It was the autumn of 1956, and I was a freshman at Urbana High School. Estes Kefauver, the Democratic vice-presidential candidate, was coming to town. My father Walter, an electrician at the University of Illinois and a devout Democrat, thought it would be a good idea for me to interview him. After all, I was a staff writer for the school paper. We neatly printed a little name tag, and attached it to the lapel of my sports jacket. "PRESS!" it said. "Roger Ebert--Urbana High School Echo."

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