Doors opened for Robertson, teammates after state title

A good argument could be made that Oscar Robertson is the greatest athlete – not just basketball player – to come out of Indiana.

Two Final Fours at the University of Cincinnati. An Olympic gold medal. An NBA championship and a Most Valuable Player award; induction into the Basketball Hall of Fame. Chosen as one of the 50 best NBA players of all time, and considered among the five or 10 best by many.

Yet early in his life, Robertson was striving for neither stardom nor stature. He saw himself as another black kid from the black side of town, trying to play basketball and praying for an opportunity to get an education in a state still split by racism.

“Basketball was just something to do,” Robertson said from his office in Cincinnati. “When you’re poor and living in the ghetto, the only thing you had was sports and going to church. You didn’t have any money to do anything else.”

In Indianapolis, Robertson grew up among other poor black families in what was known as Frog Island, a low-lying area that often smelled foul and was prone to flooding and disease.

He also grew up in the generation that followed the height of local power for the Ku Klux Klan. During this era, city officials planned and built Crispus Attucks, an all-black high school.

When Robertson and the other Attucks players who eventually won state titles entered the school, the Klan’s political influence had diminished, but its mentality was still pervasive. Robertson never ate in a restaurant until the ‘55 state champions were invited to one the Sunday after the title game.

“I wasn’t able to go downtown to the theater when I was in high school,” Robertson said. “I never ate in a restaurant. They didn’t want blacks. It was whispered. It was implied. It was told to you.”

Years later, Robertson said, he saw how Attucks’ basketball feats helped push integration in Indianapolis. But what was most obvious then was the effect the team had on the black neighborhood.

“You could see it in the attitudes of the people, how they talked to you and how happy they were, how they’d brag about Crispus Attucks,” Robertson said. “At that time around Indianapolis, not a lot of good things were being said about black people. Talking to a lot of the guys I knew going to school there, it meant a lot to them. It made a better way of life.”

When Robertson enrolled at the University of Cincinnati, he quickly saw that racist attitudes remained prevalent in other cities as well. When he attended a Reds game to see Jackie Robinson, he was stunned to see that all the black spectators were put in one section.

In the NBA, Robertson endured plenty of name-calling, especially in the South.

He retired from the NBA in 1974 after a 14-year career that included 12 All-Star appearances. In his second season, he averaged double figures in points, rebounds and assists – to this day the only time that has happened.

After basketball, The Big O (as he is known in sports circles) turned to business, philanthropy and civic ventures. Now 67, he lives in Cincinnati with his wife, Yvonne.

Robertson remains close with those involved in Attucks’ glory years; he returned to Indianapolis in December 2003 for the funeral of former coach Ray Crowe.

He remains angry about the treatment of blacks in Indianapolis in the 1950s, but he said it’s not his sole emotion toward the time.

“There’s tremendous pride on my part,” said Robertson. “I was talking to (former Attucks teammate) Willie Merriweather the other day, and he was saying that by us winning, it enabled him to go to Purdue. … There were so many pluses.”