I first met James in 1983 on the initial day of our year long American Leadership Class 1. When we shook hands, mine got lost. He was a member of the class because he was a Black leader in Houston. I was there because I wasn't.
James was a big man, not only in stature, but also in heart. He was a gentle giant in many ways. He gave of himself to those who needed community, a volunteer or personal help. Je cared deeply for his family, the people of Houston and all of the people who here no matter what color.
James was an architect, at least that was something that we had in common. He had also worked at CRS, but not at the same time as I. Still there was a link and a bond between the two us who had shared similar experiences. We were about to share many more with the 15 of our classmates in Class 1. We were the pioneers.
When ALF Class 1 went on an Outward Bound trip, James stayed behind. He had suffered a broken hip playing football and it still gave him trouble. We took his spirit, his sense of humor and his kind words to the summit of Mt. Ebert, the tallest of the mountains in lower United States. His spirit deserved to be there and we remembered him when we summited.
At the end of the year together, the members of Class 1 went to a nearby resort to determine our class project and to set a new tradition. James and I proposed a Houston Visions program that would give Houston some longer range goals and direction. The rest of the class thought that it was more than we should take on. The two of us lobbied long and hard for the project that we thought would give some direction to the largest city in the country with no zoning. The rest of the class was probably wiser that we were. We lost that effort, but James and I became allies and friends.
In 1990, James was severely hurt in an auto accident. It took him a long time to heal, but he was a true fighter for those he believed in. I saw him in early 1992 and I could tell that the injuries from that wreck frustrated him. He was a sprinter in a tackle's wracked body.
My assistant at the time showed me a clip from the Houston Chronicle that told me he had died from a heart attack at 49 on Labor Day. At that time I was his exact age -49.
James was a gentle giant with a heart of gold. We are better for knowing him and truly saddened at his passing.
I miss him. a lot.
Jk
James was a big man, not only in stature, but also in heart. He was a gentle giant in many ways. He gave of himself to those who needed community, a volunteer or personal help. Je cared deeply for his family, the people of Houston and all of the people who here no matter what color.
James was an architect, at least that was something that we had in common. He had also worked at CRS, but not at the same time as I. Still there was a link and a bond between the two us who had shared similar experiences. We were about to share many more with the 15 of our classmates in Class 1. We were the pioneers.
When ALF Class 1 went on an Outward Bound trip, James stayed behind. He had suffered a broken hip playing football and it still gave him trouble. We took his spirit, his sense of humor and his kind words to the summit of Mt. Ebert, the tallest of the mountains in lower United States. His spirit deserved to be there and we remembered him when we summited.
At the end of the year together, the members of Class 1 went to a nearby resort to determine our class project and to set a new tradition. James and I proposed a Houston Visions program that would give Houston some longer range goals and direction. The rest of the class thought that it was more than we should take on. The two of us lobbied long and hard for the project that we thought would give some direction to the largest city in the country with no zoning. The rest of the class was probably wiser that we were. We lost that effort, but James and I became allies and friends.
In 1990, James was severely hurt in an auto accident. It took him a long time to heal, but he was a true fighter for those he believed in. I saw him in early 1992 and I could tell that the injuries from that wreck frustrated him. He was a sprinter in a tackle's wracked body.
My assistant at the time showed me a clip from the Houston Chronicle that told me he had died from a heart attack at 49 on Labor Day. At that time I was his exact age -49.
James was a gentle giant with a heart of gold. We are better for knowing him and truly saddened at his passing.
I miss him. a lot.
Jk