By Ray Buck
SportsLine National Columnist

Bobby Mitchell holds one of the most bittersweet distinctions in National Football League history. He was the first black player on the last NFL team to integrate.

The year was 1962. John Glenn had just become the first American to orbit the earth. Marilyn Monroe was found dead at 36. Wilt Chamberlain poured in 100 points against the New York Knicks. In Liverpool, England, the Beatles were planning an invasion.

That same year, James Meredith became the first African-American to enroll in an all-white college (Ole Miss). Baseball celebrated the 15th anniversary of Jackie Robinson's historic breaking of the color barrier, and the Washington Redskins were finally getting around to having a black player on the team -- Bobby Mitchell.

"I FELT AWKWARD," SAID MITCHELL, now the 63-year-old assistant general manager of the Redskins, still vividly recalling the emotions surrounding his trade from Cleveland to Washington nearly four decades ago.

Shirley Povich, longtime Washington Post columnist who died this past year, served as the tiny voice inside Redskins owner George Preston Marshall's head back in those days. Povich wrote that the Redskins' team colors were "burgundy, gold and Caucasian."

But Povich was wasting his time because Marshall, a self-proclaimed segregationist, couldn't be shamed.

Marshall, who died in 1969, reportedly put into his last will and testament a request that funds from his estate be used toward child welfare programs, with one added stipulation: "Said corporation shall never use, contribute or apply its money or property for any purpose which supports or employs the principle of racial integration in any form. ..."

Well, that rustling sound you heard last month when three black quarterbacks -- Donovan McNabb, Akili Smith and Daunte Culpepper -- went among the first 11 picks of the NFL draft, after only three black QBs had gone in the first rounds of all the previous NFL drafts put together, was just Marshall turning over in his grave.

"ONLY BECAUSE I'VE BEEN around it so long, I see the progress," Mitchell said of the NFL's accountability record in the arena of racial equality. "Although I'm not totally happy with it, because I believe the opportunities are still limited for blacks to move up in areas of responsibility in the front office."

To be sure, the complexion -- figuratively and literally -- has changed in the NFL over the past 50 years from lily white to obvious tokenism to now more than 70 percent of the players in the league being African-American. But progress has been much slower at the upper management level.

Today, there are a smattering of African-Americans in NFL front offices, including several with vice-president titles:

• Michael Huyghue, senior vice president/football operations with the Jacksonville Jaguars;
• Bob Wallace, senior vice president/administration and general counsel for the St. Louis Rams;
• Bobby Grier, VP/player personnel for the New England Patriots.

THE BALTIMORE RAVENS have four black executives in their front office:

1. Recent inductee to the Pro Football Hall of Fame Ozzie Newsome, VP/player personnel;
2. Former NFL QB James "Shack" Harris, director of pro personnel;
3. Former NFL RB Earnest Byner, director of player development;
4. Former NFL guard who blocked for Jim Brown in Cleveland, John Wooten, assistant director of pro personnel and college scouting.

"When I came into the league," said Harris, former Grambling University QB who was drafted in the eighth round by the Buffalo Bills and later played for the Los Angeles Rams, "I couldn't see myself getting cut on my ability ... but I could see myself not making the team."

Likewise, today, many former black players see themselves not getting the interviews. That's the biggest difference in racial inequality, then and now.

FORMER NFL GREATS SUCH AS Mitchell, Harris and Newsome have done the work, thereby opening doors for others such as Jackie Slater, who played offensive tackle in the NFL until he was 40, to move from the playing field to the front office. Slater stayed on with the Rams as VP/player development.

Still, it's mostly a white man's world when it comes to NFL brass.

Only two of the 31 NFL teams have any black ownership. Deron Cherry, who played 11 seasons with in the Kansas City Chiefs secondary, has a small piece of the Jacksonville Jaguars. And Bill Simms, a Charlotte, N.C., businessman, has a limited partnership in the Carolina Panthers.

All 31 majority owners are white.

All 31 NFL presidents/CEOs are white.

Of the 31 NFL coaches, three are black, coincidentally all with teams in the NFC Central. Minnesota's Dennis Green, Tampa Bay's Tony Dungy and Green Bay's Ray Rhodes.

"OVERALL, I GIVE THE NFL a very high grade from top to bottom ... and you've got to remember, I was 'a militant,'" Mitchell said with a laugh. "I know people out there get upset when blacks gets passed over for a job. I get upset, too. But I have to say, I'm very comfortable with the NFL over the last decade, especially since Paul Tagliabue became commissioner."

Tagliabue succeeded the late Pete Rozelle, who was perceived as a giant in the advancement of his sport until his unexpected resignation in 1989. Tagliabue succeeded him. Rozelle died in 1996.

"I remember going toe-to-toe with Pete Rozelle and telling him, 'Commissioner, it's not so much that qualified blacks aren't getting hired for coaching jobs ... we can't even get interviewed. You have to give us the interviews.'

"Well, we'd go 'round and 'round until the next time (Rozelle) saw me coming, and he'd say, 'Oh boy ... here we go again.' He kept telling me, 'It's going to happen tomorrow. It's going to happen tomorrow.' Well, it took 15 years. Now I feel it's going to take another 15 years for us to get the interviews for the top front-office positions."

Cherry, who bought into the Jaguars when the expansion fee was "only" $140 million (compared to $530 million for the Cleveland Browns four years later), sees a direct correlation between the rate of minority hiring in the front office and the rate of minority hiring of head coaches.

"WHY DON'T WE HAVE enough black head coaches?" asked Cherry, referring to Green, Dungy and Rhodes who represent 9.7 percent of the head coaches in a league where more than 70 percent of the players are black. "I believe that until we're successful at every level, including management position, that's always going to be the case.

"When an owner gets ready to hire a head coach, he goes around and polls his inner circle," Cherry explained, "and that's where we don't have very strong representation."

These are the decision-makers -- presidents and CEOs. And just like the decision-makers on the field -- quarterbacks -- this appears to be the last frontier for African-Americans in the NFL.

But it's a different kind of struggle now -- a more silent one. The NFL is a big business with a $17.6-billion TV contract, which puts everybody under the microscope. The struggle by blacks for a place in this mix is more about opportunity and sense of urgency ... and less about unabashed bigotry and hatred.

Shortly after he joined the Redskins in 1962, Mitchell was eating in a Washington, D.C. restaurant when a white man approached his table. "Excuse me," the man asked, "are you Bobby Mitchell, the new Redskin?"

Hall of Famer Ozzie Newsome is VP of player personnel in Baltimore.(Allsport)

Mitchell nodded. The man reached over, picked up Mitchell's water glass and spat in it.

WHEN QUARTERBACK DOUG WILLIAMS held out in a contract dispute with the Tampa Buccaneers in 1983 (his wife Janice had just died of a brain tumor), he received an unmarked package addressed to him, presumably from a fan. Inside the package was a watermelon with the worst possible racial slur attached: "Throw this, ------," the note read.

Williams stopped opening mail without a return address after that.

At Grambling, Williams followed in Harris' footsteps at quarterback, then succeeded the legendary Eddie Robinson as Tigers coach. But nothing prepared Williams for the not-to-subtle scrutiny that he felt as a black quarterback in the '70s and '80s in the NFL.

In 1978, Williams was drafted in the first round over Matt Cavanaugh, a white quarterback from the University of Pittsburgh, by Tampa Bay. That same year, Warren Moon came out of the University of Washington but went straight to the Canadian Football League when NFL scouts told him that he wouldn't be drafted as a quarterback in their league.

Moon, 42, now with the Kansas City Chiefs, has the third-most passing yards in NFL history, despite playing six CFL seasons with the Edmonton Eskimos.

In January '88, Williams led the Washington Redskins into Super Bowl XXII, throwing for a Super Bowl-record 340 yards and four TDs in beating Denver. Williams was named Super Bowl MVP.

BEFORE THE GAME, WILLIAMS -- then pretty much a novelty act -- was asked the now-famous (and serious) question by a reporter who wanted to know, "How long have you been a black quarterback?"

Until this past April 17, Williams was one of only three black quarterbacks selected in the first round of an NFL draft. The others were Heisman Trophy winner Andre Ware, taken No. 7 overall by Detroit in 1990, and Steve "Air" McNair, taken No. 3 overall by the Houston Oilers/now Tennessee Titans.

Tennessee GM Floyd Reese predicts that within five years, as many as 50 percent of the NFL's starting quarterbacks will be black, making a moot point of skin color at the most responsible position on a football field.

"It's already a non-issue," said Greg Aiello, vice president of public relations for the NFL.

Still, Mitchell is concerned about those stereotypical perceptions coming back every time something bad happens to a black quarterback. Last season in Pittsburgh, Kordell Stewart suddenly seemed to lose his confidence -- and his game.

"THAT'S A SMART KID over there," said Mitchell, knowing the old stereotype about black quarterbacks was that they weren't "smart enough" to comprehend thick NFL playbooks and read complicated NFL defenses. As a result, they were moved to other positions -- cornerback, safety, wide receiver, tight end, even punter.

"I think Terry Bradshaw proved all you had to do to play quarterback in this league is to be a player," Mitchell said. "Brad had to really work at (picking up the playbook and reading defenses), but he had the luxury of being a white quarterback while he did it. I don't think it was even an issue with Chuck Noll. He knew Bradshaw was a player -- he ended up in the Hall of Fame -- and that's all that really mattered to Noll."

In a 30-team league last year, there were eight black quarterbacks who were starters for at least part of the season:

1. Minnesota's Randall Cunningham,
2. Detroit's Charlie Batch,
3. Pittsburgh's Stewart,
4. Tennessee's McNair,
5. Seattle's Moon (now with Kansas City),
6. Philadelphia's Rodney Peete (now with Washington),
7. Cincinnati's Jeff Blake,
8. St. Louis' Tony Banks.

Williams believes the playing field won't be completely level, however, until there are more black quarterbacks filling those "lifetime achievement roles" as journeyman backups. But today, for every Ray Lucas of the New York Jets, there are three Steve DeBergs, Dave Kriegs or Chris Millers.

Coming out of college in 1969, Harris remembers being made to believe that he "wasn't smart enough" to play quarterback in the NFL. He joined a veteran group of QBs in Buffalo, headed by Jack Kemp, Tom Flores and Kay Stephenson.

HARRIS WAS DRIVEN TO SUCCEED. He later joked that he absolutely had to play quarterback because his mother didn't understand the game very well, and "wouldn't know where to find me on the field if I played another position."

But there was nothing funny about the way he was made to feel as a black quarterback in those days.

"It was never said in so many words that I wasn't smart enough. It was just always there for you to know," Harris said. "But I'll always remember Eddie Robinson telling me, 'If you decide to stick it out and play (quarterback in the NFL), don't expect it to be fair. And don't call me later and tell me it wasn't fair, or quit because it wasn't fair, because you know that going in."

Harris remembers going directly from the meeting room to his dorm room as an NFL rookie, studying his playbook, while others enjoyed a evening out on the town during training camp, simply because he didn't want to give the NFL an excuse to cut him.

Three other NFL teams desperately wanted Harris. He wouldn't reveal the identity of those teams, even 30 years later, but said that two of them wanted him to play in the secondary and one wanted him to play tight end.

HE THINKS McNABB, SMITH and Culpepper would have received similar treatment in 1969, probably even in 1979.

When Harris was a senior in high school, Robinson appeared in New York on a TV interview with Howard Cosell, who asked the esteemed Grambling coach, "I know you've produced so many great NFL players -- so why haven't you had any NFL quarterbacks?"

Robinson was immediately inspired to return home and find the right black QB to play in the NFL. He recruited "Shack" Harris, who went on to set records at Grambling and enter the NFL four years later as a 6-foot-4, 220-pound pocket passer who could throw the football.

What has helped black quarterbacks get the opportunities at the pro level is that the position has evolved into one requiring more athleticism.

"Not all black quarterbacks have played in (college) systems that have allowed them to develop into NFL quarterbacks," said Harris, referring to the talented Wishbone quarterbacks of the '70s and '80s at schools such as Oklahoma. "You've always had to be able to throw the ball ... but now with NFL defenses crowding the pocket and using more and more zone blitzes, mobility has become an important part of the quarterback position again."

ONE YEAR BEFORE JACKIE ROBINSON broke baseball's color barrier, the Los Angeles Rams signed two black players from UCLA -- Woody Strode, an end, and Kenny Washington, a halfback. They signed in 1946 -- March 21 and May 7, respectively -- making Strode the NFL's first black player of the modern era.

Compared to Jackie Robinson, Strode's story is relatively unknown; he became an actor and died a few years ago.

Meanwhile, that same year, Paul Brown began assembling what would become the "NFL Team of the '50s," signing a black fullback named Marion Motley and a black guard named Bill Willis in 1946. The Browns played in the All-American Football Conference at the time.

Is the NFL colorblind? Not totally. But there has been notable advancement in the '90s.

"But based on the fact that this conversation is still going on today," said Harris, "maybe some people still aren't ready to accept it."