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, plus a Harlem Globetrotter. 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 Redlands High School’s outdoor courts. A few yaeds away, a high school baseball game was about to take place. I’d assigned myself on that game. This man shooting baskets, though, who looked around his 70s, maybe 80s, was shooting hook shots from half court. Repeat that: Hook shots from half court! A man that age? Remarkably, if balls didn’t go through that hoop, his shots at least hit the rim.
It was startling to meet Bob Karstens.
There he was, from the top of that court key, he hiked that basketball through his legs – like a football center – toward that basket. 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 that baseball game, though. Something was up with this elderly man, though. I couldn’t take my eyes off his activity.
Friendly. Outgoing. Gentle. This 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. Decided to come over.”
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 Redlands’ newspaper.
“You might be interested in this …” he started saying.
After three decades, that’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, this sunless white guy mentioned he spent a season playing for the Harlem Globetrotters.
Say what? 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, when legendary Reece “Goose” Tatum was taken into the Army. Those Globetrotters thus needed a clown prince.
Abe Saperstein, a future Hall of Fame founder and orchestrator of the ‘Trotters, apparently tapped Bob on the shoulder and said, “You’re it.”
Karstens himself had been a gifted ball handler from that team, House of David, from Benton, Mich., a famous traveling bearded baseball team that barnstormed America. 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 beyond. 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.
It was full of Harlem Globetrotters’ memorabilia. Suddenly, any 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 … plus WILT CHAMBERLAIN!
Suddenly, my notebook was produced. Pen in hand, scribbling madly, all his ramblings and utterings he’d voiced over at Redlands high school – you know, when I didn’t originally believe him – started getting written. 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 ideas that they’d uncovered this man, somehow sniffing out a story that I had handed to me by this guy himself.
Karstens, 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 that all-Black ‘Trotters eight years before even NBA integrated. Part of the ‘Trotters’ history is that playing doubleheaders with those early NBA teams, thus allowing that relatively unknown league to grow into prosperity.
Also this: Karstens invented a “goof” ball, one that bounces in all different directions because of various weights placed inside. Plus he invented a “yo-yo” ball. Seasoned ‘Trotter fans know those 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.
This guy I had originally, cynically, though silently, was slightly doubted. I made up with myself, though.
Karstens. The Globetrotters. Tatum. Saperstein. Chamberlain. A bunch of legendary 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. 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 age 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 a Church of the Nazarene.
A 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 during train travels .
“I look at that like Jackie Robinson in baseball,” said Vaughn. “No one else could’ve done it but Jackie Robinson.
“And no one else could’ve played for the Globetrotters but Bob Karstens.”
He was a white man playing on a Black team.
“I’m glad Goose Tatum went into the Army,” said Vaughn.
A few years earlier, Karstens told me that he ran into both of those sports legends on railroad travel. A train conductor once asked him to depart from that Blacks-only section.
Those Globetrotters were this nation’s most powerful basketball team during the 1940s. It was long before NBA success produced its eventual gold mine of hoops-playing legends.
Karstens let me know how important that Harlem team was in lifting NBA play.
“It’s hard to size it all up,” he said, “because I can’t tell an entire story. All I can say is that without that Harlem team, it’s really hard to say just where the NBA would land.
It was, of course, always a delight to watch them play. Probably few know Saperstein’s full story on its original creation from the 1920s.
Those Globie tricks — yo-yo ball, weighted basketball known as the “goofball, invented by Karstens?
“We don’t do all those tricks all now,” said Ausbie, who traveled from Arkansas to Redlands for his funeral service.
Ausbie? While playing for that legendary team from 1961-85, he was considered Harlem’s “Clown Prince.”
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 skills to fit in and do basketball tricks,” Karstens told me.
It was shown at an old age on that outdoor court at Redlands High.
Once those pregame routines came on board inside their Magic Circle, “Sweet Georgia Brown” music was added, either in the 1940s or 1950s.
Said Vaughn: “That song is better known than Jingle Bells or Happy Birthday.”
Basketball?
“I’d sit with him during (NBA) games,” said Karstens’ widow, Pauline, just after his funeral. “He complained. He didn’t really have a favorite team. He’d call it just a pushing and shoving match.”
