The Rejected Stone: Al Sharpton and the Path to American Leadership (25 page)

When I was leaving the cemetery that night—it was past eight
P.M.
, so it was now dark outside—heading toward the repast at a restaurant, a very famous artist stopped me on the way out. I won’t give his name, but he’s a huge star. He said, “Reverend Al, man, I was so moved by that eulogy!”

“Thank you,” I said.

“If I go first, I want you to do my eulogy—and I want you to do it just like that,” he said.

I looked at him, and before I could stop myself, I said, “You’re gonna have to give me something to work with.”

His head dropped, and he walked away.

Most of us don’t spend much time considering what they’re going to say at our funerals. Over the last few years, I have been warning in many of my sermons that you shouldn’t make some preacher have to get up there and hallucinate a life for you that you never lived. At least, leave something that the minister can talk about, something of value that you did, that
you stood for, that will be worthy of people remembering you by. If all your life has been geared toward what you own, what you bought, your fun, your games, your trips, just know that all that was for you. It’ll all die with you. There was a time when I would get called when somebody died, and I’d be there, ready to stand up and say something nice at the eulogy. But I won’t do it anymore. Now, unless I can get up and honestly say something meaningful, I’ll pass. I refuse to get up and lie about people just because they died. We’re all going to die, and we all should live knowing that death is certain. What’s uncertain is life.

What do I want them to say about me when my day arrives?

Yes, I like to live comfortably. Yes, I like being well known. But is that all I want? Is that all I am? Absolutely not. That’s no legacy. When my day comes and my funeral is at hand, I want them to say that when the challenges of social justice and economic inequality and racial discrimination were still prevalent, still suffocating the land, Al Sharpton was on the front line, fighting, battling—even if it cost him, even if it was uncomfortable. He was one of the proud soldiers for justice, a rejected stone that God used to be part of a cornerstone of a new world order.

I don’t want to be remembered as a TV host, or a radio host, or a big-time preacher, or the head of a civil rights organization. I want people to know that I was somebody who should never have been where I ended up being, according to the norms of the society I lived in. Because there is a special place for rejects God can use. I want my legacy to include the message
that I stood up and represented the rejects, that I helped to change the times I lived in. Of course, I didn’t do this by myself but with others—some more famous, some less famous. This is the legacy I covet. Others might want to be remembered as the richest guy or the most fashionable guy, but that’s not for me. It’s important to know what you want your legacy to be, because it directs your steps, blazes your path. And you’re going to be dead a lot longer than you’re going to be alive.

If you can leave behind a legacy of selflessness, of grace, of advocating on behalf of the weak and the powerless, I guarantee memories of you will far exceed your time here on earth. That’s the power of legacies. With all of the ups and downs, the good days and the bad, the pain and the joy, I don’t think it should end when they lower you into the ground or scatter your ashes. Your time here should all have been for a reason greater than yourself. I want people years from now, decades from now, to have gotten some meaning out of what I did. Your legacy cannot, should not, be measured by material things. If I had the best car in New York when I died, it will be out of style five years after I die. If I had the biggest house when I died, somebody will soon come along and build a bigger one. But if I make a lasting contribution to advancing humanity and breaking down barriers, changing the social order, people will still be referring to my life’s work many years after I’m gone.

Frederick Douglass will be remembered far longer than the richest black man during Reconstruction. Martin Luther King is remembered more than anybody who had a bigger church than he had in the ’60s. I believe people need to live
for a higher purpose than themselves. Be comfortable if you can, but your goal should be becoming comfortable enough to do great things. The goal shouldn’t be the comfort itself. What will it all mean 100 years from now? Will you have been part of something that mattered? Otherwise, you’re doing it all for nothing—for some choir to sing “Nearer, My God, to Thee” as your casket is carried out, and that’s it. You’re forgotten by the time the last car pulls away from the cemetery, because it was all done for some minute, selfish reasons. The desolation of the forgotten. That’s not a legacy worth living for. We all should strive to leave behind something greater than ourselves. Fighting injustice. Battling for the dispossessed and powerless. Comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable. Selflessly giving ourselves to those in need. Those are the kinds of words we should all seek to have carved into our tombstones.

If that all sounds too grand for you, if you lean more toward humility, try this one on for size: He made this world a better place.

My sincerest thanks go to the National Action Network (NAN), which allowed me to work on this book while continuing to be president and spokesman for the organization, starting with our chairman, Rev. Dr. W. Franklyn Richardson, and our committed board members, including Vice Chairman Donald Coleman, Lamell McMorris, Rev. Frederick D. Haynes III, Rev. Michael A. Walrond Jr., and the more than twenty other board members who represent NAN.

Thanks to NAN’s national staff, chapter leaders, and members, who do the work every day whether they get public recognition or not, headed by Executive Director Tamika Mallory and Executive Vice President and General Counsel Michael A. Hardy, who helped me co-found the organization and who has been a close friend.

I want to thank Nick Chiles not only for using his brilliant skills as a writer to help me in this book but also for being meticulous and extremely careful to preserve my voice, my words, and my message. So what you get is totally from me. He is a brilliant writer, who has immersed himself in a project that is bigger than myself, and I will be eternally
grateful for this brother who is truly unique and much appreciated by me.

Thanks to my companion and trusted friend Aisha McShaw, who helped me with this project.

Thanks to Kedar Massenburg, my friend and partner for many years, who is a legend in the music world and our community and who made this book possible and mandatory.

Thanks to Rachel Noerdlinger, who has been with us for more than a dozen years and has done a phenomenal job managing my brand and image.

Thanks to Phil Griffin, who gave me the opportunity to talk to millions as the host of
PoliticsNation
on MSNBC and believed in me, despite criticisms, by helping to democratize the airwaves of cable America. And to Matt Saal, the senior producer of
PoliticsNation
, who has worked with me and bonded with me in an unusual and heartwarming way. And to the staff at
PoliticsNation
, who do the best research and produce the best show on television today.

Thanks to Cathy Hughes and Alfred Liggins, who eight years ago gave me a voice with a daily syndicated radio show and were among the first people to invest in my message and our community. There would not be many of the things that have happened in the twenty-first century for the advancement of human and civil rights without Radio One and TV One, the brainchildren of Cathy Hughes, a black woman unparalleled in American history, and without the development by Alfred Liggins, an unequaled black entrepreneur and communications mogul.

Thanks to Tom Joyner, who has been here for every battle and has given me a weekly voice across America, and to Steve Harvey, who as a radio and television host and author has lent his name and commitment to the betterment of America, and to Ricky Smiley, who follows in the great tradition of black communicators.

Thanks to my best friend and adviser, who has helped keep my focus and helped guide me through my transformation, Dwight McKee, and to many of my partners in progress who work side-by-side with me, along with some younger than I who will continue this long after I am gone, such as Bishop Victor Tyrone Curry in Miami, Rev. Charles Williams in Detroit, Rev. K. W. Tullos in L.A., Mary Pat Hector, head of NAN Youth Move, who reminds me of my National Youth Movement days, and Janaye Ingram, who heads our Washington Bureau office with great diligence, and the list goes on and on.

Thanks to my siblings and family members who have grown closer since the passing of my mother and to Kathy, who did an outstanding job of raising our daughters and remains my friend and supporter.

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www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright © 2013 by Reverend Al Sharpton

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All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

This work is a memoir. It reflects the author’s present recollections of his experiences over a period of years. Certain names and identifying characteristics have been changed.

First Hardcover Edition: October 2013

Book Layout: Peng Olaguera/ISPN

Cover Design: Michael Nagin

Cover Photography: Deborah Feingold

www.CashMoneyContent.com

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013942088

ISBN: 978-1-936399-47-5 hc

ISBN: 978-1-936399-48-2 ebook