BLUE ORCHID PR

It is not often that I feel the need to share my personal life with the world. Irony being that I am a publicist, but this I had to share . This is the obituary of my Cousin Jimmy, A quite man, I never seemed to know his back story as a child. He didn't speak much. I recieved it today  and  I am floored. This man was awesome, in every since of the word. Please take a moment, and have a gander at my history.

LEGACIES: Pleasantville UEZ worker was globe-trotting mystery man

James Wiley Habron Sr. never said more than was necessary. At his funeral, details about his life in the eulogies surprised friends and colleagues, but at the same time, they were not surprised to be surprised.

"He let us learn from his experience, but he never talked about his experience and his past," said Roger Tees, executive director of Pleasantville's Urban Enterprise Zone, where the 76-year-old Habron spent his final decade. He died Dec. 16.

"He didn't like to brag," said Habron's oldest son, James Habron Jr.

The Pleasantville High School graduate and sergeant in the U.S. Army Band had plenty to brag about, but not when he first met Howard University classmate Juanita Ray in 1956 - his counterpart in the "other couple" on a double date.

"I didn't like him," Juanita said with a smile. "I just was annoyed because he wouldn't really talk a lot."

Their friends did not end up together, but James and Juanita did.

"I got used to him," Juanita Habron said, laughing.

Travelin' man

He got her father's permission for marriage, contingent on Juanita finishing school - and Habron paying for it. Soon, the couple had two young sons, and Habron, an engineer, was headed to Vietnam to help the U.S. State Department's Agency for International Development rebuild bombed-out bridges.

The next assignment took the entire family to Thailand, where most of the folks they encountered had never seen black people. That would not be the last time the globe-trotting Habrons would feel conspicuous because of their race.

"He knew people would look at him as a black man, and he had to set an example whether he wanted to or not," said James Jr., who followed his father into the State Department.

Habron turned down a scholarship offer from Florida A&M because his grandfather had been lynched in the deep South. But he taught his sons to be "comfortable with who you are," said Geoffrey Habron, who served in the Peace Corps and became a professor of wildlife and sociology.

The five-year stint in Thailand preceded a four-year recovery effort in earthquake-ravaged Nicaragua, which ended when political revolutionaries gave the family three hours to leave the country.

That ended the traveling days for Juanita and the boys, at her behest, and made Habron realize that the promotion-making, high-profile assignments also were the more dangerous ones. Still, he moved on to Grenada, to a food-distribution project in Sierra Leone and water-system repairs in El Salvador.

The boys learned from Habron's actions more than his words.

"Anything was possible. He was always, ‘That's interesting, let me go do it,'" Geoffrey said.

The subordinate mentor

When Habron joined the Pleasantville UEZ team, Tees was his supervisor, although he considered the older man more of a mentor to him.

"His talent made it possible for us to multi-task," Tees said. "The Pleasantville UEZ has been held up as a model for how to control your budgets, how to know where your money is. The state was very impressed with how he did that."

Tees always gave his memos and letters to Habron to edit. One time, Tees was particularly irked at a city administrator, and his letter reflected that.

"He took it, scratched out some things, and I retyped it and gave it to him. He said, ‘Of course, you're not going to send this.' I said, ‘Are you telling me or asking me?'"

Tees thought better of his screed and tossed it in the trash. "He helped all of us maintain our level of sanity," he said.

Habron's lunch breaks often found him hanging a fishing rod off a local bridge, overalls covering his shirt and tie.

Most men who join the local Omega Psi Phi community leadership fraternity are in their late 20s or early 30s. Habron decided to enter at 76, becoming the oldest man in the group, member Michael Epps said.

"He took it on late in life, but with full vigor," Epps said. "He was worldly, and he was dedicated and he was hardworking, and all those things rubbed off on the young men."

"I think he pledged so I would have people to take care of me," Juanita said, her eyes welling up.

When Habron was diagnosed with cancer, Juanita recalled, he said: "It is what it is. I'm 76 years old, I've never been in a hospital in my life - it's my turn."

Cancer eroded his strength until he had to retire this year. True to form, Habron did not want to tell anyone he was sick.

007

In earlier years, his discretion was a constant source of intrigue for his Pleasantville colleagues, especially after a visit to a conference in Washington. The trip coincided with a coup in an African country, and his return to Pleasantville came just after it was resolved.

"We had a running joke in the office that he was a spy in his past life," Tees said.

The same thing happened around another Habron trip to the capital. He returned to his office to see the sign, "Welcome Back, 007."

Habron did not consider himself an activist. He preferred Jesse Owens' protest through performance at the Berlin Olympics to John Carlos and Tommie Smith's gloved salute at the Mexico City games. But he was not always above a little demonstration.

Geoffrey played high school football, and a few days after one of his more successful games, he and the rest of the team convened to study the film.

The film showed the opposing punter preparing to kick to Geoffrey, and teammates starting to chuckle knowingly. Geoffrey was confused, until he watched the replay of his return.

As Geoffrey Habron sprinted down the sideline with the ball, there was James Habron Sr., running alongside just off the field. As his son crossed the goal line, he could not see the middle-aged Habron perform an impromptu cartwheel at full speed.

Contact Eric Scott Campbell:

609-272-7227

ECampbell@pressofac.com

http://www.pressofatlanticcity.com/legacies/article_9e2b5708-f72c-11de-8c8f-001cc4c03286.html