Local hero should be honored
Published: February 5, 2007
AT this year’s State of the Union, President Bush recognized Wesley Autrey, who heroically jumped onto subway tracks in Harlem to protect a man from an oncoming train. It made me think of my friend Conrad Buchanan, who recently passed away at the far too young age of 34.
Conrad never received a State of the Union acknowledgment, nor did the Senate pass a resolution recognizing his heroism, as it did for Autrey, but he was a hero just the same. Sen. Hillary Clinton said that Autrey “won the hearts of New Yorkers, Americans, and people all around the world.” Conrad Buchanan won mine.
In 1998, working as a security guard at the Sherman Oaks Galleria, Conrad was faced with another person’s life-or-death drama. Julie Light, a former actress who was suffering from cancer and grieving over the recent death of her husband, stood on the top of the parking structure, six floors above the ground, threatening to jump.
Conrad attempted to talk Light out of jumping. But tragically, she jumped anyway.
In a heroic bid to save her life, and ignoring his own well-being, Conrad attempted to break her fall with his own body. Light died soon after. Conrad was left a quadriplegic.
When I read of Conrad’s epic courage, I showed my 4- and 6-year-olds his picture, telling them, “This is what a real hero looks like.”
At his press conference on the day he was released from the hospital, Conrad was asked whether he had any regrets about his actions. The unassuming 26-year-old said that if he had it to do all over again, he would have done the same.
I knew I had to meet him. And when I did, I found we almost had nothing in common. Fifty-year-old, white, Jewish writer who loves classic rock. Twenty-six-year-old, black, Baptist security guard who was into loud rap. But his good-nature and integrity shown through. You couldn’t help but like him.
In a world in which disabled people are made to feel as though they need to make so-called healthy people comfortable, it was Conrad who put me at ease. His smile never seemed to quit, even when you just knew how difficult it was not to sulk. He didn’t talk about his disability. He talked about his future. He wanted to run a car-repair shop. He wanted to go to school to learn the business. Whether he felt it or not, he never asked, “why me?”
He was a good guy; a regular working stiff who did an extraordinary thing and suffered horrifically for it. But to Conrad, there was no choice but to try to save that woman. That’s what heroes do. That was who he was.
Conrad had a very strong sense of right and wrong, and it wasn’t only a talking point. It was how he lived his life - doing what he felt was right, even at his own personal detriment. And though the rest of his short life was filled with physical suffering, he never said he regretted what he did.
He did hope that his story wouldn’t leave kids thinking that helping another might make them end up like him. He needn’t have worried.
The lesson Conrad left the world was much more compelling. It was that you do the right thing, no matter what.
I still don’t know why Conrad died, but it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to figure that it had something to do with his injury. Obviously it’s too late to do anything for Conrad himself, but he did leave our world a better one, which is, after all is said and done, the best we can expect to do.
What life did for Conrad in return is another thing. He wouldn’t ask for any more than he received, but I can.
I call on the management of the Galleria to honor Conrad’s heroic sacrifice by renaming the parking garage where he sacrificed the rest of his life. It would be a fitting tribute to Conrad’s memory, and give all who read the plaque a sense of the greatness that once guarded both the mall and everyone who walked there.
God bless you, Conrad. Your life has certainly blessed us.
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