Marshall was one of NFL's early movers
Decades before Bill Veeck's penchant for publicity or Charlie Finley's flair-to-be-different attitude or George Steinbrenner's rants or Jerry Jones's sideline visits . . . there was George Preston Marshall.
He was the flamboyant millionaire who introduced the National Football League to Boston, then promptly took it away when he deemed the city, its fans, and its sports pages unworthy of such a privilege. A complicated man, he was seen by some as a pompous hothead; by others as a caring man whose legacy includes a foundation in Washington that benefits children; by still others as a competitor whose great vision helped shape the phenomenon that is pro football.
Perhaps no one summed up the enigma that was Marshall quite like famed Washington Post sports columnist Shirley Povich. "He was widely considered one of pro football's greatest innovators -- and its leading bigot," wrote Povich, who described the Washington Redskins team colors under Marshall as "burgundy, gold, and Caucasian."
Indeed, while all of his fellow owners had long since broken the color barrier and signed black football players, Marshall refused to yield. Being a fixture in a city that was alive with the civil rights movement during the Kennedy Administration, Marshall faced heat from Secretary of the Interior Stewart Udall. In a New York Times article written by David Halberstam, Udall expressed shock that the Redskins "were the only team in the NFL with no Negro players" -- to which Marshall responded: "If Udall would get us Lennie Moore [then a standout with the Baltimore Colts], we'd use him."
Marshall wanted his Redskins to play in a stadium that was on land that came under Udall's jurisdiction, and the ultimatum was simple: Integrate the team or find another home field. Marshall relented and set his sights on Ernie Davis of Syracuse as his No. 1 draft pick. Davis refused to play for the Redskins, so Marshall traded the rights to Cleveland in exchange for future Hall of Fame receiver Bobby Mitchell, who in 1962 became the first black to play for the Redskins.
When asked about reports that he wanted to buy the Boston Braves National League baseball team in 1935, Marshall lobbied for public support. "I'm a nut on accommodations. You can bet we're going to look at the customers first," he said. Then Marshall was asked about Babe Ruth, who had joined the Braves that summer to finish out his storied career. Ruth may been over the hill, but he was still . . . well, Ruth.
Yet Marshall bellowed, "I want no part of Ruth in Boston," and with that, his bid was rejected.
Not that it ever seemed to bother Marshall, for he was a passionate football guy, arguably as important to the success of the NFL as George Halas, Art Rooney, or Wellington Mara. It's just that he lacked their decorum, what with his infamous charges down to the sideline to lecture players and coaches. Ray Flaherty, who coached the Boston Redskins to an Eastern Division title in 1936, put a halt to Marshall's antics and wouldn't answer the phone that the owner had installed on the sideline.
Instead, Flaherty urged Marshall to direct his energies toward other aspects of the game. Marshall did just that, and is credited with introducing elaborate halftime shows and colorful team uniforms, and for devising divisional structures that paved the way to a playoff system that is the NFL backbone.
Marshall loved the nightclubs and being on the society pages. He was married to Ziegfeld Follies girl Elizabeth Morton for a few years in the 1920s, then to silent screen star Corrine Griffith from 1935-58. Corrine Griffith, who gave birth to Marshall's two children, shared her husband's zest for the NFL and wholeheartedly supported his decision to move the Redskins from Boston to Washington in 1937. The move paid instant dividends, because with the drafting of Sammy Baugh, the Redskins stormed to the NFL championship that season. Marshall was an instant hero in his hometown, even more so when the Redskins recorded four more division titles and another NFL championship before 1945.
In 1963, a year after he relented and signed black players, Marshall became ill, and while he maintained 52 percent ownership, the day-to-day control of the Redskins was shared by a trio of men, most notably famed trial lawyer and Washington power broker Edward Bennett Williams. When Marshall died in 1969 at age 72, Williams continued to run the team, but by 1974, Jack Kent Cooke assumed majority ownership.
With the Boston sportswriters who taunted the Redskins owner in the 1930s and continued to do so even after he had moved to Washington, Marshall had a field day. He invited them to visit him in Washington and attend Redskins games. He knew these writers embraced baseball and cherished being "in a baseball town," but Marshall would lecture them.
"Baseball's not the national pastime," he told Eddy Gilmore of the Associated Press for a story that ran in a Sunday Globe. "Football's the national pastime."
The year was 1940.
Bombastic, yes, and his racial slant is indefensible. Yet Marshall had a true assessment of the NFL's grip on the American public, decades before it was gospel.
