The Real Story of The Negro Leagues

By Wayne Moody

The Real Story of the Negro Leagues is an account that has needed to be told since before 1920. With the new revelation of Major League Baseball accepting Negro League statistics, it makes this book even more relevant today.

There are a multitude of players who toiled in anonymity simply because of the color of their skin. This book brings to light the people who made the Negro Leagues happen, as well as the players and executives who allowed it to flourish.

There are Negro League players who have become household names, while others, who had a major influence in its success, have gotten ignored over time. Most people believe that Jackie Robinson was the first African American to play Major League Baseball. He wasn’t. Jackie actually signaled the end of Negro League baseball. Jackie’s accomplishments were monumental, but there is a rich history that led up to that moment. That rich history is where we will begin. The struggles these great players faced and degradation they had to endure is a testament to the resolve of these individuals. Their love and desire for the great game of baseball made them tackle obstacles others would never attempt.

This is a story of triumph over all odds. This is “the real story of the Negro Leagues.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638148555

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Greatest Man I’ve Ever Known

My grandfather used to always talk to me about the Negro Leagues. He understood it was an important part of history, a portion of history he helped to create. Whether it was the players, the chronicles, or the tremendous discrimination the players endured, he was remarkably always correct and on point. Years of research has shown me that virtually everything he told me was accurate. Most of the information included in this book came directly from him. Let me tell you the story about my grandfather.

To many, August 28, 1898, is just another date on the calendar. However, for me, it was a day that would eventually mold me into the man I am today. This was the day Willis J. Moody, my grandfather, was born.

He began his early life in Clarksburg, West Virginia, a bustling blue-collar town. As a kid, if there was a ball involved, he would excel. He was a star in football, basketball, track and field, and baseball. He enjoyed the competition and freedom these sports provided. Make no mistake though, baseball was the love of his life. From the manicured ball fields to a grassy meadow, Willis was always there, honing his skills and playing the game with smooth precision.

He attended Kelly Miller High School in Clarksburg. That school quickly fell out of favor with him, when administrators told him he couldn’t play on the athletic teams, because of the color of his skin. Being a great student wasn’t enough for my grandfather; he wanted to play the games he had enjoyed his entire young life. Willis never let any obstacle block the road to his desired destination. He transferred to Sumner High, where he set records in all four sports.

In addition to playing in high school, he also played baseball for some of the independent teams in the area, with players nearly twice his age. The players simply called him, The Kid. He was rapidly making a name for himself, as a speedy hard-hitting outfielder with instincts that can’t be taught. He was a natural.

Playing for the independent teams in Clarksburg exposed my grandfather to a variety of scouts. He played a game against a team from Pittsburgh. Reverend Harold Tinker, an outstanding infielder in the Negro Leagues, played for that team. He witnessed Willis Moody hit, run, and throw the Clarksburg team to a lopsided victory. When Reverend Tinker returned to Pittsburgh, he told Cumberland Cum Posey about this one-man wrecking crew from Clarksburg. Cum brought Willis to Pittsburgh and got him a job at US Steel. He didn’t want him in the mill where he could hurt his hands, so he got him a job in the office. He was the only man of color working in the office at that time.

Initially, my grandfather played for the Pittsburgh Keystones. At nineteen years old, he played with other greats like Hap Allen, Dizzy Dismukes, Harold Morton, Ernest Gooden, Jap Washington, Buddy Clay, Harry Salmon, and Willie Gray. Dizzy Dismukes, the manager, brought in the cream of the crop. This was a team that was every bit as good as the Grays during this time frame.

Just like his early days in Clarksburg, he became a star. It wasn’t long before Cum Posey brought him over to the Homestead Grays. In addition to the Grays, he played in Cuba, Venezuela, Puerto Rico, and many other exotic locales. Willis Moody became a hired gun, while playing for many teams all over the world. However, his athletic prowess was secondary to the man he had become.

The Grays were playing in Chester, Pennsylvania, one day, when this beautiful and sassy woman caught my grandfather’s eyes. Emily was a woman who, let’s just say, had a strong mind of her own. Willis introduced himself after the game and promptly asked her out to dinner.

Emily said, My father told me not to get involved with ballplayers.

Willis told her, I was just hungry and wanted some company. You do eat, don’t you? The comment brought a smile to her face, and she accepted.

Emily became my grandfather’s queen, and eventually they were married, enjoying a lifelong torrid romance. They used to go to the beach in Atlantic City. Sandals weren’t good enough; he would carry her on his shoulders so the hot sand wouldn’t burn her feet. This was the type of caring individual he was at all times.

When I was four years old, I used to watch baseball with my grandfather in an enormous reclining chair. It reminded me of the huge chair Lily Tomlin would be sitting in when she played the little girl on Laugh-In. He would point out the things I should do and the bad habits that I should never let into my game. When I was big enough where a baseball glove wouldn’t fall off my hand, my grandfather would play Over the Wires with me. He would take a rubber ball and throw it over the telephone wires. He made me turn my back and run to a spot before looking for the ball. Many times, the rubber ball bounced off my head. After I finally mastered the technique, I didn’t think any more about it. When I went to my first Little League practice and showed this skill, all my coaches marveled. I thought, This is just Over the Wires. My grandfather watched that practice and just smiled.

When I began playing Little League, I was just nine years old. Playing against kids that were eleven and twelve was a challenge, but because of what my grandfather taught me, I could hold my own. In an all-star game, I faced a big left-hander who, in my estimation, was seven feet tall. He threw a pitch that rode up and in. The ball hit me square in the chest. Stunned, I could actually taste blood in my mouth. I was thinking, That’s enough baseball for me. Later that day, I was watching Wide World of Sports with my grandfather. It was a televised bullfight. He looked me square in the eye and said something I would never forget. He said, The bull is fierce, but with the red cape, the bullfighter isn’t afraid to dance with the bull. It took a while to sink in, but I finally realized he was telling me not to be afraid of the ball. He never raised his voice, but when he spoke, it was profound.

My grandfather taught me a tremendous work ethic. He told me, You may lose, but don’t ever let it be because someone outworked you. These are words that guide my life to this day. I used to race my grandfather every week when I was young. I was fourteen before I could beat him in a foot race. Truthfully, I never did outrun him. When I came within an eyelash of beating him, he never raced me again. He simply smiled and nodded.

After starring in Negro League baseball, my grandfather, along with my other grandfather, Ralph Lefty Mellix, formed a semipro team called 18th Ward. It represented the 18th Ward in the city of Pittsburgh. It was made up of players from the community of Beltzhoover. It featured players with Major League talent, like Roland Big Luke Lucas, Paul Wysong, Whitey Turner (who was often the backup catcher for Josh Gibson), and Newty Brown. They always battled a team that was also made up of former Negro League players, Terrace Village. The championship game usually pitted Sammy Streeter against Ralph Lefty Mellix. There would be a thousand fans at these games, drinking, cheering, and rooting on their neighborhood team. Bob Prince, the iconic announcer for the Pittsburgh Pirates, often attended these games. He would usually pass the hat, for people to contribute to pay the umpires and provide adult refreshments to the lively fanatics.

I went away to college and played baseball at Gannon University. We had a great team. Midway through the season, we were scheduled to play in Pittsburgh against Point Park, the number one NAIA team in the nation. My grandfather was there to cheer me on. We were down 5-3 in the final inning. I came to the plate with the bases loaded.

I drilled a line drive into the left-center field gap, for a triple that scored three runs. When I got to third base, I looked up into the stands, and there was Grandad, pumping his fist into the air.

After winning the game, I walked over to the stands. I saw a tear in my grandfather’s eye. I had never seen that before from this man of tremendous strength. He quietly said, Good game.

My entire existence, I have come across many people who influenced my life. However, none can compare to Willis J. Moody, the greatest man I’ve ever known.

Willis Moody’s Pre-Negro League and Negro League Statistics Compiled through Box Scores¹

Willis J. Moody with the 1918 Homestead Grays, fourth from the right. Cumberland Posey, second from the right, the only man in the MLB Hall of Fame and the Basketball Hall of Fame. Twenty-year-old Willis Moody replaced Cum Posey as the center fielder.

From left to right: Ted Page, Judy Johnson, Ralph Mellix, Clarence Bruce, Vic Harris, Willis Moody, and Jasper Jap Washington. Negro League greatness.

Willis Moody, coaching and playing for one of the greatest independent teams in history, Carnegie, Illinois

Homestead Grays Championship team 1919. Willis Moody, my grandfather, front row left

Willis Moody, switch hitter

Nineteen years old, Willis Moody, Homestead Grays star

Grandad, knocking the cover off the ball

Three thousand five hundred fans at Forbes Field come to see the former Grays players. My grandfather, Willis Moody, triples off the left center field wall. A drive of over 420 feet, 1953 article. Grandfather over fifty years old.

Article about Willis Moody being a star for the Grays and forming a tremendous independent team called 18th Ward

The 18th Ward Championship Celebration in 1953. Willis Moody on the right with my fine grandmother and Ralph Lefty Mellix with his queen, accepting the trophies

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¹ Pittsburgh Courier: box scores from Willis Moody’s scrapbooks.

Chapter 2

John Bud Fowler

To understand there were many firsts that led up to the formation of the Negro Leagues is paramount, but there is one person who started the ball rolling. John Bud W. Fowler was born March 16, 1858, in Fort Plain, New York. His given name was John W. Jackson, but he later adopted the persona and name Bud Fowler.² His father was a slave, and he wanted to distance himself from that heritage, hence the reason he changed his name to Fowler.

Life wasn’t easy for Bud. He was the son of a field-worker and barber. His father picked hops for a brewery, just to put food on the table for his family. Mr. Jackson escaped from slavery and moved the family from Fort Plain to Cooperstown in 1859. It’s an amazing coincidence that Bud would live in a town dedicated to baseball.

Always athletic, Bud was a natural in the game of baseball. The tremendous speed and the ability to hit for average and power made Bud a valuable commodity for any team looking to win. When he would meet people, he would always say, Nice to meet you, Bud. How you doing, Bud? See you later, Bud. His nickname was born. He morphed into Bud Fowler.

Bud became the first African American professional baseball player, when he signed on with an all-White team from New Castle, Pennsylvania, in 1872.³ He pitched and played virtually every position that season. The most astonishing thing about this feat was the fact that he was only fourteen years old. That’s the kind of talent Bud possessed.

On April 14,1878, he pitched for a team named the Picked Nine.⁴ He beat the Boston Red Caps, who won the National League title in 1877. Bud was definitely a Major-League caliber baseball player, but the color of his skin denied him the opportunity to display that talent on the next level.

Bud was a professional, but he didn’t make enough money to exist just by playing baseball. He took up the same profession as his father. Bud would cut hair in town and on the road when he traveled with the team. He was also the most popular player for every team on which he played. Bud had a magnetic personality that always drew people to him.

Bud was also political. He fought against the Reserve Clause, which allowed teams to hold on to a player for their entire career. He stated, When a player signs a league contract, they can do anything with him under its provisions but hang him. Bud was a bygone era Curt Flood.

Bud played for teams all over the country. From Niles, Ohio, to Keokuk, Iowa, he was a star wherever he was on the diamond. In 1886, Bud played for Topeka, Kansas. He led them to the pennant with a .309 average. He moved to Binghamton, New York, where he made their team, but racial tension in the town caused him to be released before the season began. His teammates refused to play with him. Racism finally caught up with Bud.

In 1895, he decided to become a player/coach. He affiliated with the Page Fence Giants in Adrian, Michigan, along with another great African American player, Home Run Johnson. From 1894 to 1904, he played and managed the Giants, the Cuban Giants, the Smokey City Giants, the All-American Black Tourists, and the Kansas City Stars. Most of the African American teams were called Giants in that period. This let people know when they came to their city, exactly who they would be watching.

Here is a fact that made Bud Fowler stand out from the rest. He played in more professional baseball games than any other African American player, until Jackie Robinson broke his record in his eleventh season in 1956. Bud was an icon. This American hero is a perfect example of the history that has been hidden from a major portion of America. Bud paved the way for every Black player who followed in his footsteps.

Bud Fowler died from illness and poverty in Frankfort, New York, on February 26, 1913. Cooperstown honored him by proclaiming April 20, 2013, Bud Fowler Day. A plaque in Cooperstown commemorates the occasion at Doubleday Field. By the way, you won’t get lost if you go to visit the plaque. The name of the street leading to Doubleday Field is named Fowler Way. A fitting tribute to one of our hidden heroes.

Available Statistics for Bud Fowler⁵

Bud Fowler, the first Black professional baseball player

Bud Fowler with his Keokuk team

Bud Fowler should always be remembered as the player who started it all.

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² Robert Peterson, Only the Ball Was White (1970), 20.

³ James Riley, The Negro Leagues (1997), 92.

⁴ Baseball-Reference.com (retrieved April 1, 2020).

⁵ Jeff Laing, Bud Fowler: Baseball’s First Black Professional (Jefferson, NC: 2013).

Chapter 3

George Stovey

The methodical rise of the Negro Leagues featured many players who toiled in the shadows. My grandfather talked to me about a lot of great Black players. He told me the best African American pitcher of the nineteenth century was George Stovey. He was also the second Black professional player. Little is known about Stovey, except he was a fireballing left-hander with a brutal curve.

George was born in May of 1866 in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. Because of the color of his skin, he was barred from Major League Baseball. He was forced to play for minor league teams and actually played in Newark with Moses Fleetwood Walker. There will be more on Moses Fleetwood Walker later in this book.

In 1887, the New York Giants wanted to sign him. Cap Anson, filled with hate, refused to let George into the Major Leagues. If not for Anson, George Stovey would have been the first Black man in Major League Baseball. This led George to play in the International League for Newark. He won thirty-five games that year, a record that still stands today. I have to say it again, he won thirty-five games. Google it, check Funk & Wagnalls, watch ESPN, do whatever you would like. You won’t find a pitcher who won thirty-five games at that level of baseball. Yet he’s a virtual unknown.

Stovey, at age twenty, dominated at the highest level of the minor leagues. He won fifty games over two seasons. In that timeframe, he struck out 336 batters, and in those two years, he attained an E.R.A. of 1.13 and 2.46 in consecutive seasons. From 1888 to 1893, he was a star for the Cuban Giants. Like