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Authors: Abigail Keam
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specialty was the very young football players, but the sex was a sideline. I think the gambling was more important.”
“Gambling?” I echoed.
“Like I said, my bosses were wrestling promoters, so they had strong connections in big cities like Chicago and Atlanta. There were rumors in the black community that they had started taking orders to rig college games.”
I held my breath.
Leon wheezed, “They get players to really bump up the point spread and then get them to lose a important game.” He took a sip of his Coca-Cola and closed his eyes.
“UK has been investigated in the past for gambling in basketball, but I’ve never heard of this,” I replied.
“Like I said, no investigation was done,” Leon mumbled, slowing down like a worn-out record.
A sound escaped from my nose that sounded like snorting, a noise of disbelief.
Leon sat with his eyes closed.
I wondered if he had fallen asleep and glanced at Mrs. Todd. She shook his knee.
Stirring, Leon almost dropped his glass. “Sorry. Just taking a little rest.” He rubbed his grizzled cheek.
“So what happened?”
“Some of the older players squealed to Coach Bradshaw about what was going on. Coach Bradshaw was not going to let his boys be taken advantage of like that. Supposedly the boys in black and white paid my employers a visit. Feeling the chill, my bosses left town within a week.”
“Cops?”
“You bet.”
“What did you think of these men?”
“They paid me good money, way above the pay grade at that time. I guess it was hush money but they never bothered me. I was the wrong color,” chuckled Leon. “You’ve got to understand how things were in 1962. There was white man’s business and black man’s business. This was white man’s doings. I just kept my mouth shut and cashed my paycheck.”
“What about Rock Hudson?”
“Rock Hudson was Rock Hudson. I heard he liked going to the Gilded Cage. I never saw him do nothing but drink and talk to the boys. If he did more, I never saw it, but I heard stories, especially of one local boy he helped become a TV star in Hollywood.”
I handed him pictures that June had given to me of Arthur Greene and Aspen Lancaster. “Do you recognize these men being at the house on Lakewood Drive? Of course, they’re years older in these pictures.”
Leon got out his reading glasses and carefully perused the photographs. “Sure, I recognize ’em.” He pointed to one of the men, “This here is Arthur Greene.” He pointed to the other person. “That boy is Mr. Arthur’s best friend, Aspen Lancaster. They were regulars at the house.”
“No doubt?”
“I’ll swear on the Bible.”
“Would you be willing to make a legal affidavit?”
“Everyone involved is dead or near-dead. Whatcha want with this information?”
“I want to right a wrong and help a young boy.”
“Save a boy from being wronged?”
“Yes. Her grandson,” I replied, pointing to Mrs. Todd.
Leon studied Mrs. Todd and then said, “I’ll be here when you need me. I might even have some old pictures in boxes somewhere. I’ll have my daughter look.”
I turned to Mrs. Todd. “I think we just found our connection to Lincoln.”
13
I gave Shaneika several family albums with photographs of Arthur Greene at different ages inserted throughout. She was casually going to go through them with Lincoln and see if he recognized anyone.
Since I didn’t need to be there, I drove to Frankfort to see a good buddy of mine, Clay, who owned a bee supply business. I needed some wax inserts for super frames and replacement hive bodies. The place was packed with other beekeepers wanting their orders filled, so Clay waved me into his office to wait.
I limped into his office and hung my cane up on the coat rack. I was still not used to driving long distances and my left leg was beginning to throb and my hearing aid was about to slip off. After adjusting the hearing aid, I put my feet up on some boxes to rest. Leaning back in the
“Gambling?” I echoed.
“Like I said, my bosses were wrestling promoters, so they had strong connections in big cities like Chicago and Atlanta. There were rumors in the black community that they had started taking orders to rig college games.”
I held my breath.
Leon wheezed, “They get players to really bump up the point spread and then get them to lose a important game.” He took a sip of his Coca-Cola and closed his eyes.
“UK has been investigated in the past for gambling in basketball, but I’ve never heard of this,” I replied.
“Like I said, no investigation was done,” Leon mumbled, slowing down like a worn-out record.
A sound escaped from my nose that sounded like snorting, a noise of disbelief.
Leon sat with his eyes closed.
I wondered if he had fallen asleep and glanced at Mrs. Todd. She shook his knee.
Stirring, Leon almost dropped his glass. “Sorry. Just taking a little rest.” He rubbed his grizzled cheek.
“So what happened?”
“Some of the older players squealed to Coach Bradshaw about what was going on. Coach Bradshaw was not going to let his boys be taken advantage of like that. Supposedly the boys in black and white paid my employers a visit. Feeling the chill, my bosses left town within a week.”
“Cops?”
“You bet.”
“What did you think of these men?”
“They paid me good money, way above the pay grade at that time. I guess it was hush money but they never bothered me. I was the wrong color,” chuckled Leon. “You’ve got to understand how things were in 1962. There was white man’s business and black man’s business. This was white man’s doings. I just kept my mouth shut and cashed my paycheck.”
“What about Rock Hudson?”
“Rock Hudson was Rock Hudson. I heard he liked going to the Gilded Cage. I never saw him do nothing but drink and talk to the boys. If he did more, I never saw it, but I heard stories, especially of one local boy he helped become a TV star in Hollywood.”
I handed him pictures that June had given to me of Arthur Greene and Aspen Lancaster. “Do you recognize these men being at the house on Lakewood Drive? Of course, they’re years older in these pictures.”
Leon got out his reading glasses and carefully perused the photographs. “Sure, I recognize ’em.” He pointed to one of the men, “This here is Arthur Greene.” He pointed to the other person. “That boy is Mr. Arthur’s best friend, Aspen Lancaster. They were regulars at the house.”
“No doubt?”
“I’ll swear on the Bible.”
“Would you be willing to make a legal affidavit?”
“Everyone involved is dead or near-dead. Whatcha want with this information?”
“I want to right a wrong and help a young boy.”
“Save a boy from being wronged?”
“Yes. Her grandson,” I replied, pointing to Mrs. Todd.
Leon studied Mrs. Todd and then said, “I’ll be here when you need me. I might even have some old pictures in boxes somewhere. I’ll have my daughter look.”
I turned to Mrs. Todd. “I think we just found our connection to Lincoln.”
13
I gave Shaneika several family albums with photographs of Arthur Greene at different ages inserted throughout. She was casually going to go through them with Lincoln and see if he recognized anyone.
Since I didn’t need to be there, I drove to Frankfort to see a good buddy of mine, Clay, who owned a bee supply business. I needed some wax inserts for super frames and replacement hive bodies. The place was packed with other beekeepers wanting their orders filled, so Clay waved me into his office to wait.
I limped into his office and hung my cane up on the coat rack. I was still not used to driving long distances and my left leg was beginning to throb and my hearing aid was about to slip off. After adjusting the hearing aid, I put my feet up on some boxes to rest. Leaning back in the
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