Beginnings of Basketball in Black Washington, DC
From Hoopedia
From dcbasketball.com
Like so many of the race's great achievements in the 20th century, black basketball bounced into the nation's capital as a silent protest against racism.
The story begins one evening in late 1907 inside Washington's Central Young Men's Christian Association, a popular, all-white club on G Street across from the Old Executive Office Building. As two white basketball teams scuffed through their pregame tosses, two black men strode into the tiny, bandbox gymnasium, peeled off their overcoats, and settled into a pair of empty seats. Heads turned.
One of the men was Edwin Bancroft Henderson, a young teacher in Washington's black public school system. At age 24, this son of a laborer had risen from the backloads of Southwest Washington to become the first black man ever to teach physical education in an American public school. Henderson, a tall, strapping, light-skinned fellow, now spent his summers at Harvard University studying under the most highly esteemed names in American physical education, including Dr. Dudley Sargent, a pioneer in the nation’s burgeoning, turn-of-the-century athletic movement.
While at Harvard, scrapping with the other white students in gym class, Henderson had learned to play the newly invented sport of basketball. He took to the game like a fish to water, his mind captivated by its intricate teamwork, careful footwork, and intense physical demands. But in Washington, where sports were strictly segregated, whites were the only ones fielding organized basketball teams. To keep up with the sport, Henderson had no choice but to walk into the basketball games at the segregated Central YMCA and hope for the best.
Henderson had no reason to feel guilty about crossing the color line. As a proud, young man of achievement in forwarding the nation’s physical fitness movement, he could hold his head as high as any YMCA member, white or black. Besides, Henderson figured if anyone could fathom the folly of color lines, it would be the God-fearing Christians assembled at the white Central YMCA. “‘Love thy neighbor as thyself,’” Democratic Presidential nominee William Jennings Bryant had implored them just a few weeks earlier. “There is no question that this sentence cannot solve.”
But that evening, Henderson figured wrong. The Central "Y" had been abuzz over tales of Negroes infiltrating the club, and outraged members snapped that, unless steps were taken to ban these undesirables, the club's clean-cut image would become the fodder of Washington scandal and tea-party gossip.
YMCA athletic director C. Edward Beckett, spotting two colored boys perched in the stands, decided that he seen and heard enough. Beckett, a stern, dark-haired man in his late 30s nicknamed "The Professor," flew into the stands in full view of the others and shooed Henderson and his friend Benjamin Brownley out of their seats. Then, spewing the blunt, racist vitriol of the day, Beckett vented his deepest, darkest dismay that two young colored boys would dare think that they could socialize with high-class white people without an invitation.
Henderson and Brownley stormed out of the club, the word "OPPORTUNITY" emblazoned like a bad joke over the doorway, and roared off into the night. How could a Christian organization, whose motto was "Honor All Men, Love the Brotherhood," throw them out like the kitchen trash because of the color of their skins? Henderson, who was as fired up as a Baptist minister on Easter Sunday, vowed that if white folks didn't want him to watch basketball in their YMCA, he would start a basketball league of his own. And so he did.
Henderson reserved a tiny basement armory in M Street High School, today an abandoned, ivy-covered schoolhouse about a half mile north of Union Station, and opened training camp several nights a week for his schoolboys. On the night after Christmas, 1907, these students tipped off a half century of black basketball in the city down at True Reformers Hall on the corner of 12th and U Streets, N.W. In this four-story, brick building, designed by black architect John A. Lankford and which today houses a Duron paint store, Duke Ellington would perform his first public concert 10 years later.
The maiden game, which served as a preview of the upcoming basketball league, pitted Howard University students against their foes from the local high schools. The match up was part of a much ballyhooed winter athletic carnival that included a free-style wrestling match, a 15-yard dash, and afterwards the toe-tapping tunes of the $10-a-night Lyric Orchestra, conducted by Mr. C. E. Giles.
But it was the basketball game that stole the show. As The University Journal reported, "The basketball game was probably the most interesting number on the program. . . The work of Warrick for Howard and that of Clifford of 12th Street received the most applause, while a goal by Russell from midfield brought down the house." The play was fast and apparently furious, but Howard's lackluster shooting spelled their undoing. The final score: High Schools 12, Howard 5.
After the 1907 Christmas sports carnival, Henderson announced the formation of an eight-team basketball circuit, known in its maiden season as simply "The Basket Ball League." The first mention of the league appeared in The University Journal on January 10, 1908. The eleven-line story, tucked away on the bottom right-hand corner of page one, announced that the Howard University Athletic Association voted during a special session to field a team in the brand-new basketball league. Soon thereafter, The University Journal ran a follow-up article listing eight entries in the new circuit: Armstrong High School, M Street High School, Howard Academy, Howard Medical, Howard College, Crescent Athletic Club, Oberlin Athletic Club, and LeDroit Park.
The Basket Ball League took Washington by storm. From late January until early May, hundreds of spectators shelled out two bits a piece to pile into True Reformers Hall on Saturday nights and catch the league's weekly doubleheader. To make the turnstiles click, Henderson billed the game as top-flight entertainment, the most star-spangled event to hit U Street since the annual Emancipation Day Parade. "Come out and enjoy an evening of excitement," wheedled one league advertisement. "You will never regret it. Basket ball is the recognized leading indoor game of the winter season, and when played by such men as those belonging to this league it is really fascinating."
Knowing where the big fish frolicked the little fish followed, Henderson issued formal invitations before games to prominent educators and other local glitterati. As an added enticement, he offered these VIPs reserved courtside seats, where they could look as smashing in their high hats and tails as Hollywood stars at a movie premier.
After the game, Henderson turned the lights down low and struck up the band. While the Lyric Orchestra thrummed through the numbered selections on the printed dance card, couples clasped hands and waltzed, waltzed, waltzed away their cares. When the clock chimed one, the glow of the house lights suddenly filled the hall, and bandleader Giles motioned his men through the melody, "Time To Go Home." Lined up outside along U Street, horse-drawn carriages whisked away these night owls from under the stars and deposited them, like the morning paper, at their front doorsteps.
For those who like their basketball up tempo, these early contests -- featuring center jumps after every basket -- would have been as enjoyable as observing a root canal. Teams stumbled, fumbled, and bumbled their way to scores of 18-1, 5-4, and, yes, even 1-0. The poor offense owed to inexperience and a relentless, bone-crunching brand of defense bordering on manslaughter.
"Miller had so much foot ball spirit in him," wrote The University Journal of one game, "that it was a difficult matter for him to steady himself and (he) was as often on his head as on his feet, to the extreme delight of the crowd. Early in the game Miller and Cromwell developed a peculiar fondness for each other and lost no opportunity thereafter to show it, so much so that the referee would have to separate them from their friendly embrace and show them the ball."
But having never witnessed Michael Jordan defy gravity or Shaquille O'Neal rattle a backboard, the fans knew no better than to cheer this rough-and-tumble action. After M Street steamrolled the Armstrong Five to claim the league's first championship, The University Journal predicted, "It is safe to say that basket ball among the schools and athletic clubs has won a permanent place."
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