By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
The kids take a break for a moment to watch a Dallas Observer photographer take a few pictures of the man who supervises both this rec center, which is located only yards away from the new multifamily homes being constructed on the site of the former Frazier Courts public housing abomination, and the nearby Mildred L. Dunn Recreation Center. They wonder why anyone would want a photo of the man they know mostly as "B.J." or "Billy Joe." Says Gregory: "They have no idea who he is. They only know what he does."
He is former Dallas Cowboys tight end Billy Joe DuPree, a familiar name to anyone who grew up in Dallas in the 1970s and '80s. He was as much a reason the Cowboys won Super Bowl XII in 1978, 27-10 against the Denver Broncos, as the football itself; DuPree led all receivers that day with four catches totaling 66 yards. DuPree, the Cowboys' first-round pick in 1973, played his entire 11-season career with Dallas and appeared in three Super Bowls and three consecutive Pro Bowls. As much as anyone from that era--Tony Dorsett, Harvey Martin, Randy White, Ed "Too Tall" Jones, perhaps even Roger Staubach--DuPree embodies those great teams of long ago. The man never missed a single game.
To find him here, of all places--in the middle of a neighborhood defined by the housing projects that sat here for some six decades, before they rotted so much the Dallas Housing Authority finally tore them down to begin anew--is nothing short of astonishing. The city does not publicize his involvement at the Craft and Dunn centers, and DuPree's name is absent from the daily newspapers unless there is some debate about who belongs in the Cowboys' Ring of Honor in Texas Stadium, from which the former tight end's name is inexcusably absent.
He is here, he says, because it's where God wants him. DuPree, who had his own construction company after he retired (CWC Construction) till he sold it in the late 1980s, had no intention of working in recreation centers. For a few years, he worked for the city of Dallas in the Office of Minority Business, where, as an executive manager, he made sure contracts that demanded minority participation were being complied with. But when the city scaled back its staff, DuPree was moved out of the department and put on a waiting list from which the city would fill spots as they became available.
In 1998, he was asked if he would be interested in working at a rec center. He wasn't sure. He went down to the Craft and met a young boy who asked if DuPree would read to him. The boy should have been old enough to read, but he couldn't even make it through "a Dick and Jane primer," as DuPree puts it. That was reason enough to stay, he says. Maybe he could help some kids learn a few things in a neighborhood where crime and poverty provide most of life's lessons.
"I just decided I could help a few people, so I took the position," he says. "And I've been here since. Now, my primary consideration is the patrons and making sure they have enough activity to occupy their time and attention, particularly the youth. I try to get them in a posture where they have their time occupied with some positive influences, as opposed to letting them feel their way through the system."
And, he will tell you, it is not easy acting as a positive influence in the Frazier neighborhood. DuPree says that 20-year-old Kenneth Haggerty, one of two men killed last month in a gang-related shooting at the downtown club El Angel, worked at the Craft center part-time. His murder threatens to undermine what DuPree's tried to accomplish: While he says there have been "maybe one or two" incidents of gang-related activity on the grounds in eight years, some parents in the neighborhood say they refuse to let their kids play at the Craft because of its violent reputation. And just like that, a haven can go to hell.
"People know my name, but they don't know me as an individual," DuPree says. "What I have tried to do is involve folks who live in the community and give them an opportunity and have them give guidance to people they know. That's why I've hired adults and youths from the neighborhood: They could associate with people coming in and help them."