A life detoured from danger
by Vic Ziegel
You spend some time with Bob DeSena, who came up with a good idea 24 years ago and has seen it turn into a lifesaver, and you can understand why Damon Rozier calls him, "My father." This is some kind of love story.
DeSena was an English teacher at John Dewey High School when it was threatened by gang warfare. The principal turned to DeSena for help, and that was another good idea. The teacher brought a half-dozen gang leaders together, helped them find common ground, and the war was never held. And DeSena had the design for Council for Unity, a program that lets kids know they can take control of their lives and communities. Council has more than 5,000 members in 44 schools and expects to add another 1,500 at its induction dinner in June.
"It's about empowerment," DeSena says. "About giving kids the right to take ownership of their problems. Not just at-risk kids, but all kids."
Now's the time tot introduce Rozier, who's 31 and had enough nasty credentials to be voted Mr. At Risk of 1984. He had seven lockers at Dewey, each one holding a different weapon. He used drugs. He sold drugs. "I had to get a cut of whatever was going on," he says. "I was extorting half the school. The security guards and teachers were afraid of me."
Rozier doesn't recall "the first time I came into contact with my father. I was still a bad guy, but Council treated me like I was an average student, not the worst guy in school."
DeSena interrupts. "We had some other bad guys," he assures Rozier, "but you were the worst. Every hair I lost on my head was your fault."
Rozier enjoys the description, because it comes with a long hug. DeSena moving from his side of the table to embrace Rozier, who's sitting in a wheelchair, paralyzed from his chest down.
"Council didn't change my ways overnight," Rozier says. "My senior year, I wasn't selling [drugs]. I was still using, but not at the same pace. I was friendly to everybody. 'If somebody's bothering you, come to Damon.' But we did it peacefully, no more guns."
DeSena looks as if he's ready to deliver another hug. He was in the right place at the right time for Rozier, who very much needed a father. He was 18 months old when his father died, and his stepfather, a police officer, "brought the job home with him every night," Rozier says.
When he was 13, he says, he committed the unforgivable crime known as not cleaning the house. "My stepfather put a gun to my head, cocked it and told me if I moved I'd be a ghost in the morning." That's when he started thinking "I'll put a gun in my hand and become the bad guy he wants to catch."
Council changed him. After high school, Rozier became a beauty stylist, ran his own shop. "I was the best," he says. "After I cut their hair, they'd look in the mirror and say, 'Damn you did it again,' and I'd say, 'Yeah, I did, didn't I?'"
If Council asked him to volunteer at schools, he made himself available. April 30, 1997, they wanted him to tell his story at Springfield Gardens High School. He was planning to spend that day looking at laundramat locations - "My equity was that good" - but Council needed him. So he spoke to the kids, had lunch with Council friends, and left early on his motorcycle. He was heading into a tricky intersection when a driver "made an illegal turn and turned right in front of me."
His neck was broken in two places. He needed 84 stitches in his hips. He spent six months in the hospital. The barbershop is gone. "My hands aren't strong enough to hold the clippers."
He can play wheelchair rugby. He drives his car and works and volunteers at Mount Sinai Medical Center. He's taking care of three children. "I will not give up," Rozier says now, but lying in the hospital, "I didn't think life was worth living. But my father came to see me, and I could see the hurt he felt. I knew I couldn't take myself off this Earth. If I did, I'd be the selfish person he taught me not to be. It's a battle but I'm still here. And Council is for life."
