A WORLD RECORD KEEPING ROBIN BACKHAUS FROM OLYMPIC GOLD

A Redlands Connection is a concoction of sports memories emanating from a city that once numbered less than 20,000 people. From pro football’s Super Bowl to baseball’s World Series, from dynamic soccer’s World Cup to golf’s and tennis’ U.S. Open, major auto racing, plus NCAA Final Four connections, Tour de France cycling, more major tennis like Wimbledon, tiny connections to that NBA and a little NHL, major college football, Kentucky Derby, aquatics and Olympic Games, that sparkling little city sits around halfway between Los Angeles and Palm Springs on Interstate 10. If anyone recalls brilliant 1972 Olympian Mark Spitz, there was a key figure from Redlands who swam against him. – Obrey Brown

That day, August 28 back in 2018, was the 45th anniversary of an Olympic moment. So much history was locked from that 1972 Olympic Games. Held in Munich, located in West Germany, who could forget the slaughter of Israeli athletes by Palestinians in one of the world’s greatest divides?

Brilliant memories showcased that Olympics berth — good or bad.

U.S. men’s basketball team, for instance, lost a gold medal that led to an international incident.

On the plus side, there was wrestler Dan Gable and gymnast Olga Korbut, marathoner Frank Shorter and half-miler Dave Wottle, who came from behind to win the 800.

Meanwhile, American sprinters Rey Robinson and Eddie Hart, nowhere to be found in the 100 and 200 finals, missed their preliminary heats when they received the wrong starting times.

Swimming comes huge among most Olympic followers.

There were prime headlines coming from that Schwimmhalle, the Olympic swim center at the Munich Olympic Park. An American swimmer was re-writing the record books.

A Redlands swimmer, Robin Backhaus, was hot on his trail.

Mark Spitz. Seven gold medals. An American legend.

225px-Robin_Backhaus_1972

Robin Backhaus, a 17-year-old swimmer at the 1972 Munich Olympic Games, won a bronze medal in the butterfly (photo by Wikipedia Commons).Backhaus! Born in Nebraska. Attended Redlands High. His swim club was in Riverside. Following the Games, he’d wind up in Hawaii. Or Alabama. Even in Washington, the U.S. northwest.

On that Aug. 28, 1972, Backhaus notched that bronze medal off a brilliant third-place performance in the men’s 200-meter butterfly. His time, 2:03.23, finished behind Spitz’s world record 2:00.70, with Gary Hall, Sr. (2:02.86) and Backhaus completing the USA’s sweep.

Imagine that for a Redlands Connection! A Redlands swimmer was beaten only by a world record. In that 200-fly finale, Backhaus outlasted South America’s Ecuador’s Jose Delgado, Jr., fourth place, by over a second to grab that bronze medal.

A sharp performing pathway to the championship race was littered with challenges.

Truthfully, Backhaus posted the fastest time in those climbing heats which led to the finals. That 17-year-old from Redlands won, in 2:03.11, past West Germany’s Folkert Meeuw. By heat four in that 200-meter butterfly, Spitz won his race and stole away, however briefly Backhaus’ Olympic record’s swim.

Spitz, who surpassed Backhaus’ 2:03.11 clocking with a 2:02.11 of his own, claimed the record in that semifinal heat. The top two finishers from each heat qualified for the finals.

It took that world record swim from Spitz, his 2:00.70 outdueling Hall and Backhaus.

310px-Gary_Hall,_Mark_Spitz,_Robin_Backhaus_1972
From left to right, Gary Hall, Sr., Mark Spitz and Robin Backhaus, who swept the 200-meter butterfly event at the 1972 Munich Olympic Games. Spitz, who won seven gold medals, set a world record in the race (photo by Wikipedia Commons).

Delgado, West Germany’s Hans Fassnacht, Hungary’s Andras Hargitay, East Germany’s Hartmut Flockner and Meeuw took fourth through eighth place in the overall outcome. Even Meeuw’s last place clocking, 2:05.57, was world class.

Backhaus was surrounded by brilliant talent on his U.S. Olympic team:

  • Jerry Heidenreich, two relay gold medals, part of six world records
  • John Murphy, a relay gold and bronze in the 100-back
  • Mike Stamm, silver medals in two backstroke events, plus a relay gold
  • Tom Bruce, former world record holder in 4 x 100 free
  • Steve Furniss, bronze, 100-individual medley
  • Gary Hall, Sr. – Two years before Munich, Hall set a world record in 200-fly
  • Mike Burton (3-time Olympic champion, former world record holder)
  • Steve Genter, gold medalist (silver in 100-free)
  • John Hencken, 13 world records, 21 American records
  • Doug Northway, like Backhaus, was 17, capturing bronze in the 1500-free
  • Tim McKee (3-time silver medalist)

A footnote to McKee: Swimming observers will recall a close finish – losing to Sweden’s Gunnar Larsson by two one-thousandths of a second in the 400-IM – in which the scoreboard reflected a dead heat at 4:31.98. In a controversial decision, event judges named Larsson the winner with a 4:31.981 to McKee’s 4:31.983.

Under new federation rules, timing to the thousandths of a second are now prohibited. It was that race which led to the change in rules.

That year’s U.S. swim side copped 43 medals, seven of its 17 gold medals won by Spitz, two shared in pair of relays.

Spitz, meanwhile, might’ve been caught up in the explosive nature of The Games. As a Jewish American, Spitz was asked to leave Germany before the closing ceremonies. The historically upsetting deaths of those Israeli athletes had left a trickle-down effect for the remainder of The Games.

POST-OLYMPIC CAREER

Domestically, Backhaus won three Amateur Athletic Union titles, at the indoor 200-yard butterfly in 1974, plus the 100-fly in 1973. He also won NCAA title in the 200-fly in 1975.

His club was based in Riverside. One of his coaches was Chuck Riggs, who would help develop several future champions, including Cynthia “Sippy” Woodhead. Riggs, eventually shifting to the Redlands Swim Team, was voted into the Swim Coaches Hall of Fame in 2018.

Chuck-Riggs
Chuck Riggs, who was coaching for the Riverside Aquatics Association in the early 1970s, had a hand in coaching Robin Backhaus’ climb to the Olympics in 1972. Riggs eventually became American Swim Coaches Association’s Hall of Famer.

While a Redlands resident, Backhaus performed plenty of celebratory swimming. In 1970, at the Pacific Southwest YMCA Swimming and Diving Championships, he set an age group record of 57.1 in a 100-yard butterfly chase, plus a 23.2 in 50-yard freestyle, merely fractions of a second off an age group record.

Sure, there were changes after The Games of 1972. Backhaus swam his senior season at San Rafael High School — north of San Francisco — after he transferred from Redlands High.

Backhaus’ college choice was Washington, later transferring to Alabama, which is where he graduated.

Backhaus, a teacher and swimming coach at Konawaena (Hawaii) High School, eventually surfaced as a swimming trainer in Texas and California for over 20 years.

A year after his Olympic exploits, Backhaus won a pair of gold medals, plus a bronze medal at the 1973 World Aquatics Championships in Belgrade, Yugoslavia.

There was a win in his specialty, the 200-fly, plus his part in the 4 x 200 freestyle relay. In the 100-fly, Backhaus took third.

Born on Feb. 12, 1955, Backhaus never swam competitively at Redlands High. He’s a Terrier Hall of Famer, though, easily a portion of that school’s growing history of top-level athletes that includes sharp-achieving athletes from almost any sport.

Backhaus’ only other hope for another Olympic event came in the 100-fly, but he was unable to qualify at the Trials.

Think of it this way: For a brief time, Backhaus held the Olympic record in that 200-meter butterfly. It took a world record swim, from Spitz of all people, to edge the Redlands teenager for the gold medal.

After retiring from competition, Backhaus worked as a teacher and coach at Konawaena High School in Kealakekua on a four-year service, then training swimmers in Texas and California for over 20 years.

There would no Olympic Games for Backhaus in Montreal 1976.

GEORGE YARDLEY WAS NBA’S FIRST 2,000-POINT KING

A Redlands Connection is a concoction of sports memories emanating from a city that once numbered less than 20,000 people. From pro football’s Super Bowl to baseball’s World Series, from dynamic soccer’s World Cup to golf’s and tennis’ U.S. Open, major auto racing, plus NCAA Final Four connections, Tour de France cycling, more major tennis like Wimbledon, tiny connections to that NBA and a little NHL, major college football, Kentucky Derby, aquatics and Olympic Games, that sparkling little city sits around halfway between Los Angeles and Palm Springs on Interstate 10. – Obrey Brown

Curiously, there was a direct link from the NBA to the University of Redlands basketball program. Rob Yardley came in the form of a role player in the late 1979s, early 1980s. Upon examination, Yardley, an outgoing, intelligent and seemingly Christian-living soul, stood 6-foot-6 in a Bulldog uniform. Basketball historians, incidentally, might recognize the name of Yardley.

It was George Yardley, believe it or not, scoring a seasoned 2,000 points for the first time NBA history. From the past: Newport Harbor High School. Stanford. Seventh pick, NBA draft, 1950. Didn’t start playing until the 1953-54 season.

George_Yardley, 1959
George Yardley, wearing the NBA uniform of the old Syracuse Nats, was the league’s top scoring threat until Wilt Chamberlain came into the league. Yardley was the first NBA player to surpass the 2,000-point milestone. (Photo by Wikipedia Commons).

In 1958, Yardley, then of the Detroit Pistons, scored 2,001 points. The NBA’s previous scoring mark came in 1951 when Minneapolis Lakers’ 6-foot-10 center George Mikan racked up 1,932 points. At 6-5, Yardley was a good-sized forward in 1950’s NBA hoops, and was “an offensive-minded player with a knack for scoring,” he noted on himself. Described as a “flamboyant” and “gregarious” player who “never did anything without flair,” Yardley had a stellar seven-year career, making the NBA All-Star team every year except for his rookie season.

He led the Fort Wayne Pistons to two NBA Finals before the team moved to Detroit in 1957. In 1957-58, that being these Pistons’ first season in Detroit, Yardley led the league in scoring, averaging 27.8 points.

That year, named All-NBA First Team the lone time over seven season, Yardley set NBA records with 655 free throws on 808 attempts. There was a curious trade by the Pistons to the Syracuse Nationals, the future Philadelphia 76ers. Following his sixth all-star season with Syracuse in 1959-60, averaging 20.2 points, George Yardley retired at the age of 31. He was the first player in NBA history to retire after averaging at least 20 points in his final year.

Although Alex Groza had a 21.7 scoring average in his final NBA season in 1951, his career ended as a result of a lifelong ban for point shaving, instead of a voluntary retirement like that of Yardley’s.

A year later, 1959, St. Louis Hawks’ center Bob Pettit broke Yardley’s mark. By 1962, Chamberlain’s single-season total in 1962 eclipsed that of Yardley and Pettit combined. Chamberlain wiped every scoring record off the books, averaging a shade over 50 points a game.

Who was this Yardley guy again?

George Yardley, incidentally, was Rob’s dad.

Rob Yardley (Photo credit, LinkedIn)
Rob Yardley, looking a little older and grayer than in his University of Redlands days in the early 1980s, was the son of an NBA great (Photo credit: LinkedIn.)

“No,” said the younger Yardley, who stood 6-foot-6, “he never did (pressure me) to play basketball. I thought I was going to be a tennis star, and he introduced me to tennis. I think he likes tennis more than basketball, anyway.”

One night, Yardley came off the bench to score eight points – hardly in Chamberlain’s class, or that of Pettit, or even his dad – in a 63-52 win at Occidental College, a campus located just outside Pasadena. But he did hit all four of his shots, eventually fouling out. He said, “I was a butcher out there. I kept leaning. Coach (Gary) Smith has told me a thousand times to keep my hands off the guy on the baseline.”

George was in Eagle Rock, Occidental’s home city, to watch his son play that night. In fact, that brilliant ex-NBA star was often seen at Currier Gym, the Bulldogs’ home gym in Redlands.

Think about it: George Yardley played against the likes of Chamberlain, Pettit, Bill Russell, Bob Cousy and Elgin Baylor, Mikan — you name it. There were wire service photos of George Yardley going up against Russell and Cousy. Retired at 31, George played a little in 1961-62 with the Los Angeles Jets, a much-forgotten team from the old American Basketball League.

By contrast, Rob Yardley was neither an NBA player or even an All-Conference player at Redlands. Like his dad, both were wport Harbor High. Then it was off to Orange County Junior College, then a two-year stint at Redlands.

For locals, it was an interesting Redlands Connection.

 

LEMOND, ARMSTRONG COULD’VE BEEN PART OF REDLANDS CLASSIC LEGACY

A Redlands Connection is a concoction of sports memories emanating from a city that once numbered less than 20,000 people. From pro football’s Super Bowl to baseball’s World Series, from dynamic soccer’s World Cup to golf’s and tennis’ U.S. Open, major auto racing, plus NCAA Final Four connections, Tour de France cycling, more major tennis like Wimbledon, tiny connections to that NBA and a little NHL, major college football, Kentucky Derby, aquatics and Olympic Games, that sparkling little city sits around halfway between Los Angeles and Palm Springs on Interstate 10. Don’t get off brilliant cyclists that have shown up including one future Tour de France champion, 1998 Redlands runner-up Cadel Evans, along with quite a few handfuls of brilliant riders from that worldwide spectacular event. – Obrey Brown

DOWNTOWN REDLANDS WAS FAILING, say, in the early 1980s. Maybe it didn’t see like its minimal downtown businesses were worth any way of drawing outsiders, or even its own citizens. How could anyone improve its State Street look? What could attract visitors? 

Try this: Something happened in Orange County during the summer of the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. Road race champion Alexi Grewal won that race held in Mission Viejo. A year later, cycling was showing up in Redlands.

Anyone remember that?

It needed saving. Business was down. Anxieties were up. The future of this glorious community seemed on the line. Would business owners be able to survive?

Turn to sporting events.

Mayor Carole Beswick, city councilman Dick Larsen, plus a contributing member of Redlands society, Denmark’s Peter Brandt, who had professional connections to bicycle racing, concocted a plan.

Carole Beswick
Former Redlands Mayor Carole Beswick launched the biggest sports plan ever in city history to claim a spot in the sports world by organizing the Redlands Bicycle Classic.

There were plenty of others, including Craig Kundig, a local business owner whose future commitment as Race Director led to some of the events’ greatest growth.

Craig Kundig
Former Redlands Bicycle Classic race director Craig Kundig, who is still part of the committee, delivered several stunning additions and ideas during his days.

On the heels of that 1984 Los Angeles Summer Olympic Games, at which U.S. cyclists like Steve Hegg (time trials), Ron Kiefel, Davis Phinney came away with gold medals, the feeling was simple:

Why not bring a professional cycling event to Redlands? Answer is simple: They did. It was a clean-air sport. Shutting down city streets, opening it up to pro cycling, seemed to be a cool answer. Would the city’s residents respond well?

When Phinney, a top USA cyclist from Team 7-Eleven, won the 1986 Redlands Classic, he was asked to reflect on his experiences in racing at the famed Tour de France.

He was amenable for a while. Phinney, though, recognized what his Redlands victory really meant.

“Let’s talk,” he said, taking full control of the post-event media interviews, “about the Tour of Redlands.”

Lurking behind the crowd in the media center – the basement of a local bank – Beswick & Co. cheered the moment. Phinney was, perhaps, the USA’s top cycling spokesman. Talking it up about Redlands helped the cause.

Team 7-Eleven shouldn’t have even been racing at Redlands. The team was racing in Europe when civil unrest was taking place. Said Kundig: “They just decided to get out of there and come out here.”

“Out here?” It was Redlands.

Thirty-four years later, not only has the Redlands Bicycle Classic survived, but it’s outlasted virtually every other U.S. cycling event. Throughout the preceding 33 years, the event has moved from its Memorial Day weekend, thrust itself into February, March and April offerings. One year, it was held back in May.

The reason was simple: In late May, the globe’s best teams were setting up for races back east or even in Europe. Those teams’ budgets weren’t big enough to withstand travel back to the west coast for Redlands.

Redlands wanted to build its race on the backs of cycling’s best. By shifting its calendar dates to the beginning of the season, teams that often train in California could easily schedule at Redlands.

There was even a 1999 street sprint in downtown Redlands on State Street, perhaps taking advantage of track specialist Johnny Bairos, who won that stage, incidentally, against the biggest names in U.S. racing.

Bairos, a Redlands product, went on to the 2000 Sydney Olympics. To this date, Bairos is the only local cyclist to ever win a Redlands Classic stage.

Plenty of other winners came from overseas – Russia and Great Britain, France and Germany, Canada, Poland, Switzerland and South America, to name a few.

Historically speaking, the Redlands Bicycle Classic may have no equal as an athletic event throughout San Bernardino County.

The white elephant in the room for cycling, of course, is its drug scandals, which have rocked the sport.

Consider this: The Redlands Classic has long since tested athletes for drugs. There have been no disqualifications.

Three-time Tour de France winner Greg LeMond comes to mind.

Greg LeMond
Three-time Tour de France champion Greg LeMond never did race at the Redlands Bicycle Classic. But the remarkable cyclist, who overcame getting shot, bounced back to win again overseas. Eventually, he showed up at Redlands to lead a Fun Ride (photo by Wikipidia Commons).

We’re wondering, out loud, that if cycling’s rampant doping regimen hadn’t taken place if he would’ve eventually stayed in Europe rather than cut down his cycling riding career?

Cycling could’ve been a clean sport. While the peleton of lesser-gifted cyclists passed an un-drugged LeMond, he might’ve even brought a team to Redlands.

Redlands was always beckoning to cycling’s top stars to come and race.

The guess here is that he’d have shown up in, say, 1994, 1995, who knows?

That’s the kind of reach the Redlands Bicycle Classic has.

LeMond, incidentally, did come to Redlands one year. He’d retired. Showed up here, courtesy of the organizers, to lead a Fun Ride. He spent time with a couple of us media types – Paul Oberjuerge of the San Bernardino Sun and me – in the boardroom of a downtown Redlands bank.

There was a hint – but nothing stated out loud – that something was wrong with cycling.

Then there was Lance Armstrong, yet to unload a series of victories in the Tour de France 

Lance Armstrong
There was a story circulating in the late 1990s that Lance Armstrong, who had been suffering from testicular cancer, would not only recover but make his comeback race at the Redlands Bicycle Classic (photo by Wikipedia Commons).

The redoubtable Kundig confided to me that Armstrong, suffering from the ravages of testicular cancer, might show up at Redlands at, of all places, to race in his comeback event.

Kundig gave me that impression more than a few times. I believe he was hoping. Armstrong had yet to win a single Tour de France, but he was about to launch a fabulous – later stripped from the history books – career in Europe.

“It was on their schedule to come here … with Lance,” said Kundig. “He made the decision on his own to go straight from here to Europe.”

The Postal team, at that time, was training in nearby Palm Springs. Kundig was riding, ironically, next to Armstrong during a training ride in the Coachella Valley. He asked Armstrong about the plans.

“He told me, ‘That was the plan (to race at Redlands), but I decided that I’m going to Europe.’ “

His U.S. Postal Service team had landed at Redlands with four straight champions – Tomas Brozyna, Dariusz Baranowski, Jonathan Vaughters and Christian Vande Velde. All were featured players on Armstrong’s Postals.

Imagine the publicity Armstrong received by racing at Redlands.

L.A. Times.

Sports Illustrated.

ESPN.

CNN.

The joint would’ve been rocking.

Too bad Armstrong picked his comeback race in Europe.

*****

It’s spread from Redlands to Yucaipa and Loma Linda, Highland and Route 66 in North San Bernardino, in the nearby mountains of Crestline, even to the Fontana-based Auto Club Speedway, plus Mt. Rubidoux over in Riverside, plus a road stage that wound its way past Lake Mathews.

The final two days have always been reserved for Redlands – finish line on Citrus Avenue, downtown – where the city can highlight its downtown image a la the original Beswick-Larsen dream. Talk about drawing large race watchers to improve that growing city area.

All they needed was a plan.

Cycling. It’s been long billed as an event “Where Legends Are Born.” That’s based on the fact that top-racing Redlands competitors often bolt for bigger races and become hugely successful overseas.

Original champion Thurlow Rogers, 1985, may have set the tone for that theme. And incidentally: That 1984 Olympic road racing champion, Grewal, showed up to win at Redlands five years later.

NEXT WEEK: The Tour de France connects with Redlands.

JULIO CRUZ BECAME FIRST TERRIER MAJOR LEAGUER

A Redlands Connection is a concoction of sports memories emanating from a city that once numbered less than 20,000 people. From pro football’s Super Bowl to baseball’s World Series, from dynamic soccer’s World Cup to golf’s and tennis’ U.S. Open, major auto racing, plus NCAA Final Four connections, Tour de France cycling, more major tennis like Wimbledon, tiny connections to that NBA and a little NHL, major college football, Kentucky Derby, aquatics and Olympic Games, that sparkling little city sits around halfway between Los Angeles and Palm Springs on Interstate 10. This story’s lightning baseball player, a brilliant second baseman and base stealer, has connected in a far away expectation anyone could imagine. – Obrey Brown

I MET JULIO CRUZ A NUMBER of times, including twice in the clubhouse at Anaheim Stadium when he was a member of the Seattle Mariners, the other after he’d been traded to the Chicago White Sox. The other times came years later. He had long since retired. 

Cruz’s onetime home city, which was Redlands, enjoyed a return as a youth demonstration about baseball. Someone had convinced him to come back for a pre-season baseball clinic at Community Field in 1994.

Brooklyn-born. Moved to Redlands. Graduated. Headed for San Bernardino Valley College. Signed as a free agent. California Angels. That was just the beginning.

Cruz hit .237 over 10 MLB seasons. He is, indeed, a Hall of Famer. In Redlands. Considering that Cruz, a 1971 RHS graduate, was the first-ever Terrier to reach the major leagues, there’s not a single belief he couldn’t have been inducted in that campus’ sports Hall of Fame. The guy has taken part in some of baseball’s greatest moments.

Sports Editor Jeff Lane, my predecessor at the Redlands newspaper, had done plenty on Cruz during his five-year stint on that publication. He was a longshot product – never drafted, never spotted in huge high school or college games, rarely reported to major league scouts. To that point, no Redlands player had ever drifted their way from that city into the major leagues.

Ed Vande Berg, a southpaw pitcher, would be next. Another Redlands product who didn’t pick up top-level play until he showed up at San Bernardino Valley College. By his sophomore season, Vande Berg was named State Player of the Year after posting an 18-1 mound record.

Who’d have believed that two ex-Terrier high schoolers would wind up playing on the same major league teams – Cruz and Vande Berg eventually became teammates with the Mariners for a handful of seasons.

Cruz, a 1972 Redlands High graduate, played at nearby San Bernardino Valley. Though undrafted, he was signed by the California Angels on May 7, 1974 as a free agent after his performance at a longshot tryout held at UCLA.

Yes, the Angels sent Cruz into their minor league system. As a 19-year-old, he batted .241 for Idaho Falls of the Rookie League in 1974. He went right up the Angels’ chain – .261 for Quad Cities, .307 for Salinas, .327 for El Paso and .246 for Salt Lake City at age 22.

JUlio Cruz
Julio Cruz, a Redlands High product, became the first Terrier to ever play in the major leagues (photo by Wikipedia Commons).

Sports Editor Jeff Lane, my predecessor at the Redlands newspaper, had done plenty on Julio during his five-year stint on that publication. Julio was a popular product. To that point, no Redlands player had ever drifted their way from that city into the major leagues.

Ed Vande Berg, a southpaw pitcher, would be next. In fact, the two would eventually become teammates in Seattle.

Julio, a 1972 Redlands High graduate, played at nearby San Bernardino Valley. Though undrafted, he was signed by the California Angels on May 7, 1974 as a free agent after a tryout held at UCLA.

The Angels sent Cruz into their minor league system. As a 19-year-old, he batted .241 for Idaho Falls of the Rookie League in 1974. On he went, right up the Angels’ chain – .261 for Quad Cities, .307 for Salinas, .327 for El Paso and .246 for Salt Lake City at age 22.

EXPANSION — A REAL BREAK FOR CRUZ

The American League, about to expand from 10 teams to 12 teams by 1977, had to make players available in a draft pool. Cruz was left unprotected by the Angels, who had ex-Red Sox second baseman Jerry Remy on their MLB level. For that position, the Angels didn’t need Cruz.

While Cruz batted .366 for Hawaii of the Pacific Coast League – stashed then with the Padres’ chain while Seattle organized its minor league system – it wouldn’t be long before he got his shot in the majors.

On Nov. 5, 1976, Cruz had been the 52nd player taken in the American League expansion draft when two new franchises appeared – Seattle and Toronto.

Suddenly, he was a “sudden” Mariner.

In a curious draft footnote, pitcher Butch Edge was taken by Toronto out of Milwaukee’s chain. Edge would eventually wind up in Redlands years later as the University of Redlands’ men’s golf coach. Other players taken in the draft included Pete Vuckovich being plucked away from the White Sox by Toronto. Vuckovich eventually wound up with the Brewers, winning the 1982 Cy Young Award.

Edge, at least in 1979, and Vuckovich would eventually wind up playing against Cruz. It was the Redlands-based player who turned into a Seattle stalwart. Longing for star players, Cruz’s base-stealing skills turned him into a popular Mariner.

He stole 59 bases in 1978, then swiped 49, 45, 43 and 46 bags over the next four seasons. What’s lost in those numbers is that he stole 49 in just 107 games in 1979. During that MLB strike-shortened 1981 season, Cruz swiped 43 times in 94 games.

If there was a weakness to his game, Cruz’s on-base-percentage was awfully low – his highest at .363 in ’79 – but he put a lot of bunts in play to try and get on base.

There were some decent teammates in Seattle – Al Cowens, Richie Zisk, Dave Henderson, Willie Horton, Bruce Bochte, Ruppert Jones, among others – with pitchers like future White Sox teammate Floyd Bannister and Hall of Famer Gaylord Perry playing in Seattle with Cruz.

In fact, Cruz was on the field on May 6, 1982 when Perry (10-12 that season) won his 300th game. He beat the Yankees at the Kingdome to notch this milestone victory. Julio, not to confuse anyone with his shortstop mate Todd Cruz, scored a run, laid down a sacrifice and threw out four Yankees and put out two more.

It was Julio, in fact, who fielded the grounder off fellow second baseman Willie Randolph for the final out.

Gaylord Perry
Hall of Famer Gaylord Perry notched his 300th career victory in a Seattle uniform. In fact, teammate Julio Cruz made the final out when he fielded Willie Randolph’s grounder (photo by Wikipedia Commons).

In fact, Julio was on the field on May 6, 1982 when Perry (10-12 that season) won his 300th game. He beat the Yankees in the Kingdome to notch this milestone victory.

It was Cruz, in fact, who fielded the grounder off Willie Randolph for the final out.

TRADED TO THE CHISOX

On June 30, 1983 — MLB’s trading deadline — Seattle swapped Cruz to the Chicago White Sox for second baseman Tony Bernazard. The results of that trade might’ve been the foundation for the ChiSox vaulting to an American League Western Division title by 20 games over Kansas City.

That ’83 season was convincingly his best season – 160 games between his two seasons, 130 hits, 57 stolen bases and 24th on that year’s MVP balloting. That season was won by Baltimore shortstop Cal Ripken, Jr., whose team knocked off the ChiSox in the playoffs.

Incidentally, White Sox catcher Carlton Fisk (3rd), Baines (10th), LaMarr Hoyt (13th), Greg Luzinski (17th), Richard Dotson (20th) and Rudy Law (21st) got MVP voting support ahead of Cruz.

“Let’s Do It Again” was the theme for 1984.  What the ChiSox did was fall back to fifth place, 14 games under .500. General Manager Roland Hemond, who leveraged the Bernazard-for-Cruz swap, brought in pitcher Ron Reed and practically stole future Hall of Famer Tom Seaver from the Mets.

Their contributions weren’t enough to offset poor showings, perhaps reflected by 1983 ace pitchers Hoyt (13-18) and Dotson (14-15) one season later.

There were 54,032 fans at Yankee Stadium when Seaver beat the Yankees for his 300th career win. Cruz, in the dugout batting less than .180, wasn’t part of that ChiSox 4-1 on-field triumph.

On the field, though, were Hall of Famers like Rickey Henderson and Dave Winfield, MVP Don Mattingly and, of course, Seaver. Managers Tony La Russa and Billy Martin squared off against each other.

One night later, Cruz was back in the lineup, going 2-for-2 off Ron Guidry, caught stealing by Yankee catcher Butch Wynegar.

The 1985 White Sox club bounced back to win 85 games and actually led the division in June. By 1986, the club was in disarray with new general manager Ken Harrelson, who had replaced both Hemond, and manager Jim Fregosi. It would be four more seasons before the Chicago White Sox finished over .500.

Roland_Hemond_at_SABR_Convention_2014
Chicago White Sox General Manager Roland Hemond was responsible for landing Julio Cruz in a trade with the Seattle Mariners in 1983 (photo by Wikipedia Commons).

Cruz was living off an impressive free agent contract that was signed in December 1984, a six-year deal between $3.6 and $4.8 million. He never completed it. He played in 1,156 career games; swiped 343 bases; don’t forget an impressive .982 defense at second base.

Released by the White Sox in July 1987, Cruz signed as a free agent with Los Angeles. But the 1987 Dodgers already had a second baseman. Steve Sax would go on to lead his team to a World Series title a year later. Cruz, who drew release, never actually played for the Dodgers. This onetime Terrier was finished.

Ten years of his MLB career was now complete.

A TERRIER HALL OF FAME RETURN

He was part of the second class of Hall of Fame inductees at his former Redlands high school. In fact, Cruz unwittingly opened the door to a humorous line given by fellow inductee Brian Billick, of Super Bowl football fame.

Cruz spoke emotionally about his Terrier days. The memories. Boy, he had fun. The teams he’s played on. There was some success. The Terriers, with Cruz in the lineup, won the first Citrus Belt League title in 1971 — 44 years after their previous championship from 1927.

At the Redlands Hall of Fame podium, Cruz shared a memory. “Just being in the showers with guys like Brian Billick was a thrill. Those were highlights for me. I’ll never get over that.”

Billick? Billick, the Terrier great defensive back and QB who was head coach of the 2001 Baltimore Ravens when they won the Super Bowl, was also being inducted that same night at the University of Redlands.

In fact, Billick broke the crowd up when he said, “Cruz, it’s amazing to me that you felt like the highlight of your high school career was taking a shower with me.”

Those Hall of Famer viewers started busting up.

A few years before that Hall of Fame moment, Cruz, along with ex-major leaguer Rudy Law and Hall of Fame pitcher Ferguson Jenkins took part in a baseball clinic at Community Field. Former Pirates and Yankees pitcher Dock Ellis was also on hand.

Dozens and dozens of area youth showed up for that historic event at the corner of Church Street and San Bernardino Avenue. This was a rare moment for local youth. Dads let their kids know who this guy was: Cruz, of Redlands. Former major leaguer. Little guy. Second baseman. Switch hitter. Lots of speed. Wanna get your kids into the big leagues? Listen. Watch.

Jenkins, Ellis and Law couldn’t have been more classy. Cruz, the ex-Terrier, knew he was at home. Those players gave tips. They shared stories. They shook hands. Smiled. They signed autographs.

Cruz eventually became a coach. Broadcasting games eventually came up for the Spanish-listening Mariner fans, Cruz taking his Brooklyn-to-Redlands-to-Seattle-to-Chicago travels really well.

Why not a Terrier Hall of Famer? He fit the mold. Came into that Hall that same season as Brian Billick, the ex-Terrier football player who led the Baltimore Ravens to the 2001 Super Bowl. Billick and Cruz even shared the same roster as Terrier basketball players during those early 1970s.

While playing with, or against, MLB Hall of Famers like Fisk, Perry, Seaver and Baines, Cruz wound up playing for one Cooperstown-bound manager — La Russa.

It was, if anything, a diamond-style Redlands Connection.

*****

Cruz was 67 when he died of cancer in February 2022. There were a few chats we had together in years leading to that moment. It was 15 years before he died that his first wife, Rebecca, died from cancer. He was married to Mojgam upon his death.

 

“LUCKY LOUIE,” BUTTERMILK, 1939 CRASH, ALL PART OF MEYER’S INDIANAPOLIS 500 LEGEND

A Redlands Connection is a concoction of sports memories emanating from a city that once numbered less than 20,000 people. From pro football’s Super Bowl to baseball’s World Series, from dynamic soccer’s World Cup to golf’s and tennis’ U.S. Open, major auto racing, plus NCAA Final Four connections, Tour de France cycling, more major tennis like Wimbledon, tiny connections to that NBA and a little NHL, major college football, Kentucky Derby, aquatics and Olympic Games, that sparkling little city sits around halfway between Los Angeles and Palm Springs on Interstate 10. For a smallish-style city like Redlands around 1920, its connection with USA’s diligent Indianapolis is amazing. No one ever heard of an I-10 in those days. – Obrey Brown

IT WAS ALL ABOUT BUTTERMILK, or even a well-known nickname that almost everyone’s heard by now, the original “Lucky Louie.”

Louis Meyer, it seems, never even went to Redlands High. I’d searched high and low through all the Makio, Redlands High yearbooks, of that day and age. Once I’d discovered he launched a brilliant Indianapolis 500 connection, I searched for his locality. Nothing showed up. I later found out why. Meyer told me. It was simple.

“I never went to school there.”

Turns out, Louis was a summer visitor. There was a Ford auto shop just off Redlands’ downtown sector. Just opened. Nowadays, it’s Old Redlands. Real old Redlands. Edwin “Bud” Meyer, an Austrian-born eventual racer, was Louis’ older brother. He owned and operated that Model T garage. Louis, that younger brother, was where he learned to drive – not a race car, but a regular automobile.

Their dad, Edward Meyer born in France, began racing a motorcycle in 1896. Learning to drive a race car wouldn’t take much longer, Louis told me.

Louis Meyer
“Lucky Louie” Meyer, who won the 1933 Indianapolis 500, asked for a cold drink of buttermilk after the victory. Who knew, at that time, that the practice would develop into one of the sport’s greatest moments (photo by Wikipedia Commons)?

It was “Lucky Louie” Meyer, who drove at the 1933 Indianapolis 500, asking for a cold drink of buttermilk after winning that race. Who knew, at least that day, such a celebration would develop into one of the sport’s most identifiable moments?

By 1926, Louis wanted to be a driver.

Louis was, said a nephew several decades afterward, was “the original Lucky Louie.” He walked away, unhurt, from crashes and various other scrapes. The family name is Meyer, and if there wasn’t a wrench, steering wheel, huge auto businesses, or some kind of speed duel going on somewhere among them, you probably had the wrong people.

Louis Meyer, a three-time winner of the Indianapolis 500 (1928, 1933 and 1936) died in Searchlight, Nev. in 1995. He got his start, learning to drive race cars from his brother, Edwin T. “Bud” Meyer way around 1920.

“There was a hill in Redlands,” recalls Terry Francis, an El Monte, Calif.-based nephew of highly famous Louis, “where (Edwin) learned to race.”

Not many years later, Louis got to Indianapolis, as a relief driver-riding mechanic in 1927, the Meyer family racing odyssey really hit the highest level.

“Wilbur Shaw got tired,” says Sonny Meyer, who was 69-years-old in 1998, a few years after Louis died. He was Lou’s son from Crawfordsville, Ind. “He was looking for someone to get in the car and drive.”

That was the story, Louis confirmed. Shaw was one of the pioneer champions at Indy. It was Shaw and Meyer.

This was the heavyweight of Louis Meyer’s race beginning at Indy. He never drove a single lap on a speedway, he told me, speeds reaching a never-before-recorded 100 mph. These days? Racers must be licensed before they’re even given a chance to make a practice run on the Brickyard track.

Louis Meyer, 1928 Indy champion
Louis Meyer, pictured in this 1928 photo, won his first Indianapolis 500 that year (photo provided by Indianapolis Motor Speedway).

One year after first racing at Indy, 1928, Meyer won his first Indy 500.

“Dad had that car in second place,” said Sonny, referring to his 1927 race. “Wilbur called him in and wanted to finish the race.”

By 1927, drivers had changed from the leather-helmeted, mustachioed daredevils handling huge, ungainly machines to young jousters in low-slung bombs. Louis Meyer was a young jouster. He had never won a pole, but lined up in the front row twice. Ready to notch a few triumphs was about to veil.

MEYER STARTED INDY TRADITION

It’s no myth that Meyer was the one who started a milky tradition at Indy. Winning drivers who drink milk in Victory Lane in modern days can look back to Meyer for that one: That year was 1933.

“It was,” said Sonny, “actually buttermilk. He had a real palate for buttermilk. He told someone, ‘If I win this thing, I want you to have a cold drink of buttermilk for me after the race.’ ”

Said Francis: “The dairy council saw that and said, ‘We’ve got to jump on that.’ Louis made it a tradition at Indy.”

Historically, Meyer became the first three-time winner at Indy . In 1928, Meyer led in only 19 of those 200 laps, but that included the all-important final one at the checkered flag, notching his first 500 triumph.

Sonny recalled that his mom, June, Louis’ wife, had no hint her husband would be racing at Indy.

“She was somewhere back (in Pennsylvania),” he said. “She towed a wrecked car back to the shop. My uncle (Eddie) was racing at a track in Reading. She was there to watch that race.”

Louis Meyer chuckled over that memory. June, he said, found out he’d won that year’s Indy 500, “when the track announcer asked the crowd to give out a cheer to Eddie Meyer … the brother of the Indianapolis 500 winner.”

In 1933, Meyer recorded a three-lap victory over Shaw.

In 1936, Meyer won from the 28th starting position, tying Ray Marroun’s record for winning from the farthest back on the starting grid.

In 1939, Meyer crashed on the 198th lap, got up and walked away – literally. It was at that time that “Lucky Louie” exited racing. Famed carmaker Henry Ford made Louis a proposition, one that would bring him back to Southern California in charge of building Ford engines, including the Offenhauser.

Some numbers: He won $114,815, taking 1,916 total laps around the Brickyard track over a dozen – winning three times, second in 1929 and finishing Top 10 on six occasions.

“He always told me,” said Sonny, reflecting on that 1939 incident, “that he knew he wasn’t going to climb back into a race car.”

That, said Francis, “is why they call him Lucky Louie. All those years at Indy, the offer from Henry Ford, the crash, walking away – everything.”

Sonny? Louis’s son? Don’t let it hide that he built 15 winning Indy 500 engines.

FROM DRIVER TO ENGINE BUILDER

Louis Meyer, said Searchlight, Nev. Museum historian Jane Overy, said, “was the nicest man.” Lou died, she told me, when the city’s museum was getting set to open. He was featured prominently. Meyer had beaten the odds just to make it that far.

“There were 11 kids,” recalled Sonny Meyer. “Only three lived.”

Those kids were Eddie, the oldest, then Louis, and then, Harry, the last among those living in Southgate, Calif. “He rode with my dad,” said Sonny, referring to Harry, “as a riding mechanic (in the 1937 Indy 500).”

Meyer’s Indy-racing career concluded with that 1939 crash, which left him 12th.

Until then, the greatest engine ever raced at Indy was the “Miller,” developed by Harry Miller, Fred Offenhauser and Leo Goosen. The rights to its design were purchased by Offenhauser and the engine renamed after him. Then it was purchased by Meyer and Dale Drake and renamed the Meyer-Drake “Offie.”

It was a high-powered, specially-designed racing engine that was constantly improved over the years. Until Ford came along with its million-dollar automotive budgets and challenged for supremacy in the 1960s, Meyer had a running contract with the up-and-coming Michigan-based company.

“After he crashed (at Indy),” said Sonny, “he said he knew he wasn’t going to climb back into a race car. Henry Ford made him a proposition.”

NO REAL FUTURE IN RACING

There wasn’t much major racing around the U.S. beyond the Indianapolis 500. NASCAR had yet to see its beginnings. Louis Meyer returned to California and took part in “board” racing at places like the Rose Bowl and Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum.

The “season” started around Trenton, N.J., the only real race before Indy. “We’d go to Ascot (in L.A.),” recalled Sonny. “I remember because we’d have three or four drivers sleeping on our floor when we lived in Huntington Park (a Los Angeles suburb).”

Louis Meyer’s son still remembers being farmed out to neighbors, “while my mom (June) and dad went racing. During the season, they towed the race car with a rope. Mom was in the race car.”

Meanwhile, Ed Meyer still had his Redlands garage.

Sonny Meyer has a way of remembering his family’s Huntington Park address. “Dad won his first Indy 500 in 1928,” he said, “in car No. 14. That was our address: 2814 … Broadway. I still remember our phone number. It was Lafayette 8325.”

The Meyer family is more than just “connected” in racing’s history books.

Retirement was just a short drive away. For years, the Meyers had traveled to Cottonwood Cove – nine miles from a non-descript, desert community of Searchlight, Nev. It’s where Louis and June Meyer settled down for their final years.

Driving through the tiny community, located somewhere between Las Vegas and Laughlin, it became a hideaway for other celebrities, notably Hollywood’s Edith Head, early Academy Award-winning actress Clara Bow, among others.

ONE FINAL CHAT WITH ‘LUCKY LOUIE’

In a very short conversation I had with Meyer in 1994, most of his Indy 500 memories had faded. Already, I’d spoken with some of his younger relatives. He’d recalled the memory of his Pennsylvania-working wife’s discovery of how he’d won the 1928 Indy 500.

Racing, said Louis, nearing age 90, “has been good to me and my family. My only regret is that time goes by so very fast.”

Truthfully, chatting with Louis didn’t last long. His elderly age was most likely the reason he decided to hang up.

Louis Meyer was born on July 21, 1904, dying on October 7, 1995. Born in lower Manhattan, New York the son of French immigrants, Meyer was raised in Los Angeles where he began automobile racing at various California tracks.

There was no track in Redlands, nor even near Redlands. Ed Meyer’s Ford shop was there, though.

Racing fans these days might not believe there were board tracks in such places as Beverly Hills, which had a 1 ¼-mile oval dubbed Beverly Hills Speedway. Or the Culver City Speedway. There was the Northern California-based Cotati Speedway in Santa Rosa. There was the mile-long Fresno Speedway and a one-mile Los Angeles Speedway in Playa del Rey.

“Yeah, Redlands,” said Francis. “That’s a key spot for the family. You never forget something like that.”

Meyer won the United States National Driving Championship in 1928, 1929 and 1933.

He died at 91, in that Searchlight community he had been living since 1972. In 1992, Meyer was inducted into the International Motorsports Hall of Fame. He was named to the National Sprint Car Hall of Fame in 1991. He was inducted in Daytona Beach, Fla.’s Motorsports Hall of Fame of America in 1993.

There was a nice little corner in Searchlight’s museum dedicated to the early racing legend.

Said the Hall of Famer, Louis Meyer: “A lot of people had me confused with the movie guy … Louis B. Mayer (of MGM). I always got a little kick out of that.”

ANOTHER ARTICLE WRITTEN by Legacy Brand, John G. Printz and Ken M. McMaken

https://legacyautosport.com/the-meyer-legacy/

BOB KARSTENS: A LOCAL HARLEM GLOBETROTTER … IN REDLANDS?

A Redlands Connection is a concoction of sports memories emanating from a city that once numbered less than 20,000 people. From pro football’s Super Bowl to baseball’s World Series, from dynamic soccer’s World Cup to golf’s and tennis’ U.S. Open, major auto racing, plus NCAA Final Four connections, Tour de France cycling, more major tennis like Wimbledon, tiny connections to that NBA and a little NHL, major college football, Kentucky Derby, aquatics and Olympic Games, that sparkling little city sits around halfway between Los Angeles and Palm Springs on Interstate 10. It is a reality that almost every major sport, plus a bunch of others, can be connected to Redlands. This story’s connector has connected in a far away expectation anyone could imagine. – Obrey Brown

BACK IN THE LATE 1990s, an older man was spotted shooting baskets at the outdoor courts at Redlands High School. A few feet away, a high school baseball game was about to take place. The man shooting baskets, who looked around his 80s, was shooting hook shots from half court. Repeat that: Hook shots from half court. A man in his 80s? Remarkably, if they didn’t swish through the net, his shots at least hit the rim.

It was startling to meet Bob Karstens.

There he was, from the top of the key, he hiked the ball through his legs – in the manner of a football center – at the hoop. Again, if his shots didn’t go in, they were close.

At one point, he broke out three basketballs, dribbling them simultaneously, as if he were a hoops-playing magician. I was waiting to cover a high school baseball game a couple hundred feet away. Something was up with this elderly man, though. I couldn’t take my eyes off his activity.

Friendly. Outgoing. Gentle. The man spoke in respectful terms.

“I’m Obrey Brown. I write for the local newspaper, about to cover that baseball game over there. Saw what you were doing and decided to come over.”

BOb Karstens - 2
Bob Karstens, photographed around 1942 and ’43, during which time he was one of three white men to play for the all-Black Harlem Globetrotters. (Photo by Harlem Globetrotters.)

Yes, he introduced himself. “Bob,” I told him, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“Thanks. Likewise.”

There was something different. I had an eerie, inner sense. We continued to chat, this smallish man who stood a couple inches shorter than my 5-foot-10 height, seemed to brighten up when I told him I was from the local newspaper.

“You might be interested in this …” he started saying.

After three decades in the newspaper business, it’s a phrase I heard often enough from folks seeking publicity. Usually, it might come from a pushy parent, or a publicity-seeking coach, or a public relations/Sports Information Director informing me about a once-in-a-lifetime story that I just couldn’t miss. Hey, I came after him, though. Okay, Bob, finish what you were saying. “I might be interested in this – in what, Bob?”

Karstens, who was standing in front of me, was not Black. As a matter of fact, without his shirt on, I could tell that he needed a little sun. It pays to listen, though. Outwardly, his sunless white guy mentioned he spent a season playing for the Harlem Globetrotters.

In case you’re wondering, the Globies were a dedicated Black man hoops squad.

“I spent a year with them back in the 1940s,” Karstens explained, “during the war.” It was, he told me, legendary Reece “Goose” Tatum was taken into the Army. The Globetrotters needed a clown prince.

Goose Tatum
Harlem Globetrotters’ Clown Prince Reece “Goose” Tatum went into the military in 1942, opening up a spot for Bob Karstens, who became one of three white players ever to suit up for basketball’s magicians. (Photo by Blackthen.com.)

Abe Saperstein, the Hall of Fame founder and orchestrator of the ‘Trotters, apparently tapped Bob on the shoulder and said, “You’re it.”

Abe_Saperstein
Abe Saperstein, the Hall of Fame founder of the Harlem Globetrotters, was the man who signed Bob Karstens to fill in for Goose Tatum during the 1942-43 season. (Photo by Wikipedia Commons.)

Karstens himself had been a gifted ball handler from the House of David (Benton, Mich.), the famous traveling bearded baseball team that barnstormed the country. Not much known for anything in sports beyond baseball, Karstens told me, the House of David had dabbled in some hoops play during the late 1930s and into the 1940s.

Here’s the rub: I didn’t necessarily believe Bob, not at first. In my business, you’ve got to hold people at arm’s length when they tell you curious stories. I could, literally, share experiences about people that turned out to be half-true. Or true for a week, but not the next. Or outright false. Still, there was something genuine about Bob.

Suddenly, I placed covering that high school baseball game in my back pocket. Bob invited me over to his house a couple blocks away – down Roosevelt, across Cypress, over onto Lytle. When Bob opened his garage door, he led me to three huge boxes full of stuff.

It was full of Harlem Globetrotters’ memorabilia. Suddenly, all my doubts about this guy ended in a hurry. Karstens, I could see, was standing in photos with Saperstein, Tatum, Meadowlark Lemon, a bunch of well-known Globies … and WILT CHAMBERLAIN!

Suddenly, my notebook was produced. Pen in hand, scribbling madly, all the ramblings and utterings he’d voiced over at the high school – you know, when I didn’t originally believe him — started getting recorded. I had a lot of catch-up to do, including asking a bunch more questions.

“How long have you lived in Redlands?”

“Where’d you learn to play basketball?”

“What kind of money did you make?”

“Did you really start that pre-game Magic Circle routine?”

Truthfully, I didn’t have to ask many questions. Bob was spinning tale after tale. Just follow along, Obrey. Keep listening. Keep writing. What a story – and I had it! My pen just had to keep up with his stories. Reporters came along later and fabricated the idea that they’d uncovered this man, somehow sniffing out a story that I had handed to me by the man himself.

Karstens, who was from Davenport, Iowa, took over for that Army-bound Tatum on the ‘Trotters’ 1942-43 roster. Any memory of the ‘Trotters will instantly recall their legendary pre-game introductions at center court, dubbed the Magic Circle pre-game routine.

It’s recorded: This was Karstens’ invention. He organized this ritual. He played on the all-Black ‘Trotters eight years before even the NBA was integrated. Part of the ‘Trotters’ history is that playing doubleheaders with those early NBA teams, thus allowing this relatively unknown league to grow into prosperity.

Also this: Karstens invented the “goof” ball, the ball that bounces in all different directions because of various weights placed inside, plus he invented the “yo-yo” ball. Seasoned ‘Trotter fans know the routines well.

This guy lived in Redlands?

He loaned me some photos from his stash for my next day’s sports section. I had a gold mine of a notebook – quotes, stories, photos and prime history. I sent our photographer, Lee Calkins, over to Bob’s house for an updated mug shot of my new best friend; the guy I had originatedly cynically, though silently, doubted. I made up with myself, though.

Karstens. The Globetrotters. Tatum. Saperstein. Chamberlain. A bunch of brilliant players. Once Tatum returned from the service, Karstens returned to the sidelines. Leave it to the ‘Trotters, though, to promote someone on their all-Black team that wasn’t Black!

Karstens, for his part, stayed on as ‘Trotters’ team manager until 1954, having coached the infamous Washington Generals along the way. That team was the ‘Trotters’ nightly opponent. After leaving the ‘Trotters (changes in management, pay, plus family, always on the road), Karstens went into construction. By 1994, he was inducted into the ‘Trotters’ Hall of Fame.

At 89, Karstens died on Dec. 31, 2004. I covered his Redlands funeral that was attended by former ‘Trotter players Geese Ausbie and Govonor Vaughn. When that pair of retired Globies took their turn at Karstens’ services, Ausbie looked down at Bob’s widow, Pauline, asking, “Did anyone bring a ball?”

It was classic clowning, a special moment for a departed member of their legendary team.  A wife, three sons and four grandchildren were among Karstens’ attending survivors in a fully side service. There were plenty of funeral onlookers. This man had quite a following at the Church of the Nazarene.

The ball? Vaughn smoked his former teammate, Ausbie, a shadow ball pass. To those in attendance at this church — corner of Citrus and Grove — this couldn’t have been a better sendoff. Shadow ball, incidentally, is an invisible ball. One guy pretends to throw it, another guy pretends to catch it. If the right group of guys are performing this, it’s highly entertaining. This was, apparently, Bob’s ball entry into Heaven.

Looking back, there were personal stories about track legend Jesse Owens and baseball’s amazing Jackie Robinson — Karstens right in the middle of everything. Bob told me that he ran into both of those sports legends on the railroad. A railroad conductor once asked him to depart from the Blacks-only section of the train. The Globetrotters were the most powerful basketball team in the world during the 1940s, long before the NBA produced its eventual gold mine of hoops-playing legends.

It was, of course, always a delight to watch them play. Probably few know the full history of Saperstein’s original creation from the 1920s.

The ‘Trotters are a full century old. A small portion of their rich history had surfaced about an hour’s drive east of Los Angeles, in Redlands – a long way from Harlem, a New York City suburb.

“I had the skills to fit in and do the tricks,” Karstens said.

Showed at an old age on that outdoor court at Redlands High.

 

A SEARCH WAS ON FOR ANCIENT REDLANDS GOLFER PHILLIPS FINLAY

A Redlands Connection is a concoction of sports memories emanating from a city that once numbered less than 20,000 people. From pro football’s Super Bowl to baseball’s World Series, from dynamic soccer’s World Cup to golf’s and tennis’ U.S. Open, major auto racing, plus NCAA Final Four connections, Tour de France cycling, more major tennis like Wimbledon, tiny connections to that NBA and a little NHL, major college football, Kentucky Derby, aquatics and Olympic Games, that sparkling little city sits around halfway between Los Angeles and Palm Springs on Interstate 10. There was a golfer from Redlands who jumped into the nation’s highest efforts. – Obrey Brown

The 2024 U.S. Amateur Golf Championship, now 108 years old this year, was held at Hazeltine Golf Club in Chaska, Minn. beginning in August. Ninety-four earlier, a Redlands golfer took on a legend in the same event.

It’s not really known when Phillips Finlay learned how to play golf – or from whom.

Phillips Finlay, 1929
Phillips Finlay, whose golfer career started in Redlands, made a name for himself, both at Harvard University and in major amateur championships while playing against the likes of Bobby Jones and Francis Ouimet. He’s shown here at the Chevy Chase Club in 1929 (photo credit, Shorpy Historic Picture Archive).

It was George Lawson, who served as Redlands Country Club’s head professional from 1901-1937, that originally taught him. That Finlay, from Redlands, was a student at famed Harvard University was one thing. That he was highly contestant in golf’s grandest prizes is yet another.

Finlay eventually disappeared after showing up prominently, not only on Harvard’s golf team, but also as a stalwart challenger to some of golf’s major tournaments. After a stretch from 1927 through 1930, the older brother of Redlands’ Madison Finlay was seemingly nowhere to be found.

A motivated sports writer from the Redlands area was searching.

Following the 1930 U.S. Amateur, Finlay couldn’t be spotted, at least in major tournaments. Only adding to the curiosity is that Finlay had become a prominent golfer. Then disappeared. Keep reading, especially with the U.S.’s connection in World War II upcoming. Finlay was never again viewed in golf.

Meanwhile, amateur golf raged atop professional play during the 1920s. Professional golf had yet to catch on. There was no Masters tournament, not yet anyway. The PGA Championship, which would eventually become one of golf’s greatest prizes, was a tournament without yet much tradition.

Legendary Bobby Jones won the 1927 United States Amateur, which was played at the Minikahda Club of Minneapolis. Finlay, who made his presence felt, traveled from Harvard University, engaging in medal play for the qualifying round of that year’s Amateur Championship.

A New Jersey golfer, Eugene V. Romans shot 71, made headlines as the low medalist. Youthful Finlay, who had just passed his Harvard entrance examinations, trailed Romans by a single shot.

It’s eerie to think how close Finlay, who lived on Long Island in New York at the time, reached such prominence. Jones, top amateurs Francis Oiumet and Chick Evans, a U.S. Open champ – were three of the 1927 U.S. Amateur semifinalists. All three shot opening rounds of 75.

On the second day, Jones got rolling, shooting a course record 67, winning the medalist (that’s low stroke score) trophy for the tournament with 142. George Von Elm, who beat Jones in 1926, barely qualified with 79-75-154.

Onetime champions who qualified included Evans, Ouimet, plus Max R. Marston. A Minneapolis insurance man, Harry G. Legg, a Minneapolis resident that graduated from Yale, knocked off Von Elm, 1-up, on his home course.

Third day: Jones, trailing Maurice McCarthy, Jr. of Long Island, by a hole at the turn, had three holes remaining. McCarthy missed a short putt, squaring the match; overshot the 17th green, losing the lead; overshot the 18th green, losing the match two down.

Ouimet beat Max R. Marston, 3 & 2.

These were all legendary golfers — Ouimet, Jones, Evans, Romans, you name it — that Finlay took on. He kept battling, perhaps in the manner that Ouimet had done, depicted years later in the motion picture, “The Greatest Game Ever Played.”

But Finlay was cut down by Ouimet, who went on to write a favorable article about the Redlands product, even displaying some of the matches between the two in a book called “A Game of Golf,” which was published in 1932.

IVY LEAGUE ATHLETES WERE PROMINENT

Was this truly A Redlands Connection? Jones and Ouimet were each impressed with the youthful Finlay, whose long driving skills were attributed to the unusual length of his swing.

In 1928, Finlay would rise again at the U.S. Amateur, played at Brae Burn Country Club in West Newton, Mass, not far from his Harvard digs.

Bobby_Jones_1930_winnaar_US_Amateur
Legendary amateur golf champion Bobby Jones had his hands full with Harvard’s Phillips Finlay during the Roaring 20s when the Redlands golfer squared off against some of golf’s greatest players (photo by Wikipedia Commons).

Jones came up against Finlay in that year’s semifinals. Jones knocked off J.W. Brown, 4 & 3 in the opening round. Ray Gorton took Jones to the 19th hole in the second round before tumbling. Jones had his way with John B. Beck, 14 & 13, before coming up against Finlay in the semifinals.

Finlay, that long-driving Harvard sophomore originally from Redlands, got quite a whipping. He lost decisively to Jones, 13 & 12.

On the other hand, A Redlands Connection had struck early. An 18-year-old from Redlands had played the legendary Bobby Jones in the 1928 U.S. Amateur semifinals?

This was news! This is brilliant golfing history, especially from Redlands.

Jones claimed his fourth U.S. Amateur title, 10 & 9, over reigning British Amateur champion T. Philip Perkins. By this time, Jones, had been national champion – winning either the U.S. Open or Amateur championships – for six straight years. During that span, Jones won four U.S. Amateurs, two U.S. Opens, plus a pair of British Opens.

Finlay was chasing a legend.

JONES WRITES OF FINLAY IN HIS BOOK

There were 162 entries in the 1929 U.S. Amateur field. Finlay, for his part, tried the event at Pebble Beach. It was the first time this tournament had been played west of the Mississippi.

In a major upset, Jones fell to John Goodman, an unbelievable caddy from Omaha, Neb., in the first round.

A documented quote, however, was lifted from “Pebble Beach: The Official Golf History.” That still youthful Finlay went up to Jones with an apology. “I’m so very sorry you lost this morning, Mr. Jones. I was looking forward to beating you this afternoon.”

Finlay lost to 18-year-old Lawson Little, a Northern Californian who later won the U.S. Amateur in 1933 and 1934. It was Little who eliminated Jones-killer, Goodman. That 1929 winner turned out to be Harrison R. “Jimmy” Johnston — his final ever tournament triumph.

Prior to that event taking place, Jones spoke of playing a practice round with Finlay at Pebble Beach in his book, “Bobby Jones on Golf.”

“There had been so much talk about Phil’s long driving ability,” Jones wrote, “that the publicity given that part of his game must have affected the boy’s play.”

Critics may have affected Finlay’s approach, wrote Jones.

“Whether Phil was aware of it or not,” Jones continued to write, “this sort of thing had an effect upon his game … so that he immediately eased up on his stroke in an effort to hit the ball straight.”

Jones, in his book, had referred to Finlay in Chapter 8, “Hitting Hard.” Jones held up Finlay’s style of long driving.

“On this day we played,” wrote Jones, “he had quite a bit of trouble on the front nine, getting a little farther from his normal stride at each tee shot as he held himself back more and more.”

After losing his ball on a duck-hook on the ninth hole, Finlay sought Jones’ advice. The four-time U.S. Open champion told him straight out that he thought he was holding back, “that I thought he would do better if he would take a good healthy wallop instead.”

On the tenth hole, Finlay blasted a drive, losing it into the Monterey Bay. After that, said Jones, “He drove very well, indeed.”

Check out this Pebble Beach foursome:

Jones, plus British Amateur Champion Cyril Tolley and Francis Brown of Honolulu. Jones shot two-under par, 70, while Tolley, Finlay and Brown shot rounds of 79, 80 and 82.

JONES, OUIMET: LONG DRIVING WAS KEY TO SUCCESS

Then there was Ouimet, the upset U.S. Open champion of 1913 that inspired the 2005 Disney movie, “The Greatest Game Ever Played,” portrayed by actor Shia LeBeouf, and after regaining his amateur status removed controversially from him by the USGA, he won two U.S. Amateur titles.

Ouimet knew of Finlay, having authored an article, “The Art of Long Driving.”

FrancisOuimet1913
Frances Ouimet, the unexpected winner of the 1913 U.S. Open, was one of golf’s top players in the late 1920s when a youthful Redlands-based golfer, Phillips Finlay, was bursting onto the amateur golf scene. Ouimet even wrote about Finlay in his book (photo by Wikipedia Commons).

First words in that piece were right to the point: “One cannot watch Phillips Finlay hit a tee shot without becoming just a bit envious, for this capable young man makes the game seem simple.”

It seemed a far cry from the troubles Finlay, whose photograph featured a knickers-clad youth, hair combed neatly, while following through on a tee shot. Ah, that Pebble Beach round, 80, came with Jones.

Wrote Ouimet: “Finlay is not yet 20 years of age, and when he reaches his full growth there is no telling how far he will drive a ball.” Long hitting, concluded Ouimet, was an advantage.

“I am wondering what will happen if a standardized ball is introduced. Perhaps it will bring these boys back on earth, for I must confess on some holes Finlay can miss a shot and arrive on the green as quickly as I do.”

At a match played at Wollaston Country Club in Milton, Mass., Ouimet caught a prime example of Finlay’s lengthy drives. “I was driving well for me, but (I was) yards and yards in back of my young friend, who was having a field day.”

At Wollaston’s 17th hole, a 500-yard hole against the wind, “my tee shot was a good one, but at least 60 yards in back of his prodigious knock. A perfectly hit brassie (No. 2 wood) gave me a look at the green.”

Finlay smashed a two-iron, his shot carrying a big sand bunker guarding the green.

Wrote Ouimet: “It seemed a bit too much to expect of his number two iron, but that is the club he used and his ball landed on the green. I threw up my hands. He could have missed that shot and gotten to the green in the same number of shots I required.”

Ouimet, noting a round played by Finlay at North Carolina’s famed Pinehurst Country Club, felt there was no limit for the Harvard golfer. He had read an account of Finlay’s 290-yard average drives on 14 of the 18 holes.

“When he was attending Exeter (Academy in New Hampshire, Finlay’s college prep school), one of his professors wrote a friend of mine saying Phillips Finlay was the longest driver in the game.

“Apart from Finlay’s long driving ability, he has other excellent qualifications to make him a leading golfer.”

Ouimet had predicted quite a future for Finlay, a huge part of A Redlands Connection.

FINLAY’S CRIMSON CAREER WAS TOPS

A Harvard golfer, as Finlay was at the time, meant he was among the nation’s collegiate elite — that’s both student and golfer. If there was ever a pre-eminent sport on that Cambridge-based campus, it was golf. He was a three-time Harvard letter winner (1929-31).

In case it’s escaped anyone’s attention, consider that Finlay was battling the likes of Jones, Quimet & Co. before he became a Crimson letterman.

Finlay would captain the Crimson’s team in 1930 and 1931. During his junior season (1930), Harvard won 11 of its 13 medal play matches convincingly, losing only to Princeton, 8-1, on May 10, then a season-ending loss to Yale, 5-4, at Myopia Hunt Club.

By 1931, Finlay’s senior year, Harvard had returned to beat Yale, 6 ½ to 2 ½. The Crimson split back-to-back matches against Princeton, losing 6-3 and trouncing the Tigers, 9-0. There was a 5-4 loss to Dartmouth at Belmont Springs Country Club on May 9, 1930.

Finlay, a 1931 Harvard graduate, kept charging. The long-driving hitter, the captain of Harvard’s golf team, was beaten in the opening round of the 1930 U.S. Amateur at historic Merion (Pa.) Golf Club. A narrow 2 & 1 loss to 1926 British Amateur champion Jess Sweetser didn’t quite reflect Finlay’s early round lead. Sweetser birdied the 16th and 17th holes to take control.

After that, not much showed up in the golf world on Finlay. His family continued on. His brother, Madison, in 2007, was “still riding around on his cart every night with his dog,” said C.L. Simmons, the longtime Redlands Country Club golf professional.

Madison died later that year at age 94, long having long outlived his older brother.

The Finlays’ family, led by their dad James Ralph Finlay, originally came to Redlands in 1918, purchasing a home at the corner of South and Fountain.

When it came time for high school, Finlay took off back east to the private academy for both of them – fairly young Phillips was five years older than Madison, who wound up at USC. Neither brother showed up at Redlands High School, which was about a quarter-century old during their high school days.

FINALLY LOCATING PHILLIPS FINLAY

Phillips Finlay was a Navy man, eventually serving in the South Pacific. In fact, that had been an educated guess as to his disappearance from prominent golf results. The military. Killed in the war? Would’ve been a sad fact. Imagine a budding golf career coming to an end like that. But it was not true.

“He gave up playing serious golf,” said his niece, Joanne Craig, of Redlands, “after he got back from the war.”

Settling in Pasadena with his Phillips’ wife, Elizabeth, Craig described that Phillips just occasionally played golf. That niece had one settling recollection about golf. That length off the tee never failed. By the way, in 1939, Phillips and his wife, Elizabeth, lived in Pasadena over 20 years before moving to golf-radiant Pebble Beach in 1960.

“The 17th tee is not at the same place it is now,” Craig said, referring to Redlands Country Club, “but my uncle drove the green. That was almost unbelievable to me at the time.”

Joanne and her cousin, Fredrica, Phillips’ and Elizabeth’s daughter, both attended Stanford. Eventually, her cousin’s family left Southern California. It was Pasadena to California’s golf paradise.

“They moved,” recalled Craig, “to 17 Mile Drive” — a famed street in the Monterey, Calif. region. That’s up by Spyglass Hill Golf Club – near Pebble Beach, where Finlay died in 1972. He was 62.