He could have been the Jackie Robinson of Hockey. Born too soon, Herb Carnegie still inspired generations—and left a Marvel-ous legacy.
He could have been the Jackie Robinson of Hockey. Born too soon, Herb Carnegie still inspired generations—and left a Marvel-ous legacy.
Show Notes
Herb Carnegie may not have had the language to call out the racism he encountered in hockey in the 1930s and 40s. But that’s what it was. The game of hockey Herb Carnegie grew up in was staunchly and unapologetically racist. And you can’t just take that out of the sport and the culture in a decade. Or even over 70 years for that matter. Not without a real reckoning.
Hopefully, we’re beginning to have that reckoning in our sport now. We wish Herb was still around to see it. And we hope we can all take his example as inspiration as we push the sport forward. Carnegie was scarred by the barriers that kept him from playing in the NHL, but he was never beaten. Instead, he relentlessly fought for what was good and what was right; for the capacity to make change.
The playing field was not level for Herb Carnegie. But he never stopped fighting to make sure it would be for those who came after him. For the good of the game he loved, and the community he called home.
Our un-ending gratitude goes to Bernice Carnegie, who has been so instrumental in guiding this episode to life over many, many months. If you liked this episode, please, do yourself a favour and go out and get A Fly in a Pail of Milk. The newest edition of Herb Carnegie’s autobiography now features a second part, written by Bernice. It’s about her father’s life and their relationship - must read stuff. You can find it where better books are sold. Bernice, thank you for your time and your grace and wisdom. We hope, we pray, we did your Dad’s story justice.
There is an ongoing petition, led by Herb’s grandson Rane, to get Herb into the Hockey Hall of Fame. Consider giving it a sign. You can check it out here.
‘Barrier Breakers’ was co-created by us here at Leafs Forever and Akil Augustine.
Today's episode was written by Scott and Paul Matthews, produced by Katie Jensen and Vocal Fry Studios for Maple Leaf Sports and Entertainment.
Thanks to associate producers Jay Cockburn, Ren Bangert, Emily Latimer & Erika Dreher, along with Shawna Morrison, Jordan Hayles, Michael Gelfand - for all the help along the way.
Scott Willats: He grew up right here in Toronto to immigrant parents. Hockey was his gateway to acceptance. He grew up skating on the backyard pond with his brother, listening to Foster Hewitt call the games on the radio. He lived and breathed hockey. Made the school team, was gushed over in the papers, and then dropped out of school to play pro - positive that he was destined for a career in the NHL. I mean, how common does that sound? It’s the origin story of most of all the greats. Of, you know, a certain vintage anyway, on legend’s row.
In this case, though, there’s only one difference. And in the story we’re about to tell, that difference would mean absolutely everything.
Because Herb Carnegie was Black.
Herb grew up dreaming of being a Maple Leaf. Herb was good enough to be the Jackie Robinson of hockey. And this was years before Jackie Robinson broke the colour barrier in baseball. But Jackie Robinson had a champion: Brooklyn Dodgers GM Branch Rickey, a visionary exec who was willing to take a chance. The GMs in the NHL just weren’t as open minded.
Herb Carnegie would play out his career in the Quebec Provincial and Senior Leagues. As we all work to try to level the playing field in hockey, to remove the barriers to entry that have kept too many kids from accessing or succeeding in the sport, it’s important to re-visit the origin of some of those barriers. And to celebrate a man whose spirit is more important to remember now than ever. By studying the past, hopefully we can also make sure we are NOT destined to repeat it.
That young kids who grow up dreaming of playing in the Blue and White, regardless of the colour of their skin, their sexual orientation or class, have an equal chance of making those dreams a reality. I’m Scotty Willats. And this is Barrier Breakers.
Herb Carnegie’s boyhood was like that of so many aspiring hockey players growing up in the 1920s and 30s. Except his parents weren’t recently-arrived Poles or Ukrainians or Irish. His family had come to Toronto from Jamaica. His Dad was a Toronto Hydro janitor with a Grade 4 education - a man who hardly ever spoke about back home and made it abundantly clear, every chance he got, that without an education, the Carnegie kids would get thrown the broom, just like he had.
With the little money they had, the Carnegies bought a little plot of land in Willowdale. If you drive by now, and it’s all sprawling, modern suburban homes with pristine lawns and luxury SUVs in the driveway. But in 1920, Willowdale was sprinkled with rustic homes and little farms; fertile fields cross-thatched with creeks and peppered with the iconic weeping willows that gave it its name.
It was the country.
This was where the Carnegies wanted their kids to grow up. Far from the concrete jungle of downtown. Where the Carnegies would attend the white Baptist church. Where Herb and his siblings, Ossie and Bernice, would be the only Black kids in their classes. Where Herb would grow up feeling like a “fly in a pail of milk.”
That’s the title of Herb’s 1997 autobiography: ‘A Fly in a Pail of Milk.’
In the book, he describes the racial taunts he encountered at school. How his junior school principal wouldn’t let him show up until 8:55 every morning and 1:25 after lunch, to limit the opportunity for schoolyard fights instigated by bigoted kids. The white teachers said, “Hey, just ignore the names your classmates are throwing you. Names don’t hurt.” But how could they know? The names did hurt. A lot.
Herb, though, found salvation on the frozen ponds of Willowdale. Here’s his daughter, Bernice.
Bernice Carnegie: There were ponds everywhere and streams, he said sometimes he used to skate to school. So there were hardly any houses. I mean, if you take a Toronto city block and you actually think that the nearest house was that far away, so you didn't go out and say, “oh hi, neighbor,” because there weren't any. So he and his brother would put their skates on and they would be on the ponds from whatever time they could get out there. Schools over, all we do is play. Until their fingers were cold and their feet were cold. And they did have radios back then. So they would sit around and they would listen to Foster Hewitt on the radio... And my father would always say, you know, ‘He shoots. He scores!’ So he talks about those days and how he wanted to be Primeau or Harvey or, you know, some of the players of the time. And it was just constant practice. And he actually got good at what he did.
Scott Willats: As kids, Herb and his brother Ossie believed that, when it came to the game, colour wouldn’t matter. Because they were good enough.
But their father saw it differently. Although he proudly went to as many of the boys’ games as he could, Papa Carnegie could only laugh at their dreams of actually making it. “Don’t be crazy,” he’d exclaim in his booming baritone. “You know they won’t let any black boys into the National Hockey League.”
This drove Herb and Ossie crazy.
Here’s my boy Akil Augustine, reading from Herb’s autobiography, A Fly in a Pail of Milk.
Akil Augustine [reading from Herb Carnegie’s autobiography]: We thought Papa was deranged. Why was he saying such nasty things? Didn’t he realise how well his sons played hockey? How could they not play in the NHL? What did colour have to do with it?...Papa needed an adjustment to his attitude I felt. He seemed overly negative on matters of race. It was as if he wanted to pass on his own disappointments to his sons….Regardless of Papa’s concerns, I imagined myself elsewhere - in the NHL.
Scott Willats: Of course Herb understood what he was up against: he’d encountered it every step of the way -- racism.
He’d just taught himself to look past it.
Take one game, for instance, when he was still in high school.
He clearly heard: ‘Get that Black Bastard’ ring out from the stands. Back at the bench, coach Bob Crosby put his arm around him and said, ‘The way you answer that remark, Herbie, is to put the red light on.’
That became Herb’s mantra. Just put the red light on. Keep scoring. That’s how you fight back. That’s how you neutralize their hate.
But once racism takes root inside institutions of power, it cannot be neutralized. The NHL was a white league. Plain and simple.
No one had to write that on the walls of the arenas. It was self-evident.
Herb just couldn’t see it.
It’s 1938. And Herb was playing for the Toronto Young Rangers. The best part is, he’s practicing at Maple Leaf Gardens, the same ice that his heroes play on.
It was just your average practice and Herb’s just out doing his thing.
Then, coach Ed Wildey calls him over to the boards. ‘You see that man sitting in the blues? That’s Conn Smythe.’
For a young Herb Carnegie, Leafs General Manager Conn Smythe was the ultimate gatekeeper, the man who held every aspiring young hockey player from the Greater Toronto Area’s future in the palm of his hand.
….’He says he’d take you tomorrow if he could turn you white.”
Scott Willats: Now, there are many that question whether Conn Smythe ever said those words.
Even Herb, in his book, admits that, years later, he wondered whether it was possible his coach had made it up to motivate him to work harder.
Smythe and Carnegie never spoke directly. So there’s no way to know for sure.
What we do know, though, is that Herb’s NHL dream took a serious body blow that day. His father had been right - he’d seen it all along.
At that point in North American sports, no major pro leagues had admitted a Black player.
In baseball, for example, there were still segregated leagues: one for White and one for Black players. Clearly, the NHL was no different.
It didn’t matter how many times Herb could turn the red light on. The NHL wouldn’t be admitting a Black player.
Not in the late 30s or in the early 40s at least.
The good news was that there were leagues that cared far less about skin colour. The bad news was that some of them required its players to be miners.
The next year, Herb’s older brother, Ossie, got a spot playing for the Perron Mine team in Quebec. Back then, scouting was done through word of mouth, so when the team owner saw how good Ossie was, and heard his little bro was even better, a contract was extended.
Suddenly, Herb was living in northwestern Quebec, thousands of miles from his family and his new fiancee. In the town of Perron, population 1,000. His day job was picking rock. It was a hard life. But it was hockey. And it was money, and the community quickly took to him.
Those mining leagues are where Herb made his name. He’d win championships and become a crowd favourite. But still, him and Ossie would watch lesser players get the show.
When Canada entered the Second World War, Herb half-hoped the departure of NHL stars might be his ticket. After all, Carnegie, he couldn't go to Europe himself. He’d been called up, but then rejected by the administrators. They had their own agenda. Maybe, Herb hoped, holes in the NHL rosters would force GMs to be more open minded? Apparently not.
Finally, the Carnegies - and another Black player they encountered in Timmins, Manny McIntyre, decided to take matters into their own hands.
Manny had heard that the Carnegies were heading to Timmins, and so was he. Think of Don King, he’s a natural promoter in a time before agents, so he decided to think outside of the box. “Oh I got it, an ‘All Coloured Line.’” Almost instantly, the one-two-three of Carnegie, Carnegie and Manny, it was a hit.
Manny would shop the lucky and lucrative scoring combinations from town to town, consistently finding willing buyers and better deals. In 1944, Manny brought the Carnegies to Shawinigan Falls, to play in the Quebec Provincial League, where they’d earn $75 per week - twice what they earned playing in Ontario. The next year, Manny negotiated a deal in Sherbrooke for even more money.
To the media, they were the ‘Dark Destroyers,’ the ‘Brown Bombers,’ the ‘Dusky Speedsters,’ the ‘Ink Spots?’ Yeah, you heard that right. Part of the allure may have been the novelty. But it wouldn’t have worked, if their line didn’t score or their teams didn’t keep winning. During their first season with the Sherbrooke Randies, the Carnegie-Carnegie-Manny line combined for 84 goals, 98 assists in 40 games on the way to the League Championship.
The Quebec Provincial League was a feeder league - one step away from The Show. As close to the NHL as Carnegie had ever been. And Carnegie, hitting the prime of his career, was flying. In 1946/7, he was named captain in Sherbrooke. He was team MVP three years in a row. While in Montreal, which is basically his backyard, less than 2 hours away, Jackie Robinson had his dress rehearsal for the big time, playing for the Montreal Royals. In 1947, he’d break baseball’s colour barrier when he dressed for the Brooklyn Dodgers. Herb watched it all happen, and wondered: what if, maybe, I could do that for hockey?
Here’s Bernice, talking about what Jackie’s example meant to him.
Bernice Carnegie: He really thought he would be the Jackie Robinson of hockey. Because Jackie Robinson was playing not too far from him… And so they were around the same age. And, you know, he thought, OK, this guy has got a break in that that particular manager understood and was willing to have the courage to try to do something that was out of the norm. And he had hoped that that's what would happen in the hockey world, that the managers of the time would actually be more open minded.
And then, in September 1948, the letter arrives. An invitation to the New York Rangers training camp. Here, finally, at 29 years old, was the chance he’d been waiting for. Except, a week into camp, Herb doesn’t quite get the positive encouragement he’s expecting. Instead, he’s offered a spot on New York’s Tacoma farm team - 3 rungs down the ladder - and earning considerably less than he made in Sherbrooke. Herb’s beyond insulted. He says ‘No, Thank you.’
The next day, a new offer: a spot with the St. Paul’s farm team - 2 rungs down - at a thousand dollars more. But still less than he’d come to expect in the Quebec League. Again, Herb says ‘No, Thank You.’
The next day, the offer changes again. Now it’s to play for New Haven, in the American League. One rung down. $4700 per season this time - that’s actually just above average for an AHL salary. The team brass concede it: Herb’s got talent. They ‘just want to be sure.’ Again, Herb politely declines. ‘No, Thank you. I’ll have to move my family, which means extra expenses. I’ll stick with the good situation I’ve got. Unless you’re willing to offer what we both know I deserve.’
Once again, here’s Akil, reading from Herb’s autobiography.
Akil Augustine [reading from Herb Carnegie’s autobiography]: There was no doubt in my mind, then or now, that I was every bit as good as the most talented player on that team…The Rangers and its management were unable to look beyond the colour of my skin. The scars of that experience mark my soul to this day. The Rangers’ training camp was the end of my dream to play in the NHL…Now I was certain that I had the talent, the skill, and the attitude. The only thing I lacked, to the everlasting shame of the NHL, was white skin.”
Scott Willats: A year later, after another season with Sherbrooke, future Leafs coach Punch Imlach would lure Carnegie to his Quebec Aces. For two years, as an Ace, he’d play alongside the Great Jean Beliveau, among the best Montreal Canadiens - or hockey players, period - of all time. Beliveau would later pen the forward to Carnegie’s book, writing, “It’s my belief that Herbie Carnegie was excluded from the National Hockey League because of his colour. How could the NHL scouts overlook not one, but three Most Valuable Player awards for a player on a team in a top senior league.’
What really struck us was that two of those MVP awards came after that Ranger training camp. Herb was lighting up the league. But there was no second invitation to an NHL camp. Why was that? Recently, on a Zoom call with Bernice, we asked what she thought.
Bernice Carnegie: I think that he was done a real injustice. And it was part of the times of being Black. And understanding the history around being black and how black men were not to challenge white men. That even when they walked in the streets, they would have to lower their eyes. My father challenged the status quo, in a sense, by saying, no, you're offering me something that is less than who I am. I am worthy. I am good.
And so it infuriates me when people talk about it now. And say, ‘Well, if he just kind of humbled himself to, you know, take the lesser money.’ But I challenge any man worth his salt that had children in the house to say that they’re going to cut their salary in half? Please, I don't think there's a man out there that would do that and jeopardize the economics of his family. In the light of everything that's happened, I'm thinking they said, ‘Well, screw you, Herb. You said no to us. We're not going to give you another shot.’ I really think they did it to try to show him, well, we're the boss.And so. It's sad.
Because you know what actually happened here? Is because my father was denied the opportunity. There were many, many people who missed seeing his wonderful talent. They missed experiencing his wonderful personality. Every time we deny someone an opportunity to move forward. We're not just hurting them. We're hurting everybody because you never know what that talent will bring. You never know what that talent is going to do to make a difference in your life.
Scott Willats: Herb Carnegie could have helped the New York Rangers. He could have helped any team in the NHL. But because he said no once. He’d never get the chance again.
Herb was good enough. All he wanted was the chance to show how good - the chance to fail if that’s what it came down to. But Herb was sure he would never fail. The NHL just wasn’t ready. And so, hockey had to wait another decade for its Jackie Robinson: the great Willie O’Ree.
By refusing Herb Carnegie, the game lost out.
Herb Carnegie couldn’t make the change he wanted by donning an NHL jersey. But he could try to make it by other means. Once he hung up his skates, Herb didn’t just sit in the garage, stewing with resentment. Instead, he set out to turn negatives into positives.
Bernice remembers those years after Herb retired and came back home to Toronto. And how he slowly transformed his grief into hope.
Bernice Carnegie: Obviously, he loved the game. And when he talked, he used to say, ‘I could eat the puck for breakfast, lunch and dinner.’ That's how much he loved the game. And of course, when he finished his career, he was disappointed that he didn't make it into the NHL. However, my parents had this attitude that they didn't want us as kids to be overwhelmed with what happened to my father in his career….
He did show his frustrations sometimes, but mostly he was a positive person. And all he could seem to think about is, ‘What can I do that's going to make a difference because I don't want this to happen to anybody else.’ (And that's what the school came in)
Well the hockey school came in because he thought it would be a wonderful idea for the community to have an initiative for the boys that would eventually teach life skills. Because he felt hockey was that profession that actually prepared you for other parts of your life. Hard work. The team spirit, the camaraderie of being with others. And so these are all things that you actually take into your life in other aspects of your life. And so he didn't really think that any of these boys would actually be NHL material. That wasn't where he was going. He was going, what can I do to help these boys feel a sense of self-esteem, a sense of confidence, a sense of community.
And my father actually paid for the arena the first couple of times. And then he went up and down to all of the shopkeepers on Yonge Street in the area and said, ‘Would you like to be part of this?’ And the shopkeepers got involved because even 35 cents for ice time was a lot for some of those kids.
Scott Willats: When they asked Herb what he wanted to call the hockey school he was starting, he said ‘The Future Aces.’ Central to the whole endeavour was a philosophy - a philosophy Boards of Education would eventually integrate into their school curriculum.
As Herb wrote it, that philosophy stood for
A - Attitude, Ability, Action, Achievement
C - Cooperation, Courage, Confidence
E - Example, Empathy, Education
S - Service and Sportsmanship
ACES. And that philosophy still lives on. Though Herb passed away in 2012, the Herbert H. Carnegie Future Aces Foundation, which he established with his wife and Bernice in 1987, still does its work, living by that philosophy.
There is a rink and school in North York named after Herb.
In 2005, the North York Civic Centre took his moniker as well. I mean, Herb has even been immortalized in two Spider Man Comics - helping Spidey foil a drug smuggling operation in one and a plan to steal a valuable chemical formula in another.
Marvel Comics claimed Herb as a hero. And who the heck is going to argue with them?
Here is Bernice again.
Scott Willats: We know he’s a hometown boy from Toronto. What did the Toronto Maple Leafs mean to your father. What would he say about Leaf Nation?
Bernice Carnegie: Oh, of course, that was the team he wanted to be on. It was the team he wanted to be on, and I know he played it may believe gardens that there were times that he played there. I think it would have been really wonderful had he actually made it on the team. But he wasn't that person to wallow. Because it didn't happen, didn't mean that he couldn't have a really good life. And so he did. I think when I look back at my father's life. And I see, oh, he has an arena named after him. He has a school named after him. He's a real life comic book character in Spider-Man and many. And he actually was inducted into 13 Halls of Fame. And I'm going, you know what? For the guy that didn’t make it into the NHL, to one for the guy who didn't make it into the NHL he left an impact that was bigger than life…. all he ever said is, I want to make this world a better world than when I came into it.
Scott Willats: Herb Carnegie may not have had the language to call out the racism he encountered in hockey in the 1930s and 40s. But that’s what it was. The game of hockey Herb Carnegie grew up in was staunchly and unapologetically racist. And you can’t just take that out of the sport and the culture in a decade. Or even over 70 years for that matter. Not without a real reckoning.
Hopefully, we’re beginning to have that reckoning in our sport now. I mean, I wish Herb was still around to see it. And I hope we can all take his example as inspiration as we push the sport forward. Carnegie was scarred by the barriers that kept him from playing in the NHL, but he was never beaten. Instead, he relentlessly fought for what was good and what was right; for the capacity to make change.
The playing field was not level for Herb Carnegie. But he never stopped fighting to make sure it would be for those who came after him. For the good of the game he loved, and the community he called home.
‘Barrier Breakers’ was co-created by us here at Leafs Forever and Akil Augustine. Akil, the genesis of this idea was yours; without your passion, insights and continued help, none of this would have been possible. Cheers, brother.
Today's episode was written by myself and Paul Matthews, produced by Katie Jensen and Vocal Fry Studios for Maple Leaf Sports and Entertainment.
A special thanks has to go to Bernice Carnegie, who has been so instrumental in guiding this episode to life over many, many months. If you liked this episode, please, do yourself a favour and go out and get A Fly in a Pail of Milk. The newest edition of Herb Carnegie’s autobiography now features a second part, written by Bernice. It’s kind of about her father’s life and their relationship. It really enriches the reading experience - must read stuff. Bernice, thank you for your time and your grace and wisdom. We hope, we pray, we did your Dad’s story justice.
Further thanks to Associate Producers Jay Coburn, Ren Bangert, Emily Latimer & Erika Dreher, along with Shawna Morrison, Jordan Hayles, Michael Gelfand and MLSE’s amazing Senior Vice-President of Equity, Diversity & Inclusion, Teri Dennis-Davies - for all the help along the way.
If you liked this episode, tell people about it. Both your hockey loving and hockey agnostic ones. And write us a review. Your feedback is always welcome. Especially on this series. Help us think about this issue in new and interesting ways, and if you have story suggestions for the types of things we should be talking about, let us know. The more this series is a conversation, the more we can really start to move towards change.
I am Scott Willats. And until next time, Go Leafs Go.