Letter to Oscar Robertson and the Crispus Attucks Champs
Dear Oscar:
We all lived in pretty modest neighborhoods back in the 50s. And although Lockfield Gardens was decent subsidized housing, some of our homes were very meagerly constructed dwellings. Many homes were without running water or electricity and many times shared by more than one family. Coal and wood burning pot bellied stoves provided only marginal heat, but always good for blistering little elbows hovering too closely for warmth.
Our neighborhood was known as Frog's Island, a tightly knit black neighborhood that no longer exists— except in the memory of Crispus Attucks High School, its basketball teams and an entire community who knew it as home.
But something absolutely wonderful happened to our Frog's Island community throughout the 50s. For almost a decade, the Crispus Attucks High School basketball team and faculty bequeathed an amazing legacy for generations to come. Within the confines of Ku Klux Klan ordered school segregation, the extraordinary athleticism of young, brave basketball teams set unprecedented events into motion — events responsible for changing the everyday lives of every man, woman and child in every Black neighborhood in Indiana —and the course of African American history.
It was from your never yielding efforts to colorblind your ball handling talent with gentlemanly sportsmanship and spectacular skill, that Frog Island families were endowed with pure unadulterated pride. Every victorious game took exuberant charge of a million conversations, overflowing into store aisles, over laundry filled clotheslines — from underneath porch awnings and out of passing car windows. Each one of your wins straightened our spines, widened each stride we took, and etched our faces into permanent countenances of joy. We were a united neighborhood experiencing a transformation from fervent wishing to be counted —into confirmed worth.
Radios became the sacred bearers of the news of our courageous sons and brothers, unfettered and unchained, morphing into athletes who could fly. Dominating Indiana basketball for almost seven years, your performances were spellbinding. But in reality everyone of you was also a warrior, in active combat on and off the court. Shadowing the euphoria of those soaring seasons, while your beautiful brown fingers worked magic on demanding leather orbs — we were all painfully aware of your agonizing battles with racism. Yet in spite of the ongoing onslaught upon your spirits, game after game, you never failed to make each inhabitant of Frog's Island and Midtown a winner.
So we fervently applaud and thank Coaches Crowe and Spurlock and players: Willie Merriwether, William Brown, John Clemmons, Sam Milton, Stanford Patton, William Scott, John Gipson, Sheddrick Mitchell, Willie Burnley, James Enoch, Johnny Brown, William Hampton, Hallie Burton and you, Oscar Robertson — from the depths of our hearts.
Most of all, we are so very indebted to you for continuing to work hard work all these years to bring deserved acknowledgment to the players, mentors, coaches and families. Thank you for remaining a ferocious goodwill ambassador, illuminating for all of us that every member of the Crispus Attucks teams during the racially oppressive 50s is forevermore a hero and champion —and every African American from Frog's Island and beyond is a shareholder of the glory.
Forever grateful tor your sacrifices, resulting in basketball achievements that continue to thrill; Crispus Attucks High School basketball champions, really, the forgotten Hoosiers, we thank you.
With lasting gratitude,
Your Beneficiaries
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