Black History Month Feature
February marks the 100th Anniversary of Black History Month. Thi is a perfect time to visit the story about Alice Williams, the would-be NFL majorette shunned due to race.
In June 1959, the influential Black newspaper Pittsburgh Courier published a pointed story asking a difficult question about race, talent, and opportunity in professional football entertainment: Why couldn’t an accomplished Black baton twirler join the Los Angeles Rams majorette corps?
The twirler at the center of the controversy was Alice Williams, a recent graduate of San Luis Obispo High School who had already built an impressive reputation as a majorette leader and instructor. According to the June 13, 1959 article, Williams led her school drill team to two consecutive field trophies and had completed additional baton training at Pepperdine College.
The Courier referred to Williams as a “crack Negro twirler.” While the language sounds dated today, the word “crack” was commonly used during the era to mean elite or exceptionally skilled. The term was intended as praise. “Negro” remained the standard formal racial identifier used in newspapers and public discourse during the late 1950s.
Williams reportedly came to the attention of Rams band leader John Boudreau because of her baton abilities. The article said Boudreau contacted her about performing a solo fire-twirling routine for an El Toro Marines road show, a performance requiring advanced baton handling skills.
Soon afterward, Williams was encouraged to audition for the Rams’ majorette corps, known as the Ram-Ettes, who performed during halftime at games in the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum.
According to the Courier, Williams arrived for tryouts and waited approximately two hours before being asked to perform. She later recalled that the other contestants, all white, were friendly toward her. The newspaper alleged that when Ram-Ettes director Karen Ukers realized Williams was Black, her expression became “noticeably disturbed” before regaining composure.
Williams said she dropped her baton only once during the audition. The article claimed several white contestants dropped theirs multiple times. Despite her experience and credentials, Williams was reportedly told that the waiting list was so long it might be a year before she could be called.
The Courier openly questioned whether race played a role.
The newspaper pointed out what many readers likely viewed as a contradiction: the Rams football team itself was already integrated, Black fans regularly attended games, and yet a Black majorette appeared unable to join the organization’s highly visible entertainment unit.
The article is a reminder that integration battles in the late 1950s extended far beyond locker rooms and classrooms. Baton twirlers, majorettes, drill teams, and cheerleaders also occupied highly public spaces tied to image, beauty standards, and representation. For Black performers, talent alone did not always guarantee equal opportunity.
Williams’ story also highlights an overlooked part of baton twirling history. Long before modern conversations about diversity in dance and cheer, Black majorettes and twirlers were already pushing against barriers in schools, pageants, marching units, and professional sports entertainment.
Today, the Pittsburgh Courier article stands as both a sports history artifact and a civil rights document. It captures a moment when one talented young woman’s audition became part of a much larger national conversation about visibility, fairness, and integration in America.
Source Citation: Sister’s Inn Collection. California Polytechnic State University – San Luis Obispo, Special Collections and Archives
