This statue was too controversial for a Dallas airport. Why did the Texas Rangers give it a home?
MANSFIELD, Tex. — The Texas Rangers have rarely been an organization that shies away from controversy. But when they prepared for their latest announcement earlier this year, they gave every indication that they didn’t mind if this one flew under the radar.
On March 1, exactly 16 hours before unveiling the One Riot, One Ranger statue at Globe Life Field, the Texas Rangers sent out a press release, inviting media to come to the ballpark the following morning for a “photo opportunity.”
The release was vague.
“The club will unveil a new permanent non-baseball addition to the left field concourse,” it read.
The event was scheduled for the middle of spring training, when many of the Rangers beat reporters were in Arizona. There was no mention of what the photo opportunity was about. And Rangers ownership, the only team representatives who took part in the photo op, answered no questions when it was over.
The reason to be wary of potential controversy was the man who served as model for the statue: Jay Banks, a former Ranger law enforcement officer known for enforcing school segregation at Mansfield High School and Texarkana Junior College in 1956, at the direction of then-Gov. Allan Shivers.
On Wednesday, MLB will celebrate Jackie Robinson Day. Robinson’s integration is one of the most celebrated elements of the sport’s history. Outside Globe Life Field, community leaders are planning a press conference to talk about why they believe this statue is antithetical to Robinson’s legacy.
Russell Molina, board member and vice chairman of the Texas Rangers Association Foundation — who stood side by side with Rangers ownership that morning — disputes the idea that the statue depicts Banks, while simultaneously defending Banks’ legacy.
“Who really was Jay Banks,” he told The Athletic in one form or another five separate times. “Does one picture define a man’s life?”
Texas Ranger Jay Banks stands in front of Mansfield High School. (UNITED PRESS PHOTO / AFP via Getty Images)
In the photo that has come to define his legacy, Jay Banks is seen looking relaxed and unconcerned. The Texas Ranger leans his back against a tree, hands on his belt with his right knee bent.
The picture was taken outside Mansfield High School in 1956, amid a failed effort to desegregate. Banks led a detachment of Rangers who, at the governor’s direction, refused to allow the integration. In the background of the photograph, an effigy of a Black man hanging from a noose can be seen atop the school. Banks refused to take down the effigy.
The Texas Rangers law enforcement agency, as author Doug Swanson details in his book, Cult of Glory: The Bold and Brutal History of the Texas Rangers, cannot be separated from its “troubled history” and ties to racism. But the Rangers are also viewed as an elite entity, tasked with solving the toughest crimes and overseeing the state’s biggest cases.
That buttoned-up authority is what sculptress Waldine Tauch may have been trying to capture in this 1961 artwork. The One Riot, One Ranger title stems from a likely apocryphal 1896 incident when a solitary Ranger went to break up an illegal prizefight. Over time, it has come to represent the ethos that this force is so elite, it only requires one lawman to solve even the most chaotic of problems. Banks was the model for a statue intending to portray a more generic Ranger.
The statue, which Molina said the Rangers acquired at no cost, had a longtime home at Dallas Love Field airport. It was removed in 2020, after Swanson’s book was published detailing the statue’s context, and amid national protests against police brutality. After years of trying to find a home for the statue — it had been in storage at Alliance Airport — and years of bickering with Swanson about his book, Molina found a willing taker in the baseball club sharing a name with the law enforcement organization.
“‘We have the Texas Ranger statue … would y’all be interested in displaying it,” Molina said, recalling his conversation with Rangers ownership last fall. “And the answer was, ‘Sure we’d love that.’”
“They wanted to see the evidence that we had that it wasn’t Jay Banks,” Molina said, noting that he gave the team a series of documents, which he also sent to The Athletic. Most of the documents don’t directly address the statue’s model one way or the other.
The statue, however, according to numerous other written accounts and news articles, was modeled on Banks.
“The historical record absolutely disproves (Molina),” Swanson said.
Banks has said he was the model that posed for the sculptor, as noted by FanGraphs. Banks’ daughter did as well in her book, featuring a photo of Banks next to the statue. Even the Texas Rangers museum says it’s Banks.
Independent journalist Bradford William Davis detailed the controversy and the fallout, as the statue’s revival inside Globe Life Field has caused a firestorm of anger and hurt in the metroplex’s Black community.
“I’m not someone who thinks these statues should be packed away in a closet somewhere,” Swanson said. “I think it should be in a museum. But just to stick it there in the ballpark, I don’t know, it seemed puzzling to me.”
Major League Baseball, which touts Jackie Robinson and the game’s association with integration, declined to make commissioner Rob Manfred available for an interview.
“MLB leaves decisions about … displays at ballparks to the 30 clubs who have strong ties to their respective communities,” said league spokesman Pat Courtney. “Your question regarding the statue should be directed to the Texas Rangers.”
Courtney did not respond to a follow-up question asking if anything would supersede that policy, and why this statue doesn’t meet that standard.
Rangers owner Ray Davis declined an interview request with The Athletic.
Minority owner Neil Leibman — who chaired MLB’s diversity committee, and according to Molina, was the first Rangers official he spoke to about the statue — did not respond to an interview request.
“We have worn the Rangers name since 1972 with pride,” Davis said in a written statement, through a team spokesman.
However, in 2020, during public protests against law enforcement, the team distanced itself from its origins.
“Since 1971 the Texas Rangers Baseball Club has forged its own, independent identity,” the team said in June 2020, responding to a column calling for the club to change its name over the law enforcement agency’s alleged history of racism.
The issue for many in Dallas’ Black community, though, is not primarily the team name or even the celebration of the law enforcement agency. It’s this particular statue, which has a painful tie to segregation in a small community just a 10-minute drive from Globe Life Field.
“It’s been heartbreaking for me,” said congressman Marc Veasey, whose Texas district now includes this statue and the team housing it.
“Ray Davis, I believe he’s 84 years old. He remembers Brown v. Board of Education. He remembers what happened in Little Rock. He remembers the 1964 Civil Rights Act passing. He remembers the passage of the voting rights act.
“What did he see … when you fast forward to 2026, that makes you think that this is OK?”
The backlash has been fierce in Texas, with community leaders calling for the statue’s removal.
The One Riot, One Ranger statue spent five years in storage before its arrival at Globe Life Stadium. (Richard Rodriguez / Getty Images)
Jason Thomas, president of the NAACP Arlington chapter, said he caught wind of the Rangers’ plans through an anonymous tip, days ahead of the announcement. He contacted leadership with the team, attempting to preemptively stop it.
Thomas said he was told that the statue was already in the ballpark, and that the team would be moving forward with the ceremony.
“I did mention that Mansfield … it’s in the shadows of your stadium,” Thomas said, referencing the school district where Banks’ segregation enforcement took place. “Literally, you have the City of Arlington, and Mansfield is adjacent. I tried to bring that to their attention.”
“I feel like it’s a lack of respect toward the Black community,” said Angela Luckey, president of the Grand Prairie South Dalworth Historical Society. “They should remove that statue because it’s re-traumatizing all over again. I don’t think the Rangers are reaching out to many Black communities.”
One of the children that was blocked from entering the school that day, Floyd Moody, is 87, and a retired Fort Worth-area pastor. In 2021, the Rangers invited him to throw out the first pitch at their ballpark.
Ray Casas, the director of community impact said at the time, “When we heard the story, we just tried to figure out how we could honor Pastor Moody and his work.”
It was part of the team’s effort to improve race relations following the murder of George Floyd, said another local pastor Kyev Tatum, who facilitated the introduction of Moody to the Rangers. Tatum had believed the Rangers were turning a corner.
Now, he says the team is celebrating the man that enforced Moody’s segregation.
“It’s devastating,” Tatum said. “It is not good business what (Davis) is doing. He has alienated a large segment of his fanbase.
“We were loyal fans … but to take such a hideous symbol that you know is going to cause controversy, and put it in there without any regard, you just take your money away from that team.”
The Rangers have faced questions about the thought processes behind their decisions before. They are the only MLB team to never host a Pride Night, designed to proactively welcome members of the LGBTQ community.
They were the only team to open at 100 percent capacity to start the 2021 season — when the other 29 clubs maxed out at 50 percent capacity or lower amid the COVID-19 pandemic.
In 2020, following the police shooting of Jacob Blake in Kenosha, Wis., NBA, WNBA, MLS and MLB teams across the country opted to cancel games. On Aug. 27, the Mets and Marlins took the field for a 42-second moment of silence, honoring Robinson, before jointly deciding not to play.
Seven games were postponed that day, and three the day prior. The A’s at Rangers game was among those not played. However, the Rangers issued a statement saying only that “we respect the decision by the Oakland A’s players to postpone tonight’s game,” while adding that they stood with those that condemned racial injustice.
The Athletic contacted numerous high-ranking Rangers officials, to ask for their perspective on the statue. Executive VP of public affairs Rob Matwick did not respond to an interview request. Neither did president of baseball operations Chris Young, who later declined through a team spokesman. Team historian and longtime VP for communications John Blake declined to comment.
Manager Skip Schumaker also declined comment. And Karin Morris, the team’s senior VP for community impact, didn’t respond to questions about whether or not the team did any outreach ahead of the statue’s implementation.
One comment was offered by a team top sponsor, Energy Transfer, which pays for a jersey patch on the team’s uniform.
“We are proud of our sponsorship with the Texas Rangers,” a company spokesperson said in response to questions about the statue.
Context aside, the statue is stately, and in keeping with the larger-than-life aura that has so regularly been at the heart of this agency’s public persona.
In front of the park’s entrance, a constant stream of people walk in, many of whom stop to take a picture, or a picture with it.
“I think it’s a good thing,” said one of those fans, Lynn Powers, decked in Rangers gear, “because I don’t think it represents a particular Ranger.”
But for so many, it’s hard to look at that statue and not see Banks, leaned up against a tree, 70 years ago, in a spot that remains largely untouched to this day. Nonchalantly observing an effigy of a Black man hanging by a noose atop the entrance to the school.
That school’s doorway still stands, nearly identical. The arch structure above it. The lawn in front of it. The Mansfield High School engraving forever attached to it.
Inside the entrance to the mayor’s office in Mansfield is a different piece of art, one that also depicts Banks. It’s a mural, showing the events of that day in 1956. In the city’s most important building, there’s a representation of its most important history.
This art is different, however. The image highlights the strength of the Black students and supporters. It shows Banks as more diminutive, and not even fully in the painting.
“It is making a point,” said Mayor Michael Evans, his eyes peering over the mural that he walks past every day. “… You might be able to oppress me socially, but not psychologically or spiritually.”
Evans is also the town’s pastor — his profession of more than three decades. He recognizes just how far his city has come, but doesn’t dismiss how relatively recent it all is, either.
He says he plans to meet with the Rangers, along with other community leaders, including Pastor Moody, to explain what the statue represents. The meeting isn’t on the books yet, he said, but he hopes and believes the team will be willing to listen.
“As quietly as it was put up,” he said, “it can be quietly taken down.”
