231. Piper Davis: Happy 100th Birthday

  

This week we have a special guest author, John Klima. John wrote the very well reviewed Willie's Boys: The 1948 Birmingham Black Barons, The Last Negro League World Series, and the Making of a Baseball Legend. If you haven't read it already, I highly recommend it. As the title suggests, Willie's Boys is the story of the 1948 Black Barons. Today, the Black Barons are overshadowed by the more well-known teams like the Monarchs and Grays, yet Birmingham can boast some really great alumni, such as Satchel Paige, Mule Suttles, Artie Wilson, Sam Bankhead, Charley Pride, Sam Streeter, Lyman Bostock, and of course, Willie Mays. Throughout the 1940's Birmingham was the strongest club in the Negro American League, winning pennants in 1943, 1944 and 1948. The '48 squad was piloted by by their 4-time All-Star second baseman, Lorenzo "Piper" Davis, and it is Piper who John Klima has so graciously written about, coinciding with the 100th anniversary of his birth. So, without further ado, here's author John Klima...

Happy 100th, Piper Davis
 
Piper Davis was born to play in the big leagues. Time and circumstances got in the way of his destiny but never changed the way he viewed his life. He played until his bones ached and his body became bridle, swinging the bat long enough to afford to put his children into college, and with enough years behind him to influence decades of baseball players who gravitated to his knowing pull. They followed the scent of his swirling pipe smoke and listened to him speak. His voice was booming and robust, soulful and soothing. He saw things in the game others could not readily see and he freely shared his knowledge.
 
There was not a touch of greed within him, and when he died there was no regret or lament. Time had taken a toll on his memories but not his spirit, and from the time he was born on July 3, 1917 to the time he died on May 21, 1997, Birmingham's favorite son was sure of one thing -- though he had never appeared in a major league game, Piper Davis knew he was a big leaguer. Never had a doubt about it. He didn't need you to tell him that. He knew it all along.
 
I got to know Piper, posthumously, when I wrote my book Willie's Boys, which was published in 2009. The book was about how Willie Mays, Piper's young charge on the 1948 Birmingham Black Barons, navigated the world of segregated baseball and was eventually signed by the New York Giants in 1950. I still maintain that this is the greatest single story in the history of free agent scouting, for all the moving parts and behind-the-scenes connections and contacts that made the career of Mays possible. Piper's part in all this was unreported and enormous, and the fingerprints of his character were all over Mays's career. Simply put, Piper put the youngster first.
 
When a talented young amateur player comes around, you will find if you stay in baseball long enough, that greedy adults will do everything in their power to manipulate the player to their advantage. They will do so for personal benefit and at the expense of the young player's development. This dynamic exists today, and it always gets dicey in June and July.
 
Piper was a rarity -- a man of immense character, a man of God and a man of Family, who refused to deviate from the time he knew Mays needed to become a pro.  He taught him and pushed him. He preached and he punished. He left in the bus without him. He also hit him cleanup and played him in center field when he decided Mays was ready. When white scouts came to ask about Mays, it was Piper they sought. Though Piper himself wanted out of the Negro Leagues before it was too late, never once did he tie his future to Mays. He refused to compromise Mays for his own personal gain.
 
Willie's Boys was about Mays but the story belonged to Piper, because the reason baseball had Willie Mays is Piper Davis. When I called Willie, he very genially reflected and said, "You know this stuff better than I do." And when I asked about his fondness for Piper, he simply reflected and said, "He was a very special person to me."
 
Piper had that affect on players he met and people who never met him. So on the occasion of what would have been his 95th birthday, July 3, 2012, I decided to do something that hadn't been done before. I decided to try to get Piper Davis into a major league game.
 
Luck was on my side. The Cincinnati Reds were in Los Angeles, at Dodger Stadium. The manager of the Reds at the time, Dusty Baker, has an affinity for history and a deep awareness of those who came before him. These characteristics were handed down to him as a young man when he was placed under the wing of Henry Aaron and when Satchel Paige made the young Johnnie B. Baker tote his fishing poles. As a Dodger, Dusty admired the heritage of Jackie Robinson and Roy Campanella. Though the decades, Dusty has shown he has a lot of Piper Davis in him, too -- a guy whose instincts and feel for the game, for talking to young ballplayers and older players alike is unique. In the modern era where baseball is a game of massive information drops on a daily basis, there still comes a need for a communicator with the feel of a baseball man. And so Dusty was just the right man for this job.
 
I went to the visiting manager's office at Dodger Stadium and sat down inside one of the old locker stalls and asked Dusty to get Piper into a big league game. My idea was to have him write Piper's initials on his wristbands. Dusty had a better idea.
   
    "What position would he play?" Dusty asked.
   
    "Second base," I said. "Right-handed hitter."
 
So Dusty took his black pen (black for right-handers, red for left-handers) and where his second baseman for the day, Brandon Phillips was written, Dusty instead wrote in PIPER DAVIS, batting fourth, playing second base.
 
Cleanup hitter on a first place club. That would be just fine.
 
Dusty handed the new card to his bench coach, Chris Speier and asked him to print it off. A few minutes later, here comes Chris with the lineup. He hands it to Dusty, who signs it, making it (unofficially) official. Dusty handed me the lineup card. I told him it was going to Birmingham.
 
The Reds lost that game, 3-1, but the only run the Reds scored was an RBI double to center field in the fourth inning off the bat of the cleanup hitter, second baseman Brandon Phillips. Fitting -- it was a short, compact powerful swing from a second baseman, to straightaway center. It was as if Piper was swinging the bat himself. You can dream on that if you like. 

I did.
 
After the game, I made a color copy to keep for myself. I sent the original to Faye Davis, Piper's daughter, who over the years has done an admirable job keeping her father's memory alive. I told her, on Piper's birthday, he finally "appeared" in a major league game. Even got himself a double, so to speak.
 

She was moved by the gesture. She also showed the lineup card to her mother, Piper's widow Laura, who after all those years waiting, finally saw her husband's name in a big league game. A few years later, she passed away, but not before Dusty Baker signed Piper Davis into the big leagues. As Piper always said, without reservation, he knew he was a big leaguer all along.

The path Piper Davis took to professional baseball was as long as winding as the dirt roads leading to the coal mines in his hometown of Piper, Alabama. From the coal mining company teams of his boyhood, Piper realized that baseball was his path to prosperity. He joined the Birmingham Black Barons in 1942 and spent the next two seasons playing baseball in the summer and basketball in the winter for the Harlem Globetrotters. He was an All-Star in the Negro Leagues and was frequently mentioned as an integration candidate for "White Folks Ball," as the black players referred to organized baseball. The St. Louis Browns took an option on him in 1947, which proved to be a fruitless endeavor, and in 1948 he became player-manager of his hometown Black Barons.

From the moment he perched his front foot onto the top step of the dugout at Rickwood Field, Piper's personality had a pull on his players. He understood how to be their teammate and their manager. He drew lines. He was a married man and so he did not partake in the nightlife. He did not drink or use profanity. The years after 1947 were a trying time for Negro League players, who could see their once proud league dying a slow death, and who recognized that the white majors were not in a hurry to sign them all despite the successful arrival of Jackie Robinson.
 
Piper's 1948 Black Barons were special for the arrival of the young Willie Mays, then a high school sophomore. Mays played with the Black Barons until the time of his high school graduation in 1950. In 1948, the Black Barons beat their rival, the Kansas City Monarchs, to win the Negro American League. They played in the last Negro League World Series, losing to the Homestead Grays.
 
When the Boston Red Sox purchased Piper and made him the first black player the organization purchased, he was released shortly before Mays graduated when it became clear the Red Sox were not going to acquire Mays. Shortly thereafter, Mays was signed by the Giants. The great ballplayers of the '48 Black Barons scattered, including Piper.
 
He settled into the Pacific Coast League in the 1950s, playing his best years for the Oakland Oaks and winding down with the Los Angeles Angels. While with the Angels, he often schooled a young infielder named Gene Mauch, who loved Piper for his personality and his wisdom. Piper finished his career with Fort Worth in the Texas League, playing until 1950.
 
You can find his career path online but to feel his contributions, you had to talk to the people who knew him. When I wrote Willie's Boys, Piper was a constant. I would listen to those who knew him and read what he had to say. When you write books, sometimes you feel as though you "get to know" people who have died long ago. Piper's lessons, as it pertains to developing ballplayers, guide me to this day. Piper once said, in all humility, that "if he had played today, he'd have been a million dollar ballplayer," but never once complained. So here on his 100th birthday, we think it is fitting that we share Piper Davis' story, and how he posthumously made it to the big leagues -- a centennial for a man born to be a big leaguer. 

 

221. Wild Bill Wright: The Neglected Negro League Star

It's been a busy summer. Even though I tried to deny it, I wound up taking the summer off from writing this blog. It's not like I've been idle - on the contrary I've been both writing and drawing up a storm. It's just that every time I finish a story, I decide to include it in the issue of "21" that I'm preparing. I wish I could just go ahead and run some of the articles I've been cooking up - Lou Gehrig's Columbia days, Steve Bilko and the Summer of '56, Al Gizelbach (who? - you'll see!), spitballer and civil rights pioneer Doc Sykes - and the illustrations? Man, they're some of my finest yet. So anyway, I know this blog has been neglected too long. Summer Break is over and it's time to get back to basics. 

It's time to resume "The Infinite Baseball Card Set!

 Ever since I was a kid researching the Negro Leagues on microfilm and ancient bound newspaper volumes, I always wondered how certain players would have done had there not been a color barrier. I'm not talking about guys like Josh Gibson, Satchel Paige, Leon Day or Martin Dihigo - those guys were sure-fire big league stars. I'm talking about those second-tier stars, you know, the Dale Murphy's to the Wade Boggs'.

One of those players I often wondered about was a fella named Wild Bill Wright. I had first discovered Wright through old box scores, but it wasn't until I met a few oldsters in Baltimore who saw him play firsthand that I really came to appreciate him. For a time Wright was one of the premier stars of the Negro National League, and looking at his numbers and testimony from his peers, the name "Wild Bill Wright" should be well-known today. Yet for a few reasons it isn't.

Burnis Wright was born in Milan, Tennessee in 1914. By the time he reached his teens he grew to the then enormous height of 6'-4". Because of his imposing stature, Wright was put to work as a pitcher where he earned the moniker "Wild Bill" from his inability to find the strike zone. In spite of being built like a football player he possessed lightening speed and graceful agility, making him perfect for covering outfield pastures.

Somewhere along the way he taught himself to hit from both sides of the plate, and word got around that Wright was something special. Being from Tennessee, it was only natural that the big kid signed with Tom Wilson's Nashville Elite Giants in 1932. Wilson was a typical 1930's Negro League owner - he made his money through a combination of legit businesses and illegal enterprises like the illegal lottery, called "the numbers" back then. Although Wilson kept his base of operations firmly rooted in Nashville, he was forced to move his Elite Giants through a succession of different cities in search of the most lucrative market. The teenager they called "Wild Bill" began working out with the Elite Giants, then eased into exhibition games, all the while learning about professional Negro League ball by watching the veterans.  Finally, in 1933, he began playing against other top-shelf Blackball clubs. The 19 year-old hit .328 - today a respectable average - but in 1933 Negro League offensive numbers were sky-high, so Wright was considered still a novice. This changed when he went West during the winter and played in the California Winter League. This loose semi-pro circuit was made up of a few all-white teams that featured major and minor league stars who lived on the coast and one all-black club filled with the best talent Blackball had to offer. This time Wright held his own not just against the white professionals but also the Negro League stars - his .351 average was bested only by Cool Papa Bell and Willie Wells, two future Hall of Famers.

In 1935 Tom Wilson moved his Elites to Columbus, Ohio trying to find a larger black audience for his team. Wright was batting close to .300 when he was voted to his first East-West Game, the Negro League's All-Star classic held in Chicago's Comiskey Park. Representing the East, Wright struck out as a pinch hitter. 1936 saw the Elites relocate again, this time to Washington, D.C. and again Wright was voted to the East-West Game. As a nod to his burgeoning talent, the 22 year-old was asked to join a Blackball all-star team that competed at the 1936 Denver Post Tournament, the World Series of semi-pro baseball. Five of the players on the champion Negro League team - Josh Gibson, Satchel Paige, Cool Papa Bell, Ray Brown and Buck Leonard, are now enshrined in Cooperstown. 1937 was probably Wright's best year, at least in the Negro Leagues. Besides hitting .387 and being among the leaders in all offensive categories, Wright had two singles and a double in the East-West Game and his running catch of Newt Allan's line drive saved the game for his team.

In 1938 the Elite Giants finally found a permanent home in Baltimore, Maryland. Wright had an off year, hitting under .300 and going hitless in four at bats in the East-West Game, but rebounded in 1939. Finishing second in batting with a .398 average, Wright and the Elites won their first and only Negro National League pennant. It was Wright's double in the final game that sparked an Elite Giants' rally that won them the Championship. Facing white big leaguers in a post-season exhibition game, Wright went 3 for 8 including a double off Bob Feller of the Cleveland Indians. At this point Bill Wright was just reaching his prime as a ballplayer. Due to his gracefulness in the outfield, Sportswriters referred to him as the "Black DiMaggio" and his speed on the base paths saw him finish at or near the top in steals each season. While he didn't possess the slugging power one might expect from a 6'-4" giant, Wright was always among the leaders in extra base hits. He mastered the art of the drag bunt, using his speed to beat out any throw to first. Although it can't be definitively documented, legend has it Wright was clocked circling the bases in 13.2 seconds - the world record is 13.3 set by minor leaguer Evar Swanson in 1932. With a combined average of .371 against white big leaguers in post-season exhibition games, Wright undeniably demonstrated that he could not only hold his own against the best Blackball had to offer, but white professionals as well. Had he played out his entire career in the Negro Leagues it would be much easier for us to gauge the level of his talent and put it in easy to understand and translate figures. However, beginning in 1940, Wright left the Negro Leagues and went to Mexico to play ball.

Playing against the Negro League, Cuban and Puerto Rican stars who were lured south by lucrative contracts, Wright hit .360 and led the league with 30 doubles, finished second to Cool Papa Bell in hits and second to Sam Bankhead in steals. The following season his .390 average beat out Hall of Famers Josh Gibson, Martin Dihigo, Cool Papa Bell, Willie Wells and Ray Dandridge for the batting crown. That winter Wright played for San Juan in the Puerto Rican Winter League. Again, playing against the best players outside the major Leagues, Wright was a standout, being named to the All-Star Team and hitting the home run that put his team ahead in game one of the two-game series.

Due to the war and draft regulations, Wright returned to the United States for the 1942 season. Having an off-year, he barely managed .300 as the Elites lost the second-half pennant in the last weekend of the season. Wright was off to Mexico again in 1943 where he won the Triple Crown and stayed the following season as well. He was back in Baltimore for the 1945 season where he finished second in the batting championship. This would be Wright's last season in America.

In interviews he gave after his retirement, Wright stated that he preferred the absence of racial animosity in Mexico. South of the border he was an acknowledged star, while in his own country, no matter how good he was, he was only a marginal figure, known only by those who followed segregated baseball. Besides, life was easy for a ballplayer in Mexico. Unlike the Negro Leagues where playing two games in different towns on the same day was not unheard of, the Liga Mexicana played only on Friday, Saturday and Sundays. The travel was by train or airplane, a world apart from the bone-rattling bus rides that were the normal mode of transport in the Negro Leagues. Age also has something to do with Wright's decision to stay in Mexico. When Jackie Robinson integrated organized baseball in 1946, Wright was 32, too old to be seriously considered for a shot at the majors. This, combined with the quick collapse of the Negro Leagues after 1946, kept Wild Bill Wright in Mexico. The Mexican League had one last great season, 1946, when not only Negro League players, but also white big leaguers, ventured south. In what can be called his last hurrah, Wild Bill outhit all the white major league imports. He played through 1951, then opened a restaurant with his Hawaiian-born wife in Aguascalientes. Called "Bill Wright's Dugout," the restaurant capitalized on the familiarity of his name to Mexican sports fans. Wright raised his family in Aguascalientes, venturing back to the States only later in life to attend Negro League reunions. For his contribution to Mexican baseball, Wright was elected to the Mexico's Salon de la Fama in 1982.

So that's the story of Wild Bill. It's always bothered me that not only was this fine athlete denied the big league career his skills surely merited, but he's not even widely known today because the same mindless racism that kept him from the majors also forced him to move to another country where he played out his career in relative obscurity. While his contemporaries who played the bulk of their career in the U.S. have belatedly received the recognition they deserved, Wright, despite his statistics, remains a largely forgotten figure. I think it's fair to say that it is his time spent alternating between the Negro and Mexican Leagues that hindered any late recognition of his career and rendered analysis of his talent difficult. I'd always wanted to do a story and illustration of Bill Wright, but it wasn't until I was at a book signing in Tennessee last summer that I put Wild Bill on the front burner. Among the people who turned out for the event was a nice group of Knoxville SABR members. One of the fellas struck up a conversation about Wild Bill Wright which, of course, peaked my interest. Turns out he was part of movement to get Wright elected to the Tennessee Sports Hall of Fame. Unfortunately, as of this writing, Bill Wright has not been elected to this organization. No doubt his career spent in the shadows of baseball history has everything to do with this oversight.



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 and it throws off the real ratings. 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.

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. 
 

212: Tomás Romañach: Afraid of being what the Americanos call "the lemon"

In the spring of 1913, Cincinnati Reds fans, players and management were finally confident their club was turning a corner. Two years earlier, in what was thinking outside the box for the time, the Reds signed Cubans Armando Marsans and Rafael Almeida to fill holes in their roster. Now they were awaiting the arrival of another Cuban to solve their shortstop problem. Tomás Romañach had hit .300 in the minors the previous summer and big leaguers that played against the kid in Cuba said he was another Johnny Evers in the field. Reds owner Garry Herrmann decided to sign him and instructed Armando Marsans, who was teammates with Romañach in the minors and in Cuba, to get his signature on a contract. However, as spring training progressed Romañach failed to report. The Cincinnati beat writers looked to Armando Marsans for answers. The cheery Cuban outfielder pondered the question, turning it from English to his native Spanish and then reversing the order for his reply:

"It is of this way with Tomás Romañach - he is proud and sensitive. If by reason of youth he should fail, the people of dear old Habana they would not understand. They would cry "Ah Tomás, he is what the Americanos call the lemon".

Before he retired in the early 1920's, Tomás Romañach would have several flirtations with the Major Leagues, be one of the few men to play in both the white minor leagues and the Negro leagues and would be remembered as being one of the best shortstops in outsider baseball.

Although newspapers usually reported his age two to four years younger than he actually was, records show Tomás Romañach was born in Havana, Cuba in 1890. His nickname while playing ball was "El Italiano" - "The Italian" - which supposedly reflected his ancestry. However contemporary newspapers have him as being of Basque origin. He seems to have come from an affluent family and one newspaper article claims that his father was the major of Marianao. Romañach was reported to be an architect and he must have been attending university in Cuba when he began playing pro ball in 1908. That year he signed with the Rojo club and appeared in one game. Two years later he was with Almendares where the 20 year-old got into 8 games and hit a soft .182. 1911 he came into his own as Almendares' regular second baseman and he showed off his skill playing against American big leaguers that toured the island that winter.

His performance in Cuba brought about an invitation to play in the U.S. The New Britain Perfectos of the class B Connecticut League was one of the few minor league clubs to actively recruit Latino players. As far back as 1908 the team was liberally stocked with Cubans and no less than three - Armando Marsans, Rafael Almeida, and Alfredo Cabrera - would go on to play in the majors. When Romañach joined the team in 1912 he was most likely sorely disappointed with the conditions he found there. It was reported that opposing fans perpetually harassed the Cuban imports and there were endless inquiries into the familial background of all the Cubans to make sure there was no Black ancestry. Having failed the background check, the great Luis Padron had been hounded out of the league in 1909 even though he was the team's best hitter. So it's no wonder that Romañach didn't last more than a few games with the Perfectos. He was an educated man from a good family - he didn't need all this needless hassle so he headed south to Long Branch, New Jersey where he joined a team in the Atlantic League called the Cubans. Unlike the Perfectos who had a mixture of Latino and American players, the Long Beach Cubans were entirely made up of players from the island nation. The team was put owned and managed by Dr. Carlos Henriquez, a Cuban national practicing medicine in New Jersey. In this familiar environment Romañach flourished. He successfully made the switch to shortstop and he finished the season hitting over .300. He was blessed with lightning speed and began hitting in the leadoff spot. This got the big league scouts on his trail and when he tore up the Cuban League that winter with a .362 average and comparisons to the great Johnny Evers, the Cleveland Indians and Chicago White Sox dispatched agents to sign him.

This is when Garry Herrmann and Armando Marsans swooped in to snatch up Romañach and sign him to a Reds contract. As we already know, the shortstop failed to report to the Reds. For their part, Cincinnati tried everything to convince the shortstop to report, to the point of Reds manager Joe Tinker promising to keep Romañach with the club all season and not farm him out to a minor league team. Described in the American newspapers as shy, coy and timid, it appears he sat out the summer back in Cuba, presumably working as an architect.

During the winter the Brooklyn Dodgers played an exhibition series in Cuba and the team's captain Jake Daubert was so impressed that he sent reams of telegrams back to Brooklyn begging owner Charlie Ebbets to sign this guy. John McGraw of the Giants heard of the Johnny Evers comparison and immediately dispatched someone to sign him at any cost. By the time he tracked Romañach down in Havana he had verbally committed to Brooklyn and the Giants man went home empty handed. Brooklyn may have been pleased to outfox McGraw and the Giants but their elation was short-lived. When Garry Herrmann got wind of Brooklyn's coup he produced the Cuban's contract from the previous year that effectively made him property of the Cincinnati Reds. Now while Ebbets began battling Herrmann for the right to sign him, Romañach began demanding an extravagant signing bonus of $2000 on top of his $3000 salary. Ebbets countered with a $1000 bonus but eventually tired of the whole affair and gave up. The Reds also lost interest and that's when Dr. Henriquez breezed into Havana and convinced Romañach to play the 1914 season with his Cubans.

The summer of 1914 proved to be Romañach's finest. The Cubans began the season in Newark but returned to Long Branch in July where there was a bigger fan base among the beach going vacationers. The Cubans had a powerhouse that year - of the five players in the Atlantic League who would go on to play in the majors, three were on the Long Branch Cubans. In a pennant race that went right down to the last week, the Cubans finished second and Romañach's .372 average put him at number 8 in batting leaders. Playing so close to New York meant that big league scouts were ever-present and Romañach's off season was again filled with tantalizing offers from Brooklyn and the outlaw Federal League - all of which he turned down after excruciating negotiations.

By now Romañach was being called the best (white) shortstop outside the major leagues. Besides being compared to Johnny Evers he was now said to be on par with Rabbit Marranville of the World Champion Boston Braves, another future Hall of Famer. It must have galled the Major League owners that they could do nothing to convince this lanky Cuban Evers-Marranville clone to sign a contract.

Spring of 1915 saw him return to Long Branch. The Atlantic League had folded during the off-season and the Long Branch Cubans were now part of a loose league called the Eastern Independent Clubs. This move is significant because this put Long Branch in what was essentially a Negro league and Romañach became one of the very few ball players pre-1947 that played in both the white minors leagues and the Negro leagues. The shortstop hit a resounding .377 and in August it looked like he was about to sign with the Brooklyn Tip Tops of the Federal League. Like he always seemed to do, Romañach held out for a big bonus, but this time he refused to sign unless the Tip Tops signed a second Cuban to keep him company. These time consuming negotiations and the precarious financial status of the Federal League precluded Romañach ever appearing for Brooklyn.

The following summer Romañach again played for Dr. Henrique who moved his team to Jersey City. Romañach was the team's best hitter with a .333 average against Negro league and semi-pro competition that again attracted big league scouts. With an unfulfilled hole in their middle infield, the Cincinnati Reds never gave up on the wiry shortstop and during the winter they sent a representative to try once again to coax Romañach to the big leagues.

To everyone's surprise, Tomás Romañach signed on the dotted line. But signing was only half the battle - the question on everyone's mind was whether or not the Cuban would show up in the Reds camp that spring. That's why when he got off the train in Shreveport, Louisiana he was the focus of all the beat writers. During the exhibition season Romañach reversed expectations by performing sub-standard in the field but tearing the cover off the ball at the plate. He still had to beat out weak hitting starter Larry Kopf for the shortstop job and things looked good when the Reds headed to Cincinnati for Opening Day. Sometime after they got to the Queen City Tomás Romañach was standing dead center just behind manager Christy Mathewson in the second row of the official team photo of the 1917 Reds. Then, without ever appearing in a league game, he was sold to Montreal of the International League.

As an aside, Romañach's appearance in the official team photo without ever playing a game has baffled historians for years, just as Joe Styborski would with his presence in the famous photo of the 1927 Yankees.
With his demotion to Montreal, Tomás Romañach's worst fears were realized - he was, as the Americano's say, "the lemon". The shortstop never appeared in a game for Montreal and he played only sporadically over the next few years. He returned to America's Negro leagues in 1920 with Alex Pomez's Cuban Stars and hung up his spikes for good afterwards. Although he never made the Majors, Romañach's play against American big leaguers was one factor that brought real credibility and respect to Cuban baseball. The talent he displayed each winter season in Cuba led to his being enshrined to the Cuban Baseball Hall of Fame in 1948.


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.