Myers knew all these backstories when he was writing these lines of poetry of course. James Baldwin, another accomplished writer from Harlem, was taught by Countee Cullen who himself married Yolanda du Bois, albeit for a short time. Du Bois was, of course, a great Pan-African leader and spiritual guide for not just Harlem but black people all over the world. Countee Cullen was a brilliant, writer, poet and orator from Harlem who few ranks at the same level as Langston Hughes now but not Walter Dean Myers.
It’s what I do.Harlem poet and writer Langston Hughes published a poem called "A weary blues" in 1926. I write books for the troubled boy I once was, and for the boy who lives within me still. Somehow I always go back to the most turbulent periods of my own life. It gave me permission to write about my own experiences. I wrote short columns for a local tabloid and stories for men’s magazines.Ī turning point for me was the discovery of a short story by James Baldwin about the black urban experience. Remembering my high school teacher’s words, I began writing at night. Christopher would one day illustrate books for his father.Īfter the army, I was struggling through life-holding on just enough to survive. I ended up dropping out of high school (although now Stuyvesant High claims me as a graduate) and joined the army on my 17th birthday. I wrote well in high school and an English teacher (bless her!) recognized this and advised me to keep on writing no matter what happened to me. Reading pushed me to discover worlds beyond my landscape, especially during dark times when my uncle was murdered and my family became dysfunctional with alcohol and grief. From my comfortable perch on her lap, I would watch as she moved her finger slowly across the page and I’d imagine the characters. My mother read to me from a very young age. I had a speech impediment and often found myself leading with my fists when teased.
I was smart (all kids are smart) but didn’t do that well in school. The neighborhood protected me and the church guided me. Walter and his brother Mickey grew up in HarlemĪs a child, my life revolved around my neighborhood and church. They loved me very much and I grew to love Harlem. I was raised in Harlem by Herbert, who was African-American and Florence, who was German and Native American and wonderful. I was about two years old when my mother died and then I was inexplicably given to Florence and Herbert Dean. My name at birth was Walter Milton Myers. “I was born on a Thursday, the 12th of August, 1937, in Martinsburg, West Virginia.
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