Benjamin Sklar for The New York Times
LaDainian's brother, Ronald, left, and his uncle, Andrew Butler, at the home of Tomlinson’s father. Tomlinson Hill is named after James K. Tomlinson.
Links to Slavery and N.F.L. Star on a Hill in Texas
By LEE JENKINS
Courtesy of the New York Times
Denis Poroy/Associated Press
San Diego Chargers running back LaDainian Tomlinson is the N.F.L.'s most valuable player.
TOMLINSON HILL, Tex. — One hundred and fifty years ago, a white farmer named James K. Tomlinson rode through central Texas in a covered wagon and settled 15 acres of pasture land.
Today, the legacy of that land is carried on by a 27-year-old pro football player in San Diego whose ancestors were Tomlinson’s slaves.
LaDainian Tomlinson, the San Diego Chargers’ running back and the most valuable player in the National Football League, may not be related to James Tomlinson, but they are linked by the hill that bears their name.
Tomlinson Hill belongs to both of them. After Emancipation, LaDainian Tomlinson’s ancestors kept the name and stayed on the hill. They wanted to make the place their own.
“I know the hill isn’t really named for us,” LaDainian Tomlinson said. “But I take pride in it, and I take pride in my name. When I think of that hill, I think of my family. When people look at it, I want them to think about me and my family.”
Tomlinson Hill is not listed on maps. Locals refer to it as a settlement, not a town. It does not have a post office, a gas station or a store. It is not really even a hill; the altitude rises slightly from nearby Marlin and Lott. Cows graze on either side of dirt roads. Dogs run unleashed in the streets. Their barking pierces the country quiet.
The hill used to be crowded with Tomlinsons. The houses of LaDainian’s relatives and those of James Tomlinson’s descendants were divided by a pasture and a fence.
The divide still exists, a pasture separating white families from black families, large homes from small ones. The population, about 100, is racially mixed and composed largely of senior citizens. There may be only one person left whose last name is Tomlinson. He is 71, has gray stubble and usually needs a walking stick to get around.
Standing in his front yard, next to a rusty pickup truck and a car that needs new spark plugs, Oliver Tomlinson sorted through his mail. “I’m looking for my Super Bowl tickets,” he said. “I know they’re coming.”
Oliver explains to anyone passing by that his son plays football for the San Diego Chargers and that they are going to the Super Bowl. When it is suggested that they first need to win two playoff games, he waves his hand dismissively. [The Chargers have a bye, and their first game will be scheduled for Jan. 13 or 14.]
Oliver lives in a one-story white house on a corner. He watches his son’s games on a television set with a rabbit-ears antenna. He surrounds himself with space heaters. Rain clatters off his tin roof. He has no phone. Among the few decorations on the walls is an unframed photograph of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
“LaDainian has asked me to move to San Diego,” Oliver said, spitting a stream of tobacco juice into a peanut can. “But I can’t leave this hill. It’s been too good to me. This hill has given me everything I need. The Lord blessed me with that boy and this hill.”
LaDainian was raised by his mother in Waco and estranged from his father, who left the family for long periods. But LaDainian’s visits to Tomlinson Hill provided a connection to his relatives. His father lived on the same block as his uncles, aunts and cousins.
Neighbors used to watch the young LaDainian dash from one house to another, often accompanied by his favorite pet, a black-and-white Poland China hog. “He was fast,” said Jewel Hodges, a Tomlinson Hill resident. “He was always fast.”
When the family made bonfires under the mesquite trees at night, LaDainian would put a toy on the edge of the fire, then try to grab the toy before it was engulfed. It was as if he were taking handoffs.
His paternal grandfather, Vincent Tomlinson, watched over LaDainian. Vincent worked the fields for John and Albert Tomlinson, descendants of James Tomlinson. Vincent lived in a house built by John and Albert, in a row known as the subdivision.
John and Albert hired Vincent’s wife, Julie, to be their cook. Every June 19, Vincent and Julie took the day off to give a party in honor of Emancipation Day. John and Albert lent them space for the party. Julie baked her famous pecan pie for everyone.
“It evolved into a unique relationship between the two families,” said Robert Stem, a state district judge who has lived on Tomlinson Hill for 30 years. “I remember Vincent and John always riding around together in an old Chevrolet pickup, running fox hounds. They called each other cousin.”
John and Albert did not have any sons, and their family name seemed destined to die with them. To honor John and Albert more than 20 years ago, Mr. Stem named his youngest son John Tomlinson Stem.
“I didn’t know then about LaDainian and what he would accomplish,” Mr. Stem said. “He has brought a whole new meaning to the Tomlinson name. By the way he acts and the way he plays, he has brought a lot of smiles to a lot of people on Tomlinson Hill.”
LaDainian set a record with 31 touchdowns this season and did not do a choreographed dance after any one of them. While San Diego appreciates his hip-fakes and stiff-arms, Tomlinson Hill appreciates how he unfailingly gives credit to his mother, Loreane Chappell, and his offensive line.
LaDainian still lists Waco as his hometown and returns every off-season, but it has been years since he made the 45-mile drive from Waco to Tomlinson Hill. He is in contact with his father, but they are not close. If and when he visits the hill, he will find a few changes.
Most of the pigs and horses are gone. The only business, a barbecue joint, has burned down.
Several of the houses on his father’s block are abandoned and decayed, the walls collapsing under the weight of time.
Not long ago, a new family moved in and thought about changing the name of Tomlinson Hill. The newcomers approached Oliver with a proposal.
“Do you know that my son is LaDainian Tomlinson?” Oliver said. “Do you know LaDainian Tomlinson, the football player?”
The new residents were embarrassed. “They apologized,” Oliver said. “They just told me to forget about it.”
Another local family, the Neumanns, would probably not have allowed such a change. Jenny and Ronnie Neumann live on the other side of the pasture from Oliver, but they talk about LaDainian as if he were their next-door neighbor.
They have a football autographed by LaDainian. They sent their youngest son, Hunter, to LaDainian’s football camp in Waco.
They talk glowingly about the day that Hunter played catch with LaDainian.
If the Chargers are playing at the same time as the Dallas Cowboys, most of the televisions in Texas are tuned to the Cowboys game. The Neumanns watch the Chargers.
“Terrell Owens plays for the Cowboys and he’s a clown,” Ronnie Neumann said. “LaDainian plays the game right. He makes us proud.”
Ronnie looked out his front yard at the only sign for Tomlinson Hill, the only visible proof that this place has a name.
The wooden welcome sign is held up by two tall posts, and the letters are attached to barbed wire. A few of the letters are falling off.
“We’ve got to get that fixed,” Ronnie said.
The sign hangs over a field that used to be a reunion ground for Confederate soldiers. Now, families and church groups rent the field for $65 a night in the summer. Usually, though, it just serves as a large front yard for Hunter.
Hunter is 13 and plays football. He looks too lean to be a running back, but he wears navy blue gym shorts emblazoned with LaDainian’s initials, L. T.
Every time Hunter opens his front door, he sees the sign for Tomlinson Hill, a name loaded with cultural significance.
But Hunter does not think about settlers and slaves. He does not reflect on American history — only football history.
“When I see it,” Hunter said, “I just think of L. T.”
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