October 19, 2005
America finally honours rebels as clenched fist becomes salute
BY OWEN SLOT
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,4-1832384,00.html
Tommie Smith and John Carlos were hailed as heroes this week but it was not so 37 years ago
THEY unveiled the statue, accompanied by a rendition of The Star-Spangled Banner, as the dying evening sunlight stretched across a picturesque stretch of lawn guarded by grand old trees. And this time, when they heard the anthem, Tommie Smith and John Carlos held their heads high.
It was 37 years and a day previously that they had given the world the iconic image of the black power salute at the Mexico Olympic Games, their heads bowed, a metaphor for their refusal to accept that theirs was the land of the free. On Monday night, however, they looked up, blinking with pride and disbelief at their magnificent likenesses towering 22ft above them, beautiful replicas in bronze, holding the same pose for which their names have become synonymous.
Some might suggest that theirs was a journey now complete, but both men reject the idea dismissively. Even so, these two rebels of the civil rights movement were being welcomed as deeply into the establishment as they could ever hope to be. On the medal podium in 1968, after Smith and Carlos won gold and bronze respectively in the Olympic 200 metres, their raised, gloved fists representing black strength and unity formed a statement of such power and eloquence that the repercussions would shape their lives.
They were thrown out of the Olympics â that was the harmless part â they were vilified back home, treated like dogs rather than heroes, their children were ridiculed at school, neitherâs marriage survived. Carlos says that his wife committed suicide because the life of an outcast was so insufferable.
At that time, San JosĂ© State, their university, just about allowed them to crawl back in to class. On Monday, after 37 years of silence, the same college finally embraced their stance, finally fĂȘted their conviction; it is now raising money for a âLegacy Campaignâ to take the message farther. The occasion had style, too. Peter Norman, the silver medal- winner, was flown in from Australia and Lee Evans, the 400 metres gold medal-winner from those Games and another San JosĂ© State alumnus who was integral to the black athletesâ civil rights movement, was also invited.
They were all bathed deep in glory, too, and as emotions rose, they renewed their vows, to courage, freedom, to the battle against prejudice. And although they may no longer be on the outside, their journey is not complete. âWeâre celebrated as heroes by some,â Smith said, âbut weâre still fighting for equality.â
This was only the third occasion that the three medal- winners had been together since 1968, but the depth of the bond of which they spoke was clear to see. Norman is absent from the new statue â his place on the podium is empty, encouraging others to step up in his place and take the stand â but public statement of sympathy for their cause, which he made by wearing their civil rights badge, has tied him to them inextricably.
Norman had never been to San JosĂ©, California, before the weekend. All he had known about it as a young man was âthis little dot on the map I used to read about. Speed City, they called it, because everything that came out of San JosĂ© was so fast.â
He had heard, before the Olympics, that the men he would run against had come close to boycotting the Games. And he was aware of the mood of unrest in the United States, of the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr and Robert Kennedy and the bloodbath that followed the student riots in Mexico City.
He had no idea, though, of the pressure that Smith and Carlos had placed themselves under: to win medals so they could take a public stand for their beliefs, while white America leant on them to be smiling ambassadors. Written death threats were commonplace; Evans received about 80, a telegram on the eve of his final informing him of the exact time (2.30pm) of his pending assassination. âI didnât understand why we were so hated,â he said. âThe Ku Klux Klan, the White Angels, the John Birch Society (another white racist organisation) â I had people I hadnât even heard of wanting to kill me. I was afraid of being shot the whole time.â
Back in San JosĂ©, Smith returned to his job, washing cars in a Pontiac garage, which he needed to do to sustain his young family and his studies. The garage owner advertised him in a banner â âCome and see Smith, our gold medallistâ â and when the advertisement worked, Smith would be asked out from the back, would take off his overalls to reveal shirt and tie underneath and go to the forecourt to shake hands with enthusiastic punters.
âI was soon fired,â Smith said, âbecause the boss said that if I didnât change my attitude to this great America, youâre out of here. I came in the next day and said, âMy attitude hasnât changed.â
âI was a hero to some when I went out to Mexico the world record-holder,â Carlos said. âI came back âJohn Carlos the neighbourhood bumâ. I would soon have no money and I had to beg, borrow, steal and gamble to pay my rent.
âI remember chopping the furniture up for firewood and my wife looking at me as if I was crazy. But our heating was electric and I couldnât pay my electricity bill, so we had to take the kids to sleep by the fireplace. We had a lot to deal with. My wife took her life because of it â she couldnât take it any more.â
Smith said: âThe ridicule was great, but it went deeper than us personally. It went to our kids, our citizen brothers and our parents. My mother died of a heart attack in 1970 as a result of pressure delivered to her from farmers who sent her manure and dead rats in the mail because of me. My brothers in high school were kicked off the football team, my brother in Oregon had his scholarship taken away. It was a fault that could have been avoided had I turned my back on the atrocities.â
So do they regret their actions? âIt was a time when everyone needed to step up to the plate,â Smith said. âWe were being asked, âWhat do you believe?â I knew what I had to do. I knew there would be pressures, I couldnât think about the repercussions.â
Carlos said: âMy family had to endure so much. They finally figured out they could pierce my armour by breaking up my family and they did that. But you cannot regret what you knew, to the very core of your person, was right.â
So the sense of pathos was deep as they were hailed here as heroes. They spent much of Monday with their arms round each otherâs shoulders, and Normanâs, too. âItâs an honour to call these men my friends,â Norman said. âPeople donât often stop to think what would have happened if they had gone through with the boycott. I can tell you one thing: Iâd have been a gold medallist. And another: the opportunity for two young men to stand there and tell the whole world the truth would never have occurred.â
Because of what happened in Mexico City, Smith had his first job offer in the NFL withdrawn, but he went on to play for the Cincinnati Bengals before turning to a career in education and coaching. In 1977, when Carlosâs life had finally settled, he set up a youth development programme in Los Angeles and he continues to work in education. Now in their sixties, they remain the same characters that shocked the world 37 years ago. Smith is still the leader, zealous and fiercely intelligent, Carlos remains a spirit that no one can quell. As the huge, black drape was lifted from their statues, Carlos whooped and cheered; Smith simply froze, silent in wonderment.
âIâll probably come down again with my wife to have a proper chance to look,â Carlos said, âaway from all this excitement.â And he and Smith may visit together again, too â no longer the villains, now the absolute heroes of San JosĂ©.
MESSAGE MUST BE HEARD IN BEIJING
IT MAY be 37 years old but the message of the Mexico City salute is still relevant, particularly with the 2008 Olympics going to Beijing in China, a country with human rights issues â this is the view of Peter Norman, the Australia silver medal-winner who split Tommie Smith and John Carlos in the 1968 Olympic 200 metres final.
âThere is often a misunderstanding of what the raised fists signified,â Norman said. âIt was about the civil rights movement, equality for man.
âThe issues are still there today and theyâll be there in Beijing and weâve got to make sure that we donât lose sight of that. Weâve got to make sure that there is a statement made in Beijing, too. Itâs not our part to be at the forefront of that, weâre not the leaders of today, but there are leaders out there with the same thoughts and the same strength.â
FOREMAN FORGIVEN FOR FLAG-WAVING
ONE absentee from the day of tribute to Tommie Smith and John Carlos at San Jose State College on Monday was George Foreman, who won the heavyweight boxing gold in the 1968 Olympic Games but was vilified by many activists at the time for being a flag-waving supporter of the US.
Smith and Carlos were not the only Olympians to make a statement in Mexico City. Some wore black socks, many wore their civil rights badges, including the all-white rowing eight from Harvard University. Lee Evans, Lawrence James and Ronald Freeman, who pulled off a one-two-three in the 400 metres, stood in the stadium wearing black berets, the uniform of the Black Panther movement. Carlos, who is in touch with Foreman, said: âHe only waved the flag about in Mexico City because he didnât know anything else.â