You may say that this story should have been told long ago, and you would be right. I did not tell it, and the shame of not telling has lived with me for sixty years. Now a similar story at my old high school has appeared in The New York Times and I must speak.
In the spring of 1958 there was a contest at Ithaca High School, in Ithaca, New York, as there had been for many years, a kind of popularity and talent contest for young women who were competing to be Miss IHS. There were twelve contestants, decided by popular vote as I remember. There was a talent show, accompanied by much hullabaloo, and a popularity vote to help decide which young woman would be “elected.”
I was one of the co-editors of the high school paper, who had a unique role in this event. The high school paper was the means by which the winner was announced—a genuine scoop. We would hear from the judges the results of the talent contest and the popularity contest, and then keep the secret overnight while setting up the pages of the paper and taking it to the printer on State Street.
The judges included the principal, Mr. Bliss, and several other mature and, I presume, powerful, white men. I saw them but knew none of them.
The talent contest included a variety of efforts ranging from mouthing words to a recording to a chalk talk, very appealing, by the Finnish exchange student. I was quite optimistic because there was one African-American contestant who had walked away with the talent contest, singing “My Funny Valentine” with intensity, integrity, and considerable artistic maturity. I thought that there was a good chance she would win and that it would be a coup for Ithaca High School! It would be a giant leap for teenagers.
I walked into the interview with the judges and sat down to hear who won the popularity contest. I regarded the talent as wrapped up.
The news was that the African-American contestant had won the popularity contest, but the judges had considered her the least talented of all of the contestants and had elected the exchange student to be Miss IHS. I was horrified. This was not the way it was supposed to be. What could we do?
This overhaul of student affairs by a set of adults presented a real problem for budding journalists. I don’t know why I never thought of resigning, but I did think of writing the results up as if the judges had been rational human beings and given the title to the most talented of the contestants who had won the popularity contest. No one would know except my co-editor and me and the printers, until the paper hit the halls. I was not brave enough to do this, or perhaps I thought we would not get away with it. It would have caused some kind of chaos. I don’t know what kind. The window of opportunity was very small and I did not take advantage of it.
I had enjoyed being an editor, but I didn’t enjoy it any more.
At the fortieth class reunion in 1999, the true winner of the contest sang “My Funny Valentine” again and I accompanied her on the piano. That would have been a good time to tell the story, but I didn’t.
When I read about The Hunchback at Ithaca High School, I was so grateful that students had spoken up! You have pointed out the dreadful truths of the racism of which I was a tool. Please know that a fair playing field has been longed for, for quite a while.
Katherine O. Johnson
Ypsilanti, MI