Bridge Between Generations

Hi, my name is Sascha Altman DuBrul.

December 18th, 2012 was the 25th anniversary of the death of my father, Paul Anthony DuBrul.

My father was an outspoken political strategist, community organizer and muckraking journalist who lead a really interesting life and died at the age of 49 of cystic fibrosis, years after he was expected to live.

I’m putting up this website both for people who knew my dad and for people who are familiar with my life and work, and hoping to use his memory to initiate interesting conversations and build bridges between generations of community activists, radical journalists, and social justice organizers.

I’m interested in making connections with people who knew my father and would be willing to share some memories of his life and work that can be posted publicly online. I know little pieces of stories about him working in the Civil Rights Movement and as a housing organizer on the Lower East Side and as a trade unionist in the open shop south. I have old copies of the books he wrote with Jack Newfield in the 1970’s about corruption in New York City politics.  I remember his terrible temper and his amazing laugh and I’ve been carrying around so many stories about the man for so long that this anniversary feels like an appropriate moment to begin to put some of them out there in the world.

One Response to Bridge Between Generations

  1. Hello, Sascha. I am writing this having just come across it. It is the beginning of 2016, so I don’t know if this invitation to contact you has expired, or if you are still in the process of compiling stories about your father.
    I mostly hung around the Arrow office in those days, since I was writing “higher” (the literary magazine) and “lower” (Hunter College Sing), at the time. But I was good friends with Pearl, the business manager, and Paul and a few others, so it was my headquarters for a while.
    We were good friends through most of those years. We cut classes and drank together at a local bar and talked politics and life. It was there he told us (me and Pearl, as I recall) that he was leaving school to go down South to help with voter registration. I believe it was in the end of our senior year, but maybe it was earlier.
    When THE ABUSE OF POWER came out, I wrote to Paul. I was writing my first novel at the time. I got a great warm letter back. He had just finished working on Bella Abzug’s campaign and was looking forward to getting the book into paperback, so it would be in the hands of people who needed to read it, “students, city workers and community activists.” We were supposed to get together for lunch or a drink, but we never did and I very much regret it.
    Your father remains vivid in my memory. That shock of red gold hair, that bad boy with the good heart. I cried when I heard that he died, and I smile when I think of him. I am still in touch with Pearl, and I will ask her if she has any memories of Paul she wants to share.
    I still write. (A novel, a memoir, a non-fiction book on ombudsmen, essays, short stories.)

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