DIY History | Transcribe | Campus Culture | Cecile Cooper newspaper clippings, 1966-1987 | 1985-05-31 ""Simon Estes: Opera's answer to the slam dunk"" Page 2

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Cecile Cooper newspaper clippings, 1966-1987

1985-05-31 ""Simon Estes: Opera's answer to the slam dunk"" Page 2

Continued from Page 1
percent effort." particularly as a black athlete coming along in the 1950's, "when things weren't quite what they are now."
 It is important to hear Estes give witness to the value of sport, because of the many negative faces of sports in recent weeks: Denny McLain, a former Cy Young Award winner, has been sentenced to jail for racketeering among other things; Joe Peptone, once a New York Yankee, has ben arrested on charges of drug possession: the basketball program at Tulane University has been abandoned because of a gambling scandal, and a grand jury in Pittsburg 
has investigated possible drug contacts with professional athletes. 
Sports were once proclaimed a totally positive influence on people, but now there is the leveling awareness that sports do not redeem all who play them. Still, lives are transformed by dedicated coaches, sharp competition, proper recruiting and scholarships, and the right doors opening. 
There is Fletcher Johnson, the former Duquesne and European basketball player, now a cardiologist in Nyack, N.Y.; Wilbert McClure, the 1960 Olympic boxing champion, now a psychologist in Boston; Larron Jackson, the former guard with the Denver Broncos and Atlanta Falcons, now a minster at a major church in Brooklyn, and there is Simon Estes, the opera singer from Centerville. 
His grandfather had been born a slave in the south; his father had migrated from Missouri to work the deep coal mines of Iowa, and Estes learned to sing in the Second Baptist Church. He played all the sports, and was thrilled to be able to high-jump 6 feet 2 inches, 1 inch higher than his own height, "which I thought was pretty amazing at the time." 
His main sport was basketball. He believes he was one of the best players in town for his age, but not every coach let him start. 
"My junior varsity coach, Bill Jerome, didn't have a prejudiced bone in his body," Estes says. "He taught me to give 110 percent, particularly on defense. He knew that was where games were won. But I also learned that sometimes 110 percent was not enough."
Working as an assistant janitor while in high school, Estes would let his friends into the gym on Saturday, which nearly got him dismissed but for the intercession of the superintendent, E.W. Cannon. 
He received a small athletic grant at Iowa, but played only as a freshman. After that, with academic aid and a full-time job, he was a pre-med major for three years, a theology major for a year, and a social psychology major for three more years, accumulating credits and integrating the university's Old Gold singers. 
One day his voice teacher, Charles Kellis, now in New York, took him aside and played records "by Caruso, Leontyne Prince, Eileen Farrell, and I loved them, absolutely loved them. I had no doubt after that what I wanted to do." 
It has not been easy. European audiences would accept a black man singing a duet with a white woman more readily than American audiences would, and Estes has accumulated most of his experience abroad. 
"I'm sure it was the same way in sports back then," he says. "If we're equal, you get the job. If I"m a little better, you get the job. If I'm a lot better, I get the job- and they under-pay me. It's getting better now. I'm not a bitter person, but just as in sports, there are few black agents, critics, conductors or members of management." Since his debut at the Met in 1982, Estes and his wife. Yvonne Baer, a teacher and native of Switzerland, and his two daughters have bough a home in suburban New Jersey. He keeps up with American sports via the International Herald Tribune wherever he is, and the other day he and his favorite coach, Bill Jerome shot some baskets out in Centerville while filming a documentary for a West Berlin television crew. 
"It felt good to handle the ball again," said Estes, who tries to exercise via walking and isometrics. He also watched his diet because he is staring 200 pounds in the face, and he does not smoke or drink- lessons he learned from his early days in sports. 
"In music we say, 'You sing on the interest, not on the principal," Estes says. "That means you've got some basic ability, and you learn to invest it, to have your reserve. But I still give 110 percent, and I'm always prepared for every performance. Bill Jerome, my coach, taught me that."

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Continued from Page 1 percent effort." particularly as a black athlete coming along in the 1950's, "when things weren't quite what they are now." It is important to hear Estes give witness to the value of sport, because of the many negative faces of sports in recent weeks: Denny McLain, a former Cy Young Award winner, has been sentenced to jail for racketeering among other things; Joe Peptone, once a New York Yankee, has ben arrested on charges of drug possession: the basketball program at Tulane University has been abandoned because of a gambling scandal, and a grand jury in Pittsburg has investigated possible drug contacts with professional athletes. Sports were once proclaimed a totally positive influence on people, but now there is the leveling awareness that sports do not redeem all who play them. Still, lives are transformed by dedicated coaches, sharp competition, proper recruiting and scholarships, and the right doors opening. There is Fletcher Johnson, the former Duquesne and European basketball player, now a cardiologist in Nyack, N.Y.; Wilbert McClure, the 1960 Olympic boxing champion, now a psychologist in Boston; Larron Jackson, the former guard with the Denver Broncos and Atlanta Falcons, now a minster at a major church in Brooklyn, and there is Simon Estes, the opera singer from Centerville. His grandfather had been born a slave in the south; his father had migrated from Missouri to work the deep coal mines of Iowa, and Estes learned to sing in the Second Baptist Church. He played all the sports, and was thrilled to be able to high-jump 6 feet 2 inches, 1 inch higher than his own height, "which I thought was pretty amazing at the time." His main sport was basketball. He believes he was one of the best players in town for his age, but not every coach let him start. "My junior varsity coach, Bill Jerome, didn't have a prejudiced bone in his body," Estes says. "He taught me to give 110 percent, particularly on defense. He knew that was where games were won. But I also learned that sometimes 110 percent was not enough." Working as an assistant janitor while in high school, Estes would let his friends into the gym on Saturday, which nearly got him dismissed but for the intercession of the superintendent, E.W. Cannon. He received a small athletic grant at Iowa, but played only as a freshman. After that, with academic aid and a full-time job, he was a pre-med major for three years, a theology major for a year, and a social psychology major for three more years, accumulating credits and integrating the university's Old Gold singers. One day his voice teacher, Charles Kellis, now in New York, took him aside and played records "by Caruso, Leontyne Prince, Eileen Farrell, and I loved them, absolutely loved them. I had no doubt after that what I wanted to do." It has not been easy. European audiences would accept a black man singing a duet with a white woman more readily than American audiences would, and Estes has accumulated most of his experience abroad. "I'm sure it was the same way in sports back then," he says. "If we're equal, you get the job. If I"m a little better, you get the job. If I'm a lot better, I get the job- and they under-pay me. It's getting better now. I'm not a bitter person, but just as in sports, there are few black agents, critics, conductors or members of management." Since his debut at the Met in 1982, Estes and his wife. Yvonne Baer, a teacher and native of Switzerland, and his two daughters have bough a home in suburban New Jersey. He keeps up with American sports via the International Herald Tribune wherever he is, and the other day he and his favorite coach, Bill Jerome shot some baskets out in Centerville while filming a documentary for a West Berlin television crew. "It felt good to handle the ball again," said Estes, who tries to exercise via walking and isometrics. He also watched his diet because he is staring 200 pounds in the face, and he does not smoke or drink- lessons he learned from his early days in sports. "In music we say, 'You sing on the interest, not on the principal," Estes says. "That means you've got some basic ability, and you learn to invest it, to have your reserve. But I still give 110 percent, and I'm always prepared for every performance. Bill Jerome, my coach, taught me that."