He Couldn’t Make It To The Game. But He Was There.

 Today I will, once again, invoke the “Howard Cosell rule.” Thus, today’s post will only tangentially, if at all, relate to cycling or bicycles.

In previous posts, I have mentioned athletes whom I respect as much as human beings as I admire them for their athletic talents and performance. That list is, and can never be, complete because of people like Willie Mays. 

While I have wonderful memories of his hits and plays, I really didn’t know much about his life or career before playing for the New York and San Francisco Giants and New York Mets. I knew he had played briefly in the Negro Leagues, as Jackie Robinson—one of my heroes—did. But I am ashamed to admit that he endured much of the same bigotry and threats of violence as Robinson did.  That isn’t surprising when you consider that Willie made his major league debut only four years after Jackie—and that both played their Negro League games in a city where Black and White players weren’t allowed on the same field. That city later became synonymous with some of the worst violence that was part of the resistance to the Civil Rights movement.

I am talking about Birmingham, Alabama. Willie Mays began his career there—and his life just outside the city. Last night, one of his former clubs—the Giants—faced the St. Louis Cardinals at Rickwood Field, where Mays played his first professional game.

That game was supposed to be a tribute to Mays, the Negro League team—the Birmingham Black Barons—for which he played and to the many Negro League players—like Henry Aaron—who became stars in the Major Leagues after they integrated.

Sadly, however, Willie Mays passed away two nights earlier, at 93 years old.  Still, the game was all about him.  And the twenty-four former players in attendance—most of them enshrined in the Hall of Fame, wouldn’t have had it any other way.

They included Reggie Jackson, whom many regard as the greatest baseball player to follow Mays. While he never put on the Black Barons’, or any other Negro League team’s, uniform, he faced many of the same taunts and threats Mays, Robinson and Aaron endured a decade earlier. Jackson began his professional career with the Kansas City (later Oakland) Athletics’ minor-league team in Birmingham not long after police chief “Bull” Connor dispersed Civil Rights protesters with a water cannon.  Even after Federal civil rights laws passed, Birmingham—and to be fair, many other places in the South, North, East and West—operated under various forms of de facto if not de jure segregation. So, Reggie was refused service in restaurants and wasn’t allowed to stay in hotels with the rest of his team: the same sorts of abuse Jackie, Willie and Henry endured a generation earlier.

But zfor all the history I have just given you, dear reader, I am sad about Willie Mays’ passing because he was one of the first true superstar athletes I saw live. Although it was late in his career—during his last few years with the Giants—I could see that he was special, as a baseball player and a person. Watching him, even when he stood still, you could feel the joy he felt.  And he could say, matter-of-factly, he was the best player and nobody, not even the other players I’ve mentioned or Mickey Mantle or Joe DiMaggio—whom Mays idolized while growing up—would challenge him. Now that I think of him, I see a combination of the best qualities of Muhammad Ali, Magic Johnson and perhaps “Major Taylor.”

Perhaps the greatest accolades came from two performers of a different kind. Frank Sinatra once him, “If I could play baseball like you, I would be the happiest man in the world.” And Tallulah Bankhead declared, “There have been only two geniuses in this world:  Willie Mays and Willie Shakespeare.”

As Reggie Jackson and others pointed out, he may not have made it to last night’s game.  But he was there. And he will be here for many of us.

Presidents And Bicycles

 One week ago, I noted the birthdays of Abraham Lincoln—and Charles Darwin.  

When I was a child, Lincoln’s and George  Washington’s birthdays were commemorated with their own holidays on the 12th and 22nd of February, respectively.  Some time in my early puberty—when the deluge began!—that tradition ended in favor of the generic Presidents’ Day, on the third Monday of February:  today.

OK, now I’m going to get political on you, dear reader.  On one hand, I’m offended that this holiday, in essence, elevates Donald Trump to the same plane as Washington, Lincoln and Franklin D. Roosevelt. On the other hand, it’s part of the reason why February is Black History Month, which I wholeheartedly support.  Originally, there was a Black History Week that included Lincoln’s Birthday.  When Abe lost his own billing, the commemoration of a long-deleted part of this country’s heritage was expanded into the month.

Anyway, in an earlier post, I mentioned that during the late 19th Century Bike Boom, Washington’s Birthday was Bicycle Day. Dealers and manufacturers debuted new models and offered special deals, often accompanied by a lavish party.  Bicycle Day morphed into Auto Day, which became part of the current Presidents’ Day.

When Washington’s Birthday was Bicycle Day, electoral campaign images often included bicycles, sometimes with the candidates riding them.

The “bad” government on the left (!) was that of Democrat (!) Grover Cleveland; the “good” on the right was the prospective administration of William McKinley.

So, since I broke a promise I never made to never discuss politics, I will mention one of my beefs with McKinley:  His administration included the lynching of, I mean war against, Spain, which was predicted on a lie. (Sound familiar?) The spoils, if you will, for the US included Puerto Rico, Cuba, Guam and the Philippines (which, ironically, gained its “independence” from the US on the 4th of July, in 1946). Some historians argue that the war also made the invasion, I mean annexation, of Hawai’i possible.

Would He Have Been One Of Us?

If Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. were with us, he would be 95 years old today.

Although I believe he would be on the right side of just about any cause you can think of, I try not to speculate too much because, well, we can’t know for sure.  For example, many in the LGBTQ community, and our allies, have made him into one of our would-be advocates. I think he would have spoken up for us, but he would have joined with us slowly and carefully, as he did when he voiced his opposition to the Vietnam War.  He was, after all, a pastor in a church that included many socially conservative congregants and clerics. Even many of his more secular political allies saw homosexuality, let alone any sort of gender variance as a pathology or even a form of criminality.

I have little doubt, however, that he would have endorsed, or at least approved of, bicycling for transportation as well as recreation. After all, he was known to ride—and he looked happy on his bike. But more important, I believe, was his growing awareness that he was working for economic justice. (This is a reason why some believe that he might have joined forces with Malcolm X had they not been assassinated.) 

He probably would have seen the bicycle as a vehicle, if you will, for achieving those goals. Not only are bicycles relatively inexpensive and accessible, they help to reduce the environmental ills that disproportionately affect people of color and with low incomes. Also, cycling, like other forms of exercise, helps to combat diseases that—wait for it—also afflict the poor and people of color.

Hmm…Perhaps Transportation Alternatives and other cycling-related organizations should have a portrait of Martin hanging in their headquarters.

Riding To Emancipation

 On this date in 1865–two months after the end of the US Civil War and two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation, Union and US Army Major General Gordon Granger arrived in Galveston, Texas to announce the end of slavery.

So why did it take so long to release Black people from bondage in Texas?  Well, Texas was the frontier—at least for the Confederacy.  In those days before the Internet, electronic media, telephones or even, in many areas, telegraphs, news traveled slowly.  (That is why. until Franklin D. Roosevelt’s first presidential victory, presidents were inaugurated in March even though they were elected the previous November.) I suspect, however, that Emancipation would have come slowly to Texas even if communication were faster because slavery was a major reason why it seceded from Mexico, became a Republic, was annexed to the United States and seceded from it. And it had, by far, the largest number and area of plantations. In addition, historians estimate that 80 percent of Texas cattle ranches relied on slave labor.

Thirteen years after Juneteenth, Marshall Walter “Major” Taylor was born to parents who descended from slaves. His status as the first African American to become a champion in any sport did not shield him from attempts to continue slavery by other means, not only in the South.  But his dominance as a sprinter and fearlessness and dignity as a human being makes him as much an icon of emancipation as anybody.  This has to be one of the best uses of his images I’ve seen.

Black girls do indeed bike—and so emancipate themselves, at least from some stereotypes.

An Advertisement For Old Weeksville?

One thing I love about pedaling through neighborhoods tourists don't visit is the glimpses I get of the city as it was-- and still is, in the memories of people who've been in it for a long time.

Once upon a time--actually, when I was growing up and even during the years just after I moved back to New York--signs painted on the sides of buildings were abundant.  One thing the remaining signs tell us is, of course, that there was once a time--not so long ago--when there was enough space between buildings for such signs to be seen.  They also remind us of a time when most of buildings and businesses in this city--even large ones--were owned and operated by the families that originally founded or funded them.  

I found myself thinking about who might have been behind this mural advertisement:

Cardinal Realty Company was registered with the city on 22 June 1951.  It grew to include, as the sign attests, auto insurance and other services before its dissolution on 19 December 1984.  At least, that's the date on which it's listed as "Inactive-Dissolution."  

I don't know when the sign, on the side of an apartment building on St. John's Place, just off Troy Avenue, was painted.  The telephone number shown is NE(vins) 8-9000.  Telephone exchanges were converted from numbers to letters during the 1960's, but telephone numbers were listed in the old way until the 1980s.

The neighborhood in which I saw that sign also is, in its own way, a remnant of an old Brooklyn.  It's usually identified as part of Crown Heights or Bedford-Stuyvesant, but it's actually part of Weeksville, one of the first communities founded in New York by freed and escaped slaves.  Some farmed the land; others started businesses or trained in trades and professions.  Thus, the neighborhood became one of the first middle-class black communities, a status it held well into the 20th Century.  It's still a mostly-black (a mixture of American and Caribbean) neighborhood. Although it's not as prosperous as it once was, it's retained a kind of worn-but-not-shabby working-class dignity reflected in the peeling paint of that sign--and the bricks, smoldering in the light of the setting sun, surrounding it.

Perhaps Cardinal was founded by a descendant of someone who lived out his or her freedom in old Weeksville.

 

Freedom Rides

Although the holiday will be commemorated tomorrow, today Juneteenth. On this date in 1865, the slaves of Texas got word that they were finally free, some two years after Abraham Lincoln delivered the Emancipation Proclamation and two months after the Civil War ended.

This date was first declared a Federal holiday last year.  The law making it a Federal holiday stipulates that if it falls on a weekend, it will be observed on the Friday before or Monday following, whichever is closer.  So, the first two observances of Juneteenth have resulted in three-day weekends!

In any event, there are a number of "Freedom Rides."  I plan to ride, possibly with others who are observing the holiday--and to attend a dinner with some friends.

 

From BikePortland

 

Happy Ramadan, Passover, Good Friday—And Jackie Robinson Day

 Today I am invoking the Howard Cosell Rule. Today’s post, therefore, will not relate to my rides or bikes, and may not be connected to much else in the cycling world.  But what I’m about to mention is just too important to ignore. 

The athlete I’m about to mention has something in common with Simone Biles, Colin Kaepernick, Billie Jean King, Muhammad Ali and “Major Taylor.  Like them, he was a pioneer, not only in his sport, but in the struggle to be recognized and understood as full-fledged human beings.  In other words, they (have) had as much impact away from the field, court or track as they had on it.

On this date 75 years ago, a second baseman took his position at Brooklyn’s Ebbets Field.  At 28 years old, he was older than most rookies. But that wasn’t because he was a “late bloomer.” Rather, his debut in Major League Baseball was delayed by his World War II military service, where he experienced the very thing that kept him from playing for the Dodgers earlier than he did.

When he was drafted into the Army, he applied for Officers’ Candidate School, for which he was qualified.  His application was delayed for several months.  When he was finally accepted, he led soldiers who, like him, were racially segregated from other soldiers as they fought for the freedom of people in faraway countries.

What this man had in common with the other athletes I mentioned, with the exception of Billie Jean King, is that he was Black.  So, upon returning to the United States, he played a year for the Kansas City Monarchs of the Negro Leagues and another for the Montréal Royals, the Brooklyn Dodgers’ top minor-league team.

When Jackie Robinson took to the field for the Brooklyn Dodgers on 15 April 1947, he was the first known Black major-league player* since Moses Fleetwood Walker in 1884.  Robinson’s debut also came half a century after “Major” Taylor, the record-setting cyclist, became the first Black world champion in any sport. 

Consider this:  When Robinson played his first game as a Dodger, the United States armed forces had yet to integrate.  Yes, you read that right:  Black soldiers could still be sent to fight for freedoms they couldn’t enjoy themselves.  And, a year later, Strom Thurmond would run for President on a platform of “Segregation Forever!”

All right, this post does relate to cycling in at least one way:  In spite of his accomplishments on and off the field, Jackie Robinson, like Taylor before him, had to endure insults, indignities and even death threats. And, in a sort of parallel, Robinson had to go to other leagues, as Taylor had to go to other countries , for professional opportunities commensurate with their talents and work ethic.

So, if Jackie Robinson doesn’t deserve a mention on this or any other forum, I don’t know who does.

*—For all of the respect I have for Jackie Robinson, I am willing to entertain the notion that he wasn’t the first Black major league player since Walker.  It’s entirely possible that some Black player who “passed” as White—including, it’s been rumored, Babe Ruth—could have played in the major leagues.  

What Would Dr. King Think Of Cheap Bikes Or Rich Riders?

Last week, I wrote two posts that might indicate a future direction for this blog.  (Don't worry, I'll still write about my rides, bikes and all things related to them!) One post, about a German study, discussed who is becoming a new cyclist, and why.  The other discussed a mechanics' petition calling for repairable bicycles:  Turns out, most of the new cheap bikes, which are usually the ones bought by people with limited funds, have faultily-designed frames made from shoddy materials and are equipped with proprietary parts that break easily or wear out quickly.  

In brief, those new cyclists on nice new bikes bought in Cannondale, Giant, Specialized or Trek showrooms are mainly people with advanced educations who live in fashionable or gentrifying urban areas.  They might be riding to work or school, or simply for exercise and, as often as not, they are signaling that they care about their health and/or the environment. In other words, they are cycling by choice.

On the other hand, folks buying the cheap bikes, if they're not cycling for the first time in decades and therefore don't want to spend a lot of money,  are buying that big-box special in a big box because they can't afford anything else, including a bus or train pass--if indeed there is a bus or train that will get them from wherever they sleep to wherever they work.

One of the sad ironies--following the logic of the German study--is that we see a kind of social, economic, racial and gender segregation that would have astounded or appalled the man who is being commemorated today in the US:  Martin Luther King Jr.

Now, I don't think King would have denounced cycling or cyclists per se:  He was often seen riding, which he probably saw as a way of bringing him closer to some of the people he was trying to help.  And, because he was turning more of his attention to economic justice issues in his last days, I can somehow see him advising bike share organizations on ways to bridge the cultural divides and media representations that cause some people to believe they can't ride because they're not white and don't look good in lycra--or those who harass cyclists because they see us as entitled jerks (the educated riders of the German study) or the scum of the earth (cf. police who are trained to automatically assume that any cyclist in a low-income neighborhood is a criminal).

So...while I wasn't thinking specifically of King, or any activist in particular, when I was writing the posts I've linked in this post, thinking about King today is causing me to realize that my almost half a century of cycling--and nearly two decades of living as a woman--makes it all but impossible not to connect my experiences and even the things I most love (bicycling, reading, writing, food, travel, animals) to questions of justice.   In other words, the work of Martin Luther King Jr is one of the major byways, if you will, of my journey.

A Perfect Storm Of Hate

I am a transgender woman and a cyclist.  That means I belong to two groups of people for whom it means that becoming more visible means having a target pinned on your back.

That's how it seems, anyway.  On some jobs, when I've done anything that draws positive attention--whether it's an excellent review, volunteering for a committee or, sometimes, even outside activities, like my writing--some co-workers, including those of higher rank than mine, become Captain Ahabs to my Moby Dick.  Until that happens, they congratulate themselves for "tolerating" me.  But when I accomplish something through my creativity and hard work, they seem to think that someone like me (or unlike them) isn't supposed to do such things.  

Likewise, as cycling for transportation as well as recreation becomes more mainstream, it stokes whatever hatreds and resentments some folks have toward us--or, at least, whatever notions, however unfounded, they have about us. We are seen as taking something--"their" streets or, perhaps, some notion of what it means to live a meaningful and productive life.  We are also accused of "not paying taxes" when, in fact, as I pointed out to one driver,  we pay more taxes for things we don't use, such as gasoline and highways.  

An unfortunate corollary to the things I've described can be seen in the aftermath of recent protests against the ways police, in too many places, treat Black*, Hispanic and Native American people.  It seems that, like trans and non-binary folks and cyclists, racial and ethnic minorities--especially Blacks and, in some parts of the country, Native Americans--have similarly been targeted for harassment and violence. Unfortunately, it's no surprise when you realize that the Ku Klux Klan became a force in the wake of Reconstruction, and lynchings and other kinds of violence against Black people surged in the years just after World War I, when large numbers of Black soldiers returned home, and during and after the Civil Rights protests of the 1950s and 1960s.

One parallel between what I've experienced, if less intensely, as a cyclist and trans woman and what Blacks too often endure is that we and they are too often targeted for doing or accomplishing things, or being in a place we're "not supposed to." And, being a member of one of the groups I've mentioned can compound the harassment you might experience as a member of one of the other groups.  As an example, one hot day early in my gender-affirmation process (I was on hormones for about two years and had begun living and working as female), a couple of cops pulled me over on some made-up charge while I was riding home. Their interrogation was punctuated by comments like, "I like your bike" and "You have nice legs." 

Elliot Reed also experienced an unfortunate confluence of bigotry while he was out for his morning ride two weeks ago.  The 50-year-old Texan is not only a cyclist in a car-centric, red-meat state; he is also--you guessed it--Black.  

When he stopped at an intersection, 25-year-old Collin Joseph Fries (great name for someone in a red-meat state, isn't it?)  drove up along side him.  "He was just looking at me at the stop sign," Reed recalls.  "He said, 'You need to get out of this neighborhood because you're making a lot of people nervous."  

Then Fries upped the ante:  "You don't live here, and if I catch you, I'm gonna do something to you."

Reed says he tried to get away and  get neighbors to confirm that he indeed lives in the neighborhood.  Then he pulled out his cell phone to record the incident.  At that point, he recalls, Fries got out of his car and used the N-word.  Things went downhill, very quickly, from there. 

Several witnesses have confirmed everything I've described so far, and what I'm about to relate.  Fries chased Reed, caught him and punched him so hard and so often that he lost consciousness. Those same witnesses reported that Fries continued to punch him even after he lost consciousness.

The attack left Reed with cuts requiring numerous stitches on his face, a broken tooth, fractured cheek bone and a burst blood vessel in his eye.

From Black Enterprise

Now, you might expect that, with all of those witnesses giving essentially the same account, Fries would be facing some serious charges.  For the moment, though, he's only been charged with a misdemeanor for aggravated assault.  (Is that a Harris County thing?  If something is "assault" and it's "aggravated," how can it be called a "misdemeanor?")  The District Attorney's office, however, says the investigation is "ongoing" and that it's awaiting medical records of the injuries and other evidence from the investigating officers.

At the very least, I think, Fries should be charged with something more serious related to Reed's injuries--and a hate crime.  For that matter, anyone who is attacked because of his or her identity--yes, I include motorists who did what Fries did or pedestrians who push people off their bicycles because their victims are cyclists--should be so charged, and sentenced.

*  I am using the term "Black" because I want to include immigrants and descendants from the Caribbean and Africa, as well those who were born here. They, too often, experience the same sort of hostility and violence as African Americans.

The First—To Be Recognized

On this date 50 years ago, two baseball teams took to the field.  The game they would play would have little bearing on league standings:  One team held a comfortable lead in its division; the other was fighting to stay out of last place.

Two players,  however, noticed that something was different.  Pittsburgh Pirates’ catcher Manny Sanguillen recalls that his teammate Dave Cash alerted him that something unprecedented was happening.  “We have nine brown players on the field,” Sanguillen, a native of Panama, said to himself.

A quarter-century after Jackie Robinson became the first known* Black player in Major League Baseball, the Pittsburgh Pirates—who would win the World Series that year—fielded an entirely nonwhite lineup against their cross-state rivals, the Philadelphia Phillies.

I am mentioning that milestone on this blog because some have accused cycling of having a “color problem.”  I don’t disagree, though I believe the “problem” is different from what is commonly perceived.

If you look at images of cyclists in advertising and other media, you might come to the conclusion that cycling is “a white thing” or that “Blacks don’t ride.”

Just as African Americans have been playing baseball for as long as the game has existed (and Latin Americans for nearly as long), black and brown (and yellow and red) people have been riding almost since the first bicycles were made.  

Anyone familiar with the history of cycling knows about Major Taylor, the first Black cycling World Champion.  There have been other Black and Brown elite riders in the century since Taylor‘s victory, but they haven’t received the recognition, let alone the money, of white champions—including some who won by, ahem, questionable methods. Their lower visibility causes bike makers and related companies to conclude that people darker than themselves don’t mount.

If you live in any large US city, the kids riding BMX in the park are more than likely not to be White.  So are the folks who deliver portfolios or pizzas—or go to work in stores, warehouses or other places—by bicycle.

Oh, and I’ve seen more than a few groups, formally organized or not, of Black or Hispanic people, riding to train or just for fun. In fact, when I was a regular off-rode rider, I pedaled singletrack and local trails with a “posse” in which I was the only White rider.

The thing is, such riding usually goes unnoticed by those who form the public images of cyclists,  just as great Black and Latin American hitters and pitchers—who were at least the equal of their White counterparts—remained as invisible as most Little Leaguers when they played in the Negro Leagues rather than the self-appointed Major Leagues.

*—I have enormous respect for Jackie Robinson. But it’s entirely possible that he wasn’t the first Black Major League Baseball player: Others, including Babe Ruth himself, were rumored to be Negroes who passed as white.

Juneteenth Ride And Reflection

Today is Juneteenth, the date in 1865 when slaves on Galveston Island, Texas would become the last to learn they were no longer slaves--at least, not officially.

This morning I took a bike ride out to Fort Totten. I wanted to get some miles in before the heat and rain roll in this afternoon.  Plus, I wanted to do something easy after pedaling to Connecticut yesterday.  My morning ride totaled about 20 miles, which I did on Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear.

Just this week, President Biden signed the bill declaring Juneteenth a Federal holiday, which was observed (and offices were closed) yesterday, as today is Saturday.  That means the holiday will be observed on Friday or Monday next year, as it will fall on Sunday.

From the Detroit MetroTimes

As I rode, I reflected on this date.  In my first paragraph, I said that the slaves were officially free. But just how free are African Americans today. I pondered, for example, whether I would have been taking my ride alone--or at all--were my skin and hair darker.  Given the stories I've heard from friends and acquaintances, and of Ahmaud Arbery,  I have to wonder how many African-Americans or dark-skinned Latinx people--or, in some places, Asians--don't go out for a bike ride, a run, a hike or even a walk because they don't know whether they'll make it back.  That could be one of the reasons why African-Americans of nearly all age, education and income levels have worse health outcomes than even poor white people who didn't finish high school.  (In my home state, the Bronx--which is overwhelmingly nonwhite--ranks last in health outcomes of New York's 62 counties.)

If people don't feel free to leave their homes so they can exercise--or shop, go to a library or museum or attend a concert--just how free are they?

That is why I am glad that President Biden made Juneteenth a holiday.  I am all for commemorating it with bike rides and other events.  I just hope that it doesn't degenerate into another orgy of shopping or other excesses, which too many other holidays that should be serious occasions have become.