Unless you’ve been living under a rock or cut off from all media, you are probably now familiar with the story of Ted Williams. Homeless for two years, he filled his days in Columbus, Ohio panhandling for change off of I-71 with a cramped, hand-made, cardboard sign stating that he had the God-given gift of a “golden radio voice.”
On Monday January 3, a videographer from the Columbus Dispatch recorded a short video interview and posted it on YouTube [ironically, the original video has been taken down by The Dispatch¹]. In the video we hear Ted speak, his rich baritone so incongruous against his flyaway hair, surplus fatigue jacket, and the impromptu interview setting on an offramp median. Other than his obvious talent, there’s a hint of something else: a recovering addict by his own admission, clean for two years, inspired by radio in his childhood, he’s looking for a break—something, anything—to get back to what he loves to do.
The Internet can be a tough place, its citizens cynical and jaded by the deluge of bad news, shocking, unvarnished content, and hurtful, sometimes hateful, commentary that emerges when people don the dark cloak of anonymity. It would be easy to write off Ted Williams as a passing novelty, or worse, as a amusing trifle to be mocked or ridiculed: there are hundreds of thousands of homeless in the United states, and thousands of people have no doubt passed by Mr. Williams on their commute for years without even noticing. Surely one more sad story shouldn’t make a difference to a calloused Internet.
But for some reason his story resonated. The video was picked up and was quickly featured on the front-page of Reddit , a popular news aggregator/geek community site known for its occasional crowdsourced acts of kindness. It quickly became a top story, with hundreds offering donations, assistance, and even job offers. By late Tuesday the video had spread across the Internet like wildfire, catapulting the video into the YouTube stratosphere with millions of views.
By the following morning Mr. Williams appeared on a nationally syndicated radio show; during the airing he received an announcer job and house from the nearby MBA franchise, the Cleveland Cavaliers. On Thursday he was in his hometown of New York (born in Brooklyn), reunited with his mother who he had not seen in 20 years, appearing on the Today show, and recording a voiceover for international brand Kraft. His story had hit mainstream news and was still accelerating.
It’s been a week now and it is impossible to keep track. In the space of 7 days, a man has gone from streetcorner, living off of the meagre money he raised through panhandling to a sought after mini-celebrity. The pace of change must be overwhelming and I hope that he finds the support and resources to manage this rapid change successfully. We live in a disposable culture: once the newness fades will Ted Williams be pushed back to the curb once again after media has extracted all the value out of his story?
I certainly hope not. Outside of his amazing discovery and second lease on life, something about Ted Williams’ story restored my faith in what the Internet can be. Our online world is increasingly about big corporations, cheap thrills, and the aforementioned cynicism. Ted Williams is an example of how individual people can still make a difference to an individual person. The Internet, specifically social networks, makes everyone a publisher, an activist, and a volunteer. It can bring people together, with lightning speed, for acts of good and level the playing field for by placing unimaginable personal expertise and resources mere keystrokes away. A man can be on a street corner on Monday and in Rockerfeller Centre on national television the next, not because of a heinous crime or a tragedy, but because of his talent, the perseverance of hope, and a little help from the online community that we all belong to.
Good luck and godspeed, Mr. Williams.
UPDATE: It appears that Mr. Williams has already had some trouble with the law. Sigh.
¹ I can’t help but speculate that had Columbus Dispatch lawyers been faster on their feet when delivering their flinty take-down notice that none of this would have happened. No video, no buzz, no offers, no second chance. Somewhere between YouTube and copyright law, and man’s life managed to catch enough sunshine to flourish again.