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by Al Golub

Muhammad Ali visits Modesto, California 1971

 

When I heard that Muhammad Ali was going to speak in Modesto, I immediately started asking Darell Phillips, the Modesto Bee’s Sports Editor, to give me the assignment.  It wasn’t until the next day that I checked the photo schedule and saw I was on nights that week, so the assignment would be mine anyway.  Lesson learned; check schedule before asking about any assignment.   Photoshelter

I identified with Ali as a peer, not only because he is only eight months older than I am, but also because his controversial, witty, and wild statements were compatible with my own outspokenness.  I loved his bodaciousness.

My father loved boxing.  I learned to love it too, not quite at his knee, but when I was pretty young.  Dad and I both liked Ali from his early years when he was still known as Cassius Clay.  My dad had some doubts about him when he renamed himself Muhammad Ali, but his enthusiasm for Ali’s boxing style never waned.

As for my own attitude, I admired Ali’s courage and determination in sticking to his convictions.  When he joined Elijah Muhammad and the Nation of Islam, I was a little concerned, so it was reassuring to me when he joined a Sunni Muslim mosque in 1975.  I respected his stance on the Vietnam War and the use of the draft during those years, even though I had served four years (and eight days) in the U.S. Air Force and would have served in Vietnam if called.

To say Ali was entertaining during the press conference would be an understatement.  He disarmed the more conservative and critical reporters with quick, clever answers.  When asked about fighting George Foreman, the reigning heavyweight champ, Ali responded, “He ain’t in my class.  Foreman fighting me would be like putting him in Vietnam with a B-B gun.”

Darell and I got to spend some down time with Ali in a motor home when he was a little more laid back.  In that more private setting, he was straightforward and honest without any hype.  He talked a lot about being a role model for others and working to get his career back on track.

When we arrived at the SOS, Tom Mellis gave Ali a whirlwind tour of the Sportsmen of Stanislaus Club.  While they were looking at the Olympic-sized swimming pool, Ali said to Tom, “this place is so nice, I think I will build me one.”  I chuckled under my breath, but I don’t think Tom got the joke.

Ali listened carefully to the reporters’ questions, but didn’t always answer them in a serious way.  He put on his bigger-than-life persona just like putting up his guard in a fight.  In this image, he appears to drop his guard just as he would do in the ring to see if someone would take a wild swing or, in this setting, ask an easy question, so he could counterpunch with a quoteworthy response.

During the tour, he checked out the piano and the pool table.  He seemed really familiar with the pool table.  During a receiving line with bigwigs like Julio Gallo, he just changed the subject every time something serious was asked.

On the subject of his March 1971 boxing opponent, Joe Frazier, to whom he had lost one fight by decision Ali said, “Man he hits hard, so hard.  He hit me so hard in the fifteenth, my kinfolk back in Africa felt it.”  A few years later, Ali would turn the tables, beating Frazier in two fights in two years.

Mel Williams, a community leader, contacted Ali and got him to visit the Modesto African-American community.  Mel got the word out with only a couple hours notice.  As Ali walked into the King-Kennedy Community Center, several hundred people swarmed around him.

In the Center’s multipurpose room he signed autographs and hugged babies.  Young and old alike, everybody wanted to touch the champ.  He didn’t have to say much, just his presence made the crowd happy.

Rev. Monroe Taylor, Director of the King-Kennedy Community Center, watches as Ali signs an autograph.  Mel Williams is standing in the back.  The Center, built with funds from the city and a federal antipoverty program, was barely two years old at the time.    Photoshelter

 

by Al Golub

John V. Tunney California Senatorial Campaign 1970

Last week I blogged my 1968 experience with national politics and campaign trains in my blog “Robert F. Kennedy 1968.”  A little more than two years later, I got the opportunity to put into action what I had learned when I was given the assignment to cover 1970 U.S. Senatorial candidate John V. Tunney.   The press arrangements required reporter Fred Youmans and me to meet the train twelve miles south of Modesto in Turlock.  We identified ourselves to Tunney’s campaign staff and security and got on board the historic observation car known as the “El Dorado” — built in 1924 by Union Pacific and previously used by President Franklin D Roosevelt.  I quickly got to work photographing candidate Tunney and actor Burt Lancaster.  All too soon, we were in Modesto.  Photoshelter The minute I jumped off the “El Dorado,” I hurried to get close under the observation deck.  Tunney was rousing the crowd with a rip-roaring speech and they were responding with enthusiastic cheers. Tunney’s security guards were out in force because there were demonstrators from opponent Senator George Murphy’s campaign.  For me, the guards were easy to deal with because I followed their rules and checked in with Tunney’s staff on the train.

While on the ground, I used my newly acquired Nikkor 20mm f3.5 lens to get good images from the east side of the train.

Burt Lancaster, 1960 Oscar winner for “Elmer Gantry” and politically-ahead-of-his-time Hollywood star, was easy to photograph in the “El Dorado.”  I also spotted Rafer Johnson in the “El Dorado” but didn’t get to photograph him before I had to go. (for more on Rafer Johnson, see last week’s blog “Robert F. Kennedy 1968.”)

Before I left the “El Dorado,” I got a chance to shoot behind the candidate.  This 105mm shot into the audience shows the face of Stanislaus County in 1970.

Took this basic talking head shot of Tunney talking to Fred Youmans.  You should always shoot lots of portraits and talking head images.  These images or mugs always become more important later.

I jumped up on the step below the observation deck and held on with one hand while photographing the crowd with the other.

The protesters and the supporters seem to be having a little pushing match with their campaign signs.

By the time I got over to the west side of the train, Burt Lancaster was speaking.  According to the briefing, this meant the train was going to pull out of the station soon.

While I was behind Tunney on the observation deck, I used the old hands-over-my-head with the 20mm to make this image.

As planned, Ted Benson picked me up at the train station and gave me a ride south to Turlock to pick up my car.  This image was taken a couple years later of the two of us walking together after a similar campaign event.  Can’t remember who gave us this transparency.  The photographer documented our appearance.  Need I say more?