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Authors: Simon Henderson

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In a letter to David Cecil, Lord of Exeter, Pedro Ramirez Vázquez, the chairman of the Mexican organizing committee, outlined his objections to South African participation. Vázquez spoke of his country's desire to “adhere to the lofty ideals of the Olympic Movement.” He argued that the games offered an “extraordinary opportunity … to the Mexican people to receive the youth of the world—an opportunity now threatened by the political interests of a minority that has done nothing to provide equality of opportunity for its young athletes in its own territory.”
121
There was considerable pressure from the Mexicans to stop the participation of the South Africans. They were delighted when J. W. Westerhoff, secretary general of the IOC, officially notified Vázquez of the decision to withdraw the official invitation to South Africa and asked the Mexican organizing committee to make the necessary arrangements concerning their nonparticipation.
122

Although Brundage had clearly been in favor of the South Africans' appearance at the games, Mexican officials made clear their gratitude that he had made the decision to call a vote on the issue and then withdraw the country's invitation. Vázquez wrote to Brundage that he had conveyed the decision on South African nonparticipation to President Díaz Ordaz. He went on to assure the head of the IOC that he had “publicly declared that all your acts have been motivated by a sincere feeling of friendship towards Mexico.”
123
It is notable that once the decision had been made to withdraw the invitation to the South Africans, the Mexican IOC vice president, José de Clark, was instrumental in encouraging the immediate reelection of Brundage for another four-year term as head of the IOC.
124
The main driving forces behind excluding South Africa from the games were undoubtedly to be found in the higher echelons of the IOC and its negotiations with the Mexican organizing authorities.

Therefore, the role played by Harry Edwards and the OCHR in the decision to reinstate the ban on South African participation was negligible. The main part played by Edwards and his supporters was to stimulate debate on the issue in the United States itself. What is crucial, nevertheless, is the impact of this decision on the OPHR and potential U.S. Olympians. Paul Hoffman, who was a prominent member of the group of white athletes who vocally supported the OPHR, saw an inequality in the significance of the demands made by the movement. The six main demands of the OCHR were “like an eclectic mix of big and little, or more specific and less specific,” he argued. The record of the NYAC with respect to race relations was poor, but “certainly it was not a logical parallel [to draw] with apartheid South Africa.”
125
Hoffman could see the greater importance
of the South Africa issue alongside other demands made by the OCHR and it is fair to speculate that many athletes were able to grasp the importance of such an international issue. For some prospective competitors, the significance of the South Africa ban was accentuated by the fact that rivals for Olympic medals would not be attending Mexico City. Jane Swagerty, a teenage swimmer on the U.S. team, had the advantage of swimming her 100-meter backstroke event without competition from the world-record holder, a South African.
126

The realization of a ban on South African participation had a major impact on the OPHR; it appeared to lessen the need for a boycott by African American athletes. Quarter-miler Vince Matthews asked his teammate and OPHR organizer Lee Evans what the direction of the movement would be after the South African decision had been made. Evans was somewhat vague in his reply: “Nobody knows where it is heading but we are going to stick together.”
127
The
New York Times
reported that the decision to ban South Africa was a help to the USOC and caused members of the OPHR to have second thoughts concerning any boycott activity.
128
Certainly the IOC hoped that this would be the case. Indeed, alluding to Edwards, one member of the Olympic executive committee argued, “We did not want that chap from California coming down to Mexico City and setting off riots. We had to think of the safety of the young people involved in the Games themselves, especially the white South Africans competing. Suppose one of them should be killed in a riot?”
129
Clearly the IOC hoped that the exclusion of the South Africans was the end of the matter.

It was obvious, however, that the issue was not going to go away. With the likelihood of a boycott receding, sporting administrators became worried about alternative forms of protest that might be utilized by politically minded athletes. The USOC struggled with the problems of possible boycotts and political action to the extent that they had to take an unusually large number of athletes to altitude training and had to put off final selection of the team until much later than usual. Roby wrote to Brundage in the summer of 1968 informing him that a board of consultants had been set up to meet with athletes and counsel them against any undesirable action. Jesse Owens was made chairman of this board, which included three other African Americans. Roby also felt it necessary to mention that one of the track and field coaches, Stan Wright, and one of the medical staff, Dr. Plummer, were also black.
130
The head of the USOC seemed to be suggesting that having African Americans among the Olympic staff alone was likely to have a calming influence on politically minded black athletes.

Avery Brundage. The head of the International Olympic Committee was determined not to allow politics to interfere with sport. Avery Brundage papers, RS: 26/20/37, box 299, University of Illinois.

Part of the reason that U.S. sporting authorities were so concerned was that Edwards had been determined to keep up the pressure on the issues. The OPHR leader had argued in November 1967 that the situation in America was no different from the situation in South Africa, claiming that oppression of blacks in the United States “is as bad as that of South Africa, America has to be exposed for what it is.”
131
It was this assertion that so offended many athletes and administrators. In America in the late 1960s, following passage of the major legislation of the Civil Rights Movement, the popular perception was that life for African Americans was better than it had been at any other time in the nation's history. Added to this, the powerful belief in sport as a positive racial force prohibited an appreciation of the point that Edwards and the OPHR were making. In the eyes of many, the expulsion of South Africa was seen as the final step in a
quest for “justice” that had gone too far; to persist with calls for an African American boycott of the Olympics was ludicrous. It was clear, however, that even with the possibility of a boycott fast receding the ripples created by the OPHR were reaching unexpected areas of the sporting world.

A Dashiki in the Boat House: The OPHR and Harvard Crew

On August 1, 1968, the
New York Times
reported that five members of the U.S. rowing team, all Harvard men—Scott Steketee, Curtis Canning, Cleve Livingston, David Higgins, and coxswain Paul Hoffman—were expressing public support for the OPHR.
132
In a press release drafted a week earlier the rowers stated, “We—as individuals—have been concerned with the place of the black man in American society and his struggle for equal rights. As members of the United States Olympic team, each of us had come to feel a moral commitment to support our black team-mates in their efforts to dramatize the injustices and inequities which permeate our society.” Expressing an expanded conception of the role of the athlete and of sport in general in the construction of race relations, the statement went on to argue, “We feel that working to correct racial injustices is the undeniable task of all athletes and all men, black and white. Surely the spirit of the Olympic Games requires us, as white participants, to explore all the means at our disposal to further the cause of brotherhood and the claims to equality of our black colleagues.”
133

The Harvard rowers were motivated by personal conviction that the racial problems in America needed to be solved by white and black communities working together. Cleve Livingston argued that the message of the OPHR was one that essentially upheld equality and democracy and, as such, was worthy of his support.
134
Having grown up in the West Indies on an island with an overwhelmingly black population, Paul Hoffman described issues of race as “totally irrelevant” to him.
135
It can be argued that the expressions of the Harvard rowers and the attention they drew marked a significant, if transitory, shift in the course of the OPHR. The general perception of the aims of Edwards and his organization was that of a radical movement intent on disrupting the sacred institution of sport and embarrassing the U.S. Olympic team and the nation. At a time of significant race riots and the predominance of a Black Power agenda, the OPHR was viewed as a threat to mainstream American values. The statement by the Harvard crew and their intended aims brought a new dimension to the Olympic protest movement, however.

The word
protest
is used intentionally here. Possibly more so than the reinstatement of a ban on South African participation in Mexico City, the involvement of the rowers signaled a move away from any real prospect of a boycott and shifted attention to what might occur at the games themselves. In their initial meetings with Edwards, Hoffman and Livingston made it clear that they were members of a team and would do nothing to jeopardize the prospects of that team. Furthermore, they stated that they were not in favor of any kind of boycott and would not waste the hard work they had put in to get to the Olympics by participating in any such activity.
136
Also, the statement released to the press hinted at an ambiguity concerning the nature of any protest. The rowers stated, “Because we do not know what specific form the black athletes' demonstration will take, we do not consider ourselves tied to any specific action. It is their criticism of society which we here support.”
137

The statement by the Harvard men that they did not know what type of protest was planned was telling. Following the renewal of the ban on South Africa and because of disquiet among some black athletes concerning the role played by Edwards and the pressure placed upon competitors to support the boycott of the NYAC, the likelihood of a boycott of the Olympics increasingly receded. Indeed, later in August it was reported that any possibility of a boycott was now dead.
138
Edwards himself later suggested that the end of any realistic attempt at a boycott came sometime in mid-August. It was decided that even if a handful of black athletes did boycott the Olympics their places would be taken by other top-class African American performers, thus rendering their gesture largely futile.
139

The aim of the Harvard men was to stimulate discussion among fellow athletes concerning the problems facing African American athletes. As such the members of the crew produced a questionnaire that outlined their own views and invited other white athletes to engage in a discourse concerning the treatment of black athletes. Hoffman described the document as an attempt to get other white athletes “to start a dialogue with the black athletes and try and learn about what they think and what they are saying and what their experiences are and how we can make the reality a little closer to the ideal.”
140

The questionnaire, which was sent to athletes as they qualified for the Olympic team, outlined the Harvard rowers' own views on the problems facing black athletes and asked for responses to these issues from the other athletes. It reaffirmed the expanded vision of the role of sport in shaping race relations and the criticism of America's racial situation in stating,
“the goal of the Games is the fostering of brotherhood, not the creation of a false image of racial harmony as a boost to our national ego.” The questionnaire also made it clear that the rowers felt that they could draw attention to the plight of black athletes without having to boycott the games. It read, “we do not feel it is necessary to abandon this competition in order to demonstrate our concern for the problems of our country and to show support for our black team mates.”
141
In a number of handwritten notes attached to the questionnaire and dated September 1968, members of the rowing team asked members of other sections of the Olympic squad to discuss the issues raised by the questionnaire.
142

Scott Steketee stated, “America can only acquire greater dignity and greater hope by facing its most grievous problem openly and before the world.” Edwards responded that it “was beautiful to see some white cats willing to admit they've got a problem and looking to take some action to educate their own.”
143
Indeed, Edwards included the Harvard rowers among the athletes to whom he dedicated his written account of the OPHR,
The Revolt of the Black Athlete
. Certainly the symbolism of the cooperation between a group of white students from Harvard and the man who referred to the president as “Lynchin Baines Johnson” was significant. When it was announced that Edwards would be appearing at a press conference with the crew the switchboard at Harvard began flashing manically as reporters sought an explanation of the events. The sight of Edwards dressed in a dashiki, black beret, and sunglasses sitting alongside the clean-cut, collar-and-tie-wearing team captain Curtis Canning in the nineteenth-century Harvard boat house was a powerful realization of the potential of sport to bring disparate groups together to further the cause of racial equality and social justice.
144

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