What our inner cities need most

President Trump has stormed around Black History Month promising to fix inner cities for “the blacks,” as he has been apt to say.

His promises for such are about as substantive and coherent as much of his talk. So stay tuned for what it might mean.

Sobering, however, is to sit over beers with Youngstown 1st Ward Councilman Julius Oliver and hear about fixing his inner city.

“When you’re a kid in the city, you just want someone to talk to you in a positive way,” he said.

It’s an often absent sound in impoverished, single-parent homes, he said.

Except for the dope man.

Often, Oliver said, that is the guy who says things that makes a kid feel good about himself. And by “kid,” I asked, we’re talking age 14 or 16, right?

“Humph. 10,” he said.

Who is it then who props up a generation so much in need?

That took me back to a great story told by Judge Nathaniel Jones.

A handful of years ago, on a rough and tumble street corner in a bad part of Cincinnati, Jones erupted into tears.

Nothing bad had happened. It was only good.

It’s a story he tells very selectively so as not to cheapen it.

Although the tears happened in modern day Cincy, they trace back more than 60 years to 1943 when Jones himself was a teen.

“I have been blessed many times in my life,” Judge told me in September. “One of the biggest blessings was Maynard Dickerson coming into my life and taking me under his wing.”

Who Judge Jones is today to the legal community, the Civil Rights community and the African-American community, the same could be said about Dickerson, who died in 1976 at the age of 76.

Dickerson’s life in Youngstown as a legal mind, civil servant and black citizen was at a difficult and pivotal time in America.

I guess all times are pivotal. But consider Dickerson’s accomplishments as a black man who became a professional amid the Great Depression, then a city leader through World War II, then a state and national player until his death.

Upon receiving his law degree from Youngstown College, he was an assistant city prosecutor; he was editor of the Buckeye Review, local and state president of the NAACP, city prosecutor here, and he’d had numerous state commission posts.

And along the way, he raised hell when needed. Heck, at one time he attacked The Vindicator for what was rumored to be a policy against black newspaper carriers. When he realized he was misled by a family and was ultimately wrong, he apologized. (Apologized? Who does that today? We just delete our rants and hope people forget.)

But of all the things Dickerson achieved, his biggest achievement could be Nate Jones.

“I was not doing well or learning anything as a middle-schooler,” Jones said. “I wasn’t born a judge. I was born [poor and black]. One misstep – I could have destroyed my life. But I had this one person reach out, and he rescued me.”

It was not a soft love at first.

“Maynard asked in a dramatic way what kind of life did I want to lead because how I was headed was sure to be a failure.”

That start launched into years of mentoring – lessons on writing, speaking, spelling, organizing and more. Jones worked at Dickerson’s Buckeye Review.

“There were many times when I would be writing opinions that I would think about Maynard Dickerson and what he did and the lessons he offered,” said Jones.

But the incident that shook him to tears was not this help above.

Jones had his prom at South High School and was too poor to afford a tuxedo. Dickerson had a tuxedo that he let Jones use to look good and feel good.

“I was at his house, and he showed me how to tie a tie. He stood behind me and tied it with me. I went to prom, and it’s still a great memory in my life.”

Decades later, compelled to aid someone in the same way, Jones took a teen, Raymond, under his wing. There was no dad around; his mom’s upper-floor apartment was sparse, but he was a good kid, said Jones.

Jones was to deliver a commencement speech one Sunday, and he thought seeing such pomp and polish would rub off on Raymond.

The teen was proud of himself that morning – dressed properly in shirt, jacket and slacks. But his tie was in his hand. He asked Judge for help tying it. He had never tied one before.

“We’re on the corner of tough neighborhood of Cincinnati and tying his tie, and I flashed back to Maynard’s living room and my prom. And Maynard was standing behind me. I broke down crying.”

Raymond froze – seeing this icon of a man in tears for no apparent reason. Then the judge explained about Maynard and the prom, and the tie .. And the life that became of that simple outreach.

“Maynard had no idea what would become of me and his time. Did he know I’d be a lawyer? A judge? Help in South Africa? No. He was helping me at a troubled point in high school. I urge all men to help these young men who are out there today in this moment of crisis.”

And recognizing today’s era of “what’s in it for me?” Judge closed with:

“If a person wants to know what reward they get, consider scriptures and the ‘do unto others’ rule. You might get to heaven on the cheap. And you can’t ask for more than that.”

Todd Franko is editor of The Vindicator. He likes emails about stories and our newspaper. Email him at tfranko@vindy.com. He blogs, too, on vindy.com. Tweet him, too, at @tfranko.