Issue 764 - George Washington Carver 1 of 3 (Tony Fuller) "The man who lived the Creed!" Be true to yourself.


Wooden's Wisdom - Volume 13	Issue 764
Craig Impelman Speaking \| Championship Coaches \| Champion's Leadership Library Login
GEORGE WASHINGTON CARVER 1 OF 3 (TONY FULLER) "THE MAN WHO LIVED THE CREED!" BE TRUE TO YOURSELF. John Wooden Video Clip (2 min. 20 sec.): Coach Wooden defines Self-Control. When our author Tony Fuller began telling me about the extraordinary life of George Washington Carver, I realized I knew only a small part of his remarkable story. Most people remember Carver as the "peanut scientist," but he was far more than that. Few Americans have been more widely honored for lives of service than George Washington Carver. He would become one of the nation's most respected scientists and educators, eventually earning a national monument, a U.S. postage stamp, commemorative coins, and countless other tributes recognizing a life devoted to helping others. Coach Fuller has written an inspiring three-part series for Wooden's Wisdom about this extraordinary American. Here is Part One. "Use your knowledge to serve others." - George Washington Carver "Success isn’t what you get, it’s what you give." - George Washington Carver Coach Wooden’s 7-point Creed gave words to the principles that George Washington Carver lived by. George was born into slavery around 1864 on the Diamond Grove, Missouri farm of Moses and Susan Carver. He and his older brother Jim stayed on the farm and were raised by the Carvers as their own children after Emancipation. Young George was weak and frail physically, but showed astonishing intellect and skill at cultivating plants, making clothes, playing music, and painting beautiful portraits. George was around 12 years old when he left the Carver farm on foot to attend a school for colored students that was about 12 miles away in the town of Neosho. For the next 20 years of his life he would work hard, encounter helpful mentors, overcome setbacks, attend school in Fort Scott, Kansas, be denied admission upon his arrival to Highland College because of his race, enroll at Simpson College in rural Iowa, work as a Sod-Buster on a farm, graduate from high school, become the first black graduate of Iowa Agricultural college in Ames Ia, become a member of IAC’s faculty, earn a master’s degree in 1896, and enroll into IAC’s PHD program! Along the way he was winning awards and making a name for himself as this unbelievably intelligent scientist, artist, botanist, and inventor that could do and/or create anything! Offers came from across the country for him to leave IAC. He never considered any of them and life was great, until one day in 1896 he opened a letter that read: "I CANNOT OFFER YOU MONEY, POSITION, OR FAME. THE FIRST TWO YOU HAVE. THE LAST, FROM THE PLACE YOU NOW OCCUPY, YOU WILL NO DOUBT ACHIEVE. THESE THINGS I NOW ASK YOU TO GIVE UP. I OFFER YOU IN THEIR PLACE, WORK, HARD WORK - THE TASK OF BRINGING A PEOPLE FROM DEGRADATION, POVERTY, AND WASTE INTO FULL MANHOOD." Sincerely, Booker T. Washington Principle, Tuskegee Institute, Tuskegee Alabama. #1 on Coach Wooden’s seven-point creed is : "Be True to yourself". George Washington Carver always believed that his many gifts were God given, and that he was a mere vessel and the Lord’s way to help others. He was a man of great faith and felt that the offer from Tuskegee was the door that would lead to his life’s purpose. He made the decision to accept Booker T. Washington’s offer, and he headed to rural Alabama to become the Chair of the Agricultural Department at struggling, underfunded, no Lab, no equipment, no facilities having, Tuskegee Institute, for an annual salary of $1000 plus room and board, in a second story on campus dormitory suite. Iowa Agricultural College (Iowa State University) was far more advanced and comfortable than Tuskegee in every way shape and form, yet Dr. Carver stayed true to himself and gave it all up to join Booker T. Washington in the hard work, challenge, and sacrifice he knew he would face at Tuskegee! He left the Carver farm in 1876. He left Iowa Agricultural College in 1896, but he never left his Tuskegee position or dormitory suite until his death in 1943. #3 on Coach Wooden’s seven-point creed is: Help Others…. In our next article we will explore examples of how Dr. Carver helped others during the course of his incredible life! Blessings, Coach Fuller George Washington Carver - Booker T. Washington Commerative Half Dollar (U.S. Mint produced 1951-1954) A great biography of George Washington Carver Click here for personal development exercise: Issue 764. Click here for Printable Poetry: Issue 764. Yours in Coaching, Craig Impelman www.woodenswisdom.com Follow @woodenswisdom	COACH'S FAVORITE POETRY AND PROSE Casey's Revenge There were saddened hearts in Mudville for a week or even more; There were muttered oaths and curses- every fan in town was sore. "Just think," said one, "how soft it looked with Casey at the bat, And then to think he'd go and spring a bush-league trick like that!" All his past fame was forgotten- he was now a hopeless "shine." They called him "Strike-Out Casey," from the mayor down the line; And as he came to bat each day his bosom heaved a sigh, While a look of hopeless fury shone in mighty Casey's eye. He pondered in the days gone by that he had been their king, That when he strolled up to the plate they made the welkin ring; But now his nerve had vanished, for when he heard them hoot He "fanned" or "popped out" daily, like some minor league recruit. He soon began to sulk and loaf, his batting eye went lame; No home runs on the score card now were chalked against his name; The fans without exception gave the manager no peace, For one and all kept clamoring for Casey's quick release. The Mudville squad began to slump, the team was in the air; Their playing went from bad to worse - nobody seemed to care. "Back to the woods with Casey!" was the cry from Rooters' Row. "Get someone who can hit the ball, and let that big dub go!" The lane is long, someone has said, that never turns again, And Fate, though fickle, often gives another chance to men; And Casey smiled; his rugged face no longer wore a frown- The pitcher who had started all the trouble came to town. All Mudville had assembled - ten thousand fans had come To see the twirler who had put big Casey on the bum; And when he stepped into the box, the multitude went wild; He doffed his cap in proud disdain, but Casey only smiled. "Play ball!" the umpire's voice rang out, and then the game began. But in that throng of thousands there was not a single fan Who thought that Mudville had a chance, and with the setting sun Their hopes sank low- the rival team was leading "four to one." The last half of the ninth came round, with no change in the score; But when the first man up hit safe, the crowd began to roar; The din increased, the echo of ten thousand shouts was heard When the pitcher hit the second and gave "four balls" to the third. Three men on base - nobody out - three runs to tie the game! A triple meant the highest niche in Mudville's hall of fame; But here the rally ended and the gloom was deep as night, When the fourth one "fouled to catcher" and the fifth "flew out to right." A dismal groan in chorus came; a scowl was on each face When Casey walked up, bat in hand, and slowly took his place; His bloodshot eyes in fury gleamed, his teeth were clenched in hate; He gave his cap a vicious hook and pounded on the plate. But fame is fleeting as the wind and glory fades away; There were no wild and woolly cheers, no glad acclaim this day; They hissed and groaned and hooted as they clamored: "Strike him out!" But Casey gave no outward sign that he had heard this shout. The pitcher smiled and cut one loose - across the plate it sped; Another hiss, another groan. "Strike one!" the umpire said. Zip! Like a shot the second curve broke just below the knee. "Strike two!" the umpire roared aloud; but Casey made no plea. No roasting for the umpire now - his was an easy lot; But here the pitcher whirled again- was that a rifle shot? A whack, a crack, and out through the space the leather pellet flew, A blot against the distant sky, a speck against the blue. Above the fence in center field in rapid whirling flight The sphere sailed on - the blot grew dim and then was lost to sight. Ten thousand hats were thrown in air, ten thousand threw a fit, But no one ever found the ball that mighty Casey hit. O, somewhere in this favored land dark clouds may hide the sun, And somewhere bands no longer play and children have no fun! And somewhere over blighted lives there hangs a heavy pall, But Mudville hearts are happy now, for Casey hit the ball. —Grantland Rice (1880–1954)
For more information visit www.woodenswisdom.com