13 - June 1958

Robert spent the rest of May in Birmingham getting acclimated to his new surroundings. During his first full week, he ran through every type of hitting and fielding drill, but didn’t toss one pitch across the plate.  At the beginning of his second full week after he arrived at Rickwood Field, he finally got his chance to show them why he was really here.

Robert stood on the mound as the catcher deposited a fresh, new baseball in his hand. Robert immediately began shining it on his pant leg.

“My name’s Byron Washington, but all the guys call me Chick. You just watch me for the signals and keep it smooth and easy, rook. Maybe the hitters will catch you a few times but the coaches don’t care about that. They just want to see what you got, one pitch at a time.”

Chick hawked a wad of tobacco juice on the mound next to Robert and returned to his place behind home plate. Chick settled into position as someone stepped into the batter’s box. Chick fired one finger down: fastball.

As soon as the ball popped in the heel of Chick’s glove, Mr. Sims gave Andy Anderson a pat on the back.

“That’s one heck of a fastball.”

Andy nodded affirmatively.

“Boy, why don’t you show us something else?” Mr. Sims announced over the loudspeakers.

Robert glanced around.

“I think he means you,” said Chick.

Chick settled back into position and fired four fingers down. Now Chick wanted to see Robert’s trick pitch.

Robert twisted the ball in his hand and rested his fingers across the tops of the seams. He reeled back and fired the ball towards home. His forkball rose slightly and then dipped wildly just before it crossed the plate. The batter swung wildly, missing the ball by a good foot or more. Chick turned his mitt downwards and snatched the ball out of the dirt.

“Whoo-weee!’ Chick shouted at the batter, “You missed that one by a country mile!”

“Toss me another,” commanded the batter.

Robert looked to Chick. Chick flipped two fingers down and Robert nodded with a smile. He pinched his two pitching fingers together as they curled alongside the curve of the baseball’s seam.  He reared back, just like before, but his wrist turned ever so slightly, twisting the ball into a tight spin. The pitch hung on a line toward the inside of the plate before curving outward. The batter just stood there as the pitch landed squarely in the center of the strike zone.

“You ain’t gonna hit nothin’ if you don’t swing at it, boy!”

“Shut up, Chick.”

“It looks to me like he’s got your number, Sonny.”

Sonny Rollins was a right-handed power hinter, often leading out before a pitch and pulling it towards left field. It also meant he would read pitches early, before they had a chance to show their true colors. In the case of Robert’s forkball and curve, he’d be watching more balls pass him by than leave the sweet spot of his bat.

“Come up here, boy,” announced Mr. Sims.

Robert looked around again.

“He still means you,” said Chick.

Robert jogged to the stands and climbed the stairs to the announcer’s box on the roof. Mr. Sims smiled brightly.

“I think I’d like to insert you into our starting rotation. What do you think about that?”

Robert just stood there, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He couldn’t believe his ears.

“Well?”

“I think it sounds just swell, Mr. Sims.”

 “Then we’ll start you this Friday night against Macon. Starting pitchers make three hundred per week. Andy will take care of the paperwork with you.”

Robert made his first call home to his mother. His second call, however, was to Victoria.

“Hey, I got the job!”

“Who is this?”

“It‘s Robert…Robert Johnson.”

“Oh. Oh! Or course! That‘s great.”

“I got a place on the starting rotation, which means I should be pitching in one of the next few games. Why don’t you come out and see me?”

“You know I don’t have a way to get there.”

“I could wire you the money for the ticket by Western Union.”

“I couldn’t impose on you like that.”

“They’re paying me two-hundred per week.”

“Two-hundred what? Dollars?”

“Of course dollars.”

“Okay, maybe you could buy me a bus ticket after all. That way, I can see your first game.”

Victoria packed her bags and picked up her money at the Spelman Administration Building early the next morning, went to the bus station, and caught the first bus to Birmingham.

Unlike the red eye trips, morning bus rides mostly consisted of serious commuters with no time for trouble making. Still, Robert waited anxiously in Birmingham. When Victoria arrived, safe and sound, he was both happy and relieved.

“How was your trip?”

“It was fine, but I’m sort of tired and a little hungry.”

“Maybe we can find something back at my place.”

“I don’t think that would be appropriate.

“I’m living with one of my teammates and his wife.”

“Isn’t that cramped?”

“Not at all; he’s got his own house and everything. They’ve even got two refrigerators.”

“Why on earth would anyone need two refrigerators?”

“He’s been a professional ball player ever since he came back from Korea.”

“We’ll go there and see,” said Victoria.

Robert flagged down a taxi and took Victoria to the small bungalow in the outskirts of town. When they arrived, Chick and his wife greeted them and made Victoria feel right at home.

“Okay, we’ll stay here, but I need my own separate room.”

“Honey,” said Chick’s wife, “we only have two bedrooms.”

“Then I’ll stay in Robert’s room and he can sleep out here on the loveseat.”

“I don’t think it would be a comfortable sleep.”

“I don’t think so either. That’s why I’m taking the bed.”

Chick let out a loud belly laugh. Just like Robert had all the batter’s numbers, it seemed that Victoria had his number.

“I’ll fetch you some extra linens from the hall closet,” said Chick, “and my wife Pauline can cook up a mess of ham and collared greens for us.”

After everyone settled themselves around the small kitchen table, Chick said a prayer and everyone dug in.

“You ready for tomorrow’s game?” asked Pauline.

“Who, me?” said Robert.

“I was actually speaking to Victoria, but I guess it applies to you, too.”

Robert nodded, “I think I’m ready. What do you think, Vic?”

“You’re as ready you’ll ever be.”

“Just relax,” said Chick, “I actually think you’re good enough for triple-A ball.”

“Aw, thanks Chick.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know it. You’ve got all the tools to go all the way.”

“Do you really think the Tigers won‘t hire us?”

“It’s bound to happen sooner or later, but I have a feeling some teams, like the Tigers, will hold out as long as they possibly can.”

“But other teams, like the Dodgers and Yankees, are full of Negro Leaguers.”

“Have you ever been to either coast?” asked Chick.

Robert shook his head.

“You just can’t compare the teams from the big cities to the Southerners. Being in world-class cities is like living inside a kaleidoscope. There are so many colors and so many cultures. It’s almost overwhelming. For every one of us they decide to hire, there’s a dozen the rest of the teams will just let pass by.”

“You think that’s what happened to you?”

“Nah,” said Chick, “I’m not major league material. I can’t hit worth a lick and I‘ve got two bum knees. These teams want an all-in-one player, like Jackie.”

Jackie Robinson, the colored people’s prodigal son, set the bar so high for the black players that followed that he almost did them a disservice. That included the second guy in line: Larry Doby. He was the first black player in the American League. He played centerfield for Cleveland, was speedy on the base paths and had a canon for a right arm. However, he struggled in the batter’s box for his first few years.

Still, the ever-increasing influx of black talent in Major League Baseball was the foundation of it all. The civil rights movement, which was officially still a half-dozen years away, had started with the boys of summer: the Hank Aarons, the Larry Dobys, the Jackie Robinsons, the Satchel Paiges, and the Rube Fosters.

The color line had been broken, but there was still a long, long way to go. Even in the integration age, the handful of blacks who played among the whites found themselves as second-class citizens.

“Maybe you don’t have to be like Jackie,” suggested Victoria, “after all, every team needs pitchers, too.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” said Robert as he pushed away from the table, “does anyone else want to go outside and sit for a while?”

“I think we’re going to settle down now,” said Chick.

Robert looked to Victoria.

“I think I’ll join you. I’m not tired one bit,”

Robert took Victoria by the hand and led her to the porch swing. The sweet, sweet smell of lily blossoms filled the hot and outside air, which was otherwise hot and stagnant. Still, Victoria sat right next to Robert, her left leg pressed against his right. However, she posted her arms beside her knees as she leaned forward on the swing. She used both feet to peddle the swing gently back and forth.

“You only pitch once a week, right?”

Robert nodded.

“How can they pay you so much money?” she probed.

“I don’t know, but I’ll take it while I can.”

“Maybe you could teach me to play baseball.”

“I thought you were going to be like Florence Nightingale, healing the sick.”

“Nursing is hard work. I want a once-a-week job.”

Robert looked at her indignantly.

“Oh come on, you know I’m right.”

Victoria looked him dead in the eye for a few seconds. Then, a little smirk sneaked from the corner of her mouth, followed by a full-blown cackle.

“It’s still a lot of work,” grumbled Robert.

“Yeah, I know,” she laughed.

Victoria talked and joked with Robert long into the night. Late the following morning, Pauline was in the kitchen enjoying a light breakfast. The sounds of her stirring woke Victoria. Victoria wrapped herself in a robe and went to the kitchen.

“You were up late.”

“Yeah, we were just talking.”

“Sounded like quite a bit more than that.”

“I suppose so.”

“Chick tells me you’ve known Robert for quite some while.”

“He has? It’s only been a few months.”

“Really?” she said, “The way Robert talks about you…”

“We hardly know each other at all.”

Robert rolled out of bed just before noon and joined the girls. Chick, however, was already long gone. He picked up a new alternator for his truck and headed over to Rickwood to install it right in the parking lot before a short mid-day practice.

“Don’t you have to be getting to the ballpark?” asked Victoria.

“Since I’m pitching today, I don’t have to be there until just before the game.”

“What do you do with that extra time?”

“Mostly, I just go to the stadium with Chick and wait, but sometimes I go to the matinee alone. Why don’t you go with me?”

“I think I want to see what a professional baseball diamond looks like.”

“It’s boring, really.”

“Come on, I’ve never been.”

“Okay, I guess.”

Robert called a taxi and it took them across town to Rickwood Field. Victoria led the way through the stands, choosing seats right behind the backstop, just over Chick’s right shoulder.

“Why don’t you get something behind one of the dugouts?”

“I want to see every pitch,” said Victoria proudly.

Robert sat with the girls only briefly before joining the boys in the dugout. Meanwhile, Pauline sat next to Victoria and listened to the rundown of every little detail.

The bleachers slowly filled as game time neared. Still, Pauline looked like she was far and away out of her comfort zone.

“I’ve never liked baseball all that much,” confided Pauline.

“How can you not?”

“It’s completely boring.”

“Wait right here,” said Victoria.

Victoria went to the dugout and leaned over the small gate as far as she could until she got the attention of one of the players. She was down there for quite a while, talking to this player and that. She even chatted a bit with one of the coaches. When she popped up, she was holding a pencil in one hand and a small pad of paper in the other.

“Here,” instructed Victoria, “let me show you how it works.”

Victoria took the score pad in her hands and filled in the batting order for both teams.

“You see, each player has a position number. The pitcher is 1, the catcher is 2, then its 3, 4, 5 around the bases. The shortstop is number 6.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why isn’t he 5 and the third baseman is 6?”

“I don’t know. He just is.”

Victoria, however, managed to not only explain scorekeeping, but the other nuances of the game: sacrifice flies, hit-and-runs, fielder’s choice, and even on-the-mound conferences between Chick and Robert. These were the things she’d seen the coaches at Morehouse teach the boys during practice.

Before Victoria even took the job, she’d studied books and read articles, trying to get as much insight on the game as possible. It wasn’t that she loved baseball, either; it was just how she approached every aspect of her life.

Her love of the game came afterwards.

“Robert’s got this mean forkball and batters love trying to hit it, just watch.”

As if she’d ordered it, Robert’s very next pitch was the split-fingered fastball. It curved over the plate just after the bottom dropped out. The batter swung as wildly as Sonny Rollins had during tryouts. That batter missed horribly, too.

“That’s my boy!” she spouted.

The Black Barons dispatched Macon in seven??? easy innings, 5-1.

After the game, the boys hit the showers and joined the girls in the stands. Andy Anderson and Mr. Sims were already there.

“How’d we do, Mr. Sims?” said Chick.

“Boys, you know you always do a great job for me.”

“We try.”

“We were just here talking to Victoria. It seems she knows more about baseball than I do.”

Victoria blushed.

“I know you were managing Morehouse this spring. Have you ever considered going to the next level and working with a professional organization?”

“Oh no,” she countered, “I just did it to help pay my tuition and get nursing experience.”

“Listen,” he said, “someone like you wouldn’t normally get this kind of opportunity. I’d pay you better than any hospital.”

“I can’t leave my studies.”

“It’s your mistake to make.”

 “Thank you anyway, Mr. Sims.”

A light breeze swept over the valley. Before anyone could say another word, storm clouds darkened the sky

“Just think about it,” said Mr. Sims.

Victoria nodded politely as everyone said goodbye.

The foursome returned to Chick’s place and sat on the porch. Chick loaded a small milk pail with bottles of beer and ice. Everyone settled in and watched the rain beat down the dust. Cool breezes swept over them, pulling the clinging cotton clothes of their hot, sweaty bodies. Everyone raised their arms and just let it relax them.

“That was some offer,” said Chick.

Victoria nodded.

“You should strongly consider it. All the guys loved your chatter during the game.”

“I couldn’t possibly do that. I’ve got such a heavy load at school. In fact, I’m thinking about taking the bus back to Atlanta sometime tonight.”

“It seems like a waste.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mr. Sims is a very important man in Birmingham.”

“It’s not what I want to do.”

“Black women don’t get good nursing jobs down here. Those all go to the white people.”

“That’s changing, Chick.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

Victoria took a swig from her beer and remained quiet. In her heart, she knew the jobs for black nurses were few and far between, but she couldn’t possibly feel right about it if she didn’t find out for herself.

Pauline cleared her throat. “If you want to make a bus tonight, you’d better get going. I can help you pack.”

Victoria tipped her bottle back and finished it off. She set the empty bottle next to the milk pail and rose to her feet.

“Thanks for the beer and the hospitality, Chick, but like Pauline said, I probably should get going.”

Victoria packed her things and everyone quickly loaded into Chick’s car, staying out of the rain as much as possible. Victoria sat in the back seat with Robert. Her hand came over his and held it gently.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

“I had a great time.”

“You can come back any time you want. I’ll even buy your bus tickets.”

He grabbed her bags from the trunk and walked her to the station and purchased her return ticket. The bus to Atlanta was ready to depart.

“I hope you’ll return soon.”

She planted a kiss upon his cheek.

“We’ll see,” she said sweetly.

With a wave she bid them a farewell. Then, she disappeared onto the bus. Robert immediately returned to Chick’s car. Pauline leaned on her seat back and gazed at Robert.

“She’s a good girl, Robert. You’d better not let her get away.”

“I’m doing all I can.”

“I don’t think ‘all you can’ is enough. She’s all you talk about when you’re around us, yet you hardly showed any emotion when she was here.”

Robert contorted his mouth as he looked Pauline over.

“What?”

“You’ve put lots of thought into this.”

“Not really. She just deserves more from you.”

“I can only push so hard.”

“I don’t think you’re pushing at all.”

The first chance she got, Pauline snooped through Robert’s stuff and found Victoria’s address and phone number. She began by writing a letter to Victoria. She mentioned the Black Barons job again. Then, she added information on nursing schools, boarding houses, and even offering up the extra space at Chick’s place.

Victoria responded promptly. She still wouldn’t waver on the job offer from Mr. Sims, but she did make and keep another promise. Pauline secretly arranged for round trip bus tickets to the Black Barons’ road game against the ***Memphis***.

Pauline picked up Victoria at the bus station and brought her to the game. They managed seats near Victoria’s favorite spot behind home plate, even though the Memphis crowds were much larger than those in Birmingham.

Robert did not notice either of the girls for three full innings. Finally, Chick managed to catch Robert’s attention during fourth inning warm-ups. He let a pitch get by him and skid into the backstop. He stopped next to the girls and gave Pauline a kiss. It came as a complete surprise when Robert finally spotted Victoria.

After Robert motioned to Victoria, he immediately returned to work. Robert pitched another complete game in a narrow 3-2 loss. Afterwards, though, Pauline’s grand plans went asunder. While the boys went home with the team, Pauline returned home empty-handed. Victoria took the unused portion of her ticket and returned to Atlanta.

“I’m surprised she even came out,” said Robert as he sat on the porch at home.

“I’m not giving up,” said Pauline.

“She’ll come along in her own good time. That’s just how she is.”

“Knuckle headed?” asked Pauline.

“Just determined,” said Robert.

The frequency of letters between the two girls increased while it remained stagnant between Robert and Victoria. However, the face-time did not, mostly because Victoria’s work load grew as summer quarter progressed back in Atlanta.

However, things with Robert were evolving in their own way. The sparsely scheduled two-a-week Negro League games left plenty of time for the boys to fill. For the boys, there were only a two ways to fill it: beer and baseball. While Chick leaned towards beer, Robert, of course, chose baseball.

Late on Friday afternoons, a handful of Black Barons gathered at Rickwood Field for barnstorming road trips. They’d travel all across the south and play in exhibitions against various industrial teams. In exchange, they’d pick up anywhere from $25 to $100 per game, split it a dozen or more ways. It was hardly enough for dinner and drinks. Chick always called the industrial league games a sideshow and stayed at home with Pauline. Robert was hoping to run into major league scouts. It also kept his mind off Victoria.

The Black Barons’ road trip to Mobile brought a heap of news, both good and bad. The good news came first. The guys gathered outside the bus and waited for the last few guys to arrive. That included Sonny Rollins. When he arrived, he made a spectacular entrance, zipping into the parking lot and almost running down Robert and a few of the others.

“Sonny, are you crazy?” shouted one of the boys.

“Did you hear the Tigers just moved Ozzie Virgil to the majors? That’s great news, isn’t it?”

“He’s that third baseman from the Giants, right?”

Sonny nodded.

“He’s from the Dominican Republic. He’s light-skinned.”

“That just means they’re opening doors,” said Sonny, “this is our golden opportunity. You just watch, scouts will be knocking on our door.”

Although they were slow in coming, the new Tiger management was preparing to catch up to the other major league teams. During the off season between ’58 and ’59, they’d acquire Larry Doby from the Indians and a few other black utility men to fill out their rosters. Still, there were setbacks.

In those final days of the Negro League, it was more of a stopping point on the way down rather than a way up to the majors. Additionally, the Negro League lost another team by the end of the season, cutting itself down to four teams. The best players from the dissolved team were to migrate to the other teams. Those who had been marginal players were dropped altogether.

During the Negro League World Series, the scouts finally did show up at Rickwood Field. A team roster was posted in the Black Barons’ locker room. Robert Johnson stood in the center of a crowd of players, pondering over the list.

“Read off the names!” someone shouted at him.

“Eddie Groves, Robert Johnson, Albert Manley, and Byron Washington are headed to the Rochester Red Wings. Marcus Abrams and Alex de la Rosa are headed to Kansas City. Eddie MacGillicuddy is headed to the Harlem Globetrotters during the off-season. At the bottom there’s a note: all other unnamed players are encouraged to return to Rickwood Field next spring and try out for the 1959 Black Barons.”

“Where’s my name?” said Sonny flatly.

“I don’t see it anywhere,” said Robert.

“That’s impossible. I’m better than everyone on this list.”

“Maybe someone else doesn’t think so,” said Chick.

“I’m surely better than you.”

“Sluggers are a dime-a-dozen, Sonny.”

Sonny coiled a fist and pounded it into the locker. It boomed loudly as he landed a combination of punches. After a few tense moments, Andy Anderson came in to see what was wrong.

“Sonny! Sonny! Stop it!”

“Why didn’t they offer me a job, Mr. Anderson?"

“Sometimes it just doesn’t work out that way.”

Sonny’s shoulders slumped as he dropped his arms to his side. Robert patted him on the shoulders. Sonny simply nodded his head and remained solemn.

With good news for both Chick and Robert to share, there were numerous tasks to complete. For Chick, it would start at home. For Robert, it would start in Atlanta. He’d have to tell family and friends – especially Victoria. It was hard knowing how she’d react or what he’d do when she did not give him the answers he wanted.

.