had been feeling really bad that day, and that next morning of April 4, I expected him to sleep late, and he probably did. But I had to be in court at 9 a.m. because we were challenging the injunction that wanted us to stop from marching [in Memphis for striking sanitation workers].

So after being in court that whole time, and really on the witness stand for about an hour, I returned to the Lorraine Motel just about 4 o’clock. Dr. King, his brother [Alfred Daniel Williams King, known as ‘AD’], Ralph Abernathy, well, they were all in his brother’s room downstairs, which was the bigger room. They had been eating catfish, because Memphis was famous for its catfish dinners and somebody had brought in a whole tray. So they were all eating and drinking that sweet tea, and they were laughing and having a great time, sort of like his old gang, the guys he grew up with.

When I came in, Martin started joking with me, saying, ‘Where have you been all day long? What have you been doing?’ I told him, ‘I’ve been in a courtroom this entire time, trying to keep you out of jail.’ And he laughed, and then he said, ‘You don’t have to keep ME out of jail.’ Then I told him I wanted him to be able to continue this march in Memphis. Then he said, ‘Why didn’t you call me?’ I usually didn’t talk back to Martin, but I did this time by saying something I normally wouldn’t have. That’s when he said, ‘Oh, so you’re a smartass, huh?’ I said, ‘No, I’ve been doing the best I can, and you all have been sitting around here eating catfish and I haven’t had anything to eat.’

That’s when somebody picked up a pillow and threw it at me, and I threw it back. The next thing you know, you’ve got Martin and Ralph and everybody grabbing pillows. It was one of these big rooms with two double beds and sort of suite, and then everybody started to pick on me. I made a feeble effort to fight back, but finally, Dr. Billy Kyles knocked on the door and said, ‘You all need to be getting ready. You’re supposed to be at my house for dinner at 6 p.m.’ The pillow fight stopped, and Martin said, ‘Well, I better get ready. I need to go upstairs and put my shirt and tie on.’ He left.

By the time Martin got his shirt and tie on, Ralph wasn’t dressed yet. But Martin came out on the balcony, and I was down in the parking lot with [civil rights activist] James Orange, who was about 6-foot-5 and 275 pounds, and I was even smaller than I am now. Despite our size difference, James and I liked to shadowbox. So we were shadowboxing in the parking lot, just clowning around, and at first I thought it was a firecracker.

That’s when I looked up, and I didn’t see him.

Martin wasn’t there.

So I ran up the stairs, and he was lying on the ground in a pool of blood. The rifle shot came from somewhere across the street, and the police were over there but they came running toward us. That’s when we all began pointing and shouting, ‘No, go back over there! The shot came from over there!’ But the police kept leaving the area from where the shot came from to run to where we were.

When I looked down again at Dr. King, my first reaction was that it was such a clean wound that it literally severed his spinal cord. You could see it. It wasn’t messy, just a very clean shot, and I realized he probably didn’t get a chance to hear it, and he probably didn’t feel anything. Even though he still had a little pulse, there was no way he could have survived that shot. I thought while looking at him, ‘You’re going to heaven and leaving us in hell. How are we going to get along without you? We were barely making it with you.’

We called [Coretta Scott King, Dr. King’s wife] and told her what happened, and the ambulance came to take him to the hospital. Even though I went to the hospital, I knew there was no hope.

On April 8, 1968, Coretta Scott King led 10,000 people in a march through Memphis in memory of her husband Martin Luther King, Jr., who had been killed just four days prior. In front row are (left to right) singer Harry Belafonte; King’s daughter, Yolande; sons Martin III and Exter; Mrs. King; Rev. Ralph Abernathy; and Rev. Andrew Young.

The thing that disturbed us the most was that people started rioting, and we kept trying to talk to the press about getting folks to realize that this isn’t what Dr. King would have wanted. But the reporters wanted to talk to the rioters more than they wanted to hear from us, and that was kind of tragic.

We left the hospital, and we got back to the motel about 10 o’clock that night, and we basically said, ‘Look. We have to keep Martin’s movement going.’ I don’t know how, but we already had planned to go to Washington with 24 different groups of poor people [for the Poor People’s March on Washington that spring]. For the first time, the movement wasn’t mostly black people, but we had invited several Appalachian groups, white groups from the big cities and rural areas, senior citizens, three or four Hispanic groups from the West Coast and Native American groups. It was following Martin’s desire to raise the question of poverty. From the very beginning, the civil rights movement was about leading America away from the triple evils of race, war and poverty.

Here we are, 50 years later, and we haven’t solved those three problems, but Martin gave us the dream. Also, when I look back 50 years, I know he died instantly, and it became clear to me on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel that only his body had been killed, but his spirit lived.

In so many ways, it still lives today.

Quavo’s Huncho Day celebrity football game Offset, 21 Savage, Von Miller, Ezekiel Elliott and others laced up their cleats to celebrate the rapper’s birthday

Quavo of the Migos kicked off his 27th birthday by giving back to children and fans at Berkmar High School in Norcross, Georgia, an area becoming known as “The Nawf.” The closed-to-the-public event was for teachers, faculty and students of Berkmar High School. Held on Easter Sunday, it started with an Easter egg hunt, face painting, contests and bounce houses before Team Huncho faced off against Team Julio in touch football. Coach 2 Chainz led Team Huncho with a stacked deck of hip-hop artists and athletes, from Quavo, Offset and 21 Savage to Alvin Kamara, Von Miller and Todd Gurley. Team Julio, coached by Julio Jones, had Ezekiel Elliott, Martellus Bennett, Jacquees and Josh Norman, among others. The back-and-forth game ended with an Elliott touchdown, as many games do, giving the win and bragging rights to Team Julio.

Children pose underneath the Huncho Day sign.

A sign directs guests to the Easter egg hunt.

Children collect eggs during the Easter egg hunt.

Children try their best to dunk while inside one of the bounce houses.

From left: 21 Savage, Quavo and Alvin Kamara talk before the start of the football game.

21 Savage kneels before the start of the game.

Fans scream during the introduction of the athletes.

Quavo walks the sideline before the start of the game.

Martavis Bryant leaps over a defender.

Ezekiel Elliott of the Dallas Cowboys stretches to clear the goal line.

Fans packed the stands to cheer for their favorite athletes and recording artists.

Julio Jones goes for a catch over Martavis Bryant (left) and Quavo.

21 Savage chases Lance Limbrick after a catch.

21 Savage tries to defend Ezekiel Elliott.

Quavo just misses a catch.

Von Miller and Ezekiel Elliott prepare to hug at the end of the game.

Even now, King can still be heard saying, ‘The time is always right to do what’s right’ MLK’s spirit still lives in Obama, Black Lives Matter and all of us who have overcome

In the hours before an assassin’s bullet claimed his life in Memphis, Tennessee, Martin Luther King Jr. appeared to embrace the specter of his own death as he talked to those gathered at the Mason Temple church:

“Like anybody, I would like to live — a long life; longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And he’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land.”

On Wednesday, the nation will mark the 50th anniversary of Martin’s death in 1968. Since then, scores of streets and schools have been named for the 1964 Nobel Peace Prize winner, reminding us of the path to racial and economic equality he sought to show us, the lessons of national unity and generosity, international cooperation and peace, he sought to teach us through his opposition to the war in Vietnam.

Consequently, Martin, like countless leaders and followers before him, stands with African-Americans and their country, in spirit. The elders and ancestors — some celebrated, as Martin has been, others unsung — stand as bold explorers and pioneers. They surveyed the land promised to them in the Declaration of Independence: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

Martin’s spirit stood with President-elect Barack Obama in Chicago’s Grant Park in 2008, and Obama paid homage: “… and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that ‘We Shall Overcome.’ Yes, we can.”

In 2015, Obama led a re-enactment of the 1965 civil rights march across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama. Martin led the original march. He was bulwarked by his wife, Coretta, and young activists like John Lewis.

Fifty years later, Obama and his throng crossed that Alabama bridge, locking arms with civil rights heroes such as Rep. John Lewis from Georgia and the spirits of Martin, Coretta Scott King and activist Daisy Bates.

And last month, Martin’s spirit was present in the March for Our Lives in Washington, D.C., to end gun violence, a march in which King’s granddaughter Yolanda was one of the speakers. In brief remarks, she made reference to her grandfather’s 1963 “I Have a Dream” speech and then talked about a dream of her own: “A gun-free world. Period.”

During his 39 years, Martin went from Morehouse College to leading a bus boycott in Montgomery, Alabama, to a March on Washington. In his public life, he melded the poetic cadences of the black preacher with the intellectual reach and exploration of the black intellectual and jazz musician.

As we approach the anniversary of his death, we’re reminded anew that Martin’s spirit lives, his influence endures. His timeless wisdom thunders, as if he were responding to today’s headlines and tweets: “Our scientific power has outrun our spiritual power. We have guided missiles and misguided men.”

At 26, Martin accepted the call to lead the Montgomery bus boycott, which had begun with Rosa Parks refusing to surrender her bus seat or her dignity to racial segregation and humiliation.

Today, Martin’s spirit, memory and example stand with everyone who responds to his call to action: “The time is always right to do what’s right.”

Who stands ready to heed the call?

‘The Quad’ recap, Episode 9: Tying up loose ends Eva Fletcher’s past threatens to ruin her family, while Eugene Hardwick struggles to keep his team together

Season 2, Episode 9 — The Quad: Holler If You Hear Me

With only one episode of The Quad left this season, the chaos at Georgia A&M University has fans hoping for a third season.

There are intertwining plotlines to keep a close eye on this episode, beginning with Eva and Sydney Fletcher’s complicated relationship. It seemed mother and daughter were working together to mend things, but Eva’s addiction to prescription painkillers is causing a new rift between the two. After an argument last week over the pills, which ended in mom taking her house keys from her daughter, Eva meets with Sydney in the dorm to return the keys. Although the two don’t apologize to each other, there’s an agreement to respect her mother’s house and each other.

Although Eva Fletcher solved one problem, a ton of others are waiting for her as she arrives at her office. Fletcher’s main focus is catching up with Flip Lawson, the man she alleges has stolen money from the school. She meets with Ella Grace Caldwell and updates her about the merger. She also lets her know how much she’s been fighting for the school, and Caldwell finally sees the care and passion Fletcher has for GAMU — or at least she pretends to. Caldwell backs away from the idea of overthrowing Fletcher when she learns of Lawson’s alleged embezzlement, which is a move Cecil Diamond and Carlton Pettiway predicted.

GAMU students have been through a lot in the past few months. Members of the student government association met with members of Atlanta State University’s student government association, but problems still remain between the two schools. Between the proposed merger and the university’s instability, looking forward to football season may be the best thing GAMU students have going at the moment. But for some players, there’s no peace on the field either.

With the spring game approaching, starting quarterback BoJohn Folsom still hasn’t been cleared to train with the team. Coach Eugene Hardwick has warned Folsom to take it easy after he was seriously injured during a fight, but Folsom isn’t trying to hear any of it: He’s been kicked out of the training room. Folsom and Tiesha still haven’t patched things up with their relationship either. In an act of desperation, Folsom suits up anyway and attempts to play in the spring game before being blocked by Hardwick. Hardwick has him forcibly removed from the field in front of fans, parents and, most importantly, his competition: Dwight Jenkins. Jenkins’ father, Lenny, uses the game as an example of the many reasons why GAMU isn’t good enough for his son. The two wind up leaving early, and so do Fletcher’s dreams of having Jenkins as the savior to bring positive attention and money back to GAMU.

After the game, Folsom’s downward spiral continues. He returns to his room, where an angry Tiesha and concerned Junior are waiting. Folsom lashes out at both before having a mental breakdown of sorts. Unnerved and still crying, Folsom calls his father and asks to be picked up from the school. When Hardwick arrives to speak to him, Folsom demands to be left alone. Hardwick, though concerned about Folsom, refuses to tolerate that behavior. He tells Fletcher that he wants Folsom off the team.

In the dorms, Cedric Hobbs is still reeling from the news of Bronwyn’s pregnancy. His best friend, Ebonie Weaver, isn’t speaking to him, and neither is Bronwyn. With no one else to turn to, Hobbs calls his mother to break the news to her. Once she finds out, she hangs up on him. With no one else left, Hobbs returns to his music.

Off campus, things are heating up between Sydney and Jason King. While Jason seeks to get revenge on Eva by dating her daughter, Sydney is falling for the guy she thinks may be the one. She’s vulnerable with Jason and feels comfortable enough to take him back to her mother’s house. They have wine and take things further than Sydney has allowed herself to go in a long time. The problem? Eva Fletcher has made her way home, where Coach Hardwick meets her so they can chat. They walk in to see Sydney and Jason in a rather compromising position, and Eva loses it. With Sydney not knowing the nature of Eva and Jason’s relationship, she turns on her mother and thinks the rage is stemming from the prescription pills. Their relationship has once again deteriorated because of misunderstandings and cover-ups.

It’ll take more than a season finale for these two to patch things up.