Article By Joshua Heron - jheron2@asu.edu

For five days in mid-April 1963, Dr. Clarence Jones snuck about five sheets of blank paper under his T-shirt into the Birmingham (Ala.) Jail to give to an inmate. The recipient was Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Arrested for leading a nonviolent protest against segregation, the prominent civil rights activist wanted to write his response to local white clergymen criticizing his protests and urging him to return to his hometown of Atlanta.

King handed the pieces of paper back to his attorney and speechwriter before he departed. Unbeknownst to Jones at the time, the writings became the Letter from Birmingham Jail.

That was one of the many stories Jones told former NBA player Allan Houston and his father Wade Houston during their two-hour interview in December in San Francisco. Jones talked about his life experiences, including serving alongside King during the Civil Rights Movement.

Allan Houston met Jones at a New York Knicks game on Martin Luther King Jr. Day in 2024. The Olympic gold medalist walked into the team’s executive suite and saw a group huddled around Jones

Allan introduced himself and shared about his relationship with his father, Wade, the first Black head coach in the Southeastern Conference. He told Jones that his father inspired him to create his social-impact brand FISLL (Faith, Integrity, Sacrifice, Leadership and Legacy).

Once Allan mentioned Wade, Jones raised his hand, signaling him to stop talking.

“Your father is Wade Houston?” Jones said. “I’m very familiar with you, your father and your story. Your father was an icon because Black coaches had to be better during that time.”

A shocked Allan Houston politely asked Jones to be excused and immediately FaceTimed Wade.

“Like a little kid, I brought the phone to Dr. Jones. He took it and started talking to my dad like they’ve known each other,” Houston said. “And as I watched this conversation, I said, ‘I wish I could video this, but he has my phone.’ “

Allan Houston’s wish came true less than a year later.

Allan Houston shared about his time interviewing Jones alongside his father and the impact it had on their relationship and his individual purpose.

Off camera, he told us that Martin would call him at 11 p.m. and they would talk until 3 a.m. Jones asked King, ‘When do you sleep?’ Jones affirmed that Martin was driven and motivated by the mission but sometimes told his friend, ‘Brother, I gotta get some sleep,’ when the wee hours approached.

Imagine talking to someone MLK trusted with those dialogues. Conversing with someone who challenged his thought process but was still inspired by him was impactful.

We went to dinner after our nearly two-hour sit-down. He shared more compelling stories for another hour, which made me appreciate my role in this world and purpose even more.

I started majoring in math at the University of Tennessee, but I wanted to graduate in four years, so I changed my major to African American Studies. I wrote my senior paper on Selma, where my father recruited basketball players. Now, here I am with a social-impact brand rooted in the values my father taught me and Dr. King’s legacy, talking to a man with a connection to the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma.

Because of that, what touched me the most was how Dr. Jones kept discussing the significance of my father and I’s relationship as it related to Black culture. A son honoring his father in love. Rare but possible. Rare but powerful.

‘I am so touched because I am sitting here and seeing a generational bridge,’ Jones said, referring to my father and I during the sit-down. ‘I am seeing and experiencing something I wish every young Black man should experience.’ It moved me when Dr. Jones also said, ‘I’m 93, but as a result of being here, I know I am going to live to be 95, 96, 97. Oh yeah, I’m inspired. I ain’t going nowhere. I’m not gonna leave this.’

His words illuminated the power of unity and community.

Dr. Jones and my father both knew Muhammad Ali. He lived two houses down from my childhood home in Louisville. Jones, as an attorney, helped arrange some of Ali’s fights.

When I was 2 years old, Ali visited our home. Before he left, my father asked him, ‘What was your toughest fight?’

In his third and final fight against Joe Frazier in Manila, Ali said he didn’t want to get off his stool in the 14th round. His trainer, Angelo Dundee, pushed him off the stool, and he went on to knock out Frazier in the 14th. The contest became known as the ‘Thrilla in Manila.’

‘I wanted to give in, but someone pushed me off the stool,’ Ali told my father.

A close friend of mine called me the other day and he said, ‘When we talk, it keeps me going.’ I added my dad to the call, and he shared Ali’s story. My friend cried. A few days before, he had thoughts of giving up. However, our conversation pushed him off his stool.

So, when Dr. Jones inferred that our interview rejuvenated him, I realized that though he might recognize that he’s in his twilight years, he’s inspired that those coming behind him care enough to keep this message of unity going.

I feel like it’s my responsibility to maintain the legacy of Dr. Jones and my father so that more young people can be inspired by the power of fellowship. With that fellowship comes accountability and support, as Jones offered King. FISLL strives to offer the same thing to the youth and their families.

My conversation with Dr. Jones only gives me more fuel and motivation to ensure the next generation doesn’t miss the significance of people like Dr. Jones.

We still have divisive issues plaguing this country. It’s important not to just say, ‘Hey, we recognize our Black icons this month’ and move on.

We have to continually exemplify these values of faith, integrity, sacrifice, leadership, legacy and the heart of God as we strive to honor the likes of Dr. Jones and those who paved the way for us to be here.

__________

Joshua Heron is a freelance sports journalist dedicated to humanizing athletes through his storytelling. He was born in New York but considers himself a true "yaad man" because of his Jamaican upbringing. If you get to know him well enough, "Wah gwan" is likely to become a part of your vocabulary.