George McGinnis

Wheat Hotchkiss

Gainbridge Fieldhouse will host a Celebration of Life for Pacers legend and Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame inductee George McGinnis, who passed away in December, on Sunday, Jan. 7 at 2:00 PM ET.

The Celebration of Life will be open to the general public. Doors will open at 1:00 PM.

Those unable to attend in person will be able to watch a live stream of the service on this page.

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Gainbridge Fieldhouse to Host Celebration of Life for George McGinnis on Sunday, Jan. 7

Indiana Pacers great George McGinnis, the 1969 Indiana Mr. Basketball who went on to a professional career that culminated in his enshrinement in the Naismith Hall of Fame, passed away early Thursday morning. He was 73.

McGinnis succumbed to complications from a cardiac arrest suffered last week at his home. He was taken to Community North Hospital where family, friends and former teammates maintained a vigil of  support until his passing.

McGinnis starred on an unbeaten Indianapolis Washington High School team that won the 1969 state championship, led the Big Ten in scoring and rebounding as a sophomore at Indiana University, then helped guide the Pacers to two of their three American Basketball Association championships. He was the ABA’s co-most valuable player (with Julius Erving) in the 1974-75 season. McGinnis then moved on to the Philadelphia 76ers in the National Basketball Association, where he was twice named an All-Star. He later played for the Denver Nuggets before returning to the Indiana Pacers, closing his 11-year professional career in 1982.

He is one of four Pacers (Roger Brown, Mel Daniels and Reggie Miller being the others) to have his Pacers jersey – No. 30 – retired. He was inducted into the Naismith Hall of Fame in 2017.

At 6-8, 235 pounds, McGinnis defined the position of “power” forward but also was a tremendous rebounder, floor leader and teammate. In the 1975 ABA playoffs, for example, he averaged 32.3 points, 15.9 rebounds and 8.2 assists.

As 1969 Mr. Basketball, he was best known for his 53-point, 30-point rebound performance in the Indiana All-Stars’ victory over Kentucky in Louisville’s Freedom Hall.

Although plagued by severe back issues in later life, McGinnis was affable, approachable and immensely loyal to his friends, former teammates and former Pacers coach Bobby “Slick” Leonard.  He also was a successful businessman, forming and running GM Supply, a wholesale industrial supply firm.

The son of Willie and Burnie McGinnis, George married his high school sweetheart, Lynda, who passed in 2019. He is survived by his sister, Bonnie.

A statement from the Simon Family and Pacers Sports & Entertainment:

“From his all-state high school days to his time as an IU All-American and, of course, to his legendary ABA championship runs with the Pacers, George McGinnis shaped so many of the fondest basketball memories for generations of Hoosiers. He was the very definition of an Indiana basketball legend, a champion, and Hall of Fame athlete. But he was more than that. George was family. A passionate advocate for his fellow ABA players and a present, smiling face around the franchise, George has been as synonymous with our Pacers franchise as anyone. He will be greatly missed, and all of us at Pacers Sports & Entertainment will keep George and his family in our prayers.”

The burial will be private but a celebration of life will take place in Gainbridge Fieldhouse after the first of the year. Details to be announced.

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Pacers Legend George McGinnis Has Passed Away

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The natural tendency is to believe black professional athletes live on an island free of racial bias. They are well-paid and generally beloved if
they are performing well, so who would react to them negatively simply because of their race?

Those who have worn the Pacers uniform say that isn't always the case, however. From the beginning of the franchise's history in 1967 black members of the team have experienced racism in both subtle and blatant forms away from the cocoon of the locker room. The timeline of their experiences reflects progress, but also the need for more of it.

What's clear from conversations with several black Pacers is that Indiana has a reputation for not always being accommodating to them.

"As soon as you get to Indiana and talk to people who have lived there for a long time, you're told right away there are certain parts of Indiana you don't go to," said Antonio Davis, who played for the Pacers from 1993-99. "You know that right off. They talk about the KKK once marching in Indianapolis and you hear the stories about a lot of different things.

"But I can honestly say in being there, I didn't have bad experiences other than minor things. You feel it a lot, but I don't know that I have a story where experienced it."

That wasn't the case when the franchise began operations in 1967 after the American Basketball Association was formed. Some of the players on the inaugural team experienced one of the most fundamental issues of race: housing.

While some of the black players bought houses in predominately black neighborhoods close to downtown, two attempted to rent an apartment farther away. Guard Jerry Harkness inquired about one in a new complex in the Meadows area but was rejected. He had to connect with a local white man, civic leader Bill McGowan, who made a call to another apartment complex on his behalf. When McGowan said he was looking for a place for a Pacer, he was told, "We already have one!"

"One," meaning a black player. That was forward Oliver Darden, who had been granted an apartment at a building on North Keystone after being turned away at three or four other places. Darden got an apartment because he threatened to sue and a Pacers front office member had intervened on his behalf. Harkness later got an apartment at 38th and Post Rd. through local real estate developer Robert Welch, who owned the building.

"I didn't think it would be that hard," McGowan said. "I didn't realize how bad it was."

It should be mentioned, however, that neither Darden nor Harkness say they had memorable issues with other residents after moving into their apartment complexes.

The Pacers had as many as eight black players in their first season, more than any other team in the ABA or NBA. That didn't go over well with some fans. Larry Staverman, the Pacers' first coach, recalled hearing complaints from fans in the stands whenever he had five black players in the game at the same time. The front office must have heard them, too, because there was a dedicated effort the following season to "whiten" the roster. Whereas five white players played for the team in the first season, 11 appeared in games at various points the following year.

The gradual roster transformation finally met with a blowback when general manager Mike Storen tried to release black backup center George Peeples after white guard Steve Chubin had been acquired. According to Jimmy Rayl's account, one acknowledged by Storen, Peeples was called into a locker room before practice one morning and was told of his release by Storen and coach Bob Leonard. When Roger Brown learned of it, he walked into the locker room and filed a complaint. Moments later, Rayl — a white former Mr. Basketball from Kokomo — was called in and told he was being released due to the size of his contract.

Brown, a future Hall of Famer, experienced a more direct form of racism following a Game 7 playoff loss to Utah at the Coliseum in 1971. He had led the Pacers to the league championship the previous seasons but had not performed as well in this series. According to newspaper reports, a few fans hurled beer and racial slurs at him as he headed toward the locker room.

"Afterwards, the usually unemotional Brown was shaken up," Robin Miller wrote in the Indianapolis Star.

"It was a sad scene. Here was a man who almost single-handedly beat the Stars in last season's championship series. He just didn't have the stardust this year. He was solid but not spectacular. As a result he'll probably be scorned for the rest of the summer."

Star sports editor Bob Collins devoted most of his column to the incident a few days later, constructing it as a letter of apology to Brown.

"But morons aren't real long on memory," Collins wrote. "In any basketball crowd you'll see a few drunks who couldn't find the men's room without a map. So, they took it out on you. And they hit you where it cut the deepest. But at the same time they displayed the limits of their vocabulary, to say nothing of their mentality."

Mel Daniels was perhaps the most inclusive of all the early Pacers. Having played for an integrated high school team in Detroit, a rarity in that era, and being a natural empathizer, he was a natural for bridging the gap between races. His personality was such that Billy Keller considers a postgame talk with Daniels after a road loss during his rookie season the exact moment he felt like an accepted team member.

That didn't shield Daniels from bigotry, however. Although his experiences as a Pacer were mostly positive as a two-time league Most Valuable Player on teams that won three ABA championships, he did recall — with laughter — a letter he received from a fan that stated something along the lines of, "We believe that white ballplayers are better than black ballplayers, but we like you. Can we have your autograph?"

George McGinnis says he also was denied an apartment after signing with the Pacers in 1971 following his sophomore season at Indiana. He and his girlfriend, Lynda, went to a complex on 56th St. and were told by the office manager, "We don't rent to coloreds." He rented an apartment near Castleton instead.

McGinnis says he didn't hear racial slurs from fans at the Coliseum as Brown had, but often heard them from fans in other cities, especially in the south.

"It was a different time back then," he says. "It happened all the time."

He did have a brush with bigotry following an exhibition game against the Kentucky Colonels at Columbus North High School in September of 1972.

He and Darnell Hillman headed to a Columbus restaurant after the game for something to eat, but were denied service. Not only denied but laughed at by the man in charge.

"I have some friends in Columbus and they told me that guy joked about it for 15 years," McGinnis recalls.

McGinnis says he didn't inform Leonard of the incident, instead airing a more general complaint.

"I don't like it down here," he told Leonard. "If we come back here for another game, I'm not coming."

McGinnis says Leonard replied, "You don't have to worry because the ------- promoter stiffed us out of our money. We won't be coming back."

Hillman had some bad experiences of his own. Visiting the Indianapolis Motor Speedway following his rookie season in 1972, he was taken to the first turn to watch the action. Passing by the Snake Pit, he heard fans shouting the N-word at him.

"I was like, 'OK, this won't be a race I'll be coming back to anytime soon," he says.

Hillman was reminded there were other places to avoid during the playoffs in 1973, when the Pacers played Kentucky. Leonard allowed the players to drive to games in Louisville if they wanted, so Hillman drove his new Corvette.

Heading home after one game, he took the Whiteland exit in search of a gas station. He soon noticed a car full of young white males following him, talking among themselves and gesturing toward him. Farther into town, a police car began following him as well. The kids soon pulled off, but the police officer continued to follow him. Giving up on finding a place to refuel, Hillman headed back to the interstate. The officer followed him for a while before taking an exit ramp. Hillman barely made it to a station on the south side of Indianapolis before running out of gas and was later lectured by Daniels about staying out of smaller towns outside of Indianapolis.

Generally, however, their status as a Pacer helped players in their encounters with police officers.

Hillman, who drove sports cars and motorcycles during his playing career, was pulled over occasionally often for speeding. After the officer looked at his license, the common response was something along the lines of "Slow down, Darnell, we want you around to win basketball games."

The more blatant racially motivated incidents go back many years, but Hillman experienced one after the new millennium while in French Lick for a summer golf outing. He was walking into a store in town when a car of young white men drove by and shouted the N-word at him.

Travis Best had a similar experience as a rookie with the Pacers in the 1995-96 season. The memory of being at a gas station on N. Keystone Ave. and hearing the N-word from some people in a passing car remains fresh in his memory — partly because it had never happened before.

"That was the first time it had ever been said to me," said Best, Best, who grew up in Springfield, Mass. and attended college at Georgia Tech in Atlanta. "That was a jolt.”"

These incidents have become more isolated over the years. It's not as though the Pacers' black players have heard racial insults whenever they leave home, and at some point housing discrimination faded into oblivion for them.

"I've been pretty fortunate in that way," Best says. "Not too many (negative) things have come my way. I'm pretty sure there have been things, but I've always been in a position where I haven't had to ask anyone for anything. So, I haven't been in position where somebody could talk down or berate me in any way."

Davis had the added benefit of being 6-foot-9 and more easily identified as an athlete than the 5-11 Best. He says he felt more racial resentment while playing in other U.S. cities as well as parts of Europe, but he says he felt uncomfortable in certain environments in Indianapolis.

"Believe me, there are times where you are out and people don't know who you are...” he said. "I moved to Zionsville and I felt it there sometimes. You know what I mean? Some people didn't know me or thought I shouldn't live where I lived. It was just something I felt."

Have a question for Mark? Want it to be on Pacers.com? Email him at askmontieth@gmail.com and you could be featured in his next mailbag.

Mark Montieth's book on the formation and groundbreaking seasons of the Pacers, "Reborn: The Pacers and the Return of Pro Basketball to Indianapolis," is available in bookstores throughout Indiana and on Amazon.com.

Note: The contents of this page have not been reviewed or endorsed by the Indiana Pacers. All opinions expressed by Mark Montieth are solely his own and do not reflect the opinions of the Indiana Pacers, their partners, or sponsors.

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Pacers Players Not Immune From Racial Discrimination

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Costas Joining Former Players for ABA Reunion

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A Closer Look at the Pacers' Hall-of-Fame Frontline

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From the moment he first learned the news in March, George McGinnis has been thinking about how he could fit all of the people he had to thank into his Hall of Fame acceptance speech.

After all, the list is long. It starts, as it often does, with his parents, who came to Indianapolis in search of a better life.

"That turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me," McGinnis said of his parents' move to Indiana. "Because it's hard growing up in Indiana and not falling in love with the game of basketball."

The bond with the sport was formed watching Oscar Robertson's Crispus Attucks team win a state title after an undefeated season. From that moment on, McGinnis could almost always be found on a court, working on what became his trademarked one-handed jumpshot.

McGinnis Hall of Fame Central: Learn More About McGinnis' Enshrinement »

At the high school level, McGinnis was as feared an opponent as there was. But his father, Burnie, rarely got to see him play, since he was working long hours to help keep food on the table.

Tragically, McGinnis' father died in a construction accident, but McGinnis warmly recalled the Indiana-Kentucky All-Star Game that his father got to see nine days before his passing. In the game, McGinnis scored 53 points and pulled down 30 rebounds.

"He told me he how proud he was of me, one of the few times he ever told me that, and that was one of the best feelings I ever had," McGinnis recalled of the conversation with his father after the game.

During his speech on Friday night at Symphony Hall in Springfield, Massachusetts, McGinnis continued to go through the list of those he was thankful for. On that list was of course Bobby "Slick" Leonard, McGinnis' coach when he first joined the Pacers, a mentor, and still a friend, joining McGinnis on stage during the enshrinement ceremony.

"Like my real father, Slick, you taught all of us to be tough, but you also taught us to have compassion," McGinnis said to Leonard during his speech.

McGinnis also thanked some of his teammates who have since passed away, such as Mel Daniels and Roger Brown — the cornerstones of Indiana's early 1970s dynasty.

After McGinnis' playing days were over, he stayed in Indianapolis, and remained present at basketball games. For a long time, McGinnis and fellow Hall-of-Famer Mel Daniels operated as older relatives to young Pacers players, imparting the pride of the organization to the next batch of Pacers.

Perhaps no other player in team history took their lessons more to heart than Reggie Miller, who was on stage alongside McGinnis during his enshrinement speech. McGinnis recalled to the audience taking immense pride at the hustle and passion that Miller played the game with.

"You've done more for the Pacers organization than any player that's ever played in that uniform." McGinnis told Miller. "And I can't tell you how honored I am to have you standing here tonight."

But if McGinnis and company were the cornerstones of the Pacers, it was clear that McGinnis' wife, Linda, is the cornerstone of McGinnis' life. McGinnis recalled meeting his wife as far back as kindergarten.

"I can't tell you how much I love you and I appreciate you every day," said McGinnis.

Being inducted into the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame is the ultimate individual achievement. After all, it's not teams that get in, it's players and coaches.

But from McGinnis' speech on Friday night, it was clear he didn't want to join basketball immortality on his own, he wanted to bring every single person who helped him along his legendary path. Every coach at every level. Every teammate. Every fan.

Wisely, McGinnis saved the one last "thank you" of his speech for the thing that made his success possible.

"Thank you basketball," he said with a smile, and walked off the stage to applause.

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At Hall of Fame Enshrinement, McGinnis Thankful for Friends and Family

Talk to anyone who knows George McGinnis and they'll tell you the same thing: he's as nice a guy as you're ever going to meet. He's soft-spoken and preternaturally polite, true to his nature and the habits his parents, Burnie and Willie, instilled.

That's not all that unusual, really. Most great athletes tend to be accommodating in their later years, after the cheering stops and the spotlight dims. I can tell you from personal experience, however, that McGinnis was the same way when he was on top of the basketball world, although I had to stalk him to find out.

McGinnis was as great a sports figure as the state of Indiana had ever produced in the mid-Seventies. He had been the most physically dominant high school player anyone had seen while leading Washington to an undefeated season and the state championship in 1969. He had excelled at Indiana University in his one varsity season there, in 1970-71, while leading the Big Ten in scoring and rebounding. He had starred on the Pacers' championship teams in 1972 and '73, earning Most Valuable Player honors in the finals in '73, when he led a Game 7 victory over Kentucky in Louisville. And then in 1974-75 he had a season yet to be surpassed by any Pacer while leading a young, rebuilding team to the finals and sharing league MVP honors with Julius Erving.

He was a basketball player ahead of his time, predating the likes of Karl Malone and LeBron James. He was a muscular, agile forward who could grab a rebound and take it the length of the floor for a dunk, or grab an offensive rebound in traffic and score on put-backs. He was a decent perimeter shooter, with that funky one-handed shot. He was a good passer, too, although he wasn't expected to let go of the ball too often.

How good was he? His stats tell stories that seem almost fictional today.

Early in his second ABA season, on Nov. 28, 1972, he scored a franchise-record 58 points in an overtime win at Dallas. Twenty-one of his points came in the third quarter, and just two in the extra session. He also had 16 rebounds and eight steals.

The following season, on Jan. 12, 1974, he grabbed a club-record 37 rebounds in a victory over Carolina in Indianapolis, and, oh by the way, had 52 points as well.

That game was the third in three nights for the Pacers. They played the following night as well, in San Diego. They lost that one, 141-130, but McGinnis - despite playing four nights in a row and having traveled from Indianapolis to New York to Indianapolis to San Diego - finished with 36 points and 14 rebounds in 47 minutes.

A year later, during his MVP season, he had five triple-doubles in the first two rounds of the playoffs, including an outlandish outburst against San Antonio with 51 points, 17 rebounds and 10 assists.

The following season, after he had jumped to Philadelphia in the NBA, a move that few people in Indianapolis begrudged because of the Pacers' inability to come close to matching the 76ers' salary offer, I was the sports editor of the Indiana Daily Student. I came up with the idea of a series of feature articles on former IU athletes who were playing or had played professionally, and called them Pro-files. Clever, eh?

I assigned myself a story on McGinnis and arranged to drive to Chicago when the Sixers were playing the Bulls at the old Chicago Stadium, on Feb. 10, 1976. An IDS colleague, John Whisler, went with me to do a story on John Laskowski, who was playing for the Bulls. I found out the hotel where the Sixers were staying, and waited for McGinnis in the lobby on the afternoon of the game. I introduced myself to him as the players headed to the bus for the ride to the stadium, but he didn't have time to talk then. "Catch me over at the stadium before the game," he said. Politely.

After arriving at the stadium, I went to the 76ers' locker room. He was busy with other interviews and conversations, however. "Catch me after the game," he said. Politely.

I returned to the locker room after the game, in which McGinnis scored 23 points and grabbed 12 rebounds to lead a one-point Sixers victory, but by the time the beat reporters had finished talking with him, the team was ready to leave. "Catch me back at the hotel," he said. Politely.

Teams flew commercial in those days and stayed overnight in the cities in which they played their road games, rather than flying out after the game as they do now. So, back at the hotel, I found McGinnis holding court in the lounge. I sat nearby, nervously, while he talked with friends – most of whom were cousins who lived in Chicago – and then finally made my final approach.

Leaning sideways while those around him talked among themselves, he answered all the questions a college reporter could conjure up. Politely. I would no doubt cringe today if I read the story I wrote from that conversation, but at the time it felt like a personal victory. I believe I basically confirmed he was a down-to-earth guy who hadn't let fame go to his head. Not exactly ground-breaking stuff, but at least it was an accurate depiction.

McGinnis admittedly became a little embittered after he was held largely responsible for the Sixers' loss to Portland in the 1977 NBA Finals, and then was traded to Denver. He suffered a career-altering injury there, when he stepped on Buffalo guard Randy Smith's foot while heading to the basket for a breakaway layup, and was never the same.

He finished his career with the Pacers, a shell of his former self, and was released in training camp before the 1982-83 season. It took him awhile to get over that, but he did. After a sabbatical in Denver, he returned home and took advantage of various opportunities afforded to him because of the good reputation he had established. Eventually, he built a new career in the business world, one that continues to prosper.

I've talked with him many times since his return to Indianapolis, usually for articles, podcasts and the like. Most recently, I went to his luxurious home in the Geist area to help him with his induction speech and to interview him for stories on this website. He hasn't changed. On my first visit, he and his wife of 40 years, Linda - his childhood sweetheart - served lasagna. I managed to knock over a half-filled glass of water on the dining room table.

"Don't worry about that, Mark," he said, politely, getting up to grab a dish cloth. "I'll get it. That's why we have this table cloth."

The point is, neither fame nor fortune has changed the kid who grew up in a $7,000 home in the Haughville neighborhood on Indy's west side. And now that he's ready for basketball's ultimate individual honor, the theme of his story is clear.

It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

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At the Top of his Career, McGinnis Remained Down to Earth

1. While in high school at Washington, McGinnis was able to get into a few Pacers games for free at the Coliseum, thanks to friendly doormen. He'd watch from a tunnel or doorway. "I'd think, it would be so neat to be out there with Roger (Brown) and those guys," he recalls. Just a couple of years later he was, signing with the Pacers in 1971 after his sophomore season at IU.

2. McGinnis had the personality to transcend race in the Sixties, making friends in the white suburbs as well as the inner city. He was close with Speedway High School star Tom Gilbert, a member of the 1968 Indiana All-Star team, while in high school. Gilbert's family took McGinnis to Raccoon Lake a few times while he was in high school and taught him how to water ski. "These white people would see this big black guy coming out of the water and didn't know what to think," McGinnis says.

3. One of the more historic moments in McGinnis' playing career was his 53-point, 30-rebound performance in the second game of the Indiana-Kentucky all-star series in 1969. Earlier that week, however, all-star coach Angus Nicoson was so frustrated with his players' lax attitude in practice that he gathered them in the locker room and screamed at them, McGinnis included, and then threw a chair against the locker room wall above McGinnis' head. Years later, Nicoson laughingly recalled the moment when talking with McGinnis. "Did you like that chair coming at your head? I was trying to use you as an example because you were my best guy." "I loved Angus," McGinnis says today. "He was a tough guy."

4. McGinnis was a high school All-American in football as well as basketball. He excelled as a tight end and defensive end, and says he had hundreds of scholarship offers for football. He thought about playing football at IU, and might have if the program had not been struggling when he enrolled there in 1969 and when he became eligible for varsity competition the following year.

5. McGinnis was a great admirer of former Purdue All-American Rick Mount, who joined the Pacers one year before him. At one of their first practices together, McGinnis challenged Mount — one of the greatest shooters ever — to a game of HORSE.  Mount shrugged him off at first, but McGinnis persisted. Finally Mount relented, and won, without McGinnis giving him a single letter. "He beat the hell out of me," McGinnis says. "I just wanted to play him."

6. McGinnis' peak professional season came in 1974-75, when he averaged 29.8 points, 14.3 rebounds and 6.3 assists for the Pacers, not to mention a franchise-record 5.3 turnovers per game. He led a young, rebuilding team to the ABA finals that season, and was awarded co-MVP honors with New York's Julius Erving. True to his humble nature, he didn't consider himself the leader of that group, just one of the guys. "I think the guys looked up to me because I was probably the best player on the team," he says. Yeah, probably.

7. McGinnis jumped to Philadelphia of the NBA after that season, nearly tripling his income. He was a first-team all-NBA selection his first season with the 76ers, as well as an All-Star, and reignited interest in the team. Billboards throughout town proclaimed his greatness. After that season, the franchise had a chance to sign Erving, but team officials ran it by McGinnis first to make sure he approved. If he had said no, they would not have signed Erving, who led the franchise to the NBA championship in 1983.

8. After he was cut by the Pacers in training camp in 1982, McGinnis felt ashamed to have his career end so abruptly and humbly in his hometown. He moved to Denver to hunt and fish and acclimate himself to the real world, then returned to Indianapolis a few years later to begin a new life. He was a broadcast analyst for Pacers games as well as high school and college games, was co-chair of the city's NCAA Final Four committee, worked for the Hoosier Lottery, and volunteered for local charities, among other things. He eventually co-founded GM Supply Co. and devoted himself to that, other than working for the NCAA. He still leads his company, but plans to retire soon.

9.McGinnis has been hunched over and walking with a cane for a few years now, the result of a hereditary back condition. It's a sad sight, especially for those who remember how physically dominant he had been during his playing career. He will have surgery to straighten his back in the winter, however. A new procedure developed by a surgeon at St. Vincent's hospital offers hope. Fellow Naismith Hall of Famer Bill Walton had the surgery, with successful results. McGinnis' sister, Bonnie, is in the hospital now, recovering from the two-surgery procedure, and is encouraged by the results. "It will be nice to stand tall again," McGinnis says.

10. One of his fondest memories is of the phone call he received from Gus Johnson, an NBA veteran and Naismith Hall of Famer who played on the Pacers' 1973 championship team at the end of Johnson's career. Johnson was dying from brain cancer in 1987 when he called McGinnis to lift his spirits, complimenting him on his career and encouraging him to hang in there. Johnson died two days later.