Fortunately, the psychological insecurities related to freelance work and marriage to a celebrity became less of a problem for her after she and Arthur took a memorable trip to South Carolina in late 1977. After a few days in Charleston, they rented a car and drove south along U.S. Highway 17 through the heart of the Carolina low country, skirting the barrier Sea Islands. Prior to the 1960s, this part of South Carolina, once an empire based on chattel slavery and rice and cotton cultivation, had resembled the proverbial land that time forgot. But by the time the Ashes arrived, the forces of modernization had brought enough resort development and tourism to make one wonder how long the area would be able to retain its distinctive look and feel.
A few miles north of the Georgia border, enterprising developers had already created the Hilton Head Plantation, an alluring cluster of manicured golf courses, tennis courts, swimming pools, marinas, and condos, one of which would be the future home of Arthur’s close friend Stan Smith, who would establish the Smith Stearns Tennis Academy on the island in 1985. While there were many such resorts under development or in the planning stages, enough of the vernacular architecture and folk culture remained in 1977 to set Jeanne off on a photo mission with her camera “clicking away, recording old churches, courtyards, fishermen mending nets, and other types of coastal folk.”
As she told her friends in New York the following week, she found the unpainted shacks and unprepossessing people to be hauntingly beautiful and photogenic. She was drawn especially to the human side of the island scenes—the local history and culture that had accumulated over centuries of physical isolation and economic deprivation. The dignity of land and labor cast in the midst of poverty spoke to her, perhaps in part as an echo of the Louisiana family stories she had heard as a child. So it wasn’t long before she was back in the islands looking for more subjects and scenes to photograph.
On her second visit, she searched for a reasonably undisturbed island where people still lived as they had earlier in the century. She soon found Daufuskie Island sitting only a few hundred yards across the Calibogue Sound from the yacht-filled Hilton Head marina. With its overwhelmingly black population, its unpainted shacks set amidst towering and twisted live oaks, and its linguistic reliance on the creolized dialect known as Gullah, Daufuskie was just what Jeanne had been hoping to find—an authentic link to the past.
Several trips to the island—and hundreds of photographs—later, she had the makings of a remarkable photo essay detailing the remnants of a vanishing culture. Published as Daufuskie Island, A Photographic Essay in 1982, her book used visual images to communicate a sense of place as well as a deep connection between history and memory. In the estimation of more than one reviewer, it was a triumph of documentary and artistic expression created by a master photographer. But to Arthur and Jeanne it was most valuable as a pathway to marital equity. In a marriage of high achievers, Jeanne had produced something that, in terms of honesty and artistry, rivaled the most important achievements of her talented husband.39
Both before and after the publication of Daufuskie, Arthur did his best to accommodate his wife’s feelings on matters of independence. But it would be several years before they put this problem completely behind them. In the meantime, he had to deal with identity problems of his own. Facing his declining fortunes on the court and the possibility of involuntary retirement, he hoped for the best and prepared for the worst. One serious disappointment was Catalina’s decision to terminate his contract after eight years of successfully representing their line of sports apparel. Since he was no longer at or near the top of the tennis world, the company reasoned he was no longer worth substantial royalties. “I was terribly hurt by their decision,” he later admitted. “I had helped them build their image in tennis; now that I was no longer at the very top they seemed to have little use for me.”40
Losing the Catalina contract was a psychological blow, but fortunately his other endorsement contracts and business interests ensured he and Jeanne would have plenty of money for the foreseeable future. Head rackets were selling better than ever. (In October 1978, Head did not renew the option on his contract, but six months later the company reversed course and offered him an even more lucrative deal.) He was earning money as a television commentator and as a spokesperson for several corporate sponsors; he still had his seasonal teaching position at Doral; and in 1978 he branched out into several additional commercial activities. Under the auspices of Tennis magazine, he wrote a series of instructional articles; he made television commercials for the National Guard; he signed a major endorsement contract with Le Coq Sportif tennis wear; and he became a consultant for the Aetna Life and Casualty insurance company.41
Several years earlier Aetna had assumed sponsorship of the annual World Cup competition between the United States and Australia, and it was at the first Aetna-sponsored tournament in Hartford that Ashe finally beat Laver. He subsequently became friends with Aetna’s president, Bill Bailey, and their relationship led to a consultancy involving minority recruitment in which he facilitated the hiring of up-and-coming minority managers and executives. The program proved to be a striking success, and in 1982 he became the youngest member of Aetna’s board of directors.42
This was a time of deep transition for Ashe, not only in terms of his adjustment to married life, but also in his evolving sense of priorities. Despite his hopes of regaining his stature on the tennis tour, he no longer thought of himself as a tennis player with an array of side interests. As he later explained, “I had to hasten my readiness for retirement. I worried less about my tennis results and more about my business involvements. Meetings that once had been a nuisance now took on new importance.” Though still a professional athlete, he was growing more comfortable with his status as a celebrity and as a man about town in New York. Part of the change grew out of his association with corporate executives and with Jeanne’s friends in the art world, as he now found himself in social situations he could not have imagined earlier in his life. One example, which drew a few gibes from his tennis buddies, was his participation in a December 1977 fashion show at the World Trade Center. As four hundred patrons of the Northside Center for Child Development looked on, he joined Muhammad Ali and five other top athletes on a runway where they modeled a line of fur coats. No one back in Richmond, he was convinced, would have known what to make of this ostentatious display, but it was all for a good cause.43
Once again he ended the year at Doral. Having Jeanne with him to enjoy the Doral Hotel’s lavish amenities made this the most special winter sojourn to date. He had always appreciated the restorative powers of balmy weather and a good round of golf, but never more so than in December 1977. Other than a few light workouts and an early October United Negro College Fund benefit—where he played doubles with Andrew Young, newsmen Walter Cronkite and Harry Reasoner, and several other celebrities—he hadn’t been on a tennis court for nearly four months. During the layoff his world ranking had slipped to a lowly 257, but on the positive side the pain in his heel had dissipated to almost nothing by Christmas. While he now realized his footwork would never be what it once had been, he felt ready to resume his comeback.44
A month earlier, the sportswriter Tony Kornheiser had predicted as much in an article profiling the rehabilitation efforts of both Ashe and Billie Jean King. “Ten years ago they were the best tennis players this nation had,” Kornheiser reminded his readers. “Billie Jean was fire. Ashe was ice. Now, at the athletically advanced age of 34, they are rolling the dice again, shooting for 7-come-11 on the world tour.” The article went on to discuss why the two aging warriors refused to retire. “Neither needs the money,” Kornheiser pointed out. “Both have career options. Ashe could become a diplomat; certainly he has the intellect and the demeanor. Billie Jean has proven herself a giant in the crusade for women’s rights. Part of it, obviously, is their love of center stage, the smell of the liniment and the roar of the crowd. But most of it is enlightened self-interest.” Both know “there is still time
before they have to surrender.”
It was, Arthur confirmed, as simple as that. “The idea of cutting it off like a guillotine, of going cold turkey,” he told Kornheiser, “well, I don’t want to suffer the withdrawal. . . . I don’t know whether I can play again, but for my own peace of mind I need to find out. I don’t care about reaching No. 1; I just want to play. I just like hitting tennis balls.” The joy of the game he had learned to love as a child was obviously still there, not only in his head, but also in his heart and spirit.45
TWENTY
COMING BACK
ASHE BEGAN 1978—HIS TENTH year as a pro—with modest expectations and a reasonable plan to ease into the tour with a few test matches. After spending early January in New York, where he watched the Grand Prix Masters, he was off to Evansville, Indiana, for a singles challenge match against Orantes. Although he lost, the match went well enough to spur him on, and two weeks later he traveled to Richmond to test himself in tournament play. With several members of his family in the stands, he drew Nastase in the first round and somehow managed to outlast the tough Romanian in a three-set battle. A consistently strong serve was the difference, compensating for his noticeably rusty groundstrokes. “I’m not in top form yet,” he told reporters with a smile, “but I’m back.” The next day he lost to Rosewall in straight sets, but he felt he had crossed an important threshold. With no pain in his heel, he was ready for the next challenge.1
In mid-February, he entered a tournament in Palm Springs, California, but lost in the first round. A week later, however, he played much better in a WCT event in Denver, fighting his way into the semifinals before losing to Smith. He did not play again until March 11, when he faced the eighteen-year-old sensation John McEnroe in a benefit match at a high school gymnasium in Morningside Heights, on the edge of Harlem.
In the meantime, all eyes in the tennis world were fixed on Nashville, where the U.S. Davis Cup team was scheduled to play South Africa on March 17. In early March, Ashe had applauded his friend Ray Moore’s decision to leave the South African team. Though not a member of the U.S. team, Ashe reiterated that had he been asked to play against South Africa he could not have done so “in good conscience.” As for the anti-apartheid protests planned for Nashville, he would support them “as long as they did not disrupt play.”2
He was also one of several black leaders trying to forestall a plan to hold a heavyweight championship boxing match between Muhammad Ali and Leon Spinks in the South African “colony” of Bophuthatswana. Since Bophuthatswana’s status as an “independent enclave” was suspect at best, Jesse Jackson claimed the fight “would only serve to sanction the conduct of the South African government.” “I doubt very seriously that Ali would go through with such a fight,” Jackson predicted. “No black fighter in this country could fight there and gain respect at the same time Arthur Ashe is endorsing the boycott of the South African Davis Cup team.” Jackson was correct, and to his and Arthur’s relief, the bout was moved to New Orleans, where Ali regained his title in a unanimous decision.3
The Davis Cup controversy was a different matter, however. Fielding one of its strongest teams in years, the U.S. Davis Cup committee was not inclined to withdraw even in the face of worldwide condemnation. So the Americas Zone match went on as planned, despite several thousand protesters gathered outside the Vanderbilt University courts where the match was being played. In an effort to blunt criticism, South African officials had belatedly added a Coloured player, Peter Lamb, to their squad before it arrived in Nashville. A Vanderbilt sophomore who had come to the United States courtesy of the Black Tennis Foundation founded by Ashe and Owen Williams, Lamb had already played on the university team for a year. But when the talented nineteen-year-old did not see any play during the tie, Ashe and other critics cried foul, dismissing the South Africans’ gesture as blatant tokenism. The U.S. squad won the tie 4–1, advancing to the Americas Zone final against Chile, and a few months later the South Africans were banished from Davis Cup play by the ILTF. They would not return until 1992.4
While the Americans and South Africans were playing tennis—and politics—in Nashville, Ashe was at a Washington tournament. In singles, he suffered elimination at the hands of Gottfried, but in doubles he and McEnroe made it all the way to the championship match before losing to Smith and Lutz. A week later, he played well enough to reach the singles semifinals in Dayton, Ohio, but once again he lost to Gottfried. In late April, at the Santa Clara Valley Grand Prix tournament, he won his first title in two years by outlasting the white South African Bernie Mitton in the final.5
With this victory, he finally felt ready to tackle the big European tournaments. His first stop was the Italian Open in Rome, where he beat the young Italian clay court specialist Vincenzo Franchitti in the first round. “I’m getting better every day,” he told reporters after the match, adding: “I hope to be in the first 16 seeds at Wimbledon.” Unseeded in Rome, he won his second-round match but could not keep up with fleet-footed Harold Solomon in the third. After splitting the first two sets, he tired noticeably, losing the last set 6–0.6
At the French Open in late May, he was once again unseeded. Ecstatic to be part of the French championship’s golden anniversary, he beat the Australian Phil Dent in the opening round. “I’m just trying to catch up to everybody,” a beaming Ashe reported. “No problems with my foot. It feels fine.” He went on to defeat José Luis Clerc of Argentina in the second round and Jan Kodes in the third. To beat the Czech star, he had to overcome a severely cramped right leg, but there was no sign of cramps when he faced Guillermo Vilas in the fourth round. Even so, the defending French Open champion made short work of his older opponent, losing only six games in three sets. Ashe was good-natured and whimsical in defeat, attributing his loss to age and a lack of speed. “I wasn’t fast enough on the clay and he was quicker than I was at net,” the thirty-four-year-old would-be comeback kid explained. “If I were 10 years younger, I’d handle him with ease.”7
Ashe’s showing at the French Open was good enough to earn him a fifteenth seed at Wimbledon, just behind Alexander and just ahead of Newcombe. Borg, the winner of the previous two Wimbledons, was the heavy favorite to repeat, so no one took much notice of the lower seeds. Even so, Ashe was determined to make his presence felt in what he feared would be his last Wimbledon. Prior to the tournament, he spent a week at Devonshire Park, where Ralston guided several American players through a series of grueling grass court workouts.
Eager to recapture the glory of his 1975 Wimbledon triumph, he received a good omen on the eve of the opening round when he learned the West Side Tennis Club had finally elected its first black member. As a U.S. Open champion, he enjoyed honorary member status, but the club had never accepted a regular black member prior to its acceptance of William Cammack, a well-known local NAACP official and the older brother of Doris Cammack, the crestfallen girl defeated by Arthur in 1955. Remembering the rude treatment accorded Ralph Bunche and his son in the 1960s, he was more than pleased.
Having never lost prior to the third round in any of his ten previous Wimbledon appearances, he fully expected to survive his first-round match against Steve Docherty, a towering six-foot-five-inch Australian who had played football at Washington State. But the match, an up-and-down marathon played on one of Wimbledon’s outer courts, ultimately favored the younger player. The afternoon match went on and on, ending just before darkness with a Docherty victory in the fifth set.
Disappointed and exhausted, Ashe found little consolation in the fact that, along with Smith and Kodes, he was one of three former Wimbledon champions to go down to defeat that day. This string of upsets, according to Neil Amdur, “was another indication that an era might have ended in tennis.” When asked about the level of his frustration, an emotional Ashe confessed: “It’s pretty big. You figure you key your whole year around this one tournament” only to “go down to ignominious defeat in the first round, 7–5 in the fifth on court 14, the last court at Wimbledon.” Pu
blicly, he vowed Wimbledon had not seen the last of him, but privately he must have wondered if he would ever play singles again on the hallowed grass.
In the meantime, he at least had the doubles competition, where he teamed with Yannick Noah, his eighteen-year-old protégé from Cameroon. The sight of two black players on the same court, unusual enough in itself, was compounded by the identity of their first-round opponents, Bernie Mitton of South Africa and Andrew Pattison of Rhodesia. Despite this racial subtheme, the match was a good-natured affair that went five sets before Ashe and Noah closed it out 14–12. They went on to lose in the next round to Riessen and Stockton, but their pairing remained the high point of the fortnight for Ashe.8
A week later, he was back in the States for the Tennis Hall of Fame tournament in Newport, Rhode Island. Surprised but pleased he was seeded number one, he was primed to win his second tournament of the year. But this comeback scenario did not pan out, as Mitton upset him in straight sets in the round of sixteen. In mid-July, Ashe suffered another early round loss, this time to Solomon in the Washington Star tournament. But he continued on the tour for the remainder of the summer, hoping he would eventually round into top form and perhaps even earn enough points to qualify for the eight-person Grand Prix Masters tournament scheduled for January 1979.9
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