The Black Bruins: The Remarkable Lives of UCLA's Jackie Robinson, Woody Strode, Tom Bradley, Kenny Washington, and Ray Bartlett

by James W. Johnson

  The Bulldogs finished third in the Western Division of the Southern California Junior College Athletic Association that year, with Robinson finishing second in scoring with 131 points in ten games, 1 point behind the leader. In a game against the USC freshman team, Robinson scored 14 points while helping Pasadena end the Trojans’ 81-game winning streak.

  Robinson and Bartlett almost hated to see the football and basketball seasons end. For one thing, there was a training table for participants in both sports, and it meant a hearty meal at least once a day. “Listen, we were poor, we didn’t have any money,” Bartlett said. “I want to tell you that right now. We didn’t have any money in our pockets, and we looked forward to training table because they fed us very well, steaks and all the good heavy meat and potatoes stuff.”

  Then it was back to baseball, a sport in which Robinson had already established himself as one of the top players in the Los Angeles junior college system. By season’s end he had been named to the All-Southland junior college team and the most valuable player in the region. For the season he batted .417 in twenty-three games, scored 43 runs, stole 23 bases, and struck out only 3 times.

  Robinson’s participation in track caused a conflict. In 1938 he showed up late for a baseball game because he had been forty miles away at a track meet, where he jumped 25 feet 6½ inches to set a national junior college record previously held by his brother Mack. He had been given three jumps in a row before the other competitors so that he could get to the baseball game. He changed into his baseball uniform in the car on the way to the game. He arrived in the third inning and belted two hits to help PJC win the conference championship 5–3.

  Jack Gordon, a teammate as well as friend, remembered one particular play when Robinson stole a base against Glendale. “Jackie was on first, had got a hit,” he said. “I remember this because the day was really windy, kicking up dust all over the place. Jack took his lead, then bent down and kept picking up handfuls of dust, which he’d toss in the air. The wind blew the dust from first to third, right in the pitcher’s eyes, so he had to keep brushing it away. That’s when Jack stole the base. He was so smart. Even then.”

  In those early years Duke Snider, who, like Robinson, went on to a Hall of Fame career with the Dodgers, idolized Robinson, who was seven years older. He remembered a game when Jackie competed in baseball and track at the same time. “Five or six of us kids from Compton watched him play a baseball game, leave [between innings] with his uniform still on, trot over to compete in the broad jump in a track meet and then run back and finish the baseball game as if nothing unusual had happened. . . . That’s how great and versatile he was, and how bright the fire of competition burned in him.”

  In an exhibition game between a Pasadena youth team and the Chicago White Sox in spring training in Southern California, Robinson had such a good game that the White Sox manager, Jimmy Dykes, said, “Geez, if that kid was white I’d sign him right now.” He said Robinson could play Major League Baseball “at a moment’s notice” and that if he were white, he could get a $50,000 bonus. Such a bonus was the equivalent of $826,198 in 2015 dollars. Think of what the Robinsons could have done with that.

  Later Herman Hill, a reporter for the Pittsburgh Courier, brought Robinson to a White Sox spring training camp for a tryout. Reportedly “several white players hovered around Robinson menacingly, with bats in their hands.” Robinson was rebuffed. Dykes told him that an actual tryout would have to be up to the club owners and baseball commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis, who once vowed that blacks would never play in the Major Leagues. Landis was known derisively in the black press as the Great White Father.

  Like Robinson, Bartlett was a member of both the track and baseball teams. He was one of the few African Americans who pole vaulted. Using a bamboo pole, he reached 13 feet 6 inches. In baseball he was a first baseman and catcher. Robinson and Bartlett were selected for the Community College Sports Hall of Fame in 1984 and 1986 respectively.

  In his junior college years Robinson was growing up and filling out from the skinny kid of 135 pounds to almost 175 and stretching nearly 6 feet tall. He was in superb physical condition for his second year of football at PJC.

  For one game Pasadena traveled to Taft, an oil-producing town near Bakersfield. Robinson was concerned after seeing signs on businesses that read, “We do not solicit Negro trade” and “Negroes, don’t let the sun set on you here.” At the game fans hollered racial epithets at him, but he ignored them. Pasadena won 27–0.

  Jackie had a superb season, scoring 17 touchdowns, with the team winning all eleven of its games and scoring 369 points. In the final game against Compton, forty thousand fans turned out at the Rose Bowl—then a junior college record—to watch the game. The Los Angeles Times reported that with Robinson in the backfield PJC drew between twenty-five thousand and forty thousand spectators per game. “Ninety-nine percent of those present were there because they wanted to see Robinson scoot,” sportswriter Frank Finch wrote.

  Robinson had a sensational game in the victory over Compton. He ran for two touchdowns and passed for another. Duke Snider remembered that on a punt return Robinson “reversed his field three times. Everybody on the field took a shot at him, but nobody could touch him. He was something else.”

  Hank Ives, who was called the nation’s leading expert on junior college football, watched that game too. “My gosh, he was something to see,” Ives said. “He would catch a punt, there’d be two guys on top of him and he’d flick his hip. They’d go one way, he’d go the other. He’d fake them out of their pants. He had these hipper-dipper moves. He was poetry.” Ives picked Robinson for his all-time backfield for junior colleges along with Hugh McElhenny, O. J. Simpson, and Roger Staubach, all of whom went on to the National Football League Hall of Fame.

  Bartlett noted that “Jack was really pigeon-toed; he kind of wobbled and dug in his toes when he ran. He was an extremely shifty runner, very, very shifty. You didn’t need to knock a guy down for Jack to get by. On a lot of runs all I would do was get out in front of a tackler because I didn’t need to hit anybody. With Jack, you could block two or three guys on one run because all he needed was a little space. I’ve seen him literally make fools out of some defensive people trying to tackle him.”

  For the season Robinson scored 131 points and rushed for more than 1,000 yards. He had run for a 104-yard touchdown on a fake punt, 85 yards from the line of scrimmage, leaving would-be tacklers sprawled all over the field, and sprinting 75 dazzling yards for a score. In the school’s yearbook he was described as a “one-man riot” when he got hold of a football. Along with Bartlett, he was named to the All-Southland team in 1938 and was named the MVP for the Bulldogs. He also was one of ten students named to the school’s Order of the Mast and Dagger, given to students who had performed “outstanding service to the school and whose scholarship and citizenship record is worthy of recognition.”

  Despite Jackie’s acceptance at the junior college, all was not well off campus. He and his family had run-ins with police that were based more on race than deed. Robinson loathed Pasadena, remarking at one time that if his family hadn’t lived there, he would never have gone back. “I’ve always felt like an intruder, even in school,” he said. “People in Pasadena were less understanding, in some ways, than Southerners. And they were more openly hostile.”

  When Robinson graduated from Pasadena, he attracted a great deal of attention for his athletic abilities. He said Fresno State College, in California’s central valley, promised him an apartment for him and his mother, accommodations for his girlfriend (he didn’t have one), a monthly allowance, and a lump sum to be deposited into his bank account and available when he graduated.

  A Stanford alumnus purportedly offered to pay Robinson’s expenses to any school outside the PCC. (Stanford didn’t want him of course. The university had never had an African American player, and the academic standards may have been too high. Nor did Stanford want him to play for any other PCC team.) His
brother Mack tried to get Jackie interested in Oregon but to no avail. Nor did Oregon show much interest. “I told [Oregon] he could make any team on campus. But I guess they just thought I was trying to get a free ride for my brother. They ignored him.”

  USC showed some interest, but Robinson thought that coach Howard Jones just wanted to put him on the bench to keep him away from other schools. “Howard Jones was a good coach, but he was a very prejudiced man,” Bartlett said. A student journalist at PJC recalled that USC had offered Robinson “a real good scholarship [with] some benefits he probably wouldn’t get at UCLA.”

  Woody Strode said USC used its money and influence to get the best athletes, “and they could get just about anybody they wanted.” He observed that USC players drove brand new Fords. “I remember USC bought a house for one kid’s parents, and he became a star running back and an All-American.” Apparently other schools weren’t beneath similar tactics. Strode noted that alumni “threw the keys to a brand-new Dodge on [Robinson’s] front porch.”

  Finally Jackie decided to enroll at UCLA. He also persuaded Bartlett to join him at Westwood. He wrote in Bartlett’s yearbook after the 1939 school year, “To a sweet player. Luck and happiness, here’s hoping you come over next year. Sincerely, Jack.” Bartlett joined Robinson at UCLA because “we figured we’d get a break. We felt if we played at USC, we’d probably sit on the bench because of racism.” Bartlett also would become a four-sports athlete at UCLA.

  Robinson liked UCLA because tuition was free except for a token administrative fee, and he could commute to Westwood from his home. In addition, he wanted to stay close to home because he wanted to be near his family, particularly his brother Frank, who had always been one of Jackie’s biggest supporters. “One of my major reasons was to be able to continue to benefit from Frank’s encouragement. . . . I didn’t want to see Frank disappointed,” Robinson said.

  Jackie liked the opportunity even more when UCLA hired Babe Horrell in 1938 as its new head football coach at $17,000 a year. Horrell had attended PJC and had gone on to earn All-American honors as a center and captain of UC Berkeley’s “Wonder Team” of 1923. That clinched it for the junior-to-be Robinson. But first he had to make up classes in French, geometry, and algebra that he had skipped at PJC.

  Bill Spaulding, now athletic director, half wondered whether the Bruins were doing the right thing. “He [Robinson] was so good at everything, I was afraid our four coaches would start fighting among themselves,” he recalled. In those days, the graduate manager ran the athletic program, and the athletic director worked under him. And when a coach was fired, the school found a job for him. That’s how Spaulding became athletic director. Woody Strode remembered that graduate manager Bill Ackerman told Spaulding “what to do and Spaulding did it.” Strode was sorry to see Spaulding go, but he noted, “A large part of success is timing; Bill Spaulding’s timing stunk.”

  Bartlett stayed at PJC in the spring of 1939 while Robinson was making up needed credits. Bartlett had no trouble with school work. When he graduated from PJC, he became the first black to receive the Key Award for scholarship, citizenship, and athletic ability from the Kiwanis club. He would join Robinson in the fall for the opening of football practice.

  8

  Fitting in at UCLA

  “The new setting [at UCLA] was different, but it did not faze me.”

  —Tom Bradley

  UCLA and track were a perfect match for Tom Bradley. He recalled that while most universities in America refused scholarships to African American athletes, UCLA gave him financial assistance to study and compete in track and football, although he had never played football. He also worked summer jobs. Once he worked at a used-tire and scrap-iron yard for three days before he quit. “After wearing out six pairs of gloves and putting blisters on both my hands, I realized that hard labor like that just wasn’t the kind of thing that I wanted to do all my life,” he concluded. One of his best summer jobs was as a photographer for comedian Jimmy Durante.

  Bradley wasn’t the only athlete to hobnob with celebrities. Strode and Washington worked at the Warner Brothers movie studio. “Every morning the studio would assign us to a sound stage, and we’d stand around and wait for someone to order something,” Strode recalled. They dressed up in brown coats with epaulets, gold-braided ropes hanging from the shoulder, and bellhop caps. “We took care of the stars.” Among them were Bette Davis, Jimmy Cagney, Ann Sheridan, and Olivia De Havilland. Once Strode encountered Errol Flynn. “Oh, you and Kenny,” Flynn said. “I just love watching you guys play!” Movie stars loved football, Strode remarked. “[Once] I was told to bring a tray of food to Jane Wyman’s dressing room. . . . I saw her sitting there in that powder-blue silk robe, one leg half out; I was mesmerized by her beauty; she had a face like an angel.” Wyman watched Strode come in the door, and he became so flustered that he tripped on the threshold and fell down, spilling the food and coffee all over the carpet. “But she smoothed it all over for me and helped me clean it up. She said, ‘You know, I’m a big fan of yours, you and Kenny Washington. How are you boys going to do this year?’”

  “I didn’t take any persuasion [to attend UCLA],” Bradley said. “I was just . . . anxious to be able to go to college by way of scholarship.” He was recruited by another African American, quarter-miler Jimmy LuValle, the international track star who was attending UCLA. LuValle had also graduated from Polytechnic High School in Los Angeles. After talking with track coaches Harry Trotter and Elvin “Ducky” Drake, LuValle told Bradley UCLA was offering him a scholarship. Bradley said years later that if it weren’t for LuValle, he would not have gone to college; instead he would have taken a job out of high school. The scholarship to UCLA “was an automatic yes,” Bradley said.

  Bradley’s long sought-after goal became a reality. He would be on a track team that at one time or another included seven African Americans: Tom Berkley, Bill Lacefield, Ray Bartlett, Jackie Robinson, Woody Strode, Jimmy LuValle, and Kenny Washington. He formed lifetime friendships with members of the track team, both black and white, and would get together with them for reunions. Carl McBain, a white hurdler on the track team, said about Bradley, “You could see why he’d do well in politics. You liked him right away, he was so easygoing.”

  Bradley commuted from home by bus. He found a campus with about a hundred blacks out of seven thousand students. “I don’t know of any blacks who lived directly on campus,” Bradley recalled. He remembered that Berkley lived near campus, “but there was nobody that lived in the dorms or fraternity houses.”

  While minorities were accepted on the UCLA campus, that didn’t always mean that African Americans escaped some racial overtones or discrimination. In one case Bradley took the side of Arnett Hartsfield, an African American student who was denied an opportunity to take an advanced ROTC course despite excellent grades and strong leadership qualities. Bradley and Hartsfield appealed to the public on a left-wing radio station by heavily criticizing UCLA for its bias and prejudice. The school caved in, and Hartsfield became the first black in the ROTC program. He became a firefighter in the Los Angeles fire department. (“Most of the black firefighters couldn’t put their food in the station house refrigerator. It would get contaminated if they did.”) He later became a lawyer.

  Bradley was convinced that UCLA played a vital role in setting a standard across the country for standing up for black athletes. “Some of the schools with which UCLA had an affiliation did not permit blacks to compete on the same teams,” he said. “And UCLA administration made the decision that no school that would discriminate against its athletes could any longer compete in athletics with us.” “UCLA, I think of all the major universities in the country, probably set standards for equality of opportunity and a demand for equal treatment of its athletes that ultimately became a matter of practice all over the country,” Bradley stated.

  Bradley and Washington were close while on campus. He also knew Robinson well enough to be surprised that he could take the pre
ssure he did when he broke baseball’s color barrier. “We would have thought a guy like Kenny would be more ideal because of his temperament. He was more self-contained. Jack was so volatile that he just wouldn’t accept some of the abuse that was often thrown his way.”

  Track was the perfect sport for Bradley. For someone who was a joiner and a leader, he was an unusually private person. Track is a loner’s sport, except for the relays, where runners work as a team. He could get lost in his thoughts while training or racing with no teammates to worry about, as would be the case in football. “The whole business of competition—in track, particularly because you’re kind of one-on-one in track—involves a kind of discipline you have to develop for yourself. I think it really [is] part of my lifestyle.”

  Bradley joined Kappa Alpha Psi, one of the two African American fraternities on campus (Strode belonged to the other one), and it proved to be a strong network that he would call upon during his political career. Bradley also became a member of the University Religious Conference; the University Negro Club; and Carver Club, named after George Washington Carver, the famous black scientist. The Carver Club was a political group that worked toward integration. Bradley also was a member of the Junior NAACP and president of the Bruin Club. Most, if not all, of these organizations were concerned with discrimination issues on the campus.

  Bradley and other black members of the track team were very close, and the white athletes stood up for them as well. If the black athletes were prohibited from staying at a hotel or eating at a restaurant, none of the others would use the services of these establishments. On one trip to Arizona, he and other black athletes were prohibited from riding in the passenger train, so the coaches and the entire team agreed to ride with them in the cattle cars. All track members stayed in private homes when the blacks were turned away at hotels. Bradley recalled that his teammates declared that if the blacks couldn’t stay there, neither would they. “It just became that much of a common spirit among the members of that team,” Bradley said.