By STACI HUPP
Des Moines Register Staff Writer
01/19/2004
Ames, Ia. - His first role model was rapper Tupac Shakur.
His first job was dealing crack cocaine on the streets of Chicago. His picture of the world included poverty and drive-by shootings. Yet for some reason, Wendell Mosby decided to stop being part of the problem and became part of the solution.
Maybe it was his mother, who told him as a boy that he was special. Maybe it was Iowa State University, which took a chance on a poor kid with mediocre grades.
Maybe it was his dream of running his own clothing line.
It might have been all the setbacks in between, which gave him the guts to keep going. Martin Luther King Jr.’s dream for the United States once seemed out of reach to Mosby.
Today, at 25, he personifies the civil rights leader’s legacy. Part of the credit goes to his life in Iowa, a mostly white state. It was here that he started to draw a life blueprint. Mosby earned a diploma more than two years ago. This month, he is starting a $25,000 scholarship program at ISU for poor students, like he once was.
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The boys in Mosby’s family often left home for jail, not college. He became a father while still a boy himself. The odds stacked up. But pretty soon doors began to open. His grandmother taught him to sew. As a teenager, he parlayed the skill into an amateur clothing business.
He bought sweatshirts from Kmart and sewed on a logo: Wimpwear. The brand was named for “Wimp,” a childhood nickname Mosby picked up for being small and fair-skinned. When Mosby was a senior in high school, his home economics teacher took notice. She encouraged him to apply at ISU, where her daughter studied textiles and clothing. With a 2.7 grade-point average and an ACT score of 15, Mosby was accepted.
“That completely changed my whole mentality in life and where I was going in the world,” Mosby said. Scholarships helped Mosby financially, but college was a rude awakening. He struggled with schoolwork. He felt out of place on a campus with so many white faces.
Mosby was tempted to go home. At his darkest moments, he called his mother. He listened to Shakur.
He also thought about his purpose. While his student counterparts spent Friday nights at parties, Mosby sat alone in his dormitory room. ”I started to realize that being in school is bigger than me,” he said. “Somebody fought for me to do this.”
Mosby revived Wimpwear. He tended bars in Campustown, which introduced him to new friends – and customers.
He found a political voice in student government. The ISU president knew his name. Pretty soon Iowa felt like home. Here, being different became an advantage. ”He always talked about what he was going to do for society,”
said Mary Lynn Damhorst, an associate professor of textiles and clothing.
Then a problem surfaced back home.
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The doctors told Mosby’s mother she had AIDS.
Her health deteriorated fast. She lost her memory, sight and speech all in one week, Mosby said. She died in December 2000, a semester before her son’s graduation.
Mosby had lost friends to gunfire and suicide. He wasn’t prepared to lose his mother. ”I was truly out to sea for the first time,” he said. Mosby went through the motions his last semester of school. Graduation was bittersweet. He was the first in his family to earn a college degree, but the person who had coached him through wasn’t there to see it.
Mosby stayed in Ames, but his life purpose seemed to fade. He spent some nights drunk. He couldn’t find a full-time job that he wanted.
“I just kind of lost that sense of passion for everything,” Mosby said. Then he found another source of strength – in his 6-year-old son, Tyrone. The boy was visiting his father in Ames when it dawned on Mosby:
“I can’t let him down,” he said. “That’s my purpose.”
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Mosby is back in Chicago today, where he juggles art school, Wimpwear and a spot on his son’s school board. He also mentors troubled children.
Now he’s adding another role: Youngest ISU alumnus to endow a scholarship. It’s a pledge he hopes to fulfill with the help of others.
The program bears the name of his mother, Terri Lynn Mosby.
Mosby decided not to limit the money to black students because ”my mom would not want it that way,” he said. “She believed if you see someone slugging and chugging, you push them along.” Mosby isn’t sure where life will take him from here. He hopes it’s back to Iowa, where things began to turn around for him.
His list of role models now include King.
His picture of the world includes hope.
And his purpose includes helping others see they have control of their destiny.
“This is my defining moment,” he said.