James Farmer & the Great Debaters

One morning in the midsemester of my first year, Tolson asked me to remain after class. “Farmer,” he said, after the others had left the room, “you’re doing good work. Infact, you’re doing A work, but if you don’t do better, I’m going to flunk you.” As I reeled from the incongruity of his words, he went on: “You’re blessed with a good mind, an analytical mind, but you don’t dig. You’re lazy. You’re not using half your mind, and like most youths with a gift for self-expression, you try to conceal your ignorance with filibustering. We’ll I’m not going to let you get away with it. Above and beyond the class assignments, you’re going to read and study and dig. Finish War and Peace and then go on to his other works. Then I want you to tackle Darwin, Freud, and Marx. Don’t just taste them; chew them and digest them. Then we’ll get together and argue about them. I’ll take a devil’s advocate position, and you defend your views. That’s the way you sharpen your tools—in the clash of opposing views. Speaking of opposing views, my varsity debaters come over the house every Tuesday and Thursday evening to prepare for the intercollegiate debate season. You come over, too. Some of them, at least one, will try to make hamburger out of you—a young upstart, and Dr. Farmer’s son—so fight back, my boy, fight back. All right, Farmer, I’ll see you tonight. . . . “By the way,” he added, “I want you to try out for the debate team. You won’t make the varsity this year, but next year you’ll have a good shot at it if you work hard.” (1985, LBTH, p. 118)