To meet
Monte Irvin was to become his friend. At least that’s how I felt as a teenager in high school when I first met Mr. Irvin at a Negro League alumni reunion in 1994. Those feelings compelled me to share my encounters with Irvin upon
the news of his death at the age of 96 on January 11, 2016.
I first met Irvin at a 1994 reunion in New Jersey. It caught me off guard to see Irvin choose to sign autographs in a side room with the thirty lesser known players, instead of the main room where Hall of Famers Buck Leonard and Willie Mays were signing. Irvin’s table had little fanfare compared to his Cooperstown counterparts. Despite the ability to affix “HOF 73” next to his name, Irvin relished blending in with everyone else, a theme that repeated during our future encounters.
Milling around the room talking to each player about their careers, I spotted Irvin by himself with nobody waiting at his table. Growing up my uncle told me stories of Irvin’s tremendous abilities as a member of the New York Giants from his view at the Polo Grounds. Eager to start a conversation with him, I showed him a photo from a Hall of Fame yearbook I had recently purchased on a school trip to Cooperstown. He quickly asked me if I wanted him to sign it, and when I informed him I had spent all of my money already at the show, he told me not to worry about it and put his autograph right on the page. I thanked him profusely; he smiled and posed for a photo.
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| Monte Irvin circa 1994 / N. Diunte |
I went back the next year armed with money I earned from digging out cars and driveways from shoveling. This time, I made sure I paid for Mr. Irvin’s signature. I told him of the story from last year and he kindly thanked me for coming and supporting what was going on.
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| Monte Irvin with the author / N. Diunte |
As the end of high school approached, I shifted my focus from researching and collecting artifacts on the Negro Leagues to pursuing an opportunity to play baseball in college. I put keeping up with Monte and his aging counterparts on hold to walk a little bit in their shoes, as I explored how far I could advance my skills on the diamond.
It wasn’t until well after my college playing days were done that I renewed my interest in baseball’s forgotten league. Surprisingly, Irvin outlasted most of his contemporaries, and I looked for an opportunity to meet him again, hopefully to capture one final firsthand account of the Negro Leagues from arguably its last living superstar.
My chance came in 2007 when my friend Lauren Meyer, who was working on a Negro League documentary, had been hired by the New Jersey Historical Society to film an all day tribute to Irvin and three of his former Newark Eagles teammates in Newark, New Jersey. I accompanied her to the ceremonies, and despite his limited mobility, Irvin was bustling at 9AM with a youthful energy that hid his 88 years of age.
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| Irvin (third from left) with fellow Newark Eagles teammates / N. Diunte |
Seemingly everywhere Irvin turned that day, there was a camera taking photos, a reporter asking for an interview, or a fan handing him an item to sign. Every time, his answer was, “yes.” He even eschewed his daughter’s request to eat more during a meeting at the Historical Society, as he felt it was more important to finish the story he was telling an eager baseball fan. He gave this type of attention to just about everyone he met that day; his genuine persona becoming more apparent as I shadowed him at each event. I hoped to catch a mere fraction of the jewels he dropped along the way.
A year later, while interviewing Ernie Harwell, he eagerly recommended I give Irvin a call to help with my research. The late Tigers broadcaster went out of his way to mention his warm persona.
“Monte Irvin would be a great source,” Harwell said during our conversation in 2008.
“[He's] very personable, a very intelligent guy; I'm very fond of him.”
I called Irvin shortly after speaking with Harwell, and after telling him of Harwell's recommendation, we spoke for thirty minutes. Irvin shared stories about many of the legends he played with and against in the Negro Leagues, beaming with positivity throughout the entire call. He encouraged for me to send him some correspondence, which I did, but what followed after further illustrated his tremendous character.
A popular figure with baseball fans and autograph collectors, Irvin frequently received mail requesting his signature. He asked those who wrote to him to send a donation to his alma mater, Lincoln University, in exchange for his autograph. Over the years, Irvin raised tens if not, hundreds of thousands of dollars to support the HBCU. In our correspondence through the mail, I donated to Irvin’s cause to have some of my own items signed. When my envelope came back a few weeks later, only one of the items were returned, with my harder to find personal photos missing. I called Irvin to ask if he remembered seeing them, as they were pretty unique. He told me he gets a substantial amount of mail, but he would look to see if he misplaced them.
A few weeks later, I returned home to find a large envelope in my mailbox addressed in Irvin’s handwriting. I open the envelope not only to find my missing items, but a note apologizing for misplacing them, as well as a dozen additional signed photos! I called to thank him again, and he said he felt it was the least he could do for making me wait to get my things back.
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| A sampling of the items Irvin sent / N. Diunte |
Irvin was a Hall of Famer, but he didn’t expect special treatment because he had a plaque in Cooperstown. His treatment of others was duly noted not only by baseball fans, but by his contemporaries as well. While Jackie Robinson was immortalized for breaking the color barrier; however,
Irvin will be remembered for his status as a gentleman ambassador of baseball during his 96 years on earth. Former Brooklyn Dodgers pitcher
Jean Pierre Roy precisely captured how many of his peers viewed Irvin.
“I adored this guy as a ballplayer and a human being,” Roy said during a 2011 interview. “When I started talking with Monte, I could tell he was of the right vein; you could tell why he could communicate so well with the people in general.”
