So for this Forward Friday finale for Black History Month, we're doing one more reset to tell a couple of stories in the month that we honor those who trail blazed paths for all people.
My love for family and hockey is great so I think it is only fitting that we talk about the great Willie O'Ree, who trail blazed a path for black hockey players to play in the NHL and my dad who, may not be in the records books but I can think of few who had the wisdom, intelligence and grace under fire to effect lasting change in so many.
It seems fitting that on the anniversary of his passing18 years ago, we celebrate his memory with some great "Dad" stories because stories help to convey powerful messages to accentuate points that are significant we want the listener or reader to come away with.
These stories are meant to be told all the time and are as significant in any era, time frame because these stories are about normal people; part of the human race we are a part of.
In a time where some of the voices that seem predominant in our culture would rather incite, stir up dissent, do not give back to the communities that actually fund them and encourage their activities, rarely give insightful, pragmatic yet strong ways to initiate change, sometimes, we need to look at those who showed determination, prevailed many times under extreme duress with courage, character and made significant contributions to their community and world.
So in this post, we salute 2 incredible people, who made a difference for good!
Let's Get Into This!
Willie O’Ree
Fredericton-born Willie O'Ree was the first black player in the National Hockey League. O'Ree made his debut with the Boston Bruins in the 1957-58 season.
O'Ree later played in the Western Hockey League before retiring in 1979.
Most people know about Jackie Robinson and the historic role he played integrating Major League Baseball.
But mention Willie O’Ree and you’ll likely receive a blank look. It's a shame because 60 years ago O’Ree did his own part bringing down a racial barrier in a different sport.
On Jan. 18, 1958, O’Ree – a 22-year-old forward from Fredericton, New Brunswick, Canada – became the first black person to play in a National Hockey League game.
O’Ree wasn’t so well received at other NHL venues. At New York City’s venerable Madison Square Garden, for instance, fans showered him with racial insults before he even stepped onto the ice.
In Chicago, O'Ree was targeted for bruising Blackhawks forward Eric “Elbows” Nesterenko. After calling O’Ree the n-word, Nesterenko took the butt-end of his stick and rammed it into O’Ree’s unsuspecting face.
A broken nose and two missing front teeth later, O’Ree had had enough. He took his stick and smashed Nesterenko over the head with it. O’Ree’s teammates came rushing to his aid as both teams’ benches emptied.
What followed was a classic hockey brawl that ended with O’Ree being sent to the Bruins locker room for medical treatment.
“Every time I went on the ice I was faced with racial slurs because of my color,” O’Ree admitted to the Anti-Defamation League Youth Congress gathering held in Boston in 2016.
“I had black cats thrown on the ice and [people] told me to [go] back to the cotton fields and pick cotton.” O’Ree claimed he didn’t mind. “I didn’t let it hurt me,” he said. “I let it go in one ear and out the other.”
“I didn’t let it hurt me,” he said. “I let it go in one ear and out the other.”
Here's a short hockey heritage clip featuring Willie O'Ree.
Willie O'Ree is a hero to me because my first love of sports was and still is hockey.
We grew up playing hockey in the front yard, the streets and eventually in arenas.
We never played or still play for that matter for acclaim but for the love of the game.
We had many slights, slurs and dumb comments thrown our way over the years but we just thought those who did were dumb.
Besides, this was our game and to this day, not only playing but refereeing gives us much joy so thank you Willie for trailblazing for us!!
Hubert Mills
Many like Dad may have not had the accolades, press clippings etc that others did but if they didn't live the lives that they did, our communities would have not been the same.
Dad was born in Bermuda in 1917. He was one of 6 brothers and sisters. Dad was an avid gardener, became a carpenter by trade but his greatest love and dream was to be a preacher. His mentor, Elder Thomas was a gifted preacher and taught dad strong morals and a love for people.
That dream was then the drive which propelled him to leave the Island in 1949 to go to school in Toronto, Ontario to Bible College.
Despite dealing with some discriminatory behaviors growing up in Bermuda, Hubert learned quickly that not everyone was excited about his dream as he was even if they didn't know what that dream was.
After living at a rooming house for a few months after arriving, it was time to find an apartment. He replied to an ad in the newspaper and visited an apartment.
The owner told him that it had been rented.
Hubert went back to the rooming house, thinking he read the ad wrong. He called again and was told the apartment was free. Hubert went back and was told again that it was rented.
He then told the owner that he was living his life in the light of eternity: in other words, we will reap what we sow and we should be aware of the choices we are making
Undeterred, Hubert found an apartment.
Dad was very wise in telling and teaching my brother and I that not every action was racist or discriminatory and that not every person that didn't look like us were going to treat us badly.
He would use stories to bear that thought progression out.
So, a week after the apartment incident, dad was going to school and when he stepped on to the trolley car, he put in his last ticket.
He had no idea how he was going to get home.
About 2 streets down, the trolley conductor stopped the trolley and started walking back towards the back.
The symbolism of the scenario is priceless: even in Canada, black people still had the expectation (while not mandated) in that period of time to be sitting at the rear of the trolley/bus so as the conductor is walking straight towards dad, he starts to get nervous;
What did I do wrong? Is he kicking me off the trolley?
The conductor had tears in his eyes and said, "I don't know why I have to do this but here".
He handed dad 3 books of car tickets. That was 144 tickets; over 3 months of traveling taken care of for a struggling student.
The Lesson: we must treat people as we find them and not what we think they could be like
Hubert married my mom who was half American, half French Canadian. That alone in 1953 would cause consternation, looks, murmuring, "slight" comments but he followed his heart, his mind and his decision to 49 years of an incredible union.
It wasn't easy but dad would stand by his convictions.
Even their entry into Bermuda life after moving from Montreal was not without it's own pressures.
Of the many things that I learned from my dad, one was that was/is that racism is not reserved to only one side of the coin so to speak, thus the reasoning of the coin.
My mother faced overt and covert racism when my parents were making their home there from the many Islanders who were upset that dad didn't "Marry" one of "theirs" and that mom was fair skinned.
But my dad encouraged my mom that he chose her and there was nothing that anyone could do about it so they would not be twisted by someone else's narrative but strengthen their bonds and seek ways to be kind "without" being trampled on by those that disagreed.
When they moved to Montreal in the early 1960's after my grandfather passed away, they faced an uncertain future as the plan was not to stay after the funeral but became the reality.
Dad taught us not to expect hand outs or that we just complain about whatever situation we would face; it was our responsibility to do something to work towards positive change.
With very little, they started a new life with challenges and obstacles but they were leaving a positive impression from the very start of their Montreal experience.
Because the neighborhood, comprised of Italians, Ukrainians, French and English Quebecers joined together to help them get started. Dressers, couch, kitchen table etc were brought over to their flat and the village made the outsiders feel like they belonged on the inside.
Dad would use his carpentry skills to find a job in the hospital, slowly moving to become an orderly, a union executive and being part of the maintenance lead team for the last 10 years of his working life at the hospital.
Dad taught us how to think wisely and the lessons were endless.
Ones That Jump Out:
One day when I was 8 or 9 yrs old, I was about to go out to play and dad called me back and said, "Son, you are only to answer to Dave, David or Mills; nothing else". I said OK but then he doubled down and said it again but with added force and resolve.
"Son, you are to only answer to Dave, David or Mills; nothing else!"
I went away thinking alright, Dad's wants me to make sure I don't forget my name.
What he actually was doing was prepping my ears and mind to know who I was and who I was not, that I did not have to react and avenge anyone who tried to belittle me, call me insulting and inflammatory names because those names were not and still are not me.
When I was about 13 years old, one summer afternoon on the porch, dad started explaining in detail what he knew I couldn't understand when I was 9.
That people would use all sorts of ugly names and terms but he explained that my name was Dave, David or Mills. You don't answer to what you are not.
He explained the meaning behind words, especially the race baiting words and how they were not us and why they didn't apply.
So freeing to not personally be enslaved to what we were not!
Last spring, I did a whole module of teaching on race and in the studying and prepping, many things dad taught me on that porch in the early 70's were in the books and articles I was reading.
Amazing!!
Interestingly enough, one day on the bus, a man called dad the "N" word. My dad quickly said to the man as he put his arm on the man's shoulder,
"Well, I suppose you are my "N" brother!" he went on to tell the man that if he knew what the word actually meant, based on definition, anyone of any race of any color could be one.
The bus was pretty silent for a while. I think over time, I've come to realize that the silence was because the power of dad's wisdom and brilliance was hitting the minds of those on the bus who witnessed the moment and were processing.
Dad was also a master at helping us see that not everything that happens to us is racist and we should not be looking under every rock to see injustice as it is a time killer. Not that we were not to confront discrimination when it rears itself but it was in the how that mattered and still matters.
I remember when I was working at a department store years ago and over the course of 2 years, I had been in line for 3 supervisors positions.
I didn't get any of the 3 and while disappointing, I never looked at any of the 3 situations as racist or discriminatory.
Funny, my work co-workers saw blatant racism and ignoring of my abilities to run these departments, but when talking with my dad about them, we both agreed that other things were at work in each situation.
Dad would always say that there was something better to come; to stay patient and not pout.
In the 20-20 vision of it all looking back, those 3 near misses were god-sends. My life path would not have taken me on the roads I've traveled had I been promoted even once in that window of time.
The wisdom to see a little deeper and not react, demand or create a problem where one did not exist before was a skill dad honed over time.
There Was Another Bus Moment That Still Marks Me Today:
We were on the bus going downtown and were sitting across from another family with a little girl who was about our age of 8 or 9 years old.
At one point, the girl said to her mom, "Mommy, those boys are dirty!"
My dad got up from his seat and walked over to the girl, knelt down on one knee, took her hand in his and said, "Little girl, let me tell you something. My boys take a bath every night and are as clean as you are. The color on their skin is not dirt; it's their pigmentation. That why we use Dial soap to wash, we use Tide soap for the clothes. the only thing soap can't clean is sin."
He then took a wrapped candy out of his pocket and gave it to the girl and came back and sat down.
I remember how quiet that part of the bus was and again, it was only later on as I got older how the genius of my dad was to give every adult on the bus including her parents an object lesson on race relations. The only thing that was for the girl at that moment was we weren't dirty and a candy.
The only thing that was for the girl at that moment was we weren't dirty and a candy.
What if he didn't get on the plane in 1949?
I've come to see how dad would, with incredible skill wisely combat discrimination and racism but also have the comprehension to not be triggered by things that were not in that category.
Dad would not accept anything but our best in school. He would often say that skin color has no stick in the fire when it comes to effort and performance in our scholastic studies.
He would not say victim but if he were alive today, in his lexicon of words, he would say to a young black son/daughter that hand outs do nothing but breed the idea that we are owed when in fact, we must put in the work and time to succeed.
He embodied an industrious work and thinking ethic.
A hand up to help would be one thing and everyone needs a hand up of some sort at some time but hand outs, many times kill desire, effort and personal reasonability and accountability.
My friends (and young people in general) loved spending time with my dad because he was fun to be around, dispensed wisdom with love, care and fit the occasions and moments to make each young person he talked with feel like they were the most important person around. They mattered to dad.
Some Hubert Gems
If something is not working, try something else.
Do not allow someone else's low or uninformed opinion of us dictate how we act, how we think, how we function.
He loved baseball and used picture words to get a point across. He'd say things like, " Keep swinging; you not always hit homeruns but if you keep stringing singles, doubles and triples together, runs (wins in life) will begin to cross your plate of life!"
Finally, I think to encapsulate why I believe Hubert Mills is worthy of being a catalyst change maker like many other black trailblazers even though they did not grace the pages of publications or TV but their collective ripples have made many areas of the communities they thrived in better is this:
Dad Had Codes For Living:
Dad would say when the going was rough in many facets of his life but especially living as a black man in Canada and especially Quebec at a time when warped and ignorant thinking would rear itself and cause any good man or woman to question and shake in their boots a little.
Dad's Nugget Or Pearl....
"People will often swear at you and you cannot stop that but If you can hold true to your convictions, sooner or later they will swear by you!"
Let our lives be the history people see and say that they want to take something good from it to make their home, community, society and world better!
Thanks Willie and Hubert!!!
Great trailblazers!
Dave
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