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What John Amos taught me about having — and being — a father

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What John Amos taught me about having — and being — a father

John Amos in 2007.

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John Amos taught me what it was like to grow up with a father in the house – and to be one.

That’s because Amos – who died in August at the age of 84, though his death wasn’t disclosed publicly until Tuesday – first came to my attention playing righteous dad James Evans, Sr. on the legendary 1970s sitcom Good Times.

As a young, Black boy growing up in a home without my father in Gary, Ind., the best window I had into what it might be like to have a concerned, powerful, ethical male in the house was seeing how James Sr. worked with Esther Rolle’s Florida Evans to keep their kids on track. It didn’t hurt that this new kind of TV family lived in what appeared to be Chicago’s Cabrini-Green housing project, about 40 miles northwest of Gary.

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Good Times presented the first network TV sitcom centered on a two-parent, Black family – in fact, Rolle herself had initially insisted that Good Times’ family have a father – and it meant a lot to a kid who sometimes longed for that in his own life.

James Sr., as Amos played him, was imposing and could get physical – he once gave a whipping to a friend of his youngest son Michael, when that friend dared to disrespect the family and refused to do homework during a sleepover. (Yup, stuff like that happened in my neighborhood all the time.) But he was also a loving, devoted, hard-working dad, who often balanced several jobs while trying to give his kids everything they needed to build lives outside of a deprived, occasionally dangerous neighborhood.

There was little doubt James Sr. could be tender in ways that fathers in my neighborhood rarely were in real life.

Resisting a racist TV industry

It wasn’t until I got older that I realized Amos also embodied another important reality: the Black actor had to use all his talents and wiles to make his way – constantly struggling to subvert and overcome the racist demands of a white-centered TV and film industry.

On Good Times, that meant fighting with producers of the show, including legendary executive producer Norman Lear, when the show’s scripts began focusing more on Jimmie Walker’s character, James Evans Jr., or “J.J.”

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J.J.’s habit of shouting “dyn-o-MITE!” while bugging his eyes after dropping a cheeky rhyme recalled classic “coon”-style stereotypes for Black performers from the past. And Amos often recounted how much that irked him back then.

“I felt too much emphasis was being put on J.J. and his chicken hat and saying ‘dynomite’ every third page,” Amos told the Archive of American Television in a 2014 interview. “But I wasn’t the most diplomatic guy in those days. And they got tired of having their lives threatened over jokes…That taught me a lesson. That I wasn’t as important as I thought I was to the show or to Norman Lear’s plans.”

Ralph Carter, Esther Rolle, John Amos, Jimmie Walker, and BernNadette Stanis gather in the kitchen during a scene from Good Times in 1975.

Ralph Carter, Esther Rolle, John Amos, Jimmie Walker, and BernNadette Stanis gather in the kitchen during a scene from Good Times in 1975.

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Lear admitted in his 2014 memoir, Even This I Get to Experience, that the attention showered on J.J. made Amos so “glum and dispirited,” that the producer wound up writing the actor out of the show at the start of the series’ fourth season.

Just like that, the two-parent Black family that had inspired me so much was undone – fractured by an offscreen car accident that claimed James Sr.’s life.

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A TV pioneer who became the image of Black fatherhood

I didn’t know about the backstage struggles back then, but even as a young viewer I could see that something important had been lost. Turns out, Amos wasn’t just another actor spouting off about a supporting player outshining him; he had begun his show business career as a writer/performer – one of his early jobs in 1969 was as a writer on The Leslie Uggams Show. Amos knew how important quality words were for great acting.

His first big part came in 1970 as Gordy Howard, the weatherman on The Mary Tyler Moore Show – the series’ only Black character – which put Amos on the map and caught Lear’s attention when they were casting Good Times. And not long after he left Good Times, Amos landed another legendary job – playing the adult version of Kunta Kinte, the enslaved man at the heart of ABC’s surprise 1977 miniseries hit, Roots.

In fact, Roots was a bit of showbiz sleight of hand. Well aware that white audiences might grow uncomfortable with a miniseries centered on the family history of African American author Alex Haley and its early genesis in slavery, producers of Roots often cast Black actors as enslaved people who white audiences already knew and loved.

Amos, with his history on popular shows like The Mary Tyler Moore Show and Good Times, fit perfectly as a grown up version of the character then-newcomer LeVar Burton played as a young man. (The moment when a slave catcher cuts off Kunta Kinte’s foot after an escape attempt remains seared in my brain, nearly 50 years after originally seeing it on TV.)

For me, the one-two punch of his parts on Good Times and Roots cemented Amos as a towering image of Black fatherhood in pop culture.

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Back then, Black performers were working hard to take scripts crafted by white producers and make their characters as authentic as possible, balancing the expectations of Black audiences hungry for better representation with a white-dominated industry often stuck in old, demeaning patterns.

Amos could make his points forcefully. He told the Archive of American Television about blowing up at a white, British director on Roots who seemed unconcerned about a Black baby shivering during a night shoot.

Hearing the former pro football player tell stories about occasionally threatening white producers and directors to get his way, I saw a familiar dynamic. Sometimes, when the system is geared against you, intimidation is the only way to make your concerns truly heard.

An actor beloved by Black and white audiences

Over the years, Amos’ classic roles in TV and film piled up: Hunter, Coming to America, The West Wing (as chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff), Let’s Do It Again, Die Hard 2, and much, much more. He’s even reportedly in the new spinoff series Suits: LA, as his last role.

(In a sad denouement, after conflicts between Amos’ children, his daughter Shannon Amos found out about her father’s death on Tuesday when media outlets reported it, according to her Instagram post.)

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But for me, Amos’ greatest legacy remains as a TV pioneer who played proud, Black male characters with strong ethics and a devotion to family just when Black audiences needed to see them most – surviving a load of slights, fights and punishments in the process.

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‘Stranger Things’ is over, but did they get the ending right? : Pop Culture Happy Hour

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‘Stranger Things’ is over, but did they get the ending right? : Pop Culture Happy Hour

Millie Bobby Brown in the final season of Stranger Things.

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After five seasons and almost ten years, the saga of Netflix’s Stranger Things has reached its end. In a two-hour finale, we found out what happened to our heroes (including Millie Bobby Brown and Finn Wolfhard) when they set out to battle the forces of evil. The final season had new faces and new revelations, along with moments of friendship and conflict among the folks we’ve known and loved since the night Will Byers (Noah Schnapp) first disappeared. But did it stick the landing?

To access bonus episodes and sponsor-free listening for Pop Culture Happy Hour, subscribe to Pop Culture Happy Hour+ at plus.npr.org/happy.

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JasonMartin Says Adin Ross Disrespecting Doechii Stops in 2026

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JasonMartin Says Adin Ross Disrespecting Doechii Stops in 2026

JasonMartin
Adin Ross Disrespecting Doechii …
Will Not Be Tolerated!!!

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‘Everything I knew burned down around me’: A journalist looks back on LA’s fires

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‘Everything I knew burned down around me’: A journalist looks back on LA’s fires

A firefighter works as homes burn during the Eaton fire in the Altadena area of Los Angeles County, Calif., on Jan. 7, 2025.

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On New Year’s Eve 2024, journalist Jacob Soboroff was sitting around a campfire with a friend when he made an offhand comment that would come back to haunt him: The last thing he wanted to do in the new year, Soboroff said, was cover a story that would require donning a fire-safe yellow suit.

Just one week later, Soboroff was dressed in the yellow suit, reporting live from a street corner in Los Angeles as fire tore through the Pacific Palisades, the community where he was raised.

“This was a place that I could navigate with my eyes closed,” Soboroff says of the neighborhood. “Every hallmark of my childhood I was watching carbonize in front of me. … There were firefighters there and first responders and other journalists there, but it was an extremely lonely, isolating experience to be standing there as everything I knew burned down around me in real time.”

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In his new book, Firestorm: The Great Los Angeles Fires and America’s New Age of Disaster, Soboroff offers a minute-by-minute account of the catastrophe, told through the voices of firefighters, evacuees, scientists and political leaders. He says covering the wildfires was the most important assignment he’s ever undertaken.

“The experience of doing this is something that I don’t wish on anybody, but in a way I wish everybody could experience,” he says. “It’s given me insane reverence for our colleagues in the local news community here, who, I think, definitionally were exercising a public service in the street-level journalism that they were doing and are still doing. … It was actually beautiful to watch because they are as much a first responder on a frontline as anybody else.”

Interview highlights

Firestorm, by Ben Soboroff

On the experience of reporting from the fires

You’re choking with the smoke. And I almost feel guilty describing it from my vantage point because the firefighters would say things to me like: “My eyeballs were burning. We were laying flat on our stomach in the middle of the concrete street because it was so hot, it was the only way that we could open the hoses full bore and try to save anything that we could.” …

I could feel the heat on the back of my neck as we stood in front of these houses that I remember as the houses that cars and people would line up in front of for the annual Fourth of July parade or the road race that we would run through town. Trees were on fire behind us — we were at risk of structures falling at any given minute. It was pretty surreal because this is a place I had spent so much time as a child and going back to as an adult. … I had no choice but to just open my mouth and say what I saw to the millions of people that were watching us around the country.

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On undocumented immigrants being central to rebuilding the city

These types of massive both humanitarian and natural disasters give us X-ray vision for a time into sort of the fissures that are underneath the surface in our society. And Los Angeles, in addition to being one of the most unequal cities between the rich and the poor, has more undocumented people than virtually any other city in the United States of America. Governor Newsom knew that with the policies of the incoming administration, some of the very people that would be responsible for the cleanup and the rebuilding of Los Angeles may end up in the crosshairs of national immigration policy. And I think that that was an understatement. …

Pablo Alvarado in the National Day Laborer Organizing Network said to me that often the first people into a disaster — the second responders after the first — are the day laborers. They went to Florida after Hurricane Andrew, to New Orleans after Katrina, and they’d be ready to go in Los Angeles. And I went out and I cleaned up Altadena and Pasadena with some of them in real time.

And only months later did this wide-scale immigration enforcement campaign begin … on the streets of LA as sort of the Petri dish, the guinea pig for expanding this across the country. And it’s not an exaggeration to say that the parking lots of Home Depots, where workers [were] looking to get involved in the rebuilding of Los Angeles, has been ground zero for that enforcement campaign.

On efforts to rebuild

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The pace is slow and it’s sort of a hopscotch of development. And I think for people who do come back, for people who can afford to come back, it’s going to be a long road ahead. You’re going to have half the houses on your street under construction for years to come. And for people that do inhabit those homes, it’s going to an isolating experience. But there’s an effort underway to rebuild. …

There’s also a lot of for-sale signs. And that’s the sad reality of this, is that there are people who, whether it’s that they can’t afford to come back … or that they just can’t stomach it, I think, sadly, a lot people are not going to be returning to their homes.

On what the Palisades and Altadena look like today

They both look like very big construction sites in a way. There are still some facades, some ruins of the more historic buildings in the Palisades. … But mostly it’s just empty lots. And in Altadena, the same thing. If you drive by the hardware store, the outside is still there. But it’s a patchwork of empty lots. Homes now under construction. And lots and lots of workers. … There are still a handful of people who are living in both the Palisades and in Altadena, but for the most part, these are communities where you’ve got workers going in during the day and coming out at night. …

We have designed this community to be one that’s in the crosshairs of a fire just like the one we experienced and that we will certainly, certainly experience again, because nobody’s packing it up and leaving Los Angeles. People may not return to their communities after they’ve lost their homes, but the ship has sailed on living in the wildland urban interface in the second largest city in the country.

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On seeing this story, personally, as his “most important assignment”

Jacob Soboroff is a correspondent for MS NOW, formerly MSNBC.

Jacob Soboroff is a correspondent for MS NOW, formerly MSNBC.

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Jason Frank Rothenberg/HarperCollins

I don’t think I realized at the time how badly I needed the connections that I made in the wake of the fire, both with the people who have lost homes and the firefighters, first responders who were out there, but also honestly with my own family, my immediate family, my wife and my kids, my mom and my dad and my siblings and myself. I think that this was a really hard year in LA, and I think in the wake of the fire, I was experiencing some level of despair as well. Then the ICE raids happened here and sort of turned our city upside down. And this book for me was just this amazing cathartic blessing of an opportunity to find community with people I don’t think I ever would have otherwise spent time with, and to reconnect with people who I hadn’t seen or heard from in forever.

Anna Bauman and Nico Wisler produced and edited this interview for broadcast. Bridget Bentz, Molly Seavy-Nesper and Beth Novey adapted it for the web.

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