Game 72: Happy Hairston - Winter Greek Salad

Here’s something that legitimately surprised me: Nearly every person I found throughout history with the nickname “Happy” was anointed with it for non-ironic reasons. Happy Rockefeller, the socialite who scandalized a more prim-and-proper America by becoming the 2nd wife of then-New York Gov. Nelson Rockefeller, got the nickname for her “sunny disposition” as a child. Happy Chandler, a man who championed integration as both Governor of Kentucky and Commissioner of MLB, attained the nickname in college for his “jovial nature.” Clarence “Happy” Day, a 7-time Stanley Cup champion as a player, coach, and executive, was also nicknamed for his “sunny disposition” and the can’t miss first name/surname combo. I prefer my nicknames with some wit, but it seems like they preferred more literal monikers in the era of Mordecai “Three Fingers” Brown.

One of those jovially-named people was Harold “Happy” Hairston, the starting power forward on the Lakers’ 1971-1972 championship team. While he probably got the nickname for his ever-present smile, an open-mouth grin that bared his teeth even when he wasn’t feeling all that happy, he fully earned the nickname in the 2nd act of his life. It was then in retirement when the former star created a foundation that provided educational support, financial assistance, and health care to thousands of underprivileged Angelenos youths.

Hairston was born in Winston-Salem, NC on May 31st, 1942 just as America was ramping up its war effort in the Pacific Theatre. Hairston, who never knew his father, was raised into a star multi-sport athlete at Atkins High School by his mother. The 6’7” teenage Hairston was especially talented at basketball and earned a scholarship to NYU where he and teammate Barry Kramer, who later became a New York Supreme Court Justice, broke most of the school’s records. Hairston was then drafted by the Cincinnati Royals, where he spent three and half seasons before being traded to the Detroit Pistons. In 5 ½ seasons in the Midwest, Hairston languished on teams ranging from middling to terrible but put up solid numbers in the frontcourt. Things changed, however, prior to the 1969-1970 season, when the Pistons hired recently-fired Lakers coach Butch van Breda Kolff*. In Wilt Chamberlain’s hilarious autobiography Wilt, a book that reads like the inspiration for Kenny Powers’ You’re Fucking Out, I’m Fucking In, he called van Breda Kolff the “worst coach [he] ever had” and described him as someone “ignorant of human relations.” The ex-marine clearly did not get along with ol’ Happy, as the forward saw his minutes per game get cut from 35 to 19. But less than a quarter into the season, Hairston was saved with a midseason trade to the Los Angeles Lakers.

In L.A., Hairston immediately thrived with a career high 20.6 points per game in the first 55 games he played in purple and gold. Two seasons later, he and his fellow starters -- Jerry West, Gail Goodrich, Jim McMillian, and Chamberlain -- laid waste to the NBA by winning a still-record 33 games in a row on their way to the Lakers’ first title in California. Hairston was playoff starved early in his career, but he made up for it by averaging a double-double during that season’s championship playoff run. 

Hairston spent the last six years of his NBA career in L.A. before retiring at the end of the 1974-1975 season. After hanging up his sneakers, he managed golf courses and dipped his toes in Hollywood, acting in everything from Sanford and Son to Happy Days. But it was the foundation he founded in 1979 that cemented the 2nd act of his life. Inspired by his poor upbringing without a father and his adult life spent in American cities at the height of post-war urban blight, Hairston founded the Happy Hairston Youth Foundation. Set up with tens of thousands of Hairston’s own money, this non-profit paid the private school tuition for countless underprivileged Angeleno children. The foundation also provided transportation to and from the schools, bought them new clothing, provided dental care, and other essentials cut from the social safety net once the American government saw that the majority of those needing help were the wrong color.

One of those kids was Mitchell Butler. The Inglewood native was born around the same time Hairston made his debut for the Lakers. He grew up in “gang and drug infested streets” and dreamed of an “opportunity to have a different life.” And thanks to Hairston, Butler went from watching Showtime basketball on TV to suiting up on the hardwood of The Forum as a member of the Washington Bullets/Wizards, Portland Trail Blazers, and Cleveland Cavaliers. It was Hairston who saw an 8 year old Butler playing at one of his basketball camps and arranged for him to attend Oakwood, a private K-12 academy in the San Fernando Valley. Butler had his tuition paid in full by the Happy Hairston Youth Foundation, setting him up to become UCLA’s all-time leader in games played. Butler went on to have an 11 year career as a professional player in the NBA and international leagues before becoming a sports agent.

In 2001, Hairston died at UCLA Medical Center following several years of battling prostate cancer. Unfortunately, it seems his foundation died with him; the IRS revoked its exempt status because it hadn’t filed paperwork for several years. But for several decades, Happy lived up to his nickname. But instead of a nickname born from demeanor, it was a moniker earned by the happiness he brought to others.

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Winter Greek Salad

1 head chicory (aka endive)

½ pound feta cheese

1 large can beets, drained

1 cucumber, thinly sliced

½ head cauliflower florets

1 bunch watercress

1 bunch radishes

2 tomatoes quartered

½ pound broccoli florets

12 Greek olives

Vinaigrette:

⅔ cup olive oil

1 teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon dry mustard

1 tablespoon fresh mint, chopped

½ cup wine vinegar

⅛ teaspoon cayenne

1 tablespoon oregano

1 ½ tablespoon capers

On a round platter make a bed of chicory and watercress. Mound cheese and radishes in center. Blanch broccoli and cauliflower one minute. Arrange vegetables in circles. Scatter olives. Combine all ingredients for vinaigrette and when ready to serve, pour dressing over all vegetables.

When you grow up in California, you tend to not notice things like “seasons.” It’s intensified if you grow up in the city, far away from vast valleys where our nation’s produce is grown. In Los Angeles, we have access to every fresh fruit and vegetable grown in America -- AKA grown in California’s Central Valley -- that you don’t even notice when something is out of season. It wasn’t until my quarantine, when I started a new game of the farming sim Stardew Valley, that I remembered that certain crops don’t fare well in heat and vice-versa. 

I had never even heard of chicory/endive or watercress before reading this recipe. Would I be able to find them at a supermarket, in the middle of a pandemic, at the height of spring? It was a mixed bag. I found plenty of endive but no watercress anywhere. Do Jons and Albertsons and Vons even sell watercress? Or had the panicking hordes snatched up bundles of watercress to go with their toilet paper and Clorox wipes?

I won’t be able to answer that question but I can answer your other question: How was the Winter Greek Salad? It’s a little hard to answer, since I substituted iceberg lettuce for the watercress. But it’s a hearty salad that tastes a little too healthy for its own good. I’ve heard raw broccoli is good for you, so I’m applying that same logic to the raw cauliflower and raw cucumbers and raw radishes and raw canned beets that made up the bulk of the salad. Healthy? Probably. Good? Absolutely not.