OCTOBER 2007

By Bill Simons

he skies roared, the thunder sounded and a lightning bolt brought down one of the fabled gargoyle-like eagles atop the stately old West Side Tennis Club in Forest Hills.

Black Althea Gibson’s first high-profile match — against reigning Wimbledon champion Louise Brough at the U.S. National Championships in ‘50 — could not have been more dramatic.

The heavens spoke. The fierce summer storm announced the arrival of the “tallest, wildest tomboy in the history of Harlem.” Surely, a new day was coming for an old game that had first blossomed on the oh-so-proper “upstairs/downstairs” estates of Queen Victoria’s England. As a rebel poet would soon tell us, “The times, they were a changin’.”

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Sure, America’s “See the USA in Your Chevrolet,” post-war boom was cranking up. But there was a problem. Segregation still reigned as an unrelenting, “don’t mess with the man” apartheid. While lynchings were an all-too-common reality, equal voting rights were but figments in the imagination of a few dreamers and schemers. After all, Martin Luther King was just an aspiring seminary student far below the radar screen.

Okay, Jackie Robinson had broken baseball’s race barrier three seasons earlier, and football’s Cleveland Browns featured some black running backs. But in tennis, the old formula was still locked in place: white balls, white clothes, white folks. Blacks need not apply. But then (in an era long before tennis’ inner-city initiatives and minority programs) in walks this stick-thin jock who learned to play on Harlem’s steamy, no-frills courts. Not surprisingly, she would be snubbed by the snooty East Coast tournaments that defined summer tennis in America. But the great champion Alice Marble — ornery and righteous — had had it.

In the most important letter to the editor in tennis history, Marble explained to the readers of the American Lawn Tennis magazine, that “Miss Gibson is over a very cunningly wrought barrel, and I can only hope to loosen a few of its staves with one lone opinion. If tennis is a game for ladies and gentlemen, it’s also time we acted a little more like gentlepeople and less like sanctimonious hypocrites...If Althea Gibson represents a challenge to the present crop of players, it’s only fair that they should meet that challenge on the courts...[If Gibson is not allowed to compete], “there would be an uneradicable mark against a game to which I have devoted most of my life, and I would be bitterly ashamed...If we truly believe in sportsmanship, then Miss Gibson deserves to play.”

Within Ashe Stadium Inside Tennis’ Bill Simons sat down  with Aretha Franklin and asked the Queen of Soul to reflect on tennis and Althea Gibson.   INSIDE TENNIS: What was it that Althea Gibson showed us in her heart? ARETHA FRANKLIN: She showed the spirit of perseverance, and going all-out, going after what you want. She had it all the time. She was a true champion. It was only a matter of time before her talents revealed themselves. IT: Have you ever heard any of Althea Gibson’s songs? AF: I didn’t know she had any songs. IT: She was a singer and performer in nightclubs. I believe she sang Strange Fruit and she recorded an album in ‘59. AF: Are you sure you don’t mean Billie Holiday? IT: I’m speaking of Althea. AF: I never heard that in all these years. IT: There are so many heroes that emerged out of the civil rights era. Is there something that drew out the very best in some people? AF:That generation just took the brunt of the things that were not right. They were just determined to move forward, move their families and children forward as much as possible — not only for African Americans, but for all people, the way Dr. King was, and that was the way my father was. IT: How would Dr. King feel tonight? AF: I think he would be absolutely delighted. I can just hear him saying, ‘What a wonderful night, what a wonderful night’ IT: During the civil rights movement there were many people who worked directly on the issue like Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Medgar Evers. What was the role of the athletes like Jackie Robinson, Althea and Arthur Ashe? AF:They certainly were the frontrunners. They were men and women of courage who stepped out in spite of the adversity they knew they would face and represented themselves as well as the African-American community. IT: Did you know Arthur Ashe? AF: Yes. I met him briefly. He signed a poster for me. And, of course, I watched him and knew that he was the Davis Cup captain. I watched him play a lot. I watched him win Wimbledon. That was one great day. IT: Venus and Serena are strong competitors. What makes them unique? AF: I think they’re wonderful. The fact that they’re sisters is just delightful. The fact that their father has brought them along so far — I would love to see more men involved with their children. Their mother [Oracene] does an absolutely wonderful, wonderful job, but men make champions. IT: Regarding R-E-S-P-E-C-T, do you think there is a respect for the many African American athletes? AF: Yes. I think there is a very broad spectrum of respect happening in the world of tennis. I’ve loved it for many years - all the way back to Billie Jean and Rosie Casals, Chrissie Evert, Ilie Nastase, oh so many of them. IT: Wow, you seem to know your tennis. What is it that you love about the sport - its grace, expression of personality? The one on one ... AF: Yes. I like the grace of it. I like the skill, to see who is going to out-maneuver the other. I love the little tennis outfits that Chrissie used to wear with the little frilly panties, that kind of thing. I’ve been loving it a long time. IT: And Aretha, if there were just one player you could go out and see play, who would it be. AF: It would be Evonne Goolagong. I go a long way back.

Marble’s pen hit home. The mighty United States Lawn Tennis Association blinked. Soon a cautionary 23-year-old rookie with two rackets and a single goal — “I want to be somebody” — hopped on the subway to topple a sport’s imposing racial barrier. But unlike Robinson, Gibson had neither a protective paternal mentor (i.e. Dodger boss Branch Rickey, who scrupulously scripted Robinson’s debut) nor a cadre of teammates who, no matter their racial views, wanted to see their ally succeed. Instead, Gibson — the raw, unseasoned truant turned dropout — was but a solitary figure, toting little more then her dignity and courage. On court that year, she would last but two rounds at America’s national championships. But the deed was done. A mighty dam burst, the door at last cracked open. Players named Arthur, Zina, Mal, Lori, Venus, Serena, James, Scoville or just Doug, (the charming dentist with the unerring backhand you played dubs with last weekend at Rolling Hills,) walked on in.

Still, for Althea, it all was hardly a cakewalk. When she teamed  with British Jew Angela Buxton to win the Wimbledon doubles, the headline read “Minorities Win.” In ‘56, she finally took home the U.S. Championship, but the next year when she walked out to defend her crown she was greeted with a banner that read: “GO BACK TO THE COTTEN PLANTATION, NIGGER.” She smiled, telling her opponent: “Someone can’t spell ‘cotton.’” But, there was precious little to kid about.

“Things would change some when Arthur Ashe began to play in the 60s,” said the former touring pro Leslie Allen. “But when Althea played, she had to go to the back of the bus. She couldn’t go into the locker room. There were still signs up - ‘Whites Only.’ These were dangerous times. Churches were being burnt, people were being lynched. Clubs made it clear, ‘Your kind can’t come in.’ Sometimes [if a black entered] they’d just cancel the tournament.”

Meanwhile, on the road it was tough to find hotels that would shelter Althea. Often she would sleep in cars and if she did find a hotel, being fearful of attack, she wouldn’t sleep on the ground floor.

“She suffered the insults, the deprivations and exclusions, the slights, indifference and subtle hostility with little sympathy,” observed Bud Collins. “And she also knew that if she didn’t make it, or offended one of the starchy clubbies who ran the game, it might make it difficult for those who yearned to follow.”

Yes, the high and mighty —Queen Elizabeth, Vice President Nixon — handed her glistening trophies. New York gave her a ticker-tape parade. She was on the cover of Time and the State Department — eager to showcase a prominent African American —sponsored her on a goodwill tour in Asia. But in an era before zillion- dollar, comfy-for-life Nike contracts, when first-round losers made a bit less than the $17,500 they do now, Althea asked the tennis world: “Show me the money.” Few did.

“These were the same people she was beating at the clubs,” noted Allen. “They were not going to say ‘Come back and teach our children, speak at our banquet, conduct a clinic.’ Althea was tennis royalty. But tennis turned its back on her. She was offered crumbs. Others, who accomplished far less, got the whole cookie.”

So the most gifted woman athlete of the day had to scurry to make a buck. She took up golf, but wasn’t quite up to par. She was a torch singer in nightclubs, but was no Billie Holiday. She became a low-level state official, but never navigated to the upper echelons of the bureaucracy. Along the way, divorce, a devastating stroke and, of course, the bittersweet spectacle of a new generation of pampered, rich athletes — took their toll. Bitter and in despair, she was housebound and on welfare in Jersey, a solitary loner unable to pay for her rent or medications. Informed of her fate, many in tennis generously rallied to send her funds. Nonetheless, the great pioneer died in ’03, angry she never reaped the financial rewards that were her due.

Four years later, the U.S. Open at last honored her legacy. Okay, at Flushing Meadows some refer to a kind of celebration fatigue. Year after year, we see the slightly formulaic, but, boy, is it still moving, ritual. Bring on the gospel choir and marching band. Look, there’s a parade of cops, ample fireworks, that oversized flag, all the schmaltzy speeches you can digest and a pop diva who’ll wow us with her pipes [think Whitney Houston in ‘97 to open Ashe Stadium, Diana Ross last year to honor Billie Jean and, sweetest of all, Aretha this year]. Plus, the place is crowded with celebs. This year, 20 African-American pioneers were on hand, including a former presidential candidate, the female athlete of the 20th century, Jackie Joyner-Kersey, the first female Harlem Globetrotter, and an astronaut.

Bill Dwyre wryly referred to the irony of it all: “They honored the daughter of a sharecropper and a crowd of 23,000 that included many people with incomes resembling plantation owners stood and applauded.”

Nonetheless, for all its flaws, the night was magical and inspiring. And, truth be told, the mind forgets, memories fade. Many in the game — even the considerable tennis historian Roger Federer - had no clue who the great and glorious Gibson was.

In fact, Althea was a fierce competitor, who, as Mary Carillo noted, “had a bigger-than-life presence. [But] she gets a little lost in the historical sauce. A lot of people think Arthur Ashe was the first black to win a major. Obviously, it was Althea winning the French first, then Wimbledon and the U.S. Open. She won 11 majors in singles and doubles. People don’t understand ... Althea was not Ashe or Billie Jean King. She didn’t have the same desire, the same social currency. She was a great athlete. She wanted to be a great athlete, a real jock, and was proud of it...She was a counterpart [of Jackie Robinson], but she did not have the same fierce desire to effect change in the way some other pioneers did.”

Ultimately, Gibson was comfortable with her own deceptively simple mantra: “I want to be somebody.” And in an era that endured knee-jerk hatred and fierce unspoken undercurrents, Gibson the steel-strong competitor crumbled walls of prejudice in not one, but two, sports.

So, on opening night of the Open, tennis gathered to praise a less-than-famous dream-maker. A woman they could bend, but never break; who, without fanfare, raised the hopes of so many on that fateful day in Forest Hills that a single eagle fell.

To contact Bill Simons, email him at editorial@insidetennis.com

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