The phone interview was the fruit of perfect social distancing. Gary “Sweet P” White sent a Facebook instant message – quite a bit more than a “like” – that he loved my newly posted video.
“You a funny man, Clay Henry,” White wrote.
And, I thought, it’s time to catch up with Sweet P on the phone. We all need a few smiles these tough days. Surely, the first – and best – Razorback mascot can deliver. And, he did.
“Yes, I can, brother,” Sweet P answered from his home in Las Vegas.
“Got lots of time to do that. I’m social distancing. I am at home with my wife and my grandchildren.
“I take a bike ride each day, but mostly I’m just in the house. If I see someone when I go out to the driveway, I sing, ‘Like a good neighbor, stay over there.’ We gotta manage this thing with humor.”
White, who turns 67 on April 19, works as a security guard at the University of Nevada-Las Vegas.
“I don’t really work much,” he said. “I watch other people work at the Thomas & Mack (Center).”
It’s there that he observed new Arkansas basketball coach Eric Musselman work during his four years as Nevada coach. He coached the Wolf Pack to Mountain West Conference titles.
“He’s from my conference,” White said. “He’s a great coach, a national championship type. When my Razorbacks hired him, I said, ‘I already know this man, his wife and his beautiful family.’ It’s going to be great.
“Oh, how we needed him. We need something fun, something to bring joy.”
What they need is Sweet P dancing in Bud Walton Arena. I recall his first dance as the Razorback mascot, given a scholarship by Frank Broyles to provide excitement in Razorback Stadium at halftime. Sweet P thinks it was in 1972.
They called him the “Dancing Razorback,” but basketball star Dean Tolson soon dubbed him as just “Sweet P” and it stuck. As they say, his act was pretty sweet.
“I wanted to bring joy to the kids and everyone who needed it,” he said. “Dancing is magical. I wanted people to smile. That was fundamental to what I brought in 1972. No one was smiling and we need that right now more than ever.”
White delighted fans and players at Fort Smith Northside games. Football coach Bill Stancil advised Broyles to “recruit” White.
“Bill Stancil did it for the gate receipts at Northside and I could do for the Razorbacks what I did for them,” White said. “No one really knew how it was going to work out.”
It worked out fantastic.
First, a costume had to be made.
“It came from Disney and it was horrible,” White said. “It was the first tailor-made suit I owned, but the head didn’t have eye holes and nowhere to draw a breath. I cut holes.
“You could not breath. Dancing, you need to breathe. I figured out how long I could hold my breath and that’s how I timed my routine.
“That first routine, when I went down at the end, I just stayed there for a while. I had passed out on the 50-yard line.”
When he got up, the crowd was roaring. He left for the dressing room as the team emerged.
“I had to get dressed with the players,” he said. “Frank Broyles was coming out. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘I guess you get to stay. They like you.’ I had felt some pressure. I didn’t know how it would go. He didn’t know. It was an experiment.
“When he put his hand on my shoulder and said that, it was still the coolest feeling ever. The screams from the fans were another pinnacle, but getting that affirmation from Frank Broyles was amazing.”
White didn’t always fit as snugly as his uniform. There were some blow ups with Eldon Janzen, the legendary band director.
“He wanted me to rehearse my routine at band practice,” White said. “I told him, ‘Black people don’t rehearse.’ I just told him, ‘Keep your band off the 50-yard line. That’s mine.’
“So he took issue with me. I got called in by Frank a few times about my conduct. He said, ‘You represent the University of Arkansas.’ I got it.”
There was incredible support from athletes.
“They are life-long friends,” he said. “Guys like Mark Lewis, Ike Forte, Ivan Jordan, Muskie Harris, William Watkins and so many more come to Vegas. I’ve got life-long relationships because I wore a pig suit.”
White didn’t just wear it, he made it come to life with incredible dance moves. The dancing continues.
“Oh, yeah, man,” he said. “I still dance. I have maintained my fluidity. That’s what you need for dancing. I can’t go as long, but I can still dance.”
Sweet P was James Brown in a pig suit.
“James Brown was my inspiration,” he said. “That type of dancing evolved into what they call break dancing. I was doing that before it really happened.
“There are physical aspects to it, all the way to the floor. You have the single break down, where you go down on one leg and pop back up. Then there is the double break down, with both legs down. I could go down, spin and pop back up.
“Then there are the James Brown splits. I could do the splits, then pull myself back up with a hand to my shirt.”
The routines varied.
“Dance is expression,” he said. “I tell people all the time, you can dance, just jump up and down. That’s expression. Sway back and forth. You just have to express your feelings. You feel something, put it in. And, I saw people in the stands move with me.”
When he watches Razorback sports on TV, he wants more energy from the mascots.
“Heck, they got a bunch of them running around now,” he said. “I get it, Three Little Pigs. But they aren’t doing anything.
“Now, I could help them there. I have seen a bunch come through (UNLV’s games) here. I was talking to the Bulldog from Fresno State. I said, ‘Give me that head. Let me see inside.’ He had a dang fan in there. There was a football helmet for support. These mascots now, they got it easy.”
Could he still dance at a game?
“Heck, yeah, brother,” he said. “It might not be long. But I’d give you 30 seconds of vintage Sweet P, nothing but Sweet P.”
It would surely make everyone smile.