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My wife and I just returned from a spectacular trip to Italy. It was my first time in the country, and seeing in person all the great masterpieces by Caravaggio, Michelangelo, Botticelli and the other fellas was very exciting and humbling for an artist like myself. Besides the 14-16th Century masters I was lucky to catch a superb exhibit in Rome of one of my favorite poster designers, Alphonse Mucha, as well as a stunning exhibit of 20th Century modern pieces from the Guggenheim collection in Florence.
Among the wonders of Italy I was fortunate to see first hand was the Coliseum in Rome. Sure, you see it in books and movies, but in real life it truly is amazing - but besides the miracle that it still stands after hundreds of centuries is the fact that it is remarkably similar to modern baseball stadium design! The whole set up and plan of the Coliseum is still used today in modern sporting facilities, from the box seats and entry gates to the vending areas for souvenirs. And despite all the art and history that surrounded me as I toured the former gladiator palace, I of course, thought of baseball and the contributions to the game by descendants of that rich culture. Besides the original engineering ideas that inspired the very stadium that the sport is played in, men of Italian descent have left an indelible mark on the game. Imagine the history of baseball without seeing the names DiMaggio, Berra, Rizzuto, Piazza, Lasorda, Campanella, LaRussa - do I need to go on?
So anyway, on the long flight back home to Kentucky I got to thinking about the Italian-American ballplayers I have in my book and on this website. Off hand I recalled there was Billy Martin, Roy Campanella, the DiMaggio boys and lesser known figures like Marius Russo and Ollie Carnegie. When I got back in the studio I looked up what I had written about the last guy, Ollie Carnegie. He was one of the 50 or so fellas I had to cut from The League of Outsider Baseball when I ran over by about 100 pages. I always felt bad about cutting Ollie, his career was marked by being left out and passed over and to do that to him yet again seemed really cruel. From time to time I've posted some of the leftovers from the book and felt for sure I had done the same with Ollie - but when I looked on my website he was not there!
Well, now he is...
A late start to his career and appendicitis kept Ollie Carnegie a minor league Babe Ruth. The son of Italian immigrants, Carnegie was a semi-pro superstar on the sandlots of his native Pittsburgh. The young slugger turned down contracts from the Pirates and Senators, preferring to keep his steady job in a steel mill. When he did give pro ball a shot in 1922, appendicitis ended his baseball dreams after just seven games. It wasn’t until Carnegie lost his job to The Depression and was well into his 30’s that he decided to give the game another try.
After a summer in the low minors, Carnegie joined the Buffalo Bisons of the International League, just one rung below the big leagues. He finished in the top five in home runs four out his first five seasons with the Bisons, and though he seemed perpetually on the verge of being signed by a Major League team, his age and a 1936 ankle injury kept him in Buffalo.
Just when the 39 year-old was being written off as over the hill, Carnegie finished first in home runs (54), RBI (136) and total bases (358) and was second in slugging percentage (.649) and third in hits (182). He was voted the 1938 International League’s Most Valuable Player but astonishingly, no Major League contract materialized.
By then Carnegie had accepted that he’d never be a big leaguer and spent the next few years cementing his reputation as the greatest and most beloved ball player to ever play in Buffalo. After he hung up his spikes “The Bambino of Buffalo” tried his hand at managing the Bisons before becoming a scout, riding around in a personalized station wagon given to him by his grateful Buffalo fans.
Since we just passed the 70th
anniversary of the day Jackie Robinson took the field for the Montreal Royals
in Jersey City, I think it's important to celebrate an often overlooked event
that occurred a few days later on April 24, 1946. That was the day Johnny
Wright emerged from the bullpen in Syracuse's MacArthur Park and became organized baseball's
first black pitcher in the 20th century.
Now, I'm not going to go over the "forgotten man" ground that often
is the gist of any piece on Johnny Wright. Instead I'll try to retell his story
as comprehensively as possible. That's not an easy task - many modern articles
about Wright have confusing and sometimes just plain wrong details. Even the
black press at the time seemed to drop Wright like a hot potato after he was
demoted from Montreal. In writing this piece I dug up as many contemporary
newspaper sources as I could, not only about his brief stint in organized
baseball, but for his Negro League career as well.
Today, Wright's time in
Montreal is seen as a brief footnote to Jackie Robinson's story. But
the way I want to tell this story is a little different - I'm going to attempt
to flip it the other way around - that those six weeks with Montreal was just a
brief footnote in Johnny Wright's story...
Johnny Wright was born in New Orleans, Louisiana in 1916. His pop Richard was a
railroad man who rented a house in the Holly Grove neighborhood for his wife
Hazel, daughter Isabel and his youngest, Johnny. In high school Wright developed
a scorcher of a fastball delivered with total control. He was just shy of 6
foot, angular and thin, attributes that earned him the nickname "Needle
Nose". As he matured he augmented his fastball with an arsenal of sharp
breaking curves that left a wake of frustrated batters. In most bios of Wright,
including a profile written by the Pittsburgh Courier in 1946, it's stated that
he began his career with the New Orleans Zulus, a local barnstorming outfit,
but in researching this story I could find nothing linking Wright and this
team. Still, the Zulus were named as his first paying job in baseball and in
the 1930's it was common for black ball players to get their start on these vaudeville-comedy
teams. Like the better-known Indianapolis Clowns, the Zulus mixed slapstick
comedy routines with baseball, usually while dressed up in "exotic"
costumes. Today we recoil in horror at the thought of what passed as
entertainment back then, but at the time it was a decent paying job and a way to
travel the country. Since these teams often played exhibition games against
professional Negro League teams, it was also a good way to have one's talent scouted
by the real pros.
A few stories about Wright report
that he was discovered by the Newark Eagles while playing with the Zulus in
Louisville, Kentucky. Whether that's true or not, somehow the New Orleans speed
baller got the attention of the Eagles who invited him to their spring training
camp at Louisburg, North Carolina in 1937. Although he was good enough to make
the team, the Newark Eagles had a solid rotation consisting of future Hall of
Famer Leon Day plus Terris "The Great" McDuffie and Robert Evans.
Wright drew favorable mentions for his hard throwing but he remained strictly a
second-line pitcher with the Eagles. During the 1938 season he was loaned out
to the Atlanta Black Crackers for a spell before returning to Newark. When Max
Manning joined the squad in 1939 Wright moved over to the Pittsburgh Crawfords.
The Craws had been a powerhouse Negro League team from 1933 through 1936, but
had quickly declined after most of the team defected to the Dominican Republic
in 1937. The team struggled to find a home and Wright pitched for the club
through their moves from Pittsburgh to Toledo to Indianapolis.
Wright's entry into professional ball coincided with his starting a family. He married Mildred Creecy in 1937 and they had their first child, daughter Joyce, in 1939, followed a year later by a son named Sylvester. Mildred and the kids lived in the Lafitte Housing Project in New Orleans while Johnny was on the road during the baseball season. That Wright had a family will have an important bearing on his baseball career further down the road.
In 1941 Wright signed with the Homestead Grays, the pride of the Negro National
League. The Grays were in the middle of an impressive run in which they won the
pennant nine consecutive seasons. It took Wright two full seasons before he
became a Grays starter, but when he did, he sure made his mark.
Johnny Wright's 1943 season was truly one for the ages. Now 26 years old,
Wright had six seasons of blackball under his belt and the best bats in the
game behind him. His fastball drew comparisons to Satchel Paige, some even saying it was Wright who was the faster of the two. As good as his fastball was, it was his overhand curve that was his money pitch. While many pure speed pitchers have a problem throwing an effective curve because the ball arrived at the plate too quickly to break, Wright's had broke just in time to throw a batter's timing off. He also picked up a slider and knuckle ball, giving himself a wide variety of pitches to choose from. You'd expect a guy with Satchel Paige speed to be a strikeout pitcher, but Wright's success lay in working a batter, allowing him to put the ball in play and letting his fielders make the play. On a team of veterans like the Grays, it was a recipe for success. Throughout the summer Wright won game after game, including a
streak of eight in a row. This was the season that Washington Senators owner Clark Griffith would wistfully look out
his office window in Griffith Stadium as the Grays
pulled in more customers than his own big league team could in their own
stadium.
In a rare blackball game allowed in Wrigley Field in September, the Grays met
up with their bitter rivals, the Kansas City Monarchs. The Monarchs had humiliated
the Grays in the 1942 Negro World Series and although this was an exhibition
that didn't count in the standings, the game was an eagerly awaited rematch.
The Grays jumped all over Satchel Paige and he was run out of the box after
giving up seven runs. Except for a bad fourth inning when three runs scored,
Wright pitched magnificently, striking out seven Monarchs and walking just one.
Grays owner Cum Posey was so impressed with Wright's performance that midway
through the summer he did the unthinkable and raised his ace's paycheck $150 a
month above what his signed contract called for. In statistics recently
compiled by baseball archeologist Scott Simkus, Wright is credited as winning just
under 30 games during the season. This tally includes both league and
exhibition games. Against Negro National and American League clubs Wright's record was 22-3 with 4 shutouts. In official Negro National League games he won 14 and lost
just one. He led the league in wins, strikeouts and ERA, the Triple Crown of pitching. In a league that played just over 30
official games that year, Wright's fourteen wins really was impressive and it's
why Cum Posey credited him with pitching the Grays to the 1943 pennant.
That fall the Grays met the Birmingham Black Barons in the Negro World Series. In
an attempt to attract the largest crowds, the Negro World Series was played in
several different cities. In the best of seven series Wright lost the first
game but came back to pitch a shutout victory in game four. Four days later he
repeated his performance, blanking the Barons in game six. In the final game
eight (game two had ended in a tie) Wright left after six innings down by two
runs but the Grays came back for the win and the World Championship.
Then just weeks after returning home to his wife and kids in New Orleans,
Johnny Wright got his induction notice for service in the United States
Navy.
Luckily for Wright, his fame preceded him into the Navy. After basic training,
the pitching ace of the Negro World Champs was stationed at Great Lakes Naval
Training Center just outside Chicago. Great Lakes had a formidable all-white
baseball team lead by Hall of Famer Mickey Cochrane and manned by an endless
supply of ex-Major Leaguers who flowed through the base. The Navy was still
segregated and the base had their own all-black ball club called the Great
Lakes Sailors. Besides Johnny Wright the team boasted Larry Doby and Earl Richardson of the
Newark Eagles, Zack Clayton of the Chicago American Giants, Herb Bracken of the
St. Louis Stars and Sonny Randall of the Grays. University of Toledo star
athlete Chuck Harman also played on the squad. Harmon would later go on to play
in the NBA as well as become the first black player on the Cincinnati
Reds.
As the team's ace, Wright ran up a 16-4 record including a no-hitter and led
his team to the Midwestern Serviceman's Baseball Championship. In 1945 Wright
was stationed in New York where he pitched for the Floyd Bennett Field Naval
Air Base. Unlike Great Lakes, Wright played along side whites at Bennett and he
got the opportunity to pitch against three different Major League teams. The Red
Sox beat him 9-6 and the Dodgers defeated him 6-4, but he won his last game
against the White Sox, 9-6. When asked about how he got along with white
teammates, Wright told the Pittsburgh Courier "the white boys treated me swell;
we had nothing but agreeableness and harmony." During the 1944 and 1945
seasons Wright also managed to play a few games for the Grays. Since he played
these games while on shore leave from the Navy, Wright used the alias
"Leroy Leafwich". He won his two appearances in 1944 and followed
that up with another three incognito wins in '45. Grays owner Cum Posey later
said he kept Wright on the Grays payroll throughout his Navy hitch, paying him
$250 a month to add to his $65 monthly salary as a sailor.
Ever since Johnny Wright became the second man picked to integrate organized
baseball, the question of why, out of all the great pitchers in the Negro
Leagues, did Branch Rickey picked him. Besides his spectacular 1943 season and
his subsequent service record, a good reason might be a game he pitched right
before his discharge. Brooklyn Dodgers coach Charlie Dressen organized a five game
series pitting his team of big league stars against a team of Negro League
players. Held in Ebbets Field, Dressen's pick up team had All-Stars Eddie Stanky,
Whitey Kurowski, Tommy Holmes, Ralph Branca, Frank McCormick and Virgil
"Fire" Trucks. The Negro League All-Stars had future Hall of Famers Roy
Campanella, Willie Wells and Monte Irvin plus many Newark Eagles regulars. The
white stars won the first four games but in the final game played on Sunday
October 14th they were opposed by Leroy Leftwich, aka Johnny Wright. The Grays
ace had the big leaguers shut out on three hits when the game was called after
six inning due to darkness. This was the series of games that led to Branch
Rickey summoning Roy Campanella to discuss playing for the Brooklyn
organization. It's inevitable that Branch Rickey would have also noticed
Wright's pitching performance right there in his own ballpark and filed it away
for later use.
When he was mustered out of the Navy on Christmas Eve 1945, Johnny Wright
looked poised for a triumphant return to the Negro Leagues. However, just as he
was getting used to civilian life came the blockbuster news that the Brooklyn
Dodgers had signed Jack Roosevelt Robinson to a minor league contract.
The news of Robinson's signing sent the Negro League owners into a tailspin.
Unmentioned by the white press was the fact that Branch Rickey signed Jackie
Robinson even though he was technically property of the Kansas City Monarchs.
Rickey famously instructed Robinson to not sign a Monarchs contract for 1946 -
however, just like white "organized baseball", players were bound to
a team by the reserve clause, only relinquished through a trade or and outright
release. The Negro League owners knew that Rickey's snatching of Robinson set a
terrible precedent and they were powerless to stop its repercussions.
Back in Pittsburgh, Cum Posey frantically rounded up all his men returning from
the service. Among the players he made sure to reach out to was his 1943 ace,
Johnny Wright. That $250 he had sent to Wright during the war wasn't purely out
of the goodness of his heart but basically an unspoken retainer that Posey
hoped would keep Wright loyal to the Grays. Now with Robinson's signing that
insurance money he shelled out seemed all the more pertinent. The two men spoke
in early January and Posey recalled that the pitcher reassured him he wasn't
going to leave because the team had "been too good to him". That's
why the Grays owner reacted with shock and rare uncharacteristic anger when he
found out a week later that John Richard Wright of New Orleans had signed a
minor league contract with the Brooklyn Dodgers.
Unlike the Robinson signing a few months earlier, Wright's went more or less
under the radar. Robinson had been fairly well known to both blacks and whites
due to his college football career at UCLA while Wright was known only among those
who followed the Negro Leagues. From the moment he signed the Brooklyn contract,
Johnny Wright would be forever known as "the other man", completely
eclipsed by Robinson's talent, personality and determination.
Wright became acquainted with his Montreal manager on the train headed to
spring training. By chance the two men were on the same train and were
introduced by a mutual friend, former big leaguer Dutch Meyer. What Clay Hopper
discussed with Wright is unrecorded. It would have been an interesting
conversation. Hopper was from Mississippi and was not all that happy to be
Montreal's rookie manager the same year Rickey was trying to break the race
barrier. Hopper was being put in a tough spot and he knew it, but he was a
baseball man and determined to do his job. If Robinson and Wright could play
ball he would play them. If nothing else, Clay Hopper was going to give
Robinson and Wright a fair and equal chance to make the team.
The story of Jackie Robinson's first spring training has been retold many
times, both in print and on film. But the one thing that is often left out is Johnny
Wright. The awkwardness upon meeting his all-white teammates? Johnny was there.
When Robinson had to be whisked out of town in the middle of the night because
of death threats? Johnny was whisked away too. Those times Robinson was prohibited
from joining his team on the field due to Jim Crow ordinances? So too was Johnny
Wright. All the indignities both subtle and overt, Johnny Wright bore them all,
right along side Robinson. History is sometimes complicated and short cuts are
taken to simplify understanding. For many people, bringing Johnny Wright into
the equation simply gets too complex. Racism is better understood when it is
distilled to its most basic elements and Johnny Wright's memory and story was
the sacrifice.
Throughout spring training Johnny Wright flashed of promise followed by
collapse. His trademark control seemed to have disappeared and he was knocked
around pretty good in intersquad games. Besides the racial aspects
overshadowing Wright, there was also the normal pressure of a player trying to
make the team. Montreal was loaded with right handed pitching. There were two 20
game winners on the staff and a half-dozen other prize prospects. Wright went
through the grueling fielding practice and running drills without complaint and
despite some iffy outing was still considered by some the dark horse of spring
training.
Negro League veterans also lent their support behind the former Homestead Gray.
Alex Pompez, owner of the New York Cuban Stars and a future Hall of Famer,
predicted that Wright would win 15 games for the Royals. Manager Ben Taylor, a
veteran of more than 30 years of blackball, said that Wright "can't help
but make good in the International (League). That league won't touch him, mark
my word for it". The only man who regarded Wright as a possible dud was
his former owner Cum Posey. Shortly after Brooklyn announced Wright's signing,
Posey exploded during a phone conversation with sportswriter Sam Lacy. Posey
angrily listed Wright's weaknesses that included his inability to keep runners
on base and his ineptness at fielding his position, especially bunts. Rickey's
stealing of his prized ace was the final nail in the ailing Posey's coffin. Shortly
before Wright made his Montreal debut the Grays owner spoke to sportswriter
Harry Keck from his hospital deathbed. "Don't let them (Brooklyn) take my
best pitcher,”
he pleaded. A week later Cum Posey was dead.
When the Brooklyn Dodgers came around to play the Royals Jackie Robinson took
the opportunity to shine against the big leaguers. When Wright was given
the ball he was tagged for 8 runs on 10 hits in five innings. Then in his last
game before the Royals broke camp, Wright walked four and hit a batter in his
only inning of work. Still, Hopper and the Brooklyn management thought enough
of Wright that he made the club.
The Royals opened the 1946 International League season on the road. Their first
game was in Jersey City to face the Giants' top farm club, also called the
Giants. 25,000 people jammed into Roosevelt Field to see the game. Normally
every opening day in Jersey City was a sell out - for years the city's corrupt
mayor Frank Hague had made it mandatory for city employees to purchase tickets
to ensure his city routinely broke International League attendance records. But
with Montreal boasting the first two black ball players in the modern era,
history was being made on the field and that ensured a full house.
Wright didn't appear in any of the Jersey City games. Hopper held him back
until the April 24 game in Syracuse against the Chiefs. Starter Jack Banta got
roughed up for 4 runs in the fourth and was sent to the showers after giving up
a two out bases-clearing triple. Clay Hopper waved Johnny Wright in from the
bullpen. It was the first appearance of a black pitcher in the modern era. With
the pressure on, Wright got the first batter to pop up to end the inning.
However, what started out promising quickly fell apart. He walked the first
batter to lead off the fifth. Then, as if to make Cum Posey look clairvoyant,
the runner easily stole second. He scored when the next batter singled. That
was followed by another single that scored a run when Wright threw away the
ball trying to pick off the base runner. In the sixth Wright walked the first
two batters. This was followed by an RBI double and a sacrifice scored another
run. Wright got through the seventh unscathed but was lifted for a pinch hitter
in the top of the eighth.
Not an auspicious beginning but not as disastrous as it is sometimes made out.
Wright sat on the bench for the rest of the Syracuse series. Next Montreal came
to Baltimore. Wright had played in Charm City many times when the Grays played
the Elite Giants. But this time Wright was
playing in front of a hostile white crowd. To go along with its vibrant black
community, Baltimore had a vehemently racist white element that was typical of Mason-Dixon
border cities. Rachel Robinson noted that in Florida the racists called her
husband names behind their hands but in Baltimore they openly screamed them
out. The crowd gave Robinson the worst reception of all the International
League cities and the same awaited Wright if and when he got the ball.
That time came on the night of Saturday April 27. The Orioles were pounding the
Royals 12-5 and had already chased four Montreal pitchers off the mound. With
the bases loaded and two out, Clay Hopper sent Johnny Wright in.
In baseball, there isn't a more stressful situation for a pitcher than to take
the mound with the bases full. That the Orioles already had substantial lead
didn't matter much, this was Wright's chance to shine in the face of steep odds
and he did just that, getting his man to pop up to end the inning. When he took
the mound in the bottom of the eighth his fastball was sizzling. His pitches
hit right where he wanted them to and his curve was as sharp as it had been in
the summer of '43. Three Orioles stepped to the plate and Wright struck them
all out. He came on in the ninth and again held the O's hitless. Unfortunately
the Royals couldn't close the gap and lost 12-7, Wright's valiant outing going
to waste.
A week later the Dodgers announced the signing of left-handed pitcher Roy Partlow
to a Montreal contract. Like Wright, Partlow was a seasoned veteran of the
Negro Leagues. Along with Don Newcombe and Roy Campanella who were several rungs
down the Dodger farm system at Nashua, Brooklyn had five black ball players in
their pipeline, three just below the major leagues.
The Royals came home to Montreal for the first time after opening on the road.
Hometown fans immediately got to see Jackie Robinson in action but Wright sat
on the bench. And then he was gone. At the end of the month the Dodgers
announced that Johnny Wright was sent to the Class C Trois Rivieres team of the
Canadian-American League. With four black players still positioned in the top
tiers of the minor league system, Wright's demotion didn't possess the sting it
might have if he and Robinson were the only ones. The black press consciously
chose to focus on Robinson and on a lesser extent Newcombe and Campanella who were
dominating the New England League.
At first Wright didn't relish his new assignment. On the baseball map Trois
Rivieres smack-dab in the middle of nowhere. He split his first few decisions
but then two things happened that turned the season around for him. The first
was that Roy Partlow also found himself shipped out to Trois Rivieras after an
unimpressive stint with Montreal. Having a friendly face who also had been
demoted was probably comforting to Wright. The other thing was he now had the
chance to pitch regularly. His old control seemed to return and his 12 wins,
combined with Roy Partlow's 11-1 record, helped lead Rivieres to the pennant.
To cap it off he pitched the game that gave Trois Rivieres the league
championship. After the season ended Wright told sportswriters that he expected
to hear from the Dodgers after Christmas.
Meanwhile Jackie Robinson finished off a spectacular debut season by leading
the Royals to the International League pennant. Montreal then faced the
Louisville Colonels in the Junior World Series. Robinson was outstanding and
the Royals won in six games. It was undeniable that next season he would be in
a Dodger uniform.
In the custom of the day, Jackie Robinson cashed in on his newly earned fame by
organizing a barnstorming tour. Assembled by a Pittsburgh promoter,
"Jackie Robinson's All-Stars" was the first of several post-season tours
in which Robinson led a squad of black ball players through the south and
western United States. Including its namesake, Robinson's 1946 team boasted three
other future Hall of Famers: Larry Doby, Roy Campanella and Monte Irvin. Other standouts
included Don Newcombe, Artie Wilson and Johnny Wright. The
tour enabled black fans in rural towns the chance to see in person the players
who were in or would soon be in organized baseball. However, despite his
presence on the Jackie Robinson tour and his redeeming record at Trois Rivieres,
Johnny Wright never received the expected call back from the Dodgers.
Some histories attribute Wright's Montreal flame out on his inability to deal
with the racial animosity heaped upon he and Robinson. While no one who never
lived through the race hatred of the time can ever say what the effect could be
on a person, reflecting on the two ball players one could almost say that of
the two, it was Wright that had the edge in dealing with the hate. Unlike
Robinson who had been brought up in Southern California and attended UCLA, Wright
was from and still lived in New Orleans. Wright had spent his whole life living
within the sick parameters that the South's Jim Crow laws and customs held
blacks to. Many descriptions of Wright from this 1946 period call him timid and
quiet, trying to blend into the background. These character traits are often
used to explain why Wright didn't make it with Montreal. Another way to look at
his personality is that it was the way Jim Crow taught southern blacks like
Johnny Wright to exist in the white world, not making any waves, blending in. Today
that's a hard to understand, let alone accept, but for decades that was the
best way to exist in a world that did its best to marginalize an entire race on
account of their skin color.
It's interesting to wonder what would have happened had some big league team
tried to integrate in the early 1930's. This was before World War II, an event
that forced Americans, both black and white, to at least tolerate each other's
existence in the service and in factories. Prior to the war it was rare that
the two races would mix let alone work together. In this much different
atmosphere, a black ball player with the personality of Johnny Wright might
have been the right one to have successfully integrated the game in the 1930's.
But this was 1946, and times were changing. For this reason, it was Jackie
Robinson's silent but forceful and bold approach that was needed to integrate
baseball, not Wright's. Whether this had any effect on the pitcher during his
six weeks with Montreal is not known.
There's also another detail that might have had an impact on Wright's 1946 season. Jackie Robinson had married just after signing with the Dodgers and his wife Rachel accompanied him to spring training and then Montreal. Robinson often told how Rachel's presence helped him deal with the pressure heaped upon him. The two acted as a team and this contributed to Robinson's success on and off the field. Johnny Wright had two kids in grade school and they stayed in New Orleans with Mildred. So while Robinson had his wife at his side during this very stressful and trying period, Wright was on his own.
Most pieces on Johnny Wright simply end at this point - a quick mention of a two-year
return to the Homestead Grays and then retirement. This abrupt end to a
promising career makes it seem like the pitcher gave up on the game when the
call from the Dodgers never materialized. It makes a dramatic and easy to
digest story, but it isn't true at all. Wright actually played professional
ball for more than eight years before retiring for good.
After the Jackie Robinson
All-Stars tour ended in California, Wright returned home to be with his family
for the holidays, and then he headed to Puerto Rico. Since the mid-1930's the
Puerto Rico Winter League had attracted white, black and Hispanic players and
boasted a league that rivaled Cuba's famous winter loop. Wright joined the
Ponce Leones where he won 8 of the team's 60 games, making him one of the best
hurlers on the island. The '46-'47 Ponce team won the league championship and
has gone down as one of the best ever fielded on the island. But while Wright
helped pitch Ponce to the pennant, he was not with the team for the final
series due to a salary dispute with the owners. Wright balked at not being paid
for post-season games and the ownership claimed his salary was for the whole
season, post season included. Neither side budged and Wright sat out the final
series while Ponce won without him.
With the death of Cum Posey, the
Homestead Grays limped on. Several of their young players had signed on with
minor league teams, but the Grays had always been a veteran team and most of
their starters were too old to be considered viable prospects by organized
baseball. Posey's death also meant that Wright was able to rejoin the club. The
Grays failed to win the pennant for the second straight year though Wright
contributed a good 8-4 record for them. He was also named to his second
East-West All-Star team. Pitcher Wilmer Fields who was Wright's teammate at
this time said "John never talked much about his experience with the
Dodgers. He was a happy-go-lucky person who was in the wrong place at the wrong
time.” A winning record, All-Star appearance and being called
"happy-go-lucky" doesn't seem like a guy ready to pack it in. It sounds
like a pro ballplayer who wanted to put a single bad season behind him and get
on with his career.
Since
his salary dispute made a return to the Puerto Rico Winter League impossible,
Wright set a course for Venezuela. Like Puerto Rico and Cuba, Venezuela had a
thriving baseball league that attracted players of all races. Wright joined the
Lácteos de Pastora (Pastora Milkers) which had a perrenial rivalry with the
Gavilanes de Maracaibo (Maracaibo Sparrowhawks), the two teams usually
finishing first and second every year. Among the other foreigners who played
that year were future big leaguers Roy Campanella, Don Newcombe, Luke
Easter and Joe Black.
At
the conclusion of the season Wright re-joined the Homestead Grays. Reports from
spring training state that the Grays were pinning their pitching hopes on
Wright but this never came to fruition. He appears to have stayed with the team
through June but then he and fellow pitcher Groundhog Thompson jumped to the
Mexican League. Since the late 1930's the Negro League owners had had problems
with players skipping out on their contracts. Their answer was always a blanket
banishment from the league, and on July 31, Wright and Thompson were officially
blacklisted. Even without Wright's services, the team had enough in them for
their final gasp of glory, winning the last Negro National League pennant. The
Grays went on the beat the Birmingham Black Barons, a team that featured a 17
year-old outfielder named Willie Mays, in the Negro World Series.
By now the Negro Leagues were collapsing - the Homestead Grays and New York
Black Yankees called it quits after the 1948 season and the Negro National and
American Leagues merged into a single two division loop. That meant positions were
drying up as the teams that were still around changed their focus from winning
pennants with dependable veterans to signing young players who could be sold to
organized baseball and turn a profit. In the wake of the Grays and Black
Yankees demise, the Negro American League redistributed the players among the
remaining teams. His name picked out of a hat at an owner's meeting, Wright was
made property of the Louisville Buckeyes. In 1949 Johnny Wright was 32 years
old, a dinosaur in baseball years, and his options were running out. While he
may have had some stuff left in his arm, he already had his shot at the majors
and no one was going to take a chance on him again, especially with a new,
younger crop of talent to choose from.
In the winter of 1948-49
Wright returned to Venezuela where he switched to Pastora's bitter rival, Gavilanes
de Maracaibo. With the Negro Leagues all but finished, Wright ignored his transfer
to Louisville and instead headed south to Mexico. Back in 1946 when he and
Robinson were integrating organized baseball, the Mexican Baseball League had
lured several white big league players south of the border where they joined
many Negro League and Latin stars for one spectacular season of integrated
play. High salaries and threats of banishment from the Major and Negro Leagues quickly
put the brakes on any hopes that the Mexican League would grow and the loop
lost most of their stars. Though the quality dropped dramatically, the league
still offered a last chance for many older players like Johnny Wright who still
wanted to earn a paycheck playing ball. In 1950 Wright split the year playing
for San Luis Potosi Tuneros and the Veracruz Azules and compiled a 13-14 record
with a 2.80 ERA in 36 games. The following year he appeared for both the Nuevo
Laredo Tecolotes and the Torreon Algodoneros and broke even with 14-14 and a
1.37 ERA in 37 games.
After Mexico Wright moved over to the Dominican Republic where he played for
Escogido in 1952 and 1953 and in 1954 for Águilas Cibaeñas. His record there
was an unimpressive 4 wins against 16 losses, but in May of 1954 he took a
no-hitter into the 9th inning before giving up a game winning single.
Now we come to the real end of
Johnny Wright's baseball career. As if to come full circle, Wright returned to
the States and signed on with the Indianapolis Clowns. Like the very first
professional team he played with back 1n 1936, the New Orleans Zulus, the
Clowns were a vaudeville-baseball comedy troupe. The Clowns were in what remained
of the old Negro American League, playing teams like the once-proud Kansas City
Monarchs who were now no better than semi-pro level. Wright pitched a few good games for the Clowns before hanging up
his spikes for good. Work in outsider baseball was quickly drying up and he was
now almost 40. It was time head home to Mildred and the kids in New Orleans.
The retired pitcher took a job in
a gypsum plant. A 1998 article in his hometown New Orleans Times-Picayune
states that Wright never discussed his baseball career and a friend of his later
said that Wright's co-workers probably never even knew he was a ballplayer.
Johnny Wright passed away in 1990 without leaving any interviews or insights
into his life in baseball. It's my hope that this story reveals a little more
about Johnny Wright, that he wasn't just a footnote but a real ballplayer who at
one time was the best pitcher in the Negro National League, a man whose talent
earned him the once in a lifetime shot at integrating the game he excelled at.
Those
who have met me in person know I'm not the kind of guy to toot my own
horn. In fact, much to my detriment, I'm lousy about promoting myself.
That's why it's hard for me to ask this, but this is something that
needs to be done: if you bought a copy of The League of Outsider
Baseball, can you please take the time to write a review of it on Amazon, Barnes and Noble or Good Reads?
It would mean a lot to me and most importantly give future publishers
an idea of what the book reading public thinks of my work. Almost all of
the existing reader's reviews have been flattering, but every once in a
while some crackpot writes a clunker out of jealousy or boredom. I for
one often look at the reviews on those sites before I spend my money on a
book. Reviews aren't the only thing I rely on in my purchasing process
but it's certainly a factor, and that's why I'm asking you to please
take the time to write your thoughts about my work.
Even though I left Baltimore over 17 years ago, I still have a soft spot for its ball clubs,
the 1920's International League Orioles being a particular favorite. From 1919 to 1925 they won a record seven straight pennants and many baseball historians call them the best minor league team of all
time. Problem is, except for brief mentions in Lefty Grove biographies no one has really written about them. The talent stacked up on this club was unbelievable and no less than four would go on to be key members of Connie Mack's 1929-31 A's juggernaut, often called the best major league team of all time. Among the stars of the team was Joe Boley, hailed by contemporary sports writers as the best shortstop in baseball, at any level. All but forgotten today, Boley had the makings of a superstar and indeed was, just on a minor league level. It wasn't a lack of talent that stood in the way of his making the big leagues, it was that Joe Boley was too good...
The newspapers called him "Silent Joe" because of, well, he didn't talk all that much. In fact, Joe didn't do much of anything except play shortstop better than anyone else and hit like the bat was an extension of his forearm. He came from the coal mines of Pennsylvania, the son of Polish immigrants whose real name was Bolinsky. Working underground since the age of 10, Boley began playing ball in his spare time using one of his heavy work gloves as a makeshift mitt. Being from a large family, such niceties as a baseball glove were not something the Bolinsky's meager household income would allow. Eventually, when his love of the game and talent became evident, his parents finally bought him the coveted piece of equipment. With foul balls swiped at local semi-pro games, Joe sharpened the fielding that would make him famous by throwing them against a barn door and chasing them down. By 1914 at the age of 17 he was being paid $2 a game and two years later he was playing for Chambersburg in the Blue Ridge League. Somewhere he shortened his name to Boley, making it a little easier on sportswriters and having a more "American" feel to it. Catching on as a pro seemed to elude him as he bounced around the lower rungs of the minor leagues throughout the northeast. Somewhere in the Pennsylvania semi-pro circles he became friends with Max Bishop, a Baltimorean and aspiring second baseman. When Bishop was signed by the Baltimore Orioles in 1917, the first thing he did was tell owner Jack Dunn about this crackerjack shortstop named Boley.
The Baltimore Orioles back then were an unaffiliated team, meaning they grew their own players and Dunn was under no obligation to pass along his good ones to the majors, unless of course, they met his asking price. Back in 1914 Dunn had sold his greatest find, Babe Ruth, to the Red Sox in order to keep his team afloat. Though the Ruth sale gave him a much needed influx of capital to run his club, Dunn was always bitter about having to sell the kid, which derailed any plans he had of building a dynasty based around The Babe. Now back in business in Baltimore, Jack Dunn was slowly accumulating the ball players who he would lead to an unimaginable seven straight International League pennants.
Boley joined Baltimore after a stint in the army at the tail end of the war. He'd had interest from a few other clubs, but it was his friendship with Max Bishop that led Boley to becoming an Oriole. The Orioles of 1919 went down as one of the best minor league teams of all time (as would their 1920, 1921, 1922, 1923, 1924 and 1925 editions; this team was that good). First base had Jack Bentley, a slugger who doubled as the team's ace on the mound. Second was Max Bishop, Boley's pal from the Pennsylvania semi-pro days. Veteran Yankee speed merchant Fritz Maisel held down third. Outfielders included Merwin Jacobson and Otis Lawry, both big leaguers and The Babe's old catcher, Ben Egan captained a platoon of three receivers. But it was the pitching staff that really made the Orioles stand out. Besides the before mentioned Jack Bentley, Rube Parnham won 28 games and Harry Frank added 24. In a year Lefty Grove and Jack Ogden would add their arms to a squad that simply dominated the International League.
Boley became the team's starting shortstop from the start and hit .301 as the Orioles won the pennant. After just one year in the game's top minor league circuit, the writers were saying Boley was ready for the big show. 40 miles away in Washington, the Senators sure thought so and tried to buy the young shortstop after the 1919 season, but Dunn's price was too steep. There was no way in hell the O's owner and manager was going to let another dynasty slip away like he did in '14.
When the 1920 season started the shortstop was 23, still plenty of time to make the big leagues. Boley pounded out a .308 average and continued to turn heads at his fielding. By the time the Orioles wrapped up the '20 pennant, the New York Giants, Chicago White Sox and Pittsburgh Pirates were negotiating with Dunn. Again, the price was just too high.
Boley wasn't the only Oriole the majors tried to pry loose from Dunn. First baseman Jack Bentley was considered a second Babe Ruth due to his hitting and pitching and was tagged as the next big star of the game. But Dunn was reluctant to let his finds slip away easily. He set his prices just out of reach of what a major league owner would pay, so it looked as if the players were available, but they weren't. As a club owner, Dunn first and foremost wanted to make money and put fans in the stands; if he dumped all his good players Baltimoreans would loose interest in the team. With a good team year after year, the city would embrace his team and that was his aim.
While it might seem unfair that Dunn kept all these talented players in the minors for so long, he did treat his boys extremely well. The Orioles owner ran his club like a big league outfit: first-class travel and lodging everywhere they went and the best equipment. Dunn had a relaxed managerial style and left his charges on a loose reign. He wasn't stingy with his pocketbook either, his players were paid extremely well, many were on par with what they would make in the majors. In the spring of 1922 he even broke with tradition and gave his star shortstop a two-year contract, unheard of at the time.
When the Orioles won the 1922 pennant (their 4th in a row), the other International League owners cried foul. While Baltimore's dominance was great for Charm City, the other cities in the league saw their attendance dwindle. Fans were reluctant to follow teams that were left so far behind by the Orioles year after year. By the winter of 1922 the other owners tried to force Dunn to sell Bentley and Boley to even the playing field. The New York Giants plucked down $72,500 for Bentley but Boley stayed put in Baltimore.
While there's no sure statistic that can adequately measure fielding, by all accounts Boley was among the best shortstops at the time. Contemporary sports writers who saw him play lavished praise on his work in the infield. There was no doubt in the minds of those in the know that Boley was of major league star quality. It was just a matter of when he'd get to prove it.
For a while Boley didn't seem to mind he was stuck just short of the majors. When he sat down to negotiate that 2 year contract in 1922, Dunn asked if he was happy to stay in Baltimore of if he wanted to go to the National or American Leagues. Boley replied that as long as he was paid well he didn't mind staying with the Orioles.
By 1923 he was the highest paid player in the minor leagues, making in the range of $10,000 a season, almost twice the salary of a typical major leaguer of the time. He hit .343 in 1922 and then .306 in next season. Brooklyn offered Dunn $100,000 for him, but no dice. Then the White Sox threw around the figure of $125,000, but no sale. It seems that by the end of the year Silent Joe was getting restless. Countless articles in the sporting press were proclaiming him a big league star and it probably started to wear on him that though he was treated well in Baltimore, it was still the minor leagues. After the Orioles swept to yet another pennant, Boley's stellar play trailed off and there were rumors he purposely slacked off during the Little World Series against Kansas City. In fact he even left the series early, supposedly due to a family issue, but it would be a good guess that either he was so disillusioned that he bailed or that Dunn, angered over his lackluster performance, sent him home.
During the winter of 1923-24, it was announced that a blockbuster deal sending Boley to the Yankees was all but done. The Yankees were on their way to becoming baseball's greatest dynasty and what better way to cinch it than installing the game's best shortstop between Lou Gehrig and Joe Dugan. By Christmas the deal fell apart due to financial reasons and Joe Boley remained property of the Baltimore Orioles. Dunn's asking price cost Silent Joe his place on one of the most famous teams in the history of the game.
Boley returned in 1924 but hit .291, his only time as an Oriole that he failed to reach the .300 mark. He was now 27 and his price was dropping accordingly. Time was running out for Boley and he knew it. After the 1925 season he refused to resign with the Orioles and Jack Dunn reluctantly agreed to set him free. All through the 1926 season he shopped Boley around, finally agreeing to deal him to the Athletics for what was variously reported as $50,000 to $65,000.
So, at the age of 30, Joe Boley finally made the major leagues. Joining the A's, Silent Joe found himself in company with former Orioles Lefty Grove and Max Bishop. George Earnshaw would join the club the following year and by 1929 the A's would be the World Champions. Boley for his part had a phenomenal rookie year, hitting AL pitching at a .311 clip and turning plays in the infield that made even the most jaded sports writer take note. Along with Jimmie Foxx, Mickey Cochrane and Al Simmons, Boley sparked the A's to winning 3 straight pennants and two world championships. The 29-31 A's teams are often considered the best team ever assembled and Joe Boley was the center of it's defense.
With each passing summer, Silent Joe's talent decreased rapidly as injuries took their toll. By 1931 he was a well-used 34, and Joe Boley was at the end. He hung on in the minors through 1936 and then returned to the coal region he originally sprang from. He worked various jobs before rejoining the A's organization in the late 40's as a scout.
Boley was elected to the International League Hall of Fame in 1954, but one wonders if he would have his own plaque in Cooperstown had he reached the big leagues long before the age of 30. Instead of being a footnote in baseball history, perhaps the name Joe Boley would be mentioned along side Honus Wagner, Ozzie Smith, Pee Wee Reese and Barry Larkin...
SOURCES
- Hanson, Darrell, Joe Boley (SABR Online Biography)
- Bready, James H., Baseball in Baltimore (Johns Hopkins Press, 1998)
- Bready, James H, The Home Team (Self-Published, 1959)
- The Sporting News, 1919-1927
Every time you come across Willard Hershberger it is always in conjunction with the single thing he will be forever known: the only player to commit suicide during a regular major league season. That's how I of course came across him years ago, in a newspaper story accompanied by a photograph of him with a troubled look on his face. Since Willard only played in the majors for 3 short summers, he didn't leave much of a legacy except for that unfortunate way in which he left the world. About 8 years ago Brian Mulligan wrote a book on the 1940 Cincinnati Reds team. Since I was living in Cincinnati at the time, I bought the book and I really knew nothing about those Reds teams that won back-to-back pennants in 1939 and 40. I was always more interested in the Brooklyn and Cardinals teams of the same era and figured I really needed to bone-up on this forgotten team. While spinning a good tale of the 1940 season, the author relates the story of the troubled and mysterious Hershberger and how his suicide played into the Reds mad scramble for the National League pennant. It's a good book about a great team and I highly recommend it.
I wanted to find out more about the man who took his life in the middle of a gruelling pennant race. Over the years I built up a file of contemporary newspaper articles about Willard and his career in the minor leagues, culminating with the famed 1937 Newark Bears, known as the greatest minor league team of all time. Through my research the picture emerges of not simply a second-string catcher but as one of the more promising catchers of the era. Highly respected for both his energetic fielding and clutch hitting, on paper Hershberger had a fine career to look back on and everything to look forward to. Yet inside, something was wrong.
Since almost every photo you see of Hershberger shows him with a despondent frown or biting his lower lip in a stress-induced grimace, I wanted to picture him when he was younger, playing for the greatest team ever assembled in the minor leagues and full of hope for the future.
Willard's early life was like something from the mind of a mediocre Hollywood screenwriter of cheesy bio-pics. He was born into a loving family in the picturesque setting of Lemon Cove, California. His father Claude worked in the oil fields around Fullerton and moved his family to Orange County when Willard was a boy. He doted on his younger sister Lois. The long, warm summers ensured the young Hershberger boy had ample time to play every sport imaginable. When it was too dark for athletics, the boy tinkered with the most modern technology of the time: radio. At Fullerton High he lettered in football, basketball and baseball and became good friends with two men who would go on to bigger things: future baseball Hall of Famer Arky Vaughan and President Richard Nixon. He was president of his class and a top student. The rural idyllic of Orange County allowed him to indulge in manly pursuits such as hunting, fishing and camping. Like his father, Willard developed into an avid hunter and gun collector. He was a great shot and found solace in the woods. He was strong and handsome, shy but pleasant, a natural leader and everyone liked him. By the time he was a senior in high school, it was obvious Willard was bound for a career in professional baseball. A young man couldn't have asked for a better childhood.
November 20th, 1928 was a good day for hunting, and Willard spent the afternoon in the woods. When he arrived home that evening he lazily left his shotgun and shells in the hallway. He figured he'd clean and put them away in the morning. Unfortunately Claude Hershberger found them first.
Claude had been working for Shell Oil since the move to Orange County over ten years ago. While it was a good job, certain things began to go wrong. First he was passed over for promotion and then came a slow but steady decline in his position and pay. At the same time his paycheck shrank, his debts grew. It was a spin cycle Claude couldn't pull out of, and coupled with his introspective personality, would lead him down a dark path. He spent countless sleepless nights worrying about the future and the early morning of November 21st was no exception. Wandering around the sleeping house at 2:30 in the morning, Claude Hershberger found the shotgun and shells and carried them into the downstairs hall bathroom.
A single blast shattered the tranquility of the sleeping household.
Willard was the first to find the body of his father. The horrible mess left by the blast would haunt him for the rest of his life and play a peculiar part in his own tragic end.
The aftermath was devastating to the Hershberger family. While before they were in debt, at least with Claude they were a family. With him gone they were now both alone and without their breadwinner. The shameful stigmatism of a suicide added to the problems that now enveloped the Hershberger's. While younger sister Lois sought help by talking with her school teachers about the tragedy, 18 year-old Willard turned inward. What pleasant out-going demeanor he once had now vanished. He was prone to insomnia and began smoking heavily. His quiet confidence evaporated like smoke. Most of all, he blamed himself for leaving that shotgun and shells out that evening.
Still, his baseball skills were such that as he graduated the scouts started circling. Not only did Fullerton High's class of 1929 produce Willard, but also Arky Vaughan. The Pirates organization was interested in Hershberger while the Yankees dispatched their advance man to sign Vaughan. In what is one of those odd twists of baseball fate, the Yankees man took a detour before going to see Vaughan and the Pirates scooped up the future Hall of Famer instead. Arriving late but still left with a great prospect, the Yankees acquired Willard Hershberger.
"Hershie", as he was quickly known, now entered the vast Yankees farm system. The first stop was the El Paso Texans of the Arizona-Texas League. Originally the team's second-string second baseman, Hershberger got his big break through an odd chain of occurrences. First, the Texans' regular catcher broke his leg. The back-up receiver then broke his thumb beating up a sportswriter. Since Hershie had been primarily a catcher at Fullerton High, he was pressed into service. Before they could get him out of there he had batted .356 and led the Texans to the league championship. It was the first of a string of championship teams he would be a part of.
Hershie began the long climb up the Yankees food chain: Erie Sailors, Springfield Rifles... By 1933 he was in Binghamton, New York with the Triplets. Batting .304 he led the team to the New York-Penn League championship, made the All-Star team and was named the Most Favorite Triplet by the fans. The next year he jumped a few rungs and was sent to the Hollywood Stars of the Pacific Coast League where he hit a steady .307 against the stiffer competition. For 1935 the Yankees brought the kid closer to home by assigning him to the Newark Bears. On any other team, Hershberger would have been promoted to the majors by this time. However, playing for the Yankees organization, while sounding good on paper, was actually a mixed blessing. In New York, almost every position was filled by an All-Star or future Hall of Famer. Ahead of Hershie on the Yankees happened to be one of the greatest catchers of all time, Bill Dickey. Backing him up was Joe Glenn, a solid, proven .270 hitter. Unless something tragic happened, no one was breaking into that line up for years to come.
After spending the spring with the Yankees, Hershie was again sent across the Hudson to Newark. When the Oakland Oaks needed a top-notch catcher, the big club sent him west. When he boarded a plane from Newark Airport after catching a game that afternoon, Willard became the first ballplayer to play in games on the east coast one day and the west coast the next. It was a good swap: along with stars Joe Gordon, Chris Hartje and Jack Glynn, the Oaks won the Pacific Coast League pennant. The next season Gordon, Glynn and Hershberger were brought back to Newark.
The Newark Bears were the Yankees' premier minor league showcase. Located right across the Hudson, the team had a rabid following and a tradition of winning. The close proximity to Yankee Stadium meant every play the Bears made was under close scrutiny from the big club. Many of the Yankees players could be found in the stands on their off days looking over the new crop. The team assembled in 1937 would be known as one of the greatest minor league teams of all time and one of its main stars was Willard Hershberger.
On the Oaks Willard was backing up Chris Hartje; in 1937 he was the Bears' starting catcher. With six minor league summers under his belt, he had developed into a solid catcher. His arm was quick and accurate and he was like an acrobat when it came to fielding his position. His even nature kept his pitchers calm. The staff he had to work in Newark was one of the best ever assembled in the International League. Team ace Joe Beggs was 21-4, Atley Donald was 19-2, Vito Tamulis 18-6 and Steve Sundra rounded out the rotation with 15-4. Each one of those guys would go on to the majors and Hershie proved himself ready for the big show by ably handling each arm, coaxing a great season out of every one.
The sports writers who covered the circuit recognized his talent both behind the plate and in front of it - at the season's end he was voted the Best Catcher in the International League. Since the IL more than any other league was seen as the highest level before the majors, the award was quite an honor. If anyone on the Bears was major league calibre, it was Willard Hershberger.
Off the field Willard proved to be a complex teammate. He was a hypochondriac in the days before Woody Allan made it adorable, convinced he was ailing from one symptom or another. Back when most players avoided the team doctor like the plague lest the big club get wind of it and think he was frail, Hershie was the Doc's best customer. His teammates claimed he could predict an illness two weeks out - whether this was an example of an athlete extremely in-tune with his body or he subconsciously made himself sick, is anyone's guess. His locker was filled with powders and pill containers and the boys soon took to teasing the catcher about his sicknesses, filling his locker to overflowing with pill containers or telling him he looked under the weather.
The Newark fans loved him and he was one of the more popular players that summer. Despite, or maybe because of his quiet demeanor, Hershie was the favorite of the young Jersey girls who filled the stands. He was shy though, and even when his teammates set him up on double dates he begged off. The only woman he seemed to have room for was his mother, whom he corresponded with religiously.
Still, they liked the catcher, especially when he broke out of his introspective shell. At the Bears spring training camp, Hershie and a bunch of the fella's decided to take in a carnival. When the group stopped at the shooting gallery Willard proceeded to win his teammates every prize in the booth until the busted carny took the gun away and kicked him out. He was known as the team's resident technology expert, and if you wanted to know anything about the era's latest gadgets from portable radios to plug-in electric razors, you went to Hershie.
His introvertedness also set him apart from the other Bears. From the first month of the 1937 season, Newark destroyed the rest of the International League. The summer was filled with one celebration after another as the Bears racked up 104 victories. While his teammates caroused and jived like only a pennant-bound team can, Willard stuck to his room after games, venturing out only for a movie or to add to his growing antique gun collection. Despite, or maybe because of his quiet demeanor, Hershie was the favorite of the young Jersey girls who filled Ruppert Stadium. He was shy though, and even when his teammates set him up on double dates he begged off.
He was prone to beating himself up over minor batting slumps or bad pitches. More than one teammate called him a "perfectionist". Bears ace Atley Donald related that there were times when he threw a bad pitch resulting in a hit but it was Hershberger who would apologize in the dugout. The other pitchers had the same thing happen. No matter what thing went wrong, Hershie found a way to blame himself for it. Ossie Vitt, who'd managed Hershberger on 3 different teams was convinced he suffered from a inferiority complex. While the drive to make oneself a better player isn't a bad thing to have, Willard's intensity began to wear on him physically. As the triumphant 1937 season drew to a close, his roommate would awake late at night to find him staring out the window into the abyss, smoking an endless chain of cigarettes.
After the Bears beat the Columbus Red Birds in the Little World Series, Hershie returned home to Orange County. The Newark Bears season had been news all across the nation and the citizens threw a first-class banquet to honor their hometown diamond hero. With all the accolades his catching and hitting garnered it was a sure bet he'd be in the majors within a year, if not sooner. Everyone there that night was excited for the future, everyone that is, except Willard.
Even surrounded by his old friends and trying to relax by riding horses and hunting, something was wrong. His mother noticed that this winter, even more than in the past, her boy was deeply bothered inside. Like his roommates in Newark, his mother would find him late at night, staring into the darkness outside his bedroom window, smoking one cigarette after another. She couldn't help but think of her husband Claude.
Meanwhile, in the Bronx, the Yankees front office was evaluating their minor league talent pool. With the Yanks more or less set for another pennant run in 1938, they had a surplus of high-grade talent to deal, especially in Newark. With Bill Dickey still in his prime and Willard pushing 28 years-old, the Yankees were open to a trade.
In Cincinnati, the Reds were rising from two decades worth of second division muck. Manager Bill McKechnie was quickly assembling the nucleus of a team that would soon pay dividends by winning back-to-back pennants and a World Championship. One hole in their roster was a reliable catcher to back up future Hall of Famer Ernie Lombardi. Fueled by owner Powell Crosley's ample bank account, general manager Warren Giles went out and got them the best catcher in the minor leagues, Willard McKee Hershberger.
The second part of the story, Hershberger's major league career with the Reds and tragic end, will follow soon...
SOURCES
- Mulligan, Brian The 1940 Cincinnati Reds: A World Championship and Baseball's Only In-Season Suicide (McFarland & Company 2005)
- Bradley, Leo H. Underrated Reds: The Story of the 1939-40 Cincinnati Reds, The Team's First Undisputed Championship (Fried Publishing, 2009)
- Mayer, Ronald A. The 1937 Newark Bears: A Baseball Legend (Rutgers University Press, 1980)
- Various Contemporary newspaper sources including Binghamton Press, Newark Evening News, The Sporting News, Cincinnati Post.