September 9, 1968—In just one of a series of “firsts” he accomplished throughout his short life,
Arthur Ashe not only won the first U.S. Open men’s singles tournament, but became—still to this day—the only African-American to do so.
Did you realize that for his accomplishment, Ashe only received $230 to cover his daily expenses at the tournament? The reason was that he still was an amateur—a second lieutenant at West Point—so the $14,000 purse went to his opponent,
Tom Okker of the Netherlands.
In 1996, on what would have been his 53rd birthday, a statue of Ashe was erected by his hometown, Richmond, Va. The site,
Monument Avenue, so named for the statues of Confederate war heroes, has often been called the most beautiful avenue in the United States. (I’d rate Summit Avenue of St. Paul, Minnesota, up there, too—but that’s another story.) At the time, the notion of an African-American joining Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, J.E.B. Stuart, Jefferson Davis, and Matthew Fontaine Maury in this area got some unreconstructed sons of the Confederacy bent out of shape.
For all the courage and achievements that the Confederate heroes displayed, I can’t say that I have any sympathy for opponents of the Ashe statue. As a child, Ashe would not have even been allowed to visit this area of the city because of segregation, the lingering effect of the slavery on which the Confederacy was based. His statue there helps sanitize that long-lasting stain on the American fabric.
I’m just sorry that I visited Monument Avenue in the early ‘90s, before the Ashe statue went up. If I ever get down to Richmond again, I’ll make it a point to stop there to see what I missed.
Military heroes Lee, Jackson, and Stuart were honored with equestrian statues, which tower over the viewer not simply because the statue itself is larger than life or because it is on a pediment, but because of the horse on which its rider sits. In contrast, Ashe is elevated by example. The other statues are there because of force of arms; Ashe is there by force of will.
Ashe joins
Lou Gehrig and
Jackie Robinson among my trio of sports heroes. All three were highly intelligent, deeply committed to family, and brave in the face of adversity—and, unfortunately, all three died far too young (Gehrig at 38, Ashe at 49, Robinson at 53). True, Big Bill Tilden, Babe Ruth, and Michael Jordan might have achieved more in terms of statistics in their sports than my trio. But Gehrig and Robinson made a greater impact in the larger society, and Ashe’s influence extended outside to encompass the whole world.
I’m not even going to get into his accomplishments as a tennis player. Think of everything else he accomplished outside athletics—broadcasting (commentator for ABC Sports), writing (for
Time, the
Washington Post and
Tennis Magazine), academe (a stint teaching about black Americans in sports led to his writing the first comprehensive history on this subject in 20 years, the three-volume
A Hard Road to Glory), urban affairs (the Arthur Ashe Institute for Urban Health combats inadequate health care delivery to minorities), human rights activism (he battled apartheid in South Africa for more than 20 years), and medicine (he established the Arthur Ashe Foundation for the Defeat of AIDS—the disease that took his life because of a blood transfusion).
Maybe those who cherished their Confederate heroes had a point—maybe Ashe would have been at home with someone more committed to a different cause. Like civil rights for all.
Maybe Ashe would have been in more congenial company with someone like
Ulysses S. Grant, who, as President, battled with all he had, against the political odds, to bring the Ku Klux Klan to heel as the South backed away from Reconstruction. I couldn’t help think of this connection when I learned that Ashe had completed his memoir,
Days of Grace, only days before his death, just as Grant had finished his autobiography—generally considered the finest memoir ever produced by a President—just before his own demise.
With keen intelligence and quiet but unswerving determination, Ashe got the most out of himself so that he could make a difference to others. As well as anyone I can think of, he personifies what Rick Warren calls “the purpose-driven life.”
“I wish more of us could understand that our
increasing isolation, no matter how much it seems to express pride and
self-affirmation, is not the answer to our problems. Rather, the answer is a revival
of our ancient commitment to God, who rules over all the peoples of the world
and exalts no one over any other, and to the moral and spiritual values which
were once legendary in America. We must reach out our hand in friendship both
to those who would befriend us and those who would be our enemy. We must
believe in the power of education. We must respect just laws. We must love
ourselves, our old and our young, our women as well as our men.”—Professional
tennis player—and American hero—Arthur Ashe (1943-1993) and Arnold
Rampersad, Days of Grace: A Memoir (1994)
