"DON'T BE AFRAID OF THE DARK"

Many of us are afraid of the dark, the absence of light. To many it represents the unknown, the mysterious. To others, the darkness with its unknown treasures represents a challenge. I am one of several who found this challenge in confronting the darkness enveloping the Negro Leagues. In meeting that challenge I have attempted to recreate for history the leagues as they were -- in spite of frustrating difficulties, including the loss of administrative and statistical records for the league and its players.

Many will agree that baseball has been a mirror image of our society's state of consciousness and, hence, the label, "Our National Pastime." America's acceptance of racial inferiority and its lengthy obedience in segregated and discriminatory practices toward African Americans have been well documented. Until 1947, for more than half a century, this country's collective consciousness could not find its way between baseball's white foul lines. For years, legions of black athletes labored in obscurity, awaiting baseball's triple crown of recognition, respect and redemption. They waited patiently and faithfully for the opportunity to showcase their skills, only to be refused entry into the white Major Leagues by a "gentlemen's agreement."

What baseball's gate-keepers failed to realize is that institutional racism cannot be validated by unanimous consent. A player's race as sole criterion for admission into any major league is, and always will be, inadequate. Indeed, some of yesterday's baseball executives acknowledge the extraordinary talents of these great black players whose slim hopes of integration were regularly prefaced by the dubious compliment: "If you were only white."

This hidden heritage of black ball players repeatedly has denied them their rightful stature in baseball history. References to black baseball have seldom gone beyond the media's saturation of the Jackie Robinson unveiling, along with a passing mention of Satchel Paige's pitching or Josh Gibson's hitting or Cool Papa Bell's speeeed. . . . For baseball to recognize the white Major Leagues and ignore the contributions and accomplishments of Negro League players is like one hand clapping. At times, even today, baseball's black past can be seen with blinders on.

As an advocate and activist for recognition of these "invisible men" into baseball's finest memorial, the Hall of Fame, the acceptance of these forgotten athletes has been a sensitive subject for baseball fans everywhere. The oral history of these outstanding athletes had long been the only source for verification of their accomplishments. Searching for statistical support of their feats largely has been an exercise in frustration.

This exercise was vividly expressed by Robert Peterson in his classic book: Only The Ball Is White:

"Tracing the course of the organized Negro Leagues is rather like trying to follow a single black strand through a ton of spaghetti. The footing is unfirm and the strand has a tendency to break off in one's hand and slither back into the amorphous mass."

Many cynics have claimed that these records do not exist and players' credibility can never be established. These same critics contend African Americans were apathetic about their heritage and therefore did not record players' achievements and contributions to baseball. Such historical assassination of these fine athletes has inspired me to prove these critics wrong with facts and figures.

To that end, I have gathered box scores of every game played in the 1924 season from each league, the Negro National League and the Eastern Colored League. In addition, with interviews of former players, their families, former umpires and lifelong fans, I have gathered personal information about most participants of the 1924 season. Through these efforts I have compiled personal profiles and several statistical tables similar to those found in major league press guides, baseball encyclopedias and other baseball publications.

I am persuaded that the completeness of this project will shed some light in examining the representative quality of these players. Hopefully, my ordeal will encourage the incorporation of more worthy black professionals into Cooperstown's National Hall of Fame, baseball encyclopedias, Topps, Fleer and Donruss baseball cards and other important baseball mediums. Optimistically, Casey Stengel's expression, "You can look it up!" will someday apply to the records of Negro League players.

Sadly, this species of baseball player is vanishing faster than the American bald eagle -- with no recourse. When I began writing this series, there were only two surviving members of the 1924 World Series: Judy Johnson, 90 years old, living in a nursing home, and Clint Thomas, 93 years old, partially blind and suffering from various old age ailments. Judy Johnson died in the final stages of this writing. Johnson, known for his intelligence and finesse as a player, wrote his lasting legacy in a letter to Sports Illustrated, praising a story about a reunion of former Negro Leaguers. In part, he expressed, "Negro league players of the earlier decade unfortunately were not recipients of enormous commercial residuals and bonuses. We played for something greater that could not be measured in dollars and cents. The secrets of our game were to enjoy and endure."

The players enjoyed the game, but their endurance was tested by the indignities of segregated public accommodations, and common law racism. These black pioneers had tough skins and tender hearts, as joy and pain, pride and prejudice symbolized their baseball travels. Johnson adds, "Sometimes your heart may ache, but you can't let it get you down. There's always a better day coming. It was worth it. It taught you to be a man, a gentleman in every respect, how to treat your fellow man because a lot of things are said, and called to you. If you overlook it, why, you feel better the next day, and you get away from it." Major League baseball may have stripped players like Johnson of their human rights, but could not deny them their humanity.

My research has shown that the great Negro Leaguers were not the best colored ballplayers . . . but simply the best ballplayers, black or white. They were often compared to their white counterparts, but never shared their celebrity status. As Satchel Paige once recalled, "Oh, we had men by the hundreds who could have made the big leagues, by the hundreds, not by the fours, twos or threes. They had a lot of Satchel Paiges out there --- men who could throw the ball as hard as me. Ain't no maybe so about it."

History is slowly changing to recognize that not all our heroes were white. The saga of African-Americans participating in baseball dates back to the post-Civil War era, with the Philadelphia Pythians ball club. Our current history could insinuate many to believe black players were introduced to the game in 1947, the year of Jackie Robinson's debut. This blindness has caused, a rich and exciting chapter of baseball history to vanish into history's black hole.

Do great moundsmen like Chet Brewer, Leon Day, "Bullet" Rogan, John Donaldson, Willie Foster, "Cannonball" Dick Redding, Nip Winters or "Smokey" Joe Williams sound familiar? Where in the record books can we find the great ebony sluggers like "Bingo" DeMoss, Pete Hill, "Biz" Mackey, "Turkey" Stearnes, Spottswood Poles or a Willie Wells? These great players were only an owner's "attitude" away from prime time. Sadly, their relative anonymity, even today, is a cruel joke on all of us.

When the legendary Leroy "Satchel" Paige accepted his Hall of Fame plaque in Cooperstown in 1971, he reported, "There were many Satchels and there were many Joshes." Yes, indeed there were! Would baseball be baseball without the contributions of the Black Barons' Willie Mays, or the Clowns' Hank Aaron, or the Elite Giants' Roy Campanella, or the Eagles' Monte Irvin and Larry Doby, or the Monarchs' Ernie Banks and Jackie Robinson? These men were products of the Negro Leagues and are now enshrined in baseball's finest memorial -- Cooperstown's Hall of Fame. These gifted players would have remained invisible, unappreciated and ignored had they played during baseball's socially retarded Jim Crow era. Their abilities, like other great black ball players, were only limited by the lack of opportunity -- an opportunity denied to them because of a skin tan.

Other ebony stars were not great men in the ubiquitous sense in which we judge greatness. But history has never been reserved for just great men and great women. History is all about the people we know and cherish. Some of their stories, their contributions will be told here.

You will find these men of color represented every segment of our American culture. Whatever their background, they shared one aspiration: to play in the big leagues. However, these aspiring men could only dream about the major leagues. While the dreamers are vanishing, their dreams live --- on microfilmed newspapers, faded photographs and yellowed scorecards and programs. They live etched in the minds of baseball historians and true fans -- who recognize talented ball players and teams regardless of skin color or social boundaries. A dream conceived in truth never dies.

Most Americans have grown past the negative folk tales, the racial stereotypes and a time when our beloved game of peanuts and crackerjacks issued tickets saying "By Invitation Only." The precious loss of this dark chapter of baseball history is not only about skin color. Its also about heroes and a way of life which is gone forever. A way of life whose legacy, sad as it may be, will be denied to a new breed of fans of all colors. My research at times brought heartfelt tears, as I would discover forgotten heroes of a past generation, invisible heroes of this generation, and new heroes for future generations to come.

No matter what your ethnic or racial roots are, the time has come to correct this vacuum in sports history. We must stop working with what is wrong and start working with what is right. No longer can we argue about who is right, but what is right. It is time for baseball to stop balking at inclusion of the Negro Leagues and its great black players into baseball's mainstream. It is time to let this hidden history enter America's game and get "off the bench". It is time to allow the forgotten African-American player to step to the plate and take his swing. It is time for baseball to play ball -- and play fair!

"I remember standing alone at first base - the only black man on the field. I had to fight hard against loneliness, abuse, and the knowledge that any mistake I made would be magnified because I was the only black man out there. I had to fight hard to become just another guy."

- Jackie Robinson

From the author:

The word “Colored” or “Negro” is employed throughout The First Colored World Series in Black & White because these were the terms that prevailed in common usage when events described in this text took place. Far from intending to be a political statement, I merely hope to recreate the spirit, attitude and sentiment of the period. --- Larry Lester