What people say or do, even casually, can speak volumes about them, and so it is with Norm Ledgin. But in his case, what speaks volumes is what he writes about and why.

As one of Johnson County's most active and successful writers, Ledgin has published on what first appears to be a range of unrelated subject matter: non-fiction books about Asperger's syndrome, an antebellum story of the Missouri-Kansas border wars, a modern mystery.

But as people get to know him, they begin to see the thread that binds his work: a strong desire for acceptance and societal inclusion of all peoples, no matter their differences.

"I've always been very sensitive to criticism of others based on their differences," the 82-year-old Stanley resident said one morning over coffee at Panera.

That's why he deliberately made the hero of his eastern Kansas antebellum story a man of blended ethnicities. In so doing, he presents a challenge to readers who might be inclined to reject persons of such background.

His latest work, a story about the relationship between Thomas Jefferson and his slave Sally Hemings, is based on fact but elevates their motivations and raises the status of the relationship to a loving and "legitimate" one. In this way, he invites more widespread acceptance of the historical pair.

A recurring theme
Overcoming rejection is a theme that has played and replayed throughout Ledgin's life. The success he encountered with his works on Asperger's syndrome count as victory laps in his lifelong crusade to defuse societal prejudices.

People are not born liberally or conservatively minded. Those beliefs are engrained by family, teachers, close friends, and associates—and sometimes by fate. In Ledgin's case, the shaping began 80 years ago, when he was 2. That's when societal pressure on his Jewish father and Catholic mother became so great that they were forced to separate, ripping the toddler's life asunder.

"By the time I was 5 years old, I knew that something was keeping them apart," he said. "I didn't learn what it was until later."

By order of the court, he was placed in his father's custody and grew up in the Jewish tradition. And by the time he was 10, the family had moved from Passaic, N.J., to Clifton, N.J., where a group of Italian boys beat him up daily.

"That's where I learned a second time about the divisions that race, religion, and nationality can cause," Ledgin said.

He finally approached the boys' leader and offered to fight just one of them. If he won, they agreed, they'd never bother him again. A fight was arranged and young Norm conquered. The boys left him alone, and from then on the leader of the group began respectfully calling him "the Professor."

From silence to activism
Through the rest of his primary and secondary education, Ledgin discovered a talent and inclination for writing. He became involved in high school journalism, and in 1946 began an intense period of activism. That year, as a senior, he voiced opposition to the Daughters of the American Revolution's Good Citizen Awards at Clifton High. The awards were given to outstanding high school seniors for contributions to their communities and schools.

Ledgin called the DAR to task for having barred the African-American contralto Marian Anderson from performing at its Constitution Hall in Washington, D.C., in 1939.

By the time he was enrolled at Rutgers University, Ledgin's writing, interest in history, and involvement in the issues of the day had sparked a passion for journalism. Soon he was named editor-in-chief of the Rutgers student newspaper, The Targum.

In 1949, Ledgin made history by joining Omega Psi Phi, a predominantly African-American fraternity. That was his way of making a bold call for desegregating the Greek system. He was one of nine founding members (six black, three white) of the first interracial chapter in Omega Psi Phi's history. They were part of a group of 33 African-Americans who approached Rutgers that year to found two interracial fraternities.
Displeased with the university's slow response to the widespread segregation of its fraternities and sororities, Ledgin praised the early pioneers who managed to make inter-racial and interfaith Greek houses a reality.

"For those [black students], the word 'fraternity' runs the gamut of races and religions," he said, "from Alpha to Omega."

Activism to blacklisting
Two years later, as a grad student of political science at Rutgers, Ledgin was condemned publicly by the House Un-American Activities Committee, or HUAC, for serving as a U.S. sponsor of the World Peace Council's Stockholm Appeal, which opposed development, stockpiling, and use of nuclear weapons by the United States and the USSR. The World Peace Council was a non-aligned international peace movement and a UN agency that later was revealed to have significant ties to the Soviet Union.

The Stockholm Appeal was initiated by the French Communist physicist Frédéric Joliot-Curie, who orchestrated the gathering of an alleged 273 million signatures, including, supposedly, the entire adult population of the USSR. Because many U.S. sponsors were idealists like Ledgin and were unaware of the organization's ties to the Soviet Union, they were later described by the Soviet government itself as "the useful idiots."

Ledgin contends that his early stands against the arms race and against racial segregation resulted in his being blacklisted in the newspaper profession (primarily a result of publication of House Report 378, 82nd Congress, 1st Session, April 1, 1951, "Report on the Communist 'Peace' Offensive"). Small organizations hired him, but he was effectively barred from employment by respectable newspapers in and around New York City.

For a guy who had edited The Targum and been a member of Cap and Skull, an exclusive Rutgers honors society, the blacklisting was a jarring slap. Admission to Cap and Skull was, after all, a sure ticket to success. Members were chosen based upon a record of excellence in academics, athletics, the arts, and public service. Leadership and character were also crucial factors.

A familiar pain welled up in the young man, the same pain that had welled up in the toddler when his parents split and again in the adolescent when the band of boys routinely pummeled him. But this time, the rejection came from industry and country. Objective journalism and activism are viewed as incompatible, which was a painful lesson indeed. But for someone as intelligent and engaged in life as Ledgin is, it's a fine line too easily crossed.

Moving ahead
Ledgin decided to leave the East Coast behind. He was offered a journalism teaching position at McNeese State College in Lake Charles, La., where he came in contact with the Cajun culture. He then served five years in the Safety Administration in Southwest Louisiana, winning a citation as Outstanding Young Man of the Year and a Distinguished Service Award from the Lake Charles Junior Chamber of Commerce in 1962.

From there, he moved on to serve a similar administrative role for the next 14 years in Kansas City, where he won top awards including the National Safety Council Trustees' Award, Flame of Life, in 1963; the Award of Honor, Association of Safety Council Executives, 1974; and the Distinguished Service to Safety Award, National Safety Council, 1974. He also served the national organization as chairman of its Driver Improvement Program, 1967-68.

In the mid-1970s, Ledgin resigned from the National Safety Council and went on to publish two suburban newspapers with his wife, Marsha. Many Johnson Countians will remember the Blue Valley Gazette, of Stanley, which he operated from 1980 to 1984. During that time he published a serialized story of 114 segments about the early political history of Kansas. That series was later developed into his novel The Jayhawker, published in 2007.

Norm Ledgin has come a long way from New Jersey. Yet without the blacklisting that sent him to this country's vast interior, the rest of his life would not have unfolded as it did. He wouldn't have married his second wife, a union that has lasted beyond 40 years. Nor would he have gained much of the material with which he has succeeded as a post-retirement author and speaker.

What goes around
In national circles, Ledgin is known for his research on autism, specifically on Asperger's syndrome. In 2002, he published Asperger's and Self-Esteem: Insight and Hope through Famous Role Models. Two years earlier he had published Diagnosing [Thomas] Jefferson: Evidence of a Condition that Guided His Beliefs, Behavior, and Personal Associations. Both books were critically acclaimed for their level of detail and insight.

Ironically, it is through society's tendency to reject people that Ledgin finally faced down the recurring theme with graceful style. Two of his three sons have Asperger's, which makes them vulnerable to societal hurt. Being all too familiar with that kind of pain, the concerned father set out to educate the public on the mental condition. His hope was that with education would come enlightenment, and with enlightenment would come increased acceptance.

Because of his work, which has added to the brilliant progress being made in the field, his sons will face less of the stinging rejection that he knew so well as a toddler, a school boy, and a young man fresh out of college.

The Professor has struck again and won, this time without throwing a single punch.

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