Bob Kendrick, President of the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum in Kansas City, accompanied Posnanski to reminisce about Buck O’Neil and the writing of the book. They shared some great stories and a few interesting insights, the most interesting being about the vote that excluded O’Neil from the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Both Posnanski and Kendrick said they believe another vote may come, possibly within the next few years, that would this time enshrine O’Neil into Cooperstown. They didn’t elaborate on where they are getting this information, but they weren’t afraid to say they believe this will happen.

They shared about how they heard of O’Neil’s passing, and about their responsibilities immediately following. They were both called upon to perform official tasks, which required that they hold back their personal emotions for a few hours. They said holding it together was difficult, but that each cried later at the loss of their friend.

I was blessed to meet Mr. Posnanski and to ask him a little about his writing. I plan to try to read some of his other books, including his most recent look at the life and legacy of Harry Houdini. The event also brought together many baseball researchers, writers and enthusiasts from the area, making it a great for me for that reason as well.

But what I’ve found in reading dozens of books and hundreds of articles on the subject is that, thanks to the tireless work of capable historians, there’s a whole lot more truth known than you might ever have guessed. The truth doesn’t remove all of the romance attached to black baseball, but there is certainly enough of it to refute blatant falsehoods.

In one chapter of The Soul of Baseball, while attending a funeral Buck O’Neil meets a man from the Chicago area who claims to be a former Negro League player named Johnny Washington. Another man at the funeral adamantly protests that this man did not play in the Negro Leagues and in fact may be co-opting the identity of a real Johnny Washington.

The funeral described in the book occurred in 2006. I presumed that research done since the publication of The Soul of Baseball would shine light on the controversy of Johnny Washington. But as it turns out, a lot of work on the subject had already been done.

By 2005 there was no question that the man claiming to be Negro Leaguer Johnny Washington in the book had already been shown to NOT be a relatively well-known player named Johnny Washington. That man’s identity was well known – his death having occurred in 1999. No mystery there.

So the only questions – not clearly defined in the book – are whether there were two Johnny Washingtons playing around 1950, and whether the things the younger Washington claimed about himself are true.

There is no question that an older Johnny Washington played from 1933-1950. https://www.baseball-reference.com/bullpen/Johnny_Washington_(Negro_Leagues01)

But was there a younger Johnny Washington who had a “real” Negro League career?

A couple of articles written around 2005 claim adamantly that the younger Johnny Washington never played in the Negro Leagues.

From the Chicago Tribune:

https://www.chicagotribune.com/news/ct-xpm-2005-09-16-0509160147-story.html

And from a webpage dedicated to Double Duty Radcliffe:

http://chicagobaseballmuseum.org/double-duty-classic-cell-carries-royal-name-negro-league-history/

But there may be some more recent research to show that a younger Johnny Washington from Chicago did play in the Negro Leagues.

According to Baseball Reference, there was a Johnny Madison Washington who played for the Houston Eagles 1950 – he got a whole two at bats! He was born in 1930, in Chicago, and is still alive according to the page:

https://www.baseball-reference.com/register/league.cgi?id=74b37fa0

The Johnny Washington in the book would be about the right age and about the right size – listed as 5’11, 170 – to match the one on Baseball Reference.

Now anyone who knows much about the Negro Leagues can tell you a few of things:

1. Baseball Reference only shows league games played in the Negro Leagues
2. players who played in any league games for a Negro League team probably also played in some non-league (often called “barnstorming”) games.
3. if a player reached the Negro American League in 1950, he probably played in some segregated minor-league/developmental-level league games in order to get there. In that person’s mind, those may qualify him as having played in the Negro Leagues.
4. record keeping was always sketchy with the Negro Leagues, and barnstorming games may not have been recorded anywhere

The four factors above do not, however, lend a lot of credibility to the Johnny Washington in The Soul of Baseball. The other articles above state that this Washington laid claim to some very confusing things about himself – that he integrated the Boston Red Sox (impossible), that he was derailed by the Korean War and received Purple Hearts (doubtful), and he played for the 1956 Buffalo Bison (this page shows no Johnny Washington: https://www.statscrew.com/minorbaseball/roster/t-bb10631/y-1956).

Add to that his claims to have played with and against people who have no recollection of him, and this Johnny Washington better not volunteer for any lie detector tests.

But I plan to ask author of The Soul of Baseball Joe Posnanski about this when he visits the Topeka & Shawnee County Public Library on Feb. 17. Hopefully he’s learned more about the mystery of Johnny Washington since publication of the book.

Before that, you can join in remembering the men of the Negro Leagues by reading The Soul of Baseball. The Topeka & Shawnee County Public Library is sponsoring a community read of book, and has dozens of copies available. I will participate in a group discussion of the book on Feb. 16.

In one chapter of The Soul of Baseball by Joe Posnanski, Buck O’Neil spent a day with Monte Irvin. Irvin holds a very unique position in baseball history as the only player to be a full-fledged star in both the Negro Leagues and the integrated major leagues.

As he lamented in the book, Irvin was like so many other Negro Leaguers who despised the date of their birth because they were denied a full career in the major leagues. But Irvin surely understood the importance of his timing, and his place in baseball history. No other player could serve as such a measuring stick of the Negro Leagues and provide a witness to the players he’d played against.

Despite missing two years to World War II, Irvin was elite in the Negro Leagues throughout his 20s. After a short adjustment, he was elite in the majors in his 30s. His successful transition was a testament to what other Negro Leaguers were capable of. And having seen what it took to make it in both environments, Irvin’s testimony about other players carried special weight.

What Irvin could understandably resent was the timing of the war. Not only did service in the European Theater rob him of two seasons during his youth, but it took his sharpness and affected his confidence. According to Cool Papa Bell, before Irvin left for the war in 1943, he was the best player in the Negro Leagues. But an inner-ear condition developed during the war hampered his superb coordination and left him uncertain of his skills. When the Giants and Dodgers reportedly asked how he would like to integrate the major leagues, Irvin declined.

While we are all indebted to Jackie Robinson for leading the integration movement, we are indebted to Monte Irvin for providing the best testament to the general equality of the majors and the Negro Leagues.

If a man 32 years of age with an inner-ear condition and a ton of wear and tear from the Negro League experience and military service can tear up the majors like Monte Irvin did in 1951, then imagine what he could have done in his 20s without a war and segregation to hold him back.

You can join in remembering the men of the Negro Leagues by reading The Soul of Baseball. The Topeka & Shawnee County Public Library is sponsoring a community read of the book, and has dozens of copies available. I will participate in a group discussion of the book on Feb. 16. Then Posnanski will be at the library on Feb. 17 to talk about O’Neil, the book and his experiences.

An interesting, and sad, conclusion of The Soul of Baseball is the 2006 election of Negro Leaguers to Cooperstown in what certainly appears to be the last attempt by the Hall to induct worthy individuals excluded from the major leagues by segregation.

Author Joe Posnanski was with O’Neil at the moment he learned he’d been left out of the Hall. The Topeka & Shawnee County Public Library is sponsoring a community read of The Soul of Baseball, and has dozens of copies available. I will participate in a group discussion of the book on Feb. 16. Then author Joe Posnanski will be at the library on Feb. 17 to talk about O’Neil, the book and his experiences.

O’Neil’s case for the Hall was not based on his greatness as a player. He himself admitted that he wasn’t one of the greatest to play in the Negro Leagues. But he was a successful Negro League manager, a pioneer as a scout and coach in the major leagues, and finally a heroic ambassador for pre-integration black baseball. It was his work preaching healing and unity that won over people’s hearts and bolstered his case for the Hall.

In 2006, O’Neil made it through the screening process and the initial vote to reduce the number of candidates. But he fell short in the final vote.

If he were to be inducted in the future, O’Neil’s case would have to receive unique consideration. It would require the voters to consider the sum total of his lifetime achievements.

There are five Negro Leaguers who have been inducted into the Hall of Fame for contributions outside of the field of play. Of those five, four were owners: Effa Manley, Alex Pompez, Cum Posey and J.L. Wilkinson.

The fifth – Sol White – has credentials somewhat similar to O’Neil’s. White was one of the top managers in black baseball early in the 20^th Century. He is best known for writing a book recording the history of black baseball prior to 1907.

But White was also considered one of the best players of his era – approximately 1887 to 1901. Unlike O’Neil, White’s play alone would have merited his consideration for the Hall of Fame.

It is sad that Cooperstown didn’t view the whole of O’Neil’s accomplishments as worthy of inclusion. But to include him would have required quite a diversion from their normal course of only including the very best players.

There are 30 men in the Hall of Fame based almost entirely on their Negro League play. Interestingly, the order in which they were inducted serves as an unofficial ranking, indicating which players voters deemed most deserving:

Satchel Paige – 1971 (played some in the majors, but his induction is almost entirely based on his Negro League career)

Josh Gibson – 1972

Buck Leonard – 1972

Monte Irvin – 1973 (voted in by the special committee on the Negro Leagues and the Pre-Negro Leagues, Irvin is the only man in the Hall of Fame whose merits in the Negro Leagues and the major leagues are essentially equal)

Cool Papa Bell – 1974

Judy Johnson – 1975

Oscar Charleston – 1976

Martin Dihigo – 1977

Pop Lloyd – 1977

Rube Foster – 1981

Ray Dandridge – 1987

Leon Day – 1995

Bill Foster – 1996

Willie Wells – 1997

Bullet Rogan – 1998

Smokey Joe Williams – 1999

Turkey Stearnes – 2000

Hilton Smith – 2001

Ray Brown – 2006

Willard Brown – 2006 (like Paige, he played some in the majors, but his induction is based entirely on his Negro League career)

Andy Cooper – 2006

Frank Grant – 2006

Pete Hill – 2006

Biz Mackey – 2006

Jose Mendez – 2006

Louis Santop – 2006

Mule Suttles – 2006

Ben Taylor – 2006

Cristobal Torriente – 2006

Jud Wilson – 2006

There are six Negro Leaguers in the Hall of Fame for their play in the major leagues:

Jackie Robinson – 1962

Roy Campanella – 1969 (had a relatively significant Negro League career as a young player before coming to the major leagues)

                  Ernie Banks – 1977

Willie Mays – 1979

Hank Aaron – 1982

Larry Doby – 1998 (similar to Campanella, Doby had a relatively significant Negro League career as a young player before coming to the major leagues)

My study to write the book Legacy led me to meet a lot of interesting people and to some interesting experiences. At the top of the list was helping a group place a headstone on the grave of “Topeka Jack” Johnson.

Johnson was a black baseball stalwart during the beginning of the 20^th century. But he was more than that. He was a fine player, but an even better promoter and manager, as well as a boxer, fitness trainer, policeman, fireman, and pillar of the Topeka community.

Jeremy Krock, head of the Negro Leagues Baseball Grave Marker Project, traveled to Topeka for the ceremonial unveiling of the headstone. I was fortunate enough to record the event for the Topeka Capital-Journal:

https://www.cjonline.com/news/2016-10-29/topeka-negro-leagues-athlete-boxer-honored-ceremony-dedicating-grave-marker

You can join in remembering the men of the Negro Leagues by reading The Soul of Baseball. The Topeka & Shawnee County Public Library is sponsoring a community read of book, and has dozens of copies available. I will participate in a group discussion of the book on Feb. 16. Then author Joe Posnanski will be at the library on Feb. 17 to talk about O’Neil, the book and his experiences.

1) he has a seat dedicated in his memory at Kauffman Stadium, and each Royals game some member of the Kansas City community is invited to sit in this seat to honor their civic contributions

2) he was featured (and rose to national prominence) for his part in the Ken Burns’ documentary Baseball

3) he was called “Nancy” by Satchel Paige to cover one of the pitcher’s many indiscretions

The Topeka & Shawnee County Public Library is sponsoring a community read of The Soul of Baseball, and has dozens of copies available. I will participate in a group discussion of the book on Feb. 16. Then Posnanski will be at the library on Feb. 17 to talk about O’Neil, the book and his experiences.

I’m sure the Nancy story will come up. It seems to be the number one thing people want to discuss about O’Neil, and it was certainly the number one thing people asked him about while he was alive.

A great storyteller from my own life would often say “I’ve told some lies so many times I’ve come to believe they are true myself.” It seems that, in the mind of great storytellers, truth and fiction can be somewhat fluid. The stories take on a life of their own. As long as the story isn’t something too crucial, there’s no problem with this. We appreciate that great storytelling is an art, not a science.

From The Soul of Baseball, one can tell that O’Neil didn’t always tell the truth exactly as it happened. Sometimes he did this to make people feel good. Sometimes he did it because he was great at embellishing for people’s enjoyment. And sometimes he just didn’t remember everything perfectly. One can’t fault a 94-year-old man for that. He’d experienced more than 10 men normally do, and almost none of it was actually documented for posterity. So he had a trove of history to keep track of with nothing but his own memory.

I’ve heard the Nancy story told numerous times, and the details always seem a little different. I trust The Soul of Baseball probably contains them about as close as possible to the way it really happened. I assume this because I’m sure Posnanski heard it told numerous times during his travels with O’Neil and would have been able to glean the consistencies from the many versions.

If you aren’t familiar with the story, you better get a copy of The Soul of Baseball and come discuss it at the Topeka library.

Years ago I was struck by the family lines that connected the Negro Leagues and the major leagues, so I wrote Legacy to tell those stories.

Watching a player named Jerry Hairston, Jr. play sparked a conversation between O’Neil and Posnanski about the number of fathers and sons in the major leagues. It just so happens I was blessed to interview Jerry Hairston, Sr., Jerry Hairston, Jr., and Scott Hairston for Legacy. The Hairstons are one of four families I featured – the others being the Giles, Tiant and Weeks families.

Here is a short excerpt from the Hairston chapter that illustrates the strength of their family bond, which extends from Negro League star Sam Hairston to five ball-playing descendants:

The league that had rejected black players for decades had opened its arms wide by the 1960s, and Sam’s second son, John, was drafted by the Chicago Cubs in 1965. John would play just three games in the big leagues in 1969, but in doing so became the first African-American father/son duo in big league history.

Sam’s oldest son, Sam, Jr., played one season in the minors in 1966, as did Sam’s much younger brother Jack, who was actually a rookie-ball teammate of nephew Sam, Jr.

Up to that point, the Hairston’s integrated league careers had been short and unremarkable. But in 1973 – 22 years after Sam’s cup of coffee with the White Sox – a Hairston finally earned a long-term spot in the big leagues. Sam’s third son, Jerry, broke in as a 21-year-old outfielder on that same White Sox roster that included Sam for four games. He would play 14 seasons, almost all of them with the White Sox.

“I was very happy to get drafted by the White Sox (in 1970), to get to live out the dream my dad had,” Jerry Hairston Sr. recalled. “It was a real source of pride to follow in his footsteps not only as a player, but to do it in the same organization.

“To play on the same field that he did, and to go to many of the same places that he did and see firsthand where so many of the stories took place that he’d told me growing up… I know he was proud, too.”

Now a third generation of Hairstons is playing in the major leagues that once rejected their grandfather. Jerry’s sons Jerry Hairston Jr. and Scott have had long and successful careers.

The Hairston family has certainly benefited from integration. They’ve come a long ways from the Negro League salaries their grandfather earned. The grandsons have each made several million dollars during their playing careers.

“Baseball has been very good to my family and I am very privileged to have the Hairston name on my back,” said Jerry Hairston Jr. “My brother and I understand what a blessing this opportunity is.”

Jerry Hairston Jr. understands that he grew up with a rare perspective – he is a product of both racist oppression, and social and economic privilege.

“Having a grandfather who (was kept out of the white leagues) because of his color, and then having a father who played in the big leagues for a long time, I was kind of able to see two different sides of the history. I never saw my grandfather play, obviously, but hearing the stories and tracing down the line from my uncles, my father playing, and now me and my brother, I can definitely trace the history of how integration played out.”

“I’m very proud that I’m kind of like the bridge that went all the way from the Negro Leagues to today, and to have my sons carry on that legacy,” said Jerry Hairston Sr. “My father passed that joy of the game on to me and I was able to pass it on in my sons. It’s a special thing that my sons are carrying on what was so important to my father.”

The third generation of Hairstons understand all that has been passed down to them, and the men who made it possible.

“Probably more than most anyone, our family knows how we got where we are and who made it possible,” said Scott Hairston. “From the time I was a kid, this is all I ever wanted to do. Ever since I can remember, I’ve been at the ballpark, watching my dad, and watching guys play, being in the clubhouse. This is all I ever wanted to do, and now I have kids of my own, two boys, and they love baseball, just like I did. That doesn’t just happen by chance. My grandfather loved the game first, and he passed that down to our family. And it was always for the love of the game. It was never about money or showmanship or pride. My grandfather, with all the stories he told… who wouldn’t want to play baseball after hearing all his stories?”

“We’re very proud of who we are,” added Jerry Hairston Jr. “We’re not the Griffeys. We’re not the Bonds. We never were superstars. But we’re guys that loved the game of baseball and worked extremely hard at our craft. We brought our lunch pails to work. Come to work every day, give it everything you have, and hopefully that is enough. That’s basically the legacy of our family.”

The Topeka & Shawnee County Public Library is sponsoring a community read of The Soul of Baseball, and has dozens of copies available. I will participate in a group discussion of the book on Feb. 16. Then Posnanski will be at the library on Feb. 17 to talk about O’Neil, the book and his experiences.

A theme that pops up frequently in Joe Posnanski’s The Soul of Baseball is the struggle to hang on to memories. As much as Buck O’Neil was beloved for the stories he would share about his life, it’s apparent that by the time of the writing of the book, O’Neil was struggling to hang on to his memories.

“I think (forgetting) is the only thing that scares him,” a friend said about O’Neil early in the book. “Dying doesn’t scare him. Forgetting does.”

And a few chapters later, O’Neil addressed the concept: “You haven’t forgotten. You just think you have…Those stories aren’t gone. They’re just behind a few cobwebs.”

I’m not very well informed on how memory works. I know there is a difference between being able to memorize things, or remembering where you put your keys, and being able to recall experiences from years ago. It’s a concept that scares me. I don’t like thinking that I won’t remember the things I want from this beautiful life.

A couple of things I am trying, in hopes that they help, are 1) journaling the events of every day, and 2) telling stories to others when I remember them. My wife and kids are probably sick of hearing these stories, but I feel like speaking them out loud compounds them in my memory. My closest friends have taken to calling me “Glory Days.”

People were enamored by O’Neil’s ability to tell colorful stories from an obscure portion of history. He had the benefit of being asked to tell his stories over and over. So retelling them kept them fresh in his mind.

But he also had to deal with the pressure of keeping those memories fresh even in his old age – he was still giving performances and interviews well into his 90s. He had to feel an intense burden as one of the last living standard bearers for the pre-World War II era of the Negro Leagues.

O’Neil did all he could to make sure that history was preserved. “I sure wish I could remember everything,” he said in the book. “So much to remember.”

The Topeka & Shawnee County Public Library is sponsoring a community read of The Soul of Baseball, and has dozens of copies available. I will participate in a group discussion of the book on Feb. 16. Then Posnanski will be at the library on Feb. 17 to talk about O’Neil, the book and his experiences.

I wrote a little about his groundbreaking efforts and the impact he had on those who came after him in my book Legacy, including original reflections by MLB coach Eric Young and executive Tyrone Brooks:

Initially, several former Negro League players and managers began scouting black players for major league teams. In 1962, Buck O’Neil became the first black coach on a major league team. But O’Neil spent years before that as a scout, exploiting his familiarity with the Negro Leagues and baseball in the African-American communities. Other great Negro League baseball minds, Quincy Trouppe and Alex Pompez in particular, weathered the changing times by becoming scouts as well.

With white teams suddenly anxious to sign African-American and Latin-American players to bring into their system, it was only natural that they would turn to scouts of color to do the job. There was not only a familiarity with the Negro League system and the players available, but also with African-American and Hispanic culture.

“When you go to scout young players, there has to be a level of trust there,” said coach Eric Young, who played 15 seasons in the major leagues. “Especially (in the days before the draft, when young players signed free-agent contracts), when you’re scouting a young African-American player to take him away from his family and put them out there on their own, there had to be a trust. I’m sure it helped to know that they could go and talk to those kids and the kid could see them like a family member and trust them. Those scouts could not only read talent, they could get inside the kids’ head and know what they needed to succeed.”

They labored for years before they were allowed to coach in a big league dugout, but O’Neil, Pompez and others faithfully proved capable in the one role they were permitted.

Tyrone Brooks, a baseball executive and former scout, understands how much he owes to the men who paved the way for African Americans like himself. He described spending time with O’Neil, learning about scouting from the man who signed Ernie Banks and Lou Brock.

“We were just holding back tears trying not to break down crying as we listened to Buck’s stories and understood what he did to provide opportunities for those of us who came after him,” recalled Brooks.

After O’Neil became the first African American hired as a coach in 1962, the number grew very slowly. What resulted, sadly, was that a generation of great baseball minds was never mined from the Negro Leagues. Some of the style and strategy of the Negro Leagues crept into the majors. But the masterminds of the Negro Leagues were left behind.

“For them to not get a chance to go on and share what they knew with the white leagues, and maybe to improve it – that was a loss at that point in time,” said Young. “I wouldn’t say that all that knowledge was lost. Those Negro League coaches got the chance to pass their knowledge on to a lot of young players who then crossed over to the big leagues. But there were a lot of great baseball minds that didn’t get (appreciated).

The Topeka & Shawnee County Public Library is sponsoring a community read of The Soul of Baseball. Pick up a copy and look for events to discuss the book together. If you don’t live in Topeka, write any comments about O’Neil and the book you would like in this blog.

Posnanski had the special opportunity to spend time with Buck O’Neil, a special man and an important figure from history. But the significant thing about the book is that O’Neil was 94 years old at the time Posnanski followed him around recording his experiences and recollections.

I hate the thought that my life is well past its halfway point (and that’s assuming I’m lucky enough to achieve a normal life-expectancy). I’m not young or fit or sexy, or even particularly vibrant. I can see the effects of time on my grown kids, my wife, my friends, and particularly on my parents. And the worst part is the admission that you’re not going to become all the things you want to become, or do all the things you want to do.

Sports fans experience a unique kind of sadness that comes with the passage of time. In the course of just 15 or 20 years your favorite professional athletes go from rookies to retirement. When your favorite player finally admits “I can’t do it anymore,” you are forced to face how much you have changed while their careers played out. You realize you won’t get the enjoyment of watching them perform anymore. And you’ll have to watch them develop pot bellies and bald heads and walk with limps.

Buck O’Neil spent his retirement years trying to educate us about the youth of such men – athletes who had long since developed pot bellies and bald heads and limps. Worse yet, most of them were dead. Without many photographs and almost no video footage to tell the story, O’Neil had only his memories to share. Until time finally caught up with him, O’Neil did all he could. Baseball fans are all in his debt.

If you haven’t invested time learning about the Negro Leagues and the great men who played baseball in the shadows of segregation, join in the community read of The Soul of Baseball sponsored by the Topeka & Shawnee County Public Library. Pick up a copy and look for events to discuss the book together. If you don’t live in Topeka, write any comments about O’Neil and the book you would like in this blog.