Most Unlikely to Succeed

By Donald H. Whitehead Jr. and John Briggs

The book chronicles an almost inconceivable journey from the streets of Cincinnati to the most powerful place in the world.. The book was written as a way to assist people experiencing homelessnesss to overcome there situation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781450277822

Donald H. Whitehead Jr.

Donald Whitehead was born in Cincinnati, Ohio into a dysfunctional family plagued by substance abuse, poverty and domestic violence. Donald attended the University of Cincinnati and he served in the United States Navy from 1982 through 1984. During the next several years Donald’s life would cycle downward until he ended up on the streets of Cincinnati as a person experiencing homelessness. Thankfully Donald’s story did not end there; he overcame his addiction and homeless and has reached unlikely success. Today, Donald is considered by many to be one of the country’s foremost experts on homelessness. Donald is the former Executive Director of The National Coalition for the Homeless. Donald also served as the President of the Board of Directors for the National Coalition for the Homeless. Donald has provided written and oral testimony for 107th and 108th congress. In 2005, Donald received a distinguished service award for his work on homelessness from the Congressional Black Caucus. In 2004 Donald received a Distinguished Service Award for Advocacy from the National Head Start Association. In 2001 Donald received a proclamation for his service to the Homeless Population by former Cincinnati Mayor Charlie Luken. Donald has been awarded the ‘Jimmy Render Award for Homeless Service in Cincinnati and the Stand Down award by the Cincinnati Veterans Administration for his role as Co-Chairman of the 1999, 2000 and 2001 Stand Downs. Donald has been interviewed in the printed media, on radio, and on television on numerous occasions. Whitehead has been a dinner guest of former President and Senator Bill and Hillary Clinton. Donald also served on the planning committee for the 40th Anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King’s March on Washington. In addition to his work on Homelessness, Donald is also an accomplished actor. He has appeared in three movies, commercials and stage plays. In 2000 Donald received a regional Emmy for the movie “Open the sky”. Donald currently resides in Maryland with his wife Tracy Whitehead.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

The book is dedicated to memories of

Kadeash, Channing, and Little David.

Although you left us far too soon

we are grateful to God for allowing

us to share your lives with us.

You are truly missed.

Acknowledgements

Writing Most Unlikely to Succeed has been a soul stirring experience and a collaborative effort. I have bounced ideas and sought feedback from many wonderful friends and family. Several in particular spent enormous amounts of time editing and sharing their insights-thank you John Briggs, Michelle Budzek, Carmen Broomfield, my incredible mother Carolyn Whitehead-Brown and my amazing wife Tracy Quinichett Whitehead.

First and foremost, I thank God, the maker and ruler of all creation, for being who He is. I thank Him for giving life and breath to all; for scripting the days and times; for saving and changing lives through the revelation of himself and his glory that is Jesus; for unraveling hearts and continuously turning them toward home: and for being all and greater than all. I thank Him for creating and unfolding his perfect plan.

I also thank those that have inspired me, cared for me and encouraged me, including my family, my brothers and sisters; (Sherri, Carmen, Angie, Darrin, David) the Thurmond’s, my dad Donald Hugh Whitehead Sr.(for giving me life) my aunts, (Pat, Peggy, Thelma, Theresa, Mary Lou, and Jerri) uncles, (Marky, Bill, Bobby, Nelson,), cousins (Ink, Mary, Tony, Big Ed, Donna, Donita, Burnetta (Ink), Arnold, Greg, Mary, Michelle, Calvin, Diane, Jeanette, Yvonne, Jean, and Nissa,)and my nieces and nephews 9to many to name individually) for loving me when I could not love myself.

I also thank those institutions that brought me in from the storm; the staff at the Drop Inn Center especially Bonnie, Ed, Pat, Andy, Amy and buddy, ReStoc, The Greater Cincinnati Coalition for the Homeless staff and board Mary Burke, Fannie Johnson, Cliff Jones, Katy Heins, Donna Howard, Jimmy Heath, Susan Knight, Gina, Tammy, and others. My friends from the rooms Glen C, Bill J, Merrick C, Greg P, Denise W, Carla H, Courtney, Diana R.H, Alvin E, Veronica R, Dan H, Monte J, Michael J, Danny L, Dwight H, William B, Kim, Otis, Andy, Jeff R., and Michael.

I could never have had all of the wonderful experiences that I had without the help of many organizations. I thank the staff and Board of the COHHIO, NCH, Ohio Valley Goodwill, Goodwill of Greater Washington, St. Vincent de Paul, Recovery Hotel, The Cincinnati Health Network, The Cincinnati Continuum of Care Inc., and The Baltimore Healthcare for the Homeless Board. Through the years I have benefitted from the wisdom and guidance of many mentors, I thank you Charlie Blythe, Jene Galvin, Steve Elliot, Bill Faith, Shelia Crowley, Brian Davis, Jim Cain, Gordon Packyard, John Donahue, Anita Beaty, Bob Erlenbusch, John Parvensky, John Lozier, Jeff Singer, Rita Markely, Barbara Anderson, Michael Stoops, Hugh Grogan, Mary Ann Gleason, Fred Karnas, Joel Segal, Phil Papas, Lynn Lewis, Paul Boden, and Peg Moertl,. I have also benefitted from having wonderful staff members and colleagues, thank you for your patience; Barbara, Brad, Michael, Lisa, Nick, Ian, Bob, Christina, Judea, Brent, Ivy, Candace, Mick, Dorothy, Claudette, Marie, Gwen, Jennifer, and all the interns that passed through the organizations that gave me a chance.

A thanks to those that gave me a chance to use my artistic talents; David Mizel, Joel Davis Alphonso Zo Wesson, Jay White, William Alexander, Taffy Douglass, the staff’s at The Cincinnati Arts Consortium, CCV, City Cable, Jokers Comedy Club, Go Banana’s, Ashley Talent and all the other clubs that booked me.

Finally, I know that I have missed people, please do not be offended charge it to me head and not my heart.

Chapter 1

At the Beginning…the End

Looking back, I suppose I should have been nervous. In fact, I guess I should have been very nervous. I should have figured that what was about to happen shouldn’t have been happening at all. I should have assumed I was dreaming or hallucinating. I should have reasoned that the Donald Whitehead I had always been, the Donald Whitehead that I knew so well, would have had no legitimate business at the house of a former President of the United States. That Donald Whitehead would have been an interloper or kitchen help. That Donald Whitehead would have been approached by security or police and given only seconds to explain why he was there and what he had in mind. But I was there. I was there legitimately, and people were treating me as if I had every right to be there. Donald Whitehead was on the list.

And, of course, I was nervous. Not in the sense of panic or having my knees knock, but of that inner apprehension that sooner rather than later someone in authority would come up to me with an expression of superiority on his or her face and I would immediately be out the door, booted as the fraud I was. Old habits and self-doubts really do die hard.

The photographer was a surprise, though. I had hardly expected that anyone would want a visual record or even that I might have the chance to request such a record. But there he was, explaining to me how many shots he would be taking, assessing what problems I might present, and then disappearing, not to have any interaction with me until I saw the event’s photographs some weeks later and wanted to order pictures.

Following the photographer, a young staffer approached to check that the information they had for me was correct, including the pronunciation of my name, which I would have thought to be obvious. Satisfied, he headed for the next guest, and his place was taken by another staffer (apparently half the people in Washington are on someone’s staff), who put his hand on my shoulder and begin gently guiding me to an appropriate position, as well as giving me the protocol for what was about to happen: Please don’t reach for anything, and keep your hands out of your pocket, and telling me how long I could expect to wait.

And I did wait. Waiting is a way of life in Washington, much like the military, and you learn rather quickly that Washington is a city where important things do happen, and the necessity of dealing with important matters trumps everything and almost everybody. And, because of that, you learn to wait; you learn to master the art of small talk, the art of having something to say to pass the time. I talked to the people next to me. They were from the Department of Labor, and so we talked about jobs and poverty, about what programs might work and how, and what could realistically be done regarding legislative needs. I talked to someone behind me; she was new in DC, but had come from Kentucky, right across the river from my home in Cincinnati, where I had lived almost all my life. She asked about a constant topic in Washington for any new person: housing. Not housing for the poor, but rather potential apartments, places to live, locations, traffic patterns, and above all the horrible rents that make life in the nation’s capital often seem beyond financial hope.

After about twenty minutes, a more senior staffer (you learn to recognize not only who’s who, but at what level people work) came out and said we would be looking at approximately thirty to forty minutes more, and that we should make ourselves comfortable and not leave. The lady from Kentucky made a joke as to who would ever consider leaving, and I laughed, but not too much for I would have waited the whole night if I had had to.

Strangely enough, the call came sooner rather than later. Yet another staffer walked out, holding a clipboard, much like a backup quarterback on a sideline. He motioned us forward, with the two Labor people leading the way and me following the lady from Kentucky. The room would probably have been best described as a small greeting room attached to a larger office, and that office attached to the remaining areas of the house itself. As we entered, I saw the four men in dark suits move quickly but smoothly in what was obviously a practiced pattern, heading for, and then opening a second door across from where we had entered. The staffer with the clipboard put his hand on the elbow of the first of the Department of Labor people and gently maneuvered him more to the center of the room. We followed and stood waiting. There were no chairs, although various pieces of furniture lined the left wall of the room under a huge mirror.

I remember licking my lips and rubbing my hands together. But it was only a minute before the men in the dark suits fanned out to flank the opposite door just as yet another staffer, obviously an even more senior person, entered through that door. He quickly stepped to the side, as yet another man walked in. This man stood still for only an instant before he began what must have been for him a long-perfected litany:

"Ladies and gentlemen, please give your attention….

The last man to enter was pretty much exactly as I had seen on the television and in the hundreds of pictures, although a bit taller and a bit heavier than I had expected. He thanked us briefly for coming, and then began what struck me as a fairly impassioned series of quick comments on the shame that America had to feel, given that so many of its citizens were poor, homeless, unemployed, or all three. He promised that he would personally see to it that something was done about this disgrace.

When he finished speaking, the two Department of Labor people were introduced to him and he spoke with them for at least a couple of minutes; the lady from Kentucky (I later learned she was with HUD) received slightly less time, and then it was my turn. I stepped forward, smiled, and suddenly had only one thought in my mind: again, that this could not possibly be true, that this could not possibly be happening. Not to Donald Whitehead, not to the man who had lain on the floor of an emergency homeless shelter in Cincinnati, Ohio. Not to the man who once had been so desperate and homeless.

But it was happening. I put out my hand.

Mr. President, the staffer said, let me introduce to you Mr. Donald Whitehead, the Executive Director of the National Coalition for the Homeless.

And I stepped forward and shook the hand of former President William Jefferson Clinton, and we began to speak, as if we were old friends, about homelessness in the United States of America.

Later in the evening, I had a chance to speak with Hillary Clinton as well, and I was tremendously impressed at how knowledgeable she was about