Bob Lockley was the heroic forgotten pioneer and third Black KU basketball player in school history

After LaVannes Squires broke the racial barrier in Kansas and Big Eight basketball (along with Kansas State’s Gene Wilson) in 1951-52, African Americans began to find their way to Phog Allen’s and assistant coach Dick Harp’s Jayhawks. Next was Maurice King, KU’s first Black starter and a future NBA champion with the Boston Celtics who Harp recruited out of R.T Coles High School in Kansas City, Mo., in 1953. Most fans and observers think the third Black player at Kansas was Wilt Chamberlain, who they believe started the Philadelphia pipeline.

NOT SO.

The third African American basketball player at KU was a 6-foot-2, 160-pound forward from Northeast High School in Philadelphia named Robert “Bob” Lockley. Born in Saluda, Va., Wilson grew up in the “City of Brotherly Love” and attended Kansas on a basketball scholarship. KU sports publicity director Don Pierce described Lockley in the 1955-56 KU Media Guide as “Philadelphia sophomore who could become one of greatest jumpers in Kansas basketball history. Better than average defensive ability and attains aggressiveness to bid for playing time.”

Wilson played in eight games that 1955-56 season (KU went 14-9 in Allen’s last year as head coach), posting nine points (1.1 ppg) on 4 of 10 field goal shooting and 1 of 4 at the free throw line, while grabbing 11 rebounds (1.4 rpg). The 1956 Jayhawker Yearbook wrote about Lockley in previewing next year’s team: “Bob Lockley and John Cleland, two promising juniors-to-be, who were used often the last campaign, will have to be rated as highly potential material.”

Lockley, though, never played another game at Kansas. However, he seemed to lead a purposeful life after passing on Nov. 25, 2015 at age 85, according to his obituary in the Philadelphia Inquirer/Philadelphia Daily News.

 

“Robert, age 85, passed away peacefully …  He attended Northeast High School and the University of Kansas where he played basketball with the renowned Jayhawks. Robert was a faithful gov't. employee for 37 years. He is survived by his current wife Raquel, former wife, Patricia, son Robert Jr. daughters Robin and Ashley and many grands and great-grands.”

Lockley was one of two Black players on KU’s team with King, the 6-foot-2 junior guard who ranked second on the team in scoring behind Dallas Dobbs (academically ineligible second semester) with 14.0 points per game. Looking back at my 1988 KU senior honors thesis on Racial Participation and Integration in Kansas Men’s Basketball: 1952-1975, only 28 percent of the country’s basketball teams had Blacks on their roster in 1954 with 1.6 the average number of Blacks on integrated squads. From this data, KU was certainly far ahead of the national average with 72 percent of the country’s teams having no Black players.

We cannot forget about Robert “Bob” Lockley. He might not have the name recognition of LaVannes Squires and, of course, the Big Dipper, but he was a heroic figure who helped blaze the trail for Wilt and other Black players like fellow Philadelphians Wayne Hightower, Al Correll, and Ralph Heyward to follow at KU. Yes, Hightower, Correll and Heyward chose KU primarily due to Wilt, but it was Bob Lockley who started it all from Philadelphia. One can only imagine the deep racism and prejudice Lockley endured in being the third African American player at Kansas during the infested segregation in the mid-1950s in Lawrence and throughout America.

Sending much love to Robert’s family and all who knew this courageous pioneer!

Maurice King was the “soul” of Kansas basketball

I’ve always admired Maurice King, KU’s second African-American player, first black starter and first African-American star who was a pivotal member of KU’s 1957 NCAA runner-up national championship team. King carried himself constantly with grace and dignity, battling through adversity amidst rampant racism during his college career.

After leaving KU, he played two seasons with the Boston Celtics and Chicago Zephyrs, winning the NBA championship in 1960 with Celtics Hall of Famer Bill Russell. He then enjoyed a very successful and distinguished career at Hallmark, and continued to mentor people throughout his life.

Maurice, who died in 2007, was truly an exceptional human being.

“He drew himself close to others by making himself available," said Ronald Lindsay to the University Daily Kansan, pastor at King’s Concord Fortress of Hope Church in Kansas City. "He had a great way of making himself available to the people he loved and the people he was concerned about.”

“Out of all my travels," Lindsay added, "I would go as far as to say he was one of the best and finest role models the country had to offer. He just had an amazing way of making sense out of madness.”

I lived in the same dorm (JRP Hall) at KU as King’s son, Maurice III. Maurice was a very kind and outgoing person and we had some great conversations. I regret, though, that I never asked him about his father. Maurice knew I was a KU basketball junkie and said I should try to get involved with Kansas hoops in some way. I appreciate him reaching out to me like that, just like his loving dad did to others throughout his life.

Here is my tribute to Maurice King.

...

Nolen Ellison, who played at KU in the early 1960s, disagrees with former KU coach Dick Harp about singling out Maurice King for becoming “completely integrated,” although he states that King did mix well with his white teammates. Ellison argued that King, who graduated from all-black R.T. Coles Vocational School in the inner city of K.C., hung around the white teammates after the Big 8 Christmas Tournament because, in part, “he didn’t have anywhere to go in Kansas City, not even home.”

But Ellison and his older brother Butch had great respect for King, who was prepared to attend an all-black college like Lincoln or Tennessee State until Harp saw him play in high school and KU offered him a scholarship.

For King, that was something to celebrate and a chance to make a better life for himself out of the inner city.

“King came (with the) attitude they (KU) did something big for him by getting him there,” Nolen  told me in 2007 during a three-hour interview. “(It was a) feeling he owed them something because they had rescued him out of his vocational school. That was not a high school that would produce kids to go to KU. He was much more accommodating, more integrated. He seemed to pal around with white guys more.”

Nolen called King “a Jackie Robinson” type figure.

“He turned the other cheek,” Ellison said. “Maurice was a wonderful guy. I wasn’t like that. When (Joe) Doughty (MU player) punched me, (I hit him back). I wouldn’t be looked at as a good guy integrationist because I fight back.”

Longtime KU trainer Dean Nesmith told Mike Fisher in his book, “Deaner” that King “was immediately accepted by our fans and players." However, King still endured rampant prejudice during his career, but always resisted fighting back. Once, though, during on instance at Missouri, circumstances became too tough for King to ignore.

In Mark Stallard’s book, “Tales from the Jayhawk Hardwood,” teammate John Parker describes what transpired in Brewer Fieldhouse at Missouri on Jan. 9, 1956.

“The only time that Maurice King ever got in a confrontation or fight with anybody was at Missouri, and that was because of Norm Stewart,” Parker said. “Norm was on the team then, and he was a great player. But he kept calling Maurice all kinds of names. You can imagine what, like ‘nigger,’ and so on and so forth. Maurice finally had all he could take and got in a fight. It didn’t last very long, and when I say a fight, I mean he pushed him or something.

“Of course, the crowd went crazy, and they’d play those Southern songs like ‘Dixie’ and all that crap.”

Butch had great fondness for King, who died in 2007.

“I admired Maurice,” Butch said.

King was indeed a player did not fight back against prejudice and racism. He was strong-willed, though, and focused on making his own name on the court and blending in with his teammates away from the hardwood.

"I was busy just trying to survive," King told the University Daily Kansan in 2006. "If I came to this university and failed, that was going to be a setback for other minority athletes. When I came here, I was scared to death of failure.”

King, a 6-2 guard, became the first black starter in KU history during his sophomore season, where he averaged 3.6 points and shot 41.2 percent at the free throw line. He dramatically improved his production as a junior, averaging 14.0 points and 5.6 rebounds, while shooting 39.3 percent from the field and 69.0 percent at the charity stripe. With Wilt Chamberlain joining the team in 1956-57, King’s scoring average dropped to 9.7 points while adding 4.5 rebounds per game. He shot 36.3 percent from the field and 69.3 percent at the free throw line.

While Chamberlain was the star, King’s teammates on that team say he shouldn’t be overlooked.

"His leadership is what took us to the Final Four," Ron Loneski told the University Daily Kansan. "He was just a team guy."

King was a “team guy” who helped others throughout his life. His death in 2007 shook those who knew him hard. Ronald Lindsay, the pastor at King’s Concord Fortress of Hope Church in Kansas City, said King helped pave the way for many other African Americans at KU and served as a great role model.

"A young man who had just spoken with Maurice once told me 'Wilt may have been the face of KU basketball, but Maurice was the soul,' " Lindsay told the UDK. "In terms of facing the struggles of being an African-American in that time, he really carried it.”

King was a dignified man who carried himself with grace, despite the great racism and prejudice he encountered.

"It was sort of an evolution for everybody that followed," Loneski said. "Maurice made it that much easier."

King was often turned away at restaurants and movie theaters, feeling invisible in this new white world he encountered at KU.

"He endured a lot of tough times," legendary KU radio announcer Max Falkenstien once said. "But he was always very quiet and dignified - a humble person.

"He didn't know what to expect when he came because he'd never played with whites," Falkenstien added. “He was apprehensive about the whole thing."

But King mixed well with his white teammates and was a popular player.  He’d hang out at their fraternities during Christmas break and go to movies with them. When Chamberlain arrived at KU, King’s situation changed for the better. Lawrence and its surrounding areas began to integrate in regards to restaurants, movie theaters, and hotels.

"When Wilt Chamberlain came to that campus, a lot of that foolishness stopped," King said.

King, who later played two season with the Boston Celtics and was part of the 1960 NBA championship with Hall of Famer Bill Russell, once told Bill Mayer of the Journal-World about the great adjustment he made at Kansas and the influence of Chamberlain.

“I grew up in a pretty parochial atmosphere in Kansas City, and I really got my eyes opened,” King said. “We (African-Americans) had our own movies, pool, nice parks ... through high school I found anything I wanted in our own community. I came to KU and ran into things I wasn’t accustomed to. I didn’t like some of them, but I knew I couldn’t change much by myself; until Wilt opened my eyes, I did what I had to do to get through it.

“He was a wonder with a big-city background and lots of savvy. All sorts of things began to change with the aid of people like Phog Allen, chancellor Franklin Murphy, Dolph Simons Sr., Roy Edwards ... Wilt not only changed basketball but a lot of other things. After two years pretty much on my own, I saw a lot of changes, a lot pretty unfamiliar to me. With Wilt and with powerful people supporting us, we could go to restaurants, non-segregated movies, get barber work. Phog’s son Mitt was an attorney who told us to keep him informed, but nobody confronted us with much of anything. Students were especially supportive.”

King indeed benefited greatly from Chamberlain’s presence.

“Wilt was a godsend,” King said. “Along with being the finest player I ever saw, he had that strength of personality and a surprising amount of innocence that anticipated the best. It helped break barriers, and he led a lot of changes for the better. He opened a lot of doors to help me grow and succeed. Nowadays there might be a lot of abrasive news coverage; Wilt did things quietly but effectively.”

While King said he “found anything I wanted in our own (African-American) community,” he did face adversity growing up in Kansas City. His parents, Maurice King and Lillian Walker, divorced when he was 5 and his dad ended up moving to New York. Lillian raised the family as a single parent, working hard as a waitress and finding other jobs to help make ends meet. The family also relied on welfare checks to get by.

King’s plans never really included attending college; Mayer said he “figured he would end up working at a blue-collar job after graduation high school, if he graduated at all. Not only did he graduate, King ended up being the first in his family to earn a college degree.”

"I didn't know what I was going to do,” King said. "In my family, we didn't talk about stuff like that. We talked about what we would eat that night.”

King starred in high school on the basketball court and planned to attend a black college like Lincoln University or Tennessee State until Harp saw him play his junior year. Harp reached out to his amicable and genuine teenager.

“Harp made him feel wanted, and his high school coach pushed King to attend KU, so that's where he ended up,” the UDK reported.

King would finish his collegiate and professional career before accepting a job at Hallmark in 1966. He also stayed busy raising two kids, Kimberly and Maurice III, with his wife, Jelena. In addition, King worked as a substitute teacher “and wore suits to class,” as Kimberly told the UDK, “to show young kids how they should respect themselves.”

"In his situation growing up," Kimberly said, "he didn't always make the right choices. He wanted to share his story of where he had come from to going to college to getting a degree to getting a good job. He let them know you can make good choices and bad choices, but you can't let the bad ones stop you."

After working 25 years for Hallmark, King retired in 1991. Still seeking purpose in his life, he worked with youth at the Spofford Home, helping kids with emotional problems. He also volunteered more at Fortress of the Hope Church, singing in the men’s choir and serving as a trustee.

Throughout his life, King served as a mentor. The UDK wrote “he often brought seniors and teenagers together to discuss life.”

"He drew himself close to others by making himself available," Lindsay said. "He had a great way of making himself available to the people he loved and the people he was concerned about."

Lindsay called King just an exceptional human being.

Out of all my travels," Lindsay said, "I would go as far as to say he was one of the best and finest role models the country had to offer. He just had an amazing way of making sense out of madness.”

Dick Harp and his divine mission to bring his white and black players closer together through basketball

While the 1960-61 KU team was having success on the court with its seven African-American players and four black starters, it was head coach Dick Harp’s unwavering mission to promote racial equality off the court. This was in many ways his divine purpose for coaching, to use basketball as a vehicle for racial integration and harmony.

There has long been a dividing bridge between the white and black worlds, and this case was no different than with the KU basketball team in the early 1960s. While they were united on the same team with the sole purpose of winning basketball games, the white and black players were extremely isolated off the court.

“Dick wanted us to somehow integrate and feel like we were part of this family,” Nolen Ellison, an African-American player on the ‘61 team, told me in 2007. “(But) the only time we saw a white teammate was at practice.”

While the idealistic Harp would invite his players to his home for dinner a few times a year in his fervent efforts to unite the two races, they would always leave separately. The white players would go back to their fraternities, while the black players would, too, return to their fraternities or apartments.

Even on the road, the white and black players would go their separate ways. When the team traveled to New York, Harp gave the team tickets to a broadway musical. The white players would take the tickets and see the musical or opera, Ellison said, while the blacks would go visit the watering holes in Fillmore.

“(We did) not (have) much socially in common,” Ellison said. “We lived in two different worlds, and today we live in two different worlds.”

While Plessy and Ferguson’s separate but equal doctrine in 1886 was finally overturned in 1954 with the landmark Brown v. the Board of Education of Topeka case, no legal action could change the ways black and white Americans — and most specifically KU’s black and white players — viewed each other. The white and black athletes came from different backgrounds and most did not feel comfortable in each other’s worlds at that time.

This troubled Harp deeply.

“Of all my Negro players, only one, Maurice King, ever became completely integrated,” Harp told Jack Olsen of Sports Illustrated in 1968. “When we would go to Kansas City to play in the Big 8 Christmas Tournament, King would hang around with white players all the time. There must have been something exceptional about him, because he got along so well with the others. Once the team was in Houston, and somebody told King that he couldn’t eat with the white players in the airport restaurant. He was near tears, so we all wound up eating with him in the area partitioned off for Negroes. 

“But this was only a gesture. The rest of our Negro players spent their time off-court with other Negroes. I tried everything I could to bring our white and Negro players closer. I remember how discouraged I used to feel when my wife and I would have all the players over for dinner. Invariably, when it came time for the boys to go home, the white players would go off together in one direction and the Negroes in another.

“Sure, we broke down some of the physical segregation. We mixed white players and Negro players in rooms on the road. We did all the formal things, but the times called for more than that. What I wanted to do was reach the minds and hearts of my white players so that they would become determined not to permit the Negro to be anything less than a human being. What I had hoped was to use basketball to turn out a bunch of white college graduates who would be willing to walk that extra mile for some Negro because of the experiences they had as members of an integrated basketball team. I don’t think I produced even one such white man.”

Olsen praised Harp for his strong convictions.

“Few coaches are willing to examine themselves and their records with the brutal honesty of a Dick Harp,” Olsen wrote in 1968. “Most go about in a dream world of race, imagining that they are assisting in the slow evolutionary process of integration (to be achieved in some century of the future, perhaps the 25th), telling the Kiwanis Club and the Rotary how much sports is doing for the Negro and failing to come to grips with the situation. Ironically, they are often good men ... And most of them have not the slightest idea what they are doing--or not doing.”

Ellison commends Harp for his idealism, but said he was in a lost battle with his social dilemma.

“Dick (was) trying so hard to make us homogenous as part of appreciation of each other’s culture,” Ellison said. “These guys live in different places, different churches, different houses. How do you turn around guys through basketball?

“Dick Harp, and his proclivity to want to reshape the lives of these kids, that’s probably more of a greater experiment than just having that many black kids (on a team). He tried his very best to force conformity.”

Unfortunately, because of the times, it was without much success.

But Dick Harp should be courageously commended for trying to unite his white and black players. I've never heard a coach at any level talk about using sports as a vehicle for bringing the two races closer together. Dick was a progressive person way ahead of the times and a wonderful and amazing human being!