Tag: writing

Calling All Cass Technical High School Alumni: A Century of Excellence Worth Celebrating

This month marks a remarkable milestone — the 100th Anniversary of the Cass Technical High School Harp and Vocal Program. In a time when we so often hear what’s wrong with public schools, especially within the Detroit Public Schools Community District (DPSCD), it’s important to pause and celebrate what’s right. Hidden within DPSCD is a shining jewel — the Cass Tech Harp and Vocal Program — led by the incomparable Ms. Lydia Cleaver.

Ms. Cleaver, a devoted educator and faithful member of my church, embodies what it means to serve with excellence and love. Day after day, she stands in the classroom as a steady force, doing the sacred work of teaching amid the chaos and challenges our community brings to her through its children. No matter their circumstances, Ms. Cleaver finds ways to lift, inspire, and prepare her students to rise beyond what many could ever imagine.

Think about it: teaching the harp — one of the world’s most delicate and expensive instruments — to Detroit’s young people, many of whom rely on public transportation just to get to school and benefit from free and reduced lunch programs. Yet when you encounter Ms. Cleaver’s students, you feel as if you’re standing in the presence of royalty. Their poise, grace, and confidence radiate urban sophistication and class.

Ms. Cleaver doesn’t seek recognition. She’s too busy molding the next generation of classical musicians. But her impact deserves to be acknowledged. Over the years, she has taken her students to Carnegie Hall in New York, to Europe, and to national and international competitions — all on what she calls a “McDonald’s hamburger budget.” Through sheer faith, creativity, and sacrifice, she has found ways to make the impossible possible.

It’s time we — the Cass Tech alumni community — rise to honor her and this program that has produced legends such as Dorothy Ashby and Alice Coltrane, and nurtured the same caliber of artistry that once surrounded Diana Ross. Ms. Cleaver herself is a proud Cass alumna and a graduate of the University of Michigan School of Music. She continues to campaign tirelessly to place harps in the hands of her students so they can practice and perfect their craft beyond school hours.

A hundred years of excellence is no small feat. It’s a living testimony that greatness still flows from the Detroit Public Schools Community District. Ms. Cleaver represents hundreds of dedicated teachers — past, present, and retired — who pour out their hearts and lives so our children can succeed, even in the most challenging circumstances.

To all Cass Tech alumni, and to all who love Detroit — this is our moment to say thank you. Let’s show our gratitude by showing up, giving back, and celebrating what is still beautiful and powerful about our schools.

🎶 Cass Tech Harp Program: A Centennial Celebration
100 Years: 1925 – 2025
📅 Thursday, October 24th, 7:00 PM
📍 Wayne State University’s Saint Andrew’s Memorial Episcopal Church
5105 Anthony Wayne Drive, Detroit, MI 48202

🎵 Master Class with Patricia Terry-Ross
📅 Friday, October 25th
📍 Old Main, Wayne State University
4841 Cass Avenue, Detroit, MI

Thank you, Ms. Lydia Cleaver, and thank you to every teacher who has ever sacrificed, inspired, and believed in our children. We may not say it enough, but today, from the bottom of our hearts — we are grateful.

Ode to My Friend Luther “Badman” Keith 1950 -2025

I’m up at 2:30 in the morning, trying to process the news of your death, Luther. I can only think about The Impossible Dream from Man of La Mancha. Brother Luther, you lived a life of courage, passion, and purpose, turning impossible dreams into reality—not just for yourself but for your family, friends, and, most importantly, for Detroit. You saw potential where others saw obstacles, hope where others saw despair, and you poured your heart into making a difference. Your legacy is one of vision and relentless determination, and though you are gone, the dreams you chased and the lives you touched will continue to inspire us all.

Luther was the consummate journalist—always asking questions, seeking information, and striving for truth. He was cut from a different cloth, deeply connected to the city and its communities in ways few journalists ever achieve. A proud graduate of the University of Detroit with a degree in journalism, he worked his way up from a cub reporter in Lansing to a leadership role at The Detroit News. He fought fiercely for Black representation in journalism, never shying away from the challenge of making newsrooms more inclusive. His impact was undeniable, particularly in his instrumental role in founding the Wayne State University Journalism Institute for Minorities, which opened doors for so many who had long been shut out of the field. For many of us, his dream seemed impossible—but he pursued it relentlessly, proving that barriers could be broken and that representation in media mattered. His legacy will continue to inspire generations of journalists to come.

My friend and colleague Luther Keith has joined the great cloud of witnesses as an angel for Detroit. He dreamed the impossible dream for himself and for our city. His dream for Detroit was that it would be better and do better.  Luther loved Detroit.   I have so many wonderful memories—from partying on Outer Drive into the early morning to badgering you as a young public relations executive to that unforgettable morning of the JOA when I represented Knight Ridder’s Free Press—a true day from journalism hell. Then we decided to take the lead on Mayor Kilpatrick’s failed vision of the Man Power Movement, believing we could make a difference. It’s almost unbelievable that we crisscrossed the nation on our own dime, studying men’s movements that we hoped to replicate in Detroit. And who could forget that Philadelphia trip, where we bravely spent the night with brothers trying to bring peace to a gang-infested neighborhood? We were crazy, but you had the dream—that safety and unity could be built not just through police intervention but through brothers coming together to serve and protect their own communities. Your vision was bold, your commitment unwavering, and your love for Detroit unmatched. 

I remember when he launched ARISE Detroit—his goal was to clean up every street and restore the city’s beauty through the power of volunteers. And that’s precisely what he did. We talked for hours about my teenage years leading KDB (Keep Detroit Beautiful) Teens and how a small cadre of Black teenagers organized youth in every Detroit zone to clean the city. I didn’t believe it could be done, but you dreamed it and made it happen. ARISE Detroit mobilized and empowered hundreds of thousands of city and suburbs volunteers to take on community improvement projects. If I had to guess, there were probably hundreds of these initiatives each year, and the man who believed in the impossible made it his mission to visit every single one on Neighborhoods Day. You were tireless for Detroit.

Despite being a relative of the esteemed Judge Damon Keith, Luther never carried an air of superiority. He connected with everyone, including a guy like me from the Northend of Detroit. He served on numerous boards, but one of his greatest passions was the Detroit Library Commission. He envisioned the library as more than just a place for books—it was a hub for the community, a sanctuary where Black children and youth could expand their horizons and dream beyond their circumstances.

Later in life, Luther discovered another passion—Blues music. He taught himself to master the guitar and became a fixture in Michigan’s Blues and Jazz scene, earning the name Luther “Badman” Keith. You could hear him play at nearly every Blues or Jazz joint across the state. At the last Detroit Chapter’s NABJ Valentine Celebration, I asked him, “Man, when do you sleep?” He laughed and said, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” How prophetic. 

Well, my friend and brother, you left a great career at The Detroit News to pursue your passion. You nurtured that passion into one of Detroit’s most impactful coalitions of neighborhood groups dedicated to revitalizing the city and strengthening its communities. Now, rest. Your legacy is secure. You dreamed big, lived boldly, and made the impossible possible.

And don’t worry—Detroit will take care of your wife, Jacqueline, your superstar daughter, Erin, and your lifelong sidekick and blood brother, Terrance.

I have a dream in your honor—that Wayne State University will establish a School of Journalism bearing your name.

Love you, brother. See you on the other side.

P.S.  For those who may not be familiar—Millennials, Gen Z, Gen X, and Alpha—this is for you. The Impossible Dream is a timeless classic, and here’s one of my favorite versions by Josh Groban.