I Always Wanted To Be Somebody
Part 5

Althea Gibson

Note: After a year of international travel and tennis, Althea Gibson became the first black player to win a Grand Slam at the French Open in 1956. But in her mind that was overshadowed by her failure to win at Wimbledon or the U.S. Nationals that same year. That all change in 1957 where we pick up Althea's story.

Now that I was an established internationalist, the U.S.L.T.A. paid my way to Wimbledon in 1957. They gave me my round-trip plane ticket and enough expense money to take care of my hotel, meals and other charges.

Part of the expense money was given to me before I left, in American dollars; the rest I was to pick up from a U.S.L.T.A. official in London, and that would be in English pounds.

Coach Sydney Llewellyn drove me to Idlewild in his car, and Buddy Walker, my old play-street supervisor and expert on saxophones, came along for the ride. Edna Mae Robinson drove out in her own car to see me off. Just as I was getting on the airplane, Edna slipped twenty dollars into my hand and told me it was for extra spending money. I was traveling light, with just two bags, both of which I checked through. I kept my tennis rackets, one Harry C. Lee and two Slazengers, with me, because I didn't want anything to happen to them.

Luxury Travel

The trip over, on a Pan-American Strato-Cruiser, was beautiful. The air was smooth and the food they served was irresistible, and I felt as though I were going away on a wonderful vacation. My friend Angela Buxton met me at the airport, along with a gentleman friend of hers. She was driving her little Austin convertible and, surprisingly, we all managed to squeeze into it for the ride into London. Even my two bags and my three rackets were stowed safely into the tiny trunk.

Angela had invited me to stay with her in her flat in Paddington, and I was looking forward to it. We stopped for some breakfast on the way into town, then went straight to her handsome building at 97 Rossmore Court.

Angela, who earns her living working for the Lily White sporting goods store (isn't that funny?) and writes for a number of British sporting magazines, has a very comfortable layout with a kitchen, bathroom, two bedrooms and a living room. She gave me a front-door key to use during my stay, saw me started with my unpacking, then hurried off to work.

I had to leave that afternoon for Surbiton, to play in the first of the pre-Wimbledon warmup tournaments. I was booked to play at Surbiton, Manchester, Beckenham and the Queen's Club. I won the first three, but I passed up the Queen's Club singles because I didn't want to risk going into Wimbledon all tired out.

Top Shape

As I told Angela, the night before my first match, I was in top shape, I wasn't tired and I wasn't worried, and if I didn't do well I would having nothing to blame it on but my lack of ability. There must have been a lot of people in the stands the day I played my first-round match who had serious misgivings about my ability.

My opponent was a Hungarian girl, Suzy Konnoczy, whose tiny size, five feet two inches, made us look like Mutt and Jeff as we walked out on the court. But Suzy was on her game that day, and she gave me a hard fight. I won both sets 6-4, 6-4, but Suzy didn't yield a point without a struggle.

The way it turned out, that was the most difficult match of the tournament for me, although the British newspapers had hoped that the sixteen-year-old English girl, Christine Truman, who clobbered Shirley Bloomer in one of the early rounds, would make things hot for me when we met in the semi-finals.

I got to the dressing room about two hours before our semi-final match was scheduled, and I read all my mail, watched a few doubles matches on television, and just took it easy until they called us. Christine and I walked out together.

We stopped in the waiting room just inside the center court to talk with the officials who were gathered there, and they told us the Duchess of Devonshire was in the royal box and that we should be sure to turn toward the box and curtsy as we walked out on the court.

Royalty

I was a little bit worried about the curtsy because I'd never tried it before, but I'd seen it done lots of times in the movies, and I was sure I could manage it. After we took care of the curtsy bit, which turned out to be not hard at all, and posed for the crowd of photographers who were lined up by the umpire's chair, Christine and I spun a racket for serve.

I won and elected to serve first. As we began to play, the crowd was very excited, applauding each good shot and humming with praise for the way Christine was playing. But after I put away the first set, and it was clear that I wasn't likely to have much trouble winning the match, everybody quieted down.

It was like when the Yankees were winning at Milwaukee in the World Series. I didn't feel bad about it; I didn't blame them in the least. They haven't had a winner for a long time in England, and it was only natural for them to root as hard as they could for Christine.

They were very sporting about it, though. When the match was over, and I had won, they gave me a wonderful hand. I was pretty excited. It was quite a feeling to be a Wimbledon finalist.

Before I could do anything else, I had to go to a press conference in one of the stadium offices, and after that they let me take my shower and enjoy a refreshing massage before getting dressed for the trip back to town. I had rented a small Austin to use during the tournament, and I drove in with two old friends from my A.T.A. days, Katherine Landry and Dorothy Parks, both of whom were captains in the military and were stationed in Germany. They had saved up their leave time so they could spend it in London and watch the tournament. I was glad they had.

At a time like that, when you're building up more and more tension every day, you like to be with people of your own kind, people you can relax with and let your hair down with, and never have to be on guard with. Katherine and Dot did that for me, and it meant a lot.

Filet Mignon

That night we headed for a little French restaurant that was my favorite London eating place. It was called Le Couple, and it specialized in the tastiest filet mignon I'd ever eaten anywhere. We all had a drink before dinner. I settled for sherry-and then we tore into that steak as though we hadn't eaten for days. A waiter I'd become quite friendly with saw to it that my filet was done just as I liked it, medium rare, broiled in butter and garnished with onions.

It was a delicious dinner, and when we were finished, I was ready for bed. The two captains were going out on the town, but they understood my desire to go to bed, and they went back to Angela's with me.

In fact, they were my lady's maids for the night. They saw to it that I soaked in a lazy, hot bath, and then they tucked me into bed and read to me until they were sure I was sound asleep. Then they turned out the light and tiptoed out.

Dress and Speech Ready

Right here I had to make a confession. I'd been so hopeful that I might win the tournament that, the first week I was in London, I'd gone down with Angela to her store and picked out a beautiful evening gown to wear to the Wimbledon Ball. Even worse than that, I'd worked for days on a speech to give at the Ball in case I won. I was all set. All I had to do now was beat Darlene Hard, the California girl who had won the other semi-final match.

Our final was put down for one-fifteen in the afternoon, so I got out of bed at about ten. Angela was up already, and she brought me a cup of tea in bed. After that, I got up, had my breakfast, made my bed, and got ready to go.

Angela who hadn't been able to play in the tournament because she had a badly sprained wrist, was going to broadcast the matches on the television, so she had to leave early. She gave me a kiss for good luck and said she would see me after I won. I left the flat at about a quarter after eleven and drove to the hotel where Dot and Kay were staying, and picked them up.

I brought along a pretty new tennis outfit, Terrylene pleated shorts that the English designer, Teddy Tinling (who designed Gussie Moran's famous lace panties), had made for me, and a Fred Perry shirt. The lady who took care of our things in the clubhouse had cleaned my tennis shoes so that they gleamed, and as I dressed for the match. I felt that everything was just the way it should be.

Everybody in the dressing room was talking excitedly about the news that the Queen was going to be there. That made me feel extra good. I would have been terribly disappointed if she hadn't been.

Queen Sighting

About an hour before the match I went out on one of the side courts to practice with Shirley Bloomer, and while we were hitting back and forth, I saw Queen Elizabeth eating lunch on the clubhouse porch. Instead of making me nervous, it made me feel more eager than ever to get out there and play.

I went back into the dressing room to change into a fresh shirt, and then I was ready. Darlene and I walked out to the waiting room, collected all our final instructions, including how to curtsy to the Queen and what to do after the match, and then we went out to play.

I won the toss again and served first. It was hot, about 96, they said, and I never felt more like playing tennis. There is something about a hot, still day that brings out the best in your shots; the sweat seems to loosen your muscles and perfect your aim.

Anyway, I got off on the right foot, serving hard and well, and I won the first set 6-3 in exactly twenty-five minutes. Maybe the heat bothered Darlene more than it did me, but whatever it was, I felt all along that it was my day.

When I rushed the net, I got the volley. When I stayed in backcourt, and Darlene charged the net, I passed her. I have a clipping from the New York Times that says: "The game grew faster as Miss Gibson's service jumped so alarmingly off the fast grass that Darlene nodded miserably as her errors mounted. It was all over in fifty minutes."

At Last

They tell me that I kept saying, "At last! At last!" All I can remember doing is running up to the net and shaking hands with Darlene and saying that she had played very well and that I had been lucky, and I was very happy.

Then right away, the officials came up to us and asked us to talk over to the umpire's chair, where the trophies were spread out on a table. A crew of workmen unrolled a gleaming red carpet from the royal box to the table, and we stood at attention and waited as Queen Elizabeth followed by three attendants walked gracefully out on the court.

She wore a pretty print dress, a white hat and white gloves, and she was absolutely immaculate even in all that heat. One of the officials called me to step forward and accept my award. I walked up to the Queen made a deep curtsy and shook the hand that she held out to me.

"My congratulations," she said, 'it must have been terribly hot out there." I said, "Yes, your majesty, but I hope it wasn't as hot in your box. At least I was able to stir up a breeze."

The Queen had a wonderful speaking voice and she looked exactly as a queen ought to look, except more beautiful than you would expect any real-life queen to look. She handed the gold salver, on which the names of all the previous Wimbledon champions were engraved, to me, and I curtsied again and backed away from her while Darlene stepped forward to receive her runner-up trophy.

I couldn't hear what the Queen said to Darlene, but I know Darlene was just as excited as I was. After that, the Queen turned and walked back to the royal box, the red carpet was rolled up, and the newspaper photographers began to bombard us.

While I stood there, posing this way and that to accommodate the photographers, I thought about something I had read in a book Helen Wills wrote about her career in tennis. "My feelings," she said, "when that final Wimbledon match was mine, I cannot describe. This was the prize for all the games I have ever played since I was a little girl." I knew exactly what she meant. After all the photographs were taken, I was led inside to the television room where Dan Maskell, the professional at the All-England Club, of which I had automatically become a lifetime member by winning the championship, interviewed me.

After that I headed to the dressing room. The two captains were waiting there for me and took care of all my things while I soaked in a hot bath for a solid half hour. In the ladies' dressing room at Wimbledon, they have real bathtubs!

Telegrams

By the time I had dressed there was a small heap of telegrams at my locker, and I read some of them before we set out for London. CONGRATULATIONS. EDNA CRIED WITH JOY.I KNEW YOU'D DO IT, SUGAR RAY.

There were lots of others, but I barely had time to look them before I had to hurry out to the parking lot, retrieve my little Austin, and drive to Angela's. It was almost five o'clock, and the Wimbledon Ball was supposed to get under way at seven.

I raced off to get dressed. Lew Hoad, who had won the men's singles championship, and I were to be King and Queen of the Ball. I didn't want to miss a minute of it. As I walked into the ballroom, everyone stood up and applauded. I was escorted to the head table and seated between the Duke of Devonshire, who was master of ceremonies, and Lew Hoad. We had a goodly number of drinks, and then dinner, and afterward the Duke gaveled the assembly to attention and introduced first Lew, and then me.

The Speech

Each of us was supposed to make a speech. Mine, which I had worked on hard, went like this: "In the words of your distinguished Mr. Churchill, this is my finest hour. This is the hour I will remember always as the crowning conclusion to a long and wonderful journey. It all started in one of New York's play streets when Buddy Walker, a play-street supervisor, reached beyond his grasp of a handful of youngsters playing paddle tennis. He said, 'Althea I believe you could become a good lawn tennis player,' and with those words he handed me my first tennis racket. Tonight, I thank Buddy Walker for a most satisfying victory. But the victory is not mine alone. It belongs to many people who play an important part in the picture here tonight. To mention them all would take too long, but I cannot help but recall a few whose encouragement and faith permit my presence here tonight.

"I remember particularly Dr. Robert W. Johnson and Dr. Hubert A. Eaton. It was in Dr. Eaton's home while completing high school, that I received love and encouragement. It was through Dr. Johnson's efforts and assistance that I was able to travel all over the United States and gain much needed experience.

"Also, I could not let this moment pass without special thank-you to Fred Johnson, my first coach. He was so patient with my first feeble attempts at lawn tennis. Nor can I forget my present coach, Mr. Sydney Llewellyn, whose belief, foresight and unswerving faith in my ability made me continue when I would otherwise have given up.

"I am grateful to the American Tennis Association and the United States Lawn Tennis Association for their support throughout the years. "And how could I forget my good friend and former partner, Angela Buxton, whose friendship I shall always cherish although she always forgets to bring the cold milk in so that by the time I get up to drink it, I really have warm milk. So, Angela, please, next time let's have the milk real cold, huh?

In addition, this victory is a profound salute to my most worthy court opponents whose outstanding ability and invincible courage and determination aroused a challenging response in me.

And finally this victory is a sincere thank you to the many good people in England and around the world whose written and spoken expressions of encouragement faith and hope I have tried to justify, No, my friends, this victory is a thing of no small matter. It is a total victory of many nations. It is a collective victory of many champions, for each player around these tables tonight is, in his own right, a champion. True champions in a realm to which the price of admission is good sportsmanship.

I am proud to have had the privilege of being a link in this world-wide chain of friendship, a chain of friendship created through the international language of tennis. Your Highness, my friends, I am humbly grateful and deeply aware of the responsibility involved in the wearing of this crown. God grant that I may wear it with dignity, defend it with honor, and, when my day is done, relinquish it graciously. I thank you."

After that, it was time for the dancing. Lew and I were to start it off by dancing the first dance, and he asked me to pick the song. I suggested "April Showers," and he said fine, so that's what the band played as we circled the ballroom once to get the ball started. After that everybody joined in, and the joy was unconfined.

After we had been dancing for a while, Ham Richardson and Vic Seixas insisted on my singing a couple of songs. Everybody wanted me to, so I got up on the bandstand and sang, "If I Loved You" and "Around the World."

I got a big hand, but, after all, under the circumstances I probably would have been applauded no matter how I sang. Actually, I was already thinking about singing professionally, so I undoubtedly took my performance a lot more seriously than the crowd of dancers did.

After the dance we all went to a small night club to finish off the evening. I sang a couple of more songs there, which shows you what a good time I was having, and by the time we got back to Angela's flat it was early in the morning.

A Long Way From 143rd Street

But it had been a wonderful evening and a wonderful day. It seemed like a long way from 143rd Street. Shaking hands with the Queen of England was a long way from being forced to sit in the colored section of the bus going into downtown Wilmington, North Carolina.

Dancing with the Duke of Devonshire was a long way from not being allowed to bowl in Jefferson City, Missouri, because the white customers complained about it. And maybe best of all was the letter I got right after the tournament that said:

Dear Miss Gibson: Many Americans, including myself, have watched with increasing admiration your sustained and successful effort to win the heights in the tennis world. Millions of your fellow citizens would, if they could, join with me in felicitations on your outstanding victory at Wimbledon.

Recognizing the odds you faced, we have applauded your courage, persistence and application. Certainly, it is not easy for anyone to stand in the center court at Wimbledon and, in the glare of world publicity and under the critical gaze of thousands of spectators, do his or her very best. You met the challenge superbly. With best wishes, Dwight D. Eisenhower.

There is one other memento of that Wimbledon victory that I especially cherish. It's a column written by Milton Gross of the New York Post. Milton was with my mother and father when the news came over the radio that I had won, and he heard exactly what they said. "I didn't think she would, my mother said. "I didn't think a black girl could go that high."

"I knew she would do it," my father said. "She only wanted to try for the top, and she finally made it. I knew she had the strength to do it." "Strength?" Milton wanted to know. "What kind of strength do you mean?" "Physical strength," Daddy said, "and any other kind of strength that's needed."