At the time when I was first knowing Langston (Hughes/ Alain Locke was considered the person who had his hand on the Black (artististic) pulse. A group of us irrverants called him the Mother Hen of the Negro 'movement'; for there _decidedly was another) a Negro movement; its given name(s) the Negro Renaissance (or Locke's appelation - The New Negro - applied with diplo-maticease byt (Lockes) book - The New Negro - after his careful planning its way with occasional use of that title when speaking of the activities of the young horde beginning to make itself heard(and known) through Lockes exposing them to the light in various articles, essays and such in many periodicals of the era

Even back then one of two of us (ie. Wally Thurman, Gwendolyn Bennet and I) to name a few) thought of him as the Titular head only. To us he (locke) was the Dictator of how things should go and _who_ should be publicised as 'important' members of this select group. We thought and felt that it was Langston who had his 'hand on the pluse'. And I thought how much kinder and unselfish a hand.

I had met Langston in the summer of 1925 one Friday night after a usual evening soiree at Georgis Douglas Jon's, that unusual and beautiful poet living in Washington D.C. then. To me Langston was a beautiful revelation. Firms of all he was about my own age and yet had adventured all over the world. That evening here was between us instant rapport and when at about the same time we decided to leave he walked me down S st to 13th (where I was staying at my grandmother) only to turn around and me walk him back up S st to his mothers (where he was staying) only to realize that we were again in the middle of a thought exchange which was not yet finished when we reached my house so back to his and on and on all through the night. It was a precursor of how or lives were to be with each other.