Headline: A
TRUE FRIEND
Reporter:
Publication: ST.
LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
Last Printed: Wed., Jan. 1, 2003
Section: EDITORIAL, Page: B6, Edition: FIVE STAR LIFT
GREGORY B. FREEMAN 1956-2002
EVEN seated in a wheelchair, as he was so often forced to in recent years, Greg Freeman was a physically imposing man -- tall and wide, with big powerful mitts that would envelop yours when you reached to shake his hand.
But Greg, who
died early Tuesday morning at the age of 46, was more than that.
He had a rare form of muscular dystrophy that gradually
robbed him of his mobility. First to go was the unmistakable side-to-side bounce
in his step. Then his balance. Finally, the strength to walk. His kidneys slowly
shut down until, just over a year ago, he required a transplant. But he never
complained. Greg was more than that.
He
loved Superman comics, and campy television shows like "The Munsters."
He had an endearing humility and infectious, enormous grin. He laughed a lot,
but never ever at anyone else's expense. He had a dynamite singing voice. After
a beer or two, and much coaxing from his cronies at the annual office holiday
bash, he'd bring the house down with his seismic rendition of the '60s party
anthem, "Shout." But Greg was more than that.
Greg was a true
believer. He loved St. Louis for all its quirks, and in spite of its flaws.
He truly believed that downtown St. Louis could again become the kind of vibrant
place it once was. He truly believed that blacks and whites could resolve many
of their problems, if they would only listen to one another. No matter how disappointing
the present might be, he truly believed that things would be better tomorrow.
Although
Greg tackled some of the toughest issues in contemporary American society --
racism, poverty, violence, ignorance -- the battles never hardened him. His
style was not confrontational, but decent and civil and approachable. It earned
him a special place in the hearts of St. Louis readers, and fans of his regular
KWMU-FM broadcasts, and his television shows. His even-handed, persistent prodding
often worked better than 1,000 angry screeds.
Out of a column
he wrote nine years ago came a program called Bridges Across Racial Polarization,
which brings people together over dinner for frank conversation. Earlier this
year, the Pew Charitable Trust chose it as one of just 19 across the nation
worthy of being designated a "Solution for America." Three years before,
it had been named a "promising practice" by the President's Initiative
on Race.
A year-long Post-Dispatch public awareness campaign
on organ donation, which featured a first-person account of Greg's kidney transplant
-- his sister was the donor -- resulted in hundreds of local people signing
up to be organ donors.
For a gentle man
who wrote with such compassion and respect, Greg received an inordinate amount
of hate mail. Unfortunately, it went with the territory.
He was asked not long ago how he maintained his positive spirit
in the face of such venom. "Oh, I don't pay any attention to that, "
he said.
That
was Greg Freeman.
Perhaps more than it knows, St. Louis will miss his healing words, and his hopeful heart.
COPYRIGHT © 2003, ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
Daniel Schesch - Webweaver