Twisting Topeka (16 page)

Q: And so what was
decided?

Zane:
Judge Simmons decided that it was my Book, including the key
and the treasure—all were mine. I paid for it, fair and square. Of
course, loud cries rose in the courtroom until the gavel was
pounded; and I was allowed to continue. I said I wanted to share
The Ruby; and so, it was to be sold and all the proceeds—except
lawyers’ fees—were to be given to the library with the stipulation
that every kid in Shawnee County could have a library near enough
to their home to walk to. I figured that that’s why I had such a
wonderful life. I lived close enough to the library with all its
books and resources. Really, better than money. I also figured that
if these adults didn’t want to do it, then, I’d just rescind the
gift.

Q. How did the Bond Issue
Vote come into play?

Zane:
I didn’t know anything about the Bond issue or Branch
Libraries or any of that, but word spread fast, with the news
outlets taking it up; and because of that momentous day, the
citizens of Shawnee County realized that they were looking at a
“Gift Horse” (or “Gem-In-The-Book”) in the mouth, voted against the
Bond Issue, and wrote a historic number of letters to the Topeka
Capital-Journal to accept the gift to the library. I wanted “A
Library For Every Kid” just like the slogan that picked up more and
more momentum. And the rest is history—for Topeka but also for me.
I got to keep The book and the key; and I have gone into law, as a
result.

Q. And there have been no
regrets, no need for the money?

Sheryl:
We, as Zane’s parents felt it has all turned out as it was
supposed to. We did not urge Zane to keep the wealth or give it
away. It was his to do as he wanted. We feel, along with a great
many Topekans, that he made a wise-beyond-his-years decision. What
price do you put on wisdom?

Zane:
Again, I’ve had a wonderful life, near a library, and been
able to study and work hard and get the scholarships I’ve needed.
With “A Library For Every Kid” in this and other cities, there’s a
whole wealth for my generation and those that come
after.

EASTSIDE—April 16, 2016

[Trey Miller—young,
African-American, in his thirties, who grew up in East Topeka. We
meet in a downtown storefront campaign office, with a flurry of
activity all around and telephones ringing. We are escorted to an
inner office, with two Secret Service men in dark suits flanking
the closed door. Sounds are muffled].

Q. Mr. Miller, could you
give a little background about your growing up and the “Library For
Every Kid” campaign, please?

Miller:
“A Library For Every Kid!” And one of those kids was me! I
grew up dirt poor and on the East side. My mama worked two or three
jobs just to keep the six of us fed. She was a bulwark, made us
attend the little Baptist Church down the street~~and grades? Oh,
my! You’d better keep them up, and there better not be a peep from
the schools of any misconduct. She kept a tight rein on us all~~all
the way through--with everyone going to college; but she was
not
always around.
Still, three older sisters substituted and rules and boundaries
persisted and were always there. The only reprieve and escape was
the Branch Library that was plunked down in our neighborhood right
after the Bond Issue failed, with easy access and full of inviting
activities, books—eventually computers—music, teaching videos. It
changed my whole life!

Q. How so?

Miller:
Well, every young man—or, at least,
this
young man—is looking for his
destiny and his place in the world. The Branch, as we called it,
just blossomed me. It was the “OK” place to be. Mama approved, and
she knew every one of the librarians that staffed the place on a
first name basis. The whole library crew were always keeping an eye
on us who came through the doors—not only protecting but guiding
and suggesting resources for reports, activities to keep boredom
away, and casting visions of what we could become if we “stepped
right this way”. They helped me fill out applications for summer
jobs and scholarships, just helping and being interested. It all
just drew me and launched me!

Q. Into
politics?

Miller:
Well, into life—public service, historical perspective,
cultural relevance, national and international news, and even
etiquette and manners.

Q. Etiquette?

Miller:
Yes, one of the first books I picked up was on manners. The
lessons in it, that I learned in that little space of a library,
were all about the fact that there were rules in society. Just to
say the right, considerate, and timely words; the right fork to
pick up; the right way to introduce folks; and much more—could open
doors. I still use what I learned back then as a young boy at The
Branch.

Q. So, one of the branch
libraries was your springboard?

Miller:
Absolutely! I wouldn’t be where I am today without “A Library
for Every Kid”, a library for me. No way did mama have the time or
vehicle—nor any of us have one—to cart us over to where the Main
Library is located at 10
^th
and Washburn. And even if
Zane Thomas had not found The Volume and the Bond Issue had passed,
it
still
wouldn’t
have worked for me and a whole lot of the kids I grew up with. Not
even if they had had bookmobiles, with all the emissions, by the
way. I needed The Branch right there, under my nose, in my
neighborhood—a safe place, a small enough place where a kid like me
couldn’t get away with things but be helped, open for me to step
into any time—morning, afternoon, and evening—and step into my
destiny.

Q. Like right here, right
now?

Miller:
Yes. I just wouldn’t be where I am now, serving Topekans and
Kansans, nor running for office, if not for how things worked out
for our neighborhood to have The Branch—and I’ve talked with many
people who feel the same way all over this town. “A Library for
Every Kid” has just spread, and Americans are seeing the good of
that idea and stepping forward. It’s just become a groundswell and
whole tidal wave of transformation.

Q. Have you ever met Zane
Thomas, the boy who gave a treasure for “Libraries For Every
Kid”?

Miller:
Yes, again, and indeed. A fine young man and my age.
[He laughs easily].
I
might be running for office; but he’s the inspiration although he
doesn’t, and won’t, take the credit. I suppose that’s the biggest
lesson I’ve learned from him, and others like him. Humility. Just
see the need, take courage, and go get the job done quietly in a
sacrificial way for the littlest, the least of us all. I hope to
continue to take that to Washington with me. There’s a whole lot of
ways to look at things and meet needs. Who would have dreamed that
we kids each needed a library or that a rubythe printed in a rare
book would have yielded such riches of good for our
country!

Lulu Lane is a freelance writer from
Littleville, KS. She can be reached at 785-123-4567

The Jesse Owens
Effect

Ian Hall

Phoenix, Arizona, Monday,
Oct 2
^nd
1936

Owens Will Speak In Landon
Drive (NYT)

“
People of Phoenix! I give
you…” The words hushed the already expectant crowd. “…the fastest
man on Earth…” Kansas Governor and Republican presidential
candidate Alf Landon was under no misconception; he knew who the
people had really come to see. “…my friend, and fellow American;
Jesse Owens!”

As Landon turned to watch Jesse walk
on stage, he caught my gaze and winked; his thanks to me, Michael
Holt, the man who had rescued his once-faltering
campaign.

The last words were lost as the crowd
tried to raise the roof off the blue sky above. Landon grinned at
the reaction, caught up in the euphoria of the moment.

As the athlete passed me, I shook his
outstretched hand and muttered short words of encouragement,
clutching my left over the handshake to further emphasize its
influence. I looked past his shoulder, at the bobbing heads of the
jubilant crowd. Many in the front cheered louder, seeing the Negro
athlete shake hands with me, the faceless white man from Topeka,
Kansas, the secret choreographer of every facet of the
dance.

As I shook his hand, our message was
hammered into their minds. Each movement had been rehearsed, each
inflection timed to perfection. As the lean man reached the center
of the stage, Alf met him, duplicating my own gesture. Then he
raised their hands aloft, their fingers clenched
together.

Despite my wish of anonymity, I
stepped naturally forward, looking out onto the crowd; a
kaleidoscope of colors and ethnicities all with one voice, one aim,
to shake the hand of the fastest man on the planet; the man who had
taken four gold medals from Adolf Hitler’s Olympic Games, just
months before. For a moment, all thought of color or race had
vanished from this little corner of America.

As the crowd cheered, I pounded my
hands together, hoping to milk the moment as long as we could. I’d
been Alf Landon’s Press Secretary for just three months, and the
Jesse Owens phenomenon was easily my biggest contribution to the
campaign that had once trailed Roosevelt by twenty points; Michael
Holt’s biggest coup.

As Jesse neared the microphone, the
audience respectfully hushed.

“
Thank you Phoenix!” His
simple words started the crowd off again. He waved them quiet, and
slowly they responded. “I come to you today…”

I watched the scene,
detached slightly, wondering how many points we’d gain in the polls
because of tonight. The football stadium must have held twenty
thousand locals, waving American flags, hand-written placards, or
the small billboards we had stuck in the grass on the road outside.
‘Go Jesse’ was common, and many referred to his early
Buckeye Bullet
Ohio
State days. The people had lined the route to the stadium, crowding
the cars to a slow walking pace; then filed inside to hear the
athlete speak. I stood in anticipation myself, even though I’d
heard the speech so many times before.

I sensed Jesse reaching one of his
highlights.

“
Hitler didn’t snub
me…”

I silently counted to four with
Jesse.

“
It was
our president
who snubbed me.” Jesse
delivered right on the money. The crowd booed Roosevelt’s
now-famous gaffe, and I could see Owens counting to ten, just as
we’d practiced. I could see the beginnings of a smile as he leaned
forward into the microphone, ready to deliver his next line,
enjoying the moment. He raised his voice, ignoring the crowd still
crooning over his slur. “The President didn’t even send me a
telegram!”

Bam. An arrow right into their hearts.
The crowd erupted even further. As we knew they would, as they had
done in every city we’d taken the show to.

I recalled my own words, spoken just a
month before. “We should make Jesse Owens your running
mate.”

“
He’s too young, Michael,”
Alf had replied. “Besides, my running mate’s already been chosen;
Frank Knox is a good man.”

I shook my head, grinning
from ear to ear. “We don’t need to actually
make
him your VP, but the polls are
with us, Governor. We just need your names linked together. Every
time the American people see your name with Owens’ they’ll remember
Roosevelt’s overt racism.”

The tactic worked to
everyone’s delight, except that of poor Frank Knox, the
actual
VP, who knew his
name’s underplaying was a price he had to pay to get to the White
House.

This morning, Landon/Owens billboards
had lined the route. Now they were tucked under ten thousand arms,
or waving in the air, souvenirs of the day, and a huge leap for
name recognition. We’d done fourteen capitals, thirty to go, and
we’d pulled back Roosevelt’s twenty point lead down to nine. A
whopping twenty-five percent of our budget was now being spent
printing Landon/Owens material.

Owens and his message had almost
single-handedly unseated the incumbent President
Roosevelt.

I waited for the next bomb to go
off.

“
I enjoyed the Olympic
Games,” Jesse said, a smile never far from his lips. “There was
every color in the crowd, but they cheered my name. There was no
color on the track; there was no color in the sweat. Jesse Owens, a
poor boy from Oakville, Alabama, shook the hands of the Kings of
Europe.” He waved a warning finger in the air. “Now don’t you
listen to the lies about Mr. Hitler. I wasn’t invited to shake
hands with Hitler, none of us athletes were… but I wasn’t invited
to the White House to shake hands with
my
President, either! My own
President!”

I joined Jesse on his slow count to
ten. He’d proven a natural speaker, but inclined to rush. It had
taken many practice runs to get him to slow down.

“
The White House said he
was ‘Too busy’!” His shout was slightly distorted in the large
black speakers to either side, but it didn’t matter. The words and
sentiment had gotten through. The knock-out blow had been
delivered.