Early in 1975, when he was a star basketball player for the Portland Trailblazers, I met Bill Walton. He had come to San Francisco to appear at a press conference to support his friends Jack and Micki Scott, who were accused of harboring SLA fugitives Bill and Emily Harris and Patricia Hearst.
The Harrises and Hearst were underground at the time and the subject of a massive FBI hunt.
I was a freelance writer working on a story about the case for Rolling Stone.
At 6’11” with red hair and infectious grin, Walton stood out in any crowd. Not only was he a fantastic athlete, he was also an outspoken social activist opposed to the Vietnam War and advocating for civil rights.
I spent time with him in cafes and while he played a pickup game with kids on a playground. He was gracious, funny and articulate.
He invited me to visit him at his home in Portland to continue our conversations. While there, I met a constant stream of visitors, including Cesar Chavez. When it became apparent that the Scotts were not going to be pleased when my story came out, Walton nevertheless stood by me.
“I think you’re going to write this no matter what,” he told me. “that’s what journalists do.”
Howard Kohn and I published “The Inside Story” not long after this conversation.
Over the course of my career, I met many famous people, including many prominent athletes. If you’d ask me, I would have expressed mixed emotions about some of them.
But not Bill Walton. I would never have anything but good words to say about this man. He was a man of principle, on and off the court.
Bill died Sunday at the age of 71, surrounded by his family. May he Rest In Peace.
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