Forty Minutes of Hell (23 page)

Richardson made an unusual decision for a fired coach that sum
mer. He decided to stay in Arkansas, on his ranch outside Fayetteville. He'd return home to El Paso for visits, or fly to Birmingham, where Mike Anderson was quickly retooling the UAB program as their new head coach. His refusal to move away indirectly kept the controversy alive in Arkansas.

 

In March of 2002,
black conservative talk-show host and pundit Armstrong Williams wrote his weekly column about the recently fired coach, titled “Nolan Richardson, Adios.” The column ran nationally as well as at the Townhall.com Web site.

Armstrong Williams admitted in 2005 to being paid $240,000 by the George W. Bush administration to endorse its “No Child Left Behind” program. This was a foolish business decision on the Bush administration's part, since Williams has consistently championed conservative establishment causes without under-the-table cash. Any journalist who accepts such a payment damages his credibility.

Williams wrote that Richardson had “…gained admiration as the first prominent Southern college coach to recruit black athletes…” That wasn't even close to correct. Williams, predictably, hammered Richardson for his graduation rate from 1990 to 1994. He also challenged Richardson's claim of discrimination. “It is precisely this sort of culture of victimization that conditions blacks to regard themselves as inferior.”

Williams defended the University of Arkansas's decision, writing that the coach's remarks “…were plainly racist…I mean, can you imagine the outrage that would occur if a white basketball coach calmly surveyed the reporters in attendance at his press conference, then demanded that the local newspapers hire more whites?” This was a strange comparison as there is nowhere in the country a room of all African-American media—TV, radio, newspapers—would be covering the team of a white coach.

Richardson's mindset is common, Williams says. About Richardson's complaints on dealing with an all-white media every day, Williams says, “If writers are fair and objective, and don't make judgments on race, it doesn't matter. Are people being denied the opportunity or are they choosing to do other things? If there is evidence to support that they [blacks] are applying for jobs, and they're denied, that's different. If people choose another profession, that's an issue of choice, not racism.”

Williams believes there is a mentality that Richardson and others hold on to that has dragged him down. “[People from Richardson's era] can't relate to the progress we're making. They want to stay stuck in the past. It's difficult, because you become a prisoner of that period. There's some truth [to Richardson's charges], not everybody has clean and pure hands. We are talking about the South.”

“There are older people,” Williams says, “who feel that, because of racism, they were robbed of something they can never get back. Racism was vicious, it had an impact, and it was systemic. The wounds are still there. When they see Rodney King or Sean Bell, that reinforces things for them that not much has changed. It haunts them and that is their burden.”

However, Williams says Richardson was being unreasonable. “Blacks feel they are held to a higher standard, but most of that is imagined.”

The key to life for Armstrong Williams: “Forgive people, judge them as individuals, not as a group.” He closed by saying, “I've never experienced racism, it has never impacted my life.”

 

“Armstrong Williams is either
a liar, a freak, or not intelligent enough to discern racism,” former Air Force coach Reggie Minton says. “We study history for a reason. Nobody can take those experiences away from you. You learn from what you've seen and experi
enced. For anyone to say, ‘Why can't he let go?'…Well, people can't let go for a reason.”

Minton's time as a black man coaching at the ultraconservative Air Force Academy left him with very specific ideas about how the world changes. “I don't buy into the premise that racists are plotting this,” Minton says, “but there needs to be somebody around who raises the level of awareness.”

Once, before joining the administration at the NABC, Minton was having dinner with three generals from the Air Force.

“Is there anything we can do?” one of the generals asked Minton.

Minton mentioned a new aircraft trainer, the most recent model of plane. “Make the cockpit bigger.”

“We could easily do that,” one general said. “Nobody's ever brought that up.”

“That's because everybody who is sitting at this table fits in the cockpit,” Minton answered.

Minton says today, “If not everybody is aware of the problem, things won't change. America should know that only 3 percent of college administrators in athletics are minorities; that is where you start.”

 

Even funerals seemed to
be divided along the Broyles/Richardson line. Sportswriter Orville Henry died a few weeks after Richardson was fired, and Richardson delivered the eulogy at historic Central High School in Little Rock. Although Frank Broyles had been close to Henry as well, he was not asked to speak.

A month later, Richardson was back in Little Rock, but this time it wasn't for a funeral. St. Mark's Baptist Church in Little Rock hosted a tribute in support of Richardson, a celebration of his long career.

The list of speakers at St. Mark's included former NBA star Darrell Walker, who had played for Eddie Sutton. Walker was confident of Richardson's place in history. “Anytime you see a [black]
coach getting hired whether it's Division I, II, III, think about Nolan Richardson,” he said. But his remarks also illustrated the difference of opinions within the state about whether Richardson was out of line or right on. “I'm glad you did what you did,” Walker said, looking at Richardson. Everyone in attendance—nearly all African-Americans—rose in a standing ovation.

Lonnie Williams was the only current University of Arkansas employee to speak. Williams said, “He showed us that there are still a few Davids in the world, ready to take on Goliath.”

It was Wendell Griffen, an eloquent and charismatic speaker, whose brilliance colored the afternoon. Griffen credited Richardson for his “refusal to let himself be defined by the myths commonly applied to black men and black leaders. He may speak coarsely, but never deceitfully. It may not be the truth we want to hear, but it's always the truth we cannot deny. Thank you, coach, for refusing to sell out your principles and worship popularity at the price of integrity. Thank you for reminding our state that you will not ignore the business of social justice just because you are a basketball coach. Thank you for not allowing yourself to be put on a plantation, even if they do pay you a million dollars.”

I
n early December
of 2002, Richardson went ahead with plans to file a lawsuit against the University of Arkansas, Frank Broyles, John White, and the fund-raising Razorback Foundation.

It was a trying time for Richardson and his family. Later that month, Richardson's son—Nolan “Notes” Richardson III—was terminated as the head coach of Tennessee State, where trailblazing coaches John McLendon and Harold Hunter had preceded him. Richardson III had been an Arkansas assistant for ten seasons.

Notes' problem stemmed from a disagreement with his Tennessee State assistant Hosea Lewis concerning practice times on Christmas evening, when many of the TSU players were no-shows. Notes Richardson told police that he went to his car and brought an unloaded gun into the school's Gentry Center in response to threats from Lewis, who, Notes says, had a chain. Although he disputes the circumstances of his firing, in the ensuing days he signed a statement with campus police acknowledging that he used the gun as a threat.

Bringing a gun onto campus in Tennessee is a felony, but the school did not attempt to prosecute Richardson III after he quickly resigned in early January of 2003. Tennessee State's president was quoted nationally as saying, “What he did is something that was beyond belief in terms of anyone in higher education doing something like that.”

 

Richardson's lawsuit didn't go
to trial until 2004. His arguments were centered upon allegations of racism and his own freedom of speech—speaking out on racism, which he claimed was a matter of public concern. The judge quickly tossed out everything directed at the Razorback Foundation.

If Richardson proved either racism or the stifling of his right to free speech, he would win. The trial lasted nearly a month, beginning on May 5, 2004, and included forty-four witnesses over eighteen days. Both parties waived the chance for a jury trial. Some legal experts felt that this was Richardson's best bet, since the coach would have had a difficult time finding a sympathetic jury because of the amount of money at stake.

Philip Kaplan, the lawyer representing the University of Arkansas, said in his opening statement that Richardson's lawsuit was based on his hatred of Frank Broyles. According to Broyles, at his February 28, 2002, meeting, Richardson told him, “I will destroy you. You will have no legacy.”

UA football coach Houston Nutt testified at the trial, saying that Richardson told him that Broyles “may like you now, but wait until your ass goes 5-6, or 4-7 and see what happens.”

Part of Richardson's claims focused on the treatment of Houston Nutt, who, Richardson felt, received favorable treatment. However, Judge William Wilson, who is white, couldn't find substantial difference, aside from the fact that assistant basketball coach Mike Anderson was underpaid.

Judge Wilson did point out that in a written memo Broyles recommended to Chancellor White that Richardson's six-year contract should not be “rolled over.” Broyles also added that he thought all contracts should be limited to five years. The rollover, a powerful equivalent of a professor's tenure, was once popular, but the current trend among even the biggest contracts was moving away from them. “However,” Wilson wrote, “Broyles failed to mention in his memo that he had recommended a ten-year contract for Nutt in October of 1999, which White approved. This evidence is disturbing…”

In his final ruling on the case, Judge William Wilson seemed to struggle for wiggle room, writing how difficult his decision was, and that “…some pieces will always be missing.” Before going much further, he stressed that “…this case has been hard to decide. Judging, like coaching, often appears easier from the bleachers.”

The university took the curious position that Frank Broyles was not responsible for Richardson's firing.

At the trial, Broyles claimed that he regretted using the word “nigger” to a table of media representatives. Judge Wilson, in his written summary, remained troubled by the “redneck = nigger” comparison that Broyles had hoped to see in print:

Judge Wilson would continue chipping away at Broyles. In his argument about Broyles's comments at the banquet, he reasoned:

Frank Broyles testified that this was the only time in his entire life that he had uttered the word “nigger.”

While it seems that it would make a difference whether Broyles was quoting the irate and anonymous fan, or stating his own opinion, Judge Wilson did not think so. The judge felt certain that it was Broyles's own feelings (redneck = nigger) that were being communicated, although Broyles insists he was quoting the all-important-yet-mysterious fan. In his summary, Wilson cited the conflicting testimony of two media representatives who were at the banquet: Paul Eels (who died later in a car wreck) and Mike Nail.

Judge Wilson's findings determined
that the University of Arkansas's decision to dump Richardson was made on Sunday, February 24, 2002. Wilson relied on the testimony of thirteen witnesses (including all but the lone African-American member of the board of trustees, who was told the following Thursday). This meant Richardson was effectively fired the day after his Kentucky press conference (“They can have this job if they just pay me my money”), but before Richardson's ramble on the following Monday—the televised, scattered lecture for which Richardson became nationally known.

In other words, Richardson's final press conference was meaningless, a moot point—although that fateful Monday was used by fans and media to justify what had already been decided.

Did Richardson know the ax was about to fall, instinctively sense his time was up? He knew he was in trouble, and that Broyles had wanted to fire him in 1987, then again in 2000. Richardson's romp through the 2000 SEC Tournament put out that fire. The coach understood he simply did not have the players to pull off another miracle that March—and save his job. In any case, a host of administrators and trustees knew Richardson was terminated on February 24; the school would wait until February 28 to actually inform Richardson. Judge Wilson wrote, “…the decision was not only unfair, but an administrative nightmare.”

On February 24, Chancellor White told media representatives that in his view, Richardson was just frustrated after a tough loss, despite the feeling he had after talking to Bud Walton Arena manager Fred Vorsanger. The
Democrat-Gazette
even wrote a piece on February 25, 2002, under the headline, “Chancellor Expects Nolan to Complete Contract,” despite the loss and comments at Kentucky. “He puts the most intense pressure on himself,” White said. “I fully expect to see him complete his contract at the University of Arkansas.”

Then on February 27, with Richardson's fate sealed, White told a local television station that he had no knowledge of a buyout planned for Richardson.

Both of these statements came up at the trial and were commented on by Judge Wilson in his summary, although throwing the media “off the scent” is a common tactic among administrators. Regardless, either John White misled the media, or he was not involved in Broyles's decision.

Richardson's attorney tried to catch Frank Broyles in a similar trap, pointing out that the athletics director had written complimentary evaluations of Richardson, as well as publicly said that Richardson would make a fine athletics director someday. Neither the evaluation nor the statement, he admitted under oath, was true, only intended to be “friendly.”

Unless Richardson had miraculously swept through the SEC
Tournament again—and even if he had spoken the usual clichés after the Kentucky loss—he would have been fired. But since testimony indicated the decision to dump Richardson came on the same day that White made his comments, it appeared somebody else besides the chancellor was making the decisions at the University of Arkansas.

 

Perhaps as disturbing as
Frank Broyles's attempts to rally racist comments from the media were the admissions under oath by university board of trustees members Gary George and Bill Clark that they occasionally told “nigger jokes.” Gary George was the chairman at that time.

University officials using racist slang, and the implications of such language, disturbed Judge Wilson. He wrote:

Neither Clark nor George was asked to resign in the wake of those admissions.

 

The
Democrat-Gazette's
Wally Hall
wrote, “Richardson's attorney, John Walker, was very successful at making Broyles look like an almost 80-year-old man with 50-year-old ideas and very outdated management skills. This suit revealed Broyles's mishandling of several coaches, fading the truth whenever he deemed necessary, his reference to the ‘N word' and even how he answers to no one.”

In the end, however, Judge Wilson wrote that the University of
Arkansas's claim—that Richardson was canned because of his statement after the Kentucky game (“If they go ahead and pay me my money, they can take the job tomorrow”)—was both sufficient and accurate. This simple judgment settled things in the University of Arkansas's favor.

In fact, this was the only reason given by the university for dismissing Richardson. Judge Wilson also noted that according to numerous witnesses, Richardson had made those comments often, beginning in 1995. Yet Richardson was never challenged or questioned by university administrators about this apparently common statement. Anyone who has been around coaches—especially older coaches—knows that this “Why the hell do I do this for a living?” sentiment is as common as a 2-3 zone. Saying it into a microphone at a press conference at the University of Kentucky, however, is not.

 

Sid Simpson believes the
hiring
of Richardson was tinted with racism, because the coach's race was the only issue to Frank Broyles. However, he thinks race actually had less to do with Richardson's firing. “Broyles's ego got Nolan Richardson fired,” he says. “Nolan would have gotten fired even if he were white. Broyles had been wanting to get rid of him for years. Nolan had become bigger than Broyles. He'd won a real national championship, not a fictional one,” Simpson says, referring to Broyles's disputed 1964 title. “Then Nolan damn near won the NCAA championship again.”

“The firing of Coach Richardson was not a black-or-white story,” Arkansas sportswriter Chip Souza says. “But if you don't think race was involved, you're sadly mistaken.”

Charles Prigmore, former Medical Center boss, says: “I don't think the race issue had anything to do with it. Nolan was grasping at straws when he sued the university. If he'd been Chinese or German I think he still would have been gone.” Prigmore thinks the real problem was Richardson having a boss who thought he knew basketball. “I was the head football coach at three high schools, and I know you don't want a principal who used to be a head coach,” he says. “Frank Broyles was an enemy of success, and Richardson had gotten too successful.”