Sidelined (8 page)

What seemed to be missing from this debate was any real sampling of the views of white athletes who would try to qualify for the U.S. Olympic team. After all, a black boycott could open the way for some athletes to go
to Mexico City who might otherwise have failed to make the grade in the face of African American competition. Interviews with many of these athletes some thirty-five or more years after 1968 reveal a wide spectrum of opinion. Hammer thrower Hal Connolly, who was vocal in his support for the OPHR during the games, recalled that many of the white athletes were not in favor of the boycott and were fearful of any possible disruption to the Olympic team from protest activity.
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Others were of the opinion that a boycott was a fatuous idea given how hard athletes had to work to get to the top level; to throw away the chance to compete would be to pass up a great opportunity.
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Larry Young argued that his primary concern was “focusing on my event [and] trying to do what I could to win a medal.”
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Steeplechaser George Young claimed that he had little if any knowledge of the OPHR, such was his focus on competition. “I was mainly concerned about my conditioning program and personal training program so I really did not know [about the OPHR] and did not get into any other kind of discussions about any problems or anything like that.”
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This singular focus promoted a sense of ambivalence that characterized the response of many white athletes. Furthermore, a lot of the white athletes only very dimly understood the aims of the OPHR, possibly a consequence of the often still very racially segregated nature of sports. There was not wholesale interaction between white and black athletes and there remained, to a certain extent, a general misunderstanding of each other's views.
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Some chose to view the OPHR, whatever its main arguments, as an example of using sport to further a political cause and argued that this was anathema to the ideals of the Olympics.
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Despite the dominance of negative responses to the OPHR, either because of its perceived perversion of the sporting tradition or because of sheer ambivalence, a significant minority of white athletes sympathized fully with the racial problems that were being highlighted but stopped short of supporting the boycott. These athletes took the time to try to understand the racial problems and, arguably, tried to embrace a wider interpretation of the place of sport in society. Harvard rower Cleve Livingston argued, “I thought the message of the OPHR was one which needed to be heard, it was a message of respect for human beings and the provision of equal rights in a democratic society.”
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Dick Fosbury confessed to being largely ignorant of the fine details of the OPHR program, and while he opposed the boycott he did support the black athletes who were campaigning for change, many of whom were his friends.
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On a personal level, as has been outlined above, many white athletes could recognize the double-standard
that many of their black teammates faced. They could see that sport was not the force for racial progress that many believed, but they stopped short of endorsing a plan to boycott the games. Indeed, discus thrower Al Oerter, who sympathized with the problems faced by African American athletes, argued that not competing was a strategic mistake. He asserted that if an individual had a political “axe to grind” then “there are few places on earth that command [as] much attention” as the Olympic Games.
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Some white athletes did initially support the black athletes' right to boycott but then changed their mind as the magnitude of such a decision emerged. White long jumper Phil Shinnick missed out on the Olympic team with a below-par performance at the U.S. trials. Shinnick was one of the original members of the OPHR but later felt that the push by Harry Edwards for athletes to boycott the Olympics was too much to expect. Shinnick was in the U.S. Air Force at the time and his superiors threatened that if he spoke out about racism he would be court-martialed. He felt that the tensions surrounding his engagement with the civil rights struggle affected his performance. He finished fourth in the trials and underperformed in relation to his previous achievements that season. With the benefit of a longer perspective on events, Shinnick argued that it is actually through involvement in competition that athletes give themselves an opportunity to make a stand on important issues.
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Bruce Kidd, a Canadian middle-distance runner and member of the Chicago Athletic Club, took part in a debate with black opponent of the boycott, Rafer Johnson, on a local TV station. Kidd argued that for him personally a boycott was too high a price to pay but that if African American athletes chose to express their grievances in this way then he would understand their stance.
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There was a growing consciousness that the Olympic claim of transcending politics was disingenuous. Voicing a wider disillusionment with the sporting establishment, Hal Connolly argued that the USOC was hypocritical. To those who stated that the idea of an Olympic boycott injected politics into the games in an unacceptable way, Connolly responded that the USOC itself politicized sport. Connolly pointed to the refusal of the American delegation to dip its flag in the opening ceremony since the games of the early twentieth century. Indeed, Connolly refused to carry the flag in the Mexico City opening ceremony unless he was allowed to dip it. His request was denied.
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Obviously these reflections on events in 1968 have been shaped by the passage of time. Nevertheless, those who maintained their criticism of the
boycott many years after the events most likely offer reliable evidence of reactions. So, while recognizing the difficulties associated with these oral histories, we can discern in these wide-ranging responses to the idea of an Olympic boycott by black athletes that there was common ground across racial lines. There was significant sympathy toward the problems faced by African American athletes, but it was the potency of the ideal of sport as a force for racial progress rather than a base racial prejudice that motivated the most negative responses to the OPHR. Those who wanted to use the sporting arena to engage in the wider racial struggle faced considerable difficulties because of the prevailing ideological framework in which race and sport were locked. Nevertheless, at this stage the boycott idea was just that. The discussions and opinions were responses to a theoretical event. The practicalities of the ideals of the boycott were to be tested in New York in early 1968.

Celebrating its centenary year, the NYAC held a meet at the multimilliondollar, newly constructed Madison Square Garden in February 1968. The exclusionary policies of the New York club made it a target for the OCHR, which had criticized the NYAC in its press release of late 1967.
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Many African American athletes were aggrieved at the treatment they received when they were competing in events held under the umbrella of the NYAC. Jackie Robinson wrote of the “disgraceful Jim Crow situation at the New York Athletic Club,” in an opinion piece in the
Pittsburgh Courier
.
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Quarter-miler Vince Matthews argued, “The New York AC policy was a contradiction: on the one hand, it was telling blacks that they weren't welcome inside their building on Fifty-seventh Street because of color and justifying this policy on the premise that it's a private club entitled to invite whomever it pleases. Yet the AC then turns around and tries to recruit or invite these same black athletes to a New York AC track meet.”
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Under the headline “Devil's Advocate,” Arthur Daley wrote in the
New York Times
that the NYAC had been a cornerstone of American amateur athletics for a century and that in the previous two decades the club had invested $4 million in the sport. Daley argued that there was one particular athletics club in New York with a predominantly black membership that would have folded had it not been for continued financial assistance from the NYAC.
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Nevertheless, led by Edwards, the OCHR contacted Omar Ahmad,
chair of the 1966 Black Power Conference; H. Rap Brown, chair of SNCC; and Jay Cooper, chair of the Columbia University Black American Law Students Association, and these men helped to organize a boycott of the NYAC meet scheduled for February 16. Support was also received from the American Jewish Congress, the Congress of Racial Equality, and the Amateur Athletic Union, and this helped to legitimize the OCHR as a genuine arm of the black freedom struggle.
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The movement to boycott the NYAC meet gained increasing momentum, until only a handful of black athletes were intending to compete. The Grand Street Boys of New York and the Philadelphia Pioneer Club, both of which had a predominantly black team, said they would not compete. Manhattan College, New York University, St. John's, and City College said their athletes did not have to take part. Similarly, Les Wallack, the Rutgers coach, said he would not require black athletes to compete in individual events.
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The withdrawal of the Villanova team was viewed as significant because of its traditional strength and inclusion of many standout performers.
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Furthermore, all the Ivy League schools announced agreement with the boycott and fifty alumni of the University of Notre Dame encouraged fellow alums to withdraw from membership of the club.
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What was significant was the biracial nature of the withdrawals, with both white and black schools refusing to send their teams. This was noted by Jackie Robinson in a
Chicago Defender
editorial. Robinson wrote, “It is heartening also to note that the black athletes are not alone in their protest. More and more, white youths from the college campuses of America are being heard.”
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All of this was certainly a triumph for the OCHR and for its figurehead and spokesman, Harry Edwards. Indeed, after receiving a telegram from Edwards warning that the Soviet athletes who crossed the picket lines were not guaranteed safety, the Russian National Team canceled its participation in the event.
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In a typically ebullient mood, Edwards announced on the day of the boycott that anybody who was “sincerely interested in doing something to help end racism in this society” should picket outside Madison Square Garden. He even argued that George Wallace, the infamous prosegregation southern governor, was welcome to join the pickets.
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The organizers had to cancel their entire high school program because so many schools withdrew.
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For those who were concerned about a black boycott of the Olympics later in the year, the support for the boycott of the NYAC meet was certainly alarming.

The club itself remained unmoved in the face of the boycott. Indeed, an indication of its defiance of the messages of the OCHR is provided by
a letter written by NYAC representative James Wilson to Avery Brundage in March 1968. Wilson offered Brundage support concerning the IOC decision to allow South Africa to compete in Mexico City. This was one of the key things that Edwards and the OCHR opposed. Wilson told Brundage, “Boycotts are not the creed of sportsmanship and I have no doubt that the 1968 Olympics will be successful regardless of threats and intimidations.”
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For many black athletes, however, support of the NYAC boycott did not ensure commitment to a boycott of the Mexico City Olympics. Vince Matthews argued that other factors were far more important considerations for black athletes as the Olympics approached; particularly important, as already mentioned, was the position of the IOC in relation to South Africa.
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Ralph Boston argued both at the time and since that there was no contradiction in his decision to support the NYAC boycott while opposing a boycott of the Olympics. For Boston, his stance represented a personal expression of protest against the racial injustices of the period, and he criticized those who “called him names” or “shunned” him for it.
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As
New York Times
sports columnist Robert Lipsyte commented, “It is one thing to boycott a big track meet; it is another thing to boycott something you have been pointing your entire life at.” For those athletes who felt shamed or guilty that they had not been fully involved in the black freedom struggle, this was one way for them to make a stand without risking their possible Olympic participation.
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What also became clear, however, was that some white and black athletes were very uncomfortable with the pressure and intimidation Edwards and the OCHR used to “encourage” black athletes to stay away from the NYAC meet. Edwards had warned prior to the event that “any black athlete who does cross the picket line could find himself in trouble, and I, nor any member of this committee, would not be personally responsible for anything that happened.”
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There was evidence that some institutions, Georgetown and Howard Universities, for example, had decided not to send a team to the events for fear of possible racial violence.
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In all, nine black athletes did cross the picket line, the best known of whom was Bob Beamon, who would go on to win the long jump and set a new world record at Mexico City. Beamon gained entry to the arena covertly so as to avoid the protesters outside. He reported being contacted by supporters of the OCHR and facing pressure not to compete in New York. He also told reporters that he had been spoken to and unsettled by pro-boycott athletes during other athletic events.
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Some of the protesters at the NYAC
event were responsible for breaking sprinter James Dennis's glasses as he entered the meet. Dennis had previously received anonymous calls warning him not to compete. High jumper John Thomas had been forced to pull out of the NYAC event after also receiving threatening phone calls and being branded an “Uncle Tom” by Lee Evans, among others, in the press.
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Those who did compete were angered that they should be threatened and pressured in such a way. Black sprinter Lennox Miller argued, “I don't like the idea of being told not to compete by somebody who does not know what track is all about or what athletics is all about.”
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