The joys and trials of growing up with a famous father: children share their memories of dad - includes related article on fathers of attorney Johnnie Cochran, Jr., and runner Michael Johnson

Ebony, June, 1997 by Kevin Chappell

Sharon Robinson and the other kids would line up along the shoreline of the iced-over lake m Stamford, Conn., and shout words of encouragement as her daddy proceeded slowly out. He was testing the lake to see if it was safe for skating. He was, at the time, one of the best-known men in the world, but on this day he was just daddy and was doing what daddies are supposed to do. Before he placed one big foot in front of the other, he would tap the ice with his broomstick. After what seemed like forever, he reached the deepest part of the lake, giving one last tap with his stick, then turning to the kids and calling out: "Go get your skates!"

"I thought my dad was very brave," says Robinson, who has written a book, Stealing Home, about her childhood as the daughter of Jackie Robinson, the man who broke baseball's color barrier. "Now I think it even more. He was brave when he entered baseball, a feat it took me years to appreciate."

Sharon's not alone. Many children who grew up with a famous father saw their dads at the time not as the first, the greatest, or the funniest--but simply as dad. And as they have grown older, they have carried with them the kind of memories of their fathers that any child--rich or poor, Black or White--would also remember about their fathers. Faded are the times when their privacy was violated by over-exuberant fans or the flash of cameras, forgotten are the times dad had to be away from the family because of a game, a concert or a big meeting. What they remember most are the innocent moments together, the joy they felt when dad held them, the security they felt being near him and how his words seem wiser today than yesterday.

"My father smoked a pipe when it was a distinguished pastime for sophisticated men," recalls Adam Clayton Powell IV, one of the sons of the legendary Adam Clayton Powell. "I used to enjoy seeing the smoke billow up, and to this day the smell of pipe smoke invokes vivid memories of dad and the time we spent together."

Now a city councilman in Harlem, Adam remembers always trying to snatch the pipe from his father when it was sticking out of his shirt pocket. "He'd play along, pulling it away, then coming closer again for me to give it another try."

He also remembers his father's laugh. "His laugh was so boisterous that it immediately made anyone within earshot laugh along," he says. "As a child, he made me laugh all of the time because he loved children, loved being a father, and he made every minute together quality time...."

Rain Pryor knows a great deal about laughing. The daughter of Richard Pryor, she has watched and listened to her father's comedy routines ever since she can remember. "I was 5 when I started to go to his concerts," says the 27-year-old Pryor. "I would go to school and repeat everything I heard. I remember the teacher calling home and telling my father that I can't say those things in school."

It wasn't until Rain was 7 that she realized her father was arguably the best comedian ever. "He was just daddy to me," Pryor says. "I didn't realize that he was different until my 7th birthday when he took me to Paris. I said to myself, `If my daddy can afford to take me to Paris on my birthday, we must be different than most people.'"

Rain has vivid memories of her childhood with her father, the way he would take her fishing with him and always played practical jokes on her and her friends. Now an actress and singer, Rain remembers her father always buying her things like Mr. Microphone and rainbow wigs. "I think he knew I was going to go" into show business, she says. "But he never would say go out there and do it. But he made it available."

Although Thelonious Monk Jr. became a musician like his father, famed jazz legend Thelonious Monk, he too was not forced into the field. "He felt any musician worth his salt didn't need anyone to tell him when to practice," says Monk, who was going to clubs with his father by the time he was 5. "So when I showed an interest in music, my father simply supplied me with the instrument and the lessons to get me started. But he never pushed me."

Joe Louis Barrow, son of boxing great Joe Louis, says his dad actually discouraged him from being a fighter. "He would tell me that he had one good right left, and he would use it if I ever tried to go into boxing," says 47-year-old Barrow, now president of IZZO Systems, a Colorado-based golfing-supply company.

Being the son of a heavyweight champion who defended his title more than two dozen times in the '30s and '40s, Barrow says the thing he remembers most was how much his father was loved. "People loved him so much that it was impossible to have an intimate dinner with my dad because everyone wanted an autograph and everyone had a story to tell how he had impacted his life. It crossed all racial lines," he says.

Barrow says some of the best times he spent with his father were on the golf course. "My father played a great deal of golf. He was a very good golfer," he says. "That was a time for us to talk. We shared a lot and talked about things like world events."