Friday, January 3, 2020

LeRoy Walker: A Man of Olympic Proportions


 
Dr. LeRoy T. Walker at North Carolina Central University's 2009 commencement. [NC Central photo.]


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July 13, 1996
© Durham Herald-Sun

BY TIM PEELER

When Dr. LeRoy Walker leads the U.S. Olympic team into the Opening Ceremonies of the Atlanta Centennial Olympics Friday night, it will complete his own glorious Olympic ring.

From a humble beginning on Atlanta's Parson Street, near the campus of Morehouse College, through a career in athletics that has spanned nearly eight decades, Walker will reach the height of his lifetime of achievements as he leads into the stadium the biggest contingent at the largest sporting event in history.

His story is the stuff of dime novels and Sunday school lessons.

"If you tried to sell this story to Hollywood, they'd think you'd been smoking something,'' Walker said, laughing.

But every word–from coaching at Durham's tiny North Carolina Central College in turbulent racial times to his success with six different Olympic teams to his many labors for the United States Olympic Committee–is true.

It is an inspiring story: leaving Atlanta at the age of 9 following the death of his father to live and work for his brother Joe in Harlem during the Great Depression; missing out on his dream to become a surgeon but choosing to be a coach because ``it is the next best thing for working with people''; spending his professional life coaching and teaching young people to aspire to greater things.

Walker always has given credit for his remarkable list of achievements–he has more honors and decorations than the White House Christmas tree–to his strong family background, frequently recalling orders his mother gave him when he was a child.

"LeRoy, you do the task that is before you the very best you can," she told him. "You don't do it looking for reward and you don't do it thinking about what it will lead to. It is the task before you that you have to do the very best you can do."

She was not an educated woman, but Walker_three college degrees, 11 honorary degrees and 17 halls of fame later–still is obeying her words.

Humble beginnings

LeRoy Trasheau Walker was born in Atlanta on June 14–Flag Day–1918, the youngest of 13 children. He spent his first nine years under the watchful and didactic eye of his mother, Mary Ann Sally Jane Martha Elizabeth Thomas Walker.

``The Littlest Walker,'' as he has been called, had many sisters and sisters-in-law who were about the same age as most kids' parents. In fact, his brother Joe, 25 years his senior, had a son who was about Walker's age and they were inseparable. They spent so much time together, LeRoy began calling his sister-in-law Susie ``Mama'' and his own mother–as if she didn't already have enough names–"Big Mama."

The name fit, because Mrs. Walker was the enforcer in the family, especially after her husband, Willie, a railroad fireman, died in 1927.

"I used to admire how she could control the family," Walker said. "She could say more by just moving her eyes around than by speaking to me. I can still hear her now, clearing her throat to get my attention. There was no yelling or screaming. She would just give you one of those stares, and that was it."

She likely gave him one of those stares when he mentioned playing football at Benedict College in Columbia, South Carolina, where he also had earned a basketball scholarship after leading Atlanta's Booker T. Washington High School to the Georgia state championship. Fearful he would be injured, she didn't want her son to play football.

So he didn't tell her of his All-American career as Benedict's quarterback.

She never knew until the day he became the first member of his family to graduate from college, when his long list of athletic accomplishments (a total of 12 letters in three sports) was read during commencement. All she knew was that her baby boy had graduated in 3 1/2 years, a remarkable achievement considering his extensive involvement in sports.

For much of his childhood, Walker lived with Joe and Susie in Harlem, where Joe owned a window-cleaning service and three barbecue restaurants, which were frequented by boxer Sugar Ray Robinson. During the summers, LeRoy worked for Joe and even served as a valet to big band director Jimmy Lunsford.

LeRoy was driven hard by Joe, who taught him an incredible work ethic. Looking back, it was an upbringing Walker treasures.

"The more I think about what they all did for me and what I have learned, I appreciate it even more now," Walker said.

Ever since he won his first race–speed skating in New York's Central Park–Walker has been married to athletics. He lettered four times each in football, basketball and track at Benedict College and was an All-American his junior year.

Sports, he said, are a perfect developer of character. Often he quotes the words of Gen. Douglas MacArthur, one of his predecessors as USOC president, that are etched above the fieldhouse at West Point: "On the fields of friendly strife are sown the seeds that on other fields in other years will bear the fruits of victory."

Walker's seeds were sown and nurtured by a strong family, yet he was taught as a child by ``Big Mama'' not to be overly ambitious.

"The step above has never been in the plan," Walker said.

He has followed those words in every task he has undertaken since college.

"When I was living in New York, there were times I didn't think I would ever get below South Ferry," Walker said. "I never thought I would be on every continent of the world or visit how many hundreds of major cities or coach four or five Olympic teams."

Career born of impatience

Except for bad timing, LeRoy Walker likely would be a retired surgeon today. He wanted desperately to go to medical school, which was actually a disappointment to his mother, who wanted her youngest child to be a pianist.

However, only two colleges in the country accepted black students in medical school, and Walker's early departure from Benedict left him with a year-and-a-half wait to enter Howard University's Medical School.

So he decided to try his hand at coaching.

After one-year stints at Benedict and Bishop colleges during World War II, Walker went to Prairie View College in Texas in 1943 as a teacher, coach and officer in an Army Specialized Training Program.

He came to N.C. Central in 1945 for a one-year visit to coach football and basketball, but he ended up staying. He thought it was necessary to develop a track program as an off-season training regimen for his football and basketball players, even though Central did not, technically speaking, have a track.

As the oft-told story goes, Walker approached Duke coach Bob Chambers about having Central's athletes work out with Duke's.

"If I ask," Chambers said, "they'll just say no. But if we just go ahead and do it, someday they will be proud of it."

Ten years later, having given up his positions as football and basketball coach to concentrate on track, Walker went with Central's Lee Calhoun and Duke's Joel Shankle and David Sime to his first Olympic Games in Melbourne, Australia. Calhoun, the only back-to-back gold medalist in the 110 hurdles, was the first of a long line of Walker's Olympians. N.C. Central athletes were on every Olympic team from 1956-80.

Walker never has regretted his decision to coach. Looking back on it, he's kind of glad he never made it to medical school, even though he did find a long career in the ``City of Medicine.''

"There were about four of us who were going to have to wait to get into medical school," said Walker, the only one of the group too impatient for medicine. "I still get together with them, and they are all wealthy and have homes in Florida. I just don't think I would have ever enjoyed it as much.

"That's what they tell me. They all have servants and money coming out of their ears, but when we get together all they want to do is sit down and hear all about what I do. I don't think I have changed my attitude about wanting to serve people, but it is hard to imagine that I would have had as much enjoyment, and I would have been to as many places and met the great diversity of people if I had been a physician."

He succeeded in the profession as few others have, coaching 83 All-Americans, 40 national champions and 12 U.S. Olympians. His athletes set eight national and world records.

Yet his impact was much greater the the value of all the medals, all the trophies his athletes ever won.

"What made him special as a coach," said sprinter Edwin Roberts, an N.C. Central star who competed for Trinidad & Tobago in the 1964, '68 and '72 Olympics, "is that he would take the initiative with his athletes to work with them not only as a coach but to guide them to be good citizens of the community and of their country. His emphasis was education. It was also that if you wanted to succeed in life, you had to put out 100 percent.

"To me, he was like a father–and a brother and a sister, all put together. Today, all my achievements are through him."

Roberts, who began his post-college work in marketing with the United Nations, now is a teacher and track coach in Philadelphia.

In 1959, Walker spent a summer as a educational specialist in the U.S. Department of State's Cultural Exchange Program, going to Ethiopia, Israel, Syria and Lebanon. While working in Ethiopia, the small, African country that still was developing its Olympic involvement, officials noticed on his visa that Walker also was a track coach, and they asked him to work with some of their athletes. When he went to Israel, the same thing happened.

By the next summer, both countries asked that Walker return for another stint, though it was not generally permitted by the State Department. He returned and was named head track coach for both countries, though that task may not be as daunting as it sounds. Ethiopia sent a total of nine people to the Rome Olympics, Israel 23.

Out of that small contingent, Walker coached his first gold medalist. Barefooted marathoner Abebe Bikila, still considered one of the greatest distance runners in Olympic history, won the gold in both 1960 and '64. Ironically, Walker made his name as a track coach by using applied physics to help increase speed for his sprinters, hurdlers and relay teams.

In 1964 Walker was asked to consult the Trinidad & Tobago Olympic team, mainly because of his relationship with Roberts. From there, Walker's help on the international level grew. He was a consultant for the Jamaica team in 1968 in Mexico City and the Kenya team in 1972 in Munich.

Walker and Edwin Moses.
The zenith of his coaching career was at the 1976 Montreal Games, where his U.S. track and field team won 19 medals including six golds. Two of those golds were won in world-record performances, by Edwin Moses in the 400 hurdles and Bruce Jenner in the decathlon.

"Finally, after about five countries, America felt I had done enough internships," Walker said.

The 1976 Games were somewhat disappointing because the United States failed to medal in the 100 meters for the first time since 1928, and injury-plagued N.C. Central star Charles Foster finished fourth in the 110 hurdles, losing to gold medalist Guy Drut of France for the first time in 10 races.

Following those Games, Walker shifted from coaching to administration. After nearly three decades as chairman of Central's department of physical education and recreation, he had become vice chancellor of university relations in 1974. By 1983, when the university needed a new chancellor, he was elevated to that position.

His career has been rewarding on many levels, and he's had many opportunities to reflect on those accomplishments in the last year.

He remembers a time several years ago, while at the Penn Relays, when someone asked him about his greatest rewards in his career. It so happened Walker was in the middle of an annual reunion with many of his former athletes.

"They all introduced themselves, and they were lawyers and they were doctors and they were politicians and they were good citizens in the community. I told the guy, `You just heard the answer.'"

Durham reaps rewards

Walker has brought several major track meets to Durham, beginning in 1971 with the Pan Africa-USA Meet. He followed that with the Martin Luther King Games in Durham in 1973, and the USSR-USA meet in 1974.

LeRoy Walker and Duke's Al Buehler.
He continues to share his international experiences with his adopted hometown, as he and Duke coach Al Buehler present today's Gold Rush at Duke University at Wallace Wade Stadium, a large pre-Olympic track meet featuring Olympic athletes from the United States and about 40 other nations.

In the last 25 years, Walker and Buehler have been associated with nearly a dozen major track meets at Wallace Wade Stadium, including the 1987 U.S. Olympic Festival and the 1990 NCAA Track and Field Championships. Twice Walker led the effort to bring the U.S. track and field trials to Durham, losing out to Eugene, Ore., in 1980 and to New Orleans in 1992.

He was the chairman of the '87 U.S. Olympic Festival, a three-week event for the nation's top athletes held in the Triangle.

In 1992, when he gave up his job with the Atlanta Committee for the Olympic Games to become USOC president, it was assumed he would move to Colorado Springs, Colorado, the USOC's home. He was, after all, retired and mobile.

But he refused, setting up his own office, with its own staff, here in Durham at the Meridian Business Campus. From there, he's conducted much of the business of organizing the USOC's efforts -- from world-wide video conferences to responding to the hundreds of calls he gets at the office every month.

"This is home," Walker said. "I wanted to stay here."

And he wanted to share his Olympic experiences with Durham, from the torch run -- which came to the front door of the LeRoy T. Walker Building on N.C. Central's campus, through downtown and onto the Duke campus -- to the Gold Rush, which is expected to draw 15,000 to 20,000 spectators to catch a glimpse of Olympic-like competition.

Calm in the midst of storm

In 1991, the U.S. Olympic Committee was in disarray, rife with turmoil and controversy. At the center of the entire mess was USOC president Robert H. Helmick, who was eventually forced to resign because of the cozy relationship between his law firm and various arms of the USOC.

William Hybl was appointed to serve the remainder of Helmick's term, and as his year in office drew to a close, the USOC was at a critical crossroads with the Atlanta Olympics--already being billed by ACOG president Billy Payne as the ``greatest Olympics of all time''--on the cloudy horizon.

When the search for Hybl's replacement began in earnest, there were some demanding criteria for any candidate who would lead the U.S. Team in the 22nd Summer Games.

"Every time we punched in the information about what we wanted in every area, LeRoy's name came up," USOC public information and media relations director Mike Moran said. "He was the perfect candidate."

Walker, began his work with the USOC in 1977 while vice chancellor at NCCU. He worked his way up the ladder, chairing just about every major committee in the organization.

He paved his way to the presidency by serving a four-year term as treasurer (1989-92, leaving a $57 million surplus in the coffers) and as the Chef de Mission for the U.S. Olympic team in Barcelona in 1992, a massive organizational undertaking.

He was a ground-breaking candidate, since no minority person had held the position. But that, everyone insists, was not the point.

"It is an aside that he is the first African-American to hold the position," Moran said. "That is incidental. This is a man who is respected by every part of the public we deal with: the sports federations, the media, the athletes and the general public. His scorecard over his decades of service is an `A' in every area."

Walker ran unopposed and was elected unanimously on Oct. 11, 1992, to serve a four-year term as president. His term ends in October.

"We needed four years of tranquility, and we needed someone with solid leadership, an impeccable record and a touch of class," Moran said. "He has brought dignity back to the office.

Redefining `tireless'

Walker also brought a long agenda to the position, which in years past had been more of a figurehead in an organization run by an executive director and overseen by a board of directors.

He has done much more than preside over the messes that keep flaring up on the fields of friendly strife. As chef of mission at Barcelona, he had to deal with the Dream Team gold medal flap, when the first team of professional players almost didn't accept their gold medals because of conflicting endorsements. There was the Nancy Kerrigan-Tonya Harding ordeal in 1994, and more recently and more tragically, the shooting death of wrestler Dave Schultz by long-time wrestling supporter John Du Pont.

Walker has traveled the world, tirelessly promoting the Games and the USOC. He has burned a trail from here to Atlanta, where he maintains an office at ACOG's headquarters.

"His energy level is frightening," Moran said. "Most of the people half his age can't do what he has done."

Dr. LeRoy Walker carries the Olympic torch on N.C. Central's campus.
His schedule during the last six months could have exhausted a team of horses, let alone one man. In June he spoke at Princeton's commencement, to the USOC Executive Committee, a Dream Team news conference and the Associated Press Sports Editors Convention; played in the USOC Golf Classic, attended a Special Olympics meeting, a USOC Youth Leadership Seminar and the U.S. Track and Field Trials in Atlanta, accepted the Pathfinder Award in Indianapolis and went back to Atlanta for an ACOG Board meeting.

In the last year, he's made five trips abroad, including one to Greece for the re-enactment of the first Modern Olympic Games. He's made three commencement addresses, served as the honorary starter for the Penn Relays, accepted the Olympic Flame upon its arrival from Greece and carried the Olympic torch on the N.C. Central campus.

"I can't even remember the last day I had off," said Walker, whose last mini-vacation was a three-day trip to the Caribbean at Thanksgiving.

To tell the truth, he's having a ball. He and his son, LeRoy Jr., have made several working trips together over the last year and relaxed by taking in the World Series, the Fiesta Bowl, the Super Bowl and a fistful of ACC basketball games.

Still, this is work, and Walker has spent his time as president getting things done.

He pushed through legislation in the most recent USOC board of directors meeting in San Diego to institute a code of conduct and out-of-competition drug testing to help combat the doping problem that has hounded international athletics.

Most recently, he lobbied the IOC--successfully, of course--to recognize all finalists in the Olympic Games, not just the three medal winners. He wanted them all to be honored at the stand during these Olympics, but that proved too difficult. In most cases, the fourth-place athlete is too hard to find. So the compromise he reached with ACOG and the IOC is to have the names of all finalists posted on the scoreboard during the medal ceremony, a move that has tickled both athletes and coaches.

Much of his work has been for the benefit of the athletes. More money from every dollar spent by the USOC goes for athletes and training than ever before.

``He's always been an athlete's president,'' Moran said.

That will likely show up on the field of competition, beginning next week, when the U.S. is expected to haul home a ton or so of precious medal. Having the hometown advantage plays a big part in that, but so does having a former Olympic coach in the USOC's highest position.

Walker has guided the USOC through turbulent times, quickly hiring a replacement for executive director Harvey Schiller, whose departure last year could have proven disastrous.

"It's going to be a hard act to follow," Moran said.

If not impossible.

`Excellence without excuse'

On an elevated train LeRoy Walker took to school every day, there was a drunk, sullen man who scared the passengers. He was black.

His actions would nauseate Walker, and whenever he saw the man, he would take off for another car, not wanting to somehow be lumped together with this man's disgusting, disgraceful behavior.

One day, however, Walker decided to stop running.

"Why should I move?" thought Walker, a clean-cut figure clearly on his way to school. "Anybody who looks at him and looks at me and thinks we are not different, then they are just stupid. Why should I leave my seat?"

Growing up in New York, Walker learned valuable lessons in tolerance among diverse peoples, lessons that have guided him ever since.

He doesn't talk much about his experiences with racism, though he, like the millions of other blacks who lived through segregation and the fierce battles to end it, knows it all too well. He's driven hundreds of miles out of his way to find a restaurant that would serve him and his teams or a hotel that would board them. He has vivid memories of the racial tension that filled the air during the turbulent '60s.

"I learned to deal with them and put them behind me," Walker said. "I would not allow them to determine what I could be. I don't know whether it gave me motivation or what, but it was like Joe had told many before: 'You look at things and you deal with them.'"

He is not bitter about any of those experiences. During his travels he learned how to overcome those people who wanted to hold him back.

"My mother always told me not to let the environment affect you," Walker said. "I was born in a safe little neighborhood. We were probably a poor family, and we may have lived in a ghetto, if that word had been coined yet. But we kept our neighborhood clean and we were disciplined people. We were compassionate about people in our community.

"She always told me that I should never let the environment affect what I could become. She said, `What you become is dependent upon how much you want to be good at what you do.' So one of my themes while I was at the university was `Excellence without Excuse.'"

Neither ``Big Mama'' nor Joe would ever let young LeRoy make excuses, and that philosophy has stuck throughout his life.

"I don't know how many of the many things you learn as a child stay with you, but certain things come out forever," Walker said.

At first, when everyone was making a big deal about him being the first black man to head the USOC, Walker balked at the attention. These are supposed to be "more enlightened" times, and his election to the post certainly was no gift. He worked his way up the ladder for decades, chaired every major committee, was an elected officer, headed a national governing body, accomplished more in athletics than any other person who has held this post.

As Moran said, Walker's race is incidental.

"This is not a token appointment," Walker said. "It is based on merit. I don't have any self-consciousness about people saying I got this job because I was black or because I was a minority. I got it because I was the best person for the job. That is why it was a unanimous decision."

As he thought more about it, however, he decided it was good that he is introduced as the first black president of the USOC, because he has no qualms about his life and accomplishments setting an example for young people of every race.

"I want the young minority [person] out there, whether it is a Hispanic or black or otherwise, to know that in this day and society, if you do things well and you are being effective, there are enough fair-minded people in the world to recognize that and push you do the next level," Walker said.

That's why he followed his mother's advice. He has had faith that people will recognize the quality of his work and not the color of his skin.

Legacies are important to Walker, and he'd like his accomplishments in the face of segregation, racism and all other less enlightened obstacles to be his legacy, not only in the world of athletics but also in the fields of education and administration. He unabashedly claims the title of role model, a direct slap at the Charles Barkleys of the world who don't want to accept that responsibility.

"I ran into Charles at the Fiesta Bowl, and I told him that you can't tell somebody not to use me as a role model," Walker said. "You don't get to make that choice."

Culmination of a lifetime's work

Dr. LeRoy Walker isn't sure how he will feel when he leads the U.S. Team into the Centennial Olympic Stadium. Frankly, he's tried to push all thoughts about Friday night out of his mind.

"It's going to be a strange feeling," Walker said. "I don't want to think about it, because I don't want to get too excited. But to lead that team in . . ."

If only "Big Mama" could see him now. Those eyes, the ones that could bring this strong, unstoppable man to his knees, would be gleaming with pride.

"She would have been very proud of me as an individual representing her," he said. "That influence has lasted this long, more than half a century. I think she would have been very proud."

Walker regrets that his late wife, Katherine--who died on Easter 1979--won't be in Atlanta with him, to share in the culmination of his life's work.

"She spent so much time and dedication. . . . There are so many things I wish she could be here to share," Walker said. "She was there in Montreal, and she did enjoy that so much.

"And then she passed two years later."

Friday will be a happy time, with Walker beaming even brighter than he did two weeks ago when he carried the Olympic Torch on Central's campus, then watched joyously as long-time friend Al Buehler paraded the torch to the steps of Duke Chapel.

"This is the culmination," Walker said then. "This is the top.

Maybe Hollywood should look into this.

Sunday, December 22, 2019

The World’s Worst Drag Race

 


© Tim Peeler, 2019

NOTE:
If you enjoy reading "One Brick Back" and would like to help offset research expenses for stories such as this, please make a small donation to the cause and help keep these posts free of ads.


We left the high school basketball game, hyped on adrenaline and testosterone. Four high school seniors, football players all, headed towards a Christmas gathering at our friend Donnie’s, where there were girls, the same ones that had turned us down every time we asked them out in homeroom.

The party wasn’t far away, maybe four miles. We were all revved up with somewhere to go.

Driving my car, with a freshly rebuilt, more powerful engine, my friend Brad was riding shotgun. We did a lot of stupid stuff together in those days. He broke into his family’s lake house – lake trailer, really – so we could take our junior prom dates there. He climbed through a secretly unlocked window in a rented tux and we grilled steaks that another one of our crew procured from the restaurant where he worked.

In the other car were two offensive linemen, Big Tom and Carp. Between them, they weighed about 550 pounds. Their combined weight kept the car snug on the road, much better than any rear spoiler ever could.

The four of us had known each other since we started playing Optimist Club football together at the age of 8.

Pulling out of the high school parking lot, we started acting the fool. I tried to pass Big Tom. He tried to pass me. We tailgated each other. We buzzed by each other. Generally acting like immature teenagers we so obviously were. Fortunately, there were no other cars on the road.

Approaching Warlick Hill, a one-mile stretch of Highway 27 that went straight up heading west, we both went into overdrive. I was just behind Big Tom’s back bumper, drafting unpolished chrome. I downshifted, pulled into the other lane, ready to make my hero move.

We could basically hear the strains of every teenaged car crash song ever released, from “Last Kiss” to “Deadman’s Curve” to “Bat Out of Hell.” In fact, one of our good friends had wrecked in a near-fatal accident on that very hill a year before.

If either of us had a girl in our car or a working back window or deer antlers on the roof, it would have been just like that stupid car scene in Footloose.



Just as my car inched ahead of him, engines roaring like the last weekend in May, the blue lights came on. We hadn’t notice the sedan following us up the hill. We were all screwed, our futures flying out the window like Baby Face Nelson’s folding money in that Coen brothers movie.

The highway patrolman yanked us unkindly out of our cars, still wearing his mirrored shades that late night, oozing both anger and a slight sense of…laughter?

We sat there on my 1969 Volkswagen Beetle, a hand-me-down from my two sisters with scars of multiple engine rebuilds. Tom and Carp leaned on the hood of his 1978 Toyota sport station wagon, wood side panels muting the glare of the flashing blue lights.

“I really should charge you both with drag racing,” he said to me and Big Tom, “which is the most dangerous and stupidest thing you can do in a moving vehicle. But neither of you ever got over 34 miles an hour the whole time I was following you.

“If anything, I should charge you for driving too slowly on a state highway.”

We made it to the Christmas party, just a few minutes late. Every single person there had seen us pulled over on the side of road.

None of us left with any dates.

Friday, September 20, 2019

ACC 101: Charlie 'Choo Choo' Justice was a Movement



© Tim Peeler, 2019

NOTE:
If you enjoy reading "One Brick Back" and would like to help offset research expenses for stories such as this, please make a small donation to the cause and help keep these posts free of ads.




Choo Choo Justice at NC State's Riddick Stadium.
[Hugh Morton photo.]
  • Charlie “Choo Choo” Justice was the first Russell Wilson, a talented guy with a big heart who was just too small to make it big in football. He did it anyway.
  • The spindly 165-pound halfback remains the most popular and accomplished football player the state has ever produced (with apologies to Wilmington’s Roman Gabriel and Sonny Jurgensen) and ranks with David Thompson, Michael Jordan, Richard Petty, Catfish Hunter and maybe Floyd Patterson as the most accomplished athletes born in the Old North State. In 1999, Sports Illustrated ranked him the No. 14 best athlete from North Carolina, which is utter bull----.
  • He was the first person elected to the North Carolina Sports Hall of Fame, as part of the class of 1963.
     
  • A native of the Emma community in Asheville, Justice achieved legendary status at Lee Edwards High School, as he led the team to back-to-back state championships, in which the team outscored its opponents 300-6. In 1942, he averaged 265 rushing yards per game. In his high school career, he averaged 18.6 yards a carry.
  • Choo Choo never wore a facemask, in high school, in college or in professional football.
  • For a couple of years after his playing career was over, Choo Choo joined North Carolina’s Woody Durham on the Tar Heel Network as a play-by-play analyst, but he just didn’t have the natural booming voice needed to make it on the radio. “Charlie’s biggest problem was not that he didn’t know football,’’ Durham said Friday. “But he had a real high-pitched voice, a voice in the minds of a lot of people that didn’t fit the legend.’’ Even his voice was too small.
  • During World War II, Justice enlisted in the U.S. Navy and he became a football star at the Bainbridge Naval Training Center in Maryland. That’s where he got the name “Choo Choo,” because of his ability to avoid tacklers. “He looks like a runaway train,” one of the officers said, “we ought to call him Choo Choo.” And they did.
  • After the war, Justice was already a star, even though he had yet to play college football. He turned down a professional contract and considered Duke, UNC and South Carolina, but ultimately went to Carolina because it was the only school that agreed to his recruiting demand: His tuition would be paid by the GI Bill and his athletic scholarship would go to his wife Sarah.
  • He entered UNC as a 22-year-old freshman and became one of the most highly decorated and, some say, highest paid, walk-ons in college football history. He wore No. 22 throughout his college and professional careers.
  • Justice ran, threw and punted his way to UNC greatness in head coach Carl Snavely’s single-wing offense. He owned more than 80 of UNC’s football records after his four-year career ended. His total offense records lasted until 1994.
  • He led the nation in punting in 1948 with a 44.1 yard average and helped the Tar Heels reach the highest ranking in school history, No. 3, with a 9-1-1 record. His greatest game came against Georgia, in which he amassed more than 300 yards in total offense.
  • He was more than a performer. He was a movement. “It was the perfect time,” he said in a 2000 interview with the Charlotte Observer. “Carolina needed a star. Everyone had been through a war. Confined. There had been gas rations. The war was over, and people wanted to turn it loose a little.”
  • When Choo Choo announced he was going to North Carolina after the war, NC State pretty much conceded any chance of being successful in college football, even with the surge of GI Bill enrollees. Instead, the school hired Indiana high school coach Everett Case to build a basketball dynasty. He immediately won nine of 10 conference championships (six Southern Conference and the first three Atlantic Coast Conference titles, a record that has never been matched in the South). That forced North Carolina, Duke and Wake Forest to find their own big-name basketball coaches to compete.
     
  • He was named the Most Valuable Player in the 1950 game between the College All Stars and the Philadelphia Eagles, leading the college kids to a 17-7 win over the professionals.
  • He was twice named consensus All-American and was twice voted runner-up for the Heisman Trophy. Army’s Glenn Davis, Stanford’s Andrew Luck and Justice are the only players in Heisman Trophy history to be runners-up in back-to-back years. Davis was runner up in 1944 and ’45 and then won it in 1946. Justice was runner up in 1948 and ’49, while Luck was runner up in 2010 and ’11, but neither ever won the Heisman. Justice helped the Tar Heels go to two Sugar Bowls and the Cotton Bowl.
     
  • Author Frank DeFord always denied that his novel, and the movie it inspired, called “Everybody’s All-American” was based on Justice’s life, which was a natural assumption given the main character, Gavin Grey, is an All-American and Heisman Trophy winner who played at UNC but struggles with depression and alcoholism in his post-football life. The movie, which stars Dennis Quaid and Jessica Lange, was going to be shot in Chapel Hill, but UNC’s administration turned down the studio’s request to film on campus. The movie’s setting was changed to LSU, which started rumors that the movie was based on the life of Tigers’ Heisman Trophy winner Billy Cannon. “Never met either of them,” DeFord said. “Don’t know anything about them.”
  • Justice was so popular in North Carolina he could even fill up NC State’s Riddick Stadium. He never played there in his four years of college – even the Wolfpack’s home games during that era were moved to Kenan Stadium because of a lack of seating for the rivalry game. However, when Justice played for the Washington Redskins, NC State’s Wolfpack Club sponsored an NFL exhibition game between the Skins and the Green Bay Packers on Sept. 11, 1954. Carolina fans filled about 16,000 of the stadium’s 22,000 seats to see their football hero play, but Lisle “Liz” Blackbourn’s Packers whipped Joe Kuharich’s Redskins 31-3. Justice broke loose for a 21-yard gain, but Green Bay’s defense pretty much kept him under wraps. The game was sponsored by NC State’s Wolfpack Club, meaning Choo Choo raised money to help Earle Edwards’ program beat Carolina three of the next four years. State hosted four other NFL exhibition games in 1967, ‘68 and ’69 when its news home was called Carter Stadium and in 1989 when it was called Carter-Finley Stadium.
  • Charlie and his wife Sarah were already married when they arrived in Chapel Hill. They lived at the Carolina Inn, which at the time was the school-provided housing for married couples at UNC. They had two children, Ronnie and Barbara. In the years after, following his professional football career, following his time in Greensboro as an insurance salesman, even as his iconic presence began to fade, that’s where they stayed when they returned to Chapel Hill.

  • Justice played only 43 NFL games in an injury-hampered career. He was still named one of the top 70 Redskins of all time.
  • In 1970, the University of North Carolina dedicated a section of its athletic center in his name, calling it the Charlie Justice Hall of Honor.
  • Justice Street in Chapel Hill is named after him.
  • The day after his death, the 22-yard-line at Kenan Stadium was painted blue in his memory and became a longtime tradition. It wouldn’t be surprising in the least if Brown, in his second stint with the Tar Heels, revived that tradition.

1952 Bowman football card.
A few nice things people said about Choo Choo when he died on Oct. 17, 2003, at his home in Cherryville, a day before he was supposed to attend a reunion of his “Justice Era” teammates. These appeared with the obituary I wrote of Justice for the Greensboro News & Record.

UNC teammate Bob Koontz

“He was a great athlete. He was a man of tremendous character. He was respected by every single man on our team, from the water boy on up. Throughout his career, he was one of the most unselfish athletes you would ever encounter. He would always deflect praise from himself to someone else. He was a friend of every man this squad. I think he was the greatest football player to ever come out of North Carolina and probably ever will.”

Former teammate Art Weiner

"Pound for pound, he was the best player there ever was. He was fearless.’’

Governor Jim Hunt

“I am deeply saddened to learn of the death of Charlie “Choo Choo” Justice,’’ Hunt said. “He was my hero as a boy, even though I was an N.C. State fan. He was a great friend to me and to North Carolina during my time as the governor. He was North Carolina’s hero, probably the best athletic hero we ever had, certainly until David Thompson and Michael Jordan came along.’’

UNC football coach Mack Brown
“It's a sad day for the University of North Carolina and the state of North Carolina to lose a guy like Charlie Justice. Seldom do you ever come across someone who gave as much of himself as Charlie did, and he gave more than he ever took. He gave people -- me included -- so much. He can't possibly be replaced.”

UNC All-America tailback Don McCauley

“When I first go here as a freshman from New York, being a bit green and not reading the sports pages, I got down here and called back after the first week of practice.
I said to my dad, ‘Who’s this Charlie Justice guy that everyone is talking about?’ With that, my father said ‘Jeez, I hope I’m the first guy you mentioned this to. If not, be prepare to be tarred and feathered and dragged out of the state on a horse.’ That’s how big Charlie was. He was bigger than life to me. As I got to know Charlie over the years, my junior and senior years we had an opportunity to spend some time together and again, he was just an inspiration to me. Probably the greatest lesson I learned from Charlie was to put the team before yourself personally. I always admired how his teammates respected his abilities, but how thankful he was to be on the same field as his teammates. Over the years, he got stronger and stronger and the name got
as big as life. He will be missed.”

Former UNC golfer Harvie Ward, a classmate of Justice’s during the 1940s

“We had the archeology course one year and it was one of those course that didn’t have to spend a lot of time on. If the weather was good, Charlie and I would go down to the YMCA so we could watch the pretty girls go by. If it was a rainy day, we had to go to class because there was nobody out. I remember one day we tried to sneak into class after it started, and the professor noticed us and said “I’d like to introduce you all to Mr. Harvie Ward and Mr. Charlie Justice.’ They all just sat there and stared at us. I bet we hadn’t been to that class three times all year. Charlie was a great man. I never saw a bad side of him.’’

ACC Commissioner and former UNC athletics director John Swofford

“I’m not sure anybody ever made the connection between greatness and humility as well as Charlie Justice. If anybody has ever transcended generations in sports (at UNC) it is Charlie Justice.’’