March 3, 2014
Mccall video By Nick Fequiere
Taft has a history as a Jim Crow town. In decades past, it was in the best interest of blacks and other minorities to get out of town before dark. As a sign about 38 miles west of the town once allegedly stated, “Don’t let the sun set on your head in Taft, nigger.” On Memorial Day weekend in 1975, 13 black athletes attending Taft College were forced out of town by a violent group of white residents who were looking for trouble.
It was a Sunday afternoon when Joe Rhone, Jerry Cooper, and Dennis King were involved in an altercation with a large group of whites which was eventually broken up by the police. The three men were walking to Taft College a little more than an hour later when they were once again accosted by the mob.
Rhone, who was carrying a shotgun within a pool cue case, sustained a cut to his hand in the chaos. He began to swing the case, using it as a club. The shotgun accidentally discharged and seriously injured one of the assailants, Doug Henry. The shock set off by the firearm provided the three men with a chance to escape to the Taft College dormitory. Although Rhone was later arrested for his part in the incident, he was soon absolved of all charges after the police ruled the shooting accidental and in self-defense.
Soon after the second incident, the mob had grown in size and surrounded the dormitory, hurling obscenities such as “Kill the niggers!” Unfortunately, some of the blacks who had not left for the weekend had to be escorted to the police station for their own safety. The police even went as far as to place the blacks in jail cells to keep them separated and protected. The students were eventually escorted to Bakersfield, 40 miles away, for further security.
Dennis McCall, then editor of the Daily Midway Driller, collaborated with Mike Fink to write a scathing editorial denouncing the attack on the black students as “a sickening reminder of our earlier days when a local faction of the Ku Klux Klan tried to force this city to accept its version of ‘justice.’” McCall went on to state that “the national tragedies of the last decade have taught some of us very little. The ideal of equal rights means nothing when ignorance and superstition prevail.” He also predicted that the mob would pick up where it left off with its fear mongering and vitriol.
Despite the departure of the local blacks and their refusal to return to school, whites who supported their peers became the victims of profanities and harassment. The following Tuesday night, a pickup truck slowly rolled by a group of students outside of the dormitory when a voice amongst the group shouted, “If you want trouble, we’ll give you trouble!” The truck stopped, and then reversed until it was in front of the group. Two young white men exited and another man, who was previously unseen, hopped out of the back brandishing a firearm.
After warning students to get inside, McCall moved across the street in an attempt to gain a better vantage point from which he could properly observe and report. He soon realized the gravity of his error. Rick Riddick, 22, targeted McCall and yelled out “Hey, you’re the bleep-bleep we’re after. You’re the nigger-lover that put that article in the paper.”
Riddick launched himself at McCall, and the latter took off running. After slipping on some sand, McCall was taken off guard and slammed into his car, punched in the temple, and beaten as he lay on the ground as students watched. They were unable to help, being that they were held at gunpoint by one of the other men.
For the next few nights, McCall and his wife lived in fear of their house being firebombed or their lives being threatened. He recollects sleeping with a softball bat on one side of the bed, and a fire extinguisher on the other. Despite the constant threats, McCall maintained his resolve and pursued charges against his attacker. Riddick had already lost his job and pleaded with McCall not to press charges. Although McCall refused the request, he then drove to Maricopa to speak with the presiding judge and he asked for Riddick to not be thrown in jail for the sake of his wife and two children. Riddick pleaded guilty and was sentenced to pay a $250 fine as well as cover the cost of McCall’s medical bills and car repairs. Rather than being grateful for his preserved freedom, Riddick instead insisted that he had been cheated. He was quoted as saying, “He told ’em not to put me in jail, and when someone has that much stroke, you know what that can do.”
It was McCall’s editorial that placed a spotlight on the undercurrent of racism coursing through Taft’s veins. The piece brought brief national attention to the situation and even generated a federal grand jury investigation, allowing for a team of arbitrators to step in and restore peace. Even Joe Jares from Sports Illustrated spent three days in Taft, working on a detailed account of the events.
When asked if he thought of himself as a hero for publicly condemning the racist beliefs and actions of some his fellow townspeople, McCall answered with a resounding “No.” He simply saw it as his obligation to expose and place a magnifying glass over an egregious injustice. There was a sentiment among some members of the community that McCall only wrote the editorial as publicity for himself and a springboard for his career. He refutes that notion to this day, but admits that he had received a lucrative job offer in San Francisco which he turned down.
Dennis McCall’s family has been in Taft for three generations. His father was raised in this town, just like his father before him; it begs the question of how he managed to avoid adopting prejudiced principles like many of those he grew up around. He credits his parents for his strong sense of morals and ethics. He remembers his dad’s passion for sports, a topic which often times transcends race and instead focuses on the content of one’s character and physical ability. McCall’s father was a kind man who loved football as well as track and field. He existed in a time in which Jesse Owens dominated his Olympic competition in front of Adolf Hitler, adamantly disproving the notion of a master race. These kinds of events were the ones that left an impression on the McCalls and their sensibilities. Despite his humble demeanor, many who know Dennis McCall know that he truly is a hero. His resolve and commitment to journalistic integrity are an inspiration, and he has become a pillar of the community over the years. McCall, now in his seventies, still maintains a youthful personality, and he is a friendly, humorous, and wise man. These days, he can be found covering Taft College’s sporting events.
Despite Taft’s checkered past being littered with intolerance, that image has certainly improved in recent decades. Taft College is a warm and inviting environment in which students of all backgrounds can earn an education. The town has to come to echo that sentiment and move on from what it admits was a mistake, due in large part to McCall’s insistence that the events of that fateful Memorial Day weekend not be swept under the rug. Although Taft continues to progress, it is important to not forget the past, rather, let us learn from it.
But the pitching core shouldn’t be the only thing that opponents fear. Maiocco says that TC baseball fans should expect runs. “We’ve been swinging the bat really well,” says Maiocco, and in just five games, Maiocco’s hitters have already touched home plate 31 times.
