The pitching mound in Ebbets Field shouldn’t have been a source of angst for Dan Bankhead when Brooklyn Dodgers manager Burt Shotton summoned him from the bullpen on August 26, 1947. The righty hurler had been playing professionally in the Negro Leagues since 1940, had four other brothers who played in the league, and served as a Montford Point Marine during World War II. Yet despite all of the formidable opponents he faced, it was the possibility of a race riot that he feared most if something went wrong on the hill that day.
Bankhead signs autographs before his 8/26/47 debut
“See, here’s what I always heard. Dan was scared to death that he was going to hit a white boy with a pitch,” Buck O’Neil said in Joe Posnanski’s, ‘The Soul of Baseball.’ “He thought there might be some sort of riot if he did it. Dan was from Alabama just like your father. But Satchel became a man of the world. Dan was always from Alabama, you know what I mean? He heard all those people calling him names, making those threats, and he was scared. He’d seen black men get lynched.”
Bankhead's famous windup
Bankhead made history as the first African-American pitcher in major league history on that day in 1947, following his teammate Jackie Robinson in the record books who had broken baseball’s color barrier earlier that season. Pitching in relief of Hal Gregg who gave up six runs and only lasted one inning, Bankhead didn’t fare much better against the visiting Pittsburgh Pirates. He was charged with eight runs in three-and-a-third innings, ending the day with a 21.60 ERA. To his credit Bankhead homered in his only at-bat, but it was an incident that occurred in the top of the fourth inning that almost fulfilled his prophetic fears.
Bankhead's first MLB home run
With the Pirates leading 8-2 with two outs, outfielder Wally Westlake approached the plate. Like Bankhead, Westlake was a 26-year-old rookie and World War II veteran trying to find his place in the game. Westlake hit a home run earlier in the game and looked to add another to his totals. Bankhead wound up and fired off one of his patented fastballs for the first pitch of the at-bat, but as it left his hand, his worst nightmare unraveled before his eyes.
He hit Westlake squarely in the upper arm.
“It was like the fans held their breath waiting for the reaction,” the now 94-year-old Westlake wrote in a 2008 letter. “He was just another dude trying to get me out and I was trying to whack his butt.”
The first game an African-American man pitched in the majors and he hit a white batter. The crowd waited for Westlake’s next move. Was the pitch retaliation for his home run earlier in the game? A split second decision by Westlake to charge the mound or take his walk down to first base would have a significant impact the fate of African-American pitchers in the majors. Fortunately, Westlake chose the latter, with little regard to what the fans expected him to do.
Duckett was a Philadelphia native who starred in track at Overbrook High School, where he was recruited as an infielder by the Stars after playing semi-pro baseball for a local team. He shored up their infield for a decade from 1940-49 and finished his career in 1950 with the Homestead Grays as the league was on its decline. He signed with the New York Giants in 1951, but a case of rheumatic fever derailed his major league hopes right before he was to head out to training in Arizona. Sidelined for a year by the illness, his career was over.
Mahlon Duckett (center) at the 2008 Judy Johnson Tribute Night / N. Diunte
I first met Mr. Duckett in 2007 at the Wilmington Blue Rocks annual tribute to the Negro Leagues. Gregg Truitt, one of the chairs of the Judy Johnson Foundation, graciously had me as his house guest for a pre-event ceremony with the players and their families. I sat down with him and after being greeted with a smile and handshake, we immediately connected. At the time, I was playing for the Roxborough Bandits, a semi-pro team in Philadelphia’s famed Penn-Del League. Once we started talking about the intricacies of playing the middle infield positions, I knew that I had made a friend.
Mahlon Duckett (r.) with the author in 2007 / N. Diunte
For the rest of the evening, I became Mr. Duckett’s go-to-guy, helping him get around the ballpark and through the on-field ceremonies. After the pre-game honors ended, I accompanied him to the autograph area. I sat with him as he signed autographs for seven innings as a continuous stream of fans approached the table. During breaks in the action, we continued to talk baseball, as Duckett took pauses from signing just so he could finish telling me some of his vast encyclopedia of stories.
We stayed in touch after that evening, exchanging some photos from the event, a few letters in the mail, and subsequent phone calls. When I returned the next year, he told me that people who visited him at his assisted living home would always remark about the young gentleman in the photo with him. He said he was proud to display it.
In the following years, it became more difficult for Duckett to travel and slowly he watched his crew of fellow Philadelphia Stars dwindle with the passings of Bill Cash, Stanley Glenn, and Harold Gould. He made his final public appearance last month at the opening of the MLB Urban Youth Academy in Philadelphia.
We last spoke in 2013 and our talk returned to his career. Only 17-years-old when he joined the Stars, he told me that he was left to figure out most of the game by himself.
“In the Negro Leagues, you just played on your natural ability, that’s all,” he said during our 2013 telephone interview. “A couple of guys told me a lot of things that they thought would help me, but I never had any one individual say, ‘I’m taking you under my wing and teaching you this that and the other thing.’”
Some seventy years later, he chose to share one of his favorite stories that involved the great Satchel Paige. At an age when most ballplayers were trying to figure out graduating high school, an 18-year-old Duckett approached the plate with the game on the line against arguably the best pitcher in baseball history.
“I hit a game-winning home run off of Satchel in Yankee Stadium in 1941,” he said. “I’ll never forget that; it was a great day, Yankee Stadium, about 45,000 people there. There were a lot of great things that happened in the Negro Leagues that a lot of people don’t know about. It was a great league with great ballplayers.”
Brian Giles didn’t have to go any farther than his own household in search of baseball lessons. His grandfather George Sr., was a legend in the Negro Leagues in the 1920s and 1930s, and his father George Jr., was a farmhand in the Cincinnati Reds organization in the 1950s. It was only natural that his immediate family members became his most effective teachers as he made his own path to the major leagues.
Brian Giles makes a leaping grab for the Mets
“When we’re talking about the best instructors I’ve had, I have to stay in the family,” Giles said during a 2015 phone interview from his home in Las Vegas. “My grandfather instilled that work ethic; making sure you’re practicing, doing it right, and staying in shape. My father instilled the fundamentals with ground balls, throwing, fielding, and hitting.”
To better understand Giles’ 21-year journey in the family trade, the lesson starts with his grandfather’s mark in the Negro Leagues. The elder Giles was known as one of the top first basemen in the history of the league while playing primarily with the Kansas City Monarchs and the St. Louis Stars.
Standing 6’3”, his grandfather had a rare blend of size and speed, especially at first base, a position not known for the fleet of foot. His speed was comparable to his teammate Cool Papa Bell, one who many regarded as the fastest in the league. Giles made a more modern comparison of his grandfather to Dave Parker, in terms of a baseball player who gracefully blended such size and athleticism.
As Giles matured, he sought the counsel of his grandfather who was living in Manhattan, Kansas. Going through his teenage years, they shared many conversations on the phone, not only about the game, but the harsh realities that Negro League ballplayers encountered due to segregation.
George Giles Sr. - Author's Collection
“Their traveling was chaotic and ongoing,” Giles said. “[They played] three games a day and [at night] they would travel. I don’t know how many different times they did that. He told me of all of the travel, the long days, sleeping on the bus, their problems finding hotels, and places to stay.”
Later in Giles’ major league career, playing in the American League provided him the opportunity to visit his grandfather in person, to tighten a bond that was formed mostly over the phone. Those face-to-face meetings focused more on what his grandfather told him he needed to do to be successful on the field, rather than his tales of traversing the country playing in the Negro Leagues.
Giles started his own journey in 1978, when was drafted by the New York Mets in the third round from Kearny High School in San Diego. After cups of coffee with the Mets in 1981 and 1982, he was finally handed the keys to the Mets second base position in 1983. Playing alongside 19-year-old Jose Oquendo, they formed one of the youngest double play combinations in the league.
The Mets had been mired for years in mediocrity, ten years removed from their 1973 World Series appearance. The aforementioned duo, alongside Rookie of the Year Darryl Strawberry, and a young right-hander from Yale, Ron Darling, represented a glimpse of hope for the stagnant franchise.
“We finished last that year, or just close to it,” he said. “We just didn’t hit. We played defense. … We had a nucleus of young talent that came from a winning type of feeling [in the minors].”
With a full year in the major leagues behind him, Giles was optimistic about his chances for the 1984 season; however, his hopes were quickly dashed when the Mets replaced manager Frank Howard with Davey Johnson, who was fresh off of a minor league championship with their AAA team in Tidewater. The new skipper had plans to bring in his guys from the minors, which didn’t include Giles in the infield.
“The Mets sent down [Wally] Backman and Ron Gardenhire, and kept Brian Giles and Jose Oquendo, and I thought they improved my ball club and hurt theirs,” Johnson said in a 1985 interview with the Star-News.
Giles felt that the Mets had too much turnover with their managers to have a clear vision for their franchise in the early 80s, starting with the firing of his first manager, Joe Torre. With the Hall of Famer's guidance, he envisioned Torre taking the Mets to World Series victory the same way he did with the Yankees in the 1990s.
“I just wish Torre wouldn’t have left because that team would have probably stayed together,” he said. “We had a passion to win. … We just need somebody, we needed Joe Torre! We could have been like the Yankees. He left way too soon. He was going to have the best team and he was going to have a nucleus of guys around that fit roles like he did with the Yankees. We had it. We had the veteran savvy guys and some young talented infielders and pitchers.
“I just wanted to be a part of it because I thought I belonged. We had Oquendo, [myself], Gardenhire; we could have all rotated, but they had different plans.”
As a member of the Brewers
With the emergence of Wally Backman, Kelvin Chapman, and Rafael Santana, the Mets had a logjam of middle infielders in their system. They left Giles unprotected in the 1984 Rule 5 Draft, and he was signed by his former manager George Bamberger, who was now piloting the Milwaukee Brewers. His new boss was ecstatic about his acquisition.
“I think it might be one of the best deals in baseball for just $25,000,” Bamberger said to the Milwaukee Journal in 1985. “I’ll tell you how I classified him with New York; an excellent second baseman, a good shortstop.”
Stuck in a crowded infield with mainstays Jim Gantner and Paul Molitor, Giles was relegated to filling in as a late-inning defensive replacement. He was unfamiliar with the intermittent role, and his performance suffered as a result of his lack of time on the field, hitting only .172 in 58 at-bats. The Brewers parted ways with Giles at the end of the season, leaving him to sign with the Chicago White Sox in the winter.
Playing with his third team in three years, Giles had difficulty establishing himself in Chicago. He spent most of 1986 in the minors, only playing nine games for the White Sox. Suddenly, he went from a courted prospect to a journeyman trying to prove his major league worthiness. Unfazed by his demotion, he continued to put his nose to the grindstone, batting .274 and .296 at AAA in 1988 and 1989 respectively; however, he couldn’t find an open door to return to the majors.
Kevin Mitchell (l.) w/ Giles (r.) as a member of the White Sox
“I went to spring training for a little time and then I was supposed to get called up or traded in ‘88,” he said. “In ‘89, I went to Cleveland and got a couple of spring training games in and had a good year in Colorado Springs. I thought I was going to get in because [Mike] Hargrove really liked me, but it didn’t happen.”
Giles found his angel in an old friend, Roger Jongewaard. The vice president of player development for the Seattle Mariners at the time, Jongewaard was responsible for scouting Giles when he was drafted by the Mets in the late 70s. A dozen years later, he was encouraged enough by Giles’ performance in 1989 with Colorado Springs to offer him an invite to spring training with the Mariners in 1990. Finally, Giles’ refusal to give up paid off.
“I made the big league team out of spring training,” he said. “That was the year Omar Vizquel broke his leg. I had a good spring and halfway through that spring training, [Jim] Lefebvre called me in and told me I made the team.”
After a four year hiatus, Giles relished the opportunity to once again wear a big league uniform; however, Lefebvre had him platoon with Mike Brumley in Vizquel’s absence. Giles struggled to find his swing during the first month of the season, going 0-16 in April. Getting a fresh start in May, Giles redeemed himself during a May 17, 1990 game against the Toronto Blue Jays, when he went 3-4 with two home runs and seven RBIs. Lefebrve rode Giles’ hot hand at the plate after his breakout game until Vizquel returned from his leg injury.
Needing room on the roster for their budding star at shortstop, the Mariners sent Giles down to their AAA club in Calgary. At season’s end, the Mariners granted the 30-year-old infielder free agency, effectively ending his big league career. Most ballplayers at this stage of their career are faced with the tough choice of moving on from their playing days; however, for Giles, it opened up an entire new world of possibilities.
“I went to Italy in 1991 for a year, and in 1992 I went to Mexico. After that year, I went to Taiwan. I was trying to get to Japan or Korea. I played [in Taiwan] there from ‘93-‘95. ... Going abroad, it’s a lot different for Americans. I got treated pretty well. It’s like you’re in the big leagues. You’ve got the Superman on your chest. You go 3-4, drive in four runs, but if you lined out or flied out, you didn’t do enough. I enjoyed it. It was quite an experience. I got to meet other American players that didn’t really make it and help them out. We all helped each other because of the culture difference.”
Giles returned to the United States in 1996, foregoing a few offers to break the line during the spring of 1995. He played independent ball with Minot in the Prairie League, winning a championship in 1996. Holding on to the faint hope that he would receive another offer to return overseas to play ball, he spent two more seasons playing in the Prairie League and the Atlantic League, finishing his career with the Newark Bears in 1998.
After 21 years in professional baseball, few thought that the length of Giles’ career would outlast all of the young talent he paralleled in the Mets organization, including Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry. While his exploits were not as loud as the aforementioned duo, Giles felt that if he was given the opportunity to play a few consecutive seasons full-time after 1983, that he would have been well on his way to a notable major league career.
“If I got my time in, I just know in my heart I could have easily gotten 3,000 hits with my longevity,” he said. “I didn’t get hurt that much. When I got back to the big leagues, I played part-time. I wasn’t using my body. That’s what I had to do at the end. It was hard to get in the groove.”
Now the 55-year-old former big leaguer is passing on his experience to the fourth generation of Giles men exploring the family trade, his son Garrett. The youngest member of the Giles baseball clan is a freshman at Basic High School in Henderson, Nevada, and is already a starting member of their varsity team. When he isn’t working with his son, he runs his non-profit ICE Youth Program, where he helps to train youngsters on the finer points of the game. One of his prized pupils is Oakland A’s outfielder, Coco Crisp.
"One of my first players that I started training was Coco Crisp," he said. "I had him at 12 years old, taught him how to switch hit. The way he played, I embedded that in him. … When I was playing, I would come home and train him 3-4 days per week and then it would be every day. … He’s my prodigy.”
The hallmark of Giles’ training is to help the young players find a love for the game and a devotion to controlling their mental focus on the field at all times. It is this level of heightened awareness that he feels can push these aspiring athletes towards to reach their fullest potential.
“I use ‘ACCE’ — attitude, concentrate, confidence and effort,” he said. “I try to use that to have a guideline. … Have the right attitude to finish the play with effort.”
Negro League teams barnstormed the country not only in search of the next game to play, but the next paycheck as well. Clubs would routinely play multiple games per day to maximize their earning potential while the sun was still shining. Recently, due to the finds of collector and memorabilia dealer Jim Stinson, individual game ledgers have surfaced showing how each club split the gate at games.
Joe Black - Baltimore Elite Giants
In one document dated July 18, 1950, the carefully calculated accounting for a game between the Birmingham Black Barons and the Baltimore Elite Giants showed not only the attendance, but the divisions for taxes, the league's percentage, as well as what was paid to both the home club and visitors. The visiting Elite Giants split $164.29, which amounted to approximately $10 per man, furthering their impetus to play as often as possible. Baseball fans might recognize the signature of the Elite Giants representative Joe Black, who won the 1952 Rookie of the Year Award with the Brooklyn Dodgers.
1950 Ledger with Joe Black
1950 Ledger with Ted "Double Duty" Radcliffe
1942 Black Barons vs Memphis Red Sox Ledger
1942 Black Barons vs Memphis Red Sox Ledger
1950 Black Barons vs Houston Eagles Ledger signed by Bob Harvey
1950 Black Barons vs Buckeyes Ledger signed by George Jefferson
Jim Zapp, an outfielder in the Negro Leagues from 1945-1954 with the Baltimore Elite Giants, Atlanta Black Crackers and Birmingham Black Barons is unfortunately no longer able to respond to his fan mail. Zapp is 90 years old and facing end stage Alzheimer's disease.
Jim Zapp 2010 Topps Allen and Ginter
In a letter from his son Jim Zapp Jr. dated January 8, 2015, the younger Zapp states that due to his father's declining health, the family is politely asking for fans to no longer send autograph requests.
They are however, asking for any unsigned copies of his 2010 Topps Allen and Ginter baseball card (as pictured above). If you have any copies that you would like to send, please send me an e-mail and I will help to facilitate the process.
Bernard Fernandez, a pitcher in the Negro Leagues with the Philadelphia Stars, New York Black Yankees, Atlanta Black Crackers and Richmond Giants from 1938-1948, passed away in Las Vegas on November 19, 2014 at the age of 96.
Bernard Fernandez / Philadelphia Stars
In 2007, I had the opportunity to interview Fernandez at his home in Philadelphia, where we spoke for over an hour about his lengthy baseball career. He discussed his entry into the Negro Leagues and how he had to face the mighty Homestead Grays with Hall of Famers Josh Gibson and Buck Leonard in his Negro League debut. Fernandez went on to play ten seasons in the Negro Leagues, missing some time during World War II when he worked in a war defense job.
Fernandez was also interviewed at length in Brent P. Kelley's "The Negro Leagues Revisited," which includes in-depth interviews with 66 different Negro League ballplayers, many of whom are sadly deceased.
Another ballplayer has taken his stories of the playing in the segregated Negro Leagues to the grave. On Monday, I was informed by Bob Kendrick, Director of the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum that Hank Presswood, a former shortstop in the Negro Leagues with the Cleveland Buckeyes and the Kansas City Monarchs, passed away on December 27, 2014 in Chicago at the age of 93.
Born October 7, 1921 in Electric Mills, Mississippi, Presswood cut
his teeth playing for sandlot clubs in his hometown. Content with
playing locally, it wasn’t until after he returned from serving in the
Army during World War II that the professional leagues snatched him up …
literally.
“Willie Grace went to the Buckeyes and he was the one who told them
about me,” Presswood said to me during a 2010 phone interview. “He was
from Laurel, Mississippi. One day I was working and who was at my job,
Grace and the foreman! He asked me about going, and I wanted to go you
know. … I said, ‘What in the world are you doing here, I thought you
were with the Buckeyes?’ He said, ‘I am with the Buckeyes, but I told
them about you. I came after you.’ I was really surprised. I accepted
and went on up there.”
Presswood as a member of the 1948 Cleveland Buckeyes
Presswood left for Cleveland in 1948 and immediately he was installed
as their shortstop, playing alongside such greats as Sam Jethroe and
Sam “Toothpick” Jones. It was a big step for a first-year player to
crack the lineup of the defending champs of the Negro American League.
“Cleveland had won the championship the year before I came in there,
but I was their shortstop!” he said. “I ain't braggin', I could play any
position, but my regular position was shortstop.”
At 27, Presswood was at the peak of his career physically. He said
that his gifts on the field helped carry him through the game as he
learned his way around the league.
“At that time I was fast,” he said. “I could do what I wanted to do
because I was fast. I had a good throwing arm too. I used to play deep
shortstop. As I learned the hitters, I might move over towards second or
third, or come in; it depended on the hitter. As you learn the
fundamentals of how to play your position, it helps out. Sometimes you
see different hitters which way they hit the ball.”
Presswood played with Buckeyes until they folded in 1950. He was
picked up by the Kansas City Monarchs, who were coached by the legendary
Buck O’Neil. The skipper gave him the nickname of “Baby,” which stuck
with him well after his career was over.
"I played two years with the Monarchs,” he said. “That's when I got
my nickname. Buck O'Neil called me 'Baby'. Everyone calls me now Hank
'Baby' Presswood, and I'm two years younger than Santa Claus!"
Preswood held the late ambassador of the Negro Leagues with the highest esteem. O’Neil was his mentor both on and off the field.
"He was the greatest,” he said. “He was a good ballplayer himself. He
was something else. When he passed, that really hurt because he was
like a father to me."
He remained active by playing fast-pitch softball after stepping away
from the Monarchs in 1952. His experience as a professional ballplayer
in the Negro Leagues made him a standout on the softball diamond.
“I went to the Steel Mills and played fast pitch softball,” he said.
“I have trophies on top of trophies. They couldn't fool me being an old
ballplayer.”
The old ballplayer received his due recognition as an octogenarian,
when in 2008, he was “drafted” by the Chicago White Sox in an honorary
Negro Leagues draft. Two years later in 2010, Topps honored him with a baseball card in their Allen and Ginter set. At the age of 88, he
remarked about finally having a “rookie” card.
Presswood's 2010 Topps Card
"I was really grateful for it,” he said. “It was really nice man.
They even have when I played softball on that card. They had everything
about my ball playing."
The set, which is popular with collectors, kept Presswood busy answering his mail. He enjoyed obliging the fans.
"I get a pile of letters every day,” he said. “Sometimes I can get
them right in the mail, other days, it takes a day or so. I'm enjoying
it. I'm proud that people are interested."
The increased popularity of the Negro Leagues allowed Presswood to
experience the adulation of the younger generation. He just returned
from an appearance at a local high school when we caught up on the
phone.
"Seeing the kids is the best thing that ever happened,” he said. “I
feel really proud when we talk to the kids. It's really exciting. They
get a big bang out of us being there. We're gone all the time, at
different places and ball games."
Well removed from his playing days, Presswood remained passionate
about the game that consumed him. Once baseball season came around, he was back to doing what he loved, watching baseball.
"I'll tell you what,” he said, “I just love the game. When the Cubs
and the White Sox are playing, I don't care what I have to do, I finish
what I have to do, get my seat and watch the game."
Funeral services will be held Saturday January 3, 2015 at True
Believers Baptist Church, 7801 S. Walcott, Chicago, Illinois, 60620.
Billy Sample, former major league outfielder of nine major league seasons, talked shop with the legendary Willie Mays in the spring of 2004.
In this 15-minute interview, Mays is rather lucid as they discuss his career from humble beginnings in Alabama, making his way from the Negro Leagues all the way to the Hall of Fame.
With a lineup that included Roberto Clemente and Willie Mays, it was very unlikely that a career .235 major league hitter would steal the spotlight, but for a week during the 1955 Caribbean Series, Don Zimmer reigned supreme.
Don Zimmer crossing home plate with Santurce
Zimmer was the starting shortstop on arguably the greatest winter league team ever assembled, the 1954-55 Santurce Crabbers.
“We had a team that I thought that could beat two-to-three of the lesser teams in the National League,” Zimmer said when spoke in 2011 at the MLB offices.
“We had Bus Clarkson at third base, I played short, Ronnie Samford at second, and George Crowe played first. Valmy Thomas and Harry Chiti caught. Mays, [Bob] Thurman and Clemente played the outfield. People laugh when I tell them that. They say, ‘No!’ I say, ‘Yes, that was our outfield.’ … That was a great club!”
Zimmer almost played his way out of Puerto Rico that winter, but was saved by the last minute due to some quick thinking by Santurce’s manager Herman Franks.
“I was struggling with Mayaguez and they let me go. There was some kind of rule that if I left Puerto Rico, then any other club could bring me back to Puerto Rico to play … went to Miami, and Herman Franks called me to play for Santurce … got on an airplane to Puerto Rico,” Zimmer said in Thomas E. Van Hyning’s "The Santurce Crabbers".
Holding down the middle of the infield, Zimmer helped Santurce breeze through the Puerto Rican Winter League for a spot in the Caribbean Series in Caracas. They were the clear favorites going into the series, much to the chagrin of Bobby Bragan who managed the Cuban entry from Almendares.
“I remember going to Caracas,” he said. “Bobby Bragan was managing the Cuban team. He said, ‘They said you got a good team, huh? You’ll wind up second.’ Ronnie Samford was in a bar that night with us, having a beer. I didn’t want to say nothing to Bragan, but Ronnie said, ‘You couldn’t beat us.’”
Samford was right, the Santurce team ran over the competition, winning their first five games to clinch the championship. Zimmer hit .400 with three home runs, including a leading off Game 2 against Panama with a circuit blast.
Zimmer earned MVP honors for his performance, besting his teammate Mays, who hit .462 after starting the series 0-14.
“I was a cinch to be the Most Valuable Player of the Caribbean Series, except Mays got hot the last two days and took over,” he said in 2011.
While Zimmer couldn’t duplicate the success that he had in Puerto Rico in the major leagues, the experience he gained from playing with all of the veterans from the Negro Leagues and the Caribbean was invaluable in shaping the rest of his career.
“I was just 21 years old,” he said. “Just being around them was good enough for me, learning and watching the way they went about things.”
Nearing his 90th birthday, Minnie Minoso is still bouncing around Chicago as an ambassador for the White Sox, displaying the vigor that allowed him to play professional baseball in seven different decades.
Tom Weinberg, director of the Mediaburn video archive, has given Minoso his just due by producing a documentary, "Baseball's Been Very, Very Good To Me: The Minnie Minoso Story."
Click here to read a review from LatinoSports.com of the documentary which is still awaiting its proper national distribution. It is a fitting tribute to one of baseball's overlooked pioneers.
Marvin Price, a feared hitter in the Negro Leagues, who was regarded as the youngest player ever to suit up in an official Negro League game, passed away July 31, 2013 in Chicago. His niece Maria
Stimpson confirmed his death on Thursday that came after a long battle with
Alzheimer's disease. He was 81.
Price was born in Chicago on April 5, 1932, the second youngest child
to Mary Emma Anderson Price and Porter Earl Price. As a youngster, he
developed a passionate appetite for the sport.
"One day, Marvin couldn't come out to play [baseball] because he was
sick,” said his sister Gloria Price Stimpson. “The other boys would look
up to Marvin, who would be standing in the window, and they'd ask him
to make the call – ‘out, safe, foul ball, or fair ball’. He always
imagined that baseball would play a huge role in his life.”
Marvin Price - 1995 On-Field Pre-Game Ceremony - M. Stimpson
At the tender age of 14, professional baseball soon became a reality
for Price when he was spotted playing baseball in Washington Park by
legendary Chicago American Giants outfielder Jimmie Crutchfield. A tryout was soon arranged with owner J.B. Martin at Comiskey Park, where manager Quincy Trouppe initially thought he was the new batboy. It didn’t take long for him to show he wasn’t there to distribute the equipment.
“Dr. J.B. Martin and my family was out there before batting practice
at Comiskey Park and I put on a show for ‘em,” said Price in Brent P.
Kelley’s, “The Negro Leagues Revisited".
The American Giants decided to take Price on a trip down South, where
he could play without jeopardizing his amateur status back in Chicago.
Facing the hardened veterans of the black leagues, Price’s mettle was
immediately tested after a strong display of hitting.
“I doubled and got hit in the side of the face and got right back in
there and doubled again. He told me I had a lot of nerve and guts, so
just keep playing,” he said.
After a week, Price returned home to Englewood High School for fear
of getting caught playing in the league. He graduated high school in
1949, and caught on as a first baseman with Cleveland Buckeyes. This
started a four-year run for Price in the league, playing with the New
Orleans Eagles in 1950 and for his hometown Giants from 1951-52. While
playing in Chicago, he batted an incredible .390 in 1951, according to
the Chicago Defender.
Just as it looked like Price was on the path to major league stardom,
his career was interrupted when he enlisted into the military in 1952,
where he served four years for the United States Coast Guard.
With the Negro Leagues
on the decline after his return, Price played in semi-pro leagues,
never losing his love for the game. He used his experience in the Negro
Leagues to share with the high school athletes coached by his
brother-in-law.
“When my dad started coaching high school baseball, Marvin would
frequently show up to teach the boys how to play shortstop -- and they
loved it,” said Maria Stimpson. “Even when Marvin wasn't on the field,
he was known to just jump up out of the blue and punctuate his
conversations with all sorts of animated baseball moves.”
Price went on to work as a supervisor in the Chicago post office for
30 years. Still drawn to the game, he continued to work part-time with
the Chicago Park District, where he drew the admiration of the local
youth, teaching them the finer points of baseball at Jackson Park Field
House.
“Kids have a lot of respect for me ‘cause they know I tell ‘em the truth. I’ve been a lucky man,” Price said.
He is survived by a son and daughter, two granddaughters, two
sisters, four nieces, five nephews, and a host of friends throughout the
United States. A memorial service will be announced at a later date.
In celebration of Satchel Paige's July 7, 1906 birthday, I offer a literary journey into the life of Satchel Paige. An eccentric character on and off the field, chronicling his career has spawned many books including two that he co-wrote.
Below are some of the best books that showcase the life and times of Paige.
“Discover Greatness,” has been the theme for the traveling exhibit of the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum for the past 20 years that has showcased the history of African-Americans in baseball. An increasingly rare opportunity to witness one of the legends who played in the Negro Leagues tell their story live and in-person came to Mt. Calvary Baptist Church on Saturday in Mullica Hill, N.J.
Bill Greason / N. Diunte
Eighty-eight-year-old Rev. William “Bill” Greason, former pitcher for the Birmingham Black Barons and St. Louis Cardinals, delivered an impressive sermon in which baseball, history, and spirituality were effortlessly intertwined.
Greason, a Montford Point Marine who served in World War II, has been the pastor of the Bethel Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama for more than 30 thirty years. He found his calling during his time in the military.
“In February 1945 on a little island called Iwo Jima, people were dying all around me. I took a little bible with me,” he said. “Two of my best friends were killed on that island. I prayed and I said, ‘Lord, if you get me off this island, whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.’ It’s strange. A calling is strange. It’s a burden on you. You can’t shake it if you’re really called, no matter what you do or where you go. That’s what happened to me. I just threw up my hands and said here I am, use me.”
He delayed his start in the ministry to pursue a career in baseball upon his return from World War II. His career in the Negro Leagues started in 1947, when he was picked up off of the sandlots of Atlanta, Georgia.
“In 1947, the Nashville Black Vols heard about me and invited me to come and start play with them. I played did pretty good, I won 12 games and lost four,” he said.
Within a year, his fine pitching caught the interest of the Birmingham Black Barons.
“The next year … in spring training, I was in Ashville, North Carolina, and the Black Barons came through," he recalled. "Our pitcher started against them and they bombed him. They put me in and I shut them out in seven innings. That was on a Monday night; Saturday morning, I was in Birmingham. I don’t know how they got me, they bought me or whatever, but in 1948 I was with the Barons.”
His expertise on the mound helped guide the Black Barons to the final Negro World Series. They squared off against the Homestead Grays, who were led by future Hall of Famers Cool Papa Bell, and Buck Leonard. Greason won the only game for the Black Barons in the 1948 series.
“To have an opportunity to pitch in that environment, it was something exceptional,” he said.
On that club, patrolling center field was a 17-year-old budding superstar in Willie Mays. Greason became close with the teenage sensation.
“Piper [Davis] brought him in and we became roommates on the road," Greason said. "We’re still good friends. He was the greatest young player [I ever saw]. He had unusual gifts. He could catch it and throw it; he did it all. He was what they called a phenom. I knew he was going to do well as a ballplayer, and he did.”
Their friendship has persisted more than 65 years.
“Willie and I are real close now. I’ve been going to his birthday parties for the last five-to-six years. I said to him, ‘I’ve gotta have proof that I’ve been here.’ I’ve got about three of those San Francisco jackets, balls, and shirts.”
He later made his way into the minor leagues by way of Mexico after serving with the Marines during the Korean War. The Oklahoma City Redbirds of the Texas League signed him in 1952, making him the second black player in league history. Greason shared how he converted even the toughest of fans with his artistry on the mound.
“I had one in Beaumont, a lady. Boy! It looked like every time we played in Beaumont, it was my time to pitch and she’d sit right behind our dugout,” he said. “The more she talked, the stronger I became. It was just a challenge. If you know who you are, you don’t worry about what people say. They call you all kinds of names and say whatever they want to, but you have to stay focused. That’s what happened and I kept my mind on whatever I had to do. After the season was over, she came to me and said, ‘Bill, I tried to get you, but you did well. I’m proud of you.’ I said, ‘Thank you.’”
He compiled a record of 25-14 during his two seasons in Oklahoma City, prompting the Cardinals to trade for his services just prior to the 1954 season. Greason was called up to the Cardinals in May. Not only did he take a pay cut from his salary in the minor leagues to go to the majors, he was used sparingly by manager Eddie Stanky. He appeared in only three games during the month he was with the club. He was given a short rope on the mound by the ill-tempered Stanky.
“He came out to the mound," Greason recalled. "I’m out there trying to get the ball over the ball over the plate and he walked right up in front of me. ‘Get the damn ball over the plate!’ I said, “What in the hell do you think I’m trying to do? Do you think I’ve got a string on this damn ball?’ He turned and left. I knew I wouldn’t be there long.”
Despite his short career in the major leagues, Greason beamed with pride this weekend to be able to uphold the traditions of the Negro Leagues.
“A lot of our young people don’t know anything about the Negro Leagues. … It had a great influence on our people, baseball; this was all we had in Birmingham. On Sundays, after the game, people would leave worship service, come to the ballpark dressed like I am right now and this was all that we had at that time. Baseball was very important to a lot of people and they loved the ballplayers. And we did our best to be respectful, treat people nice and help people where we could.”
Bill Greason giving his service in uniform / N. Diunte
His focus now with whatever time he has left is to foster a deeper sense of spirituality with the younger generation.
“Baseball had its time. The Marines had its time. I’m trying to help young people. I’m at a Bible College trying to help young ministers to really take the calling seriously and not worry about the money. It’s about people. If we can get God in the hearts of people, we could change things. If not, it’s going to remain the same.”
Peeples played in the Negro Leagues with the Memphis Red Sox, Kansas City Monarchs, and Indianapolis Clowns before signing with the Brooklyn Dodgers organization in 1951. He played a few years in their system at the low minors and in 1953, he bounced around among three different teams, as the Dodgers sold him to independent Keokuk before the Braves bought his contract and sent him to Evansville to finish out the season. He finished the 1953 season with a .331 average and 15 home runs. His combination of speed, average, and power were enough for the Braves to offer him a contract with the Class-AA Atlanta Crackers for the 1954 season.
The 28-year-old outfielder was hesitant when he received the news that he was going to be the one to break the league’s color barrier.
“I was sick about it because back in 1954, I didn't know how it all was going to work out. I played through the South when I was with the Kansas City Monarchs. I knew what those towns were like. Earl Mann said, ‘Well, come to spring training, and we'll see what happens.’ And that's what I did,” said Peeples in Bruce Adelson’s, "Brushing Back Jim Crow."
After the first six games of spring training, Peeples was batting an impressive .429 with a home run. His early performance caught the attention of the media, with the Sarasota Herald-Tribune running the headline on March 22, 1954, “Nat Peeples May Be 1st to Break SA Race Barrier.” The once reluctant outfielder warmed up to his prospects after his hot start.
“I think I’ve made it, but of course that’s not for me to say,” he remarked.
Peeples played well enough to make the opening day roster, but couldn’t stick with the team. He made his debut on April 9, 1954 in Mobile, Ala., grounding out in a pinch-hitting appearance. He played in one more game, finishing 0-4 with a walk, and was sent to Class-A Jacksonville on April 17, 1954. Rumors surrounding his demotion stemmed from complaints of the rest of the owners in the league. Others have asserted he simply wasn't ready for the pitching in the league.
“When Earl Mann explained on April 17 that Peeples had lost his spot on the roster to more experienced outfielders and that the Crackers had sent him to Jacksonville so he could play every day, the Atlanta owner asserted the truth. … He was an average Class-A and a below-average Class-AA player, and it took him until the end of his career to reach that level of competence. Thus, in 1954, he was clearly not ready for the Southern Association,” Fenster reported.
He stayed with the Braves organization for the majority of his career, getting as far as Triple-A before his retirement in 1960. In his 1999 interview with Adelson, Peeples took pride in his accomplishment, no matter how brief it was.
“I felt pretty good about what I did because no other black players tried to play in the Southern Association. I don’t regret what I did, but I can’t say I’d do it again. I’d have to think about it. I’d like to be remembered for what I did.”
Satchel Paige was an arm for hire. Pitching well into his 50s, Paige was widely coveted not only for his pitching, but his ability to put fans in the seats. Wherever Paige appeared, there was a crowd. Owners knew this and Paige capitalized. If the price was right, ol’ Satchel would put on the uniform.
In 1961, fresh off of his appearance in the Negro League East-West All-Star Game at Yankee Stadium, the Portland Beavers of the Triple-A Pacific Coast League signed Paige in late August with the hopes that the legendary hurler could fill their stadium. Paige felt he could still deliver the goods.
Witnessing that delivery was Ed Charles, a 28-year-old third baseman for the Vancouver Mounties. (Ironically Charles ended up as Paige’s teammate on the Kansas City Athletics in 1965, when Paige made his final major league appearance against the Boston Red Sox.) During their final home stand in Vancouver, Charles recalled a humorous incident when one of his teammates tried to show up Paige on the mound.
“The last series of the '61 season, Satchel was with Portland and we were finishing up with Portland at home. ... Satchel [was] scheduled to pitch, which he did, the final game on a Sunday,” Charles said during a 2012 interview. “He really stuck that ball up our ‘you know what,’ until I think I got a hit off him in the 7th [sic]. ... The big thing about that, we had a second baseman Billy Consolo. ... He took it upon himself to try to bunt on Satchel Paige.”
Paige quickly let Consolo know that his attempt wasn’t appreciated.
“He laid down the bunt and Satch didn't attempt to go to the ball to field the ball," he said. "Satch just stood on the mound and stared at Billy as he was running to first base.”
Consolo’s home fans gave him an earful as well.
“Our fans. they took offense to Billy trying to drag [bunt] on Satch. They start booing him and saying, ‘You should be sent to the minor leagues having the guts to lay a bunt down on that old man, you bush league so and so!’”
Consolo was no stranger to the unspoken rules of baseball. He played 10 seasons in the major leagues, and later spent 13 years as a coach on Sparky Anderson’s staff with the Detroit Tigers. When Consolo returned to the dugout, Charles pressed Consolo about his motives.
“[I asked him], ‘Why would you try to bunt on that man like that?’ Billy said, ‘I'm trying to win a ballgame, I don't care who's out on the mound.’”
Over 50 years later, it was not Paige’s mastery on the mound, but his looming glare across the diamond that is etched in Charles’ memory.
“It was funny the reaction of our fans towards Billy for trying to lay down a drag bunt on Satchel Paige. ... Just to see Satch stand there and stare down Billy, that was funny.”
I had the opportunity to speak with Ross "Satchel" Davis in 2008 for an hour about baseball. I wish that I had recorded the interview, as it was extremely spirited and informative. Around the same time I spoke with him, another writer went and visited him at his home in Garwood, Texas, and posted a wonderful article about their meeting.
This tribute below captures the essence of what I remember about Ross "Satchel" Davis from the encounter I had with him on the phone. He was kind enough to send a bunch of photos and custom baseball cards with a stamped signature, as he couldn't sign his name at that time.
Ross “Satchel” Davis, former pitcher for the Cleveland Buckeyes of the Negro Leagues,
passed away at the age of 94 from complications due to pneumonia early
in the morning on January 1st, 2013 at the DeBakey VA hospital in Houston,
Texas according to his close friend Sarah Perry. Perry is the daughter
of Melinda Ramsey, the family whom Davis lived with during the past few
years in the Houston suburb of Garwood.
Ross 'Satchel' Davis signed photo
Davis was born on July 28, 1918 in Greenville, Mississippi. He pitched in
the Negro Leagues from 1940-47 with the Baltimore Elite Giants,
Cleveland Buckeyes, New York Black Yankees, and Boston Blues. His career
highlights included pitching a no-hitter with Roy Campanella as his
catcher as a member of the Baltimore Elite Giants against a potent
Newark Eagles lineup that included Hall of Famers Biz Mackey, Monte
Irvin, and Willie Wells in 1940, and pitching in the 1947 Negro World
Series as a member of the Negro American League champion Cleveland
Buckeyes.
His career was interrupted due to his military service in World War
II from November 1943 through the end of the 1945 season. During his
Army service, he was awarded a Bronze Star. Despite receiving a
discharge that forbade him from playing baseball due to a bout with
hepatitis in the service, Davis signed with Boston Blues of Branch
Rickey’s United States League in 1946. Eventually he made his way back
to the Buckeyes the following year, posting a 5-1 record during their
run to the Negro World Series. At the end of the season due to
persistent health problems, he called it quits at the age of 29. Despite his early exit from the game, in a 2006 interview with the
Long Beach Telegram, he looked back with fond admiration at his playing
days.
"No doubt those seasons were some of the best times of my life,"
he said. "Of course, like I said, those also were hard years, and when
it became a job rather than a game I quit. I can thank the good Lord
that all that segregation we faced is past now. Still, I think I'd
rather have played then because even with all we had to deal with, the
game was only about the game. We didn't do all the posturing you see
now. If we hit a home run, we'd run around the bases like we were trying
to turn a single into a double, not stand there and look at the ball
like some guys do now. We'd call that showboating, and that just wasn't
done in our day.”
Davis’ signature pitch was his fastball, which earned him the respect of the mighty Josh Gibson, and praise from the man whom he shared the same nickname, Satchel Paige. In an interview with author Brent P. Kelley in the 2003 book, “I Will Never Forget,” he explained how he earned his moniker.
“Satchel gave me that name when he came through St.
Louis,” he said. “I was warming up getting’ ready to go in the fourth,
and he came down and wanted to know who was this young fella throwin’
these salt tablets. They said, ‘That’s Ross Davis.’ He [Satchel] said,
‘Well, he throws the ball harder’n me.’ Of course, the guys didn’t have
any idea they were gonna hit Satchel, so they knew that we were comin’
behind Satchel. They started grittin’ their teeth, taking their vicious
practice swings, and Satchel with his big mouth said, ‘No need for you
so-and-so’s diggin’ in. That’s my son out there. He throws the ball
harder’n I do.’ The news papers took it up, started to call me ‘Satchel Paige’ Davis, and then they reduced it to ‘Satchel’ Davis.”
Davis was living in Long Beach, Calif., when he met Melinda Ramsey
and her husband through the Internet. They formed a special bond, and
invited him to live in an apartment in their home. Davis accepted, and
Perry said his presence was more than they ever imagined.
“He took us in,” Perry said. “He was the best friend you could ever have. He had
lots of stories, lots of advice ... just a perfect friend.”
