In the late 40s and 50s, Marty Glickman was the radio voice of the New York Knicks. As a basketball announcer, he was simply the best. Most of us from that era, especially Brooklyn guys, can still recall in our mind's ear his melodious, accurate and rapid-fire recreation of the game. "Gallatin to Braun on the left wing. Swish."
Until a couple of days ago, I did not know that Marty Glickman had written (in an "as-told-to" kind of way) an autobiography called The Fastest Kid on the Block (1996), and that, believe it or not, one copy of this book is among the holdings of the Michener Library of the University of Northern Colorado, in Greeley, Colorado — and is now in my very own hands. A warm thank you to UNC and to Interlibrary Loan.
Glickman was not only an announcer; he was also a student at fabled P S 217, my own not-so-"alma" mater, which he attended from first through sixth grade. He was born in 1917 so that would be in the 1920s. He was, get this, the fastest kid on the block in my very own neighborhood.
He was not just a voice but an athlete, best known as a two-way football player at Syracuse University. He was also a top of the class sprinter who once ran a hundred yards in 9.5 seconds (the great Jesse Owens held the world record at 9.3). In 1936, Glickman was scheduled to run the second leg of the 4 x 100 at the Berlin Olympics. He was scratched at the last minute for reasons that are still murky, but Glickman's opinion, and mine is that Adolf Hitler didn't want a Jew to win a medal, so he had Goebbels whisper to Avery Brundage, who was the head of U. S. Olympic committee, that Glickman not be allowed to run. (Brundage was a notorious racist, misogynist, and Jew-hater, known as "slavery Avery." (There's an unverified report that Brundage spoke at the February, 1939, Nazi rally at Madison Square Garden; it would nor have been out of character for him to have done so.)
Glickman is philosophical about not being allowed to run in the Olympics. It would have been good to show his grandchildren his gold medal, he says. I myself am indignant for him.
Once, when I was still a Brooklyn yoot, a rumor swept the P S 217 schoolyard that "Marty Glickman is going to be here this afternoon." He appeared, but all that I can remember is that he spoke to a knot of kids. I remember nothing more.
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