I remember once talking to a Latino colleague back in my days at the Los Angeles Times about Father Gregory Boyle and the work he does with Eastside gangs when the conversation turned to one project, Homeboy Bakery.
“I’ve always found it interesting how a term arises from one culture and is expropriated by another,” I said.
Back in my ill-spent youth, when I thought it was more valuable to float around the world with one bag and a double-digit bankroll rather than map out a career, I landed in Madrid during the dictatorship of Generalissimo Francisco Franco.
It started with pieces of scrap lumber. Richard ‘‘5th Street Dick’’ Fulton had helped build the small theater in what was then Marla Gibbs’ Vision Complex in Leimert Park. With scraps left over from that job, he went to work on his own vision–one that would bring a jazz and poetry venue to the burgeoning arts community.
Stand within arm’s length of Joel Brandon, study him closely, watch every move he makes, and you still won’t believe your ears. This has to be a trick. No one could produce that kind of sound without using a musical instrument.
The charismatic minister’s son became a Top 40 sensation who inspired generations of singers. His explosive rise was cut short when he was slain at a motel 30 years ago.