Dick Ernst was as Rhode Island as Del’s Lemonade, Federal Hill and the Big Blue Bug. Cranston-born and Cranston-bred, he accomplished much in life, almost all of it right here in the Ocean State.
Dick died this week at his home in Cranston. He had turned 78 on Sept. 4. His passing shocked me because even though he had slowed a bit in recent years, I still thought of him as the passionate hockey player always searching for a frozen pond, the gritty tennis player wearing down opponents with his stubborn baseline game, and the coach ever in search of a team.
Dick compiled a long and distinguished record in classrooms, rinks and courts around the state. His career highlights included 54 years of coaching high-school boys and girls hockey and tennis; 43 years of directing the R.I. Metropolitan Tennis Championships at Roger Williams Park, at its peak drawing well over 300 players to a carnival on clay; 27 years running Cranston’s summer tennis program for kids and for several years directing the New England 10-under Championships; 50 years earning a USTA New England ranking. He was inducted into the City of Cranston, Cranston Athletic, R.I. Interscholastic League, R.I. Tennis Coaches, and USTA New England Halls of Fame. This year the Rhode Island Heritage Hall of Fame inducted him.
Dick’s Cranston High School East hockey and tennis teams won state championships. When new contract language forced him from his hockey job – active teachers had first shot at coaching positions, Dick had retired, and a teacher was interested in the position – he rebounded and coached girls hockey, first at La Salle Academy and then the Cumberland-Lincoln co-op team.
Dick also coached men’s and women’s tennis at Rhode Island College and won eight Little East Conference titles, four with each team.
Whatever pride Dick felt for those achievements, it didn’t come close to matching the pride he felt for the accomplishments of his three sons, Bobby, Gordie and Andy. They were All-State in hockey and tennis, and Dick couldn’t say enough about them, especially Gordie. Every so often he reminded me of their high-school exploits in the mid-1980s, and he updated me as Gordie moved through the college and club coaching ranks, eventually ending up at Georgetown University and the White House, where he is the resident pro for the First Family. Perhaps two years ago, Dick expressed to me his appreciation for his wife Rollie and all she had done for him and their sons over the years. She drove the boys to tennis tournaments throughout New England. She helped him with his emails. He was delighted when she enrolled at Rhode Island College and played tennis for him in the early ‘90s. A singles player for much of his career, Dick enjoyed mixed doubles with Rollie in recent years.
I met Dick about 1980, when I started covering tennis for The Providence Journal. I can still see him sitting at a table in the shade at Roger Williams Park collecting entry fees for the Met. He worked hard to promote that tournament, hustling yearbook ads from local businesses, re-printing newspaper stories and New England rankings, reaching out to top regional players and welcoming the occasional international player who found himself in Rhode Island in midsummer. The list of Met champions reads like a Who’s Who of Rhode Island tennis. Oddly enough, Dick’s name is not among them. He reached the final in 1966 and lost to Jules Cohen.
Dick knew Rhode Island tennis as well as anybody in the state, and whenever I researched players from decades past for a story, I could count on him for details. I could also count on him for passages from literature – he had taught English at Cranston East — and jokes so corny I couldn’t help but laugh. He always responded with a satisfied grin.
Dick loved to compete, which, I think, is why he continued to play tennis as long as he did. Despite cranky knees that pretty much anchored him to the center of the baseline, he still tried to win whenever we played at The Indoor Court in East Providence, Roger Williams Park in Providence or Irv Levine’s clay court in Rehoboth. “If I take two Aleve, I can go all day,” he once told me as he tossed an ancient hockey sweatshirt into his battered racquet bag and ambled on to the court to warm up. We would play two or three sets, depending on the time. Years ago he moved me about the court and waited for my inevitable mistakes. Lately, I enjoyed the upper hand because I had improved some and was still mobile. Even so, Dick never gave up, and four or five times a match he would slice a perfect shot down the line for a winner or send me wide with a nasty serve for an ace. And every so often he would tap some inner reserve and make a great get in the corner.
Dick Ernst never gave up. That’s how I’ll remember him. When Rollie went to bed Sunday night, Dick was sitting in his chair. When she came down Monday morning, this Rhode Island legend, Cranston-born and Cranston-bred, was gone.
A memorial service is scheduled for 10 a.m. Saturday at the Phillips Memorial Baptist Church, 565 Pontiac Avenue, Cranston. Visiting hours are set for Friday from 3 p.m. to 8 p.m. at the Butterfield Chapel, 500 Pontiac Ave., Cranston.
