I would sit in the
kitchen with him,
eating chocolate
cake and talking
about life, school
and football. We had
a shared passion for
chocolate cake and
my mother perfected
them so they were
just the way Cookie
and I liked — two
layers with jam in
between and a thick
layer of chocolate
icing all over.
Years later when
Cookie surprised us
with a visit, he
went directly to the
fridge and pulled
out a chocolate cake
my mom had baked
just a few hours
earlier.
Cookie was born May
25, 1935, in
Brackenridge, Penn.
His mom, Rose,
nicknamed him
Cupcake as a child;
his dad, Otto,
called him Doughnut.
They eventually
decided on Cookie.
He was a high school
football star in
Natrona Heights,
Pa., when Paul
Brown, coach of the
Cleveland Browns,
signed him to a pro
contract in the
spring of 1954. This
was a violation of
National Football
League rules,
however, because at
19, he was too
young.
Cookie felt
betrayed. The
contract was voided
and this also voided
the 108 offers he
had received from
university football
teams. That’s how he
wound up in Ontario
in the summer of
1954, playing for
the Sarnia Imperials
of the Ontario Rugby
Football Union.
Canada was unlike
the United States,
where racial
tensions were
building and where
black Americans were
soon to challenge
the old ways and
make history.
In 1953, my mom took
my sister and I to
New Jersey by train
to visit relatives.
We had a stopover at
Grand Central
Station in New York
City. I walked to
the washroom and
looked up to see the
sign over the
entrance that read,
“No Colored.” I was
only six years old,
but I knew it was
not right.
The Dutchmen would
let Cookie, who
played fullback,
drive their car to
promote the team. It
had a giant
Styrofoam-like
football on top and
was painted in the
Dutchmen’s green and
white colours.
Cookie would stop in
front of Smithson
Public School, near
Krug Street in the
Rosemount area, to
give my sister and I
a ride home, even
though we lived only
one block from the
school.
We were like
celebrities because
of Cookie. He would
referee football
scrimmages on our
front lawn after
coming home from his
practices, then hand
out apples to the
kids when we
finished.
My dad would take me
to Dutchmen home
games with tickets
for seats at the
50-yard line that
Cookie always
obtained for us. The
team played in a
stadium that was
located roughly
where the old city
hall clock tower now
stands in Victoria
Park.
I would count the
number of tacklers
trying to stop
Cookie and later
give him my analysis
of his play over
chocolate cake and
milk. He won the
Dutchmen’s most
valuable player
award for that 1955
season, which
complemented the
trophy he had
received as the most
valuable player with
the Sarnia Imperials
the year before.
A lady friend of
Cookie’s was very
persistent with many
phone calls and once
came to our house
looking for him. My
mom knew he didn’t
want the lady
bothering him so she
answered the door.
The girl refused to
go away and it ended
with my mom chasing
her down the street.
Linda and I watched
and laughed with
Cookie as we peeked
through the blinds.
Kitchener had a
population of about
35,000 in 1955 and
it was rare to see a
black person at that
time. I remember
that Cookie came
home one day and
told us he had been
downtown and that a
Mennonite lady had
stopped him on the
sidewalk, reached
for his arm and
rubbed the back of
his hand. She was
expecting his colour
to come off and was
amazed it did not.
In 1956, Cookie
joined the Hamilton
Tiger-Cats and in
1957 he helped them
win the Grey Cup.
When he carried the
ball he ran over
people instead of
going around.
Angelo Mosca, a CFL
legend with the
Tiger-Cats, compared
the 250-pound Cookie
to a train coming
through the
defensive line.
Cookie later played
for the Saskatchewan
Roughriders and
spent three seasons
with the Toronto
Argonauts. For the
1962 season he moved
to the Buffalo Bills
of the American
Football League,
where he continued
to excel. He played
just three years
with Buffalo, but
today remains the
team’s seventh
leading all-time
rusher.
Cookie also played
for the Denver
Broncos and the
Miami Dolphins of
the American
Football League,
which merged with
the National
Football League in
1969 to form today’s
National Football
League. The Denver
Police Department
gave Cookie a badge
in appreciation
after he calmed a
group of potential
rioters on the
streets of the
Colorado city. His
football
achievements and
life story are well
documented on the
internet.
Cookie lived with
our family in
Kitchener for just
one season, but he
would phone or visit
whenever he could
after that. We would
listen to his pro
games on the radio
or watch him on
television.
On one occasion he
visited with his
wife Gwen and their
young sons, Scott
and Jeffrey. We had
a dinner prepared by
my mother, then
Linda and I took the
boys to a nearby
park where they
played and caught
fireflies.
I remember another
time when he phoned
my parents one
evening from
California, telling
them to watch an
upcoming episode of
The Beverly
Hillbillies in which
he had made his
acting debut. On one
of his visits I was
proud to show him my
photo as a member of
the senior football
team in the
Kitchener-Waterloo
Collegiate yearbook
and he autographed
the page for me.
Sometimes he would
bring a teammate or
two when he visited
and they were
treated to a
home-cooked meal and
my parents’
hospitality. He had
great respect and
admiration for
Walter and Betty,
who had taken him in
during the 1950s as
if he was their son
and continued to
treat him that way.
When visiting my
parents, he always
said he was “back
home.” Kitchener was
always a special
place for him.
I later lived in
Toronto for 32 years
and Cookie would
phone or drop by
there to see me,
sometimes with
teammates or with
other friends.
In 1963, Cookie
joined Dr. Martin
Luther King Jr. in
the famous March on
Washington for Jobs
and Freedom. He was
accompanied by the
singer Diana Ross on
one arm and an
actress on the
other. He was
honoured many years
later when his name
was mentioned in a
Nov. 10, 2008
article titled Here
Are The People That
Obama Can Now Thank,
written by Andy
Dabilis, managing
editor of the New
Europe, a weekly
news journal. It
listed the names of
many people who had
contributed to the
U.S. civil rights
movement over the
years.
During a visit to
Kitchener in 1965,
Cookie described to
us how earlier that
year he had led his
black teammates in
boycotting New
Orleans as the site
for the American
Football League
All-Star game, being
held to honour the
top players of the
1964 season.
On his arrival in
New Orleans for the
game, he told us, he
had tried to wave
over an airport
cabbie for a ride to
his hotel. When the
driver, a white
male, didn’t
respond, Cookie
walked over to the
cabbie to ask him
why. The driver
didn’t say a word,
but pointed to the
cabs with black
drivers.
In a locker-room
meeting, other black
players told similar
stories about being
refused service in
New Orleans
restaurants, hotels
and bars. Cookie
rallied them to
boycott the city
because of the
treatment they were
receiving. The U.S.
Civil Rights Act of
1964 had recently
been passed, which
encouraged black and
white players alike
to support the
boycott.
As a result, the
game took place the
next weekend in
Houston,
embarrassing New
Orleans which was
seeking a National
Football League
franchise at the
time.
This was an early
civil rights victory
for black athletes.
Soon after, the
Super Bowl was
created and I
believe the boycott
was a factor in its
creation — so that
team owners and the
league could ensure
that control was in
their hands and not
with the players.
Cookie’s many
conflicts with team
owners and coaches
over the years
resulted when he
spoke out instead of
remaining silent, as
black athletes were
expected to do in
those years. He was
not afraid to voice
his concerns. He
left his mark in
both the record
books and in
American history.
It has been reported
Cookie turned down
induction to the
Canadian Football
League Hall of Fame
in Hamilton. But he
told me he never
actually said no to
being inducted.
John Agro, then
counsel for Canadian
Football League
Players Association,
had informed Cookie
about his nomination
to the hall, then
told him to be nice
to Jake Gaudar, then
commissioner of the
league. Cookie said
he would take it
“under advisement”
because of his
strained
relationship with
Gaudar. Today, the
hall of fame is
missing one of
game’s greatest
players and
continues to
embarrass itself by
not inducting him.
Today’s younger
generations do not
know about Carlton
Chester (Cookie)
Gilchrist. I
consider myself
fortunate to have
known him. I admire
and respect him
because he lived his
life standing up for
his beliefs — and
doing so in a time
when being coloured
meant you were often
denied basic rights
that most of us take
for granted. And I
sometimes wonder
what kind of
football and
financial rewards he
could have achieved
were he playing
today.
I saw Cookie in 2008
when he was in
Kitchener to work on
a personal project.
During his stay he
went to visit Bobby
Kuntz, his old
friend and teammate
from his days with
the Dutchmen, but
Bobby was too ill.
Kuntz, who died on
Feb. 7 this year,
was the toughest
player he knew,
Cookie said.
Cookie himself was
now 73 and had
survived a fight
with throat cancer
just over a year
earlier. He had lost
a lot of weight and
was walking
unsteadily on legs
that had once
powered him through
defensive lines. But
his memory of names
and past events was
sharp. His smile was
as big as always and
his voice was again
powerful.
After dinner one
evening at my home,
Cookie and I, along
with my youngest
daughter, Larissa,
enjoyed a chocolate
cake for dessert. I
encouraged him to
finish writing his
autobiography, which
would document his
life and experiences
on and off the
playing field. In
March 2009 he phoned
my parents and
mentioned he was
working on the book.
After a visit that
summer he returned
to Pennsylvania. I
did not know it
would be the last
time I would see
him.
Cookie was a
resident in an
assisted living
facility outside of
Pittsburgh when he
died early this
year. His nephew,
Thomas Gilchrist,
told reporters that
on Saturday, Jan. 8,
a nurse at the
residence found
Cookie, now 75,
sitting in a chair
and appearing
lifeless. When
Thomas arrived at
the residence, he
lifted the 140-pound
Cookie from the
chair to place him
on a bed.
Suddenly then,
Cookie came to life!
He and Thomas shared
a root beer. Two
days later, however,
Cookie died from the
cancer that had
spread through his
body.
My mother, who is
now in a nursing
home, cried when my
dad told her of his
passing.
It was if Cookie had
tried to gain a few
more yards of life
when death tackled
him a second time to
finally bring him
down.
Larry Scholtis is
a Kitchener
resident.