The linebacker who switched to politics: Reggie Williams is elected to Cincinnati City Council after 14 years in NFL

Ebony, Feb, 1990 by Dalton Narine

The Linebacker Who Switched To Politics

EVERYBODY in Cincinnati knew something about Reggie Williams' double life. For the past two years, his affairs were covered in not one, but two sections of the local newspapers. The sports page featured his bone-jarring exploits as a Cincinnati Bengals linebacker, and the local news pages carried his feats in City Hall. Williams is regarded by the electorate as a hometown hero, notwithstanding his recent retirement from a game that, ironically, prepared him for his new role as the first Black councilman ever to be elected on his first attempt.

Williams, a 35-year-old Dartmouth graduate who started for the same team in 14 seasons in the National Football League, was elected in November, 1989, following completion of a 17-month interim term after his appointment to fill a vacant council seat in June, 1988. He received the fourth-highest vote among 20 candidates in an at-large election for nine council seats in a city that is 38 percent Black. He was No. 1 among young voters, which may bode well for his future in politics.

"The real challenge now," he says, "is to convert the dedication it took to be successful in the NFL into the type of productive energy that is required to address the diverse and complex issues facing Cincinnati." Foremost on his checklist of political plays are youth programs covering education, substance abuse and job opportunities.

How politics touched Williams' life is directly related to the volume of his community service experience, says Maryanna Williams, his wife of eight years. "In a sense, the decision was made for him," she says. "For 12 years, he worked with children by day and assisted charity events at night. He prioritizes his time well."

Time was when the only priority in Williams' life was to overcome a speech impediment. Born to Eli and Julia Williams in Flint, Mich., Reggie was tutored as a child by a speech therapist. A library card opened up whole new vistas of knowledge, and role models such as Martin Luther King Jr., Muhammad Ali and Malcolm X, and football heroes Willie Lanier and Jim Brown became accessible through some of the hundreds of books he read while growing up. "I was challenged early in life to deal with adversity," he says. "And I responded vigorously whenever I was told I wasn't good enough or smart enough." That set the stage for an attitude he took to sports.

As a running back in high school, Williams wore Jim Brown's No. 32, a correlation that didn't impress University of Michigan officials, who told him he wasn't "good enough" for a football scholarship. He then enrolled at Dartmouth, where he excelled on the team's defense. Williams won every available football award in the Ivy League from 1973 to 1975, the year he was voted to the Kodak Coaches All American team. Against all odds, he was drafted by the Bengals in 1976, beginning an unbroken tenure of "clean, hard-nosed football" that eventually took him to two Super Bowls in 1982 and 1989.

"He rarely made mistakes in a game," says Joe Kelly, a Bengals linebacker. "In my rookie year in 1986, I missed a tackle I should have made, and he glared at me with an expression I'll always remember."

Although he has had three operations on his knees, the 6-foot-1-inch outside linebacker never missed a game. [Williams is tied for third place in the NFL record book with 23 fumble recoveries.] "I challenge the pain barrier," he says, "because pain is internal and can be a ruler by which you judge yourself." Proving that he could mentally accelerate physical healing, he started the first game of the 1989 season, just three weeks after he had a knee operation and an appendectomy within 10 days of each other. "Reggie was a leader who was respected by the players because he played by the rules," says Bengals Coach Sam Wyche, "and because he was always willing to give of his time without looking for compensation. For a leader, that's crucial. We kid him a lot about his being in politics, but we know he's genuine."

At home, Williams switches personalities and becomes "Daddybo," or a real life Rambo, to sons Julien, 6, and Jarren, 5, and a "charming husband," albeit steeped in old habits. "Reggie still thinks he's in the locker room," Maryanna says. "He goes through six towels a day." Some nights, around 2 a.m., he can be found in the family basement pedaling a stationary bike. Other times, he lets "the whole world know he's listening to his extensive record collection."

At the office, too, Williams draws on his illustrious football experience to bridge his transition to politics. "There are certain high standards that you must consistently meet in order to just be around the NFL," he says. "It's the same in politics, and I'm simply trying to realize my potential in another arena."