African-American Athletes in Arkansas: Muhammad Ali's Tour, Black Razorbacks & Other Forgotten Stories

By Evin A.O. Demirel

African-American Athletes in Arkansas is an inspirational collection of stories about amazing Arkansans who helped change the nation. Much of the information comes from firsthand interviews. The narrative non-fiction features include:

1) The inspiring story behind a "Jackie Robinson

• Language: English
• Publisher: ED Productions
• Release date: Jul 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9780999008324

Evin A.O. Demirel

Evin Demirel, a former Latin teacher and award-winning feature writer for the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, has written for the likes of the New York Times, Daily Beast, SLAM magazine and Deadspin. The Little Rock native graduated from LR Central High and the University of Arkansas.

Book preview

Praise for

AFRICAN-AMERICAN ATHLETES IN ARKANSAS

Demirel’s storytelling is enticing and fluid, which makes him the perfect guide to walk readers through the riveting racial history of sport in Arkansas. This is a hugely important, complicated, and beautiful book, both disturbing and inspiring.

—Rus Bradburd,

author of Forty Minutes of Hell: The Extraordinary Life of Nolan Richardson

Really well written, informative stories about the Arkansas greats and people who paved the way for my dad, Almer Lee, Martin Terry and others.… It will speak to athletes, coaches and history lovers across the state and region, and should be read by Razorback fans of all backgrounds. But its reach should be wider—it’s national history as well.

—Fayetteville native Ronnie Brewer,

two-time All-SEC Razorbacks basketball player

Sports teaches so much about life—giving your best, the power of a team, unity and love. I wish America could live that way. I hope many more get to read this refreshing journey.... it’s a book every sports fan in Arkansas should read.

—Helena native Ken Hatfield, Razorbacks

head football coach 1984–1989

It brought back memories of growing up in a predominantly black neighborhood and the Arkansas School for the Deaf where my parents taught skin color blindness for 34 years. A really good read about African-American men, like my coach Eddie Boone, who journeyed through the state’s history and some of the steps they had to take for the next generation.

—Little Rock native Houston Nutt,

Razorbacks head football coach 1998–2007

Educational as well as entertaining.… I especially found the information about the baseball years in Pine Bluff of interest, as I grew up in neighboring Grant County and our family often drove by the baseball fields in Pine Bluff.… It is obvious from the documentation provided Demirel has done excellent research. I believe libraries across the state would benefit from having a copy of this work in their Arkansas History collections, as well as in their circulating collections.

—Sheridan native Carolyn Ashcraft,

Arkansas State Librarian

AFRICAN-AMERICAN ATHLETES IN ARKANSAS

AFRICAN-AMERICAN ATHLETES IN ARKANSAS

Muhammad Ali’s Tour,

Black Razorbacks,

& Other Forgotten Stories

Evin Demirel

Copyright © 2017 by Evin Demirel

All rights reserved. Published by ED Productions, LLC. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief passages quoted within reviews, without the express written consent of the publisher.

Published by:

ED Productions LLC

[e-mail]

First edition: July 2017

ISBN (hardcover): 978-0-9990083-0-0

ISBN (paperback): 978-0-9990083-1-7

ISBN (e-book): 978-0-9990083-2-4

Cover design: James T. Egan

Book design: H. K. Stewart

Front Cover: (upper left) Muhammad Ali spoke at the University of Arkansas in March, 1969; (middle left) Arkansan Sidney Moncrief starred in the NBA in the 1980s; (lower left) Eddie Boone (no. 34) played quarterback for Stuttgart’s Holman High in the early 1950s.

Back Cover: An aerial shot of the University of Arkansas’s football stadium in August, 1937.

Printed in the United States of America.

This book is printed on archival-quality paper that meets requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences, Permanence of Paper, Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.

DEDICATED TO

EDEN CARA DEMIREL,

THE LIGHT OF MY EYES

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction

Integrate the Record Books

Black high school athletes from the Jim Crow era have been denied their place in history. It’s time to change that.

The Original Black Razorbacks

Decades before official integration, a team of African Americans played on university grounds, wore Razorback football uniforms and competed with whites. It appears University of Arkansas coaches even trained them.

Black Razorback Fans of the Jim Crow Era: A Forgotten Past

The story of African-American fans who cheered all-white Hogs in Fayetteville and Little Rock.

Black Arkansans Fueled the NFL’s Evolution

Arkansans like Faulkner County native Elijah Pitts formed the backbone of the first Super Bowl champions, the Green Bay Packers.

The Pine Bluff Native Whose Protest Rocked the College Football World

Arkansan Ivie Moore was one of 14 Wyoming football players who, in 1969, ignited a national civil rights debate involving students’ rights, the power of the athletic department and free expression.

The Sweetest Thing

A major motion picture is in the works about Arkansas native Nathaniel Sweetwater Clifton, a Jackie Robinson of the NBA.

From Lonoke County to Legend

Nat Clifton rose from life in Great Depression-era Lonoke County to star for the New York Knicks as one of the first African Americans in the NBA.

Nolan Richardson Enters the Hall of Fame

Evin Demirel’s on-site report from the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame induction of the greatest Razorback basketball coach.

The Enduring Legacy of Little Rock’s Hilarious Jesters

While history books tend to focus on the landmark events leading to integration, there were other moments that went largely undocumented—such as those that occurred during a pick-up game of basketball.

North Little Rock High School’s Title Evokes Dynasties of Another NLR School

While NLRHS has returned to basketball prominence, it will be hard-pressed to match the achievements of national power Scipio Jones High.

The Would-Be Razorback Pioneer: Eddie Miles

In the late 1950s, Razorback basketball coaches almost made NLR Scipio Jones High’s Eddie Miles (a future NBA No. 4 draft pick) the first official black Razorback.

Eddie Boone: Pioneer of the Arkansas Activities Association

Years before he coached Houston Nutt at Little Rock Central, Boone led all-black basketball teams out of Menifee into the Ozarks. There they played communities where few African Americans had been seen before.

Photos from the Scrapbook

Dizzy Dean & Satchel Paige

As a St. Louis Cardinal superstar, Arkansan Dizzy Dean teamed up with the greatest Negro leagues pitcher to set the stage for the Civil Rights Movement.

Fort Smith’s Black Baseball Heritage

Satchel Paige once dueled with Fort Smith native Louis McGill in Arkansas. McGill’s son, George McGill, discusses his father’s adventures playing minor league and community ball in Sebastian and Washington counties.

In Montana, Arkansans Played Key Role in Success Of Segregated Baseball Team

The story of a group of Arkadelphia natives who formed a talent pipeline to Butte, Montana of all places…

Vanishing Act

In 1985, Arkansan African Americans helped push the Razorbacks to the College World Series with a record five black starters. Decades later, black baseball statewide is dying. What happened?

Muhammad Ali in Arkansas

At the height of the Vietnam War, the century’s most controversial and beloved athlete pulled no punches in Little Rock, Pine Bluff and Fayetteville.

It’s Time Arkansas Follows Texas in Honoring Its Black Prep Sports Heritage

Texans honor and celebrate the legacy of their all-black high school sports and activities league. Here’s how Arkansans can do the same.

Acknowledgements

Endnotes

Photo & Illustration Credits

A Call to Action

Index

About the Author

INTRODUCTION

A long time ago, as a young reporter, part of my job was scanning obituaries in the newspaper. I’d find an interesting one, interview relatives and then write about that person’s life. The gig entailed boiling down a life into mere paragraphs, but even now I wonder how anybody—professional writer or not—could pull off such a seemingly impossible task well. How does one neatly wrap the totality of a person’s journey across this orb into 800 words?

The answer: One can’t. But perhaps, if we’re lucky, we accomplish a few things in our lives we would be proud for future generations to see high in our own obituaries. This book represents that kind of hope for me. I have poured my heart and mind into it.

All good and well, a reader may wonder, but why does a white guy like me care so much about African-American history?

For starters, my own story pales in significance to the ones covered in the following pages, so I’d rather get on with those and the urgency of the mission at hand as soon as possible. But I understand the question. I’d ask it, too. So, to preface, let’s start with the concept of race.

I have firsthand experience of how slippery this concept is. I definitely look white, and I label myself as such for the sake of simplicity. It’s the checkbox that feels the least like lying when I’m speeding through government forms. Still, I know while my mother is a white American, my father is not. He is Turkish, a different ethnic group from most of the lighter-skinned peoples who populated northern Europe for centuries.

My father grew up in the Asian part of Turkey. Therefore, following one line of logic, I should be considered Asian-American. I’ve never considered myself this, however, and I likely never will. The concept of race may appear clear-cut on the surface, but peel back that layer, probe a bit and it emerges as complicated as humans themselves. When accounting for the ways our genetics have intermingled throughout the centuries and the diversity of ethnicities within Africa itself, for instance, there can be no consensus definition of white and black.

Growing up in Little Rock, I preferred to think of myself as white and simply get on with life. Yet I always felt different from most people I met. There was, for one, the constant and eternal tripping over the pronunciation of my last name. And none of my white friends (or any friends for that matter) had a Muslim dad who spoke a language sounding so strange.

My father loved sports, especially soccer, basketball and football, and by late elementary school I came to play and watch them on TV, too. My dad, who traveled often, wasn’t around as much as my friends’ dads. My younger brother and I treasured the sporadic times we could watch and play sports with him.

These times—the years around the Razorbacks’ 1994 NCAA championship—were heady times. It felt as if Arkansas was on top of the basketball world. On top of that, in the late 1990s, I was exposed to more basketball supremacy by attending Little Rock Central High School. Our class produced a state championship basketball team featuring four future Division I signees including Joe Johnson, who became a seven-time NBA All-Star.

Such lofty success helped fuel an intense interest and passion for basketball to the point where I consider it part of my very soul. NBA superstar Dwyane Wade once wrote an actual love letter to the game. While he would express the depths of his passion by going on to practice and play it at the highest levels, I want to show how much I love this game through the sheer effort it took to create this book.

In 1997, Little Rock Central High celebrated the 40th anniversary of the Little Rock Nine’s integration of its grounds. As a student newspaper reporter, I was aware of the national media that regularly descended onto our school to interview students. Discussions of local race dynamics and Civil Rights history frequently filled our classrooms and auditorium. I wrote about a form of segregation that persisted at our school through the white/black divisions in the Advanced Placement and regular classes. A museum, now the Little Rock Central High School National Historic Site, opened on our campus. Instead of skipping class to get high, I skipped to tour our museum.

Through this all, I grew more comfortable with discussions of race relations and became aware of how national Civil Rights events could influence local history, and vice versa. I care about how black and white were defined throughout much of the 19th and 20th centuries because those definitions, as arbitrary as they may seem now, have deeply shaped the terrain of our past. Segregationist law from seemingly so long ago still dictates what does and doesn’t lie in the shadows of our shared public history.

In my twenties, I studied the history of various people and places more deeply. At the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette I was fortunate to have supervisors who allowed me to often write about Arkansas history, culture and race relations. That’s where I first became aware that important chunks of our state’s history are missing, for reasons I cover in-depth in the following pages. These missing chapters involve both whites and blacks, and they extend well beyond the sphere of sports.

Sports simply provide a portal into a deeper issue: In Southern states, the history of pre-integration African-American communities is vanishing as the people who lived through those times die. I care about all history: black, white, brown, whatever. But I believe there is more urgency to capture recollections of what happened in black communities and schools because that history was not recorded as thoroughly as history involving white communities. Additionally, that which was recorded has not been preserved as well.

Consider many of the major white-owned or white-operated institutes of the pre-1960s—schools, teacher associations, athletic associations, newspapers—still exist today. Most of their all-black, Jim Crow-era counterparts do not. In many cases involving the public entities, the all-black counterpart was integrated into the all-white one. This meant that if preservation of the all-black records was desired—a big if—they should have been physically removed from one building and transported to the other. But it appears in many cases the records of the all-black organizations were either lost in that transition, or lost when the building in which they were housed was demolished.

Similarly, at least in Arkansas, no major black-owned newspaper lives on. Some microfilm is available today, but even within those collections, many issues are missing. The Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, meanwhile, keeps thorough digital and physical archives. The information in them, compiled from two white-owned, statewide newspapers dating back to the 1800s, covers a total of 311 years.¹

This coverage dwarfs the information in the state’s most well-known black-owned newspaper, the Arkansas State Press, which was published for a total of 31