JESSE OWENS, MY VERY FIRST SPORTS IDOL

I was only three years old when he did it, but early in my youth I heard how Jesse Owens had won four Olympic gold medals at the 1936 Olympics in Berlin. As a kid, I was a big track-and-field fan and was inspired by Jesse’s accomplishments, especially in the long jump. His best jump was 26 feet 8 inches, a world record. The fact that he was a Black athlete never really struck me as important until a few years later, and it never seemed odd to me. He won the 100- and 200-meter dashes, the long jump, and ran on the winning relay team. I sought to emulate him in my long jumping for years to come. Of course, I never even came close to his jumps. Nevertheless, I posted his photos all over my bedroom walls.

There were three aspects of his career that stayed with me. One was that Jesse came from a very poor background and had much to learn about the sports world he encountered during his years at Ohio State University. After the Olympics, he had great difficulty finding a job, so he toured the country racing against local runners or horses just to earn money for himself and his new bride. He came to our town in upstate Washington, and I got to see him beat a local horse easily. I was embarrassed that our great Olympic Champion had to resort to this way of making a living. Fortunately, later on, Jesse was hired to be in charge of Parks and Recreation in his hometown of Cleveland, Ohio.

A second thing that fascinated me about his career was his friendship with Luz Long, the top German long jumper, who finished second in the competition. He helped him establish his right step for the run-up to the jumping board. The two briefly became friends during the competition before Hitler left the stadium, embarrassed by Jesse’s success. Hitler was upset by the success of a Negro athlete over his own Nordic “superior” athlete. No one has ever won four Olympic gold medals in the Olympic Games, then or since.

Jesse Owens and Luz Long

A third thing that stuck with me from Jesse’s success was that he used the new “running in the air” form during his jumps. For several years during my college career, I struggled to master this technique, but it was not until my last year of competition that I was able to incorporate it into my jumps. Of course, I never came anywhere near Jesse’s record of 26’ 8”. I did eventually manage to set my own record of 22’ 8”. Throughout those high school and college years, Jesse was my sports hero. To this day, no one has managed to dominate the sport of track and field to the degree that Jesse did. He was way ahead of his time.

EAST IS EAST, AND WEST IS WEST

 My wife, Mari, is reading a novel about the Civil War. As she tells me about  it in a fresh way, I am realizing how incredibly different the experience of those of us who grew up “out West” is from that of those who grew up “back East.” In essence, the Mississippi River forms a line that separates not only the Western and Eastern parts of our country but also those of us who grew up in the West from much of the history of the United States. By and large, those of us who grew up in the states west of the Great River had no experiential knowledge of the issues that led to the Civil War. 

The “Western” experience of early life in the United States is far more about the wars with Native Americans than about the Civil War. The cowboys and Cavalry fighting the Indians form the tapestry of American history more than the battle between the North and the South. Especially for those of us who grew up in the Pacific Northwest, as I did, the Civil War feels more like a war that took place elsewhere in the United States. Our towns and landmarks center on rivers, Indian battles, and mountains rather than on cities, regions, and traditions. 

I discovered this difference when I first moved to Memphis, Tennessee, for a college teaching job. Our neighbors invited us over for drinks, and we ended up discussing how to get around the city. They gave us directions that involved driving down the Jefferson Davis Highway. Innocently enough, I asked, “Who was Jefferson Davis, anyway?” The wife chuckled, as if I were making a joke, but her husband was instantly offended that I did not know the name of the president of the Confederacy. It was more than an awkward moment. We never became close to these neighbors afterward.

Living in Memphis for three years drove these differences home with force. I was there when Dr. King was murdered, and I taught part-time at the local Negro College. The rift and the history of North-South relations were entirely new to me, a Westerner. For me, it was an entirely different world. Out West, the tensions were between and among whites and the Native Americans still living on reservations. Having now lived for a number of adult years on both sides of the Mississippi and the North/South cultural border, I can honestly say that they constitute different cultural realities.

My uncle Dale lived and taught on the Crow Reservation in Montana, while I have lived and taught on both sides of the “racial border” between the South and the North. While the latter difference is mostly covert and subtle, though still very real, the former is more clearly defined by the contrast between life on the “Res” and life in the city. Native Americans are still largely caught in the vacuum between urban and reservation life, while Negroes across the land enjoy at least a semblance of equality, yet strong expressions of racism persist in both the economic and political realms. We’ve made progress in both areas, but still have a long way to go. America, as a conglomerate of peoples, is yet an experiment in progress.

We have survived and at least partly resolved the tensions resulting from slavery. But we still have not directly faced the dichotomy between the people who were living here when white folks arrived and the white folks themselves. We do have a few Native Americans and Negroes in Congress and in many leadership roles throughout our nation and culture. But now we face the challenge of integrating people from foreign lands and women into the mainstream of our society. We remain an experiment, still in process, yet hopeful for the future. Unfortunately, there are some among us who have not yet embraced the vision of the founding fathers and original immigrants, as expressed in the Statue of Liberty’s motto: “Give me your poor, your tired and huddled masses…”. 

It remains to be seen whether it is possible to “invent” a nation of people from every corner of the globe and every walk of life, united in its resolve to live together in peace and harmony, “from sea to shining sea.” We are an absolutely unique idea and faith, one that has yet to fully fulfill its promise but is an experiment “in process.” Some of our leaders have yet to grasp the dream of a nation beyond their petty, personal vision for their own gain. “May God shine his grace on us, from sea to shining sea.” As little Davie, the Sunday School boy, put it: “Count me in!”