Whitney: Delbert Gillam scored a record 72 points in one game. Then his town vanished.
The Argonne High standout made history in 1953, but he never reached the state tournament or played in college. One big night sealed his legacy.
Who holds the record for most points ever scored in a South Dakota high school basketball game? It should be an easy question.
Alejandro Rama's recent 60-point effort for Red Cloud, which matched the scoring mark for Class A, sparked renewed interest in the overall single-game record and how it came about.
That's where things get interesting.
For years, prevailing wisdom held that the Class B (and overall) record of 72 points was a distinction shared by Bob Wolff, of Frederick, and Delbert Gillam, of Argonne, with their performances coming a year apart in 1952 and 1953.
But more vigorous research has raised questions about Wolff's total, since clippings from the Argus Leader and Aberdeen American News show him scoring 70 points, not 72, in a lopsided 74-19 win over Stratford in a district consolation game.
No such doubts exist about Gillam's gem, which is enshrined in a scorebook on display at the South Dakota High School Basketball Hall of Fame at the Sanford Pentagon. The senior amassed 31 field goals and 10 free throws in a 126-81 win over Canova that was the highest-scoring game in state history at the time.
So why isn't Gillam — who died at age 82 in 2017 in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho — a household name among state basketball fans? In an era of 3-point shooting and sport specialization, it's a wonder that his record still stands — and equally puzzling how the performance unfolded.
The town of Argonne, a Miner County outpost located seven miles northwest of Howard, has been extinct since the 1970s, its once-impressive brick schoolhouse reduced to rubble as a symptom of the malaise of family farms.
Gillam, a 6-foot-1 standout known for his soft touch and jumping ability, never managed to lead the Arrows to a state tournament — a daunting task in those days with the two-class system. He also didn't play college basketball, opting instead to enter the Army, where he served in combat in Korea and Vietnam and was awarded two Purple Hearts.
His basketball background has been largely lost behind a number and a name, though former Argus Leader sports editor Greg Hansen has researched Gillam as part of his work with the hall of fame.
The current era of expansive training facilities and year-round basketball would have seemed like a different universe to Delbert Gillam.
Poverty was part of his upbringing, from the time he was born to Earl and Velma Gillam in Meade County in 1934 and influenced by his father's financial struggles. The family lived briefly in a ramshackle house that was formerly Poker Alice's gambling saloon, where younger brother Bruce was born.
After an unsuccessful foray into the silver mines of Idaho, Earl decided to try farming in 1941. Delbert was 6 years old when they rented land near Argonne, a town founded in 1882 as St. Mary's and later renamed for the famous World War I battle.
At its height in the 1920s, Argonne was a trading center for area farmers with two elevators, a grain warehouse and stockyards, not to mention a bustling school building.
Much of that momentum had started to fade by the time the Gillams arrived, trying to turn a meager profit from their cattle farm. But Delbert was happy to settle in as part of a school where his sporting exploits would earn him a level of distinction.
Basketball was the game that he and Bruce adopted, nailing a peach crate to their barn's hayloft and getting creative when it came to procuring a ball.
The athletic prowess that led Gillam into the record books was still taking shape when he entered high school, part of a freshman class at Argonne that included four boys and two girls.
He and Bruce would walk several miles to school so they could play basketball in the morning before class. Practice was held around lunch hour because students had to catch the after-school bus to get home and do their chores.
Sundays were the highlight, when everyone gathered as part of church activities at the schoolhouse and shot baskets in the gymnasium, with alumni joining in the action.
One year later, as a junior in 1951-52, Gillam had grown to 6-foot-1 with improved leaping ability. He became adept at one-handed runners and surprised opponents with reverse layups, which were something of a rarity at the time.
If there was such a thing as above-the-rim basketball in rural South Dakota in the early 1950s, he was the one making it happen.
Gillam offered a glimpse of things to come by scoring 42 points for the Arrows against Canova that junior season. But it was far from a one-man show.
Playing in the well-regarded Little Hickory Conference, Argonne featured standouts Kenneth Buthe and John Austreim and started 10-1 that season, rising to No. 10 in the Class B state rankings.
Bruce Gillam, an eighth-grader on that 1951-52 squad, called it the best team he ever played on, though he would later capture a state championship with Howard High.
It was tough in those days for a school the size of Argonne – with a total enrollment of 20 – to navigate through the postseason. So when the Arrows won their district and headed to the one-day region tournament in Brookings, community pride shone through.
Though Main Street was losing steam amid a dwindling population, basketball provided a rallying cry for the families that remained.
Playing in "The Barn" on the South Dakota State campus, Argonne raced past Clear Lake before falling short in the regional final against highly regarded Hayti, which would reach the Class B state finals that year before losing to Ipswich.
For Bruce, though, it was a footwear malfunction that foiled Argonne's chances.
The 1952-53 basketball season was one of the last in the history of Argonne High School, a fact that seemed to lend itself to uncommon occurrences.
One of them came during a road game at Fedora, another embattled Miner County town that would slowly fade from existence.
Delbert was suspended from the game for "violating team rules," and the Arrows struggled to an early deficit without their senior star. At halftime, a group of school board members pulled aside coach Louis Cullen, who also happened to be the superintendent, for a quick discussion.
As legend has it, confirmed by family members, Gillam was located within the town bar, from where he was quickly whisked and thrown into a uniform. His second-half performance was spirited enough to lead the Arrows to an impressive comeback victory.
"Training rules were somewhat different back in those days," shrugs Bruce.
On Feb. 10, 1953, Denis Wingen couldn't avoid a sense of anxiety as Canova's bus rolled into Argonne for a Little Hickory Conference game. Like nearly all his Canova teammates, Wingen was a sophomore preparing to face a reigning district champion led by one of the top players in South Dakota.
Argonne's tiny gym added to the feeling of impending doom. It was about half the size of a regulation court, tucked into the basement with walls serving as sidelines. Fans crammed into an overhang to watch the game, while the team's benches were on a stage at one end of the floor.
Argonne liked to use defensive pressure to create turnovers, especially against inexperienced opponents. The plan worked like a charm against Canova, as Delbert and Bruce teamed with fellow starters Eugene Thibodeau, LeRoy Green and Daryl Kuhle to grab a 64-29 lead at the half.
Gillam would likely play guard in today's game, but he was a center for the Arrows, using his talents around the rim. He also had a soft touch from 10 to 15 feet, and his accuracy was never better than on that night, urged on by the Argonne faithful.
In a game that would end 126-81 to become the highest-scoring in state history at the time, Wingen recalls the Arrows kept their starters in most of the night and never eased up on their press, despite reaching the 100-point mark after three quarters.
The scorebook from that night is enough to merit sympathy for the official scorer, who ran out of space for Delbert's field goal tallies and had to weave them down into the next column. The final line read: 31 field goals, 10 free throws, three personal fouls, 72 points. The "72" was circled, an indication that something momentous had occurred.
As for Canova, which would avenge the loss the following year, the onslaught at Argonne and Gillam's scoring masterpiece was a source of serious contemplation on the bus ride home.
Gillam averaged 26 points as a senior and had every intention of leading Argonne to its first-ever berth in the "Big B" state tournament. But it didn't happen.
The Arrows were shocked in the districts by the Orland Eagles, and three years later the high school didn't exist. Bruce and his classmates were shuttled to nearby Howard, where they soared through the postseason and defeated Cresbard to claim the 1956 state championship.
Delbert had been contacted by several colleges but chose to join the Army, continuing his basketball career by playing in the service with the likes of future NBA star Elgin Baylor.
He married his wife, Eunice, in 1971 in Pipestone, Minn., becoming a father to her four daughters and moving the family to Idaho in 1978. To the extent that he dwelled on his high school basketball exploits in South Dakota, it was within the context of the one that got away.
State tournaments are where heroes take hold, and Gillam never enjoyed that level of acclaim. But when he passed away two years ago, the obituary in his hometown Idaho paper addressed his athletic stature in straightforward terms.
"He excelled in track and basketball and still holds the South Dakota high school state record for 72 points in a game," it read.
Someday, with the modern game the way it is, that record may be surpassed by someone ready to make his own mark on history. Until then, Gillam stands alone, with a soft touch and easy smile and a story that was waiting to be told.