Lenny Wilkens, From Bed-Stuy to Basketball Icon

Leonard Wilkens II was not expected to do well in basketball, much less in life. The three-time Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Famer (inducted as player, coach, and member of the 1992 Dream Team coaching staff) grew up in tenement apartments in the Bedford-Stuyvesant, or “Bed-Stuy,” section of Brooklyn. Trouble loomed large in the urban complex by the time Wilkens was born in 1937. Situated in the north-central portion of New York's most populous borough, Bed-Stuy was home to gangs, violence, and other perils attendant to economic hardship. “I know what it means to be on welfare,” Wilkens once averred. “I know what it means to have a stranger in the house, snooping around, checking to see if you are hiding something.”1 When Wilkens was five years old, his father, a chauffeur, passed away. Wilkens's mother had to raise four small children on her own while working at a candy factory. “No matter how hard she worked,” he remembered, “there was never enough money, enough time, enough energy.”2Despite his humble beginnings and less-than-spectacular entry into basketball (he only played half of a season for his high school team), Wilkens became one of the greatest players and coaches in National Basketball Association (NBA) history, but not by his own admission. His seemingly innate humility forbids such boasting. It is this unique self-effacement that defines his character in ways constantly revealed and almost always surprising. The former US Army officer (yes, he accomplished that as well) possesses an uncanny resolve to succeed in all things. Seattle sportswriter Gil Lyons once ribbed that the “first page of Lenny Wilkens’ playbook [reads] ‘Never give up.’” Wilkens's son characterized his father as the consummate family man who included his family in all his professional moments and never forgot that being a father came first. A thirteen-year-old Randy once asked his father for a dollar to purchase a hot dog—an ostensibly benign request. However, it was presented during a game against the Los Angeles Lakers. Randy's original plan was to ask his father for the money during halftime, but Wilkens was busy talking to his players. Halftime ended and play resumed. The Seattle SuperSonics were up by two, and the ball was headed up court—a tense moment. Wilkens felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned away from the game to find his son asking for money. Wilkens pulled out his wallet and gave his son the dollar—always a father first. Later, however, there was a conversation between the two about timing.3As a player, the six-feet-one-inch tall, left-handed guard was unrelenting in his pursuit of the basket. “No one was going to stop me. They could try, but they were not going to stop me,” intoned an unwaveringly determined Wilkens. As a coach, he was nurturing, when necessary, stern but fair in all instances, exacting on the court and a sage for players off it.In 1978, the SuperSonics, with Wilkens at the helm, won their first division title, but lost to the Washington Bullets in the championship series. The following year, the SuperSonics would face the Bullets once again and clinch the NBA championship in Game 5, winning 97 to 93. “Downtown” Freddie Brown, the six-feet-three-inch guard, sunk four out of five shots in the last thirteen minutes of the game to help put the team in the lead. “That the SuperSonics are now champions of the NBA might shock those who remember the circus act under the whip and whistle” of some of the coaches who predated Wilkens, sharply observed Sports Illustrated writer John Papanek following the victory.4 Neither Wilkens nor the SuperSonics were supposed to succeed. The latter were cast aside by sportswriters, naysayers, and even some of the team's fans as consistently floundering and fated to fail. But they were rendered triumphant by the unwavering confidence and basketball acumen of the team's head coach. Wilkens's achievements, unexpected by most sociohistorical measures, mirror those of the SuperSonics—an organization that had never seriously been in the conversation for an NBA championship previous to Wilkens's second tenure as coach with the team in 1977 (he was a player-coach earlier in the decade before leaving for Cleveland). His victories in the Pacific Northwest sat squarely in the middle of his storied career. Wilkens would enjoy many years of continued accomplishments, on and off the court.His penchant for winning came second only to his desire to effect change among economically marginalized individuals in his local communities. Wilkens believes his contributions to bettering the lives of young people matter the most. Over the past several decades, he has spent much of his time raising money and awareness for the lack of health care that plagues many communities. “He shows up, he always shows up,” Dr. Ben Danielson, director of the Odessa Brown Clinic, insisted in reference to Wilkens's steadfast desire to help the clinic's patients. Wilkens and his wife established the Lenny Wilkens Foundation in 1971 to fund the work of the clinic. Through the foundation, which is dedicated to extending free health care services to underprivileged children, the Wilkenses have helped raise tens of millions of dollars. “I always felt that young people should be entitled to health care without hassle, and when I was growing up it was a hassle, believe me,” he affirmed. As a youth, he and his family “didn't have any health insurance and it was a struggle.”5I was determined to understand how a kid who was ranked number fifteen on his high school basketball team of fifteen his freshman year—a poor Black kid from Brooklyn, raised by a single mother and who came of age when racial discrimination was still sanctioned by the federal government—could become an NBA champion, basketball Hall of Famer, and quiet philanthropist. I first met Wilkens in 2013 while I was teaching African American history at the University of Washington in Seattle. He first moved to Seattle with his wife, Marilyn, and their children when he was named player-coach of the Seattle SuperSonics—a position that rendered him one of the earliest Black head coaches in NBA history. (Bill Russell holds the title of first when he became the player-coach of the Boston Celtics in 1966.) I was teaching the History of African Americans and Sports, a course that unsurprisingly captured the curiosity and esteem of numerous student-athletes. My goal throughout the course was to allow history to function as both prologue and primer, to inspire students. Each time I taught the course, I consistently highlighted and heralded athletes who have historically understood and seized upon the existence of a unique platform that allowed them to use their celebrity as a catalyst for social change and racial justice. From heavyweight boxing champion Jack Johnson's constant rejection, through his everyday actions, of a racial hierarchy that sought to keep him firmly in his place; to track and field legend Wilma Rudolph's insistence on an integrated parade in Clarksville, Tennessee, in honor of her Olympic achievements; or Wilkens's refusal to play in a St. Louis Hawks NBA game in Kentucky after a local restaurant would not allow Black players to sit down and eat, Black athletes have historically been among those at the forefront of protesting racial injustice and pushing for change. Sport represented for many of them a profound, existential, even metaphysical opportunity to dismantle hate and rescript democracy. Wilkens has been no exception, and his early months in St. Louis while playing for the NBA St. Louis Hawks reveal much about his willingness to confront and dismantle racism.Growing up, Wilkens felt the contemptuous stares of onlookers in New York when his mother took him to certain stores. He dealt with racist school administrators who warned him to stay away from white girls. None of this was new to Wilkens; therefore, when he arrived in St. Louis, the abject racism extant across the country was nothing new to him. And he would challenge it every step of the way. In the absence of Jim Crow signage, St. Louis's segregated mapping was accomplished through icy reception in public spaces, refusal to seat African American patrons at restaurants or serve them at stores, “white flight,” and, not infrequently, racial terror. While always insulting, at times, the irony of racism in St. Louis was particularly glaring. “There was a cafeteria-style restaurant that had pictures of several Hawks players in the window, including me,” Wilkens remembered. “Everyone knew the restaurant only served whites, but there was my picture. They thought I was good enough to be in their window and maybe help bring in business, but I wasn't supposed to eat there,” he added while alluding to the galling hypocrisy. One evening, he decided to test the restaurant's gull and push back against the boundaries of racism. He stood in line and waited to be served. Had they refused to serve him, he was ready to strike back regarding the effrontery required to use him to solicit customers but refuse him service. The restaurant avoided any confrontation and instead served Wilkens. “Everyone was staring,” he remembered, “but no one had the guts to challenge me.”6Given my continued desire to inspire my students through historymakers, Wilkens, living just minutes from the university, was a perfect candidate to speak in my class. One day, I called Wilkens's foundation and asked if he would be interested in coming to campus and delivering a message of hope and perseverance to my students, a message that demonstrates how Black athletes have occupied a particularly visible space in the struggle for justice and equality. If he agreed, I assumed that the cost would be exorbitant and thereby render my idea an admirable but silly one. He said yes, and he refused to take an honorarium. After Wilkens visited several of my courses over two years, he asked me to write his biography. While overwhelmed by the enormity and honor of the task, I obliged.The following narrative includes portions of interviews I conducted with Wilkens between 2017 and 2019. Over the course of those three years, I interviewed Wilkens approximately fifteen times. This does not include our numerous phone conversations and text messages recounting varied aspects of his life and legacy. Throughout the following narrative, I have included information from multiple interviews—brought together at times in single sections—to provide a more expansive view of particular topics. This adds nuance to some topics that may not have been afforded by only including information from a single interview. Each of these sections includes the original question from me that solicited the information included. Wilkens often returned to topics and added more depth and causality in interviews that were subsequent to the ones in which he first broached a topic. In the narrative, I strived continuously to ensure that the authenticity and significance of his words were never compromised; instead, his experiences are presented as fully as possible. In some sections, I incorporated that information by Wilkens in portions of this history in and are and experiences Wilkens about in the interviews I conducted about and The of justice in to a who has and much is and, at times, one in words the enormity of character and by an particularly one who the and of racial discrimination in when Jim Crow in across the The seemingly is one that my every while I and write Wilkens's biography. has always been about Wilkens is that his early years in the section of have him in Over the years, Wilkens and I have spent a of time his life in and of the and most It is these and more that helped to the Lenny Wilkens. be he asked that the of the be From Bed-Stuy to the Hall of The question I to in this history on those early years of Wilkens's life. It is an to understand how he the many that his is an our first I met Wilkens at a his home in an across Washington from Seattle. It was a with a in the of the that a space Wilkens felt knew who he was the of his that to his He was and would from the and in the of local every step Wilkens I was by the and to Wilkens, you know what you to The esteem was and with of of Wilkens the quiet humility and are you took a seat at a in the of the to find some of from the constant of Wilkens And our conversation As he I could not help but about an I once with his many conversations with the time, while to the now The of revealed that from and in his for to when asked about his The of Wilkens's mother a to a space of that to cast out all as there was no to any seemingly before Wilkens about the of his was a certain however, born from an with me and my born from a that he over the course of his It was a I would to know as of what Wilkens man with a He is a man the humility that defines his not from he to the of the with about his about some of the of his past the that him As Wilkens's with his mother and her to the of a by a It was never It was hard for my she in a candy and some from the After he passed he work enough to have poor have what but were never that much to me. I was never in with As as they have I never thought that much about I always had a after school as I I could if I to to a or when I was I never knew my And I he would have been of me. But I remember this about two things. He could He a and my and I would sit on the and when it was bring a It was just the two of at the My mother was The other was being in a He would a of on a And I was always to his which was in his a in took Wilkens into her and him of his new are the man of the family His father of a that was at the Wilkens was only five years was I supposed to know what it to be the man of the he you remember what home you remember if you and this what you or this have any you down on the It was a tenement were on the It had I I it was a was a on the first you you to to And at the was you the were on the And that the time I was a in high it was on that have to and about to to the that I to or the was across the from I the was a was a was was a It was just there was a the was a The was in the you could the It just the is from me. But my is on my had a and his mother was my and only had two And was a But he wasn't in a but he could And he and were good He was in He was coming you knew him the He was a in the all thought he was He was He a that was in my class. to sit to me. was all the up, but for some she and I were It was But she was a was his first He knew He was a Black I In he became a He wasn't as a but on was The at our there was the and three other The was a named and he It was a they had it in the in his history. what do you remember about all thought it was It was from the It just a of the believe that you a if you It was a It was living I had other I came from a They had of gangs, you I on and between and If you four there were gangs, there were When came into this they were on particular is I was a The on it and the and a of and things. maybe But the other were more they were all was have a you but have one in were all In certain a school called out in those I remember one time they the were playing And they you their money. And when they to I was and one of the they you They me and to give me some of the money. My was and, the It was good And all were on the you basketball, in the you played with one and that much of just was played on the all played And when this Black out of the into the knew to the other sat in the and see him And the that I about him was that he was a you and no matter what he I him home This was you remember the first game that you I him home And I to his They were in Brooklyn. was working after school at the time for a It was a called or It was by the you to his house, and you know it And I him. He came to the I was And he was and me and gave me a I even remember what it were I was And he was and me and gave me a I even remember what it was that from it was a section of that that The was a section of that was And the wasn't a of people and a of white people who about do and do how do you that of you just I he was He he was He his And when you see I was just a young and I was overwhelmed by As a Black you that is all is an I you to do is the I you to help me through family always I remember I came home and one of my and I came home from school and the of my face was This had me I had with I had to do a and put it on the and she said it was And I I over it a of times, you how And she were I was in the or And when I came and my was going to up there and take the and she But my mother and her And the after the I was was a kid and I I wasn't by But I knew I was I was you in that all the students knew it and she said it in of the good for the of they They them on still in and you always do I was to that I was up there in high and were the only to have called The by on the on the with and the and in the Wilkens has many of for was fifteen when Wilkens was The the high school as Wilkens when it was a grew up with Wilkens and one of his In years, the and and and heavyweight champion But for every Black who grew up in the and their to more into an of opportunity and They had to find if not Bed-Stuy was by the and racial discrimination that much of From to and violence, the Bed-Stuy that before it played to the of and was by the of a and a a at times stood in to the by children who was played at when were basketball was in the to to And And I played one time, and it was the were you I they if a be on him. them out of just people and them being at the I was I knew I could I could And the I with young people is that if you know you I you it you all the you remember who you played A of who to He was a was a kid named would play I would see people I was in called was a I remember his but when were he was good as but he was He wasn't a He was a the of but he would play on the see him. knew that he was you to the and any of the for own of I I basketball that you were the one the for the I knew that I could people to the basket. And that if a I would it up on the would and the young would it a I know what the they were talking but what they there were I you on the of the you to what was I the came I knew if I to all the to the would I it you had to know a And I would kid Russell about the that he my and he was for my a of my Wilkens once His for his father time and as both prologue and for Wilkens's a man I never a man who much a of me The man at me is always about always in the of the father I was there when my team in Seattle won the NBA title, the father I with me when I was in the Basketball Hall of the father I could see my children and my wife, the years, Wilkens's family has in his and that of his “I in I about but always to be in of what I in his Wilkens's father him in as his early years in Bed-Stuy following his It is those years that serve as an of how his early life and his character and has always been a a champion by of his and His former coach, him as a good such a It is a an existence that he has by with in Bed-Stuy and by a mother and a father and Wilkens with much of what defines him. He is a man and have rendered him one of the on and off the Wilkens once a have confidence and believe in His is a that of of our with a for