here you go.....
John Wooden: 1910-2010
Wooden's barrier-breaking moment was more than moral victory
By Ted Green
When John Wooden pointed down the Indiana State bench to Clarence Walker and sent the rarely used substitute onto the court at Kansas City Municipal Auditorium on March 9, 1948, it barely made a ripple.
Zoom 'Johnny' Wooden (left), as the state’s newspapers often called him then, was 35 and fresh off three years of active duty in World War II when he took his first college coaching job in the fall of 1946 at Indiana State Teachers College (now called Indiana State University). That's where he met Clarence Walker, a player who would help him reshape the world of sports.
In that and the Sycamores’ subsequent games at the weeklong National Association of Intercollegiate Basketball championships, “no expressions of disapproval were heard” among the fans about Walker, according to the sports editor of Kansas City’s black newspaper, The Call. His opponents “regarded Walker as just another basketball player.”
He didn’t do much. Walker scored three points in the Sycamores’ first game, and just eight the entire week.
His contribution to the sport went much deeper.
Walker became the first black player to compete in the tournament, and the first to compete in any college basketball championship outside New York.
Although the event hasn’t gained the recognition of other sports barrier-breaking moments, consider this: More than 60 years later, those closest to Wooden, who died Friday at 99, regard it as the most important achievement in his unparalleled career.
“What could be bigger?” asked his daughter, Nan.
“Johnny” Wooden, as the state’s newspapers often called him then, was 35 and fresh off three years of active duty in World War II when he arrived in the city in the fall of 1946 to take his first college coaching job. He would stay at Indiana State Teachers College (now Indiana State University) just two years before leaving for his famous 27-year stay at UCLA.
Lacking the stars so often associated with him from those championship Bruins teams — Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Bill Walton and many others — Wooden’s Sycamores were a no-name, feisty, fast-breaking bunch, featuring several players who had played for Wooden in his previous job at South Bend Central High School. They also had a black player, Clarence Walker, from East Chicago.
In Wooden’s first season, Teachers College finished 17-8 and was invited to the NAIB tournament, a crowning achievement for small schools. The previous season, the Sycamores — coached by Glenn Curtis, Wooden’s high school coach in Martinsville — had finished runner-up. Wooden refused to take the team to the tournament because of a rule prohibiting black players.
The next season, Teachers College finished 27-7 and again was invited to the NAIB tournament. The rule had been changed: Black players were allowed, but it was understood they still couldn’t otherwise appear publicly with the team.
Wooden declined again, reasoning, as he wrote in his autobiography, “My Personal Best,” that “this humiliation (would be) worse than leaving Clarence behind in Terre Haute.”
But the NAACP contacted Wooden, arguing that Walker simply being able to compete would be a huge step. After getting permission from Walker and his parents, Wooden changed his mind.
The Sycamores traveled by car. Virtually everywhere they stopped, according to Wooden and the surviving team members, they were met with vicious racial hatred. Restaurants refused to serve them. Nasty epithets were common. When they stopped for the night in Columbia, Mo., Walker wasn’t allowed to stay with the team; instead he was given a cot in the hotel basement next to a filthy bathroom.
In a journal Walker kept about the trip and his troubled times in college, he recalled what happened that night:
“During the course of the night, there was a party at the hotel of some college sorority. About 2 a.m. a group of boys came down to the bathroom. They were loud and boisterous, enough to awaken me. About 10 minutes later, they all cleared out, but believe me they did not take everything with them. The aroma coming from the bathroom through a furnace inlet was unbearable. … One can guess how much sleep I got.”
Walker also wasn’t allowed to stay with the team at its hotel in Kansas City, and on the way home he met with the same reaction when the Sycamores, joyous after a second-place finish to Louisville in the tournament, stopped in Effingham, Ill.
“As we walked in the lobby, a lady had a little girl in her arms about three or four years old. When the girl saw me she said, ‘Look Mommy, a nigger’ and the lady said ‘Sh-h-h, a colored boy.’ … I slept downstairs in the basement. Mr. Wooden and I had breakfast together. I felt very relieved when we started to Terre Haute.”
Walker’s feat on the court received scant attention at the time. The Kansas City Star didn’t mention the racial angle the day after he broke the barrier, and there wasn’t much more in the days to come in the mainstream newspapers in Indianapolis and Terre Haute. Yet that moment is now viewed as a decisive step toward equality in the sport.
he following year, 1949, three teams in the NAIB tournament had black players; in 1950, City College of New York had two black starters on the team that won the NCAA Tournament and the National Invitation Tournament; and in many eyes the culminating breakthrough came in 1966, when Texas Western won the NCAA Tournament with an all-black starting five.
Typically, Wooden never spoke much about his role in kick-starting the process. Others have come to appreciate it more and more.
John McCarthy, tournament director for the National Association of Intercollegiate Athletics, calls it “one of the great unknown stories in the country.”
“It’s one of those rare moments that stands out in the history of college sports that transcends sport and moves into society in general,” McCarthy said. “And it’s magnified when someone like coach Wooden is involved.”
Wooden’s daughter, Nan, and his chief biographer, Steve Jamison, agree that it was a momentous event that deserves more publicity.
As for Walker, he was a starter in 1950 when Teachers College won the NAIB championship. He later married, had children and enjoyed a highly successful career as a teacher, high school administrator and tennis coach mostly in Gary and East Chicago. He died in 1989.
Walker’s son Kevin, now an insurance salesman in Gary, said his father rarely talked to him and his siblings about his basketball days. Kevin didn’t know about the journal until he was a senior at East Chicago Washington and was despondent about losing his final basketball game.
The nine-page, typed document his father handed him the next morning was titled “Mr. J.C.” — Jim Crow.
“And I read it,” Kevin said, “and I was like, ‘Wow. What did I just read?’ ”
In addition to the graphic descriptions of the trip to Kansas City and other racial slights Clarence Walker encountered in college, the journal contained praise for several teammates who helped him through the ordeals.
The greatest praise was reserved for his coach.
“If all people were in mind as he is in character,” Walker wrote of Wooden, “I think Mr. J.C. would be trivial.”