Showing posts with label Jackie Robinson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jackie Robinson. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

216. Johnny Wright: More than just "the other guy"


Since we just passed the 70th anniversary of the day Jackie Robinson took the field for the Montreal Royals in Jersey City, I think it's important to celebrate an often overlooked event that occurred a few days later on April 24, 1946. That was the day Johnny Wright emerged from the bullpen in Syracuse's MacArthur Park and became organized baseball's first black pitcher in the 20th century. 

Now, I'm not going to go over the "forgotten man" ground that often is the gist of any piece on Johnny Wright. Instead I'll try to retell his story as comprehensively as possible. That's not an easy task - many modern articles about Wright have confusing and sometimes just plain wrong details. Even the black press at the time seemed to drop Wright like a hot potato after he was demoted from Montreal. In writing this piece I dug up as many contemporary newspaper sources as I could, not only about his brief stint in organized baseball, but for his Negro League career as well. 



Today, Wright's time in Montreal is seen as a brief footnote to Jackie Robinson's story. But the way I want to tell this story is a little different - I'm going to attempt to flip it the other way around - that those six weeks with Montreal was just a brief footnote in Johnny Wright's story...

Johnny Wright was born in New Orleans, Louisiana in 1916. His pop Richard was a railroad man who rented a house in the Holly Grove neighborhood for his wife Hazel, daughter Isabel and his youngest, Johnny. In high school Wright developed a scorcher of a fastball delivered with total control. He was just shy of 6 foot, angular and thin, attributes that earned him the nickname "Needle Nose". As he matured he augmented his fastball with an arsenal of sharp breaking curves that left a wake of frustrated batters. In most bios of Wright, including a profile written by the Pittsburgh Courier in 1946, it's stated that he began his career with the New Orleans Zulus, a local barnstorming outfit, but in researching this story I could find nothing linking Wright and this team. Still, the Zulus were named as his first paying job in baseball and in the 1930's it was common for black ball players to get their start on these vaudeville-comedy teams. Like the better-known Indianapolis Clowns, the Zulus mixed slapstick comedy routines with baseball, usually while dressed up in "exotic" costumes. Today we recoil in horror at the thought of what passed as entertainment back then, but at the time it was a decent paying job and a way to travel the country. Since these teams often played exhibition games against professional Negro League teams, it was also a good way to have one's talent scouted by the real pros. 


A few stories about Wright report that he was discovered by the Newark Eagles while playing with the Zulus in Louisville, Kentucky. Whether that's true or not, somehow the New Orleans speed baller got the attention of the Eagles who invited him to their spring training camp at Louisburg, North Carolina in 1937. Although he was good enough to make the team, the Newark Eagles had a solid rotation consisting of future Hall of Famer Leon Day plus Terris "The Great" McDuffie and Robert Evans. Wright drew favorable mentions for his hard throwing but he remained strictly a second-line pitcher with the Eagles. During the 1938 season he was loaned out to the Atlanta Black Crackers for a spell before returning to Newark. When Max Manning joined the squad in 1939 Wright moved over to the Pittsburgh Crawfords. The Craws had been a powerhouse Negro League team from 1933 through 1936, but had quickly declined after most of the team defected to the Dominican Republic in 1937. The team struggled to find a home and Wright pitched for the club through their moves from Pittsburgh to Toledo to Indianapolis. 

Wright's entry into professional ball coincided with his starting a family. He married Mildred Creecy in 1937 and they had their first child, daughter Joyce, in 1939, followed a year later by a son named Sylvester. Mildred and the kids lived in the Lafitte Housing Project in New Orleans while Johnny was on the road during the baseball season. That Wright had a family will have an important bearing on his baseball career further down the road.

In 1941 Wright signed with the Homestead Grays, the pride of the Negro National League. The Grays were in the middle of an impressive run in which they won the pennant nine consecutive seasons. It took Wright two full seasons before he became a Grays starter, but when he did, he sure made his mark. 


Johnny Wright's 1943 season was truly one for the ages. Now 26 years old, Wright had six seasons of blackball under his belt and the best bats in the game behind him. His fastball drew comparisons to Satchel Paige, some even saying it was Wright who was the faster of the two. As good as his fastball was, it was his overhand curve that was his money pitch. While many pure speed pitchers have a problem throwing an effective curve because the ball arrived at the plate too quickly to break, Wright's had broke just in time to throw a batter's timing off. He also picked up a slider and knuckle ball, giving himself a wide variety of pitches to choose from. You'd expect a guy with Satchel Paige speed to be a strikeout pitcher, but Wright's success lay in working a batter, allowing him to put the ball in play and letting his fielders make the play. On a team of veterans like the Grays, it was a recipe for success. Throughout the summer Wright won game after game, including a streak of eight in a row. This was the season that Washington Senators owner Clark Griffith would wistfully look out his office window in Griffith Stadium as the Grays pulled in more customers than his own big league team could in their own stadium. 


In a rare blackball game allowed in Wrigley Field in September, the Grays met up with their bitter rivals, the Kansas City Monarchs. The Monarchs had humiliated the Grays in the 1942 Negro World Series and although this was an exhibition that didn't count in the standings, the game was an eagerly awaited rematch. The Grays jumped all over Satchel Paige and he was run out of the box after giving up seven runs. Except for a bad fourth inning when three runs scored, Wright pitched magnificently, striking out seven Monarchs and walking just one.


Grays owner Cum Posey was so impressed with Wright's performance that midway through the summer he did the unthinkable and raised his ace's paycheck $150 a month above what his signed contract called for. In statistics recently compiled by baseball archeologist Scott Simkus, Wright is credited as winning just under 30 games during the season. This tally includes both league and exhibition games. Against Negro National and American League clubs Wright's record was 22-3 with 4 shutouts. In official Negro National League games he won 14 and lost just one. He led the league in wins, strikeouts and ERA, the Triple Crown of pitching. In a league that played just over 30 official games that year, Wright's fourteen wins really was impressive and it's why Cum Posey credited him with pitching the Grays to the 1943 pennant. 


That fall the Grays met the Birmingham Black Barons in the Negro World Series. In an attempt to attract the largest crowds, the Negro World Series was played in several different cities. In the best of seven series Wright lost the first game but came back to pitch a shutout victory in game four. Four days later he repeated his performance, blanking the Barons in game six. In the final game eight (game two had ended in a tie) Wright left after six innings down by two runs but the Grays came back for the win and the World Championship. 

Then just weeks after returning home to his wife and kids in New Orleans, Johnny Wright got his induction notice for service in the United States Navy. 


Luckily for Wright, his fame preceded him into the Navy. After basic training, the pitching ace of the Negro World Champs was stationed at Great Lakes Naval Training Center just outside Chicago. Great Lakes had a formidable all-white baseball team lead by Hall of Famer Mickey Cochrane and manned by an endless supply of ex-Major Leaguers who flowed through the base. The Navy was still segregated and the base had their own all-black ball club called the Great Lakes Sailors. Besides Johnny Wright the team boasted Larry Doby and Earl Richardson of the Newark Eagles, Zack Clayton of the Chicago American Giants, Herb Bracken of the St. Louis Stars and Sonny Randall of the Grays. University of Toledo star athlete Chuck Harman also played on the squad. Harmon would later go on to play in the NBA as well as become the first black player on the Cincinnati Reds. 


As the team's ace, Wright ran up a 16-4 record including a no-hitter and led his team to the Midwestern Serviceman's Baseball Championship. In 1945 Wright was stationed in New York where he pitched for the Floyd Bennett Field Naval Air Base. Unlike Great Lakes, Wright played along side whites at Bennett and he got the opportunity to pitch against three different Major League teams. The Red Sox beat him 9-6 and the Dodgers defeated him 6-4, but he won his last game against the White Sox, 9-6. When asked about how he got along with white teammates, Wright told the Pittsburgh Courier "the white boys treated me swell; we had nothing but agreeableness and harmony." During the 1944 and 1945 seasons Wright also managed to play a few games for the Grays. Since he played these games while on shore leave from the Navy, Wright used the alias "Leroy Leafwich". He won his two appearances in 1944 and followed that up with another three incognito wins in '45. Grays owner Cum Posey later said he kept Wright on the Grays payroll throughout his Navy hitch, paying him $250 a month to add to his $65 monthly salary as a sailor. 


Ever since Johnny Wright became the second man picked to integrate organized baseball, the question of why, out of all the great pitchers in the Negro Leagues, did Branch Rickey picked him. Besides his spectacular 1943 season and his subsequent service record, a good reason might be a game he pitched right before his discharge. Brooklyn Dodgers coach Charlie Dressen organized a five game series pitting his team of big league stars against a team of Negro League players. Held in Ebbets Field, Dressen's pick up team had All-Stars Eddie Stanky, Whitey Kurowski, Tommy Holmes, Ralph Branca, Frank McCormick and Virgil "Fire" Trucks. The Negro League All-Stars had future Hall of Famers Roy Campanella, Willie Wells and Monte Irvin plus many Newark Eagles regulars. The white stars won the first four games but in the final game played on Sunday October 14th they were opposed by Leroy Leftwich, aka Johnny Wright. The Grays ace had the big leaguers shut out on three hits when the game was called after six inning due to darkness. This was the series of games that led to Branch Rickey summoning Roy Campanella to discuss playing for the Brooklyn organization. It's inevitable that Branch Rickey would have also noticed Wright's pitching performance right there in his own ballpark and filed it away for later use.


When he was mustered out of the Navy on Christmas Eve 1945, Johnny Wright looked poised for a triumphant return to the Negro Leagues. However, just as he was getting used to civilian life came the blockbuster news that the Brooklyn Dodgers had signed Jack Roosevelt Robinson to a minor league contract.


The news of Robinson's signing sent the Negro League owners into a tailspin. Unmentioned by the white press was the fact that Branch Rickey signed Jackie Robinson even though he was technically property of the Kansas City Monarchs. Rickey famously instructed Robinson to not sign a Monarchs contract for 1946 - however, just like white "organized baseball", players were bound to a team by the reserve clause, only relinquished through a trade or and outright release. The Negro League owners knew that Rickey's snatching of Robinson set a terrible precedent and they were powerless to stop its repercussions. 


Back in Pittsburgh, Cum Posey frantically rounded up all his men returning from the service. Among the players he made sure to reach out to was his 1943 ace, Johnny Wright. That $250 he had sent to Wright during the war wasn't purely out of the goodness of his heart but basically an unspoken retainer that Posey hoped would keep Wright loyal to the Grays. Now with Robinson's signing that insurance money he shelled out seemed all the more pertinent. The two men spoke in early January and Posey recalled that the pitcher reassured him he wasn't going to leave because the team had "been too good to him". That's why the Grays owner reacted with shock and rare uncharacteristic anger when he found out a week later that John Richard Wright of New Orleans had signed a minor league contract with the Brooklyn Dodgers.


Unlike the Robinson signing a few months earlier, Wright's went more or less under the radar. Robinson had been fairly well known to both blacks and whites due to his college football career at UCLA while Wright was known only among those who followed the Negro Leagues. From the moment he signed the Brooklyn contract, Johnny Wright would be forever known as "the other man", completely eclipsed by Robinson's talent, personality and determination.


Wright became acquainted with his Montreal manager on the train headed to spring training. By chance the two men were on the same train and were introduced by a mutual friend, former big leaguer Dutch Meyer. What Clay Hopper discussed with Wright is unrecorded. It would have been an interesting conversation. Hopper was from Mississippi and was not all that happy to be Montreal's rookie manager the same year Rickey was trying to break the race barrier. Hopper was being put in a tough spot and he knew it, but he was a baseball man and determined to do his job. If Robinson and Wright could play ball he would play them. If nothing else, Clay Hopper was going to give Robinson and Wright a fair and equal chance to make the team.


The story of Jackie Robinson's first spring training has been retold many times, both in print and on film. But the one thing that is often left out is Johnny Wright. The awkwardness upon meeting his all-white teammates? Johnny was there. When Robinson had to be whisked out of town in the middle of the night because of death threats? Johnny was whisked away too. Those times Robinson was prohibited from joining his team on the field due to Jim Crow ordinances? So too was Johnny Wright. All the indignities both subtle and overt, Johnny Wright bore them all, right along side Robinson. History is sometimes complicated and short cuts are taken to simplify understanding. For many people, bringing Johnny Wright into the equation simply gets too complex. Racism is better understood when it is distilled to its most basic elements and Johnny Wright's memory and story was the sacrifice.


Throughout spring training Johnny Wright flashed of promise followed by collapse. His trademark control seemed to have disappeared and he was knocked around pretty good in intersquad games. Besides the racial aspects overshadowing Wright, there was also the normal pressure of a player trying to make the team. Montreal was loaded with right handed pitching. There were two 20 game winners on the staff and a half-dozen other prize prospects. Wright went through the grueling fielding practice and running drills without complaint and despite some iffy outing was still considered by some the dark horse of spring training. 


Negro League veterans also lent their support behind the former Homestead Gray. Alex Pompez, owner of the New York Cuban Stars and a future Hall of Famer, predicted that Wright would win 15 games for the Royals. Manager Ben Taylor, a veteran of more than 30 years of blackball, said that Wright "can't help but make good in the International (League). That league won't touch him, mark my word for it". The only man who regarded Wright as a possible dud was his former owner Cum Posey. Shortly after Brooklyn announced Wright's signing, Posey exploded during a phone conversation with sportswriter Sam Lacy. Posey angrily listed Wright's weaknesses that included his inability to keep runners on base and his ineptness at fielding his position, especially bunts. Rickey's stealing of his prized ace was the final nail in the ailing Posey's coffin. Shortly before Wright made his Montreal debut the Grays owner spoke to sportswriter Harry Keck from his hospital deathbed. "Don't let them (Brooklyn) take my best pitcher,” he pleaded. A week later Cum Posey was dead.


When the Brooklyn Dodgers came around to play the Royals Jackie Robinson took the opportunity to shine against the big leaguers.  When Wright was given the ball he was tagged for 8 runs on 10 hits in five innings. Then in his last game before the Royals broke camp, Wright walked four and hit a batter in his only inning of work. Still, Hopper and the Brooklyn management thought enough of Wright that he made the club. 


The Royals opened the 1946 International League season on the road. Their first game was in Jersey City to face the Giants' top farm club, also called the Giants. 25,000 people jammed into Roosevelt Field to see the game. Normally every opening day in Jersey City was a sell out - for years the city's corrupt mayor Frank Hague had made it mandatory for city employees to purchase tickets to ensure his city routinely broke International League attendance records. But with Montreal boasting the first two black ball players in the modern era, history was being made on the field and that ensured a full house.


Wright didn't appear in any of the Jersey City games. Hopper held him back until the April 24 game in Syracuse against the Chiefs. Starter Jack Banta got roughed up for 4 runs in the fourth and was sent to the showers after giving up a two out bases-clearing triple. Clay Hopper waved Johnny Wright in from the bullpen. It was the first appearance of a black pitcher in the modern era. With the pressure on, Wright got the first batter to pop up to end the inning. However, what started out promising quickly fell apart. He walked the first batter to lead off the fifth. Then, as if to make Cum Posey look clairvoyant, the runner easily stole second. He scored when the next batter singled. That was followed by another single that scored a run when Wright threw away the ball trying to pick off the base runner. In the sixth Wright walked the first two batters. This was followed by an RBI double and a sacrifice scored another run. Wright got through the seventh unscathed but was lifted for a pinch hitter in the top of the eighth.


Not an auspicious beginning but not as disastrous as it is sometimes made out. Wright sat on the bench for the rest of the Syracuse series. Next Montreal came to Baltimore. Wright had played in Charm City many times when the Grays played the Elite Giants. But this time Wright was playing in front of a hostile white crowd. To go along with its vibrant black community, Baltimore had a vehemently racist white element that was typical of Mason-Dixon border cities. Rachel Robinson noted that in Florida the racists called her husband names behind their hands but in Baltimore they openly screamed them out. The crowd gave Robinson the worst reception of all the International League cities and the same awaited Wright if and when he got the ball.


That time came on the night of Saturday April 27. The Orioles were pounding the Royals 12-5 and had already chased four Montreal pitchers off the mound. With the bases loaded and two out, Clay Hopper sent Johnny Wright in. 


In baseball, there isn't a more stressful situation for a pitcher than to take the mound with the bases full. That the Orioles already had substantial lead didn't matter much, this was Wright's chance to shine in the face of steep odds and he did just that, getting his man to pop up to end the inning. When he took the mound in the bottom of the eighth his fastball was sizzling. His pitches hit right where he wanted them to and his curve was as sharp as it had been in the summer of '43. Three Orioles stepped to the plate and Wright struck them all out. He came on in the ninth and again held the O's hitless. Unfortunately the Royals couldn't close the gap and lost 12-7, Wright's valiant outing going to waste.


A week later the Dodgers announced the signing of left-handed pitcher Roy Partlow to a Montreal contract. Like Wright, Partlow was a seasoned veteran of the Negro Leagues. Along with Don Newcombe and Roy Campanella who were several rungs down the Dodger farm system at Nashua, Brooklyn had five black ball players in their pipeline, three just below the major leagues. 


The Royals came home to Montreal for the first time after opening on the road. Hometown fans immediately got to see Jackie Robinson in action but Wright sat on the bench. And then he was gone.  At the end of the month the Dodgers announced that Johnny Wright was sent to the Class C Trois Rivieres team of the Canadian-American League. With four black players still positioned in the top tiers of the minor league system, Wright's demotion didn't possess the sting it might have if he and Robinson were the only ones. The black press consciously chose to focus on Robinson and on a lesser extent Newcombe and Campanella who were dominating the New England League. 


At first Wright didn't relish his new assignment. On the baseball map Trois Rivieres smack-dab in the middle of nowhere. He split his first few decisions but then two things happened that turned the season around for him. The first was that Roy Partlow also found himself shipped out to Trois Rivieras after an unimpressive stint with Montreal. Having a friendly face who also had been demoted was probably comforting to Wright. The other thing was he now had the chance to pitch regularly. His old control seemed to return and his 12 wins, combined with Roy Partlow's 11-1 record, helped lead Rivieres to the pennant. To cap it off he pitched the game that gave Trois Rivieres the league championship. After the season ended Wright told sportswriters that he expected to hear from the Dodgers after Christmas.


Meanwhile Jackie Robinson finished off a spectacular debut season by leading the Royals to the International League pennant. Montreal then faced the Louisville Colonels in the Junior World Series. Robinson was outstanding and the Royals won in six games. It was undeniable that next season he would be in a Dodger uniform.


In the custom of the day, Jackie Robinson cashed in on his newly earned fame by organizing a barnstorming tour. Assembled by a Pittsburgh promoter, "Jackie Robinson's All-Stars" was the first of several post-season tours in which Robinson led a squad of black ball players through the south and western United States. Including its namesake, Robinson's 1946 team boasted three other future Hall of Famers: Larry Doby, Roy Campanella and Monte Irvin. Other standouts included Don Newcombe, Artie Wilson and Johnny Wright. The tour enabled black fans in rural towns the chance to see in person the players who were in or would soon be in organized baseball. However, despite his presence on the Jackie Robinson tour and his redeeming record at Trois Rivieres, Johnny Wright never received the expected call back from the Dodgers.


Some histories attribute Wright's Montreal flame out on his inability to deal with the racial animosity heaped upon he and Robinson. While no one who never lived through the race hatred of the time can ever say what the effect could be on a person, reflecting on the two ball players one could almost say that of the two, it was Wright that had the edge in dealing with the hate. Unlike Robinson who had been brought up in Southern California and attended UCLA, Wright was from and still lived in New Orleans. Wright had spent his whole life living within the sick parameters that the South's Jim Crow laws and customs held blacks to. Many descriptions of Wright from this 1946 period call him timid and quiet, trying to blend into the background. These character traits are often used to explain why Wright didn't make it with Montreal. Another way to look at his personality is that it was the way Jim Crow taught southern blacks like Johnny Wright to exist in the white world, not making any waves, blending in. Today that's a hard to understand, let alone accept, but for decades that was the best way to exist in a world that did its best to marginalize an entire race on account of their skin color.  


It's interesting to wonder what would have happened had some big league team tried to integrate in the early 1930's. This was before World War II, an event that forced Americans, both black and white, to at least tolerate each other's existence in the service and in factories. Prior to the war it was rare that the two races would mix let alone work together. In this much different atmosphere, a black ball player with the personality of Johnny Wright might have been the right one to have successfully integrated the game in the 1930's. But this was 1946, and times were changing. For this reason, it was Jackie Robinson's silent but forceful and bold approach that was needed to integrate baseball, not Wright's. Whether this had any effect on the pitcher during his six weeks with Montreal is not known. 


There's also another detail that might have had an impact on Wright's 1946 season. Jackie Robinson had married just after signing with the Dodgers and his wife Rachel accompanied him to spring training and then Montreal. Robinson often told how Rachel's presence helped him deal with the pressure heaped upon him. The two acted as a team and this contributed to Robinson's success on and off the field. Johnny Wright had two kids in grade school and they stayed in New Orleans with Mildred. So while Robinson had his wife at his side during this very stressful and trying period, Wright was on his own.  

Most pieces on Johnny Wright simply end at this point - a quick mention of a two-year return to the Homestead Grays and then retirement. This abrupt end to a promising career makes it seem like the pitcher gave up on the game when the call from the Dodgers never materialized. It makes a dramatic and easy to digest story, but it isn't true at all. Wright actually played professional ball for more than eight years before retiring for good.


After the Jackie Robinson All-Stars tour ended in California, Wright returned home to be with his family for the holidays, and then he headed to Puerto Rico. Since the mid-1930's the Puerto Rico Winter League had attracted white, black and Hispanic players and boasted a league that rivaled Cuba's famous winter loop. Wright joined the Ponce Leones where he won 8 of the team's 60 games, making him one of the best hurlers on the island. The '46-'47 Ponce team won the league championship and has gone down as one of the best ever fielded on the island. But while Wright helped pitch Ponce to the pennant, he was not with the team for the final series due to a salary dispute with the owners. Wright balked at not being paid for post-season games and the ownership claimed his salary was for the whole season, post season included. Neither side budged and Wright sat out the final series while Ponce won without him.

With the death of Cum Posey, the Homestead Grays limped on. Several of their young players had signed on with minor league teams, but the Grays had always been a veteran team and most of their starters were too old to be considered viable prospects by organized baseball. Posey's death also meant that Wright was able to rejoin the club. The Grays failed to win the pennant for the second straight year though Wright contributed a good 8-4 record for them. He was also named to his second East-West All-Star team. Pitcher Wilmer Fields who was Wright's teammate at this time said "John never talked much about his experience with the Dodgers. He was a happy-go-lucky person who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” A winning record, All-Star appearance and being called "happy-go-lucky" doesn't seem like a guy ready to pack it in. It sounds like a pro ballplayer who wanted to put a single bad season behind him and get on with his career.

Since his salary dispute made a return to the Puerto Rico Winter League impossible, Wright set a course for Venezuela. Like Puerto Rico and Cuba, Venezuela had a thriving baseball league that attracted players of all races. Wright joined the Lácteos de Pastora (Pastora Milkers) which had a perrenial rivalry with the Gavilanes de Maracaibo (Maracaibo Sparrowhawks), the two teams usually finishing first and second every year. Among the other foreigners who played that year were future big leaguers Roy Campanella, Don Newcombe, Luke Easter and Joe Black. 

At the conclusion of the season Wright re-joined the Homestead Grays. Reports from spring training state that the Grays were pinning their pitching hopes on Wright but this never came to fruition. He appears to have stayed with the team through June but then he and fellow pitcher Groundhog Thompson jumped to the Mexican League. Since the late 1930's the Negro League owners had had problems with players skipping out on their contracts. Their answer was always a blanket banishment from the league, and on July 31, Wright and Thompson were officially blacklisted. Even without Wright's services, the team had enough in them for their final gasp of glory, winning the last Negro National League pennant. The Grays went on the beat the Birmingham Black Barons, a team that featured a 17 year-old outfielder named Willie Mays, in the Negro World Series.

By now the Negro Leagues were collapsing - the Homestead Grays and New York Black Yankees called it quits after the 1948 season and the Negro National and American Leagues merged into a single two division loop. That meant positions were drying up as the teams that were still around changed their focus from winning pennants with dependable veterans to signing young players who could be sold to organized baseball and turn a profit. In the wake of the Grays and Black Yankees demise, the Negro American League redistributed the players among the remaining teams. His name picked out of a hat at an owner's meeting, Wright was made property of the Louisville Buckeyes. In 1949 Johnny Wright was 32 years old, a dinosaur in baseball years, and his options were running out. While he may have had some stuff left in his arm, he already had his shot at the majors and no one was going to take a chance on him again, especially with a new, younger crop of talent to choose from.


In the winter of 1948-49 Wright returned to Venezuela where he switched to Pastora's bitter rival, Gavilanes de Maracaibo. With the Negro Leagues all but finished, Wright ignored his transfer to Louisville and instead headed south to Mexico. Back in 1946 when he and Robinson were integrating organized baseball, the Mexican Baseball League had lured several white big league players south of the border where they joined many Negro League and Latin stars for one spectacular season of integrated play. High salaries and threats of banishment from the Major and Negro Leagues quickly put the brakes on any hopes that the Mexican League would grow and the loop lost most of their stars. Though the quality dropped dramatically, the league still offered a last chance for many older players like Johnny Wright who still wanted to earn a paycheck playing ball. In 1950 Wright split the year playing for San Luis Potosi Tuneros and the Veracruz Azules and compiled a 13-14 record with a 2.80 ERA in 36 games. The following year he appeared for both the Nuevo Laredo Tecolotes and the Torreon Algodoneros and broke even with 14-14 and a 1.37 ERA in 37 games.


After Mexico Wright moved over to the Dominican Republic where he played for Escogido in 1952 and 1953 and in 1954 for Águilas Cibaeñas. His record there was an unimpressive 4 wins against 16 losses, but in May of 1954 he took a no-hitter into the 9th inning before giving up a game winning single.


Now we come to the real end of Johnny Wright's baseball career. As if to come full circle, Wright returned to the States and signed on with the Indianapolis Clowns. Like the very first professional team he played with back 1n 1936, the New Orleans Zulus, the Clowns were a vaudeville-baseball comedy troupe. The Clowns were in what remained of the old Negro American League, playing teams like the once-proud Kansas City Monarchs who were now no better than semi-pro level. Wright pitched a few good games for the Clowns before hanging up his spikes for good. Work in outsider baseball was quickly drying up and he was now almost 40. It was time head home to Mildred and the kids in New Orleans. 

The retired pitcher took a job in a gypsum plant. A 1998 article in his hometown New Orleans Times-Picayune states that Wright never discussed his baseball career and a friend of his later said that Wright's co-workers probably never even knew he was a ballplayer. Johnny Wright passed away in 1990 without leaving any interviews or insights into his life in baseball. It's my hope that this story reveals a little more about Johnny Wright, that he wasn't just a footnote but a real ballplayer who at one time was the best pitcher in the Negro National League, a man whose talent earned him the once in a lifetime shot at integrating the game he excelled at. 



Those who have met me in person know I'm not the kind of guy to toot my own horn. In fact, much to my detriment, I'm lousy about promoting myself. That's why it's hard for me to ask this, but this is something that needs to be done: if you bought a copy of The League of Outsider Baseball, can you please take the time to write a review of it on Amazon, Barnes and Noble or Good Reads? It would mean a lot to me and most importantly give future publishers an idea of what the book reading public thinks of my work. Almost all of the existing reader's reviews have been flattering, but every once in a while some crackpot writes a clunker out of jealousy or boredom. I for one often look at the reviews on those sites before I spend my money on a book. Reviews aren't the only thing I rely on in my purchasing process but it's certainly a factor, and that's why I'm asking you to please take the time to write your thoughts about my work. 
 

Thursday, November 6, 2014

182. Jackie Robinson: Veterans Day 2014



Since I began this website I always liked to feature a special story for Memorial Day and Veterans Day. Indeed some of my favorite stories have been part of this little series: Eddie Grant, Bill Niemeyer and Sam Kau to name a few. This Veteran's Day I'm reminded that not all vet's served in combat. Some men served in peacetime like Sig Jakucki and Torpedo Mills, and then there were those who for whatever reasons were spared the horrors of battle.

Jackie Robinson was one of those men. 

In the summer of 1944 2nd Lieutenant Jack Robinson found himself at Camp Breckinridge, an infantry replacement training depot in the hills of western Kentucky. The war had been rough for Robinson - not on the battlefields of France or a nameless island in the Pacific, but at home in a racial war whose injuries were not physical but mental.

Before the war Jackie Robinson was a well-known collegiate athlete. His exploits as a track star at UCLA set numerous records and his skills on the gridiron made the sports page from coast to coast. If he had been white, Jackie Robinson would have had to fight off offers from National Football League teams upon graduation. Instead Robinson took a position with a government-run athletic program which quickly folded. Looking for employment, Robinson took the most lucrative sports job he could find - semi-pro football in Hawaii. After a successful 1941 season, Robinson booked passage on a steamship back to Los Angeles. On Sunday, December 7th, 1941 he was contemplating his next move when the Japanese decided it for him. 

The 23 year-old Robinson received his draft notice in early 1942. After basic training with a cavalry regiment he and several other black soldiers requested a transfer to officer's candidate school. Robinson's natural leadership qualities and UCLA education made him ideal officer material but his skin color worked against him. His transfer was put on the back-burner until boxer Joe Lewis stepped in to help open the gate allowing black soldiers to attend officer's school. By January 1943 the former college star was 2nd Lieutenant Jack Robinson,U.S. Army.

Robinson was assigned to the 761st Tank Battalion at Ft. Hood Texas. Known as the "Black Panthers", the 761st would go on to earn a distinguished combat record serving under General Patton in Europe. For two reasons Lt. Robinson wasn't one of them.

Years of strenuous athletic activity had left Robinson with an old ankle injury that required testing to guarantee he was combat-ready. On afternoon while awaiting the results of the test, Robinson boarded an integrated Army bus and took a seat near the front. When the driver told Robinson to sit in the back he flatly refused. The driver reported the incident to the Military Police who took the insolent lieutenant in custody. The commander of the 761st flatly refused to prosecute his young officer but the matter was taken out of his hands when Robinson was transferred to another battalion. His new commanding officer happily signed off on court-martial proceedings before the ink was dry on his transfer papers.

After a humiliating trial in which he was acquitted of all charges, Robinson found himself a soldier without an army. His unit had deployed to Europe during his court martial and medical tests found his ankle was tender enough to keep him out of combat. The trial had made news and his superiors at Ft. Hood didn't want him around so he was transferred to another black unit, the 372nd Infantry Regiment.

The 372nd had a brilliant battle record from the first world war. The units shoulder patch was a red hand on a white disk trimmed in blue and red. This striking insignia was bestowed on the regiment by the French Army of Africa with which the unit had fought with in 1918. By the time Lt. Robinson caught up with the regiment at Camp Breckinridge, Kentucky it was being used as a feeder unit that trained replacement infantry troops. As a distinguished college athlete, Robinson was named the regiment's athletic director.

It was only a temporary assignment. Robinson's fight against the bogus court marshal gained him a reputation as a hard case, and with a bum ankle he wasn't any good for combat. The army decided to discharge him. In the meantime, Robinson waited for the slow moving paperwork to wind its way through Army bureaucracy by keeping the recruits occupied with baseball.

One afternoon Robinson happened upon a soldier throwing big league curve balls on the baseball field. The soldier was Ted Alexander, a former pitcher with the Kansas City Monarchs of the Negro American League. Robinson had had a brush with Negro League baseball back before the war when a traveling blackball team had played a pickup team which Robinson was a part of. When the game ended the team took off without giving Robinson his agreed upon money for the exhibition. The whole experience left Robinson with a bad taste in his mouth and a lingering distrust of black baseball operations. When Robinson told Alexander of his concerns about post-army employment, the pitcher revealed the the Monarchs were always hiring good talent. The war had hit black baseball as hard as the white version with many of its good players in the service. However with many blacks now employed in high paying war industry jobs, blackball was the most popular diversion for their new-found disposable income. The Negro Leagues were experiencing their most profitable period in their history.

The former Monarchs pitcher surely related all this to Robinson and before the two men parted ways Alexander had given the Lieutenant Kansas City Monarchs' owner Tom Baird's contact information. When he received his honorable discharge in November of 1944, Robinson wrote to the Monarchs inquiring about a position. In the meantime he took a job as athletic director at Sam Huston College in Austin, Texas. When spring rolled around the Monarchs sent Robinson a $400 a month contract and instructed him to report for spring training. 

Jackie Robinson's baseball career had begun.

This was a neat story I stumbled on when seeking players for my Kentucky Baseball book project. Much has been written about Jackie Robinson, yet I found it a much neglected side bar that the roots of his professional baseball career actually dated back to a late summer afternoon in western Kentucky. This was a fun illustration to work on especially since his army regiments insignia was so unique - I just knew that red hand would make the drawing. My old pal Will Arlt, owner of Ideal Cap Co. was in town last week and I showed him my illustration. We both agreed that the cap I depicted Jackie wearing would have to be an eventual offering from Ideal, so be on the look out for it next year.

Next week I will revert to the customary baseball card format for my drawings - it just so happens that I recently completed two full-page illustrations for the Kentucky project and I thought it would be a shame to shoe-horn them into a smaller format.

Anyway, this post is dedicated to all the men and women who have served in the United States military. It was your sacrifices and sense of duty that allowed me the life I am fortunate to enjoy. I think of that every day, not just on Memorial and Veteran's Day. Thank you from this very grateful artist.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

149. Jackie Robinson: A Great Day in Jersey City


Today's post is a re-working of one of my oldest ones on the site. While I liked the original drawing, times change and my style has evolved a bit so when I wanted to include Jackie in my new edition of 21, I decided it was time to give him an update. Since Robinson's first appearance in 1946 was such a momentous occasion, and being from New Jersey, I wanted to show a bit of the old ballpark in Jersey City where the game took place. That's Roosevelt Stadium's distinctive scoreboard in the background. I liked this drawing so much I made it a full-page illustration in 21. I tried to depict Robinson as being full of confidence, ready to take the field for the first time, the weight of a whole race upon his able shoulders. It was an important day and I wanted to make this an important drawing.

67 years ago today, Jackie Robinson sat in the visitor's locker room of Jersey City's Roosevelt Stadium. Suiting up with his Montréal Royals teammates, Robinson was about to do what no black man had done since 1899 - play in an organized baseball game. Johnny Wright, another black ballplayer was on the roster that day, too, but Wright was a pitcher and was not going to play. Once the bands stopped and Mayor Hague threw out the first ball, Robinson was on his own. Opening Day in Jersey City was a big deal back then, a city-wide holiday. The Hague political machine that ran the city since 1917 expected every single municipal employee to purchase a ticket in order to give Jersey City the largest opening day crowd every year. Although 25,000 fans streamed through the turnstiles that afternoon, twice than number was sold. Still, with 25,000, Jersey City easily led the International League in attendance that day, and they got to witness history being made.

From the story accompanying the illustration in 21:

When Jackie Robinson took the field at Jersey City’s Roosevelt Stadium on April 18, 1946 he became the first black ballplayer in organized baseball since 1899. Robinson’s fame as a college athlete, his university education, and experience as an army officer made him the perfect man for a very difficult job. Many Negro League ballplayers expressed disappointment that he was to be the first to integrate the game. His manager with Montréal silently questioned whether or not a black man was even human. Bob Feller, who pitched against Robinson in 1945, thought so little of his talent said “If he were a white man, I doubt if they would even consider him big league material, except perhaps as a bat boy.” Robinson faced it all with quiet dignity and strength. In that first game in Jersey City he went 4 for 5, including a three-run homer, scored 4 runs, drove in 3 and stole 2 bases. Overcoming immense racial pressure, Jackie won over his teammates and fans with his natural physical ability and intense drive to win. Sparked by his play, Montréal won the Little World Series of 1946 and the next year he was playing for Brooklyn. Through his sheer determination Jackie Robinson not only paved the way for the desegregation of the major leagues but also the modern civil rights movement. 

Don't forget the card I posted yesterday of Happy Chandler, the Commissioner of Baseball who backed up Branch Rickey when he wanted to bring Jackie Robinson to the Dodgers.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

148. "Happy" Chandler: Instrumental to Integration


With all the hoopla these past few weeks about Jackie Robinson and the integration of baseball, I thought before I wheel out my new Robinson card and story this week, I'd feature one man who was directly responsible for the destruction of the color line. He's a guy that I will include in the next edition of 21, which will have a "Baseball in Kentucky" theme in tribute to my adopted state. While Brooklyn Dodgers general manager Branch Rickey gets the well-deserved lions share of ink for his part in integrating the modern game, Happy Chandler played an instrumental, though not well-recognized part.

 He was one of those old-time baby-kissing, glad-handing southern politicians with a billion-watt smile, the kind you see in cartoons. He was elected governor of the Commonwealth of Kentucky two separate times, represented the state in the United States Senate and was the second Commissioner of Baseball. But before all of that, Happy Chandler was a shortstop.

In the long line of Commissioners of Baseball, Happy Chandler is the only one to have played the game professionally. He was a star athlete in high school and played ball for Transylvania College. He reportedly tossed a no-hitter playing for Grafton in North Dakota's Red River Valley League in 1920 (the town even named the local baseball field after him) and was invited to a tryout with the Saskatoon Quakers but returned to college instead.

During the summers of 1922 and 1923 he played for the Lexington Reos of the Blue Grass League. The Blue Grass League was a Class D circuit, the lowest classification at the time, but it was professional baseball and one of his teammates was future Hall of Famer and member of the famed 1927 Yankees, Earle Combs. Chandler played in less than 20 games but for a time considered pursuing baseball as a career. He also served as a league umpire during the two seasons he spent with the Reos before deciding to attend Harvard Law School.

Chandler worked his way up the ladder of Kentucky politics, first in Woodford County then on to the state level. He was a fiscally conservative Democrat and by 1935 was elected governor. He switched over to the United States Senate in 1939 and it was there that he was approached to become the second Commissioner of Baseball.

Kennesaw Mountain Landis had held the post since 1920 and upon his death the team owners elected Chandler to succeed him. In the period between Landis' death and Chandlers appointment, Brooklyn Dodgers general manager Branch Rickey  signed Jackie Robinson and Johnny Wright to Montreal Royals contracts making them the first blacks to play professional ball since Hippo Galloway in 1899

After the 1946 season, Rickey wanted to transfer Robinson's contract to the Dodgers, something that the Commissioner's office had to approve. Rickey went to personally see Chandler who gave his complete support. The Dodgers' general manager later said that without Chandlers full support he would not have been able to bring Robinson to Brooklyn.

Why did Chandler give his support to something his predecessor had vehemently opposed? There are two quotes attributed to him in regards to his approval of the smashing of the color line. The first was given right after he was named Commissioner. Ric Roberts of the Pittsburgh Courier asked Chandler about blacks playing pro ball to which he responded: "If they can fight and die in Okinawa, Guadalcanal, in the South Pacific, they can play baseball in America." Coming after more than 25 years of double-talk and out right lies by the former Commissioner, Chandler's statement came as a bombshell, not just for it's strait-forwardness but because of where he was from. Kentucky in 1946 was still a Jim Crow state and Chandler's words were sure to upset more than a few of his constituents. 

The second quote shows the way he was thinking not just about baseball but the whole idea of institutionalized racism. From his autobiography Chandler had this to say to Branch Rickey at their meeting in 1946:

"I've already done a lot of thinking about this whole racial situation in our country. As a member of the Senate Military Affairs Committee, I got to know a lot about our casualties during the war. Plenty of Negro boys were willing to go out and fight and die for this country. Is it right when they came back to tell them they can't play the national pastime? You know, Branch, I'm going to have to meet my Maker some day. And if He asks me why I didn't let this boy play, and I say it's because he's black, that might not be a satisfactory answer. If the Lord made some people black, and some white, and some red or yellow, he must have had a pretty good reason. It isn't my job to decide which colors can play big league baseball. It is my job to see that the game is fairly played and that everybody has an equal chance. I think if I do that, I can face my Maker with a clear conscience."

As Commissioner Chandler did as much as he could to limit the on-field racism Robinson and the other black players faced. When the St. Louis Cardinals threatened to strike if they had to face Robinson he pledged that any player who failed to take the field would be immediately suspended. After Phillies manager Ben Chapman disgraced himself and the game with sickening racial taunts when his team faced the Dodgers, Chandler made it clear that any more of that would earn him and the team severe disciplinary measures.

Besides his part in integrating the game, Chandler was known as the “Players Commissioner." After the Pittsburgh Pirates almost went on strike for more players rights, Chandler established the first pension fund using the proceeds from selling the radio broadcast rights to the World Series. He also tried to keep the game free of the threat posed by gamblers and gangsters when he suspended Brooklyn manager Leo Durocher before the 1947 season. While popular culture has often portrayed Durocher's suspension being brought on by his affair with the married actress Lorraine Day, in actuality he earned it by palling around with Bugsy Siegal and other seedy underworld figures.

For all he did for the game, Chandler's reign as Commissioner came to an abrupt end in 1951 when he resigned after the team owners twice refused to extend his contract. It was a loss for the game as Chandler was its most forward-thinking leader for many decades. He went back to politics and in 1955 was re-elected governor during which he over-saw the integration of the states' public school system. He was inducted to the Kentucky Sports Hall of Fame in 1957 and in 1982 he took his place in the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Still smiling, he lived until the age of 92, dying of a heart attack in 1991.

Though he isn't remembered today as reverently as Branch Rickey or Jackie Robinson, Happy Chandler was indeed instrumental in the games' integration.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

17. Jackie Robinson

It often happens that an historical figure gets so obscured by their own fame that we fail to truly see and appreciate the things that made them so famous in the first place. Jackie Robinson falls into that category. Sure, his famous number 42 is officially retired on all major league teams and everyone celebrates him every season. But man, if you really look closely at Jackie Robinson, you get acquainted with a talented, brave, complicated man the likes of which no other country than America can produce. This was a guy who put human nature aside and kept his mouth shut when confronted with the worst slights and actions ignorant racist fans and players could throw at him. It was his sheer will that enabled blacks to get back into organized baseball and it was on Jackie's broad shoulders that the cause for civil rights was brought forward by leaps and bounds. I can't think of anyone that had more of a direct impact on civil rights than this man. In the course of maybe 3 years he brought blacks into American homes that were once kept negligent of them. In a precious few short years it became alright for a white boy to have as his sports idol a black man and for once a black boy growing up in America could look upon Jackie Robinson and know that with the right amount of talent and drive he too could become a major league ballplayer. Or anything else for that matter. America was taught that people of all color could sit together in one place without rioting and a person of color is just as talented as a white man. In today's day and age it is hard to relate to the way people thought back then. Jackie had to overcome things like his manager in Montreal saying that he wasn't even sure a negro was a human being or opposing players in Baltimore releasing a black cat onto the field to taunt him. In those few years Jackie bore all that weight and pressure and in turn changed the mindset and outlook of both his fellow players and fans. Clay Hopper, his Montreal manager later became instrumental in bringing up and tutoring black ballplayers in the Dodger organization. Southerners like Pee Wee Reese had their eyes opened to the racism Robinson had to endure and came to his side as a friend. I don't know, I could go on forever singing the praises of this man and what he did for this country of ours and how sometime everyone should sit back and thank God we have men like Jackie Robinson. As my tribute to this giant of a man, I give you Jackie Robinson in his first season of organized baseball playing for the Montreal Royals of the International League.

Signed by Brooklyn, Jackie Robinson spent 1946 with the Dodgers’ AAA minor league team, the Montreal Royals and on April 18, 1946 in Jersey City, N.J. Jackie Robinson became the first black ballplayer in the 20th century to play in organized baseball. He promptly went 4 for 5, including a three-run home run, scored four runs, drove in three, and stole two bases. Overcoming immense racial pressure, Jackie won over his teammates and fans with his natural physical ability and immense drive to win. Sparked by his play the Montreal Royals won the International League Championship and then went on to beat Louisville in the Little World Series of 1946. Through his sheer determination Jackie Robinson paved the way for the desegregation of the Major Leagues.