middle-class neighborhoods. The area would continue to grow, encroaching into the lush forest with block after block of attractive, well-landscaped homes. Because Condi’s house was so close to the church, she spent most of her time in this small, protected enclave of friends and family.
This close-knit community of Birmingham’s black teachers, preachers, and other middle-class citizens was a parallel world in which the Rices sheltered Condi from the harsh realities of segregated Birmingham. All the parents in their neighborhood dedicated themselves to nurturing strong, self-confident children. “They simply ignored, ignored the larger culture that said you’re second class, you’re black, you don’t count, you have no power,” said Connie Rice, Condi’s second cousin. But that was just one element of the type of parenting that Condi received. John and Angelena showered their daughter with love, attention, praise, and exposure to all the elements of Western culture—music, ballet, foreign language, athletics, and the great books. “I had parents who gave me every conceivable opportunity,” she said. “They also believed in achievement.” When Condi was born, Angelena devoted herself to her intellectual and artistic development. With piano lessons and a full schedule of training in other subjects, Condi gained self-discipline long before she started attending school. “It was a very controlled environment with little kids’ clubs and ballet lessons and youth group and church every Sunday,” Condi said. “The discipline comes from that.”
Music had always been at the center of Angelena’s life, and she was determined to give her daughter every opportunity to become a professional musician. From the first days of her life, Condi was immersed in church and classical music, listening to the piano, the organ, and the choir. Her relatives recall that she was an early reader, but Condi has remarked that she learned how to read music before learning to read books.
Condi was the fourth pianist in her mother’s line. “My mother played, my grandmother and my great-grandmother all played piano,” she said. When Angelena went back to work, Condi spent each weekday at her grandmother Mattie Ray’s house. Hour after hour the piano students marched in, and Condi was fascinated with the sounds they made and all the attention her grandmother gave them. Little Condi would walk up to the piano and bang on the keys, trying to copy her grandmother’s playing. Mattie felt that there was more to Condi’s interest than simple curiosity, and she wanted to explore it. “So she said to my mother, let’s teach her to play,” Condi said. “I was only about three. My mother thought I might be a little young, but my grandmother wanted to try it and as a result I learned to play very, very young.”
Angelena could not have been happier. She had always planned to immerse her daughter in music, like her own mother and grandmother had done with her, and was thrilled to discover that Condi was already attracted to the piano on her own. “Condi’s always been so focused, ever since she was really, really young,” said her mother’s sister, Genoa Ray McPhatter, who was a school principal in Chesapeake, Virginia. “She would practice her piano at a certain time without anyone having to remind her.” Angelena set Condi upon the fast track immediately, not only with piano lessons but also by accelerating her education.
Because Condi could read fluently by age five, Angelena wanted to start her in school that year. The principal of the local black elementary school said that she was too young, however, so Angelena took a leave of absence from Fairfield High for one year and stayed home to homeschool Condi—it just didn’t make sense that her perfectly capable child should be forced to waste a year of learning. Down the road, Condi was so advanced that she skipped the first and seventh grades.
Condi’s year of homeschooling
Learning to Kill: Stories