‘God blessed me’
Herb Douglas weighs in on his status as America’s oldest living Olympic medalist, what it is to be 101 and his affection for Pittsburgh
Onceyou’ve had 100birthdays, any returns of the day would figure to arrive with relatively muted celebrations, if they arrive at all, but yes, thereare exceptions.
For Pitt icon Herb Douglas, and by the people wholove him so dearly, birthday No. 101 was staged withas much necessary hooplaas a Lawrenceville skillednursing facility would allow.
“Alot of people came in,” Herb said when I visited this week, “asking a lot of dumbass questions.”
Hey, I thought, that’s my job.
Ashe wades into the triple digits of a life so incredibly wellspent, Herb darts in and outof some cantankerous moments, as you’ll see, but being back in Pittsburgh and carryingthe title of America’s oldest living Olympic medal i stare just a couple of the factors that still fill him with joy.
“On Herb’s 101st birthday, wehad a small party in the activityroom from noon to 1,”said his longtime friend Mark Nordenberg, the former Pitt chancellor. “In addition to cake, that hour featured two Zoom calls, one arranged by the residents of the Philadelphia condominium where Herb and his wife, Minerva, lived for the last 30 years, and which now sits on astreet named for him. The second was arranged by Linda Wharton Boyd — who livesin Washington, is past p resident of Pitt’s African American Alumni Council, andis a part of Team Herb and Minerva (the group of familyand close friends that meets every week to take stock of how they are doing and what more we can do to support them). There were dozensof people on each call, including Olympic gold medalists Charlie Jenkins, Chip Jenkins, Roger Kingdom and Edwin Moses. There also werea number of Pitt track greats, including Jerry Richey, Bryant Salter and Arnie Sowell.”
Alist of notables who turned out in person on March9 would overflow this space, but they included community leaders and some of Herb’s fellow contributors to theg reat history of Pitt athletics, Sam Clancy, Donna Sanft and E.J. Borghetti to namedrop a few.
“Thisis my home,” Herb said.“I cherish Pittsburgh more so than anything. When I looked and saw Point ... it was,‘ Yes, I’m home. Where do I want to go as my life expires? Pittsburgh.’”
Itwas a mere 75 years ago summer that Herb became thefirst Pittsburgher to win an Olympic medal, taking the bronze in the long jump (then the broad jump) at London’s Wembley Stadium. Among his American teammates in 1948was one Mal Whitfield, a swift Texan whose elegant stride and races Herb can describe to this day. Mal’s daughter ,the CNN weekend anchor Fredricka Whitfield, visited Herb this month, as well.
“Shewas one of the best interviewers I’ve ever had,” Herb told me. “She’s excellent on TV. I could see in (Nor den berg’ s) eyes that he had something to tell me about her, too.”
That news was that Fredricka’s son John Glenn had been accepted at Pitt.
“Inever saw a mother so elated,” Herb said.
Atthis stage, there isn’t a lot Herb Douglas hasn’t seen, but some recent losses have stung him hard.
“I lost one of my close friends, Franco Harris,” he said wistfully, “and you know Harrison Dillard (another Olympic teammate) dieda couple years ago.”
Herb directed me to a poster in his room, a photo montage that seemed to pull together all the notables of his ground breaking life.
“I’ve got them all on there, Bob Costas, Franco Harris. They put all of this stuff up for me— all this Hail to Pitt stuff.”
I’ve written about Herb
previously, talked with him onthe phone a few times, but thiswas the first time I’d ever been with him.
“You ever interview such anold-ass man?” he asked.
“Well, let me think ... 101? No.”
“Sowhat do you want to know?” he wanted to know.
“Well, how does 101 feel? Is it different than 100?”
“Howdo I feel?” he barked. “Howdo you feel?!”
I took that as confirmation ,if not terribly necessary, that I look older than Herb. He looks as though he could getout bed and race you down Fisk Street just for the
hell of it.
“Gotany advice for someo new ho’ll soon enough turn 70?”I said.
“Seventy!” he said. “I thought you were 90!”
“Somedays,” I said. “Some days.”
Itwas wonderful to see that Herb Douglas still laughs easily at 101.
“You can’t make it in this life unless you have help,” he said.“God blessed me.”
And through Herb, all of us.