top of page
image.png
image.png
image.png
image.png
image.png
image.png

Lieutenant Dan’s Bio
My name is Dan Willie McIver; aka Lieutenant Dan. I am a retired Infantry military officer who graduated from W. B. Wicker High School in Sanford, NC. W
hen was a 6-year-old child, I saw an orange paddle tractor. I loved that tractor in the store, and I pull on my grandma's dress, telling her I wanted that orange-colored tractor. She told me I had to get a job to have that tractor. I asked, "what is a job?" When you can make your own money. She took out a dollar bill and held it in my face. 

Then she turned her head away from me for second; and I crawled into display case and got on the orange tractor. And called my grandma. She hurried over to where I was and pulled me off the tractor. And said, "did I tell you not to touch anything," and hit my hand in an upset emotion.

 

One important point to Remember in those days was if a colored person touched something in a store you had to pay for it. Because white folks would not buy that product. On that day I touch that orange tractor my grandmother paid for that tractor that day with her hard earn money. And the hand slap I got was not enough. And a few months later a miracle White Santa Clause came a knocking on my home door in the Ghetto. Santa Clause came straight to the ghetto.

 

Later own I worked around the Peoplehood community I lived in to earn money. I cut grass, racked leaves, shoveled snow off porches, and shined shoes at the barber shop (25 cent a pair) on Sunday morning to make money to get the orange tractor. I would give all the money I made to my grandma and one Christmas day guess what I got? An orange tractor. In those days if a colored person touches something in a store you had to pay for it. On that day I touch that orange tractor my grandmother paid for that tractor and a few months later White Santa Clause came a knocking on my home door in the Ghetto.

As a child of nine years of age, I worked as a paperboy, delivering newspapers in my Peoplehood. As a paperboy entrepreneur, I for years had this one customer, an old, old, beautiful, dark skinned lady who never paid me for a paper. But gave me cookies. Through rain, sleet or snow I would deliver the newspaper to my customers. Sometimes my grand daddy would take me on my route because the weather was so bad in the morning hours. But most of the time my granddaddy would help me wrap the newspapers up to stay dry, put them in my bike carrying bag and send me off into the destiny that awaked me in life’s business cycle. Now getting back to the loving, dark skinned lady customer who never paid for a paper, but would have these good looking homemade cookies to give me.

image.png
image.png
image.png
image.png
image.png

These cookies became a cherished bit of life and knowledge. And I remember this customer as one of the folks in the peoplehood that spanked me on my sticky big when I was a young and foolish child.

When I took over the paper route from a white distributor, who did not venture too far into the black community, I had 47 customers. When I gave the paper route to my sister I had over 270 customers. At the age of 11, I worked as a bag boy, stock boy, short order cook, cashier, butcher and yard boy at Fleming Grocery store on Horner Boulevard. Mr. Fleming, the owner ( an old white man six foot, 5 inches tall, 300 pounds, a hard disciplinarian who taught me the Grocery customer business. We started this relationship off by having me take a reading test. Fleming was one of the only businesses that gave black folks credit. Folks could get hot dogs ,hamburgers, Liver putting sandwiches, chitterling sandwiches, French friends, cheese sandwiches coffee, sweet soda and buck sole soul food products from the grocery store in the Lee County farming area. Fleming grocery Store was a social gathering watering hole for black country folks on the weekend. And he trusted me to the degree that he would give me the half day business income to take to the banks, $1500 to $3000 on a Saturday. Mr. Fleming would put the money in a brown paper bag, give it to me and I would get on my bike and ride about half a mile to the bank and deliver the money. I never thought of someone rubbing me on my journey at age 12. When I asked my grandmother for my own room, because I got tired of my
sisters peeing on me at night. She said sure, you get the bedroom and I will
make room. When I save up $25 dollars to get the complete $255.00 bedroom

image.png
image.png
image.png
image.png
image.png

set. My grandmother would not cosign for me to buy my first bedroom set on credit at 12 years of
age, because she said you are too young to pay for it and that she
cannot pay off a bedroom if I fail to pay for it as promised. To make a long
story short, Mr. Fleming signed for me to get the bedroom set on credits. I paid
$10.50 a month till $255. was paid off. Whenever I would leave my room ( My
man cave) my sisters would go in and play, because they were locked down in
grandma’s room sleeping on bunk beds. I was given the opportunity to drive a school bus, but after the bus driver training, I turned it down to make more money and have more freedom at Fleming Grocery Store.
       

        When Mr. Fleming found out that I was going to college, he called me to the
buggy aluminum chair where he sat overlooking the store, and said Mop you
going to college, I do not think that is a good idea. My son is in college and he is
smarter than you and he is having a hard time making good grades in college.
And it is costing me a lot of money. A few days passed and he called me back to
talk about college. If you have some paper work saying. You are going to college
I want to see it. A few days later Mr. Fleming told me he got me a job at
Sanford U. S. Post office . Mr. Fleming got me this job so I could make $3.28 an
hour to get the money necessary for my first college semester (Back then the
minimum wage was $1.20 per hour). As a result this old white man’s help and
love, I got the money to go to college. I attended NC A&T State College, the
University of Southern California and various military colleges and started work
on my PHD).

image.png
image.png
image.png
image.png

Mr. Fleming, the owner of a grocery store taught me how to count money back to paying customers at the age of 12 as a short order cook. I even had the opportunity to close the restaurant down at night at age 16. And I would hide the money ($900 - $1600) in the meat freezer. One thing I regret while working at Fleming is I never had the time to learn how to make the famous Fleming’s BBQ. I am looking for someone who has the secret ingredients, so I can use it to become a millionaire overnight, great greasy BBQ. But I feel all the black folks who made it are all dead. Now keep in mind the principal of my high school, Mr. W. B. Wicker got me the college acceptance letter. Mr. W.B.Wicker who happened to be on the trustee board of A&T college worked his magic.. Just because I was friends with the principal’s nephew and playing ball in the principals yard one day. He asked
me and my friends what we were going to do after high school. They were all going to college and I did not know what I was going to do with my life. The principal nephew was going to Duke University to become a doctor, I was surprised at this news. And I was most likely on my way to Vietnam to dance to the hot music of deadly incoming ammunition. The principal asked for my name and my home room teacher’s name. Within two weeks of our talk, I got a letter out of nowhere saying you have been accepted at A&T college. But I had no money! The first task the post master gave me was a reading test to see if I as a high school graduate could read. As a result of this informal test, I became the first
black mail clerk in Sanford , NC at the age of 18.

Special note: My work day at the post office began at 5 am and ended 6 pm. From 5am to 8am I distributed parcel post mail to the community. From 2pm to 6pm, I distributed local mail to various in house mailboxes and collected

image.png
image.png

incoming mail. I had to wear a white shirt and black tie on my evening schedule. One day I was putting mail into a mailbox at the exact time an old white lady was opening her box. As my black hand was placing letters in her mailbox. She made this
strange mortifying sound, Lord Help me. The mail
box was chest level high. We both bent down and
we had eye ball to eye ball contact her eyes got big
as a silver dollars, she grab her mail and ran up the
corridor screaming There is a nigger back there ,
stealing my mail, call the police.
 

After a brief talk with the person in charge, she said when did you start hiring niggers to deliver the mail? I stayed at the post office and Fleming grocery store for the duration of the summer. Then off
to college with my three year old son. At 18 years of age racism was alive and well. And at the ripe old age of 70 plus years of age this nemesis called racism is regenerating in color, style and shape and is running full speed ahead. Through faith and education a change is gonna come and we will have a nation worthy of its vision.

image.png

  My youngest son, Chris the EMS / firefighter

I was raised next (150 feet) to the railroad tracks, 617 Railroad Street. The Southern SeaBoard Railroad morning coal train would wake me up in the morning and my grandma would make sure I went to bed on time, had food in my belly and had clean clothes to wear to school. From my meager beginning, I was able to retire from the United States Army as an Infantry Field Grade officer.

image.png

My career was colorful and controversial. I worked at the White House, enjoyed flying Army helicopters and command and prepared soldiers for combat. All this to
say one thing, when I was growing up, some good folks
white and black helped me to
become a good citizen. 

image.png

Now it is time for me to pay backto my Peoplehood community the values that made me who I am, a hard working ,caring community citizen. Let’s get excited about making a serious difference in a child’s life. Many folks say I am crazy or a genius when it comes to helping children. My reply is simply that Iam crazy about the mission of helping children and have the genius to plan and execute the mission’s vision.

GOOD TIMES NEVER FELT SO GOOD!

image.png

YELPLV is fighting a guerrilla war on a conventional battlefield of apathy, disillusionment and hopelessness in our children. YELP-LV is providing future entrepreneurs and leaders a feel, touch, look and see adventure vocations never dream of as a child. Exposure is the key to strengthening the moral fiber of the village nation. I can fly this airplane

image.png

YELP-LV is providing future entrepreneurs and leaders a feel, touch, look and see adventure vocations never dream of as a child. Exposure is the key to strengthening the moral fiber of the village nation.

I can fly this airplane!!!

image.png
image.png

I am going to learn how to read so I can fly this airplane

Undisciplined vision in the hearts and souls of the most valuable natural resource 

- our children. With your own active community support at the forefront in this
community’s vision of hope, we will galvanize a stronger community coalition to
reduce apathy, disobedience and juvenile crime in our community. The bottom line to Youth Entrepreneurship Leadership Program, the Living Vision (YELP-LV)
is very simple: We want to accomplish 5 things:

image.png

(1). Provide proper nourishment to a child’s body
(2). Master the 4 R’s (educational requirements)
(3). Teach common manners , Code of Honor
(4). Teach Obedient Discipline , Training, Bonding, Attachments and LOVEl
(5). Give vision to our children. (no vision no hope)


Life is a never ending journey of adventure , love, tragedy, wonder, joyfulness
and hope for the betterment of good. We elders must train our children for the
future through our historical vision of the past. Child do not shame my name!

“The success of all of us is built on the success of each of us!"

Straighten up and fly RIGHT

image.png

Do not let perfect become the enemy of good.

image.png
bottom of page