When Arthur Ashe fought to play tennis in apartheid South Africa, he faced bitter criticism
‘Athletes, especially black athletes, must use every resource at their command to right things that are wrong’
One summer afternoon at the Queen’s Club in London, where the final pre-Wimbledon, grass-court warm-up tournament took place, Arthur Ashe sat next to Australian great John Newcombe in the clubhouse for a meeting of all the top players. It was June of 1968, the beginning of the “open era” of tennis, in which professionals and amateurs could compete against each other. The first U.S. Open was just months away, and players were eager to discuss the shape of the new tour, potential corporate sponsors, potential prize money, and the possibility of forming an association of professional tennis players — and how that would fit into the other governing bodies of the sport.
One of the South African players, Cliff Drysdale, mentioned that the first South African Open would be held that fall and that the organizers were hoping to attract a top-notch field to Ellis Park in Johannesburg. They wanted record crowds to support the new changes in tennis.
Drysdale turned to Ashe and casually noted, though, “They’d never let you play.”
In his memoir, Days of Grace, Ashe writes that he was startled and wondered, “Is it that bad?”
“Oh, the Lawn Tennis Association would let you play,” Drysdale explained. “I’m pretty sure of that. In fact, they would love to have you come. But you would need a visa to enter South Africa, and the government would never let you have one.”
Ashe questioned whether or not Drysdale was overstating the lengths to which the apartheid South African government would go to keep a top tennis tennis player out of the country, even if he was black.
“Try them,” Drysdale said, “You’ll see.”
The following year, Ashe mailed his visa application to play in the tournament. It was rejected. The same was true for 1970 and 1971.
South Africans across the country heard the news; the government made sure that everyone knew. On January 28, 1970, South Africa announced the rejection of Ashe’s second visa application. The story received front-page coverage in every local newspaper and radio broadcasts led with the news. The minister of sport, Frank Waring, pointed to Ashe’s “general antagonism toward South Africa” as the primary reason, citing a statement by Ashe in which he said his South Africa trip would be “an attempt to put a crack in the racist wall down there.”
South African Prime Minister John Vorster flaunted his rejection of Ashe in interviews and speeches throughout the country with the hope of maintaining the status quo and convincing racial hardliners that he deserved reelection. But around the world, South African athletes began facing anti-apartheid protests and Ashe began lobbying the tennis governing bodies to take action against the South Africa Open and its officials. He also called for the expulsion of South Africa from Davis Cup competition.
While the world’s tennis organizations prepared to confront South Africa, Ashe traveled to Washington, DC, to testify before a House Foreign Affairs subcommittee looking into potential action against South Africa. In response to a question about a possible reciprocal ban against South African athletes, Ashe said his “moral conscience” had told him this would solve nothing. “I wouldn’t want them to suffer the same indignities from my government that I have from theirs.”
Near the end of the hearing, Representative Benjamin Rosenthal, a Democrat from New York, said that athletes had a special obligation to speak out against injustice. Ashe agreed: “Athletes, especially black athletes, must use every resource at their command to right things that are wrong….To have a potential to do a lot of good and not exercise this is the worst cowardice, especially in the United States.”
Indeed, political protest in the sport, even by non-athletes, entered the arena. In August 1971, the Boston chapter of the NAACP filled the stands during a tennis match between Australian John Newcombe and South African Frew McMillan. As Newcombe and McMillan played, unaware of anything beyond the court, NAACP protesters chanted in unity at McMillan, “paint him black and send him back!” Back home to apartheid South Africa, that is.
However, Ashe had a harder time convincing his tennis colleagues — all white — of the importance of protest in tennis against South Africa. The New York Times discussed Ashe’s situation with several players, many of whom blamed Ashe for the trouble. A Voice of America poll of players indicated that a majority of players believed Ashe’s problems were self-inflicted — and most expressed little to no desire to become involved in political activism. Many players disagreed with South Africa’s decision, yet they were sure that retaliation or political protest would be futile.
John Newcombe, who was serving as the International Tennis Players’ Association president, announced that the players disagreed on the Ashe issue. “Some of the players,” he explained, “seem to feel that it’s Arthur’s personal business, some feel that it’s political and some think that the government’s action was a dirty deed.”
Cliff Richey, an American ranked in the world top 10, was succinct: “Ashe should be a tennis player, not a politician.”
Ashe expressed disappointment, but not surprise over the players’ views, noting that historically, tennis players had been “apolitical, independent, even egotistical.”
When asked in an interview if the controversy had placed a heavy burden on him, he replied thusly: “Problems such as these hurt tennis, but I enjoy my role. Like Martin Luther King’s role gave him pleasure, so does my struggle for equality. If it does good in the world, it is not a burden.”
All the while, South Africa still played in the Davis Cup. (In fact, it would win the international competition in 1974 when India defaulted rather than compete against South Africa.)
In 1973, with South Africa facing considerable international political and economic pressure, Ashe was finally granted a visa for the South Africa Open, but he refused to play unless seating for his matches was unsegregated — a condition that was granted.
He received a note from Winnie Mandela, thanking him for coming to South Africa, but also warning him and like-minded Americans not to believe that they could think for South Africans. “The best thing you can do,” she wrote, “is ask the South Africans what you can do to help in their struggle.”
Others were more harsh in their words to Ashe. Dick Edwards, a columnist for the black New York newspaper Amsterdam News, condemned Ashe for signing an affidavit stating that he would not criticize the government while on South African soil — something Edwards called a “glaring error.” He mocked Ashe’s comment that he had “bent over backwards to be nice” to the South African government. “It is dangerous,” Edwards wrote, “for a man of Arthur’s color to ever bend over to or around South Africans. His only reward will be a swift boot in the rear.”
Under pressure to perform well at his first appearance in South Africa, Ashe went all the way to the finals before losing to fellow American Jimmy Connors and won the doubles with Tom Okker of the Netherlands.
But it was a black teenager who made the biggest impression on him in Johannesburg.
“Every day, he was there when I arrived and he seemed to be there when I left,” Ashe wrote in his memoirs. “He was watchful but shy as he shadowed me around the park. It was as if I exuded some precious, mysterious quality that he wanted to possess. Finally I confronted him, though gently.
“Tell me something,” Ashe said. “Why are you following me around?”
The boy answered, “You are the first truly free black man I have ever seen.”
“When I heard these words, I felt a distinct chill,” wrote Ashe. “Nothing anyone else said or wrote during my stay captured as poignantly for me the abyss of inhumanity that was South African apartheid.
He added: “The major aim of the system was to prepare, to program, and to destine young blacks like this boy for a lifetime of servitude. He was obviously yearning for freedom, and I was touched to be a rallying point for him in his struggle.”
