Home Beyond The Park

A Unique Look Into Life Beyond the Park by Christine McCord

"During the winter quarter of 1947 at Tennessee A & I State University, the registration line was very long. As I approached the long line I saw one of the Mosley twins, a player on the A & I State college football team, near the door to the Office of the Registrar where I had to pay my tuition fees for the winter quarter. I asked the Mosley twins if I could cut the line in front of him. He told me that I could not, but with a twinkle in his eye he said, "Butch will let you get in line in front of him." Since I didn't know who Butch was, I looked in the direction toward the front of the line and asked Butch may I cut in line in front of him. He did not say yes or no. He only smiled. I believe he was shocked that someone would be so bold as to ask him to let them cut the line, for he did not know the others who had been waiting in line would feel about that inappropriate action. In the meantime, I was moving toward the line to get in front of Butch. I eased in line in front of Butch and he just smiled and asked, "What is your name and where do you live?" We continued to exchange small talk until I entered the door to the Registrar's office where I proceeded to transact my financial business and moved on out of the door to go home. Having completed the task I needed to do, I left the Administration Building satisfied that I had completed my goal and I forgot I ever met anyone named Butch.

In the Fall of 1947, I changed my place of residence to another street in North Nashville and to my surprise one day after boarding the city bus to go home from my morning classes at the college, I saw this familiar smiling face. I said to myself, "I know that smile", but I could not remember his name. Being a true southerner you are reared to speak to everyone you meet. I spoke to him and noticed that we exited the bus at the same place on Eighteenth Avenue and Jefferson Street. We crossed the street and proceeded to walk and talk homeward to our respective residences. As we neared our street, Butch asked me for my telephone number. I hesitated to do so at first, then I thought about the nice gesture he had made by allowing me to cut the line in front of him during the winter quarter's registration, so I relented and gave him my telephone number.

I turned the corner and proceeded to walk to my Aunt's house where I had recently moved and before I reached the front porch, I heard the telephone ring. My aunt answered, to my surprise it was the smiling young man who had just walked down the street with me. He wanted to know if I wanted to go to the movies and if I liked ice cream and what flavor did I prefer. That was the beginning and the end is yet to be.

Butch had told me he was a ballplayer and I thought that he played baseb all on Sundays like the players that I knew about back in Kentucky. There were Sunday players because they worked in the coal mines during the week and could only play on Sunday after church was over.

How wrong I was. Butch invited me to my first professional baseball game at Sulpher Dell Baseball Park. I don't remember the name of the team but I believe it was the Indianapolis Clowns because I recall the players in strange clothing for ballplayers. For example, large shoes, huge caps, baggy pants, some with polka dots, and long ties that almost touched the ground, and doing a lot of clowning around antics, sometimes with the umpires and players from the other team before the game started.

Finally, these guys were chased off the playing field by the umpires. I thought this was hilarious and laughed along with the other baseball fans who had come out to the game. Since this was my first professional ballgame, I was not familiar with all that takes place before the actual game begins. I watched the action on the playing field as well as the audience, and I could not decide which was more interesting. You see, I had never heard of the seventh inning stretch. When the game was over, I asked Butch about what I had observed and he patiently explained what each action was about and its importance to the game. After that game, I knew that if I ever came to another game I had a lot to learn about the game of baseball. The game of baseball had rules, which I did not know about and was not even remotely aware of.

I still did not take Butch's baseball playing as serious as I should have. I should have known he was serious about baseball because every time you saw him he was either swinging a bat or rubbing neats foot oil on his glove. As soon as the weather warmed up during the winter months, Butch would start his spring training. He would go to the park and work out every day for several hours. He was a strict disciplinarian about going to spring training camp in shape every year.

In 1949, Butch was playing baseball with the Chicago American Giants in the Negro Leagues, and he invited me to come to Birmingham to see him play an important game against the Birmingham Black Barons. His parents and I rode the city bus to get to the ballpark for the game. While on the city bus, I saw the famous seat sign that Rosa Parks saw each and every day as she went to and from work. I had never seen that kind of sign before because in Nashville segregation was sometimes subtle and sometimes overt and signs were not used on the city buses in Nashville. When we arrived at the ballpark we were not aware that on the other side of the ballpark there was a major problem between the Birmingham police department head and the Chicago American Giants team players. Butch had told me about the three white players on the team and that one of them was his roommate. Butch's parents and I expected to see those young men on the playing field. The game was delayed and we saw people talk and some were moving but we had no inkling what was causing all of the confusion.

After the game was over, Butch explained to us what had happened to the white players and why they were not playing in today's game. The old segregation laws had prevailed at the ballpark and the three white players were ordered by the famous Bull Conner to either go and sit where whites sit when blacks were playing or leave the ballpark entirely. The three players chose to stay at the game and comply with the segregation laws of the state of Alabama. After changing out of their Chicago American Giants uniforms, the white players returned to the grandstand and the game proceeded in and orderly manner with many officers on guard duty. When the game was over we went to eat dinner and shortly thereafter Butch had to prepare to move on to another town for tomorrow's game. Later Butch said that upon arrival in the other southern Alabama town the next day, the fans wanted to know where were the white players because they wanted to see them play.

In the spring of 1950, I was busy with school activities and fulfilling the requirements for graduation in May of 1950. Having graduated from college, I needed a j-o-b as soon as possible. I had two brothers in college and they needed financial assistance from my parents. My father informed me that there was a vacancy at the high school where I had graduated just four years ago. At first I was reluctant to accept the position but since I did not have a position in Nashville, I had no other choice but to take the position at my hometown. Secretly, I had accepted an engagement ring from Butch for we had planned to get married before he went to spring training the next year. My father was too proud having his only daughter to return to her hometown in Kentucky as the first member of our family to graduate from college and to be employed at the high school where she had graduated with honors. Being the youngest member of the faculty and not teaching classes that I had spent four years preparing for was challenging, to say the least. Somehow I made it work for eight months and then it was time for Butch to go to spring training. He came to the hills of southeastern Kentucky to claim his bride and after a twenty-four hour delay by my father, we were married on April 3, 1951 in Jonesville, Virginia.

Butch left for spring training the next week after we were married and was away at camp for a month before I saw him again. He was sent to Paris, Illinois to play class "D" ball with the Paris Lakers for the season. This marked the beginning of many educational experiences for me, and an entirely new venture for someone who knew absolutely nothing about being the wife of a baseball player. I had so much to learn and not too long to learn it. It started with preparing meals for not only Butch, but any other players of color who had come to town to play ball. This was necessary due to the fact that there were no restaurants nor hotels that catered to persons of Afro-American descent. A typical day in Paris, Illinois for me was not too exciting because it was too laid back, not the hustle and bustle of the big city of Nashville where everyone would be rushing off to work early every morning.

However, the town came alive every morning when it was time for the Paris Lakers to play ball. I'm almost sure that everyone in town and those who lived in the neighboring towns and hamlets came to see their favorite winning team play ball. The Lakers played well, or at least my favorite Laker was a drawing card according to the sports writers and townspeople. In addition to adjusting to the new towns, I had to learn to make new friends if I was going to survive since Butch was traveling most of the time. I had to seek places for entertainment, shopping, and a church for worship. All of this must be accomplished without benefit of a car. This was not too difficult since cab fare was only 25 cents for a ride all around the small town. I am blessed with an outgoing, pleasant personality (that's what one of my professors at the college wrote in my yearbook), and whenever I need to be flexible or some adjustments need to be made, I can live with the detours and move on with the flow. We managed to make many friends in every town or city that we lived in. It was very heartwarming to visit with and chat with those farmers in Paris. They were the most caring, dedicated and loyal fans of the Paris Lakers. They shared what they had in many ways, but most of all they made you feel welcome in their town. I'll always have a warm spot in my heart for them. We continued sending cards at Christmas for many years.

Butch and I spent the first two years of our marriage in Paris, Illinois and the population was less than a thousand with only one-tenth being of African descent. Entertainment for the ballplayers, and I can only speak for those of African descent, consisted of playing baseball every night somewhere, or if a game was rained out the players would gather at 726 Madison Avenue (the home of Francis and Jeanette Blake) for food, fun, telling stories of the old Negro League games, and listening to Herald "Beebop" Gordon tell some of his jokes. They also told of incidents that they had experienced in other cities, both in the Mississippi-Ohio Valley League as well as other leagues.

The quiet, country-like atmosphere, slow-paced living in Paris allowed time for me to think about our future and to make some decisions about my new role as the wife of a ballplayer. I had to schedule my day so that dinner would be ready at least two hours before gametime. I always tried to be in my favorite seat along the firstbase line at least thirty minutes before gametime. Occasionally, I sat with other wives of the Lakers in the reserved section for players' wives. The other wives and I only met at the ballpark or some social function the townspeople planned. Being left alone when he was on the road playing out of town was not too difficult, except that there weren't that many choices for entertainment and recreation especially if you did not have your own transporation.

Butch had two very good years playing baseball for the Paris Lakers and was even voted the most popular player of the year and had a "night" to honor him for his outstanding record playing for the Lakers. I surprised him by having his parents come from Nashville to Paris for the affair. I believe the whole town turned out for that night. After spring training in 1953, Butch was sent to Denver, Colorado. I was excited to be going to the big city. I'd had enough of the country life. I left Paris healthier and heavier than I had gone there two years before. I longed for the cool, clean, colorful mountains of Colorado that I had read about in the tourist guides."