The shoulders of a giant

When Kareem Abdul-Jabbar retired from basketball, he had three NCAA titles, six NBA titles and Most Valuable Player honors, as well as 38,387 points ““ still the NBA’s career record ““ under his belt.

So when the audience opens up the Bruin alumnus’ new memoir, “On the Shoulders of Giants: My Journey Through the Harlem Renaissance,” for a discussion with the author and coauthor Raymond Obstfeld on Saturday at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, they’ll find that Abdul-Jabbar could have opted to be … a teacher?

“I’ll never forget the shocked look on (the reporter’s) face when I answered, “˜a history teacher,'” writes Abdul-Jabbar in his introduction about where his life could have led if it wasn’t for the NBA.

Abdul-Jabbar’s book ““ part sports memoir, part historical overview ““ centers on how the echoes of the Harlem Renaissance shaped the author’s life and career, from a kid shooting hoops in Harlem to, at 7 feet 2 inches tall, one of collegiate and professional basketball’s biggest legends.

Although the actual Harlem Renaissance ““ the black cultural movement of the ’20s and ’30s during which new art forms and political ideas were born ““ came before the author’s time by a decade, he still finds an importance in remembering what he sees as a pivotal period in black history.

“(The Harlem Renaissance) has become a forgotten era in the black community,” Abdul-Jabbar said. “It’s something that young black people should know about, and too many people don’t know about it.”

According to Abdul-Jabbar, the period finds its roots in the civil strife the black community faced during the early 20th century, forcing black political leaders to fight for the right of first-class citizenship.

“A black person could be denied a seat on a train or the right to vote, the right to start a business,” he said. “All these things were denied to black Americans.”

Even in the author’s childhood home, the heavy politics of the time were inescapable.

“In my family, my dad remembered his parents talking about (black political leader) Marcus Garvey. They discussed it at the dining room table,” he said.

Along with these ideas came a literature and body of artwork that was distinctly African American, including writers such as Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston, and musicians such as Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong.

For the young Abdul-Jabbar, black music was a constant, from the jazz recordings of Ellington and Armstrong that played in his house, to his parents’ performances with the Hall Johnson Choir.

“My dad was a jazz musician, and he really enjoyed music. He eventually graduated from the Juilliard School,” Abdul-Jabbar said. “The music was a very vivid part of my household when I was growing up.”

As for the state of black culture today, he says that hip-hop reveals a movement away from jazz music’s political and social roots.

For Abdul-Jabbar, hip-hop represents a distressing generational split within the black community away from jazz music, the older generation aligning with jazz and the younger generation knowing little about a connection with the past.

“It’s like a family where the parents don’t talk to their kids. … When we talk about hip-hop, all we are talking about are some recordings,” Abdul-Jabbar said. “There is no literature or art involved with it. … It’s a lot of crazy jewelry or swearing and saying misogynistic things.”

Abdul-Jabbar says that this split within the black community is one reason for his newest work.

“I’m just trying to write the book so people can understand what I’m about, for anyone that is curious,” he said. “I can’t judge them ““ it’s not my place to judge them. I do see a contrast, and I wanted to point this out.”

As for his return to Westwood, Abdul-Jabbar anticipates seeing a neighborhood that is both different from and familiar to where he lived and learned during the ’60s.

Abdul-Jabbar’s last visit to UCLA was in February to promote his memoir, and he found himself signing books for a line of fans that stretched from the BearWear section of the UCLA Store, through the double-door entrance to Ackerman Union and well past the Bruin Bear’s gaping mouth.

“Westwood was a quaint village, literally, just little shops, no high-rise buildings,” he said. “When I went there, the big deal in Westwood was the movie premieres. The Bruin, The Fox ““ those were movie palaces during the ’30s.”

And although the former UCLA center had considered becoming a teacher, he still remembers what it was like to be a student.

“I (had) a pretty good experience as a UCLA student,” Abdul-Jabbar said. “My first year at UCLA, they were on semesters. I like semesters better ““ fewer exams.”

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