Lou, Lou, Lou, we gonna miss ya!
If you haven’t guessed, that’s ‘Lou’ (Louis) Gossett, Jr., who died last week at the age of 84.
I’ve interviewed many Black celebrities, from Harry Belafonte to Tupac Shakur. But few impressed me as much as Lou, a self-confident brother who enjoyed his Blackness and routinely exhibited his love for our African roots. This was different from his playing a key role in the award-winning chronology ‘Roots’ back in the 1980s.
Lou epitomized calm, confidence, and control. He possessed infectious humor, and his gum-edged smile usually prelude to an affectionate laugh that belied a joy for the world that defied his place in it.
I first met Lou, at the 1990 Goodwill Games held in Seattle when I was still young and full of oats. The Goodwill Games were an invention of media mogul Ted Turner in response to the politicization of the Olympics.
It drew a ‘who’s who’ of Black America. And me.
Our first encounter was auspicious.
I stood in line to pick up my press credentials when one of the most beautiful sisters I’ve ever seen approached. I had no choice but to flirt (my genes come from a ‘rolling stone’),—innocently, of course.
She seemed in awe of my verbiage and was ‘taking notes’ when a tall, dark figure touched my shoulder and asked what my intentions were.
Just as I tried to figure out if I had to stand on my toes to punch him in the face, I looked up, and I the man inquiring my intentions was— yes — Lou Gossett, Jr. in the flesh.
The joke—thank Yeshua—was on me. But that encounter led to our meeting later for cocktails and a morning jog/walk the next day to the Seattle pier.
Lou Gossett, Jr., a former basketball wanna-be who starred in 50 movies, was noted for his screen (and stage) presence, a role taken from his persona. He won—earned—an Oscar for his role as the hard-nosed drill sergeant in ‘An Officer and a Gentleman,’ although that was not his most impressive role. There were movies and plays before and after that moved me more.
In fact, his last role as the father of ‘Mister’ in the musical adaptation of Alice Walker’s anti-male narrative, ‘The Color Purple,’ left me with emotional scars.
He not only performed but also ‘performed’ as only Lou could do as the chauvinist pig who ruled with an iron ‘cane.’
You believed Lou controlled the character, as was the case in every movie he appeared in, from ‘Raisin in the Sun’ to ‘The Book of Negroes.’
Lou was a member of a dying fraternity of Black actors who used their platforms to advance civil rights causes and exemplify Black pride. Imagine, if you can, going to school with Cicely Tyson, Maya Angelou, and James Earl Jones. Now, that’s a gang of Black royalty who used their platforms for cultural awakening.
Lou, in particular, took pride in his ‘Africaness’ and wore cultural clothes before they were fashionable or a political statement. He spoke of our rich heritage when the status quo tried to convince the world that our ancestors were savages and Tarzan was king of the jungle.
Between his 50 acting roles and acknowledging his membership in the minority-majority, a proud member of the Baobab Brotherhood, Lou stood out as a decendent of the Garden of Eden.
Unlike Barack Obama, who hid his African parentage to sway White approval (I’m not saying that negatively; what he did was based purely on political reality), Lou stood out as a proud African American—without the hyphenation.
My wife, who prayed to God that her first girl child would be darker than a berry and more beautiful than amber, thought Lou was the most beautiful man in America, (even though I would give him an eight on the looks scale). It was his mantel, his mannerisms, and his coolness that served as a halo.
Tall, dark, handsome, and cool were my wife’s prerequisites for approval.
I matched Lou on three of four, with my humor and good teeth filling the void.
I missed out on the height scale. But since I was never any good at basketball, it didn’t much matter to me.
And regarding that ‘deficit,’ ‘King Lou’ clarified that my being ‘short’ wasn’t a slight, given that I was among the small but ever-growing number of cultural giants.
Some brothers ‘commitment to the cause’ and understanding our place in the universe make them giants. And to be provided with an opportunity to teach, to educate, and to entertain via this forum, makes me special.
I’ll never forget our two days in Seattle, our conversations, or our kinship. He was a brother first, kind, considerate, and open. I rank him up there with Bernie Mac and Sinbad as the most genuine celebrities I have met.
Yeah, Lou, I’ll miss you and feel sad that others didn’t get an opportunity to enjoy that walk.
Hotep.
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