On Sunday, October 5, 2025, Columbus would learn that afternoon the news that shook its soul: Queen Mother Ann B. Walker — broadcaster, journalist, community matriarch, civil rights trailblazer, and living archive of Black excellence — had joined the ancestors at 101. The air felt heavier that day. Social feeds filled with black-and-white photos, church bells echoed across the Near East Side, and elders spoke her name with reverence, as if afraid it might be the last time it would roll off their tongues while she was still fresh in memory.

This wsn’t just another obituary moment. This was Columbus losing a cornerstone.

From East High to Ebony Airwaves

Long before Ann B. Walker’s name echoed through newsrooms and political halls, it was written in the ink of the East High X-Ray, her high school paper. She recalled the moment her teacher, Miss Marie Google, told her that “we didn’t need to go to Bexley to work in anybody’s kitchen when we were working in our own.” That moment became prophecy.

From Columbus City Schools to Prairie View A&M to George Williams College, Ann wasn’t chasing credentials — she was collecting tools. Her career became a string of “firsts” that rewired expectations:

● First woman to direct news and community affairs at WVKO Radio.

● First woman—Black or white—to report on the Ohio Legislature.

● First woman in management and on-air at WLWC (now WCMH-TV NBC4).

She interviewed Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., U.S. senators, and President Jimmy Carter—who would later bring her into the White House as a public-affairs aide. But Ann never left her community behind. Every mic she touched had an echo of the East Side in it.

Queen Mother—In Ghana, and at Home

In the village of Mozano, Ghana, Ann was installed as a Queen Mother—a real, traditional position, not an honorific. “The King came in with an entourage,” she recalled. “They asked if I would serve the village… I had to learn the do’s and don’ts of being a Queen Mother.” She helped fund schools and women-run businesses, building a living bridge between African and Black American empowerment. Local roots, global reach—that was her rhythm.

Mentorship, Advocacy, and the Power of Example

Queen Mother Ann’s power wasn’t in the rooms she entered—it was in how she held the door for those coming behind her.

Mayor Andrew Ginther: “It was never enough for her to be the first—she wanted to make sure she wasn’t the last.”

City Council President Shannon Hardin: “Giants still walk amongst us… she gave real encouragement for right now and into the future.”

From the front lines (Columbus Association of Black Journalists):

“It is with great sadness that I share the passing of our beloved member and trailblazing journalist, Ann B. Walker, who joined the ancestors today at the age of 101. Walker was a true pioneer, breaking barriers and opening doors that paved the way for countless women and minorities in journalism and beyond. Her remarkable legacy includes serving as a manager and host at NBC4 decades ago, joining President Jimmy Carter’s administration, and being honored as Queen Mother of a village in Ghana. A proud member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc. and Bethany Presbyterian Church, Walker was also a standout tennis player in her prime. NBC4 will be honoring her throughout the evening and in the days ahead. I encourage all of you to ask your outlets to do the same. Please keep her family in your thoughts. Grace and peace,” — Kerry Charles, President, Columbus Association of Black Journalists.

A journalist’s journalist (Angela Pace):

“Ann B. Walker was my mentor from my senior year in college and beyond. She is the reason we local kids have been able to enjoy our careers in broadcast and print journalism. Make no mistake: Ann B. Walker IS THE QUEEN. May she rest in peace and love.” — Angela Pace

Civil Rights, Family, and the Letter-Writing Legacy

Her daughter, Dr. Julialynne Walker, remembers the way activism threaded through family life—faith, service, and that steady stream of letters that stitched community together. “That consistency with her letter-writing kept me up on what was happening in the family… and the community,” she said.

Ann treated communication as communion; every story was an act of care.

The Blueprint of a Builder

Ann served on boards across the civic landscape—Planned Parenthood, the Columbus Zoo, the King Arts Complex—while wearing her Alpha Kappa Alpha Incorporated letters with pride and purpose. Sorority sisters and colleagues say the same: strong-willed, won’t take no for an answer, sees the work through. She sponsored African students, lifted neighborhood leaders, and cultivated journalists. She didn’t just cover the city; she helped construct it.

And even in her later years, she never stopped studying the world she helped shape. Up to her final days, she was still keeping up with reading, The Columbus Dispatch, and The New York Times. That wasn’t routine – it was devotion to truth.

Lessons for the Next Generation

Her counsel to young people was simple and seismic: “They have to know who they are… not be dependent on the image projected by some other group… then they’re able to move out and stand strong.” And then that wink of wisdom: “Everything that goes out comes back—you ever play marbles? That’s where life is.”

Final Word

Queen Mother Ann B. Walker’s century is now history — but her gospel of media with meaning must define the future. She didn’t just make Columbus proud; she made Columbus possible.

For more than a hundred years, she wrote, spoke, and lived in defense of truth. Her voice shaped generations of journalists, civic leaders, and everyday believers in the power of storytelling. And yet, as she herself might remind us, the story isn’t finished.

“We are not good at telling our stories; we allow our stories to be told by others.”

Those words — both caution and challenge — echo like prophecy. Ann leaves us both a warning and a roadmap.

● The warning: if we don’t own our stories, they’ll be rewritten.

● The roadmap: build the microphone, the newsroom, the network — and make them ours.

That is the charge now resting in the hands of a new generation of creators, builders, and truth-tellers. The baton isn’t in the air; it’s already been placed in our palms.

So let this be our promise to Queen Mother Ann:

We will tell our stories.

We will own our platforms.

And we will keep the faith — here at home, and across the water.