The Darker Side of Hope

A chilled glass with some ice cubes, Russian vodka, cranberry juice and a wedge of lime. Joseph Landon was treating himself to his favorite drink, a Cape Codder, on August 7th. Landon works two jobs and sings in the famous Boys and Girls Choir of Harlem Alumni Ensemble. So kicking back for an evening with friends was special.

But his tranquility didn’t last long. Landon’s mother called to tell him his 18-year-old brother had been hurt in some kind of altercation. Landon, 26, was angry at first; he wondered why his brother had to go and get into a petty fight that would cost him his night out. And then Landon muttered words to himself that still haunt him today: “I will kill him if he isn’t hurt.”

That night, Travis Landon became his older brother’s worst nightmare: “another black statistic,” as Landon calls it. Travis had been with friends at a barbeque near Bronx Community College when a fight broke out between two other young men. One of them came back with his older brother, who brandished a gun and pumped a volley of bullets into the crowd. One of those bullets struck Travis in the head. Doctors revived him four times. On the fifth they pronounced him dead.

Travis’ death destroyed his brother’s faith that hard work and determination could elevate a family from a hostile socio-economic environment. In the three months since that fateful night, Landon’s been coping as best he can–putting on a good face at his job as a tour guide and client manager at Harlem Heritage Tours and trying to stay upbeat. But those around him, like his boss, are concerned. “Joseph is like a brother to me. He is reliable and a role model for African American men,” says Neal Shoemaker, the company’s founder. “I just hope he’s taking the right steps to get through this hard time.”

Gone But Never Forgotten by Shreeya Sinha /NYCinFocus

But it’s not in Landon’s nature to dwell on the negative. Just a week after his brother died, he was back at work giving tours for Harlem Heritage and mentoring young children at The Boys and Girls Club of Harlem. Landon says he cares deeply about Harlem and the role his family and friends will play in the future of the community. He tries to inspire the kids he works with to think big. “A lot of [children] have that instinct to want to be a leader,” he says. “I don’t want them to throw away an opportunity that can’t come back.”

As the oldest of four brothers growing up in the Bronx and living in Harlem where he went to school, Landon worked to fill in the void left by having no father at home. He started work at 16 at Harlem Heritage Tours and enrolled in Bronx Community College at 19 to earn a degree in Paralegal Studies. After some internships, Landon decided that legal work didn’t interest him anymore, but he says the academic experience was invigorating.

Tall and lanky—he’s 6′4″–with an inviting smile and playful sense of humor, Landon always seemed to have it together—to be more mature than many of his peers. His mother says Landon used to lead his teachers on field trips because he knew all the directions. She still calls him when she needs to know how to get somewhere. “Joseph is awesome,” she says. “He’s the best son a mom could ask for.” His mother also calls Landon “an old head,” because he listens to the same kind of music she does–soul singer Gladys Knight and Levi Stubbs, the lead vocalist of the Motown group Four Tops, among others.

Landon inherited his determination from his mother Ruby. She made sure her sons studied hard. She attended parent-teacher conferences and made sure all homework was completed. In her two-bedroom apartment in the Bronx (where Landon and his brothers grew up) hangs an aging anti-drug poster that reads, “It’s not cool. It’s not hip. To take your body. On a trip.” Ruby also insisted on talking to her sons about sex education, which she says often embarrassed them.

Landon pushes his kids to be better at the Boys and Girls Club in much the same way. He threatens them with one page of written homework if they act unruly or irresponsible. His goal is to help them rise above the limits of their urban environment. “People get in trouble,” he says. “Blame it on the law. Blame it on God. It happens in many minority cultures. You get laziness, and they don’t take initiative.”

But for all of his efforts and external optimism, the culture of violence caught up with Landon and he doesn’t expect the justice system will bring him closure. “It’s like ink in my blood,” he says. His brother’s killer has not yet been found. Though some 60 people were at the barbeque when he was shot, none have come forward says Detective Dwayne Farmer. Farmer, of the 46th precinct, is optimistic—and patient. “You just wait, everybody talks eventually.”

Instead of dwelling on the loss, Landon wants to focus on his dream of success and independence. But he concedes that achieving the goal of a higher standard of living is harder than he thought, especially now. “I’m not exempt from death,” he says. “I’m not exempt from life. One way or another, it comes at me or someone I love like a disease.”