CHAMPAIGN – Picture this, said Mary Henson.

A 30-year-old high school basketball coach with three state championships under his belt at Las Cruces (N.M.) High School and his 25-year-old wife, already the parents of three youngsters under the age of 5, hopped into their VW Beetle for a 500-mile trip across the Southwest in 1962.

“Probably 20 bucks between them,’’ Mary said.

Lou Henson was headed to Abilene, Texas, “for the interview of a lifetime. That’s the way we viewed it at the time,’’ she said.

They were headed to Hardin-Simmons, a small Southern Baptist university, a segregated school in need of a basketball coach. Henson, an Oklahoma native who played at New Mexico State, had already made a career choice by deciding between a path in high school administration or teaching/coaching.

That choice had already taken him to Abilene, but his application came with one demand. Henson would only take the job if he was allowed to integrate the school with the basketball program.

It raised eyebrows, and Henson was told he would have an answer in the morning.

When Hardin-Simmons agreed, it embarked Henson on a 42-year college coaching career filled with conference championships, trips to the Elite Eight and taking two schools to the Final Four, but he must also be known for his forward thinking off the court for diversity, inclusion and opportunity.

Spearheaded by his nephew and an assistant under him on three different occasions, Mark Coomes, and a number of close confidants in the basketball community, a push resulted in Henson’s name placed on the ballot for the Naismith Hall of Fame. While Henson has enough credentials on court, it’s what he did off the court that makes him even a more qualified candidate.

“The basketball has stopped bouncing for Uncle Lou,’’ Coomes said. “When you combine his three state championships at Las Cruces High School with 42 years of extraordinary college coaching and his willingness to help and support individuals and treat people with total respect, he’s unquestionably led a Hall of Fame life.’’

Henson placed himself on the right side of history, driving that V-dub into Mississippi in 1962 during the heart of the Civil Rights movement. Mississippi was in racial chaos, and suspicion greeted Henson’s car when he arrived with an out-of-state license plate. Some locals refused to sell him gas until they learned more about his arrival. Henson’s recruiting took him to the Black side of town, and rather than traveling after dark, he would often stay there overnight.

“Lou never viewed himself as a civil rights activist but just a mere human being doing the right thing to assist other people,’’ Mary said.

Henson landed two African-American players for his first team at Hardin-Simmons, then relied upon the Green Book, the guide for Black travelers, when taking the team on road trips. It took brown bagging it or shuffling his team to a room in back to eat. But before he left Hardin-Simmons, Henson was named the athletic director, and he added women’s basketball and volleyball to varsity athletics.

Called back to New Mexico State, one of his first recruits was an African-American playing junior-college basketball in Lubbock, Texas. Rob Evans eventually became a cornerstone to the Miracle Midgets, a team that twice beat the defending national champion Texas Western and New Mexico on its way from 4-22 the previous season to the NCAA Tournament, where the Aggies lost to Houston and its star, Elvin Hayes.

After graduating in 1968, Evans accepted an assistant coaching position under Henson, when the world – and especially the Deep South – was still fighting Civil Rights. According to Evans, he was one of three Black assistant coaches in the country. He recruited the South, often staying in the one hotel in Jackson, Miss., where African-Americans were allowed.

“When it got to be dusk, I got back to the hotel,’’ Evans said. “It was dangerous being a Black man out after dark in Mississippi at that time. Coach would call and check on me quite a bit.’’

Henson’s thought process as far as being inclusive and offering opportunities eventually helped Evans serve as head coach at Mississippi and Arizona State.

“Coach Henson was the reason I was able to have the success I had and the career I had,’’ Evans said. “I’m forever grateful.’’

By the mid-70’s, Henson had taken over Illinois, another rebuilding project like Hardin-Simmons and New Mexico State. On a 1977 recruiting trip, Henson came across a young African-American referee. Henson liked his ability and wrote a letter to the Big Ten Conference office in support of adding this ref to the league. Ed Hightower learned five years later it was Henson who wrote the letter, but it wasn’t Henson who told him.

In fact, Henson never brought it up.

“We know what a great coach he was,’’ Hightower said. “I believe his achievement as a compassionate humanitarian as even more evident. My experience wasn’t the exception but rather the rule in how he viewed his responsibility to others, as we talk about access, fairness, equity, doing to others what you would want done to yourself.’’

The sincerity of the act, Hightower said, was that Henson never asked for any favors.

“I want to express my sincere gratitude for coach Henson providing that access and never holding it over my head or asking me for anything in return,’’ Hightower said. “That speaks volumes about the man.’’

Northwestern athletic director Jim Phillips, a former Illini basketball manager and graduate assistant, has a story to tell about Henson. A first-generation four-year college student from the city of Chicago and a family with 10 children, Phillips ticked off the words that best described Henson: pioneer, family man, man of faith, generous, fighter, kind, humble.

“I wish we had a little bit more of that,’’ Phillips said. “He changed my life.’’

The last message from Henson is still on Phillips’ phone, a voicemail on Father’s Day, roughly a month before Henson passed away.

“Love you,’’ it said.

Phillips, administrators from Hardin-Simmons, New Mexico State and Illinois, four governors, nine university chancellors and presidents and a growing list of college coaches wrote in support of Henson’s enshrinement. There are also proclamations from state legislatures in Illinois and New Mexico State.

“The great era of coach Lou Henson and college basketball has come to an end with his passing, but it will never be forgotten,’’ Coomes said.

Time to make it official by getting him into the Hall of Fame.

(The information for this article was taken from the Sapora Symposium 2020 in the Department of Recreation, Sport and Tourism in the College of Applied Health Sciences at the University of Illinois. Credit goes to Dr. Mike Raycraft, a long-time faculty member.)