a very difficult person. And he could be, uh, very hard on people if he felt that they weren’t giving 110 percent. If you said, here’s 100 percent of mankind, I think Reggie probably felt that maybe anywhere from 20 to 25 percent of those people needed to be kicked in the ass,” Hart remembers.
Also on a football scholarship, Hart came to Virginia State with the intention of majoring in general trade, then becoming an industrial arts teacher. However, his conversations with Lewis led him to change his major to business administration. He now directs international systems engineering for AT&T.
“A lot of thought processes were engaged after having a discussion with Reggie. I mean, he pissed you off, quite frankly. But if you took time to think about what he was really saying, you began to see some benefit, some value, and some substance. The shock treatment that I got as a steady diet as his roommate helped focus me,” Hart says today.
Lewis loved to deal in the currency of ideas. He was a well-informed, versatile conversationalist and a voracious reader.
“Reggie believed that you should spend some time trying to figure out what was going on around you,” Hart says. “I kind of felt like—‘Who cares?’ I mean, I can’t influence anything! Why is it important for me to read a newspaper, or try to figure out what this author was saying in this book? I mean, it’s a waste of time, because I was never going to use it.
“I think if there was stuff that annoyed me about him, he was always pressing those kinds of things. Like, ‘Hey, did you see what was in the (Washington) Post, or the Richmond Times Dispatch?’ Or, ‘Check this article out!’” Hart recalls.
Lewis even proselytized when it came to his tastes in music. “He had a tape recorder, a Webcor tape recorder. I’ll never forget that darn thing. And he would play music by MJQ (Modern Jazz Quartet), Ahmad Jamal, and other jazz greats. And I would say, ‘I want to hear some hip-hop.’ He would say, ‘Well you know, hey man, get your head together. Listen to something that’s got some value and some qualityto it.’ Now I have an appreciation for music in a way that I didn’t have back then,” Hart says.
Even as a college freshman, Lewis refused to view race as an impediment or a handicap. Equally important, he wanted to bring others around to his point of view. One day Lewis was in the room reading and Hart, who had a habit of walking around their dormitory room pretending to be a radio DJ and newscaster, was puttering around reading an imaginary news script. Lewis looked up in bafflement. “Why do you do that?” he asked.
“Because one day I want to be a newscaster. That’s what I want to do,” Hart responded.
“Well, if you want to be a newscaster, why don’t you do it?”
“They don’t have black newscasters around—there’s nobody doing this,” Hart replied in a tone that implied what he’d just said was common knowledge.
To Lewis’s way of thinking, Hart’s attitude was a harmful, self-defeating fallacy. Lewis’s grandparents had programmed and schooled him extensively in that regard: “No skill or vocation is the white man’s exclusive province.” And here in his dormitory room, without a white person in sight, Hart was already placing limits on his potential, based on his color. “Look dammit, if you want to do something, you can do it,” Lewis passionately informed Hart.
A couple of days later, around 2 o’clock in the morning, Hart was lying in bed when he heard a knock on the door. It was Lewis, with a young black man he’d met while working at a nearby bowling alley after classes. Lewis’s acquaintance was Max Robinson, who later joined ABC News as the country’s first full-time black anchorman on a national evening news program. At the time, Robinson was working for a radio station in Richmond.
Lewis walked over to his desk, pulled the chair out, placed it in front of Hart’s bed and offered
Also on a football scholarship, Hart came to Virginia State with the intention of majoring in general trade, then becoming an industrial arts teacher. However, his conversations with Lewis led him to change his major to business administration. He now directs international systems engineering for AT&T.
“A lot of thought processes were engaged after having a discussion with Reggie. I mean, he pissed you off, quite frankly. But if you took time to think about what he was really saying, you began to see some benefit, some value, and some substance. The shock treatment that I got as a steady diet as his roommate helped focus me,” Hart says today.
Lewis loved to deal in the currency of ideas. He was a well-informed, versatile conversationalist and a voracious reader.
“Reggie believed that you should spend some time trying to figure out what was going on around you,” Hart says. “I kind of felt like—‘Who cares?’ I mean, I can’t influence anything! Why is it important for me to read a newspaper, or try to figure out what this author was saying in this book? I mean, it’s a waste of time, because I was never going to use it.
“I think if there was stuff that annoyed me about him, he was always pressing those kinds of things. Like, ‘Hey, did you see what was in the (Washington) Post, or the Richmond Times Dispatch?’ Or, ‘Check this article out!’” Hart recalls.
Lewis even proselytized when it came to his tastes in music. “He had a tape recorder, a Webcor tape recorder. I’ll never forget that darn thing. And he would play music by MJQ (Modern Jazz Quartet), Ahmad Jamal, and other jazz greats. And I would say, ‘I want to hear some hip-hop.’ He would say, ‘Well you know, hey man, get your head together. Listen to something that’s got some value and some qualityto it.’ Now I have an appreciation for music in a way that I didn’t have back then,” Hart says.
Even as a college freshman, Lewis refused to view race as an impediment or a handicap. Equally important, he wanted to bring others around to his point of view. One day Lewis was in the room reading and Hart, who had a habit of walking around their dormitory room pretending to be a radio DJ and newscaster, was puttering around reading an imaginary news script. Lewis looked up in bafflement. “Why do you do that?” he asked.
“Because one day I want to be a newscaster. That’s what I want to do,” Hart responded.
“Well, if you want to be a newscaster, why don’t you do it?”
“They don’t have black newscasters around—there’s nobody doing this,” Hart replied in a tone that implied what he’d just said was common knowledge.
To Lewis’s way of thinking, Hart’s attitude was a harmful, self-defeating fallacy. Lewis’s grandparents had programmed and schooled him extensively in that regard: “No skill or vocation is the white man’s exclusive province.” And here in his dormitory room, without a white person in sight, Hart was already placing limits on his potential, based on his color. “Look dammit, if you want to do something, you can do it,” Lewis passionately informed Hart.
A couple of days later, around 2 o’clock in the morning, Hart was lying in bed when he heard a knock on the door. It was Lewis, with a young black man he’d met while working at a nearby bowling alley after classes. Lewis’s acquaintance was Max Robinson, who later joined ABC News as the country’s first full-time black anchorman on a national evening news program. At the time, Robinson was working for a radio station in Richmond.
Lewis walked over to his desk, pulled the chair out, placed it in front of Hart’s bed and offered
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