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Jamyn Morris (JM): In 2017… a couple years after the StoryCorps mobile tour started, we added another airstream to the fleet… and this one had a very specific purpose…
MIchael Garofalo (MG): Where did you go in that first year? What was the tour?
Melvin Reeves (MR): Atlanta, Detroit, Chicago, Newark, Oakland. We went to about 22 places. So for example, somewhere down south we went, two hours away was this place called Mound Bayou. Mound Bayou was the first town incorporated in America by Black people. So I said we’ll go over there and interview them. You know what I mean?
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MG: That’s Melvin Reeves… He designed and launched StoryCorps Griot… that’s the initiative we’re talking about in this episode. You’re hearing excerpts from a conversation I had with him a few years back.
MG: So the name Griot, can you talk about what that means and why you chose it for this?
MR: Sure. A Griot in West African culture is the holder of a community’s history. And some of them are able to recite the history going way way back to the present day. So it just seemed sensible to use it as a way to frame what we were trying to achieve.
JM: StoryCorps Griot set out to ensure that stories of African Americans are preserved and presented with dignity.
MG: Were people eager to work with you?
MR: People were eager to work with us because they understood the importance of being included in the American narrative. I felt like what we were doing is important and I had confidence that we were gonna do it reasonably well.
MG: Well, I would say you did. I mean, what was it 1867 interviews?
MR: Yeah, that’s exactly right.
MG: Yep, in one year.
MR: Right.
JM: And StoryCorps Griot continues to this day – anyone who identifies as Black or African American can choose to have their interview included in the collection. It’s housed at the Smithsonian Museum for African American History and Culture.
MG: But in this episode we’re going back to one of the very first people to ever record a Griot interview… in the very first city the Griot booth ever stopped in… Atlanta, Georgia.
William Lynn Weaver (WLW): Hi, I’m William Lynn Weaver. I’m 57 years old. And I’m here with my daughter for StoryCorps Griot.
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JM: Dr. William Lynn Weaver ended up recording seven interviews over the years…and actually holds the record for the most StoryCorps broadcasts.
WLW: My name is William Lynn Weaver. We’re in Knoxville, Tennessee.
WLW: William Lynn Weaver. I’m 67 years old. It’s good to be doing another StoryCorps. The date is August the 16th 19… I mean, excuse me, 2017. (laughs)
MG: He told stories about family…his career in medicine… his children…and shared his memories of growing up in the south during the civil rights-era…
WLW: I don’t remember a day that a teacher did not tell me that I didn’t belong. The school’s mascot was a Confederate colonel and, at football games, there were always racial comments, banners with the n-word. I remember the last day I had class at West walking out the door, and I consciously refused to look back.
JM: What happened after this story aired…was something no one saw coming…especially not Lynn…
I’m Jasmyn Morris.…
MG: And I’m Michael Garofalo. From NPR… this is StoryCorps Then and Now… celebrating 20 years of StoryCorps…
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MG: Let’s start with the interview that Lynn recorded during the very first week of the Griot tour. He spoke with his daughter, Kimberly, about his own father, Ted Weaver, who made a living as a janitor and chauffeur…
WW: My father was everything to me. And it’s actually kind of difficult talking about him without becoming very emotional. Up until, you know, he died, every decision I made, I’d always call him. And he would never tell me what to do, but he would always listen and say, ’Well, what do you want to do?’ And he made me feel that I could do anything that I wanted to do.
I can remember when we integrated the schools that there were many times when I was just scared, and I didn’t think that, uh, I would survive, and I’d look up and he’d be there. And whenever I saw him, I knew that I was safe. You know, I always tell you that your momma is the smartest person I’ve ever met, but I think my father ranks right up there as brilliant.
When I was in high school, I was taking algebra, and I was sitting at the kitchen table trying to do my homework. And I got frustrated, said I just can’t figure this out, I’m just… So my father said, ’What’s the problem?’ He came by and said, ’What’s the problem?’ And I said, ’It’s just algebra.’ And he said, ’Well, let me look at it.’ And I said, ’Dad, they didn’t even have algebra in your day.’ And I went to sleep, and around 4 o’clock that morning he woke me up and he said, ’C’mon son, get up.’ He sat me at the kitchen table and he taught me algebra. What he had done is sit up all night and read the algebra book, and then he explained the problems to me, so I could do them and understand them.
And to this day, I live my life trying to be half the man my father was, just half the man. And I would be a success if my children loved me half as much as I love my father.
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JM: Lynn shared a lot of memories over the years of his childhood growing up in Mechanicsville, a Black working-class neighborhood in Knoxville, Tennessee.
In that first interview he briefly mentioned integrating his high school in the late 60s… He was 14 at the time, and about to start his sophomore year at West… a previously all-white high school.
And he came back to StoryCorps to tell that full story…
WLW: As soon as we got into the school, the principal was calling the roll. He said, ’Bill Weaver,’ and I said, ’My name is William.’ And he said, ’Oh, you’re a smart n-word.’ I’d been in school maybe thirty minutes and he suspended me.
I don’t remember a day that a teacher did not tell me that I didn’t belong. We’d have a test and they’d stand over me and then just snatch the paper out from under and say, ‘Time’s up.’ The first report card I got all Fs, including Phys. Ed. So I’ve gone from being a good student to starting to think, Well, maybe I don’t belong. Maybe I am dumb.
I was home one evening wondering what I’m going to do when there’s a knock on the door, and it’s my seventh grade science teacher from the Black school, Mr. Hill. He said, ‘You know, I understand that you’re having some trouble.’ And I said, ‘Yeah, Mr. Hill. I think they’re trying to run me away.’ And he said, ‘What I need you to do is to come back to the junior high school after school, every day and Saturday mornings.’ He said, ‘Can you do that?’ I said, ‘Yes sir.’
And so every day waiting for me would be Mr. Hill with assorted other teachers — the English teacher, the math teacher — and they tutored me. And once I got past those Fs, I stopped doubting myself but learning became almost a spiteful activity to prove the teachers at the high school wrong. And no matter what I did academically or athletically, I was never recognized at that school.
I never had a conversation with a counselor about going to college, but during my senior year, I got a letter saying, ’You’ve been awarded a scholarship.’ So I end up going to Howard University.
And thirty-seven years after I left high school, I’m at my older brother’s funeral, talking to Mr. Hill. And I said, ’You know, Mr. Hill, if I had not gotten that scholarship, I don’t know what would have happened. And I don’t know how I got the scholarship because I never even applied for it.’ And he said, ’I know, because I filled in the application and sent it off for you.’
So Mr. Hill stepped in and, I believe, saved my life. And at the time, I didn’t realize how much I was being helped. And that’s the ignorance of youth and the wisdom of age when you look back on it you say, How did I get here? How did I make it? Because people helped you, whether you knew it or not.
<MUSIC> Step In, Step Out by Blue Dot Sessions
MG: Lynn went on to have a long career in medicine … performing and teaching surgery at hospitals and universities across the country… including the Morehouse school of medicine.
JM: But it wasn’t just in school where Lynn had to fight to belong…
In addition to integrating West, Lynn and several other Black students…including his older brother… also integrated the school’s football team.
Here he is again, describing what it was like playing for the West High School Rebels…
WLW: The school’s mascot was a Confederate colonel and at football games, when you came out on the field, the crowd would be hollering and the dixie would be playing and they’d hold the paper flag up and the team would burst out through the confederate flag. The Black players made a decision to run around the flag.
We had teams who refused to play us because we had Black players. There were always racial comments, uh, banners with the n-word, and, at one point in time, there was even a dummy with a noose around its neck hanging from the goal posts.
I remember we played an all-white school. The game was maybe only in the second quarter. My brother tackled their tight end and broke his collarbone. And, when they had to take him off the field with his arm in a sling, that’s when the crowd really got ugly.
We were on the visitors’ sideline and they were coming across the field; so we backed up against the fence. I remember the coach saying, “Keep your helmet on,” so I was pretty afraid. And then a hand reaches through the fence and grabs my shoulder pads. I look around and it’s my father. And I turned to my brother, I said, “It’s okay. Dad is here.”
The state police came and escorted us to the buses. The crowd is still chanting and throwing things at the bus and, as the bus drives off, I look back and I see my father standing there and all these angry white people. And I said to my brother, “How’s Daddy going to get out of here? They might kill him.”
We get to the high school and the most incredible feeling I think I’ve ever had was when my father walked through the door of the locker room and said, “Are you ready to go?” As if nothing had happened. And I wanted to tell him, “Dad, don’t come to any more games,” but selfishly I couldn’t. I needed him there for me to feel safe.
Normally when you’re with a team you feel like everybody’s going to stand together; and I never got that feeling that the team would stand with me if things got bad. I think a number of the white students who were there with me would say now, if I could have did something different, I would’ve said something. But that’s what evil depends on, good people to be quiet.
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JM: Lynn graduated from West High School in 1967. He took his diploma, left Knoxville, and never looked back.
WLW: I think West defined me and, once I finished West, I said, Okay, I can finish college; I can do medical school because I’ve been through worse. But I have PTSD from West High School. And in 50 years since I graduated, I’ve never even driven by West High School. So I don’t regret it but I’ve come away with a lot of scars.
MG: After his stories about integrating West aired on NPR… Lynn got hundreds of responses from listeners thanking him for sharing what he went through… but there was one email in particular that caught his attention.
We’ll find out what it said, right after the break. Stay with us.
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JM: In August of 2017, after Lynn’s StoryCorps interview about his first day at West High School ran on NPR… he received an email with the subject line “Greetings from West High School.” It was written by the school’s principal, Ashley Jessie. She wrote, “I heard your segment on NPR this morning… Thank you so much for sharing your journey including the hard times… It is a chapter in life that we are not proud of at West… If you are ever in Knoxville, we would love for you to talk to our students about your journey through life.”
MG: Without hesitating, Lynn declined her invitation. But she got him on the phone, and told him how much his alma mater had changed… so Lynn decided it was time to go see for himself.
GPS: Turn right in half a mile.
Jud Esty-Kendall (JEK): What do you hope comes out of today?
JM: That’s StoryCorps producer Jud Esty-Kendall.
WLW: Well, for me it’s kind of to release some of that anger and bitterness that I’ve held for fifty years. Is that West?
JEK: Nope.
WLW: No?
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GPS: Take the next right and then arrive at your destination on the right.
WLW: Oh my gracious… this is West High School. This is extremely different… Look, look there’s Black students walking…coming to school. Amazing… [Laughs]
MG: As Lynn stepped out of his car and headed inside the school, he noticed how much it had changed. The confederate flag that once loomed inside the school’s entrance was gone. In fact, he didn’t recognize very much at all.
JM: Still, there were some familiar faces, family members and former classmates who joined Lynn on his journey back to West… including friend and former teammate, Fred Downs.
During their first year at West… Fred stood up to a white upperclassman who was harassing him in the school auditorium. Afterwards… Fred was not only expelled but also began to receive threatening calls from the Ku Klux Klan.
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Fred Downs (FD): They called me on the telephone several times saying stuff that they were going to do to me. Basically, they was going to kill me and I gave them my address and I told them, “Come on up.” (laughs)
WLW: That’s one of the reasons why I consider you the bravest man I’ve ever known because you were a 15-year-old kid.
MG: With help from the NAACP, Fred returned to West and graduated alongside Lynn in 1967. And since then… Lynn had always wanted to ask Fred one question…
WLW: Why did you decide to stay at West High School?
FD: I think it was my calling to stay. Regardless what the pain was, my will was stronger than theirs. I didn’t let them break me. It was just something in me that I didn’t quite understand myself.
WLW: Every day that I walked through those halls I thought about leaving. All during that time, I was afraid but you were the person who showed no fear.
FD: I’m just a guy that had a lot of faith. Not only did I have faith in myself, I had faith in a lot of you guys. We had this love for each other that most people wouldn’t understand, and I don’t think you can really define it.
WLW: It’s almost like a war zone – Who are you in the trenches with? – and that person is lifelong.
FD: Yeah. We became true brothers then. You know, I’m a little slower, a little weak, a little tired but, Lynn Weaver, I will always have your back.
WLW: And I’ve just been honored to have you as a friend, Fred. So I just want to thank you.
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JM: And the two old friends walked the halls of West together… for the first time in five decades. Another first came later that day when the principal welcomed Lynn into the school auditorium.
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Principal: Students, faculty and honored guests, we are extremely honored to have a very special guest with us today. Please help me welcome home to West High School Dr. William Lynn Weaver.
[Applause]
And Dr. Weaver, there’s something I want to tell you. We only welcome one way around here. We are…
Audience: One West…
JM: If you couldn’t tell, the students were shouting the words “One West.”
WLW: This is not the West High School I attended 50 years ago. But I would say to you look to your left, look to your right. Somebody next to you, somebody in this auditorium is being harassed, is being excluded because of their race, their religion, their sexual orientation, or their economic status. You can change that.
And I want everybody at least to think about: how can you make a difference in somebody’s life? You’re never too young to stand up, to walk out, to kneel for those who are not as well off as you are. So make West proud and make yourself proud.
MG: And as Lynn finished his speech in the school auditorium, something occurred to him. This was the first time he had ever stepped foot on that stage.
WLW: As a student, I remember sitting in that auditorium when they announced the scholarships for students who were going to college the next year, but none of the Black students were called. I was not recognized. Fred Downs, who had gotten a scholarship to Knoxville College for football, was not recognized. So to stand on that stage with an auditorium full of students and teachers, to have them positively respond to me was a great feeling.
JM: At this point, Lynn has finally been recognized by his alma mater. On his visit there, the football team presented him with a personalized jersey. Lynn also learned that the school’s foundation had started a scholarship in his name. The mayor of Knoxville even proclaimed March 27, 2018 – “Dr. William Lynn Weaver Day.”
WLW: The lesson I learned in science was that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction; so the reaction to hate should be love, but the science doesn’t work for human beings.
I always considered West High School hell and I haven’t changed – those three years were hell. I don’t think you can do evil to people and expect them just to forgive; I mean, I’m not a saint. My experience at West High School taught me hate but my return to West High School taught me that, in spite of the hatred, there can be change and that change can be one that’s loving.
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MG: Just a little over a year after he made that trip… Dr. William Lynn Weaver died on May 25, 2019. He was 69.
This episode is dedicated to Lynn and to Melvin Reeves… the mastermind behind StoryCorps Griot.
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JM: Next week… stories from beyond the recording booth… recorded using the StoryCorps app…
QUES: Grandpa, tell me about your parents…
QUES: What was your first impression when you came to America?
QUES: Tell me what you were like as a child…
Kara Masteller (KM): Do you have any advice about getting older?
James Kennicot: Don’t fight it, just roll with it. It’s wonderful.
KM: (Laughs) Thank you grandpa.
JM: This episode was produced by Jud Esty-Kendall and me…with Max Jungreis. Jarrett Floyd is our Technical Director.
MG: Liz McCarty created the art for this episode. Special thanks to Elaine Davenport and Katie Simon.
JM: And we wanted to let you know… it’s time again for StoryCorps’ Great Thanksgiving Listen. Honor a loved one by sitting down together over the holiday… to ask them questions, listen to their stories and preserve their memories in the StoryCorps archive. And you don’t even have to be in the same place… you can record virtually as well. Find out how at thegreatlisten.org.
We’ll be back next week. I’m Jasmyn Morris.
MG: And I’m Michael Garofalo. Thanks for listening.