the day, Willie Windle of Millbury, Mass. That gold medal of mine arrested his attention and Mr. Windle inquired as to its history. I was the proudest boy in the world as it became noised about that I had shaken the hand of the two outstanding bicycle greats of the bicycle circles of the country-Zimmerman and Windle. I was
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A. A. ZIMMERMAN—Champion of the World, 1893-1894
especially impressed with the friendliness of the two of them, especially towards me, a colored boy. In my youthful mind the thought flashed that men can be champions and still be broad-minded in strange contrast with the young would-be champions that I had met in and about Indianapolis. There was no race prejudice in the make-ups of Zimmerman and Windle, they were too big for that. And that expression has been fresh in my mind ever since that day.
Strangely enough I was destined not only to equal the best performances of Zimmerman and Windle, but to actually exceed them. Meantime I remembered their sterling qualities and did my best to live up to them, endeavoring to measure up to the high standards or sportsmanship set by them. I take no little pride in the fact that throughout my racing career covering sixteen years I was never charged with an unsportsmanlike action.
