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Adventure on the edge.
Jasmine, have I ever told you much about my dad?
Not really.
Okay, so he was kind of a character.
His name was Anthony, but everybody called him Sonny.
He was one of those people who didn't really believe that rules were made for him.
One time we were on vacation and we were driving through New York City.
We started to go over the George Washington Bridge and he realized we missed our exit.
No, Jasmine, if you were driving in that car, what would you do?
I'd turn around.
And how would you do that?
Drive to the next exit, I guess.
Right, I think any reasonable person would do what you just described, but not my dad.
My dad stopped the car, put it in reverse, and backed up halfway across the George Washington
bridge to get back to our exit.
Never mind the hundreds of cars around you.
I mean, this is how I grew up.
This was totally normal for me as a kid.
He was also the kind of guy who had all these little sayings, like catchphrases, and
his favorite was, there are three ways to do things.
The right way, the wrong way, and my way.
Growing up, I used to think he invented this saying, but of course, now I know he didn't.
I wish it would be very carefully.
There are three ways of doing things around here.
The right way, the wrong way, and the way that I do it.
Kids, there's three ways to do things.
The right way, the wrong way, and the next power way.
Isn't that the wrong way?
Yeah, but faster.
So I tell you all this because this new season of the Storycore podcast, the one that
we're kicking off with this episode, is called My Way.
Stories from people who found a rhythm all their own and confidently marched to it their
whole lives.
Consequences and other people's opinions be damned.
Call it audacity, courage, or Hutzpah.
Everyone in the next few episodes had something inside to help them make decisions that are
not what other people expected.
They ended up being the right ones for them.
I'm Jasmine Morris.
And I'm Michael Garoflo, welcome to a brand new season of the Storycore podcast from
MBR.
Okay, so our first two stories are about work.
Both are about people who found a way to make it in a world that wasn't exactly built for
them.
My father had a heart attack and I was 13 years old and my mother said, you can't go back
to go have to find a job.
That's Clayton Shurot.
And he's talking about growing up in Birmingham, Alabama in the late 1950s.
So I went to the country club right outside of Birmingham to make some money.
During that time, it was extremely segregated.
The only way a person who was black or African American could really go to a country club
is to go there to work.
And I always wanted to go up to the kitchen and watch dishes because it was really fascinating
to see those guys cooking.
So I made up my mind that I was going to be a chef.
All my friends told me I was crazy.
But I saw something that no one else could see and that is me walking around the big
tall head on.
So I counted how many positions it was from watching dishes to the executive chef and
we had like a three-room house.
So what I did, I'd have my chart pinned to the wall and I would look out the bathroom
there.
And I would mark every time I got a promotion.
And then I would turn the light off and I would dance.
And I would sing, John to be good and I changed it to Clayton Be Good.
You're so good.
And I didn't mind all the hard work.
Actually, I loved it.
I worked the whole weekend without going home.
And they worked myself up to Sue Chef.
And I was this guy named Frank K.
He who was executive chef.
He told me one day he said, I know what you're trying to do.
You think you're going to be the chef here, but I'm going to be here for life.
You might as well just keep working under me or go somewhere else.
So what I did, I was sneaky.
In the back of trade magazines, there's articles in there looking for chefs all over the
country.
I wrote one of the best looking resumes and signed Frank K.
He's name on it and sent it to all of these headhunters all over the country.
And he actually thought he was famous.
He said everybody knew about him, but he didn't know that was me that did it.
And the general manager got tired of it.
He said, Frank, every time you come to me for raises and people want you here, people
want you there.
He said, right now at this very moment, I consider you dead.
Frank he turned white as a sheet and he said, well, what are you going to do?
The general manager said, well, Clayton, can you take care of it until we find another
chef?
That's how I'd be more than happy to.
That's all I needed.
I'd never even look back.
Chef Clayton Shurad.
He was only 19 when he took over the kitchen at that country club.
Now to become executive chef as a young black man in Alabama in 1964, Clayton had to get
creative and agree with his methods or not.
You got to admit he did find a way.
Yeah.
And our next story also involves a creative and brave workaround from someone who didn't
think the way the world wanted her to.
In school, they just called me stupid, dumb, lazy.
I really thought that that's what was wrong with me.
And when there was something that I needed to do, it was like a door in my brain.
I didn't know what to do.
I didn't know what to do.
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Support for this podcast and the following message come from Dignity Memorial.
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We've been listening to stories about people who did things their own way.
These next two feature people who put themselves in situations that most other people would run away from.
First we'll hear from two brothers, Paul Corbett Brown and John Brown.
Sat down together in Charleston, West Virginia.
Paul, who's the older brother, wanted to know about something that happened in John's life when he was younger.
When did you first find your voice?
Well, I guess I found my literal voice in 1993.
I was driving work scan through the stations and I landed on Joy and Praise 101 something.
WJYP Praise 101.
Good morning. Our time is 1002.
The announcement was saying all these terrible untrue things about gay and lesbian people and about how crude they are.
I pulled off the side of the road and I went to a pay phone and I called him and I said,
what are you thinking? If you're going to talk about gay and lesbian people,
you should have somebody gay and lesbian on the show to provide it a balanced perspective in the very least.
We've tried many times to get somebody on the show and I said,
I'll be on your show and he said, no you won't. People say that but they won't show up.
You tell me the time and the place and I'll be there and he said, we're going to have a live segment.
If you want to be here, we'll put you on the show for 10 minutes.
I said, okay, hung up the phone and of course I was shaken like a leaf.
I went to the Hardies across the street and I got five doors and quarters and I called everybody I knew.
I said, you've got to call into this show because I'm absolutely petrified.
At any rate, I went up there and we were in this little studio and I remember there was a bear light bulb hanging down from the ceiling.
We welcome you today to the Thursday forum. With us in the studio, we have John Brown.
We went through the first 15 minutes and he said, I'm sure you won't want to stay.
And I said, no, I'm perfectly comfortable. I'll sit here until you're ready to turn off the microphone.
And we sat there for another two and a half hours and talked about these issues.
I was just as comfortable as I could be because what I was there to say, I earned.
I don't believe I'm an abomination. I don't believe I ever have been or ever will be.
I just felt so empowered. Even though 99.9% of the callers who called into that show just talked about me like I was a dog.
The majority that are in the homosexual community have hundreds or even thousands of partners.
That didn't matter. What mattered is that there was somebody out there in that audience who was listening, who needed to hear, was okay.
And that was the only person I was worried about. The rest of those people didn't matter to me.
When I think about you, I think about all the things that you've done in your life and the way that you walk your talk.
And I really admire that because I don't know very many people in my life like you.
And my relationship with you has had one of the most profound effects on who I am as a person.
There will never be words for it, but thanks. I appreciate that. I really do.
John Brown with his brother Paul in West Virginia.
Our final story comes from Julio Diaz, a social worker in New York City.
Every day, he'd end his hour-long subway commute to the Bronx one stop early, just so he could eat at his favorite diner.
But one night, as he stepped off the sixth train and onto a nearly empty platform, his evening took an unexpected turn.
So I get off the train, you know, I'm walking towards the stairs and this young teenager pulls out a knife. He wants my money. So I just gave him my wallet. So there you go.
He starts to leave and as he's walking away, I'm like, hey, wait a minute, forgot something. If you're going to be robbing people for the rest of the night, you might as well take my coat to keep you warm.
So he's looking at me like, what's going on here? He asks me, what are you doing this? And I'm like, well, I don't know, man, if you're willing to risk your freedom for a few dollars, then I guess he must really need the money.
I mean, all I wanted to do was go get dinner. And if you really want to join me, hey, you're more than welcome. I'm like, look, you can follow me if you want.
You know, I just felt maybe he really needs help. So you know, we go into the diner where I normally sit down in the booth and the manager comes by the dishwasher's come by the way, just come by to say hi, you know, so the kids like, man, but you know everybody here, do you own this place? I'm like, no, I just see here.
He's like, but you're even nice to the dishwasher. I'm like, wow, haven't you been taught you should be nice to everybody. So he's like, yeah, but I didn't think people actually behave that way. So I just asked him in the end, I'm like, you know, I'm going to be a little bit more careful.
I'm like, wow, haven't even taught you should be nice to everybody. So he's like, yeah, but I didn't think people actually behave that way. So I just asked him in the end, I'm like, you know, what is it that you want at a life?
He just had almost a sad face. He couldn't answer me or he didn't want to. The bill came and I look at him and I'm like, look, I guess you can have to pay for this bill because you have my money and I can't pay for this. So if you give me my wallet back, I'll gladly treat you.
He didn't even think about it. He's like, yeah, okay, here you go. So I got my wallet back and I gave you, I gave him $20 for you know, I figure maybe it'll help him. I don't know. And when I gave him the $20, I asked him to give me something in return, which was his knife.
And he gave it to me. You know, it's funny because when I told my mom about what happened, you know, no mom wants to hear this, but with her, she was like, well, you know, you're the type of kid that I wish someone asked you for the time you gave him your watch.
I don't know, I figure, you know, you treat people right. You can only hope that they treat you right. It's as simple as a get to this complicated world.
That's all for this episode, which we started off with me telling a story about my dad. So is there anyone in your life who's one of these people, someone who just finds their own way? If there is, tell us about him.
We set up a voicemail line, especially for podcast listeners. The number is 702 706 talk. We'll occasionally be asking for you to call in about specific things like who you want to interview, but you can also call in and leave messages for anyone that you hear on this show. We'll pass them on and maybe even feature you in a future episode.
The number again is 702 706 T-A-L-K or you can email us at podcast at storycore.org.
Find out how to record your own story on our website. And while you're there, you can support our work. Visit donate.storycore.org slash podcast.
Next week, a father and son remember their unique birds in the bees talk.
So how did you find out that I was actually a porn star?
So get ready for that one. Judd SD candle is our senior producer. Max Young Rice is our producer. Our technical director is Jared Floyd.
Special thanks to Yasmeen Aguera, Emily Martinez, John White and Katie Simon, as well as story core facilitators for Antesco de Salvatore, Stephanie Burton, Brett Myers and Michelle Swinehart.
I'm Michael Garofalo.
And I'm Jasmine Morris, as always, thanks for listening.
Support for this podcast comes from the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, a private corporation funded by the American people.
