Knights of the Roundtable

 

...exerpts from chapter 4; Numerican Nation_A Self Portrait

 

Central Connecticut State is renowned for academic freedom and excellence. I consider myself most fortunate to have had the opportunity to mature as an undergraduate, and develop as an athlete there:

 In true Authurian fashion my sword was now pledged to a new King; in defense of whom I was prepared to make the ultimate sacrafice..."death before dishonor". 

 [You'll recall that in Chapter 3, I told you that Coach Littlefield was like King Authur, and we were his Knights of the Round Table. Well here; I'm off in a far country; in the service of the new King.]

Many of the bonds forged at the height of passions; as well as those born in the heat of dissent, has endured the test of distance, and time to become lasting memories.

 

Yearbook photo: 1970_ Jl in the black leather, with sun shades. 

The latter half of the Sixties were turbulent times in U.S. History. I would be remiss if I didn’t share my perception, of their influence upon the development of the Numerican Nation:

Dial 70'

Most of the events exploding on the national stage took Central by storm, as the Spirit of Camelot rode a fiery steed; and Odysseus railed against the Gods.

There were far more ominous happenings than “a three fisted salute” in Mexico; or, Man’s walk on the Moon.

I had used a bit of chicanery, to get mother to bless the decision to attend the college:

I told her that the High School Guidance Counselors didn’t think that I was good enough to go to “their fancy schools”. Her fly in the ointment persona popped up and she said; “dammit you can go to any school that you want to!”

Before she could take it back I said:

That’s’ right! I’m going to Central Connecticut State.

Suddenly she realized the ploy and started laughing.

Up until this point, she had been fighting the good fight: “You’re going to a Christian College and that’s it!”

Jim had used the race card to help convince her that he should be allowed to attend Norfolk State:

The only argument left, was the opposite; “you know the white people are trying to lock us out, don’t you?”

In the Sixties a person who catered to emotional appeals, like mine, was considered an “easy touch”: And at a casual glance you might think that mother was the easiest touch of them all.

The quid pro quo lay in the fact that her approval was endowed with an expectation that “I be Right”:

Being right simply meant; knowing what I was doing in choosing to attend a predominantly white school; as it was not known to be the path of least resistance.The influence of Coach Littlefield’s teachings, were not lost to her sight.

Aside from being right, I had to take ownership of the decision, for her to be comfortable.

Central Connecticut's campus extended for approximately a quarter mile radius, from the Student Center:

The Administration building faced Stanley Street, and the Library was next door. The boys and girls dorms were at opposite ends of the campus. And the gymnasium (Kaiser Hall) was located at the top of Wells Street.

[ These were my priorities, at the time.]

As we drove pass Arute Field, I noticed that the football team was practicing and asked Brother Wilson to stop so that I might seek out Coach Gerber:

 He was a big man, with a similar carriage as Coach Littlefield. He thought that I looked "a bit small" based upon what he had heard.

He recruited me, sight unseen, based upon the reputation of the Mount Vernon Knights. His other upper-weights had checked in and I was small in comparison.

                                    ...

He seemed most anxious to talk, however, Mother was waiting; so I excused myself by saying that I needed to go and find the house where I would be staying.

He looked at my Info-Sheet, and pointed down Sefton Drive to a house about 100 yards away.

Now that was the same yellow house that we had previously driven by.

We had dismissed it as a housing possibility, because the residents were white.

 Inter-racial teams was one thing, inter-racial housing quite another!

Brother Wilson saw Coach Gerber pointing, and got out of the car. I asked Coach if he would mind going over (to the car) and explaining the housing:

I had worked out my housing over the phone, assuming that my roomates would be black. So Brother Wilson wasn't the only one surprised. I wasn't about to be the one trying to explain the mix-up.