By Jordan Meadows, Staff Writer

Dan Bullock was 15 years old when he was killed in Vietnam on June 7, 1969, making the Goldsboro native the youngest American service member to die in the war.

Bullock was born Dec. 21, 1953, in Goldsboro and lived in North Carolina until he was about 12, when his mother died, and he moved to Brooklyn to live with his father.

Family members later said he’d talked about wanting to become a pilot, a police officer, a firefighter or a Marine. Unsatisfied with his living situation in New York and discouraged by the lack of opportunity he saw around him, Bullock went looking for a faster path forward—and told his father that enlisting seemed like the quickest way to get an education.

In September 1968, at 14 years old, Bullock walked into the Marine Corps recruiting station at Albee Square in downtown Brooklyn. At 5-foot-9 and roughly 160 pounds, he was big enough to pass for 18, and he had altered the year on his birth certificate from 1953 to 1949.

Recruiters never questioned it. He enlisted on Sept. 18, 1968, and his family found out only when he came home with the signed paperwork in his hand.

Bullock reported to Parris Island, South Carolina, assigned to Platoon 3039, and struggled through parts of the 13-week training regimen before fellow recruits helped pull him through. He graduated from boot camp on Dec. 10, 1968, eleven days before his 15th birthday.

Private First Class Bullock arrived in South Vietnam on May 18, 1969, assigned as a rifleman in 2nd Squad, 2nd Platoon, Fox Company, 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines, 1st Marine Division. His posting was An Hoa Combat Base in Quang Nam Province, a forward hub surrounded by some of the most contested terrain in the country. Bullock kept largely to himself, and while his fellow Marines didn’t know his real age, several sensed something was different about him.

On the evening of June 6, Bullock had been assigned cleaning duty, but took another Marine’s place on the night watch near the airstrip after that Marine was wounded. Shortly after midnight, North Vietnamese Army sappers breached the perimeter wire and launched a coordinated assault with rockets, mortars, and small arms. Accounts of exactly what happened next differ.

Fox Company accounts hold that sappers crawled beneath the wire and hurled a satchel charge through the firing slot of Bullock’s bunker, an explosion that killed Bullock; other accounts describe Bullock being killed by small arms fire on the perimeter.

Bullock’s company commander, Capt. Robert Kingrey, described the young Marine’s actions during the attack in a letter home.

“Dan immediately realized that the attack was stronger than usual and that the ammunition supply was becoming depleted,” Kingrey wrote. “He rushed to get more ammunition for his unit. He constantly exposed himself to enemy fire in order to keep the company supplied with the ammunition needed to hold off the attack.”

Bullock had been in Vietnam for 21 days.

A week after his death, the New York Times broke the story of his real age, and the Defense Department subsequently confirmed Bullock was the youngest of the roughly 58,000 Americans killed during the war.

His remains were returned to Goldsboro and buried at Elmwood Cemetery with full military honors, but no headstone marked the grave. It stayed that way for 31 years, until television talk show host Sally Jessy Raphael learned of the unmarked plot in 2000 and purchased a headstone. NYPD officers, state troopers from four states, and two veteran motorcycle groups escorted a 600-mile caravan from Brooklyn to Goldsboro for the dedication ceremony.

In 2003, the New York City Council renamed a stretch of Lee Avenue in Brooklyn—the street where Bullock had lived—as PFC Dan Bullock Way.

North Carolina dedicated a state highway historical marker near his childhood home on West Ash Street in Goldsboro, and the entrance to Elmwood Cemetery in southwest Goldsboro was also named PFC Dan Bullock Way.

His name is inscribed on Panel 23W, Line 96 of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall in Washington.

Based on reporting by The Carolinian.

By Carla Thomas

Oakland Mayor Barbara Lee is mourning the death of her longtime friend Gloria Steinem, remembering the feminist icon as a devoted ally who understood that the struggles for racial justice and gender equality were inseparable.

Steinem died Sept. 2 in New York City at the age of 92. A pioneering journalist, author and political activist, she spent more than six decades advocating for women’s equality and reproductive choices. She also co-founded Ms. magazine and the National Women’s Political Caucus. 

“I called her recently and could hear the weakness in her voice,” Lee said. “She was also very fragile at my New York event, but she remained supportive.”

The friendship between Lee and Steinem grew from their connections to the late U.S. Rep. Shirley Chisholm, the first Black woman elected to Congress and the first Black candidate to seek a major political party’s presidential nomination.

Chisholm was Lee’s mentor and inspired her to enter politics. Lee worked on Chisholm’s historic 1972 presidential campaign and served as one of her delegates at the Democratic National Convention.

According to Lee, Chisholm helped Steinem deepen her understanding of racial inclusion and recognize that the women’s movement could not succeed without addressing the experiences of Black women and other women of color.

“Gloria really understood what racial equity was about as a white woman and knew the value of building coalitions,” Lee said.

Steinem became one of the country’s most recognizable advocates for women’s rights, reproductive alternatives and political representation. Lee said one of the most persistent inequities confronting Black women was inadequate access to reproductive healthcare, an issue Lee addressed throughout her years in the California Legislature and Congress.

Lee considered Steinem a genuine ally who recognized the intersections of race, gender, healthcare and economic opportunity. Steinem also understood the importance of elevating women into leadership positions and encouraging them to claim their rightful places at decision-making tables.

Their relationship extended beyond politics and public advocacy. Lee recalled joining Steinem and her husband for dinner in Manhattan Beach with Lee’s son, Tony.

“It was beautiful to see how she could be a wonderful wife, feminine and be a strong woman,” Lee said.

Tony Lee also had a professional connection to Steinem through the rerelease of “The Road to Galveston,” the 1996 television film he wrote about the life of his grandmother, Mildred Parish Massey. The film starred Cicely Tyson.

“My son’s tribute to Gloria on Facebook is very touching,” Lee said.

Lee expressed profound heartbreak over losing her friend and gratitude for Steinem’s support throughout her political career, including during reelection campaigns. 

As Lee continues carrying forward the lessons of Chisholm and Steinem, she has also helped encourage a new generation of women leaders, including U.S. Reps. Lateefah Simon and Jasmine Crockett.

Before some of us knew Dolly Parton as the Queen of Country Music, we knew her as the woman behind Whitney Houston’s song. We knew the blonde hair, the rhinestones, and that unmistakable Tennessee voice. But somewhere along the way, Black America came to understand something deeper about Dolly; when she said she loved people, she had the receipts to prove it.

The community is now left to mourn the icon who passed away at the age of 80, on Aug. 25, after dealing with an unknown medical condition. Known for her chart-topping country music hits, Dolly never felt as though she belonged only to one genre, or one kind of person. She showed up with humor, humility and a generosity that did not ask who you voted for before offering a helping hand. She made room for people, and in return, people from every corner of the culture made room for her.

The Song That Brought Dolly and Whitney Together

For Black audiences, the bridge to Dolly will always run through Whitney Houston. Parton wrote “I Will Always Love You” as she prepared to leave Porter Wagoner’s television show and released it in 1974. The original was tender and restrained, a country goodbye delivered with grace. Then Whitney got hold of it.

Houston’s 1992 rendition for “The Bodyguard” did not merely update the record. She took it to church, then carried it around the world. That opening a cappella moment, the controlled stillness and the key change that made everybody reach for a note they had no business trying to hit turned Parton’s country ballad into a global anthem. The single spent 14 consecutive weeks at No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100, became the best-selling physical single by a woman and earned two Grammy Awards.

And instead of trying to deny contribution or rush to remind everyone who wrote the song, she celebrated the way Houston’s voice transformed it. In an industry with a long history of taking from Black artists while denying them proper credit, Dolly understood that acknowledging Whitney’s greatness did not diminish her own. One woman wrote an extraordinary song. Another woman revealed everything else that song could become.

“This is the house that Whitney built.”

— Dolly Parton

Parton later shared that she used some of the royalties from Houston’s recording to purchase commercial property in a predominantly Black Nashville neighborhood. She called it “the house that Whitney built.” There was something beautiful about that acknowledgment. Whitney’s voice had generated wealth, and Dolly wanted part of that wealth rooted among people she described as Whitney’s people, and her people, too.

Dolly’s relationship with Black America was not built on pretending she did not see color. She saw us. In a 2020 Billboard interview, she made her position plain: “Of course Black lives matter. Do we think our little white asses are the only ones that matter? No!”

It was blunt, funny, and completely on brand. But Dolly also understood that allyship could not stop with a quote. After learning why the word “Dixie” was offensive and painful to many people, she removed it from the name of her Civil War-themed dinner attraction. She called her previous understanding “innocent ignorance.” More important, she fixed it.

That willingness to listen mattered. Dolly did not perform perfection or become defensive when someone pointed out harm. She showed that loving people means caring enough to learn, change and do better. In a time when public figures often double down just to avoid admitting they were wrong, Dolly simply chose not to be cruel.

Dolly’s love also arrived in the mail. Inspired by her father, who could not read or write, she launched the Imagination Library in 1995. The program began in Sevier County, Tennessee, sending one free, age-appropriate book each month to enrolled children from birth to age 5. What started in the rural community that raised her grew into an international literacy movement. By the end of 2025, the program had distributed more than 300 million books and was mailing about 3.4 million books each month.

Those books found their way into homes in big cities as well as small towns. In New York City, the Imagination Library has been promoted through public schools and community organizations in the Bronx. For urban families navigating tight budgets, limited bookstore access or neighborhoods where children’s books are not always easy to find, a brand-new book addressed directly to a child can mean more than one package. It tells that child, “This belongs to you. Your imagination matters.”

That was Dolly’s kind of giving: personal, useful and rooted in dignity. She also funded scholarships, supported hospitals, invested in medical research and helped families recover from disasters. Her $1 million donation to Vanderbilt University Medical Center supported research connected to the Moderna COVID-19 vaccine. She turned the money she made entertaining people into opportunities to help them live, learn and rebuild.

A preschooler opening one of Dolly’s books in the Bronx did not need to know “Jolene.” A parent reading that book at bedtime did not need to be a country music fan. Her generosity crossed racial and economic lines because it met families in real life, at the mailbox, in a hospital room or after the unthinkable happened.

A Legacy That Felt Like Love

Dolly Parton leaves behind thousands of songs, beloved films, major businesses and enough rhinestones to keep heaven sparkling for a while. But her greatest legacy may be the way she made strength feel soft without ever making it weak. She knew exactly who she was, yet she never needed anyone else to become smaller so she could shine.

For Black listeners, her bond will always be part of that story. “I Will Always Love You” was never about choosing between the white woman who wrote it and the Black woman who took it somewhere new. Dolly gave the world the words. Whitney gave those words wings. Together, they created a piece of American music that refuses to stay inside one genre or belong to only one community.

That is why this loss feels personal, even to people who never met her. Dolly reminded us that tenderness can be powerful. She showed us that changing your mind can be a sign of character, that celebrating another woman’s brilliance does not steal your light and that love means very little if it never becomes action.

Country music will forever call Dolly Parton one of its queens. But Black culture recognized something in her, too: a woman who respected our greatness, spoke up for our humanity and invested in our children. She did not simply leave this world loved. In the ways that mattered most, Dolly loved us back.

NASHVILLE, Tenn. (AP) — Clara Ester, an activist who as a 20-year-old college student rushed to the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.’s side when he was shot, has died.

Ester, who died on July 9 at the age of 78, was among a few remaining witnesses to King’s assassination and its immediate aftermath in Memphis. With the passing of the Rev. Jesse Jackson Sr. in February and Ester this month, King aide and former U.N. ambassador Andrew Young is believed to be the last surviving eyewitness to the shooting.

Ester Grew up in Memphis attending Centenary United Methodist Church, where her pastor was civil rights leader the Rev. James Lawson.

“We used to joke about colored water being Kool-Aid and the white water just being water, and so that satisfied us as children,” Ester told The Associated Press in 2018, around the 50th anniversary of King’s death. “But until you see the racism, until you see what has been withheld from you because of your color — is what started to really truly anger me. And I knew if there was a movement that could help change any of that, I had to be in it.”

Civil rights issues were often discussed from the pulpit of her church, Ester said. Lawson was very involved in the sanitation workers’ strike, so it was natural for her to become involved too.

“I got to the point that I didn’t miss a mass meeting,” she said. “I picketed every day that the picket lines were up.”

Even 50 years later, she clearly remembered the impact of hearing King’s speech at the Mason Temple the night before he was assassinated and how it seemed to foreshadow his death the next day.

“He had seen the mountaintop,” Ester said. “It was evident on the balcony — how calm.”

Ester had gone to the Lorraine Motel for dinner on April 4, 1968, when she saw King chatting on the balcony with people below. Then she heard a shot.

“He was speaking calmly and pleasantly to a crowd,” she said. “And so he was happy at that moment. But to lay there with his eyes open, looking toward heaven. He had seen the promised land, and he may not get there with us, but he promised that we as a people will see the promised land.”

Ester said she ran to King and saw he was struggling for air. She tried to loosen his belt and asked someone to bring towels to try to staunch the bleeding. After King was taken away by ambulance, she had to stay at the hotel, where she was questioned by police.

When she was finally allowed to go home, her parents asked if she was OK.

“I said, ‘No, I’m not OK. There’s something wrong with this.’ And it was many months later that I guess at some point, I just broke down,” Ester said.

She left Memphis to work elsewhere that summer, and as soon as she finished school, she left for good.

“It’s just too much to … it hurt me that it happened, but it hurt me that it happened in my hometown, that that’s the legacy for this city,” she said.

Ester moved to Mobile, Alabama, where she found work as a neighborhood organizer at the Dumas Wesley Community Center, a Christian service program supporting children, seniors and people experiencing homelessness, according to her obituary. She later was named the executive director of the center, serving in that role until she retired in 2006.

In 1986, she was commissioned as a deaconess in the United Methodist Church, a type of lay minister . She remained active in the church throughout her life and held leadership roles that included serving as the national vice president of United Methodist Women.

Methodist Bishop David Graves met Ester when he was assigned to the Alabama-West Florida Conference in 2016. He wrote in a remembrance that Ester did not take to him at first, but gradually they came to love each other.

“Thank you, Clara Ester, for a life well lived and for loving me. It changed me,” he wrote. “Clara will be missed immensely, but what a day of rejoicing is going on in heaven. For love will always find a way for those who trust in Jesus and seek to love even in our differences.”

Based on reporting by The Carolinian.

IN MEMORIAM: The Tennessee Tribune family mourns the passing of its founder, publisher and chief executive officer, Rosetta Miller Perry

By Phyllis Qualls and Tennessee Tribune Staff Contributors

Rosetta Miller-Perry, trailblazer, visionary, bridge builder and motivator passed peacefully on Friday June 26, surrounded by family. She was 91.

In a statement shortly after she passed, the family posted a message on the Tennessee Tribune web page. Perry’s remarkable presence and influence extended throughout Tennessee and beyond.

After graduating from high school in Coraopolis, Pennsylvania, she joined the Navy and earned an honorable discharge. She began work in the Pentagon and several government departments that included the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission she was an observer in Memphis during the Civil Rights protests and the sanitation protest. She was in Memphis when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. The danger was prevalent because her life was threatened several times.

While working at the EEOC, she was assigned to Memphis to observe the sanitation protest. And during that time, Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. Perry was compromised and her life was threatened. Yet, she was not afraid and continued her work.

She retired from federal government after 25 years of service; she established Perry & Perry Associates and started the Black-based Contempora Magazine in 1990 and the Tennessee Tribune in 1991. She could not get a loan, therefore, she used her own funds to establish these media outlets, before AI and cell phone use were so prevalent. The Tribune is now 35 years old.

At the 30th anniversary of the paper, NNPA president and CEO, Dr. Benjamin F. Chavis, Jr., dubbed Perry “Queen Mother of the Black Press,” because of her years in journalism and the impact she has had on the industry.

Miller-Perry has been described as a trailblazer, visionary, motivator, role model and entrepreneur. She was either a founder or charter member of several organizations. She established the Black Chamber of Commerce so that Black businesses could be recognized and participate in civic and business benefits.

She was also a founding charter member of the Nashville Chapter of Les Gemmes, Inc., a social and civic group focused on exposing youth to the arts. It was as rewarding to Mrs. Perry as it was to the youth. Whatever she did, it was done with tenacity and class, because she knew she was right!

Her belief in education was strong and she has scholarships in her name at Tennessee State University, the University of Memphis, and Meharry Medical College.

The Celebration of Life services will be Friday and Saturday, July 11 & 12, in Nashville. The Friday night public viewing will be at Lewis & Wright Funeral Directors, located at 2500 Clarksville Pike, Nashville, TN. The funeral will be Saturday, July 11 at Mt. Zion Missionary Baptist Church, located at 7594 Old Hickory Blvd, in Whites Creek, Tennessee.

For more information, contact [email protected]

Tennessee Tribune 
https://tntribune.com/trailblazing-publisher-and-civil-rights-pioneer-rosetta-miller-perry-passes-away/

Independent Investigations Are the Only Way to Preserve Public Trust in an Era of Deep Division

The deaths of Lorenzo Salgado Araujo, who was fatally shot by an Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agent in Texas, and Nolan Xavier Wells, the 18-year-old Black college football player whose body was recovered after he disappeared during a boating outing in Mississippi, have once again raised questions that demand answers.

While the circumstances surrounding these two cases are very different, the principle is the same: there must be independent, transparent, and thorough investigations that follow the facts wherever they lead.

This is not simply about two tragic deaths. It is about the state of public trust in America.

We are living in a political climate in which nearly every institution is viewed with skepticism. Government agencies, law enforcement, the media, and even the courts are routinely questioned by large segments of the public. Whether justified or not, confidence has eroded to the point that every controversial death is immediately viewed through the lenses of politics, race, ideology, or immigration.

That is precisely why independence matters.

Reports indicate that ICE agents were attempting to apprehend another individual when Salgado Araujo was shot and killed. His family deserves a full accounting of what happened, free from any appearance of institutional bias. Likewise, Wells’ family has raised legitimate questions about the events that led to his death after spending time on the water with several friends. Their request for additional scrutiny should not be dismissed as mere suspicion or speculation. It should be respected as a reasonable demand for transparency.

An independent investigation is not an accusation. It is a safeguard.

If government officials acted appropriately, an impartial review would strengthen public confidence in that conclusion. If mistakes were made — or misconduct occurred — those responsible should be held accountable. Justice works only when the public believes the process is fair, impartial, and free from political influence.

America has learned, often the hard way, that institutions investigating themselves rarely inspire confidence. Families deserve more than assurances. Communities deserve more than press releases. They deserve evidence, transparency, and accountability.

No one should prejudge either case. Facts — not rumors, politics, or social media — must determine the outcome. But allowing independent investigators to examine every witness statement, every piece of physical evidence, and every official action is the surest way to establish those facts.

Equal justice cannot depend on a person’s race, immigration status, political affiliation, or the agency involved. It must rest on truth.

In a nation already strained by polarization and distrust, independent investigations are not merely procedural exercises — they are essential to preserving the public’s faith in justice itself. The families of Salgado Araujo and Wells deserve clear answers. So does the American people. Truth, pursued without fear or favor, remains the strongest foundation upon which justice — and public trust — can stand.

Based on reporting by Washington Informer.