With that swing of the bat, along with the 714 that preceded it, Hank Aaron not only passed Babe Ruth as major-league baseball’s home run leader. He also made a giant leap in the integration of the game and the nation. Aaron, an African American, had broken a record set by the immortal Ruth, and not just any record, but the all-time major-league home run record, and in doing so moved the game and the nation forward on the journey started by Jackie Robinson in 1947. By 1974 Aaron’s baseball career was within three years of sunset, but the road he’d traveled to arrive at that spring evening in Atlanta had hardened and tempered him, perhaps irrevocably, in ways that only suffering can produce. Aaron finally shrugged off the twin burdens of expectation and fear that evening, and few have ever stood taller.

Henry Louis Aaron was born February 5, 1934, in Mobile Alabama, to Herbert and Estella (Pritchett) Aaron.1 Among Henry’s seven siblings was a brother, Tommie, who later played in parts of seven different seasons in the major leagues. For whatever such records are worth, the brothers still hold the record for most career home runs by a pair of siblings, 768, with the elder Henry contributing 755 to Tommie’s 13. They were also the first siblings to appear in a League Championship Series as teammates.

Henry was born in a poorer neighborhood of Mobile called “Down the Bay,” but he spent most of his formative years in the nearby district of Toulminville. Aaron’s father worked at a local shipyard performing manual labor.2 The Aaron family lived on the edge of poverty, in part due to the general economic conditions of the Great Depression, so every member of the family worked to contribute. Young Henry picked potatoes and tended the Aaron garden, and also worked for an ice-delivery truck, among other odd jobs, and while his parents could not afford proper baseball equipment for recreation, Aaron still practiced in endless sandlot games by hitting bottle caps with ordinary broom handles and sticks.3

One of the consequences of this self-coaching was that he developed a cross-handed batting style, a habit he kept until his early days as a professional. In fact, it was not until he was in spring training with the then-Jacksonville Braves that coach Ben Geraghty convinced him to switch hands in his grip. “He came in and was unorthodox as a hitter; he hit cross-handed,” minor league teammate Johnny Goryl said during a 2011 interview. “He went to Jacksonville to play for a Ben Geraghty who got him to hit more conventionally without the cross-handed grip. That’s when his power started surfacing, and the rest was all history.”4 But in high school, Aaron was a gifted athlete and starred in both football and baseball at Central High School for two years. On the diamond he played shortstop, third base, and some outfield on a team that won the Mobile Negro High School Championship during his freshman and sophomore years.  

In 1949, the 15-year-old, 140-pound Aaron – inspired by the exploits of Jackie Robinson, whom he’d seen on several exhibition passes through Alabama –tried out with the Brooklyn Dodgers but did not earn a contract offer, likely due to his unorthodox batting grip. Now a high school junior, he transferred to the private Josephine Allen Institute for his final two years of education. The Allen Institute had been founded by Clarence and Josephine Allen in 1895. The Allens were unusually accomplished, educated, and wealthy for Black Americans in that time and place, and their school provided critical education for many children who would have otherwise been denied due to race.

Aaron had been playing for the semipro Pritchett Athletics since age 14, and during those games, and in some of his softball contests, he drew the attention of scout Ed Scott, who convinced Henry and his mother that it would be a good move to sign with the Mobile Black Bears, a semipro team, for $3 a game.5 Estella granted her son permission to play, but only on the condition that he did not travel, thus limiting him to local games.  

On November 20, 1951, despite his mother’s concerns about his not continuing on to college, Henry signed for $200 a month with the Negro American League champion Indianapolis Clowns. Scout Bunny Downs had discovered Aaron playing with the Black Bears during an earlier exhibition, and Aaron flourished with Indianapolis, helping guide the team to the 1952 Negro League World Series crown. In 26 games, he posted a .366 batting average, hit five home runs, and stole nine bases. The series, and the season, allowed Aaron to showcase his range of skills not just for regional scouts, but for several major-league organizations as well.

Following the championship, two telegrams reached Henry – one with an offer from the New York Giants, and a second with an offer from the Boston Braves. Aaron chose the latter, evidently because of a $50-a-month difference in salary, and Boston immediately purchased his contract from Indianapolis.6 On June 14, 1952, Aaron signed with Braves scout Dewey Griggs, and reported to the Class-C Eau Claire (Wisconsin) Bears. Despite playing in only 87 games, Aaron batted .336 with 9 homers, 19 doubles, and 61 RBIs, earned a spot on the league’s All-Star squad, and was selected as the Northern League’s Rookie of the Year. As impressive as his on-field performance was, though, it may have even been exceeded by his calm mien both on and off the diamond. The teenager’s demeanor seemed impenetrable to the occasional bigots in the stands, and the clear absence of racial incidents that season proved his maturity in a way that could not be measured by simple interviews. Aaron not only showed the Braves that he was a wonderful prospect on the field, but also that he could handle the inevitable racism with detachment.

The next season found him and Black teammates Horace Garner and Felix Mantilla on the Jacksonville Braves (South Atlantic League). Given Mantilla’s superior ability at shortstop, Aaron moved to second base for the season.7 Along with two other players from the Savannah (Georgia) Indians, Fleming “Buddy” Reedy and Elbert Willis “Al” Isreal, the quintet broke the color line in the South Atlantic or Sally League (or SAL), playing in the heart of old Dixie without the top-cover of a sympathetic national press.8 Aaron, playing second base, almost single-handedly forced the Jacksonville fans to accept him, regardless of race, by leading the entire league with a batting average of .362, and also being the top producer with 115 runs, 208 hits, 36 doubles, 338 total bases, and 135 runs batted in (RBI) title. To cap the first integrated season in SAL history, Aaron led Jacksonville to the title and was named the league’s Most Valuable Player.9 Because many parts of the South were still governed by Jim Crow laws, circumstances that forced the Black players to live in separate accommodations and dining on the road, one pundit wrote, “Henry Aaron led the league in everything except hotel accommodations.”10

That year Henry also met a young woman named Barbara Lucas.11 On a lark, she had decided to attend a Jacksonville game one night early in the season, and watched Aaron single, double, and homer. On October 6, 1953, Aaron, not yet 20, and Lucas were married and within a year welcomed their first child, a daughter they named Gaile.

Aaron spent part of the offseason playing winter ball in Puerto Rico, learning to play the outfield and working with coach Mickey Owen on his batting stance, refining his new swing after switching his grip months earlier. On March 11, 1954, in spring training, Henry was penciled into the Braves’ starting lineup as leadoff hitter and right fielder. He homered and singled. Two days later, on March 13, Milwaukee’s left fielder Bobby Thomson severely fractured his right ankle sliding into second base. In the ensuing lineup shuffle, Aaron took his spot as a regular outfielder. The young slugger made the most of his chance.12

The Braves purchased Aaron’s minor-league contract just as spring training ended. On Tuesday afternoon, April 13, 1954, Aaron made his major-league debut in the season opener at Cincinnati, playing left field and batting fifth. Two days later, on April 15, he doubled in the first inning off Cardinals pitcher Vic Raschi for his first major-league hit, and a week later in St. Louis, on April 23, he victimized Raschi again, this time for his first home run. Aaron fractured his left ankle sliding into third base on September 5, ending his season with what would be the only significant injury of his career. Still, in his first 122 big-league games, he batted .280, homered 13 times, and finished fourth in the voting for Rookie of the Year. In 1955 Aaron was moved to right field, and there his league-leading 37 doubles, .314 batting average, and .540 slugging percentage helped him earn the first of 21 consecutive All-Star team slots en route to finishing ninth in NL MVP balloting.

During the early days of his career, Milwaukee’s public relations director Don Davidson began referring to Aaron as “Hank,” not “Henry” as he was known by those close to him, to make the quiet player appear a bit more accessible.

In 1956 Aaron hit .328 to win the first of his two NL batting titles, led the league in doubles (34) and hits (200), and was named The Sporting News NL Player of the Year. He would lead the league four times in doubles and twice in hits. It proved to be mere foreshadowing for the following year.

Aaron’s 1957 baseball season began under less-than-ideal circumstances when he missed his train in Mobile and reported one day late to spring training in Bradenton, Florida. Because he had signed a new contract during the offseason, one that raised his salary to $22,500 for the coming campaign, Aaron’s conspicuous tardiness drew the attention of national papers like The Sporting News, as well as the Milwaukee press. The other potential omen came with the distribution of his Topps baseball card. It was printed as a photographic reverse, with Hank appearing to bat left-handed. On closer inspection, his uniform number “44” is reversed, and clearly underscores the mistake, but the Topps corporate leadership chose not to correct the error and reprint the card.

Regardless of what the baseball card showed, Aaron was not affected on the field. Over that March in Florida he batted .390 with 11 home runs, despite missing seven games due to a sprained ankle. Manager Fred Haney, in the March 27 edition of The Sporting News, was quoted: “He [Aaron] hasn’t reached his potential yet. I expect him to do better this year. That’s how we’ve got to improve to win the flag.” Aaron tinkered with his approach in the batter’s box, switching from a 36-ounce bat to a 34-ounce model, and he opened the 1957 season by batting safely, and scoring, in the Braves’ first seven games.

The public praise rolled in during those early weeks. On April 24 Sporting News writer Dick Young noted that Dodgers coach Billy Herman “rates Hank Aaron over Willie Mays as a hitter – and over everyone in the N. L. for my money.”13 The following week, in the same magazine, Bob Wolf wrote: “Whether or not he wins the triple crown, or even two-thirds of it, Aaron certainly must be considered the favorite in the batting derby … and while Aaron isn’t high on his chances of leading the league in homers or runs batted in, he agrees that he should repeat as batting king.”14 After 25 games,  Aaron was hitting at a .369 clip and had committed no errors in the field.

Stan Musial, however, was not as impressed as the reporters who followed the team. In a June 26 Sporting News article by Cleon Walfoort, Musial left no room for doubt, stating, “[Aaron] thinks there’s nothing he can’t hit. He’ll have to learn there are some pitches no hitter can afford to go for. He still has something to learn about the strike zone.” His reference to Aaron as an “arrogant hitter” drew a response, cited in the same article, from Pittsburgh manager Bobby Bragan. “Sure, Aaron’s a bad-ball hitter and he always will be, but it would be a bad mistake to try to change him.”15

Given the late arrival to spring training, Musial’s comments, and a general undertone in the wider reporting on Aaron and what was occasionally dismissed as a lack of effort, Haney again came to his slugger’s defense. “That loping gait of Hank Aaron’s is deceptive. You’d almost get the impression he wasn’t hustling at times, but he’d be about the last player you could accuse that of. He just runs as fast as he has to, and you’ll notice he always seems to get to a fly ball or a base in time when there’s any chance of making it.”16

Normally such an offensive outburst would result in a nearly automatic selection to the NL All-Star team, but according to a retrospective article from ESPN, a huge glut of votes from Cincinnati elected Reds to eight National League starting positions. “The lineup was so stacked, in fact, that Commissioner Ford Frick felt he had to intervene, so he replaced outfielders Gus Bell and Wally Post with two guys named Willie Mays and Hank Aaron.”17

The All-Star Game was little more than a brief respite in Aaron’s terrific season. On July 5 he surpassed his 1956 season home run total when he hit number 27 off the Cubs’ Don Elston, which, by mid-month, prompted The Sporting News’ Bob Wolf to begin touting the hitter’s chances for the Triple Crown. Despite his preseason protestation that he did not see himself as a power hitter, after 77 games he was on pace to tie Babe Ruth’s single-season home run record, and on August 15 he smacked career homer number 100. One week later he drove in his 100th run of the season. All the numbers, though, paled in comparison to a single swing of the bat the following month.

On September 23, in the bottom of the 11th inning facing St Louis, Aaron stroked a breaking ball over the fence at County Stadium. The two-run shot was the only homer that Cardinals pitcher Billy Muffett surrendered all year, but the walk-off win clinched the NL pennant for the Braves. Aaron was carried off the field that night by his jubilant teammates, and he always remembered that hit, that game, and that night as one of the greatest moments of his career.

In a February 26, 2012, Milwaukee Journal Sentinel retrospective, baseball commissioner Bud Selig was quoted: “Henry Aaron in ’57 was, well, he was a player for the ages. I have never seen a hitter like him. Forget our relationship. I’m telling you in the ’50s, when you watched Hank Aaron, you knew you were watching something really special.”18 That year, Aaron led the NL with 44 home runs, 132 runs batted in, 369 total bases, and 118 runs scored, but failed to meet his batting goal of .350. Instead, he finished a “mere” fourth in the league race with a .322 average. It was enough to earn him the only Most Valuable Player trophy of his career.

He followed that with 11 hits, including three homers, in 28 at-bats in the World Series. His .393 average certainly contributed to the Braves’ world championship, and was a fitting conclusion to a remarkable season. Both the man and his team walked off the field after the final out that October as, unquestionably, the best in baseball.

The year 1957 was also special for the Aarons for other reasons. In March, Barbara had delivered their first son, Hank Jr., and in December twins Lary and Gary arrived. Tragically, Gary died in the hospital, but the family carried on. It would grow once more, in 1962, with the birth of youngest daughter Dorinda.

In 1958, due in large part to Aaron’s 30 home runs, the Braves returned to the World Series, but lost to the Yankees in seven games. Although Henry Aaron only finished third in MVP voting for the year, he did win his first Gold Glove award. The following year the rising star appeared on the television show Home Run Derby, and won six consecutive matches – along with $13, 000 – before falling to the Phillies’ Wally Post. Afterward, Aaron noted that he changed his swing to help him hit more home runs because “ … they never had a show called ‘Singles Derby.’”19

His 1959 season was, arguably, the best of Aaron’s extraordinary career. Not only did he lead both major leagues in hits (223), batting average (.355), slugging (.636), and total bases (400), he committed only five errors all season while winning his second of three Gold Glove awards. The fielding mark is even more impressive in that, although he played 144 games as right fielder, he also played 13 in center and even five full games in the infield, at third base.  

Aaron hit his 200th career home run on July 3, 1960, off Cardinals pitcher Ron Kline, and on June 8, 1961, he joined Eddie Mathews, Joe Adcock, and Frank Thomas as the first quartet to hit successive homers in a single game, a 10-8 loss to the Cincinnati Reds. In 1963 he led the NL in home runs and RBIs, and also became the third-ever member of the 30/30 club, stealing 31 bases and socking 44 homers. That year Aaron barely missed winning the Triple Crown, losing the batting title to Tommy Davis by a scant .007 points, finishing in a tie with Dick Groat for fourth place in the major leagues with a .319 batting average.

He continued to excel throughout the decade. In the mid 1960s, though, the Braves uprooted the team and moved to Atlanta, as far south as any team in the major-league game. From a 2014 interview by Aaron, published in the Atlanta Business Chronicle, he “was not upset that his team would be moving to the segregated South. Aaron, who had grown up in Mobile, Alabama, played for the Jacksonville Braves and had traveled throughout the South when he was in the minor leagues. “It was something I had to get used to … I’m going to be playing baseball.

Coming up through the minor league system, I had always been affiliated with the Braves,” Aaron said. Because he cared about playing baseball, it didn’t matter if he was in Milwaukee or Atlanta. “I don’t have to be associated with anybody but the baseball players.”20

In 1966, the first season for the Braves in Georgia, Aaron hit his 400th career home run off Bo Belinsky in Philadelphia, and crested the 500-plateau two years later, in 1968 against Mike McCormick and the San Francisco Giants. He moved into third place on the all-time career home run list on July 30, 1969, when he passed Mickey Mantle with number 537. Despite his personal successes, and another third-place finish in the MVP race, the Braves were swept in three games by the improbable New York Mets in the new League Championship series. In the inaugural NLCS, Aaron batted .357 with three home runs.

The 1960s marked the peak of Aaron’s career. From 1960 to 1971, he averaged 152 games per season. In an “average” season, Aaron batted .308, scored 107 runs, amassed 331 total bases, hit 38 homers, and drove in 112 runs. This was all the more remarkable in that the time frame is widely remembered as the “decade of the pitcher,” yet Aaron gave no quarter when batting against some of the best in the game. Don Drysdale was his most frequent career home run victim, yielding 17, but the slugger also punished luminaries like Sandy Koufax and Juan Marichal, along with a wide array of less-gifted hurlers.   

His gift in the batter’s box flowed through his hands and wrists. In the 1990 book Men at Work:  The Craft of Baseball, author George Will summarized Hank’s approach: “Henry Aaron once said, ‘I never worried about the fastball. They couldn’t throw it past me. None of them.’ That was true, but that was Aaron, he of the phenomenally quick wrists and whippy, thin-handled bat.”21 Despite standing six feet tall, Aaron weighed a mere 180 pounds, almost scrawny in comparison to later sluggers, but his unique physical talent allowed him to wait on the pitcher for a split second longer than most other hitters, to seemingly pluck the ball from the catcher’s glove with his bat, and made him one of the most feared sluggers in the league.  

With his 3000th career hit, a single against the Cincinnati Reds on May 17, 1970, Henry Aaron became the first player ever to reach the dual milestones of 3,000 hits and 500 home runs. That year, with his 38 homers, he established a new NL record for most seasons by a player with 30 or more home runs. The following year, on April 28, Aaron hit homer number 600 off future Hall of Fame pitcher Gaylord Perry, joining Ruth and Mays in a most exclusive power-hitting fraternity. With his career-high 47 home runs that year he also set a new league record for most seasons with 40 or more homers with seven, and set an unofficial mark for “close-but-no-cigar” when he finished third in MVP balloting for a sixth time.

On the personal front, things between Henry and Barbara came to a head. The couple had been having marital difficulties since 1966, and had drifted apart. In February 1971, they formalized the separation with a legal divorce. Two years later, in 1973, Aaron married Billye Williams, a former Atlanta television journalist, in Jamaica.

Despite major-league baseball’s first labor-related work stoppage in 1972, Aaron passed Mays on the all-time home run list when he hammered number 661 off Reds pitcher Don Gullett on August 6. The impact of the strike wouldn’t really show until the following season. The two weeks that were lost to pension benefit negotiations represented eight lost opportunities for Aaron to continue his chase of Ruth’s career home run record, and by the end of 1973, with the national media working itself into a lather over Aaron’s pursuit of the iconic total, he ended the season with 713, one shy of tying the Bambino.

The stresses on the player, the team, opposing pitchers, and the sport that were spawned – or perhaps revealed – by Aaron’s 1973 season have been chronicled in a variety of sources. He retained an essential quiet dignity with the media and never allowed the moment to cause him to break in public, although a lesser man certainly might have cracked. Aaron received, literally, thousands of letters every week, and the torment prolonged over the winter of 1973 due to the strike in 1972. In 1973, however, the nation was a scant decade past the passage of the contentious Civil Rights Act, and less than a generation since Rosa Parks had refused to move to the back of her bus, so overt bigotry was not nearly as foreign as it might be now. Some of the letters that Aaron opened, however, are almost unbelievable for any era.

Some of the notable ones from the collection at the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown (spelling is verbatim):

“Hi, Hank,

I sees you hit 711 homers. When I goes to sleep every night I pray as follows:

1 – That you’se stop hitting these cheap homers

2 – That the pitchers stop lobbing in the ball for you to hit.

3 – That youse have a good accident when youse hit 713 and never been able to play another game.

4 – That youse get good and sick.

5 – That Babe Ruth is the best homer hitter & 714 is always the record.

6 – That youse get mugged by one of our brothers of the Black Panther Party.”

Another one, from mid-1973, read:

“Dear Hank Aaron,

Why are they making such a big fuss about your hitting 701 home runs.? sic

Please remember, you have been at bat over 2700 more times than Babe Ruth. If Babe Ruth was at bat 2700 more times he would have hit 814 home runs.

So, Hank what are you bragging about. Lets have the truth. You mentioned if you were white they would give you more credit. That’s ignorance. Stupid.

Hank, there are three things you can’t give a Nigger. A black eye, a puffed lip or a job.

The Cubs stink, the Cubs stink, Hinky Dinky, Stinky Parlevous. The Cubs are through, the Cubs are through, Hinky Pinky Parlevous.”

These are just a tiny sample of the venom and rage directed at Aaron throughout the later stages of his quest. In a third letter, a self-described “50 year old White Woman from Massachusetts” wrote, “To Hank Aaron: A Rotten Nigger … .you must have made every intelligent white man hate you and your opinions even more … ”.22 Describing those letters as mere irrational raving is reasonable nearly 40 years after the chase, but at the time, with a Black player pursuing the record of a White one, the threats seemed very real.

On the positive side, once the nation became aware of the bigotry, public support for Aaron poured in. But Aaron, perhaps channeling his inner Jackie Robinson, took the field without apparent regard for the attention surrounding his play. Atlanta opened the 1974 season in Cincinnati, and although the Braves management wanted Hank Aaron to break Ruth’s record in Atlanta, Commissioner Bowie Kuhn decreed that Aaron had to play at least two of the thee-game road series.

Aaron sat on his 713 total for one at-bat, hitting number 714 on April 4 off Cincinnati’s Jack Billingham. On April 8, in front of 53,775 fans in Atlanta, Aaron finally broke the record with a fourth-inning shot off the Dodgers’ Al Downing. Dodgers radio announcer Vin Scully captured the moment: “What a marvelous moment for baseball; what a marvelous moment for Atlanta and the state of Georgia; what a marvelous moment for the country and the world. A black man is getting a standing ovation in the Deep South for breaking a record of an all-time baseball idol. And it is a great moment for all of us, and particularly for Henry Aaron. … And for the first time in a long time, that poker face in Aaron shows the tremendous strain and relief of what it must have been like to live with for the past several months.”23 

The euphoria lasted all season, until October 2, when Aaron hammered his 733rd, and final, homer in Atlanta for the Braves. One month later, on November 2, Atlanta traded the all-time home run king to the Milwaukee Brewers for minor-league pitcher Roger Alexander and outfielder Dave May. “When Bud Selig called me,” [Aaron, talking about the trade] said to the New York Times. “I was too sleepy to get all the details … All I know is that I’m happy to be going back home. This is the first time I’ve ever been traded. If I was being traded to a city like Chicago or Philadelphia, I’d frown on it. But I’m going back to Milwaukee … I’m going back home.”24

Hank Aaron became a “designated hitter.” The next season, on May 1, 1975, Aaron became the all-time RBI leader, and on July 20, 1976, he hit the 755th home run of his career in Milwaukee’s County Stadium. He appeared in his final major-league game on October 3, calling it a career after 3,298 games.

In that career, Aaron scored 2,174 runs, and is the all-time leader in RBIs (2,297), total bases (6,856), and extra-base hits (1,477). The total bases figure is ‘just another stat’ at first blush, but Aaron’s lead over Albert Pujols, #2 on the list, is 645, or almost 10%. It is one of Aaron’s most remarkable displays of dominance across all eras. His 12,364 at-bats remain the second highest total ever, and he is on many of Major League Baseball’s “top ten” lists, including doubles, plate appearances, and hits (3,771). Even more remarkable is that he remains on these lists more than 35 years since he last took the field. In his otherwise hilarious and irreverent book Catcher in the Wry, former Aaron teammate and longtime Brewers’ broadcaster Bob Uecker is quite serious when he observes that, “[Aaron] was the most underrated player of my time, and his.”  This period included tremendous players like Willie Mays, Frank Robinson, and Roberto Clemente, yet Aaron did more for less recognition than anyone else. Uecker continued, “I asked him once if he felt slighted. He said, ‘What difference does it make?’”25

After retiring, Aaron returned to Atlanta as vice president of player development for the Braves, and on August 1, 1982, was formally inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame, although an inexplicable 2.2 percent of the ballots did not contain his name. He also worked for a time for Turner Broadcasting, and opened Hank Aaron BMW in Atlanta. His auto empire eventually grew to multiple dealerships in Georgia, although he sold all but one in 2007, and he expanded his business venture to include a number of smaller restaurants as well. The 755 Restaurant Corporation grew to 18 fast-food venues in the Southeast, including several Church’s Fried Chicken outlets.

It was not a simple, happy ending. In 1984, brother Tommie passed away due to leukemia. Older brother Hank later said in an interview: “I was sitting in my office one day in 1982,” Aaron wrote later wrote, “when my brother Tommie walked in and told me that he had some kind of blood disorder … the whole time, Tommie never demonstrated any pain until the very last night before he passed … It was the hardest night of my life.”26

In 1990 he wrote his autobiography, I Had a Hammer, and in April 1997 the Mobile Bay Bears (Southern League) christened “Hank Aaron Stadium” in Mobile. In 1999 Major League Baseball created the Hank Aaron Award to be awarded to the best offensive performers in each league each season, and in 2000 Aaron was named to MLB’s All-Century Team. In 2001, he was awarded the Presidential Citizen’s Medal by President Bill Clinton, and in 2002 was given the Presidential Medal of Freedom by President George W. Bush.

That slew of awards underscores Aaron’s fame and his relevance not only to baseball’s past, but also to America’s history. He was a Black man who successfully challenged the record of a White player whose legacy borders on mythical, and he did so with a poise so unshakable that it remains a study in professionalism. Naturally taciturn in public, he was only rarely able to convey his inner feelings with words, but he reserved one of his finest moments for the end of another controversy-laden home run chase, by Barry Bonds in 2007. When Bonds finally hit his 756th homer, Aaron’s face appeared on the JumboTron scoreboard in San Francisco, and he relayed a message to his replacement:

“I would like to offer my congratulations to Barry Bonds on becoming baseball’s career home run leader. It is a great accomplishment which required skill, longevity, and determination. Throughout the past century, the home run has held a special place in baseball and I have been privileged to hold this record for 33 of those years. I move over now and offer my best wishes to Barry and his family on this historical achievement. My hope today, as it was on that April evening in 1974, is that the achievement of this record will inspire others to chase their own dreams.”

Henry Aaron passed away in his sleep on January 22, 2021, just two weeks shy of his 87th birthday.27 He is buried at South View Cemetery in Atlanta.28

Dignity. Pride. Courage. Those are words often reserved for describing heroes. They also describe Henry Aaron.

Photo credits

National Baseball Hall of Fame Library, Trading Card Database, Atlanta Braves.

Notes

1 “Henry Aaron,” Alabama, U.S., Surname Files Expanded, 1702-1981; Alabama Department of Archives and History, online: https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/61266/images/41904_539897-00023?pId=61280

2 Bill James, “Henry Aaron,” The Baseball Book: 1990 (New York: Villard, 1990), 161.

3 Hank Aaron and Lonnie Wheeler, I Had A Hammer: The Hank Aaron Story (New York, Harper Perennial, 1991), 14.

4 Nick Diunte, “Hank Aaron’s Lone Season in Puerto Rico Forever Altered His Path to the Hall of Fame,” Forbes.com, January 22, 2021, https://www.forbes.com/sites/nickdiunte/2021/01/22/hank-aarons-lone-season-in-puerto-rico-forever-altered-his-path-to-the-hall-of-fame/

5 Aaron and Wheeler, 32.

6 Aaron and Wheeler, 53.

7 James, 161.

8 Isreal’s last name is often spelled “Israel” – like the nation, but Baseball-Reference.com uses “Isreal”. https://www.baseball-reference.com/register/player.fcgi?id=isreal001elb. Of note, however, is that his father Frank’s World War II draft card spells the name (and in the signature), “Israel”.

9 “Henry Aaron, Negro Athlete, Is Voted Sally’s Most Valuable,” Panama City News Herald, August 19, 1953: 5.

10 Larry Schwartz, “Hank Aaron: Hammerin’ Back at Racism,” ESPN.com, accessed September 20, 2024, http://espn.go.com/sportscentury/features/00006764.html

11 Howard Bryant. The Last Hero: A Life of Henry Aaron (New York: Random House, 2010), 56.

12 Bryant, 69.

13 Dick Young, “Clubhouse Confidential,” The Sporting News, April 24, 1957: 17.

14 Dick Young, “Aaron Whipping Up Plate Breeze Aided By Lighter Bludgeon,” The Sporting News, May 1, 1957: 11.

15 Cleon Walfoort. “Aaron Turns Bad Pitches Into Base-hits,” The Sporting News, June 26, 1957: 7.

16 Walfoort, 7.

17 Steve Wulf, “The stuff of legends: In 1957, Cincinnati fans stacked the All-Star team too,” ESPN.com, June 29, 2015, https://www.espn.com/mlb/story/_/id/13168334/1957-cincinnati-fans-stacked-all-star-team-too 

18 Gary D’Amato, “Seasons of Greatness: No. 2 Hank Aaron 1957,” Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, February 26, 2012, http://m.jsonline.com/more/sports/brewers/140517023.htm

19 “Images from Hank Aaron’s chase for the career home run record,” ESPN.com, January 22, 2021, https://www.espn.com/mlb/story/_/id/30759553/images-hank-aaron-chase-career-home-run-record

20 Maria Saporta, “Hank Aaron reflects on past 50 years in Atlanta; Braves move to Cobb,” Atlanta Business Chronicle, October 24, 2014, https://saportareport.com/hank-aaron-reflects-on-past-50-years-in-atlanta-braves-move-to-cobb/sections/abcarticles/maria_saporta/

21 George Will, Men At Work: The Craft of Baseball (New York: MacMillan, 1990), 206.

22 Archives, National Baseball Hall of Fame, Cooperstown, New York (visited: 2011).

23 Jon Paul Hoornstra, “Relive Hank Aaron’s 715th Homer Through Vin Scully’s Historic Call,” Newsweek.com, accessed September 20, 2024, https://www.msn.com/en-us/sports/other/relive-hank-aaron-s-715th-homer-through-vin-scully-s-historic-call/ar-BB1lioQU 

24 Alex Coffey, “The Braves Trade Hank Aaron to the Brewers,” BaseballHall.org, accessed September 20, 2024, https://baseballhall.org/discover-more/stories/inside-pitch/the-braves-trade-henry-aaron

25 Bob Uecker and Mickey Herskowitz, Catcher in the Wry (New York: Berkeley Publishing Group, 1982), 167-168.

26 Aaron and Wheeler. I Had a Hammer; 434.

27 Richard Goldstein, “Hank Aaron, Home Run King Who Defied Racism, Dies at 86,” New York Times, January 22, 2021, https://www.nytimes.com/2021/01/22/sports/baseball/hank-aaron-dead.html

28 https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/221485980/hank-aaron

William Robert Allison was born on July 11, 1934, in Raytown, Missouri, located about 10 miles southeast of Kansas City. His parents, Robert “Lou” and Frances (Witte) Allison, were hard-working, industrious people who provided Bob and his two younger siblings, Jim and Frances (known as Frankie), a solid, middle-class life. Bob got his first lesson in baseball from his father, a construction worker and former semipro catcher. He began playing organized baseball by the time he was 11 years old and attending Chapel Elementary School. He was a big, rugged, and agile youth, and his favorite sport was football. At Raytown High School he was a standout in multiple sports, starring at quarterback and fullback on the gridiron, playing in the front court in basketball, and running track. He was “something of a legend around Raytown,” read one report.2 Although his school did not have a baseball team, Bob played in the highly competitive Ban Johnson League in the Kansas City metro area.

After graduating from high school in 1952, Allison enrolled on a football scholarship at the University of Kansas, about 50 miles from home in Lawrence. He was a fullback on the Jayhawks football team in 1952 and 1953, and played baseball in 1954 for legendary coach, Floyd Temple, in his first of 28 years guiding Kansas. At 6-feet-3 and weighing 200 pounds, the right-handed Allison might have had the prototypical build for a professional fullback, but he garnered more attention as a hard-hitting, rough-and-tumble infielder-outfielder for Milgram in the Ban Johnson League in the summers of 1952-1954. “At 18, he could out throw most big leaguers I saw,” said one of his former coaches.3 Scouts from the New York Yankees, Chicago White Sox, St. Louis Cardinals, Milwaukee Braves, New York Giants, Cleveland Indians, and Washington Senators were on his trail in Kansas City and Lawrence. “Tom Greenwade, who discovered Mickey Mantle, came to the university to see me,” said Allison. “He gave me all the sweet talk about the Yankees, and I must admit that I was surprised. [Senators scout] Ray Baker had told me that it was easier to make it in the Washington organization than with some of the richer clubs.”4 The decision to pursue a career in baseball became more immediate when Allison lost his athletic eligibility for the fall of 1954 due to poor grades. According to the Associated Press, the Senators signed Allison on Baker’s recommendation on January 24, 1955.5

With a bonus of $4,000 in hand, the 20-year-old Allison reported to the Class B Hagerstown (Maryland) Packets of the Piedmont League in 1955. He batted .256, but showed little power, slugging just .332. The Senators invited him to spring training in 1956 for a look-see. Although Washington sportswriter Shirley Povich praised him for his “big swing and determination,”6 Allison was over his head and was subsequently assigned to the Charlotte (North Carolina) Hornets in the Class A South Atlantic League, where his average dipped to .233.

In Charlotte Allison roomed with 20-year-old Harmon Killebrew, in his first year in the minors. Killebrew had signed with the Senators two years earlier for a reported $30,000 bonus; because of the bonus rule in effect at the time, he was required to spend his first two (agonizing) seasons on the big-league squad. The two prospects became lifelong friends and accompanied each other on their arduous journey to the big leagues. The following season, with the Double-A Chattanooga Lookouts, Killebrew developed into a slugging sensation, belting 29 home runs to lead the Southern Association, while Allison batted just .246 and hit only two home runs, though his 11 triples tied for the league lead. Despite his weak hitting, Allison had established a reputation as good center fielder with excellent range and a rifle arm.

Back with Chattanooga in 1958 after another trial with Washington in spring training, Allison blossomed, batting .307 and slugging .446, and earned a call-up to the Senators when the rosters expanded in September. On September 16 he made his major-league debut, playing center field and batting leadoff, and going 1-for-4 in a loss to the Cleveland Indians. Allison appeared overmatched at the plate (7-for-35), but according to The Sporting News “can handle centerfield.”7 Allison honed his skills in the Cuban Winter League, leading Almendares to the league championship and earning a berth on the all-star team while experiencing a front-row view of the Cuban Revolution.8

Allison’s rookie season with the Senators in 1959 defied all expectations. His size, speed, strength, and athleticism inspired awe. Team trainer George “Doc” Lentz, who had worked for the Senators for 31 years and also for the Washington Redskins, called the now 220-pound, muscular Allison “the strongest man I ever handled.”9 Club owner Calvin Griffith praised him as having “the best arm that has come to our outfield since Jackie Jensen.”10 Said coach Ellis Clary, “I know he’ll scare the daylights out of the opposition. Man, when he runs down the line from home plate I can hear the ground shake.”11 But despite this praise, many felt that Allison would not even make the team because of his poor hitting. Boston sportswriter Hy Hurwitz wrote that Allison “should be shipped out” during camp while Senators beat reporter Bob Addie noted that “none of the scribes covering the team in training camp thought much of Allison.”12 Shirley Povich cautioned, “[Allison’s] not a power hitter.”13 His manager, Cookie Lavagetto, was even more direct in his evaluation, “He was the worst you ever saw at the plate. He chopped at the ball like he had an axe in his hand.”14

Dubbed the “hardest worker in camp,” Allison recognized that his future in the big leagues rested on improved hitting.15 Roy Sievers, renowned for his graceful swing, proved to be most influential on the youngster. “He had me move closer to the plate so I could reach the pitches,” said Allison. “He also taught me not to lunge.”16 A classic line-drive hitter, Allison’s new approach helped him temper the tendency to pull the ball. He impressed Lavagetto with his work ethic, “He’s a curious kid. If he makes a mistake, he’ll talk about it. Bob studies pitchers,” said his skipper.17

Allison made an immediate impression on fans with his energetic style of play. He opened the 1959 season with a nine-game hitting streak, including his first home run. He began in right field, moved to left, and then took over center field in the 12th game of the season, making Albie Pearson, the 1958 Rookie of the Year, expendable. (He was traded on May 26.)

With only 28 home runs in four years in the minors, no one expected Allison to develop into a home-run threat. But he surprised everyone. On June 5 Allison collected a career-best five hits (in five at-bats) and walloped two home runs for the first of 16 times in his career, yet the Senators lost to the Detroit Tigers, 7-6. By the end of July, Allison had clouted 27 round-trippers, and was named to the AL All-Star team for the second of two games scheduled that season, although did not play. “He can run, he can throw, he swings a good bat,” wrote Bob Addie.18 Allison intimidated baserunners with his accurate arm, but also tested Lavagetto’s patience for occasionally showboating and overthrowing the cutoff man to show off his arm strength, thereby permitting runners to advance.

Despite slumping the final two months of the season, Allison finished with 30 home runs and batted .261; he also knocked in 85 runs despite hitting in the two-hole for just over half of his at-bats. More than a slugger, he led the AL in triples (9) and finished fifth in stolen bases (13). He topped off the season by winning the Rookie of the Year award. The Senators were accustomed to losing, and finished in last place in 1959, but they treated their fans to a home-run barrage. En route to a new team-record 163 home runs, Allison, Killebrew (42), and Jim Lemon (33) became just the seventh trio of teammates to blast 30 round-trippers in one season, and the first in the AL since the 1941 New York Yankees with Joe DiMaggio, Charlie Keller, and Tommy Henrich.

After another offseason playing winter ball in Cuba, Allison reported to spring training in 1960 with high expectations. Calvin Griffith, the perpetually cash-strapped owner of the club, pronounced him an untouchable and rebuffed offers to sell the young star. Moved to right field, Allison got off to a torrid start. In his first seven games he collected 17 hits in 30 at-bats and drove in 12 runs. He caught President Dwight Eisenhower’s pitch on what turned out to be the last home opener for the Senators in Washington. Batting primarily in the third spot, usually in front of Lemon, Allison hit .328, scored 35 runs and knocked in 33 through the first 50 games, and seemed destined for stardom. But just as the Senators were putting together a winning record for three consecutive months (June, July, and August) for the first time since 1952 to begin September with a winning record, Allison commenced a prolonged sophomore slump, batting just .205 in his last 95 games. More disconcerting to the Senators was Allison’s loss of power –  just 15 home runs for the season. One of those, however, was a dramatic two-run walk-off blast in the 10th inning to defeat the New York Yankees on July 5. While the Senators floundered in September to finish in fifth place, Griffith became willing to listen to trade offers for Allison.

It was not a surprise when the Senators moved to Minnesota in the offseason. Griffith, the adopted son of former owner Clark Griffith, had begun exploring relocation options soon after taking control of the team in 1955. Since breaking the one-million mark in 1946, the club had struggled mightily at the gate, finishing last in attendance every year since 1955. Griffith, whose primary source of income was the baseball club, also complained that the location of Griffith Stadium, in the historically black neighborhood of Shaw, kept fans from the games. In the Minneapolis-St. Paul metropolitan area, he hoped to reap the same kinds of financial rewards that the Boston Braves, Brooklyn Dodgers, and New York Giants did after relocating in the 1950s.

Ignoring trade rumors, Allison got off to another hot start in 1961 as the Minnesota Twins played their first six games on the road. In their season opener, he walloped the first home run in Twins history,  a deep line-drive blast to left field off Whitey Ford in the club’s convincing 6-0 victory over the New York Yankees. Three games later, he blasted two round-trippers and drove in a career-high seven runs in a Twins’ victory over the Baltimore Orioles. Two more games of two home runs followed in mid-May at Metropolitan Stadium, located in Bloomington, about 11 miles due south of downtown Minneapolis. Though the Twins finished in seventh place (70-90) in the year the AL expanded to 10 teams, the club finished third in attendance, proving that major-league baseball could succeed in the Upper Midwest where cool, indeed cold, temperatures in April, May, and September were the norm. Allison placed seventh in home runs (29) and RBIs (105) while drawing a career-high 103 free passes (fifth best in the AL).

Allison was an immediate favorite in Minnesota. As the first player to establish year-round, permanent residence in Minnesota, he helped Minnesotans forge a strong bond with their recently relocated team. He, his wife (his high-school sweetheart, Betty Shearer, whom he had married in 1956), and their three children, Mark, Kirk, and Kyle, were fixtures at the ballpark and in the community. Allison had matinee-idol good looks – tall, dark, and handsome with brownish black hair and hazel-green eyes – and played with an ethos that endeared him to fans and the media. He had all sorts of nicknames, from Paul Bunyan and Mr. America to Muscles, all which played on his Herculean physique. “He plays hard and he plays every second of every game,” commented The Sporting News.19 Called a “throw back to the old times,” Allison was “Old School” when it meant playing an all-out style like the 1920s or 1930s.20  He crashed into outfield fences going after balls and made daring, diving catches. Though not conventionally fast like Mickey Mantle or a great basestealer like Luis Aparicio, Allison was an excellent and fearless baserunner. His specialty was breaking up double plays, barreling over shortstops, many of whom he outweighed by 50 to 60 pounds.

In 1962 the Twins were the youngest team in the AL and had assembled a nucleus of players who helped transform the club to a pennant winner in 1965, and laid the foundations for the team’s success throughout the decade. Killebrew (age 26) and Allison (27) in the outfield, Zoilo Versalles (22) at shortstop, Rich Rollins (24) at third base, and catcher Earl Battey (27) were All-Star selections in the 1960s. The Twins farm system produced other future All-Stars who joined them: outfielders Jimmie Hall in 1963 and Tony Oliva in 1964, and second baseman Rod Carew in 1967.

Allison was hampered by several early-season injuries in 1962, including a pulled rib muscle and spiked fingers, and experienced a drop in his power numbers through early June. Nonetheless, the Twins briefly took over the top spot in the AL that month. “I’ve never seen the kind of spirit we’ve got on the club,” said Allison.21 Manager Sam Mele, who had replaced Cookie Lavagetto during the previous season, relied on the long ball; all eight position players swatted at least 11 home runs as the club set a new team record with 185. Allison regained his power in June and put together one of the most productive stretches in his career, hitting 27 round-trippers and knocking in 86 runs in 108 games from June 9 through the end of the season. On July 18 Allison and Killebrew became the first set of teammates in big-league history to wallop grand slams in the same inning when they accomplished the feat in the first frame of a 14-3 laugher against the Cleveland Indians at the Met. Minnesota finished with 91 victories, five behind the New York Yankees. In an era when high batting averages and low strikeout totals were the signs of good hitters, Allison – who struck out a lot and seldom hit for a high average – did not receive as much credit for his production as he probably should have. He finished third in runs (102) and seventh in RBIs (102), joining Norm Siebern of the Kansas City Athletics as the only AL players in triple digits in both departments; he also finished eighth in home runs (29) and fifth in slugging (.511).

Sluggers Killebrew and Allison were affectionately known as “Mr. Upstairs and Mr. Downstairs.” Whereas the “Killer” clouted legendary arcing homers, Allison ripped bullets that cleared the fences. The ever modest Allison claimed, “I’ve never been much of a long-ball hitter,” and added, “I swing down at the ball and I’m more of a line-drive hitter.”22

Using a wider batting stance and a heavier bat, Allison enjoyed arguably his best season in 1963 in an offensively depressed era. He was named Player of the Month by Fleer in April (five home runs and 18 RBIs in 19 games) while his teammates struggled and the club dropped into last place. “Allison is only doing what comes naturally when he plays Paul Bunyan so it is no surprise that he’s trying singlehandedly to carry the Twins,” wrote UPI after the slugger connected for three home runs for the first and only time in his career, against the Indians on May 17.23 On the strength of his league-leading 21 home runs, Allison was named a backup on the AL All-Star squad. (He struck out against Houston’s Hal Woodeshick in his only at-bat.) Despite being briefly sidelined in August when a pitch from Dean Chance of the Los Angeles Angels broke a bone in his right hand, Allison finished third in the AL in home runs (a career-best 35), fourth in RBIs (91), third in walks (90), and second in slugging (.533). He paced the circuit with 99 runs scored, marking the first time that the AL leader failed to reach 100 in a full season since Elmer Flick in 1906. The Twins proved to be a streaky team, winning 91 games, but finishing in a distant third place, 13 games behind the Yankees. They also established a new team record with 225 home runs – 113 of them from Allison, Killebrew (45), and Hall (33).

Twins beat reporter Arno Goethel once referred to Allison as the “unknown outfielder.”24 Soft-spoken off the field, yet articulate, Allison shunned the spotlight, played in the shadows of Killebrew and Oliva, and was rarely mentioned in discussions about the best outfielders in the early to mid-1960s. He played any position the team asked, moving from center field to right field, to first base in 1964, and then to left field in 1965 to accommodate younger players or improve the team. “I don’t care where I play,” he told sportswriter Dick Gordon. “I don’t think moving around affects my play and I like being able to play more than one position.”25 On the field Allison exhibited a completely different persona. Managers and teammates acknowledged him as the vocal team leader. Minneapolis sports reporter Max Nichols praised his “take charge instincts” and noted that he’s the “holler guy” on a team filled with “silent types.”26

The Twins fell to sixth place in 1964 with a 79-83 record despite a league-leading 221 home runs. Four of those home runs came consecutively against the Kansas City A’s when Oliva, Allison, Hall, and Killebrew connected in the 11th inning of a 7-3 victory. Allison was a jack-of-all-trades, starting 90 games at first base and 45 in the outfield (at all three positions). He was a starter in his third and final All-Star appearance (he went 0-for-3 with a walk). Allison’s season ended about a week early when he was hit by a pitch from Lew Krausse of the Kansas City A’s and broke a knuckle. With 32 home runs, 86 RBIs, and a career-best .287 average, Allison set career-best marks in slugging (.553) and on-base percentage (.404).

The 1965 Twins were an unusually deep team, with seven legitimate All-Star position players, and two more on the pitching staff. Three new coaches, Johnny Sain, Jim Lemon, and Billy Martin, helped forge them into a mentally tough and fundamentally sound team. In first place for the overwhelming majority of the season, the Twins overcame injuries to key players to pull away from the pack in August and September and cruise to their first pennant, seven games ahead of the Chicago White Sox, with a record of 102-60.

Allison started out the 1965 season in left field, his third different position in as many years. He put up typical numbers (.267, 12 HRs, 34 RBIs) until he was hit on the right wrist by a pitch from Boston’s Jerry Stephenson on July 6. Diagnosed with a fractured wrist, Allison missed 10 days. He struggled after his return (batting just .199, though he hit 11 homers and knocked in 44 runs in 68 games) and was often platooned with Sandy Valdespino, a speedy, left-handed-hitting rookie. About four weeks after Allison’s injury, Killebrew suffered what appeared to be a season-ending elbow injury in a collision at first base with Baltimore’s Russ Snyder on August 2.

The Twins’ pennant was a testimony to the team’s depth and team-oriented attitude. “We find a different way to win every day,” said Allison. “This team is a bunch of fighters.”27 With Allison bothered by a sore wrist and Killebrew out seven weeks, the Twins relied on a collective effort. “No player on this club has dominated the clutch hitting role,” wrote Max Nichols.28 Don Mincher belted 22 home runs and replaced Killebrew at first base, Oliva batted .321 to capture his second successive batting crown, and Versalles led the league in runs scored (126) and extra-base hits (76) and won the AL MVP award.

The Twins lost the 1965 World Series to the Los Angeles Dodgers, whose other-worldly ace, Sandy Koufax, hurled shutouts in Game Five and Game Seven (on two days’ rest), but Allison’s remarkable catch in Game Two has endured as one of the most memorable in Series history. In the fifth inning of a scoreless game, with a man on first and no one out, Allison made a diving backhanded grab of Jim Lefebvre’s sinking line drive to left field. He caught the ball with his glove just off the ground in fair territory and skidded on the soggy field across the foul line. “It was the greatest catch I’ve ever seen,” said Killebrew.29 The Twins went on to win the game, 5-1, to take a two-games-to-none lead in the Series. Like his teammates, Allison struggled against Dodgers pitching. In five games (he did not start Games One or Four against Don Drysdale), Allison went 2-for-16. One of those hits was a two-run homer in Game Six off Claude Osteen. The last of his nine strikeouts accounted for the final out in Game Seven.

In 1966, Allison, now 31 years old, lost his position in left field to Valdespino and saw only limited action in an injury-plagued season. On July 23 he suffered his fourth hand/wrist injury in as many years when a pitch from Boston’s Jim Lonborg fractured his left wrist. “You can’t blame the pitchers for pitching me tight,” said a philosophical Allison. “That’s part of the game.”30

In light of a miserable campaign (8 homers and 19 RBIs) Allison endured an offseason filled with trade rumors, but the Twins had no viable options in left field. Two of his supposed replacements, Valdespino and Andy Kosco, had failed to lived up to their hype. Allison reclaimed his position as the everyday left fielder, though he was often replaced for defensive purposes late in games. With the Twins floundering in sixth place (25-25), Cal Ermer replaced Mele as skipper and ignited the team. They won 24 of their next 36 games, culminating in a doubleheader sweep of the California Angels on July 16 to pull to within a half-game of first place. In that twin bill, Allison went 3-for-5 with two home runs (one as a pinch-hitter) with five RBIs and three runs scored. Throughout August and September, Minnesota battled Boston, Chicago, and Detroit in one of the most exciting pennant races in league history. In first place entering the final weekend of the season and with just 1½ games separating four teams, the Twins were swept by Boston in a two-game series to finish in second place. Allison finished with a .258/24/75 line.

Collectively, the Twins struggled in 1968, the “Year of the Pitcher,” and fell to seventh place, their worst finish since their inaugural season in Minnesota. The players failed to respond to skipper Cal Ermer, whose authority players openly challenged, leading to some high-profile confrontations, such as one with Carew. Owner Calvin Griffith conceded that Ermer had lost control of the club. Allison, who had hurt his right knee the previous season, needed regular cortisone shots to play in the field. In his last season as an everyday starter, Allison was still an offensive threat, clouting 22 home runs (tied for eighth in the AL) and slugging .456 (sixth).

Although he was reduced to a role player in 1969, Allison looked forward to playing for Billy Martin, whose aggressive, daring style he appreciated. Martin considered Allison excellent coaching material (Allison turned down Martin’s offer to join his staff in Detroit in 1971).  In his autobiography (with Peter Golenbock), Number 1, Martin called Allison “my leader behind the leader on the bench.”31

En route to the AL West crown in the first year of realignment, Allison was involved in an ugly scene with Martin and pitcher Dave Boswell in August. At a local watering hole in Detroit, the Lindell Athletic Club, Boswell began arguing with pitching coach Art Fowler. Allison intervened as peacemaker and took Boswell outside to cool off. Boswell took out his frustration on Allison, knocking him out (with a sucker punch, according to some reports), whereupon Martin rushed outside. In the now infamous fight, Martin beat up his pitcher, who was subsequently hospitalized.32

Allison was placed on waivers during spring training in 1970, but there were no claims on the 35-year-old with creaky knees. Relegated to an occasional start and pinch-hitting duties, Allison saw sporadic action for manager Bill Rigney, who had replaced Martin and led the Twins to their second consecutive AL West crown. For the second year in a row, the club lost to the Baltimore Orioles in the ALCS and Allison went hitless in a combined 10 at-bats, both series sweeps. At the conclusion of the season, he announced his retirement. In his 13 years with the Senators-Twins, Allison hit 256 home runs, knocked in 756 runs, and batted .255.

On September 9, 1971, the Twins celebrated B.A.T. Day (Bob Allison Tribute Day), marking the first time a professional athlete had ever been feted with his own day in Minneapolis-St. Paul. The broad-shouldered, down-to-earth Allison was wildly popular as much for what he did off the field as for his accomplishments on the diamond. “[Allison] has been unmatched in the team’s history as a tireless good-will ambassador in Twinsland,” wrote Arno Goethel.33 Long associated with the Easter Seals, Allison worked tirelessly on behalf of sick children, visiting hospitals and raising money.

Allison was well positioned for his post-baseball career. Since his early days in Minnesota, he had worked in the offseason for Coca-Cola, and began working for the company full-time in 1971, moving into sales. His association with the soft-drink company gave rise to one of his funniest monikers, “Bubble-Up.” Allison maintained close ties to the Twins and former teammates, and participated in reunions and special events with the club. In 1989 he retired with his wife to a resort community north of Fountain Hills, in the desert of Arizona. An avid outdoorsman, Allison anticipated playing golf, hunting, hiking, and traveling.

Not long after retiring from Coca-Cola, Allison was tragically diagnosed with ataxia, a rare, incurable disease that affects nerve cells in the brain and gradually impairs coordination. As the disease progressed and his health began to fail, Allison and his family established the Bob Allison Ataxia Research Center at the University of Minnesota.

Bob Allison died at the age of 60 on April 9, 1995, from the effects of ataxia. He was buried in Rio Verde Memorial Gardens, in Rio Verde, Arizona. Said close friend Jim Kaat, “This guy had the ideal body. Very durable. He was a hard-nosed player, and played every day. He was always so fit. Everyone marveled at his condition.”34 “When I think of Bob Allison,” remarked former Twins owner Calvin Griffith upon learning of Allison’s death, “I think of brute strength.”35 

Sources                                                                                                                                 

Bob Allison player file at the National Baseball Hall of Fame, Cooperstown, New York.

Ancestry.com

BaseballLibrary.com

Baseball-Reference.com

Retrosheet.com

SABR.org

The Sporting News

Notes

1 Leonard Shechter, “A Hitter Has to Have a Killing Desire,” in Sport, September 1964, quoted from Bill James, The New Bill James Historical Abstract (New York: Free Press, 2001), 825.

2 The Sporting News, September 23, 1959, 3.

3 Ibid.

4 Ibid.

5 Associated Press, “A Boy Here to the Senators,” Kansas City Times, January 25, 1955, 16.

6 The Sporting News, March 14, 1956, 4.

7 The Sporting News, October 8, 1958, 26.

8 The Sporting News, January 28, 1959, 8.

9 The Sporting News, September 23, 1959, 3.

10 The Sporting News, April 1, 1959, 18.

11 The Sporting News, November 25, 1959, 3.

12 The Sporting News, February 3, 1960, 6; The Sporting News, September 23, 1959, 3.

13 The Sporting News, April 1, 1959, 18.

14 Whitney Shoemaker (Associated Press), “Bob Allison Crowds Ted’s Frosh Record,” Gastonia (North Carolina) Gazette, August 5, 1959, 24.

15 The Sporting News, April 8, 1959, 32.

16 The Sporting News, November 25, 1959, 3.

17 The Sporting News, September 23, 1959, 3.

18 Ibid.

19 The Sporting News, June 29, 1960, 21.

20 Ibid.

21 The Sporting News, June 16, 1962, 16.

22 The Sporting News, August 29, 1964, 3.

23 United Press International, “Bob Allison’s Three Homers Spark Twins,” Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, May 18, 1963, 6.

24 The Sporting News, January 22, 1965, 8.

25 The Sporting News, January 16, 1965, 20.

26 The Sporting News, July 11, 1964, 11.

27 The Sporting News, August 21, 1965, 13.

28 Ibid.

29 The Sporting News, October 23, 1965, 6.

30 The Sporting News, January 21, 1967, 25.

31 Billy Martin with Peter Golenbock, Number 1. Billy Martin (New York: Dell, 1981), quoted in Bill James, 826.

32 Myron Cope, “A Little Love, A Few Lunches, Make a Team,” Life, September 19, 1969, 79-82.

33 Arno Goethel, “The Citizen Who Never Whiffs,” St. Paul (Minnesota) Pioneer Press, August 2, 1970.

34 Bob Cohn, “Rare Illness dims life for ex-Twins slugger,” Arizona Republic (Phoenix), October 27, 1991. articles.chicagotribune.com/1991-10-27/sports/9104070130_1_earl-battey-mudcat-grant-watches.

35  Phil Pepe, “Star-Crossed Twin,” New York Daily News, October, 14, 1990, C46.

He was, in the minds of many, a “bonus baby” who never paid his dues in the minors. A player on a National League championship club who was not voted a World Series share by his Braves teammates. A rarely used pitcher for Boston who had the gall to make more money than Warren Spahn. A relative unknown who was traded for October heroes and former batting champs. A malcontent, who at a certain point was one of the most despised players in San Francisco Giants history. A southpaw who, rather than play for an expansion team, chose to retire from baseball for good.

It would be wrong, however, to remember Antonelli in this fashion. He was a good southpaw whose pitching was masterful when he was healthy and brilliant when he was at ease. He wasn’t perfect, but the decisions he and his family made — especially the decision to take a boatload of Lou Perini’s money — are no different than those most any teenager with big league dreams and strong self-confidence would have undertaken.

John August “Johnny” Antonelli was born on April 12, 1930, in Rochester, New York, to Augustino “Gus” Antonelli and Josephina Messore. From Johnny’s first year at Rochester’s Jefferson High School, where he was a three-sport star (basketball, football, and baseball), he attracted major-league publicity and major-league scouts. Johnny’s father, Gus, a railroad construction contractor who had immigrated to the United States from Abruzzi, Italy, in 1913, was actively involved in nurturing and promoting his son’s baseball career. Johnny remembers that his father would “go down to spring training every year, and bring along my scrapbook and brag about me.”¹ The scrapbook Johnny refers to was a bulging tome, filled with newspaper clippings and pictures of the young Antonelli from his high school years. Occasionally, great ballplayers like Joe Cronin, Bobby Feller, and Leo Durocher were invited by the elder Antonelli to come to Rochester to take a look at both the scrapbook² and the loping curve that Johnny had developed in the semipro Vermont Hotel League in 1947.³

During those high school years, Johnny played baseball under coach Charley O’Brien, who converted him from a freshman first baseman to a pitcher (despite the teenager’s protests). Watching his son develop rapidly as a sophomore and junior hurler and fearing he might hurt his arm, Johnny’s father made him quit football and focus on baseball full time.⁴ The teenager threw three no-hitters and drew praise from scouts like Hall of Famer Carl Hubbell, who said that Antonelli had the best all-around stuff he had ever seen.

Gus began to see that his son might be a major leaguer in the making and eventually began taking him to spring training, where Johnny “talked and observed, but mostly…listened and absorbed all he could about talent and procedure.”⁵ After Johnny graduated from high school in 1948, Gus wrote to a number of ballclubs and then rented out Silver Stadium, home of the International League Rochester Red Wings, to showcase Johnny to the scouts. Nine scouts and 7,000 fans came, and the youngster did not disappoint, as Antonelli struck out 17 batters against a “strong semipro club” on his way to a no-hitter.⁶

Scouts were enthralled. The Braves, Red Sox, Yankees, Giants, Indians, Tigers, Cardinals, Pirates, and Reds were all interested. Braves scout Jeff Jones called Lou Perini, the club president, to come as quickly as possible. “He’s by far the best big-league prospect I’ve ever seen,” exclaimed the excited Jones. “He has the poise of a major league pitcher right now and has a curve and fastball to back it up. I think so much of this kid’s chances that if I had to pay out the money myself, I wouldn’t hesitate to do it — if I had the money.”⁷ Jones didn’t have that kind of money, but Perini did, and he got the youngster under contract on June 29, 1948, by giving him an amount reported in excess of $50,000, the largest bonus in baseball history at the time. Johnny has never stated the figure, but indicates that the figures reported in the press were often inflated.

Everyone knew that Gus Antonelli was involved and interested in his son’s future. With the ever-expanding scrapbook, the handwritten letters to scouts, and the staged exhibition games, one could argue that Gus was a bit of an overbearing father, one of those hard-driving Little League dads whom we might click our tongue at today. But the younger Antonelli had aspired to be a major-league player since he was 12 years old and eagerly and dutifully took his father’s counsel. It paid off with the huge bonus, which under the rules required the Braves to put Antonelli on their major league roster, immediately fulfilling the youngster’s dream.

Was there resentment from other Braves players? Almost certainly. Johnny Sain, the team’s gentlemanly, mild-mannered ace, made $21,000 — considerably less than Antonelli’s bonus — and was so upset about the discrepancy between him (a 20-game winner) and Antonelli (with nary a big league appearance) that he threatened to walk out on his contract. “I meant it,” Sain said later on, “I was going to walk away from the whole thing.”⁸ The club soothed the anger of its star pitcher by giving him a new contract worth $30,000 just before the All-Star break. Antonelli insists today that there wasn’t as much tension with his teammates as the press would have had one believe — that it was actually a good thing for the other players, who used his high paycheck as leverage in salary disputes with Perini.

But the Braves were in the middle of a pennant race and, according to major league rules, the size of Antonelli’s bonus required them to keep him on the major-league roster for at least two years. Consequently, Antonelli sat on the bench for months, an untried teenager with no experience under pressure, simply taking up valuable space on a club that was clawing its way in pursuit of its first National League pennant in 34 years.

The circumstances of his presence on the club sent shock waves throughout the league, and players, writers, and managers weighed in with opinions and speculation. Walker Cooper of the Giants said Antonelli should “…take the 75 gees and call it a career right now.” Jeff Heath, one of Antonelli’s teammates, reminisced about the days when his roommate, Bob Feller, was given a few thousand dollars so Feller’s father could put an addition on the barn — and it was a big deal!⁹ Mel Ott, the Giants’ Hall of Famer, recalled that for his signing bonus, he received $400 from John McGraw, but was kind enough to say that a “dollar went further” back then. But kind and supportive remarks were few and far between. Whatever the sentiments, Antonelli would battle against the “bonus baby” tag for years to come.

Johnny pitched only four innings during Boston’s historic 1948 sprint to the championship. He finished the season with a 2.25 ERA and a 0-0 record, although he got plenty of pregame activity. While manager Billy Southworth wasn’t willing to risk Antonelli giving away any ballgames, he wasn’t opposed to getting a little out of his bonus baby. So five days a week, Southworth put him to work throwing batting practice for half an hour each day.

Looking back, Antonelli says he bore a lot of disrespect from his bosses and colleagues. Johnny should have been eligible for the World Series, but his spot was instead given to first baseman Ray Sanders, technically ineligible but allowed to play by the league and team anyway out of respect for an injury he had recovered from. When the players divided World Series shares, Antonelli didn’t get a dime (while the batboys each made $380.89). That slight did steam up Antonelli, who said that though he understood Southworth’s decision not to use him during the stretch run, the fact that he had pitched batting practice each day without complaint should have warranted at least a little of the World Series money. The situation was eventually remedied by the league and Commissioner Happy Chandler, who stepped in and conferred upon him one-eighth of a share, about $571.34.

In the winter of 1948, though ineligible for collegiate baseball, Johnny enrolled at Bowling Green University, following his brother Anthony, a junior quarterback for the school. He majored in voice and was active in the choir, causing Oscar Ruhl of The Sporting News to remark that Antonelli would be the second “songbird” on the Braves, joining teammate Red Barrett.

The next season, 1949, was a bit better for Antonelli, but more difficult for the Braves. While Johnny pitched 96 innings with a 3-7 record and a 3.56 ERA, the Braves slipped to fourth place. In one of those wins, a 4-2 win over the Giants on May 1, Antonelli pitched excellently, showing his true potential and startling both teammates and opponents. Even umpire Artie Gore said there was something different about the way Antonelli presented himself on the mound; he marveled at Antonelli’s remarkable confidence in his pitching prowess, and the fact that he was self-assured enough to throw curves “when some pitchers wouldn’t dare.”¹⁰

But it was to be the one of the last flashes of brilliance Antonelli had the chance to exhibit with the Braves. In 1950 aces Vern Bickford, Johnny Sain, and Warren Spahn kept the team competitive until late August, and when the season was over those three had accounted for 60 of the team’s 83 wins. Antonelli himself only pitched 58 innings, going 2-3 while his ERA rose to 5.93. The youngster started only six games, and shared the role of fourth starting pitcher with several other players.

In March of 1951, with little fanfare in the Boston sports pages, Antonelli began an active-duty stint of two years with the Army. He spent his time at Fort Myer, Virginia, where he was once again able to flourish. Antonelli had never spent time in the minor leagues (he is one of only 17 people to have completed his major league career without spending a single day in the minors), but at Fort Myer, pitching for his Army team during 1951 and 1952, Johnny went 42-2. The Fort Myer stint resurrected his career and showed the league what he could do with regular starts. In essence, the Army team was like minor league service for Antonelli, who also found relief in the Army from allergies that had previously not been diagnosed or treated.¹¹

By the time Antonelli was discharged in 1953, the Braves had moved from Boston. He found himself a Milwaukee Brave, and when the All-Star Game rolled around, he already had a 8-4 record. Despite his large signing bonus, his salary was only $5,500. After Antonelli became a starter in 1953, general manager John Quinn had given him a raise to $9,000. The young hurler contracted pneumonia, however, and as his strength waned a bit, his record flipped over — turning from a 8-4 first half to a 4-8 second half. Despite Antonelli’s relatively strong showing (his 3.18 ERA was good for fifth best in the league), Warren Spahn suggested that three left-handers (himself, Antonelli, and Chet Nichols, a solid young pitcher returning from the Army) would be too many, and that he preferred Nichols over Antonelli. The club listened to its ace. On February 1, 1954, Antonelli was shipped to the New York Giants in a six-player deal along with pitcher Don Liddle, catcher Ebba St. Claire, infielder Billy Klaus, and $50,000 for outfielder Bobby Thomson and catcher Sammy Calderone. It would be, as Antonelli later called it, “the best break of my career.”¹²

Bobby Thomson was a hero. On October 3, 1951, he had delivered Giants fans the pennant with his famous “Shot Heard Round the World,” a ninth-inning walk-off home run off Ralph Branca of the Brooklyn Dodgers in the deciding game of a three-game playoff series. Though the Giants lost the World Series to the Yankees in six games, Thomson was forever embedded in Giants lore, and losing him to the Braves shocked and dismayed fans. Antonelli, naturally, was less than a fan favorite as the year got underway, but despite that obstacle he had his best year in 1954.

After leading off the season with a decent 5-2 record, Johnny reeled off eight victories in a row before the All-Star Game, to which he was elected for the first time.¹³ On May 16, Antonelli faced off with the Braves for the first time since his departure from the Milwaukee club. The Giants were quick and plentiful with their run support against their young southpaw’s former teammates, beating them soundly, 9-2. On June 9, Johnny had another shot at revenge, facing off against Warren Spahn in Milwaukee. Antonelli drove in one of the runs off Spahn and spun a complete game shutout in a 4-0 victory. The next day’s New York Times wrote that “30,018 disconsolate fans looked on in silence.”

By October, Antonelli was the number one starter on the team. All season long, he had been relatively consistent in his dominant pitching. He was vitally important to the Giants, and when the team began to falter in late August, losing seven of nine games, Antonelli stood tall with New York’s only two victories during that dismal streak. Behind his clutch hurling and offensive support from the likes of Willie Mays, Monte Irvin, and Alvin Dark, the Giants advanced to the World Series against the Cleveland Indians.

In Game One, which Antonelli witnessed from the bench, one of the most memorable plays in World Series history took place. With the score tied at 2-2 and two men on base, Cleveland first baseman Vic Wertz hit a fly ball to the deepest part of the cavernous Polo Grounds centerfield. Antonelli, watching from the dugout, recalls centerfielder Mays pounding his glove, sprinting with his back towards home plate, reaching up, and snaring the ball as it streaked over his shoulder. It would come to be known simply as: “The Catch.”

In Game Two, Antonelli started against future Hall of Famer Early Wynn. Johnny had a rocky beginning, giving up a home run to Al Smith on the first pitch of the game, but didn’t allow a run the rest of the game. “The Good Lord was on my side that game,” Antonelli said years later. “I don’t think I had my best stuff that day.”¹⁴ But it was good enough to hold the Indians the rest of the way, and give him a win in his first World Series appearance.

After losing Game Three, the Indians, who had gone 111-43 during the regular season, were once again humbled by Antonelli in the fourth contest. Before the game, Leo Durocher, the manager of the Giants, was told by his captain, Alvin Dark, that it was hard for hitters to pick up the ball against lefties because of sun glare off the scoreboard.¹⁵ So when Durocher noticed that reliever Hoyt Wilhelm was faltering in the eighth inning, with the Giants one win away from a World Series championship, the manager turned to his best lefty to close it out — and, dutifully, Antonelli did so, getting the last five outs of the World Series on three strikeouts and two popups. When Indians pinch hitter Dale Mitchell popped out in foul territory, Johnny could celebrate both a World Series victory and the completion of a year that transformed him from a question-mark prospect to a successful pitcher, All-Star, and valuable member of a championship team.¹⁶ He had led the league in shutouts (6), ERA (2.30), and win-loss percentage (.750). His regular season record was 21-7. Meanwhile, back in Milwaukee, Chet Nichols went 9-11.

After the World Series, Antonelli returned to Rochester, where he was given a hero’s welcome by his hometown fans — made even sweeter since he had received The Sporting News’ Pitcher of the Year award (this being two years before the establishment of the Cy Young). He was honored with a parade and spoke at an assembly at his alma mater, Jefferson High School.¹⁷ He was even given a Buick by the local Italian-American Businessmen’s Association.

In Boston he had met and married a young lady named Rosemarie Carbone.. They had made their home in Lexington, Massachusetts, during the years that Antonelli played for Boston, but after the 1954 season he went into business as a Firestone/Michelin tire distributor in Rochester and the family relocated there. He sold the business 40 years later, in 1994.

When Antonelli received a contract offer from the Giants before the ’55 season it was for the same amount as his prior deal, despite his being arguably the best pitcher in the league. Al Dark advised him to send it back to the ownership and general manager Chub Feeney, asking for double or more. He did so, receiving $28,000.

But Johnny had a tough year in 1955, and the Giants sagged as well, finishing 18 1/2 games behind the first-place Dodgers. Antonelli went 14-16, and was suspended by manager Durocher in early September when he refused to leave the mound leading 3-2 in a game against Philadelphia. In 1956, Antonelli rebounded magnificently, getting elected to his second All-Star Game and winning 20 games for the second time in three years. The Giants, however, did not recover quite as well as their ace and wound up in seventh place.

Antonelli does not keep many physical remembrances of his baseball career in his home, but one that he does keep is a three-foot-high trophy given to him by a group of diehard Giants fans who sat in Section Five at the old Polo Grounds. Those fans voted him the team’s most valuable player in 1956, something that he says means a lot to him even today.¹⁸

The 1957 season, the Giants’ last in New York, brought Antonelli another All-Star spot, even though he wasn’t dominant at all during the year, which he ended with a 12-18 record. The next year, 1958, was better in that he finished 16-13, but he failed to throw a shutout for the first time since his rookie year and gave up a league-leading 31 home runs — a career high. Then, after a 19-10 record and yet another All-Star appearance in 1959,¹⁹ Antonelli imploded.

In ’59, rumors of Antonelli’s dissatisfaction with the Giants, the media, and San Francisco in general had surfaced, and a year later those rumors proved to be solid fact. After a strong start to the 1960 season, Antonelli’s performance suffered. He was booed mercilessly by Giants fans as tension mounted in early June, and then manager Bill Rigney shocked everyone by ditching the team — with the Giants only four games behind the league-leading Pirates. When the year ended, with the Giants in fifth place and Antonelli just 6-7 and no longer even in the starting rotation, new manager Tom Sheehan proclaimed that the “controversial left-hander” would be dealt soon enough. In the offseason, Sheehan was fired, and replaced with Antonelli’s old teammate, Alvin Dark. Dark, who seemed to truly believe Antonelli was a great pitcher, promised to do all he could to keep “the stylish southpaw.”²⁰ But shortly after, Johnny and Willie Kirkland were traded to the Cleveland Indians for Harvey Kuenn.

For Antonelli, these later years with San Francisco bear certain similarities to his early career with the Boston Braves. Playing outside his home state, in a setting that was unfamiliar to him, Antonelli had found himself in a new environment where he had trouble adjusting. Thousands of miles from his hometown, he began to reach the end of his rope, and the Cleveland Indians became convinced that the only thing wrong was his unhappiness with San Francisco. His dissatisfaction with that west coast city was a sentiment that had been shared by his teammates in the Bay Area,²¹ and the tension in the clubhouse was compounded by the fact that Johnny had been moved to the bullpen for the first time since his rookie year. Expectations were high for Antonelli, and when he started to fail to meet them, the media was quick to pounce on him as a primary cause for the Giants’ failures.²² Antonelli, for his part, drew the “undying wrath of fans when he grumbled about the wind [in San Francisco].”²³ Even today, his strong feelings of discomfort are noted and remembered in the Bay Area:

The Giants played at Seals Stadium for two seasons, now fondly remembered by everybody but Johnny Antonelli, the San Francisco pitcher who disliked the place, said so and was roundly booed, a New Yorker on the wrong coast.²⁴

In any case, executive Bob Kennedy of the Indians, who had taken a keen interest in Antonelli and brokered the trade, was left with the assumption that the left-hander’s discomfort in San Francisco was the only reason he had faltered the year before. Kennedy was confident Antonelli would return to form as soon as given a chance to do so in a place where he could feel comfortable. But the high hopes at the start of 1961 turned to disappointment when Johnny entered May with a 0-4 record. He was soon dealt to the Milwaukee Braves. His impact on the Braves was minimal, and he played in just nine games winning once. In October, Antonelli was sold to the expansion New York Mets, but rather than play for a team that promised to be one of the worst in major league history, Antonelli famously decided to retire from baseball for good. “I quit baseball because I didn’t like traveling,” Johnny said in 2007. “Not for any other reason. I had no injuries or anything. I’d had my fill of traveling. I had a business to fall back on or else I would have played longer, I’m sure.”²⁵

After retirement, Antonelli worked at his tire distributorship back home in Rochester. He was never again involved in organized baseball, though some have confused him with another John Antonelli, an infielder who played in 1944-45 for the Cardinals and Phillies and later managed in the International League. For a time, pitcher Johnny did serve on the board of directors of the Rochester Red Wings, and the two Antonellis met once at an IL game in the city. Neither a fisherman nor a hunter, Johnny enjoyed an active game of golf and is a longtime member of Rochester’s noted Oak Hill Country Club.

The Antonellis had three daughters and one son. Their daughters were a schoolteacher/homemaker, a vascular nurse, and a homemaker, and their son (after working for the family business) became an executive with Starbucks who helped open stores in Europe and the Far East. As of October 2007, Johnny has 11 grandchildren and one on the way and one great-grandchild with another on the way.

Rosemarie Antonelli died in 2002. Johnny remarried in 2006 and he and his wife, Gail, enjoyed traveling together. “I enjoy it, but when you play ball, you stay in a hotel or you go to the ballpark and you never see much of the sights because you’re playing ball. Now I’m seeing sights,” he said.

Johnny Antonelli died at the age of 89 on February 28, 2020, in Rochester, New York.

Notes

1. Interview with Johnny Antonelli by Alex Edelman on March 11, 2007. Additional information in this biography comes from a brief interview by Bill Nowlin on October 24, 2007.

2. Sport Pix, June 1949

3. Total Baseball, The Biographical Encyclopedia of Baseball

4. Letarte, Richard H. That One Glorious Season. (Portsmouth NH: Peter Randell Publishers, 2006)

5. Letarte, op. cit.

6. Christian Science Monitor, June 30, 1948

7. The Sporting News, July 7, 1948, p. 6

8. Total Baseball

9. Cooper, Heath remarks in The Sporting News, 7/14/48, p. 13. Heath’s Feller reference is ironic, because in the aforementioned SportsPix article, Gus Antonelli referred to his son as “a left-handed Feller.”

10. The Sporting News, 5/11/49, p.11. Birtwell, Roger. “Braves Try Out Bonus Kid and Get Man-Sized Hill Job.”

11. The Sporting News, 3/4/53, p. 24. Antonelli was allergic to feathers in pillows, apparently something that had previously caused him to miss a start with the Braves.

12. Pitoniak, “Reluctant legend Antonelli being honored,” Rochester Democrat and Gazette, January 25, 2004.

13. In the All-Star Game, Antonelli pitched in relief, giving up three runs in an NL loss.

14. Marazzi, Baseball Players of the 1950s.

15. Boston Braves Historical Association Newsletter (2004 Annual Reunion edition), p. 5. The Pitoniak article also describes this point.

16. It is one of the greatest curiosities in baseball history…How did the Giants (89 wins) beat the mighty Indians (110 wins) in such a dominant fashion? Many attribute it to the brilliant catch of Willie Mays in Game One. A little-known fact, mentioned by Antonelli in an interview with the Boston Braves Historical Association and its members, is that the Indians and Giants, who trained near each other in Arizona, played together 18 times during Spring Training — with the Giants usually coming out on top. Thus, many Giants pitchers were well acquainted with their AL opponents. (Antonelli interview with BBHA, 10/10/2004)

17. Pitoniak.

18. Author interview with Antonelli.

19. Actually, in 1959, baseball held two All-Star Games. Antonelli was elected to both.

20. The Sporting News, “Dark Tosses Cold Water on Rumors of Antonelli Swap”, Jack McDonald, August 1, 1960. It is worth noting that Dark was kind to Antonelli during the uproar surrounding his large bonus. In The Sporting News article chronicling the reactions of players to the bonus, Dark’s was one of the few kind comments. He said he hoped Antonelli would “get more.”

21. The Sporting News. “All Giants Want To Be Traded, Says Long” by Young, Dick. August 31, 1960.

22. Los Angeles Mirror-News, by Charlie Park, August 17, 1960.

23. “Notes: Bochy sticks by Benitez.” MLB.com. Chris Haft, 5/30/2007

24. San Francisco Chronicle, “Baseball Has Been Big-Time in S.F. Since the ’30s,” Carl Nolte, April 11, 2000. The Chronicle comment isn’t entirely true, Antonelli’s dislike for Seals Stadium was minimal; it was the ballpark the Giants moved to in 1960, Candlestick, and the wind in the Bay Area that agitated him so much.

25. Interview with Johnny Antonelli, October 24, 2007.

The younger Aparicio was much more than an outstanding baseball player whose endurance, defense, and speed during an 18-year old major-league career earned him a spot in baseball’s Hall of Fame. He was a symbol of the growth and development of the game of baseball in Latin America — specifically in Venezuela and in his hometown of Maracaibo. Aparicio’s place among the greatest players in baseball signified the climax of a cycle of progress for the game of baseball, which has become the national sport of Venezuela and an intrinsic part of its cultural heritage.

To fully understand the significance, impact, and legacy of Aparicio’s career, one needs to take a journey back into the first steps of the game in Maracaibo.

The emergence of baseball in Maracaibo began around the turn of the 20th century when an American businessman, William Phelps (who later became a media mogul and philanthropist), opened the first department store in town, the American Bazaar. While he imported baseball equipment from the United States, he also saw the need for educating local children about the game in order to sell his merchandise. Phelps became a baseball enthusiast and taught schoolkids the rules of the game, which they quickly understood. He served as the first umpire of documented games and built the first baseball field in the coastal city of Maracaibo.

From the sport’s inception around 1912, baseball quickly became a favorite pastime of people of all classes. Several fields were created throughout the small urban area, and both adults and children were fascinated with the sport. In just a few years, the game spread throughout the region and it was soon established as a professional game. People fell in love with the game, and were willing to gather and pay to watch the best players and teams. They called it “the game of the four corners.” The game of baseball had found its stage in the country.

Through the years, the region had a constant flow of American workers from oil companies who helped shape the identity of the city as well as the influence of American culture. Baseball was no exception. By 1926, a heated rivalry between Vuelvan Caras and Santa Marta was catching the attention of followers and local sports media. In fact, the first big hero of local professional baseball was a shortstop from Vuelvan Caras, Rafael “Anguito” Oliver. Early on, the media shone a spotlight on the role of the shortstop.

Oliver became an icon and two brothers were some of his biggest fans — Luis and Ernesto Aparicio Ortega. The Aparicio Ortega brothers (in the Latin American custom, they used their father’s and mother’s surname) were also natural athletes; Luis enjoyed soccer but ended up practicing baseball with Ernesto. Both became quality infielders. Luis, however, became the big star, the super athlete, while Ernesto, who had great playing tools, concentrated on learning the game as a science. He became a successful manager, coach, and team owner, transmitting his knowledge over generations.

Luis gained fame for his great plays and intelligence in the position of shortstop. He became a reference, a master, and a key player sought by many teams throughout the country. He played in both professional leagues in the country, in Caracas and Maracaibo. He became the first player “exported” from Venezuela when he signed with Tigres del Licey of the Dominican Republic in 1934.

Also in 1934, Ortega and his homemaker wife, Herminia Montiel, welcomed their son Luis Ernesto Aparicio Montiel. By the time Aparicio was born in Maracaibo on April 29, his father was shining as one of the first baseball superstars of Venezuela and Latin America. Ortega was an All-Star player and one the most famous players ever of Venezuelan baseball. “An artist in the shortstop position,” many called him.

Uncle Ernesto became a mentor to Luis. In Gavilanes, where his father also played, little Luis got his first job in baseball: batboy. His father and uncle taught him the secrets of the game. He also had the chance to learn from players of all nationalities, including Cuban, Dominican, and American players.

Baseball was his life. Aparicio recalls his mother washing baseball uniforms for his team and talking about baseball all day. From the age of 12, when he played shortstop for a team called La Deportiva, Aparicio displayed the grace and elegance he learned from his father. From then on, Aparicio was a member of several teams in Maracaibo, Caracas, and Barquisimeto. He was constantly moving with his family, depending on the time of year and which team his father was playing for.

That was his life: baseball, the stardom of his father, the knowledge of his uncle and whatever the game brought to the family table.

In 1953, Caracas hosted the Baseball Amateur World Series, and Luis Aparicio, then 19 years old, was selected to represent Venezuela. It was his first big tournament, and he played shortstop, third base, and left field. Although Cuba won the tournament, Aparicio was recognized both in the stands and in newspapers as the most electrifying player, who made great plays and showed security and maturity in all positions. Fans waved white handkerchiefs during this tournament, praising the teenager with great speed and a solid glove. All eyes were on him for the first time, but the name of his famous father would always be on his shoulders if he chose to be a professional player.

Soon after the Amateur World Series, the day arrived. Aparicio had to tell his parents he was quitting school to become a professional baseball player. His mother was not happy with the decision. His father, on the other hand, told him something that would stand out in his mind for the rest of his career. “Son, if you are going to play baseball for a living, you will have to be the number one always,” said his father. “You will never be a number two of anybody, always be the number one.”1

That winter, the best four teams in Venezuela played in the country’s first national tournament. The teams — Gavilanes and Pastora from Maracaibo, and Caracas and Magallanes from Caracas — rotated their games in four cities and it was the first tournament played under the umbrella of major-league baseball.

Aparicio signed with Gavilanes and his debut was scheduled for November 17, 1953, in Maracaibo. That day it rained, and his debut was postponed until the next day, November 18, which is a special holiday in Maracaibo. The city celebrates the day of its lady patron, the Virgin of Chiquinquirá, and festivities are held all around. Among them is the special baseball game between the crosstown rivals Pastora and Gavilanes.

Aparicio’s father, Ortega, who also played for Gavilanes, led off the game against Pastora’s Howie Fox, a major-league veteran. After the first pitch, Ortega went back to the dugout and pointed to his son with his bat, signaling it was time for Luis to take his father’s bat and replace him at home plate for his first official at-bat.

The crowd of 7,000 gave a 15-minute standing ovation to this simple but magical gesture. They were recognizing Ortega — known as “The Great of Maracaibo” — for his outstanding career, his talent as the best shortstop in Venezuelan baseball, for his dedication on the field, and for more than 20 years of contributing to the development of the game in Maracaibo. At the same time, people were showing Luis the huge burden he had on his shoulders for carrying his father’s name, and for the responsibility he had on the field from that moment.

Aparicio Jr., at 19 years old, understood the situation and embraced it with maturity. “I knew the responsibility on me. I knew about the expectations people had everywhere I stepped on a field. I just had to be great as my father, otherwise people would consider me a total deception,” he said in later years. “It was destiny.”2

Panorama, the local newspaper, wrote the next day: “Aparicio´s son’s debut was patronized by the Virgin herself.” For a very Catholic-religious region, this was a big deal.3

Aparicio ended up being named the best shortstop of the tournament. By December, the Cleveland Indians were negotiating with him. Gavilanes manager Red Kress, who was a coach for the Indians, spoke with general manager Hank Greenberg about signing Aparicio, but Greenberg replied that he thought Luis too small to play baseball. Chico Carrasquel, who was playing for Caracas and Chicago at the time, talked to Chicago White Sox general manager Frank Lane and told him about Luis, asking him to sign the youngster before someone else did. Caracas’s manager, Luman Harris, also talked to Lane. Soon after, Lane sent an offer and a contract for Aparicio with a $10,000 check. Young Luis became a member of the White Sox.

Aparicio’s days in the minor leagues were hard. His English was very limited. He knew he belonged in the majors, but the learning process was strict. Carrasquel was the big-league shortstop. After spring training in 1955, Aparicio was sent to Memphis in the Double-A Southern Association. He thought about going back to Venezuela and quitting the White Sox, but both his father and Carrasquel convinced the novice of his potential and explained to him the process of reaching the majors, a road even tougher for Latinos, especially in those years. Carrasquel, who was the big baseball idol in Caracas, became Aparicio’s mentor and a father figure for him. Aparicio also recalls meeting a singer that season in a small bar in Memphis, a young man named Elvis Presley.  

In October 1955, the White Sox traded Chico Carrasquel to the Cleveland Indians, leaving the door open for Aparicio. When Lane announced the trade, a Chicago journalist said: “You are trading your All-Star shortstop? You will need a machine to replace Chico.” Lane replied, “Yes, that’s precisely what we have — a machine, and his name is Luis Aparicio.”4

Aparicio was named the American League Rookie of the Year in 1956. He was the first Latin American player to win the award. He finished with a .266 batting average and a league-leading 21 stolen bases, and also led the league in sacrifice hits. The stolen base as a strategy was becoming less and less used in baseball in those years. Aparicio revived the essence of the stolen base from the moment he reached the majors. He injected the White Sox with the game of speed, the Caribbean game, where speed is a key. He was praised for his defense but during his first season had 35 errors.

Luis needed work on his throw. Venezuelan journalist Juan Vené, who covered Aparicio’s entire career, recalled, “Fans were afraid to sit behind first base and they were really aware of the throw every time Aparicio was fielding a grounder because the ball often ended into the stands.”5

His debut met everyone’s expectations at home, but he knew he needed to do more. After his first season, when he returned home with his wife, Sonia, Aparicio said, “By seeing how so many people have gathered to welcome me at the airport just to say hello and congratulations, it makes me realize that I still have a long way to go and a lot of work to do to go beyond their expectations. I need to put the name of my country and my people up high; I feel my game represents them.”6

In 1958, Aparicio won his first Gold Glove, was named to his first All-Star Game, hit .266, and led the league in stolen bases for the third consecutive year, with 29. Chicago ended up in second place for the second year in a row behind the Yankees. The situation in the American League was tough. The Chicago White Sox was an outstanding club but the Yankees were the Yankees, and in those years they simply dominated baseball. There were no playoffs. To go to the World Series they just needed to finish first in the American League. The White Sox needed to reach one more step, and they did it in 1959.

Dámaso Blanco, a former infielder for the San Francisco Giants, remembers 1959: “I went to Chicago in August 1959 with the Venezuelan baseball team for the Pan Am Games and they took us to Comiskey Park to watch the White Sox and Luis Aparicio. It was my first MLB game ever and I was very anxious. Aparicio hit a single on his first at-bat and we all noticed that people started to yell: ‘Go! Go! Go!’ At first we did not understand what was happening and then our guide explained people were actually rooting for Aparicio to steal second base. I can’t really describe how proud we felt listening to a full Comiskey Park rooting for a fellow Venezuelan and the team leader of the ‘Go Go White Sox.’ ”7

That season, the White Sox won 94 games and finally won the pennant. Among the keys to their success were Aparicio’s base-stealing skills and his defense along with his double play partner and close friend, Nellie Fox. For Chicago it was a magical era. It was their first trip to the World Series since 1919. This team was the complete opposite of the Black Sox. It was fun to watch. Aparicio remembers: “We were so close, like a family. We enjoyed our game and the fans of Chicago so much during 1959. Having guys in the team like Ted Kluszewski, Jim Rivera, Sherm Lollar, and Early Wynn was just amazing. We just had to win the league because we were good, having fun in the field, and playing very seriously.”8

Aparicio ended up second to his double-play partner Fox in the voting for the American League’s Most Valuable Player. He stole a career-high 56 bases that year. He realized no one in baseball was better than him at stealing. His speed was a key to victory. He led the team in runs with 98. “Before the season Al Lopez, our manager, told me he wanted me to focus on my base stealing,” Aparicio said long after his career ended. “They wanted me to spice things up in the club and that was going to be our key to win games that season.”9

After their great season, the White Sox lost the World Series to the Dodgers in six games. Aparicio hit .308 (8-for-26), and although he was thrilled to participate in the fall classic, he was deeply frustrated in not winning the Series. “The people were very excited in the city, because they waited 40 years to see their team in a World Series. They were disappointed, but at the same time they treated us like winners,”10 he recalled. This first trip to the Series made Aparicio realize how important it was to be a winner and how hard a team needed to work to win it all.

Hoping to return to the World Series in 1960, the White Sox instead slipped to third place. They fell to fourth place in 1961 and fifth in 1962. The Sox wanted to rebuild their team, and in January of 1963, Aparicio and veteran outfielder Al Smith were traded to the Baltimore Orioles for Ron Hansen, Pete Ward, Dave Nicholson, and Hoyt Wilhelm.

The trade was a jolt to Luis, but he was moving to a contending team built around a foundation of power and pitching. Aparicio added speed to the Baltimore lineup, winning two more stolen base titles in 1963-64 to give him nine consecutive seasons as the American League stolen base champion, an all-time record. More importantly, he helped solidify the Oriole defense. Luis and future Hall of Famer Brooks Robinson formed one of the best shortstop-third base combinations of all time.

In 1966, the Orioles won the American League pennant, and Aparicio once again faced the Dodgers in the World Series. Although his offense was not as solid as it was in 1959, he still contributed with four hits and great defense during the series, which the Orioles swept in four games. It was first and only championship ring of his career. He came back to Maracaibo as a hero, dedicating his part of the title to his parents, who were his biggest supporters.

In November of 1967, Luis was traded back to the White Sox. As a veteran player, he became the team leader and mentor. During his second stint in Chicago, his glove was still his great tool, though his speed was not the same. He worked on his offense and in 1970, at the age of 36, batted a career-high .313.

Before the 1971 season, Aparicio was traded to the Boston Red Sox and played with them for three more seasons. In two of them was he was selected to the All-Star Game. In 1973, at the age of 39, he batted .271 in 132 games and stole 13 bases in 14 attempts.

Vené remembers March 26, 1974: “Luis was in the Red Sox spring camp when he got the notice that he was being released. He wanted to play one more season; he was 40 and still felt he had it. When he went back to the hotel he had a letter from Yankees owner George Steinbrenner. It was an open contract that had a note saying: “You put in the amount to play for the New York Yankees.” 

Aparicio sent the envelope back with a note that said: “Dear Mr. Steinbrenner, thank you very much for your offer but I just get released once in my lifetime.”11 That was the end of Aparicio’s playing career. He went back to Maracaibo that day with his family.

From 1956 to 1973, no other shortstop was more dominant in his position than Luis Aparicio, who won nine Gold Gloves. He was a profound influence on the game during his era with his speed, helping to revive the stolen base as an offensive weapon. He was selected to 10 All-Star teams. He played in two World Series and won one, and he set the most significant personal record for himself: No player had played more games at his beloved position in the major leagues than he (2,583). (The record has since been broken by Omar Vizquel.) He finished his career with 2,677 hits, a .262 batting average and 506 stolen bases.

After 10 years of eligibility and a huge crusade by many Hispanic journalists pushing his candidacy for the Hall of Fame, he was elected to the Hall in 1984, becoming the first Venezuelan to ever receive this form of baseball immortality. “This is a triumph of Venezuela for all Venezuelans,” said Aparicio when he heard of his election.12

His biggest regret is that his father didn’t live long enough to see his son elected to the Hall of Fame. Luis Aparicio Ortega died on January 1, 1971. After his death he was honored with his election to the Hall of Fame of Venezuelan Sports. The Maracaibo baseball stadium was officially named Luis Aparicio Ortega “El Grande de Maracaibo.” After the creation of the Venezuelan Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum, the Aparicio Ortega brothers, Ernesto and Luis, were also inducted.

After retirement, Luis moved back to Venezuela and worked during the Venezuelan league in winter as manager. He managed Caracas, Zulia, Lara, La Guaira, Magallanes, and Cabimas. He was a celebrity and his retirement was not easy for him. They were hard times, not economically because he was very organized financially, but emotionally. He spent more time with his family and was part of many local projects of many kinds.

In the early 1980s he became a television commentator for Radio Caracas Television during the Venezuelan League. In fact, when he got the notice about his selection to Cooperstown, he was working with RCTV. Although he enjoyed it for a while, television was not his passion, but at least something to stay close to the game, if he was not managing.

In the 1990s Luis was back to the field with Tiburones de La Guaira in the winter league as a manager and coach. Aparicio moved to Barquisimeto. He enjoyed spending time with his family and especially his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. His family suffered a big setback when his daughter Sharon was the victim of a crime in Venezuela. After this incident, he concentrated even more on his family. He continued to enjoy and follow baseball and kept his participation in baseball and Hall of Fame events with the help of his son Nelson.

After his election to the National Baseball Hall of Fame, Aparicio’s status of celebrity increased greatly. He became known as the most important and influential Venezuelan athlete of all time, the most revered and followed. He also made several trips a year to the US to participate in autograph sessions, fan festivals and former player activities. He was a constant supporter of Hall of Fame gatherings, including All-Star games and Cooperstown induction weekends.

 His solid and impeccable image and personality caught the attention of ESPN International and ESPN Deportes who invited him as a special color analyst for the international broadcasts of Venezuelan baseball from 2011 to 2013, alongside veteran and famed Spanish-broadcasters such as Emmy-award winning Ernesto Jerez.

Aparicio has since become an active baseball follower and his voice is present through his social media accounts, where he has provided opinions and personals perspective of issues around baseball. Most notably in 2017 he was invited to participate in a ceremony honoring the Latino members of the Baseball Hall of Fame prior to the 2017 All-Star Game in Miami, Florida. Aparicio respectfully declined the invitation and publicly stated: “Thank you for the honor @mlb, but I cannot celebrate while the young people of my country are dying while fighting for freedom”13

Aparicio did not attend the 2017 Hall of Fame induction for the same reasons and actively became a strong opponent of Venezuelan dictator Nicolás Maduro and the regime that has ruled Venezuela since 1998.

Maracaibo still remembers every November 18 as part of the festivities around the Virgin holiday, the anniversary of Luis Aparicio’s debut. At the Aguilas del Zulia game, Aparicio has made the ceremonial first pitch. Every year the Luis Aparicio Award is given to the best Venezuelan player of the major-league baseball season. It was a tribute to his career and to the memory of his father.

In 2006 the Chicago White Sox unveiled the Luis Aparicio statue at the U.S. Cellular Field in the center-field concourse and created by artist Gary Tillery. Aparicio attended the event with Sonia celebrating 52 years of marriage and with his son Luis Jr and daughter Karen. The sculpture is part of a two-player series depicting Aparicio waiting to catch a ball from his longtime double-play partner Nelly Fox, whose widow, Joanne, also attended the ceremony. “This is my biggest moment in baseball. I thank the White Sox organization for giving me the opportunity to play baseball, and I thank God for giving me the ability to play this game. The only thing I can say is baseball is so much of me, I even met my wife playing baseball.”14

The 2014 season of the Venezuelan Winter League was played in honor to the 30^th anniversary of Aparicio’s induction to Cooperstown and he was honored at every ballpark of the league and the league reinforced and emphasized the biggest honor ever made to a Venezuelan baseball player: the retirement of his number 11 from every team in the country.

Much more than a great player, Aparicio was recognized as a great human being. Most people knew Luis for his playing feats, but ignored his great heart and family values. During his career the integrity he brought to the game was one of his strongest assets. He gave everything he had to win and help his teams. He played simultaneously for 19 years in Venezuelan baseball, doubling the amount of work year round. As a major-league player he played fewer than 130 games in a season only once.

Maybe his greater value was how he embraced and understood his position and his significance on and off the field for the people of Venezuela, a country filled with social problems that universally celebrates the achievements of its people. He was much more than an icon.

People always expected the best from him, and he gave nothing but the best both as a player and as a human being, working hard enough and using his abilities to be among the greatest players of all time. He had huge shoes to fill under the shadow of his father and he never let this issue pressure him during his life. Luis Aparicio assumed a social responsibility and went beyond expectations.

Aparicio was named the Athlete of the 20th Century in Venezuela. Beyond his recognition for being the best player ever born in the country, his integrity and family values always accompanied him. Moreover, he is the role model for future generations and the “godfather” of the dynasty of Venezuelan shortstops in the history of the major leagues. Panorama published a letter Aparicio sent to his mother in March 1956: “To Herminia de Aparicio, Maracaibo. Dear Mom: You are finally the mother of a big leaguer. Try to figure out what it means to me to become ‘a big leaguer.’ Today I’ve cried alone, when they told me they were sending my luggage to Chicago because I had made the big league team. Tears came out by themselves and I just thought about Dad. Mom, please tell Dad that my debt with him is finally paid. Kisses, your son, Luis.”15

Luis has said: “When my father asked me to be always a number one, I always kept that on my mind. I think I didn’t disappoint him. I wanted him to be proud of me, and I know he definitely was. That’s the achievement of my life.”16   

Last revised: January 23, 2018

An earlier version of this biography originally appeared in SABR’s “Go-Go To Glory: The 1959 Chicago White Sox” (ACTA, 2009), edited by Don Zminda.

Sources

In addition to the sources in the Notes, the author also consulted

Verde, Luis. The History of Baseball in Zulia (Maracaibo: Editorial Maracaibo SRL, 1999).

Perfiles: Luis Aparicio. ESPN International. 2002-2007. 

Author interviews with Luis Aparicio, Juan Vené, Dámaso Blanco, Angel Bravo. Luis Verde, Nelson Aparicio, and Rafael Aparicio.

¡A La Carga! Tripleplay Sports Productions, Maracaibo, Venezuela. Various televisión episodes 1998-2002.

www.eljuegoperfecto.com

www.baseball-reference.com

Notes

1 Author interview with Luis Aparicio, July 2008.

2 Aparicio interview.

3 Diario Panorama (Maracaibo, Venezuela), November 19, 1953.

4 Carlos Cárdenas Lares, Venezolanos en las Grandes Ligas (Caracas: Fondo editorial Cárdenas Lares, 1990), 78.

5 Author interview with Juan Vené, Cincinnati, August 2007.

6 Diario Panorama, October 10, 1956. 

7 Author interview with Dámaso Blanco, Cincinnati, August 2007.

8 Aparicio interview.

9 Ibid.

10 Ibid..

11 Vené interview.

12 Revista IND, Instituto Nacional de Deportes, Caracas, Venezuela. August 1984. 

13 Luis Aparicio, via Twitter, July 11, 2017.

14 Scott Merkin, “Aparicio, Fox honored with statues,” MLB.com, July 23, 2006.

15 Diario Panorama, March 2, 1956. 

16 Aparicio interview.

Arroyo also spent 19 seasons in the Puerto Rican Winter League (PRWL) from 1946-47 to 1964-65. As of 2012, he ranked third in league’s history in wins (110), innings pitched, and games pitched.2

Luis Enrique Arroyo Lugo was born in Peñuelas, Puerto Rico on February 18, 1927. Over the years, various stories hinted at an earlier birthdate, but census records support 1927. His parents were Felipe Arroyo González, a laborer on a sugarcane plantation, and Modesta Lugo de Arrazo. Luis was the third of five children in the family. Before him were sister Felícita and brother Ramón; after him came two more brothers, Miguel and Américo.

“Tite” (as Arroyo is known in his homeland) is a common Spanish nickname for Enrique. Another of Arroyo’s nicknames at home was El Zurdo de Tallaboa, or The Tallaboa Lefty. That was a reference to the section of Peñuelas where his family lived. Starting in 1944, Arroyo pitched in Double A (as Puerto Rico’s top local amateur level was known) for the Tallaboa Athletics.3 His brother Ramón was his catcher.4 Arroyo led the league in ERA in 1946 and earned a spot on the Puerto Rican roster at the Central American Games in Barranquilla, Colombia.5

Peñuelas is on the southern coast of Puerto Rico, just a little bit west of one of the island’s leading cities, Ponce. When Arroyo turned pro in the winter of 1946-47, it was with the Ponce Leones. Because his family needed the money, he left high school in 1947 for a bonus of $500 — reportedly only the second bonus given to a player in the PRWL.6

The team Arroyo joined became league champions for the fifth time in six winters. The manager was George Scales, a tough, smart Negro Leaguer. The staff included one of the league’s most successful pitchers, Tomás “Planchardón” Quiñones. A fellow rookie on the mound was José “Pantalones” Santiago (no relation to another future major-leaguer, José “Palillo” Santiago). Arroyo lost in both of his appearances that season. He also went just 1-4 in the winter of 1947-48, though his ERA improved from 4.19 to 2.46 (he pitched 44 innings in 10 games).

Arroyo first played in the U.S. minors in 1948. In 1955, after the pitcher had broken into the majors with the St. Louis Cardinals, St. Louis sportswriter Bob Broeg described how it came about. “In the spring of 1948 Ponce financed a trip to George Stirnweiss’ Baseball School in Florida and there he was spotted by President Bob Doty of the Greenville (S.C.) club of the Class D Coastal Plain League. In mid-season, Doty transferred to Greensboro, N.C. of the Carolina League and took Arroyo with him.”7 Arroyo posted a 14-16 record overall, with a 3.90 ERA in 249 innings. The subsequent winter in Ponce was fairly similar (2-2, 3.66 in 15 games).

In 1949, however, the 22-year-old’s performance took a big step up. He remained with Greensboro, going 21-10 with a 3.67 ERA (the Carolina League had gone from Class C to Class B). Arroyo also got a new nickname: Yo-Yo. As Bob Broeg wrote, “It seems that it was as close as the drawling Carolinians could get to pronouncing his last name.”8 The highlight of his season was a no-hitter against Burlington on July 25.9

That December, the Cardinals selected Arroyo in the minor league draft. He then went on to record the first of his six seasons with double-digit wins in the PRWL. He was 11-5 with a sparkling 1.82 ERA for the Leones. The league champion Caguas Criollos added him to their roster as a reinforcement for the 1950 Caribbean Series, held at old Sixto Escobar Stadium in San Juan. Although Carta Vieja of Panama was the upset winner of the tournament, Arroyo got two of Puerto Rico’s four victories. On February 23, he beat Negro Leaguer Terris McDuffie (representing Venezuela) in an exciting duel. Caguas won 2-1, as pinch-hitter Wilmer Fields — called in from the coaching lines — hit a two-run homer in the bottom of the ninth.10 Just three days later, Arroyo beat McDuffie again, 3-2.

The Cardinals moved Arroyo all the way up to Triple A for 1950, but he pitched mainly out of the bullpen. In 33 games (eight starts) for Columbus (Ohio) of the American Association, he was 4-4, 4.11. During the winter of 1950-51, though, he set a personal high in Puerto Rico with 13 wins. He lost eight and his ERA remained sharp at 2.48. He was runner-up in the All-Star voting among Puerto Rican fans, who gave the most ballots to scrappy American catcher Clint Courtney.11

The summer of 1951 was lackluster for Arroyo: 3-2, 5.52 in 24 games split between Columbus and Rochester, another Triple-A club in the St. Louis chain. His Puerto Rican season was good, but not great (10-10, 3.09). He got into another Caribbean Series, though, this time reinforcing the San Juan Senadores in Panama City.

Arroyo did not play in the U.S. in either 1952 or 1953. In the spring of 1952, he developed a sore arm. According to another 1955 feature in The Sporting News, “after a succession of rainouts, and fearing that his pitching staff would go stale, [Columbus manager Harry] Walker arranged to use a high school gym where his battery men could warm up. Arroyo bore down for about 20 minutes one afternoon, then took a hot shower and, without putting on a jacket, walked out into the cool mist and rain. Next day, he found that he couldn’t raise his arm.”12

He was not entirely idle during those two years, though — he played in the Dominican Republic. Professional baseball had resumed there in 1951, after a hiatus of 14 years, but the new Dominican League’s first four seasons took place in the summer before it switched to the winter. In two seasons with the Escogido Leones, Arroyo was 14-14, with ERAs of 1.61 and 2.84.

Meanwhile, he remained active at home. The 1952-53 winter was one of Arroyo’s worst (4-8, 4.77), but he rebounded to 7-7, 2.52 in 1953-54. He later spun a tall tale for the benefit of a New York sportswriter that he had visited an old man in the mountains of Puerto Rico who practiced natural medicine, and that a hot poultice made of leaves from a certain tree brought his shoulder back to life.13 “I threw the bull good,” Arroyo said with a smile in 1962 as he rolled a fat perfecto cigar between his fingers.14

When Arroyo returned to the U.S. in 1954, he did a big favor for Pedrín Zorrilla, owner of the Santurce Cangrejeros. As recounted in Thomas Van Hyning’s book The Puerto Rican Winter League, the Crabbers had a 19-year-old outfielder named Roberto Clemente, who was then under contract with the Brooklyn Dodgers. “At Zorrilla’s request, Arroyo accompanied Clemente on the latter’s first stateside spring training trip. According to Arroyo, he flew with Clemente to Miami, purchased two bus tickets for the trip to the Dodgers’ camp and checked Roberto into a hotel before leaving the next morning for the St. Louis training camp in Daytona. Arroyo then sent the bill to Pedrín Zorrilla.”15 A little over a year later, by which time Clemente had become a Pittsburgh Pirate, Arroyo correctly predicted, “He’s going to help the Pirates win some games.”16

Meanwhile, perhaps because he’d been away from the U.S. for so long, the Cardinals assigned Arroyo only to Class A. With Columbus (Georgia) of the South Atlantic League, he went 8-6, 2.49. He earned promotion to the Double-A Texas League, going 8-3, 2.35 for Houston. Again the peak moment of his season was a no-hitter; this one came on August 11 in Dallas. The Associated Press account of this game was notable because it mentioned that Arroyo featured a screwball, which he had learned from Rubén Gómez. Later accounts when Arroyo was with the Yankees made it sound like he came up with the screwball at that point, but the trail of evidence shows that it had long been part of his repertoire.

The winter of 1954-55 was Arroyo’s last of nine with Ponce. It was also his nadir at home: 3-11, 4.95. He had a poor spring too, but nonetheless, he made the big club with St. Louis in the spring of 1955. The Cardinals wanted another lefty on their staff besides Harvey Haddix and Paul LaPalme.17

Arroyo was a winner in his major-league debut, a start on April 20 at Cincinnati’s old Crosley Field. Johnny Temple greeted him with a leadoff single, then Arroyo threw a wild pitch, walked Wally Post, and ran a 3-0 count on Gus Bell. But after coach Dixie Walker paid a visit to the mound and settled him down, Arroyo got out of the inning unscathed. He walked six and allowed five hits — but no runs — in 7 2/3 innings, and Herb Moford got the last four outs. “I’m going on 29 and have a big family,” said Arroyo. “I was worried about failing all spring. All of sudden, Dixie make me realize that no use worrying. I either do or I don’t.”18

Arroyo won his first six decisions, and his record stood at 10-3, 2.44 at the All-Star break. NL manager Leo Durocher named Tite to his pitching staff; that year Arroyo and Vic Power became the first Puerto Ricans to make it to the All-Star Game. Arroyo did not appear in the Midsummer Classic, though — the only player on Durocher’s roster who got no action.19 Fifty years later, he recalled, “The game went to extra innings and I was ordered to warm up [in the bottom of the 12th], but somebody [Stan Musial] hit a homer and the game was over. I was left longing to pitch.”20

Arroyo’s second half was also a letdown; he went just 1-5 the rest of the way, and by season’s end, his ERA was 4.19. Even when he was going well, he was prone to the long ball; he gave up 22 in 159 innings.

For the 1955-56 winter ball season, Arroyo joined San Juan. He bounced back to 9-5, 3.64 with the Senadores. Spring training 1956 brought word of a “new” addition to his arsenal. Arroyo was talking about the screwball, which Al Hollingsworth — a Cardinals scout and San Juan’s manager — had helped him develop in Puerto Rico. Arroyo expressed a lot of confidence in the pitch.21 He was ineffective in spring training, though, so the Cardinals sent him down to Triple-A Omaha.

After five appearances there, Arroyo was traded to Pittsburgh in early May for another pitcher, veteran righty Max Surkont. He was “acquired to add balance to a Pirate mound staff top-heavy with righthanders.”22 During the rest of 1956, Arroyo was up and down between Pittsburgh (3-3, 4.71 in 18 games) and Hollywood of the Pacific Coast League (7-5, 2.81 in 16 games). One oddity came on August 10, when he was charged with a loss for Pittsburgh — and he wasn’t even on the roster. The game had actually begun on July 1, but the Sunday afternoon contest had been suspended after eight innings because of Pennsylvania curfew laws. A few days later, Pittsburgh optioned Arroyo to Hollywood, and he didn’t return until September, over a month after the suspended game had been completed.

Arroyo had a good winter in 1956-57 with San Juan (11-9, 3.20). His manager was Ralph Houk, who was later his skipper with the 1961 Yankees. He made a very strong impression on Houk, as discussed in Puerto Rico’s Winter League. Houk said after the 1961 big-league season, “That man showed me five years ago he could pitch. . . he wants to pitch and that’s why he’s having some success in the big leagues.”23

Arroyo then spent all of the ’57 season with the Pirates. He worked often — 54 games, including 10 starts — but the results were forgettable (3-11, 4.68). Even one of the highlights, a win at Wrigley Field on May 14, showed what kind of a year it was. After Ron Kline got knocked out in the fourth inning, Arroyo came on to pitch five innings in long relief, striking out nine. But he gave up two-run homers in both the eighth and ninth innings, so Elroy Face had to get the last out.

At home in 1957-58, Arroyo again performed respectably for San Juan (8-8, 2.64), but Pittsburgh kept him at Triple A for all of 1958. By then, Columbus, Ohio was affiliated with the Pirates — and Arroyo was almost strictly a reliever in the U.S. He started only four more games in his Stateside career. In 61 games for Columbus, he went 10-3, though his ERA was on the high side at 4.01.

In December 1958, the Pirates traded Arroyo to the Cincinnati Redlegs for a fellow Puerto Rican, Nino Escalera. At the time, he was in the middle of another typical workmanlike winter for San Juan (9-6, 3.17). After the Puerto Rican season ended, he served as a playoff reinforcement for Águilas Cibaeñas in the Dominican League.

In those years, Cincinnati’s top farm club was the Havana Sugar Kings. Arroyo found the warm Spanish-speaking atmosphere conducive, and he pitched very well. The Reds called him up for about a month, and he got into 10 games from early June through early July (1-0, 3.95). Then Fred Hutchinson replaced Mayo Smith as manager in Cincinnati. Arroyo later said, “[Hutchinson] let me go without even a look.”24

He picked up where he left off with Havana. Though his record was 8-9 for the year with the Sugar Kings, he posted a minuscule 1.15 ERA in 117 innings across 41 games. He also was part of the team’s exciting run through the minor-league playoffs, capped with a victory in the Little World Series, played mostly in Havana because of a cold snap in Minneapolis.

Arroyo had one of his best winters at home in 1959-60: 11-4, 2.36. He returned to Havana to begin the 1960 season, but the club was forced to relocate to Jersey City, New Jersey that July. The veteran lefty continued to pitch well (9-7, 2.27 in 39 games) — and scouts for the Yankees were watching. On July 20, 1960, New York purchased Arroyo’s contract from Jersey City. He thus became the first Puerto Rican to play for the Yankees in the majors.25

As a Newspaper Enterprise Association feature put it that August, “the Yankees. . .were hurting for pitching, especially in relief since Ryne Duren lost control of his hard one. . .Yankee pitching had struck rock bottom when Bill Skiff, chief of scouts, watched the Bronx club’s Richmond branch play across the river. Skiff had his eye on Arroyo for two years, or since the Reds sent him to the International League.”26

Arroyo described how greater command of his best pitch got him back to the top level. “I grip the ball with the first two fingers between the seams and twist the wrist so it rotates and breaks away from a right-hand and into a left-hand batter. At first I had trouble getting a piece of the plate with the screwball, but now I get it over any time I want to.”27

Right around the same time, Arroyo also told the Associated Press about a variant of the pitch — “I call it a back-up scroogie,” he said. “That’s a screwball that breaks the other way, which is the way an ordinary curve breaks. I keep it away from right-handed batters and inside to left-handed batters.” Manager Casey Stengel, in a typical phrase, called it “a whoosh-whish pitch.”28

That feature opened by saying, “He’s fat. He’s old. He’s little. But Luis Arroyo is a big man in the New York Yankee scheme of things when he answers Stengel’s call for a relief pitcher.”29 Arroyo worked often and well for the Yankees during the rest of the 1960 season. He went 5-1, 2.88 with seven saves in 29 games.

In the fall of 1960, Arroyo also appeared for the first time in the U.S. postseason. He pitched two-thirds of an inning in Game Five of the World Series against one of his old clubs, Pittsburgh. The Pirates knocked Art Ditmar out of the box in the second inning that day, and though Arroyo prevented any further scoring in the second, he allowed a run in the third inning before Stengel removed him for Bill Stafford. Bob Turley, who started Game Seven, thought that Casey should have summoned Arroyo to face Hal Smith in the pivotal eighth inning.30 Instead, Jim Coates stayed in and Smith hit a three-run homer.

Arroyo had his last full season at home with San Juan in 1960-61, and it was one of his best: 10-2, 1.64 in 71 1/3 innings across 29 games. He was named league MVP. San Juan won the championship and went on to represent Puerto Rico in the Inter-American Series in Caracas. (The Caribbean Series went on hiatus after 1960 because Cuba withdrew.) Arroyo reported late to spring training for a most unusual reason — Puerto Rico imposed a 10-day quarantine after a bubonic plague threat in the Venezuelan capital.

About a month into camp, Jesse Gonder (then a rookie catcher for the Yankees) lined a ball off Arroyo’s pitching wrist. The result was a fractured ulna.31 It kept Arroyo out of game action for a little over a month; the enforced rest was something he later viewed as a blessing in disguise. As the 1961 season developed, Arroyo became the main man in the Yankees’ bullpen, which had been a big question mark.32 He appeared in 65 games — then a club record — finishing 54 games and saving 29, which led the American League. He made the All-Star team for a second time (though again he did not pitch in the game) and was named AL Fireman of the Year.

Arroyo was very good at getting batters to hit ground balls — he gave up just five homers in 119 innings in 1961. Catcher Yogi Berra said, “The screwball works two ways for Luis. For one thing, it’s a difficult pitch to hit. And, for another, the hitter seems to be always looking for it, enabling Luis to fool ’em with his fast one or his other curve.” Arroyo concurred. “I keep the hitters guessing and I can usually get my stuff over the plate. There’s not much more to pitching than that.”33

That August, he added more about his belief that he had become a true pitcher, not just a thrower. He said, “I believe I have finally become a big-leaguer. . .Now I feel I belong. A fellow is not a big leaguer just because he is in the big leagues. He must make contributions and I think I have made these contributions.”34

Whitey Ford especially appreciated Arroyo’s support. A Sports Illustrated article that July quoted the staff ace: “If I win 25, I’m going to hold out for $100,000 and split it with Luis.” Arroyo said he’d settle for 60:40.35 When Ford got his 20th victory of the season — for the first time in his superb career — he merrily proclaimed in the clubhouse, “Beer for everybody on me. . . and make it two for my boy, Luis.”36 That was the tenth of 13 saves Arroyo picked up for Ford, who indeed went on to win 25 that season. In addition to inviting Arroyo to finish his 1961 Cy Young Award acceptance speech, Whitey kept his word, giving the closer a financial boost. Many years later, Arroyo recalled, “I must have made six trips [to the States] to do commercials with Whitey and I made around $30,000.”37

The Yankees won the 1961 World Series in five games over the Cincinnati Reds. Arroyo finished up in Game Two, which was Cincinnati’s only victory. He was the winning pitcher in Game Three, throwing scoreless innings in the eighth and ninth while New York came back behind solo homers from Johnny Blanchard (an old batterymate in San Juan) and Roger Maris.

After the Series concluded, as Arroyo discussed in Puerto Rico’s Winter League, Yankees general manager Roy Hamey gave the pitcher $10,000 not to play winter ball — double what Arroyo indicated he would earn with San Juan. Along with his World Series share, a bonus that was reported at $5,000,38 and the pay from the ads with Whitey Ford, Tite made more than he ever had in his life. Yet in retrospect, he thought it was a mistake.

“I’m almost 35 at the time, had a few drinks, ate a little too much. . .[though I did] do some throwing, running. Before you know it, I’m overweight, and I know I made a mistake by not playing that winter. I asked them [New York] to let me pitch 40 innings. I tell you that decision — I have myself to blame too — cost me my ten years in the big leagues. I only got six years and two months. But I can’t say that Hamey was trying to hurt me, maybe protect me. I followed a routine for 14 years and never had a sore arm.”39 (This last sentence is at odds with accounts of what happened in 1952-53.)

Arroyo actually did wind up getting into five games for San Juan, pitching 11 innings. He also appeared in the Inter-American Series again with one of two Puerto Rican entries, Mayagüez. But after his superb performance in 1961 — which earned him a salary raise from $8,500 to $20,000 — he fell off in 1962. He was able to pitch just 33 2/3 innings in 27 games for the Yankees. He was 1-3, 4.81 with seven saves. He was out of action with a strained elbow from late April. According to Yankee historian Alan Blumkin, Arroyo sustained this injury at Detroit’s Tiger Stadium on April 13. That game was played in a windy and wet 36 degrees.40

Arroyo finally went on the 30-day disabled list on May 21. He returned in late June but barely pitched in September. The Yankees kept him on the World Series roster, and gave him a full winners’ share — but the closest he got to entering a game was when he warmed up in the ninth inning of Game Six with New York trailing, 5-2.41

In spring training 1963, Arroyo issued remarks consistent with his recollection for Puerto Rico’s Winter League. He was a firm believer that winter ball made him strong and ready for the big-league season. Of the previous year, he said, “I rest in the winter and then my arm has no life in it. I could tell from the start. Those bone chips were nothing. I’ve been pitching with them for ten years. . I went to the Yankees and asked for their permission to pitch winter ball again. I explained my feelings to them. They agreed it was worth a try.”42

Arroyo was effective in limited duty for San Juan in 1962-63 (0-1, 2.87 in 28 1/3 innings pitched). He got into only six games for the Yankees in April and May 1963, though, and was sent down to Triple-A Richmond in June. New York recalled Al Downing, who pitched very well in the majors for the remainder of the season. Arroyo pitched in 35 games for Richmond, and his marks (2-2, 4.60) did not warrant a recall. The Yankees announced the veteran’s retirement on September 27, 1963, with one game still to go in the regular season. Arroyo’s lifetime record in the majors was 40-32 with a 3.93 ERA and 45 saves in 244 games.

As part of the announcement, the Yankees made Arroyo a scout, assigning him to cover Puerto Rico and the Caribbean. His contract took effect in February 1964.43 Tite played on in the winter, though — he got into 17 games with San Juan in 1963-64. The Senadores — starring Roberto Clemente — won the league championship. After that, Arroyo also pitched again for San Juan in the Inter-American Series. This edition was hosted in Nicaragua.44

Arroyo then had bone chips removed from his elbow in March 1964, and he went about his scouting duties. But as he told Frank Eck of the Associated Press later that year, he had a comeback in mind. In September he threw pain-free with some high-school kids in Ponce, and he hoped to be in good enough shape to try to go to spring training and join Pedro Ramos in the Yankees’ bullpen.45

Arroyo issued a word of caution, though — despite saying he’d still be using his bread and butter pitch. “When you throw the screwball you must throw the ball with an unnatural motion. It’s no good for youngsters to use the screwball. It puts too much of a strain on the arm.”46

Arroyo’s last mound action was three games for San Juan in the winter of 1964-65 (he also served the club as a coach). His final totals in the PRWL were 110-93 with a 3.04 ERA in 364 games. In 1722 1/3 innings, he struck out 942 batters.

Nothing further came of the comeback; in early 1965, Arroyo was part of a crew of instructors that went to Mexico in a three-week clinic sponsored by Major League Baseball. In addition to his scouting duties for the Yankees, he also became a manager in Puerto Rico. He was Ponce’s skipper for three straight winters starting in 1965-66. The Leones featured players from the Yankees (Roy White and Horace Clarke) and the Cardinals (Steve Carlton and Nelson Briles). According to Puerto Rico’s Winter League, the St. Louis front office was leery of sending Carlton to winter ball for fear of injury, but Arroyo convinced them. It was an important step in the prize prospect’s development.47

Arroyo led Caguas for two seasons (1968-69 and 1969-70) — missing out on the back-to-back championships that Ponce won. After that, he rejoined Ponce as a coach in 1970-71. Arroyo also served as general manager for the Leones during at least two seasons, in 1975-76 and again in 1993-94, after Pantalones Santiago became owner of the club.

In addition, Arroyo was a manager during three summers in Mexico. In 1967 and 1968, he was with Reynosa. In 1978, he started the season with Poza Rica, but the team went through three managers that year (which is not uncommon in the Mexican League).

Over the years, Arroyo was willing to teach other pitchers about the screwball. One example was another lefty reliever named Terry Enyart, who got into two games in the majors with the Montreal Expos in 1974. Enyart had relied on the scroogie previously but got Arroyo’s advice while in Triple-A in 1977. Arroyo also taught southpaw Chuck Cary the screwball when Cary was pitching in Puerto Rico in the winter of 1988-89. It helped Cary make it back to the majors with the Yankees from 1989 through 1991.

Plus, Arroyo was responsible for the comeback of another lefty screwballer, Guillermo Hernández, in 1995. Hernández had been out of the majors since 1989 and had not pitched in the minors since 1991. Arroyo contacted the 40-year-old reliever, who was pitching coach for a semi-pro team in Puerto Rico. Hernández got into 22 games for the Yankees’ Triple-A team, Columbus (though it did not go well).48

Arroyo was still scouting for the Yankees at that time, but he retired shortly thereafter. By one local account, he brought some notable Puerto Rican talent to New York. 49 Before the amateur draft extended to U.S. territories in 1989, the Yankees signed major-leaguers such as Otto Vélez (1969) and Edwin Rodríguez (1980). They found a real plum in Bernie Williams (1985), and after the draft took effect, they selected another major star, Jorge Posada, and Ricky Ledée in 1990. Based on other published sources, however, SABR’s Scouts Committee gives direct credit to Arroyo only for Ledée.50

In July 2010, Arroyo returned to New York to take part in the Old-Timers’ weekend festivities. He was taken ill during the Friday night cruise that was part of the fun, and it turned out to be a mild heart attack. He went to the hospital and so missed the Old-Timers’ Game. He made a full recovery, however, and returned home to Peñuelas, where the municipal stadium is named for him. He made it back to Yankee Stadium for the 2012 edition of the Old-Timers’ Game.

In his mid-eighties, Arroyo remained a keen observer of the baseball scene. In January 2012, shortly after Jorge Posada announced his retirement, Arroyo commented on the diminished presence of Puerto Rican talent. “The Yankees haven’t invested not because they don’t have the money, but because there isn’t good talent in Puerto Rico. Good ballplayers aren’t coming out now. . .there isn’t the material, that’s how I see it. It’s always been said that the Yankees don’t like Latino ballplayers. But it’s not that way. The Yankees have always had good Latino prospects.”51

According to his obituary in the New York Times, Arroyo was married at least twice.52 As of 1960, he and his wife, Judith (who was a schoolteacher) had five children ranging in age from several weeks to 10 years. At least three of them were sons, but the names of only two were shown: Luis Jr. and Harold.53 Another son was named Paicky and a daughter was named Milagros.54

Arroyo remained one of Puerto Rico’s most celebrated and best-loved baseball players. He received various honors over the years.

• The Puerto Rican Baseball Hall of Fame inducted him in 1992, as part of its second class.
• In 2002, the mayor of Guaynabo, Puerto Rico announced that El Museo del Deporte de Puerto Rico (The Puerto Rican Sports Museum) would open in the San Juan suburb in 2003. The announcement came at the Caribbean Series in Caracas, and though Arroyo could not make it because of passport trouble, hundreds of people honored him at a ceremony.55
• The Puerto Rican Winter League dedicated its 2006-07 season to Arroyo.
• In January 2008, the Puerto Rican Sports Museum held the first Puerto Rican Yankees Festival. Arroyo called the honor one of the greatest he had received and talked about how the quality of the Yankees organization impressed him from the moment he joined.56
• More recently, another Latino Baseball Hall of Fame was established in the Dominican Republic. In 2012, Arroyo was one of eight inductees in the third class, joining Bernie Williams in representing Puerto Rico.

As late as 2013, Arroyo returned to Yankee Stadium for Old-Timers’ Day. He died on January 13, 2016, aged 88, after being diagnosed with cancer the previous month.57 His passing prompted many fond memories from Yankee teammates.58 Luis “Tite” Arroyo was buried in Cementerio Municipal de Peñuelas, a day after many of his fellow Puerto Rican ballplayers joined his family in his hometown’s Municipal Theatre to honor his memory.59

This biography is included in “Puerto Rico and Baseball: 60 Biographies” (SABR, 2017), edited by Bill Nowlin and Edwin Fernández.

Sources

Internet resources

www.ancestry.com (1930 and 1940 census records)

Edwin Vázquez, “Luis Tite Arroyo de Puerto Rico,” 1-800-Béisbol website (http://www.1800beisbol.com/baseball/deportes/historia_del_beisbol/luis_tite_arroyo_de_puerto_rico)

www.paperofrecord.com (various small items from The Sporting News)

Books

Thomas Van Hyning, Puerto Rico’s Winter League, Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Company, 1995.

José A. Crescioni Benítez, El Béisbol Profesional Boricua. San Juan, Puerto Rico: Aurora Comunicación Integral, Inc., 1997.

José Antero Núñez, Series del Caribe. Caracas, Venezuela: Impresos Urbina, C.A., 1987.

Notes

Don Richard “Richie” Ashburn, a Hall of Fame outfielder, who made the most putouts of any outfielder in major-league baseball during the 1950s, started out as a catcher, which should not be surprising because throughout his long career in baseball, Richie Ashburn had always been his own man. His independent quality even emerged during his acceptance speech in Cooperstown. After waiting 28 years for induction, he expressed his opinion about the long wait: “They didn’t exactly carry me in here in a sedan chair with blazing and blaring trumpets.”1

Because of such candor and homespun humor, Ashburn became an iconic figure in fan-gritty Philadelphia during his careers with the Philadelphia Phillies — as a speedy center fielder for 12 years, and as a broadcaster for 34 years. He starred in center field and as a leadoff hitter for 12 seasons, including the pennant-winning Whiz Kids of 1950. Ashburn won two batting titles and earned four All-Star selections. After retiring from the field, he thrilled and amused not only Phillies fans but all baseball fans with his colorful, witty commentary of action on and off the field from 1963 until his sudden death shortly after he broadcast a Phillies-Mets game September 9, 1997.

A son of the Plains, Ashburn came into this world on March 19, 1927, in Tilden, Nebraska, as one of a pair of identical twins, Don and Donna, to his parents Neil and Genevieve “Tootie” Ashburn. Nicknames were common in the Ashburn household: Everyone called the male twin by his middle name, Richie, to further distinguish him from his sister; and Genevieve was called Tootie because of her tiny size at birth.2

Ashburn’s father, Neil, was a blacksmith and monument maker who played semipro baseball on the weekends. His brother Bob said he made more money playing baseball than at his trade. On some occasions the money was just enough to keep his family in food. Neil Ashburn had a very close relationship with his athletically-inclined son — he encouraged Richie in his boyhood activities and steered the boy throughout his developmental years.3

Ashburn tried to play all the sports — except football; his father ruled that out because of the threat of injury, but baseball and basketball were his favorites. He began playing baseball in 1935 as an 8-year-old in the Tilden Midget Baseball League under the tutelage of Hursel O’Banion. He played catcher because his father thought it would be the quickest way to get him to the major leagues, and he batted left-handed because his father said his speed would give him a better jump to first base from the port side.

The term “speed” would always be associated with Ashburn. His high-school basketball teammate Jim Kelly said that Ashburn could dribble down the court faster than the other players could run down it. In his 1948 major-league rookie year, one sportswriter said of the 21-year-old, “He’s no .300 hitter, he hits .100 and runs .200.”4 And even after his playing days ended, Ashburn challenged a young Dick Allen in a foot race and beat him.5

He played baseball and basketball for Tilden High School but the baseball season was short and his coach, Harold Mertz, suggested to Neil Ashburn that his boy needed more playing time. Neil agreed.

Ashburn graduated to American Legion baseball with the Neligh Junior Legion team and continued as a catcher. He was derided at first for his small stature, but he soon drew the admiration of his teammates with his speed and his concentration at the plate. He also played the outfield and it was during this time that Richie’s speed helped him in another way. His coach, Harold Cole, recognized that Ashburn lacked a strong throwing arm. He trained him to compensate for this deficiency by charging balls hit to him and throwing on the run. Ashburn later used this technique in the major leagues.6

It is difficult to imagine the Hall of Fame outfielder continuing on in baseball as a catcher because of his burning speed but, being a good son, Ashburn followed his father’s wish — despite advice to the contrary. As the state of Nebraska’s representative on the West team of Esquire Magazine’s American Legion Junior Baseball East/West All-Star game in 1944 at the Polo Grounds, Ashburn’s quality of play and his size caused Philadelphia Athletics manager Connie Mack to advise him to play another position.7

At his Legion games, baseball scouts quickly recognized Ashburn’s talent and began following him. In fact, he signed three contracts to play professional baseball. He signed first with the Cleveland Indians in 1943 at the age of 16, again in 1944 with the Chicago Cubs to play for their Nashville farm team, and in 1945 with the Phillies. Baseball Commissioner Kenesaw M. Landis voided the Cleveland contract because the rules then prohibited the signing of boys still in high school. He also nullified the Cubs contract because of an illegal clause that would have paid Ashburn if the Nashville franchise was sold while he was playing there. The two nullifications soured Ashburn’s opinion on the integrity of major-league baseball.8

The elder Ashburn shared Richie’s doubts and supported his son’s decision to go to college in 1944 even though 13 of the 16 major-league clubs had showed interest in his son. After one semester at Norfolk Junior College, the Phillies convinced the family that their intentions were honest, and Neil approved Richie’s signing with them. Delighted by this change of mind, Phillies scout Ed Krajnick said, “Something tells me this is about the most important deal I ever made.”9

Ashburn reported to the Utica Blue Sox of the Class A Eastern League in 1945 and it was there that his speed finally changed everyone’s mind about his future position in baseball. He utterly astounded them on one occasion when he beat the batter to first base and took the throw for a putout. His manager, future Whiz Kids pilot Eddie Sawyer, forthwith converted the speedster to a center fielder. According to teammate Putsy Caballero, Richie’s father initially disliked Sawyer’s decision and objected to the new direction. But Neil eventually agreed that Sawyer’s decision appeared right for his fleet-footed son. During his time in Utica the players started calling Ashburn Whitey because of his light blond hair. The new moniker stayed with him for the rest of his life.

Early in the season, Ashburn was drafted by the US Army. Fortunately for Ashburn, the allowed him to finish the season, in which the Blue Sox won the Eastern League pennant while Ashburn led the team in batting with a .312 average. The Blue Sox held a Richie Ashburn Day in August and fans passed the hat and collected $357 for him, an amount he likened then to a million dollars.10

The Army sent Ashburn to Alaska, about which he later quipped: “Sending a ballplayer to Alaska was like sending a dog sledder to the Sahara Desert.”11 He spent a year there and missed the 1946 season.

Ashburn returned to the Blue Sox in 1947, and his team again won the Eastern League championship. Ashburn set a league record for the most hits in a season with 191 in only 137 games. After this successful season he went back to school for a second semester at Norfolk Junior College, where he met his future wife, Herberta “Herbie” Cox.12

Ashburn made the 1948 Phillies team as a 21-year-old rookie and opened the season as the starting left fielder. He replaced veteran Harry “The Hat” Walker, the reigning NL batting champion, as the team’s leadoff hitter. He started the first 12 games in left field before replacing Walker as the regular center fielder.

Ashburn engineered an unusual living arrangement in the Philadelphia suburb of Bala Cynwyd — a home rental with fellow rookies Robin Roberts, Jack Mayo, Curt Simmons, and Charlie Bicknell, a move that saved everyone money, especially when Ashburn’s parents moved in in midseason. On the ballfield, he electrified the crowds at Shibe Park with his hitting, speed, and outfield play.

At the conclusion of a doubleheader with the Cubs in Chicago on June 5, Ashburn sported a .380 batting average and had a 23-game hitting streak. A local sportswriter said, “Richie Ashburn is the hottest thing to hit this town since the great Chicago blaze.”13

Ashburn was the only rookie chosen to the National League All-Star team. In the game held in Sportsman’s Park, St. Louis, won by the American League, 5-2, he hit two singles, garnered the only stolen base in the game, scored one of the NL runs and was named by sportswriters as the outstanding player on the losing side. It was there that Ted Williams bestowed Ashburn with another nickname, “Putt-Putt,” because, as Ashburn explained later, “I ran as if I had an outboard motor in the seat of my pants.”14

Ashburn’s season ended abruptly in August when he broke his finger. He started a total of 101 games in center field and 13 games in left field and finished the season with a .333 batting average. At season’s end The Sporting News named him its Rookie of the Year. In the selection process for Major League Baseball’s Rookie of the Year, he finished third behind Al Dark and Gene Bearden.

Whitey experienced a sophomore slump in 1949, finishing with a .284 average, although he continued to exhibit stellar fielding play, setting a major-league record for outfielders with 514 putouts. Some writers said his sensational catch of a Ralph Kiner liner on September 14 was the greatest catch they’d ever seen at Forbes Field.15

The next season Ashburn returned to the Phillies a married man. He was in top form as the youthful Phillies, known as the Whiz Kids, captured the NL pennant. Richie made a “veteran” adjustment borrowing one of teammate Del Ennis’s heavier bats to fool opposing teams that used a “creeping shift” to thwart the speedster’s infield hits. It worked. He started off at .370, weathered a slump in June, and finished at .303 while leading the National League in triples with 14.

Ashburn’s biggest contribution to the NL champs was a fielding play in the final game of the season, October 1 against the Brooklyn Dodgers in Ebbets Field. The play itself wasn’t extraordinary but its timing was. The Whiz Kids had squandered a six-game lead in first place and faced a tie with the Dodgers if they lost the game. With no outs in the bottom of the ninth inning and the score tied, 1-1, the Dodgers had men on first and second. Duke Snider hit a liner into center field and if the runner on second, Cal Abrams, could score, the Dodgers would force a one-game playoff for the pennant. Ashburn charged the ball, scooped it up, and uncorked a perfect running throw right into catcher Stan Lopata’s mitt in plenty of time to tag Abrams at the plate.

The Phillies won the pennant in the tenth inning when Dick Sisler hit a momentous three-run homer and Robin Roberts retired the Dodgers. Ashburn’s play is considered one of the most significant defensive plays in Phillies history.

Ashburn again led the NL in putouts with 405. He did not perform well in the World Series against the New York Yankees as the Phillies were swept in four games, though the games were close, with three being decided by a single run. He batted only .176 in the Series, 3-for-17, and his disappointment could be summed up with a comment he made as he turned down refreshment after the final game, “I couldn’t swallow a cornflake.”16

The Phillies would not appear in the Series again for many more years as they slid down in the NL standings during the 1950s, but Ashburn’s career did not suffer. He had great years from 1951 through 1954, averaging .318 while leading the NL twice in hits and being named an All-Star in 1951 and 1953. In 1954 he had a career-best 125 walks to lead the league in that category and in on-base percentage with .441.

In 1955 Ashburn received a new $30,000 contract. But before the season began he landed on the disabled list following a collision with Del Ennis that ruined his 731-consecutive-game streak. He recovered relatively quickly — starting in the third game of the season before missing nine games. He pinch-hit in the 13th game, and then resumed playing and went on to have a memorable season — with one exception. For the first time in seven seasons, he failed to lead the league in putouts — but he still posted an outstanding .983 fielding average. His batting excelled — by June he led the NL and had a 17-game hitting streak. He sported a .341 average in July, but incredibly, was not chosen for the NL All-Star team. He shrugged off that slight and finished the season with a .338 average and the NL batting title — his first.

The next three seasons the Phillies continued their slide, never leaving the second division. Ashburn’s play was steady though not stellar with .303 and .297 finishes in 1956 and 1957. The Phillies held a Richie Ashburn Day on August 14, 1956.

In 1958 Ashburn broke out and won his second batting title with a .350 average, edging his center-field rival of the San Francisco Giants, Willie Mays, on the last day of the season with a 3-for-4 effort. He led the league in hits, triples, walks, and on-base percentage. Teammate Robin Roberts remembered that Richie’s first hit that day came on a ball that bounced 50 feet in the air after hitting home plate. Roberts said Ashburn chortled loudly as he safely crossed first base. Richie had told Roberts before the game that for Mays to win the title he needed to get three hits while Whitey went hitless. The chortle erupted because that odd hit practically gave Whitey the title.17

Ashburn’s other accomplishments that year included an unusual double play when he backed up second base on an infield rundown. On June 12 he ran down a Los Angeles Dodgers runner, John Roseboro, who was caught off second base, unaware that Whitey had crept up behind him from center field, for an unusual shortstop-catcher-third base-center fielder double play. And at the end of the season he led the league in putouts, tying Max Carey for the most seasons leading the NL in that statistic. It was only the second time in his career up to that point that he did not finish with double-digit assist totals. Additionally, he served as Nebraska chairman of the American Cancer Society during the offseason.

Ashburn’s 1959 season was largely forgettable. All of his offensive stats fell: hits by 65, walks by 18, stolen bases by 21, and batting average by 84 points. Defensively, it was the same: putouts declined by 136, errors rose to 11, and outfield assists dropped to 4, while his fielding percentage fell 13 points. He suffered through the worst performance of his career.

Richie’s tenure with the Phillies ended when the team traded him to the Chicago Cubs in December 1959. In retrospect, it was a terrible trade for the team as Ashburn rebounded to have three good seasons — two with the Cubs and one with the Mets, although his speed had slowed and his outfield putouts declined all three years. The players the Phillies obtained for Ashburn performed horribly, contributing to their further decline. The Phillies finished last; the third of four straight bottom-of-the-heap finishes from 1958 through 1961. Ashburn’s replacement in center field hit just .237.

Ashburn’s time with the Cubs coincided with their “College of Coaches” experiment — a system of rotating a different coach to manage the Cubs each day, which didn’t work. Some of the coaches were rotated to the minors and back again. A visiting Philly sportswriter asked Ashburn how he was doing: “Not so good,” quipped Richie, “the guy who likes me is in Des Moines.”18

Ashburn’s last season spent as a player spawned a second career in baseball. After playing fairly well on one of the most unforgettable and bumbling teams in baseball history, the 1962 New York Mets (40-120), he sent back his contract offer unsigned — not to get more money, but with the thought that he didn’t want to go through another season like the one he had had with the lowly NL expansion team. His Mets tenure was a horrible season of improbable losses, unbelievable errors, and inept baseball manifested by the quintessential story Yo la tengo.

The story revolved around the antics of the Spanish-speaking shortstop for the Mets, Elio Chacon, and his penchant for frequent near-collisions with outfielders. This was especially true with Ashburn on short fly balls to center field. Ashburn realized that Chacon did not understand the English warning: “I have it,” so he went to a bilingual Mets player and was told that Chacon would understand the warning in Spanish, yo la tengo; that it meant the fly ball was the center fielder’s to catch. Soon enough a short fly ball was hit and a back-pedaling Chacon veered off, following Ashburn’s admonition in Spanish. What was unexpected was that onrushing, English-only left-fielder Frank Thomas completely flattened Ashburn. After pulling his center fielder from the ground, Thomas asked him “What’s a Yellow Tango?”19

Selected as a National League All-Star, he became the Mets’ Most Valuable Player with a batting average of .306. The award merited him the gift of a boat, of which he later said: “…to be voted the MVP on the worst team in the history of baseball is a dubious honor for sure. I was awarded a 24-foot boat equipped with a galley and sleeping facilities for six. After the season had ended, I docked the boat in Ocean City, New Jersey, and it sank.”20

Ashburn also dubbed the much-maligned first baseman for the Mets with his famous moniker, “Marvelous Marv” Throneberry.

He accepted a broadcasting job in 1963 with the Phillies to provide “color” to the regular broadcaster. When asked if he had been making more with the Mets, Ashburn said, “Much more.” And a query as to why he would quit such a good-paying job in a sport he loved and accept a much lower salary elicited a simple, “Well…” 21

Ashburn was not the only candidate for the broadcasting booth. The Phillies first offered it to Robin Roberts, who declined — he played baseball for four more seasons — but who suggested Ashburn to Les Qually, the Phillies official in charge of broadcasting. “The rest is history,” said Roberts.22

It turned out Ashburn had the gift of providing commentary during a broadcast and he parlayed this gift into a career that spanned 35 seasons. His career as a color man enabled his voice and his personality to touch more Phillies fans in the Delaware Valley than all of his on-field heroics at the Shibe Park/Connie Mack Stadium venue. Folks all over the area listened as he spoke with an infectious zest, corny humor, admirable candor, unflinching disbelief, and an understated outrageousness that endeared him to millions. He spoke his mind and fans loved it along with his wit and humor delivered in his trademark deadpan style. Soon, his aphorisms percolated throughout the Delaware Valley: “This fella on first looks runnerish,” “It’s a leadpipe cinch that they’ll bunt here,” and “Hard to believe, Harry,” among others.

Other, nonverbal, sounds tickled listeners’ ears as well. People recognized Ashburn lighting his pipe when they would hear a match being scratched while on the air. Or they heard him puff his pipe as he piped in with another comment on something odd or good or bad during a game.

Ashburn first teamed with Bill Campbell and By Saam but his true broadcast partner became Harry Kalas when Kalas joined the Phils on-air team in 1971. Kalas gave him another nickname that gave tribute to Ashburn’s unique status with Phillies fans, “His Whiteness.”

The team of Kalas and Ashburn clicked. They complemented each other so well that author Curt Smith said of their rapport and teamwork, “Where chemistry really works … at any time in any franchise was, of course, Harry Kalas and Whitey Ashburn.”23 The pair worked together for 27 seasons and their partnership became noted for Kalas’s smooth delivery of game action and Ashburn’s quips, insights, and critiques.

Besides his broadcasting, Ashburn wrote a regular column for the Philadelphia Bulletin and later for the Philadelphia Daily News. His columns were noted for his candor as well as his insights into sports and baseball.

Ashburn was so well liked that in one of his columns he noted that Cal Abrams — whom he had thrown out at home plate during the 1950 pennant-clincher — paid Richie a compliment: Abrams, wrote Richie, thanked him for throwing him out because that play bestowed more recognition upon Abrams than his short baseball career did. He also noted that Abrams saved all of his baseball cards — including Ashburn’s 1948 rookie card — and, in selling them, was making more money than he did as a player.24

Ashburn stayed married to his wife, Herberta Cox “Herbie” Ashburn, until the day he died. And he stayed true to his roots, returning to his Tilden home every offseason until 1964, when they moved to Gladwyne, a Philadelphia suburb. With Herbie he had six children; he missed every one of their births because all of them were born when he would be with the Phillies. “I was a miserable 0-for-6,” he would quip.25 But he made sure to make it up with them during the offseason and his children referred to him as a good dad.

However, although Whitey’s love for Herbie remained strong, their marriage was not. In 1977, after 28 years of living together, the two separated but did not divorce. The Ashburns lived apart for the rest of their lives but by dint of their unique natures they kept their children together and Whitey remained their father forever.

The Ashburns experienced tragedy when their daughter Jan died in an automobile crash in 1987. It is always a crushing blow when a parent has to bury a child and this loss hurts most. Richie’s grief remained with him and a year later, during a Phillies tribute to Ashburn at the Vet, he thanked the fans for the “thousands of cards and letters” that shared his family’s grief. His column allowed him to make that grief public with Jan’s eulogy in the Philadelphia Daily News of April 28, 1987.

Ashburn’s personality was often described as honest and open. It seemed to allow him to hang out with kings and janitors and everyone in between because he treated everyone the same way. It seems he had the moxie to present himself naturally to anyone, and folks accepted it– and forgave him for it. Stories abound about Richie and this unique quality.

He could be ribald, too. Once, after a lengthy discourse during a game by broadcaster Tim McCarver on the qualities of Mount St. Helen’s volcanic ash, Ashburn opined that “If you’ve seen one piece of ash, you’ve seen them all.”26 On another occasion he admitted that he slept with his bats when he was going good. “In fact, I’ve been in bed with a lot of old bats in my day,” he said.27 And he could be disarmingly charming, often referring to anyone within listening distance as the youngest of men. Once he took leave from some to go into the broadcasting booth, “Well, boys, I can’t be sitting around talking to fans.”28

Richie Ashburn’s induction into the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown took some time. In his 15 years of eligibility his vote count did not engender continuation after 1982 and his status was relegated to the Veterans Committee. His candidacy stalled and then ended with the passing of the “60 percent rule” in 1991 that stated eligibility by the Veterans Committee for players whose careers began after 1946 was limited to those who garnered 60 percent of the ballot in previous elections.

Ashburn’s run up to his Hall of Fame induction included two fans who recognized his numbers and took up his banner: SABR member Steve Krevisky and superfan Jim Donahue. Krevisky would appear at every New England SABR gathering and expound on Ashburn’s qualities, especially educating attendees on his defensive statistics but also pointing out that Richie had the most hits of any major leaguer during the 1950s. Donahue organized his campaign around overturning the 60 percent rule, one time forwarding 55,000 postcards to the Hall of Fame. Both men’s efforts paid off and the rule was overturned in 1993. In the spring of 1995 the Veterans Committee voted Whitey into the Hall. The first person Ashburn called was his 91-year-old mother, Tootie, who wept.

The largest crowd in the history of the induction ceremony, more than 15,000 fans, showed up that summer to celebrate not only Ashburn’s induction but that of the greatest third baseman of all time, the Phillies’ Mike Schmidt. Several times during his acceptance speech, Whitey was overcome as he looked out onto a “sea of red clad” Phillies fans.29

It is generally considered that Ashburn’s defensive skills got him in. Although he finished with a .308 average which ranks 120th in major-league history, he hit only 29 home runs, and 82 percent of his hits were singles. However, he led the majors in putouts in nine of the ten years from 1949 through 1958. And he is the only outfielder in major-league history to record four seasons of 500-plus putouts. Despite his “weak” arm, he led NL outfielders in assists three times. Another factor was his durability. He possesses the seventh longest consecutive-game streak in National League history and missed only 20 games from 1948 through 1960.

And his fielding prowess was not limited to the can-of-corn variety. Some of Ashburn’s catches remain as the best in baseball. In addition to the aforementioned Kiner catch, Ashburn’s sensational outfield play at Forbes Field on June 20, 1951, led one famous fan in attendance to wonder. Hall of Famer George Sisler commented, “I’ve been around major-league baseball for 35 years. I’ve seen every great center fielder since [Tris] Speaker. I thought I had seen every sort of impossible catch. But that’s the greatest piece of center fielding I ever saw anywhere by any fielder. I still don’t believe it.”30

Richie’s competitive nature also kept his Hall of Fame candidacy alive. He especially would voice his own self-promotion, since he often mentioned it on air and during off-mike events. And he didn’t hesitate to use his especial candor. “You know, you can also get into the Hall of Fame as a writer or a broadcaster,” Ashburn once said. “I could be the first person in history to miss it in all three categories.”31

Ashburn sometimes kept to himself and he did so on a late summer evening in 1997 after calling a game in New York, telling friend and fellow broadcaster Kalas that he didn’t need any company. Later that night he reached out to a Phillies official, complaining that he didn’t feel well. At 5:30 A.M. on September 9, 1997, Ashburn was found dead in his hotel room.

The city of Philadelphia, Phillies fans, and team officials as well as other major-league teams and their cities descended into collective grief as news of Ashburn’s death percolated across telephone, teletype, audio, and video machines. His wake at Fairmount Park’s Memorial Hall drew thousands and his memorial service generated poignant remembrances as his family and myriad friends in the game sought solace through words, hugs, and tears.

Some years later, his son, Richard, spoke for thousands of us when he said of his father, “To this day some one will tell me a story about him every day. He just blew people away. And he didn’t even know he was doing it.”32

The Phillies have honored the memory of Whitey Ashburn in Citizens Bank Park, their much-admired ballyard off Broad Street in South Philadelphia. There is a long, concession-filled broad walk behind center field dubbed Ashburn Alley where an exciting statue of the former Whiz Kid is prominent. And the TV/radio booth has been named the Richie “Whitey” Ashburn Broadcast Booth. The Phillies also retired his playing number, 1, in 1979, the second number given that honor, and his plaque is featured on the Phillies’ Wall of Fame in Ashburn Alley.

This biography is included in the book “The Year of the Blue Snow: The 1964 Philadelphia Phillies” (SABR, 2013), edited by Mel Marmer and Bill Nowlin.

Sources

In addition to the sources cited in the Notes, the author also consulted:

http://articles.mcall.com/1995-07-28/sports/3052376_1_richie-ashburn-elmer-flick-consummate-leadoff-man

baseball-reference.com.

http://www.ultimatemets.com/profile.php?PlayerCode=0012&tabno=7

http://www.centerfieldmaz.com/2011/03/original-1962-mets-center-fielder-hall.html

Notes

1 Dan Stephenson, Richie Ashburn, A Baseball Life. DVD. Written and produced by Dan Stephenson, Narrated by Harry Kalas (New York: Arts Alliance America LLC, 2008).

2 Stephenson.

3 Stephenson.

4 Joe Archibald, Richie Ashburn (New York: Julian Messner, Inc., 1960), 47.

5 Stephenson.

6 Archibald, 25.

7 Archibald, 32.

8 Archibald, 29, 30.

9 Archibald, 33, 34.

10 Archibald, 38, 39.

11 Bill Conlin, “Missing Whitey 10-Fold,” Philly.com, September 7, 2007. http://articles.philly.com/2007-09-07/sports/24995587_1_radio-hall-tv.

12 Archibald, 42.

13 Archibald, 46.

14 Archibald, 49.

15 Archibald, 64-65.

16 Archibald, 87.

17 Robin Roberts and C. Paul Rogers, III. My Life in Baseball (Chicago: Triumph Books, 2003), 161.

18 Roberts, 252.

19 http://phillysportshistory.com/2011/05/21/richie-ashburn-is-the-inspiration-for-the-band-name-yo-la-tengo/.

20 http://www.centerfieldmaz.com/2011/03/original-1962-mets-center-fielder-hall.htm”

21 Jimmy Breslin, Can’t Anybody Here Play This Game (New York: Viking Press, 1963), 85.

22 Roberts, 252.

23 Stephenson.

24 Philadelphia Daily News, December 9, 1986.

25 Fran Zimniuch. Richie Ashburn Remembered (Chicago: Sports Publishing LLC, 2005), 83.

26 Zimniuch, 57.

27 Zimniuch, 53.

28 Zimniuch, 61.

29 Stephenson.

30 Frank Yeutter, “They Call Him Mister Putt-Putt,” Baseball Digest, October 1951.

31 Don Bostrom, “Richie Ashburn From Cornfield to Cooperstown,” The Morning Call (Allentown, Pennsylvania), July 28, 1995.

32 Zimniuch, 99.

“Everybody knows who Avila was in Mexico,” said former Los Angeles Dodgers great Fernando Valenzuela. “He was an inspiration, of course, for Mexican ballplayers to follow to the States and play in the major leagues. He did a good job. Everybody knows and recognizes what he did.”2

With the 1954 Indians, Avila played the best baseball of his 11-year major-league career.3 He led the American League in hitting (.341) and received The Sporting News American League player of the year award. His extraordinary 1954 performance made him the first Mexican-born player in history to lead the American League in batting.4

Roberto Francisco (Gonzales) Avila was born on April 2, 1924, in Veracruz, Mexico.5 He had four sisters and three older brothers. His father, a lawyer, wanted Bobby to also become a barrister. While at a preparatory school in Veracruz, Bobby excelled in many sports, including baseball, soccer, and basketball. When he was 14 a professional soccer team, Espana Club of Veracruz, offered him an opportunity to play left wing. For about $70 a month and with his father’s approval, Bobby joined the club and traveled throughout Mexico as a professional soccer player.6

Avila decided the following year to concentrate his athletic efforts on baseball and signed with the semipro Cordoba club. At the time baseball in Mexico suffered from a lack of good instructors and coaches. Fortunately for Bobby, an older brother, Pedro, played baseball, and taught him the game. Although he started as one of Cordoba’s pitchers, he switched to second base in order to get more playing time.

In 1943 the Mexican League offered Avila a contract to play for the Puebla club. He and his father remained at loggerheads over his future. He partly addressed his father’s concerns by agreeing to also enroll at the University of Mexico to study engineering. Avila signed with Puebla for 700 pesos a month.

In 1946 Avila emerged as one of the league’s top hitters, finishing with a .340 average. He also played Cuban baseball and performed well. Major-league scouts noticed and several made offers to him. Reportedly, the Brooklyn Dodgers even brought him to their spring-training camp to evaluate him.

Avila later said that most of the offers were in the $6,000-to-$10,000 area. Rather than jump at the offers, he decided to stay put. The following year Avila led the league in hitting, with a .347 average. The Indians’ Cy Slapnicka, who scouted and signed many great baseball stars over his career, extensively evaluated the 5-foot-11, 170-pound Avila. He recommended that the Indians offer Avila a $17,500 bonus to sign. With the full support of his once skeptical father, Bobby signed.7

Cleveland assigned Avila to its Baltimore affiliate in the Triple-A International League. In 1948 he played in 56 games for the Orioles and hit .220.8 At first his unfamiliarity with English significantly hampered his transition to American baseball. His first minor-league manager, Tommy Thomas, described Bobby as a “stranger in a strange land.”9

Avila went from Mexican stardom to American anonymity. He struggled both socially and professionally. His self-confidence plummeted. “[It] was very hard for me at first,” he said later. “Any Latin ballplayer who comes here must fight the language.” 10 To make matters worse, Avila also suffered a hernia, which had to be corrected with offseason surgery.11

Avila began with Cleveland in 1949 and roomed with pitcher Mike Garcia, US-born but of Mexican heritage. Garcia remembered, “At first, Bobby didn’t speak a lick of English. All he would do was point and say, ‘Como se llama eso?’ meaning ‘What’s that?’ ” On the major-league roster only because of major-league requirements related to his signing bonus, Avila used his time on the bench in 1949 to learn the English language and American customs.12 He appeared in 31 games, only one as a starter, had only 15 plate appearances, and finished with a .214 average.13

In 1950 Joe Gordon, the Indians’ hard-hitting and slick-fielding second baseman, suffered an injury and Avila made the most of his unexpected opportunity.14 Appearing in 80 games and getting 201 at-bats, he ended the year with a .299 average.15 Gordon was released after the season and Avila became Cleveland’s regular second baseman in 1951, playing in 141 games and hitting .304. 16 He had the best batting day of his career on June 20, 1951, hitting a single, a double, and three home runs (one inside the park) against five different Boston Red Sox pitchers.17

In a seemingly minor move, the Indians in 1952 obtained veteran utility infielder Hank Majeski from the Chicago White Sox. Cleveland assigned Majeski to room with Avila. The two quickly became good friends. “He (is) like a big brother to me,” Avila said. “He helps me more than anybody. He makes you think you can do it. Sure you have to have the ability, but he help(s) me all (of) the time.” 18 Avila responded positively to this new environment by hitting.300, scoring 102 runs, leading the league in triples (11), and making his first appearance in an All-Star Game.19 With his All-Star appearance, he became the first Mexican-born player to be picked for the honor. 20

Although Avila increasingly felt comfortable playing in Cleveland, he maintained his strong ties with his friends and family in Mexico. On his major-league salary, he supported his mother, his wife and two children, and his widowed sister and her son. In addition to his direct dependents, Bobby often received requests for financial help from other friends. According to Majeski, “In every town we go to people gather around him and he’s always picking up the tab. After every payday, you ought to see the number of money drafts he sends to Mexico.”21

Avila was now an international (US, Cuba, Mexico) baseball star. In Mexico and Cuba, he went by the popular nickname Beto, short for Roberto. “Beto” adorned all of his autographed baseball pictures and even his bats. Beto never caught on in the US, so he went with the nickname Bobby. He ended up with two sets of bats in Cleveland: his Bobby bats and his Beto bats.22

Avila suffered a slight drop in his hitting production in 1953. In 141 games he finished with his lowest batting average (.286) in four years.23 On the field, though, Avila led all American League Second Basemen with a fielding average of .986.24 Building on the footwork skills he used in soccer, he became very adept at turning the double play. He also used his soccer training to perfect the art of sliding into a base while simultaneously attempting to kick the baseball out of the fielder’s glove. This angered some opposing players, who threatened retaliation.25

Within the framework of the Indians’ spectacular 1954 season, Avila surged to the best year in his 11-year major-league career. He led the league in hitting with a batting average of .341, and was the only Indian regular to hit over .300. (Al Rosen hit exactly .300.)

Avila’s 1954 batting title has been the subject of some controversy, particularly among Boston Red Sox fans. During 1954 spring training, the legendary Ted Williams broke his collarbone diving for a ball and missed 37 games. In addition, opposing pitchers walked him 136 times. The missed games and walks combined to give Williams 386 official at-bats. Although he finished with a .345 average, to be eligible for a batting championship at the time, a player had to have 400 at-bats.26

However, Avila also had both a significant injury and a possible suspension to address. After his unusually good start with the bat, he suffered a broken thumb on June 2. He remembered, “Hank Bauer slid into second and broke my thumb.” At the time of his injury, Avila’s average was .392.27

Avila played five games after his injury before deciding to get his increasingly sore right thumb X-rayed. The film revealed a chip fracture near the joint. The doctor put a splint on the injury and told him not to play for at least a week. He also told Avila “not to shake hands” for a while.28

When Avila resumed playing, he found he couldn’t swing the bat as well as he had earlier. Over the next two months, his average dropped to .313. As the thumb got better, his average climbed and he finished at .341. Noting that confidence at the plate is a key factor in good hitting, Avila said that if he had not had the injury he could have hit for an even higher average. 29

In addition to his injury, on June 4 Avila made contact with home-plate umpire Bill Grieve while arguing a third-strike call. Umpire/player contact incidents required a ten-day suspension. Upon his review, however, Baseball Commissioner Ford Frick decided that the incident was minor and could have actually been accidental. Instead of a suspension, the commissioner gave Avila a warning and fined him $100.30

Avila also hit a career-high 15 home runs in 1954. Although that may seem modest, The Sporting News noted that 13 of the 15 either tied or won games in the late innings. 31 Avila played in his second All-Star game, which that year was played in Cleveland. He went 3-for-3 and drove in two runs in the American League’s 11-9 victory. 32 Avila also led the league in sacrifice hits (19) and scored a career-high 112 runs.33

Yogi Berra was voted the Most Valuable Player in the American League that year, but Avila received several postseason awards. The Sporting News selected him as its AL Player of the Year and Major League All-Star second baseman. The Cleveland Baseball Writers named him their Man of the Year.34

When the Indians won the pennant, Avila faced the daunting task of satisfying a huge number of World Series ticket requests from Mexico. The Sporting News reported that he even got a call from the president of Mexico, who wanted tickets for himself and all of his cabinet members.35

Avila hit only .133 (2-for-15) as the Indians were swept by the New York Giants in the World Series. The Sporting News said the poor hitting of Avila and teammate Lary Doby made them the “top patsies” of the Series.36 Reflecting on the Giants’ sweep of the heavily favored Indians, Avila said, “You know how it is in baseball. Most of the breaks went for them and they beat us.”37

In 1954 Avila, with the permission of General Manager Greenberg, became a part-owner of the Mexico City Reds of the Veracruz Winter League. After the World Series he received a hero’s welcome when he returned to Mexico to begin his player/owner duties.

Mexican officials met Avila in Nuevo Laredo at the U.S.-Mexican border and gave him a motorcycle escort all the way to Mexico City (900 miles).38 As the Reds were not doing well, Avila also took over as their manager.39

In 1955 Avila’s batting average dropped to .272, nearly 70 points below 1954. Several factors combined to produce these disappointing results. Before the season Avila held out for a salary increase from $20,000 (including bonus) to $32,000. On March 25 he became the last Indian holdout to sign. He ended up with $27,500 and additional bonus opportunities of $2,000. The heavily publicized holdout embarrassed the Indians, particularly Greenberg.40

The Indians’ trade of his roommate, mentor, and close friend Hank Majeski to Baltimore in early July had a negative effect on Avila’s hitting. Although the trade made sense for the Indians, Avila had always praised Majeski for helping him keep his hitting focus.41

Injuries also played a role in Avila’s slump. He suffered a sprained right toe early and missed several games.42 In mid-July he had a corneal cyst surgically removed from his right eye. The surgery was publicly characterized as minor. However, it wasn’t until mid-September that Avila acknowledged he felt comfortable at the plate again.43 44 Although his batting average tumbled, he was again selected to play on the AL All-Star squad. For the second year in a row, he led the league in sacrifice hits (18).45

When the season ended Avila returned to Mexico to play. This time his team won the Veracruz League pennant. Early in the winter season he signed teammates Early Wynn and Bob Lemon and White Sox outfielder Jim Rivera. Wynn and Lemon made only a few appearances, but Rivera played a full season.46

Avila again held out in the spring of 1956. He agreed via phone to a base salary of around $25,500 and reported three days after the Indians started their spring training. Greenberg took his frustrations with Bobby’s negotiating tactics public.47 Avila’s batting average again dropped sharply, from .272 to .224. The Indians requested that he try eyeglasses when hitting. He wore glasses the last week of the 1956 season but the results were inconclusive. He and the Indians agreed that he would have an eye exam during the winter.

The Indians began the 1957 season with a new manager, Kerby Farrell. Because of his poor 1956 hitting, Avila played no winter ball in Mexico. To the Indians’ surprise, he showed up at spring training without glasses. He said his doctor’s eye examination revealed he did not have any problems.

By the end of May Avila’s batting average stood at .211. Greenberg told him to see the Indians’ eye doctor, told him he was nearsighted and needed glasses. The first time he wore his new glasses Avila got three hits. Although he steadfastly refused to wear glasses on the field, he wore them while batting. He finished the year with a .268 batting average.48

In 1958 Frank “Trader” Lane succeeded Hank Greenberg as the Indians’ general manager, with Bobby Bragan as the manager. Lane said second base was one of the infield positions where the Indians needed to start a rebuilding effort. 49 Throughout the season, Lane frequently used Avila’s name when he spoke publicly about possible trades. Within this fluid framework, Avila ended up playing 82 games at second base and 33 games at third base. He ended the season with a .253 batting average and a .349 on-base percentage.50

After the season Lane traded Avila to the Baltimore Orioles for pitcher Russ Heman and $30,000. After playing in 20 games for the Orioles in 1959, he was sent to the Red Sox for the waiver price in mid-May. Avila played in 22 games for Boston and was put on waivers again. The Milwaukee Braves selected him to replace their ailing second baseman, Red Schoendienst. Bobby played in 51 games for the Braves, who were in a tight pennant race, which they lost to the Los Angeles Dodgers in a one-game playoff after the close of the regular season. For his three teams Avila played in 93 games and ended with a .227 season average and an OBP of .314.51

After the 1959 season Avila was the player-manager of the Jalapa team in Mexico. Recovering from a slow start, it lost the pennant on the last day of the season in a controversial game.52 53

The 1959 season was Avila’s last in the major leagues. At the start of 1960, the Braves optioned the 35-year-old Avila to their farm team in Louisville, which in turn optioned him to the Mexico City Tigers of the Mexican League.54 The Tigers won the pennant as Avila hit .333 and scored a record 125 runs.55 It was his last season as a player. During his 11 seasons in the major leagues, he played in 1,300 games, had 4,620 at-bats, produced 1,296 hits and registered a batting average of .281 and an on-base percentage of.359.56

In October 1960 Avila was named the president of the former Veracruz League, which in his honor was named the Roberto Avila League.57 In 1971 he was elected to the Mexican baseball hall of fame as a player.58 Two Mexican League Stadiums were named after him: Estadio Beto Avila (capacity 7,782) in Cancun and Parque Beto Avila (capacity 9,000) in Veracruz.59

In 1980 Avila began a new career, as a Mexican lawmaker. He was elected the mayor of Veracruz and then to the Mexican Congress, where he served two three-year terms. He also remained active as a businessman and busy grandparent. He had four children and ten grandchildren.60 On October 26, 2004, Avila died in his hometown Veracruz of complications from diabetes and lung disease. He was 80 years old.61

Avila may have summed up his baseball career best: “I loved the game. And I was real honest about my job. Nobody could ever say they saw Bobby Avila drunk or playing around. I was honest about my career and I gave it everything I had.”62

This biography is included in the book Pitching to the Pennant: The 1954 Cleveland Indians (University of Nebraska Press, 2014), edited by Joseph Wancho. For more information, or to purchase the book from University of Nebraska Press, click here.

Notes

Besides his bat and his arm, he was just as well known for his mouth. Teammate Jim Brosnan thought Bailey’s nickname, “Gar,” stood for “garrulous.”2 (It stood for Edgar.) Cincinnati writer Earl Lawson said, “For sheer brashness and cockiness, there has been no big-leaguer to top him since the days of Dizzy Dean.”3 After baseball Bailey did what came naturally: He went into politics.

Lonas Edgar Bailey Jr. was born on April 15, 1931, in Strawberry Plains, a small east Tennessee community just outside Knoxville, one of six children of Lonas Edgar Bailey and the former Edna Floyd Cox. His father ran a general store, but the family lived on a farm. Ed and his four brothers milked cows, hunted, fished, and played ball together.

At 14 he was big enough to pass for 16 and talked his way into a tryout camp. A Pittsburgh scout took him to Salisbury, North Carolina, to work out with the Pirates’ Class D farm club. After a few days, the boy confessed his lie and went home.

More scouts got interested when Ed became an all-state catcher at Rush Strong High School, where he also made all-state in basketball. Instead of signing a professional contract, he went along with his parents’ wishes and accepted a basketball scholarship to the University of Tennessee in Knoxville.

He was on the verge of flunking out in his sophomore year, so baseball looked like a better bet. At least a dozen major league teams were after him. He spurned the Yankees — Berra had just made his second All-Star team at age 24 — and signed with the Cincinnati Reds in November 1949 for a bonus reported to be as much as $35,000.

Cincinnati brought Bailey to spring training with the big league club in 1950. He immediately made his mark; one writer called him “the freshest rookie in camp.”4 Assigned to room with the veteran catcher Walker Cooper, Bailey called Cooper “Grandpa.” Cooper responded by nailing his shoes to the floor. While hazing him, Cooper pronounced him an outstanding prospect.5

The 19-year-old hit .313 in his first professional season, in Class C ball, and was back with the Reds the next spring. Manager Luke Sewell said, “Bailey has everything you look for in a catcher, plus a world of savvy.”6 Bailey had one more thing: his draft notice. He spent the next two years playing ball for the army at Fort Jackson, South Carolina.

When Bailey returned in March 1953, the team had a new manager, Rogers Hornsby, and a new nickname, Redlegs, in response to the Red Scare then polluting the country. At 23 Bailey had grown to 6-foot-1 and around 200 pounds. He went 5-for-5 with two home runs in an early exhibition game, but was sent down for more seasoning. After joining the Double-A Tulsa club, he took four days off in May to marry his college girlfriend, Betty Lou Carr.

He hit just .243 with Tulsa, but slugged 21 home runs and showed an outstanding batting eye with a .352 on-base percentage. The Redlegs called him up for a look in September. He doubled in his first major league at-bat and went 3-for-5. The next day he came down to earth; Warren Spahn struck him out twice and held him hitless.

He was Cincinnati’s catcher of the future, but it took him awhile to get there. In 1954 he spelled veteran Andy Seminick, playing almost exclusively against right-handed pitching, but batted only .197. He didn’t lose his swagger. Frustrated by spending most of his time on the bench, before one road trip he asked manager Birdie Tebbetts, “Shall I bring my catcher’s mitt with me?”7 Tebbetts, a talkative former catcher, took a liking to him and tutored him on catching and throwing.

Bailey opened the 1955 season as the regular, but was batting under .200 in May when the Redlegs acquired catcher Smoky Burgess. Tebbetts sent Bailey back to the minors, urging him to stop swinging for the fences. He hit 16 home runs in the Pacific Coast League with a .282 average. Bailey thought winter ball was a turning point. Taking Tebbetts’s advice, he was among the Venezuelan league’s leading hitters.

But Smoky Burgess hit even better, and he did it in the National League, batting .306/.373/.499 with 20 homers. Since Burgess was also a left-handed batter, there was no room for a platoon. Bailey was not likely to take Burgess’s job, even though Burgess’s defense and arm were no match for his.

Bailey did win the job when Burgess, and the Redlegs, got off to a slow start. And he ran with it. He turned in his career year in 1956, hitting over .400 for the first month and leading the league in batting average at midseason. He was elected to start the All-Star Game. A flood of votes from Cincinnati fans elected five Redlegs, a portent of trouble ahead.

Cincinnati finished third while winning 91 games, riding a powerful lineup that tied the 1947 Giants’ major league record of 221 home runs. Five players hit more than 20, led by rookie Frank Robinson’s 38, Wally Post’s 36, and Ted Kluszewski’s 35. Bailey contributed 28 homers, including three in one game, while playing only 105 full games with a .300/.385/.551 batting line. It was a good year for the Bailey family; that spring Cincinnati signed Ed’s 21-year-old brother Jim, a left-handed pitcher.

Robinson and the 19-game winner Brooks Lawrence were part of the wave of black players coming into the National League as integration took hold. Although the Redlegs had several white Southerners like Bailey, black outfielder Bob Thurman said, “You talk about a family. That’s the greatest set of guys you ever wanted to be around. They didn’t think nothing about any color.” Lawrence remembered a spring training game in Tampa when he and Bailey were taken out and went to watch from the stands. Ballpark seating was segregated, with a rope dividing the white and black sections, so the teammates sat side by side with the rope between them. “Boy, this is stupid,” Bailey said. He removed the rope, and nobody challenged him.8

Although the Redlegs slipped to 80 victories in 1957, Cincinnati fans proved to be too dedicated for their own good. They stuffed the ballot boxes for the All-Star Game, aided by local newspapers that printed ballots with the names of hometown players already filled in. A few weeks before the game, every player in the Redlegs’ regular lineup was leading in the voting. The Cincinnati front office urged fans to vote for the revered Stan Musial at first base instead of their own George Crowe. Commissioner Ford Frick intervened and named Musial, Hank Aaron, and Willie Mays as starters along with five Redlegs, including Bailey. Fans lost the right to vote for All-Stars for more than a decade.

Bailey’s 1956 season proved to be a fluke. For the next four years he batted no better than .264, and his power numbers declined. He was just about an average hitter. Burgess continued to get some at-bats and turned into a feared pinch-hitter, but Bailey’s superior defense kept him in the lineup. Every year there were rumors that one or the other would be traded for some badly needed pitching. Finally Burgess, who was four years older, was swapped to Pittsburgh in January 1959.

The highlight of Bailey’s 1959 season was his brother’s major league debut. Jim (called “Hop” at home because of his middle name, Hopkins) was a September call-up after four minor league seasons. The Bailey brother battery didn’t impress the Chicago Cubs. In Jim’s first game, he gave up a home run to the third Cub he faced. The Redlegs staked him to a lead in the fifth when Ed’s bases-loaded lineout bought home the go-ahead run, but Jim gave the run back in the bottom half. The rookie blew up in the eighth, allowing three more runs to take the loss in his only decision. He pitched twice more in relief, then broke his throwing arm the next spring and never returned to the majors.

The Reds, as they were again called, hired a new general manager, Bill DeWitt, in December 1960. He promised an overhaul of the sixth-place team, but said he wouldn’t trade Bailey because he had no catcher to replace him.

The 1961 season had barely begun when DeWitt changed his mind. He shipped Bailey to the San Francisco Giants in a deal for the second baseman he needed, Don Blasingame. But DeWitt had been right; he had no one to replace Bailey even after the trade brought a younger backstop, Bob Schmidt. Schmidt batted .129, and the Reds’ catchers combined for a .201 average. It didn’t matter; Cincinnati shocked the league by winning its first pennant in 21 years.

Bailey was also shocked to be traded away from the club that had signed him when he was 18. “It’s a funny feeling, you know?” he told teammates.9 His wife had just arrived in Cincinnati as he was leaving for San Francisco.

The Giants’ superstar, Willie Mays, had carried on a bantering rivalry with Bailey for years — Bailey daring Mays to try to steal and Mays promising to do just that. Bailey usually won bragging rights; he once threw out Mays three times in a single game. But he appeared to have left his arm in Cincinnati. After shooting down almost half of base stealers throughout his career, he nabbed just 30 percent in his first year in San Francisco. Giants pitchers must deserve a big share of the blame.

Bailey was a disappointment to the Giants. His batting average slipped to .238, and he managed only 13 home runs. The club tried out two young catchers, Tom Haller and John Orsino.

After being traded away from a pennant winner in 1961, Bailey got his chance the next year. By the second half of the 1962 season he was sharing the job with Haller, who also batted left-handed. Bailey started 65 games to Haller’s 83 and hit 17 homers to Haller’s 18. Combined, they drove in 100 runs, giving the Giants All-Star level performance behind the plate. Despite his .232 batting average, Bailey thought it was one of his most productive years. He went 6-for-18 as a pinch-hitter with three pinch home runs, one a grand slam.

San Francisco spent most of the season chasing the Los Angeles Dodgers, and caught them on the final day after the Dodgers lost their last four games. In the best-of-three playoff series to decide the pennant, Bailey went 4-for-7, but he was nearly the goat in the last game. He threw the ball away when Maury Wills stole third in the seventh inning, and Wills raced home to increase the Dodgers’ lead to 4-2. The Giants came back with four runs in the ninth to claim their first pennant in San Francisco. Drenched in a clubhouse champagne shower, Bailey said, “If we drank all this stuff, we’d be sick for a week. But if we had blown that game, we’d be sick for a year.”10

Bailey’s only hit in his only World Series was a ninth-inning home run that saved the Giants from being shut out in Game Three. San Francisco lost to the Yankees in seven.

At 32, Bailey put up another All-Star season in 1963. He hit 21 home runs in just 308 at-bats while sharing the catching with Haller. After the season the Giants traded him to Milwaukee in a seven-player deal that brought them pitching depth and a former All-Star catcher, Del Crandall, who was even older than Bailey. Crandall, a right-handed batter, gave the Giants a platoon partner for Haller.

The Braves split the catching duties between Bailey and 23-year-old Joe Torre, who also played first base and turned in his first big year, batting .321/.365/.498. But Bailey’s power disappeared; he hit only five homers. The Braves sent him back to San Francisco after the 1964 season for reliever Billy O’Dell.

Bailey’s second tour with the Giants lasted only until May, when he was traded to the Cubs. He took over as the regular catcher and had one last hurrah on July 22. He went 4-for-4 with two homers, one a grand slam, and drove in eight runs. But his arm was gone. He needed cortisone shots in his elbow and threw out less than one of four base stealers. Chicago passed him on to the California Angels in January 1966, and the Angels released him in May.

“I probably got as much out of my career as I deserved,” Bailey said years later. “I would have liked to have played under today’s salaries, but I’d probably have the same attitude as I did then. I enjoyed playing and, sure, I’d like to return.”11

He went home to Knoxville for a public-relations job with a trash-hauling company, then joined the staff of Republican Congressman John Duncan. Working out of Duncan’s district office as a field representative, Bailey dealt with constituent problems and served as the congressman’s eyes and ears. After a dozen years of glad-handing voters for Duncan, Bailey did the same on his own behalf. He won election to the city council in 1983 and held his seat for another dozen years. One of his four sons, Joe, succeeded him. Bailey died of throat cancer at 75 on March 23, 2007.

“When he occasionally got booed by the audience at council for taking an unpopular stand,” former Mayor Victor Ashe recalled, “he simply said that he’d been booed by far worst (sic) and louder by more people when he played baseball.”12

Notes

Eugene Walker Baker was born in Davenport, Iowa, on June 15, 1925, the eldest son of Mildred and Eugene O. Baker. He spent his childhood in the Quad Cities area, in Davenport and across the Mississippi River in Moline, Illinois, where his father at one time labored in the iron works.

Gene attended Davenport High School, where he starred in track and basketball. As there happened to be no blacks on the high-school baseball team, Gene played sandlot ball. Davenport was a perennial powerhouse in Iowa high-school basketball, which was the most popular sport in the state. Baker was a star on the basketball court. In 1943 the 17-year-old, 6-foot, 142-pound guard was named to the All-State first team by the Iowa Daily Press Association, with the following accolades: “Most improved player on this year’s Davenport cage team. Clean type of player, fouling infrequently. So alert that he caused opposing guards to foul. Best passer in the Mississippi Valley loop. Will be 18 in June and it looks like the army after that.”

After the state tournament, in which for the second consecutive year Davenport made the final four, a Waterloo coach wrote in the Waterloo Sunday Courier: “In Gene Baker, Davenport’s dusky guard, the river city boys had one of the outstanding individuals in the tournament. He was easily the best passer in the meet and his rebounding and scoring set him out as one of the better basketball players seen in this meet recently.”

As it turned out, Baker went not into the Army, but the Navy, where he played both baseball and basketball, first for the Ottumwa Naval Air Station and then for the Seahawks of the Iowa Pre-Flight School in Iowa City. In newspaper accounts of the games, Baker’s race was frequently mentioned, in keeping with the journalistic practices of the era. The Waterloo paper wrote: “Baker, the shortstop, is one of the greatest and most versatile Negro athletes developed in Iowa. Speedy, a good base runner, he also hits the agate hard.” An Associated Press report on the Seahawks basketball team referred to “Gene Baker, brilliant Davenport Negro.”

His service obligations fulfilled, Baker returned to Davenport, where he played semipro baseball. His exploits on the diamond caught the attention of the Kansas City Monarchs of the Negro American League. By this time Baker had grown one inch in height and added 28 pounds to his still slender frame. He was the Monarchs’ regular shortstop in 1948 and 1949. Early in the 1949 season the Davenport Democrat and Leader wrote: “Among the [Kansas City] stars is Gene Baker, Davenport high school graduate who sparkled as a rookie shortstop last season. In his second year Baker is set to make his bid for notice from the major league scouts. He was told last year that he would get attention after one year’s service in the Negro American League, and there are those who classed him as the second Jackie Robinson.” That may sound like hyperbole from his hometown newspaper, but the scouts were indeed paying attention.

After the season Gene returned to Davenport and played recreation-league basketball, but the spring of 1950 found him in Organized Baseball in the Chicago Cubs organization. After a few games with the Springfield Cubs in the International League, he was acquired by the Des Moines Bruins of the Western League, as the team’s first black player. At the end of June he moved up to the Los Angeles Angels of the Triple-A Pacific Coast League. California newspapers reported that the 25-year-old shortstop was regarded as one of the most promising players in the Cubs’ farm system. Bobby Bragan, manager of the Angels’ chief rivals, the Hollywood Stars, said Baker was “as good a shortstop as I’ve ever seen – and that includes Pee Wee Reese.”

Baker lived up to his promise. On September 1, 1953, the Cubs purchased his contract from the Angels. It was reported that Baker was the first Negro player to ever appear on the Cubs’ official roster. A week later the Cubs purchased Ernie Banks from the Kansas City Monarchs. Both shortstops reported in Chicago on September 14; Banks became the regular shortstop, and suddenly Baker was a second baseman. He made his major-league debut on September 20, striking out as a pinch-hitter in the eighth inning of a Cubs 11-8 loss in St. Louis.

Although Baker had been hailed as the best shortstop in the Pacific Coast League, he was shunted over to second base because it was believed that as he was older and more experienced than Banks, he might be better able to adjust to a new position. Baker proceeded to give his young teammate tips on playing the shortstop position. “He certainly helped me when I came to this club,” Banks told an interviewer with United Press International. “He showed me how to study the batters and how to swing (my position) when the infield shifted. He worked with me on coming across the bag for the double play and showed how to make a short toss for it.”

Baker hit .275 in 135 games during his rookie season. Both he and Banks made The Sporting News all-rookie team. Soon newspapers ceased mentioning Baber’s race whenever his name appeared in print. Gene’s best season came in 1955, when he hit .268, led the league with 18 sacrifices, and was named to the National League All-Star team. He pinch-hit for Don Newcombe in the seventh inning and flied out. Baker was a good but sometimes erratic defensive second baseman. Three times he led NL keystone sackers in errors. In 1955 he led his cohorts in putouts, assists, errors, and total chances. On May 27 of that year his 11 putouts tied the National League record for putouts in one game by a second baseman.

On May 1, 1957, Baker was traded along with first baseman Dee Fondy to Pittsburgh for infielder Dale Long and infielder-outfielder Lee Walls. There was no way he could match the play of future Hall of Famer Bill Mazeroski at second base, so Baker played mainly third base for the Pirates. On July 13, 1958, the third sacker fell on his left knee while charging a ground ball and ruptured a ligament that attaches the kneecap to the leg. Baker later said, “We were playing at St. Louis and Curt Flood hit a swinging bunt. I came in fast and must have slipped. Then there was a crack that sounded like a 30-30 rifle.” The infielder was carried off the field. The knee required surgery, and Baker was out of action for the remainder of the season. He spent rest of the year back in Davenport on crutches.

The Pirates hoped to have Baker back in 1959, but when spring came he was unable to play. Pittsburgh placed him on the 30-day disabled list in April. In May they restored him to the active list and immediately placed him on waivers for the purpose of giving him his unconditional release. But they did not cast Baker aside. They signed him as an instructional assistant for their minor-league clubs. Baker worked predominantly with minor-league players, but also helped with the analysis of minor-league clubs and scouting programs. Pittsburgh manager Danny Murtaugh said that Baker “knows more about baseball than fellows twice his age. He’s one of the smartest I’ve ever met.” During the offseason Baker returned to Davenport, spent time with his wife and two children, sold insurance, played an occasional round of golf, and rooted for his favorite basketball team.

In January 1960 Baker began a series of exercises and tests on his injured left knee at Southern Illinois University’s Physical Education Research Laboratory in Carbondale. Impressed by the work at Carbondale, the Pirates’ general manager, Joe L. Brown, hired kinesiologists from the lab to work with Baker and to develop a training program aimed at preventing injuries to other players. “We’ve had encouraging reports on Baker,” Brown told the Associated Press in February. “We hope he can make a comeback. He’s a fine utility infielder. If he can play for us he’ll be a plus factor. But it is still too early to tell whether Gene can play. Regardless, he will remain in the Pirates organization. He’s got loads of talent in the field of scouting and instruction.” Throughout his ordeal the Pirates were compassionate, generous, and supportive of Baker—qualities not always evident in major-league clubs.

During 1960 spring training Baker went with the club to Fort Myers, Florida, as a nonroster invitee. By late March he was playing well. He was the talk of the training camp and earned a big-league contract. Manager Danny Murtaugh said he expected Baker to be the club’s number one utility infielder during the season. As it turned out there was not much need for Baker’s services and he became almost a forgotten man during the Pirates’ drive to the 1960 pennant. Second baseman Mazeroski and third baseman Don Hoak each played more than 150 games. When Dick Groat was injured, Dick Schofield capably handled the shortstop position. Rocky Nelson filled in for Dick Stuart at first base. Baker played only one game at second and seven games at third base. Otherwise, he was used mainly as a pinch-hitter and occasionally as a pinch-runner. All told, he appeared in 33 games during the season. In the World Series Baker did not play in the field, but he came up three times as a pinch-hitter and failed to make a hit.

During spring training in 1961 the club decided to keep Baker as a utility infielder and send Dick Gray to the minors. In response to a complaint that the Pirates should have kept the younger man rather than the 36-year-old Baker, general manager Brown said, “I don’t care if Gene Baker is 136 years old. We are making our plans entirely on a one-year basis.” Although Gray had looked good in spring training, Brown said, the club could not base all of its opinions on a short trial. A sportswriter accused Brown of favoritism and wrote that it proved that spring training was a waste of time and money. Actually neither Gray nor Baker played very well in 1961 or thereafter. Gray was the regular third baseman for Columbus in 1961 and accepted a utility role in 1962 before retiring from Organized Baseball without ever making it back to the majors. Baker sat on the Pirates’ bench almost all spring, getting into three games at third base and occasionally pinch-hitting. He played his last major-league game on June 10, 1961. On June 20 he was released as a player to make room for outfielder Walt Moryn, purchased from the St. Louis Cardinals.

The Pirates kept their promise that there would always be room in the organization for Baker. On the same day he was released, he was named player-manager of the Batavia Pirates of the Class D New York-Pennsylvania League. He took over a club that was floundering and led it to a third-place finish. He was the first black manager in Organized Baseball in the United States. (One source stated that Nate Moreland had managed Calexico in the Arizona-Mexico League a few years earlier, but this has not been confirmed.) Baker found Class D pitching to his liking, hitting .387 in 55 games, by far the highest average in his career. Ebony magazine, in an article about Baker’s experience in Batavia, wrote, “Since occupying his new post, Baker has learned that having to be a coach, ball player, bookkeeper, field manager, and big brother to 18 men is not a bed of roses.”

In 1962 Baker was promoted to the Columbus Jets of the Triple-A International League as a player-coach, and became the first black coach in Organized Baseball. The promotion put him once again in competition with Dick Gray for playing time at third base. Neither won the position, which was taken by Bob Bailey, the Pirates’ $175,000 bonus baby. Baker found Triple-A pitching difficult to hit and wound up with a woeful .115 batting average in 22 games.

In 1963 Baker was again back in the big leagues as a coach for Pittsburgh — the second African-American to coach in the majors behind Buck O’Neil. Sportswriter Red Smith wrote that “Baker snores like a locomotive coming over Crazy Woman Ridge.” Baker was assigned Roberto Clemente as his roommate, much to the outfielder’s chagrin. “With this coach I could not sleep at all. I keep asking them to let me sleep alone, but they say no, can’t do it. All I could do is warm up and play, warm up and play, always sleepy, no pep. One game in Milwaukee they brushed me back at the plate. To brush back a player … you can wake him up. They brushed me back and I felt good, loose. I hit .320 for the year. And now I sleep alone.”

In a game at Los Angeles on September 21, 1963, Baker made baseball history. A rhubarb ensued when a Pirates batter was retired on a close play. Pittsburgh manager Danny Murtaugh and coach Frank Oceak were ejected by an umpire after their long and loud protests of the call. Baker assumed command and became the first African-American to manage in the major leagues. Of course, he acted only briefly as manager, so his accomplishment is not listed in most record books.

Another managerial stint soon came his way when he was appointed manager of the Aguilas Cibaenas club, which represented Santiago in the Dominican Republic Winter League. Several Pirates and Columbus Jets players were on the Santiago team. Meanwhile, back in Pittsburgh, Murtaugh decided to reduce his coaching staff from six to four. Baker was dropped as a coach, and it was announced that he would manage Batavia again in 1964. After one more season in upstate New York, he became a scout for the Pirates and stayed in that role for many years. For 23 years he was the Pirates’ chief scout in the Midwest.

In 1974 Baker gave a long interview to Loren Tate of the Mount Vernon (Illinois) Register-News. “Arms and legs … that’s what I’m looking for,” the scout said. “I see as many as six teams in a day when I’m in an area where night ball is played. I watch perhaps 75 percent high schools and 25 percent colleges. Sure, I see a lot of guys who can never make it, but you have to see them all to find the great one. Guys in my business don’t worry about positions. We can’t look down the road and visualize what the big club will need three years from now. … .For the most part I’m just looking for the best players, regardless of position.” Watching a game between the University of Illinois and the University of Minnesota, Baker analyzed for the scribe the strengths and weaknesses of various players he was scouting.

Throughout his life Baker maintained his home in Davenport. His son, also named Gene, was an outstanding sprinter for Davenport Central High School from 1964 through 1966, He was one of the state’s top performers in the 100-yard dash, the quarter-mile, and the 220-yard dash. He anchored the school’s 440- and 880-yard relay teams, which were among the best in the nation. Not confining his achievements to one sport, he made the all-state football fourth team as a running back.

Eugene Walter Baker died of a heart attack on December 1, 1999, at the age of 74. He had been hospitalized at Genesis East Medical Center in Davenport for three days. He was survived by his mother, Mildred, and his wife, Janice, both of Davenport, his son, a daughter, a stepdaughter, and 12 grandchildren. He was buried in the Rock Island National Cemetery, just across the Mississippi River from his beloved hometown.

Sources

The Baseball Encyclopedia, Ninth edition. New York: Macmillan, 1993.

Clark, Dick, and Larry Lester. The Negro Leagues Book. Cleveland: Society for American Baseball Research, 1994.

New York Times

Palmer, Pete, and Gary Gillette. The Baseball Encyclopedia. New York: Barnes & Noble, 2004.

Spatz, Lyle (editor). The SABR Baseball List & Record Book. New York: Scribner, 2007.

www.baseball-reference.com

www.newspaperarchive.com

When the curtain rang down on the 1969 season, Ernie Banks was just three home runs shy of 500. But the Chicago Cubs first baseman was not one to dwell on personal achievements. He was probably preoccupied with the disappointing year enjoyed by his team; 1969 was the closest he or many of his teammates had come to a post-season. But Banks was a glass-half-full type of person. Blue skies and better days were ahead.

As the 1970 season commenced, Banks was assigned an unfamiliar role — serving as a backup to Jim Hickman at first base. His at-bats would be less frequent, and accordingly so were his home runs. Banks’ daughter Jan asked him to please “get it over with.” On May 12, 1970, Banks was only too happy to oblige. Facing Atlanta’s Pat Jarvis in the second inning, he deposited the 1–1 offering into the left field bleachers. Because of dark clouds and threatening skies, the crowd was sparse at Wrigley Field. But the 5,264 in attendance cheered loudly, demanding a curtain call from Mr. Cub. They knew full well the significance of the clout; Ernie Banks was the ninth player in major league history to reach 500 home runs.

“The pitch was inside and up,” Banks said. “They’ve been pitching me inside lately, because I haven’t been getting around on the ball.”2 As Banks rounded the bases, and doffed his cap at home plate in acknowledgment of the cheering fans, many thoughts went through his head. “I was thinking about my mother and dad, about all the people in the Cubs’ organization that helped me and about the wonderful Chicago fans who have come out all these years to cheer us on,” Banks said. “You know, I felt it was the fans last Saturday who helped me hit that number 499 homer and today my number 500. They’ve been a great inspiration to me.”3

The Cubs won the game 4–3 on a single by Ron Santo in the bottom of the eleventh. The win kept Chicago atop the National League’s Eastern Division. Billy Williams, who also homered in the game, later said that there was no way the Cubs were going to lose and spoil Banks’ day. As the celebration carried on in the clubhouse, Banks leapt onto a chair and said “The riches of the game are in the thrills, not in the money.”4 For many, a statement like that might come across as lip service. But coming from Ernie Banks, those words rang truer then the Bell Tower at the Merchandise Mart.

Ernest Banks was born on January 31, 1931, in Dallas, Texas. He was the second oldest of Eddie and Essie Banks’ 12 children. Following World War I, Eddie Banks joined the Dallas Black Giants. The Black Giants were a traveling team, and for eight seasons, Eddie played catcher. Their schedule took them to Kansas City, Shreveport, Oklahoma City, and many other cities across the country. When his playing days were over, Eddie worked as a chain store warehouse porter for 25 years.

When Ernie was eight, Eddie presented him with his first glove and ball. Eddie would come home from work, wanting to play catch with his son. “I wouldn’t have anything to do with them,” said Ernie. “So dad gave me 10 cents to play catch with him. From then on, whenever he wanted to play catch, he’d bribe me with nickels and dimes.”5

“The bat came later, and that almost wrecked everything,” says Eddie Banks. “Drives off Ernie’s bat broke so many windows in the neighborhood that we were always in trouble. He smashed so many windows that I was almost broke trying to pay for them.”6

Ernie Banks attended Booker T. Washington High school. He excelled in football and basketball, but the school did not offer baseball as an extra-curricular activity. As a substitute, Ernie played softball. Like many children finding their way, he was introverted and shy. “I thought talking to human beings was just something that could make things complicated and unpleasant. So I didn’t talk much. I just watched people.”7 

Bill Blair, a graduate of Washington High School, spotted Banks’ ability on the softball field. In Blair’s opinion, if Banks could excel at softball, it was not that big of a big leap to do just as well in baseball. Although Banks was only a sophomore, Blair appealed to his parents to allow their son to try out for a traveling team based in Amarillo, Texas. Johnny Carter, owner of the misleadingly-named Detroit Colts — a feeder for professional Negro Leagues teams — visited the Banks household, promising that Ernie would return for his junior year of high school.

The year was 1947, and Jackie Robinson had just broken into the major leagues a couple of months earlier. But the realization of others joining him any time soon was just a dream. “I didn’t understand anything about playing baseball,” said Banks. “I started playing and it was enjoyable. Most of my life I played with older people on my team, in my league. I learned a lot about life. Every day in my life I learned something new from somebody.”8 Many of the players he faced were in their thirties, or even forties, and had much more experience in baseball — and life. 

The Colts traveled through Texas, New Mexico, Kansas, Nebraska, and Oklahoma. For a teenager, such an adventure certainly beat getting up early with his father to pick cotton, shine shoes, or do any of the other menial jobs Banks had held back in Dallas. His performance on the field was superb, and he won the shortstop job after just a few days of training. The youngster who was skeptical about playing baseball homered in his third at-bat of his first game.

Banks returned to the Colts following his junior year of high school. Playing against the Kansas City Stars, Banks impressed Stars manager “Cool Papa” Bell both with his unruffled behavior off the field and his ability on the diamond. “His conduct was almost as outstanding as his ability,” said Bell.9

Bell promised Banks a spot with the Kansas City Monarchs if he completed his senior year of high school. Bell had already recommended Banks to Buck O’Neil, the Monarchs skipper, who was already happy with his current shortstop, Gene Baker. But on March 8, 1950, the Chicago Cubs signed Baker to be their first black player. Even though Baker was good enough to play in the majors, his talent did not approach Ernie’s.

The Monarchs offered Banks $300 a month, and Eddie and Essie Banks gave their assent. For Ernie Banks, a new life opened up. He was fortunate to join an organization with a history of success in the Negro Leagues. Kansas City was a pillar of black baseball. “‘Cool Papa’ Bell was the first one who impressed me. Buck O’Neil helped me in many ways. He installed a positive influence,” Banks later noted.10

In 1950, Banks’ first season with the Monarchs, he played shortstop and hit a reported .255. “Playing for the Kansas City Monarchs was like my school, my learning, my world,” said Banks. “It was my whole life.”11 As great as an education he may have received as a member of the Monarchs, his greatest thrill to date was just ahead. He was offered the opportunity to barnstorm with the “Jackie Robinson All-Stars,” which also included Roy Campanella, Don Newcombe, and Larry Doby, who were touring with the Indianapolis Clowns of the Negro League. Banks made $400 for the tour and, more importantly, received lessons from Robinson on turning the double play.

Banks was then drafted into the United States Army, reporting to Fort Bliss in El Paso, Texas. His battalion reported to New Orleans in early 1952 and traveled by boat to Germany, where Banks served the rest of his two-year hitch. He was discharged in January 1953.

Although Brooklyn and Cleveland contacted Banks to attend tryouts, the young shortstop made a beeline back to Kansas City. By this time, many blacks had turned their attention away from the Negro Leagues and toward the majors. As more black players left the Negro Leagues, interest waned and attendance dropped. Buck O’Neil knew it was only a matter of time before his prized player would also leave.

In September 1953, the Chicago Cubs offered the Kansas City Monarchs $20,000 for the rights to Banks and pitcher Bill Dickey. Banks, who signed a contract for $800 a month,12 debuted in the majors on September 17, 1953. Gene Baker, called up from Los Angeles of the Pacific Coast League, played his first game three days later. “They knew we were going to bring Baker to the Cubs, and they knew he’d need a roommate,” said Lennie Merullo, a former Cubs infielder then working as the club’s chief scout. “One reason they signed Banks was so that Baker would have a roommate. That’s true. You couldn’t isolate a guy.”13

The Cubs were not paying $20,000 just for a roommate. Ernie did not spend a day in the minors, reporting directly to Cubs manager Phil Cavarretta. Banks played the last 10 games of the 1953 season and didn’t sit again until August 11, 1956, by which time he had played 424 straight games. In 1955, Banks’ second full season in Chicago, he stepped in the national spotlight. He was ranked third in home runs (44) and fourth in RBI (117) and hit .295. Banks also led all shortstops with a .972 fielding percentage.

He appeared in his first All-Star Game in 1955, the first of 14 midsummer classic berths for Banks. That season, he set a major league record with five grand slam home runs. The last one came in St. Louis on September 19. “Naturally, I knew I needed another one to break the record, but I never dreamed it would happen to me,” said Banks. “Then the kid [St. Louis pitcher Lindy McDaniel] gave me a fastball that was a bit outside, and I knew it was gone as soon as I hit it. It was one of the best pitches I‘ve hit all season, but it’s still hard to believe.”14

“Of course, Ernie Banks was a good hitter, even at the beginning,” said Ralph Kiner, a pretty fair hitter in his own right. “I liked watching him. He would lightly rap his fingers on the bat; he looked like he was playing the flute.”15 Banks played a full-blown symphony in both 1958 and 1959, when he was twice honored by the Baseball Writers Association of America (BBWAA) as the National League’s MVP. The Sporting News also named Banks its N.L. Player of the Year for both seasons. In 1958, he topped the NL in home runs, RBIs, and slugging percentage, and the following year topped the league in RBIs and ranked second in homers. He also led all shortstops with a .985 fielding percentage and committed only 12 errors. Both of these statistics set major league records for shortstops.16

“Ernie Banks was a super guy. My kids loved him. Could he ever hit! He had just had back-to back MVP seasons despite playing for a bad ballclub. He had his fourth straight year with over 40 homers and way over 100 RBIs,” said his 1960s teammate Frank Thomas.17

“I don’t try to hit home runs. I just try to meet the ball and get base hits,” Mr. Cub noted. “I’m swingin’ at better pitches than I did in previous years. I’m not letting those strikes get by. I try to stay ready to hit the fastball. If I’m fooled by the pitch, I take it. I protect myself when the ball is outside and concentrate on hitting strikes.”18 Phillies pitcher Robin Roberts noted, however, that Banks was never the most patient hitter: “He doesn’t take many bad pitches; he swings at them.”19

In 1960, Banks again paced the NL in home runs with 41. He also knocked in 117 and led the league again in fielding percentage, winning his only Gold Glove. Ron Santo joined the club in mid-year and added some power and offense to the lineup. The following season, Billy Williams won Rookie of the Year honors from both The Sporting News and the BBWAA, forming with Santo and Banks a three-headed monster. “My second year I hit behind Banks, and he hit 29 home runs, and I spent about 29 times in the dirt,” said Santo. “I used to say to him, ‘You’re hitting the home runs. Why am I spending time in the dirt?’ He just laughed. That’s the way it was then. You accepted it. You didn’t think twice about it. This was all respect.”20

For 1961, Cubs owner Philip K. Wrigley designed a plan under which the Cubs would operate without a manager “as that position is generally understood.” An eight-man staff, augmented by other coaches from the organization, would take turns directing the major-league team and rotating through the minor-league system. This unique and radical idea was called the “College of Coaches.” This approach, which Wrigley called “business efficiency applied to baseball,” was questioned by most and ridiculed by many.

Early in 1961, then-head coach Vedie Himsl asked Banks if he would mind moving to the outfield. Banks had never played the outfield, but he always put the good of the team first, and agreed so that the Cubs could promote Jerry Kindall, a bonus baby signing from 1956.

Banks was a fish out of water in left field, but Chicago center fielder Richie Ashburn helped give him direction. Banks made 23 starts in left field from May 23 through June 14 and also put in a few games at first base before returning to shortstop. His consecutive game streak of 717 ended on June 23 because of his ailing knee; he had banged his left knee on the brick wall at Candlestick Park and was moved back to shortstop. The knee, originally injured in the Army, continued to give him trouble.

Ernie returned to first base in 1962. Kindall was traded to Cleveland and André Rodgers was inserted as the starter at shortstop. “This presents many problems,” said Banks. “Not the least of them is what to do with my feet. Sometimes I seem to have too many and sometimes not enough. I took a whirl at first base last year and I knew even less about it than I do now.”21

On May 25, 1962, Cincinnati’s Moe Drabowsky — a former teammate — plunked Banks in the head with a pitch. Although he did not lose consciousness, Banks was dazed and was sent to the hospital for observation for a couple of days. Two days later after being released, Banks hit three consecutive home runs against Milwaukee at Wrigley Field.

Banks’ offense began to suffer, as he hit 37 home runs and drove in 104 runs in 1962 but slumped in other categories. Although Buck O’Neil, who was scouting for the Cubs, soon joined the staff and was the first black coach in the majors, Wrigley’s “College of Coaches” concept was otherwise a failure. Bob Kennedy, a former major league outfielder, was named the lone head coach in 1963, but over the next three years, he had to deal with a dozen or so revolving coaches.

Banks slumped badly in 1963. He suffered most of the season from sub-clinical mumps, in which the disease remains in the blood without breaking out, and was sidelined for the last three weeks. He also missed games because of a sore right knee and a heel bruise. He did set a major league record with 22 putouts at first base on May 9, 1963, as Dick Ellsworth topped Pittsburgh 3–1 on two hits.

The Cubs improved some in that season, but promising second baseman Ken Hubbs — the 1962 Rookie of the Year — died February 15, 1964, when he crashed a small plane into an ice-covered section of Utah Lake. He was 22 years old.

To make things worse, on June 15, 1964, the Cubs shipped outfielder Lou Brock to St. Louis in a six-player deal. In sixth place but only 5½ games off the pace, the Cubs were trying to bolster their pitching corps, but Ernie Broglio, the centerpiece of the deal, had a bad arm and was out of baseball two years later. The Cardinals used Brock differently than had the Cubs, utilizing his speed. He became the all-time leader in stolen bases, running all the way to Cooperstown.

The Chicago front office hired Leo Durocher to take the helm for 1966. “The Lip” had piloted three other clubs to pennants and captured a world championship in 1954 with the New York Giants. His clubs finished either second or third nine other times. Most felt that Durocher’s rough-and-ready style was just what the Cubs needed.

In his fourteenth season, Banks was sick of losing. Even for a player with a sunny disposition, losing can take a toll. “I am happy Leo is here. I am delighted. I think Durocher — “Leo the Lip” as they say — will shake things up. He will be able to do things that some of the others could not do. If Leo gets the Cubs going, I will be happy to play a part even if I am not here when we eventually win a pennant. Just winning and being in the first division would be great incentive for the fellows around here,” said Banks.22

Although Banks was in a good frame of mind, others painted a different picture. “He [Durocher] disliked Ernie from the go,” wrote broadcaster Jack Brickhouse. “It was just that Ernie was too big a name in Chicago to suit Durocher.”23

“I can remember Ernie and Leo were constantly feuding,” recalled Ferguson Jenkins. “Leo was always giving Ernie Banks’ job away. Every spring he’d give it away to John Boccabella or George Altman or [Willie] Smith or Lee Thomas, and Ernie would win it back again. Ernie knew that Leo did not like him. There was no ‘Come over for tea and crumpets’ with Ernie for Leo…Ernie was always going to spring training, and someone always had his job, and Ernie would always win it back.”24

Curiously, Banks was named as a “player-coach” during spring training 1967. All of the right comments were made and speculation about Banks’ playing time diminishing was dismissed. “I’m very happy about it,” said Banks. “I’m looking forward to working with the younger players. It’s all very gratifying.”25

Despite the clash between the Cubs star and the skipper, Chicago finished in third place in 1967 and 1968. Although they were a distant third behind St. Louis and San Francisco both times, this was unfamiliar terrain. Glenn Beckert at second base and Don Kessinger at short were as solid as any DP combo in the league. Randy Hundley came over from San Francisco and was a solid catcher for several seasons. The pitching staff, led by Ferguson Jenkins who would win 20 games six years in a row, was taking shape. Banks’ batting average was on the decline, but he slugged 32 homers in 1968.

The National and American Leagues split into divisions for the first time in 1969, creating a playoff system. Both leagues had an East and West Division, each with six teams. The Cubs were placed in the N.L. East. All signs pointed to Chicago ending its post-season drought in 1969 and for their fans, there was no better way to spend the summer than at Wrigley Field. Jenkins and Bill Hands both won 20 games, while Santo, Banks, and Williams combined to smack 73 round trippers and drive in 324 runs. It was also in July 1969 that the phrase “Let’s Play Two” was attributed to Banks. The Cubs were to play a game in 100-degree heat and Banks, looking to inspire his teammates, uttered the phrase. Sportswriter Jimmy Enright reported it and credited Ernie.26

At the end of August, the Cubs held a 4½-game lead over second-place New York. A two-game series at Shea Stadium in early September featured Jenkins and Hands against the Mets’ best hurlers, Tom Seaver and Jerry Koosman. The Mets took both games to slice their deficit to a half-game. Chicago never recovered, going 8–12 the rest of the season. Conversely, the Mets went 18–5 and cruised to the division title by a margin of eight games. “I admit we played horseshit in the last few weeks,” said Durocher. “We’ve played some of the worst baseball I’ve seen in years. But that doesn’t discount the fact that the Mets played like hell. They got in a streak and couldn’t lose.”27

The Cubs made a strong bid again for the playoffs in 1970, trailing Pittsburgh by 1½ on September 19. But a 4–7 record to close the year made them bridesmaids again. For the first time, Banks was used primarily as a reserve. Even when he got the chance to play, Banks was disrespected by Durocher. Once the manager sent Jim Hickman, like Banks a right-handed batter, to pinch-hit for him against a southpaw. “Hickman told me later it was one of the toughest things he ever had to do,” said Brickhouse.28

Ernie Banks retired from major league baseball at the conclusion of the 1971 season. He was 40 years old. Over his 19-year career he hit .274, made 2,583 hits, pounded out 512 home runs and 407 doubles, and drove in 1,636 runs. He was enshrined in the National Baseball Hall of Fame in 1977, his first year of eligibility. He, Cal Ripken Jr., and Honus Wagner were the shortstops on Major League Baseball’s All-Century Team in 1999.

Banks was the Cubs’ first-base coach in 1973 and 1974, remained in the Cubs organization on a personal services contract for most of the next two decades. He was named to the Cubs Board of Directors in 1978.

Banks also had his own sports marketing firm and was employed by World Van Lines for more than 20 years. He also worked for the Bank of Ravenswood in Chicago. Even when he was still playing baseball, Banks bought in to a Ford automobile dealership in 1967, becoming the second African American in the U.S. to own one. He also served on the board of the Chicago Transit Authority (CTA) in 1969.

In 1982, the Cubs retired his #14. On Opening Day in 2008, the team unveiled a statue of Banks outside of Wrigley Field.

In 2013, Banks received the Presidential Medal of Freedom in a ceremony at the White House. It is the highest honor a United States civilian can receive. “That’s Mr. Cub — the man who came up through the Negro Leagues, making $7 a day, and became the first black player to suit up for the Cubs and one of the greatest hitters of all time,” said President Barack Obama. “In the process, Ernie became known as much for his 512 home runs as for his cheer and optimism, and his eternal faith that someday the Cubs would go all the way. That is something that even a White Sox fan like me can respect. He is just a wonderful man and a great icon of my hometown.”29

Banks, and his wife Liz, spent his later years in Southern California. He played golf regularly with his twin sons, Joey and Jerry, and tasted the creations of his daughter Jan, a local chef. He planned for the future and lived comfortably; during the 1960s, Cubs owner P.K. Wrigley offered Ernie the chance to invest in a trust fund. Banks put aside half his salary and at age 55 cashed in more than $4 million. He was the only player to take Wrigley’s advice.

On January 23, 2015, in Chicago, Ernie Banks died at age 83, setting off a round of mourning fitting one of the city’s most beloved citizens.

Notes

1 Phil Rogers, Ernie Banks: Mr. Cub and the Summer of ’69, Chicago: Triumph Books, 2011, 5.

2 The Sporting News, May 30, 1970, 5.

3 Ibid.

4 Ibid.

5 Rogers, 29.

6 The Sporting News, February 17, 1960, 3.

7 Lew Freedman, Game of My Life: Chicago Cubs; Memorable Stories of Cubs Baseball, Champaign, Illinois: Sports Publishing, 2007, 104.

8 Rogers, 58.

9 Rogers, 59.

10 Freedman, 106.

11 MLB.com, February 1, 2012.

12 Peter Golenbock, Wrigleyville, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996, 349.

13 Goldenbock, 347.

14 Chicago American News, September 20, 1955, 23.

15 Danny Peary, We Played the Game, New York: Hyperion, 249.

16 St. Louis Post-Dispatch, December 17, 1959.

17 Peary, 464.

18 Chicago Daily News, August 29, 1959.

19 Ibid.

20 Golenbock, 380.

21 The New York Times, May 18, 1962.

22 Newsday, March 3, 1966.

23 David Claerbaut, The Greatest Team That Didn’t Win: Durocher’s Cubs, Dallas: Taylor Publishing, 2000, 26.

24 Golenbock, 399.

25 The Sporting News, March 18, 1967, 19.

26 Gerald C. Wood and Andrew Hazucha, Northsiders: Essays on the History, and the Culture of the Chicago Cubs, Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Company, 2008, 101.

27 Rogers, 227.

28 Claerbaut, 26.

29 MLB.com, November 11, 2013.

30 Wood and Hazucha, 101.