This story is part of an ongoing series about the history of a small, well-maintained and racially mixed community near the city’s edge, centered on Humboldt, Irving, James, Knox and Logan Avenue in far-north Minneapolis. This community evolved around World War One, when black families from further south purchased land and built homes around Shingle Creek. The neighborhood is just beyond Victory Memorial Drive, the railroad tracks and industrial area where Midwest Pipe Coating is located, beyond Fire Station #20, where my father worked until he retired is there also. Part 1: Life in the Sticks tells the story of the neighborhood. This is the first in a series of stories about the people who grew up there.
Steve Lasley
When you’re ten years old and living in public housing, it’s easy to get in trouble. Friends are starting to smoke, and a nearby junk yard offers a tempting playground, with old junkers that can be hotwired and driven around the yard. Steve Lasley’s family came from the small town of Paris, Missouri; Steve’s grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Davis, had moved to Minneapolis and bought a house in Humboldt Heights, at a time when the area was quite rural. Steve’s family was living in the Sumner public housing projects on the Northside, and by the time he was ten, Steve reported that he was “smoking and stealing cars.” Steve’s close friend ended up being incarcerated, and Steve believes he might have been too, but for the fact that his mother moved to Humboldt Heights in a house next to his grandparents.
Steve was lonesome. He missed his friends in the projects. So he walked, following Humboldt, from 51st and Irving to the Sumner housing projects, close to a two hour walk. He didn’t tell his mother, and when she discovered, Steve said he received a “whipping.”
A short time after moving to Humboldt Heights, Steve discovered that George Jackson, who was his age, lived right across the street. Steve’s grandfather had hunting dogs; and there were other neighbors with similar dogs, so. this provided Steve, when he walked the dogs, an opportunity to meet the neighbors.
Steve and George found an open lot where Olson Junior High now stands. And an old white man they called “Mr. Snow” lived adjacent to the lot. Mr. Snow’s house looked like a ghost house from a grade B movie. Mr. Snow often watched the boys playing baseball from his upstairs window.
One day, he called Steve and invited him into his house. The rooms were lined with newspaper clippings. Obviously, “Mr. Snow” had been a baseball player of some fame. Mr. Snow told Steve that he had been a pitcher, but that Steve might develop into a better all-around player. Steve asked Mr. Snow if he knew a black man who lived in Humboldt Heights and played baseball. Judging from Mr. Snow’s reaction, the two knew each other and were rivals at one point.
Mr. Snow encouraged Steve and George to sign up for the Little League team at Shingle Creek Park. But lacking gloves and spikes, they were reluctant at first. When they went to the diamond to watch practice, they noticed that all the players and coach were white. Steve was nervous. “What should we do?” He asked George. Supremely confident, George said that they would just outplay them.
When they went down to the playing field, the coach tossed a ball to Steve, who caught it barehanded and threw it back. The coach then told Steve to take a position at shortstop, and hit some hard ground balls at Steve, who fielded them cleanly and threw so hard to first base that the first baseman couldn’t catch the ball. The coach told the player who his son and was the regular shortstop to let Steve use his glove, and in short order, Steve had won the shortstop position. Steve still remembers the glove – a Wilson A-2000. This was the glove that every Little Leaguer wanted.
Steve watched as the coaches divided up the Black players so that none of the teams were all Black. It seemed to Steve that “politics were being played” in terms of which players were chosen for various positions – an early lesson in life. But sometimes the players themselves helped to make the decisions. The shortstop who had been starting told the coach, “I’m not better than Steve. Let him start at shortstop and I’ll play third base.” Steve and the former shortstop who gave up his position formed a bond and were friends for life.
Steve played running back on the football team and captained the basketball team; he was named all-conference in football, played center field on the baseball team. He participated in a couple of events on the track team. Patrick Henry played Highland Park for the runner-up spot in basketball.
One of Steve’s fondest memories was his senior year at Henry when the principal called everyone in the whole school to the auditorium and led them in. singing “happy birthday” to Steve. Steve was also a talented skater, and the hockey coach tried to persuade him to ay hockey instead of basketball. When they met some years later, the coach told Steve that had he chosen hockey, “We would have won three state championships.”
Steve and George were recruited by the coach and enrolled at North Hennepin Junior College where they won the conference in basketball. In the championship game, the North Hennepin coach said, “Let Ollie Shannon score, and shut down everyone else.” Shannon went on to star for the Gophers and was drafted by the Cincinnati Royals in the NBA.
After North Hennepin, Steve joined the Army and served in Vietnam. He then agreed to accept a full scholarship at Central State in Ohio. Concentrating on academics, and realizing that he was not likely NBA material, he became the team’s announcer.
He earned a Bachelor of Science in communication, then returned to Minneapolis and got a teaching job at the Urban League Street Academy. Minneapolis had very few Black teachers at the time. So Steve accepted the coaching job at North Hennepin, the college’s first Black coach. Working for WWTC radio, selling advertising. Taught at the Street Academy for 7-8 years, and then transferred to North High, where he became athletic director and taught for ten years. He taught for a total of thirty years.
But what about dreams of a professional athletic career? If he was too small for the NBA or NFL, might baseball offer an opportunity? Steve’s American Legion coach, Dick Cassidy, had a brother who worked for the Minnesota Twins. Steve was able to attend tryouts, and he demonstrated some potential. He had a couple of hits, showed speed in the outfield and on the bases, and demonstrated a strong arm. But on the final day of tryouts, his girlfriend was about to deliver his first son, so he skipped tryouts and spent the day at the hospital. And there was his chance at professional baseball.
In retrospect, Steve, now happily married and retired, realizes how many young people he was able to influence through teaching and coaching. He thinks back to his childhood, and realizes that, had he not moved to Humboldt Heights, he might have ended up like his friend – incarcerated, graduating through a series of prisons and wasting his talents and his life. He thinks about the adults – coaches, teachers and others – who steered him in the right direction. But the environment of Humboldt Heights – “the Sticks” – made a profound influence on his life.
Steve still lives in North Minneapolis, with two sons, Steven and Nathaniel, and one daughter, Shelina.
