AFTER THE CHEERS HAD STOPPED
EX-PACKER'S LIFE ON STREETS
By Patrice Gaines-Carter
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, October 27, 1988
; Page C01
When Travis Williams was 23 and a star halfback for the Green Bay Packers,
it seemed the world would never stop cheering. Reporters waited for him in
locker rooms and fans reached out to touch his jersey, to shake his hand, to
get his autograph.
But that's history. For the past three years, people have passed him with
hardly a glance. Williams, 42, and now a resident of Richmond, Calif., has
been homeless for most of that time. He spent nights on street corners and
days sleeping on park benches. Three weeks ago, Williams said, he got a
part-time job as a security officer for a soup kitchen, earning $8 an hour,
two hours a day, six days a week. He moved into a room that costs him $200 a
month.
He came to Washington yesterday with several other California housing
advocates to protest cuts in the federal housing budget. Williams, wearing
worn tennis shoes and sporting a beard sprinkled with gray, met reporters on
the Capitol steps.
"I came to make people aware of homelessness," Williams said. "It seems to
be something people turn their heads away from. I'm doing stuff like this to
just let . . . {the homeless} know they're not the only ones."
Williams, who earned $41,000 a year at the peak of his career, explained
patiently to one reporter after another how a series of bad investments and
the death of his wife pulled him into a financial hole and mental pit of
despair. Each time he repeated the story, there was a sense that he, too, was
straining to understand his own explanation.
He came to Washington to support Mitch Snyder and eight other members of
the Community for Creative Non-Violence who are fasting until Election Day to
protest housing budget cuts and demand that Congress pass a housing bill that
increases that budget.
Williams said donations by advocates for the homeless paid for his flight.
He joined Snyder and about 25 supporters on the steps of the Capitol, then
they walked to the office of Sen. Alan Cranston (D-Calif.), a member of the
Senate's housing and urban affairs subcommittee, to voice their discontent and
to ask that the senator take a stronger leadership role in asking that
billions be restored to the housing budget.
Cranston was in California, according to Victoria Lion, his assistant
press secretary.
The last time Williams was a media sweetheart was when he played halfback
with Green Bay, from 1967 to 1970. He had been the team's fourth draft pick,
and left his sophomore class at Arizona State University to join the NFL
team. At his athletic peak, the 6-foot-1 Williams weighed 212 pounds. He
weighs about 150 now.
In his football days he racked up his share of impressive statistics. He
was on the UPI All-Rookie Team in 1967. He was the Packers' leading scorer and
rusher in 1969, the same year he was voted "most valuable offensive player" by
the Wisconsin Pro-Football Writers.
But a player did not earn six figures for such statistics in those years.
Williams drove a truck for the Pabst Brewing Co. during the off-season. The
most he ever earned playing football was $41,000 annually. Today's average
salary for a running back is $300,000 a year.
Williams left pro ball in 1972, after a bad knee kept him benched.
"I tried opening a recreation center. You know, the type with Pac Man
machines," said Williams. "I tried to open a restaurant once."
The businesses folded and Williams drove a beer truck for a while. After he
and his wife were evicted from their house in 1977, he said, they spent the
next few years in public housing, living on public assistance or the salary
from his occasional job as a security officer.
On April 9, 1985, his wife of 23 years died of a drug overdose. Williams
would not identify the drug. He said he never has abused alcohol or any other
drug.
It is the struggle to help the homeless that has given Williams a new sense
of self worth. "Things are picking up since I've thrown myself into this
homeless issue," he said. "I was beginning to feel pretty bad about myself.
"I see a way up and it's through me," Williams said. "I never said the
system failed me. I just think America should put a little more interest in
the homeless."
Articles appear as they were originally printed in The Washington
Post and may not include subsequent corrections.
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