Al Sharpton, Media Star : Is New York’s Racial Rabble-Rouser a Loose Cannon, or a Lightning Rod?

Moses Stewart needed help in a hurry.

Hours after a gang of white youths in Bensonhurst killed his teen-age son with a bullet to the heart, the grief-stricken father was besieged by TV cameras and reporters at his Brooklyn home. Police were bombarding his family with questions about the racially motivated murder and the phone was ringing off the hook.

Stewart was overwhelmed--but he knew what he had to do.

“I called the Rev. Al Sharpton,” he says. “I wanted to get me some justice, and that’s what Sharpton does. He stands up for black folks like me, and if some whites don’t like that, I could care less.”

Couldn’t Afford a Lawyer

A father of three, Stewart couldn’t afford a lawyer and he didn’t trust local black politicians to take up his cause. The only person who offered him any help was a big-bellied reverend with a James Brown pompadour, a fast-talking hustler from the mean streets of Bedford-Stuyvesant who has been dismissed by many New Yorkers--black and white--as a fraud and a buffoon.

“Al Charlatan,” as New York Mayor Ed Koch calls him, has made a career of thrusting himself into the middle of ugly racial incidents and demanding justice for black victims. A master of media manipulation and an eloquent speaker, Sharpton does not appear to have any political agenda beyond whipping up tensions throughout the city whenever there is even the slightest hint that blacks have been attacked for racial reasons.

The fact that the 34-year-old Sharpton has continued to thrive in the public eye says much about the deteriorating state of race relations in New York and other large cities, as well as the inability of many black leaders to reach out to the poorest residents of the inner cities, according to black and white political observers.

“This man (Sharpton) may seem like a joke to whites because he doesn’t fit the mold of what they think a black leader should look like,” says Andrew Cooper, publisher of the black-owned City Sun newspaper in New York.

“But he connects with people on the streets, and there’s a lot of anger in black communities today. Al Sharpton is looked on as a hero in parts of this city because much of the black leadership is discredited. There’s nobody else doing what he does.”

Sharpton is perhaps best known for his exploits in the 1987 Tawana Brawley case. Along with two black attorneys, Alton Maddox and C. Vernon Mason, he orchestrated a media circus over the sensational story of a 15-year-old black girl who claimed she had been raped by six white men.

“Reverend Soundbite,” as reporters dubbed him, accused police of trying to cover up the crime and advised the family not to cooperate with any investigation. He staged street demonstrations and claimed that a “racist cult” linked to the Irish Republican Army had plotted the crime.

A New York grand jury later concluded that the rape never took place, accusing the Brawley family and their advisers of perpetrating a gigantic hoax on the public. But to this day, Sharpton is unrepentant.

“We don’t let nothing slip through the cracks, and that case is still unresolved,” he says. “We’ve only won when we hit the streets and stay out in the streets and keep this town in disruption.”

Belligerent, sarcastic and never at a loss for words, Sharpton has become a Page 1 celebrity as well known to New Yorkers as Koch, Leona Helmsley and Donald Trump. To the amazement of his critics, he has continued to thrive despite the fact that he was indicted in June on 67 counts of stealing $250,000 earmarked for a black youth organization he once ran.

The controversial activist also has been indicted for income-tax evasion, and yet another indictment charges that five mobsters used money from his now-defunct organization to launder Mafia money.

In addition, New York Newsday revealed that, according to law-enforcement sources, Sharpton has worked for the FBI as an informant on black officials and his close friends, including boxing promoter Don King.

“That might be enough to destroy any other public figure in this town,” says Geoffrey Stokes, media critic for the Village Voice newspaper. “But with this guy, we’re talking about someone in a league all his own.”

Cooper and others agree that Sharpton owes most of his success to the media, which has given him extensive coverage over the years. No one, it seems, knows how to work the local press better, even if he sometimes makes a fool of himself in the process.

Making Headlines

Last year, the New York Post ran a front page photo of the roly-poly reverend under a hair dryer, reporting that he goes to a beauty parlor every six weeks for a perm. Earlier, Sharpton drew headlines when he got into a brawl on the Morton Downey Jr. TV show with black leader Roy Innis. New Yorkers clucked last year when Sharpton, on trial for disrupting the peace, fell asleep in court and began snoring loudly, only to startle everyone when he suddenly awoke and banged his head into a wall.

“I get white folks all riled up because they don’t want a loose cannon like me rolling around in the system,” says Sharpton, a Pentecostal preacher who is not formally affiliated with any church.

“They don’t like my hair, they think I’m too fat. The fact is, they don’t know how to get people out on the street like I do. They don’t know how to work a civil-rights case for maximum media attention.”

Although the Brawley incident was viewed as a setback for Sharpton, his tactics have paid off on other occasions. Three years ago, for example, he and other activists pressured New York Gov. Mario Cuomo to appoint a special prosecutor to investigate a racial incident in the largely white Howard Beach neighborhood.

In a case that became a national symbol of racial tension, three black men leaving a pizza parlor in the community were assaulted by a group of bat-wielding white youths. The attackers taunted their victims with racial epithets and indirectly caused the death of one men when he was chased into traffic and run over by a car.

Less than 48 hours later, with network TV cameras rolling, Sharpton returned to the pizza parlor and dared a white mob outside to come get him. After the verdicts in the case came down, he led massive “Days of Outrage” protests that shut down traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge and halted subway service in Brooklyn and Manhattan.

Actions Condemned

More often than not, Sharpton’s actions have been condemned by most New Yorkers. In a recent political poll, more than 67% of registered black Democratic voters viewed him with disfavor. Less than 15% of New Yorkers citywide had a good thing to say about him.

“Al Sharpton is nothing but a street act for the media to cover,” says David Garth, a nationally known political consultant and top adviser to Koch. “How irresponsible is it for him to keep getting this coverage? On a scale of one to 10, I’d give it a nine.”

Mainstream black leaders take a slightly different view, even though Sharpton has enraged them on more than one occasion.

“This man speaks for a group of people who feel they don’t have anyone else,” says Bill Tatum, publisher of the Amsterdam News, the largest black-owned newspaper in New York. “No matter how much trouble he gets into, they know that Al Sharpton is going to be there for them.”

It is election night in New York, Sept. 12, and elated supporters of mayoral candidate David Dinkins, the black Manhattan borough president, are filling the ballroom of a Midtown hotel. The moderate, soft-spoken Dinkins has just dethroned 12-year incumbent Mayor Ed Koch in the Democratic primary, and it appears that New York is on the verge of electing its first black mayor.

At first glance, it does not seem to be the kind of crowd that would give Sharpton much support. In recent weeks, Sharpton has voiced contempt for the black candidate and vowed to oppose him. But an impromptu survey of black Dinkins supporters shows surprising results.

“I question Sharpton’s motives and his unorthodox way of doing things, but nobody else jumps on a problem and calls for action in the black community like he does,” says Dwayne Foster, 28, a Manhattan actor.

Bensonhurst, Foster says, is a case in point.

In an August incident that drew national headlines, 16-year-old Yusuf Hawkins was shot and killed when he came to the all-white Brooklyn neighborhood to buy a used car. The gang of whites who attacked Hawkins told police they had mistaken him for the black boyfriend of a neighborhood girl.

Hours after the killing, Sharpton rushed to the family’s side and became a one-man band of agitation. When Cuomo called the family to express condolences, he was stunned to find Sharpton on the line badgering him to conduct a speedy investigation. On four occasions, Sharpton led protest marches into the community that drew racist taunts from residents.

‘Gets Results’

“To a lot of blacks, he’s something of a Robin Hood,” says Foster, as the Dinkins victory band pounds out a soul riff. “What he’s lacking is finesse, but black people are more interested in someone who gets results.”

Several feet away, George Wilson, a 26-year-old computer student from Brooklyn, cheers on Dinkins--and offers grudging praise for Sharpton.

“If this guy held a press conference on the steps of City Hall and announced his hair-dressing appointments for the next two months, somebody would give him coverage,” says Wilson. “He’s had a style all his own from the time he was a kid.”

Born in the Brownsville section of Brooklyn, Sharpton was drawn to the spotlight at an early age. He says that he decided early on to become a preacher, and reportedly delivered his first sermon at the age of 4. By 13, he had become an ordained Pentecostal minister and was known as “the boy wonder,” preaching gospel in local churches and accompanying entertainers such as Mahalia Jackson on national religious tours.

Soon, Sharpton drifted into political activism, taking up civil-rights causes. In 1969, the Rev. Jesse Jackson made him the youth director of his group, Operation Breadbasket. Later, through mutual friends, he became close to soul singer James Brown and got involved in the concert promotion business. In 1971, he founded the National Youth Movement, an organization that raised money for ghetto youth until Sharpton disbanded it several years ago.

Today, Sharpton lives in a small Brooklyn apartment with his wife, singer Kathy Jordan, and their two young children. He points out to reporters that he owns no car, does not have a fancy wardrobe and lives “modestly” off the proceeds from several community groups that he has formed.

Criminal Allegations

But state criminal justice officials tell a different story. They say that Sharpton has drained off $250,000 from one of these groups, and also has been guilty of income tax evasion. Perhaps more damaging to his image were revelations in New York Newsday that he worked as an informant for the FBI, gathering information on black elected officials.

Sharpton says he helped convict drug dealers and racketeers, but denies allegations by law enforcement sources that he decided to cooperate after being videotaped conducting a drug transaction with an undercover agent. He also has denied gathering information on his friends, including Don King.

“All of these cases are harassment, they’re trying to destroy me just like they tried to destroy Adam Clayton Powell and Martin Luther King and other black leaders,” says Sharpton. “I look forward to my court dates, because I’m going to win all of these cases.”

For many blacks, these statements do not wash. As she parties with friends at the Dinkins celebration, Theresa Villaneuva, a black Hunter College student, says the reverend “has greatly embarrassed the black community, he overdoes it and he raises tensions when we should be decreasing them.”

But Sharpton remains strong, she adds, because there aren’t many other black leaders who speak the language of the inner city as well.

While New York may be an extreme example, the difficulty of reaching out to blacks on the bottom of the economic ladder is a growing national concern, said John Jacobs, president of the Urban League. Anger is building in black communities across America, he says, because of unemployment and an effort in Washington to undo major civil-rights gains.

“I think the Al Sharptons and the Louis Farrakhans have always had a role and an appeal,” Jacobs says. “What it means for conventional (black) leadership . . . is that we shouldn’t try to become the Al Sharptons and Louis Farrakhans. We have to understand that our process must begin to reflect the impatience of the people.”

Despite Sharpton’s contempt for mainstream black leaders, few black officials in New York will personally condemn him. Rev. Calvin Butts of the Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem, one of the city’s most respected black clergymen, says Sharpton’s appeal is best understood by visiting his base of support in Brooklyn.

“Every week, this man preaches at a place called the Slave Theatre down in Bedford-Stuyvesant,” says Butts. “It may not be filled to the brim with people each night, but those who do come hear him perform something of value. Al Sharpton has his place.”

It is a miserable, rainy night in Bedford-Stuyvesant, one of the poorest neighborhoods in New York, and people milling outside the Slave Theatre are the only signs of life on a nearly deserted boulevard. By 8:30 p.m., most of them filter inside, because the Rev. Al Sharpton is about to speak.

The Slave Theatre, which used to be a movie house, looks shabby and run-down from the outside. But inside, it is a startling place: Huge color murals adorn the walls with scenes from the history of American slavery and the oppression of blacks. In the lobby, a large painting shows the revenge of a black slave, who has wrapped his white master in chains.

Long, rambling polemics about slavery and the tensions between blacks and Jews fill another wall, along with a drawing of a gigantic black gorilla. The dimly lit main room is decorated with portraits of black leaders such as Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Elijah Muhammad and Marcus Garvey.

On this night, the Slave Theatre’s seats are filled with about 250 members of the United African Movement, an advocacy group Sharpton has formed. The crowd, mostly men and women in their 20s and 30s, bursts into applause as the chubby reverend takes the stage.

Stirring the Crowd

Flanked by two bodyguards, he warms up the crowd with a spirited chant: “No justice! No peace! No justice! No peace!” Then, in a booming voice, he tells the faithful to hug the person next to them and sit down.

Streching his arms wide and rocking back and forth on his feet, Sharpton delivers the “news of the week” in a mocking cadence. He notes first that subway gunman Bernhard Goetz had been released from jail the night before. Goetz drew national attention in 1985 when he shot four black youths on a subway, fearing that they were about to rob him.

“I certainly would have liked to have had a welcome home party for old Bernie,” says Sharpton, as the crowd murmurs its angry approval. “He slipped out the back way. I wish he could have slipped out right into my arms.”

Leaning forward, Sharpton vows to stage demonstrations in front of Goetz’s Greenwich Village apartment. He shouts into the microphone: “We’ve got to go visit Bernie!”

The audience erupts in cheers and Sharpton wipes his face with a handkerchief. The next subject is Bensonhurst, and he tells his followers that a judge has allowed four of the five white boys charged in the murder of Yusuf Hawkins to remain free on bail.

“To let those boys go home on bail is like spitting on Yusuf’s grave!” he says. “I’ve got the address of the four boys they let go, and we need to go and ring their bells and let them know that the black posse is watching them at all times!”

Angry ‘Amens’

An angry chorus of “amens” fills the room and Sharpton rolls on: “I understand that some people believe in harmony and all of that. But harmony comes after justice. . . . It’s not a time for harmony, it’s time for escalation.”

Basking in the moment, Sharpton now begins to mock Jesse Jackson, who visited a Bensonhurst high school earlier in the week to urge a calming of racial tensions. Jackson “didn’t mention Yusuf’s name,” he says, and “it would have been nicer for Jesse to challenge those students, if they knew anything about the gang that killed Yusuf.”

His voice filled with sarcasm, Sharpton shakes a fist at the audience and shouts: “Keep hope alive. . . . Keep hope alive. . . . That don’t mean nothing to Yusuf. He needs justice.”

As the applause dies down, Sharpton takes a final swipe at his critics:

“I don’t give a damn what they think about me. This ain’t no popularity contest.”

In the following days, Sharpton pledges to hold new demonstrations in Bensonhurst. And there will be other protests: Why, he asks, should the black youths accused of raping and nearly killing a white woman jogger in Central Park earlier this year be held without bail, while four of the five Bensonhurst suspects remain free?

‘I Never Quit’

“I don’t quit, I never quit,” Sharpton says. “If anybody thinks I’m going away, they’re crazy.”

There is no telling how far Sharpton’s influence spreads beyond the Slave Theatre. But those who write him off as a crackpot with no constituency do so at their own peril, said F. Gilman Spencer, recently retired editor of the New York Daily News.

“His (Sharpton’s) persistence does not surprise me,” says Spencer. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he appeared tomorrow morning on the top of the Empire State Building in a saffron robe with Mayor Koch in his arms.

“The fact is, Al Sharpton is pure theater. And he plays on some stages in this town better than a lot of folks would like to admit.”