25 | School Daze | Samuel L. Jackson Vs. Morehouse College
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Warning, the language in today's episode is going to get a little spicy. Profanity will be used. Please be advised.

Francesca, you're known for your activism today, but back in college, would you consider yourself a student activist? I definitely don't want to take up space when it comes to people who I feel like are more qualified in that arena. For me, I'm always just like, I just try to use my brain logically and advocate for others. To me, I think that's just like the nature of being a human. But when it comes to when I was in college,

I was deep in acting school. I was really, I was, I was very much focused on other things. What about you? I mean, look, you have a whole master's degree. So I feel like,

And you were and I know you were a debater. So you were like, yeah, I was in the trenches. I was in I was in the activist trenches when I first got to the University of Oklahoma. Troy Davis was a man that was unjustly executed in Georgia. And that was in like 2009, 2010. And then I feel like Trayvon Martin was around. I think that.

As soon as I got to the university, I felt like the activist light was lit up under my ass and it's been burning ever since. Yeah, it's so funny because in my mind, I've just decided you and I are the same age, but I was a few years older.

Yeah, I graduated in 2007. So Trayvon Martin and that stuff happened when I was out of college already. But, you know, I'm of the mind that everybody's consciousness happens when they're ready for it. And then like once that moment hits you.

It's like there's the life you had before and then the life after. Definitely. The last thing I say on this is it's something to be said about when your identity is inherently politicized. So you trying to do any damn thing for your identity is seen as being political and hence activists. You know what I'm saying? But in many instances,

A lot of the people that I look up to and looked up to, they really was just black people that decided they wanted to have a little bit better life, more value to their life, a better, you know what I'm saying, power to determine destinies in their life. And then they got thrown into activism. You know what I'm saying? So college organizing is where a lot of people get their start.

We actually covered some of the big American history players in our series on women or the Black Panther Party. But did you know there is a famous movie star who took pretty radical steps to create change? I'm talking about radical, too. Okay, and it's a really big movie star. Can you give me any hints? They black? No.

Okay, that is not a great hit, but thank you. They are black men. Okay, okay. You know, I'm going to be shocked, but I'm also going to be really excited if you tell me it was Will Smith cutting up with Snick.

Actually, it was Jada. Let me stop because I'm on no smoke with Will, you feel me? In all seriousness, though, I'm not trying to have your wife name my mouth. That was a little ducky joke here on Black History for real. But in all seriousness, though,

This star was a wild one for real. You know what I'm saying? I'm talking about wild boy, wild boy. Or wild young man. He held his college's whole board of trustees hostage for two days. The man had them folks locked. I'm talking about locked up. Let's get into some black history for real.

It's mid-April 1969 in Atlanta, Georgia. 20-year-old Sam stands with the activist group, The Concerned Students, and they definitely got some concerns. The students look up at the stately brick building, Harkness Hall. It sits right in the middle of the campus. Its doors are open wide. Light spills out the doorway as if it's welcoming students inside. They move up the steps,

like moths drawn to a flame. Sam takes a step forward. He's just about to cross the threshold and his wide eyes narrow as Sam sucks through the slight gap in his teeth. He lets out a low and angry whistle. The anger that simmers inside threatens to boil over. The other student organizers can feel his anger. It makes them restless. They're offended at the disrespect.

They've been out here all morning, sun up to sun down, and they got a list of demands. The school's got to do better by its black students. Addressing their demands will be a start if anyone listens. But that slam door makes it feel a little impossible. Sam looks to his fellow students. They just as mad as he is.

He can't stop thinking about the tragic war in Vietnam and the violent backlash to the civil rights movement. It's like the whole world falling apart.

And ain't nobody ready to make it right. The school board could do something to change it, but they'd have to listen first. Instead, the board's fiddling as the world burns. The hypocrisy is madness. The school builds itself on its legacy of creating civic leaders. But here they are ignoring their own.

All this happens at Morehouse College. It's one of the most esteemed HBCUs in the country. They tend to brag about their alumni, but they're not bragging about Sam. And considering what he does next, they're not going to brag about him anytime soon.

Sam paces at the top of the steps. He looks over at the students behind him. They all feel the same. The school doesn't belong to the students. It doesn't care about their voices. Morehouse is all about keeping the status quo. All that talk about civic responsibility is just that, talk. But Sam lives for action. He's not the type to just give up. They want to stay inside. All right, they can stay inside then. Sam grabs chains from the lawn.

They're supposed to keep students off the grass, but he's got other ideas. Excitement dances in his chest. They never gonna forget him. He's out here risking everything Morehouse can offer. Prestige, opportunity, a chance at a better life. All his dreams could turn to ash in his hands. It's a risk he's gotta take. They can slam the door, but Sam ain't hushing up no more.

Sam pushes through the door, waving to others inside. They quickly wrap the chains around the handles. A custodian rushes towards the students. Ain't no way he's seeing what he's seeing. Stop! What do you think you're doing? Get on out of here or I'm going to report you. Sam clicks the padlock shut and turns to face the custodian. The man stops in his tracks. These kids mean business. Who the hell are you? Sam tosses the padlock in. My name?

It's Samuel L. Jackson. These motherfuckers gonna hear him if it's the last thing he does. From Wondery, this is Black History For Real, where we chronicle the stories of movers and shakers from black history all over the world. The stories will inspire you. They will educate you. And more often than not, they will inspire you.

Leave you shaking your damn head. I'm consciously... And I'm Francesca Ramsey. This is part one of our two-part series on the hostage situation at Morehouse College. Today, we're telling the story of how one of the world's biggest movie stars became a radical student organizer. So radical that he helped take the famed HBCU's Board of Trustees hostage for two days, demanding the institution make improvements. Yes.

Yeah, the unrest on college campuses this year got people scrambled. Too many folks think we ain't never seen nothing like this, but this ain't new. Student activists protested the civil rights movement and against the Vietnam War. They wasn't nice about it either. And old Samuel L. Jackson was right in the middle of it all. This is episode one of our two-part series on Samuel L. Jackson vs. Morehouse College. That is beautiful.

It's 1958. Ten-year-old Sam walks down the hall of his all-black elementary school in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Segregation's all he's ever known. He's just starting to understand what it really means. But he loves his school, and he loves learning. It's one thing he's great at. It makes him feel important. It makes him feel like he's got a voice. ♪

Well, almost. Sam looks up at the tall bully and clenches his fist. What did you do that for? What did you do-do-do-do-do-do? You old loser. You ain't never gonna beat nothing. Sam almost runs after him. All he wanna do is knock his big ol' head off. He might be smaller, but Sam's fought bigger boys than one.

Sometimes it feels like it's the only way he can get his anger out. But his legs are heavy with shame. Why do his words always get stuck? It's like a traffic jam inside his mouth. He's got comebacks in him just waiting to come out. Like the bully look like he got his hair cut by a wood chipper. But all of them just stay inside his head. He wishes he ain't stuck.

It always makes Sam feels voiceless and alone.

He runs to the bathroom. He doesn't want anyone to see him cry. Sam stares at himself in the mirror. Sometimes he wants to be somebody else. Somebody who doesn't have a stutter. Somebody in control of his life. A badass. Motherfucker. Sam leans back with a swagger he's only seen in movies. He repeats the word. It pours out so easily, too. Like, sir...

Smooth as butter, but sharp enough to cut. He's not really sure why, but it's easy for him to pronounce. Motherfucker. Acting like he can talk okay somehow makes talking easy. He pretends to be someone else and it goes a long way.

motherfucker becomes a catchphrase and acting becomes a tool for survival. It's a first step in finding his voice. And it's a big deal in a world that's so intent on silencing. And for the people listening, some that you didn't know about consciously is that I too struggled with the speech impediment growing up. I got made fun of and bullied to a time. I was in middle school about stuttering specifically.

Now I know I got ADHD and my brain just moves so fast. I'm not having a hard time keeping up. Wow. I did like a little speech therapy. You feel me? My mom was on Medicaid, so we got access to it. You know what I'm saying? And then when I got into the AP, pre-AP honors courses, I think that's when I started really wanting to prove to myself I could say what I mean and mean what I say. But even now as a content creator, I still struggle with like speaking. We were saying out loud and meeting. Wow. Here we are. Well, you know,

Well, I just want to say thank you for sharing that because I think, you know, I can't speak from experience, but I can only imagine for other people who are struggling with a stutter or a speech impediment, it might feel as if this is something that everybody else is able to do with ease and I can't. So hearing about someone as successful as Samuel L. Jackson or as successful as yourself conscious, that can give people a lot of confidence.

you know, inspiration, like, okay, if it's possible for other people to overcome the stutter or figure out how to work with it, I can do that too. So thank you for sharing that. And shit, God damn it. It's something about cussing that is making my, my, my, my, my, my verbals, my linguistic ability, just feel more comfortable, more smooth, more natural. Well, I'm of the mind that curse words are the seasoning of English language. So I'm all for it.

Getting back to the story, Samuel Leroy Jackson was born in 1948 in Washington, D.C., and his childhood wasn't exactly easy. Sam's father struggles to stay sober. He leaves the family and moves to Kansas City, Missouri. He dies in 1988, another man lost to the bottle. Sam only meets him twice.

When he's nine years old, Sam moves to Chattanooga, Tennessee. His mother stays in D.C. and works with the government. Down in Tennessee, Sam's raised by his maternal grandparents with help from his aunt. It's a very loving environment, but Sam's forced to grow up quickly. His parents are in two different places, and racism and segregation plague Chattanooga. Sam's a super bright kid, and he's known for his curiosity.

His aunt shows him the importance of his education. It's a good thing that she does. He leans on education as he gets older. It helps him find and keep his voice alive, along with his newfound acting skills. But soon, the things he loves so much are in conflict.

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It's the early 1960s. Sam's a teenager now, and like most teens, he's hanging with his friends. They're all headed to the movies. He got something he can't wait for them to see.

The arts programs at his school are pretty underfunded. That don't stop Sam's love for the arts though. He's practically a teenage renaissance man. Homeboy can play the flute, piccolo, and the trumpet, as well as say motherfuckers pretty masterfully. He also loves playing the French horn in his school's orchestra. Music lives inside of him, except he can't sing worth a damn.

TV and movies have a special place in his heart, but now he imagines himself as a marine biologist. Still, the movies call out to him. He's excited to share one of his favorites with his friends, a re-release of Band of Angels. He's seen it before, but never at his local black theater.

The movies are a safe space for him. A place where Sam can dream outside of the white gaze. Sam just knows his friends are going to love the film. The great Sidney Poitier can do no wrong.

A few hours later, Sam exits the theater with his friends. He was right. They loved it. But Sam can't help thinking about a weird change in the film. It was edited. They took out the scene where Poitier slaps a white woman, and they showed it to a mostly black audience. It's such a weird change to make, but it just reinforces what Sam already knows. Why people around here don't want their black neighbors to even think about getting too uppity.

and the Hollywood film studios are all too happy to oblige. Sam waves goodbye to his friends and walks home deep in thought. He takes in the segregated surroundings and how everyone here is struggling. In his wildest dreams, he sees himself on screen like Sidney. But what if Hollywood is used to promote the racist status quo and make sure no one challenges it? No matter how much he loves creating, he can't see a future for himself in the business. It'd be like silencing himself.

Sam's definitely not down with that. It's a late afternoon on an autumn day in 1966. The leaves are just starting to turn and trees shine with brilliant golds and reds. The cool air holds the opening notes of winter as Sam hurries across campus. He's running on almost no sleep. His body's still getting used to his new bed and he's still trying to get used to his new school.

He's got a lot more to get used to too, and fast. Sam's mind spins and spins with possibilities. This next stage of his life could be huge. Sam steps into a packed auditorium. Orientation starting in the rest of his life unfolds in front of him. The school got this whole thing they call the Morehouse Mystique. He's finally gonna learn what it means to be a Morehouse man.

An upperclassman climbs the stage. Sit down, let's go, hurry up. Sam quickly takes his seat. He's finally made it. His grandparents took out another mortgage on their house when Sam was accepted to Morehouse. Now, he's taking his first steps in paying them back. The school's got a reputation for making respectable black men, like its famed alumnus, Martin Luther King Jr.,

Maybe the school can make Sam famous one day too, if Morehouse is down with making a marine biologist famous. The older student looks down from the stage. Sam's dying to hear what he got to say to him. What makes Morehouse so special? Sam grins as the lecturer finally reveals the Morehouse mystique. Academic excellence. Take your studies seriously or take yourself somewhere else.

Sam ain't too worried about that. He always does good in school. At least he's done well before getting to Morehouse. The art of speaking. If you want to be somebody, you've got to sound like you're already somebody worth listening to.

Sam shifts nervously in his seat. Speaking ain't never really been his thing. His mind drifts as the older students rattle off more virtues of a Morehouse man. But he locks back in pretty quick. Your moral values must stay high. Commit yourself to social justice and never forget your belief in God. Sam's swept up in Morehouse mythology. If he can live all these values, maybe he can be successful.

He desperately wants to succeed and make his family proud, but success ain't never guaranteed. And this upperclassman makes sure they don't forget it. Look to your left. Sam looks around the auditorium. Other freshmen stare right back at him. Now look to your right. His head swivels again. One in three of you won't live up to the Morehouse mystique, and that person won't be here when the other two graduate.

He swallows. This journey ain't for the faint of heart or troublemakers. Making it to graduation will be one of the hardest things he's ever done. Sam's got no idea about the obstacles in his path.

Let's pause Sam's story for a second and jump into a little history lesson. HBCUs were established in the early 19th century. Legislation was supposed to guarantee certain rights to education, but black students weren't allowed at existing public and private institutions. HBCUs were a solution to their problems.

They was all about providing a college-level education to Black students, giving accessibility. In 1832, Quaker Richard Humphreys died and left $10,000 to establish the African Institute in Pennsylvania. The school's now called Cheney University. It's the first and oldest HBCU in the United States. Wilberforce was established in Ohio in 1856. It later became the first Black-owned and operated HBCU.

Today, 107 HBCUs exist all around the country.

I find it so baffling how many people don't know this basic knowledge because whenever folks start talking about quote-unquote reverse racism, they love to bring up HBCUs. They'll be like, well, y'all got your own colleges. Do you know why we have these colleges? Also, there are non-Black people at these schools. They're not being excluded. It's like this idea of like,

you know, if you don't invite me to the party and I have my own party, you aren't being treated unfairly because I'm like, you know what? I'm just going to do my own thing. I mean, to the point she made earlier, one could argue that these HBCUs are indefinite sites of activism because it's dealing with a whole bunch of folks that got politicized identities. They're just trying to get educated. For me as an educator, I think about how

PWI's predominantly white institutions usually celebrate diversity when it comes to whatever power five conference they are competing in football, basketball, X, Y, Z. But it tends to not really respect and or value that black class outside of athletes. I went to the University of Oklahoma and throughout my undergraduate, the nine black student athletes, I mean, the nine student athletes, black students made up less than 5% of the school.

So for me, it's still thinking about even what, 100 years or over 100 years after these HBCUs were started. We still got a lot of the structural inequities and disparities. I know that the University of Oklahoma was not funded the same way that Langston University was. That was the HBCU there in Oklahoma. You feel me? I know here in Texas. I know that Texas A&M is astronomically funded way better, way more than Prairie View A&M.

You know what I'm saying? And it's just something to really think about when we talk about America and America education being the great equalizer. Yeah, the great equalizers is so interesting when you compare how our nation has been treating education. And, you know, specifically with regards to this show,

taking Black history out of schools, watering down our history, making sure that people don't actually know the facts of how we've been treated and the adversity that we've had to overcome in order to fight for, you know, the equalities that we have fought for and those that we still need and why we're continuing to have these conversations and push these boundaries and push for better legislation if our schools

If the general public is not knowledgeable, they're easy to be controlled.

And there you can easily mislead them into believing whatever you want, because the reality is is is not known to them. And those two words you just use control and misled is the reason why black people feel like they need to create their own school in order for us to be educated. Because it's something about how that interest convergence theory that come in or is like a white folks going to do something for black people when it benefits them.

First and foremost, and then we got to just have some trickle down to us. And one could argue that the entire creation of HBCUs is really situated on that. And that's the reason why I feel like all the universities, especially HBCUs, is really situated on being respectable.

really situated on being palatable, consumable for white people, because a lot of times that's how we really measured our black excellence. Do the whites still comfortable around you? No, they're not successful. Yes, you're good. You're good. I think we still got to move past that even in 2024.

Morehouse College was founded four years after emancipation in Augusta, Georgia. It trained formerly enslaved people as Protestant ministers and educators. The school was originally called the Augusta Institute, but in 1913, the name was changed. The institute became Morehouse College. It was named after Henry Lyman Morehouse. He was a white minister and activist who originally coined the term the Talented Tenth.

Morehouse boasts a long list of notable alumni. Martin Luther King Jr., film director Spike Lee, and actors John David Washington and Brian Tyree Henry.

The talented teeth idea is one that is popularized by W.E.B. Du Bois, though it was coined by this white man that is trying to capture the top skilled perspective black folks, you feel me, in like a hierarchy and making it where there's always 10 percent of black people that can represent the rest of the 90. And it really starts to breathe this like elitism. Yeah.

If you want to learn more about the Talented Tenth and WB Du Bois, listen to our series titled The Talented Tenth. This season, Instacart has your back to school. As in, they've got your back to school lunch favorites like snack packs and fresh fruit. And they've got your back to school supplies like backpacks, binders, and pencils. And they've got your back when your kid casually tells you they have a huge school project due tomorrow.

Later that year, Sam sits in class, but he can't focus. Morehouse isn't exactly how he imagined it.

It can be stiff and stifling. Most of his classmates and professors have a very specific idea of Black excellence. It doesn't include people with his poor background. They just don't see or hear him. It's almost like being back at the all-Black movie theater in Chattanooga. He thought that was a safe space, too, before he realized even his beloved movies could be used to hold him down.

Sam values his education, but he feels more at home in the projects off campus. His friends there understand where he's from. Many of his classmates can be stuck up and condescending. Sam's dabbling in drugs to escape. He's not his father. He will never be his father. That's what he hopes, at least. But he's starting to understand his father more. If things keep going like this, Sam worries he'll begin to understand his father a little too much.

Before class ends, his professor announces auditions for the Three Penny Opera and the productions of collaboration with Morehouse Sister School, Spelman. The Spelman women ain't nothing to sneeze at. Sam lights up. This is the first thing the professor says that excites him. But it gets better. Anyone who joins the production will get extra credit. Sam can't believe his luck.

He'd given up on acting, but he still wouldn't take a chance. Maybe it'll help him fit in. He might make friends and stop feeling so disconnected from the other students on campus. But there's a problem. It's a musical and Sam can't sing. Like at all. He overcame his stutter. How hard could it be for him to act like he can sing?

You know, there is a saying that if you can speak, you can sing, which I feel like I'm biased because I am a singer. But as somebody that studied music, I studied music in high school and in college, and I did a minor in musical theater. I got to see so many students who could not sing, who could not hold a note properly.

learn how to sing by the end of the semester. And, you know, they didn't sound like Mariah Carey by the end, but they were able to hold a tune that,

And I'm of the mind, especially when you turn on the radio and you look at the trending songs on the ticky-tockies, there's a number of people that bill themselves as singers that I would not qualify as singers. I'm not a singer, but I agree with you, indudely. I've heard you give us a few notes. I try. But the confidence is key. I mean, there's something to...

really believing, especially as an actor in a musical and being able to emote while speaking on pitch versus like, you know, belting notes that that's, that's the nice way to say it. That I think the audience can, can, can connect to even if you don't have an amazing voice.

I think that the main thing the listener should take from this is if you can sing and you started off talking, the way you got to singing and you couldn't sing at first was through a lot of practice. So don't just have your rabid ass talking and think you finna be busting some notes because it's going to sound like Samuel L. Jackson. And we do not want to hear that motherfucking shit at all. So at this point, I'm challenging myself. How many times should I say motherfucker in these episodes? Yeah.

After class, Sam goes straight to the theater for auditions. Beautiful Black students fill the room. Even Spelman students are in attendance. It's a sight Sam loves to see. A student from Spelman walks on stage. She nails her audition, and Sam's impressed.

Sam watches in wonder as all that Morehouse stuffiness and condescension melts away on the stage. He doesn't worry about respectability in front of his peers. He's just worried about making great art. Sam finally feels at home. Sam's ready to let loose when it's his turn to audition. It's for the supporting character, Ready Money Matt.

He really doesn't care about landing the role anymore. He's just excited to be having such a great time at school again. Even if he's got to sing in the role. But Sam's in luck. The composer is quoted as saying actors don't have to be trained singers. When Sam finishes, the director comes up to him. The role is his. When he steps on stage for his first show, he gets a rush better than any motherfucking drug he ever taken.

There's nothing like the applause of a live audience. For so long, he struggled to be heard. But on that stage, he ain't just heard. He celebrated like never before. It doesn't take long for the theater to become more important to him than living up to the Morehouse mystique. And it's only a matter of time before he feels the consequences.

It's the end of another night performing at Three Penny Opera, and Sam is again riding the high of the final applause. It don't get old. The students put on the same show, but each time, Sam plays a little different. And each time, he gets a different reaction. It's what he loves about acting. Some of the audience lingers after the show, but Sam's ready to go. He's nearly gone when a man stops him.

He's a man that looks like he been through some shit. He congratulates Sam and introduces himself as a Vietnam vet. A lot of vets study at Morehouse under the GI Bill, but Sam don't really interact with them. How them grades looking? My grades? I ain't thinking about no grades right now. I'm an ass whore. The vet grabs Sam by the shoulders. His face is deadly serious.

You better buckle down and get with these books or you're gonna end up dead. Fail if you want to and they're gonna ship you right off to war. What war? Now that he thinks about it, his cousin is off somewhere in Vietnam. He ain't thought much about what that means. Who's his cousin fighting? Why? Does anyone know? The vet thinks he does. His eyes shine darkly as he remembers. It's all so that rich men can line their pockets.

I couldn't tell you how many of my friends have died. It's life or death, son. You can ignore it, but sooner or later it's going to catch up to you. Get your head right so you can stay in school. The vet walks away and leaves Sam shaken. Is his cousin really in that much danger just so the rich can get richer? Is Morehouse the only thing between Sam and the battlefield?

Maybe he should learn more about this war going on. And he does. The more he pays attention, the more he feels he should be doing something about it.

The 1960s are a hectic time in American history. Radical groups like the Black Panthers are aggressively challenging power structures. As the civil rights movement, the Vietnam War, the space race rage, arts and culture activism, and the counterculture explode, society is changing rapidly and there's a lot of violence. It makes the idea of creating a better world feel so impossible.

But there is some hope. The idea of civil disobedience blossoms in the United States, inspired by Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. This is the state of the country when Sam gets news that changes his life forever. In 1967, the ominous conversation he had with the Vietnam vet hits home in the most devastating way. Sam's cousin is killed in Vietnam. Finally, the reality of the world's unfairness is brought home.

Sam's in school studying or onstage acting. But right outside the safe cocoon of Morehouse, the civil rights movement carries on. And the Vietnam War shows no signs of ending. In his eyes, Morehouse is making docile Negroes, just like the Hollywood studio that cut the scene of Sidney Poitier slapping a white woman. He's got to do something. If things are going to change, he's going to make them change. And he's going to start with his school.

What he does next stuns the entire Morehouse community. On April 4th, 1968, Sam's at one of his favorite places, sitting comfortably inside a movie theater. The images dance across the screen and transport Sam into a whole 'nother world. The whole world's moving too fast, but movies make a certain kind of sense. They killed him! Everyone sits up and looks back at the man

He's frantic and furious. Sam turns his chair and stares at the shaken man. Dr. King is dead. They done killed our man. Everything stops. Sam's heart plummets to the soles of his feet. Can't believe what the man's saying. He doesn't want to believe it's true. The theater doesn't feel so safe anymore. Sam leaves the movies and walks back to his dorm in a daze. There's no sign of his roommate.

He goes back outside and sees everyone in the streets. His roommate's there too, throwing something out a window. It's a riot. Martin Luther King Jr. is dead. They want to burn everything down, and Sam's ready to burn it all down too.

If you like Black History for Real, you can listen early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. Before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey.

This is episode one of our two-part series on Samuel L. Jackson vs. Morehouse College. We use multiple sources when researching our stories, but The Hollywood Reporter, The Guardian, and the book Bad Motherfucker: The Life and Movies of Samuel L. Jackson, the Coolest Man in Hollywood by Gavin Edwards were extremely helpful. A note: our scenes contain reenactments and dramatized details

for narrative cohesiveness. Black History for Real is hosted by me, Francesca Ramsey. And me, Conscious Lee. Black History for Real is a production of Wondery. The episode was written by Hari Ziad. Sound design by Greg Schweitzer. The theme song is by Terrace Martin. Lindsay Gomez is a development producer.

The production coordinator is Taylor Smith. Sophia Martins is our managing producer. Our associate producer is Sonya May. Matt Gant is our producer. Our senior producer is Morgan Gibbons. The executive producers for Wondery are Marshall Louis, Aaron O'Flaherty, and Candice Mariquez-Wren.

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