We grew up during a time of civil unrest and bigotry but it
seemed to me to be targeted mainly towards poor uneducated people rather than
on the color of your skin. I lived in a rural
community in northern Ohio, on about five acres, next to a creek and marshes bordering
on the great Lake Erie. We were
extremely poor, my father worked construction and my mother was a waitress when
she could find work, there were five children in our family and I am the
youngest. In 1963 when Martin Luther
King gave his “I have a Dream” speech I was 10 years old. We knew of Dr. King and the efforts that were
underway to provide freedom for all but it all seemed so far away and we were
busy just trying to survive…we had bigger issues.
At that time there were areas in town that were manly
“colored” but I never gave it much thought, I always thought people lived there
because they were poor not because of their skin color, but then I was young. We lived on a 5 acre plot of land that was
everything a boy needed. I had friends
of all races, which at that time in my world were just two…white and black. It
seemed my parents mostly had friends that were similar to us, poor construction
workers just trying to get by as well.
We were a close nit family, between Grandpas and Grandmas, Aunts, Uncles
and Cousins we were never far from are own kind.
In Northern Ohio everyone embraced the philosophy of
equality and collectively I think white people loved the idea of thinking we
were all equal. But in reality,
individually white people and black people did not interact. Very seldom did we have a need to, not at
church, we never ate in restaurants or went out much, the only place we seemed
to come together was at school. In school
we were always different but not because of the color of our skin but because
we were country folk, poor and we were different. I could run a trout line, shoot ducks and
trap in the marshes, eat carp, all things city folks not could not do, or for
that matter did not see the need to learn. We lived off the land eating what ever nature
provided at any given season, my Mom could cook anything and did it with ease,
Lord I miss her cookin.
My Parents worked
very hard to keep us all going, encouraging the boys to play sports, the girls
to learn sewing, canning and general homemaking skills that would help them
with their own families someday. I am
sure most of the people around us felt sorry for us in some way but my parents
did an excellent job in not letting us feel the empathy. A few years ago, my Aunt told me, as kids we
were always hungry and would walk to her house more to see if they had food
than to visit. As each summer would roll around the kids were all encouraged to
find some form of employment hopefully away from home to cut down the food bill
and for the most part we did. For many
years I was farmed out to neighbors or relatives to work. At age twelve, I was
sent away for the summer to work on my God Mother’s farm. Every morning they would all leave to go to
work and I would spend the day looking after the farm. Bailing hay, tending the cattle and generally
taking care of place. I don’t remember
what I was paid but at the end of the summer I had about 250$ to help with
school clothes and a new pair of shoes.
Up to this point no one in my family had ever gone to
college, my father dropped out of school after the 8th grade to help
on his family farm and my Mother professed to having attending college but I
never saw proof of it. We did not worry
much about going to college or for that matter in equality; it was the way
things were back then. You learned early
that “life was not fair” and that you would have to fight for what ever you
wanted. My Father ruled with an iron
hand, when my brother and I would have a disagreement he would put boxing
gloves on us and make us go outside and fight it out. He was quick to use the belt and if we got in
trouble in school, you knew you were going to get a whipping when you got
home.
During these times sports were starting to become a way out
for people like us, if you were good enough you might be noticed and get a
scholarship… so at an early age my parents pushed us boys to play football, run
track and any other sports that might be the means to an end. I also believe they got something out of it,
seeing your children excel at anything brings you great pride. I embraced this
concept as a youngster but must say at that time I did not view it as a way out
but I just loved to play any sport. It
was a way to feel normal, like we were the same as everyone else. As a youngster I remember throwing the
football in the yard and then running and sliding on the ground to recover a
fumble, spending hours by myself practicing football. In those days you could not start playing until
you were in the seventh grade, I could hardly wait!
I showed some promise at playing football and wrestling and
was making a name for myself. My older
brothers had built a reputation that we were tough and aggressive players. My oldest brother was coming up on his senior
year and there was talk of him going off to college, I still remember my
parents talking with neighbors about the possibility of one of their kids going
to college and how proud they were.
In 1963 my Dad got a new job working as a heavy equipment
instructor for Job Corps and things were looking up for our family… then tragedy
struck and my older brother, Tracy was in an accident that left him injured and
unable to play football in his senior year.
This incident rocked the family and looking back I am not sure we ever recovered
from it. My brother went on to have a
successful life but it seemed to take something from the family that has never been
replaced. I always felt uncomfortable
talking about his accident and even today don’t know much about it. Funny how looking back this was such a pivotal
event for our family but just as funny something we did not speak of?
My Dad always seemed to have a list of never ending rules
for us kids to follow, I think they were born more out of being poor more than
anything else. As kids, if we worked
during the summer and stayed at home, we had to pay 15$ a week to stay at
home. He kept a little black book that
he wrote this all down in and as far as I remember it was enforced or at least
it was for me. When you turned 18, if
you stayed at home you also had to pay rent.
This was encouragement for getting you out of the house and on your own
as quickly as possible. My oldest sister,
Sharon joined the Air Force right out of high school and my second oldest
brother, Terry joined the Army National Guard, finding their own way out of
poverty.
In 1969, my world came crumbling down. My Dad was being transferred with Job Corps
to a town in Oklahoma, called Snyder.
It was the summer before my sophomore year and I was hoping to make the
Varsity Team as a sophomore. My parents
were doing everything they could to encourage my brother, Terry and I to move
with them to Oklahoma and that this small town had a good football program and
the football coach really wanted us. My
Dad and Mom sold everything we had and while I was working on a dairy farm that
summer they moved to Snyder, Oklahoma. I
continued to get updates from them over the summer, encouraging me to come to
be with them and how much the “town” was looking forward to it. I tried everything I could that summer to
find someone or someplace to stay in Ohio and play football but it was not to
be. I boarded an airplane for the first
time in my life at the end of the summer and flew to Oklahoma.
Upon arriving in Snyder, home of the Cyclones, population
about 1200, it was a real culture shock.
After landing at the airport in Lawton, Oklahoma we drove the 30 miles
to Snyder. I had arrive in August with a coat on and was shocked by the over whelming
heat in this place, 110 degrees. HOT HOT
HOT… There was no way someone could play football in this weather. I had worked out all summer, running six
miles every night but nothing I did could prepare me for this heat.
My parents had bought
a small house in town that they were busy fixing up. This was the first time in my life I lived in
town for a country boy this was like prison. People everywhere but I soon saw
some of the advantages and adjusted. My
bedroom did not have any doors and to get to my parent’s bedroom you had to go
through mine. My brother Terry and sister,
Peg had moved with my parents and was already making friends in this new
setting.
We quickly started noticing the differences, here all the
Black people lived on the one side of the railroad tracks and the whites on the
other, I don’t think it was the law but it was just the way things were. I was poking around one day at the old
abandon train station in town and saw something that stopped me in my
tracks. There on the bathroom door were
the words “Whites Only.” Up to this time
I had never seen anything like this, so this is what Dr. King was trying to
change! After that I really started to
notice the differences between the northern and southern United States. In the South White people collectively hated
Black people, they would generalize in their references about Black people and
it was always negative. But there was a difference, individually white people
seemed to really like black people and during a conversation would say how much
they liked and needed a particular person.
We lived in separate areas of town but we all worked together at stores
and restaurants, went to school together and played football together only
segregation was attending different churches. Individually it did not seem to matter what
race you were but collectively you were either white or not.
In Oklahoma, for the first time I saw American Indians,
Mexicans, White and Black kids all going to school together. In my entire life I had never had so many
friends from other races and none of us seemed to care. Yes, in our school we had fights but it was
never over the color your skin. As with
all schools there were clicks and these were centered more around what
activities you were involved with than anything else. I tended to shy away from these groups after
having been on the wrong side of them for most of my life.
I progressed and was successful at playing football and was
lucky to have family, teammates, friends and coaches that provided the guidance
that I needed. In 1972, I signed a
letter of intent with Cameron University.
I remember it like it was yesterday my Mom, the Coach (Don Wheeler) and
the Principle (Mr. John McKee) were all there to witness the event. I had made it I was going to college to play
football, oh yea and to get an education, the first in our family to go to
college out of high school.
College was another monumental change with football taking
the majority of my time, it was a good time in my life. In order to play football you had to go to
class or so they said so whether I wanted it or not I was getting an education. Cameron University was in Lawton about 30
miles from Snyder my home town and I was excited to be living in the dorms and
eat in the cafeteria. So much food and
you could have all you wanted… and soda pop with every meal if you wanted. I had arrived!
We had about 100 people on the football team, some from
Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and of course Oklahoma. This was my first exposure to what I would
call true racism where players were harsh and quick with their slurs. As a freshman you were instantly at the
bottom of the pecking order and had to literally fight your way up and out. I
dreamed about playing pro football and this consumed me for the most part but
for the first time in my life I was playing with real talent and they were much
bigger than me and we were all fighting to make it… Although the team was a mixture of Black,
White and Hispanic everyone migrated towards similar racial clicks.
As time progressed the differences between us became more accentuated
with some players realizing they would not make the pros and had to come to
grips with “oh shit what do I do now.” Most of us only came to play football
and would go to class sometimes and only take easy courses and as few as hours
as we could to stay eligible to play. I
was taking premed courses and took school almost as serious as football. It was in my junior year when my coach yelled
during a film review on Sunday after a game on Saturday that, “Bunning if you
would get your G*d Damn nose out of your school books and into the play books
where it belongs you would not make mistakes like that” it was at that moment I
realized there was not going to be a way out for me with football. My Dream was broken.
Out of 36 freshmen that received scholarships in 1972 only
two graduated at the end of four years and only one of our team members went on
to play in the pros, Mark Cotney for Houston Oilers. Looking
back the only sure thing was education, no one can take it from you and it is
exclusively yours. Since graduating from
Cameron University, I have always sought opportunities to further my education. Like Martin Luther King said, “I have a dream that one day every valley
shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low. The rough places
will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight.” It is education, any education that lifts you
up out of despair and levels the playing field of life. There will always be racists, bigots,
rednecks and white and black trash, trying to change them is impossible but
encouraging their children to get an education, improving our public education and
holding teachers accountable will go a long way.
I had a dream to play professional football, funny right
dream, but a different ending.
