Monday, May 20, 2013

William Miles, Black History Filmmaker

William Miles, Maker of Films About Black History, Dies at 82

Simon Chaput
Director William Miles, right, next to Nina Rosenblum, during the filming of "Liberators."
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William Miles, a self-taught filmmaker whose documentaries revealed untold stories of black America, including those of its heroic black soldiers and of life in its signature neighborhood, Harlem, where he himself grew up, died on May 12 in Queens. He was 82.
Washington University Film and Media Archive
William Miles
The cause was uncertain, but Mr. Miles had myriad health problems, including Parkinson’s disease and dementia, said his wife of 61 years, Gloria.
Mr. Miles was part historical sleuth, part preservationist, part bard. His films, which combined archival footage, still photographs and fresh interviews, were triumphs of curiosity and persistence in unearthing lost material about forgotten subjects.
His first important film, “Men of Bronze” (1977), was about the 369th Infantry Regiment, an all-black combat unit that the Army shipped overseas during World War I but, because of segregationist policies, fought under the flag of France. Serving with great distinction, the unit spent more time in the front-line trenches than any other American unit. Collectively, it was awarded the Croix de Guerre and came to be known as the Harlem Hellfighters and also the Black Rattlers.
The 369th began as the 15th New York National Guard Infantry Regiment, and decades later, after Mr. Miles had himself joined a National Guard unit in Harlem, he stumbled on a dusty storage room containing flags, helmets photographs and other relics from the 369th.
He subsequently found well-preserved film footage of the regiment at the National Archives, and he tracked down living members of the unit using a technique he often employed to generate information about the past: He walked the streets of Harlem, stopping where groups of elderly residents gathered to talk and started asking questions.
The film, which was shown on public television, depicted the black soldiers as fiercely patriotic and courageous while offering an oddly good-natured — and moving — critique of American racism.
Mr. Miles’s best-known work was “I Remember Harlem,” a four-hour historical portrait of the neighborhood that had its premiere on public television over four consecutive nights in 1981.
“I was walking around Harlem, where I grew up, and noticed how many of the old theaters and familiar buildings were missing,” Mr. Miles said in an interview in The New York Times, talking about his inspiration for the film. “I went back to my old elementary school, and on the next corner there was another man standing and looking at the building, too.”
The man, he realized, was an old classmate.
“He said to me, ‘I remember Harlem,’ and I thought: I remember Harlem, you remember Harlem, a lot of people remember Harlem.”
Born in Harlem on April 18, 1931, Mr. Miles grew up on West 126th Street, behind the Apollo Theater, where, as a teenager, he occasionally ran the film projector. He graduated from Benjamin Franklin High School and for a while attended City College.
As a young man, he worked downtown as a shipping clerk for a distributor of educational films and then at Killiam Shows, a company that restored silent films; there, Mr. Miles learned mechanical skills like repairing film and clipping segments for use in commercials. During this time he met Richard Adams, who also worked at Killiam, and who became a cameraman and film editor for several of Mr. Miles’s films, including “Men of Bronze.”
“Bill had collaborators of all kinds,” Mr. Adams wrote in an e-mail on Thursday, “but only he had the vision and the persistence, and a genius for spotting archival images.”
One of Mr. Miles’s films, “Liberators” (1992), about black army units that helped to free Nazi concentration camps at the end of World War II, was partly inspired by a letter he spotted in The Times from Benjamin Bender, a Jewish survivor of Buchenwald. “The recollections are still vivid — ” Mr. Bender wrote of the day of liberation, April 11, 1945, “black soldiers of the Third Army, tall and strong, crying like babies, carrying the emaciated bodies of the liberated prisoners.”
The film, produced and directed by Mr. Miles and Nina Rosenblum, was nominated for an Academy Award, but its accuracy was subsequently questioned. Its overall point of the film — that blacks who fought racism at home to be allowed to serve their country, then witnessed the discriminatory horrors of the Holocaust — was not in dispute, but critics said that the film went awry in giving credit to a particular unit, the 761st Tank Battalion, part of Gen. George S. Patton’s Third Army, for the liberation of Dachau and Buchenwald. (The 761st was present at the liberation of the Gunskirchen camp in Austria.) Public television stations ceased showing the film.
In an interview on Wednesday, Ms. Rosenblum said they had discovered, too late, that one of the interviewees in the film had lied about being a liberator, but she defended the film as essentially accurate, saying that Army records were inconclusive and that Mr. Miles was a scrupulous documentarian who was shattered by the controversy. “It was the only film he ever made that had its veracity questioned,” Ms. Rosenblum said. “And I can tell you he tried everything to make the research complete. He was putting black history on the map in a way it hadn’t been, and this was such a terrible blow. We still feel like the film, except for one guy, is valid. If the Army records are so good, tell me: Who liberated Benjamin Bender at Buchenwald?”
Mr. Miles married the former Gloria Darlington in 1952, after having known her since they were classmates in elementary school. His other survivors include two daughters, Brenda Moore and Deborah Jones, and three grandchildren.
Last fall, the veteran Democratic Congressman Charles B. Rangel, whose district includes Harlem, entered a testimonial to Mr. Miles in the Congressional Record. Speaking on the House floor, Mr. Rangel gave a summary of Mr. Miles’s work, which includes films about black athletes, black astronauts, black cowboys, and the writer James Baldwin.
“Join me in a very special congressional salute to Harlem’s historian and black filmmaker, William ‘Bill’ Miles,” Mr. Rangel said, “a titan of a man who has documented the history and contributions of African-Americans and the black American experience with film, camera and a lens.”

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Chuck Muncie, Football Star


Chuck Muncie, Troubled N.F.L. Star, Dies at 60

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Chuck Muncie, who blended speed and power to become one of theN.F.L.’s leading running backs of the late 1970s and early ’80s, but whose career was cut short by drug abuse, died on Monday at his home in Perris, Calif. He was 60.
National Football League, via Associated Press
Chuck Muncie was a Pro Bowl running back. He went to prison in 1989 in a drug case, and later created a youth foundation.
National Football League, via Associated Press
Mr. Muncie in 1984.
A family spokesman, Vintage Foster, said the cause was a heart attack.
Muncie went to prison in 1989 in a drug case, but he turned his life around and helped disadvantaged children through a foundation he created.
Starring at the University of California, Muncie was a runner-up to Archie Griffin of Ohio State for the 1975 Heisman Trophy, awarded to college football’s leading player. The New Orleans Saintsselected him as the third pick in the 1976 N.F.L. draft.
At 6 feet 3 inches and 227 pounds, Muncie broke through defensive lines, chugging ahead in his distinctive square goggles, and he teamed with Tony Galbreath in the Saints’ running attack known as Thunder and Lightning. They provided another dimension to an offense that had relied on the passing of Archie Manning.
Muncie’s breakout season came in 1979, when he ran for a Saints-record 1,198 yards.
“Chuck was one of those backs who come along every 8 or 10 years,” Manning told Jeff Duncan in “Tales From the Saints Sideline” (Sports Publishing LLC, 2004). “He could have been one of the all-time greats. He was that big and that fast.”
But there were signs of trouble.
“He basically slept through every meeting,” Manning said. “We’d break the huddle and I would just time it where I walked by him and told him exactly what he was going to do. I don’t know what he was doing during the week, but he wasn’t thinking about football.”
The Saints traded Muncie to the San Diego Chargers for a draft pick early during the 1980 season. He ran for 1,144 yards and 19 touchdowns in 1981, and was selected to the Pro Bowl three times.
But after the first game of the 1984 season, Muncie was suspended by the N.F.L. for the rest of the season after testing positive for cocaine. He had run for 6,702 yards and 71 touchdowns and had caught 263 passes for 2,323 yards and 3 touchdowns, but he never played pro football again.
In the late 1980s, a police officer in Berkeley, Calif., found Muncie unwashed and homeless outside Cal’s Memorial Stadium, the Ventura County newspaper The Star reported. In February 1989, Muncie was sentenced in San Diego to 18 months in federal prison after pleading guilty to intending to sell two ounces of cocaine to a friend.
His time in prison proved a turning point.
After that, he pursued business interests and began telling of his drug problems in meetings with youths who were at risk. In 1997 he created the Chuck Muncie Youth Foundation, based in Antioch, Calif.
“It was almost like an epiphany,” Muncie told The Union-Tribune of San Diego in 2004, recounting his time in prison. “I was behind bars, pointing fingers at everybody but myself. I finally realized that I’m in charge, that it’s me with the addiction.”
Harry Vance Muncie was born on March 17, 1953, in Uniontown, Pa. As a youngster, he was struck by a truck while playing outside his home, leaving his left leg shorter than his right. But he played football and basketball wearing a shoe with an extra-thick sole, and won an athletic scholarship to California. He gained 1,460 yards and ran for 13 touchdowns in his senior season at Cal. After his playing days he mentored athletes there.
Muncie, who also had a home in Laguna Beach, Calif., is survived by a daughter, Danielle Ward, two sisters and three grandchildren.
“He was a star on the football field, but his most impressive work was done in the second chapter of his life,” Muncie’s former wife Robyn Hood said in a statement. “He changed the lives of hundreds of kids.”

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Malcolm Shabazz, Malcolm X's Grandson


Troubled Life in Malcolm X’s Shadow Comes to a Violent End

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Last week, Malcolm Shabazz, the grandson of Malcolm X, was talking to his friend Daniel Stevens when he learned that Mr. Stevens was worried that his fledgling rap career was going nowhere. Mr. Shabazz vowed to help, saying that he could get Mr. Stevens’s music into the right hands.
James Estrin/The New York Times
Malcolm Shabazz, the grandson of Malcolm X, was killed in Mexico City on Thursday morning.

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Marco Ugarte/Associated Press
Mr. Shabazz died after being assaulted outside a bar, above, in a tourist area of Mexico City early Thursday morning.
“I know a lot of people,” Mr. Shabazz said, Mr. Stevens recalled.
Mr. Shabazz, who earned notoriety as a 12-year-old when he set a fire that killed his grandmother, Malcolm X’s widow, pulled out his phone and made some calls. Twenty minutes later, Mr. Stevens said, Mr. Shabazz told him he had a plane ticket to Los Angeles for the next day, and an appointment to see a Hollywood producer in Beverly Hills on Mr. Stevens’s behalf.
Mr. Stevens, 34, drove Mr. Shabazz to the airport.
But Mr. Shabazz soon ended up in Mexico City, where he died early Thursday morning in a popular tourist area after being assaulted outside a bar, the authorities said. It was a violent end to a young and tumultuous life.
Mr. Shabazz had apparently decided to detour to Mexico to meet with a labor activist and a friend who had been deported in April. They were hoping to use Mr. Shabazz’s name to attract attention from the local press, apparently about the deportation, the friend said in a Facebook post.
Mr. Shabazz, 28, spent much of his life seeking to make peace with his past. After pleading guilty to the juvenile equivalent of manslaughter and arson in his grandmother’s death in 1997, he was sentenced to institutions for many of his teenage years, followed by later stints in prison for other crimes.
He lived in the shadow of his grandfather, whom he never knew, and whose legacy he tried to understand. He embraced his famous heritage and, at times, recoiled from the expectations that came with it.
On his personal Web site, he called himself “the first male heir to Malcolm X,” who had overcome “obstacle after obstacle in his life,” and since his release from prison had “been traveling throughout the U.S. and around the world speaking to different audiences about the struggles that confront this generation.”
In a prison interview with The New York Times in 2003, when he was serving time for attempted robbery, he acknowledged the power of his name.
“People know Malcolm Shabazz, whether you like me or not,” he said.
Kinte Burrell, 34, one of Mr. Shabazz’s friends from Middletown, N.Y., north of New York City in the Hudson Valley, where he had a home, said in an interview on Friday that he first met Mr. Shabazz when he was about 18.
“People would ask for his autograph and take pictures with him,” he said. “Other times, they would be like, you should have gotten more time, just because who you are, you shouldn’t get away with this.”
Such tension, Mr. Burrell said, sometimes led to fistfights. “I can see him just wanting to get away,” he said.
Friends said that in recent years, he had often ventured abroad, mostly to the Middle East. The trips, for conferences or Muslim pilgrimages, allowed him to escape his tabloid youth and to step into a role that Malcolm X also played later in life — that of an activist, shedding light on injustice and rallying for black causes worldwide.
“He wanted to be himself, but in connection with what his grandfather had been,” said Randy Short, an activist in Washington who works with groups like the International Human Rights Association of American Minorities.
Mr. Short said he had been helping Mr. Shabazz complete an autobiography.
Because he had no relationship with his father, “he saw his grandfather as his dad, and in many conversations he would say, ‘People need to understand I have a lot of him in me,’ ” Mr. Short said.
He never seemed short of patrons who were eager to help.
David N. Dinkins, the former mayor of New York, and Percy E. Sutton, a former Manhattan borough president who had been Malcolm X’s lawyer, stepped in to represent him after the fire. Most recently, Cynthia McKinney, the former Democratic congresswoman from Georgia, said she “had taken him under my wings,” in an attempt “to help and look out for him.”
In 2011, he joined Ms. McKinney on a trip to Libya, shortly before the country erupted in civil war. In one photo, he can be seen smiling in dark sunglasses in front of a large portrait of Muammar el-Qaddafi, the Libyan leader, who was later deposed and killed. In a blog post on March 9, he wrote that he had met Mr. Qaddafi.
He also wrote on Facebook that he had studied in Damascus for more than a year, and that he had been making plans to go to Iran for a film festival and to give a lecture on violence in cinema.
The trip never happened.
Mr. Shabazz wrote on his blog that soon after he began appearing on Press TV, a news outlet based in Iran, the police in and around Middletown began to harass him.
He claimed that he was being investigated by a counterterrorism team with the F.B.I.
“I was picked up by authorities after I filed for a visa to Iran, and two days before my departure,” he wrote.
In Middletown, he was known to come and go, his friends said.
Mr. Stevens met him about two years ago when Mr. Shabazz came into the barbershop where he worked. Mr. Shabazz saw the tattoo of Malcolm X on Mr. Stevens’s forearm.
“He told me who he was, and we started talking, and we had a lot of things in common,” Mr. Stevens said.
Last week, he recalled, Mr. Shabazz had pressured him about why he was not “doing anything with your music.”
“It’s the kind of business where you got to know somebody,” Mr. Stevens told him.
After going to Los Angeles, Mr. Shabazz texted Mr. Stevens, joking that the people he was with in California did not like New Yorkers.
Within days, he was in Mexico City.
He was taken to a hospital early Thursday morning after a night out near Plaza Garibaldi, a tourist area in the historical center of Mexico City, filled with bars and restaurants, where foreign tourists are known to often be taken advantage of.
Officials said they were investigating the case.
On Friday, his family released a statement. “He now rests in peace in the arms of his grandparents and the safety of God,” the family said.

Fredrick L. McKissack, Children's Book Author


Fredrick L. McKissack, 73, Children’s Book Author, Dies

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Fredrick L. McKissack, who quit a career in construction to join his wife in writing more than 100 children’s books about African-American history, a piece of which his family owned as distinguished builders and architects, died on April 28 in Chesterfield, Mo., a St. Louis suburb. He was 73.
Fredrick McKissack and his wife, Patricia, were a prolific, versatile and award-winning team.
The cause was congestive heart failure, said his wife, Patricia C. McKissack.
The couple were a prolific, versatile and award-winning team. Mr. McKissack, who was trained as a civil engineer, did most of the research while Mrs. McKissack, a former teacher and editor of religious books, did most of the writing.
They began their collaboration in the early 1980s, frustrated in their own careers and hoping to make black children more aware of their history and culture.
“In those days there were so few books for and about the African-American child,” Mr. McKissack said in 2006 in a joint interview with his wife. “Black kids needed to see themselves in books.”
The McKissacks wrote biographies of W. E. B. Du Bois, Harriet Tubman and the black cowboy Nat Love. They wrote histories of the Pullman train porters, Negro leagues baseball and the civil rights movement. They examined the Underground Railroad, the role of black sailors in the 19th-century whaling industry and the Great Migration of blacks from the South.
Most of their books were published by Scholastic; though Mr. McKissack was not always listed as an author, the couple always said that they were a team and accepted numerous awards jointly, including the Regina Medal from the Catholic Library Association. (Mrs. McKissack has written many award-winning works of fiction for children under her own name, including “The Dark-Thirty: Southern Tales of the Supernatural.”)
Among the couple’s better-known titles are “Christmas in the Big House, Christmas in the Quarters,” which won the Coretta Scott King Author Award in 1995; “Sojourner Truth: Ain’t I a Woman?”; “Black Hands, White Sails: The Story of African-American Whalers”; and “Days of Jubilee: The End of Slavery in the United States.”
Fredrick Lemuel McKissack was born on Aug. 12, 1939, in Nashville. His father, Lewis, and his grandfather, Moses III, were both architects. A great-great-grandfather was a member of the Ashanti tribe of West Africa who was brought to North Carolina as a slave, took the name Moses McKissack and became a master builder early in the 19th century.
 Moses III and his brother Calvin formed McKissack & McKissack, widely regarded as the oldest African-American-owned architectural and construction firm in the United States. The firm’s New York office is involved in the Atlantic Yards project in Brooklyn, the transportation hub at the World Trade Center site and the expansion of Columbia University.
Fredrick McKissack joined the Marines after high school, then returned and graduated with a degree in civil engineering from Tennessee State University, where he participated in lunch-counter sit-ins to protest segregation. He moved to St. Louis after receiving a job with the Army Corps of Engineers and later started his own construction company there.
In addition to his wife, the former Patricia Leanna Carwell, whom he married in 1964, his survivors include their three sons, Fredrick Jr., Robert and John; three brothers, Bill, Joel and Moses; and five grandchildren.
The McKissacks’ book writing began during a rocky time in both their working lives. Mr. McKissack’s building business was struggling, and Mrs. McKissack was unhappy in her editing career. At a favorite spot near a waterfall in Forest Park in St. Louis one day, they had an emotional conversation.
“He said to me, ‘If you could do anything in your life that you wanted to do, what would you do?’ ” Mrs. McKissack recalled on Wednesday. “I said, ‘I’d like to write a children’s book, to tell you the truth.’ He said, ‘Let’s go do that, then, and I’ll help you.’ ”
Mr. McKissack soon sold his business and Mrs. McKissack eventually quit her job.
“For three or four years we thought, ‘We’re going under — what have we done?’ ” she said. “Then it all turned and the books started selling.”
While Mrs. McKissack wrote, her husband immersed himself in research.
“He was gone most of the time,” she said. “He was always into an interview trying to scrounge out some little piece of information. If I wrote, ‘Sometime in 1800,’ he wanted to get the date, the time. If he could get the weather report for that day, he would, so that I could write, ‘On a snowy day in 18 ... .’ ”

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Chris Kelly, Mac Daddy of Kris Kross


Chris Kelly, of Hip-Hop Duo Kris Kross, Dies at 34


Jeff Kravitz/FilmMagic, Inc., via Getty Images
Chris Kelly, a k a Mac Daddy, right, with Chris Smith, a k a Daddy Mac, performing as the duo Kris Kross in 1993.


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A pair of moppets with braided hair who wore their clothes backward, the kid duo Kris Kross was one of the unlikely music success stories of the early 1990s, multiplatinum stars who bridged hip-hop to pop, had indelible style, and showed that rap could sustain a youth invasion.
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In the duo, Chris Kelly was the Mac Daddy to Chris Smith’s Daddy Mac. They had met in the first grade and were discovered in the early 1990s at the Greenbriar Mall in Atlanta by Jermaine Dupri, who molded them into the first commercially successful teen-oriented hip-hop act.
Mr. Kelly died on Wednesday after being found unresponsive in his home in Atlanta. He was 34.
According to a police report, Mr. Kelly’s mother, Donna Kelly Pratte, said he had been using cocaine and heroin before his death. The Fulton County Medical Examiner’s office said toxicology reports would not be available for several weeks.
James Christopher Kelly was born on Aug. 11, 1978, grew up in Atlanta, and was barely in his teens when he became a star. Kris Kross’s debut album, “Totally Krossed Out,” released on Ruffhouse/Columbia in 1992, was one of hip-hop’s first and loudest pop crossover statements, topping the Billboard album chart and going platinum four times over. “Jump,” the duo’s debut single, was the No. 1 song in the country for eight weeks, at the time the longest run for a hip-hop song.
Kris Kross was “the first major hip-hop artist to come out of Atlanta,” said the group’s former manager, Michael Mauldin. There was also no real precedent for the success of rappers of such a young age. “We didn’t have nothing to measure against at that time,” Mr. Mauldin said, “but we did in older times: Jackson 5, New Kids on the Block.”
At its peak, Kris Kross toured with Michael Jackson and recorded a song for the popular Nickelodeon cartoon series “Rugrats.” But as the group aged into more mature subject matter, its popularity waned. Two subsequent albums were successful, but less so: “Da Bomb” (1993) went platinum and the tougher, West Coast-influenced “Young, Rich & Dangerous” (1996) went gold. The pair reunited in February for the 20th-anniversary concert of So So Def, the influential label founded by Mr. Dupri in the wake of Kris Kross’s success, and were slated to be part of a coming tour celebrating the label.
In the meantime, Mr. Kelly studied audio engineering, ran a small record label and owned a day-care business with his mother. In addition to his mother, survivors include his stepfather, Jim Pratte, and his grandmother Rosina Williams.
During the lean years, Mr. Kelly could get frustrated, said DJ Nabs, the group’s D.J. and a longtime friend of Mr. Kelly’s: “People looked like they turned their back on him.”
But even though the style the group pioneered had changed, Mr. Kelly never fully left his glory years behind. In an interview with Yahoo earlier this year, he proudly proclaimed, “I’ve worn my pants backward since 1991, never frontward.”