Triad Today

There has been much debate lately about when and how federal troops should be deployed to restore order in cities with high crime rates or where violence is out of control. That’s because National Guard units showed up in Washington, D.C. earlier this year, and the administration is looking to do the same in Portland, Chicago, and other cities. That begs the question: Can we envision a time and circumstance when National Guard troops would ever be sent into the Triad? The answer is “yes,” and in fact it has already happened once before. Here’s the background.

On Oct. 15, 1967, James Eller, an African American father of four, was seen staggering across a street. Mr. Eller made it to the front porch of his house, where several police officers caught up with him and proceeded to arrest him for alleged public drunkenness. According to police, Eller resisted arrest, and the officers tried to subdue him, first by spraying MACE into his eyes. That didn’t work, so Patrolman W.E. Owens struck Eller on the head with a blackjack. It proved to be a fatal blow. Police didn’t release details of Eller’s death until eight days later, and it was another four days after that before Owens was suspended. Eller’s widow swore out a warrant against Owens, which, according to the Winston-Salem Journal, stated that Owens, “feloniously, with premeditation, deliberation, and malice a fore thought, did kill and murder one James Eller.” Judge Leroy Sams dismissed the case, and that ruling triggered riots in downtown Winston-Salem.

Winston-Salem Journal and Twin City Sentinel reporters provided extensive coverage of the riots, which included descriptions of damage to stores along Liberty, North Trade, North Cherry, Claremont, Main, and Fourth Streets. Most of the businesses were looted, then burned. Mobs particularly targeted jewelry and liquor stores, as well as furniture and appliance stores. Fires broke out everywhere, cars were overturned, bricks were tossed, and shots were fired.

Patrolman E.W. Thorpe described the Nov. 2 sniper fire to reporter Eugene White, saying, “Guns were reporting everywhere, and you didn’t know who was shooting at who.” Thorpe’s own patrol car was struck by sniper fire at 13th and Patterson Avenues. His partner, C.E. Crosby, who fought in the Pacific during WWII, described the rioting as a “small scale war.” Said Crosby, “We didn’t know where to take cover when there was shooting. We were afraid we might try to take cover where the shooting was coming from.”

Mobs also set a fire just behind a Reynolds Tobacco factory on Chestnut Street. The fire was burning near a gas tank, and had Thorpe and Crosby not arrived in time to put it out, there probably would be no Innovation Quarter today.

Twin City police chief Cornelius Tucker told his troops to “take things easy on the mob,” but he added, “Pull out the heavy stuff. Don’t use it unless you have to, but display it. But STOP it.” Normally, local National Guardsmen are not called upon to defend their own city, but the 200-man Winston-Salem guard was put on alert.  Meanwhile, Mayor M.C. Benton and Governor Dan Moore deployed National Guardsmen from Mount Airy. Most of them patrolled the streets, while others were given rooftop duty. Two of them, Spec 4 Tommy Hennis and PFC Rodney Cooke, were positioned atop the Robert E. Lee Hotel.

I was 13 years old at the time, and I vividly remember riding to church and seeing armed National Guardsmen positioned on tops of buildings throughout downtown Winston-Salem.

After a couple of days, all that remained of the “small scale war” were charred buildings and debris in the streets. Order had been restored without loss of life.

The events of Oct. 15 and Nov. 2, 1967, taught us a lot about race relations, the criminal justice system, mobs, and the way Winston-Salem dealt with all of them. Officer Owens probably didn’t mean to kill Mr. Eller, but his unnecessary use of force triggered a firestorm nevertheless. Critics of the time said the officers on Eller’s front porch that fateful day should have used handcuffs instead of MACE and nightsticks. The police chief should have gone public within hours of Eller’s death. Judge Sams should have meted out an appropriate punishment for Officer Owens. And the rioters should have stayed home because burning and looting is never an appropriate or effective response to police brutality.

The Winston-Salem police did an admirable job during the riots of 1967, but they couldn’t have restored order without help from the National Guard, proving that there are times when a military presence is absolutely necessary.

Of course, such deployment should always be at the behest of the governor, and in this case, his decision proved to be justified. That was nearly 60 years ago, but we must be ever vigilant when it comes to dealing with the things that often divide us. As then Winston-Salem Journal editor Wallace Carroll wrote, “No city in America is immune from the passions of these days.”

Too often, we forget that large corporations are composed of individuals who work day-in and day-out to serve their customers and their community. That’s how it is with Blue Cross Blue Shield of North Carolina and people like Cheryl Parquet. Cheryl, who hails from and still lives in Mebane, is the company’s associate vice president for community engagement. She graduated from UNC Chapel Hill and holds a Certified Diversity and Inclusion Professional Credential from Cornell University. She has over 16 years of experience in community relations, marketing activation, and diversity engagement in the health insurance industry, and was named one of the top 50 women leaders in North Carolina. Cheryl was a recent guest on my Triad Today television show, and what I learned is that she is truly committed to making healthcare better for all. What follows are highlights from our conversation.

Jim: Blue Cross provides healthcare for nearly 4 million North Carolina residents, so what’s your approach to addressing local health challenges?

Cheryl: About two years ago, we took our executives out to visit all 100 counties. We met with community partners, leaders, legislators, and our members, and we had conversations about the challenges that people in our state are facing. And through those conversations, we’ve taken an intentional approach to how we’re changing our products and services, and how we meet the most challenging needs in our community, such as focusing on youth mental health, improving access to healthcare, and promoting health through food.

Jim: Tell me about the Blue Cross mission here in North Carolina.

Cheryl: Our mission is to improve the health and well-being of our customers and communities. It’s a part of our DNA. Our customers are our neighbors. We live, work, and play with them, so we show up each and every day for them. 

Jim: Who or what led you to a career in healthcare?

Cheryl: It was because of my personal experience growing up. I understand about nonprofits because they were there to support me and my family when we needed it. I have an understanding of what the food bank means to so many families. I understand what it means to go to a free clinic and receive services there and how important these safety net organizations are for our community.

Jim: So, what’s most gratifying to you about the work you do for Blue Cross Blue Shield of North Carolina through community engagement?

Cheryl: What’s gratifying to me is to be able to meet with so many different people across our state, to understand their needs, and then to be able to go back and have conversations with our community partners and say, “How can we support you to do the work?” At the end of the day, our investments of time and money are there to support our customers and also our community partners, who are the ones on the ground doing the work each and every day.

For more information, visit BlueCrossNC.com.

In St. Elsewhere, a doctor’s wife is killed in an accident, and he is left to raise his autistic son, who seldom speaks. In Dolphin’s Cove, a man’s wife dies, and his daughter is so traumatized that she cannot speak. In the original pilot for Touched by an Angel, the lead character has died in an accident and becomes an angel whose first assignment is to care for an autistic girl who won’t speak. In Dead Like Me, the Grim Reaper takes up residence in Seattle. In Providence, a plastic surgeon’s dead mother appears in every episode, and in the premier episode of HawthoRNe, a divorced nurse tries to prevent a stage four cancer patient from committing suicide. 

Over a period of about 40 years, these compelling stories about dealing with death and disability came from the heart and heartbreak of the same man, my friend John Masius, one of Hollywood’s most talented and decorated storytellers. John died on Sept. 13 at the age of 75 following a year-long battle with ALS. He is survived by a remarkable body of work, a remarkable ex-wife, and three remarkable children.

Born in the suburbs of New York City, John displayed a talent for writing early on, yet never enjoyed the process, telling me, “Writing’s very difficult for me. It’s very hard. I don’t jump at the prospect of doing it, like homework. For me, it’s like having an exam paper due.” John attended Penn, then moved west and graduated from UCLA with, of all things, an M.B.A. He waited tables at an L.A. restaurant to make ends meet, where one day he happened to serve Bruce Paltrow, then the producer of The White Shadow for MTM and CBS. Paltrow hired John to be a gopher, and years later promoted him to writer/producer on Shadow and St. Elsewhere.

I first got to know John (“Maysh” to his friends) when I was writing a series of articles about St. Elsewhere, and then when I interviewed him for the first volume of my “TV Creators” series of books. He also appeared on a panel that I moderated in 2000 on “Women in Drama” for the Television Academy, which featured the actresses and creators of several new primetime series headlined by women. I particularly wanted John to participate because it was his groundbreaking show Providence which launched a new era of TV dramas for the 21st century, starring women in the lead role.

Maysh was a complex man of strong principles who didn’t suffer fools well, but sometimes his principles put him at odds with those in power. That’s what happened with Touched by an Angel. John and his wife, Ellen Bry (an actress and ensemble star in St. Elsewhere), had three children—a daughter and two sons, both of whom were diagnosed with autism. While interviewing him for my book, Maysh told me, “At that time I was pretty angry at God, and I still don’t really understand what kind of God does terrible things to small kids. The other thing I couldn’t handle was people, in their urge to comfort us, would say, ‘God doesn’t give you more than you can handle,’ which Ellen and I found incredibly disturbing.” 

Ellen’s and John’s struggle to cope was an impetus for Touched by an Angel, where in the pilot episode, angel Monica (Roma Downey), who had died in the 1920’s was now comforting her terminally ill, 80-year-old “daughter” who she had saved seven decades earlier. Monica pleads with the Angel of Death to end her daughter’s suffering, but he refuses, saying, “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle,” to which Monica replies, “That’s a lot of crap.” Executives at CBS felt that Monica’s retort was too dark and told John to remove that line of dialogue. Maysh refused, his pilot never aired, and he was fired from the series.

Several years later John resurrected his career when he created Providence for NBC, followed by HawthoRNe for TNT, both of which were well received by audiences and critics alike. And though Maysh told me, “critically acclaimed doesn’t pay the mortgage,” he was, nevertheless, richly rewarded by his peers and admirers, picking up numerous honors including two Emmys, a Peabody, the Humanitas Prize, a Writers Guild award, and several People’s Choice awards.  

Over the years Maysh and I kept in touch by email and phone, but the last time I saw him in person was on the set of HawthoRNe, where he greeted my wife Pam and me warmly and with his trademark impish smile. As I think of that day, I recall his response to a question I had asked him during our conversations for “TV Creators.”

Jim: Suppose there was no such thing as on-screen credits for TV shows. How would someone know they had just watched a John Masius show?

John: They’d get some laughs and probably be moved. They’d also be twisted up a little bit emotionally. They’d be manipulated because I would have fu#ked with their heads. [laughs]

Rest in peace, my perverse and principled friend.

My late cousin Hannah Campbell was the first accomplished writer in our extended family. In the 1960s, her articles appeared in a number of national publications, including Cosmopolitan for which she penned a monthly column titled “Why Did They Name it?” about the origins of famous brands and companies. Later, she compiled her research into a book by the same name and sent me a signed copy. I was fascinated by her stories, like the one about a young man who was working in a Virginia drug store when he fell in love with the daughter of the store owner. The young suitor was fired, traveled west, and invented an innovative soft drink which he named after the drug store owner — a medical doctor named Pepper.

Cousin Hannah sparked my interest in writing and advertising, both which would later serve me well when, in addition to producing TV shows, I also ran a small ad agency where I was occasionally called upon to create product names and slogans. Along the way, I learned a valuable lesson about branding from an unlikely source. In May 1977, Bert Lance, director of the OMB under President Jimmy Carter, told Nation’s Business magazine, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Coincidentally, that same year, Nashville designer Bill Holley created a logo for a brand new restaurant chain that would serve good old country cookin’. The logo featured an illustration of an old man sitting in a wooden chair and leaning on a large barrel. The name adjacent to the logo was Cracker Barrel. It was a welcoming sign to hungry travelers for 56 years…until late last month when company CEO Julie Masino forgot to heed Bert Lance’s advice. She and her ad agency decided to go for a more modern image, and suddenly the old timer, his chair, and the barrel all disappeared. Needless to say, the Cracker Barrel universe was collectively pissed. Social media blew up, and company stock prices tumbled. Within days, Masino reversed course and restored the old logo.

Change for change’s sake is never a good idea, yet there always seems to be some corporate marketing executive who’s willing to fiddle with success in order to justify his salary and impress the boss. For example, Master Card removed its own name from its iconic orange and yellow intersecting circles. Petco removed the dog and cat from its logo. And Eskimo Pie changed its name to Edy’s Pie as if we’d all care that the frozen treat was created by Joseph Edy.    

Remember “New Coke” from 1985? That disaster was the creation of a corporate executive who thought it would be a good idea to add more sugar to Coke’s formula in order to better compete with Pepsi. CEO Robert Goiuzeta told reporters at the time that it was “the surest move we ever made.” Loyal Coke drinkers disagreed. According to the History Channel, the company received 8,000 complaint calls per day, and shares of stock were headed in the wrong direction. Within months, New Coke was out and “Coca-Cola Classic” was born. The Coke fiasco should have served as a warning to all future beverage makers, but a few folks at Budweiser didn’t get the memo.

In 2023, Bud Light featured social media personality Dylan Mulvaney in a promotional video. The only problem was that Mulvaney is transgender. Millions of conservative Bud drinkers boycotted the parent company, stock prices fell by 26%, and Bud Light lost its top spot to Modelo after having been number one for 20 years. Alissa Heinerscheid, who had been VP of marketing for less than a year, was responsible for changing Bud Light’s gender, saying she was only trying to make the drink “more inclusive.” Not surprisingly, Heinerscheid was fired.

Of course, inclusivity can be a good thing if a name or logo has become offensive to consumers. Uncle Ben’s rice, Aunt Jemima Pancake mix, and the Washington Redskins all come to mind. But it makes no business sense to trash a name or image just for the sake of creativity. If my cousin Hannah were alive today, she would probably be writing a sequel to “Why Did They Name It?” and title it, “Why Did They Change It?” or,” WTF is Wrong with Cracker Barrel?”

There are only a handful of stand-up comedians whose approach to the genre has been transformative, among them, Richard Pryor, George Carlin, Jerry Seinfeld, Rodney Dangerfield, and more recently Nate Bargatze and Leanne Morgan. Pryor revolutionized modern-day storytelling. Carlin was a master wordsmith. Seinfeld took observation comedy to new heights. Dangerfield morphed his tag line into a career of one-liners. Bargatze and his signature pauses elevated the art of self-deprecation, and Leanne Morgan is proving that women everywhere can identify with a mom from the South. And just when we thought there was no more new comedy ground to break, Andy Huggins appears on the scene.

Huggins is the Rodney Dangerfield of geriatrics. Rodney built his entire act from one premise, and so too has Andy. For Dangerfield, it was “I get no respect.” For Huggins, it is “It’s tough getting old.” I can relate to Andy’s comedy. He is 75 years old and I’m nearly 72. But his brand of humor also makes young people laugh out loud. Just take a look at his act on YouTube and you’ll see why his universal appeal is going viral.

Andy is funny because of his material and his delivery. His pauses before the joke line are as artful as Bargatze’s, and his one-liners are not one-dimensional. They aren’t just about his age; rather, they are commentaries on current trends.

 

“As far as social media goes, you can follow me on the bulletin board at Kroger’s.”

“I’m not on Twitter, but I will stop people on the street and tell them shit they’re not interested in.”

Those kinds of jokes point to what happens when we age, but they also poke fun at the absurdity of our reliance on posting and sharing every thought that comes into our heads.

Andy also makes fun of phrases and trends that inhabit our politically correct world.

“I have an inner child, but I don’t think it’s mine.”

“I’m woke…for about another five hours.”

“I took a quiz on Facebook called, ‘What’s your spirit animal?’ I got ‘Extinct.’”

“I’m 75 years old, and life expectancy for a man is 76. Life expectancy for a woman is 81. I figure if I transition…”

Earlier this year, Andy signed on to do his first comedy special, which can be seen on Apple TV and Prime Video. Yet despite his meteoric rise to fame, Andy is not an overnight success. He has been performing stand-up for 40 years. Asked by NPR’s Scott Simon about developing an act around his advanced age, Huggins said, “It’s what I know better than anything at the moment. I write what I’m familiar with, and age is inescapable. Age is a fact of life.”

It’s also a fact that audiences love Andy’s brand of humor. And, thanks to the internet and a plethora of streaming services, he’s reaching more and more people every day. “It’s so deeply satisfying,” he told Simon. “So deeply reassuring that I’ve got a useful purpose while I’m still alive.”

Truth is, none of us knows how much time we have left, yet we hope that we can make the most of it and somehow make a lasting contribution. Young Andy Huggins has done that in a big way.

“A couple of Saturdays ago, before I went onstage, I asked the club manager, ‘How much time do I have?’ He said, ‘Can’t be much.’”

We all hope that club manager is wrong.

On April 29, 1962, while speaking to a group of Nobel Prize winners at the White House, President John Kennedy said:

 “I think this is the most extraordinary collection of talent, of human knowledge, that has ever been gathered together at the White House, with the possible exception of when Thomas Jefferson dined alone.”

The geniuses who were assembled that night got the joke and revered its meaning. That’s because we Americans have always prized the fact that our presidents have possessed the intellect and character to lead our country and to be a respected leader in the world. In short, the President must have a command of knowledge about world and national events, and how history has shaped those events. Yes, Gerald Ford got flustered in a debate and misspoke about Russia’s dominance over Poland. And yes, George W. Bush had a tendency to mangle the English language. But, for the most part, we could always count on our presidents to act, think, and speak with a sense of reason and decorum, until now that is.

From the moment he began his first term in office, Donald Trump has shown a total disregard for the truth and a total lack of knowledge about anything but golf. The New York Times, CNN, and other news outlets employed fact-checkers who have kept a running list of every lie Trump told which, since 2017 has exceeded 50,000. Sometimes his lies have resulted from going off script in order to brag about something he says he did (but didn’t actually do). However, most of the time he says things that are untrue because he just doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Trump once said that it was Canadians who burned down the White House during the War of 1812. He called Belgium “a beautiful city.”  When asked what the Declaration of Independence is about, he said it was about love. He claimed that President Andrew Jackson was “really angry” about the Civil War which would have been a good trick if Jackson hadn’t died 16 years before the War started. Speaking of the Civil War, Trump said “It ended in 1869 or whatever,” and that the bloodiest battle occurred on the site of his golf course along the Potomac River. In fact, not a single battle took place on that site. Speaking at a Black History Month luncheon, Trump indicated that Frederick Douglass was still alive. And he was surprised to learn from his staff that Lincoln was a Republican. It’s no wonder that Ron Filipowski, a former federal prosecutor, said Trump “couldn’t pass a 7th grade U.S. history exam.”

But Trump’s most recent gaffe came last week while meeting with West African leaders at the White House. He praised Liberian President Joseph Boakai for speaking “such good English.” The Liberian delegation took offense at that remark and with good reason. Liberia was founded by Americans, their currency is the U.S. dollar, and the official language of Liberia is — you guessed it — ENGLISH. In addition to Trump having no knowledge of history or geo-politics, his idiotic comment to President Boakai also raised concerns among some groups that Trump is, at heart, a racist.

After all, it was Trump who once referred to African nations as “shit-hole countries.” And since beginning his second term as president, he has drastically cut or eliminated scores of programs designed to honor or assist African Americans, ranging from purging the names of Black leaders from federal documents, to criticizing Juneteenth, eliminating DEI initiatives on college campuses and in the workplace, and potentially throwing 13 million people off of their healthcare coverage.

Whether intentional or not, whether racist or not, Trump’s total lack of knowledge is having a devastating effect on our daily lives here at home and on our image abroad. The sad thing is that 77 million Americans returned him to the White House last year, not caring about his lies, his crimes, or his demeanor. They are seemingly OK with having a rude, functionally illiterate man lead our country who revels in all of the things that he doesn’t know.  If ignorance is bliss, then Donald Trump is the happiest man in America. By the way, the phrase “Ignorance is Bliss” originated with Thomas Gray, a poet who was born in 1716…or as Trump would say, during the Civil War.

In 2017, 13-year-old Tyler Hughes of Clemmons went for a ride on his ATV. The road was slick, and the ATV flipped over on him. Tyler survived the crash, but the roll bar severed his left arm. Fortunately, surgeons were able to re-attach his arm, but the near-death experience didn‘t deter the boy. While recovering from surgery, Tyler told a Winston-Salem Journal reporter, “I can‘t wait to start riding again.”

What happened to young Tyler was not a rare occurrence. According to Reuters, about 11,000 such accidents occur every year resulting in 900 deaths annually, and that‘s just involving ATVs. Dirt bikes are also a source of tragedy.

Last month 14-year-old Cam Trail died in a motorcross competition when he collided in mid-air with another biker. The event was hosted by East Bend Motorsports and held in Yadkin County. Afterward, Emiee Murray of King who organized a GoFundMe page for Cam‘s family said, “He [Cam] inspired others to chase their dreams.” Dreams of what? An early death? No matter because the day after Cam‘s death, the competition continued as if nothing had happened. Chad Mabe of Tobaccoville had no problem letting his 13-year-old son get back on the track saying, “What happened last night could have happened in any sport.” Another parent, Jarrett Gold wrote on Facebook, “It scares me to death it could happen to my child…but God says, ‘Trust Me.‘” Are you kidding me? I‘m no Bible scholar, but from what I‘ve read God never indicated that 13- and 14-year-old boys should ride ATVs or race dirt bikes.

There‘s a reason why society imposes age restrictions on products and activities that could pose a threat to the well-being of children. Here in North Carolina, for example, you must be 18 to purchase cigarettes (in 2019, Congress raised the age to purchase tobacco products to the age of 21), and 21 to buy alcohol. You must be 16 to apply for a driver‘s license. You must be at least 17 years old to join the armed forces and you can‘t play in the concussion-ridden NFL unless you‘ve been out of high school for three years. You must be 21 to purchase a handgun, and 18 to compete at the top NASCAR races. The reason for these and other restrictions is that children and young teens are not yet fully developed physically, emotionally, or mentally, and need time to mature before embarking on high-risk activities.

Nevertheless, organizers of motorsports and ATV events will tell you that they are not to blame for accidents and injuries because parents have signed a consent form. The problem is that parental consent is not designed to circumvent the law and here in North Carolina, a parent whose child is injured or killed while operating any kind of motorized vehicle or equipment, is guilty of a Class E felony which is punishable by up to seven years in prison. Specifically, N.C. statute 14-318.4, section (a4) states, “A parent or any other person providing care to or supervision of a child less than 16 years of age whose willful act or grossly negligent omission in the care of the child shows a reckless disregard for human life is guilty of a Class E felony if the act or omission results in serious bodily injury to the child.” Translation? If you let a child engage in dangerous behavior, you are guilty of child abuse.

I can understand why a 13-year-old who just had his arm severed in an ATV accident would say “I can‘t wait to start riding again.” That‘s because children don‘t know any better.

Their parents should.