The way it was...

              4f>. /?#*.
The Way It Was..
by Joanne Smart Drane '60
Twenty years ago the color barrier
began to crumble in the South. Four
years earlier, in September 1956, it
began to crumble on the Woman's
College campus when Joanne Smart
of Raleigh became the first black student to enroll at WCUNC. A few,
days later Bettye Ann Davis Tillman
of Wadesboro also registered.
Both students left excellent records
when they graduated in 1960. Bettye
became a schoolteacher until her
death in 1968. Joanne, now Mrs. Mai
T. Drane, is special assistant to the
superintendent of Wake County
schools.
1 first learned of my admittance to
Woman's College on August 13,
1956. Around nine o'clock in the evening, 1 was informed by the lady for
whom my mother and I worked as
domestics that I had a long distance
call. 1 had no idea who might be calling. 1 certainly did not expect news
which was to have such a profound
effect on me at that particular moment and perhaps for the rest of my
life.
The voice on the other end of the
line gave a name which I did not
recognize. This person identified
himself as a news reporter who
wanted to know, "How does it feel to
be one of the first two Negro girls
accepted to attend the Woman's College in Greensboro?" Until that very
moment 1 did not know that I had
been admitted. The reporter assured
me that this was true and told me that
1 would be receiving a letter from the
registrar confirming this perhaps the
very next day.
Once the impact of his inquiry got
through to me, I did not know quite
how I felt or what to say. 1 was
quoted in the papers the next day as
saying:  "1 am wonderfully pleased
■111 II
Joanne Smart Drane and Bettye Davis Tillman pose in International House parlor
shorlly alter their registration at Woman's College in 1956.
and looking forward to enrolling."
"I'm so excited 1 don't know what to
say. I'm so very, very happy." "I am
hoping to hear something from
Woman's College soon."
As soon as 1 hung up the telephone,
1 could not get back to our quarters
fast enough to tell my mother the
great news. 1 must have walked on
clouds or flown for one simply does
not carry an extraordinary announcement in an ordinary way. At first we
rejoiced: We laughed and we cried.
After the initial euphoria had worn
off, however, we wondered aloud and
to ourselves what the real impact of
this was going to mean to me, to her,
to our family, to our friends, and to
our race?
During the next few days and
weeks following the publicity given
by the media to the announcement
that Bettye Ann Davis Tillman and I
would be enrolling at Woman's College in the fall, 1 became quite a
celebrity.  The  telephone  rang con
stantly. Many people sent congratulations; others expressed doubts and
reservations. Everyone, it seemed had
advice to offer: what to do, how to
act, what to say, when to say it, who
to avoid, where 10 go . . .
While my family and I were always
optimistic that there would be no
violence associated with my enrollment at Woman's College, ihere was
always the fear in the back of our
minds that violence was a very real
possibility. We rarely discussed this
aspect of my pending matriculation at
Woman's College, and if the subject
was broached by others, we always
expressed confidence that young
ladies simply did not behave in a
violent manner. It was certainly our
hope that parents and other adults
outside the college would not take it
upon themselves to interfere in any
way.
On August 30, 1956, Sue Sigmon,
the House President of the dorm to
which I had been assigned, wrote me