And America watched in horror.
“Reginald Denny was just a victim of a time that exploded,’’ Davis says. “That’s what hurt me. You started to see innocent white people abused and viciously attacked for no reason.’’
In a matter of hours, Los Angeles was in flames, but the Dodgers’ game went on. This was a time when cell phones were considered a luxury, but news spread quickly. The crowd of 36,639 that evening dwindled to about 10,000 by that time the game ended. Fans were advised to stay away from downtown and not to travel south on the roads exiting Dodger Stadium.
“We were all watching this stuff on TV in between innings, and couldn’t believe what we were seeing’’ says former Dodgers first baseman Eric Karros, who would win the NL rookie of the year that season. “The game is going on, but you’re thinking, “Holy (expletive). And it’s getting worse and worse. You’re watching everything get destroyed.
“We’re in the clubhouse after the game, and we’re told that you can’t drive south. I was living in Manhattan Beach at the time, but all of the southbound exits to the freeways were shut down, and I couldn’t go home. It was crazy. I ended up staying at (teammate Brett Butler’s) house in Glendale for four days before I ever got home.’’
Former Dodgers starter Tom Candiotti said: “We were staying in Bel Air Crest at the time, right next to Tony Curtis, and I’ve never been so happy to live in gated community in my life. But we had guys like Kevin Gross and Bobby Ojeda who went home, and sat atop their roof with their hunting guns, just in case someone came to their neighborhood.’’
The Phillies, who won the game, 7-3, hurriedly left Dodger Stadium. Most of the players never showered. They simply got onto the team bus, in full uniform, with several players carrying bats to their seats. They had a police escort to their downtown hotel, and then ordered to stay in their rooms.
“I’ll never forget that as long as I live,’’ says former long-time Phillies broadcaster Chris Wheeler. “The bus pulled up onto the field, right next to the dugout, to get us. You never saw a bus ever come onto the field at Dodger Stadium. I’ve never been in as scary situation in my life.’’
“When we pulled out of there,’’ says Amaro, now the Red Sox first base coach, “there was literally smoke and fire on each side of the highway. I tell you what, I literally thought we were in Beirut. It was a war zone.
“I just remember it being so surreal, and also remember being very frightened.’’
Says Curt Schilling, the former Phillies ace: “The story I remember the most vividly was the next morning after they cancelled the series. We were in the lobby of the hotel ready to take a bus to the airport. They asked us, 'Do you want a police escort?' We said, 'Are you kidding? No. It would like putting a bullseye on the side of the bus.’
“I think it was the first time I ever questioned the integrity of our police force.’’
The city was shut down with a dusk-to-dawn curfew. Schools and day-care centers were cancelled. Malls closed. The bus service was shut down. Mail delivery was postponed. The National Guard called in 6,000 troops.
The next four Dodgers’ games were cancelled, rescheduled as doubleheaders in July. The Lakers’ next playoff game, against the Portland Trail Blazers, was moved from the Forum to Las Vegas, where they were trounced 102-76 and eliminated from the playoffs.
The Dodgers returned, and produced their worst season in 80 years.
“It was really hard to focus after that,’’ says Strawberry. “There was just so much tension in the city. I had never seen so much hatred for each other.
“Really, the game wasn’t important any more.’’
Strawberry and Davis waited a day, and then drove into South Central to help the healing process. They owned a custom interior store together and braced themselves for all of the damage.
They turned the corner at 84th and Broadway, looked up, and there it was, still standing, with even the front store window intact.
“Every store in the whole neighborhood was burned up,’’ Davis says, “but our store. They had so much respect for us, they didn’t allow any outsiders to come and mess it up.
“But the rest of the street, it was gone. We did everything we could to get down there as often as we could to help people out.’’
They also came up with the idea to bring King, who happened to be a former Dodger Stadium usher, to their season home-opener in 1993. They got him box seats with security, brought him into the clubhouse, and even introduced him to everyone after the game, trying to bring unity.
“You should have seen their faces,’’ Davis says, “you would have thought that he was the one who whipped 50 cops’ ass instead of him having his ass beaten. Teammates weren’t saying anything. Wives were holding their purses close when they saw him.
“Let’s just say it didn’t turn out the way I thought. That was made clear. Everything was just so black and white.’’
King was awarded two years later with a $3.8 million settlement but on June 7, 2012, was found dead at the bottom of his swimming pool, ruled an accidental drowning. He was 47. A federal grand jury returned indictments against all four officers in the King beating, and two of them, Koon and Powell, were sentenced in 1993 to 30 months in prison for violating King’s civil rights. LA police Chief Daryl Gates, who had left the police headquarters at the start of the riots to attend a fundraiser in Brentwood that evening, resigned two months later and died in 2010 of cancer.
And today, 25 years later, we still have racial tension, and civil unrest. We may have had a black president for eight years, but this still is a country divided.
“We all don’t look alike, act alike or talk alike,’’ says West, who grew up in West Virginia, and was drafted by the Lakers in 1960, “but we should all be treated alike. It was a learning experience for me, too, when I came to LA.
“I didn’t go to school with anyone who was black, and when I came into the league, I was so naive. My best friends became my teammates and roommates, who were black, and I learned all about respecting people, and different cultures.
“We should be embracing those differences today, but we don’t.’’
Instead, 25 years later, we still have so much distrust, fear and hatred that permeates our society.
“I didn’t get exposed to racism until I was in the minor leagues,’’ Schilling said. “When I got to the minors, people used the N-word as often as I used the word, 'the.’ It was startling. We had some die-in-the-wool rednecks that hated black people. We were in Charleston, S.C., one day, and there was a KKK rally in the town center. It’s like, 'These people live on same planet as me. Thank God I wasn’t raised that way.'
“But still, things like the 'Hands up, don’t shoot,’ thing bothers me. That whole movement is built on a complete lie. (Quarterback) Colin Kapernick disgusts me. The statistics don’t back it up. That’s not built on racism at all.
“There just needs to be a bigger price on betrayal with officers and elected officials.’’
“I look at America today,’’ says Strawberry, “and it’s a broken nation. It breaks your heart to see what’s happening today.’’
Maybe, says Davis, it’s time for the sports world to step up once again, become leaders, and show the way.
“We all have to do a better job,’’ Davis says. “If we’re down for cause, let’s be down for cause. Not just when a police officer is involved. Or if we don’t get a right verdict in the court system. It’s time for everyone to help.
“That’s the way we can make change.”
