In his late 20s, he drove members of the Black Panther Party in Philadelphia to rallies, using a van that was supposed to be for his salesman job.

That’s probably because as a young boy, he was once stopped dead in his tracks. He was hungry. But black people weren’t allowed to enter that restaurant through the front door.

And that’s probably why the 57-year-old Iowa State graduate student led a group of more than 60 students into the lobby of Beardshear Hall for an unauthorized rally. The man stood face-to-face with the university’s vice president for business and finance and refused to lead his fellow students out of the building.

Milton McGriff, a graduate student in English, is arguably one of the most recognized faces on the Iowa State campus. Facing conduct probation for his involvement in the unauthorized rally, McGriff refuses to be silenced.

“Never for one day, one hour or one minute have I entertained the thought that Catt Hall will not be renamed,” McGriff said.

It is this determination that has gained him notoriety on campus. McGriff is a member of The September 29th Movement, a group of students, faculty and staff that opposes the name of Carrie Chapman Catt Hall. Catt, known for her work in earning women the right to vote, is said to have made racist remarks during her crusade.

Those who know McGriff best have nothing but admiration for the man who has become somewhat of a university icon.

“Milton is one of the most hard-working, dedicated, and without a doubt, one of the kindest people I have ever met in my life,” said Meron Wondwosen, a member of The Movement and president of the Black Student Alliance. “He’s almost like family to me; I refer to him as my uncle Milton.”

That’s a common attitude within ISU’s African-American community.

“I think Milton loves people, and that’s what drives him to do the things he does,” said Allan Nosworthy, chairman of The Movement and president of the Black Cultural Center. “He loves people more than people love people. And that’s where he gets his energy and drive.”

His appearance

His shiny, shaved head glistens in the fluorescent light of the Rec Center. McGriff, 57, is perched atop an exercise bike, part of a weekly routine prescribed after his second heart attack last summer.

Crinkled around the edges, his brown eyes seem to twinkle as he almost constantly greets friends passing by.

“I probably feel as good in my life as I ever had, being sober and productive,” McGriff said. Once an alcoholic and a nicotine addict, McGriff has been sober for nearly nine years and free of nicotine for nearly 10.

McGriff’s philosophy is simple, “to find something you love to do and make a living of it.” His smile says he’s taken his own advice.

The early years

Raised an only child in Philadelphia, McGriff attended a predominantly white school district. “I enjoyed my childhood,” he said.

Two of his most recognizable traits today were developed early on. In middle school, he discovered his talent for writing and his interest in student government. His senior year, McGriff was named president of his high school student body, making him the first black male and only the second black student in the school’s history to hold that office.

McGriff’s big passion today and his childhood dream, was to be a doo-wop singer. He organized several groups in middle school and high school. “If I could have grown up to be like Smokey and the Miracles or someone like that, I would have been in paradise,” he said.

A month after graduating from high school, McGriff enrolled at Penn State. He had a music scholarship. He dropped out two years later because of low grades.

Activism was not a part of McGriff’s early life. In fact, he described himself as “very apolitical.” It wasn’t until 1964 that McGriff began to take an interest in the world around him.

A call for activism

In 1963, McGriff, having returned from six months of active duty in the National Guard, entered a bar in Louisville, Ky. This establishment was known for serving black people. But when he asked the bartender for a drink, he was refused.

McGriff protested, saying just two weeks earlier he had been served at the same bar. The bartender said it was different this time because McGriff wasn’t in uniform.

“I was standing there in full uniform, for the army, in a town I had not been asked to be sent to and something died in me in terms of my relationship with the government,” he said. “I have never really liked the government since.”

A year later at the 1964 Democratic National Convention in Atlantic City, N.J., McGriff’s passion for activism was sparked again. At the convention, party officials refused to seat the Mississippi Freedom Party delegates.

McGriff’s first wife, whom he married in 1970, was working in Atlantic City at the time. “She said she saw grown men crying on the sidewalk because they hadn’t been seated,” McGriff said.

“That’s when I saw the light.”

Black Panther days

In 1969, McGriff joined the Black Panther Party. He has since worked to educate others about the party and “undemonize the Panthers.”

Though he was a member of the Black Panthers for only six months, McGriff said it was a time in his life when he “felt free.”

“All I was doing was delivering [Panther literature] to neighborhoods, but I felt like I counted for something,” McGriff said. “I felt like I was doing something right.”

One former Panther, Mumia Abu-Jamal, still corresponds with McGriff from his prison cell in Philadelphia. Abu-Jamal was convicted in 1981 for killing a police officer. He is now facing the death penalty.

Though not close acquaintances, McGriff wears a pin of support on his coat for Abu-Jamal. “He was an impressive teen-ager, both personally and politically,” McGriff said.

Writing background

Though best known now for his political activism, McGriff is, at heart, a writer. He is working on a novel called, “I’ve Longed and Searched for My Mother”. It is his dream to have the novel appear on The New York Times Best Sellers List. Though the title of the book is taken from a jazz piece, it’s at least somewhat reminiscent of McGriff’s life.

The book is not an autobiography, he stresses. But when McGriff was 35 years old, his mother died. Just one day after her funeral, McGriff found out he was adopted.

The novel is written in the first-person, and parts of it do reflect his life, McGriff admits.

Besides his novel, McGriff has had three plays produced. He’s also got plans to turn a screen play into a film. McGriff’s planning to work on that during a three-week stint in Ireland.

But lately, McGriff hasn’t had time for his writings. Movement activities consume him.

The Movement

Though two generations removed from Nosworthy and Wondwosen, McGriff says age has never been an issue in the group. “We’re equals; there is no age problem. We’re just folks hanging out,” he said.

“I think the most important thing to keep in mind about Milt is he’s 57 years old and he has more energy than a lot of 20-year-olds I know,” Nosworthy said. “I hope I have that much energy, drive and commitment when I am that age.”

McGriff’s character helped spawn The Movement.

Wondwosen said she first met McGriff when she was working on a story for a campus publication. The article was the first published story about Catt’s racist remarks.

Unsure of whether she should publish the article, Wondwosen said she went to McGriff for advice. She say’s McGriff gave her the confidence to organize The Movement.

“He contributes to everything we do, from newsletters to rallies to town meetings and I could say without a doubt The Movement would not be what it is today without Milton,” Wondwosen said.

How he got here

Though one of the most recognized students on campus, students routinely ask Milton what took him from Philadelphia, to Los Angeles, where he was a newspaper reporter, to Ames.

Accordingly, McGriff’s answer is anything but typical. He decided to return to college because a close friend said he would never get a job interview unless he had a degree.

So, one day while flipping through a literary magazine, McGriff read an article about the four best writing programs in the country. The schools included the Iowa Writer’s Workshop — at the University of Iowa. A few pages later, McGriff saw an advertisement for Iowa State University. Not distinguishing between the two state schools, he sent his application to ISU out immediately.

“I thought [Ames] was Iowa City,” he said as his bellowing signature laughter bubbles up from his lungs, turning most heads in the Rec Center. Soon, everyone’s laughing, too. They don’t know why.

McGriff was accepted to Iowa State three weeks later. Though he soon learned that the workshop had nothing to do with ISU, he decided to attend anyway.

“I remember when I got the letter it felt like I was supposed to be here,” he said.