Ambassador Andrew Young’s journey begins on a lively block in New Orleans—a block alive with culture and contradictions. On one corner stood the Nazi headquarters, nearby, an Italian bar, an Irish grocery, and a Chevy repair shop. Amidst it all, Young and his brother were the only Black children in the neighborhood—a reality that sharpened his awareness early. But his greatest teacher wasn’t the world outside—it was his father inside.
“My daddy was 5 foot, 4 inches, but he had a big vision,” Young said with a smile. “He always told us: ‘Don’t get mad. Get smart.’” His father taught him how to box, not just to defend himself, but to train his mind. “It taught me discipline,” Young said. “You won’t beat everyone, but if you stay calm and think ahead, you can outsmart them.”
That calm strength became a guiding force in Young’s life. His faith, too, was rooted in something larger than doctrine—it was legacy. He shared the powerful story of enslaved Africans who overtook a slave ship, were jailed in Connecticut, and defended by Yale Divinity students and President John Quincy Adams. That moment gave birth to the American Missionary Association, which later founded over 500 schools—including Howard, Dillard, and the Atlanta University Center.
Though Young’s father hoped he’d pursue dentistry, Young felt a different calling.
“I adored my dad,” he said. “I majored in biology and chemistry just to make him proud, but I knew deep down it wasn’t for me.” That voice grew louder after graduation. “The sky was the bluest I’d ever seen, the birds were singing—everything in nature had a purpose. And I realized, God had one for me too.”
That sense of purpose led him to the Civil Rights Movement, working closely with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. One of his earliest assignments was answering Dr. King’s letters—a daunting crate of over 1,000 messages. From his desk at the Butler Street YMCA, Young wrote, organized, listened—and eventually marched. He became a vital strategist in a movement that changed the world.
Registering Black voters in dangerous territories and organizing protests few dared to lead, Young leaned into the hard work.
“Nobody wanted to do it,” he said. “But when no one else will, you step up.” That commitment carried him through public office—from Congressman to U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations, to Mayor of Atlanta. His philosophy? “An easy burden,” he said, quoting the title of his memoir written after Dr. King’s assassination.
Now a father of four, Young lights up when talking about his children. His daughter, a Georgetown Law graduate, leads the ACLU in Atlanta. His two middle children are engineers—Howard grads like their father. And his youngest, known only as Bo, forged his own path.
“He never wanted to be called Andrew. Didn’t want people to know who he was.” After a police officer broke his leg during his first week at Howard—a moment that made the news—Bo left, determined to make his own name. Today, Bo Young is a successful businessman with ventures in finance, real estate, and television.
This Father’s Day, we honor men like Andrew Young—fathers who lead with integrity, who raise children not only through love but through example. Men like these remind us that titles don’t define legacy—purpose does.
As Young put it best: “Evil cannot permanently organize. It has within its own being the seeds of its destruction.”
And with each step, each fight, and act of quiet courage, he shows us the power of staying grounded, thoughtful, and strong. Don’t get mad—get smart.
“Nobody wanted to do it,” he said. “But when no one else will, you step up.”