Breakthrough: The 1957 Noblesville Millers’
State Basketball Tournament Adventure.
Written by John E. Tener
Noblesville in the 1950’s was, and remains, the
The new high school, with its sparkling new bascounty seat of Hamilton County, the county located
ketball gym, in retrospect seemed to energize the
due north of Marion County, with its large capital
town’s adult population. And, in retrospect, the new
city of Indianapolis. It was small in population (apgym furthered a quiet but revolutionary change onproximately 7000), Protestant, Republican, consergoing in the attitudes and ambitions among certain
vative, overwhelmingly White, quietly segregated,
boy basketball players, including me. The gym imand enjoyed a comfortable prosperity anchored by
mediately became the location for the town’s first
the largest employer, a Firestone Tire and Rubber
hosting of the area’s Sectional basketball tournacompany plant. Surrounding farms grew the mament. For many previous seasons, the Sectional
jor crops of corn, soybeans and hay, and much of
was hosted by arch-rival Sheridan in its comparathe town’s small businesses supported the farmtively small, 2200-seat band-box gym. The Secing industry, which included a huge grain elevator
tional consisted, in the mid-50’s, of some twelve
in the south end. (My
small high schools in
father owned a steel
Hamilton and Tipton
farm building distribCounties, with most
utorship--corn cribs,
(e.g. Walnut Grove;
dryers, quonset huts,
Prairie
Township;
silos). The Noblesville
Windfall; Sharpsville;
public school system
Jackson Central; Jefconsisted of three
ferson Township) long
grade (or elementary)
since consolidated out
schools (First Ward;
of existence. NoblesThird Ward; Federal
ville school officials,
Hill), a junior high
with perhaps uncanny
(Second Ward) and
foresight, sold adult
a single high school.
season tickets in five
Graduating classes
year packages for a
numbered typically in
bargain price of $50,
the 80’s to 90’s.
and reserved the first
Noblesville
was
nine rows of the new
Noblesville 1957 Sectional Champs
mostly known for its
gym’s
permanent
outstanding football teams in the late 40’s and
bleachers for adult and student season-ticket holdearly 50’s. Its basketball teams were regarded
ers. The proceeds went toward purchase of rollas mediocre at best, having never had a winaway bleachers on the opposite (or east) side of
ning season since World War II, and never havthe new gym. (My parents, Grace and Alan Tener,
ing won even a Sectional tournament since 1929.
were proud purchasers of a 5 year package, and
High School basketball games were played in the
kept them for many years after I graduated and
National Guard armory, a drab, limited- capacity
moved away).
arena just off the County Courthouse Square on
My own path to “Breakthrough” glory began in
Logan Street, across the railroad tracks that ran
grade school. Long before the popularity of televialongside the west side of the square. In 1955, a
sion, or televised sports, I discovered a seeming
new high school opened, with a “mammoth” new
fantasy world of organized sports through reading.
gymnasium seating over 3200. The gym saw its
On June 13, 1948, at age nine, I fell out of the
first game played on January 6, 1956 against longonly standing tree in a large field across the road
time rival Tipton High School. Noblesville lost, 65from my boyhood home on the edge of town. I
45, committing a not-unusual 35 turnovers.
was playing Tarzan, and “missed a swinging vine.”
31
The fracture required a pin inserted into the left
forearm, and a plaster cast on my entire arm for
some four weeks. While my two brothers frolicked
and played that summer, I was limited to reading,
and discovered the amazing world of sports magazines, including “Sport, “Who’s Who in Baseball,
”Baseball Digest,” The Indianapolis News Basketball Record Book,” and “The Sporting News.” The
Indianapolis Star sports section became a morning ritual, especially basketball columnist Bob Collins’ “Shootin’ the Stars.” I also fed my growing
passion for sports news with supplements over the
years from the local Noblesville Daily Ledger, and
mailed copies from my grandmother of the Cleveland Plain Dealer (where I was born). (I still have
the original 1954 “Issue One” of “Sports Illustrated”). And I discovered and fell in love with Coach
Claire Bee’s “Chip Hilton Sports Books”, with its
eponymous high school sports hero Chip Hilton
winning games with last minute heroics and overcoming numerous moral dilemma as well. Howard
M. Brier was another boys adventure writer, often
serialized in Boys Life magazine, that my parents
lead me to appreciate.
Propelled by fantasies, I suppose, of sports
“heroism,” I was encouraged and supported by
my parents who provided me not only books and
sports magazines, but also basketballs, baseballs
bats, and gloves, and most importantly, a wooden
backboard built by my father on the front of our
driveway garage. I spent countless hours thereafter, right through high school, playing sports at
every turn, especially basketball. (And avoiding
many chores that I should have been doing). In
junior high, I “fell in” with a small, mixed bag of
similarly inspired boys who always preferred basketball to chores, and even at times to girls. While
I, along with most other athletically inclined boys
in Noblesville, went out for football, I was too thin,
and probably too restrained, to be a success. So,
in spite of a losing basketball culture in town, three
of us who became the senior “stars” of the ‘57
“Breakthrough” Regional Champs, took to playing
basketball on outdoor courts year-round, primarily the outside court of Second Ward junior high.
(Full disclosure: after the new high school opened,
the old high school became the town’s junior high.
It had an old-fashioned gym with few spectator
seats, but natural lighting with numerous sky lights.
It became commonplace for some of us to “sneak
in” the old high school gym on weekends and
holidays just to get in some playing time). If Great
Britain won the Second World War on “the playing
fields of Eton,” if General Douglas MacArthur won
the War in Pacific “on the plain at West Point,” then
Noblesville surely achieved its “Breakthrough” on
the hot asphalt court of little Second Ward school.
While the school, and the basketball court are long
removed, replaced by a pleasant, unadorned city
park, the lessons, the friendships, the love and affection learned and shared there will forever mark
a turning point in Noblesville’s history.
And those lessons! How many, how varied, how
ingrained they became, and how infinitively valuable they proved to be over our lifetimes.
First, it was on the Second Ward outdoor court
that I, and those few other basketball friends and
fellow dreamers, came into direct contact, for the
first time in our lives, with African- American boys
of our age. That this should have happened at
all in a small Indiana town in the 50’s was highly
unusual, indeed perhaps miraculous. For Noblesville, like almost all small towns in Indiana and
throughout the Mid-West, was segregated, with
largely unwritten but nonetheless quite formal restrictions placed on the daily lives of Blacks residents (or “colored” as the term was commonly
used). I came to understand, from my growing
and intimate friendships with Black classmates,
what the social restrictions were. They were pernicious, often random, illogical, demeaning, hurtful. They included, among other things: the local
public park swimming pool (where I swam most
every summer day and later became a life guard)
was off-limits to Blacks. The two local drug stores
refused to serve Blacks at the popular soda fountains (one drug store instructed its employees to
provide paper cups for Blacks wishing to buy a
soda to be taken outside). Black high school girls
were denied the opportunity to try out for coveted
cheerleader positions (ironically while their biological “colored” brothers and relatives played on
the high school varsity sports teams themselves).
Blacks, of course, were restricted as to where
they might live through a variety of means (e.g.
“red-lining,” real estate agent “steering,” racially
restrictive covenants in residential deeds). Interracial dating was a taboo, as was much other social interaction as well (The high school principal
on occasion advised male black students not to
dance with female white students at the weekly
canteen socials, or after-game gatherings in the
high school). Black girls could join the Girl Scouts,
sell Girl Scout cookies, but were denied the op-
32
portunity to attend Girl Scout summer camp, partly
financed by the cookie sales themselves. The local Diana Movie Theatre was segregated; Whites
sat on the main floor, Blacks were required to sit in
the cramped balcony.
.And yet, on Second Ward’s outdoor court, almost another world existed, one that had no “colored restrictions,” and, it should be emphasized in
retrospect, no adult supervisors; in fact, no adults
were present at all. We young men, Black and
White (or “spooks and pecks” as we sometimes
called our differing appearances, and occasionally used to choose five-on-five teams), just came
to play pick-up basketball. And during the many
long and happy hours we spent on that Second
Ward outdoor court, we came to learn lessons
about ourselves, about each other, about how life
can be lived happily without the need for artificial,
societal-imposed restraints that frequently hinder,
disrupt and eventually engender dislike and even
hatred.
Second, on that fabled Second Ward outdoor
court, we learned how to govern our individual and
collective behavior, to follow our own self-imposed
rules, to “call a foul if you commit a foul”. We
learned, mostly, to share the ball, to help out on
defense, to pass to the “hot hand,” to not gripe, to
laugh at ourselves, to bear down when the game
was on the line, to simply appreciate each other
and the gift each other presented just by being
there. We learned to pick “even sides” if we could,
to make it more competitive. We learned to include youngsters standing around “to make it 5
on 5” (some of those “youngsters” went on to set
Noblesville school scoring records in later years,
and one a subsequent illustrious coaching careers
to boot). We learned about what later was called
“male bonding,” to push each other physically, to
touch with affection each other, to simply be grateful to be included, and, if lucky, to occasionally hit
the winning shot, or block an attempted winning
shot. We learned, of course, most of the fundamentals of basketball--how to pass, how to guard,
how to block out, how to shoot jumpers, hooks,
lay-ins, set-shots. And, as I later applied it, to take
the risk of missing the winning shot, because, you
might, and with confidence, just make it.
Third, we learned to develop confidence (yes,
swagger perhaps), to overcome resistance, to
make comebacks especially, and to just keep
playing, never letting your “dobber down,” or your
teammates. We learned the truth that “practice
Noblesville vs South Bend Central
does make perfect,” that the more you play, the
better you get. We learned that what we could
barely manage six months ago now seemed easy.
And we, each in our own way, learned the beauty,
the ballet if you will, that is basketball motion, the
running, passing, jumping, turning, dancing that
makes playing basketball so entrancing.
Fourth, we, without quite realizing it, developed
deep friendships that lasted our lifetimes. And we
created wonderful, enduring, fantastic memories
of our times together that, in truth, were rarely if
ever matched by whatever later successes and
accomplishments came our individual ways.
And, lastly, the lessons we learned on that simple Second Ward outdoor court about race relations endured as well, at least for some of us. For
those times in the early 50’s happened to coincide
with the growing national acceptance of Blacks in
sports throughout the country, especially in basketball. Jackie Robinson broke the color line in major league baseball just nine years earlier. Chuck
Cooper, Earl Lloyd, and Nat Clifton had broken the
color line in the NBA in 1951. Indiana University,
under the leadership of the legendary and courageous President Herman Wells, broke the Big Ten
“gentlemen’s agreement” that barred Blacks from
playing basketball, and rather quietly enrolled future All-American Bill Garrett in 1947. Indiana
high school basketball was soon to see perhaps
the greatest high school basketball team in its history during our junior year, with the undefeated,
all-Black Crispus Attucks Tigers, lead by the incomparable Oscar Robertson. That we occasionally, quietly “hosted” on weekends players from Indianapolis Crispus Attucks allowed we small-town
33
Noblesville dreamers a chance to play the best
talent around, which as history later proved in the
1957 tournament “Breakthrough” adventure, made
all the difference.
That we small-town, mostly all-White Noblesville summer basketball players were able to attract the talented Indianapolis Black high school
players was due in large part to one particular, immensely talented Black family in Noblesville. The
dynamic Baptist minister, Reverend Ernest Butler, his strong and wise wife Mary, and his four
athletically and intellectually gifted sons, were a
force in Noblesville and in the Black community for
some ten years. (Noblesville in the 50’s had some
25 Black families). Reverend Butler, in addition
to his Baptist church pastorate, held two other full
time jobs, including working a shift at the Firestone
plant, and operating a janitorial service in downtown business offices. The three equally gifted
Butler daughters were, like all girls in Noblesville
and elsewhere, denied the chance to play athletics
altogether. (One daughter--my age--went onto college, and a master’s degree, and later a national
ranking in senior women’s tennis). The appeal
of playing against talented Black players, drawn
to Noblesville by the Butler family, was irresistible, and proved fortuitous as the “Breakthrough”
tournament later demonstrated. That it provided
additional opportunities for us White boys to occasionally play on Indianapolis outdoor courts was a
dream come true. (I later came to understand that
another draw for Indianapolis area Black players
was the physical attractiveness of many Noblesville Black girls who would occasionally “wander
by” the Second Ward court). The Butler siblings
later achieved singular successes in a wide range
of fields, including graduate degrees and careers
in law, education, school administration, accounting, college administration, and the ministry. The
patriarch, Reverend Butler, was frequently honored in later years for his pioneering efforts in
the civil rights movement. It is probably an understatement to say that, but for the Butler family
influence, the “Breakthrough” adventure would not
have happened.
On Wednesday, April 25, 1956, the Noblesville School Superintendent, Dale Swanson, announced that a new basketball coach has been
hired. Glen Harper, the young, 27 year old former head coach of little known but undefeated
New Ross High School near Crawfordsville, was
named to succeed Corey LeCount, who resigned
after two losing seasons as head coach. Harper
was chosen over some fifty applicants for a job
many considered a dead-end and career-ender.
Harper had compiled an outstanding record at
New Ross, where he won 77 games and lost only
20, taking his small school most recently to the
Sectional and Regional championships before losing to state powerhouse Lafayette Jeff by a mere
six points in the Semi-State. Harper was inheriting
a Noblesville team made up of very talented football players; indeed, the football team began a 29
game winning streak that fall of 1956 by losing its
opener, but going 9-1 thereafter, and going undefeated for the next two seasons as well. (It turned
out that the only major injuries in Harper’s first season were to me, the only non-football player on
the team. I broke my wrist in a pre-season fall,
and severely pulled a back muscle before the later
Regional tournament).
Harper brought to our senior-lead team in the
fall of 1956 something we had not experienced
before--a supreme confidence that inspired winning, a record for achieving it, and a light but very
firm touch both in practices and especially during
games. A calm, almost understated demeanor
belied a very strong, very competitive spirit that
pushed each boy quite beyond his previous often
self-imposed limits.
The team, and Harper, established its new identity with a splash in its very first game, against
long-time and dominant arch-rival Sheridan High
School. In a stunning upset, we beat the Blackhawks on their home court 54-51, handing their
legendary coach (and school principal) Larry
Hobbs his first defeat by much larger Noblesville
in seven years. We went on to win eleven more
games that year leading up to the Sectional tournament, the first winning season in thirteen years
(although we unaccountably lost the last four regular-season games to finish 12-8).
The subsequent Sectional tournament championship, Noblesville’s first in 29 years, remains
perhaps the most remarkable of that entire tournament saga. Noblesville was picked by most
observers as, at best, the third-best team, behind
Sheridan and little, but undefeated Windfall. While
we breezed past our first two opponents (little Jefferson Township and little Jackson Central), the
championship game against undefeated Windfall
proved to be the ultimate validation of our years
of self-directed outdoor basketball competition on
the Second Ward school court. For years after-
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ward, we three senior starters would reflect not
only on how the game was actually won (down 16
points beginning the eight minute, fourth quarter,
and winning by four, 58-54), but why we were able
to mount that comeback against, of all things, an
undefeated team. We three (Jack Clark, Jan Robinson, myself) came to realize that we had opportunities to play, consistently, against superior talent
for long periods of time in the summers, and we,
mostly out of sheer love of the game, took advantage of those opportunities.
It would be overstating it to say the later Regional championship in Kokomo, and the victory
in the Ft. Wayne Semi-State against sixth-ranked
Marion were anti-climatic. But it remained for each
of us that the Sectional come-back victory forever
changed our understanding and appreciation of
the value of team-work, practice, selflessness, and
shear perseverance in the face of adversity. And
it was only in later years, when I came to read the
actual play-by-play account of that final, 16-point
comeback, that I realized my own “Chip Hilton”-like
role in the victory. Clark and Robinson were our
leading scorers and best two players for the season, and played leading roles in the fourth quarter
comeback (Robinson drew a fifth foul on Windfall’s
star player mid-way in the quarter, and scored 28
points for the game; Clark intercepted a Windfall
pass and passed the ball for the go-ahead points).
But I, the other senior, scored
two straight field goals at the
end to twice tie the game before the Clark steal and assist.
In the frenzy that followed the
victory, and the later tournament games, I never focused
on my own role until years later. My “Chip Hilton” fantasies
came to be realized. Dreams
really do come true.
All five of the starters went
on to play some college basketball, with one (Dave Porter) achieving notable success
at Indiana University playing
alongside the future NBA AllStars Dick and Tom Van Arsdale, and Jon McGlocklin.
While each of us achieved
varying degrees of success in
later life as parents, husbands,
employees, friends,
none
of us managed to top the magic, the excitement
and the satisfaction that we shared during those
four weeks of the “Breakthrough” tournament adventure. So much has, of course, changed about
Indiana basketball since the 50’s, with the consolidation of schools, the growing commercialization of high school athletics generally, the role of
televised sports, and, for traditionalists like me,
the elimination of the winner-take-all, one class of
play. Everything changes; nothing stays the same
we are taught. Change is the only constant. And
yet, naively perhaps, one hopes that with the inevitable change comes a renewed effort to preserve
that which was good, and fulfilling, and worthwhile.
Much of about the “Breakthrough” adventure was
good, and worth preserving and renewing. And
most especially those formative moments, without
the presence of adult coaches and adult supervisors, when “pick up games” can be pursued, when
boys can be boys and can learn the self-taught
lessons that are indispensable to growing up and
becoming mature adults.
Author of this article is John E. Tener, A.B. DePauw
University 1961; J.D. Indiana University 1968. He
played basketball at Noblesville High School, and DePauw, and was one of three seniors on the 1957 Regional Champsionship Noblesville Millers. Mr. Tener is
a retired lawyer living in Newton, Massachusetts.
Noblesville 1957 Regional Champs
35