OCR Text |
Show E Sunday, March 10, 1996 The Daily Herald Family hopes to have one By LARRY McSHANE Associated Press Writer NEW YORK delivered by a The message, janitor, was harsh. But then the janitor, like most everybody in Coney Island, saw the skinny as the receptacle for dreams deferred since before the boy's birth. "Work hard, OK?" he told the high-schofreshman. "Don't (mess) up like your brothers." It was not supposed to be this not for Stephon Marbury, way the fourth in a line of hoop-sta- r siblings, all with pro skills and aspirations. By now, one of the Marbury boys should have ascended from their city housing project into the big time and big bucks of the National Basketball Association. When Stephon was in diapers, brother Eric was dunking alongside Dominique Wilkins at the By University of Georgia. Stephon's fifth birthday, brother Donnie's deadly jumper seemed to be his ticket out. When Stephon hit his teens, brother Norman was collecting assists and scholarship bids. The Marburys, like dominoes, followed one another to Lincoln High School. Each wore the same No. 3. and each drew attention from a horde of major college coaches. For each, pro basketball seemed just a few sweet shots away. But those shots didn't fall. Eric, now 35, Donnie, 31, and Norman, 25, came back, one by back to Brooklyn. Failures, one neighbors whisper, even though they were all college men. They ignored the whispers and passed the torch. It's down to Stephon now, as the heralded Georgia Tech freshman takes his family's best shot at basketball's brass ring. "He's seen his brothers, all successful in different ways, all great ballplayers, but they didn't make it to the NBA," says Lou D' Almeida, a close family friend. "It's a tremendous pressure on him." The brothers now scrutinize, critique and encourage Stephon, anxious for the teen to take their unfinished final step: from to college star to NBA lottery pick. The pressure extends beyond the walls of Marbury 's cramped n 'hood, a apartment. His that hoops hotbed-by-the-scheered Lincoln to seven of the last 10 city championship games, has never seen a native son make The Show. the There were Marburys, yes, but also legendary local players dubbed "Silk," "Tiny" and "T," who couldn't overcome the drugs, the violence, the bad grades, the bad luck. for the neighborFor them hood Stephon is their hope, too. The young point guard is "not only carrying the whole family, he's carrying all of Coney Island with him," says veteran city basketball scout Tom Konchalski. "He was the anointed one since he was a young boy, the one to make it to the NBA. Stephon can take them to the promised land." Coney Island's first family of hoops grew up one block from the beach and a million miles from nowhere. Once a resort that lured million visitors a day, the neighborhood is now more of a last resort whose a collection of high-rise- s only connection to the good times gone is their kitschy names: Ocean high-scho- ol ol high-scho- ol run-dow- near-miss- 1 Towers, Surf Manor. The local subway stop sits at the end of the line in Brooklyn, amid the remnants of Coney Island past: Nathan's Famous, the Cyclone, the Wonder Wheel. The skeleton of the abandoned parachute jump stands empty, rusting. Coney Island present rises to the west between Surf and Mermaid avenues: 16 blocks of con- crete and brick city housing, including the Marburys' home in Surfside Gardens. While the city experienced a drastic drop in crime last year, murder and assault were up here. Escaping Coney Island can be a matter of life and death. In the star summer of '90, David "Chocolate" Harris high-schodropout, small-tim- e was found dead in a dealer drug vacant lot, a single bullet wound in head. his But escaping is also a matter of dollars and cents. The city's last great point guard, Kenny Anderson of Queens' Lefrak projects, awaits a new contract after turning down . $40 million from the New Jersey-Nets- NBA sto c rfti. 0 Fast-forwa- ff ht ge m easy-to-fi- Georgia Tech alum Anderson, a of Norman Marbury, recruited Stephon for his alma mater. Marhis brothers' bury, avoiding Achilles heel, departed Lincoln High School last year with good grades and a qualifying SAT score. Academic excellence was once standard at Lincoln. Founded in 1930, its alumni included author Joseph Heller, playwright Arthur Miller and three Nobel Prize physicists. n In recent years, its were basketball players grads named Marbury. The family patriarch, Don, is known as "The Creator" for his Fab Five progeny (the youngest Marbury, Zach, currently wears No. 3 as a sophomore guard at Lin coln). Dad was a track star, but his sons played the city game: basketball. Eric was an undersized forward with extraordinary strength and leaping ability. Donnie was a guard with a lethal shot. Norman was the consummate point guard: a penetrator and pinpoint passer. They were all leaders who traits passed down played hard as each brother took up the family torch. But their grades were never as good as their games. Eric (known as "Spoon"), Lincoln class of '78, excelled at the University of Georgia, but the forward was too small to post up in the pros; the Los Angeles Clippers cut him. He returned to Brooklyn, where he works construction. He's two semesters short of a college degree. Donnie ("Sky") graduated from high school in '82, but his grades required rehabilitation at two junior colleges. He transferred to Texas A&M, led the Southwest Conference in scoring, but was passed over by the pros. "Not quite as strong as Eric," says scout Konchalski. Donnie, who graduated from a fourth college, is now substitute teaching and coaching Zach at Lincoln. Norman ("Jou Jou") was supposed to be a sure thing. The '90 high school graduate signed with the University of Tennessee, but lost his scholarship to a low SAT score. An odyssey through three junior colleges and Brooklyn's tiny St. Francis College ended without a degree or an NBA deal. He played pro in Indonesia, but is back in Brooklyn working part- pal male-fema- AP Photo best-know- Georgia Tech's Stephon Marbury is photographed in basketball court action against the University of Maryland in February in College Park, Md. Stephon is one of four brothers who went to New York's Lincoln High School and drew attention from major college coaches. They are considered Coney Island's first family of hoops, with Stephon as a one-ma- n "Best of the Marburys Collection." Smith, Pearl Washington. But his real role model was brother Eric, who taught Stephon to score on a regulation basket. At Eric's insistence, Stephon would run up and down their building's stairs, do calisthenics, perform martial arts drills workouts sometimes ended by the sound of gunfire. Stephon honed his game with Donnie and Norman in the Lincoln gym. Stephon became a one-ma- n "Best of the Marburys" collection, fusing Spoon's intensity. Sky's jump shot and Jou Jou's passing. Konchalski first heard the buzz when Stephon was a fourth-grade- r, and the first college recruiting letters arrived three years later. It was Eric who dictated the next Marburys would be point guards. After his Clippers' tryout, Eric realized he had played out of posithe reason he tion at forward failed in the pros, he says now. twin sisters The Marburys Stephanie, a teacher's aide, and Marcia, a television journalist, have round out the seven kids bunch. always been a close-kn- it Stephon is now its unifying force. Despite past disappointments, they are certain Stephon will make the NBA. "I feel that he could go pro right now," Eric says flatly although Mrs. Marbury feels her son will return for his sophomore year, and NBA scouts recommend time construction. He's looking for another overseas contract. "All of them, absolutely, had NBA talent," says D' Almeida. "But what's the expression? 'Many are called, but few are chosen. So many things can go wrong. It's such a hard, subtle high-scori- thing." . It's hard, but hardly subtle. There are 545,000 high-scho- ol basketball players across America. The NBA drafts just 58 players less than .0001 perannually cent. Eric, Donnie and Norman didn't make the NBA, but the Marbury kids all attended college, made good lives for themselves. Failures? They don't want to hear about it. "How did we fail?" asks Eric, his tone angry. "Instead of looking at the positive we've done, they look at the negative." The family apartment is on the fourth floor of a building, at the end of a dank, graffiti-scarre- d hallway, after a rickety elevator ride up. Their steel door has no identifying number or letter; everyone knows where Coney Island's lone celebrities live. ' Inside rises an imposing, five-dee- p collection of the brothers' trophies. There's also a nod toward there are future Marburys in a plasalready two grandsons tic toy hoop tucked behind the front door. Mabel Marbury's sons collect awards; their mom collects plants. plans include Stephon's post-NBa new home with a greenhouse for his mom, she confides. Stephon is most often compared with his New York point guard predecessors: Anderson, Kenny ry it. "You never know what's going to happen," says Mabel Marbury. "I told him, 'I want you to get your degree.' You can only play ball for so long. Whatever he does, I want him happy." A had a tough time getting sugar, soap, margarine, elastic underwear and gasowe didn't). My line (if you had a car , . zero. And then, of course, there was the Depression, when the banks closed and millions of people lost their life's savings. Men who once owned businesses were selling apples on the street comers. During World War ft, a lot of people X. m '3 tv--- Lenders - Advice Columnist mother and sisters wore cotton stock- ings. Nylon went into parachutes for the Air Force fliers, and silk was too expensive. I was only 1 1 when World War II began. I had never been more than 10 miles from home. Every time a plane went over us, we hid under the bed. We thought it was the Japanese. By the time I got to high school, the war was over. But it wasn't a time of er ff ol teen-ager- "All the great chefs in all the best restaurants are men," said the Newspapers Who would think that a neighbor. I can still see his smug face as I Macadamia Fudge Tone could tried in vain to think of a cause sour grapes? Let me explain. He had me! It didn't matter that For the first time, the winner of all the women I knew were good the Pillsbury Bake-Ois a man. cooks. It didn't matter that none of And apparently some women the men I knew, including the very are a bit threatened. One woman man I was talking to, could boil food columnist had this to say: "By water. What mattered was, the best cleverly arranging the contents of cooks in the world the pros some cans and boxes, a single were men. Men had beaten father was able to earn $1 million women, even at their own game. Tuesday. Kurt Wait won the Pills-bur- y about 35 years. So. Bake-Oin Dallas w ith a can I'm sitting at the kitchen table of sweetened condensed milk, a can while my significant other makes cake of pears, a box of devil's-foo- d dinner of fresh me a week-nigmix and a jar of butterscotch-caramel-fudvegetables and pasta. We discuss topping." winner. the Pillsbury Bake-Of- f Hmmmm. Do I detect a note of "Did he really just open a snideness here? The writer seems bunch of cans?" asks my signifito be questioning Wait's cooking cant other. credentials by emphasizing his use "Well, yes, more or less," I say. of "some cans and boxes." "But that's what Pillsbury wanted. The columnist goes beyond They specifically asked for an implication when she writes: "This x recipe for today's busy is the first time the Pillsbury Co. people." has offered $1 million as the grand We agree that the columnist was prize. Wouldn't you know that the out of line. But I doubt that my sigfirst man to ever win the contest nificant other will make the torte walks away with a record jackpot." for "the guys." even in 1996, Apparently, The "guys" are a gourmet social sexual roles are so rigid that club. I think of it as a '90s cooking we continue to jealously guard our version of a '50s poker night turfs. just a bunch of guys getting The story of Wait and his cake together to stay out late and chew reminds me of something I hadn't the fat. Except, these guys whip up a conthought about in years endive with warm shallot Belgian versation I had back in the good dressing. Then they sit around the ol' 1950s, that era that Americans table. The beverage of choice is a so desperately yearn for. carefully selected red or white. A neighbor sat at our kitchen Is my nose out of joint because table, and somehow, the conversamy guy can cook? Are you kidtion at hand was the superiority of Ida Harris didn't raise no ding? men. This neighbor guy offered up fool. proof that men are superior to here's As for Wait's women. Men have all the imporunderstood: Most what Pillsbury tant jobs. They are doctors, lawhave no men or women people makers, executives. time to cook from scratch. And in That argument actually passed as day-omost families, the day-ijob logic in the 1950s. The notion that of fast table the on dinner getting or women could be doctors, lawyers still belongs to women. executives, if society would allow So? little-giSo, if a woman sees a guy rl imagiit, was beyond my nation. So, I came back with the with a can opener in his hand, she only thing I could think of: "Oh, should welcome him with open arms. yeah? Men can't cook." By MARCIA HARRIS Knight-Ridd- Older man describes what life used to be like Dear Ann Landers: I would like to respond to those young people who keep writing to gripe about how tough things are today. They say that we don't understand them and that we didn't have drug problems or drive-b- y shootings w hen s. we were They are right. We didn't have a lot of things they have, both good and bad, when we were growing up. I'm an old man now, but my memory is still pretty good. We didn't have running water. We had a pump in the back of the house. We didn't have electric lights. We had kerosene lamps. We didn't have a bathroom. We had a path that led to a place that seemed like a long way off when the temperature was below winner puts some noses out of joint Bake-of- f rejoicing for those who had lost sons, brothers, husbands, fiances and sweethearts. If you were lucky, you got a job for 50 cents an hour. I knew no boys in high school who owned cars. I never saw a TV until I got married. One woman who wrote to you said old fogies like me didn't have to put up with date rape or sexual harassment. She's dead wrong. In our day, women . were hardly acknowledged, much less treated as equals. If a girl got pregnant and the boy didn't want to marry her, he would get five or six of his pals to say they had sex with her, too. She was branded a slut and sent to an aunt somewhere to have the baby. Unmarried mothers were a disgrace to the family, and their babies were put up for adoption. My son had a different war. It was Vietnam. He didn't want to go because he didn't believe in that war. He said we had no business in Vietnam. The only thing more shameful than the 18- - and who ; died in that war 10,000 miles from home was the way the men who served were treated when they came back to the states. There was no big parade down Broadway. Some returned with drug problems something else they learned while serving their country. I could go on and on, but this letter is already too long to fit in your space, if you decide to print it, which I'll bet you won't Please tell the people who write to you to quit complaining. They have it pretty good, what with welfare handouts and all. No girl in our day was given an apartment and food stamps if she got pregnant at age 15. Times have certainly changed, Ann, and not all the changes have been for the betChris in Heybum, Idaho ter. Dear Chris: Thanks tor the sociology lesson as seen through crowd your eyes. The under-3- 5 that reads your letter won't be able to relate to most of what you have written, but the rest of us will and we thank you. le torte-in-a-ca- n, n, ut Video on Utah women wins award By JANET HART Daily Herald Lifestyle Editor of Utah portrayal women was probably the key to winning the award. When she An hour-lon- g documentary on the lives of four generations and Cornwall chose the different of women in three Utah families families, they did their best to has won national recognition for show how women's lives have changed in the past 100 years. its accuracy and realism. "We didn't interview famous The Foundation of American rich or women. We wanted to get Women in Radio and Television has announced that Utah Women average women in various ethnic Considered: Changing Lives, groups to get a realistic portrayChanging Times is the winner of al," said Degn. "We have the Ute grandma who used to haul water the 21st Annual Commendation and younger children who grow Award in the television docuup with MTV. What a contrast." mentary category. The producer said trying to Producers Louise Degn and Marie Cornwall will accept the combine Cornwall's extensive award April I at a ceremony in research and the lives of 12 different people made Utah Women New York City. "We feel wonderful," said Considered her most difficult Degn, with Cornwall adding, writing project ever. "It's a validation that what we Making material that wasn't did was good work and makes a especially suited for television difference." interesting made the writing Degn, who worked for many quite complex, Degn added. Degn said she likes the spots years as a reporter and producer in Salt Lake City, in the documentary that focus in at KSL-Ton the individual families and said information from the foundation states the purpose of the the different changes they have award is to "encourage the posiexperienced. For example, at one point in the tive and realistic portrayal of women" and it's given to "proshow, a grandmother is making tortillas as her daughter, grand- grams that are creative, and accurate in the daughter and treatment of the changing roles, watch. She can make the recipes issues and concerns of women." without measuring the ingredients The video portrays the lives but her daughter needs a recipe. of four generations of Utah The granddaughter, who doesn't women in a Ute Indian family, a know how to make tortillas at all, Mexican-America- n family and expresses how she wants her n an daughter to learn the skill. family. Top"The scene was much more ics such as education, employthan and traditions ment, children, making food. I thought it said a lot about the strength of modern life are all examined. families and the strength from It was produced in conjunction with a research project by generation to generation when Cornwall which examines how they have traditions," said Degn. Utah women compare to women Anyone interested in see the nationally in a broad range of video can view it Friday on KUED, Channel 7, at 8 p.m. areas such as education, employment, income and family life. Degn said she hopes it will Results of the research prostart a conversation help first-tim- e between family members. "I ject were released for the in written form in late Janhope it has a personal impact like that." of a and results The copy uary. Cornwall said in addition to the video have been distributed to high schools and public high schools and public libraries across the state. libraries, people can also get a Degn, who now teaches copy of the video from the Women's Research Center at broadcast journalism at the University of Utah, said the videos Brigham Young University. V well-produc- Anglo-Mormo- realistic |