San Francisco Chronicle

March 14, 2007
by Gwen Knapp

Outsized response to Foyle as citizen

As gray film clips from Ellis Island rolled and the words of Emma Lazarus ("Give me your tired, your poor ...'') spread over the Masonic Auditorium, an autograph seeker took a big foam-rubber No. 1 finger to one of the new Americans in Section 5. That had to be a first.

The man who made introductory remarks, before the ceremony proceeded to the film and the Oath of Allegiance, pointed out the man in Section 5 and predicted that the Warriors would, contrary to media predictions, make the playoffs. That had to be a first, too.

Adonal Foyle couldn't possibly expect to fit in here, like any of the other 1,149 immigrants becoming U.S. citizens Tuesday morning. He didn't even fit into his seat. His long legs extended into the aisle, and his head rose above everybody else's. TV cameras recorded his every gesture, including the hug he gave to Catherine Sun, the woman from China who sat next to him, after they finished the oath.

But nothing set him apart as much as his reasons for finalizing the citizenship application. Six years after founding Democracy Matters, an advocacy group committed to campaign-finance reform, Foyle had to undo an inconsistency. He had become the leader of a voting-reform movement, but he lacked the right to vote.

"After working with young people for so many years, and talking to them about changing the world, changing the political system, getting money out of politics, going to the polls and making your voices be heard,'' he said, "and to be saying that for so many years, and (then) I just realized ... that I have never been able to vote ... that I'm 32 years old and I've never cast a ballot. That's a big deal.''

He proceeded to talk about the colorful presidential campaign of 2008 and to say that he wanted to register as an independent, except that he worried about giving up the chance to vote in the primaries. Because he is a professional basketball player, reporters captured every word. But what Foyle was telling them, intentionally or not, was that basketball is simply a starting point for him.

As he spoke, a couple from upstate New York, Joan and Jay Mandle, watched proudly. The Mandles became his legal guardians almost 17 years ago, when he left his island home of St. Vincent and the Grenadines. He had almost no academic skills, they said, and when they gave him an SAT practice test after his first year in the United States, he couldn't do much beyond wield the No. 2 pencil. He came to this country to play basketball, but that wasn't enough. Even then, it was only a starting point.

The Mandles, both professors at Colgate, pulled him out of the high school in Philadelphia where he had started and took him into their home in Hamilton, N.Y. They became his tutors and taskmasters.

"We told him, Adonal, (people) will let you get through school so that you can play basketball, but you will not be an educated person,'' Joan Mandle said. They quickly discovered that they had a sponge on their hands.

"Once we got him here, it was 'I want to go to the theater. I want to go to museums,' '' Joan said.

On long car trips, they'd bring out flash cards on a variety of subjects and have him compete with Jay to see who got the most answers. "They used to cheat,'' Jay said, happily reminiscing. His wife backed him: "I would always make sure Adonal won.''

The teenager went overboard with some bad stuff, too, devouring novelties such as potato chips and television. Foyle's island home had no electricity, and the exposure to Technicolor was a revelation.

"When I told him that he was addicted to television, he was so mad at me,'' Jay Mandle said, grinning.

Today, Foyle runs a book group and writes poetry. The stereotype of a pro athlete doesn't accommodate him any better than the seat at the Masonic Auditorium. Recently, Foyle started the Kerosene Lamp Foundation to aid young people here and in the Caribbean, using basketball camps to promote literacy, awareness of sexually transmitted diseases and economic empowerment. The name of the foundation pays tribute to Foyle's youth, when he relied on kerosene lamps to read and, when he was outdoors in the dark, to guide him home.

He has come a long, long way since then. So, presumably, had a lot of the other people at the Masonic Auditorium. Foyle was a little surprised by all the fuss that his appearance at the swearing-in ceremony caused. He signed autograph upon autograph, and he posed for countless pictures with people clutching their new certificates of citizenship. At one point, five people gathered quickly under his big wingspan, with several cameras pointed at the group.

Foyle, ready with a smile, turned his head back and forth, not sure which camera would go off when. "Where am I looking?'' he asked with a laugh.

He was completely at ease. He is always looking in several directions at the same time.

Copyright © 2007, San Francisco Chronicle

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