Virgil Trucks,
who spent 17 seasons as a pitcher in the major leagues and served in
World War II, passed away Saturday March 23 at a hospital near his home
in Calera, Alabama, according to his daughter Carolyn Beckwith. He was 95.
Trucks was signed by the Detroit Tigers in 1938 and immediately posted a record setting season, striking out 418 batters for their Class D team in Andalusia, Ala.
He earned the nickname “Fire” from an Alabama sportswriter for his
blazing fastball that he used to tear through hitters at the lower
levels of minor league baseball. He rapidly ascended the ranks of the
Tigers minor league system and was in a major league uniform at the end
of the 1941 season.
Virgil Trucks / Author's Collection
He spent the next two seasons with the Tigers before enlisting in the
United States Navy in 1944. While in the service, he played for the
baseball team at the Great Lakes Naval Station, which allowed him to
stay in shape for his return to the Tigers just in time for the 1945
World Series. His complete game victory in Game 2 of the World Series
helped lead the Tigers to winning the championship in seven games.
Trucks spent the majority of his career with the Tigers, pitching two
no-hitters in 1952, which ironically accounted for two of his five wins
that season. The Tigers, looking to go with a younger staff, traded
Trucks to the St. Louis Browns at the end of the year. He would later
play for the Chicago White Sox, Kansas City Athletics, and New York Yankees,
before finishing his major league career in 1958. He pitched briefly in
the minor leagues in 1959 and barnstormed with his good friend Satchel Paige
in the off-season.
“I was living in Kansas City, Missouri when I retired and
so was Paige," said Trucks in a 2009 letter to the author. "He had a friend that booked some games and he called me
to go with him and I accepted. Most players barnstormed after the season
because we could make enough money to live off of until next season.”
He finished with a career record of 177-135 that included two
All-Star appearances in 1949 and 1954. He was inducted into the Alabama
Sports Hall of Fame in 1974. In 2004, he published his life story, "Throwing Heat: The Life and Times of Virgil Trucks," with co-authors Bill Bozeman and Ronnie Joyner.
The Alabama native remained a popular figure with fans throughout his
retirement, spending countless hours responding to every fan mail
request. He often replied with hand written letters to those who sought
correspondence.
“[I receive] 20 or 30 [a week], sometimes more," Trucks told the Birmingham News in 2009. "That's
just letters. It doesn't count baseballs and pictures they send. I don't
like to keep the stuff around. If I wake up and can't go back to sleep,
I'll go answer my mail in the middle of the night.”
His daughter Beckwith said that his fans kept him energized well into
the later innings of his life.
“He has always adored his fans,” she
said to the Shelby County Magazine in 2012. “When I was little, I would help him sort through his fan mail. … He always made it a point to reply to every single one.”
“Discover Greatness,” has been the theme for the traveling exhibit of the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum for the past 20 years that has showcased the history of African-Americans in baseball. An increasingly rare opportunity to witness one of the legends who played in the Negro Leagues tell their story live and in-person came to Mt. Calvary Baptist Church on Saturday in Mullica Hill, N.J.
Bill Greason / N. Diunte
Eighty-eight-year-old Rev. William “Bill” Greason, former pitcher for the Birmingham Black Barons and St. Louis Cardinals, delivered an impressive sermon in which baseball, history, and spirituality were effortlessly intertwined.
Greason, a Montford Point Marine who served in World War II, has been the pastor of the Bethel Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama for more than 30 thirty years. He found his calling during his time in the military.
“In February 1945 on a little island called Iwo Jima, people were dying all around me. I took a little bible with me,” he said. “Two of my best friends were killed on that island. I prayed and I said, ‘Lord, if you get me off this island, whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.’ It’s strange. A calling is strange. It’s a burden on you. You can’t shake it if you’re really called, no matter what you do or where you go. That’s what happened to me. I just threw up my hands and said here I am, use me.”
He delayed his start in the ministry to pursue a career in baseball upon his return from World War II. His career in the Negro Leagues started in 1947, when he was picked up off of the sandlots of Atlanta, Georgia.
“In 1947, the Nashville Black Vols heard about me and invited me to come and start play with them. I played did pretty good, I won 12 games and lost four,” he said.
Within a year, his fine pitching caught the interest of the Birmingham Black Barons.
“The next year … in spring training, I was in Ashville, North Carolina, and the Black Barons came through," he recalled. "Our pitcher started against them and they bombed him. They put me in and I shut them out in seven innings. That was on a Monday night; Saturday morning, I was in Birmingham. I don’t know how they got me, they bought me or whatever, but in 1948 I was with the Barons.”
His expertise on the mound helped guide the Black Barons to the final Negro World Series. They squared off against the Homestead Grays, who were led by future Hall of Famers Cool Papa Bell, and Buck Leonard. Greason won the only game for the Black Barons in the 1948 series.
“To have an opportunity to pitch in that environment, it was something exceptional,” he said.
On that club, patrolling center field was a 17-year-old budding superstar in Willie Mays. Greason became close with the teenage sensation.
“Piper [Davis] brought him in and we became roommates on the road," Greason said. "We’re still good friends. He was the greatest young player [I ever saw]. He had unusual gifts. He could catch it and throw it; he did it all. He was what they called a phenom. I knew he was going to do well as a ballplayer, and he did.”
Their friendship has persisted more than 65 years.
“Willie and I are real close now. I’ve been going to his birthday parties for the last five-to-six years. I said to him, ‘I’ve gotta have proof that I’ve been here.’ I’ve got about three of those San Francisco jackets, balls, and shirts.”
He later made his way into the minor leagues by way of Mexico after serving with the Marines during the Korean War. The Oklahoma City Redbirds of the Texas League signed him in 1952, making him the second black player in league history. Greason shared how he converted even the toughest of fans with his artistry on the mound.
“I had one in Beaumont, a lady. Boy! It looked like every time we played in Beaumont, it was my time to pitch and she’d sit right behind our dugout,” he said. “The more she talked, the stronger I became. It was just a challenge. If you know who you are, you don’t worry about what people say. They call you all kinds of names and say whatever they want to, but you have to stay focused. That’s what happened and I kept my mind on whatever I had to do. After the season was over, she came to me and said, ‘Bill, I tried to get you, but you did well. I’m proud of you.’ I said, ‘Thank you.’”
He compiled a record of 25-14 during his two seasons in Oklahoma City, prompting the Cardinals to trade for his services just prior to the 1954 season. Greason was called up to the Cardinals in May. Not only did he take a pay cut from his salary in the minor leagues to go to the majors, he was used sparingly by manager Eddie Stanky. He appeared in only three games during the month he was with the club. He was given a short rope on the mound by the ill-tempered Stanky.
“He came out to the mound," Greason recalled. "I’m out there trying to get the ball over the ball over the plate and he walked right up in front of me. ‘Get the damn ball over the plate!’ I said, “What in the hell do you think I’m trying to do? Do you think I’ve got a string on this damn ball?’ He turned and left. I knew I wouldn’t be there long.”
Despite his short career in the major leagues, Greason beamed with pride this weekend to be able to uphold the traditions of the Negro Leagues.
“A lot of our young people don’t know anything about the Negro Leagues. … It had a great influence on our people, baseball; this was all we had in Birmingham. On Sundays, after the game, people would leave worship service, come to the ballpark dressed like I am right now and this was all that we had at that time. Baseball was very important to a lot of people and they loved the ballplayers. And we did our best to be respectful, treat people nice and help people where we could.”
Bill Greason giving his service in uniform / N. Diunte
His focus now with whatever time he has left is to foster a deeper sense of spirituality with the younger generation.
“Baseball had its time. The Marines had its time. I’m trying to help young people. I’m at a Bible College trying to help young ministers to really take the calling seriously and not worry about the money. It’s about people. If we can get God in the hearts of people, we could change things. If not, it’s going to remain the same.”
Peeples played in the Negro Leagues with the Memphis Red Sox, Kansas City Monarchs, and Indianapolis Clowns before signing with the Brooklyn Dodgers organization in 1951. He played a few years in their system at the low minors and in 1953, he bounced around among three different teams, as the Dodgers sold him to independent Keokuk before the Braves bought his contract and sent him to Evansville to finish out the season. He finished the 1953 season with a .331 average and 15 home runs. His combination of speed, average, and power were enough for the Braves to offer him a contract with the Class-AA Atlanta Crackers for the 1954 season.
The 28-year-old outfielder was hesitant when he received the news that he was going to be the one to break the league’s color barrier.
“I was sick about it because back in 1954, I didn't know how it all was going to work out. I played through the South when I was with the Kansas City Monarchs. I knew what those towns were like. Earl Mann said, ‘Well, come to spring training, and we'll see what happens.’ And that's what I did,” said Peeples in Bruce Adelson’s, "Brushing Back Jim Crow."
After the first six games of spring training, Peeples was batting an impressive .429 with a home run. His early performance caught the attention of the media, with the Sarasota Herald-Tribune running the headline on March 22, 1954, “Nat Peeples May Be 1st to Break SA Race Barrier.” The once reluctant outfielder warmed up to his prospects after his hot start.
“I think I’ve made it, but of course that’s not for me to say,” he remarked.
Peeples played well enough to make the opening day roster, but couldn’t stick with the team. He made his debut on April 9, 1954 in Mobile, Ala., grounding out in a pinch-hitting appearance. He played in one more game, finishing 0-4 with a walk, and was sent to Class-A Jacksonville on April 17, 1954. Rumors surrounding his demotion stemmed from complaints of the rest of the owners in the league. Others have asserted he simply wasn't ready for the pitching in the league.
“When Earl Mann explained on April 17 that Peeples had lost his spot on the roster to more experienced outfielders and that the Crackers had sent him to Jacksonville so he could play every day, the Atlanta owner asserted the truth. … He was an average Class-A and a below-average Class-AA player, and it took him until the end of his career to reach that level of competence. Thus, in 1954, he was clearly not ready for the Southern Association,” Fenster reported.
He stayed with the Braves organization for the majority of his career, getting as far as Triple-A before his retirement in 1960. In his 1999 interview with Adelson, Peeples took pride in his accomplishment, no matter how brief it was.
“I felt pretty good about what I did because no other black players tried to play in the Southern Association. I don’t regret what I did, but I can’t say I’d do it again. I’d have to think about it. I’d like to be remembered for what I did.”
Satchel Paige was an arm for hire. Pitching well into his 50s, Paige was widely coveted not only for his pitching, but his ability to put fans in the seats. Wherever Paige appeared, there was a crowd. Owners knew this and Paige capitalized. If the price was right, ol’ Satchel would put on the uniform.
In 1961, fresh off of his appearance in the Negro League East-West All-Star Game at Yankee Stadium, the Portland Beavers of the Triple-A Pacific Coast League signed Paige in late August with the hopes that the legendary hurler could fill their stadium. Paige felt he could still deliver the goods.
Witnessing that delivery was Ed Charles, a 28-year-old third baseman for the Vancouver Mounties. (Ironically Charles ended up as Paige’s teammate on the Kansas City Athletics in 1965, when Paige made his final major league appearance against the Boston Red Sox.) During their final home stand in Vancouver, Charles recalled a humorous incident when one of his teammates tried to show up Paige on the mound.
“The last series of the '61 season, Satchel was with Portland and we were finishing up with Portland at home. ... Satchel [was] scheduled to pitch, which he did, the final game on a Sunday,” Charles said during a 2012 interview. “He really stuck that ball up our ‘you know what,’ until I think I got a hit off him in the 7th [sic]. ... The big thing about that, we had a second baseman Billy Consolo. ... He took it upon himself to try to bunt on Satchel Paige.”
Paige quickly let Consolo know that his attempt wasn’t appreciated.
“He laid down the bunt and Satch didn't attempt to go to the ball to field the ball," he said. "Satch just stood on the mound and stared at Billy as he was running to first base.”
Consolo’s home fans gave him an earful as well.
“Our fans. they took offense to Billy trying to drag [bunt] on Satch. They start booing him and saying, ‘You should be sent to the minor leagues having the guts to lay a bunt down on that old man, you bush league so and so!’”
Consolo was no stranger to the unspoken rules of baseball. He played 10 seasons in the major leagues, and later spent 13 years as a coach on Sparky Anderson’s staff with the Detroit Tigers. When Consolo returned to the dugout, Charles pressed Consolo about his motives.
“[I asked him], ‘Why would you try to bunt on that man like that?’ Billy said, ‘I'm trying to win a ballgame, I don't care who's out on the mound.’”
Over 50 years later, it was not Paige’s mastery on the mound, but his looming glare across the diamond that is etched in Charles’ memory.
“It was funny the reaction of our fans towards Billy for trying to lay down a drag bunt on Satchel Paige. ... Just to see Satch stand there and stare down Billy, that was funny.”
Joe Margoneri’s golden left arm was his ticket into professional baseball. Blessed with a blazing fastball, Margoneri caught the attention of the New York Giants scouts after pitching on the sandlots of Smithton, Pennsylvania.
“We had no high school baseball. I was playing semi-pro ball, working
for the gentleman that ran the team. He owned a coal mine and coke
oven,” Margoneri said during a December 2012 phone interview. “I was a young
guy and I could throw the ball pretty good. I didn’t know how hard I
could throw it. The owner got to me after the game and said there was a
scout, Nick Shinkoff, from the New York Giants that wanted to see me. My
boss sort of kept it hush hush and didn’t want me to see anybody else.
It went on from there and that’s how I got signed.”
Joe Margoneri
Margoneri signed without a bonus and for the 1950 season made his
professional debut in Oshkosh, Wisconsin.
“Through the grapevine, I think
somebody else got a bonus for me," he said. “I couldn’t verify it, but it doesn’t
matter. All I wanted to do was play baseball at 19, 20 years old. I signed a contract for $150 a month; I thought I was a
millionaire. I got by strictly on a fastball too.”
His speed
overpowered the hitters in the league, as he finished the season with a
23-4 record, and advanced two levels to Class B Sunbury the next season.
“I did decent there; I had 18 wins,” he said.
Just as he was poised
to continue his ascent in the Giants organization, Uncle Sam called.
“The Army got me,” he said. “Back in those days, Korean War was coming on and the draft was still in progress. They were drafting guys and that’s how I got in. I didn’t volunteer.”
He spent the next two seasons (1952-53) stationed at Brooke Medical
Center in San Antonio, Texas.
“I was fortunate, I stayed state-side,” he said. “I
played baseball down in San Antonio, Texas. It was what they called
special service. They had football players, basketball players — all
types of athletes down there in one section.”
His teammates
included some big names that were familiar to New Yorkers.
“Don Newcombe
and Bobby Brown were down there; Newcombe and I got to be pretty good
friends,” he recalled. “He used to be a salesman for one of the beer companies, and we
used to travel around in this big ol’ Cadillac.”
His time in the service provided him with an opportunity to stay
sharp for his return to the Giants.
“I pitched pretty well in the
service,” he said. “We played a lot of semi-pro teams in the oil fields of Texas,
as well as the Air Force bases and Army bases. I came out and went to
Nashville and won like 14 games there.”
During that 1954 offseason, Margoneri traveled south to play for
Magallanes in the Venezuelan Winter League. He led the team to a second
place finish in the Caribbean Series, which included squaring off
against his future teammate Willie Mays,
who was playing for the powerhouse Santurce club of Puerto Rico. He
handed Santurce their only defeat of the series, surrendering two runs in a
complete game victory. His performance didn’t go unnoticed.
He showed up to spring training in 1955 and immediately caught the attention of Giants manager Leo Durocher. In the March 7, 1955 issue of the Long Island Star-Journal,
Durocher raved about Margoneri’s prospects.
“I like everything about
the kid,” Durocher said. “I like his attitude … his poise … his motion …
and, above all, his fastball. He’s firin’ harder than the others because
he’s ready. He pitched in one of those winter leagues.”
The Giants felt he was ready for their highest minor league
competition and sent him to their AAA team in Minneapolis. Margoneri
helped lead the team to the 1955 Junior World Series Championship,
defeating the Rochester Red Wings of the International League in the
best of a seven game series. The long season, including his time in the
winter leagues, was almost a two-year stretch of non-stop pitching. Just
as he was inching close to the major leagues, he started to have
problems with his pitching arm.
“That’s when my arm trouble started. I
was throwing 150 pitches per game and became a bit wild,” he said.
Margoneri rested his arm in the offseason, and in 1956, he was
rewarded for his perseverance. On April 25, 1956, he made his major
league debut against the Brooklyn Dodgers at the Polo Grounds, pitching
one scoreless inning in relief.
“It was just like a dream,” he said. “Just wanting
to get there, and then I got there and hung on.”
Margoneri did
more than hang on, he excelled. By mid-August, he was 5-2 with a 2.77
ERA. Things were looking up for the left-hander, and then his sore arm
resurfaced. He won only one of his next five decisions, finishing 6-6
with a 4.04 ERA.
“My arm went practically went dead. I lost 30% on my
fastball. That was right in the middle of my arm being bad. I didn’t
want to tell anyone. [If you were hurt] you went down and you didn’t
come back.”
Looking back at his rookie season, Margoneri savored the opportunity
to brush shoulders with a future Hall of Famer.
“I had my locker next to
Willie Mays.
He was phenomenal. He did everything,” he said.
He even had a Mays
moment of his own against the Chicago Cubs in New York, when he hit his
lone major league home run.
“I’ll never forget that baby!” he said. “It was in the
Polo Grounds off of Warren Hacker of the Cubs. It was a fastball. [I hit it to] right field, over the short fence.”
He pitched 13 more games for the Giants in 1957, and was sent down to
the minors for good halfway through the season. He continued to pitch
until 1960 before moving on from baseball, where he worked in a paper
mill for 30 years, retiring in 1991.
“I started practically on the
bottom in 1962 went until 1991 and moved up the ladder. I was a
supervisor the last 15 years making corrugated boxes,” he said.
Still popular with the fans, he often receives mail requests to sign
his 1957 Topps card. He gladly returns them.
“I still get a lot of index
cards and bubble gum cards, a few of those per week. I send them back
all the time.”
Topps honored him in their 2006 Topps Heritage set,
traveling to his home in West Newton, Pennsylvania, for him to sign replica cards
as special inserts in their packs. At 83, his focus now is his family, which includes a budding pitching
star.
“I raised five daughters, 13 grand children and my fifth
great-grandchild is on the way. I’ve been married 58 years to my wife
Helen. She went to one local high school and I went to another and she
was my childhood sweetheart,” he said.
His granddaughter Nicole Sleith
is an ace left-handed pitcher for Robert Morris University's softball
team. So does he offer words of wisdom about facing the likes of Duke
Snider, Ernie Banks, and Stan Musial?
“She doesn’t need it,” he said. She’s good; she broke all kinds of records in high school and has a scholarship
now.”
