{"product_id":"showdown-isbn-9780807000823","title":"Showdown","description":"\u003cb\u003eA classic NFL\/civil rights story—the showdown between the Washington Redskins and the Kennedy White House\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In \u003ci\u003eShowdown, \u003c\/i\u003esports historian Thomas G. Smith captures a striking moment, one that held sweeping implications not only for one team’s racist policy but also for a sharply segregated city and for the nation as a whole. Part sports history, part civil rights story, this compelling and untold narrative serves as a powerful lens onto racism in sport, illustrating how, in microcosm, the fight to desegregate the Redskins was part of a wider struggle against racial injustice in America.\u003cb\u003eContents\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePrologue:\u003c\/b\u003e “Redskins Told: Integrate or Else”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e1)\u003c\/b\u003e Boston Beginnings\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e2) \u003c\/b\u003eOut of Bounds\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e3)\u003c\/b\u003e The Redskins March\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e4)\u003c\/b\u003e Leveling the Field\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e5)\u003c\/b\u003e The Washington Whiteskins\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e6)\u003c\/b\u003e The Owner, the Journalist, and the Hustler\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e7)\u003c\/b\u003e The Black Blitz\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e8)\u003c\/b\u003e The New Frontier\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e9)\u003c\/b\u003e Showdown\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e10)\u003c\/b\u003e Hail Victory\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e11)\u003c\/b\u003e Running Out the Clock\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eEpilogue\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eAcknowledgments\u003cbr\u003eNotes on Sources\u003cbr\u003eNotes\u003cbr\u003eSelected Bibliography\u003cbr\u003eIndex“Full of colorful detail.”—James Sullivan, \u003ci\u003eBoston Globe\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Smith skillfully follows two nar­ratives—the founding and growth of the Redskins franchise and the move to integrate pro football—until they collide in 1961.”—\u003ci\u003eThe Sunday News\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A classic gridiron tale for history junkies and avid sports fans alike.”—Phillip Hoose, author of \u003ci\u003eHoosiers\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Thoroughly researched … does a fine job of filling in this bleak episode on our cultural history.”—Michael Tomasky, \u003ci\u003eThe New York Review of Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “In a fascinating narrative, indefatigable team owner George Marshall is an aging football lion surprised to find himself backed into a corner by the gathering forces of a new era.”—John Eisenberg, author of \u003ci\u003eThat First Season\u003c\/i\u003eAuthor of two books, \u003cb\u003eThomas G. Smith\u003c\/b\u003e is a member of the history program at Nichols  College. He lives in Dudley, Massachusetts, and is a fervent fan of the New England Patriots and Los Angeles Dodgers.\u003cb\u003eChapter 5 \u003cbr\u003e The Washington Whiteskins\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e On November 23, 1947, the Washington Redskins held a fanappreciation  day for their iconic quarterback, Sammy Baugh. They presented him with a  glistening maroon car with wide, white-walled tires, the number “33” on  the front bumper plate, and a door panel reading “Slingin’ Sam—the  Redskins Man.” On that special day, before more than 30,000 fervid fans,  Baugh had one of his best games, rifling six touchdown passes to down  the defending league champion Chicago Cardinals, 45–21. After the game,  he drove his sister and brother-in-law to Philadelphia. On his return to  Washington that same evening, an oncoming vehicle forced him into a  skid that demolished his spiffy new automobile. Baugh was unhurt, but  the car wreck would come to symbolize the Redskins’ football fortunes in  the years following World War II. From 1946 through 1961, the Redskins  enjoyed only three winning seasons, appeared in no title or championship  games, and amassed a record of 69 wins, 116 losses, and 8 ties. They  devoured eight head coaches and played no black athletes.\u003cbr\u003e             The most obvious reason for the Redskins’ futility is that  they did not have enough skilled players, and for that crucial  shortcoming, George Marshall must be held accountable. His skill at  promotion did not extend to the building of a winning franchise. His  monumental ego, and perhaps the team’s past success under Sammy Baugh,  gave him an exaggerated sense of his understanding of the game and his  ability to assess talent. Arrogant, autocratic, meddlesome, bigoted, and  caustic, he also failed to establish a comfortable work environment for  his players and coaches.\u003cbr\u003e             By the mid-1940s, if not  earlier, Marshall had developed an obsession with football that bordered  on the pathological. To paraphrase \u003ci\u003eWashington Post \u003c\/i\u003ewriter  Richard Coe, George Marshall not only owned the Redskins, but the  Redskins “owned” him. “I’ve never found anything I enjoyed more,”  Marshall said of football. “If I get out of football, I’ll retire;  there’s nothing else I’d want to do. To do anything well, you have to  enjoy it first. And not just for the money, either. Anything else is  just another form of prostitution.” In 1946, he sold his laundry  business to devote more time and attention to football. Aside from  football, only the theater captivated him. When he went out on the town,  which was often, he did so mainly for selfaggrandizement and promotion  of the Redskins.\u003cbr\u003e             Marshall’s preoccupation with football  strained his family life. He rarely saw his two children from his first  marriage, and his union with Corinne became a sham. “How anyone can be  interested in football when he’s married to Corinne Griffith is one of  the great mysteries of life,” wrote one baffled sportswriter. She lived  most of the year in Beverly Hills, California, where she sold real  estate. Marshall saw his wife occasionally when the Redskins travelled  to Occidental College in southern California for training camp, but  mostly the couple lived separate lives. Corinne moved west because she  resented subordinating her life to football. On a local 1953 television  program called \u003ci\u003eThe Redskin Show, \u003c\/i\u003eMarshall said of Corinne: “She  used to be the Corinne Griffith of the movies until she became more  famous as Mrs. George Preston Marshall.”\u003cbr\u003e             Corinne did try  to take an interest in football. She wrote the lyrics to “Hail to the  Redskins,” helped choreograph halftime shows, initially attended games,  and plugged the team in a 1947 book, \u003ci\u003eMy Life with the Redskins. \u003c\/i\u003eBut  she never developed any affection for the game. After twenty-two years  of marriage, the couple divorced in 1958. Commenting to the press on the  breakup, she said: “Please don’t blame George. He just couldn’t love  me. It’s that simple.” There was, she continued, “[n]o other man. No  other woman. Just things that got in the way. And as hard as I tried, I  just couldn’t learn football.”\u003cbr\u003e             As Corinne intimated,  Marshall let nothing get in the way of football. Yet, in spite of his  passion and commitment, he could not field a winning team. The Redskins  still had some talented athletes following their 1945 championship  appearance. Even in decline, Baugh was an effective quarterback, and he  had a sure-handed receiver in Hugh “Bones” Taylor. But, after sixteen  seasons, Baugh retired in 1952, and Taylor left two years later after an  eight-year career. Finding an adequate replacement for Baugh proved  especially difficult. Eddie LeBaron, a diminutive sixteenth-round draft  choice, was arguably the team’s best quarterback in the decade following  Baugh’s retirement.\u003cbr\u003e             After Dick Todd retired in 1948,  the Redskins scrambled to find a durable running back. They obtained  Bill Dudley in 1950 from the Detroit Lions, and he offered some flashes  of brilliance with the Redskins, but the future Hall of Famer was past  his prime. The team drafted Charlie “Choo Choo” Justice in 1950, but the  twotime runner-up for the Heisman Trophy got injured and never lived up  to expectations. Vic Janowicz, who won the Heisman Trophy with Ohio  State University, signed with the Redskins in 1954, but his promising  career ended two years later when he was paralyzed in an automobile  accident. Eventually the University  of Oregon’s Dick James performed  productively at running back from 1956 to 1963, but the team had no  winning seasons during his tenure.\u003cbr\u003e             Although Dick McCann  carried the title of general manager, Marshall,effectively had total  control over the personnel decisions. Coaches had input, of course, but  Marshall prided himself on evaluating talent and always got his way on  trades and draft selections. The Redskins and most NFL teams did not  have the elaborate scouting and assessment systems that prevail in the  twenty-first century. “They used to say the Redskins scouting budget was  50 cents, the cost of \u003ci\u003eStreet and Smith \u003c\/i\u003eand another football  magazine,” said Eddie LeBaron. The Redskins did so little preparation  for draft day that some owners accused them of cheating. “At the player  draft meetings,” recalled Paul Brown in \u003ci\u003ePB: The Paul Brown Story, \u003c\/i\u003e“we  all sat at separate tables with our lists spread before us, and  Marshall inevitably made the rounds of each table, coming up from  behind, leaning over and giving the big hello. At the same time, he  would look over our shoulders at our lists, trying to get some  information. After a while, it became so obvious that everyone just  closed his book when he saw Marshall coming.” Some owners, said LeBaron,  exposed lists of players that they did not want, hoping Marshall would  take them.\u003cbr\u003e             Some of the Redskins’ draft picks made it  seem like Marshall was taking the bait. With their first pick in 1946,  the Redskins selected UCLA running back Cal Rossi, but he was ineligible  for the draft because he was only a junior. Stubbornly, they selected  Rossi again the following year, even though he had no intention of  playing pro football. Looking for another Baugh, Marshall used the first  overall choice in the 1948 draft to select Alabama’s Harry Gilmer  instead of future Hall of Famers Y. A. Tittle and Bobby Layne. In  fairness, it should be pointed out that Gilmer was an excellent  prospect, and six other teams also bypassed Tittle and Layne. In the  draft, Marshall was partial to quarterbacks, choosing seven with the  team’s first pick between 1948 and 1960—Gilmer, Larry Isbell, Jack  Scarbath, Ralph Guglielmi, Don Allard, Richie Lucas, and Norm Snead.\u003cbr\u003e             “Marshall was a showman first of all. He wanted  entertainment. That’s how I looked at his draft picks,” recalled  LeBaron. “We never had very good defensive teams when I was there, but  we kept drafting offensive players. He wanted big names, people who  would draw fans and bring excitement. It was like treading water.”  Arkansas native Hugh “Bones” Taylor, one of Baugh’s favorite receivers  in the postwar years, also was baffled by Marshall’s player personnel  decisions. “It was weird. If Marshall could get a big name or some  player from Maryland, Virginia, or North Carolina, he did, even if it  didn’t help us,” he complained. “We should have been signing blacks. Len  Ford grew up in the shadow of the stadium in D.C. and never had a  chance to play for us. Why? What difference did it make if he was  black?”\u003cbr\u003e             Like all teams, the Redskins made some  regrettable transactions. Against the advice of Baugh, Marshall traded  quarterback Frank Filchock to the Giants after the 1945 season. He also  lost two fu ture stars. Considering Harry Gilmer a can’t-miss prospect,  he dealt quarterback Charley Conerly to New   York, where he excelled  for fourteen seasons, winning three division titles and the NFL  championship in 1956. The Redskins in 1954 also sent defensive tackle  Dick Modzelewski to the Steelers, who, in turn, traded him to the  Giants. Winner of the 1952 Outland Trophy as the nation’s top collegiate  lineman, Modzelewski anchored the Giants defensive line from 1956  through 1963.\u003cbr\u003e             Blinded by racism, Marshall refused to tap  into the pool of African American talent. “There were only so many good  players anyway,” said former Redskins running back Jim Podoley, “and  when you eliminate half of them, it was tough. Very tough.” Podoley’s  teammate Joe Tereshinski was certain that the black ban “was a very  important reason we did not reach ultimate success.”\u003cbr\u003e              Meanwhile, teams like the Cleveland Browns, using gifted blacks such as  running back Marion Motley and guard Bill Willis, dominated play, first  in the All-America Football Conference (AAFC) and then in the NFL. The  Browns won the title from 1946 through 1949, every year of the AAFC’s  existence. During those years, they also drew more fans than every team  in the NFL.\u003cbr\u003e             Named coplayer of the year in 1949 by the  Washington Touchdown Club, Otto Graham surprised his audience by  addressing the issue of racial intolerance and taking an indirect shot  at George Marshall. “I wish the people of this country and the world had  the philosophy of our Cleveland football team,” Graham began. “We don’t  rate our fellows on their background or the[ir] religion or parentage  or color. We have Protestants, Jews, Catholics, white players and Negro  players in our gang, and it’s a happy one. The prejudiced people could  take a tip from our success. Our coaches are interested chiefly in what  we can do on the football field and rate us on that. It’s the best  spirit on any team I’ve ever played with and it would be truly wonderful  if that view of men were world wide.”\u003cbr\u003e             After joining the  NFL, the Browns appeared in seven championship games, winning titles in  1950, 1954, and 1955. After Marion Motley retired in 1953, they added  Syracuse University running back Jim Brown, who arguably became the  game’s greatest player. Dur ing his brief, nine-year career from 1957 to  1965, he led the NFL in rushing eight times, appeared in nine Pro  Bowls, won the Rookie of the Year Award and three Most Valuable Player  awards, averaged 5.2 yards per carry, and never missed a game.\u003cbr\u003e             The Browns played particularly well against the Redskins,  winning nineteen of twenty-three contests between 1950 and 1961,  including drubbings of 45–0 and 62–3. In Cleveland’s first appearance in  Washington, in December 1950, a black health educator cringed as fans  abused Marion Motley with racial epithets. Residents of Cleveland, he  said in a letter to the \u003ci\u003eCleveland Call and Post, \u003c\/i\u003ehad integrated  African Americans into their community, whereas Washingtonians had not.  “Residents of Cleveland,” he continued, “could be a vital force for good  if they could each pen a letter to George Preston Marshall . . . and  ask him to give racial tolerance a chance by following Cleveland’s  example of Democracy in sports.”\u003cbr\u003e             Following the  successful example of the Cleveland Browns, NFL owners—except for  Marshall—gradually added black players. To avoid offending some white  fans, owners established unofficial quotas of no more than eight  minority players per team. Those few pioneers paved the way for  additional African American players and often made a difference between  winning and losing seasons. The New York Giants won the 1956 NFL  championship with the help of linemen Roosevelt Brown and Roosevelt  “Rosey” Grier, running back Mel Triplett, and defensive back Emlen  Tunnell. The Baltimore Colts, who defeated the Giants for the title in  1958 and 1959, attributed much of their success to defensive tackle  Eugene “Big Daddy” Lipscomb, offensive lineman Jim Parker, and running  back\/flanker Lenny Moore, who was Rookie of the Year in 1956, a  perennial Pro Bowl selection, and, like Parker, a future Hall of Famer.  Other heralded African American players of the 1950s included lineman  Lamar Lundy, defensive backs Abe Woodson, J. C. Caroline, Johnny Sample,  and Dick “Night Train” Lane, and running backs Willie Gallimore, Ollie  Matson, John Henry Johnson, and Joe Perry, the first runner to record  consecutive thousand-yard rushing seasons.\u003cbr\u003e             African  Americans also made gains outside the lines, despite scant leadership  from the White House. (Although President Dwight D. Eisenhower disavowed  racial intolerance, he did not believe that federal laws and dictates  could “change people’s hearts.” (If General Eisenhower had pursued the  enemy with the same vigor that he pursued racial equality as president,  said one black leader, “we’d all be speaking German now.”) In the 1954 \u003ci\u003eBrown \u003c\/i\u003edecision,  the U.S. Supreme Court unanimously ruled against segregation in public  schools. The following year, the court mandated the speedy integration  of all public schools. In 1955, Rosa Parks refused to surrender her seat  to a white man, triggering a boycott that led to the integration of the  bus service in Montgomery, Alabama. When a truculent mob in 1957 tried  to prevent nine courageous black students from attending Central High  School in Little   Rock, Arkansas, Eisenhower (however reluctantly) sent  federal troops to protect them. Major strides for racial justice  prompted Lillian Smith, a white Georgian, to predict to the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ethat  Jim Crow would end in Dixie by the mid- 1960s: “Although signs will  still be nailed to a few people’s minds and hearts, the signs over  doors—those words ‘White’ and ‘Colored’ that have challenged democracy  throughout the world—will be down. A prophet is not needed to make this  forecast. Anyone who looks closely at recent events in the South . . .  will know that the future holds no place in it for the philosophy and  practice of segregation.”\u003cbr\u003e             George Marshall did not get  that message. Like other strident segregationists, he bristled at  federally directed desegregation efforts and resisted integration.  Adding blacks to the team, he reasoned, would offend white Southern  racial sensibilities and his profit margin. Marshall, said a \u003ci\u003eCleveland Call and Post \u003c\/i\u003ewriter, was “an unreconstructed grid rebel” and the only thing he “likes about Negroes is the color of their money.”\u003cbr\u003e             Marshall also appeared to be bigoted toward Jews. As a guest on the \u003ci\u003eOscar Levant Show, \u003c\/i\u003ehe  repeatedly disparaged the physical appearance of his host. When Levant  said, “I hear you’re anti- Semitic,” Marshall replied, “Oh no, I love  Jews, especially when they’re customers.” The insensitive remark brought  a flurry of protests, and Levant apologized to his audience for  inviting Marshall on the show. “I shouldn’t have done it. \u003ci\u003eVariety \u003c\/i\u003eraised  hell with me. Marshall kept saying how ugly I was—right there on the  show. He said, ‘What an ugly fellow you are, Oscar.’ ” The flap left  Marshall unabashed. “If I’m doing a show that’s supposed to be amusing  and entertaining, and if Levant asks me a facetious question, I’ll give  an amusing answer,” he told a \u003ci\u003eSports Illustrated \u003c\/i\u003ewriter. “The  audience laughed like hell. No one of intelligence has ever questioned  my theories on race or religion. Ah is an independent boy!” In fairness,  it should be pointed out that during Marshall’s decades with the  Redskins, his vice president and treasurer was Milton King, who was  Jewish.\u003cbr\u003e             For racial and commercial considerations,  Marshall took pains to curry favor with his mainly white, Southern fan  base. At halftime, he had the band play “Dixie,” “The Eyes of Texas,”  and other songs with Southern appeal. In the NFL draft, he went out of  his way to select players from Dixie schools, bypassing not only blacks,  but sometimes more qualified non-Southern whites as well. Not only did  he hold a fan appreciation day for the legendary Texan Sammy Baugh, but  in 1954, before a packed stadium, he honored “Choo Choo” Justice, a  North Carolinian who played only four mediocre seasons for the team.\u003cbr\u003e             Besides his bigotry and limited ability to assess athletic  prowess, Marshall had an exaggerated sense of his command of the game.  Former player Joe Tereshinski said that Marshall longed to be a coach:  “I always firmly believed that his life would have been complete if he  could have coached the team for one season. He was always competing with  George Halas, and it made Mr. Marshall jealous because Halas would be  on the field and Marshall would have to sit up in the stands.”\u003cbr\u003e             From the stands, he telephoned plays and player  substitutions to the head coach. On one occasion, according to Arthur  Daley of the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times, \u003c\/i\u003eone of the owner’s recommendations  brought victory when substitute quarterback Jim Youel scampered for a  fortyyard touchdown. Marshall said afterward: “There’s nothing difficult  about coaching.” On occasion, when he found it too time-consuming to  travel by train to Texas or the West Coast, he watched games on  television from home. But he could still meddle. “I’m plugged into the  bench,” he told Bud Shrake, a Dallas reporter. “I can call the coach  from my living room and tell him what to do. Sometimes the coach doesn’t  do it, and that’s how we lose.” Marshall made light of his  interference. One year after the team started with two wins and two  losses, a fan asked him if it was true that he was coaching the team.  “Partially,” Marshall responded. “I coached them in the two they won,  and the other coaches were in charge in the ones they lost.”\u003cbr\u003e             Players resented Marshall’s meddlesomeness, and during  games, they tried to sabotage communication between the owner and the  coach. Redskins running back Jim Podoley recalled that on one occasion,  they draped heavy parkas over the phone at the bench. “When Marshall saw  what was happening, he’d send his chauffeur down there to take the cape  off the phone.” Unlike Redskins players, rival coaches took comfort in  Marshall’s meddling. New York Giants coach Steve Owen told a \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ereporter,  “One thing we’re sure of, and pleased about, is that George Preston  Marshall will be there in a raccoon coat. He will start looking at the  game from the stands but before long, he’ll be right down on the bench  sending in substitutes, and we like that. The subs George sends in  always help us very much.”\u003cbr\u003e             Ray Flaherty, who had guided  the team to two world championships during the late 1930s and early  1940s, would not tolerate game-calling interference from Marshall. But  subsequent coaches were less confident and insistent. In a twenty-year  stretch from 1943 through 1963, Marshall went through ten head coaches.  Coaching the Redskins, wrote the \u003ci\u003eWashington Post’\u003c\/i\u003es Shirley Povich, “has all the permanency of a soap bubble.”\u003cbr\u003e             After burning through Dudley DeGroot and Turk Edwards,  Marshall in 1949 turned to U.S. Navy admiral John Whelchel to bring  strict discipline to the team. He promised the commander full authority  over the team, saying, apparently in all seriousness, “I never wanted to  interfere in the coaching of the Redskins. But I felt it was necessary.  I’m glad I can turn everything over to my new coach.” The new coach was  fired after seven dismal games. Herman Ball, Dick Todd, and Curly  Lambeau followed Whelchel in brief coaching stints.","brand":"Beacon Press","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46305221116133,"sku":"NP9780807000823","price":18.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780807000823.jpg?v=1767736579","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/showdown-isbn-9780807000823","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}