With the 2012 London Olympic Games on the horizon, it seems appropriate to revisit one of the legends of the Olympic Games.
Doing my usual channel surfing, I came up on a PBS documentary, “American Experience: Jesse Owens.”
Most sports aficionados and history buffs know of the legend of Owens; however, his compete and dehumanizing degradation delivered by America’s intense racial separation kind of got lost in the real picture of this of a man.
Even today, over 70 years later, many Americans take pride in recalling how Owens undermined Adolf Hitler’s theory of Aryan racial superiority by winning four gold medals (100-, 200- , 4x100 meter relay, and, long jump) at the 1936 Berlin Olympics.
“American Experience: Jesse Owens,” directed by Laurens Grant and written by the frequent PBS collaborator Stanley Nelson (“Freedom Riders”), is a level and striking production that suffers from its shortness: about 52 minutes. There’s not much time to get below the surface, and Owens’ troubled post-Olympic life gets particularly abrupt treatment.
The triumph of this “American Experience” documentary on Owens, who died in 1980, is that it enshrined his Hitler situation without ignoring the depressing extent to which Owens’ own country also treated him as second class.
As an Olympian in that time, he was under the authority of U.S. Olympic Committee (USOC) chief Avery Brundage (an acknowledged racist), who admired Hitler and infamously replaced two Jewish sprinters on the 4-by-100 relay team because it could have further embarrassed Hitler if they won.
After embarrassing Hitler in his own stadium in 1936, Brundage stripped Owens of his amateur standing, effectively depriving him of the chance to make a living from his skill. For years after the Olympics, this superb athlete was relegated to a sideshow — until finally, in 1955, President Eisenhower made him a national “goodwill ambassador” promoting the high ideals of America.
However, before Eisenhower’s benevolent spirit, Owens had to race against horses and other degrading actions to support his family.
Just like Joe Louis, who knocked out German champion Maximillian Adolph Otto Siegfried Schmeling, and in spite of his color, he became an American hero. However, like Owens, it did not carry over to life in America. Louis was attacked by the IRS and it destroyed his life. Owens faired no better.
But the irony of both their lives in segregated America was that they did not outwardly complain. Maybe it was the times, where many thought it was better to go along to get along. The fact of the matter is that it was life threatening to oppose the status quo.
In the 1968 Olympics, African-American’s discontent with how they were being treated at home spilled over into one of the most famous protests in USOC history — the Tommy Smith and John Carlos black gloved raised fist during the National Anthem.
No matter how badly treated Owens was by the establishment, his nemesis, Brundage, help recruit him to talk to the African-American athletes while at the 1968 Mexico City Olympic Games. The threat of protest was in the air and the USOC wanted Owens to help defuse it. In fact, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar brought the discontent to the forefront by refusing to join the USOC basketball team.
With American cities smoldering in discontent and hungering for change and equal rights, the athletes ignored Owens’ cajoling. George Foreman, who won the heavyweight Olympic title and pranced around the ring with two American flags. He was scorned by the Black community on his return home.
Foreman told me in an interview that he was a young country boy who had no understanding of the complexity of life and the anger of his fellow African-American Olympians. He said he was just happy to be there and out of his situation at home in Houston.
Carlos and Smith became the poster boys for standing up to the injustice that was permeating American society, while Foreman and Owens took on the appearance of Uncle Toms.
For me, Owens is an almost preternaturally graceful and heroic figure, asserting his will despite isolation and scorn even greater than Jackie Robinson had to face. But he also represents the power of segregation at that time, when a man of his caliber was so beat down he was afraid to challenge inequality face to face.