The Men of Brewster Place

    Clifford Jackson, or Abshu, as he preferred to be

known in the streets, had committed himself several

years ago to use his talents as a playwright to broaden

the horizons for the young, gifted, and black—which

5was how he saw every child milling around that dark

street. As head of the community center he went after

every existing grant on the city and state level to bring

them puppet shows with the message to avoid drugs

and stay in school; and plays in the park such as actors

10rapping their way through Shakespeare’s A Midsummer

Night's Dream. Abshu believed there was something in

Shakespeare for everyone, even the young of Brewster

Place, and if he broadened their horizons just a little

bit, there might be enough room for some of them to

15slip through and see what the world had waiting. No, it

would not be a perfect world, but definitely one with

more room than they had now.

    The kids who hung around the community center

liked Abshu, because he never preached and it was

20clear that when they spoke he listened; so he could zero

in on the kid who had a real problem. It might be an

offhand remark while shooting a game of pool or a one-

on-one out on the basketball court, but he had a way of

making them feel special with just a word or two. 

25     Abshu wished that his own family could have

stayed together. There were four of them who ended up

in foster care: him, two younger sisters, and a baby

brother. He understood why his mother did what she

did, but he couldn't help wondering if there might have 

30been a better way.

    Abshu was put into a home that already had two

other boys from foster care. The Masons lived in a

small wooden bungalow right on the edge of Linden

Hills. And Mother Mason insisted that they tell any- 

35body who asked that they actually lived in Linden

Hills, a more prestigious address than Summit Place. It

was a home that was kept immaculate.

    But what he remembered most about the Masons

was that it seemed there was never quite enough to eat. 

40She sent them to school with a lunch of exactly one and

a half sandwiches—white bread spread with margarine

and sprinkled with sugar—and half an apple.

    When Abshu dreamed of leaving—which was

every day—he had his own apartment with a refrigera- 

45tor overflowing with food that he gorged himself with

day and night. The Masons weren’t mean people; he

knew he could have ended up with a lot worse.

    Abshu lived with these people for nine years, won

a scholarship to the local college, and moved out to 

50support himself through school by working in a dough-

nut shop. By this time his mother was ready to take her

children back home, but he decided that since he was

already out on his own he would stay there. One less

mouth for her to worry about feeding. And after he 

55graduated with his degree in social work, he might even

be able to give her a little money to help her along.

    One thing he did thank the Masons for was keep-

ing him out of gangs. There was a strict curfew in their

home that was rigidly observed. And church was 

60mandatory. "When you’re out on your own," Father

Mason always said, “you can do whatever you want,

but in my home you do as I say.” No, they weren't

mean people, but they were stingy—stingy with their

food and with their affection. Existing that way all the 

65time, on the edge of hunger, on the edge of kindness,

gave Abshu an appreciation for a life fully lived. Do

whatever job makes you happy, regardless of the cost;

and fill your home with love. Well, his home became

the community center right around the corner from

70Brewster Place and the job that made him most fulfilled

was working with young kids.

    The kids who hung out at the community center

weren’t all lost yet. They wanted to make use of the

tutors for their homework; and they wanted a safe place 

75to hang. His motto was: Lose no child to the streets.

And on occasion when that happened, he went home to

cry. But he never let his emotions show at work. To the

kids he was just a big, quiet kind of dude who didn't go

looking for trouble, but he wouldn’t run from it either. 

80He was always challenged by a new set of boys who

showed up at the center. He made it real clear to them

that this was his territory—his rules—and if they

needed to flex their muscles, they were welcome to try.

And he showed many that just because he was kind, it 

85didn’t mean he was weak. There had to be rules some-

in their world, some kind of discipline. And if

they understood that, then he worked with them, long

and hard, to let them see that they could make a differ-

ence in their own lives.