History in the Making

Growing up as a young school kid in Toronto, Damon Kwame Mason played hockey just like all of his friends in the neighborhood.
"I always enjoyed it-we played outside [all surfaces], on the ice, shinny, you name it," said Mason during luncheon at the Northwest African American Museum in early March to celebrate the Seattle leg of the NHL's Black Hockey History Tour, presented by Alaska Airlines. "In my neighborhood, most of my friends were white. I did what they did-listen to heavy-metal music, BMK bikes, playing hockey every day."

That habit and Mason's perspective changed during his pre-teen school years: "I'm old enough to know the day there was hip-hop and the day when there was no hip-hop. In junior high, hip-hop started to come in. My friends then were predominantly black. I was starting to find myself and discovering our music. But when I said, "let's go play hockey" to those friends, they said, 'that's the white boys' sport, we don't play hockey, that's what they do-we play basketball and football.' I put myself in that box and pushed hockey aside, regrettably. I always still loved the game but I wasn't vocal about it."

Mason was speaking to an audience of African American leaders in the greater Seattle community, representing organizations such as the Seattle Fire Department, Urban League of Metropolitan Seattle, United Way of King County, Seattle Center, Art Corps, CD Forum, YMCA of Greater Seattle and NAAM itself, along with other dignitaries including former president of the Seattle City Council Bruce Harrell and U.S. District Court Judge Richard A. Jones. Mason was on hand as part of the NHL's Black Hockey History Tour traveling party and director of the 2016 documentary, "Soul on Ice: Past, Present and Future" that traces blacks' participation in the sport from origin to present day, a time when 40 to 50 players of color make NHL rosters each season.
Outside, kids and parents were visiting the NHL's Black History Mobile Museum truck and playing ball hockey on a concrete "rink." Social distancing measures were in place inside and out even before any state or city proclamations required any of us to do so.
"I've had the good fortune to know a number of you in the room over the years," said Mari Horita, NHL Seattle vice president of community engagement and philanthropy and former president and CEO of ArtsFund. "None of us ever expected to be here at NAAM to have a lunch hosted by the 32nd Franchise in the NHL to kick off the Black Hockey History Tour."
Lots of head shakes and smiles in the room. Moments later, NHL Seattle CEO Tod Leiweke stood up to address the group with distinct purpose in his opening remarks. He first thanked Brian Surratt, the former director of the City of Seattle executive office of economic development for "putting the deal together on how this could work" for New Arena at Seattle Center, historic roof intact, "when experts said we couldn't do it." Leiweke then turned to thank Bruce Harrell: "I will never forget the day [the Arena agreement] was voted up by the City Council." Leiweke wasn't about to overlook Robert Nellams, the director of Seattle Center "who doesn't like people to talk about him," citing Nellams' "true" partnership and dream to build a new arena on the campus.

One more thank-you: "Someday we're going get close enough to open," said Leiweke, "and someday we're going need a certificate of occupancy. So guess who's here? The fire chief [Seattle Chief Harold Scoggins]. So be nice to him!"
Gratitude and a few laughs behind him, Leiweke was straight about his intentions for the NHL Seattle franchise: "We are all about diversity and inclusion, not just a hockey team."
Mason's remarks during a conversation with Kyle Boyd, director of community and youth development for NHL Seattle, provided a stirring session and lively questions-and-answers that followed. Mason informed the room the first-ever organized professional sports league for blacks was not baseball or football or basketball but, in fact, hockey when the Colored Hockey League was founded in 1895. He talked about Eddie Martin, a goaltender back then who actually was the first pro goalie to drop down from his skates to battle off low shots-the Colored Hockey League allowed such moves two decades before the NHL allowed goaltenders to do the same in its first official year of competition.
Later during the Q-and-A, Scoggins mentioned he coached youth football near NAAM in the Central District and that "it was trouble just to get cleats" for kids whose families couldn't afford them. How, Scoggins asked, would NHL Seattle make ice hockey accessible to all kids and families? Boyd said kids can play roller hockey or ball hockey to understand parts of the game but the goal is for all kids who want to play to "get on the ice, get that feeling of gliding and moving on the ice." He acknowledged the challenges are "not only ice time but making the equipment available" and that the NHL make investments in teams and teams make investments in the community."

For his part, Mason returned full circle to hockey during his days as a radio disc jockey and announcer in Edmonton. Two factors fueled his award-winning documentary. One was a 2011 conversation his mother during her stay in a hospital during a cancer diagnosis. Like only a parent can, she focused on a burning question for her son when he expressed he wanted something more than be the "guy who spins hip-hip Top 40" in a country that at the time did not have radio stations marketed to black audiences: "Just what are you doing to do with your life?' Mason, with no emotional place to hide, replied: Make films. His mother said, "Go for it!"
Concurrently, Mason was co-hosting a show with former NHL player Georges Laraque, born to Haitian parents who emigrated to Montreal. Laraque played 12 seasons, pursuing a broadcast career when he retired in 2010. With Laraque's connections, Mason attended any number of Edmonton Oilers games.
"At these games, I kept saying to myself, man, why aren't there more black people playing?" recalled Mason. "This game is so awesome. Imagine if Shaquille O'Neal's father said, 'let's go play hockey.'
While the audience laughed, Mason continued. "I started seeing players like Wayne Simmonds and P.K. Subban," he said, realizing "something is happening-more young black players in the league."

Mason says he wondered why no "storytellers are examining" the rise of black players and "many more at younger development ages" in juniors hockey, which feeds into the pro game. He made a decision to dedicate himself to making a documentary organized by "past, present and future" histories of blacks in hockey. Mason sold his condo and quit his job (but made sure to keep his love for hip-hop, an integral part of his documentary).
"I thought if others don't tell the story of black hockey history, then I'll do it," said Mason. The road was long-almost five years and lots of polite encouragement but no funding from potential investors in the film. To his surprise, Mason even heard that people surmised the NHL leadership would not want such a documentary to be made. Easy to refute, if you consider Commissioner Gary Bettman reached out to Mason about viewing the film when released and that subsequently Mason now works with the league on diversity initiatives.
Mason said "this documentary is not about pointing figures but celebrating the people who played the game" and where the sport is headed on and off the ice: "Where is the NHL going? I see it going in the right direction … I've been watching Seattle's hiring and practices, which are inclusive not just diverse, which should be a given."