Citizens of the Appalachias

SPORTS AND SOCIETY Citizens of the Appalachias____________ Bobby Jenkins Prologue—In 1951, the Virginia Constitution prohibited integrated schools. Also, state law disallowed mixed societies and required that races be separated at public assemblage. An interracial Marriage was a felony, punishable by one to five years in prison. During this era of rigid segregation an odd thing occurred. As the Virginia Little League playoffs approached, host officials in Charlottesville discovered one team was mixed. They were from a small town deep in the coal-fields of southwestern Virginia. Inexplicably, Norton had broken the mores of the day and had become the first community in the South to organize integrated athletic teams. How could this be? How could this small Appalachian town have led the South in integrated sports? How could this supposedly backward area have been so far ahead of most northern locales? More importantly, how would Charolettesville, Norton, Little League Headquarters and the state of Virginia resolve the explosive issue? Remarkably, the answers revolved around one man. His name was Charles Litton. Returning from World War II, Charles Litton established an optometry practice in his hometown of Norton. In April of 1951, he happened to read an article in The Saturday Evening Post. Later that evening, Charles announced to his wife, "I'm going to organize a Little League." With a quizzical expression, Mrs. Litton asked, "What's that?" "It's a baseball league for kids that a Stotz fellow started in 1939." "Won't it cost money?" "Yep, but I think I can get our civic-minded organizations to help." The following week Litton called Little League Headquarters. A few days later he received a package. As Charles examined the information, three pictures reflected the mood of the times regarding race. St. John's Lutheran—a teenage baseball team Carl Stotz had played on—had been all white. The three original Little League teams had been all white. In 1951, Little League Headquarters personnel were all white. Even more revealing, Little League charters allowed geographic boundaries to be drawn to 24 exclude minorities. Consequently, not only were southern teams segregated, the majority in the North was too. At supper Charles said to his wife, "We'll have four teams. Ralph Bradley, Jack Hatcher, Reid Simmons, and Gene Mullins have agreed to manage 'em." "Did you get sponsors?" Mrs. Litton asked. "The Lions and Kiwanis. The other two are thinking about it." That weekend, Litton met with his managers. After addressing several issues, Charles said, "There's one more thing. Our charter will allow us to exclude the black kids on the Southside, but if we do there's not enough of 'em to form their own league. I think we oughta include 'em." The others nodded their approvals. That decision was unusual, considering the times. Jackie Robinson had broken major league baseball's color barrier four years before, and he was still facing abuse from Brooklyn fans and players alike. Throughout the North, segregation—while not codified into law—was a fact of life. In the South, it was the law. The onlyquestionaboutincludingblacks arosewhenCharles metwith Tom Adams, Norton's Mayor, and Harold Bloomer, the Town Manager. "Charles, the state may not let us integrate those teams," Tom said. "People here may object too," Harold added. "The state won't get involved," Charles replied assuredly. "No one here's goin' to complain either. Norton's a unique place." Litton was correct—the little town was different. With a population of4,400 it existed because ofthe coal camps that surrounded it. Serving as a commerce center, Norton drew miners from Wise County, Dickenson County, Lee County, and even Kentucky. Among its many Mom and Pop stores, Norton had ten restaurants, most of which were beer halls. A state liquor store sat in the middle of town, and if you happened to arrive after closing, there was no problem. "The two cab stands bootleg," residents explained to thirsty visitors. "Jus' call 'em. They deliver." Norton also had three hotels. The Virginia Hotel served as a bonafide whore house, with the roughest, ugliest women in the county. Anyone walking by the place on a warm Saturday afternoon would likely see a girl or...