The tour guide was talking to the wrong audience when asking if anyone knew the name on the tombstone. Not one of the teens raised their hand.
The guide should have waited a few more minutes to hear a group whose Spanish was punctuated with “Joe Louis, Joe Louis.” Or the Elizabethtown, N.J. scoutmaster who told his kids of the “Brown Bomber.” Or see the Native Americans whose long feathers highlighted their colorful Vietnam Veterans vests when surrounding the large brown stone nestled under the long outreached branch of a pin oak tree.
Twenty-five years after Joe Louis (Barrow) was interned not far from the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, fans streamed by the former heavyweight champion’s grave while returning from President Bush’s Memorial Day speech.
“Where valor lies,” said Bush twice of Arlington National Cemetery, where thousands spent Monday wandering amid the 300,000 graves on a warm, moist afternoon when summer finally proved its arrival.
Where many leftthe eternal flame of slain leader John F. Kennedy with tears in their eyes.
Where his younger brother, Robert F. Kennedy, rests nearby after meeting the same fate only to be unfortunately remembered by oh too many as simply the “RFK” where the Nationals play.
Where generals and admirals rest aside PFCs and chaplains on the rolling hills taken from Gen. Robert E. Lee for his decision to side with family over the union.
Louis was a popular stop among many ages and nationalities. The boxer’s fists on the back of the tombstone appeared waving towards passersby. The Bomber’s popularity needn’t fade with time. It only needs revisiting.
A single pink rose lay atop the marker as a symbol of remembrance. It was a stark contrast to the large rose bouquet sent by the widow of the soldier lying aside Louis, a private better remembered as the actor Lee Marvin. Pam Marvin simply noted “Semper Fidelis” on the card to her husband, now gone 19 years. A sentiment echoed across the green landscape.
Louis surrendered four prime years of his career during World War II when saying upon enlisting in the Army that U.S. societal problems were “nothing Hitler can fix.” The man who avenged his only loss prior to a belated post-retirement return to pay back taxes donated more than $100,000 to the war effort while fighting 96 exhibitions before two million soldiers. He exited as a sergeant after traveling more than 21,000 miles to promote morale among comrades.
Promoting morale was part of Louis’ life to the end. He lifted the hopes of many African Americans with every defense of the title held from 1937-49. He lifted the dreams of all Americans when beating the Nazis’ poster boy Max Schmeling in 124 seconds. Louis helped anyone with a $20 bill in the lean times of the Depression. He ended his days as a Las Vegas hotel greeter when dying in 1981 at age 66.
President Ronald Reagan lifted the restriction of only career military or those dying in combat and spouses may be buried at Arlington. Only 70 have received such an honor, but it seemed only fitting that one American hero should lie with others.
“Joe Louis is a credit to his race,” sportswriter Jimmy Cannon wrote after the boxer’s death, “the human race.”
Maybe Louis somehow heard the 21-gun salute that punctuated the morning remembrances by shattering the silence of collective deep thought. Or the speech by Bush less than a football field away that honored the sacrifices of war dead that included soldiers from Iraq and Afghanistan just last week.
Arlington averages 28 funerals each day — men and women just like Louis now lying alongside those whose names are fading into history. Relatives surrounded some graves. Louis’ namesake came by last month with a wreath.
It’s not easy to forget Joe Louis. Then again, it’s not easy to forget any of them.
Rick Snider has covered local sports for 28 years. Contact him at [email protected].
