Summer Daze: One happy stage of life

MY TURN column

The Courier-Post
July 16, 2009

by DOUG OTTO

When sultry summer temperatures cause a haze to hang heavy in the night air, I am reminded of the best summer job I ever had. During my high school years of 1965 and 1966, I worked under the big red and white circus tent staked to the ground at the corner of Brace and Bortons Mill Roads in Cherry Hill. Better known as the Camden County Music Fair, this huge canvas edifice became my seasonal land of enchantment.

It was electrified with bright lights, circled me with live orchestra music and brought me face-to-face with nationally recognized talent previously visible only in movies, on television or on the covers of celebrity magazines. I was paid a paltry $1.50 a night, while learning that much of life is a costumed and made-up illusion. But I loved every minute of my theatrical, applause-filled experience.

The main stage was a theater-in-the-round, seating 2,000 patrons in a stadium-style bowl. There was no air conditioning, but with the tent flaps pinned back, an occasional evening breeze was captured, bringing with it the sounds of crickets, and allowing allowing actors' voices to escape into the surrounding countryside. This summer stock emporium was built in 1957 by Music Fair Enterprises Inc., which operated similar outdoor theaters in five other locations: Atlantic City; Valley Forge, Pa.; Westbury, NY.; Storrowton, MA.; and Shady Grove near Baltimore, MD.

Each theater featured established Broadway hits with veteran, and often legendary star performers. Liza Minelli got her start on the circuit, while her mother, Judy Garland, sang before the Camden County footlights.

My employment began each spring when the call came to help raise the towering five-story pavilion. There were myriad ropes, pulleys and guy wires, as well as the muscular, black-shirted crew who grunted their way through the two-day process of covering seats, runways and the stage with more canvas than a thousand Renoirs.

During performances, workers became jacks-of-all-trades. We parked cars, ushered patrons to seats, handed out Playbills, and even hawked merchandise during intermissions. My most memorable experiences were interactions with the stars. Some were planned, and others nearly caused me to be fired.

I met Lee Remick backstage, as she prepared to play the title role in "Annie Get Your Gun." I directed members of The Dave Clark Five as they parked their tour bus prior to a "British Invasion" rock concert. And, I tried unsuccessfully to introduce myself to every female member of the King Family Singers, those clean-cut, all-American entertainers from Utah, contemporaries of the famous Osmonds.

My most embarrassing on-the-job moment occurred when I became an unwitting participant in Jack Benny's act. The comedian had begun his performance, when a co-worker and I spied two empty seats, three rows from the stage. Sensing that the ticket-holders were "no-shows," we sneaked down the aisle and slipped into the vacant spots.

We were laughing hysterically at the stand-up routine when the couple, who had paid for the seats, arrived late and stood stoically at the end of our row. Sheepishly, we relinquished our purloined places, and proceeded up the long ramped aisle, to the back of the theater. Mr. Benny made light of the situation, calling after us good-naturedly. The audience roared as he yelled, "And don't come back until you can pay for your seats!"

When we reached the top of the theater ramp, we were greeted by the theater manager, with crossed arms and cross words for our actions. How could he demote us? We only made a $1.50 a night.

Our uniforms were khaki pants and button-down shirts with bold red and white vertical stripes. They matched the color and design of the Music Fair tent. One evening, during the weeklong engagement of The Kingston Trio, it dawned on my two buddies and me, that our uniforms resembled the look of the popular folk singers. We decided to seek attention from passing motorists on Brace Road by positioning ourselves beneath a large lettered marquee announcing the headlining group.

We posed and mugged, like three musical mannequins, and were rewarded for our efforts each time a driver passed with a perplexed facial look. This time the theater manager didn't see our weak attempt to enter show business, and our summer jobs were not jeopardized.

The Camden County Music Fair closed in 1969. Standing in its place is Cherry Hill's Challenge Grove Park. Today, throughout South Jersey, there are more technically sophisicated entertainment venues, such as the performing arts centers in Washington Township, Voorhees, and Marlton. But these modern palaces do not capture the uniqueness and charm of a live, outdoor performance on a circular stage under balmy summer skies.

Each time I drive past the former site of Cherry Hill's once-famous musical circus tent, I can't help but remember the luminaries I saw performing there, and wonder whether that's an old show tune I hear still reverberating through the treetops.

TV dads: Angels and demons of the small screen

MY TURN column

The Courier-Post
June 18, 2009

by DOUG OTTO



As Father's Day approaches, I'm reminded of the dozens of television dads I have invited into my living room since the '50s.

Yesteryear's television fathers, revered by their families, were undisputed heads of their households. These dads seemed to have all the answers, ranging from the value of the American work ethic to dating to training the family pet.

Today, many of these studio fathers are less than model citizens for children.

As an educator, I see firsthand that my students don't want a buffoon for a father, but rather one with a well-developed sense of humor. Not a despot, but a dad willing to admit he can sometimes be wrong.

Because today's media-savvy kids crave positive adult male images, I'd like to offer my nominees for TV's Paternal Hall of Fame and Hall of Shame.

Demon dads

Al Bundy:

"Married . . . with Children" (1987-97) -- Bundy was one of TV's grumpiest, most unsophisticated guys. He had a deplorable attitude toward his family, continually exhibited poor judgment, hated work and was careless about hygiene. He offered a lesson on how not to be a man.

Homer Simpson:

"The Simpsons" (1989-present) -- Lazy and slovenly, Homer stumbles through life with indifference. He is a prime example of TV's ubiquitous portrayal of the bumbling idiot dad. Rude and crude, Homer once said, "Kids, you tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is, never try."

Archie Bunker:

"All in the Family" (1971-79) -- This show, a critically acclaimed groundbreaking comedy, centered around caustic family debates, as well as the offensive behavior of Archie, who often replaced the cigar in his mouth with his foot. Has any character been more demeaning to his spouse? He often spouted racial epithets and called his son-in-law "meathead" and his wife "dingbat."

Peter Griffin:

"Family Guy" (1999, 2002-05, 2007-present) -- Peter heads a dysfunctional family with a penchant for controversy, irreverent humor and indecency. The Parents Television Council named the program the "worst prime-time shows for family viewing."

Ray and Frank Barone:

"Everybody Loves Raymond" (1996-2005) -- The apple doesn't fall far from the tree with this father-and-son combo. Ray is an incompetent manchild who works from home but doesn't spend much time with his wife and children. His irascible father sits in a recliner, unbuckles his pants and verbally excoriates his two sons.

Anchored angels

Hank Hill:

"King of the Hill" (1995-2009) -- He may be just a Texas propane salesman, but Hank teaches his son, Bobby, the meaning of hard work, dedication and loyalty. He has a healthy relationship with his wife and the rest of his family, and he's always there when Bobby needs him.

Cliff Huxtable:

"The Cosby Show" (1984-1992) -- Dr. Huxtable's advice to his children was always based on common sense, mixed with a wisecrack. He taught his children that personal responsibility was the key to success in life. The character's aura of classiness became a signature style, addressing a long history of negative minority portrayals on television.

Andy Taylor:

"The Andy Griffith Show" (1960-68) -- The sheriff may have appeared as a naive rural rube, but he represented family and community values. For an example of his noble interaction with his son, watch the episode titled "Opie the Birdman."

John Walton:

"The Waltons" (1972-81) -- John is a hard-working, industrious man running the family's small Appalachian sawmill during the Depression. He's normally very good-natured and wise, but fearless and ready to stand up to a challenge and tell it like it is.

Ward Cleaver:

"Leave It To Beaver" (1957-1963) -- Ward embodied the stereotypical 1950s dad. While his dramatic function was to impart a moral instruction to both of his errant sons, even when frustrated, the man hardly raised his voice. He remains my favorite TV dad because of his steadfastness and ability to admit his humanness to his sons.

Rather than view TV's best fictional fathers as archaic models, I choose to view them with a nostalgic fondness. While they could never replace our real dads, they remind us that when it comes to raising children, standards are appreciated and often desired.

They weren't always perfect. They were often stern. But a kid almost felt he was being addressed personally when Ward Cleaver said, "Wally, believe it or not, I was your age once."

Yard work? Not for this guy

MY TURN column

The Courier-Post
May 21, 2009

by DOUG OTTO




Some in my family think I'm a bit crazy, but I actually enjoy mowing the lawn.

I like taking an unwieldy, ragged patch of grass and transforming it into a neatly manicured, orderly environment. As I move back and forth across my domestic patch of sod, like a weaver's shuttle moving across some giant grassy loom, I feel I am partnering with nature.

When I was 13, I cut lawns to supplement my allowance, and found that I did my best thinking while trailing a lawn mower. Maybe it was the incessant humming of the Briggs & Stratton engine, or the concentration required to keep each row evenly cut with the last, but I found myself enveloped in an impenetrable bubble. I probably should have written a book: Zen and the Art of Lawn Mowing.

As a Boy Scout, I loved working outdoors on conservation projects. Once, I helped rebuild a wilderness road alongside a hidden lake. Each day when I returned to the site, I discovered that nature had delicately changed some aspect of the surroundings, challenging me to discover something new.

On more than one occasion, I have visited "Fairsted" in Brookline, Mass., the century-old home and office of Frederick Law Olmsted, recognized as the Father of American Landscape Architecture, and the designer of many U.S. parks. He designed New York City's Central Park, Boston's Emerald Necklace and portions of Philadelphia's Fairmount Park.

Some nearby projects falling under Olmsted's touch are the Wilmington, DE., parks, the grounds of The Lawrenceville School, Bryn Mawr College and the Morris Arboretum. Olmsted believed that a stroll through a pastoral park setting was an antidote to the stress and artificialness of urban life. He called them "pleasure grounds" and used thick plantings to screen out intrusions of daily life.

I remember walking an Olmsted-designed pathway at Fairsted that twisted and turned, rose upward and then fell away, revealing a variety of low-growing ground covers, medium-sized bushes and tall barked trees, all within less than a half-acre of space. He had created miniature vistas highlighting nature, delighting my spirit with every step taken.

Amid all today's talk of "going green," I hear very little mention of Olmsted's contributions to the movement. Yet he designed (and named) the "parkway" as a way to separate commercial vehicles from recreational ones, created the first park systems and greenways in the country, and launched experiments in scientific forestry. He is also credited with designing the first planned suburb.

One of my early career considerations was to become a landscape architect, like Olmsted. If it hadn't been for poor grades in required math courses, today I might be creating flowering settings instead of flowery words.

On trips to Pinehurst, NC (an Olmsted-designed town), to play golf, I've been known to slow down play on the course while I admire the landscaped fairways, the surrounding topography and the contours leading up to the greens.

It is only fitting that Olmsted's home in Brookline was purchased by the National Park Service and opened to the public as a museum. He designed many of America's most treasured landscapes including the U.S. Capitol and White House grounds, Great Smoky Mountains and Acadia National Parks, and the Yosemite Valley.

In 1870, he said: "We want a ground to which people may easily go when the day's work is done, andwhere they shall, in effect, find the city put far away from them."

I'd like the yard around my house to be like that. Is there anything as restorative as the smell of freshly cut grass? Or the splashy colors of azaleas and rhododendrons in bloom? How about the iridescence of early morning dew?

I can't help but think there's a certain psychological and mythical aspect to all this landscape gardening. Maybe it's the old myths about man and garden originally belonging together - - the Garden of Eden, the Arcadia of ancient Greece or the Elysian Fields.

This spring, I hired the boy across the street to cut my lawn. I watch him throough the window as he revs the engine, places his right foot forward, then his left, pivoting his machine at the end of each precisely cut row.

Vicariously I am with him, moving from front yard to the back yard; trimming, carving, gliding across the grassy surface that I once groomed and managed.
But now, I am content to apprteciate the scene from afar.

Maybe there are some tabletop bonsai trees in my baby boomer future that will at last qualify me as a junior Olmsted.

Camden Poetry: Following Whitman's Footsteps

MY TURN column

The Courier-Post
April 16, 2009

by DOUG OTTO


April is National Poetry Month across the U.S., but in Camden City, for more than 13 years, there has already been a monthly celebration of the literary form.

Camden -- the city of America's Good Grey Poet, Walt Whitman, and American haiku master, Nick Virgilio -- is also home to an intrepid band of poetry enthusiasts who religiously cross Cooper and Third Streets, just one-half block from the Rutgers University campus, to take seats in the backroom of a neighborhood pizza parlor, for the sake of poetry.

They don't go only for the food; they go to consume words: written, spoken and sung. Since 1995, one year before The American Academy of Poetry began its national festivities, Camden resident Rocky Wilson has been hosting poetry and pizza get-togethers for a crowd made up mostly of area baby boomers.

The impetus for this long-running event began at an Amherst, Massachusetts writing conference, where Wilson was working. After one of the sessions, he wandered around the New England town and stood in front of Emily Dickinson's house. "It's as if she spoke to me that day," he says.

When he returned to Camden, he was inspired to commemorate his muse by celebrating her December birthday with a gathering of kindred souls. The idea caught on, and now a different poet's birthday is honored each month. Two weeks ago, I attended an evening focused on Jack Kerouac. Mixed among the aromas of pizza, hoagies, salad oil and oregano were piles of Kerouac memorabilia, copies of "On the Road" and "Book of Blues." A Miles Davis CD played in the background as BYOB wine bottles were passed around, and someone was heard to say about Kerouac: "He was handsome, pickled and loved his mother."

It's an eclectic bunch of hipsters that congregate on the vinyl-covered wooden seats, and lean on the oblong tables of A Little Slice of New York Pizza Parlor sharing stream-of-consciousness conversations about art, music and politics. It's the perfect combination for the stuff of poetry.

This night there were about 30 attendees in a variety of styles: everything from jeans to khakis, sweaters to T-shirts, clogs to hiking boots, flowing peasant dresses to a man in semi-formal wear. At a table in the back, two Camden police officers on their dinner break ate wedges of pizza, listening to the recitations and smiling.

Everyone is encouraged to stand and read poems by the evening's featured writer, although many recite from memory. The first to step forward is Wilson, reading glasses at the ready, dressed in festive attire and accompanied by a hand puppet affectionately known to the audience as Bongo. (Tongue-in-cheek e-mails announcing the events are sent to nearly 100 South Jerseyans, usually signed by Bongo.)

Wilson has become an artistic folk hero in the environs of Camden's University District, and not just for his pizza parlor poetics. He often grows his beard and hair long, dons a floppy hat and work shirt, and portrays Walt Whitman. He wrote and starred in a Philadelphia Fringe Festival production called, "The River, the People and Walt Whitman."

Last December, Wilson traveled to California to perform a one-man show, "Whitman and the Universal Light," in an 80-acre redwood forest. He has appeared on stage at Camden's Gordon Theatre and the Walt Whitman Cultural Arts Center, and at Collingswood and Haddonfield poetry festivals, often riding his bicycle or the PATCO Hi-Speedline to events. Each spring, the group reads poetry in Harleigh Cemetery at graveside ceremonies for Whitman and Virgilio.

But Wilson seems most at home in the backroom of this inner-city pizza joint, suurounded by friends he's met along the way, making announcements of upcoming area literary events, art shows, readings and recitals. He doesn't need a national organization to declare National Poetry Month for him. He knows it in his heart.

The group often quotes Emily Dickinson's definition of poetry: "If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?"

I think Wilson and friends understand.

Time: It's all we really have

MY TURN column

The Courier-Post
March 19, 2009

by DOUG OTTO


Through the window, I watched the ground fall away beneath seat 24C as my Spirit Airlines jet thundered into the night sky.

I was on my way to Jupiter, Fla., to see my octogenarian parents and complete a three-event visit: celebrate my mom's 81st birthday, my parents' 61st wedding anniversary and buy them a new computer. The possibility of attending a spring training baseball game would be a bonus event.

If timing is everything, mine was perfect. No sooner did I reach my destination as a March nor'easter barreled up the coast, belting South Jersey with ice and a foot of snow. I found myself out of harm's way in the Sunshine State, where my parents have enjoyed a healthy and active lifestyle for the past 15-years.

Dad drove his new Mercury Marquis (the official car of Florida) to pick me up at Palm Beach Airport.

"I hope you're visiting to celebrate, and not just bug me about my 11-year-old computer," he said after we exchanged a hug in the crowded concourse. I kept that part of my mission quiet for now.

In 1993, Mom and Dad boxed up their Cherry Hill belongings and relocated to a condo overlooking the 17th green of Indian Creek Golf Club. Both had retired from long professional careers and were now ready to relax, having seen their three boys married, established and raising families of their own.

Relax is a relative word when speaking of my parents. Once settled in, they did anything but settle down. Both began playing golf three times a week. Dad was elected president of the condo board of directors and joined the Coast Guard Auxiliary. Mom became a Eucharistic minister in the local church and volunteered at the hospital.

Oh, did I mention they both work during spring training at Roger Dean Stadium, home of the St. Louis Cardinals and Florida Marlins?

"We've been working all our lives," Mom has told me many times. "It's what your father and I do best."

On my flight down, I was seated next to a health and physiology professor from Lock Haven University.

"Guess you have pretty good genes," she said, after I told her about my parents' regimen.

"I hope you're right," I said, giving a mental nod to the prospect of duplicating their longevity. "Just trying to keep up is a challenge."

When we weren't going out to dinner (no early-bird specials for these two), I was able to spend quality time with them on a one-to-one basis because on any given day, the other was working.

I brought Mom a copy of Anne Morrow Lindbergh's "A Gift from the Sea" to read on her visits to the nearby beach. For Dad, it was a bottle of Macallan's 10-year-old scotch for sipping before dinner. Both gifts served as conversation sparkers.

A defining moment occurred one evening when Dad played a DVD comprising old family movies. Little of the color had vanished from the films or from our memories. Images of my parents in their late 30s, and my brothers and me as adolescents, brought warmth -- and a reality into focus.

As each new face appeared on the screen -- children, relatives, neighbors, business associates -- a storyline evolved until we had constructed a life history of our family.

From time to time I heard my parents whisper: "Gone two years now. . . have missed him these last three years. . . has it been five years already. . ."

Whenever I visit my folks, I like to walk the coral-colored sands along the Jupiter beachfront. The barrier island's turquoise waters, bordered by dune trails of sea grapes and mangrove wetlands, are the perfect setting for thinking and sorting out things. It was during one of those hikes that I again realized just how fortunate I am to have both my parents as active participants in my life. Their independence is a blessing. Their good health at 80 is near-miraculous. Their good company is comforting.

It's funny how after all these years we easily slip into our old roles of parent and child. My folks still demonstrate the concerns of elders, while I seem to morph into the eternal 12-year-old. Even during this visit I heard:

"If you go for a walk on the beach, swim only where there are lifeguards."

"Let me pull out the bed for you. Do you have enough pillows?"

"What kind of sandwich should I make you for lunch today?"

I may not have appreciated hearing it in my younger days; I must confess, at this point in my life, it is music.

Before I left, I was successful in convincing Dad to upgrade both his computer and his dial-up Inter net service. After some initial reticence, Mom reports that: "Your father was on the computer for three hours today. He's loving it!"

As I flew back to New Jersey amid a sky-cabin chorus of screaming babies, I wondered how many of them would someday grow up and make this trip to visit their parents in Florida.

I wanted to tell them to cling as tightly as they could to the parents holding them. The present time is all we really have, and sometimes there's not as much of it as you think.

When we landed, even the mountains of snow that greeted me could not diminish my sense of renewal. My trip was a debt I owed my soul -- and two others.

Movieland Memories: And the winner is...

MY TURN column

The Courier-Post
February 19, 2009

by DOUG OTTO

The 81st Academy Awards are this Sunday, and I am running out of time. I have seen just three of this year's nominees for best picture: "Slumdog Millionaire," "Frost/Nixon," and "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button."

My urgency was magnified the other night during a cell phone call from my son: "Well, have you made your picks yet, Dad?" he questioned. "Time's running short. I think this is my year."

Since he started middle school 14 years ago, Matt and I have challenged each other annually as to who can pick the most winners from the 24 major categories nominated by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. Even during his college years in Boston, we kept up the tradition via e-mail and instant messaging.

We both carry a personal history steeped in the appreciation of film. I was weaned on 1950s and 1960s Walt Disney pictures such as "Davy Crocket - - King of the Wild Frontier," "Old Yeller" and "The Absent Minded Professor." In 1959, I saw "Ben Hur," winner of 11 Oscars, in its original CinemaScope release.

Shortly after moving to South Jersey in 1961, my father took my brothers and me to see "Babes in Toyland" in Philadelphia's classic Fox Theatre, where the single screen measured 54-feet wide by 23-feet high, and the great marble-decorated auditorium seated 2,423.

I fondly remember sitting in theater balconies, while uniformed ushers roved about with flashlights, checking to see that no foreign objects sailed over the railing toward the crowd below. My son smiles when I tell him about spending Saturday afternoons at the 50-cent "kiddie matinees" that included a stage act and a serial short film before the feature presentation. He silently wonders if all the movies' dinosaurs were as old as his father.

Even though Matt's filmography covers fewer years, he too, has logged numerous hours gazing at the silver screen. Any film emanating from the creative geniuses George Lucas, Tim Burton or Peter Jackson rank high with him. While he was in high school, Matt and his buddies formed a "first-nighters" movie club.

They scheduled months in advance to attend inaugural showings of the latest "Star Wars" or "Lord of the Rings" films. More than once, I found myself ducking out of work at lunchtime to stand in line at a local theater, so I could purchase a block of tickets to that evening's midnight show for the boys.

It was clearly understood that no school time was to be missed the next morning due to lack of sleep or bleary vision caused by the previous night's brush with movie magic. Days later, the guys were still buzzing about special effects, re-enacting key action scenes and reciting dramatic dialogue.

Posters of favorite movies always adorned Matt's bedroom wall, and he maintained a bucketful of ticket stubs bearing the names and dates of first-run movies he had seen. His secret wish was to work someday for Industrial Light and Magic, the special effects company founded by George Lucas.

My interactions with Hollywood have spanned everything from drive-in movies to theaters featuring stadium seating; from days when the sound was played through a little metal box attached to a rolled-down car window to ceiling-mounted speakers booming THX and Dolby Digital Sound.

Matt's experiences include using our great room television and surround sound system as a laboratory to test the urban myth that the 1939 movie "The Wizard of Oz" is synchronized with Pink Floyd's album, "The Dark Side of the Moon." I have to admit I was looking in on that one, as a dozen college kids watched and rocked in awe.

So, this Sunday, as the votes of the academy's roughly 6,000 members are revealed, and another parade of Oscar hopefuls walks the famed red carpet, my son and I will compare notes and tabulate our ballots, downloaded from www.oscars.org. We'll engage in another cinematic battle of wits, and won't need the auditing firm of PricewaterhouseCoopers to help with the tally.

Since Matt is now a theatrical sound designer, he tends to best me each year in the production and technical categories, such as sound editing, sound mixing, original score and song. My English degree usually gives me a leg-up with original screenplay, adapted screenplay and documentary.

We both realize that this contest is not about winning or losing; most years our results are folded-up and tucked into a desk drawer. But, like the ethereal feather that floats through "Forrest Gump," or the filial relationship woven into our favorite movie, "Big Fish," this game is a symbol of greater values.

It's a tradition. A special father-son connection. It's the type of storyline that Hollywood has been writing for generations.

Black History Month: Notable firsts

MY TURN column

The Courier-Post
February 19, 2009

by DOUG OTTO

The election of Barack Obama as the first African-American president has been heralded as a landmark achievement in American history. It is appropriate, especially during the month of February, to be mindful of the many other notable "firsts" achieved by Black Americans.

Since 1976, Black History Month has marked not only the birthdays of Frederick Douglass and Abraham Lincoln, (men who greatly influenced both black and white Americans), but also the accomplishments by other personalities who have assumed an honored place in the history of our nation.

Here then is a compilation of historic proportions:

Government

On Feb. 3, 1870, the 15th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution was ratified, and three weeks later, Hiram Revels became the first black U.S. senator from Mississippi. Joseph Rainey assumed the position of Congressman from South Carolina that same year, and was re-elected to the House of Representatives four more times.

The first black female U.S. Representative was New York's Shirley Chisholm (1969-1983), followed by the first female U.S. senator, Carol Mosely Braun, who served Illinois between 1992-1998.

In recent years, high government positions have been held by Gen. Colin Powell, the 65th U.S. secretary of state (2001-2004) and the first black chairman of the U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff (1989-1993). His successor as secretary of state was Dr. Condoleezza Rice (2005-2009), the first black woman to hold that cabinet office.

Carl Stokes was the first black American male to be elected mayor of a major U.S. city (Cleveland, 1967-1971), while Sharon Pratt Dixon Kelly became the first female mayor of Washington, DC (1991-1995). It wasn't until 1990 that Douglas Wilder of Virginia was elected the country's first black governor.

In 1967, President Lyndon Johnson appointed Thurgood Marshall a U.S. Supreme Court Justice, based largely on the more than 30 cases he successfully argued as a lawyer challenging racial segregation in higher education. Marshall's achieved his greatest impact with the landmark decision handed down in Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka (1954), and the "separate but equal" doctrine.

Andrew Young, a supporter and friend of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, became the first black U.S. Representative to the United Nations in 1977. Earlier this month, Washington lawyer Eric Holder became the nation's first African-American Attorney General.

Military

In both war and peace, black Americans have served the United States with distinction. For bravery exhibited during the Civil War, Sgt. William H. Carney was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor in 1900. Gen. Benjamin O. Davis Sr. became the first African-American general in the U.S. Army in 1940. His son, Benjamin O. Davis Jr. was the first black general in the U.S. Air Force, after leading the famed Tuskegee Airmen during World War II.

Education

Distinguished scholars have left their mark in the black community as well. In 1837, James McCune Smith was the first male to earn an M.D. degree, followed by Rebecca Lee Crumpler, who became the first black woman to receive an M.D. degree as a graduate of the New England Female Medical College in 1864.

Born in Philadelphia, Alain Locke graduated from Harvard University in 1907 and became the first black Rhodes Scholar. Following study at Oxford, he went on to receive a Ph.D. in philosophy from Harvard in 1918. Locke encouraged black artists and musicians in America to explore their African roots and he created the Harlem Renaissance movement.

The first black college president was Daniel A. Payne (Wilberforce University, Ohio, 1856), while the first president of an Ivy League University is Ruth Simmons, currently heading the ivy leagues's prestigious Brown University since 2001.

Literature

Ever since Phillis Wheatley became the first published American black poet in 1773, African-American writers have been capturing literary awards.

Gwendolyn Brooks' won the 1950 Pulitzer Prize for poetry, Charles Gordone was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in Drama in 1970, and Princeton professor Toni Morrison brought home the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1993.

Robert Hayden became the nation's first black Poet Laureate (1976-1978, and Rita Dove held the same honor for a woman between 1993-1995.

Popular culture

Many aspects of daily life have been touched by black pioneers. Thomas L. Jennings became the first African-American to hold a U.S. patent in 1821 for his invention of a dry-cleaning process. Sarah E. Goode, became the first African-American woman to receive a patent for her 1885 invention of a bed that folded up into a cabinet.

There is much speculation that the discovery of the North Pole in 1909 was actually accomplished by Matthew A. Henson, a black outdoorsman, who accompanied explorer Robert E. Peary, who was laying sick in an icy campsite. Another black American, George Gibbs, traveled with Richard Byrd when he claimed the South Pole for America on a trip from 1939-41.

For his work in mediating an Arab-Israeli truce, Ralph J. Bunche was the first African-American to win the Nobel Peace Prize in 1950. (The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. became the second in 1964.)

In 1983, Guion "Guy" Bluford Jr., a Philadelphian, became the first black astronaut to travel in space; Mae Jemison became the first black female astronaut in 1992. Frederick D. Gregory flew the space shuttle as its first African-American commander in 1998.

Miss America of 1984, Vanessa Williams, was the country's first black winner. When she was forced to resign, Suzette Charles of Mays Landing (the runner-up, and also an African-American) assumed the title.

The arts

Whether in the fine arts or Hollywood, black Americans have always excelled. Marian Anderson became the first black representative in the Metropolitan Opera Company in 1955, and Arthur Mitchell the first principal dancer in the New York City Ballet in 1959. Mitchell later developed the Dance Theatre of Harlem, the first African-American classical ballet company.

Both Count Basie and Ella Fitzgerald were the first black recipients of Grammy Awards in 1958, while Gordon Parks became the first black director for a major Hollywood studio in 1969.

Oscars were first given to black actors when Hattie McDaniels won the supporting actress award in 1940 for her role in "Gone with the Wind." In 1963, Sidney Poitier won best actor for "Lilies of the Field."

Television

Network television also proved to be a breakthrough arena. In 1956, singer Nat King Cole became the first black to become host of a weekly network television show. Oprah Winfrey became the first black woman television host in 1986.

Philadelphia comedian Bill Cosby was the first African-American star of a weekly television drama with 1965's "I Spy." The Cosby Show (1984-92), became the most popular program on American television during the late 1980s.

Sports

Black athletes have dominated the American sports scene for years. Everyone knows about Jackie Robinson's 1947 introduction into the National Baseball League with the Brooklyn Dodgers. Fewer may recall that New Jersey's Larry Doby was the first black player in the American League's Cleveland Indians three months later that same year. Both men are enshrined in baseball's Hall of Fame.

Management positions in baseball soon opened up. The first African-American manager in the major leagues was Frank Robinson with the Cleveland Indians (1975-1977). Robinson was named Manager of the Year in 1982 and 1989.

Former Philadelphia Phillies first baseman Bill White became the highest ranking black executive in sports from 1989-94 when he served as president of the National League.

The aptly named Willie Thrower was the first black NFL quarterback in 1953 for the Chicago Bears. The first black professional football coach was Fritz Pollard. He was also first black to play in the Rose Bowl.

Other well-known athletic firsts:

Marshall W. Taylor (1899 World Cycling Champion)

Jack Johnson (1908 Heavyweight Boxing Champion)

Earl Floyd (1950 National Basketball Association player, Washington Capitols)

Althea Gibson (1957, 1958 Wimbledon Tennis Champion)

Willie O'Ree (1958, National Hockey League player, Boston Bruins)

Arthur Ashe (1968 Wimbledon Champion)

Tiger Woods (1997 Masters Champion)

It's amazing to think that in 1901, President Theodore Roosevelt caused a national uproar when he invited educator Booker T. Washington to be a dinner guest at the White House. Today, the first African-American president and his entire family have moved into that very same residence.