During the late fifties, while I was an undergrad at UC Berkeley, a campus with some 20,000 students at that time, I met a fascinating young man who was enrolled at Boalt Hall, the university’s law school. Donald Warden, recent graduate of Howard University, the historically-black institution of higher learning located in Washington, D.C., would soon take our Berkeley campus by storm—at least the one hundred or so of us black students enrolled at Cal in those days. Short and wiry and bug-eyed, the future legal-beagle was hardly memorable in appearance. Yet he was impossible to ignore. During spirited conversations that took place on-campus in gathering holes like the Bear’s Lair or off-campus in cafes and student apartments, he usually held sway. Warden was brash, outspoken, and provocative. Which is to say, he seemed different. Most of us black students at UC Berkeley during the late fifties had grown up …
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