Sidelined (17 page)

By the summer of 1968 the NCAA was fully aware of the issues being highlighted by the black athletic revolt. Campus disputes of varying severity and the journalistic endeavor of Olsen in particular were publicizing the grievances of African American athletes. The response of athletic administrators at the campus level was to make concessions to the protesters in order to facilitate a swift end to the racial impasse. Often this took the form of symbolic gestures or cosmetic policy changes that seemed to be aimed at allowing black athletes to show their own community that they were successfully engaging in civil rights activism while, importantly, protecting winning sports programs. At the national level the NCAA made only limited attempts to meet the demands of the black athletic revolt. The
dominant response of the organization was to continue to portray sport as a positive force for racial equality.

The correspondence of Plant and Hansen, key members of the NCAA Executive Committee, shows the anger felt toward those who wished to show that sport, too, was permeated by institutional racism. It is worth reiterating that the NCAA was limited in its ability to institute coordinated action. Still, the major focus was on defending the image of sport rather than seriously assessing the veracity of black athletes' claims of discrimination and prejudice. Focusing solely on these issues of racism in sport itself was in some respects a distraction from the use of sport to dramatize the racial problems in wider society. Dramatization of this wider discrimination and prejudice was to be most symbolic and potent in Mexico City. The actions of Tommie Smith and John Carlos on the winners' podium remain the dominant image of the 1968 Olympic Games. It is to these events that we now turn in our efforts to further dissect the relationship between the black freedom struggle and the sports world in the late 1960s.

4

Protests, Meanings, and Reactions at the 1968 Mexico City Olympics

We have made our way here, it is a forum from which we can launch something, so why not just go ahead and do whatever it is we can do?

—Ralph Boston, long jump bronze medalist, 1968

I think it was a disgrace. In my opinion an act like that in the medal ceremony defiles the American flag.

—Barry Weisenberg, U.S. Olympic water polo team

Ralph Boston arrived at his third Olympics with the hope that he could add to the gold and silver medals he already possessed. The favorite to win gold in the long jump was Bob Beamon. He was one of a group of athletes who had been suspended from the University of Texas at El Paso earlier in the season for taking part in a protest against the racist practices of Brigham Young University. Racial tensions at El Paso had featured in Olsen's
Sports Illustrated
series, and Beamon's actions suggested that he shared Boston's sympathy for the cause of the OPHR. Nevertheless, even though they had both rejected a boycott of the Mexico City Games, Beamon had jumped at the meet in Madison Square Garden that Boston and many other black athletes had boycotted to protest the prejudice in the policies of the NYAC. A veteran of the U.S. track and field team, Boston saw Beamon as a supremely talented yet slightly puzzling character. Indeed, he helped Beamon through his struggles in the qualifying jumps for the final in Mexico City by suggesting he move his run-up back so that he would eliminate the problem of overstepping. The advice from his veteran teammate helped Beamon qualify for the final.

In that final Beamon produced the most remarkable jump of his generation. He sailed into the sandpit, hanging in the air as though momentarily defying gravity. Once his jump had been measured it was clear that he had advanced the world record by nearly two feet. Astounded by this superhuman feat, he collapsed on the ground and had to be helped to his feet by Boston. For his part, the three-time Olympian recorded a jump that was good enough for third place. Boston therefore completed a full set of Olympic medals, adding a bronze to his gold and silver. Just as in the 200 meters, the U.S. team had won gold and bronze and the winner had set a world record in the process. The medal ceremony would be the first opportunity for any American medalists to respond to the suspension of their sprinters, Tommie Smith and John Carlos.
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Boston had a consistent record of engagement with the civil rights struggle, even if he had spoken out against a boycott of the games themselves. Beamon's actions in response to the black freedom struggle were less transparent. When he took the winner's podium he did so with his tracksuit rolled up to reveal long black socks. Boston stepped up to receive his bronze medal in bare feet. He had reached the forum in which he could make a stand and he did so in his own way. By the time he took his place on the podium the dynamics of the relationship between the freedom struggle and sport had altered. This was not only about the message of the OPHR to combat racial injustice; it was also about the decisions taken to remove Smith and Carlos from the Olympic village and send them home in disgrace.

Boston later explained his decision to take the podium in his bare feet. “There were two protests,” he said, “racial prejudice in general and the other protest was that by the time I competed, John and Tommie had been expelled from the Olympic village…. My stand said basically you have kicked them out of the village, you have kicked them off the team, but you have not done anything to take their medals. You kicked them out of the village, but the medals that they have won are still included in the medal count … and, you know, I thought that was really hypocritical.”
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Boston was one of many athletes, both black and white, who had to make a decision about where they stood in reaction to the podium protest made by Smith and Carlos. Theirs was a stand that surely not even Harry Edwards could have envisaged when he initially founded the OPHR. Theirs was a stand that encapsulated the complex state of the black freedom struggle in 1968. When they raised their fists they provided the iconic image of the Mexico City Games. This image was, however, the subject
of contested interpretation from the moment the national anthem finished. Their stand focused attention on the complexity of the relationship between sport and the civil rights struggle, a complexity that was evident in the differing engagement with that struggle of Boston and Beamon.

Viewing Smith and Carlos's podium salute through a one-dimensional lens that is dominated by a distorted understanding of the Black Power Movement ignores the nuanced symbolism of what Smith and Carlos did. The disciplined attack on the two sprinters by the USOC has, with the passage of time, given way to an appreciation of the courage and idealism of the podium salute. Nevertheless, the changing perception of their stand has in itself diluted the meaning of their actions.

The realization that a black boycott of the Olympics was not feasible had emerged in the summer of 1968 and was finally conceded by Edwards in August. Those sympathetic to the OPHR in the months that directly preceded the Mexico City Games considered the options that remained for dramatizing the plight of black Americans. Indeed, the decisions concerning the form that protest by black athletes would take were ad hoc and flexible; the extent to which Edwards directly influenced these decisions is questionable. The OPHR leader suggested that athletes could fly an African National Congress flag to show solidarity with black South Africans or raise a Black Panther flag or Black Power salute.
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When the athletes had a final discussion in Denver before leaving for Mexico City, however, there was still no firm plan. Some suggested that they should not take the victory podium or that they should wear black armbands. The idea of painting their running shoes black was rejected because of the implications for sponsorship arrangements. It was decided that individuals would make their own decision on how best to dramatize the issues.
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As Boston later recalled, “We could not come to a consensus as to what we should do and so each person was to do whatever they wanted to.”
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The potential for the sporting arena to be used to make a powerful and, in their opinion, embarrassing, protest gesture was not lost on the USOC. Representatives had been sent to counsel the Harvard crew against the possibility of a further statement in favor of the OPHR. Indeed, while waiting in the departure lounge of the airport in Denver preparing to fly down to Mexico, Paul Hoffman (the coxswain of the Harvard crew) was approached by USOC representative Robert Paul. Paul, pointing to the
OPHR button that Hoffman wore on his lapel, stated that athletes were required to be in uniform and could not wear such accessories. Hoffman gestured toward Wyomia Tyus, the black female sprinter, and suggested he would take his badge off if Paul managed to get Tyus to remove hers.
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The official's approach was successfully rebuffed but this was just one example of the USOC's heightened sensitivity to any appearance of subversion or protest.

Bruce Miroff has explained how the White House attempted to work with and exert influence over moderate social movements. This influence declined with the increasing militancy of the late 1960s, and the Johnson administration became more and more agitated by the actions of militant black leaders.
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The USOC was similarly determined to exert its influence in order to stamp out any form of protest because it perceived such actions to be part of increased militancy. The symbolic and nonviolent protest threatened by the OPHR was regarded by the USOC as part of the rising violence and black militancy of the late 1960s. A board of consultants had been set up to try to influence athletes and dissuade them from pursuing any protest activity. Furthermore, during the Olympic Trials administrators had planned elaborate victory ceremonies after each event. When they learned of a rumored plan by black athletes to boycott these ceremonies, however, the victory celebrations were cancelled for fear of the embarrassment that would accompany African American athletes refusing to have their achievements recognized.
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On August 5, 1968, Avery Brundage wrote to Douglas Roby at the USOC in order to register his concern at reports suggesting black athletes might engage in some method of protest during the Olympics. He attached newspaper clippings reporting various statements by black athletes that threatened some form of action. Brundage outlined how the organizing committee had been given instructions that protests and demonstrations would not be permitted and added that “any participants are to be removed forcibly if necessary and not permitted to return.” Brundage went on to state that “our Mexican friends are pledged to uphold the high ideals of the Games and nothing of this kind will be tolerated.”
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In his reply three days later Roby assured Brundage that all measures were being taken to guard against any such protests. Roby explained the fate that would await any athlete who attempted to protest. The head of the USOC stated that his organization intended “to have every athlete understand that we will countenance no nonsense and that anyone that participates or that attempts to participate in any demonstration … will be immediately suspended as
a member of our team and returned to his home at the earliest possible date.”
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The USOC was clearly determined to head off any trouble before the U.S. team began competition in Mexico City. Acting Executive Director Everett Barnes sent a memorandum to all members of the USOC board on September 18 referring to the activities of the Harvard rowing crew. Barnes stated that Roby had expressed concern that the rowers were attempting to engage in dialogue with other athletes about possible protests. Members of the board were sent copies of the Harvard crew's letter to other athletes and were put on notice to be vigilant concerning possible repercussions.
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The attempt by the OPHR to highlight the plight of black athletes and the role of black people in wider American society had been met with anger and defensiveness at the USOC. There was great concern that the United States could be embarrassed on the international stage and that the sporting arena would be sullied by the intrusion of racial politics.

The sense of tension surrounding the forthcoming Olympic competition was given another dimension by events in Mexico itself. The student protests that were seen across the United States and Europe in 1968 also touched Latin America. In Mexico students took the government to task over so much money being lavished on the Olympic Games while the majority of the population existed in painful poverty. Ten days before the opening ceremony students organized a mass protest in the Square of the Three Cultures. Although it is not known exactly how many were killed, hundreds of the protesting students died when they were gunned down by the Mexican military. The student protests were not to be allowed to impinge on any aspect of the Olympic experience and were ruthlessly suppressed.
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The general sense of turmoil and repression of protest was also felt by supporters of the OPHR. Harry Edwards claims that he did not travel to Mexico City after being warned by Louis Lomax—citing contacts in the State Department and CIA—that such a trip would be too dangerous for his own safety and instead arranged to be in Canada while the games were taking place.
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Pete Axthelm, sports editor of
Newsweek,
who wrote many probing articles concerning the plight of black athletes during the course of 1968, was denied press credentials by Olympic officials when he arrived in Mexico City. After a day or two Axthelm was finally given access to the press section of the Olympic stadium, where he was spotted by Robert Paul, USOC press secretary, who commented, “I see you got in. I hope you have something better to write about than niggers.”
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At the games there was definite apprehension surrounding what the black athletes might attempt to do to express the ideals of the OPHR. When African American Jimmy Hines won the gold medal in the 100 meters he was to have his medal presented by Avery Brundage. Hines was not among the black athletes who supported the initial Olympic boycott proposal, but after winning his race he made a protest of sorts by refusing to have his medal presented by the IOC president. Hines said, “We made no formal request. We asked them who was going to present the medals and they replied, Brundage. We did not say anything, neither did we smile. Apparently they got the message.”
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Lord Burghley presented the medals and Brundage was not involved in any of the other victory ceremonies of the games. The authorities remained fearful of a black athlete protest gesture, and with good cause. On the day of their 200-meter heats, Smith and Carlos walked around wearing long black socks and OPHR buttons. Smith remarked to a reporter, “I don't want Brundage presenting me any medals.”
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The head of the IOC was reviled by many of the black athletes on the American team for his perceived racist views. Ralph Boston later commented, “My meetings with Avery Brundage left me ice cold. I was almost expecting him to come out with racial slurs towards me. That was the way that I had come to realize he was.”
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