by Lissa Staley
Sherl: Well, we were all shocked, and my husband wanted to make sure about this whole thing; so he retained a lawyer; and after researching and investigating by Corbin, Jesson, and Edwards, it was determined that Zane was the true discoverer, and owner, of quite a bit of wealth. At that point, contesting by the library and the city of Topeka came up, and the whole thing—Volume with treasure—went to court until Zane and, of course, the judge, solved it.
Zane: What was aggravating to me, as a 10 year old kid (because this process was taking years), was that these big adults (not my parents, who had talked with me beforehand, but the lawyers and the court system and those associated with the library board and the city) took my beloved Book, key, illustrations, treasure, and just hijacked the whole thing! I was so frustrated! I hadn’t even read it all yet! All I wanted was my Library Sale book! So I asked to see the judge and, thankfully, he not only granted an interview but put me in the courtroom to tell what I wanted—so farseeing and merciful. Again, all I wanted was my book! Yes, the gem was neat, and I understood (as best as a 10 year old could) about the amazing wealth; but it was The Book with the words, illustrations, binding that my heart was drawn to. The Ruby, I figured, could easily belong to everyone; and that’s what I said I wanted.
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 10th 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 2nd 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.
I could see the newspaper headlines the next day.
We shook hands with the people of Phoenix, signed autographs then drove quickly to the railway station. Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, built for the American Olympics just four years previously, would be our focus tomorrow.
As we drove through the quiet evening streets, Jesse talked softly to his wife, Minnie, his high school sweetheart. I sighed at the convenience of us all sleeping on the train. Even in 1936, taking a Negro to an American hotel could still be an abrasive task.
I recalled the turning point, when Jesse Owens had shaken hands with Alf on a rally in Brooklyn, New York. Our languishing campaign jumped two full points in a single day. Alf, so reluctant to travel anywhere, suddenly had the courage to grasp the advantage. From an underwhelming speaker, he turned aggressive overnight. Since that time, every newspaper story and radio broadcast that mentioned Jesse Owens’ name chipped away at Roosevelt’s once prodigious lead.
New York, Sunday Oct 21st 1936
Can Owens Hand Gold to Landon? (NYT)
The New York Times headline sold out the papers on the street within three hours. Not to be outdone, The Washington Post replied with its own ‘golden’ rhetoric the next day.
Is Jesse Owens the Midas Touch? (Washington Post)
I’d never taken much note of inter-newspaper rivalry, but when they fought for six days straight I couldn’t believe the figures. Papers all over the country made up their own version, driving our message into the hearts of the people of America.
Roosevelt Reeling Under Owens’ Attacks (Philadelphia Inquirer)
That night, in Yankee Stadium, Alf Landon stood with his running mate, Frank Knox, in front of thirty-six thousand cheering fans. If it hadn’t been for Jesse Owens standing in the wings waiting on his entrance, I doubt he’d have gotten ten.
Landon’s words carried clear in the evening air. “We have a president who, by lack of courage, or by lack of moral fortitude, has taken credit when these men of color ruled the world in their athletic fields. Yet, in their own country, he has ignored them, heaping praise on just a specific few who share his own color. This is not an America in which I wish to be part of. These men conquered the world! They are America’s heroes!”
I had tried to get the other two Negro gold medal winners to join Jesse on stage, but they were staunch Democrats. In the end it didn’t matter, we had the prize. We had the only name people remembered.
“Ladies and
gentlemen of New York, I give you the fastest man on planet Earth!”
For once Jesse looked nervous. The crowd was huge, the noise ear-hammering, and the stands nearer than usual. He stammered out his first few words then, thankfully, calmed down. “Hitler didn’t snub me… it was my own President Roosevelt who snubbed me.”
Oh, I soared high on the strength of that applause, the cheers of his name, the jeering at their president; I caught a few slurs that I couldn’t have repeated to my own mother. I counted the beat with Jesse, but it seemed he had it under control; he gave them extra time, waiting until the crowd fell silent. “The president didn’t even send me a telegram.”
Bam… the practiced arrow to the center of its intended target.
Tuesday, November 3rd 1936
Election Poised on a Razor Edge (KC Star)
On the evening of the election, we waited in the Topeka Capitol Building. I paced furiously between the desk and the door. Alf and Frank shared a brandy. Few words were spoken.
The phone rang, jerking the whole room to attention. The voice at the other end was distorted, but I caught “Delaware” and the result. I thanked the sender and took a breath. “It looks like we lost Delaware.”
“By how much?”
“Three points or so. They’re still counting in some of the outlying districts.”
For the slightest of moments I doubted myself. Then we won Rhode Island, a Democrat stronghold. And Michigan. And North Carolina.
By five o’clock that morning, we had all consumed all of the brandy and shouted for more. We had taken thirty-one states. We didn’t dare say the obvious.
The addition of Jesse Owens had tipped the scale; Alf Landon had won the 1936 presidential contest. Don’t get me wrong, it hadn’t been a complete landslide; but he had toppled Roosevelt, the incumbent President, and got himself into the White House.
