THE DEMOGRAPHICS OF SUCCESS
Then in 1954, he auditioned for a sports-
caster position at the radio station WWRL
in Queens. When he got the job, my father
finally felt like he was where he should be;
he felt like he’d finally broken through.
In 1967, Dad became a sports anchor
for NBC TV, and then in the mid-’70s
he returned to radio as sports director at
WMCA, then as a commentator for WINS
radio. But his defining moment came dur-
ing the 1981 baseball strike. He was hired
to do a pregame show for WABC radio; be-
cause of the strike, Dad was on from six
to nine each night, and his show, called
Sports talk, quickly became a success. If you
can picture a world when 24/7 sports-talk
radio was basically nonexistent, it was the
early 1980s. The audience was hungry, and
Dad was able to feed them with his unique
historical spin on sports, his take-no-
prisoners opinions on race relations and his
own special sauce. He entered the lives of
listeners each night like an old friend, and
they embraced him. It seemed the world
was finally ready for him to shine, and he
was doing it on his own terms.My father becaMe a pioneer in his field,
but there were many obstacles, twists and
turns along the way. Dad was a bold, con-
fident and outspoken African-American
man in the very white world of broad-
casting. While many loved him for that,
others were intimidated, their feathers
ruffled. There were bigger jobs he should
have landed, and he deserved more credit
for launching the sports-talk radio genre.
But he had detractors, some in high places.
While my dad was becoming famous,
my brilliant mother, Edna Rust, a former
educator, was by his side co- authoring sev-
eral sports books with him—their first, the
controversially titled Get That Ni**er Off
the Field, about blacks in Major League
Baseball; Recollections of a Baseball Junkie,
reflecting my father’s love of the sport; and
Joe Louis: My Life, an autobiography of
the iconic boxer. My dad always acknowl-
edged and appreciated her talent and com-
mitment, but I never felt Mom got the
credit she deserved because his star shoneso brightly. Watching her put in the hard
labor but not get the proper recognition
made me strive to be seen.
I loved watching my mother’s process
and occasionally being her sounding board
as she read from her work, written in long-
hand on yellow legal pads. I was honored
that she was interested in my teenage
opinions. I saw firsthand what she went
through and understood the challenges
of a writing career. I also cherished time
with my father, who as soon as I was old
enough would bring me with him to the
TV or radio station, ballpark or wherever
he was working on a given day. Through
him I got to meet stars such as Joe Louis,
Muhammad Ali, Joe DiMaggio, plus a gov-
ernor or president or two. It always made
me feel special to see how my dad treated
people and how he was treated in return.
Watching him be his fearless authentic self
was an important lesson for me.
My parents knew who they were and
knew where they came from, and I was
raised in a loving, Afrocentric household
where there was pride in our past, as well as
full knowledge of what we could offer our
present and future. Through art, music, lit-
erature and their personal stories, my par-
ents made sure I grew up with a sense of
self-worth, one that would stay with me
no matter what I chose to do with my life.
Compared to some of my African-
American peers, I was a privileged child
raised with many advantages: a solid home
on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, private
schools and a Sarah Lawrence education.
One result of this upbringing was that
I wasn’t uncomfortable around anyone
growing up, whether they lived in a hum-
ble apartment or a 12-room duplex over-
looking the park. People didn’t usually in-
timidate me, which I later learned is great
armor for those exhausting battlefields
where you might be the lone black soldier.
Still, a fortunate life doesn’t guard
against ignorance. While I don’t have per-
sonal stories of harrowing racism, I’ve
dealt with a flurry of microaggressions—
like the time I told a friend my dad owned a
restaurant (Rust Brown on West 96th) andI was
raised in
a loving,
Afrocentric
household
where
there was
pride in
our past
and full
knowledge
of what we
could offer
our present
and future.