Negro Leagues Baseball Museum covers baseball’s unappreciated stars

By Caitlin Swieca

Having seen the movie “42” when it came out in April, I was excited to find out that our Sunday at Sports Journalism Institute would be spent in Kansas City at the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum.

I did enjoy the movie, which tells a portion of the story of Jackie Robinson, who broke the color barrier of Major League Baseball in 1947.

However, the film only covers a very small period of time, from Robinson’s signing through his rookie year in 1947. The museum provided a great opportunity to gain new knowledge about both Robinson and other players in the Negro leagues, where he got his start.

Although I enjoyed “42,” I watched it with skepticism, knowing that films often take liberties with the truth to make it suit their message. The museum allowed us to walk around, look at the artifacts, and read the extensive information provided on the displays without worrying about any artistic interpretation.

In the hour or so that we spent there, I was able to take in a lot of information about the league as I moved through the timeline that the museum has set up.

Nothing that I learned particularly surprised me, but it was interesting to learn more background on the other players in the league.

I never knew that baseball had been integrated in the Civil War era, but the film showed that Moses Fleetwood Walker had played in the 1860’s, before the league segregated itself for over 60 years.

The general history of the Negro leagues is well-known, but certain details are less clear. Even in “42,” it was never mentioned that three players from the Negro leagues followed Robinson to the major leagues later in his 1947 rookie season.

I also never realized what a large role Kansas City played in the league, which I wouldn’t necessarily have expected. The league was formed just a few blocks from the museum’s current location, and the Monarchs were one of the teams that produced the most talent.

The museum also took steps to emphasize some of the players who get less recognition. For example, on the “Field of Legends,” Robinson was not one of the players honored with a statue. Other than Satchel Paige, none of the names were recognizable to someone familiar only with the major leagues.

Possibly the most interesting moment of my day, though, was when I spoke to Ray Doswell, the curator and vice president of the museum.

I had read some articles that debated the accuracy of “42,” and so I wanted to see what Doswell’s take on the movie was, given the depth of his knowledge on Robinson.

To my surprise, he told me that he thought it was very good. A couple scenes might have been exaggerated or twisted the truth a bit, but he still thought it was credible. For example, the film was very honest in its portrayal of Cleveland’s manager, who, in the movie, stood on the field and spewed racial slurs towards Robinson.

Most importantly, he said that he was glad the movie was a success, because it needed to succeed for there to be any chance of more movies being made about the Negro leagues or its players.

Jackie’s life, he pointed out, could be a trilogy in itself. “42” only covers a couple years of it.

And of course, there are other Negro League players with great stories, just as worthy as being made into a movie.

Perhaps in a few years, we’ll be seeing movie promos about Larry Doby or Josh Gibson or Roy Campanella. If not, the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum in Kansas City will be a great resource to learn more about some of history’s most under appreciated players. 

Money the root of Negro League's demise

By Brandon Theo Dorsey

Money Talks.

It’s been the driving force behind the majority of historical decisions and events. So it comes as no surprise that Branch Rickey’s history altering decision to sign Jackie Robinson to the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1945 was driven by the “all-mighty” dollar.

The recent blockbuster film “42” makes mention of the signing being a business decision, but the point was not driven home enough until my visit to the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum in Kansas City.

An exert from the Museums History Research Guide:

“While this historic event was a key moment in baseball and civil rights history, it prompted the decline of the Negro Leagues. The best black players were now recruited by the Major Leagues, and the black fans followed.”

The abrupt decline of the Negro League was a direct result of Major League Baseball taking the best talent with little to no compensation. Teams in the Negro League lost its luster and its fan bases along with it.

In fact, before making a visit to the museum, I was oblivious to how popular the Negro Leagues were in its heyday. The August 1, 1943 Negro League East West game drew 51,723 fans to Comiskey Park.

On August 20, 1950, the East-West game held in the same venue was down to 24,345 fans. This major cut in attendance crippled the pockets of Negro League owners.

From 1945-1960 Major League Baseball drew all of the Negro leagues talent and fans forcing every Negro league team to fold by the early 60’s. The primary revenue stream for the Negro league came from its fans. When the fans migrated to Major League Baseball, there was not enough money in the pot for the business that was the Negro Leagues.

Obviously Major League Baseball is, and will continue to be, a more lucrative opportunity for the African American athletes in baseball. The desegregation of baseball was a necessary step for the advancement of the nation and baseball, but in the process the structure Andrew “Rube” Foster built was immediately diminished.

The trip to the museum stands as a tribute to the History of the Negro Leagues. But it also is a reminder that the advancements made when Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier led to the demise of the Negro leagues.

Return to KC was not deja' vu

Students enjoying some good BBQ at Arthur Bryant's.

By Kelly Parsons

When I woke up on Sunday morning, I'll be honest, the first thing I thought was how much I wasn't looking forward to today's trip to Kansas City. During the drive from Columbia, memories of my first experience in the city ran through my head.

It was the last weekend in March, and the UNC basketball team was to play its second- and third-round games in Kansas City's Sprint Center. Being from the South, where the weather's always warm in the springtime, I naively packed clothes for warm weather as I prepared for my trip to cover the game, regretfully failing to check a weather forecast.

Had I done so, I would have seen the 80 percent chance of snow showers, and perhaps I would have been a bit more prepared. Needless to say, a blizzard commenced the day I arrived, and I spent the rest of the long weekend shivering, my only source of warmth found in a lightweight cardigan.

As we approached the city, overcast and gloomy just as I had left it, I prepared myself for yet another unhappy experience in KC. I was pleasantly surprised, however, when I got out of the car at the 18th and Vine Jazz District. The street was artsy and historic, its buildings appearing much more inviting than what I had seen on my previous visit. When I walked inside the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum, my perspective became even more positive.

At the beautiful museum I learned things about the negro baseball leagues and their ties to the city. Slowly but surely, my attitude began to shift. On our next stop, Arthur Bryant's bar-b-que, I had one of the best meals I've had in a long while. The interior of the low-key restaurant reminded me of the southern food establishments I frequent at home in North Carolina, and the food was just as good. As we walked out of the restaurant to return to the car and drive back to Columbia, I began to realize my view of Kansas City had all but done a complete 180. And just as I did, the sun peaked through the clouds.

What I learned from that days' experience was that often, first impressions can be off base. A return visit to a city is a must before making a sweeping judgement. Because sometimes, all it takes is a little bar-b-que and baseball to inspire an entirely new outlook.

Separate but unequal

By Martenzie Johnson

During the 1940s, World War II shipped many men away from their homes, families, and friends in the United States.  Black and white soldiers joined together to defeat Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich, effectively ending the genocide that plagued Germany for nearly a decade.

But back home a racial injustice was still dividing a nation that had just fought for freedom and against the threat of tyranny.  Back home blacks and whites could not even play baseball side by side.

My trip to the Negro League Baseball Museum on June 2 opened my eyes even more to the blatant hypocrisy that took place across this nation.

Black athletes, activists, and even journalists, fought throughout the 1800s and early 1900s to play “America’s Game” and were then forced to create their own league just to have the ability to put on a jersey and cleats.

Though early players like Moses Fleetwood Walker were allowed to participate in professional baseball in the late 19^th century, racism and segregation quickly demoted them back to what was considered their proper place.

Fast forward about 50 years and Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in the Major Leagues when he joined the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1945.

But what struck me the most was how the United States—which has a history of going to war to stand up for freedom—could send young black men to fight with whites in the military, but separated the comrades when they returned to American soil.

Over 700 black soldiers died during World War II, including one Negro leagues player, but Negro leagues were operative until 1960, almost 15 years after the war ended.

The Negro league's demise was a double-edged sword for civil rights, in that it led to the recruitment of more black players in the Major Leagues but also erased an important staple of African-American history.

Walking through the halls of the Negro leagues provided a reminder of where this country has been, where it is, and where it is headed.  Though all sorts of barriers have been broken since Robinson slipped on his No. 45 jersey, there are still so many left to hurdle today.

What impressed me most: Satchel Paige and the Trujillo Nine

By Alex Riggins

The Boston Red Sox may have been the first Major League Baseball team to come back from three-games down in a best-of-seven playoff series against the New York Yankees in 2004, but they certainly weren’t the first baseball team of any league to accomplish the feat.

The Trujillo Nine, as they were known, was a team of 20 Negro League players that were recruited by Dominican Republic Dictator Rafael Trujillo to play in Ciudad Trujillo, Dominican Repuublic. The players left their Negro League team in the middle of the season to play in the Caribbean. In a politically charged Dominican Republic World Series, Ciudad Trujillo came back from down 3-0 in a best-of-seven series in 1937.   

The Trujillo Nine included legendary Negro League players like Satchel Paige and Cool Papa Bell. According to the placard in the museum, they feared for their lives when they were down 3-0 in the series. Had they been swept, the players didn’t know what the dictator Trujillo may have done to them. Playing with the pressure of knowing that their lives were in danger should they lose, the Negro League players playing for Ciudad Trujillo won the next three games to even the series and force a seventh game.

After winning the seventh game, Trujillo threw the team a party that is said to rival any modern day World Series celebration. But even the championship and ensuing celebration wasn’t enough to keep them in the Dominican Republic, and they all returned to the United States.

Upon their return, Satchel Paige and others were banned from the Negro National League for abandoning their team mid-season the year prior – so Paige started his own team and toured the country, regularly outdrawing the league teams in attendance. 

Obscure and mostly untold stories such as Paige and the Trujillo Nine is what impressed me the most about the Negro Leagues Museum. I could have probably spent the entire day reading the stories, and that still may not have been enough time. The Negro League Museum deserves a full day of visitation to read and understand all of the great stories. 

The thought that so many interesting stories from the Negro leagues have most likely been lost to history is a shame, but at the same time it intrigues me because I’m sure there are good stories yet to be told that can still be researched and told well, and be new and fresh stories to most readers.

A Cultural Crossroads

MLB's Jim Jenks speaks to SJI student 

Al Montano at the Negro League Baseball Museum

By Erica A. Hernandez

I have always had a love-hate relationship with baseball, more emphasis on the hate. Needless to say I was slightly apprehensive about visiting the Negro Leagues Museum.

There are many reasons why I should love baseball but there are many experiences behind why I don’t--experiences that stretch beyond cultural norms and general boredom.

As a Miami native I am a tortured Miami Marlins fan. As a Miami-Dade County taxpayer and educated member of my county, I am not a fan on the new stadium, Marlins Park. All this is to say that when I arrived at the University of Florida in 2011, I was excited at the opportunity to try baseball again.

I buckled down for my first Gator baseball game on April 20, 2012 with a good idea of what I was going to occur. That night I witnessed the longest Gator baseball game in UF’s history. Sixteen innings later it was midnight at I was finally able to take shelter from the chilly Gainesville air in my warm dorm room.

In the end the Gators won but I left that stadium with even more reservations about the sport than I had entered with. As a Cuban-American I grew up with baseball. My father grew up playing the sport and if my name were Eric instead of Erica I probably would have too.

Visiting the museum was nostalgic because it took me back to my baseball-crazed childhood. My family vacations consisted of trips to Cooperstown not Disney. In 2003 our entire family received the delightful Christmas gifts of tickets to the World Series, where my sister and I cried and complained about the noise. Carried out of the stadium by my father, I distinctly remember the best part of the experience was being allowed to skip third grade the next day.

Unlike those memorable trips, this was the first trip where I was at an age and place in my life where I could appreciate what I was seeing without having to be emotionally invested in it; I could appreciate it from a journalistic standpoint.

The film Dr. Ray Doswell showed us was eye opening and very informative. I spoke with him later about just how rare the footage we viewed was. Because of the time and restrictive conditions the Negro Leagues played under, artifacts and preservation weren’t very common. This made everything we were seeing that much more special and impactful. The history buff within me was giddy.

Just like I appreciated the museum, I appreciated and respected the insights Jim Jenks and Carlton Thompson of MLB.com shared with the class. MLB.com’s business model is unique and inventive, which is why it’s hard to categorize. It doesn’t fit the mold of a traditional media company but it doesn’t fit the role of any other companies either. It isn’t a propaganda machine, like I had previously believed it to be. The moment that clarified this for me most was when Sandy explained the deal Sports Illustrated had with American Express at one of the tennis tournaments. It was a completely valid and ethical arrangement, in my opinion. The sponsorship with American Express didn’t change much of anything in regards to SI’s coverage and content. It was reassuring to hear that journalistic ethics and standards do have a place in new medias; it is just a matter of to what extent ethics come into play.

The museum and the MLB.com lesson gave me an appreciation for baseball’s groundbreaking roots in America and in the world of sports journalism.

The day in Kansas City taught me more than just the worries that come with living in a state where the “rivers rise.” It taught me how the rest of the world cooks pork, and that it’s not the Cuban way but it’s still delicious.

A journey over time

Home plate view of the Negro League

 Baseball Museum field of dreams

By Chris Trevino

It seemed only fitting that I arrived at the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum in Kansas City in what I can only describe as a time machine: a red van cruising down Highway 70 blasting an old school play list consisting of—but not limited to—MC Hammer, Will Smith, TLC and Michael Jackson.

Stepping into the museum provided me the opportunity to step back in time, as cliché as it may sound. Yet, it was to a time unfamiliar to me. 

I consider myself lucky for never having to be subjected to racist acts—things like being refused service or lodging, being verbally or physically attacked or being mistreated simply by the color of my skin. I’m lucky for never having gone through what these countless men whose faces and jerseys filled the museum experienced.

For that I thank them.

But how does the courage of Jackie Robinson, Larry Doby, Hank Thompson and others help me as a journalist? It’s just a game, right?

Well yes and no. The fact that it was game made it easier to integrate. It was still a fight to make it happen but it was one Robinson and others could win. Sports are quite possibly the last meritocracy: Either you can play or you can’t and they could play.

Yet sports also have much influence on the people who watch them. They can help foster change on a larger scale. When Robinson broke the color barrier in baseball, his actions helped crack barriers in other institutions. Seeing him break through undoubtedly inspired others to fight for change in other areas that sorely needed it.

In the general sense, here at the Sports Journalism Institute we are a reflection of generations past who were not given equality because of their sex or skin color.  But more specifically, as SJI members we are a new generation of minority sports journalists who grew up with so many opportunities, but still have to fight for our presence to be felt in newsrooms.

After today I am prouder to be participating in SJI, to be a part of a program with the tradition of helping minorities continue to build a stronger presence in the media field. In 20 years it will be a privilege to look back and see just how much farther we have continued to go.