By Darren Sands
He has a sturdy voice, and when he’s not prudent about being politically correct, his speech is even musical. He labors willingly to bring himself back to Hempstead. A rumbling sigh starts his speech because for him, coming back in memory means coming back to the yelling and screaming of legendary coach Howdy Myers. It means coming back to Epsilon Sigma, the bars, and the reality that there were folks who didn’t especially care to see a black boy from New Jersey in a Hofstra College uniform.
Doug Lewis, a former football standout, has not set foot on campus in over four decades-but you can find him in the pictures.
Dozens of photos line the walls in the Unispan room of the University Club; all of them telling the story of a predominately white college experience in the 1950s and 60s. The pictures are not a reminder of the truth that the college was still young, and like many of its students, still looking to define its place in the world. It is here that Lewis’ picture is the most conspicuous; in a place that embraces tradition. But Doug Lewis hasn’t been seen in person, on campus, in over 40 years.
His counterparts-men like Mike Manzer, Chet O’Neill, and Lou DiBlasi-bring their grandchildren to games at Shuart stadium and wait in the wings as current players sign autographs. They talk about the old days, and perhaps would all agree, that being around the University has helped form priceless relationships throughout the years. It seems that Lewis wants to leave little or no indication that he went to school here, played football, and graduated soon after.
“I’m sure it was tough,” Lou DiBlasi ’61 began, as he recalls that Lewis was the only African-American player on some of those teams. His jovial, conversational tone changes to a lesson in perspective. “How would you like to be the only white guy on an all-black team?” he said.
DiBlasi, who played on the infamous “Tiny 20” squad in 1956, cannot know what it was like to be the only black kid on an all-white team in the 1950s, but he can imagine and it bothers him that anyone could just be gone and forgotten. DiBlasi said of the 33 or so players from the undefeated 1959 team, 28 were in attendance last October.
Lewis was not there to show pictures of his grandchildren. There were no stories about his days as a brother of Epsilon Sigma, nor did he get to tell his favorite Howdy Myers story. The result is a song about regret and apology; and the music is riddled with excuses. Those teams share a remarkable story of togetherness that Lewis is not a part of. The 2004 anniversary rekindled that story.
With a question Lewis begins to speak proudly of a life, and collegiate career that has he has purposely not revisited in over 40 years.
“Is George Dempster still around?” he asks.
It doesn’t surprise Lewis that Dempster’s name rests on the side of the building that houses the School of Communication. “He was always a big shot anyway,” he added. An onslaught of names ensues-names that read like a “who’s who” in the Pride Club. Mike Manzer. Chet O’Neill. Louie DiBlasi. Lewis, class of 1963, wants to make it clear that despite his race that he, too, was one of the guys. Four decades have passed. Today, he is one of the guys that the “guys” never hear from.
He views life after he graduation much like he views his college life–rather plainly, and with much self-deprecation. Lewis graduated with a degree in Public Accounting and worked at Lockheed Electronics for 25 years. He met his wife Carol when they were in elementary school, and they married in 1960, while Doug was still at Hofstra. Lewis says without reservation that for some reason, his oldest son Doug Jr. didn’t like going to Hofstra; he transferred to a school in California, and has been there ever since. Their other son, Darren, lives in Rahway. The aviation giant got rid of it’s electronics division, and they eventually joined the Martin Marietta Corporation. (forming Lockheed Martin) Lewis worked around what he calls “small companies” in northern New Jersey before retiring. No pretense. He simply worked just as hard as he played, and now he enjoys his retired life running after his grandson, “doing some things” both in the garden and on the computer. He stays away from golf courses as much as possible.
“I was sorry to miss it,” Lewis recants. In between piercing silences that last too long, he begins to try to explain why he hasn’t made an effort to visit his alma mater in 40 years. He said that eye problems forbid him to drive at nighttime. He had even talked to Chet O’Neill in the time leading up to the event, and all but convinced himself that he was going to be there. He did not make it because of what he describes as a “private family matter,” and later described it as personal reasons.
He still resides in northern New Jersey. His friend and high school teammate James Robinson, who lives in Georgia, decided to give him a call, and a couple of high school buddies had an old fashioned mini-reunion a couple of years ago, down in Georgia. Staying away from the University is what Lewis has chosen for himself. Coming back would have to be his choice, too.
Charlie Adams and Charles Sullivan have since worn his old No. 88 in recent years. Adams, now of the Denver Broncos, had an outstanding career at Hofstra, he learns. Sullivan, a surprise talent from New York, is a freshman from New York with amazing hands and deceptive speed. Lewis listens intently. You wonder if he wishes that he was a part of it all. You wonder if he wishes that he made it to the 45th anniversary in October. He knows the Garay boys, he says, also from Rahway. So he is not totally disconnected from the University, he contends. Daniel will be a senior next year, and perhaps that will be reason enough for Lewis to make the trip. He is invited to meet this scribe, who offers a tour of how much the campus has changed. He knows that he’ll see people that he hasn’t seen in what he describes as “many many moons.” On homecoming weekend next year, you might see him at the game, looking around, having realized how proud he is.
He doesn’t speak. Then finally.
“I can’t make any promises,” he said. “But it would be nice.”
James Robinson, called “Buzzy” by his old friends, is quick to say that “Dougie” was the best athlete of the group. Lewis played a little shortstop. He was a two-guard, but football was what was going to earn him a trip to Rutgers University. Lewis jokingly said that “Buzzy” forgot to mention that Hofstra beat James’ school, Upsala College every time the duo played each other in their college years. Lewis’s high school coach William Burns was able to help Lewis get a scholarship to Rutgers because his brother Frank was an assistant on the coaching staff. (Frank Burns subsequently went on to become the head coach at Rutgers from 1973-1983. He went 78-43-1) Lewis was elated to be going to school close to home, where his family and friends could see him play, and then the impossible happened.
The coaching staff was fired. Scholarships were up in the air. Players scrambled to as best they could and William Burns helped Lewis pick up the pieces. He had his brother, Frank, talk to Howdy Myers about a kid from Rahway with good size, great hands, and great speed. Myers agreed to meet Lewis for an interview. That was how Lewis became a student and athlete at Hofstra College. Lewis once caught ten passes, then setting a record for most receptions in a game against Kings Point. Teammates today, widely regard him as one of the best athletes on the team.