1943 Elizabeth Janet Gray for ADAM OF THE ROAD

(At ninety-four, Mrs. Elizabeth Gray Vining sends word through her cousin that she appreciates being remembered and sends everybody her very best.  Her response comes from her 1943 Newbery Award speech.)   In Adam of the Road, I was, first and foremost, telling a story of the adventures of a boy and his dog and his father on the roads of England when liberty was young, but beyond that I hoped that it might suggest to the children who read it that people in the olden days were as real as we are and had much the same problems, and that each individual’s courage and laughter, his wisdom and honesty and kindness, are important to the world. 

1949 Marguerite Henry for KING OF THE WIND

As I look back on my writing career, I am more appreciative of the recognition given to me as a recipient of the Newbery Award.  Door have been opened and happiness has moved in.  (We spoke by phone, and as Ms. Henry read this last line, she added that her dog was nodding in agreement.) 

1951 Elizabeth Yates for AMOS FORTUNE, FREE MAN

It is not what the Newbery does; it is the responsibility it gives you.  When the special delivery letter came, I was, of course, very delighted.  All I could really think of is not what the medal means, but the command to keep on.  Perhaps the last sentence of my Newbery acceptance speech says it best, “It does not seem surprising to me now, as I climb my mountain, that along its slopes I met Amos Fortune and could learn from him of his mountain.  And so I go on climbing.” 

1958 Harold Keith for RIFLES FOR WATIE

Mention of the Newbery Medal reminds me of how surprised I was when Elizabeth Riley, longtime editor of the Thomas Y. Crowell Publishing Company of New York City phoned me via long distance that my Rifles for Watie had won the Newbery Medal. 

Miss Riley was such a sharp, knowledgeable editor that I got almost as big a kick out of just hearing from her as I did finding out what it was she had to tell me. 

1963 Madeleine L’Engle for A WRINKLE IN TIME

To answer your questions:  (1)  Great surprise and gratitude, (2)  It has been easier to be published, but it has also labeled me as a children’s writer,  (3)  Keep on writing.  Don’t give up.  Hang in there.  When you write don’t think, listen. 

1964 Emily Cheney Neville for IT’S LIKE THIS, CAT

(1)  I remember standing at the phone in our Gramercy, New York, apartment, the kids had gone to school and the house was a mess, when I got the news from Harper.  I hardly knew what the Newbery was and jumped on the subway up to McDonnell (I think) library to see who else had won it.  Many of the early winners had been among my favorites--books like The Dark Frigate, now forgotten. 

(2)  The main results were that I did quite a lot of public speaking and discovered I enjoyed it, and that book has been a steady source of income.  Nice! 

(3)  Enjoy it. 

  1965  Maia Wojciechowska for SHADOW OF A BULL

To a beginning writer, the Newbery is the greatest encouragement--to an established writer, it can be a validation of a career not misspent.  (But it can also be a one time award--as in my case--and not for the best work..) 

  1966 Elizabeth Borton de Treviño for I, JUAN DE PAREJA

The surprise and gratitude I felt on receiving the Newbery Award have continued throughout the years to the present day. 

  1967 Irene Hunt for UP A ROAD SLOWLY

So pleased to be rememberd as you celebrate the 75th birthday of the Newbery Award. 

1968 E.L. Konigsburg for FROM THE MIXED-UP FILES OF MRS. BASIL E. FRANKWEILER

A children’s book writer writes a novel for two reasons: she has a story she wants to tell and she has something she wants to say.  She owes her readers a good story and must recognize that most of readers will only “get” the story.  The Newbery Committee reads the story, yes, but also reads beneath the plot line.  A Newbery Award book will not only have more readers but also more deep readers because they will know--maybe only subliminally--that some very smart people decided that this book is not only hot, it can also shed light. 

1969 Lloyd Alexander for THE HIGH KING

In addition to a magnificent cornucopia of elation pouring over me when I learned The High King had been awarded the Newbery Medal, a scary realization sneaked in.  I was, as I thought about it, somehow being put on notice: much had been given me, much was expected.  Laurels are not to be rested on. 

No question, the Newbery Medal was marvelous to receive.  Honors, however, are bestowed retrospectively, for what one has already done; and retrospect is not a productive point of view.  Every writer must know that looking backwards only leads backward.  The generative nature of art is to look forward.  Satisfaction at recognition of an achievement is one thing.  Complacency is something else. 

Any award, I believe, puts the recipient under a future obligation: an obligation to take risks. In the arts, there is little growth without risk.  An award for what is past also implies goals for the future: to develop greater skills and insights, to deepen perception, and strive continually to do better.  This is true, above all, of the Newbery Medal, with its focus on literature for the young.  Oh, by the way, I think those same goals apply to all of us. 

1970 William H. Armstrong for SOUNDER

In my six room whitewashed school in Rockbridge, Virginia, there was no library and a tiny shelf  in each classroom did little to add inquiry about books.  When a lady from the library association in Chicago called me early one February morning in 1970 and told me I had won the award, I had never heard of it.  I kept quiet and thanked the caller.  Later that day the publisher called, and after the excitement, I simply asked--What is it? 

1971 Betsy Byars for SUMMER OF THE SWANS

Summer of the Swans was not exactly a shoo-in to win the Newbery medal.  It had not gotten very good reviews, and my thoughts were not, “Hey, I might win,” but, “I have somehow got to get better.”  So when I got the call early one Tuesday morning from the head of the Newbery committee, I was so astonished I couldn’t speak.  She kept saying, “Mrs. Byars, are you there?”  For someone who had just won an award for words, I didn’t have a one. 

1973 Jean Craighead George for JULIE OF THE WOLVES

I thought I had taken the news of my winning the cherished Newbery Medal with great calmness.  Yet, the next day I found the book I had been reading in the refrigerator and the cookies I had put out for my friends and son Luke -- were doggie treats.  To this day that very special award evokes the same excitement. 

1974 Paula Fox for THE SLAVE DANCER

I recall that when the telephone rang, long after midnight, with the news I’d won the Medal, I feared one of my children had been in an accident.  Months later, I remember the awful shock I felt when I was told, a few minutes before I was to deliver my acceptance speech at the ALA, that a group of African-Americans had gathered nearby to protest the award for The Slave Dancer, a novel they deemed “racist.” 

I recall, too, Augusta Baker and Betty Rollocks who with gravity and kindness, gave me the courage to give my speech. 

Now, twenty-two years later, I can bear the sting of that accusation when I think of the thousands of letters I’ve received from children for whom my story was the first news they had heard of the horrors of the slave trade. 

1976 Susan Cooper for THE GREY KING

When I remember my 1976 Newbery Medal I see my children, Jonathan and Kate, laughing.  They were 10 and 9 years old, they were great readers, they thought of my editor Margaret McElderry as their adopted aunt, and they were outraged when told that they couldn’t go to the awards ceremony because their father wasn’t going.  So they were allowed to fly alone from Boston to Chicago, where they listened dutifully to the speeches and spend hours happily zooming up and down in the elevator of the Ritz-Carlton with young Lee Dillon, son of that year’s Caldecott winners Leo and Diane Dillon.  Three children, laughing.  It made up for the terror of having to give that speech. 

Happy birthday, Newbery Awards.  You’ve changed the lives of a lot of people. 

1978 Katherine Paterson for BRIDGE TO TERABITHIA

When I heard the news that Bridge to Terabithia had won the Newbery, I said to myself: “I will never mix another quart of powdered milk again.”  At the time money was pretty scarce in our house, so we and our four children drank the cheapest milk possible which was skimmed powdered milk.  I’d always hated it and longed to go to the store and buy real milk.  I was sure the Newbery Medal would make it possible for me to do just that.  Of course there were other more valuable gifts--the joy of meeting many wonderful people, the assurance that there would be money not only for milk but for the children to go to college, the unbelievable affirmation of knowing that, contrary to my fears, when I revealed myself at the deepest level of my being, I was more loved than despised. 

1980 Joan Blos for A GATHERING OF DAYS

It turns out that there is nothing, really, to do with a Newbery medal except to show it to others.  This is one of the reasons I take it along when I visit schools.  There I can use it to make the point that it isn’t just soldiers and athletes to whom medals are given.  I like to encourage students to look at the back of the medal.  It makes a good reminder, I say, that books are meant for sharing. 

  1981 Katherine Paterson for JACOB HAVE I LOVED
(See 1978 for her response.) 

1982 Nancy Willard for A VISIT TO WILLIAM BLAKE’S INN

Question:  “What is the first thing that pops into your head when you think of your own Newbery Award?”  Answer:  The telephone call.  (Click here for a larger image.)

  1983 Cynthia Voigt for DICEY’S SONG

I remember thinking, thinking about that bright medallion on the cover of my book, that over the years it would fade into the gold of an old wedding ring--as it had on many of the Newbery books I’d seen in the library--worn and weathered, gleaming with use, and time. 

1984  Beverly Cleary for DEAR MR. HENSHAW 

The first thing that pops into my head when I think of the Newbery Award is the librarian standing beside me as I nervously waited to enter the ballroom for the awards dinner.  She said in a penetrating voice as she looked straight ahead, “That book never should have won the Newbery.”  My shock was soon assuaged by the hundreds of friendly, welcoming faces of the crowd and by the warmth of their response to my speech, but I cannot forget that librarian. 

1987 Sid Fleischman for THE WHIPPING BOY

One of the first reactions that came my way after winning a Newbery Award was from a friend who quite seriously asked if now I would be able to buy at a discount from Newberry’s.  It reminded me not to allow my head size grow more than a thirty-second of an inch larger. 

1988 Russell Freedman for LINCOLN: A PHOTBIOGRAPHY

When I think of my Newbery Award, the first thing that pops into my head, or more precisely, my face, is a big smile.  I just can’t help it.  The muscles on either side of my mouth respond automatically when I think of the Newbery and my incredible luck! 

1989 Paul Fleischman for JOYFUL NOISE

The Newbery!  Rapture that nothing can mar!  (If only he’d spelled his last name with two r’s.) 
Paul Fleischman, former proofreader 

  1990 Lois Lowry for NUMBER THE STARS 
(See 1994  for her response.) 

1991 Jerry Spinelli for MANIAC MAGEE 

Following the publicity blizzard, people out of my past began calling and writing to me.  It was--still is--a reunion.   I love it.  “That’s nice,” someone said, “but would they bother if you hadn’t made the papers?”  Maybe not, but all that means is that the medal worked like a charm to remind them to keep in touch with an old friend. 

1992 Phyllis Reynolds Naylor for SHILOH

The second thing the Newbery Committee tells you when they call is that you are to appear on the Today Show the following morning.  When I arrived, I was ushered onto the set, and a technician was counting off the seconds before air time: “Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen....”  A second technician rushed up with a tiny microphone and said, “Insert this under your bra, and out through the opening in your blouse,” while the first technician said, “...eleven, ten, nine....” 

  1993 Cynthia Rylant for MISSING MAY

It was very precious. 

1994 Lois Lowry for THE GIVER

When my book, The Giver, was awarded the 1994 Newbery Medal, I said to my editor, Walter Lorraine, that I thought perhaps they should limit that award, make it a one-time thing, because there were so many good books--and good authors--out there.  It didn’t seem fair that one person should receive it twice. 

It was Walter who pointed out to me that the media is given to a book, not a person.  I like keeping that in mind. 

(If only the book could stand up there and make the acceptance speech!  And answer the mail!) 

1995  Sharon Creech for WALK TWO MOONS

My advice to future Newbery winners: 

Take a deep breath.  You will have about thirty minutes between the call announcing your book is winner and the onslaught of complete chaos.  You might want to figure out, in those thirty minutes, where you got the idea for that book, because you’re going to answer that question about a million times in the next few months.  You won’t know what hit you, but get ready: you’re going on the ride of your life.  Huzza, huzza! 

1996 Karen Cushman for THE MIDWIFE’S APPRENTICE

As a Catholic school girl long ago, I was fascinated by the mysterious process of electing a Pope: closed door meetings, secret votes, and the white smoke that signaled a successful candidate. 

Now that I know more about the awarding of the Newbery Medal, I think of the Newbery procedure as the American equivalent of electing the Pope: no nominees or front-runners, closed meetings, sacred pledges, secret and mysterious, until the white smoke goes up the chimney, a telephone rings somewhere at dawn, and someone’s life is changed.  In 1996 it was me.  Hallelujah!