SOUL CONDUCTOR: Don Cornelius, dead at 75, transformed American culture with 'Soul Train.'
“Peace, Love, and Soul.”
That’s how he used to bid us adieu at the close of every show, that bespectacled man with the velvety voice and cool disposition. The apparent suicide death of Soul Train creator and host Don Cornelius caught us all off guard, while immediately transporting us back to those more soulful days of yesteryear — pre-MTV days, when the music wasn’t just an afterthought but the main event.
We tuned into Soul Train each week to see our favorite soul and R&B stars, sometimes for the very first time. (The four sisters of Sister Sledge looked as cute as they sounded, and imagine my shock as a 6-year-old to discover that Elton John was white!) But we mostly showed up for the array of colorful dancers — to check out their moves, to see what they were wearing, and to imagine ourselves right there with them. We knew that if we didn’t see any other black images on TV all week, we could at least see ourselves on Soul Train every weekend. Don Cornelius, the radio-deejay-turned-television-impresario, gave that to us — a refuge for African American pride and empowerment disguised as a TV dance show.
In honor of Mr. Cornelius, we asked our UrbanFaith columnists and regular contributors to share their favorite memories of Soul Train. Check out their reflections below the video, and then share yours in the comments section. — Edward Gilbreath, editor
MEMORIES OF ‘SOUL TRAIN’
It was soon proven otherwise, but Don Cornelius through Soul Train, told me I was a good dancer. Every Saturday morning after cartoons went off, feeling like a grownup, I’d tune in to move to the music any kind of way just like the Soul Train dancers. Going down the Soul Train line, some of them looked so crazy. But at home, bounding through an imaginary line of people, so did I. Don Cornelius made it cool to love music enough to dance no matter what. By the time I came along, his ’fro wasn’t as big, but the cool he carried was bigger than life. And I felt just as hip rhythmlessly dancing with my own portion of soul. — DeVona Alleyne, staff editor and contributing writer
I am very saddened by the death of Don Cornelius, a black legend! Back in the ’70s and ’80s before the dominance MTV or BET, there were very few outlets to see my favorite R&B acts like Michael Jackson, New Edition, or DeBarge perform on television. Since my parents were pretty conservative at the time, I wasn’t allowed to watch Soul Train but as a lifelong R&B and pop culture aficionado, I found ways to watch this great show without “technically” breaking the rules. I wasn’t allowed to go inside of childhood friends’ homes either unless my parents knew their parents. I remember I had one friend who allowed me to literally sit on the pavement outside of her apartment. We would speak to each other through the open window, and if she happened to have Soul Train on the television behind her, who was I to say what she could watch inside her home? I remember that one light-skinned woman with extra long black hair that whipped around her body (pre-Willow Smith) as she danced on what seemed like nearly every episode for years! I couldn’t wait until I got a perm so I could whip my hair around like that! A towel wrapped around my head sufficed until I finally got a perm. I remember all of the fresh dance moves that would not be duplicated on American Bandstand, even though I was a fan of that show too. Simply put, there was nothing else like that show at that time, an oasis of black grooves and moves in a desert of white programming. RIP Don Cornelius … —Jacqueline J. Holness, contributing writer
I’ll never forget Soul Train, from the chugging train at the intro to the various incarnations of the Soul Train dancers. Don Cornelius made this show an institution that definitely shaped the culture and gave us memorable performances on the stage and dance floor. — Dr. Vincent Bacote, contributing editor
Being in a military family, every so often we’d get stuck in the boonies with no television we could relate to. When my dad got orders to a big urban city, we kids were ecstatic. It was my job to watch my younger siblings on Saturdays while my parents worked, and at the time when I announced SOUUULLL TRAINNNN is on, my brothers and sisters would run from outside like they’d lost their minds. Oh, and then the party was on. We bumped, spanked, wormed, or whatever the latest dance craze was, along with the hippest kids in America. If there had been just two or three more of us, we could have formed a Soul Train line right there in the living room. It grieves me to know that Don Cornelius couldn’t find another way; which serves to remind us that we must get the word out about the only One who can bring us out of our troubles, the only One Who can bring us out of the lies that Satan tells us when we see no way out. There is a world of hurting people who don’t really know Him. Someone needs to tell them. We need to tell them. — Wanda Thomas Littles, contributing writer
Despite being a child of the late 70s and 80s, I didn’t have many actual experiences of watching Soul Train. Most of my memories regarding Soul Train were at various school dances and wedding receptions growing up, when folks would start up “the soul train line” and line up to cut a step. Most of the influence of Soul Train I witnessed were in derivative television shows (like Solid Gold), subtle homages (like when Theo and Cockroach fought over who was getting into Dance Mania) or actual parodies (like In Living Color‘s “Old Train” sketch). Still, I got a little misty when I got the news of Don Cornelius’ passing. No one will ever really replace him and what he meant to the black community. — Jelani Greenidge, columnist
As a girl growing up in small-town New Jersey in the 1970s, my primary exposure to black culture was Soul Train, and oh how I loved Soul Train! It was sandwiched between Saturday-morning cartoons and Saturday-afternoon roller derby on our television station. It never occurred to me that by introducing me to some of that era’s best music and most accomplished musicians, Don Cornelius was drawing me into a richly textured world that was not available to me then. I just knew I loved hearing his smoky voice and dancing to the sounds of soul. It saddens me deeply to learn that, like my son, this gifted man apparently died by suicide. I’m reminded that depression and despair don’t only visit the downtrodden, but even the most accomplished among us. My thoughts and prayers are with his family. — Christine A. Scheller, news & religion editor
I remember the Jackson 5 barely had enough room to dance on that stage. Fans could literally touch Marvin Gaye as he sang (and they did). You could feel the sweat dripping off of Barry White’s collar. This was Soul Train, Black America’s debutante ball. As a child it always felt RAW, like a grown-folks party that I could only watch from the stairs. It seemed fun enough, but in reality Soul Train was about rebellion: finding a way to create in the midst of the chaos of injustice. Black people were thrown into America’s basement, and Don Cornelius found a way to host a house party there every Saturday. It remains our challenge to find hope in the midst of great darkness; to dance when the forces of life threaten to steal all rhythm. And when I look at black music today — videos that portray the worst potentialities for our young men and women, dancing that has turned into “Sex Lite,” and artists that lack intimacy and authenticity — we need not ever forget Soul Train. The truth is, we need it back. Thank you Don Cornelius, from the little boy who watched your party from the stairs. — Julian DeShazier, contributing writer
Sitting in my parents’ living room, the back of my legs sticking to the plastic covering mom’s gold velvet couch, the funky music from the Jacksons, the Sylvers, and Joe Tex would blare from the black-and-white screen. I would fix my eyes on the Afro puffs, braids, wide brim hats and bellbottoms, imagining their psychedelic colors (mom and pops did eventually get a color TV) as they danced the funky chicken or the robot. As Jermaine sang, they would be “movin, she’s groovin. Dancin’ until the music stops now, yeah” down the Soul Train line. My older sister and brothers would bust all the moves, blocking my view of the TV along the way. But back then, when you were the baby brother, you just kept quiet and thankful that they let you hang out with them on Saturday morning. We were raised in a 12th floor apartment in The Tilden Houses (The Projects) in Brownsville, Brooklyn (NY). Watching Soul Train was more than a temporary escape from what was immediately outside the door, down an elevator that often stuck, or the stairwell that was owned by depressed brothers and sisters high on dope. Soul Train was a weekly, encouraging dose of positive black life, of people who were happy, talented, and free. And they looked like me. Mr. Cornelius, you did a great thing, sir. I pray that your soul has found the peace that you wished for us all. — Wil LaVeist, columnist
URBAN FAITH: Congratulations on the World Food Prize. What are your thoughts about the selection?
DAVID BECKMANN: I think it recognizes what Bread for the World’s network of people and churches have done to reduce hunger in our country and around the world.
I saw that you’re the first clergy member who was chosen. Did you serve in parish ministry before you went to work for the World Bank?
I served briefly as a parish pastor but my call when I was ordained was to be a missionary economist, to connect Christian faith and moral teaching to economics, especially poverty.
I’m always interested in what motivates people. How did you get interested in hunger and poverty issues?
I grew up in a Christian home and my parents cared about people in need. My dad was really concerned about making democracy work. But then I was a student in the late 1960s and that was a time when African American neighborhoods across the country were angry and when our government was supporting a lot of developing country governments that didn’t seem to be doing right for their people. Being a young man at that time made me start asking questions about how we can get our country to do what it should do to address justice issues, poverty issues especially, in our country and around the world. So that really was a turning point. Since I was a boy, I thought I might be a Christian minister. As I got into the policy and politics of poverty, it seemed to me that underlying the lack of political will to do something about poverty was a lack of spiritual commitment. So for me it has always made sense that it’s God, politics, hunger, and poverty.
I tend to think that living in the United States, hunger is more invisible. How has it changed you working for the World Bank and Bread for the World?
What’s most striking is that the world as a whole has made remarkable progress against hunger, poverty and disease. I believe in God and I see that hundreds of millions of people have escaped from poverty in places like Ethiopia, Bangladesh, Brazil and Britain. That’s why, for me, it makes sense that this is God moving in our history. And then I come back to the U.S.A. where we haven’t made any progress against hunger and poverty since about 1973 and it informs, I think, the U.S. situation. If Brazil and Bangladesh can reduce poverty, it’s clear that we could do it in the U.S. We just haven’t tried for a while. But we did try as a nation. In the ’60s and the early ’70s, we had economic growth and we had a concerted effort under both Johnson and Nixon to reduce hunger and poverty and we cut poverty in half. So it’s doable here too. … I think the fact that we work on world poverty and domestic poverty together makes it all much clearer that our problem in this country is lack of commitment.
That’s right and its worse for kids. Thirty-six percent of [African American] kids live in poverty.
Do African Americans have the highest rates of poverty and hunger in the U.S.?
Yes, they’re similar to Latino numbers but for kids it’s even worse for African Americans. For Latino kids its 33 percent.
What do you attribute these high figures to?
I think it’s very feasible to reduce hunger and poverty in this country, but it requires political change and that political change won’t happen without the leadership of African American people. Of course, we’re already getting a lot of leadership from African American people, but it’s got to be stronger.
In what way?
Well, for example, the election of November 2nd is really important. This is important for all of us, but it’s especially important to hungry and poor people.
So African Americans need to vote.
People need to vote. They need to get their family members to vote. They need to get people in the neighborhood to vote. After the election, they need to stay involved. In December, Congress is going to finalize the Child Nutrition bill and they’re going to decide on tax credits for the working poor. In all the debate about taxes, all the focus is on the top 2 percent [of income earners] but the current provisions for the Earned Income Tax Credit and the Child Tax Credit also expire at the end of the year. If we don’t maintain those tax rules, it will push a million more kids into poverty next year. Both those decisions are being made in December, but they’re not even in the newspaper. So I think virtually everybody in the African American community knows what the Earned Income Tax Credit is and I think through organizations like Bread for the World, African American people can become active in ongoing advocacy on poverty and hunger issues. But I think that the extent of ongoing advocacy on these issues is really pretty weak.
In the African American community?
Yes. A typical pattern is that members of Congress that are sympathetic come to visit, and the pastor [in an African American Church] may be active, but it’s the people who need to be mobilized to push their senators and representatives on an ongoing basis on these issues. That’s weak in the whole population.
Do you think that part of that has to do with the fact so many African Americans are living in poverty and dealing with the stresses of just trying to put food on the table?
Sure, people are busy with their own lives, but it’s also that middle class African Americans could do a lot more because maybe middle class African American people have a sister-in-law or somebody who’s in poverty. They know what it’s about. Also, I think they could speak from their own experience or their relatives’ experience and they speak with a passion. It’s not just the right thing to do, it’s also self interest and that changes the conversation. Of course African Americans are doing a lot already, but I think we have an opportunity right now to change politics in a way that will result in substantial help for people in need during the economic crisis. And then as the economy recovers, we can see dramatic progress against hunger and poverty. If there is really an opportunity now, it’s probably because Obama is in the White House, and he’s made important commitments to hungry and poor people. But he just can’t get it done unless Congress, both Republicans and Democrats, help to support and shape his proposals and get them into law. This is the time. It’s not just because of Obama. In fact, in general voter attitudes are more sympathetic to poor people in this country then they were ten or fifteen years ago.
Do you think that’s because so many people are struggling?
I think Welfare Reform did more harm than good, but one piece of good it did was it changed the attitudes of Americans. If we look at voter surveys even before the recession, the idea that people are poor because they’re lazy was much stronger in the early ’90s than it was even before the recession. Now with the recession, everybody knows somebody who is poor through no fault of their own. So voter attitudes are more favorable than they’ve been since the ’60s.
ON THE WORLD STAGE: Rev. Beckmann rubs shoulders with U2's Bono and other high-profile activists who target global poverty, but his latest mission is to shine a light on the hidden hunger of the domestic poor.
Bread for the World’s website cites stats that say the federal government spends roughly $760 billion a year through programs and the tax code and 12 percent of that goes to programs directed at low-income individuals. That’s a pretty good percentage of the budget. Many of us want to help people in poverty but are concerned about being able to sustain these programs. How do we balance these concerns?
My own view is that the most important thing in terms of reducing the government deficit is economic growth, so I think it is premature to cut spending. Right now we need to have credible plans to balance the budget over the next few years, but when unemployment is 10 percent, there’s a lot of factory capacity that’s not being used. This is not the time to cut spending.
When we do have to make cuts, and we will, then the big-ticket items are taxes. Our total tax rates, in fact, are lower than they’ve been since the 1950s. That’s really striking to me. … And then, three items take up one-fifth of our spending each. The military is one-fifth, Social Security is one-fifth and health care is one-fifth. All the spending programs that benefit people in need — all kinds, not just poor and hungry people, but disabled people, unemployed people — all that’s 18 percent. So I just think from an ethical point of view, when we’ve got to cut, we’ve got to go for the big things and that is higher taxes. I think we can trim the military budget without affecting our security. We’ve got to trim Social Security spending for upper and middle class people. In my judgment, those programs for people in need should be preserved. We should work hard to just make them as effective as they can be, but that is not the place to cut.
Do you think it’s a harder sell right now to get middle class support for things like continuing the Earned Income Tax Credit?
People are concerned about the deficit. Almost everybody’s taken some hit. So people are also concerned about themselves and their families.
But you’re saying it’s counterproductive to our ultimate good not only for the people who are in poverty but for those who are not?
Right. We can’t have a robust recovery if a large fraction of our population is in financial crisis. I don’t know if you know people who get [tax credits] but they reward work, so if you’re just sitting you don’t get it. You have to go out and get a minimum wage job, or you work at Applebee’s and you get a part time job. As you know, they won’t employ you full time. For low wage workers, many of the jobs available are part time and irregular. It’s hard to hold three jobs if you have a job at Applebee’s because your schedule changes every two weeks. How do you hold a second job? For people who are on the edges of the job market, the Earned Income Tax Credit and the Child Tax Credit bump up their wages a little bit so they can support their kids.
You said that ceasing these programs would push a million more people into poverty. Can you unpack that briefly?
During the stimulus package, they made some enhancements in the tax credits, so that’s what expires, not the entire tax credit. But the other issue that’s also [being voted on] in December is the Child Nutrition Act. One in four American children lives in a household now that runs out of food and one in three African American kids lives in a household that runs out of food. If we’re trying to manage this economic crisis, we want to manage it in a way that doesn’t allow two year olds to go without adequate nutrition because if those two year old kids don’t eat properly, that does permanent damage to those kids. They will never be as productive and creative as God meant them to be. So we should pass a strong [Child Nutrition Act]. It would improve school lunches and strengthen the programs that reach low income kids with food. And then the other issue is the Senate saying, “Okay, let’s do a little of those things, but let’s take the money from Food Stamps.” Seventy percent of the households that get Food Stamps have kids. So we ought to have a strong Child Nutrition Act that does not cut Food Stamps. It’s the right thing; it’s the economic thing. …It was Milton Friedman’s idea. Ronald Reagan loved the Earned Income Tax Credit because the incentives go towards work. But there are people, especially young workers, who are way on the fringes of the job market and so they’re working, but their kids will not eat if we let it just be dependent on what they can bring home from the wage checks.
You’ve written a number of books, so what is your goal with Exodus from Hunger?
The basic message of the book is the same message we are talking about. I’m struck by the progress that the world has made against poverty and hunger. I think that can encourage people. It’s written especially to people who are spiritually grounded in some way. I do think that when people realize that hundreds of millions of people have escaped from extreme poverty, if we think of that in religious terms, this is a great liberation; this is the Exodus of our time. It encourages us to think about our own country and think, “Well, let’s get with the program!” This is something God wants us to do. The second message of the book is that God is calling us to change the politics of hunger because the need is especially great right now, but the opportunities are also very clear. We can do a lot, but we can’t food bank our way to the end of hunger.
That is a great quote.
It’s true. All of the food that we provide through food charities amounts to about 6 percent of the food that poor people get from the federal food programs: food stamps and school lunches and so forth. What we do through charity is really important, but the churches and charities cannot fix this problem. We’ve got to get the government to provide leadership and we have clear opportunities right now. People are kind of wailing about the dysfunction of our politics, but in fact Congress and the president have done a lot for poor people over the last couple years…. I just think God has put it on a plate in front of us. We can make changes.
We live in a very powerful country that has worldwide impact. It really is a democracy, so it puts a call to the faithful to get off the couch, right now! I hope we don’t have one in three African American kids hungry ten years from now. There is no reason for that. Forget everything else; we know how to feed kids. We can feed kids without distorting incentives and stuff. We allow one in three African American kids to go hungry; it’s a decision that this society has made. It’s clear that there’s an important leadership role to play in changing the politics of hunger. I think God is telling all of us to get with the program, but we really need the energetic leadership of African American people of faith.
Bread for the World is sponsoring Harvest for the World: Exploring Strategies to End Hunger with the African-American Church, a two-day dialogue at Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago on November 4-5, 2010. The goal of the event is to highlight anti-hunger and anti-poverty work of the African American church in the greater Chicago area. For more information or to RSVP, contact Kristen Youngblood at [email protected] or (202) 464-8123
“If Job weren’t in the Bible, I probably wouldn’t be a Christian,” says Aslan Youth Ministries co-founder Craig Bogard, whose personal tragedies have not stopped him from ministering to the needs of kids in the poor communities of central New Jersey and Haiti.
Craig and Lynn Ann Bogard grew up in a small, predominantly white community in New Mexico but sensed a call to minister to African American youth in central New Jersey after a short-term mission trip to the area in the early 1970s. Thirty-five years later, despite living through periods of relying solely on God for their next meal, the Bogards are still at it. They have faced the kinds of challenges that only a deep and abiding faith could pull them through — fundraising struggles, misunderstandings about their motives by both blacks and whites, and, most recently, the untimely deaths of their two beloved sons, Daniél, 28, in 2004 and Dustin, 25, in 2007.
I’ve been aware of the Bogards’ Aslan Youth Ministries for many years, but only just met Craig Bogard last month. As I listened to this slight, serious man recount Aslan’s history, what I really wanted to know was: How do you keep ministering to other people’s children when your own were taken from you?
Craig says he asks himself that question every day, and did so that morning before our interview. The still-grieving father opened up to me about his new life of “pain management” after I told him about the death of my own child. We shared our thoughts on the bittersweet experience of ministering to children who come from seemingly hopeless situations while our own cherished children seemed to have lost sight of the hope we instilled in them. “If Job weren’t in the Bible,” Craig says, “I probably wouldn’t be a Christian.”
He cites Lamentations, chapter three as a source of strength. It’s a difficult chapter that begins and ends with pain, but tucked into the middle are these words: “My splendor is gone and all that I had hoped from the LORD. I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning” (Lam. 3:18-24, NIV).
Quoting a long forgotten source, Craig says, “I’ve done so much with so little for so long, I can do almost anything with nothing.” These days, even with a drop in ministry donations reflective of the economic downturn, the “nothing” the Bogards make do with tends to be more spiritual and emotional than material. Still, God provides.
On the warm summer day when I visited one of Aslan’s three urban day camps, longtime volunteer Brenda Bouldin served both snacks and Bible knowledge to a group of campers while Lethea “Queenie” Ferguson, Aslan’s area program director, organized an outdoor game and the executive program director, Kat Eagles, pulled the threads together.
Queenie says what’s different about the Bogards is their passion for “kids nobody really wants or has time for.” She adds, “Their heart for children takes priority over programs.”
Relationships always have been the heart of the ministry, according to Lynn Ann Bogard (left), who was in Philadelphia straightening out passport issues in preparation for a youth mission trip to Aslan’s affiliate ministry in Haiti on the day I visited. By phone she later told me that program-driven ministry puzzles her and that Aslan’s success with kids has never been based on her or her husband having some intrinsic understanding of the African American experience. “We are not black and never will be,” she says. “It’s never had anything to do with things like that.” She says their ability to transcend barriers “almost underscores that we don’t have to be the same to care for others. We listen because we’re related, not because we’re the same.”
Much of what Lynn Ann contributes to the ministry nowadays depends on what needs to be done or what she feels competent to do. The 61-year-old says her lower profile is a result of both grief and age. Like Craig, she grapples with a spiritual conflict that, in the wake of her sons’ deaths, she doesn’t see ever ending “because there has been too much loss and what feels like betrayal.”
Still, her sense of calling is undiminished. “It’s not based on how I feel or what I’ve been through or anything else. As confused and disillusioned as I can be, God’s call is still written on my heart. Changing that would be like trying to take freckles out of someone’s skin. It is part of who I am.”
I didn’t meet Doug Eagles, Aslan’s chief operating officer (and Kat’s husband), on the day I visited because he too was preparing for the trip to Haiti by collecting donations for the personal hygiene kits that he, another adult, and nine teens would deliver.
Aslan’s work in the Caribbean nation, which began in 1996, was inspired by a youth mission trip that Daniél Bogard took to Uganda. It has three unique goals: 1) to introduce urban young people to their African heritage and to the rich African culture of Haiti; 2) to acquaint young people from difficult home environments in the U.S. with the often more difficult situations faced by young people in other parts of the world; and 3) to offer them the opportunity to develop leadership and personal skills through humanitarian aid projects.
In 2008, Craig told The New York Times that the only way he and Lynn Ann could emotionally survive the deaths of their sons is to be able to see their dream in Haiti become a reality. “Daniél and Dustin were the entire inspiration for it, pushing us every step of the way.” Lynn Ann says the same is true for their continued ministry in New Jersey. Her sons believed in the work “with their whole hearts.”told the Asbury Park Press, “We teach kids that you learn to lead through serving … to look beyond your need to others’ needs.” Not only do the Bogards model this value every day as they look beyond their own grief, but so do the Eagles, who joined Aslan full time after Dustin’s death so that they could support the Bogards and help assure stability in the ministry. Lynn Ann says she and Craig couldn’t have continued on without this young, energetic couple. Likewise, both Queenie and Brenda have been serving Aslan’s youth for more than a decade each.
Craig adds, “Both Daniél and Dustin struggled for years with substance abuse, but this is not what defined them.
Ultimately, it was the drugs that took their lives away, but their lives were filled with service to Christ both in New Jersey and in Haiti. At the end, their hearts were just broken. What is discouraging is there still seems to be such a stigma attached to anyone with addiction problems.”
Earlier this year, talking about the Haiti work, Craig
I think God crossed my path with the Bogards’ at just the right time. A week after I interviewed them, my husband and I volunteered once again to serve in our church’s Vacation Bible School program. There was a charismatic young man who helped with the VBS music. He reminded me of my late son, and it hurt. At one point, I wondered if I could keep doing that type of ministry year in and year out. Then I thought about the Bogards, the Eagles, and Aslan’s other volunteers, and I said to myself, “God will help me press past the pain.”