Meeting Jessie Owens

In 1977, my wife and I took our sons to see the Rose Parade. The spring of 1977 would be my first as the Head Track Coach at Corona del Mar High School in Newport Beach, so the boys, seven and ten, were very interested in track, particularly since the Olympics had been held in Montreal in the summer of 1976. We knew there was going to be a float with past and present Olympic medal winners, and having grown up in South Pasadena just a few miles from the start of the Parade, I knew that the medalists would come to the staging area and that there would be a chance to meet them near their float.

We stationed ourselves in the area, and sure enough, we saw the Olympians getting ready to ride the float. When the decathlon winner from 1976 passed us, we tried to get him to stop for a minute, just to meet him, but he brushed us aside and hurried by. Disappointed, I looked around and then I saw an elderly black man in a suit standing almost unnoticed over to the side. I knew immediately who he was.

Nearly every American recognizes the name of Jesse Owens. He was born to a poor black sharecropper family in Alabama, and against all odds of racism and poverty he became an Olympic champion and at one time held the world record in four individual events and a relay.

In 1936, Owens arrived in Berlin to compete for the United States in the Summer Olympics. Nazi propaganda promoted concepts of "Aryan racial superiority" and depicted ethnic Africans as inferior. Owens surprised many by winning four gold medals, a performance not equaled until Carl Lewis won gold medals in the same events at the 1984 Summer Olympics. Although Jesse Owens victories on the track did not appreciably change the circumstances of most black Americans in the 1930s, nevertheless he showed how blacks could succeed if they were given an opportunity. There is no more equal opportunity than track and field.

I walked over to where Jesse Owens was standing. I had on a Corona del Mar High School "Track and Field" sweatshirt, which I think caught his eye immediately.

"Hello Mister Owens," I said. "Would you have a minute to meet my two sons?" Jesse held out his hand and we shook.

"It would be a pleasure," he said, and his eyes lighted up.

For a minute I couldn't see where the boys had gone, they had been standing right beside me, but I soon spotted them and rushed to corral them.

"You guys want to meet Jesse Owens?" "Yes," they said in unison.

We went over to where he was standing and then the kids, who were seven and ten, suddenly became shy. I think they knew they were truly in the company of greatness. The man had such a presence, and such great dignity, yet he was approachable. And he clearly loved talking to the kids. A man in an official blazer came to shoo us away. I remember looking at the man as he walked purposely toward us, and then Jesse simply halted his advance by holding up his hand.

"How are you boys?" he asked.

The boys were speechless until finally Jeff asked, "What's it feel like to be the best in the world?"

Jesse thought for a minute, and finally replied with a wide smile. "It feels pretty good."

Jesse's reply loosened the boys tongues, and there followed a barrage of questions, and for just a few moments this great man laughed and kidded the boys. I had a camera around my neck and Jesse asked me if we wanted a picture, which of course I did want but I thought it would be too much of an intrusion.

Jesse said, after I had taken the picture,

“Now you be sure to send me a copy.”

I was almost too shocked to say, “Of Course.”

We stepped back into the crowd. As soon as I was behind the barriers a guy approached us and asked, “Was that Jesse Owens?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Do you guys know him?” he asked.

Before I could reply, Matthew, the seven year old said,

“We sure do.” 

And we did.