Aiming at John Conyers

The first time John Conyers was elected to Congress, Bert Johnson's parents weren't even teenagers. The last time Conyers had a serious challenger, Johnson was a kid doing hard time in prison.

But that was 1994 and this is now, and Bert Johnson is a different man, a serious and thoughtful state senator who says he tries to use the mistakes of his past to help people in the present.

And next year, he intends to take on John Conyers in the Democratic primary for Congress in the newly configured 13th District, which includes a little more than half of Detroit and a collection of mostly blue-collar Wayne County suburbs.

Conyers is bound to be heavily favored, even though Johnson actually lives in the district, and Conyers does not, at least not yet.

But the longest-serving African-American congressman in history could be vulnerable. For example, last month, the Arab American National Museum in Dearborn held an all-day event looking at the long-term impact of 9/11 on their community.

Late in the day, U.S. Rep. John Conyers came in to the final session and sat down in the audience. Eventually, the moderator (OK, it was me) asked if he'd like to come up and say a few words.

The congressman came to the podium, and told the mystified attendees that the Arab-American community ought to learn to appreciate the genius of John Coltrane and Miles Davis, which was about as relevant to that day's discussion as Spiderman.

Conyers also suggested to his largely bewildered audience that they get bus tickets and come to Washington to help celebrate the anniversary of the Congressional Black Caucus. For those who have known the congressman in recent years, this was not especially surprising behavior, though the media mostly ignores it.

John Conyers has been marching to his own drummer for a long time. He's the second longest-serving current member of Congress, and will be 83 years old before the next election. Nobody questions his commitment to peace and justice.

His competence is another matter.

The congressman had been in Washington nearly a decade when a baby named Bert Johnson was born to an upwardly mobile family in Detroit. His father, also Bert, eventually became a lawyer with his own firm. His son had everything going for him, except one.

"I was a follower," he said, and followed the wrong people. That led to an armed robbery conviction, and hard time in prison.

But he turned his life around, big-time. Today, he is a newly elected state senator, the father of three, respected in his community. State Sen. Bert Johnson (D-Highland Park) doesn't make any excuses for what he did all those years ago.

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