This weekend (May 30th), I traveled to the historic City of Newburgh, New York to give the keynote address at the first Measure of a Man Conference.  I was honored that Youth & Family Specialist Derrick Walters and other City officials thought highly enough of me and the work I do in the community to summon me to theirs.  Given several months of advance notice, I was able to do my homework on this “big” little town.  Some key facts stood out.  Newburgh is located about 60 miles from New York City.  The official population is 28,000, but some officials believe that the number of illegal immigrants and census disregards makes 60,000.  The city was founded 1865 – the same year President Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation.  According to long-time Newburg resident and activist, Mr. Chester Johnson, 77, blacks migrated there in droves in the 40’s and 50’s looking for work in the brick yards and along the docks.  It has a diverse ethnic population.  One block separates the ‘hood from the upscale Water Walk area. The city is also home to President George Washington’s Headquarters.

When my late flight landed I was greeted warmly and genuinely by Bro. Derrick.  His dap and grasp told me that he was relieved that I was there.  In my mind, I was only hoping that I could do the job and be effective in doing so.  As we left LaGuardiaAirport, I asked him if he would kindly drive me around Newburgh so that I may test the pulse of the people I’d be addressing the following morning.  He took me to “hood” and we slowly cruised down streets like Lander, Broadway (widest residential street in the entire country), City, First, Johnson, William, etc.  This was the East End district of the city.  Let some tell it, the worst of the worst.  I was arriving on the heels of two recent murders of teenagers (Jeffrey Zachery and James Murchison).  It is difficult to describe the feelings that came over my person.  I was humbled, saddened, awestruck and perplexed all at once.  We saw hundreds of youth squandering around on the street corners, on the stoops and in the vestibules of abandoned, boarded up buildings and houses.  They were “hustling,” mingling with the opposite (or same) sex, drinking, getting high or just there in a state of inertia.  We saw one young brother urinating on the corner.  He showed no shame or concern for the value of his block.  Then there was a pocket of young people that appeared to be fighting.  They were really going at it in the middle of the street.  They were only slap boxing.  I told Derrick to pull over and he probably thought I was crazy for getting out of his Land Rover to talk to these young brothers.  I engaged them initially with how to properly throw and parry a punch.  I showed them a counter move I had learned as a teenager in prison.  They were reeking of marijuana, Patroné and Quevo 1800.  They were 14 and 15 years old.  They were black, Hispanic and white.  Some called themselves Bloods, Ashy Bandits or by the names of their streets.   It was 2 o’clock in the morning.  They were interested.  They listened.  They were hooked. They wanted to come to the conference.

I saw a lot in those young people.  I felt their pain, neglect and suffering.  However, I also saw in them hope, strength and courage.  I asked Allah (God) to give me guidance and wisdom that I may deliver an empowering and uplifting word to them.   From the Mayor on down, no ears were deaf.  In the spirit of not just talking but moving to action, I was able to organize the men of Newburgh to engage their city simply with their presence.  We were able to map the city off and pinpoint target areas, structure details, shifts, teams, methods of engagement and secure support from the City, Orange County and the Newburgh Police Department.  I attribute much of this mode of operation to my experience working with Dennis Muhammad (“Captain”) as a Peace Maker with the E.N.O.T.A. (Educating Neighborhoods to Obey Those in Authority) national program.  I left Darrayle, Jamal, Jesse, Omari, Elijah and the many other men present in an unyielding spirit to take back their community as opposed to letting the Guardian Angels patrol their streets.  One day later as we drove across the Tappan Zee Bridge headed back to the airport, I noticed a signpost.  It read, “Life is Worth Living.”  It was a suicide hotline and deterrent for the many “jumpers” that New York experiences.  I saw it and thought about the young people I was engaged with over the weekend.  Inspiring them had also inspired me.  The Newburgh administration showed me much love.  We got some things accomplished, but we have a ways to go.  It’s the infinite possibility within that time period that makes life worth living.

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