An Irishman’S Tribute to the Negro Leagues: Second Edition

By Thomas Porky McDonald

An Irishmans Tribute to the Negro Leagues is the first in a trilogy of Irishmans Tributes by Thomas Porky McDonald. In it, the long-ago world of Negro League Baseball is celebrated on factual, fictional, and emotional platforms. Profiles of over fifty former Negro Leaguers pay homage to the wondrous game they played. Two handfuls of Tallman Tales, McDonalds unique short stories, use the days of all-black baseball as a backdrop for some heartfelt characters that desperately seek entrance to a legendary era otherwise lost in time. Interspersed within the profiles and tales is a small collection of McDonalds trademark baseball poetry.

This second edition contains additional poems and profiles, in deference to the historic Hall of Fame election of seventeen Negro League greats in 2006, via a special committee formed to try and give just due to as many of the forgotten heroes of the Negro Leagues as possible. The Hall of Fame Gallery at the center of the book contains all thirty-fivr Hall of Fame inductees based mainly on service in the Negro Leagues, from the very first one, Satchel Paige, in 1971, on through to the honored group of 2006, which included such long overdue legends as Biz Mackey, Mule Suttles, Jud Wilson, and Effa Manley, the former Newark Eagles owner who became the first woman ever honored in the plaque room at Cooperstown.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546238102

Thomas Porky McDonald

Michelle Le Chen was 7 years old when her father was incarcerated in 1975. Her mother spent the next 17 years working for her husband’s escape or release. The rest of Michelle’s family escaped from Vietnam in 1979-80, with most of them settling in Virginia, where she would live for the next 25 years, before moving to Florida in 2014.

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© 2018 . All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/18/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-3811-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-3810-2 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Introduction – We All Should be Proud

Poems

On Universal Loss

Faith Between the Lines

Someday Demolition Men

A Face in the Park

Ol’ Satch

Once

I’ll See You in Your Winters

Young Men Raised on Theories

Reigning Echoes

A Single Classic Swing

Remnants of the Sacred Yard

Buck was a Man

Schoolyards Beyond Mind and Majors

Rainbows in Need of a Storm

If You Should Rise on Tuesday

Where the Angels Bow to the Grass

Archie, Red and the Kid

Mule in the Sky

An Annual Dose of Pride

Centerfield is Calling

Tallman Tales

The Unknown At Second

Dear Mrs. Manley

Newton’s Answer

The Nature of Twins

A Half Minute From Heaven

An Incandescent Meetin’

Dirge of the Dancer

Bad Teeth

A Game of Yards

Archie, Red and the Kid

Keystone Wanderers

Profiles

Ray Dandridge

Hilton Smith

Cool Papa Bell

Rube Foster

Newt Allen

John Henry Lloyd

Dick Lundy

Buck Leonard

Satchel Paige

Smokey Joe Williams

Sammy T. Hughes

Martin Dihigo

Jimmy Crutchfield

Oliver Marcelle

Josh Gibson

David Malarcher

Bruce Petway

Webster McDonald

Roy Campanella

Sol White

Willie Foster

Sam Streeter

Bullet Rogan

Jud Wilson

Hank Aaron

Ernie Banks

Cannonball Dick Redding

Piper Davis

Oscar Charleston

Chet Brewer

Buck O’Neil

Leon Day

John Beckwith

Judy Johnson

Bingo DeMoss

Double Duty Radcliffe

Larry Doby

Jackie Robinson

Candy Jim Taylor

Willie Wells

Turkey Stearnes

Jose Mendez

Leroy Matlock

Home Run Johnson

Biz Mackey

Rap Dixon

Wild Bill Wright

Pee Wee Butts

Louis Santop

Raymond Brown

Monte Irvin

Mule Suttles

Second Edition Profiles & Poems

Effa Manley

Cumberland Posey

Andy Cooper

Frank Grant

Ben Taylor

The Ballad of Bill and Biz

Universal, too

If I Could Read My Father’s Plaque

Alex Pompez

Cristobal Torriente

Ted Page

J.L. Wilkinson

Pete Hill

Willard Brown

Epilogue – From Josh until Curt

Hall of Fame Gallery at center of book

Cover Photo by Lance Tallman

Hall of Fame Gallery Courtesy of

National Baseball Hall of Fame Library and Archive

Cooperstown, New York

Jacket Design by Olga Khrapovitski

Hall of Fame Graphic Conversion

by Nathan Shlyakh & Olga Khrapovitski

Text and Graphic Formatting & Compilation

by Eustace Castellaneta

Second Edition Edited by Paula Alleyne and Adam Boneker

This book is

Dedicated to:

All the players of All-Black Baseball

And all the participants in the

Negro League experience;

And also to

My four Brooklyn Royal Giants:

Laverne Edwards

Brother Joe Edwards

Ira James

And

Monah Johnson

May the road rise to meet you

In Memoriam

Bart Messick

Elizabeth and William Messick

Nellie and William B. McDonald

Marie and Ellwood Everding

Jenny and Henry Berger

Ann and Phil Tortora

Alice and Francis Brady

Maureen and Rocky Rizzo

Patrick McNally

James Magbee

Catherine Mastro

Gerri Pretlow

Dennis Felder

James Wheeler

Danny Malloy

Caroline Adamson

Mike Nawrocki

Donna Granger

Emma Callender

Senan Shannon

Sal Fradella

Mike Kozak

Susan Solow

Mark Grzecik

In Memoriam

Doris Overton

Diane Armstrong

Ravi Chinnasamy

Ken Levy

Janice Rice

Laverne Edwards

Brother Joe Edwards

Wesley Johnson

Annie Freeman

Wilfred Todman

Elizabeth Doe

Dan Heidt

Bob Valles

Walter Connolly

Al Snolis

Mike The Butcher Carracio

Nick Salamay

Chucky Horak

Roy Riegel

Frank Brady

Jack Gebhardt

Bill The Chief McDonald

Marie Everding McDonald

I Think of Jackie

We all have our times of anxiety,

and moments of anger and pain;

When I’m pressured, I think of Jackie,

and everything seems less insane.

Little people in their efforts to be big,

will say I’m going to get you today;

Then I pause and I think of Jackie,

and I find I don’t care what they say.

Everyone has a way of dealing with fear;

Some use prayer to help draw the line;

As for me, well I think of Jackie,

and I know that everything will be fine.

So if you’re ever in a pinch or uncertain,

and you’re not really sure what to do,

I suggest maybe thinking of Jackie

might be just what you need to get through.

Introduction

We All Should be Proud

What you’re left with is pride. After all your material goods and creature comforts have been exhausted and run their course, your pride (or your lack of pride) remains. Not false pride. Not foolish pride. Only genuine pride; pride in who you are, pride in what you are and pride in where you came from. Pride is something that cannot be dismissed. And pride is what sustains people when they have been falsely told that they are not as good as other people for no other reason than who they are, what they are and where they came from. The idea that one person is better than another because of, say, skin color, is of course, the original absurd notion.

Throughout history, certain lighter skinned people have found a perverse need to stake themselves as better or superior to others whose tone is either darker (African, Hispanic, Indian) or almost as light (Asian). There are no qualifications for such thinking, nor any justification. In fact, if you actually believe that you are better then someone else because you are of a certain race, background or religious persuasion, all you really are is insecure. And also a coward of the lowest order.

Being brought up in predominantly white Roman Catholic schools, contradiction was a constant teammate of mine. "Love your neighbor as yourself was a big motto back then, and indeed one of the two credos that formed the very foundation of the Catholic religion (Love God, and no other false gods being the other). But then, as you went through that system, you could clearly see that these rules applied to you as a student, but not necessarily to certain adults (priests, nuns, parents who were part of the in group" with the parish). Do as we say, not as we do was the real lesson. Unless, of course, if you had a mind of your own, which they outwardly preached was essential, yet blatantly put the gag on. By paying attention to this undercurrent, I learned about fair and unfair, even if I didn’t learn it the way they wanted me to. The obvious inequalities that I encountered and stood up to as a child brought me a lot of grief and plenty of pride in how I confronted the wrongs that I saw, even (and especially) when these wrongs were clearly perpetrated by teachers and the like.

Interestingly, the Catholic school system shares this incongruous form of existence with the way the government seems to run the country. The Constitution, which was written of course with slavery intact (as cute a trick as a "vow of poverty" priest with a Cadillac, wouldn’t you say?), preaches freedom, but realizes that freedom only for a certain (mostly white or rich) portion of the population. Times have gotten better, you could say, but they’ve also stayed quite the same in many respects.

In the case of baseball, the grand old game certainly has mirrored the ways of the land. Minorities have been treated as second class citizens in varying stages, as you go through the years. Even though throughout the 1880’s (and beyond) a number of black ballplayers were clearly and positively noted to be of Major League quality, the likes of born again racists (and Hall of Famers, I might add) from Cap Anson to Judge Landis have made damn sure that any non-white man would be barred from the so-called "National" pastime. When Jackie Robinson made his debut in Brooklyn on April 15, 1947, one hurdle was reached, but that hurdle more openly exposed an abhorrent and unaccountable faction of the society which quite frankly, I could never fathom.

I guess I could go back to the Catholic school "Love your neighbor as yourself and deduce that if you hate your neighbor, you must surely hate yourself. This might be the ticket, since cowardice and insecurity are the only two things (along with parents and elders who possess these two lack of qualities) that can explain for me any of the Jim Crow policies that went on for so long, and still do today (without the official" signs at restrooms, water fountains and the like, that is). "The times, as in you have to understand the times" does not wash with me, sorry. If you think you are a better person or being or whatever simply because you are white in color, you are a fool. An insecure fool. A cowardly insecure fool. At any time.

In the backdrop of these "times (or any other times", to be sure), the struggles of black people cannot possibly be gauged by a white Irish guy like me (or any other white person, for that matter). Even today, when so many black people still get nervous and nasty looks and attitudes from too great a number of the ivory persuasion, I can’t possible imagine how that feels. It would be like me as a man saying I could imagine how it feels to have a baby. It can’t be done. Yet people try to do this all the time. And a good portion of the government, as well as many rich people, are very happy about it. If they can keep blacks and whites speaking and acting as "us and them, and not as a universal we, their little scam goes merrily on. That would be the scam of living off of our poor and middle class" (two wonderfully concocted terms that also attempt to connote a false sense of inferiority) taxes and indiscretions. If we ever stopped damning our cosmetic differences as merely ingrained ethnic tendencies that really make us all spiritually the same, then we could truly have a real revolution. Or so I pray.

As for the different Negro Leagues of yore (the Negro National League, the Eastern Colored League, the Negro American League, etc.), they may have collectively given us the greatest example of pride over prejudice in a peacetime environment that the world has known in the 20th Century (though their legacy also would implore you to include the last quarter of the 19th Century). In a country where freedom was supposed to be a given, these men, living in this country, were not allowed to eat or sleep in many of it’s establishments (which sort of kills all this talk of freedom, don’t you think?), while traveling all over the land (and on to other less "democratic" countries where they were treated more like human beings). They truly loved the game and what they were as men and ballplayers. (Money was no real incentive for most, when you consider the indelicate nature of life on the road.)

Moreover, these men who were systematically eliminated and then never allowed to play in the "National" sport, had the courage and the wherewithal to form their own teams and leagues, and through it found a deeper and truer freedom: the freedom to defy the illusion of freedom that they were subjected to in America on a day-to-day basis; the freedom to enjoy and to thrive, despite all the outrageously unfair sanctions that their existence as black men had unexplainably submitted them to.

Their self-pride, their belief in who they were, what they were and where they came from is inspiring, to say the least, and angelic and saintly, to say the most. Of course, you could say this about all black people, as far back as the days of slavery; pride and religion was what got them through the worst treatment that could possibly be allowed in a society that arrogantly clung to the notions of equality, without actually practicing the doctrines outlined in the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence. (As an Irishman, I sit quietly at their call as a descendant of one of many distant second place finishing nationalities in the "Americans who were Persecuted" Championships.) These documents are just words if they aren’t realized for every person in the country. People – black, white, yellow, red, brown or otherwise, are people. People count. Words can only inspire when they are sincerely offered, sincerely received and sincerely carried out.

As a lover of baseball, I have a special affinity for the participants in the days of all-black baseball. Their pride, their indomitable spirit and their ability to overcome unnecessary and thoroughly unfair odds in the pursuit of their livelihood is inspirational to anyone with a mind and a heart. These I have.

As a person, I am proud of being a McDonald first, an Irishman second and an American third. The first two have never let me down. And though this is still the best country in the world (for reasons of comparison, anyway), we’d be foolish to think we don’t still have an awful long way to go to be really a land where "all men are created equal." This book is simply about one man, who happens to be Irish-American born and bred, saluting one set of baseball leagues, which happened to be African-American based. Through poems (which directly celebrate the Negro Leagues and their performers, as well as baseball for all who love it), Tallman Tales (short stories which use the Negro Leagues as a unique backdrop for an old Irish storyteller and his dreams) and player profiles (with total credit due to all previous factual accounts of the Negro Leagues, and particularly James A. Riley’s Biographical Encyclopedia of the Negro Leagues, which supplied virtually all of the statistics and information in these 52 brief synopses of players taken pretty much at random, save the ones who have become Hall of Fame members to date), I have tried to thank all those who fight appalling indecencies and stand triumphant above all others.

In 1971, the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York, began electing former Negro Leaguers. The Hall of Fame Gallery at the center of this volume celebrates all those to date who have been inducted into the Hall of Fame, based in whole or large part on their years spent in the Negro Leagues. As such, Jackie Robinson, Larry Doby, Hank Aaron and Ernie Banks, one-time Negro Leaguers whom I’ve included in the Player Profiles section of this book, are not found in the Gallery section. Robinson and Doby were the first black players in the National and American Leagues, respectively; Aaron and Banks were two of the last former Negro Leaguers to retire from the Major Leagues (in the 1970’s). So they serve as de facto bookends of the Negro Leagues’ long journey into the Majors, which is why I chose to include brief profiles of them (in two split pages). However, all four entered Cooperstown based on their days in the Major Leagues. It was for this reason that I chose to omit their plaques from the Gallery section. Also, the mere presence of these well known names might tend to diminish or downplay the former stars who entered the Hall as formerly unrecognized Negro Leaguers. After all, this is a Negro League Tribute.

In the cases of Roy Campanella, Monte Irvin and Satchel Paige, three men I also profiled that, like the four above, also played in the Major Leagues, I had to make a judgement call. In the Gallery, I included Irvin and Paige, but not Campanella, only because the former Baltimore Elite Giant and Brooklyn Dodger catcher is a most unique anomaly. Campy played 9 years in the Negro Leagues and 10 in the Majors, due largely to the fact that he began as a 15-year old. Though his Negro League lineage is certain and enduring, he was inducted into the Hall of Fame based on his years playing at Ebbets Field for the Dodgers, with whom he shared Brooklyn’s only World Championship in 1955. Of course, Irvin and Paige, like Campy, both made a contribution to Championship squads in the Majors (Monte for the 1954 N.Y. Giants and Satch for the 1948 Indians). Nonetheless, both were voted into the Hall due to their years in the Negro Leagues, Irvin in 1974 and Paige, the first elected as a Negro Leaguer, in 1971. So their plaques certainly belong in the Gallery section.

I wanted to make that clear right up front, because I’d never slight anyone who played even a day in the Negro Leagues, especially those who also earned entrance into Cooperstown. They’re all heroes, but I wanted the Hall of Fame Gallery in this book to focus on those voted in as Negro Leaguers. I sincerely apologize if anyone feels slighted; this was (and is) certainly not my intention. Also, you might note that a few of the dates on the Hall of Fame plaques conflict with those cited in the Profiles section. I can only attribute this to the cloudy nature of records that invariably exist at any time when discussing the Negro Leagues. I choose to use the Biographical Encyclopedia of the Negro Leagues as my source, since it’s author, James A. Riley, spent decades compiling it. Of course, the Hall of Fame is not to be dismissed, but again, I made a judgement call. And again, this is a Tribute, not a debate, and I am in no way trying to insult or argue with anyone. My only hope is that I have succeeded in bringing a greater appreciation for a wonderful memory that was once known as the Negro Leagues.

I also would like to acknowledge here all the other individuals who shared in the experiences of the players of the Negro Leagues. This would include owners like Cum Posey, Abe and Effa Manley, J.L. Wilkinson and Gus Greenlee, who despite occasional background concerns that a few in their ranks possessed, were all at their finest while watching over and perpetuating the leagues through the years. Also, all of the great black writers of that era, like Wendell Smith, Ric Roberts, Joe Bostic and Sam Lacy, who spread the word to the African-American masses (and anyone else who would listen) when the white masses wouldn’t listen, and also fought hard for the eventual integration of the Major Leagues. And mostly for all the fans who ever went to a Negro League game or met one or more of the players in person. I treasure my childhood memories of baseball and I wish I could have been at the park with you, all those years ago.

The greatest heroes are the ones you uncover at the two crossroads of your life (one crossed in childhood and one crossed as an adult). Welcome to my second crossroads. And thank you Rube, Judy, Cool Papa, Satch, Pop, Josh, Oscar, Smokey Joe, Double Duty, a pair of Bucks and all the rest. May you play on, well into the night.

TPMcD