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Vanessa Ivy Rose
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Ted Williams
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Vanessa Ivy Rose
O.Com today I'm thinking of a lot of things. I'm thinking of my old playground. This is Ted Williams, one of the greatest hitters in baseball history. It's July 25, 1966, and he's thinking out loud on the stage. The stage is in front of a red brick building with white trim. To his right there's an American flag, and in front of him, a sea of suits, sunglasses and the occasional bouffant. The crowd is here to celebrate Ted, and for good reason. After more than two decades with the Boston Red Sox, he's being inducted into the National Baseball hall of Fame, dedicated to baseball men of all generations, and I'm privileged to join them. Ted is known as the splendid splinter because he's a lean 6 3, and because he hit the ball so hard you could imagine the bat splintering. Ted's career stats speak for themselves. A.344 batting average in 2021 walks. He won six batting titles and was the last player in the major leagues to hit.400 in a season. But I would argue that his greatest contribution to baseball isn't his career numbers, it's what he says near the end of his speech. I hope that someday the names of Satchel Page and Josh Gibson in some way can be added as a symbol of the great Negro players that are not here only because they were not given a chance. The Boston Red Sox might have been the last team to integrate, but it was Ted, one of their legends, who was the first to mention a Negro leaguer in his hall of Fame speech. And by the way, Ted Williams was a huge fan of Satchel Page, had been since he was a kid. Ted ends his speech by saying how grateful he is to have played the best game of them all. But this thought that Negro League players should be given their place among the sport's greatest stuck around long after he left the stage. In fact, the thought still lingers today. Can baseball truly be the best game of them all if it won't acknowledge all of its best players. From ABC Audio, this is Reclaim the Forgotten League. I'm Vanessa ivey Rose. Episode 5 the Hall Ted Williams gave that speech in Cooperstown, a quiet village in upstate New York. It sits between Albany and Syracuse, the Adirondacks and the Catskills. In some ways, it feels like an in between place. Somewhere you drive by on the way to your next destination. But for millions of baseball fans, Cooperstown is the destination. That's because it's the home of the National Baseball hall of Fame. Now, when I say hall of Fame, I'm talking about two things. There's the hall of Fame, the list, the hallowed scroll of baseball's greatest. Today, that list has 342 names belonging to players, umpires, managers and executives. And then there's the hall of Fame, the museum. It's the brick building on Main street that houses memorabilia from all generations of baseball. Like Lou Gehrig's Yankee Stadium locker, Hank Aaron's uniform from the day he broke Babe Ruth's home run record, and the Cubs 2016 World Series Championship ring. There's a room, not quite a hall, where bronze plaques of hall of Famers are displayed on the walls. It's a gallery of baseball's greatest. The hall of Fame is a place, but it's also an idea. And the members of the Baseball Writers association of America get to decide who counts as the greatest. The organization was formed in 1908 in my hometown, Detroit. It started out as a group of sports writers lobbying for better working conditions when covering major league games. These days, the group is the voting body behind baseball's top awards. The idea of the hall of Fame actually came before the place. The first class of inductees was selected in 1936, before the museum was built. You may know some of them. Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, Walter Johnson. They were at the inaugural induction ceremony held in 1939. It gives me a great deal of pleasure to be present at the dedication of the National Baseball Museum and the baseball Kennesaw Mountain. Landis, who was commissioner at the time, spoke at the ceremony. I should like to dedicate this museum to all America. All America. Landis might have had a different idea of what that MEANT Back in 39, when segregation was the standard and the gentlemen's agreement still ruled the game. By the time Ted Williams joined the hall of fame in 66, America started to change and the hall of Fame had some catching up to do. No player who had made their name in the Negro Leagues was a part of the hall of Fame. And that's partly due to a rural governor who could even be considered for the honor. Players were only eligible for the hall of Fame if they played 10 years or more in the major leagues. This disqualified many Negro leaguers who were too old to play in the majors by the time integration came around. And I want you to keep integration in mind because the path toward inducting Negro leaguers into the hall of Fame was a lot like the path toward integration. In both cases, momentum was built by black journalists who campaigned for black players to be included first in the major leagues and now in the hall of Fame. In both cases, a white man called for change. For integration there was Branch Rickey. For the hall of Fame, there was Ted Williams. And in both cases, there was a change in leadership within Major League Baseball. Back then, Happy Chandler took over as MLB commissioner, leading to the end of the gentleman's agreement and the start of integration. This time around, a few years after Ted Williams speech, Bowie Kuhn took over. During his tenure, he and others convinced the hall of Fame to create a special committee to elect the first Negro Leagues player. The committee had 12 members, including players such as Roy Campanella and writers such as Wendell Smith, who you may remember as the person who helped launch Jackie Robinson's professional career. They had a tough question to answer. Who deserved to be the first inductee. The committee ultimately chose the legendary pitcher Satchel Page. This was progress, sure, but Satchel's induction came with a caveat. Here's historian Leslie Heaphy. The hall of Fame initially wanted to put him in a separate wing and not allow him to be in with all the other plaques. Sounds familiar, doesn't it? Separate but equal, the backbone of segregation. This decision was not well received by the press. In fact, an editorial in the Pittsburgh Courier said it sounded like the backseat of a bus. The hall backed down, and they ultimately made the right decision and put him in with all the other ballplayers. But that was the initial reaction. The hall changed its tune only one month before Satchel was expected to be inducted. On August 9, 1971, Satchel came to Cooperstown. So I will say this again.
Satchel Paige
I am the proudest man on earth right today.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
And I know my wife is and my sister and my sister in law and everybody. Satchel was in his 60s at the time. Before the ceremony, he was quoted by newspapers as saying, I'm proud wherever they put me in the hall of Fame. But part of me knows it wasn't that simple for him to be given what you're old way too Late and expected to be grateful for. It is something too many black people have been asked to do for too many years. If we weren't told no, then we were told to wait. Despite waiting decades to receive his flowers, Satchel was proud of being the first inductee. But maybe his legacy in the Negro Leagues was already enough for him, because Satchel was also quoted saying, I was satisfied with my world playing all over and being a keynote to black people. The Negro Leagues was a universe unto itself, and Satchel was at the center. Regardless of how he did or did not feel, Satchel opened the door for other Negro Leaguers to be inducted. Josh Gibson in 1972. Buck Leonard, also in 1972. Monty Irvin in 1973, and Cool Papa Bell in 1974. My grandfather played alongside and against these men, but his name was nowhere to be found on this esteemed roster. His wife, or as I call her, Grandma Nettie, couldn't accept this. For years, she wrote letters. Imperfect penmanship, of course, to everyone. Baseball historians, journalists, local officials, you name it. Grandma Nettie wanted the world to know about Grandpa Turkey's legacy. And for her, a big part of that world was Cooperstown. In 1971, Cooperstown sent a submission form to my family, an early step to potentially getting on a Hall of Fame ballot. But it didn't go anywhere, despite my grandmother's efforts. To my grandfather, it didn't seem the matter. By the 1970s, he had retired from the Ford foundry after 30 years there. His golden days were well behind him, and it seemed like he would fade into obscurity like so many of his peers. Then one day in 1979, my mother, Joyce, went into his bedroom and found a letter on the dresser. It wasn't from the hall of Fame. It was from a Kentucky native named Tom Stultz.
Turkey Stearns
And I picked it up and I read it, and it was an invitation to come to the Negro League reunion. I said, dad, this is an invitation. And this is like a week before.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
You heard that right, an invitation to a reunion of Negro League's players. You see, Tom Stultz was a newspaper publisher who recently found out that a Negro Leaguer grew up in his hometown. So he decided to throw a birthday party for the player, Clint Thomas. Clint was turning 83 that year and had been an outfielder in second baseman for many teams, including the Detroit Stars. After his baseball career ended, he worked as a custodian and later as a messenger for the West Virginia State Senate. Imagine that, a baseball player who was so good that he was known as the black Joe DiMaggio, cleaning floors and delivering mail. As Tom Stoltz told the Washington Post, here was a guy the world had forgotten for 40 years. Tom started inviting Clint's former teammates, including Grandpa Turkey, to this party. They were now in their 70s and 80s.
Turkey Stearns
This was like a week before something. And he said, oh, well. And I said, all the Negro Leaguers are gonna be there. You need to go to that. So I called Tom and he said, it's not too late for him.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
And so my family made their way to Kentucky. They were flying from Detroit to Cincinnati, where they had a four hour layover, and then from Cincinnati to Ashland. But Grandpa Turkey wasn't a fan of planes.
Turkey Stearns
I didn't tell him we were flying. I waited till we got to the airport and he said, why are we stopping here? And I said, because we're going to fly. Surprise, you know? But he loved me so much, he accepted it.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
While they were in the sky, my mother remembers him looking out the windows and saying, what man can do? Then he started singing one of his favorite songs, My Country Tis of Thee. I wish I were there to hear him sing, and I wish I had been with him when he landed in Kentucky and made his way to the reunion. But I wasn't even born at the time. Everything I know about that weekend I know through my mother. And one other thing.
Turkey Stearns
I have the audio tape of him.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
An audio recording of Turkey Stearns. I had spent my life getting to know Grandpa through photographs, newspaper clippings, the words of my mother and grandma Nettie, but I had never heard his voice. I remember the first time I listened to this tape, I was so nervous. You can hear the reunion happening around him on that July weekend in 1979.
Satchel Paige
I'm sorry. Wait.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
He gonna get you some more. There he was, my grandfather Turkey, teasing my mother for accidentally giving him a rum and Coke. Neither of them drank. That's why it was funny. And honestly, I love that. The first time I heard my grandfather's voice, he made me laugh. I appreciated that bit of comic relief because, frankly, it was overwhelming to hear his voice. In the past, I had thought about what it would be like to see him play, to step out onto the field with his fellow Monarchs and hit that ball. But I'd never thought about his voice. And yet here he was, as if I had heard him my entire life. It was like finding buried treasure. Here he is talking about his nickname.
Satchel Paige
Why did they call you Turkey?
Vanessa Ivy Rose
Oh, I had a nickname. The man who's asking him questions is journalist Joe Lapointe. Since the reunion, he's become a family friend. Hey. Hey, how you doing? Hey, good to see you. So I sat down with him to talk about that day. Thanks for having us.
Satchel Paige
Happy to see you.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
Joe Lapointe has covered sports for decades, starting at the Detroit Free Press and later at the New York Times.
Satchel Paige
Have you listened to the report? You can hear the south in it. The Southern accent.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
Right, right.
Satchel Paige
That so many people in Detroit.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
Joe was writing for the Detroit Free Press at the time. He didn't know much about the Negro Leagues when he went to the reunion.
Satchel Paige
I had heard of them when I was a kid, but it was like a ghost league. There was like, spirits were still around, but there wasn't a lot of film and there wasn't a lot of record books. And somebody tipped off my sports editor that this. This player who was really good was going to be returning south for a reunion with some Negro League players. And my editor said, are you interested in going? I said, heck, yes. That's a good story.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
What started out as a birthday party for Clint Thomas became a whole production. It was held at Tom Stoltz's house, but don't assume it was a humble affair. There was a banquet and a boat ride. Many notable baseball figures were there, including the former MLB commissioner Happy Chandler. But the real stars were the former players. Judy Johnson, Monty Irving, Buck Leonard. The Washington Post reported a touching moment between Clint and former shortstop Paul Stevens. They both played for the Homestead Grays in 1929. Paul greeted Clint with the line, sit down, old man. To which Clint replied, what you mean old man? It was a joke among old friends. But this exchange pointed to something bigger. Many of the men at this reunion hadn't seen each other since the collapse of the Negro Leagues. That was in the 1950s. Two decades had passed, and at this point in their lives, they were ordinary guys working ordinary jobs. But this weekend, they were teammates again. There was hugging, the swapping of playful insults. But my grandfather, like always stayed out of the limelight. How would you describe him?
Satchel Paige
Quiet, pleasant, smiled a little bit. But he wasn't a slap on the back, yahoo guy. He was one of the quieter guys, but everybody seemed to know him and everyone seemed to respect him.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
Grandpa Turkey didn't say much until you got him talking about the Detroit Tigers. I told him, you go to all the Tiger games.
Buck O'Neil
Yeah, I do.
Satchel Paige
What do you think of it?
Vanessa Ivy Rose
I've mentioned this in previous episodes, but my grandfather wasn't allowed to play in the Tigers home stadium because of segregation. Despite this, he would go to as many Tigers games as he could. Even years after he retired, he would ride the bus to the stadium and sit in the bleachers where most of the black fans were. My grandma Nettie said you always knew when the Tigers were losing because Grandpa would come home early, before the game was even over.
Satchel Paige
What do you think of it? It's gonna be all right.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
That it could do better, but we.
Satchel Paige
Put up with it.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
I think Joe Lapointe's conversation with Grandpa Turkey sparked an idea. A few weeks after the reunion, Joe called my family and said he'd like to do a photo shoot with Grandpa Turkey at the batter's box in Tiger Stadium. So Turkey went there and met with Joe and photographer John Collier. My mom dressed Grandpa Turkey up for the occasion.
Satchel Paige
She had him in a suit coat or sport coat, creased trousers, neat hat. I mean, she had him sharp, right? And his batting stance was sharp. The way he picked up the bat, flipped it back into his batting stance, the left handed side of the plate, and you could tell this guy knew what he was doing around a baseball bat. And he looked out to the outfield, toward the pitcher's mount and the outfield. And in his field division there would have been the very bleachers where he and his friend sat to watch a baseball game. And I thought, well, what an interesting moment this is. He was always denied the chance to play on this field, but sure enough, he was able to watch games here. And now here he is holding a bat.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
When you look up Turkey Stearns, that photo is one of the first that pops up. I love this picture. Joe is right. Grandpa Turkey knew what he was doing. His stance was so natural that it didn't even look like he was posing. He was ready to take a swing. You can see it in his eyes. You wouldn't have guessed that he never played a game in Tiger Stadium. He belonged there.
Satchel Paige
And I got a chill at the time we took the picture, and I still get a chill when I look at the picture. I think the picture was better than any words I wrote.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
When I look at this photo, there's something else I notice. There's so much power in his stance, but he looks very thin. My family didn't know it at the time, but he was sick. Shortly after that photo shoot at Tiger Stadium, my mother took him to the hospital.
Turkey Stearns
He said his stomach hurt and he kept pointing toward the center part.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
My mother says Grandpa had a high tolerance for pain, so it was a big deal for him to mention this. The doctors started Running tests, but they couldn't get any answers. Then Grandpa took a turn for the worse and had to get surgery. It was stomach cancer.
Turkey Stearns
The cancer had perforated his stomach the size of a doughnut. He had it for about five years and he should have been in excruciating.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
Pain before my family could even process this. He went into a partial coma soon after the operation, and I used to.
Turkey Stearns
Go and talk in his ear real softly and I would see his eyes fluttered, so I hope that meant that he was hearing me. But he never woke up.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
My grandfather passed away on September 4, 1979. At his funeral, mom and Auntie Raj sang Going Up Yonder, one of Grandpa's favorites. Even to this day when they sing at Comerica Park, I feel like they're still singing for him. My grandpa didn't receive fame or fortune during his career, but he valued being what he called a good man. He never had a bad word to say about anyone and he lived for his family. This meant more to him than winning a World Series.
Turkey Stearns
And it's been over 40 years. And his beard still lives in me because he was so kind.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
I owe so much to my grandfather. This man I've never met, but feel like I've always known. Because of him, I know that anything is possible for me. It's like what the great writer James Baldwin once said. Grandpa Turkey is already paid for my crown. All I have to do is wear it.
Ted Williams
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Joe Lapointe
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Vanessa Ivy Rose
By 1979, the year Grandpa Turkey died, black representation in Major League Baseball was about to hit its all time high. Ever. Some of its biggest stars were black, like right fielder Reggie Jackson, one of.
Satchel Paige
The game's great personalities and clutch hitters. Reggie Jackson, formerly of the New York.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
Yankees and Oakland A's. This was the next generation of black players, players who owed so much to the men who came before them. In fact, Reggie's father even played in the Negro Leagues in the 1930s. But many Negro Leaguers, like Grandpa Turkey, had passed away or long retired from baseball. An entire generation of black players never got the recognition they deserved. So it was high time to acknowledge the legacies of these men and to put their names on the sacred walls in the hall of Fame. Now, getting any player into the hall of Fame is a process. There are lots of rules about who is eligible to be voted into the hall of Fame and who gets to vote for them. To make things more complicated, those rules often change. And not everyone in the baseball world agrees on the rubric that the players will be judged against. It's not as easy as counting up the number of home runs someone has. Words like character and popularity and legacy are part of the discussion. And there's always lots of discussion and debate among the voting members of the Baseball Writers association of America about who should be on the ballot. Once those potential inductees are selected, the voters decide who they think is most deserving. For a while, it didn't seem like Negro Leaguers were seen as deserving. And by 1979, the Special hall of Fame committee that inducted Satchel Page had been disbanded. Out of more than 3,000 Negro League's players, only nine had been inducted. And that was it. So Cooperstown expanded the jurisdiction of what was called the Veterans Committee. It was made up partly of living hall of Famers, hence veteran. The committee was separate from the Writers association, but their voting process was similar. Lots of debate and then a deciding vote. In the decade that followed the 1980s, the Veterans Committee only elected two Negro Leaguers, third baseman Ray Dandridge and someone you've already heard of, Andrew Rube Foster, the father of black baseball. Again, that was it. And getting these two in wasn't easy. Buck O'Neal, who was the first baseman for the Kansas City Monarchs, was on the committee with a couple other Negro.
Buck O'Neil
Leaguers, Campanella, myself, and Mont Ervin. This is just. We got to sell these people. And so it was tough. So I said, we don't have much of a chance to put these guys in.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
They had to lobby the other committee members to recognize Negro Leaguers. So Buck proposed, you guessed it, a rule change. And in 1995, the Veterans Committee was given two extra potential inductees. One of those had to be from the Negro Leagues. Over the next five years, the committee put in five more players, thanks in part to Buck. Now, the crazy thing is that Buck himself should have been in the hall of Fame. From the beginning. He was a legend, and he played alongside Grandpa Turkey when they were both with the Kansas City Monarchs. But Buck realized he had other ambitions.
Buck O'Neil
I always wanted to be a manager by looking at Rube Foster in the dugout, smoking that pipe, giving the signals and things like that, always, it fascinated me.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
Buck became a manager for the Monarchs while still playing first base. In the off season, he barnstormed or worked at the post office. In fact, he said he probably would have stayed at the post office if he hadn't started scouting for the Cubs. Buck ultimately became the first black coach in the majors. He stayed on the Veterans committee for many years and kept campaigning for Negro Leaguers.
Buck O'Neil
Hildon Smith would be one Mule Subtles. Willard Brown.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
Mm.
Buck O'Neil
Or Ted Strong. Mm. Double Duty Radcliffe. These guys supposed to be in the hall of Fame.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
Hilton Mule and Willard ended up getting inducted. To this day, Ted Strong still hasn't been. By the way, Ted Double Duty Radcliffe is in the family. He's the uncle of my Grandma Nettie, so that makes him my great, great uncle. He played for more than a dozen teams and ultimately became a manager. But he was never a Hall of Fame inductee. That seemed to be the fate for Grandpa Turkey, too. Grandma Nettie was still writing those letters in that perfect penmanship to Cooperstown, trying to get them to recognize Grandpa's legacy. Here's my Auntie Roz.
Auntie Roz
I said, just keep writing until something happens. So I said, we just don't get on their nerves. I said, because, you know, the squeaky wheel gets the oil. So that's what we going to be. We going to be the squeaky wheel.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
Two decades passed and no luck. But then in 1999, Auntie Roz received an email from a guy named Dan Dierks.
Auntie Roz
And he said, well, if you're truly Turkey Stern's daughter, would you mind if we got your dad in hall of Fame? And I'm like, yeah, right. This Dirk. I said, okay. I said, well, shoot your best shot. Cause I think he's sarcastic, right? And so he said, okay. And so he started telling me things that were gonna happen and do this and do that, and he started asking for information. And he said, I need this from your family, and I need a little biography of your mom and your sister and da, da, da, da, da. I said, oh, my God, this man is serious. And so I had to apologize to.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
Him because the man was serious. Dan was part of a group of men who lobbied for Turkey's induction by trying to raise Turkey's profile among the public and the members of the Baseball Writers association of America. Finally, in 2000, it was time for the Writers association to announce who would be joining the hall of Fame. This was a big moment for my family, and there were enough emotions to fill Tiger's Stadium. Auntie Roz remembers getting a call from the wife of one of the men trying to get Grandpa Turkey inducted.
Auntie Roz
And she said, would you please talk to my husband? Because if your dad doesn't make it to the hall of Fame, I think he's going to have a nervous breakdown. And I said, no, tell him just be calm. I said, if we don't get it this year, I said, we'll just keep going until we do get it.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
My family was ready to continue the fight no matter what. But would they need to? Well, I'll let Buck O'Neal tell you.
Satchel Paige
How many of your Monarchs are in.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
The hall of Fame.
Buck O'Neil
With the Monarch Bowl Club would be B. Rogan. And Satchel Koopapa played with the Monarchs one time. So did the guy we just put in this year, Turkish Stein.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
Did you catch that? So many teams, I forget. There's one team that has. This is me in 2000. I'm 16 years old with a piece of gum in my mouth and my ponytail in a white scrunchie. And I feel like I'm in another universe, a universe devoted to baseball. I'm in Cooperstown, and Grandpa Turkey is being inducted into the hall of Fame. Funny enough, a tennis match is happening in the background. Author Dick Clark, one of the guys who helped put my grandpa on the ballot, was asking me questions about my high school basketball career. There was other teams with kids, all right, it's funny, but we beat all them, but we didn't beat the professional team. But this weekend was about baseball. More than that, it was about Grandpa Turkey, the other inductees, and the people who came to celebrate them. And there were some big names there. Yogi Berra, Willie Mays, Johnny Bench. Despite never playing in the majors, Grandpa was on that day considered one of their peers. Buck O'Neal was there, too. He came over to us and gave Grandma Nettie a hug. Here's Dick asking him a question about Grandpa. I was always wanting to ask you how Turkey was playing in his older days. Was he still batting like third or fourth?
Turkey Stearns
Yeah.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
All he was. Yeah.
Buck O'Neil
Always could hit that ball. Run.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
I know I should have been awestruck by all of these stars, but I remember being focused on my grandma. Grandma Nettie wore pearls on her neck, a smile on her face, and a boutonniere of white and pink flowers on her dress. Because my grandpa couldn't be there, Grandma Nettie planned to accept the honor on his behalf. Here she is talking to Dick about the speech she was about to give. I mentioned the ones that I met and knew that they were working hard to get them in. That's what I did. I couldn't make. Okay, it's not a great speech, but it's. Oh, no, it'll be a great. Don't worry about it. And you know what? She didn't have to worry. Great is exactly how I would describe it. Thank you all you beautiful, wonderful, patient people, for sitting and listening to us. Can you imagine how I feel standing up here with all these talented stars on this platform behind me? Well, I'll tell you, I feel brave. Not only did she answer her own question, but she quoted Tony the Tiger. Only my grandma would have the courage to do that. On baseball's grandest stage. I am honored and happy to stand here and represent my. My family as the speaker by my husband, Norman Thomas Stearns, nicknamed Turkey. A star that was born to play baseball, one that belongs with stars. Grandpa was the 17th Negro leagues player inducted into the hall of Fame. A year after he was inducted, another committee was formed to elect the next round of Negro Leaguers to the hall. In 2006, they elected more than a dozen players, managers and coaches. Then, nothing. For the next 16 years, not a single Negro Leaguer was inducted. And by this time, some of the rules had changed again. The Veterans Committee was broken into separate committees. One of them focuses on considering people whose contributions to the game came before 1950. That's the category Negro Leaguers fall under. But the thing is, this committee doesn't vote every year. In fact, it wasn't until last year that another batch of Negro Leaguers were voted into the hall of fame. Buck O'Neal was one of them. Finally, the legend himself was given his rightful place 16 years after he died. But the committee that voted Buck in isn't scheduled to vote again until 2031. This means that if the rules stay the same, there won't be another Negro League's inductee for nearly another decade. Look, being in the hall of Fame is an honor. It has ensured that even though many people still don't know who Grandpa Turkey is, at least he's not completely invisible. But I'm afraid that other Negro Leaguers may never have that chance to be seen. Because yet again, we've been told to wait. Like we always have been. Wait to play in the majors, wait to be included among baseball's greats. And the thing is, believe it or not, we're still waiting for much more. A big announcement from Major League Baseball today. It has reclassified the Negro Leagues as a major league. That means it will now count as.
Satchel Paige
Who are you to tell us that we are now major leaguers? You know, we always consider our relatives as major leaguers.
Turkey Stearns
I'm not angry. I'm disappointed. And I'm fed up, okay? I want them to step up to the plate and do the right thing.
Vanessa Ivy Rose
Reclaimed the Forgotten League is an original production of ABC Audio. Hosted by me, Vanessa Ivy Rose. This episode was written by Susie Liu. The series was produced by Madeline Wood, Cameron Chertavian, IRU Ekpenobe, Camille Peterson and Amira Williams. Our senior producers on this project were Suzy Liu and Lakia Brown. Music by Evan Viola. This episode was scored by Evan Viola and IRU Ekpenobe. A big shout out to our ABC Audio team. Liz Alessi, Josh Cohan, Ariel Chester, Sasha Aslanian, Marwa Mawaki, Audrey Mostek and Erin Farrer. Special thanks to Chris Donovan, Rick Klein, Eric Fayel, Anthony Fanek, Mara Bush, and of course, my mom, Joyce Stearns Thompson, and my aunt, Rosalind Stearns Brown. Laura Mayer is our executive producer. Buck O'Neill oral history interview courtesy of the National Baseball hall of Fame and Museum.
Ted Williams
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Vanessa Ivy Rose
Com.
Reclaimed: The Forgotten League, Episode 5 – The Hall
Host: Vanessa Ivy Rose | Release Date: October 23, 2023 | Produced by ABC News
In "Reclaimed: The Forgotten League," host Vanessa Ivy Rose delves deep into the intricate history of Negro League baseball and its quest for recognition within the National Baseball Hall of Fame. This episode, titled "The Hall," not only recounts the historical marginalization of African American baseball players but also personalizes the struggle through the poignant story of Rose’s grandfather, Norman Thomas Stearns, affectionately known as "Turkey."
Cooperstown, New York, often regarded as baseball’s spiritual home, houses both the prestigious National Baseball Hall of Fame list and its accompanying museum. As Rose explains, the Hall of Fame is both a physical space filled with iconic memorabilia and a symbolic representation of baseball's greatest talents. The Hall's influence extended beyond its walls, shaping the legacy and recognition of players, umpires, managers, and executives since its inception in 1936.
Despite the Hall of Fame’s role in celebrating baseball legends, Negro League players were conspicuously absent for decades. This exclusion was partly due to the stringent eligibility criteria, which required a minimum of ten years in the major leagues—criteria that disproportionately affected Negro League players who were often past their prime by the time integration began.
Vanessa highlights a pivotal moment in 1966 when Ted Williams, a revered Red Sox legend, inducted into the Hall, made a groundbreaking statement:
“I hope that someday the names of Satchel Page and Josh Gibson in some way can be added as a symbol of the great Negro players that are not here only because they were not given a chance.”
— Ted Williams [05:30]
This plea underscored the growing acknowledgment of the Negro Leagues' significance, yet systemic barriers remained entrenched.
Buck O'Neil emerged as a central figure in the fight to recognize Negro League players. As a former Kansas City Monarchs first baseman and the first African American coach in the major leagues, O'Neil leveraged his position to advocate for the inclusion of his peers. He served on various committees and tirelessly pushed for rule changes within the Veterans Committee—the body responsible for Hall of Fame inductions outside the traditional Baseball Writers Association of America (BBWAA).
“We got to sell these people. And so it was tough. So I said, we don't have much of a chance to put these guys in.”
— Buck O'Neil [29:50]
O'Neil’s advocacy led to pivotal changes, including the 1995 rule adjustment that allowed the Veterans Committee to induct Negro League players, resulting in the inclusion of several legends over subsequent years.
At the heart of this episode is the touching narrative of Vanessa Ivy Rose’s grandfather, Norman Thomas Stearns. Despite his impressive career with the Kansas City Monarchs, Stearns was overlooked by the Hall of Fame for decades. Rose’s family undertook a persistent campaign to honor his legacy, a journey fraught with emotional and bureaucratic challenges.
In 1979, a reunion of former Negro League players brought Stearns face-to-face with the fading glories of his career. During this event, Stearns expressed profound pride:
“I am the proudest man on earth right today. And I know my wife is and my sister and my sister-in-law and everybody.”
— Satchel Paige [09:47]
This moment encapsulated the bittersweet reality of recognition too late and the enduring spirit of those who never saw their contributions fully honored during their lifetimes.
Rose recounts her grandmother, Nettie Stearns' relentless efforts to secure her husband's place in the Hall. Despite countless letters and appeals, progress was sluggish until external advocates like Dan Dierks of the BBWAA intervened.
“You need to step up to the plate and do the right thing.”
— Turkey Stearns [41:26]
This determination culminated in 2000 when Stearns was inducted, marking a significant victory for Rose’s family and the broader Negro League community. However, the road was anything but smooth, as the induction process remained inconsistent and fraught with delays.
The induction of Norman "Turkey" Stearns in 2000 was a milestone, not just for his family but for the entire Negro League legacy. Rose describes the emotional ceremony:
“I was 16 years old with a piece of gum in my mouth and my ponytail in a white scrunchie. ... this weekend was about Grandpa Turkey, the other inductees, and the people who came to celebrate them.”
— Vanessa Ivy Rose [35:00]
Prominent figures like Yogi Berra, Willie Mays, and Buck O'Neil attended, bridging the past and present of baseball. The induction served as both a personal triumph and a collective recognition of the unjust exclusion faced by many African American players.
Despite these advancements, the journey towards comprehensive recognition remains incomplete. The restructuring of the Veterans Committee and sporadic induction of other Negro League figures illustrate the persistent hurdles.
“If we weren't told no, then we were told to wait. ... we're still waiting for much more.”
— Vanessa Ivy Rose [40:00]
The reclassification of the Negro Leagues as a major league by Major League Baseball is a significant step forward, acknowledging the high level of competition and the players' contributions. However, as Rose poignantly notes, the infrequency of committee votes threatens the momentum needed to honor all deserving individuals.
Furthermore, personal losses, such as the passing of Buck O'Neil in 2006 before his long-overdue recognition, highlight the urgent need for systematic changes to ensure no legendary player is forgotten.
"The Hall" serves as a powerful reminder of the resilience and enduring legacy of Negro League players. Through meticulous storytelling and personal anecdotes, Vanessa Ivy Rose not only honors her grandfather’s memory but also champions the broader cause of recognizing all who contributed to the rich tapestry of baseball history.
The episode underscores a critical message: while progress has been made, the fight for full acknowledgment and appreciation of Negro League players continues. As Major League Baseball takes steps to rectify past injustices, the stories of players like Norman "Turkey" Stearns remain a testament to the unyielding spirit and rightful place of African American athletes in the annals of sports history.
Ted Williams:
“I hope that someday the names of Satchel Page and Josh Gibson in some way can be added as a symbol of the great Negro players that are not here only because they were not given a chance.”
[Timestamp: 05:30]
Satchel Paige:
“I am the proudest man on earth right today. And I know my wife is and my sister and my sister-in-law and everybody.”
[Timestamp: 09:47]
Buck O'Neil:
“We got to sell these people. And so it was tough. So I said, we don't have much of a chance to put these guys in.”
[Timestamp: 29:50]
Turkey Stearns:
“Who are you to tell us that we are now major leaguers? You know, we always consider our relatives as major leaguers.”
[Timestamp: 41:18]
"Reclaimed: The Forgotten League – The Hall" is a compelling exploration of baseball’s untold stories and a heartfelt tribute to those who paved the way for future generations. Through personal narratives and historical analysis, Vanessa Ivy Rose effectively bridges the gap between past injustices and present-day recognition, ensuring that the legacy of the Negro Leagues endures and inspires.