I also learned early where my own oratorical talents lay

and where they did not. During Negro History Week one
year at Walker Street Elementary, the teachers staged a pro-
gram that had the students representing and speaking the
words of accomplished black people. Of course, I wanted to
play Joe Louis. But that part went to my friend Frank Hill; he
went out on the stage to rousing applause from the students
in the audience. My teachers had given me the role of
William Grant Still, the conductor and composer. I walked
out on the stage, declaring, “I am William Grant Still. I con-
duct symphonies that play Tchaikovsky and Brahms. . . .” It
didn’t go over well with the students; the reaction was tepid,
at best. But my teachers saw more in me than I saw in myself.
They saw I was better suited to play William Grant Still, that
I had a voice and public personality made for the serious side
of public speaking. My teachers sensed my ambition, and
they pushed me in that direction. So, in school as well as in
church, I became known as a speaker on serious subjects.

During my senior year in high school, a classmate, Ethel

Wardell, and I entered the state Elks oratorical contest, held
that year in Macon, Georgia, and we both won first place.
That was a big deal—pictures in the Atlanta Daily World, the
only daily black newspaper in the country, a notice on the
bulletin boards at St. Paul, and congratulations from the con-
gregation and people in the community.

In the second semester of my freshman year at DePauw

University, I won the university-wide Margaret Noble Lee

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INTRODUCTION

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