A time to find "gems" of past
By Marc J. Spears
Denver Post Staff Columnist
The ex-Denver Rocket sat under a tree at Sloan's Lake Park as the birds sang and the breeze tamed the heat. The shade felt good. And a smile as wide as the nearby lake arrived once he noticed he was getting a call from his son, Rashid, better known as rapper Common.
"How's life? Man, it's as good as gold," Lonnie Lynn told Common.
Good as gold?
Lynn, 63, has high blood pressure. He's raising a 16-year-old, Malone, whose mother died 10 years ago. No job, no steady income, no driver's license. Health insurance for him or Malone? Nope. Last year he lost a house to foreclosure he had owned 21 years. He now rents across the street.
"I've been waiting for someone to break in so I can rob them," Lynn said. "That's how bad it is."
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Chicagoans thought their homeboy was going to be a basketball star. But Lynn's ABA career lasted just 52 games during the 1969-70 season, including 12 with Denver and 40 with the Pittsburgh Pipers. People in Chicago used to stop their cars upon seeing him and yell, "Man, that's Lonnie Lynn."
But in the early 1970s, they kept driving and whispered, "Man, that's Lonnie Lynn."
They once loved him for his play on the court, and later dissed him for the drugs he turned to after a failed hoops career.
Lonnie Rashid Lynn Jr. was born March 13, 1972, in Chicago. Nearly a year later, the elder Lynn was using drugs when his infant son stared in his eyes as if the child knew what he was doing. The guilt overtook the dad and helped him get clean.
"I feel like God sent my son to save my life," said Lynn, who moved to Denver in 1978. Common stayed in Chicago with his mother. Dad tried visiting twice a year. Distance made fatherhood difficult. One year he bought his son a Broncos jacket for Christmas not knowing if it fit.
"The first 10 years hurt," Lynn said.
He stayed connected with Saturday phone calls. Common recalls them as "gems."
"He's an intelligent person and a real authentic guy," Common said. "It was refreshing. He not only represented my father, but a spiritual side that I wasn't getting from most of the people I knew at that age."
Common was 12 when he made his first trip to Denver. Lynn took him to the 1984 NBA All-Star Game and introduced his son to Chicago Bulls general manager Rod Thorn. Soon after, Common became a Bulls ball boy.
"I was so geeked," Common said. "Everybody in my neighborhood was like, 'He's a ball boy for the Bulls!' Then the next year Michael Jordan came. It was crazy."
Lynn also took Common to a basketball camp at the University of Kansas. Then-coach Larry Brown raved about Common's game. But Common's love for hoops changed after a high school eye injury. Music beckoned.
"I loved hip-hop," Common said.
He was an underground success until the arrival of his album "Be" rocketed him to stardom last year. It sold 800,000 copies. He was nominated for a 2006 Grammy Award. He's appeared on "Oprah," "Chappelle's Show," talked to Regis and Kelly, Leno and Conan.
He's part of Gap's new ad campaign. Common also makes his motion picture debut next year in "Smokin' Aces" with East High's Don Cheadle, Ben Affleck and Alicia Keys.
With his success came this question from Lynn's friends: "Why didn't your son help you keep the house?"
Said Common, who also has a daughter: "I don't pay attention to people talking about personal things that they really ain't aware of. It was just a situation where I couldn't financially compensate for that with my responsibilities."
Common offered a year's rent. Lynn hoped his son would buy the home and declined the offer, believing his son's business people would make getting the money tough. Lynn said Common also offered a chance to promote and keep the proceeds for two Denver concerts, but the task was too difficult for someone who never promoted one. Lynn has been on four of his son's albums, dating to 1994, and goes by "Pops" on those tracks.
"What I got, I can give. But things aren't always how they look," Common said.
Lynn said his son has aided him financially more than any of his six kids. Common has sent $1,500 since the end of June and another check is coming. But in a desperation to get "out of the hole," Lynn is selling game-worn autographed Air Jordans his son gave him.
"I can't let him take the blame for mistakes I made," Lynn said.
It's been said that when parents age, their kids become their parents. Common, your father needs you now more than ever. He last saw you a year ago at a Denver concert.
My father used to complain I was hard to catch up with. It took Hurricane Katrina for me to realize my parents needed to be a priority in my life. I saw Mom on Labor Day and felt lucky I had a chance to change. Others aren't so fortunate.
Whom do most turn to in tough times? Family. But when things go bad, sometimes our loved ones have trouble asking for help. And before you know it, it's too late .
There's still time, Common. But your dad doesn't want to bother you. He's proud of Common, but loves Rashid. Why not re-start the Saturday talks? Maybe you can save his life again.
Staff writer Marc J. Spears can be reached at 303-954-1098 or
[email protected].
