SEVENTY-TWO YEARS after the late Sebron "Ed" Tucker broke Stanford's color line to become the school's first Black athlete, Spencer Jones had some questions for him.
"What would he say about diversity today?" wondered Jones, a junior management science and engineering major, a Black athlete and forward on the Cardinal men's basketball team. "Did he ever see it as a possibility, or did he think it should have happened sooner, or later?
"Did he ever think, 'What am I going to do to make sure more like me can be in the same situation?' Maybe it's a blueprint for me to do the same."
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FORTY-EIGHT DAYS after Earl Lloyd broke the NBA's color line, while many Palo Alto neighborhoods banned Black residents, and 3 ½ years before the Supreme Court ruled school segregation illegal through Brown vs. Board of Education, a Black athlete competed for Stanford.
Before the season began, Stanford coach Everett Dean said of the 6-foot-1, 175-pound forward, "He is potentially one of the greatest players I've ever seen."
But on the eve of the season opener, the Pacific Coast Conference declared Tucker ineligible because of confusion over his transcript as a transfer from Compton College, where he was nearly a 4.0 student. Tucker missed the first three games before the ruling was reversed, and on Dec. 18, 1950, Tucker took the Cow Palace court for a game against Colorado.
The game was tight. With the score tied in the final seconds, Colorado took a short-range shot that bounced off the front of the rim and into the hands of Stanford's Jack O'Sullivan, who hurled it downcourt. Tucker collected the pass in stride and layed the ball in with three seconds left to give Stanford a 62-60 victory. Tucker scored a team-high 16 points, and thus began a historic career.
San Francisco Examiner clipping (Dec. 19, 1950) from Ed Tucker's first game.
Stanford never had an anti-Black policy, but was woefully short on diversity and had little interest in correcting that, though its Black history dated to the school's opening. Ernest Houston Johnson was a member of Stanford's first graduating class, in 1895. His application originally was ignored, but Jane Stanford, from an abolitionist family, stepped in and saw to it that Johnson was enrolled. An economics major, Johnson died of tuberculosis at age 27 and was buried with his Stanford diploma.
Tucker never expected to play college basketball, much less suit up for Stanford. He came from Haskell, Oklahoma, a town of 1,500 established in 1904 on the Midland Valley Railroad, on Muscogee Nation lands.
Ed was the youngest of eight children – five boys and three girls. His father was principal at Booker T. Washington High in Haskell. Ed's mother had a degree from Oklahoma Colored Agricultural and Normal University (now Langston University), the only college option in the state for Black students.
Ed played basketball whenever he could at the Booker T. Washington gym, just a few steps from their home, and especially against his brothers, all at least seven years older. It didn't hurt that Ed developed strong hands by milking cows.
High schools in Oklahoma were segregated then and Tucker earned All-State basketball honors and played football and baseball. He graduated at 16, already planning on being a doctor. His brother Booker, a dentist, summoned Ed to live with him in Compton, a mostly-white working-class suburb of Los Angeles, for greater educational opportunities.
Ed enrolled at Compton College in 1948 and signed up for a swimming class. In Oklahoma, he dog-paddled across ponds, but never learned to properly swim. However, the chlorine from Compton's pool irritated his eyes, forcing Ed to drop the class. Needing something else to fulfill his P.E. requirement, Tucker joined the basketball team.
Tucker began on the junior varsity and was promoted midway through the season, though he rarely played.
When a teammate injured his knee before the Western Regional championship game, Tucker got his chance. He scored 26 points in a 75-50 victory over Long Beach City College to lead the Tartars into the National Junior College tournament, finishing third. Tucker was named to the all-tournament team.
It became evident that Tucker's quickness, speed, and shooting could turn games fast. He intercepted passes and scored on fastbreak layups and got streaky from the outside. Every team Tucker played for – Compton, Stanford, military and AAU – broke scoring records.
As a Compton sophomore, Tucker was let loose. The Tartars scored 91 in one game, and then 98, and even 100, each a school record, while Tucker earned NJCAA All-America honors.
Tucker became known for his "one-handed push shot," accurate from long-range. Ed's son, Sebron Tucker, Jr., describes it today as a set shot, guided by the off-hand, and pinpointed by the knee and elbow.
John Wooden, a second-year coach at UCLA and in the foundational stages of building a powerhouse, recruited Tucker, and so did Dean at Stanford, tipped off by Compton coach Kenneth Fagans, a former Stanford assistant.
Wooden had Tucker sewn up until Booker reminded his little brother that Black players weren't unusual at UCLA. Jackie Robinson, for instance, had played four sports for the Bruins, including basketball. But … "You could be the first at Stanford," he said.
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NEWS THAT TUCKER was accepted to Stanford was big. "Friends" informed the San Francisco Chronicle, and the story was reprinted as the headline story of the Compton News-Tribune.
"He accepted the challenge and he embraced it." Ed's son, Sebron Jr. said. "There was a sense of pride to breaking the color barrier."
Dean was in the final year of a 28-year college basketball head-coaching career that would lead to the Naismith Memorial Hall of Fame. Though he never coached a Black player, he welcomed Tucker.
On Jan. 5, 1951, Tucker played on campus for the first time, and made another big impression, scoring 24 points and tying the score late in a 78-73 loss to UCLA at the Pavilion.
Soon, Tucker was described in print as, "the hottest item in Coast basketball." After hitting two free throws with two seconds left to beat USC, Tucker was carried off the court by his teammates. The next night, Tucker scored 31 against the Trojans to set a Pavilion scoring record by a Stanford player. He broke the mark with 36 against USC a year later.
"Tucker's 40 percent shooting average from the floor, his deceptive ball handling, great speed, passing ability, and fine competitive spirit rank Eddie as one of Stanford's outstanding players of all time," Dean said.
In the tiny Men's Gym at UCLA on Jan. 5, 1952, Tucker outsmarted Wooden, the Wizard of Westwood.
Stanford rallied from a 12-point deficit to close within 71-70 with two minutes left. After a Stanford foul, the Bruins had the option of free throws, but chose to inbound the ball and freeze it instead. Before that could happen, Tucker intercepted the pass, raced downcourt, layed the ball in and was fouled, sinking the free throw. The defense held and Stanford froze the ball for the final 45 seconds to earn the 73-71 victory. Stanford wouldn't win again at UCLA for 48 years.
Stanford finished 12-14 and 19-9 in Tucker's two seasons, first under Dean and then under Bob Burnett. Tucker earned honorable mention All-America honors and was a two-time All-PCC Southern Division selection. His 427 points in 1951-52 broke a conference record and his two-year total of 791 ranked sixth in school history. His career scoring average of 15.8 still ranks No. 15. He was inducted into the Stanford Hall of Fame in 2007.
Ed Tucker duels Cal on Jan. 12, 1951. Photo by San Francisco Examiner.
His success gave columnist Brad Pye, Jr., of the Black newspaper California Eagle, even more reason to trumpet equality.
He wrote, in 1951:
Members of the race such as Jackie Robinson, Ed Tucker, Luke Easter, Don Newcombe and numerous others have proven that the tradition of banning Negroes from participating in big-time sports is just a thing of the past … BANNING OF NEGROES SHOULD BE A THING OF THE PAST.
Sebron Jr. can't recall his father telling any stories of racial injustice as a student or basketball player at Stanford, except that he sometimes was not allowed to stay in the same hotel or eat in the same cafes as his teammates.
"He was well-received," Sebron Jr. said. "He seemed to be well-adjusted, happy, and in his element. But, at the same time, he wasn't naïve either. He had thick skin. He understood the way of the world. He went in there with his eyes wide open."
Tucker fully embraced campus life and was well-liked and respected. He was in student government, representing the men's residence halls. He judged fashion shows, interviewed yell leader candidates, played intramural softball, broke the 100-yard record in intramural track.
He was chosen by the Stanford Debate Society to represent Stanford in the Tournament of Orators in San Francisco on the topic of George Washington. And he ran, in a toga, on a torch relay of 20 senior men from Union Court to Rossotti's to light the "Olympic Day" flame.
"It was a perfect storm for somebody like my father who was academically and athletically gifted, and that's what Stanford was looking for, no matter what color," Sebron Jr. said. "He fit the bill. He was quiet and humble and a professional through and through."
Ed Tucker is front and center in this 1951-52 team photo. Head coach Bob Burnett is in the first row, on the far left.
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THE ERA CLEARLY was different in equality. In the 1951 Quad yearbook, there were 154 headshots of seniors in the School of Engineering: 153 men and one woman. In the School of Business: 93 men, zero women. And so on.
There were only four Black members of Tucker's class of '52, and Tucker was the only African American male. There were no support groups, clubs, fraternities or sororities, or course work geared toward the African American experience or Black culture.
Tucker's Black classmates:
Wilma Johnson was the first Black nursing student at Stanford. She became the first Black public health nurse in Alameda County and the first Black public health nursing director in California. After earning a master's at Columbia, she served as Alameda County's director of public health nursing for 34 years. She passed away in 2019.
Njorage Mungai was one of the founders of modern Kenya and served the young East African country in many leadership capacities, including ministers of defense, foreign affairs, health and environment and natural resources. He helped establish the nation's regional health care system, as well as its first medical school, which is based at the University of Nairobi. He graduated from Stanford medical school in 1957 and passed away in 2014.
Dorythea Cooley Williams, a history major, is a retired director of speech pathology at the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs in Fresno. Interviewed on a 2019 podcast by Kathleen Schock highlighting the experiences of longtime Black residents in the Central Valley, Dorythea told a harrowing story about how her family came to California.
Living in Laurel, Mississippi, Dorythea's great aunt ran a honkytonk that served food so good that it even attracted white residents. Dorythea's father was 10 when a white man ordered him to dance. When the boy was young, he suffered serious burns to his toes and walked with a limp since, and he refused to dance for the man. So, the man shot him in the ankle. In response, the great aunt took out a gun and shot the white man.
Whether the man was alive or dead, they didn't stay to find out. The family dug up whatever cash they hid in the ground and hastily left everything, knowing they would be lynched if caught.
Tucker stayed true to his goal of a medical career, turning down a lucrative offer from the Harlem Globetrotters and saying thanks but no thanks to Red Auerbach when the coach expressed interest in drafting Tucker for the Boston Celtics.
Still, there was some basketball left in him, and another Tucker first. He was named head freshman coach, becoming Stanford's first Black coach in any sport. His team bolted to a 7-0 record before Tucker was drafted into the Army.
At Fort Lewis (Wash.), where he reached staff sergeant, Tucker averaged 31 points on a team that went 47-4, and scored 65 against a team called the Navy Seahawks on his 22nd birthday. His coach, Sergeant Chuck Byrd, called Tucker "the best offensive forward I've ever laid eyes on – a regular scoring machine."
After Stanford, Ed Tucker starred for military and AAU teams. Clipping from the Tacoma News-Tribune (1953)
Tucker saved for medical school by playing for Buchan's Bakers, a top AAU team from Seattle, and closed his competitive playing career in 1957, before heading to Meharry Medical College, an HBCU in Nashville.
Tucker became an obstetrician/gynecologist and helped build and shared a four-story medical office building in Watts – the Tucker Building -- with his brothers, Booker, who had become the first Black oral surgeon west of the Mississippi, and Walter, a dentist. They created the Watts Health Foundation, providing medical services for those who could not otherwise afford them.
Among the thousands of babies Tucker delivered was a little girl in 1980 who developed full term in her mother's abdomen, not the uterus. The fetus was positioned horizontally rather than head down, but Tucker didn't realize the situation until after the incision.
Tucker took a deep breath and carefully disentangled the baby's arms and legs from her mother's intestines, from which the little girl was attached. Survival seemed slim. She was not breathing at birth, but Tucker resuscitated her in the delivery room. The little girl survived. Her name? Miracle.
Tucker, who passed away on March 31, 2004, at age 72, made an impact everywhere he went, but it's hard to tell what difference he made at Stanford. There would not be another Black athlete on campus until 1958, nor another Black basketball player until Art Harris in 1965.
Under the lights of Maples Pavilion, at Stanford Stadium, Cobb Track and Angell Field, Sunken Diamond, and everywhere the Cardinal competes, one thing is for sure. Stanford's Black athletes, men and women, can trace their lineage to Sebron Edward Tucker. After all, that's why he came.
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ARE WE THERE yet?
"We're a lot closer," basketball player Spencer Jones said.
"Everything today is on the micro-level, microaggressions," Jones said. "Nowadays, we know better than to act, but it's the way people still tend to think. You see a Black person with twisties playing basketball, you're maybe not expecting me to be an MS&E major. Maybe you're not going to act differently, but that instinctual thought is still there.
"If you can change that, you're really seeing a person for who they are."
Maybe, for a little while, Stanford saw Ed Tucker for who he was. And maybe, in that time and place, that was the difference.
The Tucker family in 2004, four months after Ed passed away. Clockwise from bottom left: Tami, Wallace, Philip, Sebron, Tiffani, and wife Gwendolyn. Courtesy of Tiffani Tucker.