Soon, we will be profiling Walter Williams, creator of Mr. Bill of Saturday Night Live fame. Williams’ studio in Burbank, California is quiet, since he has all but moved to New Orleans, the city he loves, while he fights for restitution for the wetlands. Williams has put everything on the line, is not afraid to say so, and was sounding the alarm BEFORE Katrina. His checkbook as well as his significant talent as a film maker is solidly behind his truth telling.
Then, there is Cyril Neville. Literally hounded because of early statements he made about government malfeasance and worse in the aftermath of Katrina, Neville boldly stepped up to the plate once again before the bulldozers rolled on his boyhood project home of Calliope and offered a song as well as his heart-felt plea for the city he loves and still calls home.
Consider also the freedom fighter from India whom we cannot name who is working fervently for justice in the poorest of the poor neighborhoods—a neighborhood not only recently devastated by the floods and winds, but a neighborhood filled with toxic waste dumps and concrete factories situated adjacent to playgrounds and nursing homes.
Finally, there is Susan Cowsill, who is probably most well-known for her stint as the youngest member of the Cowsills—The Rain the Park and Other Things—the prototype Partridge Family. The Cowsills were sixties icons, and baby boomers grew up with their feel-good hippie message before the message turned to darkness and swallowed entertainers like Jimi Hendrix and Janis. As a college student, this writer definitely leaned more towards Janis, but as an adult, Susan Cowsill became a personal hero of New Orleans.
In the interest of journalistic ethics I will say that we have become friends. Susan, her husband, Russ, his sister and I bonded like old hippies do. As soon as the family realized they knew a writer who was driving a hundred miles in the middle of the night to get a story somewhere in the sugar cane fields the next morning, they did what old sixties folks do and offered a couch at night and hot tea at dawn. Kindness forges strong bonds between weary travelers.
But it requires more than friendship to form the framework for admiration. Susan lost her brother, Barry Cowsill, to both his mental illness and the flood waters. We have told part of the story in OpEdNews and COA NEWS and the rest will be published soon in Glide Magazine. While formulating Barry’s story for Glide, we put together a slide movie with one of Susan’s original compositions, “Talkin,” as the soundtrack. The movie is an indictment of local, state, and federal inaction and malfeasance during the disaster. The video hits hard and although at first the timing seems comical, the viewer soon realizes the message is no joke.
Through a series of events including the total and legendary devotion of hundreds of Cowsill fans, the movie leaked before publication. People have been asking to see it published in progressive media. Meanwhile, Susan has gained more exposure as a talk show host, and professional advice to her was to think about sitting on the video, since it might cause her harm in the “Marketability” department.
Without missing a beat, Susan Cowsill replied that she was not going to change or censor her feelings or her viewpoint “because of television or radio gigs.” That is true heroism and gives one pause to think that maybe, just maybe, the sixties have survived in spite of GenX and GenY and the altars of money in the entertainment business.
We all have a very good reason to “love the flower girl.” New Orleans sure does.
I guess it is OK to say that. Check out the video/movie here.
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