by Matt Musson
Our new teammates grabbed uniforms from their lockers and changed in the back seat of the Imperial, on the road to Conover. They signed their brand new baseball contracts along the way.
In a fairy tale world, we would have swept the Twins that day buoyed by the rightness of our cause. But, with eleven players playing together for the first time, on the road, we still got smacked.
Leo Kantorski pitched both games for the Twins, and they walloped us 9-5 and 6-2. He gave up nine hits in the first game but held us to just three hits in the second. In the Daily Record the next day, Leo got top billing:
“Leo Kantorski Pulls Iron Man Stunt with Two Wins” was the headline for the newspaper's report.
Farther down in his piece the sportswriter did acknowledge our new colored team mates, making sure to point out they all played baseball at Ridgeview High School in Hickory.
“The first Negro players to see action in the Class D Western Carolina league played for Granite Falls. All three of the colored men to play hail from Ridgeview at Hickory. Russell Shuford worked behind the plate the major portion of both games for the Rocks. Christopher Rankin pitched two innings of the first game and two and two-thirds innings in the second game. Gene Abernathy, one of Ridgeview's top all-around athletes, went in as a pinch-hitter in the first game and played center field in the second game. Neither of the trio got a hit and Shuford was charged with two errors.”
Of course the Daily Record had to finish their story:
“The second game marked Granite Falls' 27th straight loss, breaking their earlier record of twenty-six straight.”
So, we did it. We integrated our baseball team and the amazing thing to me was, no one objected.
No one even seemed to notice!
There were no protests. There were no rallies. In fact, I did not hear any rude comments from the Conover fans at all.
I guess this had been coming for a while. It had been going on up North and when it finally got to the Carolina League people were ready for it.
The one thing that I did notice, however, was that the crowd at the second game was much larger than the crowd at the first. In fact, there was a whole section of colored fans that suddenly showed up and sat at the end of the bleachers over towards first base.
Surprisingly, the colored fans sat quietly. It was as if the sight of black players on the same field with white players mesmerized them. They did not yell or cheer. They just sat stunned.
All through the second game, the crowd kept swelling. Black and white fans heard that something extraordinary was taking place. They rushed to the ballpark in Conover to see history being made.
The fans recognized the significance, even if the Daily Record only gave it second billing.
Two days later we played the Marauders at their home in Marion. We went in feeling like maybe we had a chance to pull off the upset. The day before Bill Pugh picked up Boney Flemming, a former starting pitcher for the Asheville Blues. Pitching had always been the Rock’s downfall.
Unfortunately, Boney was a little past his prime and rusty from not playing for a while. He just could not stand up to those Marion batters. He gave up five runs in the third inning. So, we ended up taking the loss 10-3.
On top of losing, Russell Shuford our new catcher was hit by a tipped foul and it twisted his finger backwards. It was bent sideways and clearly broken, and Russell’s season was over, cut short after just three games.
On a more positive note though, the Daily Record account of the game actually highlighted the Rocks.
MARAUDERS 10, ROCKS 3
With four Negroes in the lineup, the first to play on a white baseball team in North Carolina, the Granite Falls Rocks went down in favor of Marion’s Marauders, 10-3.
Our losing streak continued but something unusual was happening. The crowds were swelling instead of shrinking. Fans were pouring into the games. In fact, I believe our game in Marion drew the biggest crowd since ‘Black Cat Night' in early June.
It's funny how things work out. It required a lot of courage on Mr. German's part to add black players to the roster (not to mention the bravery of the players themselves). None of was sure what was going to happen. We were all a little fearful that a riot might even break out during that first game, but Mr. German did the right thing anyway. He took a huge chance and signed colored players to contracts in the all-white Carolina league.
Now his courageous decision was bringing fans into the stadium. It was actually helping the team.
Who would have thought it?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter Eighteen – Sunshine Patriots and Quitters
Thomas Paine once said, “These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country.”
I know these words by heart because my fourth grade history teacher, Mrs. Saurbottom, made me memorize them. She told us that Tom Paine was an important person in the Revolutionary War and he served his country by helping kick out those dang Redcoats.
Now the Redcoats are another group, I will never understand. According to Mrs. Saurbottom, they were all upset because a group of Boston Yankees called ‘the Sons of Liberty' dumped their tea out into Boston harbor. So, they went around closing newspapers and taking away people's rights.
Now don't get me wrong. If someone knocked my tea into the harbor on purpose, I am sure that it would get me all riled up too. Especially, if it was a hot day, and I was thirsty. I am the kind of guy that would probably offer them a knuckle sandwich, unless they bought me a whole new glass. But, for some reason, when the redcoats lost all their tea, they did not want fresh tea. Instead, it made them want to shut down people's printing presses.
Does that make sense to anybody?
It sure does not make sense to me. Plus, I can't help thinking those Redcoats were a bit on the crazy side to begin with. I mean, standing up in the middle of a battlefield as if they were lined up for a fire drill, can't be the first page in anybody's playbook. Whoever thought that one up must have had an elevator that did not go all the way to the top, if you know what I mean?
I always figured that if it had not been so dang cold at Valley Forge, we would have sent those Redcoats packing way before the 4th of July. I bet we could have cleared them out by early spring, at least by Opening Day. Then we could have honored Tom Paine properly. He could have thrown out the first pitch. That would have been a great way to start the baseball season!
Now, as far as I know, Thomas Paine never did get to throw out the first pitch. That is pretty sad when it comes right down to it. What is even sadder is that Ben Franklin and George Washington never got to throw out a first pitch either.
I mean, come on. If I owned the Washington Senators I would certainly have let the ‘Father of Our Country' throw out the first pitch anytime he felt like coming out to the park. And, I would have at least asked Ben Franklin to coach third base or something. After all, if you can discover electricity you are bound to be able to wave a runner home.
But, then you know what they say about Washington: “First in war, first in peace, and last in the American League."
Anyway, today, we honor Thomas Paine, Ben Franklin, and George Washington because they had staying power. They were not sunshine patriots. They went the distance. In fact, I am pretty sure that Ben Franklin is the one who made up the saying, “Quitters never win, and winners never quit.” (Although, I guess it could have been Mark Twain.)
Anyway, what all this boils down to is that the ‘51 Rocks had a Sunshine Patriot in our midst: Mr. P. F. Wilson. After the Rocks nosedived through late Summer and lost 44 of 45 games, Mr. Wilson showed his Sunshine Patriot rear end and just quit coming out to the park.
Well, that was okay by me, because I figured we were better off without him and anyone else who did not want to be there.
Unfortunately, Mr. Wilson did serve a purpose for the Granite Falls
Rocks. He was the official record scorer for the team. And, because he quit coming to the stadium, the statistics for last sixteen games of our season were never compiled and forwarded to the Howe News Bureau in Atlanta, Ga. So, the Western Carolina League will forever have a blind spot covering those final games of the Rocks season. The Official Baseball Guide and Record Book says:
“Note – Sixteen games missing from averages due to failure of Granite Falls scorer to send box scores, but standing is complete.”
On account of P. F. Wilson, the Western Carolina League has no detailed written records of the five black men that played for the 1951 Granite Falls Rocks. There are no batting averages, no ERA's, no nothing.
Some years later a fire at the Chrysler Dealership destroyed the contracts and agreements and paperwork for the entire team.
Today, aside from a few surviving columns in the Hickory Daily Record, there is no documentation at all of those amazing events of August and September 1951.
So, when it came to that very last game of the 1951 Granite Falls Granite Rocks – there was no other option. You just had to be there!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter Nineteen – Finale
It was the last game of the 1951 season. We were 14-95. We had lost 32 games straight and 58 of our last 59.
We had been close many times. We'd lost half a dozen in extra innings and though a lot of people gave up on us, we never gave up on ourselves.
We lost money. We lost fans. We lost players. But the dream of Professional Baseball in Granite Falls never died.
On September 3rd, 1951, we met the Morganton Aggies on Saturday Night in the Granite Falls Stadium. It was our chance to go out a winner.
Russell Shuford was out with a broken finger, but we had three colored players going into that final game. As luck would have it, Morganton was starting their ‘Cuban' right-hander, ‘Jimmy' Cuervo.
It was certainly the first Western Carolina League game with colored players on both teams!
We got to the stadium early that morning and Shine and I shared our last Hygomia of the season. Grandma Tooley threw a couple of moon pies into my lunchbox, so we could go out in style.
After Hygomia, we went straight to work getting the stadium and our equipment into tip top shape. I wiped down all the bats and filled the rosin bags and painted the pine tar grips. Shine cleaned up the players shoes and put an extra layer of polish on the leather. Chopper and Big Bubba were diligently sweeping and trimming and sprucing up the place and putting down fresh chalk lines on the field and the Granite Falls Stadium looked better than it had in years.
President Roosevelt would have been proud.
The game started at five, but the entire team was on hand two hours early. Bob Pugh got us together before the pregame warm-up.
“Fellas,” he said. “This is going to be tough game to win. The Aggies are leading the league, and they have a bigger roster and a lot more experience playing together than we do. So, I don't see how we are going to win this game tonight, without some help.”
(So far it was not much of a pep talk.)
“For that reason I have made arrangements to add two more professional baseball players to our team for this last game.”
All right! I thought. We sure can use some fresh blood. I looked around and did not see any new faces.
“So, let me introduce the two newest members of the Granite Falls Rocks.”
Bob reached down and picked up a brown paper bag that was lying beside him on the grass. I wondered if he was planning to pull a ballplayer out of the shopping bag like a magician pulls a rabbit out of a hat.
Instead of ball players, Coach Pugh reached inside and pulled out a jersey and a cap. Then, he walked over and handed them to Chopper Gaines.
“Chopper,” he said. “You are starting at third base.”
Then, he pulled out another shirt and cap. Coach handed them over to Big Bubba Smith.
“Bubba, you're catching.”
We were stunned, which was good because it kept me from crying in front of the guys.
Bubba and Chopper were going to play baseball! I could not believe it. In the back of my mind, I could hear Finley German's words once more, “I believe the Good Lord put us here to do the right thing. So, that is exactly what we are going to do, no matter what.”
Bob put down the sack and began clapping. We all joined in and the guys all starting slapping our two newest Rocks on the back.
“Okay, gentlemen,” Bob said. “Let's get out there and warm up. Stretch out. Get that blood pumping and get yourselves ready!”
He added enthusiastically, “tonight, we are going to play some ‘Good Baseball'.”
Most of the guys grabbed a ball, a glove, or a bat and headed out onto the field. Chopper and Bubba headed for the clubhouse to change.
“I can't believe it! I can't believe it!” Bubba said grinning like the lead jockey in a one horse race.
“I've cut the grass and raked the dirt and treated this field like I owned it. I never ever thought I would get to play on it.”
Bubba kept shaking his head, “I'm really playing for the team! I can't believe it.”
He explained, “I got Momma a ticket for the game. I wanted her to see the colored players. Now she's gonna see her very own baby boy playing White Baseball!”
“Hot Damn! Thank you, Jesus!”
Chopper could not find his voice at all. He just walked over to the clubhouse shaking his head back and forth, back and forth.
When he got inside, he turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face as if he needed to wake up or something. Then he put on his shirt and changed his pants and he took off his street shoes. He was so rattled he forgot to put his cleats on. He walked out of the building in his stocking feet. He had to come back inside to get shod.
It was great!
* * * * * * * * * *
At five o'clock sharp the Umpire yelled, “Play Ball” and the final game of the 1951 Granite Falls Graniteers / Granite Rocks got underway.
Now we all know there are seven ways to get on base safely in baseball: a hit, a walk, an error, being hit by the pitch, a dropped third strike, catcher interference, and fielder's choice. Heck, I was just a kid, and I knew that.
But, before the final game of the 1951 season was over, we were all going to learn that Official Rule 7.05(h) (Paragraph 3) provided an eighth way for a runner to get onboard. And, that stupid rule would be forever seared into the memories of anyone who played, watched, or worked at Granite Falls Stadium on that fateful September evening.
The match started off slow and tight. It was a pitcher’s duel for the first four innings. There were no hits. There were no walks. No one got anywhere near the bases.
Boney Fleming took the mound for the Rocks. Though his fast ball was not exactly burning up the plate, tonight he had pin point control.
He was like a mechanic out there. Boney did not throw pitches he assembled them. With speed changes and curves and placements, it was hard to tell if he was pitching baseballs or playing chess with the batters. He just took them apart, one by one.
Of course Jimmy Cuervo started for the Aggies. When he pitched, he brought everything he had. It seemed like he was throwing rockets instead of baseballs. It was not a baseball game. It was a trial. And, Jimmy Cuervo was judge, jury, and executioner.
Personally, I am partial to offense. I love to hear the bat crack and watch runners beat out the throw. So, usually I find no hitters kind of boring but, with these two hurlers going at it I was glued to my seat so tight I couldn't sit down. Each pitch was a nail biter. There was nothing boring about this match up.
Of course it could not go on forever. And, in the top of the fifth, the Aggies’s leadoff man hit a bloop single into right field. Boney got the next batter to ground into a double play and confounded the third. So, even with a hit, there was no harm done.
Now it was our turn.
Chopper Gaines led off in the bottom of the fifth and I don't know if I ever saw a batter more determined to get on base. He was actually slapping his own face and shouting, “What the hell you doing out there, Chop? You finally get a chance to bat, and you strike out? This is it buddy. You are on the Last Chance Express. You have got to make this count!”
Going out to the plate, I handed Chopper his favorite bat but he waved me off. Instead, he reached down and picked up the smallest, lightest bat of the bunch. And, when he stepped into the batter's box, Chopper choked way up on the hard wood. And, he gritted his teeth.
Of course, Cuervo was not stupid. He saw all this going on. So, he started Chopper off with a couple that were at a perfect height but just outside the strike zone.
Chopper did not fall for it. He watched both go by and took the two balls like an early Christmas present.
On his third pitch, I guess Cuervo felt he had to throw a strike. So he wound up and uncorked a scorcher but Chopper was waiting for him.
Crack!
Chopper put the ball just outside the first baseman's reach and right down the line. The right fielder was nowhere close to where he needed to be.
Now a faster runner could have stretched that hit into a double. But, Chopper ran without toes. His legs were churning but his gate was clunky. The balls of the feet sort of chopped into the base paths, and he ran on the front edges of his shoes. But, Chopper made it all the way to first base and it was Jimmy Cuervo's turn to yell at himself.
In a small town, everyone knows everyone. And, every fan in the bleachers that night knew the sacrifice that Chopper made for his country. We also knew what kind of courage it took for a toeless man to run the bases.
That crowd got up on its feet and roared!
The crowd was still cheering when Bubba followed Chopper to the plate.
Bubba was a tough situation. He would have to hit a least a double, just to move Chopper on to second safely. A sacrifice fly or a bunt was not going to do the job.
