City of Memphis, NBA navigate carrying out Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s message | NBA.com
Effectively reflecting what MLK Jr. stood for a challenging task for city, Grizzlies and NBA players everywhere
David Aldridge TNT Analyst
@daldridgetnt
Archive
Jan 15, 2018 9:48 AM ET
MEMPHIS -- Swin Cash, a woman I’ve always admired and liked from afar, physically reached out Sunday afternoon. I needed her. I needed someone, for I was no longer functioning.
I was standing on the spot where Martin Luther King, Jr., was murdered.
I was sobbing.
I had taken the tour at the National Civil Rights Museum (NCRM) before, and walked past rooms 306 and 307 at the Lorraine Motel, what’s left of it, anyway, that part of the motel having been preserved by the museum that was built around it in 1991, a jarring conclusion to the tour. What preceded was moving, but mostly known to anyone who has spent any time reading up or studying the Civil Rights movement, the names and events coming all at once: Parks and Faubus; Schwerner, Chaney and Goodman; Leeb, Evers and Connor; Wells and Hamer and Marshall and Eckford. Montgomery. Selma. Lunch Counters. Freedom Summer.
But the tour ends by walking past Rooms 307 and 306 of the Lorraine -- the actual rooms, 306 being where King and the Rev. Ralph Abernathy roomed together on April 3, 1968. The bedspreads, the plates, the cigarette butts -- all preserved from that day, frozen for all time, the rooms a shrine-cum-mausoleum of sorts.
But I had not been to the museum in many years, and when I had gone on the tour before, the balcony was closed. In 2012, the museum decided to open the balcony to tourgoers. Thus, I was surprised Sunday when a worker at the museum opened the door to the balcony -- the balcony.
Martin Luther King Jr. was fatally shot at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis on April 4, 1968.
It is a small, narrow balcony. There were only a few of us out there, and it was claustrophobic. Such were the accommodations available for black folks in the ‘60s, and King had stayed at the Lorraine many times between 1966 and 1968. You take three steps onto the balcony, and you are … there. You are standing where King stood when he spoke to Ben Branch, a musician he knew, who was standing beneath King and his coterie in the courtyard. The group was about to go to the home of Rev. Billy Kyles for dinner.
“Ben, make sure you play ‘Take My Hand, Precious Lord’ tonight in the meeting,” King asked Branch. “Play it real pretty.”
Seconds later, a rifle shot rang out. You look up. You see where the tour guide says the FBI believes the shot came from -- a window on the top floor of a boarding house just across from the motel. The window is approximately 207 feet from the balcony. It’s not far, not far at all. And you can now understand the damage that one bullet can do fired from so near its target -- King, who stood where I was standing when the .30-06 caliber rifle struck him in the neck, tore through his jaw, severed his spine and lodged in his shoulder.
I began to cry.
The museum has preserved one square piece of the original concrete from the balcony that was there in 1968. That square once was stained with King’s blood after the shooting; the square has been cleaned and returned, a gravestone with no name on it, its horrible witness to history having changed the world.
I began sobbing.
And Cash, one of the greatest basketball players ever, and as nice a person as she was great on the court, and who had her infant son in her arms most of the tour, reached out and put her hand on my shoulder. She said nothing.
The Lorraine Motel is part of the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis.
The dichotomy between the simplicity of what was preserved of April 3 and 4, 1968, in Rooms 306 and 307 of the Lorraine Motel, and the outsized status and stature of the people who toured the museum in 2018 -- almost all people of color -- was jarring. King came to Memphis to fight for economic improvements for poor people, as part of his nationwide Poor People’s Campaign, the last movement he would head.
The people on the tour Sunday, former NBA and WNBA stars, assorted Los Angeles Lakers and Memphis Grizziles, the Commissioner of the NBA and the Executive Director of the National Basketball Players Association, me -- all of us are doing ridiculously well financially compared to almost any other person who’s ever lived. The African-American players of the NBA, 300 to 340 or so, are likely the greatest single collection of black wealth and millionaires on earth.
This is our opening night, Christmas Day, all wrapped up into one when it comes to the importance of the game to our organization."
MEMPHIS GRIZZLIES PRESIDENT JASON WEXLER
What King fought for and died for seems far removed from so many who star in the NBA, who move tens of millions of dollars worth of shoes and sodas and other products, whose faces are recognized around the world. But, of course, that was the whole point of the civil rights movement -- to give black people the ability to rise or fall on their own abilities and talents, and to make the faces of black people something not to be feared or ordered about, but respected and admired.
But we were all here, in Memphis, to help commemorate King’s birthday this morning, and to mark the beginning of events in Memphis marking the 50 years that have passed since the assassination. (“Anniversary” does not seem appropriate here.) We were here because the Grizzlies play here every January 15th, the game only a part of days of events and symposiums throughout the city that celebrate King’s life and look to find modern meaning in his legacy.
“This is our opening night, Christmas Day, all wrapped up into one when it comes to the importance of the game to our organization,” Grizzlies President Jason Wexler said Saturday.
The Grizzlies have long understood that they must do more than just roll basketballs out on King’s birthday.
They have helped create a local charter school -- Grizzlies Prep -- for 5th through 8th grade boys, primarily in low-income neighborhoods and in communities of color. They’ve invested millions of dollars into local mentoring programs. Grizzlies guard Mike Conley pledged $1 million last year toward the Grizzlies’ TEAM Mentor Program. Their efforts in the city made them a finalist last year -- the only NBA team chosen -- for the Sports Humanitarian Team of the Year Award.
Former Coach David Fizdale -- who publicly advocated for the removal of statues of Klan founder Nathan Bedford Forrest and Confederacy President Jefferson Davisfrom local parks (both were removed last month) -- worked with local farms that taught people to grow healthier, locally-grown foods to help reduce the obesity numbers in the city.
For years, before their MLK Day game, the team has sponsored a civil rights panel discussion, now officially called the Earl Lloyd Sports Legacy Symposium, in honor of the first black player to play in an NBA game (full disclosure: I’ve hosted it several times) at FedEx Forum. The team has honored former players like Oscar Robertson, Dave Bing and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar over the years who have made significant contributions off the court toward improving the lives of people of color.
This year’s 16th Celebration Game will again feature the annual Sports Legacy Award presentation and symposium, which will honor Hall of Famer James Worthy, former players Sam Perkins and Cash, and former player and Memphis native Penny Hardaway.
And in Monday’s game, the Grizzlies will debut their City Edition uniforms, which come with a wonderful and historic touch: the “MEMPHIS” font on the front of their jerseys is the same font that was used for the iconic “I AM A MAN” posters and placards that sanitation workers in the city used after they went on strike in the spring of 1968 -- the event that brought Dr. King to Memphis in his last days.
“We’re acutely aware of our history in this city,” Wexler said. “FedEx Forum, to me, is the greatest address in sports. Our address is 191 Beale Street, and our boundaries are Beale Street (where the blues took hold as an iconic American music institution), B.B. King Boulevard, Martin Luther King Avenue and Church park, named for Robert Church, who was the first African-American millionaire, post-Civil War. And across the street from us is Clayborn Temple.”
Clayborn Temple is where the sanitation workers produced and handed out the I AM A MAN placards.
Wexler, John Pugliese, the team’s vice president of marketing, communications and broadcast, and Director of Creative Services David Thompson worked with Nike over the last year-plus on the uniform design. (Nike, which designed every team’s City Edition uniforms, also has a large presence in Memphis; its $300 million North American Logistics Campus here is the largest single entity for the company outside Nike’s home state of Oregon.) They consulted with the NCRM.
The iconic 'I AM A MAN' posters shaped the look of the Grizzlies' City Edition uniforms.
Effectively reflecting what MLK Jr. stood for a challenging task for city, Grizzlies and NBA players everywhere
David Aldridge TNT Analyst
@daldridgetnt
Archive
Jan 15, 2018 9:48 AM ET
MEMPHIS -- Swin Cash, a woman I’ve always admired and liked from afar, physically reached out Sunday afternoon. I needed her. I needed someone, for I was no longer functioning.
I was standing on the spot where Martin Luther King, Jr., was murdered.
I was sobbing.
I had taken the tour at the National Civil Rights Museum (NCRM) before, and walked past rooms 306 and 307 at the Lorraine Motel, what’s left of it, anyway, that part of the motel having been preserved by the museum that was built around it in 1991, a jarring conclusion to the tour. What preceded was moving, but mostly known to anyone who has spent any time reading up or studying the Civil Rights movement, the names and events coming all at once: Parks and Faubus; Schwerner, Chaney and Goodman; Leeb, Evers and Connor; Wells and Hamer and Marshall and Eckford. Montgomery. Selma. Lunch Counters. Freedom Summer.
But the tour ends by walking past Rooms 307 and 306 of the Lorraine -- the actual rooms, 306 being where King and the Rev. Ralph Abernathy roomed together on April 3, 1968. The bedspreads, the plates, the cigarette butts -- all preserved from that day, frozen for all time, the rooms a shrine-cum-mausoleum of sorts.
But I had not been to the museum in many years, and when I had gone on the tour before, the balcony was closed. In 2012, the museum decided to open the balcony to tourgoers. Thus, I was surprised Sunday when a worker at the museum opened the door to the balcony -- the balcony.
Martin Luther King Jr. was fatally shot at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis on April 4, 1968.
It is a small, narrow balcony. There were only a few of us out there, and it was claustrophobic. Such were the accommodations available for black folks in the ‘60s, and King had stayed at the Lorraine many times between 1966 and 1968. You take three steps onto the balcony, and you are … there. You are standing where King stood when he spoke to Ben Branch, a musician he knew, who was standing beneath King and his coterie in the courtyard. The group was about to go to the home of Rev. Billy Kyles for dinner.
“Ben, make sure you play ‘Take My Hand, Precious Lord’ tonight in the meeting,” King asked Branch. “Play it real pretty.”
Seconds later, a rifle shot rang out. You look up. You see where the tour guide says the FBI believes the shot came from -- a window on the top floor of a boarding house just across from the motel. The window is approximately 207 feet from the balcony. It’s not far, not far at all. And you can now understand the damage that one bullet can do fired from so near its target -- King, who stood where I was standing when the .30-06 caliber rifle struck him in the neck, tore through his jaw, severed his spine and lodged in his shoulder.
I began to cry.
The museum has preserved one square piece of the original concrete from the balcony that was there in 1968. That square once was stained with King’s blood after the shooting; the square has been cleaned and returned, a gravestone with no name on it, its horrible witness to history having changed the world.
I began sobbing.
And Cash, one of the greatest basketball players ever, and as nice a person as she was great on the court, and who had her infant son in her arms most of the tour, reached out and put her hand on my shoulder. She said nothing.
The Lorraine Motel is part of the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis.
The dichotomy between the simplicity of what was preserved of April 3 and 4, 1968, in Rooms 306 and 307 of the Lorraine Motel, and the outsized status and stature of the people who toured the museum in 2018 -- almost all people of color -- was jarring. King came to Memphis to fight for economic improvements for poor people, as part of his nationwide Poor People’s Campaign, the last movement he would head.
The people on the tour Sunday, former NBA and WNBA stars, assorted Los Angeles Lakers and Memphis Grizziles, the Commissioner of the NBA and the Executive Director of the National Basketball Players Association, me -- all of us are doing ridiculously well financially compared to almost any other person who’s ever lived. The African-American players of the NBA, 300 to 340 or so, are likely the greatest single collection of black wealth and millionaires on earth.
This is our opening night, Christmas Day, all wrapped up into one when it comes to the importance of the game to our organization."
MEMPHIS GRIZZLIES PRESIDENT JASON WEXLER
What King fought for and died for seems far removed from so many who star in the NBA, who move tens of millions of dollars worth of shoes and sodas and other products, whose faces are recognized around the world. But, of course, that was the whole point of the civil rights movement -- to give black people the ability to rise or fall on their own abilities and talents, and to make the faces of black people something not to be feared or ordered about, but respected and admired.
But we were all here, in Memphis, to help commemorate King’s birthday this morning, and to mark the beginning of events in Memphis marking the 50 years that have passed since the assassination. (“Anniversary” does not seem appropriate here.) We were here because the Grizzlies play here every January 15th, the game only a part of days of events and symposiums throughout the city that celebrate King’s life and look to find modern meaning in his legacy.
“This is our opening night, Christmas Day, all wrapped up into one when it comes to the importance of the game to our organization,” Grizzlies President Jason Wexler said Saturday.
The Grizzlies have long understood that they must do more than just roll basketballs out on King’s birthday.
They have helped create a local charter school -- Grizzlies Prep -- for 5th through 8th grade boys, primarily in low-income neighborhoods and in communities of color. They’ve invested millions of dollars into local mentoring programs. Grizzlies guard Mike Conley pledged $1 million last year toward the Grizzlies’ TEAM Mentor Program. Their efforts in the city made them a finalist last year -- the only NBA team chosen -- for the Sports Humanitarian Team of the Year Award.
Former Coach David Fizdale -- who publicly advocated for the removal of statues of Klan founder Nathan Bedford Forrest and Confederacy President Jefferson Davisfrom local parks (both were removed last month) -- worked with local farms that taught people to grow healthier, locally-grown foods to help reduce the obesity numbers in the city.
For years, before their MLK Day game, the team has sponsored a civil rights panel discussion, now officially called the Earl Lloyd Sports Legacy Symposium, in honor of the first black player to play in an NBA game (full disclosure: I’ve hosted it several times) at FedEx Forum. The team has honored former players like Oscar Robertson, Dave Bing and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar over the years who have made significant contributions off the court toward improving the lives of people of color.
This year’s 16th Celebration Game will again feature the annual Sports Legacy Award presentation and symposium, which will honor Hall of Famer James Worthy, former players Sam Perkins and Cash, and former player and Memphis native Penny Hardaway.
And in Monday’s game, the Grizzlies will debut their City Edition uniforms, which come with a wonderful and historic touch: the “MEMPHIS” font on the front of their jerseys is the same font that was used for the iconic “I AM A MAN” posters and placards that sanitation workers in the city used after they went on strike in the spring of 1968 -- the event that brought Dr. King to Memphis in his last days.
“We’re acutely aware of our history in this city,” Wexler said. “FedEx Forum, to me, is the greatest address in sports. Our address is 191 Beale Street, and our boundaries are Beale Street (where the blues took hold as an iconic American music institution), B.B. King Boulevard, Martin Luther King Avenue and Church park, named for Robert Church, who was the first African-American millionaire, post-Civil War. And across the street from us is Clayborn Temple.”
Clayborn Temple is where the sanitation workers produced and handed out the I AM A MAN placards.
Wexler, John Pugliese, the team’s vice president of marketing, communications and broadcast, and Director of Creative Services David Thompson worked with Nike over the last year-plus on the uniform design. (Nike, which designed every team’s City Edition uniforms, also has a large presence in Memphis; its $300 million North American Logistics Campus here is the largest single entity for the company outside Nike’s home state of Oregon.) They consulted with the NCRM.
The iconic 'I AM A MAN' posters shaped the look of the Grizzlies' City Edition uniforms.
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but since its Dr. Harry Edwards.....
