Earl the Pearl

by Earl Monroe

  I lived on Manhattan’s West Side, and further uptown there were great clubs like Mikell’s up on 97th and Columbus Avenue (today the spot is a new apartment complex, with a Whole Foods market where Mikell’s used to be), which was right across from Park West Village, where a lot of middle-class blacks lived. Russ Brown’s was on 96th Street near Amsterdam, the Cellar was on 95th and Columbus, and Under the Stairs was on Columbus between 94th and 93rd Streets. I used to see Miles Davis in all those clubs, and he used to sit in and play at Mikell’s. So did the singer Al Jarreau and the South African trumpet player and singer Hugh Masekela. So that area was really jumping with a lot of stylish people and many beautiful women. I used to hang out there a lot and up in Harlem, also, at Big Wilt’s Smalls Paradise and Jocks on Seventh Avenue (now called Adam Clayton Powell Boulevard) and Wells, which was famous for its chicken and waffles.

  One night I met Miles Davis at Mikell’s. He was a big sports fan and he recognized me and started talking to me. I used to see him from a distance in all of the clubs, but I was shy. I respected his genius as a musician, but also his privacy. Plus, I had heard you didn’t just walk up to Miles Davis and start a conversation with him because he just might bite your head off. So I kept my distance until that night when he came up and started talking to me, just like that. Anyway, he was talking but I couldn’t understand what he was saying because of that deep, scratchy, gravelly voice of his. So I was standing there smiling, wondering, What the fuck is he talking about? So he went on saying whatever it was that came into his mind and I said, “Yeah, Miles, I hear you,” even though I didn’t. Then one night Miles was in Mikell’s with Freddie Hubbard, another great trumpet player, and we were just standing there talking. They were drinking shots of scotch whiskey and chasing them with bottles of Pabst Blue Ribbon. I never liked beer so I was drinking Courvoisier. Then Miles saw what I was drinking and ordered me a shot of scotch with a beer chaser. I guess I made a face when I downed that concoction and Miles and Freddie looked at me, shook their heads, grinned, and said, “Athletes.” I have never drunk another beer since that day. I also hung out downtown at a club my friend from Philly, Kendall Flowers, had, called the Raspberry Freeze. It was jumping.

  Anyway, I began to love being in New York City, meeting all the different kinds of people. Going to music concerts and eating in all those great restaurants, and of course, meeting all the ladies. But I was there primarily to play basketball, and that’s what occupied most of my time while I was getting to know the city.

  The season was up and down for both the Knicks and me. Willis Reed only played in 11 games that season because of his knee problem, and my play suffered somewhat as I adjusted to my new team, different players, and a new style of playing the game. I was also affected by the bone spurs on my left foot, which caused me considerable pain. I think I scored more than 20 points maybe two or three times during that season, though I began to feel more comfortable playing with guys on the team as we approached the playoffs. Statistically, I was having my worst year since I came into the league. And if that bothered me—I would be lying if I said it didn’t, because I had always been a scorer—it never bothered my teammates or Coach Holzman. So I just accepted the mind-set that I was there to help the Knicks win a championship, not to compete for a scoring title.

  Sometime in December, before the end of the year, I went down to the Needle’s Eye to pick up Tina to drive her out to her place in Brooklyn. While I was waiting for her to get off work one of the regulars who I talked to sometimes—I forget his name but he was a nice white guy—came up to me and said, “Earl, you remember the white girl who used to work behind the bar with your girlfriend, Tina?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “I kind of remember her, but vaguely. Because I was too busy looking at Tina to see anybody else.”

  He kind of laughed at that and said, “Yeah, I know what you mean. But that girl was Linda Lovelace and she’s the star of this new porno movie, Deep Throat!”

  “Oh, yeah?” I said, “I’ve kind of heard about that. I guess I’ll have to check it out.”

  “You do that,” he said, “because in this movie Linda is something else!”

  I told myself to remember the film but it soon slipped to the back of my mind because I was in the middle of playing basketball and after a while I just forgot about it. I don’t even remember asking Tina about Linda Lovelace and I don’t even know today if they were close, though I don’t think so, especially after I came into the picture. Anyway, that night after she got off we drove to her place on Beverly Road somewhere out in Brooklyn. It was late and she said, “You can come up and stay but you’ll have to sleep on the couch.”

  So I didn’t know what to say to that, because if that’s what it was that’s what it was. So I parked the car and followed her up the stairs to her apartment, you know, thinking something else might happen, but it didn’t. So I find myself sleeping on the couch. At one point in the night I had this feeling like I couldn’t tell if I was awake or dreaming. And all of a sudden I felt like something jumped on me, but I couldn’t see what it was because it was dark. I couldn’t move. Whatever it was prevented me from moving. I felt defenseless. So I started hollering, “Get off me, you motherfucker. Get the fuck off me, you asshole!”

  But hollering didn’t work either. This thing, whatever it was, was just pinning me down and it really was getting uncomfortable. I didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was a ghost. Because I didn’t know what it was I started saying my mother’s favorite passage from the 23rd Psalm: The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters. . . .

  But that didn’t work, so I started saying the Lord’s Prayer to myself which didn’t work either. But I still couldn’t see anything and I’m really hollering now, what I don’t know. Then the lights came on and Tina is standing there saying, “What’s wrong? What is wrong?”

  Then I was suddenly released. It was weird. So I said, “I don’t know. Something jumped on me. Something’s in here!”

  I was sleeping in my clothes because it was cold outside, so I said, “I got to go. I got to go.” And I just put on my coat and left. It was really strange. I felt like something or somebody was in there protecting Tina from me. That’s how I felt as I was leaving. I was frightened that night and I got my ass out of there real quick. I know she thought I was crazy because she later told me so. But it was one of the scariest things that have ever happened to me. That was the first and last time I went out to her apartment.

  Tina was part of the reason I changed, though. She kind of set the tone for the way I wanted to be in New York, you know, more urban, sophisticated, hip. I knew I had to be a different person and when people saw us together I was looked at as a very responsible person. Being with her helped give me that cachet. We stayed together for a long time and we went everywhere together, you know, to Mikell’s, Wells chicken and waffles up in Harlem, all over the village. Like I said, Tina didn’t take shit from anybody. But after she warmed up to me she was soft, just a warm individual. She laughed easy and our relationship just got better and better.

  Two of the times I managed to score 20 or more points that season were against my old team, once on December 30 at the Garden in New York, when Baltimore beat us 110–102, ending an eight-game winning streak. I scored 21 points that night, as did Clyde. But Jack Marin was hot that night and scored 33 points (maybe just seeing me in a Knicks uniform fired him up!), while Archie Clark dropped 24. Still, my old teammates greeted me warmly before and after the game and I wished them well for the rest of the season. They were disappointed and sad that I was gone—especially to the Knicks—but they were professional about it and understood. I went over to Gene and we shook hands. I could see he was also very sad that things hadn’t worked out for me with the Bullets. But it was what it was and nobody could do anything about it.

  The Bullets were transitioning, with Phil Chenier and Archie Clark starting at the guard positions
for them now instead of me and Kevin Loughery or Fred Carter, both of whom had been traded to the 76ers. So they had a new look and were getting used to playing with each other. The next two times we played them was in back-to-back games on February 26 and 27. In the first game, the Bullets beat us in the Garden 104–97, with Archie Clark scoring 30 points and Jack Marin getting 26. Wes Unseld ruled the boards that night because Willis was still out. I scored 17 points, but Clyde led us with 22. Then we traveled down to College Park, Maryland (where the Bullets were increasingly playing more of their home games), to play them again the next night. I think that was the game where some of the fans hung down banners that read “Benedict Arnold Earl” or something like that, insinuating that I was a traitor for leaving the Bullets. That just motivated me, though, and we beat them in a very close game that night, 97–95. I was the leading scorer for the Knicks with 21 points, which felt real good after seeing those banners. It was good to see Gus and we hugged each other for a long time, because we both knew we would probably never play together on the same team and that was a sad realization for the both of us.

  One night I went to the game in Madison Square Garden (I have forgotten who was playing that night) and when the game was under way, during a time-out, I heard this wild cheering from the stands behind the opposing team’s bench and I looked over to see what was happening and lo and behold there’s Dancing Harry putting a hex on our opponent, doing his Baltimore act, only now it was more choreographed. I was astonished! He had followed me up to New York City to do his act and I just cracked up. Over time I heard officials in the Garden tried to stop him but somehow he just kept on coming, getting into the games. Now, I don’t know how he did it because he never reached out to me to help him. But there he was, in a new, colorful outfit made by some company that I heard sponsored him. The next thing I knew he was doing shows up in the Catskills. Then he would appear at some of our games on the road. So he made a name for himself for a while. I never really knew him other than to say hello sometimes, but the fans loved him and the last I heard of him he was working at the airport in Baltimore.

  Anyway, the great thing about playing with the Knicks was that we flew to games in first class, which meant we had a lot of legroom. Now, it’s very important to tall guys like basketball players to be able to stretch out their long legs. So the first-class travel was a real plus. We also stayed in better hotels. The Knicks were the highest-grossing team in terms of revenue in the entire NBA, drawing almost 800,000 paying fans to their games every year, as opposed to 231,000 fans for Baltimore. I think the Lakers were second, with about 650,000 paying fans. So that made a huge difference in terms of the salaries the players made (this was way before the salary cap era) and all the rest of the amenities a top-tier team could provide its players. And I began to think that this was one of the reasons the Knicks players carried themselves in the confident way they did, because of the privileged culture surrounding them and the benefits that were provided by their owners. This was a revelation for me, because I had always viewed the Knicks as just being arrogant for the sake of arrogance. But it wasn’t like that.

  We ended the season with a 48 and 34 record, good enough to finish second to the Celtics in the Atlantic Division. But we won the Eastern Conference Semifinals against my old club, the Bullets, four games to two, after losing the first game on March 31 in Baltimore in overtime, 108–105. My bone spurs had really been acting up and I didn’t play that much in that game, only scoring 5 points. Willis was still out and so was Gus. But Archie Clark had 28 points that night and battled all through the game with Clyde, who dropped 31. Jack Marin had 26 points. The second game, on April 2, was played in the Garden and we won that one 110–88, with Frazier again leading us with 30 points, while DeBusschere scored 29. I had 12 points in that game, starting in place of Dick Barnett. We lost Game Three down in Baltimore in another barn burner, 104–103. Again Archie Clark put on a dazzling show, scoring 35 points. I led the Knicks that night, scoring 28 points, with Clyde right behind me with 27.

  Now the Bullets were leading the series two games to one. But that would be the last game they’d win, as we swept the next three to take the series. Then it was on to play Boston in the Eastern Conference Finals.

  The series started on April 13 in Boston, where we beat the Celtics convincingly, 116–94. Clyde had a monster game, scoring 36 points. Boston had four players reach double figures, but the team really was never in the game. Then, back in New York for Game Two, we won a close one, 106–105, to take a commanding series lead. We had five players in double figures that night, led by DeBusschere with 24 points, while Clyde scored 22. My bone spurs were acting up again and Dean Meminger played very well that night in my stead, scoring 12 points. John Havlicek led Boston with 29 points, followed by Jo Jo White with 23, but it wasn’t enough. We went back to Boston for Game Three on April 19 and the Celtics won that one, 115–109, with White, Havlicek, and Dave Cowens combining for 78 points. For us, Bill Bradley dropped 29 points while Clyde scored 28.

  The series shifted back to New York for Game Four, which we won 116–98. I felt better in that game and led the team with 26 points, while DeBusschere had 23 and Bradley scored 21. John Havlicek led the Celtics with 27. Then, we closed out the series by beating the Celtics up in Boston, 111–103. My bone spurs acted up that night, so Dean Meminger played some significant minutes. We had six players reach double figures that night, led by DeBusschere, who dropped 24, Lucas with 23, and Clyde with 21. I scored 9 points in this game, while Dean netted 10. Again Havlicek led the Celtics with 32 points, while Don Nelson scored 27.

  I was happy—as were my teammates—to get this win, because for me it would be my second straight year of going to the NBA Finals, and for the Knicks, who had won the championship two seasons before, it would be an opportunity to win another crown. So it was all good. The Finals would be played against the mighty Los Angeles Lakers, who had the best record in the NBA that year at an impressive 69 and 13. The Lakers had also set a single-season record of 33 straight wins (which still stands; no other team has ever won more than 22 in a row), which started on November 5, when they beat the Bullets 110–106. Their incredible winning streak had ended on January 9 with a 120–104 loss to Kareem and the Bucks out in Milwaukee. So the Lakers were a very formidable team to say the least, one of the best of all time in the NBA. They had lost Elgin Baylor, who had chosen to suddenly retire from the game on November 5—the same day the streak began—which came as a surprise to everyone in the league. But his retirement didn’t stop anything because the Lakers still had a very good starting lineup, beginning with Wilt Chamberlain (who was having a great year), Happy Hairston, Jim McMillian, Jerry West, and Gail Goodrich, who led them in scoring that year. They also had great backup players like Flynn Robinson, my old Bullet teammate Leroy Ellis, Pat Riley, and Jim Cleamons coming off the bench. So they were scary good that year. We had beaten them once that season but had lost four times, so our odds didn’t look promising, especially with Willis gone for the season and my bone spur problem. Still, the Knicks were a very professional and confident team. We weren’t conceding anything going into that series, and I was happy to see that.

  My bone spurs had kept me from playing my usual slashing-to-the-basket kind of game, because the pain prevented me from pushing off or cutting when they were inflamed, as they had been for most of the season. I couldn’t implement my back-down move, either. So I was reduced to my long-range jump shooting game, or coming off a screen and shooting. There was less pain in my foot when I played like that.

  The Finals started on April 26 out in Los Angeles and we won that game, to the shock of all the media and critics, 114–92. Even the Lakers seemed stunned, and their fans were rendered silent. Bill Bradley played an inspired game that night, scoring 29 points, with Jerry Lucas getting 26 with his patented jump push shot from anywhere on the floor over the outstretched hand of Wilt, who had to come out from the basket to try to defend Jerry’s accurate shot. The L
akers seemed off that night for some reason, because Jerry West scored only 12 points, the same as Wilt and Happy Hairston. Gail Goodrich scored 20 points to lead the team. The next game was in LA and the Lakers rebounded and won going away, 106–92. They had five players in double figures, led by Goodrich with 31 points, while Wilt dunked in 23.

  The Lakers swept the next three games, winning Game Three in New York 107–96 and Game Four, also at the Garden, 116–111. We played pretty well in both of those games, but not well enough to win them. I scored 4 points in Game Three and only 1 point in the fourth game. Then we flew out to Los Angeles and they beat us again, 114–100, to take the championship. Clyde led us with 31 points in that game and I played my best game of the series in a losing cause, scoring 16. The Lakers had all five of their starters in double figures, led by Goodrich with 25, Wilt with 24, and Jerry West with 23 points. Now they had claimed their first NBA championship in Los Angeles after relocating there from Minneapolis in 1960. The Lakers had gone to the Finals a few times since arriving in the City of Angels, but hadn’t won it all until now. It was particularly sweet for Jerry West because this was his first NBA title, and it was the second for Wilt. (He had won a title several years back in Philadelphia.) So they celebrated hard out in Los Angeles and we flew back to New York casting our eyes toward the next year.

  As for me, I had had my worst NBA season to date. I scored only 11.4 points a game for the season and dished out only 2.2 assists per game. I promised myself I would eclipse those totals in the coming season by staying healthy.

  This was the second straight year I had been a member of a team that had lost in the NBA Finals. And playing in the Finals only whetted my appetite to win a championship. Because for the second straight season, I had seen the absolute thrill and joy of winning the title in all the players and coaches (and fans, when the title was won at home) of the team that won. I wanted very badly to experience that feeling that I had once at Winston-Salem, when we won that national championship in 1967. Now I wanted to have that same joy in the NBA. I needed it for my spirit and, yes, my ego as a player. It was also the second straight year I had played with a debilitating injury. I promised myself that this had to stop. I would undergo surgery again this coming summer to remove my bone spurs. But I would have it as soon as possible so I could report to the Knicks training camp and bond with my new team from the very beginning of the season. All of us vowed after that game that we would be back the next year, and stronger. We hoped to have Willis back and I, for one, was looking forward to winning the NBA championship, and I felt we had the personnel to make that dream come true.