Joe Hubbard, lifelong golf lover and advocate, dies at 89

Joe Hubbard spent the summers as a kid caddying at the neighborhood golf course, one of the many Black kids hauling the bags of wealthy white guests across neatly manicured fairways and greens.

One day, a man gave him a three iron. He took the club to his family home, in Shreveport, Louisiana, and swung it like all the golfers he had watched, according to his wife, Virginia Hubbard, of Kansas City, Kansas. When he and his younger brother would bring back fistfuls of golf balls found during their long days on the course, he would grab his club and try to whack them over the house, or down the block. He broke a window once.

Joe, who hadn’t golfed in about the last ten years due to the worsening condition of his heart, died Dec. 22 in his sleep, with his wife by his side. He was 89.

His body was laid to rest Tuesday at Leavenworth National Cemetery, adding another limestone marker to the rows of graves for fallen military men and women. Family and friends mourned a man they say was a lot like the game he revered so much — quiet, mild-mannered and patient, with a sense of respect and cordiality.

Growing up in the 1940’s, Joe couldn’t belong to any of the local courses — the Professional Golf Association itself didn’t lift its caucasian-only stance until 1961, making it the last professional sports league to do so. But the course where Joe worked let caddies play on Mondays, the day set aside for course upkeep. A three iron was all he needed to drive, knock approach shots and putt.

He played as much as he could with friends during his childhood but, after he graduated from high school, he became a supply specialist in the U.S. Air Force and put his burgeoning golf game on the backburner. His love of the sport, however, stuck with him.

It led him to become a regular face at courses across Kansas City years later where he met the friends with whom he would spend every weekend joyfully competing against, and the woman he eventually married.

“He just loved playing golf and he played golf practically every weekend, when he could,” Virginia Hubbard said over the phone. “They played in all kinds of weather, and weekends they would go out of town.”

Though he never had children, his niece, Andrea Wiley, recalls he took on the role of uncle like it was a full-time job. She moved away from her hometown of Houston for the first time in the 1980s to attend Kansas City Community College, living with Joe and Virginia. Her uncle would often pick her up from class, rain or shine, sleet or snow.

She said she will remember standing with him over the stove, cooking up the southern delicacies of his youth — black-eyed peas, collard greens, gumbo. It was the way he would make sure she was OK without having to say much she will miss, she said.

“He was very quiet but very observant and very kind,” said Wiley, who lives in Washington, D.C. “He had a really calm demeanor at all times. I don’t think I ever heard him swear.”

Born on Dec. 14, 1932 in Shreveport, Joe was the first child in his family, which grew to include his three brothers and two sisters. They were far from rich but able to live in a sturdy home, thanks to their live-in grandmother who had been able to afford it with an inheritance. Joe and his brother had a paper route to make money, on top of their summer caddying gigs.

His family left for California when he was in high school, marking the beginning of a stretch of his life spent on the golden coast. He was a postman for a bit following his graduation but wound up enrolling in the Air Force, inspired by the wave of Black men joining the ranks to make a living, Virginia Hubbard said. He spent three years stationed at the former Hamilton Air Force Base in Marin County, occasionally getting to travel to destinations like Alaska.

He made his way east to Kansas City after being honorably discharged and spending several years living in California. He moved to be closer to cousins in Kansas City. He never wanted to move again.

Joe landed a job at Ford, first working on the assembly line and later moving into an office job. His weekend havens were the Swope Memorial Golf Course in south Kansas City and the Heart of America Golf Course, located a mile and a half down the road.

There he forged friendships on the fairways, and he and his buddies would later enter tournaments across the midwest put on by Black-run golfing associations like the MacAdams Golf Club in Wichita, founded in the 1920s. They participated in competitions in places like Tulsa, Oklahoma City and Illinois.

He first saw Virginia at a tournament in Richmond, Missouri, but didn’t speak to her, only inquiring with her friends who she was. They met later playing at Swope Memorial and, on a Friday, he asked her if he could take her out to dinner; she said yes. They bumped into each other several times that weekend during a tournament they were both playing in, before their first date.

They eventually went to get spaghetti. Within about eight months, they were wed.

Virginia Hubbard hates to admit it, but when the two of them would play golf together, she usually won. At a tournament in St. Louis, she remembers there was a long drive contest on one of the holes where a sign in the fairway marked the male and female champions up to that point. When Joe and his group walked up to their balls, they saw her name on one of the markers. His ball was right behind it.

“To be fair, they hit a little farther back than we did,” Virginia Hubbard said. “But that didn’t make any difference. The guys still teased him that I outdrove him.”

Joe was proud of his golf accomplishments, like the four hole-in-ones he had accrued during his long time playing, two of them at Swope. He was the owner of a license plate frame that simply stated, “Four hole-in-ones.”

But the reason he loved the game, Virginia Hubbard said, was the people and the places it introduced him to.

The game may not have always loved him back when he was a kid growing up in the Jim Crow South. He always knew he wanted to play it nonetheless.

“He didn’t have any clubs, except that three iron,” Virginia Hubbard said. “And he would just shoot that three iron.”

He’s survived by his wife, Virginia; niece, Wiley; brother, Sam Frazer; sister, Trudy; and other nieces and nephews.

Cecil Smith

Cecil Smith, an Army veteran and church deacon who balanced multiple jobs to provide for his family, died on Dec. 31, family said in an obituary, shared by Lawrence A. Jones & Sons Funeral Chapel. He was 82.

Born on Dec. 29, 1939, Cecil grew up in the Rosedale neighborhood of Kansas City, Kansas, with one brother, according to the obituary. He graduated from Rosedale High School in 1957 and, from 1961 to 1963, served in the U.S. Army.

He married the love of his life, Sandra Smith, in 1967. They had three children.

Cecil worked at Hallmark and the U.S. Postal Service at the same time, leaving one job at the end of the day to report for the other, family said. He worked at Hallmark for 30 years and the USPS for 40 years.

He was known among loved ones as a generous spirit, who would send a monetary gift or even a barbecue dish across the country to show he cared. He called his friends and family often and his phone would ring repeatedly like a hot line, family said. He had a myriad of catchphrases, such as, “I’m just a poor ole’ country boy from the end of a dirt road.”

The most important thing in life to Smith was God, and he was a member of the Missionary Baptist Church for more than 50 years, eventually earning the role of deacon, family said.

Smith is survived by his children, Gregory Smith, Marc Smith and Margo Smith-Branham; nine grand-children; 12 great-grandchildren; two great-grandchildren; a god-daughter; and several nieces, nephews and cousins.

Amazair “Mack” McAllister

Amazair “Mack” McAllister, a father of four and entrepreneur who founded Kansas City’s Standard Exterminating Company, died on Dec. 26, his family said in an obituary, posted on the Watkins Heritage Chapel website. He was 86.

McAllister was born on June 13, 1935, in Morrilton, Arkansas, the sixth of eight children, family said. He made the move to Kansas City, Missouri in 1952 and studied at Lincoln Junior College for one year.

Five years later, in 1957, he married Sammie Bishop, and they had two sons. He also had two sons from a previous relationship.

He was an employee of Hertz Car Rental for 40 years, family said. His business knowledge helped him to launch the Standard Exterminating Company, which his family describes as one of the oldest Black-owned businesses in Kansas City. It remains open today.

The man known to most by his nickname “Mack” was known for his compassion and sincerity, as well as his love of travelling and boating. He was described by family as a “true Democrat,” regularly watching MSNBC. He belonged to the Progressive Missionary Baptist Church.

McAllister is survived by his four sons, Amazair McAllister Jr., Byron McAllister, Jermaine McAllister and Rodney Chriswell; two brothers, William McAllister and James McAllister; seven grand-children; and many nieces, nephews, cousins and friends.

Deborah Ford

Deborah Ford, a former University of Kansas Medical Center employee who loved seafood, casinos and time spent with her three children, died Dec. 16, family said in an obituary, shared by Golden Gate Funeral & Cremation Services. She was 68.

Ford was born on February 16, 1953 in Kansas City, Kansas, family said. She graduated from Bishop Ward High School in 1971 and went to Donnelly College, a small, private catholic university in her hometown. The next year, she married her husband, and the two had three children.She started working for Kansas University Medical Center in 1978, where she spent 23 years before retiring.

Her Christian faith was a big part of her life; she was a member of the Strangers Rest Baptist Church, singing in the church choir and volunteering her time for the missions department. She also loved fishing, playing cards at the casino and having nights out with her daughters where they would shop and go out to dinner.

She’s survived by her daughters, Dionne Love and Sherita Ford; son, Tearee Ford Jr.; mother, Opal Murphy; sisters, Carol Garth and Janette Gregg; seven grandchildren; two nephews; and several nieces, nephews and cousins.