sla book review: the last protest

the last protest

Reviewed by Caroline Collins, Gordon College, Barnesville, Georgia

MARCH 16, 2007 archive

The Last Protest

If you remember the 1960s, much of this book will seem familiar. And if you remember Lee Evans, you will appreciate a closer look at the man who once incisively described his event-- the 440 yard or 400 meter dash--as "a man's race…women and children not allowed"-a comic yet apt characterization.

From the outset, Frank Murphy's book faces a formidable challenge, locating itself in the complex intersection of sports, race, and politics in 1960s America. Murphy does an excellent job of depicting the ugly racial ferment of 1968, a critical time in American social and athletic history. He is equally adept at sketching the personalities and crucial roles of major players like San Jose State University professor / activist Harry Edwards and 1968 International Olympic Committee president Avery Brundage (whose stranglehold on American amateur athletics was by the 1960s a matter of record). Murphy provides a number of splendidly ironic touches, including Edwards' auspicious journey to New York "to help the New York Athletic Club celebrate its hundredth birthday" with a protest. The running sequences are especially strong, the races aptly described and compellingly rendered. Anyone interested in Olympic history, American sprinting, or the dynasty of sprinters coached by Bud Winter at San Jose State University in the 1960s will find this work absorbing.

The book unfolds almost in slow motion, beginning with Evans's personal history, culminating in the silent protest of black-gloved fists held high on the victory platform in the 1968 Mexico City Olympics, and winding down with the inevitable fallout and subsequent difficulties faced by the protesters in general and Evans in particular. Obviously, a great deal of exposition is needed here, and the story often takes on the impetus of a novel or play. At times, it seems that the major players are frozen in time, held in a specific moment for the author to illuminate. The effect is decidedly dramatic. Indeed, for those who watched the 1968 Mexico City Olympics unfold or those who studied them intensively, this book is doubtless an evocative, intense read. For those who don't already know the story, who weren't alive yet or were too young to register the full impact of the fantastic American performances in track and field at Mexico City, the book will be more difficult to follow. In its desire for suspense, the book runs the risk of losing the younger reader, who may have trouble discerning which events are most important. Early on, there is almost too much by way of suspenseful prelude. Without the cover illustration of a dark silhouette raising its fist, the younger reader might wonder whether Evans really gave the "Black Power" salute at the 1968 Olympics or not, and might even consult an older sports fan before finishing the volume, just to find out for sure.

Yet the book's strength lies in its refusal to be a totally orthodox history. Passionate, at times almost vitriolic, the volume seems an anomaly. It is not really a biography, and it hardly qualifies as a typical sociology, history, or literary text. It is one of those rare, valuable, wonderfully-written books that defy easy categorization. Still, at times, it seems remarkably unsure of what it wants to be. Sometimes, the chapter notes are sketchy and far from scholarly; at other times, they are quite detailed. In its struggle with its own identity, The Last Protest misses a chance to educate the younger generation about a critical time in American history. Those who have only the now-iconic photographs and maybe a name or two to go on would benefit from a slightly more direct retelling of what happened in Mexico City in 1968--either within the unfolding narrative or in a timeline of significant events near the introduction.

In the volume's conclusion, Murphy subtly notes Evans's significant role as a trailblazer whose push for racial equality changed the social landscape of America. U.S. track athletes and coaches now interact with each other in ways that were made possible, at least in part, by the 1968 Black Power salutes on the Olympic medal stand. Yet, Evans remains almost a brooding presence here, a shadowy figure in his own story. We are treated to meticulous notes from his training diary, given details of every injury and defeat. At times we are told how he felt, or how he feels now, in retrospect. Surprisingly, Evans seldom speaks for himself here, and when he does, he typically addresses such matters as training and racing. His absence is all the more puzzling near the end, where we learn that he is in fact still actively engaged in his sport, coaching at the college level. Perhaps in the former "Jim Crow" South, even after all these years, discretion seems the better part of valor. To be sure, Evans is hardly obliged to act as a spokesman or air his views in exhaustive detail. Perhaps readers simply long to hear the voice of the survivor, the man whose life and athletic career were so dramatically shaped by the crucible of 1960s America, arguably the most turbulent time in our racial history. The reader's desire, admittedly, may not be fair: Evans's courage, dignity, and determination have certainly earned him the right to silence. And Evans was ever one to speak with his running more than his words. Somehow, though, in a book like this one, we expect his knowledge and experience to be translated into a kind of wisdom; we even hope to partake of such wisdom. Those who recall his description of the 440 as "a man's race" will certainly miss his unique brand of eloquence. Whatever the author's intention, Evans's apparent silence looms conspicuously, and the approach is somewhat reductive. Ironically, in a book that bears his name, the extraordinary Lee Evans almost seems relegated to a bit part--hardly a fitting role for one of the three men who dramatically seized the world's attention on the Olympic stage nearly forty years ago.

to the top of this page