Wally’s childhood home, a stately brick four-bedroom colonial, was filled with elephant tchotchkes that his mother collected and family photos from trips to the Bahamas, thanks to a time-share his parents owned. On the screened-in front porch, reading glasses lay on a Bible or a magazine. “Want to know where white people hide the secrets of success so that black people will never find them?” his father used to quiz his sons. “The newspaper.”
