A First for the Cavaliers Still Endures
"Shortly after the Cleveland Cavaliers closed out an emotional playoff series against Detroit, I met a Cleveland police officer who said he was a friend of a friend who knew the legendary Robert Bingo Smith -- the original Cleveland Cavalier.
Of all the Cavalier players who have come and gone in the organization's 37-year history and for all the vitality LeBron James has brought, Bingo Smith remains the Cavaliers' soul: the light-skinned black man with the huge Afro, reigning jumpers from downtown Cleveland.
If only the Cavaliers had Bingo Smith now. Someone who could knock down jumpers against the San Antonio Spurs. Smith said they do. ''I think Sasha Pavlovic has to get more attempts,'' he said in a telephone interview yesterday morning, a few hours after his beloved Cavaliers had lost a third consecutive game to San Antonio. ''I just want them to win on Thursday,'' he added. ''At least show some respect for the team making it there.''
What I really wanted to know was how Smith was doing. I'd heard horror stories, everything from his being homeless to having life-threatening health issues to having been sent to jail. I hate that sort of blues song, especially when it involves someone who was one of the most popular players of his era.
When the Cavaliers came into existence in 1970, Smith was the first player they picked in the expansion draft. He spent nine full seasons in Cleveland. In the 1975-76 season, Smith, along with Nate Thurmond, Austin Carr and Coach Bill Fitch, were the architects of the Miracle of Richfield, with Cleveland winning its division with its first winning record, 49-33, and upsetting the Washington Bullets in the first round in its first appearance in the playoffs.
Today, Smith, 61, lives in a one-bedroom apartment in a low-to-moderate-income senior citizens development in Cleveland. He has survived a heart attack, two strokes and failed businesses. He has been bowed, but he is nowhere near broken.
''I've never been in a homeless shelter,'' he said. ''I've never been destitute. Even if everything went bad, I got friends who would take care of me, friends who are like family to me.''
Smith shot his last N.B.A. jumper with the San Diego Clippers in the 1979-80 season. The Cavaliers retired his jersey in 1979. He drifted in and out of jobs for a few years, embarking on a typical, though then not fully explored journey of discovery of a former professional athlete.
''I wanted to separate myself from basketball in a way,'' Smith said. ''I didn't want people to think that that's all I was -- a basketball player.''
In 1986 he went to jail for 10 days for failing to pay child support.
He went into two major businesses -- a car-rental company at the Cleveland airport and a machine parts company. Each did well for a short time and then failed. He had a heart attack while he was running the car-rental business.
Along the way, he and his first wife divorced. He moved out of the couple's home -- a handsome colonial in a nice part of the city -- and into a condominium. He began eating poorly and drinking and eventually moved in with his oldest daughter in Akron, Ohio.
Asked about his businesses, Smith said: ''I lost them but at least I tried; I lived my dream. Then I got sick and things kind of went downhill from there.
''But I'm doing good now. I've had all the big houses and all the big cars. Your memories and your dreams, when you get old -- maybe that's all you have left. But if they're good memories and good dreams, you're all right.''
Smith has five children, four grandchildren and one great-grandchild.
In 2005, his oldest child, Andre, pleaded guilty to voluntary manslaughter and tampering with evidence as part of a plea deal and is serving 10 years in prison.
That year, Campy Russell, the former University of Michigan and Cavaliers star, accepted a position as the Cavaliers' director of alumni relations. Russell, who has known Smith since 1974, went to Akron and encouraged Smith to move back to Cleveland. The organization found him his current home.
We talked about the need for Smith and older players like him to interact with younger players, in relaxed social situations. Older players truly do have a lot to offer: they have been there and done it. The dollar figures may change from generation to generation, but the illusions, brought on by notoriety and money, do not.
''We're not involved with young players like we should be,'' Smith said. ''I know there's a different era, different trains of thought, but they can learn from us, just by being around us and we can learn from them.
''When you're 22 and things are going well for you, because you've worked to get there, you think it's going to last for a lifetime. It don't. Even if you stay healthy, it don't last for a lifetime. You have to adjust your life to situations around you.''
Bingo Smith has enjoyed a great basketball life -- from being a high school star in Memphis, to having a great college and N.B.A. career.
He still plays a fair amount of golf and talks with fellow residents about everything from politics to sports to the parking lot's needing to be repaved.
''I'm at a place in my life where very little do I need,'' Smith said. ''I have good friends, good companionships. I'm O.K.''
That's what I wanted to hear; it was certainly good to know that the great Bingo Smith is O.K.
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