77 7..I - l;. 70 w; 1 1 x - -; - - — ' I I y::~ —i -i:: ~ i::: -'r;: 7:- r: T;: -;:-' 7 — \ I Mill 11 1 1111 II lll II Black Athletes at The University of Michigan John Behee Foreword by Willis Ward i l.,i;i 1 a i i: 1 I p 11111 l I11II 1111 III IrI by John Behee Distributed by Ulrich's Books, Inc. 549 E. University, Ann Arbor, Michigan 48104 Copyright 1974 by John R. Behee. All rights reserved. Library of Congress catalog card No.:74-75995 Printed in United States of America by Swenk-Tuttle Press, Inc., Adrian, Michigan 49221 Contents Chapter 1 "SUPERSPADE" Sport by sport analysis of how good you had to be to play for Michigan, why certain sports were off-limits, and how Michigan's experiences compared with other schools. Chapter 2 AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT A look at life in the University's athletic, social, and academic spheres, and the quest of the black lettermen for employment upon graduation. Chapter 3 BLUEPRINT FOR ACTION Summarizing what can be learned from efforts by the University and the Big Ten conference to promote harmonious race relations in athletics. Appendices A Michigan's Black Lettermen, 1882-1972. B Ratio of Blacks Among All Michigan Lettermen, 1890-1972. C Ratio of Blacks Among Michigan Graduates, 1916-1972. D Graduation Statistics For Michigan Lettermen, 1891-1970. E Black All-Americans in Football, 1940-1970. F Black All-Americans in Basketball, 1949-1970. G Olympic Medals won by Black Track and Field Athletes from The United States, 1904-1972. Foreword On a football Saturday in Michigan Stadium, each Wolverine touchdown is immediately answered with the jubilant "Hail to the Victors" played by the great Michigan band. In the narrowest sense, the "Victors" are the uniformed players and their coaches who determine events on the field of play, but in reality they are only the central figures upon whom the aspirations of a vast family of Michigan men and women rest that day. The "Victors" are the countless who call Michigan their University and who thus share all its triumphs and setbacks. The "Victors" referred to in the title of this writing are that same family of Michigan men and women; the central figures are black athletes who won varsity letters; and the victory they share is the enormous progress made against racism at the University, especially during the past decade. This book is an in-depth study of racism and athletics at one Big Ten university, Michigan, but it has meaning far beyond these parochial boundaries. Much of the racism Michigan men experienced, during the first half of this centrury, as they worked, studied, socialized, and competed for their school, was typical of the Midwest and much of the nation outside of the " solid South.'" Several imaginative programs to eradicate the damnable plague of racism have been undertaken by Michigan during the last half of this century and by the Big Ten Conference, and there is reason for optimism. They are examined in this writing in hope that others may profit by these experiences. This intriguing writing should have special appeal to the Michigan family, the "Victors" already alluded to. It has meaning for the similarly dedicated followers of other Big Ten schools. In fact, all Americans who share the challenge of making this a greater country, sensitive to the prayers, the labors, and the aspirations of all its citizens, will profit from this unique research. WILLIS F. WARD June 22, 1973 Dedicated to... the memory of Martin Luther King, Jr. He gave his life. The least I can do is give my energy. Acknowledgements I am indebted to Professor Bill San Giacomo of the Tri-State College (Angola, Indiana) English Department and Mr. Paul Brown of The University of Michigan Publications Office for editorial advice in preparing this manuscript. The jacket design, showing Willis Ward sprinting to victory, and layout of photographs are the work of Mr. Doug Hesseltine of the University of Michigan Publications Office. Partial, but generous, financial support for this study was extended by the University of Michigan School of Education Research Committee through the efforts of Associate Dean for Research, Dr. Rudolf Schmerl. Dr. Guy Reiff, Director of the Graduate Program in Physical Education at the University of Michigan was a constant source of encouragement throughout the writing. JOHN BEHEE November 19, 1973 Preface Because no major university has developed a history of its black lettermen, it is not easy to make comparative assessments along an historical timeline about the relationship of these college athletes to their white coaches and teammates; about their social lives, academic training, and employment following graduation. The University of Michigan, with its liberal tradition and its national prominence, both academically and athletically, was ideally suited for an in-depth, case study. It would seem that if black athletes were to be treated without regard to race at any major university in the Midwest, they would be so treated at Michigan. The major purpose of this research was to look at the experiences of black lettermen at this University, and to compare Michigan to other schools whenever materials on black athletes and on the civil rights movement would allow. It was really quite by accident that this study was launched. There was no reason to believe the blacks in those early years could be identified. For three months I had been combing an immense collection of yellowing correspondence called the University of Michigan Athletic Papers. My purpose was to analyze the career of the legendary Fielding " Hurry-Up" Yost, Michigan's football coach (1901-23, 1925-26) and athletic director (1921-41). Then came the first of several revealing letters. In it Andrew Baker, Yost's Secretary, estimated that until 1930 only four blacks had earned the varsity "M": Rudolph Ash on the 1923 baseball team, and three track men DeHart Hubbard (1923-25), Eddie Tolan (1929), and Booker Brooks (1929). Later research showed Baker's estimate was off a little, but it was a valuable find. The small number indicated that identification of all those "M" men was indeed possible. No black ever played varsity football for Yost, but there was no reason to expect his letters would explain why. Yet, a few weeks later two of them proved very revealing. A young man named Clifford Wilson (black) wanted to play football in 1928. Herbert E. Wilson (white), an Indianapolis lawyer and active alumni supporter, took it upon himself to help. Writing coach Elton "Tad" Wieman, Wilson asked if a "colored man" could play football on the University team explaining, "I know while I was in school, coach Yost would not permit it." Wieman replied candidly and at length, documenting the racism of his day, and showing almost total unawareness of its de humanizing impact upon young black athletes. Wilson was not allowed to play for Michigan. A few weeks later correspondence concerning DeHart Hubbard, the 1924 Olympic long jump champion, was discovered. Interestingly, it revealed Yost's genuine desire to see this athlete attend Michigan. I wanted to know why he was so anxious to have a trackman, but refused to have football players. Another month of searching uncovered a very thorough description of the withholding of Willis Ward from the 1934 MichiganGeorgia Tech football game because he was black. Letters from the NAACP and Yost's coaching colleagues, and a thorough account of Ohio State University's agreement not to play blacks against Vanderbilt and Navy were scattered through several folders. They are remarkable for their frank portrayal of the racism that permeated high offices, from the commissioner of the Big Ten to the president of the Ohio State University. Later came evidence that blacks were barred from Big Ten basketball by a "gentlemen's agreement" among the coaches, a ban that lasted until 1948. Discovery of this priceless historical evidence put the story of Michigan's black lettermen within reach, and the task of identifying all those men began. Fortunately, several active and retired Michigan coaches, whose affiliation with University teams goes back to World War I, were willing to assist with identifications. Scrapbooks and sports pages documented the athletic achievements of the "M" men. Transcripts told how many had graduated. University yearbooks were checked to determine the ratio of blacks to the rest of the student body. They revealed that the athletes were nearly the only blacks on campus. Believing the research was finished, I sat down to type the manuscript. Frustration followed. The tables were lifeless. The work needed a pulse that only the lettermen could provide. I set out to tape interviews with all who had been the first to letter in a sport, several captains, some all-Americans, and a sampling from each sport, taking men from each decade. Twenty-four interviews were finally completed. They provided candid discussion of life as it was at Michigan, athletically, academically, and socially from the recollections of Michigan greats such as DeHart Hubbard, Willis Ward, Lowell Perry, and Ron Johnson. Both tapes and transcriptions are located in the Michigan Historical Collections at the Bentley Library on the University's Ann Arbor campus. In the spring of 1970, about six months before the interviews were begun, black students at Michigan formed the Black Action Movement (BAM) and produced a strike that virtually closed the University for two weeks. They wanted a formal, financial commitment from the Regents that would increase the University's minority enrollment from just over two per cent to ten per cent by the fall of 1973. They got the commitment. The NOW in BAM's demands recalled the summer of 1963 when thousands of Americans of all races had marched on Washington, D.C., to dramatize their indignation over racial injustice. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., delivered his now-famous "I Have A Dream" speech, stressing the need for immediate action:... America has given the Negro people a bad check; a check which has come back marked 'insufficient funds.' But we refuse to believe that the bank ofjustice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check - a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of NOW. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. NOW is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. NOW is the time to open the doors of opportunity to ail of God's children. NOW is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood... By word and deed Dr. King served as an inspiration for programs of change, including BAM. Many universities have established scholarship funds in his name to help finance those programs and ultimately to foster understanding and brotherhood among all Americans. The University of Michigan has a Martin Luther King Jr. Fund. The proceeds from this book wil' be donated to it. JOHN BEHEE Ann Arbor, 1973 CHAPTER 1 12 HAIL TO THE VICTORS Old grads probably can name nearly every black who played for the University of Michigan up to World War II. And why not; there were only 12. In contrast, from World War II through the fall of 1972, 159 lettered. Thus, of the approximately 8,000 men who have won varsity letters representing Michigan (through the fall of 1972), 171 were black. At one time or another, in nearly every sport at Michigan, blacks were either banned, restricted in number by an unwritten quota, or expected to possess talent well above that required of white athletes. In describing these practices it is helpful to examine each sport separately. Until very recently a count of the black "M" men would show over half of them lettered in one sport, track and field. Appropriately, the Michigan story begins with that sport. TRACK How good must a black athlete be to make the track team of a major university prior to World War II? "Superspade" and "supernigger" were the terms used by Muhammed Ali to capture the essence of what was expected of blacks. They had to be sensational. This was certainly true at Michigan where the feats of the first five black lettermen in track, DeHart Hubbard, Eddie Tolan, Booker Brooks, Willis Ward, and Bill Watson, were nearly incredible. The 1913 and 1915 Michigan track teams had one secondary letter winner, a recognition also accorded Walter Wickliffe, a high jumper on the 1916 squad, but the first varsity letterman in track was William DeHart Hubbard, - a sprinter, hurdler, and long jumper on the 1923, '24; and '25 teams. He came to Michigan through a newspaper subscription contest and the ingenuity of a Michigan alumnus. Hubbard was long jumping just inches short of the world's record and running the 100-yard dash under ten seconds at Walnut Hills High School in Cincinnati, Ohio. A Michigan alumnus, Lon Barringer, made it his business to become fully aware of Hubbard's athletic and academic records, even though he was living in Charleston, West Virginia. I asked Hubbard how Barringer would know about Cincinnati athletics. "Reading the Cincinnati newspapers," said Hubbard. "It was not unusual for a West Virginia businessman to be reading a major newspaper from a bordering state"' When Barringer learned 1 Interview, William DeHart Hubbard, September 26, 1970. SUPERSPADE 13 that Hubbard had a solid four-year academic average of 90, he was determined to land this great athlete for Michigan. A check had to be made with his good friend and fellow West Virginian, Fielding H. Yost. This iron-willed football coach had, since 1901, prevented black athletes from playing football for Michigan. Now, in 1921, he had just been appointed Director of Athletics, and Barringer wanted to know if he would approve a black athlete on Michigan's track team. Yost was willing to approve almost anything to enhance the athletic glory of Michigan, especially since a few universities were already using blacks to win in track and field, and he could not stand to see them surpass Michigan. The alumni could not object too strongly to one black, not when it looked like Hubbard would be a world-beater. Yost enthusiastically endorsed the idea and told Barringer to go ahead. Barringer indeed had a plan: The Cincinnati Enquirer was running a subscription contest. The ten high-schoolers in the area who could enlist the greatest number of new subscriptions would be awarded $3,000 college scholarships to attend the school of their choice. Today that would defray the cost of one or perhaps two years of college, but in 1921 it was a fabulous four-year award. Barringer interested Hubbard in the contest and vowed that if he'd attend Michigan every effort would be made to help him win. Nearly every Michigan alumnus in the United States got a letter from Barringer on the subject. Many subscribed. Branch Rickey, then owner of the St. Louis Cardinals baseball team, did. Alumni from coast to coast did. The University of Michigan Library did. Many people in Ann Arbor and Detroit did, to say nothing of the Cincinnati boosters. In September, 1921, William DeHart Hubbard, contest winner, enrolled at Michigan. It would seem that an athlete with this combination of superb athletic talent and good scholarship should have been besieged by alumni and coaches of numerous colleges. Such was not the case. Michigan faced little opposition. "It wasn't very fashionable for blacks to attend college," explained DeHart. "Very few of my boyhood playmates and high school chums went past high school. I was the only black on the Michigan track team those four years, and rarely competed against others, even in national meets. In the Big Ten, Iowa and Michigan State had a few in either football or track. Only four of us made the 14 HAIL TO THE VICTORS 1924 Olympic team. My, how times have changed. Today you have to be a world champion to get attention, but when I competed that wasn't true. If you were black and on a college team you got a lot of publicity." In Hubbard's senior year only eight of 1,456 students graduating from Michigan were black. Immediately living up to advance billing, Hubbard tied the University indoor 50-yard dash record and long jumped 24' 6 3/4" in freshman competition. Edward Gourdin of Harvard held the world record of 25' 3". Because freshmen were ineligible for varsity meets, the only opportunity to test his mettle against the "big boys" came in the national AAU meet in Newark, New Jersey. Both Gourdin and Sol Butler, two of the best in the country, were there. By winning the junior long jump (24' 3/2'") on Friday, Hubbard qualified for senior competition and a shot at Gourdin and Butler the following day. Leaping 24' 5~/2", he took the senior title and then made it a double victory with 48' 1/2~" in the hop, step, and jump. Spaulding's Guide named him to its all-American track team of 1922 as the most outstanding American in those two jumping events. Soon the long jump pit at Michigan's Ferry Field would not hold Hubbard. It was extended two feet from its former 25' length and widened considerably. Sophomore Hubbard set Big Ten marks in the 50-yard dash and the long jump. His 25' 1/2~" was a bare 1/2~" short of Gourdin's world record, but his greatest triumphs were yet to come. A brilliant junior year brought Big Ten crowns in the 100-yard dash (9.8 seconds) and the long jump 24' 10 3/4", and an opportunity to make the U.S. Olympic team. The Midwest sectionals were held at Ferry Field. DeHart took the long jump and was beaten in the 100-meters, finishing second. It was on to Harvard University to determine the U.S. team. Wolverine track coach Steve Farrell said, "Forget the 100-meters and concentrate on winning the long jump. If you spread yourself too thin you might not win anything." The advice was well-taken. Gourdin was again beaten, and the Michigan junior became the United States' best hope for a medal in the long jump. The boat ride to Paris afforded Hubbard a lot of time for contemplation. He, Earl Johnson, Ned Gourdin, and Charley West saw themselves as representatives of the black people of America. They hoped their performance might inspire black youth to achieve similar goals and build racial pride. The many acquaintances, the awesome Atlantic, the glamour of Paris, and the aura of the Eighth Modem Olympiad made profound SUPERSPADE 15 impressions on the 19-year old youngster from Cincinnati. But for Hubbard, none of these could rival the excitement of winning a gold medal. His chances were almost erased on his first jump. As he hit the take-off board at top speed his front spikes touched the ground, just beyond the board, for a foul. That was bad enough, but his heel was severely bruised when it hit the sharp back edge of the board, exposed by countless practice jumps. Contestants were given three preliminary trials, and those with the better marks received three final trials. On his second jump, the high stakes making it easier to ignore the super-sensitive heel, Hubbard reached far enough out to make the finals. Later, still trailing in the competition he started down the runway on his sixth and final jump. In stride and gaining speed, he hit the take-off board well and landed 24' 51/8" down the Continent, beyond the field of challengers, and into the international limelight. In that moment William DeHart Hubbard became the first black American to win a gold medal in an individual Olympic event, and etched his name on the honor roll of Michigan's greatest athletes of all time. Interestingly, Hubbard's mark was not the best jump in the 1924 Olympics. In the pentathlon Bob Lengendre of Georgetown astonished everyone with a jump of 25' 6 3/16", breaking Gourdin's world record. With the distraction of all the fanfare accompanying his return, a mediocre senior year would have come as no great surprise. Instead, Hubbard flashed to victory in the sprints, hurdles, and long jump, leading the 1925 Maize and Blue to Big Ten titles in both the indoor and outdoor meets. During the course of the season he tied the world's record in the 100-yard dash (9.6 seconds) against Ohio State at Ferry Field, but he remembers most the 9.7 that won the Conference outdoor title: "I get mad every time I think of that. It could have been 9.4 or 9.5. I got off to a perfect start. Everything was perfect. About 70 yards down the track there was nobody near me - I couldn't even hear them. Normally you can hear them. So I said, 'Well, you'd better slow down and save yourself for the finals.' John McKue, the AAU's official starter, was working this meet. When I went back to the starting line to collect my sweats he said, 'Turn around and let me kick your behind. You should have gone on running and broken the world record. I would have certified it.' I said, 'I'll get it the next trip John.' In the finals I ran hard all the way - really going all out for the record - and came up with another 9.7 seconds." The world record most coveted by Hubbard, the long jump, had 16 HAIL TO THE VICTORS been within reach even as a senior in high school. On ten occasions as a collegian he surpassed 25 feet. It seemed only a matter of time before it would fall. But for four years, like the carrot just beyond the rabbit's reach, it constantly tantalized him. When Legendre broke it in Paris he was doubly disappointed. He had unconsciously come to regard it as his property. Just a little more hard work. A little luck. But he never seemed able to put it all together. Now he was down to his last chance, the NCAA championship at Chicago's Stagg Field, June 12-13, 1925. Hubbard "warmed up" by winning the 100-yards in 9.8, equalling the NCAA record despite a rain-soaked track. It was to be his day. The practice, the patience, the longing were to be rewarded. Accelerating down the runway for the very last time in his collegiate career, he exploded a leap of 25' 10 7/". Legendre's 25' 6 3/16" "carrot" was in William DeHart Hubbard's hip pocket. He had become the greatest long jumper in the world. Yost and Barringer congratulated themselves for bringing this rare athlete to Michigan. He had indeed been a wonderful asset. Only four years would elapse before the experience was repeated. As a matter of fact, there were two men: Thomas "Eddie" Tolan Jr. was a sprinter in 1929, '30, and '31, and Booker Brooks lettered as a weight man in 1929, '30, and '32. Both had read about Hubbard's gold medal as eighth graders. Tolan came to Michigan from Detroit's Cass Tech High School, well-known for its high academic standards where he had won the state and national interscholastic dash championships. At Michigan the 5' 6", 130 pound speed merchant ran the 100- and 200-yard dashes and anchored the 440- and the 880-yard relay teams. For two years Ohio State's George Simpson beat him to the tape, but in his senior year the Big Ten sprints belonged to Tolan. He won the 60-yard dash indoors, tying the conference mark of 6.2, and the 100- (9.6) and the 220-yard (20.9) dashes outdoors. After graduating in 1931, Tolan went to West Virginia State College in Charleston for graduate work, to do some coaching, and to keep in trim for the 1932 Olympics. The AAU's 1932 all-American track and field team listed him as the top 220-yard dash man in the country. He held the world's record of 9.5 for the 100-yards, although Frank Wykoff of Southern California had a 9.4 pending. The United States trials were in Palo Alto, not far from Los Angeles where the 1932 Games were to be held. In both the 100- and 200-meter dashes Tolan was nipped by Ralph Metcalf of Marquette SUPERSPADE 17 University. Willis Ward recalled standing at the finish line of both races. "In both races," Ward recalled, "Tolan slackened near the finish enabling Metcalf, the favorite, to win. Afterwards, when Eddie and I were away from the other athletes he admitted letting Metcalf win so as not to alert him on how ready he (Tolan) was. Tolan, Metcalf, and George Simpson went on to represent their country in the sprints in Los Angeles. "Tolan never beat either Simpson or Metcalf in their practice sessions on starts and overs and unders in the weeks between the trials and the finals," said Ward, "but I knew he would win in the finals." The United States hadn't won an Olympic gold medal in the 100-meters in 12 years, but that was to change. Though both Tolan and Metcalf were late out of the blocks, they came from behind after 50 meters with remarkable bursts of speed finishing in a near dead heat. The finish was so close that Metcalf was posted first as the victor. After long debate, the official judges decided Tolan had breasted the tape first by a shade. His time was 10.3 seconds, setting new Olympic and world records. In the 200-meters Tolan won by two yards over George Simpson. Metcalf got off to a poor start and was never able to make up the lost ground, finishing third. Tolan's 21.2 seconds was an Olympic record. The September 1932 issue of Opportunity, a black periodical, reported proudly: In that dramatic moment when Eddie Tolan of the University of Michigan and Ralph Metcalf of Milwaukee, two American Negroes, fought shoulder to shoulder down the cindered lanes for victory in the 100-meter dash, seventy-five thousand of their countrymen forgot their prejudices and leaped to their feet in a delirium ofjoy. It was one of those occasions not uncommon in sports where admiration of outstanding ability thwarts traditional racial attitudes. In this instance it was more than that; it was the spirit of an aroused national consciousness submerging the consciousness of race... In recognition of the honor brought to the State of Michigan in Olympic competition, the Governor of Michigan proclaimed "Tolan Day," thereby drawing attention of the people of the state to the achievements of one of its citizens. The mayor of Atlanta paid a similar tribute to Ralph Metcalf, a native of that city. Two other Michigan men competed in the Olympic trials at Palo Alto, senior Booker Brooks and freshman Willis Ward. Fate was not as kind to them, but it was clear they could perform with the best in the world. 18 HAIL TO THE VICTORS Brooks had been the 1930 Big Ten discus champion (142' 6') and finished second in the shot put (46' 6 3/8"). He repeated in the discus in 1932(148' 1/4"), and was second in the NCAA meet (153' 2"), qualifying for the final Olympic trials. He appeared in peak condition that June, reaching 158' 4/2" in the Michigan AAU meet. This was three feet beyond the existing Olympic record. In the preliminaries, John Anderson of the New York Athletic Club reached 165' 6", seven feet farther than the second-place man, and that's the way the Olympic trials finished. Brooks and several others were barely nosed out in the preliminary round, but Anderson stood alone in the competition. Ward was very optimistic, having made 6' 7 1/8" for first place in the high jump at the NCAA meet. As a freshman he was not eligible to win points for Michigan, but he qualified for the Olympic trials. At Palo Alto three men tied for first, clearing 6' 6 5/8". Ward and three others tied for fourth failing to make the U.S. team at 6' 55/" - still, not bad for a yearling. It had taken a federal judge and some hard in-fighting by football coach Harry Kipke to get Ward into athletics at the University. There were no academic problems. He was an A student and graduated near the top of his class at Detroit's Northwestern High School. It certainly was not a question of borderline athletic ability; he was sensational. As a 15-year old freshman at Northwestern he had won the city high jump title and placed second in the nationals. He went on to set state records in the low and high hurdles, and the world interscholastic record in the high jump. The world record was set in his junior year and re-set his senior year. In football he was an all-city end for two years and an unanimous all-state selection in his senior year. The problem was that he wanted to play football, and no black had been permitted to do that at Michigan since 1892. Athletic Director Fielding Yost, southern in his background and attitudes, was determined to keep it that way. The word got out that Ward was going either to Dartmouth or Northwestern University because of Michigan's rule against black football players. Circuit court judge Guy Miller discussed the matter with James Murfin, a regent of the University, and Fred Matthai who was president of the University of Michigan Club in Detroit. They decided that overtures should be made to see if Ward would consider Michigan. SUPERSPADE 19 "My first meeting with Judge Miller was in his chambers down at the old circuit court building," recalled Ward:2 "I was introduced to him by his clerk who was the only black clerk on the whole circuit. The black clerk was the one who gave Judge Miller the lowdown on why I wasn't going to Michigan. I went to see the judge out of a feeling of sympathy for the clerk, for whom it was important to be able to get me to see Judge Miller. Once he learned that my information was that Michigan and Yost did not want black football players, Judge Miller said, 'Well, will you help us break this rule?' I agreed to do so." Harry Kipke, Michigan's football coach, was asked if he would play a black. He said, "You're darn right I'll take that kid." He had played with blacks in high school in Lansing, and played center field on Michigan's baseball team beside Rudolph Ash. Kipke visited Ward's home and impressed Willis' father. He assured him he could be sure his boy would be happy if he came to Michigan. There was immediate conflict between Kipke, on the one hand, and Yost and his supporters (both alumni and coaches) on the other. They wanted to know why Michigan needed a black player. They had been successful without them. Ward heard from reliable sources that... "on several occasions Kipke took his coat off and was prepared to fight with those who bitterly opposed having a Negro play for Michigan." With the support of Murfin, Matthai, and Miller, Willis Ward enrolled at Michigan to play football for Harry Kipke. He remembers going down to the field house to be assigned a locker. He was met by Bob Miller, captain of the Michigan swimming team, and the son of Judge Guy Miller. He said, "I'm Bob Miller. My father told me you were coming, and if you have any problems, let me know." Ivan Williamson, who was captain of the 1932 football team, came over and said, "Welcome to the Michigan team. Any time I can help you, let me know. If you have any problems with anybody, let me know because we're prepared to take care of them." There were other examples of this same thing. Apparently Kipke had gone to certain players, the ones who felt it was the right thing to do, and asked them to make certain Ward did not feel alone. Ward needed a part-time job, as did most athletes, but there was little employment for black students in Ann Arbor. Some had worked 2 Interview, Willis Ward, September 19, 1970 20 HAIL TO THE VICTORS as porters or waiters in fraternities, but there were few jobs. Kipke found one for Ward, washing dishes at the Parrot Cafe. Ward remembers it well: "The cook happened to be a black man and, because I was going to be a football player and he loved me, he fed me better than he fed anybody. I ate real well for about a month. Because it was known that I was a kid from Northwestern who was a world-beater, when I would go in the kids would speak to me. The owner thought this was out of step with the times, so he told the chap who was managing it to tell me to use the back door." That afternoon Ward went out to football practice and told Kipke. "The next day he got me ajob washing dishes at the Michigan Union," said Ward. "I was the first black kid to wash dishes at the Union." Ward had good reason to boast of being the first to wash dishes at the Union. This kind of work was customarily given to the top players who needed jobs, but it was unusual to see blacks anywhere in the Union. "As a matter of fact," said Ward, "a fraternity brother, H. B. Evans, who was a Phi Beta Kappa at The University of Michigan in 1912, said that when he was in school black students could not even go into the Michigan Union." In a very short time Ward became the idol of track crowds. As a sophomore, he won the Conference indoor title in the high jump (6' 4") and finished second in the 60-yard dash. In the outdoor meet two months later he scored infour events, winning the 100-yard dash (9.6) and the high jump (6' 2 3/4"), and finishing second in the long jump and the 120-yard high hurdles. In his junior year the Wolverines rode to the indoor title largely on Ward's 6' 2" 190-pound frame. He scored 15 points as Michigan nosed out Illinois 37/2 to 332/5. Victories came in the 70-yard high hurdles (8.8), high jump (6' 27/'), and 60-yard dash (6.2) - the last tied the Big Ten record. The University of Chicago was the site of this twenty-fourth Western Conference indoor track championship. A blare of trumpets introduced the captains of the ten teams precisely at 8 o'clock, and Ward proceeded with a magnificent display of versatility. A semi-final heat in the dash was his first assignment. As he started to don his sweat suit after winning that race, he was notified that the high jump was starting. He cleared the bar at the starting height without difficulty, but had to hurry to the mark for a semi-final heat in the hurdles. And so it went. After winning the high hurdles, dash, and high jump, Ward attempted a new Conference record in the latter. He leaped 6' 5 78" on his third SUPERSPADE 21 complete try, but the judges ruled that a previous approach to the standards, during which he slipped, was a try and so the successful jump was a fourth attempt and did not constitute a new record. At the Butler Relays in Indianapolis two weeks later Ward contributed 13 of the 18 /4 points that won the team championship for Michigan. Hobbled by a leg injury, he turned in sub-standard performances in the conference outdoor meet placing fifth in the 100-yard dash, tying for fourth in the high jump at 6' 0", and winning the long jump at 23' 2/4". Except for victories over Jesse Owens in the Michigan-Ohio State indoor dual meet, Willis Ward's senior year accomplishments fell far short of predictions. It wasn't senioritis. His motivation was dealt a serious blow when he was barred from the Georgia Tech game the previous fall because of race. That story follows, but it is worth noting that he did beat Jesse Owens. The first meeting with Owens came in Yost Field House, March 2, 1935, as Ward ended his indoor competition at home. Michigan overwhelmed Ohio State 63-32 with Ward leading the onslaught by personally accounting for two new Yost Field House records. The world record for the 60-yard dash was tied as Ward beat Owens to the finish in 6.2 seconds. Ward's own 65-yard high hurdles mark was broken with his 8.0 victory, in which Owens finished third. The sophomore Buckeye sensation was given the nod in an almost dead heat with Ward in the 65-yard low hurdles. Owens turned the tables one week later at the University of Chicago Field House where Michigan successfully defended its Big Ten indoor championship. Blasting out of the blocks he sped through the 60-yard dash in 6.1, a new record. Michigan's Sam Stoller and Willis Ward trailed. Ward's only other points came with a fifth in the 70-yard high hurdles. Injured running the hurdles in the Penn Relays, Ward saw no action from April 27 to the Big Ten outdoor meet May 24-25, 1935. Jesse Owens electrified the country that day with four world record performances at Ferry Field. He tied the 100-yard dash mark and set three new standards in the 220-yard dash (20.3), the 220-yard low hurdles (22.6), and the longjump (26' 8/2"). Ward was officially on the injured list that day, and was kept out of 100 and failed to qualify in the high hurdles. He tied for first in the high jump (6' 35/8"), and, by changing his approach so as to leap from his uninjured leg, Ward long jumped 25' 1~2", finishing second to Owens. This contribution of eight points, and similar courageous performances by teammates, enabled Michigan to prevail 48-43/2 over Owens and the Buckeyes. 22 HAIL TO THE VICTORS Remembering his senior year Ward said practice had become drudgery. Except for the competition against Owens he just wanted to finish the season and graduate after the humiliation of being withheld from the football game against Georgia Tech that fall. He was an end on two Big Ten and National championship teams, the 1932 and 1933 elevens, and was given honorable mention on the Associated Press all-America for 1933. The Wolverines suffered a dismal 1-7-0 record in 1934, but Ward was named second team all-Big Ten. The lone Michigan victory came against Georgia Tech in a game played in Ann Arbor from which Ward was barred to appease the southern school. Yost had become a good friend of W.A. Alexander, the football coach at Georgia Tech. Potential racial complications had been discussed well in advance of the playing date and Dan McGugin, Yost's brother-in-law and the Vanderbilt football coach, wrote in December, 1933 saying: "We had a meeting of conference coaches at New Orleans last Friday and a group of us were in the room and someone asked Alexander, in a rather joking way, what he was going to do about the detail. Alexander said Michigan would not play a colored man against Georgia Tech; that this had never been done by the Northern teams with Southern teams and he was sure it would not be done."3 McGugin talked with Professor Armstrong, Athletic Director at Georgia Tech, that evening and concluded, "I am sure they would not want to play the game if Ward were to take part." Assuring Yost this was to be expected of the Southern teams McGugin offered the recent example of his Vanderbilt team: "Ohio (State) wrote me two years ago about the same thing and I talked with the Board about it and the Board was horrified and was absolutely unwilling to play the game under that condition. I rather had it in mind not to make any particular point on it as we were going to their field, etc. but, of course, could not do otherwise and Ohio did not play the man. Ohio told me when they scheduled games with the Navy that the Navy had asked that a colored man not play at Annapolis but that they did not ask for that agreement at Columbus." McGugin counseled that, "if you would be embarrassed by not playing him seriously then I believe Tech would quietly prefer to 3 Letter, McGugin to Yost, December 12, 1933, Carton 18. University of Michigan Athletic Papers. (It is housed in the Michigan Historical Collections Library on the University campus; further references to it are abbreviated UMAP.) SUPERSPADE 23 withdraw from the game and maybe the report could be given out that there was a mistake of some kind about the date." The Board in Control of Athletics at Michigan had a long discussion one month later in reference to the Georgia Tech game and how the race problem might enter into it, but no action was taken.4 Perhaps they believed that Yost, who would be traveling to Atlanta in February for the Football Rules Committee meetings, would be able to work something out with Armstrong. Perhaps Yost simply convinced them holding Ward out was the only possible answer. In May, McGugin was still reminding Yost it would not be possible for Michigan to play Ward: "Am enclosing a note from Mr. Armstrong of Georgia Tech. I don't believe you can afford to use colored players as it has never been done in the case of games with teams from this section."5 During the summer Ward learned that he would not get to play against Tech. He hung his head in disgust. How could such action be justified in the light of the honor his athletic achievements had already brought Michigan? His friends badgered him with questions; what was he going to do; was he going to bow to those racists; whose side was he on? He told them he would quit Michigan football, and he wrote coach Harry Kipke to that effect. Friends were delighted and began collecting whatever money they could to help finance his senior year. There would be no stooping to the white man. Coach Kipke was soon in Detroit explaining that Tech absolutely would not play against a black, and Michigan could not cancel the game. Ward was then reminded of the great battle waged by Kipke, Murfin, and Miller to get him into a Michigan football uniform. Added to this were the many problems precipitated by race that Kipke had helped shoulder the previous three years. He would never do it for another black if Ward pulled out. Chin tucked into chest, Ward resigned to the wishes of his coach. Roy Wilkins, Assistant Secretary of the NAACP, wrote to Kipke asking if it were true that he had agreed with Georgia Tech not to play Ward. Receiving no reply he wrote again, saying a serious moral question was involved. "What about the feelings of Negro athletes who have carried the name and fame of the University of 4 Letter, Yost to Ralph Aigler, January 30, 1934, Carton 9, UMAP. 5 Letter, McGugin to Yost, May 2, 1934, Carton 9, UMAP. 24 HAIL TO THE VICTORS Michigan to the ends of the earth with Olympic victories."6 Kipke had been instructed to ignore all such inquiries. Francis M. Dent, a Detroit lawyer, knew that Ralph Aigler, a law professor at Michigan, was an influential member of the Board in Control of Athletics. Upon requesting a direct answer to whether Michigan was going to withhold Ward from the games, he received a very vague reply suggesting that matters of etiquette and courtesy were involved. "This may seem to be a matter of etiquette and courtesy to the Board in Control of Physical Education," Dent replied, "but when we take into consideration that Mr. Lett, another colored athlete in the University of Michigan, was not allowed to play on the basketball team because of his color, the whole matter takes a different aspect. Some four or five years ago the responsible officials of the University attempted to open a separate dormitory for the colored girl students at the University of Michigan. The Honorable Fred W. Green, who was Governor of Michigan at the time, ordered the matter stopped immediately and it was stopped. It would seem that someone connected with the University never ceases in their efforts to create discrimination and segregation therein which, as I said in my previous letter, is a direct violation of Act number 328, Public Acts of 1931..."7 Aigler answered that participation in intercollegiate athletics was not a matter of right or duty but of privilege. He also stated that, as a well-bred host, Michigan should take the feelings of Georgia Tech into consideration. "You might have also referred to well-bred guests," Dent suggested. "I am quite sure that nobody considers Harvard and Washington and Jefferson universities and Dartmouth College illbred because they had sufficient courage to refuse to allow petty intolerance to interfere with high traditions and principles of their respective schools." Joseph H. B. Evans, a 1912 Michigan graduate, also wrote to Aigler and sent a copy of the letter to President Ruthven. To Aigler's statement that athletic participation was a privilege Evans answered, "As I look back on the days when I attended every Mass Meeting, I 6 Letter, Wilkins to Kipke, October 11, 1934, Ruthven Papers, Box 14, folder labled "Board in Control of Athletics," Michigan Historical Collections in the Bentley Library, University of Michigan. Letter, Dent to Aigler, October 11, 1934, Ruthven Papers, Box 14, Board in Control of Athletics" folder. SUPERSPADE 25 can easily recall the words of various speakers who challenged and reminded the players that these were times when they must not shirk their DUTY to dear old Michigan. In theory, participation is a matter of privilege and one who has met every requirement to obtain this privilege has a Right to be accorded the same consideration as his fellow players. Aigler had stated his belief that, "the home institution and team are in a very real sense hosts to the visiting team. Accordingly, the customary courtesies which well-bred hosts are expected to display toward their guests are to be normally anticipated in the relationships between college and athletic teams." Evans countered with an analogy, "Let's say that I invite guests to come to my home and be a part of the family circle but I find that the guest has an antipathy for my two fine Spitz dogs whose presence adds greatly to our family's enjoyment and pleasure. He still objects to the dogs no matter how gentle and well-bred they may be. Will I put my dogs outside to cater to the feelings of my guest? Most certainly yes. But now suppose that same guest insists that the presence of my daughter, who to me represents one who had held high the family name and traditions, is distasteful to him. Shall I then give way to this whim and banish my daughter from the family hearth during his stay? If I did I should not be worthy of the name of father and my relatives and friends would be right in branding such action as comtemptible. There is a distinct difference in the treatment of my daughter as opposed to the treatment of my dogs." In Evans' mind Michigan was putting a favored son, Willis Ward, on the back porch while the guests enjoyed their visit.8 A number of University students apparently shared this sentiment and began organizing to show their opposition. A sit-down in the middle of the football field during the game was rumored. Yost became concerned and hired a Pinkerton detective to identify the leaders and report on the proceedings of their big rally the day before the Tech game.9 To this same rally he dispatched a number of students whose job it was to create disorder and thwart any chance this group might have to organize a sit-down.10 This man8 Letter, Evans to Aigler, October 17, 1934. Ruthven Papers, Box 14, "Board in Control of Athletics" folder. 9 Letter, W. H. Shoemack, Superintendent, Pinkerton's National DetectiveAgency, Inc., to Yost, October 27, 1934, Carton 9, UMAP. 10 Interview, Ira Smith, former Registrar of the University andformer member of the Board in Control of Athletics, July 25, 1969. 26 HAIL TO THE VICTORS euver proved successful, and no protest occurred in the Michigan Stadium that October 20th as the Wolverines won their only game of the 1934 campaign, 9-2. Ward spent the game at the fraternity house, having been refused permission to watch from the bench or the press box. The news media severly criticized Michigan. An editorial in the Scholastic Coach magazine was sent to the Board in Control of Athletics asking for any corrections that should be made before printing. It discussed the question of whether the United States ought to participate in the 1936 Olympic Games in Germany if Germany were to discriminate against Jews in the selection of their team. Turning to the Michigan-Georgia Tech game it said: Willis Ward, a Negro, Michigan's regular right end, was kept on the sidelines. No explanation for this action was forthcoming from anyone officially connected with the Michigan coaching and athletic staff. No official statement was made by the Michigan Board in Control of Athletics. Time, The Weekly Newsmagazine, said, 'Athletic authorities insisted that he (Willis Ward) should not play because 1) it would be discourteous to Georgia Tech; 2) he might be injured.' There was no authority for the rumor that Georgia Tech had requested Michigan not use Willis Ward. But there was no doubt that Georgia Tech appreciated Michigan's gesture, because as a reciprocal gesture Georgia Tech kept her star end, Gibson, out of the game... The Michigan Daily said editorially after the game, Michigan's 'principles are incomparable with the South's position on racial differences. Let Michigan of the future play with those who are of her own eminently worthwhile type."' Michigan's president, Dr. Alexander Ruthven, felt that the Board in Control should have foreseen the difficulty and was in error in scheduling the game, but he did not want to contravene the board's authority.1 2 As it became a cause celebre on campus and in the press, Ruthven told a confidant, "My life is being made miserable by arguments with the colored brethern... I wish now that I had taken the Ward matter into my own hands."13 Yost was also embarrassed and wrote coach Alexander of Tech following the game, "I never dreamed there would be so much agitation about the matter. The agitation was developed by a commitII Editorial in Scholastic Coach, December, 1934, a copy of which was sent to the University of Michigan's Board in Control of Athletics, November, 1934 folder, Carton 9, UMAP. 12 Letter, Ruthven to H. Richard Frank, October 31, 1934, Ruthven Papers, Box 14, MHC. 13 Letter, Ruthven to Shirley Smith, October 12, 1934, Ruthven Papers. Box 16, MHC. SUPERSPADE 27 tee of five Jewish sophomore students, four of them from New York City and vicinity and one from Michigan. They did it in the name of 'The United Front Committee on Ward."14 The Commissioner of the Big Ten, John L. Griffith, sympathized with Yost: "You were telling me up at Minneapolis about the radical students organization that stirred up the rumpus about Ward in the Georgia Tech game. Can you without too much trouble advise me whether or not there are any other liberal clubs in Michigan?"15 He apparently wanted to be forewarned in order to stifle any similar actions on Big Ten campuses. Michigan's action was not disclaimed by all alumni. One in particular, Woolsey Hunt, revealed his feelings about interracial competition in a letter to President Ruthven that spring. His son was pictured finishing third behind two blacks, and he spoke of "extreme repugnance in seeing black competing with white." Ruthven replied that he did not find such competition objectionable because, "after all, there will have to be a certain amount of association between the races when the boys are through college."16 Michigan was following a well-established precedent in withholding Ward. Dan McGugin had revealed this in recalling that Ohio State had acceded to Vanderbilt demands not to play black football players in their contest. As a matter of fact, even President George W. Rightmire of Ohio State had concurred in the agreement to withhold William Bell in deference to the Navy when the 1930 Buckeye team traveled to Baltimore. L. W. St. John, the Ohio State director of athletics, supplied Fielding Yost with all the details. "Nothing was said in advance of the Vanderbilt game... Some time ahead of our game, I had personally talked with Dan McGugin and told Dan not to be disturbed, that we would not play Bell against him. We handled it in such a manner here that the fact that Bell was not put in the game was more or less a surprise to everyone. "For the Navy game at Baltimore that year, we were not able to escape quite so smoothly..."17 St. John explained that plans to hold Bell out of the Navy game 14 Letter, Yost to W. A. Alexander, December 5, 1934, Carton 9, UMAP. 15 Letter, Griffith to Yost, November 27, 1934, Carton 9, UMAP. 16 Peter E. Van de Water, "Peace Maker: President Alexander Ruthven of Michigan and His Relationship to His Faculty, Students, and Regents," Unpublished dissertation, University of Michigan, 1970, p. 80. The letters quoted were Woolsey W. Hunt to Ruthven, March 4, 1935, and Ruthven's reply March 13th. 17 Letter, L. W. St. John to Yost, October 4, 1934, Carton 9, UMAP. 28 HAIL TO THE VICTORS reached Walter White, Secretary of the NAACP, in New York City. White sent the following telegram to President Rightmire: Report has been made to the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People that although after playing in a game last Saturday against Wisconsin he is in good condition William Bell star tackle of The Ohio State University football team is not to be permitted to play in the game on November eighth between Ohio State University and the Navy. STOP. We are informed that in order to prevent charge of race prejudice Bell is being sent to scout University of Pittsburg team. STOP. We are loathe to believe that Ohio State University would yield to racial prejudice in this fashion and violate canons of good sportsmanship. STOP. National Association for the Advancement of Colored People respectfully request statement from you as to accuracy of reports made to it.'8 Rightmire's immediate reply was that he had never heard of the NAACP. Before he answered any question of the University's good sportsmanship, he wanted to know who had made the charges, what was the nature of this NAACP organization, and how it became interested in this subject. Upon receiving this information from White, he concluded the correspondence with the following brief telegram: Since receiving your telegram I have obtained information relating to your inquiry. William Bell will not play in the Navy game. The Universitiy is endeavoring to protect him from unpleasant experience of probable race discrimination manifested in a southern city. The President had apparently become convinced that some kind of racial demonstration would take place. He sent copies of the telegraphic correspondence with White to St. John instructing him: "Nothing more need be said, or should be said, by any University functionary. I am suggesting that Professor Willaman talk as quickly as possible with Mr. Bell about this whole matter and acquaint him with the telegraphic correspondence before the matter is taken up, as it may be, with Mr. Bell by Mr. White. I believe this early conversation between Mr. Bell and Professor Willaman to be very important, because, as I understand it, Mr. Bell agrees that it is best that he does not make the trip to Baltimore because of the conditions which he understands he would probably meet there." In yet another illustration of this same action, the Detroit Daily 18 Telegram, Walter White to President Rightmire, November 3, 1930. This and other quoted correspondence on this issue located in October 1934folder, Carton 9, UMAP. SUPERSPADE 29 for October 24, 1929 carried this story under the title, "N.Y.U. Negro Star Out of Georgia Game:" Head Football Coach Chick Meehan of New York University last night ended the controversy over the question of using Dave Myers, N.Y.U.'s Negro quarterback, in the intersectional game between New York and the University of Georgia, November 9th, with the announcement that Myers would not play. 'There will be no unpleasantness in the Georgia game, as we did not intend to play Myers when we scheduled the game and he is not going to play' Meehan said. What effect would such racism have on the athlete? I asked Ward what his feelings were. "It was not the fact that I was not made captain of either the football or track team that destroyed my will," he recalled. "It was the fact that I couldn't play in the Georgia Tech game. That all of a sudden, the practice that you just did because it was the thing to do to be good - a tremendous amount of burnt up energy - all of a sudden becomes drudgery. My desire to work was substantially affected. I went through the motions, both in football and track, excepting the time I ran Jesse Owens and beat him. I got motivated and beat him twice, but Jesse beat me the next two times out. Aside from those rare instances, I really would have preferred to quit. I was going to get my education. Henry Ford wanted me to come down and work for him."19 When the track season ended, Ward competed in the NCAA decathlon and then hung up his spikes for good. I asked why he didn't compete in the 1936 Olympic trials. "They were urging me to go out in '36," he said. "I could have won the high jump - I'll always believe I could have won the high jump. I could have won the hurdles. I could have won the decathlon. One of the reasons they were urging me was because the Germans had a very good decathlon man. They thought he was going to win. Our boy won it. Morris won it, but they didn't know he was that good. But that Georgia Tech game killed me. I frankly felt they would not let the black athletes compete. Having gone through the Tech experience it seemed an easy thing for them to say, 'Well, wejust won't run 'em if Hitler insists.' But it didn't happen that way. They ran the blacks but didn't run the Jews." 19 Henry Ford was so impressed with Willis Ward that he actually took him under his wing. He promised to make Willis a wealthy man. Ward stayed with the Ford Company several years, having his law degree financed by Ford and apparently doing quite well in the company's employ. 30 HAIL TO THE VICTORS "I still claim morally that I was absolutely right. It was just as bad as if they'd done it to the blacks, to me, what they did to the Jews. I've never regretted not having competed in the Olympics." "All through the protest that's taking such a violent form today, although I abhor the destructiveness, I can understand the young kid with his African hair styles and all of this - his belligerence, his hostility. It's the destructive part that throws me. But as far as the protest and all, I could not criticize those kids, because I know what the hurt was. Now I say I was protesting and those in the know knew why. Coach Ken Dougherty wanted me to go out with him in the decathlon. He was a decathlon man himself, and wanted the distinction of coaching the guy who would win it. But I wouldn't. I wouldn't. That Georgia Tech game knocked me right square in the gut. It was wrong. It will always be wrong, and it killed my desire to excel." The 1934 Georgia Tech game left a lot of people embarrassed, bitter, and resolved that it should not happen again. As a result, Michigan did not play another southern team for nineteen years. It was almost as bad for the black football players; it was seven years before another played for Michigan. Michigan's fifth track and field letterman, Bill Watson (1937, '38, and '39) puts a huge exclamation point to the statement, "You had to be 'superspade!' " A Saginaw, Michigan product, Watson is regarded by many observers of Wolverine athletic history as the school's greatest athlete ever. Big, strong, and fast, he could long jump 25', high jump 6' 5", and throw the shot nearly 55' and the discus over 160'. He was a three-time Big Ten outdoor champion in three events and a three-time winner in the indoor shot, twice, setting new records. He also did well in NCCA meets. From a fourth in the shot put as a sophomore, he improved to place in three events the next year - third in the shot put, fourth in the discus, and second in the long jump. As a senior, Watson scored twenty points tying for individual scoring honors in the meet with second in the shot, second in the discus, and fourth in the long jump. One year later, with little or no training, he won the national AAU decathlon crown scoring 7,523 points. In 1970 he still ranked in the top 50 United States performers of all time with a score of 7,102 (the 7,523 re-scored on the most current decathlon tables comes out to 7,102). The way track and field records often disappear before the ink is dry, this is truly a remarkable testimony to a remarkable athlete. SUPERSPADE 31 Bill Watson would surely have been a strong contender for the Olympic decathlon title had World War II not forced cancellation of the 1940 and 1944 Games. He was no three or four-sport letterman. Blacks couldn't be in those days. But judging by his performance in the only major sport in which he was really free to compete, Watson just may be the greatest of all Michigan athletes. The "superspade" syndrome continued through 1950 ending with Charles Fonville (1946, '47, 48, and '50), the first man in the world to put the shot 58'. Through the 1950s there were several steady performers, but there was no Ward or Watson. This meant that more black athletes were being accepted into Michigan track. Hundreds of whites who were not world-beaters had lettered, but not until the 1950s was this true for their black counterparts. I asked Fonville why it was so much easier for black athletes to compete in track and field than in other sports. "It is very difficult to maintain an effective bias, except when selecting members of the team where the competition is close," he said. "When the gun goes off, all the things people can use to discriminate with are virtually shorn away. The clock and measuring tape let you know how you stand in relation to teammates and opponents, without regard to the subjective judgement of a coach or meet official.",20 Then he recalled playing football in high school. The coach did not want to start him, but when the chips were down he would send Fonville in to pick up a vital first down. "I've seen this happen to many black football players," said Fonville. After track coach Ken Dougherty saw him compete at Detroit's Miller High School and encouraged him to come to Michigan, Fonville talked to Ward and Watson.,They made it clear to him that life would be immeasurably simpler if he were to forget football and basketball. He did. Neither the football or basketball coach, of course, expressed an interest in having him try out. FOOTBALL Only six black athletes lettered in football at Michigan through 1949. In contrast, 69 lettered from 1950 through 1972. As with track and field there was a long period when only the most outstanding men could play. The first to make Michigan's varsity was George H. Jewett Sr. An Ann Arbor High School star (football co-captain and captain 20 Interview, Charles Fonville, September 18, 1970. 32 HAIL TO THE VICTORS of the track team), he became the Wolverines' most dangerous halfback as a freshman in 1890. After laying out of school a year, he returned to spark the 1892 team, and to face the occasional overt racism of some fans. "Kill the coon! Kill the coon!" chanted the blood-thirsty Purdue crowd when Michigan squared off against the Boilermakers that season. The chant continued until early in the first half when the officials unscrambled a heap of players. Jewett was found underneath, flat on his face, unconscious. As his limp body was carried off the field the Purdue rooters stood and cheered wildly.21 In those days teams deliberately sought to cripple key opposing players and the officiating, like the rules, was rather loose in discipline. Purdue won, 24-0. Just five days after this defeat Michigan was beaten by Northwestern 10-8 in Chicago. Michigan's student newspaper, the Daily, called Jewett's running the feature of the game, "he is a brilliant player who stands punishment with indifference."22 This accolade was prompted by a second half play when Jewett swept end for a nice gain. As he was tackled several Northwestern men piled on, leaving Jewett when it was all over with a badly bruised face. "The crowd was indignant," reported the Daily, "and requested Jewett to name the man who had maltreated him, but this he refused to do..." After sitting out for several minutes the battered sophomore returned to the game and was heartily cheered. As a sophomore, Jewett began learning how the game was played. Having had his fill of the conduct of Maroon lineman William Rapp in the Chicago game, Jewett came up from the ground and smashed the Chicago player a tremendous blow in the nose and was then ushered off the field by the referee. In the season finale against Cornell, Jewett swept end on a reverse that fooled the opposition and made a 25 yard gain. After the tackle, a player named Witherbee came in on the gallop and dropped hard on Jewett's head. Jewett sprang to his feet, smashed Witherbee on the nose, and was ruled off the field by the referee.23 It would be inaccurate to say these conflicts were totally motivated by race. Violence was woven into the fabric of intercollegiate football. These incidents soon became nothing more than fond 21 George Ade, "Football at Purdue In the Early Years," in Allison Danzig's, Oh How They Played the Game, N.Y.: The MacMillan Co. 1971, p. 89. 22 Michigan Daily, October 31, 1892. 23 Michigan Daily, November 28, 1892. SUPERSPADE 33 memories of the good old days. In the spring of 1907 William Rapp would come to Ann Arbor accompanying his wife, a world-famous contralto, on a concert tour. During the performance Rapp and his old football adversary George Jewett sat in an ante room - having the time of their lives recalling their football battles. The ill-feeling between Jewett and the Northwestern team was even more fleeting. He transfered to the Evanston campus and won varsity letters on the 1893 and 1894 Wildcat teams. Brief intervals of coaching at Michigan State Normal and Olivet colleges followed; then he opened the Jewett Cleaning and Pressing Shop in Ann Arbor. A lot of pants and shirts would make their way through the shop before another black lettered in football at Michigan. In fact, had Jewett come along just a few years later it is conceivable he would never have played college football. At some time in the mid-'90s many of the "doors" opened by the Civil War were slammed shut to blacks. One manifestation of this national pattern was their exclusion from college football and professional baseball. Since basketball didn't gain popularity in colleges until the early 1900s, blacks were automatically excluded from that sport when it did become established. At Michigan, the hiring of Fielding Yost as football coach in 1901 ended whatever chance black athletes might have had in football. Yost, the son of a Confederate soldier, had lived the first 50 years of his life in the South. He would successfully exclude black athletes from Michigan football until Willis Ward in 1932. A few men prior to Ward had tried to make the team. One case, that of Clifford Wilson, is interesting for its portryal of the tortured logic coaches used to deny any guilt of racial prejudice. Herbert W. Wilson, a white lawyer from Indianapolis and an active Michigan alumnus, became interested in assisting a young black student, Clifford Wilson, in his effort to play football for the Wolverines. Clifford was already in the program but was apparently having academic problems and would have to enroll for the summer session to become eligible for the 1928 season. Herbert Wilson asked Coach Tad Wieman if a "colored man" could play on the Michigan team explaining, "I know while I was in school Coach Yost would not permit it."24 Wieman replied that he "had quite a talk with Wilson two or 24 Letter, Wilson to Wieman, April 25, 1928, Carton 5, UMAP. Yost coached 25 Michigan football teams, 1901-24 and 1925-26. 34 HAIL TO THE VICTORS three weeks ago relative to the problem you suggest,"25 and it was explained to him that, "there were certain complications that would be difficult for all with a colored man on the squad: that because of this I did not think it advisable for a colored man to be on the squad unless he was good enough to play a good part of the time. In other words, unless he were a regular or near regular, the handicaps to the squad would be greater that the advantages to say nothing of the difficulties that encounter the individual himself. I assured him, however, that any man who could demonstrate that he was the best man for any position would have the right to play in that position." "Wilson took all of this in fine spirit and agreed that that was the best way to handle the situation. He said he would not care to be on the Varsity squad unless he were good enough to play, and there is where the case rests now." Cliff Wilson went out for spring practice, and Coach Wieman described him as big, strong, and fast, but said he would not be able to say much more until he had a chance to demonstrate his ability in scrimmages. Wieman, himself a former Michigan football player, further explained to Herb Wilson, "During the time that I have been at Michigan we have never had a colored candidate for the team who was good enough to play at all regularly. At one time we did have a backfield man who, had he been white, would probably have been on the squad as a second or third substitute. In a case like that we decided that it was not worth the friction that would result to have him on the squad. I do not know of any other case where a man's color has in any way affected his standing in athletics at Michigan." Wieman was a bright, young coach respected by the Michigan faculty, yet, in this statement he appears to be completely naive. Since blacks were not recruited and were expected to be good enough to start without the customary build-up of game experience, it is no wonder few cases of prejudice came to mind. The truth of their deliberate exclusion was poignantly illustrated by the full-scale war Harry Kipke was forced to wage to get Willis Ward on the 1932 team. Julius Franks was the left guard on great teams at Hamtramck High School in Detroit and was named all-city guard enroute to two straight city titles. A good student, he entered the University in 1940 to play football and study dentisty. He saw a lot of action at right guard during the 1941 season and his aggressive style of play caught the eyes of coaches and fans. Honors were heaped upon him during the next season. He nailed down a starting position at right guard, the 25 Letter, Wieman to Wilson, April 26, 1928, Carton 5, UMAP. SUPERSPADE 35 Big Ten coaches named him to the all-Conference first team, the New York Sun placed him at guard on its second team all-America, International News Service and Look Magazine both had him on the first team, and he was selected to play in the College All-Star game in Chicago. No obstacle seemed insurmountable for Michigan's first black athlete to make all-America in football. What he did not know was that his real battle, for life itself, was about to begin. Shortly after the All-Star game Julius contracted tuberculosis. For 25 months he was on his back in the University Hospital, his football career was ended, and his vision of someday becoming a dentist apparently was out of the question. Adversity only made him more determined. In 1945 he re-entered the University, and he received a bachelor's degree two years later. A newspaper story quoted him as saying, "Some of my friends tried to discourage me from studying dentistry because of the long hours and hard work. But when I lay on a hospital bed all those long months I knew that someday I would be a dentist - regardless of how many years it might require." He said it was the aid of the doctors, nurses, and alumni that kept him going. In June, 1951, he had his School of Dentistry diploma in hand. But it was no easy task for a black, all-America or not, to establish a dental practice. Paul Goebbel, a former Michigan football player and later Regent of the University, was mayor of Grand Rapids. He and a friend finally found Franks an office in Grand Rapids for his practice. Franks was the first of four black athletes to make Michigan teams in the 1940's. Gene Derricotte was an outstanding offensive and defensive halfback lettering in 1944, '46, '47, and '48. He was chosen for the East-West Shrine game played January 1, 1949, becoming the first black athlete in history to be invited to that postseason classic. The 1946 and '47 teams were the first in Michigan history to field more than one black starter. In addition to Derricotte, two ends, Lenny Ford and Robert Mann, figured significantly in Michigan's record, which included two Big Ten championships and a smashing 49-0 Rose Bowl victory over Southern California, January 1, 1948. Ford was also an outstanding basketball player, but Michigan was not prepared to break with Big Ten tradition and permit a black on its team. He went on to play ten years of professional football after graduation. Michigan football was, and still is, big business. As such, it had 36 HAIL TO THE VICTORS to be very sensitive to its paying customers, and the customers were certainly not ready for a large influx of black athletes in the 1940s. Neither were the white coaches. Unwritten quotas were maintained keeping the number down to one or two superb athletes. Some good ones had to be turned away. Horace "Hap" Coleman and Joseph Hayden, Jr. were among them. Coleman had played on the excellent Hamtramck football teams with Julius Franks. The 6' 0" 190 lb. speedster attended Western Michigan University and starred four years in their backfield and on the track team. His heroics prompted that school to award him a plaque in 1970, which read, "The Most Outstanding Football Player in Western Michigan University's Long and Illustrious Tradition." He had anchored Western's mile-relay team to victory over Michigan, so he was well known in Ann Arbor. With an extra year of eligibility because of war-time policy, Coleman enrolled at Michigan to play football and complete a master's degree. For five games he tried to convince coach, H.O. "Fritz" Crisler that he could help the 1945 football team, but they already had one black, and Coleman rode the bench. He elected to quit football, explaining that master's degree studies were demanding more attention. He was certain the real reason was obvious.26 "Perhaps Crisler didn't know much about you," I suggested. "I went in to talk with him upon enrolling at Michigan," Coleman explained. "I told him I'd like to play if I could help the team. I'm sure he knew about me because of my record at Western. Also, Michigan had a great mile relay team. They had come from a meet on the Coast where they had run a fantastic 3:11.9. When they ran against Western, they pulled out one of the regulars and we beat them. They knew me, because I was running the anchor on our mile relay team. "Crisler said, 'O.K., you can come out.' I was with the reserves at first, and, after a few scrimmages, they put me with the varsity. Crisler always remained very aloof. The assistant coaches were personable and friendly, but Crisler would take a shower beside you after practice and look right at the wall. The only player I ever saw him talk to was the quarterback. There were only two blacks on the team, Lenny Ford and myself. Ford came up after a game or so at Morgan State. He had a heck of a time trying to make the team. Only after he had just about annhilated a couple starting halfbacks trying to block him in practice, did he get a chance to play." 26 Interview, Horace "Hap" Coleman, December 19, 1970 SUPERSPADE 37 "I was playing halfback along with Hank Fonde and Bob Nussbaumer. We were all pretty close in skills, but I was bigger and faster. Supposedly, the one who blocks best or does well in drills gets the starting position, but this throws the decision to the subjective judgement of the coaches. At first the competition was between Fonde and I, and I became a spot player. Then, when Nussbaumer joined the team after a brief term of service, I played less and less. I thought, 'I don't need this. I'll just get my degree.' I think the players knew why I quit. "I think there were alumni who helped get Nussbaumer to Michigan. While I thought it was obvious that I had the greater talent, even if we were equal I suspect Nussbaumer would play before "Hap" Coleman of Detroit. I'm sure alumni pressures had something to do with who played, but in the final anlysis I thought I was good enough to start. Crisler didn't." I asked Coleman if he thought the fact that he had only one season of eligibility left was a factor. "It might have been," he said, "but you'd think it would be a factor in track, too. By contrast, I had a very good relationship with the track coaches, Ken Dougherty and his assistant, Don Canham. They showed an interest in your academic work, and in you personally." I asked if Coleman thought the larger number of blacks (four) on the track team was a factor. "I doubt it," he said. "I'm inclined to believe it wasjust that the track coaches were more interested in me than Crisler. Anyway, it was very reassuring to escape the subjective judgement of the football world and be measured by th'e clock." Having only one year of eligibility may have hurt "Hap" Coleman's chances of making the 1945 Michigan team, but having four years left didn't even get Joseph Hayden, Jr. a tryout. He played high school football, went into military service after graduation, and found himself playing ball with some very talented athletes. "I'd left Hawaii on a good note," he recalled, "I was full of self-confidence and ambitious to play college football. I'd made the all-Air Force team in company with established college stars, so I was eager to go. We had gotten watches, certificates, and the full treatment. At Michigan I had a frank conversation with line coach, Jack Blott, in February 1945. He said the team was already set. I could go out, but it was almost certain that I'd just stand around. I 38 HAIL TO THE VICTORS don't even remember if they had spring practice that year. I know this, if they did, I was not to be invited out. The unmistakable impression conveyed was that they already had enough blacks.27 When questioned about the stories of Coleman and Hayden, H. O. "Fritz" Crisler labeled them "malcontents", and denied that coach Jack Blott could ever have made such statements to Hayden. He said that Michigan athletics were completely free of racial bias through the years, and any charges of racism were false.28 In 1940 the unprecedented number of five black athletes lettered in football, and there continued to be three to five letters awarded each year throughout the decade. A few others tried out but didn't make it. One in particular, Lovell Farris, is convinced the coaches were determined not to let him make it. He was an all-state basketball player, city shot put champion in track, and graduated ninth in his high school class of 174 in Cleveland. He came to Michigan to play basketball and lettered two seasons, being named the team's Most Valuable Player in his senior year. As a sophomore, he became very disenchanted with basketball coach, Bill Perigo and decided to try winning a football scholarship. In spring practice, he was placed at split end and worked his way to third team. He could jump and had good speed and good hands. His pass catching in the intrasquad game that climaxed spring drills drew many compliments, so he worked enthusiastically all summer on pass patterns and catching. In the fall he was moved immediately to tight end. He was told the switch was to utilize his blocking ability. Since he had never played football prior to the spring practice and had very little in the way of blocking ability to display, this came as a great surprise. "I've been working all summer on pass patterns," he explained. "If I had a lot of football experience the switch would make some sense. I can beat those guys at split end, but moving to tight end makes it an entirely different matter." Lovell began recalling spring practice and the difficulty he had getting extra help from the end coach. As he looked at the split ends, he saw men who had been heavily recruited, men in whom alumni had vested interests and great expectations. Whether he was right or wrong, he honestly believed the move was made to take the pressure off those men. Within a couple weeks he had injured both ankles 27lnterview, Joseph Hayden, Jr., December 19, 1970. 28lnterview, H. O. "Fritz" Crisler, April 23, 1973. SUPERSPADE 39 wading into defensive tackles, from his tight end position, and felt completely frustrated. Like it or not, it was back to basketball. Farris admits, "It may be that I read too much into that, but blacks had plenty of reason to doubt the coaches." The "superspade" prerequisite for playing football began to diminish at Michigan in the mid 1950s, five or six years after it declined in track and field. Basketball Basketball was the last of the three major sports at Michigan to become open to black athletes. Franklin Lett had hoped to make the 1934 team, but there was no chance. Harry Kipke might fight for Ward's right to play football, but Frank Cappon, the basketball coach, had no intention of introducing blacks to Big Ten basketball. He told Lett to stay away from the team. Leon Wheeler of the Detroit Athletic Association (colored) interceded. He wrote Cappon, "A large group of interested Michigan people and friends have been deeply interested in knowing whether you would be big enough and break the much-talked-of gentlemen's agreement and be gentleman enough to let Frank Lett play on your basketball team... " "The 'Gentlemen's Agreement' is out. It is an individual matter to you as a coach of One Big Ten Team to let this boy play because he is capable of making the team according to your own statement.29 A similar appeal came from Roy Wilkins of the NAACP. It was answered by Frank Robbins, Secretary to the President of the University. "You may be interested to know that Mr. Franklin Lett has been informed by the Board in Control of Athletics that he can, if he desires, come out for the freshman basketball team, the only one, of course, which is open to him at the present time as he is a freshman student in college. I mention this in view of your letter of December 29, which was addressed to President Ruthven."30 Wilkins quickly expressed gratification for the Michigan stand.31 In commenting on the Lett case, Willis Ward said, "Robbins' letter was a lie! Coach Cappon came to me and said, 'Willis, tell Lett to stay away from the team. He cannot play!' " 29 Letter, Leon Wheeler to Franklin Cappon, January 9, 1934, Carton 9, UMAP. 30 Letter, Frank Robbins to Roy Wilkins, January 18, 1934, Carton 9, UMAP. 31 Letter, Roy Wilkins to Frank Robbins, January 20, 1934, Carton 9, UMAP. 40 HAIL TO THE VICTORS When asked about the "gentleman's agreement" H. O. Crisler categorically denied that any such understanding ever existed in the Big Ten during the nearly 50 years he was associated with the conference. He had never heard a coach or athletic director speak of not wanting to play black basketball players, not even in informal conversation over cocktails.32 Dan Kean, one of only two black tennis players in Michigan's history, was on campus in 1934. I asked him what students believed to be the reason for keeping blacks out of basketball. "I never learned the official reasons." he answered, "but there was plenty of speculation.33 The story I got was that if blacks played, their skin would rub against whites and that would be bad." After a hearty laugh, he continued. "This all seems so hilarious now. They said this could be prevented in football by the uniform worn. Tennis and track were noncontact sports. But in basketball there was too much contact between white skin and black skin. This was the story I got from blacks, and I suppose it was their humorous answer. As I remember, a few blacks played intramural basketball without repercussion. Everyone seemed to agree that Fielding Yost would have preferred there be no blacks on any of Michigan's teams." There was no reason for anyone to try for the basketball team again until the late 1940's when black athletes began appearing in track, football, and baseball. Lenny Ford, the great Michigan end who went on to play ten years of professional football following graduation in 1947, wanted to play basketball. Black lettermen of that era unanimously agree that not only was he good enough to play, but also that he was better than anyone on the Michigan basketball varsity. Ford was adamantly refused a tryout. About 1950, two men from New Jersey, Tim Harvey and Elton Price, were similarly refused. There were probably others. In the spring of 1950 John Codwell, Sr., wrote to Michigan's basketball coach asking if his son, John, Jr., would be permitted to play if he were to enroll at the University. The senior Codwell was both a doctor and a graduate of Michigan. He acknowledged that no black athlete had ever played there and expressed the hope that race would not prevent his son from making the team. The reply said John would be given a fair chance. 32 Interview, H. O. Crisler, April 23, 1973. 33 Interview, Dan Kean, December 18, 1970. SUPERSPADE 41 "I was able to go as far as my abilities would take me," said John Codwell, Jr., who lettered three seasons.34 In 1952 he and Donald Eaddy became the first blacks ever to play on the Michigan team. There was just one "wise guy" on the squad. Otherwise relations with players and coaches were described as "good." Coach Ernie McCoy modified the southern phase of the schedule in Codwell's sophomore year, playing the University of Virginia in Pittsburgh. "There were surprisingly few problems," said Codwell. "Being a pioneer was pleasing, and we were determined to do well so others could play." Six blacks lettered in basketball in the '50s. As long as there continued to be just one or two on a team there was little fan hostility, especially since the black athletes were very talented. (Almost every one who played from 1952-72 was good enough to letter three seasons.) In the early '60s some university coaches were brave enough to name three or more black athletes to their starting five. Dave Strack named three at Michigan in 1964. At first it was shocking and repulsive to many whites. Then, as championships began reviving Michigan basketball from its long obscurity, these three men won the hearts of alumni and fans alike. At center, 6'6", 220 lbs., Bill Buntin twice made all-America (1964 and 1965), and was twice voted Most Valuable Player in the Big Ten (1963 and 1965). At forward, 6' 8", 215 lbs., Oliver Darden was a solid performer in 1964, '65, and '66, being named captain of this last team. At guard, 6' 5", 220 lbs., Cazzie Russell was a three-time allAmerican and three-time Most Valuable Player in the Big Ten (1964, '65, and '66). He set every individual Michigan scoring mark, in leading the Wolverines to three Big Ten titles and trips to the NCAA tournament each year. They placed third in '64, second in '65, and made it to the regional finals in '66. Since 1966 there have been several black basketball players on the Michigan squad who were good athletes, but not of superstar calibre. The day of "superspade" is finally gone. Baseball In the entire history of Michigan baseball, from the 1880s to 1972, only seven black athletes have lettered. Moses Fleetwood Walker played in 1882 and 1883; Rudolph Ash in 1923; Donald Eaddy in 1952, '53, '54, and '55; Frank Howell in 1952 and '53; Wilbert 34 Interview, John Codwell, Jr., December 14, 1970. 42 HAIL TO THE VICTORS Franklin in 1959 and '60; Elliot Maddox in 1968; and Reginald Ball in 1970 and '71. Michigan may have had the first black ever to play college baseball. Moses "Fleetwood" Walker is listed in the record books as a letterman in 1882. In his excellent book, Only The Ball Was White, Robert Peterson credits Walker with Michigan letters in 1882 and 1883. Described as tall, slender, and handsome, possessing a rare combination of athletic and intellectual talent, Walker became a businessman, inventor, newspaper editor, and author. Born in Mt. Pleasant, Ohio, the son of a physician, he attended Oberlin College. They formed a baseball team his last year there and played three games, one against Michigan. He must have made a few friends, because for the next two seasons they were his teammates. Without completing a Michigan degree, he joined Toledo's professional baseball team the summer of 1883. The next year Moses Walker became the first black major leaguer when Toledo entered the American Association, a recognized major league. For seven seasons Walker caught for various professional teams, receiving plaudits from some home fans and a few sportswriters, but facing far more hostility. There were only a handful of black professional players, and they were subject to cruel treatment. Pitchers would throw at their skulls rather than allow them to hit. On the infield they were the constant target of high flying spikes, and some turned to wearing skin guards. Fans heaped abuse upon them. The Buffalo team refused to sit with Frank Grant, their leading batter, for the team photograph. Eventually, the white team owners phased them out and closed professional baseball's doors in the late 1890's.35 Baseball was finished with Walker in 1890. He stayed in Syracuse, N.Y., where he had last played ball, supporting his family by work as a railroad mail clerk. In April 1891, he was harrassed on the street by several white men who came out of a saloon. In the mele that followed, Walker drew a knife and stabbed one assailant fatally. A jury found him not guilty of second-degree murder. Shortly after the trial he moved to Steubenville, Ohio, nearer his home town. His business interests included managing a hotel, owning and managing a movie theatre, and editing a newspaper. By the turn of the century, Walker was in sharp disagreement with Booker T. Washington and similar theorists on solutions to racism. Neither 35 Robert Peterson, Only The Ball Was White, Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, Inc., pp. 21-33. SUPERSPADE 43 education, religious training, economic advancement, or intermarriage was the answer. He looked to Africa, the ancestral home of American blacks, saying Americans should emigrate and form new Liberias. Nothing but failure and disappointment faced them in America.36 Rudolph T. Ash was Michigan's left fielder throughout the 1923 season, missing only the traditional, early-season Southern trip. Fifteen men made the eight-game jaunt, but Ash stayed home. In spite of having missed this valuable spring training, he was immediately installed in left field when the team returned. Just a sophomore, he batted fifth in the line-up most of the season compiling a.405 average, third highest on the squad. Academic difficulties limited his varsity play to this one season. Donald J. Eaddy and Frank Howell in 1952 became the third and fourth Wolverine baseball players. Unlike Ash, they made the team's early-season Southern trip, but it didn't penetrate too far south. Eight games were played in Maryland, Delaware, Washington, D.C., and Virginia - three of them with recently integrated service teams. Eaddy had no predecessor in basketball, and this was virtually the case with baseball. He made all-conference four consecutive seasons at third base and shortstop. In 1954 and 1955 he made all-American. Wilbert Franklin was an all-conference left fielder. Elliot Maddox was the all-conference center fielder in 1968, leaving Michigan to play in the major leagues. When professional football and basketball began signing black athletes their numbers increased dramatically on college teams. The re-opening of major league baseball did not have the same effect. From 1953-68, a period of 15 years, Michigan lettered only four men. During that same period, Michigan State University lettered only three. I asked Milbry Benedict, Michigan's baseball coach since 1963, why there had been so few. He explained that most of the good athletes are not strong students. If they decline professional offers and come to college, they are likely to quit and accept the professional contract "when the going gets tough, either in the classroom or on the field." Conference rules dictate that the scholarship cannot be used again until that player's class graduates. The coach risks losing a scholarship for four years if he is not cautious in recruiting. By contrast, the football or basketball player will "gut it out," because the colleges provide the 36 Ibid., p.45. 44 HAIL TO THE VICTORS best training for professional ball. In baseball, the minor league system is the best training ground. He explained that blacks have not played on college baseball teams in great numbers, not only because it is not the best training for the majors, but because of the glitter of a bonus. Instant cash for a lad who knew only poverty has led many to disdain scholarship offers from colleges.37 Black athletes on the Michigan campus in 1970 said differently. To a man they stated their belief that Coach Benedict wants no part of playing blacks. They cited white baseball players who left Michigan to play professional baseball before their elegibility expired. Instant cash bonuses also seemed to appeal to the lad from white, middleclass America. The blacks recalled examples of good baseball players they had recommended to Benedict, who did not follow up on the lead. One excellent football player with outstanding baseball credentials spoke of a lighthearted conversation with coach Benedict. Everything was fine until he said, "Hey, I think I'll come out for baseball and show those guys how to play." Benedict grew very serious, and indicated he wanted no part of that excellent athlete's presence in baseball. WRESTLING There were five black wrestlers at Michigan through 1972: Guy P. Curtis (1960 and 1962), Jesse Rawls (1969 and 1970), Tom Quinn (1969 and 1970), Therlon Harris (1970), and Jarrett Hubbard (1970 and 1971). Curtis attended South Bend Central High in Indiana and became interested in wrestling because the football coach was a former NCAA wrestling champion and all-American football player at Indiana University. Making the most of excellent coaching, Curtis became state champion in wrestling as well as an all-state choice in football. Not many predominantly black high schools that Curtis could recall in Indiana or Michigan had wrestling. Thus, the opportunity to learn the sport was not available to these youths. There weren't many college scholarships available, so wrestling was not an avenue to higher education for many blacks. Curtis estimated that five to ten per cent of the contestants in the Indiana state tournamount during his 37 Interview, Milbry Benedict, September 18, 1970. SUPERSPADE 45 senior year were black, a surprisingly high figure. Evidently there was heavy participation by black athletes at the few high schools where they could wrestle. Curtis witnessed the state meet in Michigan in 1958 and remembers seeing a few black contestants. Several colleges had one or two black wrestlers, and there were always a few at the major tournaments.38 Curtis, a fine student, was encouraged by his parents to attend Michigan. He strolled by the football practice field after arriving on campus and decided to try out. He went on to letter three seasons. Cliff Keen, the wrestling coach, worked with the Michigan linemen. When he learned of Curtis' background, he extended an invitation to join the wrestling team. In Guy Curtis' view, Michigan had few black varsity wrestlers because there were so few available, and because coach Keen refused to conduct a vigorous recruiting program for wrestlers, black or white. Most of his greatest wrestlers were either sent by his former players or were those he discovered in the student body. He consistently molded them into Big Ten champions. In the twilight of his career, Keen bowed to coaching pressures and actively recruited a few wrestlers. One such was Jesse Rawls. In contrast to Guy Crutis, Rawls had a very weak academic background. He dreamed of becoming football's next Jim Brown, but the all-black high school he attended in Springfield, Georgia, did not have a strong athletic program. With his mother's tearful consent, the ambitious seventeen-year old moved to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania to live with an uncle. It was a brilliant move, because he received excellent coaching in football and wrestling and became state champion in the latter sport. His C- average prevented four-year universities from granting him a scholarship, so he attended the Junior College at Trinidad, Colorado. Throughout two wrestling seasons he remained undefeated and traveled to the national meet at Worthington, Minnesota, his sophomore year. There coach Keen saw him. Keen had said he was going to Minnesota and would bring back the best wrestler he saw there. Rawls impressively defeated all opponents, winning the national crown and a scholarship to Michigan. Throughout high school, junior college, Big Ten, and national competition, Rawls recalls very few black wrestlers but he noted a decided increase in 1970, his senior year.39 "I Interview, Guy Curtis, September 19, 1970. 39 Interview, Jesse Rawls, March 24, 1971. 46 HAIL TO THE VICTORS HOCKEY Hockey has traditionally been a Canadian sport on this continent, and, while blacks have been extremely rare, so have United States whites. The race problem on Michigan's hockey team has been between French- and English-speaking Canadians. The latter have maintained a numerical majority and elected the captain. Only very recently has the gap been bridged and a French-speaking captain chosen. There have been no black hockey players at Michigan. GYMNASTICS Gymnastics is another sport that has little participation by blacks at the elementary and high school levels where the college athletes are born. Keith Cooley looked good in a physical education class and was encouraged by Michigan coach Newt Loken to come out for the team.40 He became a fine trampolinist lettering in 1966. There were no blacks on other teams Michigan competed against during his career. He regards Newt Loken as one of the most unbiased men he ever met, a conclusion supported elsewhere in this writing. GOLF Michigan has had no blacks in golf, an experience shared by nearly every other integrated university in the country. TENNIS Two men made Wolverine tennis teams about forty years ago. Henry Graham played in 1928, and Dan Kean in 1934. Frankly, I was surprised to find any, and my first reaction was that they probably came from wealthy backgrounds where the parents could afford private tennis instruction. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Graham grew up in Cleveland, Ohio. While he was in his teens, his father died, and the burden of supporting the family fell to his mother. Attendance at college was prompted by a friend at Michigan who told Graham how to obtain a working scholarship that would pay board and room. Tennis was a varsity sport at his high school, and he 40 Interview, Keith Cooley, August 27, 1970. SUPERSPADE 47 had taught himself while playing on city park courts during the summers. At Michigan he beat about a dozen others to become the number one freshman on campus. When he won the all-campus tournament in which a few varsity men participated people took notice. The part-time job and all that tennis served to introduce him to an important campus figure, the Dean of Students. In a very kind and fatherly manner, Graham was assured that the University was far more interested in his grades than his forehand, and that if rapid improvement was not made in the former, he would suddenly have a lot more time for the latter. Hard work enabled him to more than recoup the losses before his sophomore season. Competing on the varsity his sophomore year, Graham began as tenth man and worked up to second by the end of the season. None of Michigan's opponents during his career had a black tennis player. In fact, there were only three in all varsity sports at Michigan: Graham, Eddie Tolan, and Booker Brooks. The fact that they were on a college campus made them exceptional. Graham finished two and one-half years, leaving school in his junior year to marry and accept employment.41 Dan Kean came from a sports-oriented family. Two brothers coached high school football in their home state, Kentucky. He played basketball and tennis two years in high school, and two more at Fisk University in Nashville, in addition to being an honor student. Through the sports pages of the Chicago Defender, Louisville Leader, Pittsburgh Courier, and other papers, Kean read about DeHart Hubbard, Eddie Tolan, Booker Brooks, and Willis Ward. He was convinced they had it made at Michigan, free of the racism so prevalent in Kentucky and Tennessee. Eager to share that experience, Kean transferred to Michigan in 1932, his junior year. He watched the only other black letterman at Michigan those two years, Willis Ward, break the color barrier in football and burn up the track that winter and spring. He also learned that basketball was closed. Not being an aggressive person, Kean did not attempt to integrate either the basketball or tennis teams. He played intramural tennis, winning the fall, winter, and spring tournaments. The tournaments, which included some members of the varsity, were given publicity in the Michigan Daily. "In the intramural building one day a fella, very obviously Scottish, came up to me and invited me out for the squad," Kean 41 Interview, Henry Graham, September 26, 1970. 48 HAIL TO THE VICTORS remembered.42 He was Johnny Johnstone, the tennis coach and a terrific person. Race was never of consequence to him. "1 played number one that season by virtue of beating the others. It made me feel good to have blacks at Michigan and elsewhere take pleasure in seeing me do well. There were just a few in college tennis, none on teams we faced in '34. Doug Turner played for the University of Chicago in the late '20s. Richard Hundlen finished there in the early '30s, and Maceo Hill was a highly ranked member of Ohio State's team at about the same time. Those were the only black tennis players in the Big Ten during the years I followed the teams." Dan began playing tennis largely through the influence of his older brothers who started him at age thirteen. The public parks in Louisville were integrated, then segregated again. It seemed to shift each election year. During the summers that the facilities were integrated he played, and there were city-sponsored tournaments. There was also the chance for national competition. The United States Lawn Tennis Association prohibited blacks from entering its tournaments, so the American Tennis Association, an association of tennis clubs, was formed. There were clubs in Louisville, Columbus, Indianapolis, Chicago, and elsewhere around the nation. During the summer they played the circuit which really meant going east to compete in Washington, D.C., New York, and Philadelphia and at Virginia State University, Hampton University, and others. There was a midwestern tournament in addition to the ATA championships. It was held on the campus of a black college. For years Tuskegee Institute was the site; then it moved to Hampton Institute, Virginia State, and others. Tennis for whites was very closely associated with countryclubs, athletic clubs, tennis clubs, and segregation. It is not surprising that few blacks attempted to play in integrated colleges. Perhaps the surprise is that as many as two lettered at Michigan. SWIMMING G. Anderson White, a diver on the 1955 team, has been Michigan's one letterman in swimming, a total unsurpassed by any Big Ten University through the 1972 season. Short in stature, and possessing a greater sense of daring than fear, White remembered 42 Interview, Dan Kean, December 18, 1970. SUPERSPADE 49 developing acrobatic stunts on his own as a youngster.43 Doing flips off the family's 10' high back porch became fun, once the threat of breaking one's neck diminished. After learning to swim at the Green Pastures Camp run by the Detroit Urban League, he was a willing pupil waiting for a diving instructor to come along. At Ferndale's Lincoln High School, swimming became terribly complicated by race. A new pool had been built in 1941, but since the black students (ten per cent of enrollment) also wanted to swim it remained dry for nearly ten years. Andy got in it, but only to play an instrument. The resourceful music instructor got permission to use it as a classroom rather than see it unused, and White would sit there during orchestra practice thinking "I hope I get to swim in here someday." Finally, during the summer of his junior year in 1950, the pool opened on a trial basis to see if blacks and whites could swim together. The state diving champion, a lad from Highland Park High School, and his coach worked out at the pool all summer. "I'd sure like to learn to dive like your guy," Andy remembered telling the coach. "1 can do some of those things." He said, "Let me see what you can do kid." Whether impressed with spunk or ability, he began working with White on fundamentals. At the end of the summer, the new pupil was beating the state champion. The coach said, "They're probably going to have a team now at Ferndale. You go out!" White followed that advice, but the entire season was spent riding the bench. Then came the regionals. Each team could enter three divers and White happened to be entered. He stunned everyone by winning first place. The youngster who stuck it out had won. Many would long since have quit. At the meet was one of the most successful swimming coaches of all time, Matt Mann of Michigan. He complimented White, saying he had great potential in diving and that he would like to see him enroll at the University. This probably would have been incentive enough, but White was also doing well in his other love, music. Straight A's from ninth through twelfth grade culminated in all-state honors. He was the first black in the all-state orchestra, and he was first chair. As he said, "It seemed like I was always the first black going somewhere." By being first chair he was to receive a token scholarship to the National Music Camp at Interlochen, Michigan. "At that time they wouldn't let black students go to Interlochen," White said, "so I'd sort of given 4'3 Interviewv, G. Anderson White, December 14, 1970. 50 HAIL TO THE VICTORS up that dream. Then in 1969, I became the first black to conduct an orchestra there." His high school music success prompted an offer to play in the Michigan State University band, but a tour of the Michigan campus while playing at a state music festival there had greatly impressed White. Then he learned that the world-renowned violist Paul Doktor, was on the University's School of Music faculty. Overwhelmed that both Matt Mann and Doktor were on the same campus, White was determined to attend Michigan. The Assistant Principal at Ferndale advised against Michigan. He saw White as a big fish in a little pond, and thought the competition would be out of his reach. Aside from music, academically he'd just been average. "I did very well in elementary school where all the students and teachers were black," White said. "That's why I was put in the academic track (college prep) at Ferndale. But it was quite an adjustment coming to a nearly all white high school with upper middle class standards. It was very disheartening there in many ways, and I had a tendency to be either totally absorbed by something or very casual. My grades ranged from excellent to poor, averaging out at C; hardly indicative of success at Michigan. I'd felt a little cheated by life all along, and the strong doubts expressed by the Assistant Principal spurred me on. I set out for the University with a deep desire to succeed." Michigan had one of the finest swimming teams in the country, and White was impressed with those teammates. "I remember John Davies, an Olympic champion from Australia then on the Michigan team, discovering that I was ten papers behind in English," said White. "He decided that I had to pass and be eligible. With both of us burning the midnight oil, I managed to present all those papers to the instructor the last day of class. It was inspiring to have John say, 'You're going to be on the Michigan team and this is quite an honor. But you have to be eligible.' " Others tried to help him find a place to work-out during the summers. Bud Hurd worked at Crystal Pool at Eight Mile and Greenfield, near White's home in Detroit. There was a stipulation that anyone with a private card could get in. "Hurd finagled a card," said White, "but when I presented it the whole place blew up. They got the manager, and he ended any thoughts of my working-out there." Bill Winkler, whose home was in the wealthy Detroit suburb of Grosse Pointe captained the Michigan gymnastic team. Andy re SUPERSPADE 51 membered him being so stunned that a "black cat" could beat him at diving that, "... He invited me to the Grosse Point Yacht Club to work-out. I'll never forget it. His mother called to apologize saying it was a private club and they hadn't made the preparations for a permit. It was always the same old story." Each winter the Michigan team went to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, to prepare for the swim season. White never went. There was every reason to believe he could not be housed or fed with the team, and he wasn't leaping at the chance to be ostracized. The fact that he was left home never really became an issue. One of the leftist groups on campus approached White saying the team shouldn't be going places without him, but their thoughts never gained much momentum. Of coach Matt Mann, White said, "I honestly admired him. I don't think he gave much thought to what the establishment was doing. Race didn't make any difference to him. I got in one meet as a freshman and placed second. He was really proud of me, and saw to it that an appropriate write-up appeared in the New York Times. When I competed in AAU meets he saw to it that I received recognition as the first black swimmer or diver in Big Ten history." "My junior year was very lack-lustre and I remember thinking, 'You must really be a nut. This is almost like self-punishment!' The next year Matt Mann retired, Gus Stager became head coach, and Bruce Harlan diving coach. Bruce was young, generated a great deal of enthusiasm, and made a profound impression on me. He didn't care if you were black or green. If you worked hard and improved, you could dive for Michigan. He entered all of us in the Michigan AAU and we qualified one through six, and like I was in on that. I think I was fourth or fifth, but it made us all feel we were part of the Michigan team. He and his wife would have us over for dinner. I really worked hard for him, and lettered. I also remember Matt Mann, Jr. coming to the pool to watch workouts and saying, 'Come on White. You're going to be in there. You're looking good today.'" Looking back on his senior year White said, "I sure wish Bruce had been there my first year. Matt would always say something sage, something for me to listen to, but I never felt a closeness because of his age. I could identify with Bruce much easier." Most of White's diving victories came the year after his graduation. Drafted into the Army, he was sent to Fort Hood, Texas. With 1956 being an Olympic year and since the trials were scheduled to be 52 HAIL TO THE VICTORS in his hometown, Detroit, he began agitating for a chance to compete. "I really had no sincere expectation of making the final team," he said, "but wanted to see if I could make the top fifteen and feel good about that. They didn't believe that a "black cat" could dive at all, let alone try out for the Olympic team, but I was permitted to go into Temple, Texas for the first elimination round." White remembered that experience vividly. "With no prior workout, I expected to get wiped out. It happened that the divers there were terrible, and I really put it on, winning the competition. The whole city was in an uproar. They couldn't believe a black cat could even swim, let along dive. I remember before the meet started the whole pool, the spectators, everybody followed me around the pool. Every eye was on me as I did preliminary exercises. After diving so well I remember thinking, 'Bruce would sure be proud of me today.' " "I went on to take all-Army, all-Fourth Armored, and all the divisional meets. Then they shipped me to Germany. I made the mistake of beating a fellow I'd competed against from Royal Oak High School in Michigan. He was a good competitor, but nothing like the divers I'd faced at Michigan. Since he was a major and had something to say about who stayed and who got shipped out, I got shipped out. I went to a meet in Germany, billed as an all-Army, USRA, Russians, French, Allied Army, etc., but that was my last competitive diving." The only blacks Andy White can remember competing either with or against in all his experience were one or two at opposing high schools when he was at Ferndale. Music was White's other love, and performing in that medium provided many tests of his perseverance. No black had even been in the cast of the Michigan Union Opera, and he was reluctant to try out. Watching the tryouts for an hour did wonders for his self-confidence. He had been in a Broadway show in Detroit as a youngster and used that credit in requesting an audition. He performed a stunning acrobatic song-and-dance routine. "They wrote me in as a specialty," White said. "I wasn't part of the show actually. I was a specialty. Then the director said, "We're going on the road during Christmas vacation. We can take you to Detroit, but we're going to Buffalo and will stay at the Buffalo Athletic Club. I don't know what to do about the problem, but they will object to our bringing a Negro. You are a specialty, SUPERSPADE 53 and if you'll just want to go to Detroit it will be O.K.' I agreed, but my specialty became the show stopper. After the Detroit performance, John Daugherty, one of the cast from Pontiac, Michigan, said, 'You've got to go to Buffalo!' I said, 'No, I'm staying in Detroit. First of all, there is no place for me to stay in Buffalo.' He decided that they could fly me to Buffalo for the show and then fly me right back. I sort of begged off saying I had something to do in Detroit anyhow. Ignoring that, he started asking the alumni at an after-glow party for the money to send me to Buffalo. Learning of my predicament, Richard Forsight, a lawyer and President of the Detroit Alumni Association, called the Buffalo Athletic Club demanding an explanation." The next thing he knew, Andy White was again the first black going somewhere, this time to stay at the Buffalo Athletic Club. The blacks who worked there informed him that the Buffalo City basketball tournament had just been cancelled because the teams were to play at the Athletic Club and one of the final teams was black. They expressed amazement that he had gotten in. "Of course, I wasn't about to let their fine pool go unused either," said White. "When I began diving for the coach there his mouth hung open. 'First of all, how did you get in here?' he wanted to know, and 'where would a black cat learn to dive?' So I helped coach some of his kids that day. They were all stunned." The next year a few more blacks had joined the Union opera, including all-American tackle Art Walker. The Buffalo Athletic Club reverted to its customary policy of race prejudice. Said White, "Half the cast stayed at the Athletic Club and half at the Statler. Some of the white students who were main characters did not understand the arrangement. Then, it became clear to all that racism alone had dictated the terms." I suggested to White that at least he had some black companionship in the Union Opera that second year. "Right," he chuckled. "It seemed like we were always breaking in someone." As with golf and tennis, black youngsters have not been able to get the quality swimming and diving instruction available to many caucasians. White cited the Florida swim camp of Michigan's great diving coach, Dick Kimball. "How many black kids can afford to go to Florida and shell out the $80-100 a week costs? I've been kidding Kimball that I'm going to get somebody to that camp. I don't know 54 HAIL TO THE VICTORS whether its going to take until my son is old enough or not, but I am. The lack of opportunity to learn from talented coaches, coupled with a lack of pools and pool facilities for competition, therein lies the explanation for so few black swimmers," reasoned White. CHEERLEADING It was rare to see a black cheerleader at an integrated school until the 1960s, and, since Michigan's yell leading was traditionally assigned to its gymnasts, it comes as no surprise to find blacks absent through 1972. There was only one possible candidate, and he was refused a chance to cheer. Keith Cooley, the trampolinist who lettered in 1966, was asked by coach Newt Loken, "Why don't you go out for cheerleader?" That was the fall of 1965, and Cooley had returned to Ann Arbor a little early for school. The idea appealed to him, so he got the reaction of returning cheerleaders. They agreed it was a good idea and said, "All we have to do is clear it with 'upstairs.' " That meant securing the approval of Athletic Director "Fritz" Crisler. After a two weeks silence, Cooley asked what they had learned. Embarrassed, they said Crisler would not approve. They were instructed to tell Cooley it was too late to learn the routines. He should wait another year. The problem never arose again because he felt it was a waste of time to repeat the humiliation. "That was my only clear run-in with prejudice at Michigan," said Cooley.44 When asked about this story Crisler denied ever having been approached on the subject and said he had never been guilty of racial bias either as a coach or athletic director.45 Michigan coaches in 1960 were just starting to discard the practice of an unwritten quota system for black athletes. That year Ken Burnley enrolled as an undergraduate. He recalled it was standard practice at Midwestern universities to guard against having three basketball starters, three backfield starters, a black quarterback, or enough blacks on the team to draw criticism from alumni and fans. "I have nothing to substantiate that it was going on at Michigan," he said, "but Michigan was not an isolated microcosm. It was part of the whole society in which these practices were clearly 44 Interview, Keith Cooley, August 27, 1970. 45 Interview, H. O. Crisler, April 23, 1973. SUPERSPADE 55 prevalent. Black athletes certainly believed quotas existed in basketball and football in the early '60s. They don't feel that way in 1970. "46 MICHIGAN IN PERSPECTIVE In practicing racism, Michigan was very much in step with the nation. In track and field, there were very few black athletes competing at major universities until the 1950s. Wisconsin's George Poage was outstanding enough in the 400-meter run and 400-meter hurdles to represent the United States in the 1904 Olympic Games in both events. He was the first black athlete to win an Olympic medal. Amherst, Harvard, Pennsylvania, Chicago, U.C.L.A., and Southern California were among the schools that fielded superb black athletes 10-20 years before DeHart Hubbard lettered at Michigan. Only occasionally, however, did these schools field a black athlete, usually a superstar. Perhaps the best index of the prevalence of blacks in college track and field is the number of medals won in Olympic competition by black athletes representing the United States. From Poage (1904), the first medal winner, to Hubbard (1924), the first to win an individual gold medal, there were never more than one or two medals won by blacks. Then, in the 1932 Games, there were five. In 1936, the year of Jesse Owens' (Ohio State's superspade) dramatic victories, 13 medals were won by blacks. From then on, the number gradually increased to 19 in 1952 and hit a peak of 26 in 1964.47 The men who won those 13 medals in 1936 represented probably 100-200 blacks in track and field at major universities. Those who won the 26 in 1964 represented 1,000-2,000 other collegians. The era of "superspade" in track and field was ending at Michigan and nationally in 1950. In football, Amherst College played William Jackson and William Lewis on their 1889 team, but George Jewett, Sr., Michigan's backfield star in 1890 and 1892, had very few predecessors in collegiate ranks. Then, for the next 50 years, Michigan lettered only two men; the rosters of several colleges in the East, Midwest, and West, showed only a sprinkling of black players. In the Big Ten, Iowa, Minnesota, and Michigan State were among the schools fielding a few of these athletes while Michigan was denying them a chance to play. 46 Interview, Ken Burnley, October 26, 1970. 47 See Appendix G for Olympic medals won by U.S. black athletes in track from 1904-1972. It will be noted that only 12 medals were won in 1972, one less than the totalfor 1936. The decline is perhaps best explained by the upgrading of track andfield throughout the world. 56 HAIL TO THE VICTORS After World War II, Michigan began getting into step with the Big Ten and the nation in playing two or three blacks on the varsity. Evidence of widespread discrimination nationally in limiting the number of black athletes in college football can be seen in examining their appearance on the all-America teams. There were so few playing in the 1940s that Look magazine selected only two to its mythical teamsfor the entire decade.48 By contrast, 15 appear in the 1950s, and 35 in the 1960s. The increased number of black all-americans reflects the growing number being permitted to play the game at all levels. Amazingly, at Michigan the increase oflettermen was in almost exact proportion to the increase of Look all-Americans: four men lettered in the 1940s, 16 in the 1950s. and 32 in the 1960s. The scanty research available allows a few comparisons between Michigan and some specific schools. From 1957-67, Washington University had 20 black lettermen, Michigan had 21. From 1960-67, California had 12, Michigan had 18. In three seasons, 1965-67, Oregon had 11, Michigan had 13. There were a few more blacks playing at Michigan, but this was to be expected of a heavily industrial state with a large black population. The era of "superspade" in football was also ending at Michigan in the mid-1950s, in keeping with the national trend. The entire Big Ten Conference excluded black athletes from basketball until 1948. A few universities fielded outstanding black players on occasion; among them were Nebraska, Columbia, Rutgers, Hamilton, Oberlin, Syracuse, Long Island, and U.C.L.A. The number of schools and players remained very small until the 1950s. Then professional basketball opened its doors. Ed "Chuck" Cooper became the first to play in the National Basketball Association, signing with the Boston Celtics the 1950-51 season. Nat "Sweetwater" Clifton joined the New York Knickerbockers that same year. Indiana University broke with Big Ten precendent and played Bill Garrett at center the 1948-49 season. He was super enough to be voted the most valuable player in the conference and was selected to several all-America teams. The curious observation to be made is that while the Big Ten clearly excluded black basketball players until 1948, it was, for all practical purposes, in step with the nation. Even a cursory glance at the all-America selections of Look magazine shows almost no black athletes named until 1952.49 One made it in each of the next three years. Since 1955 approximately four men have been named each year, and in 1968 eight of the ten were black athletes. At 48 SeeAppendix Efo the number of black athletes making the Look all-A mericafrom 1940-1972. 49 See Appendix F for the number of black athletes making the Look all-A mericafrom 1949-1972. SUPERSPADE 57 Michigan and across the country, the era of"superspade" in basketball was ending by the early-to mid-1960's. What were the forces that brought black athletes into college track, football, and basketball in increasing numbers after World War II? Was it the work of some athletic policy-making body? Not at all! The catalyst was the civil rights movement. As national political victories were won and the human rights of black Americans were grudgingly acknowledged, college athletic programs manifested changing national attitudes by showing increasing participation by black athletes. During World War II, black Americans were denied jobs in the war industries, and the United States military services maintained a tradition of segregation. The hypocrisy of condemning Germany's racism and condoning America's was given voice by black leaders, especially A. Philip Randolph. Under the threat of embarrassing boycotts, jobs were won in industries and in civil service, and President Harry Truman ordered the military to desegregate. More black students attended college, some with the aid of the G. I. Bill, and more lettered in varsity sports. Professional football (1946), baseball (1947), and basketball (1950) lowered their race barriers in quest of greater financial gains. This provided one of the most glamorous and highest salaried occupations open to black Americans. With professional careers in mind, more sought the valuable college playing experience. By the mid 1950s Washington, D. C., had been ordered to desegregate, the Supreme Court had ruled that school desegregation must begin with all deliberate speed, and Martin Luther King, Jr., had led the historic Montgomery bus boycott. The decade of the 1960s rocked with the devastating civil rights revolution. With Martin Luther King, Jr. assassinated and cities aflame, wholesale changes in nearly every aspect of race relationships were demanded. In college athletics that meant black coaches and an end to the subtle, and sometimes not-so-subtle, quotas for black athletes. For much of the nation the era of "superspade" in athletics ended in the 1960s. It has been said that sports mirror society. Nowhere is this demonstrated so convincingly as in the study of black athletes. Charles Fonville William DeHart Hubbard William DeHart Hubbard Willis Ward Thomas Edward Tolan Julius Franks George Jewett shown here with the 1890-91 football team. Kobert Mann Horae "" Cem Horace "Hap" Coleman (Cene Derricotte The first black athletes to play basketball for Michigan, No. 3 Donald Eaddy and No. 11 John Codwell Jr., shown with the 1952-53 team. This 1970-71 Michigan team provides a striking contrast to the 1952-53 team in the participation of blacks as players and coaches. Michigan basketball fortunes were richest with the 1964-65 team featuring Bill Buntin (far left), Cazzie Russell (second from left), and Oliver Darden (seventh from left). Coach Dave Strack is at far right. Elliott Maddox Guy Curtis Dan Kean with friends and old tennis rivals. L. to R.: Arthur Beeler (Akron, Ohio), Maceo Hill (Columbus, Ohio), Dan Kean (Pittsburgh, Pa.), Orlando Robinson (Indianapolis, Ind.), and Dr. Thomas Brewer (Columbus, Ohio). Art Walker G. Anderson White conducting the orchestra at Interlochen, Michigan in 1971. CHAPTER 2 A I II MII wI rI IIIj I II B 68 HAIL TO THE VICTORS Much of the prejudice Michigan's black lettermen encountered was deeply interwoven into the nation's fabric. To announce that restaurants and hotels refused them service, that landlords refused them housing, and that employers refused themjobs upon graduation is little cause for surprise. Until the mid-to-late-1960s this was the expected fate of black Americans whether athletes or not. They were IN America but not OF it. What is surprising is that after living within the comforting walls of a prestigious university such as Michigan, black athletes would conclude the same thing about life there. Dan Kean, speaking of his junior and senior years at Michigan (1933 and 1934), said candidly, "If you want to know what it was like then I'd have to say black students were AT the University but not OF it." He could just as well have been describing 1954 or 1964. Why did Michigan athletes feel so alienated? The answer lies in examining both the racial prejudice imposed directly by the University and its coaches upon these athletes, and that imposed by outside forces to which the university and its coaches were challenged to intercede in behalf of their athletes or students. First, a look at life in the athletic world, where race was sometimes overlooked by coaches and teammates and where privileges not ordinarily extended to black Americans were enjoyed; then the other world of maddening housing problems, repugnant social conventions, and academic preparation for a job market severely limited by race. THE ATHLETIC WORLD Many people saw only that the athletes ate with teammates in fine restaurants and slept in hotels that would not ordinarily serve black Americans. Their conclusion was that these men "had it made." What most failed to realize was the tremendous anxiety and tension that accompanied travel for most black athletes and the apprehension that at any time or place they might be publicly humiliated because of their race. To their credit, some Michigan coaches struck hard at this problem as early as 1932, but the athletes were still confronted with it in varying degrees even into the 1960s. DeHart Hubbard, the first to make a Michigan traveling squad in the twentieth century, was embarrassed only once that he could recall. It occurred over eating arrangements in a Chicago hotel in 1924. "The entire team then ate in a private dining room," he said. "I always stayed in the same hotel with teammates. Most of the time I AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 69 had a room to myself. I suppose that was part of the racially accepted pattern of the time." He did remember staying on at least one occasion with the trainer, Bill Fallen (white). In Paris, he and Jim Brooker, a white University of Michigan teammate, roomed together in the Olympic village. Traveling was more difficult for Henry Graham, the number two man on Michigan's 1927 tennis team. "Negroes were barred from the better hotels," said Graham, "and, of course, that's where the Michigan teams stayed." Among several embarrassing incidents, the one in Minneapolis stands out in his memory. "They didn't want me to stay in the hotel," he said. "We arrived at night and were to play the Universtiy of Minnesota the next day. The captain of the team was told by the night clerk that Negroes could not stay in the hotel. If I stayed all the guests would walk out. The captain came to me and said, 'Graham, we've got a problem. I'm from Iowa and I don't know too much about colored people. I've had very little contact and I really don't know them. I've lived on a farm and there were none near. There were none in the schools I attended. But I have no prejudices. I think you're a fine person and I'm behind you, but I'm not going to fight the color question. However, I don't want you to accept anything inferior, and if we can't find suitable lodging we'll come back to the hotel and sleep together.' "We saw a nice hotel and the taxi driver said Hubbard had stayed there. The clerk at that one said all rooms were filled. I got angry at that. It was late at night and I had a match the next day. We went back to the other hotel and I shared the room with our captain." I asked Graham how he got past the night clerk. "I just went right on past," he replied. Paradoxically, he remembers having had a very nice time at the hotel. Minnesota's very pleasant custom was that both teams would dine and dance after the day's match. A sorority arranged dates for the opposing team's players, and the entire party was seated in the hotel's large dining room. Graham was not denied the opportunity to dine with the group, and his date, who was white, was nice enough not to make an issue of having a black escort. Hank did not try to dance. He described the evening as, "a very fine thing, considering the times." Eddie Tolan and Booker Brooks did not fare as well as Hubbard 70 HAIL TO THE VICTORS either. In Chicago for the Big Ten track meet, they were compelled to stay at the black YMCA. Upon rejoining their mates, they were reprimanded by the hotel clerk for using the front entrance and were advised not to do so again. This was the same Eddie Tolan whose two Olympic victories would bring 75,000 cheering Americans to their feet. This was the same man for whom the Governor of Michigan would proclaim a "Tolan Day" as an expression of America's pride in this young man's athletic achievements. But to the hotel clerk in Chicago, whose attitude reflected the national persuasion, any black wanting accommodations was just another "nigger." Both Tolan and Brooks were outstanding enough to be invited to special meets. Rather than fight the problem of hotel and eating arrangements, the policy at Michigan and throughout collegiate ranks was to give the athletes $25-30.00 and ask them to make their own arrangements. They would stay with a black family who would be happy to help and wouldn't charge anything. Coaches perhaps salved their consciences with the knowledge that black athletes were receiving much-needed pocket money. All of this would change when Willis Ward came to Michigan. "Harry Kipke loved me as a boy," said Ward, "and was determined to fight anyone who might try to hurt me because of race." Kipke believed the football team functioned as a unit rather than as individuals, as in track and field. He wanted to know where the players were at all times on trips, what they were eating, and if they were getting proper rest. This was 1932, the bottom of the Depression, and hotels were begging for business. Kipke let them know that if they wanted Michigan's business they were going to have to accommodate Ward. He threatened the loss of business from other Michigan varsity teams, and said influence would be used in the Big Ten to keep other schools from patronizing hotels that would refuse Ward. "As a result," said Ward, "I always stayed with my football teammates." As the 1933 track season approached, he expected to stay with a fraternity brother or to make arrangements such as Tolan and Brooks had; but coach Charley Hoyt insisted that if the team traveled together in football, it would be the same in track. "So," said Ward, "I always stayed with my track teammates." Because Kipke was willing to stand his ground against hotel owners, a vital precedent was established. Though Michigan's black athletes would face future humiliation in many forms, after 1932 they AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 71 traveled with the team, were assigned rooms by football position or track event more than by race, and ate with their teammates. In anticipation of the Michigan-California dual meet in April, 1935, Hoyt wrote A. J. Sturzenegger to see if there would be a problem accomodating Ward. The former Michigan coach, then on the California football staff, assured him, "I don't think you will have any difficulties in getting accommodations for Mr. Ward. We had a colored boy on our football squad over the past season. We take him everywhere with us and never mention it to any hotel whether in the Los Angeles area or Bay Region or up in the northwest. We simply assign him a room to himself and that is all that there is to it." By stationing their "colored boy" in a room by himself, Berkeley did not stretch its liberal traditions to the seams. When potential problems were not fully checked in advance, a showdown was likely. "I recall very vividly," Ward mused, "that I went down to the Butler Relays my senior year. I'd stayed at the Indianapolis Athletic Club for three football years and two track years. This time, I remember the manager went up to get the keys and all of a sudden he was very embarrassed. I can remember Hoyt saying, 'Well, we'll pack up and go right back to Ann Arbor!' Then I noticed the usual embarrassement of the kids on the track team. Finally the team manager came over and said, 'Willis, here's your key. We got it!' and he was beaming. I asked, 'What happened?' He said 'Well, they didn't want you to stay.' So I said, 'Why? Where's Jesse Owens?' 'He's over at the Y,' was the answer." "When we got to our rooms I called the Y. 'Jesse, what are you doing there?' He said, 'They wouldn't let me stay at the Athletic Club. They said this is where you were going to stay.' I said, 'No, No, Jesse baby!' " "In about a half-hour I got a phone call. 'Willis, I'm here!' " The Indianapolis Athletic Club had also found it possible to accommodate the great Jesse Owens. Again, a coach had stood his ground against racism and won. Kipke and Hoyt succeeded in keeping Ward with his teammates on trips, and Johnny Johnstone did rather well with Dan Kean on the 1934 tennis team. There were no problems staying in Columbus, Champaign, or other cities. The only bad experience occurred in Chicago where the final meet of the season was held. "Johnstone asked me if I could find a place to stay in Chicago," Kean recalled. "The Blackstone refused to accommodate blacks. 72 HAIL TO THE VICTORS Johnny said they argued with them. I don't know how hard they argued, but Michigan had been staying there for a number of years and wanted to keep their friendship. I didn't protest. Of course today you could never get by with that, but my training had been to get along, win friends, and prove yourself by performance. I told Johnny I could stay at the South Park Hotel on the south side. I never will forget that. There was one time I felt very, very alone, me at the South Park and the white boys at the Blackstone." He chuckled briefly and said, "I've got to laugh because no black would stand for that today, but that's the way it was." I asked if he rejoined teammates for meals. "You know, it's funny thing about those experiences. I must have relegated them to my subconscious because of the personal hurt. I was trying to think the other day, when I learned you were coming for this interview, how in the devil I got to the University of Chicago to play. I don't know whether I took a taxi, whether someone picked me up, or what. The details of that trip are completely blotted out of my mind. I wonder how many other people, in order to survive, similarly blot out these experiences." With a broad smile, Kean remembered another rude awakening that came on the team's trip to Columbus, Ohio. "I was from the South, and had been taught that whites had very high moral standards, and that blacks would do well to emulate them. As soon as we hit the room at our Columbus hotel, one of the fellows on the team went straight to the bathroom. They had these great big, thick, beautiful towels, the thickest towels I'd ever seen in my life, with the hotel's name on them. He got all the towels and divided them up and the men put them in their suitcases. He then called linen service and said, 'We don't have any towels in this room.' I have to laugh now, but it did cause me to reconsider what I'd been taught about whites." Julian Witherspoon, a sprinter on the 1944 and 1945 track teams, remembered disheartening travels. At the Chicago Relays, a hotel clerk informed Michigan coach Ken Dougherty that blacks couldn't use the front entrance. With Julian in the fore, they balked. It was explained that several prominent Michigan men, Willis Ward and Julius Franks among them, had used the rear door. The blacks said they would rather go back to Ann Arbor. "Well, we won't be responsible for the reception you get," the desk clerk scolded. "Wouldn't you know it," Witherspoon recalled, "there was absolutely no difficulty. All the guests did not get up and leave. As a AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 73 matter of fact, some were outwardly friendly. After this incident the question of using back doors never came up again." In Champaign, Illinois, Bob Mann and Witherspoon were refused service in a restaurant across the street from the University campus. "We protested," Julian remembered. "Then the owner came out and told us he was sorry. We would have to leave, not because he wanted it that way, but his customers would not stand for it. We created a mild disturbance, but they still didn't serve us. At Purdue we faced similar travel problems." Ten years after Willis Ward's experience in Indianapolis, "Hap" Coleman made the trek with Western Michigan University teammates. His coach dutifully took him to the black YMCA, only to be challenged by the clerk, "Why isn't he downtown with your other players?" "Well, we've always had our players stay here," the coach answered. "Well, next year don't bring him here. Take him downtown with the rest of the team!" came the reprimand. "The next year the coach kept me with the team," Coleman recalled. "No problems were encountered whatsoever. It was beautiful so far as I was concerned. A lot of the problems seem attributable to coaches who did not insist on keeping their teams together." I asked Coleman if he was allowed to dine with teammates on trips. "In my four years at Western the only places I wasn't served were Fort Wayne, Indiana, and the Palmer House in Columbus, Ohio," he said. "At the Palmer House the coach took me to his room in the Hotel and we ate together. We had a good meal, but I would have rather eaten with the team." Coleman then asked me directly: "You've interviewed several men; do you know what it felt like to travel under those circumstances?" "Yes, I think so," I blurted out, shortly to wish I'd kept still. "I'm glad you do," he continued, "but you'd really have to experience it to know the constant anxiety. You never knew when or where a problem might be encountered. If our relay team went somewhere there would only be four or five fellows and the coach. We competed in some small towns and the coach would say, 'Here's some money. Go eat and meet me back here.' Some of the fellows knew the problem, some didn't. Some would say, 'Come on Hap, 74 HAIL TO THE VICTORS let's go in there.' Then we would get the stares. The anxiety would build in me. They would serve us, but it was always pretty tense for me.'" "Football was worse. I had just turned 17 upon graduation from Hamtramck High, and was the only black on the Western team. On trips I would go into the hotel and stay in my room. Not until my junior year did I begin to say, 'What the heck. I'm part of the team. I'm going to do like everyone else.' " At Michigan, before he tired of riding the bench behind halfbacks to whom he felt superior, Coleman made two road trips. "I never really felt I was part of the team," he recalled, "but travel was less of a problem at Michigan than at Western. Lenny Ford and I roomed together on those trips. At Northwestern one of the lesser assistant coaches cautioned, 'Be nice, and don't make yourselves too obvious,' as if to say, 'Don't look too black.' It went in one ear and out the other, because I'd been through that bit. I told Lenny, 'We'll operate just like anyone else.' " In his one season of track at Michigan, Coleman remembered no travel problems, and thought highly of both Ken Dougherty and his assistant Don Canham. Joseph Hayden, Jr., was more critical of Dougherty. "He was very good about assigning rooms on trips by the event you were competing in, and would discuss any personal problems and work with you," said Hayden. "Of course, problems precipitated by race were never discussed." He offered this example of Dougherty's insensitivity to the black athletes. Michigan had the top mile- and two-mile relay teams in the country and were expecting fierce competition at the Evening Star meet in Washington, D.C., in 1947. This was to be the first collegiate interracial competition ever held in that city. "We usually stayed together as a team," said Hayden, "but blacks weren't allowed in the D.C. hotels. Dougherty arranged for us to stay at Howard University, while the caucasians stayed at the Continental Hotel. New York University faced the same problem by bringing their entire team to the Howard campus." Coach Dougherty's insensitivity deserves strong criticism, but it was no match for the callousness of the entire country, beginning with its seat of government. It is still startling to realize that blacks could not be served in restaurants, lodged in hotels, or seated in a theater in the nations's capital as late as 1953. Even more startling is the treat AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 75 ment of Adam Clayton Powell, elected to the U.S. Congress in 1944. An unwritten law kept black congressmen from the House barbershop, gymnasium, and dining room. He not only ignored those rules, but ordered his staff to do likewise. He is quoted as saying, "When I heard that the dining room for representatives' staff was off-limits to Negroes, I told my secretary and clerks to go down there and eat whether they were hungry or not." In Hayden's freshman and sophomore years (1945 and 1946) the white athletes were little help in solving the restaurant problems that invariably occurred on track trips. "They would split up," he said, "leaving the black athletes to fend for themselves. Then men like George Shepard showed initiative in keeping the team together and facing the issue. After we had been together for a while it became standard procedure that if blacks were not served, the entire team went elsewhere." On the positive side, Hayden recalled having an extra year of eligibility because of war policy. "Dougherty advised me not to use it," he said, "because it would unfairly interrupt my vocational progress. In that respect he was unselfish." Hayden said of assistant coach Don Canham, "I never had any experience with him where racism was exhibited." The one man on the Michigan athletic staff who made a profound impression on Hayden with his sense of fair play was gymnastics coach Newt Loken. Hayden was never involved in gymnastics, but he was selected to a 16-member dance team representing the Physical Education Department. " 'Doc' Laban, the dance teacher, and Loken selected the group," said Hayden. "They were great people, and the caucasian girl whose partner I'd be wanted me as a partner. We made several trips giving dance performances. It was a very pleasant experience." Taking his praise for Loken a step further, Hayden remembered being a candidate for membership in the professional fraternity for physical education majors, the Phi Epsilon Kappa, in his senior year. "I wasn't accepted," he said, "because of race. Loken wrote letters to the local and national chapters objecting strenuously. The following years, after I'd graduated, blacks were accepted to membership because of Loken's action." Learning from the Washington, D.C., experience, Dougherty did much better in Salt Lake City that same year. Sophomore Charles Fonville and a few teammates were there for the NCAA meet. The restaurant in the hotel where the team was registered refused to serve Fonville. Dougherty moved the Michigan contingent to a motel a few 76 HAIL TO THE VICTORS miles up into the mountains where service was more accomodating. Fonville worked his quiet vengence upon the field of shot putters, beating them all to become national champion. The next year Fonville and Harrison Dillard, a great hurdler from Baldwin Wallace University, were invited to compete in the Kansas Relays. In Lawrence they were hustled off to stay in a private home in the black section of town. Neither unpacked. They walked to the K.U. campus to see how the white athletes were being greeted and quartered. It was a totally different world. They were being met at the Student Union and being given campus tours by cheerleaders chauffering in new convertibles. In a variety of ways they were being received as celebrities. Incensed by their second-class treatment, Fonville and Dillard pondered whether to stay and compete or return home immediately. They attempted unsuccessfully to find the meet manager. Fonville thought of calling Dougherty in Michigan for advice, but decided against it. Frustration, disgust, and indecision tugged away at the two. A few blacks were now being given a chance in track. A strong protest ran the risk of provoking a damaging backlash by white coaches. The next morning they elected to stay, compete fiercely, and exit quickly. Fonville broke the world shot put record and, moments later, the world high hurdles mark fell to Dillard. Shortly thereafter they headed home, proud but sullen. Fonville went to the weekly black newspaper in Kansas City and asked them to call Michigan saying he would be back on the first morning flight. He slept at the YMCA. Coach Dougherty loaded the track team onto a bus and greeted his world record holder at the Detroit airport. Following the congratulations of teammates, Fonville, in a quiet discussion with his coach, described his Kansas treatment. Dougherty wrote to protest the action and to demand an explanation. He showed Fonville the letter and the Kansas answer saying it was purely coincidental that the black athletes were all housed in the same private home. No racism was intended, and it was not their intention to have it happen again. It never happened to Fonville again, because he refused to defend his Kansas Relays crown in his senior year. "I grew up in an era when discrimination was a fact of life, and it still is," said Fonville. "It is just a matter of degree. Coach Dougherty assured me the Michigan team would travel, eat, and sleep as a unit. In general what he said was accurate." The 1948 football team had only one black athlete on the travel AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 77 ing squad, halfback Gene Derricotte. In preparation for the game with Purdue at Lafayette, business manager Don Wier tried to arrange for the team to stay in Indianapolis the night before the game. The hotels there absolutely refused to accommodate Derricotte. Wier tried Chicago and got three consecutive refusals. He called Northwestern University, just north of Chicago, and was given the name of a hotel that would accept Derricotte. The Michigan team worked out at Northwestern's field on Friday and stayed that night in Evanston. Saturday morning they reboarded the train for Lafayette.1 Tom Johnson, a tackle in 1949, '50, '51. and Lowell Perry, an all-America end who played on the '50, '51, and '52 teams, were both pleased with travel arrangements. Johnson described himself as the "pet" of line coach, Jack Blott. As the only black player on the '49 team, he roomed on trips with Al Wistert, and developed a lasting friendship. Wistert was a 32-year old tackle, and the third Wistert brother to make all-America at that position for the Wolverines. Perry roomed with Johnson on campus and on many road trips, but said room arrangements for athletic trips were not predicated on race. "We stayed at the University Golf Course the evening before home games and rooming was integrated," he said. I usually roomed with another black on road trips, but did share one with Merrit Green (white), the team captain, in my senior year." The travel problems of G. Anderson White, the diver on the 1955 swim team have already been noted. The pre-season trip to Fort Lauderdale was out, and the Buffalo, N.Y. Athletic Club showed it could match Florida's racism. Most Northern teams avoided athletic competition in the South, but that began changing in the 1960s. Several of Michigan's outstanding track men wanted to go to the Texas Relays in 1960, but the black athletes refused to go. They were key members of relay teams, so the trip was cancelled. It created some resentment by the whites. The next year, Don Canham, Michigan's track coach from 1949 to 1968, made every effort to prevent humiliation or harrassment because of race, and the team competed in Austin. "Canham was never the kind of guy you could sit across from and feel very casual talking to," said Richard Cephas, a member of the 1959, 1960, and 1961 track teams, "but if he said 'We're going to Texas or we're going some place and the black athletes are not going to be discriminated against because if they have to stay in a dirty, Interview, Don Wier, JulI 19, 1970. 78 HAIL TO THE VICTORS crummy hotel, everybody is going to stay there,' we did it. I've got a lot of respect for him on that score." Ken Burley recalled two occasions when Canham supported his black athletes. "We went to Miami, Florida, in 1962, my sophomore year. He made sure we had transportation above and beyond the other guys, because he felt we would have more problems. He made sure the trip was just as pleasant for us as anyone." "On a track trip, I think in Indiana, one of the black athletes was either refused admittance to the local movie or was forbidden to sit somewhere in the theatre, I've forgotten exactly. Anyway, he returned to the motel and told Canham. He blew his stack. They went back to the theatre and raised hell. The management backed down and let the athlete be treated like anyone else." "It really makes you feel good when you see a guy stand up for you like that. I'd heard stories of incidents occurring before I came to Michigan where Canham stood up for the blacks without question or hesitation. The athletes felt he was one of the first coaches to really give them a square deal. Many hotels and restaurants began desegregating in the 1960s, but at the finer ones blacks were and still are an oddity. If they aren't careful, they're likely to be pressed into service as bellhops. On the 1964 Rose Bowl trip, Mike Willie and a few players were in front of the team's hotel, the Huntington Sheraton. Assuming he must be a bellboy, a lady commanded, "Say, will you get these bags." Not being averse to a little humor, Willie said, "Sure," and toted her bags inside. "She gave me a dollar," he said. "I smiled broadly, and returned to find my teammates enjoying a good belly laugh. The next day we were returning from supper and passed three old women in the lobby. One said very disgustedly, 'Well! They're letting THEM in now.' " In 1965, Michigan opened its football season at the University of North Carolina. Willie remembered the trip. "The day before the game a Ku Klux Klan rally was staged near the Stadium with burning cross and the works. As we went through our loosening up drills the sprinkling of spectators called, 'Hey nigger,' and worse. Beer cans and malicious threats were hurled at us. Interracial competition was new to the Atlantic Coast Conference. We went back to Chapel Hill in 1968 or 1969, and I was on the Michigan trainer's staff. There were no incidents. Some of the people were even sorta warm. It was quite a contrast." AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 79 Although there were about eight black athletes on Michigan travel squads during Ron Johnson's three varsity football seasons, he always had a white roommate. It was quarterback Dennis Brown in 1966 and 1967, and fullback Garvie Craw in 1968. Said Johnson, "Absolutely no problems were encountered in travel. Coach 'Bump' Elliott was highly respected by the black athletes. I think all the Michigan coaches were more sincere in their personal interest in you than was true at many schools." There is no way of knowing how Elliott and other recent coaches would have been rated had they coached in the 1940s. Arranging travel was a much simpler task in the 1960s. It is evident that earlier coaches were frequently called upon to settle issues with hotels and restaurants, to write letters of protest, and to keep racial grievances resulting from travel at a minimum. After the "separatebut-equal" doctrine was annulled by the Supreme Court in 1954, restaurants, motels, and transportation companies grudgingly reduced discriminatory practices. In the late 1960s, largely because the civil rights acts of 1964 and 1965 put pressure on businesses, this was no longer an issue among Michigan's black athletes. Not only was the public generally unaware of these travel problems, they also deluded themselves into thinking that athletics provided a grand example of democracy. Apparently they saw athletes of differing races sharing victory and shouldering defeat and concluded that white coaches and athletes were unconscious of race. "From the point of view of the black athletes," said Charles Fonville, "the greatest source of bias was the financial aid system in athletics at Michigan. Many caucasians with far less ability than some of the black athletes received this aid before their black counterparts. The money was controlled by the coaches, and I got the impression the alumni contributed money to a fund. In some cases they took the athlete under their wing financially. I observed this in both football and track." Fonville was criticized by black teammates for not setting precedent and demanding aid. For the top-flight performers at Michigan in football and track it was unusual not to be receiving some kind of financial aid from the Athletic Department. "I knew the money would not come without strings attached," said Fonville, "and would be so small in amount it wouldn't be worth it." He paid his own way, through summer savings and a loan. A strong individualist, Fonville remains fiercely proud of never having received a cent of aid from the Athletic Department to pay for his education. When the Big Ten 80 HAIL TO THE VICTORS began granting tenders (athletic scholarships) in the 1950s the financial aid system became more honest and more equitable. Eventually, all tendered athletes received a fully-financed, four-year University education. One of the greatest sources of bias was thus removed. I asked Hap Coleman if he thought athletics was a grand example of democracy. "I think there was a greater sense of democracy in athletics than most sectors of life," said Coleman, "but it was really a matter of need. If the need for your talents was greater, the democracy got better." He spoke on good authority, having been denied the chance to play football at Michigan because of race, having seen blacks prevented from playing basketball, and having enjoyed a fine varsity track season at Michigan. That was the late 1940s when only one or two outstanding black athletes were needed in football; none were needed by any Big Ten team in basketball; and several were needed on the track team. Then, in the 1950s and 1960s, coaches whose teams won with outstanding black athletes forced opposing coaches to expand their recruiting. As the need (and thereby the number) increased, the democracy got better. This same principle can be seen in the selection of team captains at Michigan. As the value of black athletes to the team became more apparent and as their numbers grew, the possibility of having one elected captain increased. The first was, quite predictably, a track man; Bill Watson was chosen in 1939. There had been other men before him who might well have been named. DeHart Hubbard made it big at Michigan. A good student, admired by teammates and public for his Olympic medal, and the author of a track column for the Detroit News, Hubbard remembered his Michigan teammates with affection. In his judgement they showed no overt bias. It would be hard to imagine a better qualified candidate for captain of the 1925 track team than Hubbard. I asked how it was that teammates could be as unbiased as he claimed and yet deny him this honor. "I'm glad you mentioned that," said Hubbard, "because that became a point of discussion. They elected Jim Brooker, a fine pole-vaulter who had won third place in the 1924 Games. I don't know if that was purely racial or whether it was because of the terrific competition among the various fraternities. A large part of their prestige came from having the captains of the varsity teams in their membership. The one having the football captain was often considered the most outstanding. I'm sure that was a factor in the election of the 1925 track captain. How much race entered in, I don't know." Eddie Tolan and Booker Brooks, both world-class performers, AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 81 had plenty to recommend them. Then there was Willis Ward, a one-man track team, a fine student, and a crowd favorite. Perhaps in the entire history of Michigan athletics no more abundantly qualified man has been bypassed by teammates. It may be that they were still struggling with the idea of having blacks on the team. Electing a black captain apparently was out of the question. But that was to change four years later. What prompted the 1939 track team to make history by electing Bill Watson its captain? The key seems to be the attitude not of the players but of the coaches. Recalling his days as assistant coach, Ken Dougherty said Charley Hoyt would make his choice known to key men just before the election, and he was rarely disappointed in their selection. He was sure Watson's selection was inspired by Hoyt. Through this action, Hoyt acknowledged the increasingly more vital role of black athletes in Michigan track and field. In Dougherty's nine seasons as head track coach (1940-48) Michigan had several talented black candidates, but none was made captain. The players felt he had quite a lot to do with it. John Roxborough missed in 1944 by just one vote. Rumor among the black athletes was that Dougherty controlled the ballot count, preventing his election because he thought it would create controversy. Later, Val Johnson went through the same thing. Joseph Hayden, Jr. remembered Dougherty counting the ballots and announcing, "Well Val, you did a good job, but you missed by just one vote." Said Hayden, "We were always curious about that one vote." The fact that Watson was named in 1939 and that men could come within one vote was indicative of the growing tendency on the part of track coaches to accept outstanding black athletes more fully into the democracy of intercollegiate track. As the number competing for various colleges increased, more black captains were elected. Hap Coleman was co-captain of Western Michigan's 1943 track squad, and Charles Fonville was Michigan's choice in 1949. Because he was a national champion, Fonville was a nominee for team captain as a sophomore. His quiet, independent, aloof relationship to coach and teammates was not ideally suited to a captain. Coach Dougherty anticipated steady performance from him, and encouraged the selection of someone else for whom the recognition might boost performance. The next year Fonville was the world record holder, and teammates disregarded the apparently impenetrable exterior to elect the 82 HAIL TO THE VICTORS second black captain in Michigan sports history. But a serious spinal operation forced Fonville to sit out the 1949 season and to give up the captaincy. Ten years later it would be rather commonplace for superior track athletes to be elected captain. Mamon Gibson led the 1959 team. Tom Robinson was the overwhelming choice in 1961, as was Kent Bernard in 1965. The cream rose more easily to the top in track and field because of the very nature of competition there. Even in the hands of a racist, the watch and tape provided a better guarantee that the best man would win. Just as essential at Michigan was the makeup of the track team. White Americans came to have less and less to say about who would be captain. On the 1959 squad nine different countries were represented. It was truly international with Canadians, Europeans, blacks from the West Indies, and American whites and blacks. Michigan was a winner, and that made for good morale. On those rare occasions when a conflict with racial overtones arose, it originated invariably with a white American. In most sports the team elected its leader with the coach's influence bearing great weight. In tennis it was customary to name the number-one player captain. I was a little surprised that Dan Kean was not so named in 1934 and I asked him, "If there was no discernible racial bias among your teammates, could a black have been elected captain of that tennis team?" "No," he answered without hesitation. "Not with the players voting. We enjoyed playing against each other, but the pleasantries were, 'Hello. How you doin'? How you gettin' on?' We never discussed race. I don't remember discussing race with any member of the team. As I say, I think they respected my ability. But to make a black captain would have taken leadership by one or more of the whites. Someone would have had to say, 'Look, we're gonna do this thing.' There was no teammate that had that type of leadership." "There was the willingness to play. Everyone wants to play the number-one guy, and I was whippin' everyone, so everyone was willing to play me. There were a couple who deeply resented being whipped, because they would throw their rackets and bounce the balls all over the place. Now whether or not they did this more when I was in the game than they would if they lost to someone else, I don't know. Frankly, I don't remember. Nothing ever got to the point where it was obvious they were motivated by prejudice. But certainly there was no warm feeling or camaraderie on the team." AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 83 When basketball named a black captain in 1959 it became only the second sport at Michigan to look beyond race in determining its leadership. The University's first black athlete to letter in basketball did so in 1952. Its fifth, Memie C. Burton, Jr., was named co-captain in 1959. Then came Dave Strack's talented teams of 1964-66, with Cazzie Russell, Bill Buntin, and Oliver Darden playing decisive roles. Black athletes and their leadership potential were clearly established, and the team chose Darden to lead them in 1966, Jim Pitts in 1968, and Ken Maxey in 1969. There were three times as many black lettermen in football at Michigan as in basketball. Yet, through the fall of 1972 only two, Ron Johnson (1968) and Henry Hill (1970), have been named team captain. Could others before them have been selected, given the proper credentials? Of the 1945 eleven, Hap Coleman answered unhesitantingly, "NO! You were lucky to get to play." Tom Johnson, the "pet" of line-coach Jack Blott, was nominated in 1951. He joined a growing list when informed he "had done a good job but missed by just one vote." Said Johnson, "Some of the men were really disappointed that I wasn't elected, because I played both offense and defense. The gentleman they elected played only offensive tackle." Lowell Perry made all-America his junior year and displayed many of the appropriate attributes that prompted black teammates to push for his selection in 1952. "It may be one of the first instances of a black caucas," he smiled. "I think I lost not because of race, but because the team thought Merrit Green was a better man. I think it was possible for a black to have been captain in those days." Guy Curtis agreed it was possible to have a black captain on the 1959-61 football teams. In his senior year, 1961, Bennie McRae was in the running. The following year Dave Raimey was the team's Most Valuable Player and a strong candidate for captain. Neither was selected. "I don't know how the coaches would have reacted," said Curtis. "It would have been a first, but I don't really believe race was an issue with my teammates." Perhaps what Johnson, Perry, and Curtis should have said was, "I think a black could have come within one vote of being football captain." White coaches and alumni would find it very difficult to accept black leadership until the nation began doing so in the 1960s. Remembering his days on the 1962-65 football teams, Mike Willie saw no chance of electing a black captain. "The socioeconomic differences were as great as the racial," he said. "You tend 84 HAIL TO THE VICTORS to run with those who can afford your kind of recreation. Most blacks came from blue collar families, the whites from white collar. Fraternities and other interest groups played a major part in selecting the team leadership." Guy Curtis strongly agreed with this assessment. By Ron Johnson's senior year, the country had witnessed flaming race riots in Los Angeles, Detroit, and Newark. Black athletes on over 30 major college campuses had served notice to their coaches that conventional racism would no longer be tolerated. If ever the climate was right for Michigan to show that a qualified black could be football captain, 1968 was the year. "About 16 seniors voted," recalled Johnson, "six of them black. Tom Stincic and I tied. I then won on the next vote. Stincic was sorta introverted. If he had won many would have believed the vote followed racial lines." "Ron Johnson was so outstanding he could not be passed over," said Mike Willie. "He had drive, ability, was outgoing, universally well-liked, and was the hardest worker out there." We can only speculate as to whether Johnson could have been captain had he played for Michigan in the 1940s, 1950s, or early 1960s. The odds are he could not have. There is no question that the racial turmoil of the mid-'60s greatly enhanced his chances in 1968, just as it did for Jesse Rawls of the wrestling team shortly thereafter. About 25 men determined the wrestling captain for 1970, three of them black. Rawls was elected. "It was just like one big family," he said. "I never had a hard word with any of the guys on the team. We worked hard and enjoyed some very close friendships. One of my best friends was a white teammate from Tennessee." By 1972 it was not unusual to have black captains in track, football, basketball, and wrestling at Michigan. This was in keeping with the times. Again we see American sports mirroring the society. In the late 1960s Americans were seeing blacks in various leadership roles for the first time - as mayors, businessmen, engineers, and in other occupations traditionally closed to them. Some key leadership positions in government services were being kept vacant, awaiting the arrival of qualified blacks. It was only logical that teammates should begin looking beyond race in determining their captain. As white coaches and athletes displayed less and less prejudice, democracy, in the sense of equal opportunity, in Michigan athletics became more and more a reality. In 1972 it was even possible to have a black AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 85 quarterback; Dennis Franklin became the first in Wolverine football history. "I treasure and maintain friendships with whites that developed from swimming and music," said G. Anderson White. "They would never have happened in the other world. Some of my fondest memories are of Bill Revelli and the Michigan band. I didn't have to play the saxophone in the marching band. My major was viola. But I wanted to tour with them and became so involved that I was writing shows for the band near the end. Like I say, these friendships would never have happened in the other world." THE OTHER WORLD The other world White referred to meant maddening housing problems, repugnant social conventions, and stereotyped employment following graduation. The University compared photographs on application forms and paired black students. Hap Coleman experienced this in 1945, Lowell Perry in 1950, and Andy White in 1952. Because the number of black students was so small, the resulting match-ups were often disastrous. In his freshman year at Michigan White tripled in a room with two graduate students with whom he had almost nothing in common except race. About half-way through the year he was climbing the walls. He was permitted to move in with a white student who later was accepted into a fraternity. White then made still a third move. The practice of racial pairing seems to have declined in the late 1950s. Marshall Dickerson had a white roommate in the Michigan dorms in 1958 and 1959 as did Mike Willie in 1962. Students eagerly sought to escape dormitory living after their freshman year. The unmarried, under 21 years of age, were expected to live in campus housing. One escape was the fraternity or sorority system. Thousands of white students took it; very few black students did. There were fraternities and sororities for black students. Unfortunately they often had members but no house. In the late 1960s, as black enrollment increased, their activities and membership became more stable. When they were eligible to rent rooms or apartments off-campus, black students were constantly humiliated by landlords. "We'd go to rent a place and they'd say, 'No, it has just been rented,' " recalled Lovell Farris. That was in 1959 and 1960. "Then we'd offer to take the For Rent sign down for them. Their faces would flush a little, not 86 HAIL TO THE VICTORS expecting our free service." The usual solution was to stay where other blacks had stayed, in an apartment that was unacceptable to white students because it was either too shabby, the landlord too strict, or the rent unreasonable. Richard Cephas tried renting and received the typical, "Sorry, it has already been leased." A white friend then called only to find it still available, but "not to niggers." Cephas beat the system in 1961 and 1962. A Jewish friend rented an apartment and said he had roommates coming. When the lease was signed, four black roommates appeared. The landlord's hysteria was met with, "Sorry, but we've got a lease." Rather than fight the landlords individually, some of the men in 1953 and 1954 were able to rent a house. White remembers sharing that rental with about eight others, all black and nearly all athletes. This idea was seen again in 1964 and 1965 as the first black football fraternity house was initiated. White teammates frequently joined well-established fraternities. The blacks wanted to establish a house that might serve the same purpose. At coach Bump Elliott's insistance a business agent was appointed and a cook was hired. Approximately ten men shared the dwelling, and the idea was continued. Its 1970 version was affectionately titled, "The Den of the Mellow Men." University housing took a much more active role in assisting students against racist landlords after the U. S. Congress passed the Civil Rights Acts of 1964 and 1965 and after the 1967 Detroit riot. Ron Johnson could not remember any athletes for whom housing was a problem in 1967 and 1968. Although it became increasingly easier for blacks to rent an apartment in the late 1960s, they encountered much opposition when they tried to purchase a house. The greatest opposition faced those who were interracially married. That was Mike Willie's challenge. "We shopped every spring for five years," said Willie. "We were shown some real rat traps by realtors who were sure they knew just what we'd be looking for. You wouldn't wish them on your worst enemy. Once, we found a nice house we liked. The price was right and we agreed to it with the realtor. When confronted face-to-face with the seller, the price went up several thousand dollars. We probably should have listened to advice and taken it to court, but didn't. "Finally we found a home in north Ann Arbor in a neighborhood about 30 per cent black, 70 per cent white. I called the City Planning AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 87 Commission to ask about the area and the caucasian gentleman replied, 'the neighborhood is integrated and we like it that way.' That sold us. We have not been disappointed with the acceptance we've found there. With all its lingering racism, Ann Arbor is perhaps the only city in Michigan where you can live interracially and feel very comfortable." The other world Andy White referred to included the social vacuum in which blacks were expected to manage. The problem was three-fold. First, there were practically no black students on the Michigan campus until 1966. In fact, for many years there were more students from India than black Americans at the University. Second, of those on campus, nearly all were male; many were athletes. Third, any attempt to fill the void by joining white fraternities or dating white coeds met with fierce opposition from many sectors. In the early 1960s, Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara labeled the University racist and capitalist, basing his judgement on the near absence of blacks and the prevalence of students from upper middle-class America. The North Central Association of Colleges and Secondary Schools, which accredits the University, agreed. Upon completing its routine inspection of the University for reaccreditation it characterized Michigan in three words - excellent, wealthy, and white. Ron Johnson remembered being the only black in almost all his courses in the business school in 1966, 1967, and 1968. There were three in his class and eight to ten in the entire school. The second part of the social problem, that is the virtual absence of black women on campus, curtailed social life for most of the athletes. DeHart Hubbard was an exception. He married his high school sweetheart at the age of 18 and had started a family while still a student at Michigan. The demands of track, studies, family, and a part-time job kept him too busy to ponder social inequities. Of course, there was never any thought of attending the J-Hop or similar University social functions. Two black fraternities, Omega Psi Phi and Alpha Phi Alpha, with about 20 members each, formed the hub of what little social life there was for black students. "Black fraternities and sororities were never active in the same sense as the white ones," said Charles Fonville in recalling the late 1940s. "Often they had no house and few members." "It seemed like I was always going some place," remembered Andy White. "Either the band, the Union opera, or the swimming 88 HAIL TO THE VICTORS team was traveling. But it wasn't as easy for most black students." He especially remembered the anxieties of those light-skinned ones who were "passing." They were trying to pass for white because it was the only escape from racial hatred. They were constantly locked in an inner struggle, afraid whites would learn the truth, uncomfortable with blacks because of the lie. Comparing dating notes with high school teammates who went to all-black colleges caused Richard Cephas (1958-62) to have second thoughts about his choice of Michigan. "Our fraternity, Kappa Alpha Psi, had a few parties, but the absence of black students in general and females in particular was really discouraging. Fortunately, Eastern Michigan University in nearby Ypsilanti had some black coeds and Detroit was only 45 miles away if you had a car." In a rare occurance, Marshall Dickerson met and married a black University of Michigan coed in 1960. So accustomed were friends to thinking of blacks at Michigan as male and varsity athletes that introducing her at parties often brought amazement and the quip, "Really? What sport did she play?" Social life began improving in the late 1960s. "Traditionally, concert groups were selected by whites to suit white tastes," said Ron Johnson. "After the riots in Watts and Detroit, student leaders made a conscious effort to select groups that would appeal to both sides, such as The Fifth Dimension. In 1967 my fraternity, Alpha Phi Alpha, accepted an invitation to a party with a white sorority." Gestures such as these were isolated examples of how some students felt about racial bigotry. They were in no sense a trend in the Greek housing system, where, through 1972, no black letterman has ever been granted membership in a white fraternity. A few made unsuccessful bids. In 1968 Morris Abrahams, a football tackle, attempted to pledge Sigma Chi, a fraternity noted at Michigan for its famous athletic members. The Ann Arbor men wanted Abrahams, but the national office's final decision was not to admit a black to fraternal membership. Abrahams continued as a social member and the house did not break with its national leadership, a point on which they were sharply criticized by black students. Few of the former complaints of a sterile social life were voiced by black athletes after 1968. The Universtiy's minorities recruitment program increased black enrollment markedly. Ron Johnson's fraternity had only twelve members in 1966 and over sixty in 1968. Jesse Rawls married a black University of Michigan coed in 1970. He AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 89 described parties in the Union ballroom attended by nearly 200 black students. Ypsilanti and Detroit were also mentioned as likely sources for dates. "I remember my two years at Trinidad, Colorado Junior College," he said. "There were 30 blacks on campus, five were women. To date interracially was strictly forbidden. You had to drive over 200 miles north to Denver to find any social life." Johnson remembered some high school teammates who were similarly isolated. One attended the University of Iowa, and complained bitterly that there were no blacks to date and that coaches scorned players who dared to date interracially. Among Michigan coaches, some football coaches were the least tolerant of interracial dating and felt completely justified in making decisions for athletes in the social realm. They would dismiss them from the team if they insisted on dating interracially. This view was shared by the overwhelming majority of white Americans. The coaches were not alone in their determination to control dating habits. In the 1940s and 1950s the Ann Arbor police often felt compelled to stop and harrass interracial couples. Joseph Hayden, Jr., recalls being stopped enroute to a movie. The policeman tried to intimidate both him and his date. Andy White remembered police stopping a fellow black student driving with his white date. "The poor guy was so threatened," said White, "that he pleaded with the lawman not to turn him in for his 'crime'." Not until the 1960s did Ann Arbor's finest begin turning this energy toward more pressing crime problems. Even Lowell Perry, for whom criticism of Michigan is nearly impossible, had to admit that interracial dating was likely to bring a Michigan athlete rapidly into disfavor with his coach. David J. Hill, a halfback on the 1954 and 1955 Wolverine teams, serves as one example. He was dismissed from the squad and denied the chance to travel with them to the Rose Bowl because of interracial dating. A small furor was raised by alumni from Hill's hometown, Ypsilanti, but the decision of the coach was final. The 1958 football team lettered three blacks, Willie Smith, Al Van Groce, and Don Deskins. Smith was big, strong, a good student and the team's fastest tackle. He dated interracially, and, what made it worse, this young coed would come watch the practices, making it clear who her favorite player was. Willie had troubles with the coaching staff. Van Groce was a highly touted halfback from Pennsylvania. He dated interracially. Coaches demanded he either quit doing 90 HAIL TO THE VICTORS so or turn in his equipment. He bitterly turned in his equipment. Don Deskins was a two-year letterman tackle. He was married, so dating was not a factor in his relationship to the coaches. In 1962 Mike Willie and Mike Bass were reprimanded by their football coaches for such dating. The odds against making the team, with over 80 fine athletes competing for 11 starting positions, were very high. Failing to heed the warnings of coaches made them soar even higher. Most athletes were not willing to face those odds. Some, like Willie, were forced to conduct their social life beyond the view of coaches. The Ann Arbor police were not the only outsiders to share the football coaches' view: The Dean of Women felt compelled in the early 1960s to note all coeds dating interracially and send a letter to their parents disclosing this ominous fact. She has since been removed from office. Among all Michigan coaches, Don Canham, today's Director of Athletics, seems to have been much less disturbed by this practice than most. "I don't think it made that much difference to him," said Richard Cephas. "Track captain, Mamon Gibson dated a white girl who used to come down while he was practicing pole vaulting, catch his pole, watch his steps, and urge him to higher heights." In spite of the deterrents there is evidence that black athletes have dated and married interracially at Michigan since World War II. This suggests that not everyone at the University agreed with the football coaches, the Ann Arbor police, or the Dean of Women. In contrast to their bitter memories about social life, a great majority of the athletes were pleased with the quality of academic life at Michigan. A rhetoric class stands out most vividly in Henry Graham's memory. It was 1927, and as a freshman he never thought that such relevant issues as sex and race could qualify as grist for academic discussion. "We talked about everything. I had a terrific time in that class," said Graham. "The professor felt America was a great melting pot, and said, 'No two races have ever lived side-byside and not intermingled.' The subject of interracial housing was raised and a boy in class, who incidentally was from my home town, Cleveland, complained of a Negro doctor moving next door. He didn't understand why they would want to do that. Why not stay in the negro neighborhood? This professor had me answer the question. We talked about how in white neighborhoods the garbage is collected more often; the police protection is more strict and more fair; the least AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 91 thing that happens is taken care of immediately." Graham couldn't recall the professor's name, but regarded him as "way ahead of his time." Charles Fonville chose Michigan in 1946 largely because of its combination of academic and athletic excellence. Having established a fine reputation in the shot put even as a freshman, he received many invitations from relays promoters across the country. His athletic talents were never used at the expense of academics. "I reached an understanding with coach Dougherty," he said, "that since I had studies and since I was receiving no financial aid from the University, I would compete once a week or as the regular schedule called for. Under no circumstances would I be lured around the country competing Thursday, Friday, and Saturday as some of the nationally known athletes were doing." Fonville graduated with a B average in industrial relations. A few years ago Lowell Perry received a letter from his sociology professor at Michigan. "He had occasion to write an appraisal of me back in 1950," said Perry, "and it predicted grand things. Just recently he came across an article describing my work at Chrysler in very flattering terms. That prompted him to send the appraisal along, complimenting me for making him a shrewd prophet." Lovell Farris ranked ninth out of 174 graduates in his Cleveland high school in 1955, and was a member of the National Honor Society. He turned down 30 scholarships from fine schools, including Ohio State, to come to Michigan. Its academic prestige was the deciding factor. He now has a dental practice in Detroit. Upon graduation from South Bend (Indiana) Central High School in 1958 Guy Curtis had several Big Ten scholarship offers in both football and wrestling, but athletics never entered into his choice of a university. His father was a dentist, his mother a graduate of the University of Chicago. A grandfather had been a doctor, and an aunt had a Ph.D. His academic record showed an average of 91 out of a possible 97 for four years. It had always been a foregone conclusion that he would attend college. Michigan's academic reputation sold him. After he went out for the football and wrestling teams and lettered in both as a sophomore he was offered a scholarship by each coach. He turned them down, preferring to remain financially independent of the Athletic Department. His father was willing and able to finance his education. In his senior year he decided not to go out for spring practice. In anticipation of graduate school he wanted to concentrate on classwork. Some of the coaches were very upset but 92 HAIL TO THE VICTORS head coach Chalmers "Bump" Elliott gave his permission. It would have been a different story if he. had been receiving an athletic scholarship. Just recently Curtis completed a doctor's degree at the University. Andy White was deeply impressed with the quality of instruction and programs in the School of Music at the University. Many other "M" men interviewed, including 1968's great all-American, Ron Johnson, said that Michigan's academic excellence was the decisive factor in their choice of schools. While the vast majority of the athletes commented favorably upon academic life at Michigan, there was also some sharp criticism. A few recalled a low grade that left them debating the degree to which race figured into the finaljudgement. Dan Kean remembered student teaching at the University High School in Ann Arbor in 1934 and the female critic teacher to which he was assigned who could not accept the idea of a black student teaching her students. She made Kean a spectator of the class for the entire time. He was given teacher certification, but was never allowed the supervised practice teaching experience required by state law. It was impossible for university professors to live in a racist society and not have an occasional slip of the tongue in the classroom. Lowell Perry recalled a Civil War historian of national prominence who concluded his discourse about the Emancipation Proclamation saying, "Negroes thought it meant freedom from work, a false impression many still have today. They believe all they need is a pork chop and a sunny beach." "That really hurt," Perry remembered. "I wanted to go up after class and express my contempt for such degrading stereotypic statements, but that isn't my nature. I'm sure if he made such a statement in 1970 he'd really catch hell." Even if it had been his nature to rebel, Perry would have been wasting breath. Racism so permeated American society that blacks who took issue with it were quickly branded misfits. The case of Julian Witherspoon points this up very dramatically. A varsity track man his freshman and sophomore years (1944 and 1945), Witherspoon recalls going to an English class and informing the instructor he would have to leave early to make the track team's train for an away meet. Midway through the lecture the unthinking professor used the phrase "nigger in a woodpile" to illustrate a point. The hair stood up on Witherspoon's neck as he challenged the AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 93 use of such racist cliches. Whether he was tactful in rebuttal remains unanswered, but the professor threw him out of the class. Detained by the argument and emotionally distraught, he missed the team's train. Reared in an integrated neighborhood by parents with professional backgrounds, Witherspoon was a very sensitive, intelligent, sometimes volatile young man who would not accept living in a racist world. As an athlete he was ready to do battle with the restaurant and hotel managers who humiliated him with refusals of service when traveling to out of town track meets. His respect for coach Ken Dougherty ended when John Roxborough lost the election for captain by "just one vote." He drifted away from the varsity program in his junior year partly to protect an injury and partly because he could no longer accept the racism he found there. As a challenge to stereotypes about the intelligence of blacks, Witherspoon selected the curriculum he thought most difficult, physics, and was drawn to its toughest courses like a magnet. After finishing a bachelor's degree, he spent two years in the University's Medical School before being dismissed. The break apparently came when a professor tried to introduce humor into a microscopic anatomy slide-presentation by inserting a photo of a black youth nose-deep in watermelon. Witherspoon, predictably, became enraged. Soon he was being marked down on tests. The first time, a grade was lowered he went to the instructor, thinking a legitimate error had been made. The hostile reception and a fellow student's confidential advice let Witherspoon know discussions were being held regarding his belligerent attitude. It was suggested he would do well to be considerably less outspoken. Disregarding the caution, he continued to rebel against what he discribed as almost daily instances of racism. Test grades suffered even more. "I began to feel like I was in an enemy camp," he said. "I was battle weary, and not really surprised to receive a letter that summer saying I was no longer acceptable in the Medical School. The problem was that the professors were used to dealing with blacks who were either brutalized into thinking they were inferior or who would overlook their racism." Witherspoon refused to compromise on discrimination and spoke out whenever blacks were demeaned. "They didn't act like they had ever dealt with someone like that before," he said. Rebellion in the 1960s to this kind of treatment was likely to prompt its correc 94 HAIL TO THE VICTORS tion. In 1949 it only prompted Witherspoon's dismissal from Michigan. Not one letterman interviewed ever had a black professor at Michigan, but the chief academic problem identified by athletes in 1970 was the lack of good counseling. The common practice had been for one of the coaches to have the responsibility of counseling the Michigan athletes, and some say eligibility, by the most expedient means, receives top priority. Rather than advise an athlete into courses where he might make a D, but fulfill a much-needed prerequisite, they are steered into courses where athletes have been known to do well. If an athlete encounters difficulty (low grades) in the academic major of his choice, he is frequently induced to become another luke-warm physical education major. After all, he will eventually cost the Athletic Department over $10,000. Despite these complaints about academic life at Michigan, the impressive fact is that 75 percent of the black lettermen did graduate. What kind of employment awaited these scholar-athletes? Until the 1960s the physical education majors found almost no openings for black coaches. Business, engineering, and many other fields were closed. The men found openings in education, law, and medicine, but their practice was restricted almost exclusively to the black community. In the 1950s some were able to play professional sports, but not until President Kennedy began pressing for wider opportunities in the 1960s did the Michigan lettermen launch successful careers in such fields as business and engineering. A physical education major, DeHart Hubbard became a "colored worker" in the Recreation Department of his native Cincinnati in 1925. During World War II he joined the Federal Housing Authority, where he remained until his retirement. Dan Kean began coaching at black schools in the South in 1935, and then stayed in the region selling athletic equipment for several years. In 1954 he was hired by Gulf Oil Corporation and now directs their efforts to secure talented personnel from minority groups. Julian Witherspoon found himself an employment oddity in 1949 -a black physics major. After selling insurance and working at several jobs that were not suited to his interests, he took a high school teaching position in Detroit. He soon became Head of the Mathematics and Science departments. Horace Coleman received a bachelor's degree in health education from Western Michigan University and lacked one course at The AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 95 Universtiy of Michigan for a master's degree in administration and supervision of health education. He wanted very much to coach. In 1946 he and a former football rival applied simultaneously to the Detroit Board of Education. The friend was white, had played football at Wayne University, and had a bachelor's degree. Vaughn Blanchard, the Athletic Director for the Detroit schools, immediately put the white graduate into a coaching position at a high school. Coleman was told, "We can't put you in because you don't have your masters." Then came the delaying tactics, "Get everything straight on the master's and you can start coaching." It wasn't his first encounter with job discrimination. Coleman remembers working for Ford Motor Company during the summers of 1940-42. Each year he and a Western Michigan teammate would go to Ford's employment office on Miller Road, carrying identical letters of recommendation. "I'd be sent to the foundry," said Coleman. "He'd be sent to tool shops, security, plant protection -jobs making more money for easier work every time." The teammate, obviously, had one important difference; he was white. The Detroit school system could find little room for black coaches, so these men turned to elementary school teaching, the one level of education willing to employ a few blacks. Coleman launched what was to become a successful and satisfying career in guidance and counseling of elementary school pupils. In 1970 he was publicly cited for outstanding work in that area. Joseph Hayden, Jr., left Michigan with a bachelor's degree in physical education and aspired to coach. There were only two black coaches in Detroit in 1948. Just as with Coleman, he learned there were no more openings. He found work with the Health Department in Detroit. "The city had a large rat problem, and I assisted in their project to kill rats," he said. "It was a job, but not very close to my professional preparation. Of course, I got no help from the University in seeking employment." After two years with the Health Department, an elementary school teaching position opened, and Hayden took it. Successful teaching and extensive graduate work led to his current position as Consultant in Human Relations for the Michigan Education Association. 96 HAIL TO THE VICTORS Charles Fonville fared much better in his first job offer. In the spring of 1950 he had a medical check-up by Dr. Wilbur Dolfin, who was associated with the medical department of Kaiser Aluminum. In the course of conversation he learned Fonville had no job offers, but would like to use his economics major in some way. At Dr. Dolfin's urging, Fonville was offered a position in industrial relations at Kaiser. "It was one of the few job areas open in business to blacks," said Fonville. "Caucasians would get into management training at various levels. Even physical education majors could get into sales or public relations." Attending night school at Detroit's Wayne State University, Fonville eventually was able to complete a law degree and now practices in that city. "Michigan didn't prepare me for my first job situation," said Lowell Perry. "It was with the United States Air Force. Oh, I'd taken the Air Force ROTC training and received my commission at the University. That preparation was fine. But when I reported for duty I was totally unprepared for my squadron commander's comments. I knocked twice on the door before he answered. Striding six paces I saluted, 'Lieutenant Perry reporting for duty Sir!' "He looked up and said, 'Lieutenant, I was born in Florida and brought up not to like you and your kind, but if you do your job we'll get along. That's all.' " "Michigan didn't prepare me for that," he laughed. Perry had wanted to major in business, but his father could see this promised no job in the forseeable future. He was convinced that a liberal arts degree, because of its flexibility, was a far wiser choice. Heeding this advice, Perry finished the bachelor's degree, completed a term of military duty, and played professional football with the Pittsburgh Steelers for two seasons. Injury cut short his playing career, but he stayed on another two seasons coaching wide receivers and scouting. At the same time, he was able to finish a law degree, paving the way for his current employment in labor relations with Chrysler Corporation in Detroit. "Only very recently," said Perry, "have blacks been considered for attractive management promotions at Chrysler, and there is still a heck of a lot of room for improvement." Tom Johnson saw few black doctors and lawyers in Muskegon Heights, Michigan. That offered no vocational lure. Unsure, he AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 97 turned to physical education. Even there, he had little reason to believe ajob would be available. At Muskegon Heights High School all teachers had been white. In spite of this, in 1952 the opportunity to return a hometown hero and become the first black on the high school faculty was extended. "Mr. Bolt, principal at Heights, spent three hours talking to me and trying to convince me to join the school's faculty," said Johnson. "I had just turned 21, and the thought of working with 18- and 19-years olds, many of whom I knew quite well, frightened me. I told him I had just signed a contract to play pro football in Green Bay. He said, 'After the season is over, come back. You can start the second semester.' I got drafted into military service after that first season, and never accepted his offer." After two years in the service and three in professional football, Johnson returned to Muskegon looking for a job. A friend knew of one in the personnel department of a local company. "When I applied, they told me no job was available. Their reply really meant no job was available to a black applicant. This was the first time I'd run into out-and-out white prejudice. It came as quite a shock in my hometown. I went to Milwaukee, a city I'd gotten to know while playing at Green Bay, and took the state civil service examination. I then found work as a counselor in the state employment office there." Eight years later he returned home, and now works in the Department of Social Services for Muskegon County. Andy White finished his swimming career and music degree at Michigan before serving two years in the military. Returning to Detroit in 1958 he found no openings in music education. Few blacks held school positions in music. The University of Michigan placement office sent his credentials to a large number of schools in the Midwest. None needed a black music teacher. His father commented sarcastically, "Now you spent all that time going to school and what are you going to do?" Finally an offer came from Sedalia, Missouri, and White accepted. One visit to the town revealed there were no black families. Social and cultural oblivion would be inevitable. He promptly returned to Detroit. Armed with news clippings he again visited the Board of Education and said, "I know you don't need any black music teachers, but I understand you do need someone in drama and speech. This wasn't my major area, but I've had quite a background." 98 HAIL TO THE VICTORS Displaying all those clippings brought more questions about his music background. They wanted to hear him play the viola. "We went down to a music store," White said, "got a viola, and I auditioned. They put me to work teaching fine arts at five elementary schools." Six years at this level, four in junior high, and his current work at Northwestern High School have kept G. Anderson White bubbling with enthusiasm about his Michigan education and the impact fine arts instruction is having among black youth. Not until the early 1960s, when America was rocked by civil rights marches did the job market for blacks begin to improve significantly. Men like Richard Cephas were the beneficiaries of the tumultuous social and economic revolution. Track coach, Don Canham, got him a job at Chevrolet Motor Company in Detroit. Cephas' degree from the College of Architecture and Design was in industrial and advertising design. He had developed this interest in high school and decided to continue it at Michigan, in spite of the fact that it was a field closed to blacks. "I didn't worry about whether there would be a job when I graduated," said Cephas. "I studied what I enjoyed. The Michigan degree opened the door for me." In 1970 he was part of Chevrolet's search for talented blacks to manage automobile dealerships. In 1963 Marshall Dickerson was employed by General Motors Corporation in Detroit as a data processing project leader. He had received a teaching degree with a major in math and minors in physical education and science, and had added a few graduate hours in mathematics. "I think landing this job was based mostly on my Michigan degree," Dickerson said. "First, it has not been easy convincing people I graduated from Michigan. Since I'm black, they assume I mean Michigan State. I interviewed at Ford Motor Company and the fellow kept saying, 'You're sure you attended Michigan, not Michigan State? You know, Michigan. Uh, you went there the whole time?' 'Yes,' I answered, 'the whole time.' He just wasn't accustomed to seeing black graduates from that University." In spite of the fact that almost no openings for black chemical engineers existed nationally, Dickerson had considered this as a major before turning to mathematics. This again was evidence of a changing job market. Young intelligent blacks were beginning to do what whites had always done, prepare for vocations suited to their interest and aptitude. AT THE UNIVERSITY BUT NOT OF IT 99 In 1967 Keith Cooley completed an engineering degree at Michigan. It had been a foregone conclusion that he would go to college. His maternal grandfather was graduated from Michigan in 1926. His father held a M.D. degree, an aunt was a psychiatrist, another aunt was a lawyer, and there was even a civil engineer in the family. Growing up in this professional environment he developed the boyhood dream of being an airline pilot. "At the age of 13 I was talking to a cab driver, a black cabbie, and said I wanted to be an airline pilot. He said, 'No, you can't do that.' I was a little crushed, but began to look into it when I got to college. I talked to one or two black pilots. It seemed that pilot training schools were being pressured into accepting blacks, but had the attitude that they didn't have to place black graduates. I have a friend who was in engineering and dropped out to complete the commercial pilot's license. I just saw him recently and he is still looking for a job." Having studied nuclear reactor physics at Union College in Schenectady, New York, Cooley returned to Michigan to complete a master's degree and to work part-time counseling minority students in the College of Engineering. In 1970 the part-time job became full-time with his appointment as Special Counselor to the Dean's Office. When Dan Kean visited Michigan in quest of black engineers for Gulf Oil Corporation, he visited with Keith Cooley. Kean was impressed that Michigan was ahead of many schools in its recent efforts to develop black engineers. He indicated that Ohio State was not doing nearly so well. I asked Kean how unusual it was to find blacks in engineering. Through the years he could remember only two or three engineer friends, and they had a difficult time finding work. "One in particular," he said, "nearly starved to death." In 1970 there were only two black engineers in the entire employee of Gulf Oil Corporation, a situation he is determined to alter. Perhaps the most common academic major for black athletes has been physical education, and most of these men wanted to coach. As we have seen, no profession had closed its doors more securely. In 1968 Ken Burnley was appointed to the half-time position of assistant track coach, the first black ever to hold a coaching position at The University of Michigan. Louis Lee was later made freshman football coach, and Ken Maxey stayed on in 1970 as a graduate assistant working with Michigan basketball. In 1967 Mike Willie began working as an assistant trainer at the University. He was a football all 10O HAIL TO THE VICTORS American in high school but never lettered at Michigan. He was cut down by three knee operations. "I was such a steady customer in the training room from my freshman year on," said Willie, "that I decided to make a career of it. Jim Hunt, the head trainer, counseled me on the proper courses to take and hired me as an assistant after I'd graduated." Willie had only the highest praise for Hunt, and his comments were supported by others. Both John Codwell, Jr., and Lowell Perry described Hunt as "completely unbiased - the greatest friend a tired, battered athlete could have." In the face of almost impossible conditions many of Michigan's black lettermen made a substantial and material contribution toward dispelling the stereotype most whites held of all blacks. Many of these men now hold positions of considerable responsibility. The list of Ph.D.s, M.D.s, and D.D.S.s includes M. C. Burton, Jr., John Codwell, Jr., Guy Curtis, Don Deskins, Gene Derricotte, Julius Franks, Lovell Farris, Frank Howell, Leonard Johnson, Art Walker, and Ernest Simms. Stan Broadnax is now a junior in the Medical School at Michigan. The lawyers include Robert Evans, Charles Fonville, Derrick Humphries, Louis Lee, Robert Mann, Lowell Perry, John Roxborough II, and Willis Ward. Two of the lawyers - Evans and Ward-are judges. Van Bruner is an architect, and Roderick Warren is an engineer-architect. Several of the lettermen have distinguished themselves in the field of education. In particular, Robert Marion and Erwin Crownley are school principals; Joseph Hayden Jr. serves as a Consultant in Human Relations for the Michigan Education Association; and Willie Smith is assistant to the President of San Diego State. In athletics, Ken Burnley, Ken Maxey, and Louis Lee have coached at the college level; William Hardy and William Harris have coached at the high school level. Mike Willie serves as assistant trainer at Michigan In professional sports, Oliver Darden and Bill Buntin had brief basketball careers. Cazzie Russell has starred for several years in the National Basketball Association. Mel Anthony, Mike Bass, Tom Darden, Glenn Doughty, Lenny Ford, John Henderson, Ron Johnson, Tom Johnson, Reggie McKenzie, Bennie McRae, Lowell Perry, Dave Raimey, John Rowser, Billy Taylor, Mike Taylor, Art Walker, Carl Ward, and Bill Yearby all have played, and many are still playing, professional football. Elliott Maddox plays outfield for the Texas Rangers of the American League. In spite of the many hurdles faced, it is rare to find a black "M" man who has not distinguished himself in his profession and in his community. Charles Fonville, world record holder. M. C. Burton, 1958-59 basketball co-captain. Dan Kean, one of only two varsity tennis players at Michigan. Kent Bernard, 1965 track captain. Dave Raimey (No. 19) and Ben McRae (No. 43) with backfield coach Hank Fonde. Lowell Perry, all-American. Ron Johnson, all-American, with head coach Chalmers "Bump" Elliott. Ron Johnson, all-American, with head coach Chalmers "Bump" Elliott. Ron Johnson comes briefly to the sidelines for shoe repair. Jim Hunt, trainer, prepares to tape ankle ot all-American oasKeioaii player kazzie,usseil. All the coaches appearing in the back row of this photo of the 1929 football staff are mentioned in this book. They are L. to R.: Franklin Cappon, Harry Kipke, Jack Blott, Cliff Kean, Ben Oosterbaan, and Charles Hoyt. Mike Willie, assistant athletic trainer. Ken Burnley, assistant track coach. 77d Phil Snowden, assistant basketball coach. Don Canham, athletic director. ::: -::: ~~a.:iil si::::.: w: f 4i I I 7Richard Cephas clearing ianother hurdle.:iii-i Richard Cephas clearing another hurdle. 4'K 4M The 1971 version of the Den of the Mellow Men. L. to R. Mike Taylor, Glenn Doughty, Alden "Butch" Carpenter, Tom Darden, Billy Taylor, and Reggie-McKenzie. CHAPTER 3 _LLPEI IT 110 HAIL TO THE VICTORS At the University of Michigan today athletic ability rather than race determines a young man's chances to play on a varsity team. Just a short time ago it was not that way. Today, blacks are seen on the Board in Control of Athletics, the coaching staff, the athletic trainers staffs, and the equipment room staff at Michigan. Things are happening in the Big Ten conference also. A black assistant commissioner is soon to be named. Efforts are underway to bring black coaches, officials, team physicians, trainers, secretaries, and other personnel into the athletic organizations of member schools. This is a dramatic departure from past practice. The campus atmosphere has also changed at Michigan. The percentage of minority students in the University has increased sharply. Black faculty and staff have been added. The counseling system has become much more sensitive to the needs of minority students. A black culture center has been established, and a Center for Afro-American Studies has been formed. There was no blueprint to follow in making these changes, but what has happened at Michigan and in the Big Ten over the past decade may serve others as useful guidelines or even as a blueprint for action. To understand what prompted these changes it is essential to examine the mood of the country in the 1960s. MOOD OF THE 1960s Though civil rights had not been mentioned in John F. Kennedy's 1960 inaugural address, it ultimately rivaled the Viet Nam War as the dominant issue of the decade. The mood was for decisive change in race relations NOW. During the summer of 1963 tens of thousands of Americans, of all races, creeds, and economic levels, marched on Washington, D.C., decrying racial injustice. They listened with millions of televiewers as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. described his dream for America:... In spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.' BLUEPRINT FOR ACTION 111 I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor's lips are presently dripping with words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today... He dwelt upon the words so familiar to Americans in the popular and patriotic "My Country 'Tis Of Thee," and said:...When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up the day when all God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spirtual, 'Free at last! free at last! thank God almighty, we are free at last!' Enormous progress was made during the decade, but at the cost of enormous human suffering. A massive legislative commitment to racial reform was codified in the Civil Rights Acts of 1964 and 1965 giving the country its blueprint for action. Upon passage of the first, the late Senator Everett Dirkson quoted Victor Hugo, saying, "Greater than the tread of mighty armies is an idea whose time has arrived." Racial discrimination, like a cancerous disease, had been eroding the nation's health for over 100 years. The disease could not 112 HAIL TO THE VICTORS be cured overnight however strong the dosage of legislative medicine. Yet, the patient longed for immediate rehabilitation. Many black people began to feel a surge of power, Black Power, and were determined to demand full participation in American life now. In spite of Dr. King's advocacy of non-violent protest, several cities erupted in violent protest in the mid-1960s. (One of the bloodiest and most violent occurred in 1967 in Detroit, just 45 miles from The University of Michigan.) Militancy was not confined to the cities. It became commonplace on college campuses, and some of the most dramatic headlines were generated by black athletes. During the 1967-68 academic year walkouts, boycotts, and other demonstrations against athletic departments were staged by black athletes on more than 30 major college campuses. Many of these men poured out their hearts and minds, risking scholarships and accepting public scorn. Sports Illustrated carried their story to millions with Jack Olsen's, "The Black Athlete - A Shameful Story." It dominated all five issues for July, 1968.1 Like the Michigan athletes, black athletes across the country had enjoyed privileges as varsity team members not ordinarily available to other black Americans. They stayed in fine hotels, ate in plush restaurants, developed lasting friendships with white teammates, received thunderous accolades, accumulated reams of newsclippings, sometimes completed a college degree, and, in some cases, became national sports heroes. People wanted to know why these men of privileged position, participating in one of the few shining examples of racial equality in America, would rebel against the system. The men knew that upon graduation the privileges were nearly always withdrawn; the hotels and restaurants were placed off-limits; the good jobs were reserved for whites; and the real world of racism again bore down on them. The college athletes were exhorted to think beyond personal goals and to think politically of the plight of all blacks, to use their athletic skills as bargaining power to advance the cause of their race. The lists of demands served on athletic and other university officials during the 1967-68 school year were similar on all campuses: First, blacks wanted the appointment of black coaches, trainers, or athletic administrators - someone in a position of responsibility to insure that black athletes would be judged fairly. Seeing blacks in See also Harry Edwards, The Revolt of the Black Athlete, N.Y.: The Free Press, A Division of the MacMillan Co., 1969. BLUEPRINT FOR ACTION 113 these positions would encourage those majoring in physical education to strive for the summit of their profession. Second, they wanted coaches to cease dictating their dating habits. While coaches were perfectly free to formulate team policies that applied to their athletes equally, they had no right to dictate who an athlete might date or marry. Third, they wanted an end to discrimination in student housing and support from the university against racist landlords. Fourth, they called for an end to using an athlete's talents to bring school championships and then discarding him without an education. Fifth, they called for an end to preserving certain positions of leadership, such as quarterback, team captain, or playmaker, for white athletes only. Sixth, they wanted coaches to cease preserving racial quotas by stacking several good players at a single position and thereby avoiding starting too many. Seventh, they called for an end to the racist policies of campus fraternities and sororities. Eighth, they called for the recruitment of more black students to the campus, reasoning that if white, non-athletic students could be educated, black non-athletes could be also. They saw this as serving the immediate purpose of improving social life and the long-term effect of upgrading the entire black community. RACE MILITANCY AND MICHIGAN Michigan athletes were well aware of the confrontations, especially those occurring on Big Ten campuses. Yet, the University had no boycott by its black athletes. Why? "I don't know," said Ken Maxey, the 1969 basketball captain. "We had many of the same problems." There were probably many reasons, but the chief one seems to be the appointment of Don Canham to replace the retiring H. O. "Fritz" Crisler as Director of Athletics in 1968. He was well aware of the national unrest and moved quickly to avoid the bad publicity and deep racial divisions being reported on many campuses. When the athletes appeared on campus in the fall they would see black coaches. Ken Burnley was immediately appointed assistant in track, the first black ever to hold a coaching position at the University. A few weeks 114 HAIL TO THE VICTORS later Fred Snowden was named assistant basketball coach. He had long been one of the finest in the country, having built an impressive winning tradition at Detroit's Northwestern High School. His appointment precipitated a rush of letters to the Athletic Department from alumni and fans repulsed by the announcement. Louis Lee, a recent graduate of Michigan's football program, was made freshman football coach. When the athletes came to the training room for taping or injury problems they would see a black assistant trainer; Mike Willie had been employed in that capacity for a year already. When they came to the equipment room for clean laundry or equipment repairs they would see a black recently appointed to assist there. This willingness to bring blacks into leadership positions at the lower echelons of athletic administration received considerable publicity. Some would call this tokenism, but as Dan Kean expressed it, "Even a 'showcase' black is better than none. When one is added to the staff meetings it becomes increasingly difficult to maintain effective prejudice." The blacks appointed took care to announce that they had no intention of serving simply as coaches of the black athletes or as apologists for racist policies. While they might have advantages in addressing certain team problems, they intended to be team coaches in the fullest sense. At some other Big Ten schools black coaches had made these very mistakes. To show his genuine interest in black youth, Canham launched a summer program in which many were bussed from Detroit to Ann Arbor and given sports instruction at the University by varsity coaches. Some observers today believe the program would be more effective if the travel were reversed and the coaches went to the inner city schools and playgrounds. Black students on the Michigan campus were pleased when Canham allowed them to stage an all-Greek show in Yost Field House in 1969 without charge. All of these could be considered measures of expediency designed to reduce tensions, but there is every evidence that Canham's motives were based on a more solid foundation. He had roomed with Bill Watson and with Wes Allen when both were his track teammates at Michigan. During twenty years as track coach he had left a clear impression among blacks that race was of no consequence in his dealings with athletes. In 1968 the black athletes saw an alert Director of Athletics moving swiftly to avoid racial conflict at Michigan. Almost as important as Canham's actions was the fact that 75 BLUEPRINT FOR ACTION 115 percent of all the black "M"' men graduate.2 (Eighty-seven per cent of the white "M" men graduate.) Athletes on many other campuses were much less fortunate, and some bitterly resented the evidence that they had been used to advertise a university. At the University of Washington between 1957 and 1967 seven black football players graduated, thirteen did not. That's 35 per cent. At Michigan during that period 16 graduated, five did not. That's 76 per cent. Minnesota graduated four of nine black athletes in 1966 and 1967. That's 44 per cent. Michigan graduated 19 of 25 in those two years. That's 76 per cent. It wasn't that Michigan coaches necessarily demanded less of an athlete's time than other coaches or worked harder to keep them eligible. School admission policies forced them to start with a better student. Consequently, they ended with fewer failures. Regardless of the reasons, the fact remains that failure to graduate was not as volatile an issue on the Michigan campus as elsewhere. Other factors undoubtedly contributed to reduced tensions. The 1968 football team chose Ron Johnson as its captain. The honor had already been extended to black athletes in track and basketball, but Johnson's selection had the psychological effect of unjamming the key log, freeing coaches and athletes in all sports to award leadership without regard to race. In the area of housing, several "M" men noted that in 1968 the University began supporting black students against racist landlords. In 1968 athletes dated the lady of their choice. If she was white, she attended team functions where dates or wives were welcome. Coaches no longer penalized such action. Black fraternities and sororities withdrew from the Intrafraternity Council in protest of the racism traditional to the Greek housing system, but this was never a visceral issue at Michigan. Black students have shown little enthusiasm for white fraternities and sororities, but have fought hard for a black dormitory or house shared by students of all races, but where black culture would predominate. "I think Michigan was a bit ahead of other schools in race relations," said Marshall Dickerson. "There was a good chance of my going to Indiana on a track scholarship in 1958, and I'm glad I didn't. Their campus trouble a short time ago indicate it would have been a lot tougher." The trouble was a deep racial division within the defending Big Ten champion Indiana football team of 1969. It ended with nearly all the black athletes refusing to play, losing their scholarships, and sending the Hoosiers to the bottom of the Big Ten. 2 See Appendix D for the percentage of lettermen, both black and white, who have graduated from Michigan during the 1891-1970 time period. 116 HAIL TO THE VICTORS "Ohio State had some strange rules also," said Dickerson. "My wife wanted to attend the Big Ten Indoor meet at Columbus in March, 1960, to see me compete. One of her girlfriends was dating someone at Ohio State and he said he couldn't find a black girl that she could share a room with. A black girl was not allowed to room with a white girl. I don't know if this was a convention or a written rule. At Michigan I had a white roommate two years in the dorms." Ken Burnley agreed with Dickerson's judgement that Michigan coaches were a bit ahead of other schools. "It doesn't matter about the numbers or per cent of blacks on any team," he said. "If you are good enough you start. It wasn't always this way. I heard a lot of locker room grumbling when I was here as an undergraduate from 1961 to 1964, but not now." Jesse Rawls, captain of the 1970 wrestling team, thought race kept Jim Betts from becoming Michigan's first varsity quarterback in 1969, but no one wanted to force the issue. It would have put tremendous pressure on Betts if fellow athletes had demanded he be given a chance to lead the team. It was 1972 before Dennis Franklin became the first black quarterback in Wolverine history. "Black athletes had only one strong grievance," said Rawls of the 1969 and '70 school years. "That was the small number of black students on campus." Canham was able to avoid serious conflict with the black athletes, but the entire campus in 1970 was the scene of a massive student strike designed to increase the enrollment of minority students. It might have occured several years earlier, but there was evidence that the University was voluntarily moving toward larger minority enrollment. In September 1963, just after Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech, Michigan's President, Harlan Hatcher, delivered his State of the University address. In it he called for programs that would increase the flow of racial minorities into the professional and academic life of the University, the state, and the country as a whole. His Vice-President for Academic Affairs, Roger Heyns, then established the Opportunity Awards Program, the first of its kind in the United States.3 The first step was to recruit more black students, and in 1964 the first 70 Opportunity students were enrolled at Michigan. The task of recruitment soon fell to Robert Marion, a black alumnus who had 3 Interview, Dr. William Cash, Director of the Opportunity Awards Program at The University of Michigan, March 23, 1973. BLUEPRINT FOR ACTION 117 lettered on the 1954 and 1955 football teams. Visits were made to various high schools informing students of the program, so that they could begin looking to Michigan and preparing to meet admission requirements. The scope was soon expanded to include graduate students, and then Michigan residents of every racial and ethnic minority and those from low-income backgrounds. As part of the effort to recruit minority faculty and staff personnel a bilateral exchange program was initiated with Tuskegee University. For a variety of reasons many of the Opportunity students chose not to continue their education at Michigan. Whatever their particular reasons it was generally felt that discontent was linked to the small number of blacks in evidence throughout the entire University students, faculty, and staff. When the Opportunity Awards Program was initiated in 1963, black students comprised less than one per cent of the University's graduates. In 1968 the total was one and one-half percent. On April 4, 1968 Martin Luther King, Jr., was assassinated and the sickening reality of the news summoned black students at Michigan together. On the day of his funeral they occupied, in a peaceful manner, the old Administration Building for a few hours. The University pledged to increase black enrollments, and two years later it reached an all-time high of three per cent. Since approximately 18 per cent of the state's college-age youth were black, the feeling grew among black students at Michigan that efforts must be made to press the administration into a greater sense of urgency in recruitment of minority students. Representatives of several black student groups began to meet and discuss the subject in January, 1970. At the January 29 Student Government Council meeting Walter Lewis, a member of the Black Students Union, announced that an escalated drive called the Black Action Movement (BAM) was underway and would culminate at the February Regents meeting. An open hearing was held by the Regents February 19. The Regents listened as the BAM members read the following list of demands: (1) Increase the black enrollment at the University to 10 per cent of the student body by fall, 1973. (2) Admit 900 new black students by fall, 1971. (3) Provide adequate supportive services, including financial aid, counselors, and tutors for students having difficulty. 118 HAIL TO THE VICTORS (4) Add nine employees to the Office of Admissions to actively recruit enough undergraduate students to meet the enrollment goal. Add an unspecified number of graduate recruiters. (5) Put a referendum on the March Student Government Council ballot to have students vote on assessing themselves $3.00 for one year for the Martin Luther King, Jr., Scholarship Fund. (6) Permit tuition waivers for minority group students who are residents of the State of Michigan and admitted under special programs. (7) Establish a black student center in the Ann Arbor community. (8) Halt all work of a permanent nature on the Black Studies Program for re-evaluation and community input. (9) Create an appeal board to hear cases of students who disagreed with the University's response to their financial aid requests. (10) Revamp the Parents Confidential Statement which determines, in part, a student's need for financial aid. (11) Hire a Chicano (Mexican-American) recruiter to assure the enrollment of 50 Chicano students by fall, 1971. The Regents asked President Robben Fleming to bring a proposal for a five-year minority admissions plan to their March meeting, and the meeting adjourned. Fearful that the issue would lose its momentum if allowed to pass into the summer without a commitment, BAM leaders appeared at the Regents regular public meeting the next day. They asked for a special meeting in two weeks, at which the administration would report on its progress in finding money to fund this program. Honoring such a request would be "a show of good faith." The blacks stormed out of the meeting when their request was denied. Students both black and white had gathered outside on Regents Plaza. BAM BLUEPRINT FOR ACTION leaders leaving the meeting angrily informed them of the Regents' "bad faith." Shortly thereafter, several thousand books were pushed from the shelves in the Undergraduate Library, an action which was to be repeated the next day, and food was thrown on the floor of the Union Cafeteria. On March 5, Fleming announced a proposal that included a goal of seven per cent black enrollment by fall, 1973. Additional staff would be provided to work toward this goal. Except for the seven per cent, the Regents would not be held to numerical quotas. Most of the other demands were ignored. With the next Regents' meeting just two weeks away, support began building for BAM. White students, faculty, and staff members in increasing numbers cast their lot with BAM, and helped publicize its goals. Tension filled the room as the Regents gathered for the March 18 open hearing. The administration's plan was announced and was met with stem opposition by BAM leaders, who repeated their demands. At their regular public meeting the next day, the Regents appeared to be in agreement with BAM on the major issues. They set a goal of ten per cent by 1973. Enough funds were committed to assure an enrollment of seven per cent. The additional three percent would be contingent on whether individual schools and colleges within the University voted to cut their budgets and provide funds. Efforts would be made to secure aid from state and federal governments and private donors. A two million dollar increase in the Opportunity Awards Program by 1973-74 fiscal year was granted, along with $100,000 for recruiters and supportive services in 1970-71. The Regents were on record as supporting the idea of a minority enrollment program, and vowed to "intensify efforts" to raise the necessary funds. As the proceedings were announced by public address to the crowd gathered outside the Regents' Room, they grew restive and angry. Some believed the entire list of BAM demands had been rejected. Others seethed at the thought that BAM's attempt to deliver this blow at injustice was seriously compromised by the Regents. A few bolted into classrooms, disrupting them. Police in riot gear arrived to arrest several rock-throwers, and to avert serious clashes. The angry crowd dispersed. Resentment against the Regents built through the night. A student strike was called by BAM. Placards across the campus called 120 HAIL TO THE VICTORS upon students to "Shut it down, to open it up," and this chant echoed from many doorways blocked by strikers. Standing in those BAM picket lines were many of Michigan's black lettermen for 1970. They were there with the blessings of their coaches. Each of the next five days the strike gained momentum. Entrances to four parking structures used by students, faculty, and University staff were blocked, and the strike was explained to the occupants of each car. The Residential College voted to cancel all classes. Attendance in the College of Literature, Arts, and Sciences, the largest undergraduate unit, was reported to decrease by 50 per cent. One day later attendance was estimated at 40 per cent, with 60 per cent for the entire University. Pickets began appearing at the power plant, residence halls, and the Michigan Union food service. After a series of special conferences, the deans and eventually the entire faculty expressed general agreement with the idea of foregoing some part of their budgets in order to guarantee funds to meet the ten per cent goal. The faculty of the College of Architecture and Design voted to assess themselves $100 each to assist in the fund drive. President Fleming invited BAM to reopen negotiations. One day later he announced that funding for the admissions goal had been assured by pledges from budgets of the various schools. Hard bargaining on the other issues continued as the pickets were ordered to standby. After BAM and Fleming had reached accord, the Regents spent two days examining the pact. On April 1, 1970, an overflow crowd jammed the Michigan Union ballroom to learn that funding for the ten per cent goal was guaranteed. Nine undergraduate and a number of graduate recruiters would be added. The black student center was rejected, as was additional support to the King Scholarship Fund. Some of the lesser demands were granted. Each of the eleven BAM negotiators recommended acceptance of the agreement, and the crowd roared its approval. The nine-day strike ended. It had been the first of its kind ever to succeed in the University's history. To its supporters, it represented one of the few bright chapters in the sordid narrative of American race relations. "We've got a long road to walk; we've been walking it a long time, but we're going to walk it a little faster now," said Dave Lewis, one of the BAM leaders. "This is one strike the University of Michigan will never forget," said Ed Fabre, another BAM leader. Some of the interviews for this study were being conducted as the BAM strike drew to its close. Many of the "M" men had followed BLUEPRINT FOR ACTION 121 it closely, and a frequent first reaction was, "It's about time." Some questioned the idea of fixing a quota, but generally all were proud of the courage, leadership, and restraint characteristic of the strike. "I don't know what methods they used, but I agree wholeheartedly with the need for a commitment to educate more blacks there," said Hap Coleman. He expressed intense opposition to violence, the modus operandi of the Ku Klux Klan for so many years, and conjectured that the success of BAM represented an idea for which the University had been ready. Henry Graham thought the increased enrollment of minorities would provide an interchange of ideas and personalities immensely valuable to all students at Michigan. To many whites it meant denying their sons or daughters a place in the University. Others envisioned a great University lowering its standards to admit the unqualified. "Standards for admittance are not free of subjective interpretation," said Joseph Hayden, Jr. "A better term than qualified is qualifiable. It is about the time the University showed some leadership in the education of minority groups." "We have been working with a black recruitment program at the University of Detroit," said John Codwell, Jr. "With the proper support systems a very high per cent of these students are surviving. Systematic tutorial help, building communicative skills, study and test-taking skills, are bolstered by counseling, summer enrichment, and similar programs in the eleventh and twelfth grades. They are succeeding and surviving at a higher rate than the average freshman at the U. of D.," he said. Unfortunately, many of the people in a position to control the flow of money into the University, and thus into minority programs, did not share the enthusiasm of the BAM strikers and the black lettermen interviewed. They decried the student conduct as a dangerous precedent in favor of mob rule. This view was heard frequently at the state capitol in Lansing where the University's educational budget is funded. Many potential donors to the University were repulsed by the strike and declined to contribute funds to students who had showed what they considered a lack of respect for property and authority. While the BAM strike was more disruptive of campus routine than destructive of property, many of the alumni had simply had their fill of national reports showing college students in rebellion. Donations to the King Scholarship Fund dropped mar 122 HAIL TO THE VICTORS kedly. Some University officials believed that nothing positive was accomplished by BAM; that the proposals not thrown out by the Regents were already being implemented. Without question, the strike caused some polarization, but it probably did more to generate state-wide awareness that Michigan was deeply committed to the education of minority students than had all the publicity of the Opportunity Awards Program since its inception. Both recruitment and retention of minority students have shown marked improvement since the BAM strike. In August of 1971 the National Association of State Universities and Land Grant Colleges said the Opportunity Awards Program at Michigan "stands as one of the largest and most successful in the United States." By the spring, 1973, black students made up 6.6 per cent of Michigan's enrollment. The 10 per cent goal set by the BAM strike was not reached by the fall of 1973.The major stumbling block has been the lack of funds. Both the national financial crisis and the attitude toward the strike by state legislators and potential donors have militated against achieving the goal. A secondary stumbling block is the weakness inherent in quotas. Often a department attaining its quota ceases to be interested in further recruitment of minority students. This makes it essential for every department to meet its quota if the overall 10 per cent goal is to be achieved. In defense of the quotas, it must be admitted that blacks and other minority members are far more visible in every element of the University than ever before. The quotas may already have achieved their underlying purpose, which is, ironically enough, to make quotas unnecessary. Retaining minority students and seeing them join the ranks of Michigan's alumni has been even more challenging than the task of recruiting them. Many minority students simply could not identify with the University and withdrew, although their academic records indicate they were doing well. No single-answer approach was taken to improve the rate of retention, but a key factor was the system of counseling (academic, social, vocational, etc.). Nearly every letterman interviewed for this book singled out counseling as the first problem area they would attack if they could remake society as they found it at Michigan during their undergraduate days. Today they would find vast improvements. There are both professional and student counselors available for assistance. Those who need academic assistance are provided tutorial service on an individual basis through the Coalition for the Use of Learning Skills (CULS) study groups. Study group leaders are expected to be knowledgeable in the course BLUEPRINT FOR ACTION 123 material and help students translate theory into reality by using examples from the student's culture with which he or she is readily familiar. Students often feel freer to participate in these informal discussions than in the classroom, especially with a tutor of the same race. Many freshmen are expected to rejoin the program later as tutors, perpetuating a tradition of mutual concern and assistance. This counseling system centers on academic problems, but students are encouraged to discuss many other problems as an initial step in learning where help in resolving them can be obtained. The University's Office of Student Services provides counsel in matters of housing, career planning and employment, health needs, and personal or social problems. Financial assistance based on need is provided by the Office of Financial Aid. It is also available to advise and assist students in budgeting funds during the academic school year. There are black employees in these offices, but many students would probably not avail themselves of these services were it not for the peer counseling and the recently formed black student center, Trotter House. It grew from student insistence during the BAM strike on a black culture unit, and it serves as a means of retaining cultural identification and reducing the vastness of the University. Officially known as the William Monroe Trotter House, this stately home, which once served as a fraternity, was recently refurbished by the University with study and conference rooms and a recreational lounge. Jazz concerts have highlighted social gatherings. Faculty members, guest speakers, poets, entertainers, and various distinguished campus visitors, especially those from the black community, have been invited to make formal presentations or to rap informally with students. Counselors from the Office of Student Services make regular visits to Trotter House, as does the Black Advocate. The latter is another example of recent, innovative ideas being tried at Michigan. The Advocate, a black student enrolled in the University's Law School, is responsible for representing accurately the views of black students to the administration. Perhaps one of the most encouraging signs of change at Michigan for black students is the increasing number of gifted black educators on the faculty. Approximately six per cent of the Michigan faculty are from minority groups, half of them are black. The MichiganTuskegee exchange program continues and the University began participating as an assisting institution with Virginia State University in 1971. In the area of new academic programs, the Center for Afro 124 HAIL TO THE VICTORS American and African Studies was formed shortly after the BAM strike. Black lettermen at Michigan in the past felt more like on-lookers than participants in University life, but this is changing. The sizeable increase in the number of students of different cultural, racial, ethnic, and income backgrounds has helped to create a more friendly and supportive environment on campus than existed before. Efforts to provide good counseling have been expanded. Cultural identification in the black student center should ease the transition from high school to university living. Many avenues of communication are open more clearly than ever before, making it easier to solve problems while they are still small. The increasing number of minority members visible in faculty, administrative, and athletic coaching positions fosters racial pride in a way that once only the deeds of all-American athletes could. It also serves as assurance that blacks do indeed have a voice in the University. RACE MILITANCY AND THE BIG TEN Today's athletes at Michigan find that not only the University but the Big Ten Conference is far more sensitive to the urgings of black people than ever before. At the March 7, 1972, conference meeting several concerned blacks, led by Dr. Robert L. Green of Michigan State University, submitted a report: "The Status of Blacks In The Big Ten Athletic Conference: Issues and Concerns." It charged that securing an education is far too often sacrificed to the overriding concern for success in athletics by member schools, and that black athletes were suffering the most, a high percentage leaving school without degrees. It stated that discrimination is still very much in vogue in the conference as evidenced by the paucity of blacks employed in athletics. Of the 76 game officials employed at the time of the report (40 in football and 36 in basketball only two were black - one in each sport.). There was an almost total absence of black clerical employees, publicity directors, team physicians, and other personnel essential to an athletic department. The boards in control of athletics at the seven Big Ten universities covered in the report had a total of four black representatives, two of whom were recent appointments. The report did not study Michigan, whose board had three black representatives. Dr. Green's report strongly recommended a fifth year of financial support for athletes who have completed their eligibility but not their degree; a black counselor, not controlled by the coaches, to BLUEPRINT FOR ACTION 125 assist black athletes; the hiring of black officials; the hiring of blacks as members of the athletic department staff; more equitable summer job placement for black athletes; and a black associate commissioner to implement these recommendations. The following day, March 8, Commissioner Wayne Duke was empowered to appoint a special Advisory Commission of approximately five distinguished black persons with a background in athletics. They were to make a study of various conference programs, and report their recommendations. The directors of athletics were to serve as a committee to review the selection and appointment procedures of black officials. All conference schools were to provide information on black employees in the athletic department. There were several reasons why the Big Ten representatives wanted another study conducted. Green had summoned representatives of the various news media to a press conference, and dramatized his appearance at the Big Ten meeting far beyond what had been anticipated. Then, during his report, a photographer burst into the room and began snapping pictures, again to the surprise of the representatives. Many of them viewed Green as politically ambitious and preferred to do business with a group of their own choosing. No immediate action was taken to have the advisory group meet, and those who had agreed to serve on it soon faced embarrassing questions. "What is your group doing?" "What is its purpose?" Leroy Bolden, the Michigan State representative, interpreted the delay as an absence of good faith and resigned. It was October, after a seven-month wait, before the first organizational meeting was called. Judge A. Dickson of Minnesota was elected chairman with George Taliferro of Indiana as vice-chairman. It was determined that every conference school should have at least one representative - a former black athlete who had represented that school in intercollegiate competition. This Commission deliberated without knowing of Dr. Green's March 7 report. Dickson later expressed his displeasure at not being informed of the report, but accepted the explanation that the conference wanted an independent evaluation by former Big Ten athletes so that at the appropriate time the findings could be compared with Dr. Green's. Upon comparison, the two studies were fundamentally the same. Dickson's Commission reported to the Big Ten at its December 4, 1972, meeting. The most pressing problems identified were in the academic area, where many of the athletes felt dehumanized, exploited, and accepted only as an athlete. Available statistics indicated 126 HAIL TO THE VICTORS that a large percentage of black athletes in the Big Ten do not graduate. The commission members recalled their playing days and the practice among athletic department counselors of steering black athletes into "Mickey Mouse" courses requiring minimum effort to get passing grades and maintain eligibility. Rule 3 of the Conference Rules of Eligibility was described as insufficient. It required that a student (1) be making normal quantitative progress towards completion of the scholastic requirements for his degree, and (2) have a satisfactory cumulative grade average. No mention was made of curriculum content. Thus, an ill-advised or intentionally misadvised student could consistently be scholastically eligible for competition, yet at the end of his senior year wind up with a total number of courses and credits that would not lead to a degree even though his grade point average was high enough. The commission asked that content be added as a third criterion for scholastic eligibility to insure that any athlete who maintained his athletic eligibility would also be able to graduate in four to five years. As a further step toward placing a higher priority on the education of athletes, the commission requested that an office of athleticacademic counseling be established at all member institutions. It would be under the control of the faculty representative, rather than the athletic director or coaches, and would be responsible for coordinating the counseling of athletes on curriculum content and progress toward a degree. A third point concerning academic success was that many students, especially those competing in varsity athletics, take nearly five years to graduate. The Big Ten athlete was provided financial support for four years. The commission deemed a fifth year to be essential if graduation statistics were to be improved. Another issue was the belief among black athletes that coaches expected them to have a much higher tolerance for pain than other athletes. To this insensitivity is added the lack of understanding of the black pride movement. It leaves coaches deeply suspicious of any ties that bind black athletes, and diminishes the respect and confidence of the athletes in their coaches. It was recommended that educational programs or seminars should be established at all member institutions to improve the coaches' ability to communicate with blacks and to achieve a better person-to-person understanding of their needs and sensitivity level. The commission expressed deep concern over the lack of sincere consideration given black candidates for coaching vacancies and the BLUEPRINT FOR ACTION 127 sparse number of game officials. It asked that each school include minority members in its searching and screening procedure for coaches. It proposed that the Big Ten Commissioner provide member schools with a list of interested and qualified minority candidates whenever there were openings. The Advisory Commission volunteered to begin immediately to assist in compiling the list. Along these same lines, the Big Ten Commissioner was requested to include minority candidates in a search for black officials. The Commission members eagerly awaited the response of the Big Ten to their recommendations. They were being watched closely by many blacks who were cynical of all who advocated working for change within the system and eager to label them Uncle Toms. "Because of our participation in the committee we are constantly faced with such accusations," Dickson told those assembled for the December 4 Big Ten meeting. "... black people who are willing to speak out on such issues are always subject to such criticism. This risk each of us is willing to take in an effort to bring about very needed changes within the Conference." Then, hoping to convey the deep sense of purpose shared by his Commission colleagues, Dickson added, "You must realize that each of us has a deep personal stake in this whole subject matter. In a sense, we are all on trial. We are right out there for all to see. Black athletes on campus know of our existence and have adopted a 'waitand-see' attitude. Each of us has high self-esteem and a high selfimage and desire very much to maintain the credibility that we have individually built up in our respective communities, professions, and at our former campuses. We believe that a positive response to our recommendations will be of benefit, not only to us, but to the Big Ten Conference and all Big Ten athletes, especially black athletes." The response of the Big Ten was a strong affirmation of the Advisory Commission's work. Curriculum content was established as a third criterion for eligibility, and a formula for its implementation was agreed upon. The academic counseling program, to be financed by the athletic department but to operate under the faculty representative, was approved. It will be interesting to see what happens to the salary of this counselor if his advice proves unpopular with the coaches. The Conference approved financial aid for those athletes needing a fifth year to complete a bachelor's degree. With the assistance of the Advisory Commission the Big Ten Commissioner is developing a list of blacks who could be employed as coaches, athle 128 HAIL TO THE VICTORS tic administrators, game officials, trainers, and other athletic department personnel. Several football and basketball officials have been brought into the Big Ten's training program. A black Assistant Commissioner is to be appointed soon, and one of his major functions will be to see that these policies are implemented. Dickson and his fellow members of the Advisory Commission have gained credibility among blacks, and they have demonstrated that change can be effected by working through the system. Even with the appointment of a black Assistant Commissioner this group will very likely continue serving a valuable advisory role. They can keep the Commissioner abreast of attitudes on each campus and help diminish sensitivity problems as blacks enter the athletic departments of those Big Ten schools unaccustomed to employing them. As for its influence outside the Big Ten, the Advisory Commission has made a favorable impression on leadership within the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) and there is some indication they may be planning to form a similar group, giving blacks an effective voice in the formulation of national athletic policies. Some findings of this study are critical of The University of Michigan, and there is much that is negative to report, but this is essentially a positive writing as its title "Hail To The Victors" proclaims. There have been many victors to applaud - the black athletes who won varsity letters and have risen to prominence in their communities in spite of tremendous odds; the white coaches and players who challenged the racism of their day; the University officials who produced imaginative programs and introduced a new era of racial understanding at Michigan; and the Big Ten leadership who have made the Conference exemplary in its sensitivity to the feelings of all athletes, coaches, and fans. vEI IAP 130 HAIL TO THE VICTORS APPENDIX A MICHIGAN'S BLACK LETTERMEN 1882-1972 Track and Field 1. Wm. DeHart Hubbard '23, '24, '25 2. Booker Brooks '29, '30, '32 3. Thomas Eddie Tolan '29, '30, '31 4. Willis F. Ward '33, '34, '35 5. William D. Watson '37, '38, '39, Team Captain 1939 6. George W. Allen '38, '39, '41 7. John W. Roxborough II, '42, '43, '44 8. Orval W. Johnson '45, '46, '47, '48 9. Bill Matney '43 10. Julian Witherspoon '44, '45 11. Robert Mann '45 12. Archie Parsons '45, '46 13. Horace Coleman '46 14. Charles Fonville '46, '47, '48, '50 15. Clay Holland, Jr. '48, '49 16. Joseph Hayden, Jr. '48 17. Roderick E. Warren, '49, '50 18. Aaron Z. Gordon '50, '51, '52 19. Van B. Bruner Jr. '51, '52, '53 20. Horace Coleman Jr. '51, '52 21. Robert Lee Evans '51, '52, '53 22. Thomas Johnson '51, '52 23. Lowell W. Perry '51, '52 24. Grant M. Scruggs Jr. '53, '54, '55 25. Thomas Hendricks Jr. '54, '55, '56 26. John M. Johnson '55 27. James E. Pace '56, '57 28. Milton Robinson '57 29. Ernest L. Simms '57, '58 30. Mamon Gibson '57, '58, '59 Team Captain 1959 31. Erwin W. Crownley '57, '58, '59 32. Louis Williams '57, '58, '59 33. Thomas A. Robinson '59, '60, '61 Team Captain 1961 34. Anthony Seth '59, '60, 35. Lester B. Bird '59, '60, '61 36. Richard A. Cephas '59, '60, '61 37. Marshall L. Dickerson '59, '60, '61 38. Benjamin McRae '60, '61, '62 39. Richard M. Thelwell '61 40. Douglas O. Niles '61, '62 41. Tait L. Malone '62 42. David E. Raimey '62 43. Kenneth S. Burnley '62, '63, '64 APPENDIX 131 44. MacArthur Hunter '62, '63, '64 45. Leonard Johnson '62 46. David L. Romain '63, '64 47. Kent Bernard '63, '64, '65 Team Captain 1965 48. William M. Yearby '64, '65 49. John F. Rowser '64 50. John W. Henderson '64, '65 51. Marion C. Hoey '65, '66 52. Cecil J. Norde Jr. '64, '65, '66 53. Dorie E. Reid, '64, '65 54. Roy D. Woodton, '64, '65, '66 55. Carl D. Ward '65, '66 56. Willie L. Brown '66 57. Clive A. Laidley '66 58. Alexander McDonald '66, '67, '68 59. George W. Hoey '67, '68 60. Clarence Martin '67, '68 61. Solomon Espie '68 62. Ira T. Russell '68, '70 63. Ron Clark '69 64. Thomas Flagg, '69, '70 65. Lorenzo Montgomery '69, '70 66. Reginald Bradford '70, '71 67. Eugene Brown '70, '71 68. Trevor Matthews '70 69. Godfrey Murray '70, '71 70. Robert Pincham '70 71. George Gilchrest '70, '71 72. Reggie Johnson '70 73. Mel Reeves '70, '71 74. Kim Rowe '70, '71 75. Greg Syphax '70, '71 Football 1. George H. Jewett Sr. 1890, '92 2. Willis F. Ward '32, '33, '34 3. Julius Franks '41, '42 all-America 1942 4. Gene A. Derricotte '44, '46, '47, '48 5. Leonard G. Ford '46, '47 6. Robert Mann '46, '47 7. Wesley E. Bradford '50, '51 8. Frank Howell '50, '51, '52 9. Thomas Johnson '50, '51 10. Donald L. Oldham '50, '51, '52 11. Lowell W. Perry '50, '51, '52 all-America 1951 12. Arthur D. Walker '52, '53, '54 all-America 1954 13. Thomas Hendricks Jr. '54, '55 14. David J. Hill '54, '55 15. Robert L. Marion '54, '55 16. Earl Johnson Jr. '55 17. James E. Pace '55, '56, '57 all-America 1957 18. Willie Smith '56, '57, '58 19. Alvin Van Groce '57, '58 20. Donald R. Deskins, Jr. '58, '59 21. Benjamin McRae '59, '60, '61 22. David E. Raimey '60, '61, '62 23. Guy P. Curtis '59,'60,'61 24. Melvin Anthony '62, '63, '64 25. John W. Henderson '63, '64 26. John F. Rowser '63, '64, '66 27. William M. Yearby '63, '64, '65 all-America 1964 and 1965 28. Michael T. Bass '64, '65, '66 132 HAIL TO THE VICTORS 29. Louis R. Lee '64,'65, '66 30. Carl D. Ward '64, '65, '66 31. William C. Hardy '65, '66 32. Raymond Phillips '65, '66, '67 33. Thomas A. Goss '66, '67, '68 34. Derrick Humphries '66 35. Ronald A Johnson '66, '67, '68 all-America 1968 Team Captain 1968 36. Warren D. Sipp '66, '67, '68 37. Stanley E. Broadnax '67, '68 38. George W. Hoey '67, '68 39. Jim Betts '68, '69, '70 40. William Harris '68, '69, '70 41. Henry Hill '68, '69, '70 Team Captain 1970 42. John Lynch, '68 43. Cecil Pryor '68, '69 44. Elijah Sanson '68 45. Marty Washington '68 46. Morris Abrahams '69 47. Alden Carpenter '69, '70, '71 48. Thomas Darden '69, '70, '71 49. Glenn Doughty '69, '70, '71 50. Preston Henry '69, '70 51. Reginald McKenzie '69, '70, '71 52. Michael Oldham '69, '70, '71 53. Michael Taylor '69, '70, '71 54. William Taylor, '69, '70, '71 55. Greg Ellis '70, '71, '72 56. Tom Kee '70, '71, '72 57. David "Bo" Rather '70, '71, '72 58. Tony Smith '70, '71, '72 59. Clint Spearman '70, '71, '72 60. Harry Banks '71, '72 61. Gary Coakley '71, '72 62. Clint Haslerig '71, '72 63. Randy Logan '71, '72 all-America 1972 64. Paul Seal '71, '72 65. Ed Shuttlesworth '71, '72 66. Curtis Tucker '71, '72 67. Alan Walker '71 68. Dave Brown '72 69. Gil Chapman '72 70. Don Coleman '72 71. Dennis Franklin '72 72. Linwood Harden '72 73. John Pighee '72 74. Carl Russ '72 75. Walt Williamson '72 Basketball 1. Donald J. Eaddy '52, '53, '54, '55 2. John E. Codwell Jr. '52, '53, '54 3. Harvey A. Williams '54, '55, '56 4. William D. Wright '56, '57, '58 5. Memie C. Burton Jr. '57, '58, '59 Team Captain 1959 6. Lovell L. Farris '59, '60, 7. John E. Harris '62, '63 8. Bill Buntin '63, '64, '65 all-America 1965 9. Oliver M. Darden '64, '65, '66 Team Captain 1966 10. Cazzie L. Russell Jr. '64, '65, '66 all-America 1964, 1965, 1966 APPENDIX 133 11. James A. Pitts '66, '67, '68 Team Captain 1968 12. Dennis E. Stewart '67, '68 13. Kenneth E. Maxey '67, '68, '69 Team Captain 1969 14. Richard Carter '69, '70 15. Rodney Ford'69,'70,'71 16. Harry Hayward '70 17. Ken Brady '70, '71 18. Dave Hart '70, '71 19. Ernie Johnson '70, '71 20. Henry Wilmore '70, '71 21. John Lockard '71 Baseball Swimming 1. G. Anderson White '55 Tennis 1. Henry C. Graham '28 2. Daniel G. Kean '34 Wrestling 1. Guy P. Curtis '60, '62 2. Jessie Rawls '69, '70 Team Captain 1970 3. Tom Quinn '69, '70 4. Therlon Harris '70, '71 5. Jarrett Hubbard '70, '71 1. Moses Fleetwood Walker 1882, '83 2. Rudolph T. Ash '23 3. Donald Eaddy, '52, '53, '54, '55 4. Frank Howell '52, '53 5. Wilbert Franklin '59, '60 6. Elliot R. Maddox '68 7. Reginald Ball '70, '71 Fencing None Golf None Gymnastics 1. Keith W. Cooley '66 Hockey None APPENDIX B RATIO OF BLACKS AMONG ALL MICHIGAN LETTERMEN, 1890-1972 (Number of black Athletes shown in parenthesis) Fb Bk H Wr Sw CC Tr BsB 1890-91 1891-92 1892-93 12(1) 19 20(1) 11 13 12 GF Tn Gy F 4 Ratio 1/23 0/32 1/36 1916-17 1917-18 1918-19 1919-20 1920-21 1921-22 1922-23 1923-24 1924-25 1925-26 1926-27 1927-28 1928-29 1929-30 1930-31 1931-32 1932-33 1933-34 1934-35 1935-36 1936-37 1937-38 1938-39 14 NO LETTERS W.W.I. 0/14 18 6 18 7 23 9 16 8 22 7 21 10 7 21 8 8 6 21 9 6 4 25 7 8 7 25 9 9 5 21 8 12 8 24 11 7 9 22 8 9 10 23 9 7 9 25 9 8 9 25(1) 9 9 7 25(1) 11 9 11 25(1) 9 8 5 26 9 7 6 25 8 9 11 26 9 11 10 28 10 10 8 0 1 4 0 7 2 9 2 12 2 15 3 14 5 15 6 15 4 12 3 13 4 10 5 12 17 13 14 16 14 13 13 12 10 18 16 21 14 18 14 24(1) 13(1) 16(1) 12 26(1) 15 20 13 16 14 18 13 16(2) 13 20(2) 13 19(1) 14 15(1) 13 17(1) 14 20(1) 13 25(1) 14 19 13 21(1) 16 25(2) 14 30(2) 14 5 4 4 4 4 5 5 5 5 5 5 7 5 8(1) 6 7 6 6 6 8 7 6 6 6 9 7(1) 8 8 6 7 7 7 9 7 8 7 0/50 0/47 0/66 0/64 0/66 2/87= 1/44 1/92 1/102 0/104 0/108 3 1/115 5 2/119=1/60 6 2/119=1/60 6 5 1/121 5 7 1/121 5 2 2/115=1/58 3/117=1/39 2/119= 1/60 0/106 1/118 2/127= 1/64 2/129= 1/65 I rr 1939-40 1940-41 1941-42 1942-43 1943-44 1944-45 1945-46 1946-47 1947-48 1948-49 1949-50 1950-51 1951-52 1952-53 1953-54 1954-55 1955-56 1956-57 1957-58 1958-59 1959-60 1960-61 1961-62 1962-63 1963-64 1964-65 1965-66 1966-67 1967-68 1968-69 1969-70 1970-71 1971-72 1972-73 25 10 11 25 10 11 25(1) 9 11 26(1) 8 9 43 11 11 30(1) 10 10 29 13 15 40(3) 8 14 35(3) 12 14 34(1) 10 16 35 10 17 40(5) 11 14 36(5) 9(2) 16 40(4) 9(2) 15 31(1) 10(3) 12 34(4) 10(2) 14 38(5) 11(2) 14 36(2) 10(2) 17 40(3) 8(2) 17 39(3) 10(2) 15 44(2) 10(1) 14 38(2) 9 17 40(3) 9(1) 15 38(2) 10(2) 14 37(4) 12(3) 20 39(6) 14(3) 19 44(7) 10(3) 18 42(10) 10(3) 20 42(6) 11(3) 18 57(12) 12(5) 20 58(13) 10(3) 19 48(16) 9(6) 19 54(20) 9(5) 17 51(20) 9 16 7 19 9 15 6 15 10 11 11 13 9 15 11 14 10 16 8 19 10 18 9 17 10 15 9 16 10 19 9 20(1) 11 13 8 16 9 18 10 26 11(1) 19 11 23 13(1) 18 13 19 16 18 15 17 13 19 13 18 15 15 15(2) 22 12(3) 19 12(3) 22 12(2) 18 8 28 15 27(1) 15 18(1) 15 18(2) 17 37(2) 16 23(4) 13 18(4) 15 15(2) 16 16(4) 17 16(2) 17 20(3) 17 27(6) 17 24(5) 15(2) 26(3) 18(2) 23(2) 16(1) 24(3) 20(1) 22(2) 17 19(6) 16 20(4) 17 25(8) 17(1) 24(6) 20(1) 25(7) 19 24(7) 18 25(4) 19 31(10) 20 24(8) 21 28(7) 19 23(3) 18 27(5) 18(1) 21(5) 17 26(7) 17 27(10 19(1) 21(8) 19(1) 10 7 8 6 6 6 6 9 7 7 6 7 6 7 6 8 7 8 6 6 6 6 7 9 7 8 8 8 8 7 7 8 8 8 8 8 7 7 7 7 7 6 6 7 6 8 7 7 8 7 8 8 7 7 8 7 7 8 8 8 6 7 8 11 13 12 7 9 8 9 9 6 9 8 9 10 12 12 8 9 11 12 13 15 15(1) 17 12 15 14 16 13 0/132 1/129 2/118=1/59 3/112=1/37 2/152= 1/76 5/123 = 1/25 4/127= 1/32 5/134= 1/27 7/140= 1/20 3/142=1/47 3/151=1/50 11/157=1/14 14/148= 1/11 11/153=1/14 7/143= 1/20 11/155=1/14 9/149=1/17 10/148=1/15 9/155=1/17 14/167= 1/12 11/163=1/15 9/165=1/18 12/162= 1/14 8/166= 1/21 17/182=1/11 17/180=1/11 18/182=1/10 16/175=1/11 15/173=1/12 24/194= 1/8 26/193= 1/7 36/193= 1/5 36/190= 1/5 136 HAIL TO THE VICTORS APPENDIX C RATIO OF BLACKS AMONG MICHIGAN GRADUATES, 1916-1972 Year 19 12-13 19 18-19 1924-25 1930-31 1936-37 1942-43 1948-49 1954-55 1960-6 1 1961-62 1967-68 197 1-72 No. black grad- No. graduates uates pictured pictured Ratio 3 946 1/315 1 660 1/660 8 1456 1/182 10 1648 1/165 5 1308 1/262 8 1382 1/173 25 3296 1/132 27 1928 1/71 NO PICTURES OF SENIORS 11 2105 1/191 30 1899 1/63 58 1522 1/26 APPENDIX D GRADUATION STATISTICS FOR MICHIGAN LETTERMEN* Period 189 1-1920 192 1-1940 1941- 1950 195 1-1960 1961-1970 TOTALS Black Letternmen Graduating Yes No Percentage - 2.00 5 4.56 16 3.84 27 8.77 53 17.76 135 34.75 White Lettermen Graduating Yes 19 47 14 29 21 No Percentage 7.73 8.85 2.88 0 1.00 2.91 130 19.87 *Statistics include all the black lettermen eligible for graduation by 1970 and a random sample of 149 white lettermen. APPENDIX 137 APPENDIX E BLACK ALL-AMERICANS IN FOOTBALL 1940 - 1970* 1940 1941 1942 1943 1944 1945 1946 1947 1948 1949 1950 1951 1952 1953 1954 1955 1956 0 of 11 None selected 0of 11 0of 11 2 of 11 0of 11 0of 11 0 of 11 0of 11 0of 11 1 of 22 2 of 22 1 of 22 1 of 22 1 of 22 4 of 22 2 of 22 1957 1958 1959 1960 1961 1962 1963 1964 1965 1966 1967 1968 1969 1970 1 of 22 0 of 22 2 of 22 2 of 22 4 of 22 2 of 22 4 of 22 3 of 22 7 of 22 5 of 22 3 of 22 2 of 22 3 of 22 6 of 23 * Based upon Look magazine all-American. APPENDIX F BLACK ALL-AMERICANS IN BASKETBALL 1949 - 1970* 1949 1950 1951 1952 1953 1954 1955 1956 1957 1958 1959 1960 1961 0 of 5 0 of 5 0 of 5 1 of 5 1 of 5 1 of 10 4 of 10 4 of 10 2 of 10 4 of 10 4 of 10 4 of 10 3 of 10 1962 1963 1964 1965 1966 1967 1968 1969 1970 3 of 10 4 of 10 3 of 10 3 of 10 4 of 10 6 of 10 8 of 10 6 of 10 6 of 10 * Based upon Look magazine all-American. 138 HAIL TO THE VICTORS APPENDIX G OLYMPIC MEDALS WON BY BLACK TRACK AND FIELD ATHLETES FROM THE UNITED STATES, 1904-1972. 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