The San Jacinto Club in New Orleans

The sign from the San Jacinto Club, now on display at the New Orleans Jazz Museum. (Photo by the author.)

I do solemnly promise to abide by the Charter, By-Laws, Constitution, Rules, Etc., governing the San Jacinto Social and Pleasure Club for the promotion of its welfare to the best of my ability, so help me God.

Members’ Oath for the San Jacinto

In kind of a spinoff on my earlier series about Louis Armstrong’s Secret 9 and Eddie “Kid” Brown, I’ve been wanting to post something about one of the places at which Brown engaged in some of his boxing matches, the San Jacinto Club.

One of the many social aid and pleasure clubs that were scattered throughout New Orleans over the last 200 years — the most famous probably being the still-going-strong Zulu Club — the San Jacinto was a facility and an organization that encapsulated just about every facet of African-American life in New Orleans in the early- and mid-20th century.

As such, it became one of the cornerstones in the Black community in the Big Easy; not only did it offer social service programs, but it also provided athletic, educational, political, activist and fellowship opportunities for African Americans who’d been shut out from segregated white society.

In a way, then, it was very much like Negro League baseball — and, in fact, the San Jacinto Club periodically fielded a baseball team that took on other amateur, club and semipro Black squads in New Orleans.

But more on that a bit later.

Courtesy Amistad Research Center.

The club’s philosophy was outlined in its charter, which was issued Nov. 7, 1905, with legal approval from Orleans Parish District Attorney James Porter Parker and notarization by public notary Robert Legier. Stated Article II of the charter:

“The objects and purposes for which this corporation is organized are hereby declared to be the cultivation of literature and science by the establishment and general increase of a library, of well assorted and standard books for the free use of of the members of the club, by the establishment of a reading room, supplied with the leading periodicals, magazines, reviews and newspapers of the day, whether scientific, literary or political, to be opened at all suitable hours of the evening, to the use of the members of the club and their guests, without special charge therefor [sic], and secondly, the regulation of social intercourse and amusement among the members of the club, by rules framed after consultation and by mutual consent, to promote enjoyment, harmony and refinement of manners, intellectual improvement and the moral, mental and material welfare of the members.”

The charter named the club’s first slate of officers: W.R. Dubuclet, president; Edward Brugier, first vice president; Charles Stanberry, second vice president; George DeGruy, recording secretary; M.R. Roudez, financial secretary; and A.B. Callioux, treasurer. Callioux, meanwhile, was a painter.)

(I did some cursory research on those gentlemen, and all them were skilled or professional tradesmen, which reflects the type of middle-class Creoles whom were sought by clubs like the SJC. Both Dubuclet and Roudez were coopers. Brugier and worked as a porter, while Stanberry was also a railroad freight handler. DeGruy worked as either a tailor or bricklayer; I couldn’t pin that down for sure.

The entrance to the San Jacinto Club, circa 1920s. (Photo by Villard Paddio, from the Hogan Jazz Archive at Tulane University.)

The club constitution was adopted concurrently with the charter and further established the by-laws, rules and regulations, including an age requirement (members must be between 18 and 60 years old); an admission fee of 50 cents, and monthly dues of 50 cents (or about $12 today); and a monthly regular meeting and an assessment meeting.

Then, the club by-laws also provided the authority of a club committee to establish the athletic program, which eventually included boxing teams and matches, as well as baseball teams. Stated Article XIV:

“This committee shall be composed of five members to be appointed by the President whose duty it shall be to take charge of everything pertaining to Athletics in which this club may be interested to promote contests and make rules governing same among the members and to see that all paraphernalia belonging to this department is always in good condition. A written agreement must be signed by the two presidents before any article is rented from the club so as to know who to hold responsible for said article.”

(At the end of this post I include some more details about the club constitution that reveal and highlight the importance the San Jacinto — like other such social aid and pleasure clubs in New Orleans — placed on honor, education, uplift and community wellness.)

Now, a basic history … Organized in 1903 and incorporated two years later, the club swelled to more than a thousand members — mostly middle-to-upper-class Creoles of color — and found its permanent location at 1422 Dumaine St. by the Twenties or so, and in 1922 it opened a sprawling, completely refurbished clubhouse at that spot in the Treme neighborhood. The two-story structure included office space; a ballroom, dance floor and concert auditorium with a 3,000-person capacity; a reading room and library with 2,000 books; a bar and social club; and a gymnasium.

The opening of the resplendent structure received significant press in the national media, including the Chicago Defender, whose Nov. 2, 1922, issue regaled the paper’s readers with a lush description of the New Orleans black community’s new jewel. The paper stated that San Jacinto members “are exhibiting their new club quarters with much pride. They claim that there is nothing else like it in the country.”

“Today 112 feet through the city block of Dumaine street, between Marais and North Villare streets,” the paper added, “has risen the San Jacinto’s new home. Two stories above the basement, which has been built into a large and handsome dancing floor and club hall, rests the most complete and modern Colored club house in the entire South, and equaled by few in the far North.

“Here in new and shining quarters, at their hands every modern convenience to facilitate their work and pleasures as well, the hundreds of men who are members of the San Jacinto can find comfort a plenty.”

The library of the club, circa 1920s. (Photo by Villard Paddio, courtesy of the Hogan Jazz Archive.)

An example of the club’s political activism and social-awareness campaigns took place in February 1930, during Eddie Brown’s early boxing heyday at the San Jacinto. Late that month, “a monster mass meeting” slated at the club building to organize a push against oppressive Jim Crow voting laws that robbed thousands of Black Louisianians of the vote. Reported the Feb. 22, 1930, Louisiana Weekly:

“At this meeting plans will be gone into and discussed concerning retaining an attorney to represent the group in attacting [sic] the damnable registration law as it is existing in the state at the present time.

“Speakers of the various civic organizations will address those who are present, and as this subject is a vital one, every one is requested to be present.”

The San Jacinto Club had deep pockets to fund all of this activity and to build and maintain its mansion-like clubhouse — by 1926, the club held assets of about $83,000 (real estate, equipment and cash balance), or roughly $1.2 million in today’s dollars.

Most contemporaneous and modern sources report that the San Jacinto was best known, locally and nationally, as a music venue that for three decades hosted balls, dances and concerts that attracted the best of New Orleans Black society. Countless musical acts played at the hall over the years, from early jazz bands in the 1920s to blues shouters like Ray Charles and Big Mama Thornton and local legends like Professor Longhair, Smiley Lewis, Fats Domino and Dave Bartholomew and his scorching band. The hall also hosted recording sessions, most notably jazz greats like Bunk Johnson, who had influenced Louis Armstrong.

There was more, too, according to a Web site by radio station WWOZ (itself a New Orleans institution), making the club a locus of African-American life:

“Often, other black social organizations and promoters rented the hall to put them on — it was one of only a few venues of its size for black audiences under segregation. There were dances, balls, soirees, and battles of the bands. Baby Dolls and Mardi Gras Indians, groups who mask for Carnival, held functions here, too. For decades, the space was central to black social life in downtown New Orleans.

“The building was put to other uses during daylight hours. The traditional brass band drummer Lawrence Batiste told documentarian David Kunian that his backyard abutted the club, so he copped free lessons by listening to bands rehearse there during the day. The American Federation of Musicians Local 496 — the black musicians union — held meetings in the hall in the 40s before establishing its office on North Claiborne Avenue.”

Over the years, a slew of other events, soirees, gatherings and fundraisers took place at the San Jacinto Club, including commemorations of the efforts of free Creoles of color in the Andrew Jackson-led Battle of New Orleans during the War of 1812; meetings and fundraisers of the League for Civil Rights and Justice; banquets of the Merry Makers Social and Pleasure Club; and anniversary dances of the Dukes of Windsor Club.

The club’s occupancy of 1422 Dumaine St. continued until 1957, when the structure was vacated by the San Jacintos. The site then went through other uses, such as a nightclub, until the structure was purchased by the city, then destroyed by fire in January 1967. The building was bulldozed and eyed as a possible site for a cultural center. However, eventually the location — and several city blocks around it — became what is today the famed Louis Armstrong Park straddling the French Quarter and Treme.

Cornerstones and other portions of the San Jacinto Club structure have been saved, however, including the hall’s iconic sign, which today is on display at the New Orleans Jazz Museum.

The boxing ring/gymnasium. (Photo by Villard Paddio, courtesy the Hogan Jazz Archive.)

But there’s something else significant to note: the San Jacinto Club not only hosted some of the best “colored” boxing in the South, it had its own athletic teams, including boxing clubs for various age groups.

As outlined in my previous posts about the Secret 9, multi-sport athlete Eddie Brown laced up the gloves for a little neighborhood pugilism at the San Jacinto, but an army of other fighters stepped into the ring at the club.

I’ve obviously previously noted Eddie “Kid” Brown’s appearance in the San Jacinto ring, and I’ll highlight a few other pugilistic encounters around the same time Brown was at his peak. One comes from 1932 — I think it does, but I was a knucklehead and didn’t write the date on the hard copy I have — when the Louisiana Weekly reported on a multi-bout card at the club, the spectators at which displayed the typical liveliness and passion as they crowded around the ring.

The newspaper, as well as the crowd, dissed the top fight on the card, a frustrating draw between Young Jack Davis and Angelo Brown. The publication wrote that the Brown-Davis scuffle “topped a good card at the downtown club. Except for the main bout, which was roundly booed by the crowd, the other decisions were favorably received.”

Louisiana Weekly, Oct. 3, 1936

The article then states that “[a]fter the fights the large crowd wended its way down to the night club dance held in the club’s spacious dance hall and given by the boxers and gym boys.” Such a multi-stage, multi-activity slate of entertainment was common for clubs like the San Jacinto, but this club, whose building covered a full city block, had everything under the same roof, amazingly.

The Jan. 16, 1932, issue of the Weekly reported on a similarly boisterous card of fights at around the same time. The paper was sure to relate the sentiments of the spectators in the San Jacinto arena:

“A card of exhibition bouts were well booed at the San Jacinto arena Sunday evening, when all but two were converted into petting parties, the fighters embracing and patting each other affectionately upon the cheeks. …

“If the card was saved the credit rightfully belongs to Young George Godfrey and Chester Jones, two guys who would run the chance of starving just to fight. …

“And, oh boy, what a performance they gave. They mixed it willingly all the way, slugging, boxing and furnishing delicious dessert for a sour meal. The crowd went wild when the hands of both were hoisted, giving them a well-earned draw.”

Or in July 1936, the San Jacinto Club was ground zero for the launch of an ambitious venture in regional pugilism — a training academy and amatuer boxing tournament led by a local promoter, Jackie Elverillo. Stated the Weekly:

“What might be considered the greatest accomplishment in the local sports world in many years by any individual is the progress of the amateur boxing game revived here some months ago by one well known young man who is a professional fighter by trade and answers to the name of Jackie Elverillo. Elverillo, with his battling grounds in the San Jacinto A.C., has done remarkably well with his 25 or 30 ambitious fight-craving young men whom he trains daily. Jackie has done so well that he has worked up an inter-city amateur boxing tournament with Houston, Texas to be staged here in New Orleans … If this affair proves a success it will be known as the Negro Southern AAU Boxing Tournament.

“As it is Elverillo’s desire to have the best amateurs available to represent this proud Creole City, he will stage a city-wide elimination tournament in the San Jacinto Club that will run three Sundays. …”

The club’s boxing activity also played a significant role in the summer of 1938, when the San Jacinto launched a massive expansion and improvement campaign after a down period of dwindling membership and sagging finances. Now at the club, according to the July 9, 1938, Louisiana Weekly, “many debts left by previous administrations have been taken care of and the club is on an upward trend. …

“A huge drive is on now to swell its membership and among other improvements, the famous San Jacinto Arena, which saw the making of many top-notch fighters, has been enlarged to seat 2000 people. Paul Gray, fight manager, is the general manager of the arena and gymnasium, and A. Graber is [the] boxing instructor. Regular weekly boxing shows will be conducted.”

Testifying to the complete social and cultural experience the San Jacinto (as well as other social aid and benevolent organizations in the city) offered its members and the community at large, the newspaper added that the facility also “houses a reading room and has a large auditorium where dances are held, many big orchestras of the country having appeared there. It also has large reception parlors.”

Undated ad, 1922

But coming back to the subject of this blog — Black baseball history, of course — here’s an overview of the hardball program offered now and again by the San Jacinto Club. While America’s pastime wasn’t nearly as big as boxing at the club, and while there’s much less record of the San Jacintos’ baseball exploits, there are some accounts of their games.

In September 1916, for example, the San Jacinto’s baseball aggregation worked its way into the pages of the Chicago Defender, which reported the club’s five-inning, 4-3 win (rain shortened it) over the Lion Baseball Club, which the paper called “a fast and clever game that was marked by sensational fielding. …

“The largest crowd of the season turned out to see the two teams play at the Fair Ground’s Jockey Club. The feature of the game was Woods’ stealing home with the winning run. The San Jacinto Club has won 25 and lost 5 games this season.”

Although it was a rare occurrence, the club’s hardball team popped up in the city’s daily newspapers, such as in June 1921, when the New Orleans Item ran a brief about the San Jacintos’ 10-8 loss to the Crescent Stars at Crescent Park. “One of the biggest crowds of the season witnessed the game,” the Item reported. 

Then, in June 1922, a newspaper ad trumpeted an upcoming doubleheader at Bissant’s Park; Corpus Christi squared off against the home San Jacinto Club in the first scrum, with the Bissant Giants to play the winner in the nightcap. (I’m not sure if the park and team with the Bissant moniker is related to the great Bissant family, a prominent Black family in New Orleans that featured several outstanding, accomplished athletes, most notably John Bissant, who starred in multiple high school sports — most prominently baseball, football and track — before shining at local colleges. John’s athletic career culminated with stints with the Birmingham Black Barons and the Chicago American Giants in the 1930’s and ’40s.)

The 1930 season seems to have been a busy one for the San Jacinto men. In April of that year, the squad clobbered the St. Raymond Giants church team, 21-7. I’m going to quote the news brief in the Louisiana Weekly about the game, and just as a matter of probable obviousness, one of the names in the article is a coincidence. The paper stated:

“Led on by Cy Young [not that Cy Young, of course], who cracked out three thriples [sic] and a single in four trips to the plate, the San Jacinto Club nine walloped the Saint Raymond Giants by a record 21-7 score, last Sunday. Bob Mannee poled out a homer fro [sic] the New Orleans team, while Godo smashed one for the Saints.”

A month later, the San Jacintos made the short road trip to LaPlace, La. (maybe maybe 30 miles to the west of New Orleans), where they schooled the hometown White Sox, 9-3. Per the Weekly:

“‘Squatty’ Washington mastered LaPlace’s White Sox the second consecutive time, when he took ’em over 9-3 Sunday afternoon.

“The little right-hander pitched for the San Jacintos and was helped by two round trip smacks by a player whom the arthur [sic] of the article dishonored by merely giving his nick name [sic], ‘Bow Row.’ The player plays second base and poled out his second homer with the bases drunk. The writer likewise omitted the player that swatted a four-bagger for LaPlace, simply calling him ‘Spucks.’”

That jargon and slang and use of nicknames is one of the things I love about sports journalism in the early-to-mid-20th century, especially in the African-American press. It just brought a colorful, familiar feel to the prose and commentary.

Chicago Defender, Sept. 16, 1916

When the San Jacinto Club didn’t appear to have an active baseball team itself, it was still playing a key role in the New Orleans Black hardball scene, as was the case in April 1938. While the ’38 season was getting off the ground, one of the city’s baseball kingpins, “Creole” Pete Robertson, called together other New Orleans baseball leaders to a meeting at the San Jacinto Club “for the purpose of organizing a state baseball league,” according to the April 2 issue of the Weekly.

Robertson, stated the newspaper, was “recently appointed director of the South Central Zone of the US Amateur and Semi-pro Baseball association.” I’m not sure completely what that is, and I’m not going to delve too deeply into that. But it does reflect Robertson’s influence in the city and Louisiana.

Several managers and executives of various squads descended upon the San Jacinto for the meeting, including representatives from the Reserve Mixtures, Hammond Red Sox and New Orleans Black Pelicans and the Crescent Stars of New Orleans.

Reported the April 9, 1938, Weekly:

“Various talks were made on the merits of the league in the state of Louisiana and those present expressed their willingness to take part. Mr. Robertson, acting as chairman, announced that the final meeting would be held … April 14. All teams desiring to enter the league must be present and have their entrance fee at the coming meeting.”

I haven’t been able to find out what exactly happened after that in terms of Robertson and the proposed state baseball league, largely because the various archives and libraries that have the Louisiana Weekly’s complete run on microfilm haven’t been open for months.

But you can see that the San Jacinto was a significant social and economic hub for Black New Orleans, especially in terms of athletic exploits. I’m sure that as I continue to explore the New Orleans Black baseball scene, more reports about the San Jacinto Club, its offerings and its athletic representatives will filter in. The organization was a small but important part of the complex, rich tapestry of African-Americans sports and life during segregation, and its full place in that tradition is still out there to be discovered.


The exterior of the club, 1956. (Photo courtesy the Ralston Crawford Collection of Jazz Photography.)


I just wanted to add a few things from the San Jacinto Club, namely stuff from its charter, by-laws and constitution, because they really, I feel, show what the organization stood for, and what social aid and pleasure clubs did for the Black population of New Orleans.

Possibly the biggest mission of the San Jacinto wasn’t athletic pursuits; it was providing financial help to its members and family, especially when a member was sick or passed away. It was sort of a private insurance cooperative in which much of the members’ dues and fees was used to aid members and families in distress — health care if they were ill, funeral expenses if a death had occurred. The club also offered a version of a pension system for older members.

This is the club By-Laws’ Article XI, titled “Relief Committee” (the language is verbatim):

… Each member of this committee must within (24) hours after being apprised of a member being sick in his district he shall notify the President of this committee who must bestow continual attention to the sick members as soon as he has been notified that a member is sick and confined to his room. He shall go immediately to the residence of said member or as soon thereafter as possible. He has the full power and the responsibility to draw on the Treasurer for the pension of a sick member, provided, said member furnish a doctors certificate from the physician in attendance which must specify that said member has been sick and confined to his room seven (7) days. Each member of this committee must visit each member at his charge at least twice a week. Each member of this committee must visit each member of his district as soon as he is called upon. In case of death of a member it will be the duty of said committee to proceed together and carry out the law relative thereto. Each member of this committee must exercise strict surveillance on each sick in his charge and see that the sick is confined to his bed or room [or] otherwise declare his pension null …

The exterior, 1920s. (Photo by Villard Paddio, courtesy of Hogan Jazz Archive.)

And this is Article XIII of the By-Laws, providing for after-death services (also verbatim):

“In case of death of a member the club will be notified by the family of the deceased and the club will show particular respect for him by having the flag at half mass [sic] and a tax of 25 cents will be imposed upon the members of the club and within the shortest time possible after the meeting of said collection remit to whomsoever has been designated by the deceased as his beneficiary. Should there be no designation the club will not recognize any claim with the exception, if said member does not belong to any other organization and same can be proven, the club will dispose of said collection for the burial of said member. As soon as the President shall receive notice of the death of a member he shall go to the family of the deceased and offer the service of the club.”

The other facet of the SJC’s purpose and function was the strict rules by which members were required to abide, ensuring that all members were refined, gentlemanly, upstanding citizens at a time when Black citizens of New Orleans were trying to earn equal standing in society. Club members felt that one way to achieve that equality was “proving” to whites that Clack residents were upstanding citizens who deserved respect.

Hence the strict club rules. Here’s Article XII of the SJC Constitution:

“Any member who will commit a dishonorable act and be proven guilty of same shall be expelled from the club and can never become a member of said club.”

Some of the more particular requirements included:

  • All members entering the club parlors must be wearing their coats and take off their hats;
  • Expectorating on club floors, i.e. hocking loogies, was banned;
  • “Members shall not sit themselves on the front porch without their coats on. Louid, vile and boisterous talking or sitting on the banisters is strictly prohibited. Members wishing to enter the club and not wearing a coat must enter by the gate”;
  • Members who weren’t competing in any game — I’m guessing cards, chess, etc. — couldn’t interfere in the game.
  • “Any member entering the club rooms intoxicated and making himself otherwise boisterous, fighting or destroying the property of the club shall be liable according to the offense to a fine of 50 cents to $2.50 or be expelled.”

Negro Leagues managers and the Hall of Fame


Gentleman Dave Malarcher

According to Baseball Almanac, the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown has inducted 23 people primarily as managers. However, only one of them, Rube Foster, is from the Negro Leagues (or even just African-American). With the doors of the HOF cracking open again to folks from Black baseball, there’s been little, if any, discussion about possibly inducting some Negro League managers.

But there needs to be.

If the Hall of Fame, as well as the larger baseball zeitgeist, is ever to achieve a full measure of diversity, justice, inclusiveness and historical accuracy, then the people who guided and shaped the abilities of players like Josh Gibson and Willie Wells and Bullet Rogan, and then molded them together to produce winning teams, deserve recognition and respect as well.

There would be no Homestead Grays dynasty without Vic Harris skippering the squad, and the Chicago (and later Cole’s) American Giants wouldn’t have remained a title-winning powerhouse after Rube Foster’s tragic departure without Dave Malarcher’s steady hand and strong principles.

Larry Lester, multi-book author, SABR award-winner, longtime co-chair of SABR’s Negro Leagues Committee, and friend and mentor Larry Lester said it’s time to give Black baseball managers their due.

Author, colleague and friend Alex Painter added simply:

“Managers in the Negro Leagues remain among the most criminally-overlooked constituency in baseball history, particularly when analyzing Hall of Fame inductions.”

“Great managers like CI Taylor, Candy Jim Taylor and Vic Harris labored behind the color curtain of inopportunity,” he said. “As we celebrate the Centennial of the Negro Leagues, let’s pull back this curtain and expose their deeds and contributions to every field of dreams. These men transformed how the game is currently played and re-shaped the attitudes of the naysayers.”

Plus this isn’t even to mention figures like Rube Foster himself — guys who excelled at multiple roles in the baseball world. Dick Lundy was a stellar manager, but many folks (including me) believe he deserves to be in Cooperstown for his playing career as an infielder. Buck O’Neil played, managed, scouted and served as an ambassador for the sport. And where do we even begin to describe, verbalize and quantify all the reasons that the incomparable Bud Fowler deserves induction?

As a result, below are brief commentaries by fellow Negro Leagues researchers, writers and fans about several Black ball managers and why these skippers deserve recognition in Cooperstown. What do you think?

C.I. Taylor

CI Taylor, by Geri Driscoll Strecker (also suggested by Ted Knorr)

[CI Taylor is Hall-worthy] for his role in professionalizing the game with the ABCs, setting the foundation for the Negro National League with sportswriter Dave Wyatt, sacrificing his own life to save the league at the 1922 winter meetings, and training many of the men who went on to become great managers themselves, including his brothers Jim, John and Ben; Dave Malarcher; Bingo DeMoss; and Oscar Charleston. I know I’m missing names here, but I don’t have a roster in front of me. When you look at the “family tree” of great Negro Leagues managers, CI is at the root of most branches. His influence is undeniable.

Candy Jim Taylor

Candy Jim Taylor, by Steve Kuzmiak

Candy Jim was one of four brothers to play in the Negro Leagues. His career as a player and manager ran the course of 44 years. In 1943, he led the Homestead Grays to their first Negro League World Championship. He managed for 30 years and is the winningest manager in Negro Leagues history with 907 wins. He died at the age of 64 in Chicago and was buried in an unmarked grave. That problem was rectified when a headstone was placed on his grave in 2004. Apparently, he was a World War I veteran as well.

Vic Harris

Vic Harris, by Will Clark

Vic Harris. A name that should be etched on a plaque in the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. Anyone who leads his teams to eight pennants (six of them consecutively), while winning close to 70 percent of the games (Joe McCarthy, who is enshrined in the Hall, won eight pennants, but not quite 62 percent of his games), logically speaking, is a “no brainer” for Hall honors. Heck, it’s difficult enough to win even one time, but eight? That’s very rarefied atmosphere stuff. (Sure, Casey Stengel and John McGraw won 10 pennants, and Connie Mack  won nine, but none of them even won 60 percent of their games.)

Additionally, you’re also talking about a guy who had a lifetime batting average of .307 for that 25-year career, which is pretty darn good. It isn’t easy maintaining that kind of average for that long. Oh by the way, he also batted .364 against MLB pitching, so he was “the real deal.”

Nobody in Negro League baseball history comes close to Harris’ eight pennants won (no MLB manager EVER won six straight). He also played in six East-West All-Star games, and managed the East squad eight times (four more than Oscar Charleston, who ranks second on the list of East-West All Star game managers).  All in all, it’s high time that Vic Harris receives his long overdue Hall of Fame honors. 

Winfield Welch

Winfield Welch, from a 2015 article at

The headline is unequivocal in its assertion. The Sept. 16, 1944, issue of the New York Amsterdam News, one of the country’s leading African-American newspapers of the time, makes no bones about it.

“Baseball’s Top Pilot Is Winfield Scott Welch,” blares the headline.

And why shouldn’t the Black media have made that conclusion? Welch, who lived and breathed the national pastime, had just guided the Birmingham Black Barons — a squad with no superstars or future Hall of Famers — to their second Negro American League pennant using guile, strategy and a knack for getting the most out of his players.

In the days before the integration of America’s sport, when the country’s African-American baseball talent was forced to form their own teams and leagues if they wanted to pursue the game they loved, Winfield Welch was on top of the world, a so-called player’s manager, one who endeared himself to all his hardball charges.


Dick Lundy

Dick Lundy, by Alex Painter

Dick Lundy, also known as “King Richard,” enjoyed a baseball career that spanned over two decades, spent mostly with the Bacharach Giants in Atlantic City, N. J. A dynamic ballplayer in every sense, the switch-hitting Lundy sported a .319 career batting average, logging more hits than other shortstop in Negro Leagues history excepting a pair of Hall of Famers in Willie Wells and John Henry ‘Pop’ Lloyd.

As prolific of a hitter Lundy clearly was, his defense somehow dazzled even brighter; possessing perhaps the best infield arm in Negro Leagues history, paired with incredible defensive range, he registered the fourth-most defensive “runs saved” of any player in any position.

It was his natural leadership ability and cerebral approach to the game that led him to be named team captain/manager for the Giants while Lundy was still in his mid-20s. Lundy led the Giants to consecutive Eastern Colored League titles in 1926 and 1927 as player/manager (though his Giants lost to the Chicago American Giants both years). In 1934, Lundy was named the manager of the East All-Star team, with the likes of Josh Gibson, Oscar Charleston, Satchel Paige, Rap Dixon, Jud Wilson and Cool Papa Bell rounding out the roster. They defeated the West All-Star team in a 1-0 ballgame. 

Lundy continued to manage after his playing career was over, taking the reins of Newark Eagles from 1938-1940, finishing just two games behind the Homestead Grays for the league championship in 1939. Complimenting his stellar play on the field, only six managers in Negro Leagues history won more games than “King Richard.” 

Gentleman Dave Malarcher, by Ryan Whirty

Gentleman Dave Malarcher is my all-time favorite baseball player, regardless of color, league or era. Aside from the fact that he was born and raised in small-town Louisiana, about on hour or so from where I live, Malarcher was a Renaissance man who graduated from college, wrote poetry, became a civic and community leader, served in the military and combined grace, sportsmanship, competitiveness and braininess, on and off the field.

He went from a dependable, steady infielder who learned about teaching, coaching and winning baseball from the feet of the master himself, Rube Foster. As a Chicago American Giant in the 1920s, Malarcher soaked up every lesson Rube imparted, so much so that when Foster’s life began a tragic slide downward from health issues, Dave was able to step up and fill such massive shoes.

As a manager himself, Malarcher played Rube’s brand of hustling, crafty, savvy, gritty “small ball,” and, in so doing he guided the American Giants to three league pennants and two straight Negro World Series titles. He skippered the storied franchise almost continuously from 1926-34, always preserving Rube Foster’s legacy while also forging one of his own.

Lon Goodwin

Lon Goodwin, by Bill Staples Jr.

Alonzo “Lonnie, Lon, L.A.” Goodwin is a worthy candidate for the National Baseball Hall of Fame for his unparalleled career as the only Negro Leagues manager to make his mark in Asia before WWII.

His West Coast ballclubs dominated teams of all ethnicities during the 1910s, and he managed the perennial favorites in the California Winter League during the 1920s. He then led several Transpacific Goodwill Tours of the Philadelphia Royal Giants to Asia and the Hawaiian Islands during the late 1920s and early 1930s. Historians on both sides of the Pacific credit Goodwin’s tours as major influences for the start of professional Japanese baseball in 1936. Goodwin led teams on international goodwill tours in 1927, 1931, 1932-33 and 1933-34, traveling for an estimated 517 days and over 42,000 miles.

A native Texan, as a player Goodwin competed as a pitcher and shortstop with the Austin Reds, and later joined the Waco Yellow Jackets where was teammates with Andrew “Rube” Foster. Notable players who competed on Goodwin’s teams include: Oscar Charleston, Andy Cooper, Raleigh “Biz” Mackey, “Bullet Joe” Rogan, “Rap” Dixon, Walter “Dobie” Moore, George Carr, Carlyle Perry, Lemuel Hawkins, Hurley McNair, Frank Duncan, O’Neal Pullen and Connie Day.


With that, how does the Hall of Fame itself view the possibility of inducting more Negro League managers? And what might the process of selection and voting look like pertaining to such candidates? I inquired to the Hall of Fame for comments on or explanations regarding such matters, and, with the assistance of Director of Communications Craig Muder, here are some thoughts by Jon Shestakofsky, the institution’s Vice President of Communications & Education.

(I included the entire comment verbatim because I was worried that any paraphrasing by me might misinterpret or omit key details or lose the important nuances of such an important, complex process.)

Said Shestakofsky:

“The Hall of Fame does not play a role in the nominating or voting process for election. While retired players are first evaluated by members of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America, retired managers move straight to the Era Committee process. Each Era Committee ballot is constructed by a veteran group of baseball writers called the Historical Overview Committee and consists of 10 players, managers, umpires and executives whose greatest contributions to baseball were realized during one of four time periods.

“A 16-member Era Committee then convenes to consider the candidates on the ballot, with any candidate receiving a vote from at least 12 members of that committee (75 percent) gaining election to the Hall of Fame, to be formally inducted during ceremonies the following July.

“All former managers with 10 or more years in baseball, and retired for at least five years (with the exception of candidates who are 65 years or older, who are eligible six months following retirement) – including those from pre-Negro Leagues, the Negro Leagues and Major League Baseball – remain eligible via the Era Committee process. Negro Leagues and pre-Negro Leagues candidates are next eligible for consideration in winter 2021 via the Early Baseball Era Committee.

“In addition to those Negro Leaguers elected via various Veterans Committees, the Hall of Fame convened a Committee on Negro Baseball Leagues, which selected nine candidates between 1971-77, and the Special Committee on Negro Leagues, which in 2006 elected 17 Negro Leaguers after a multi-year evaluation and voting process that included the foremost historians on the subject of African-American baseball.

This Committee’s work resulted in substantial research that provided new statistics and information about individual careers in the Negro Leagues and pre-Negro Leagues eras, which was utilized by experts in the topic in making their voting decisions. The newfound material from this wide-ranging research study further resulted in the publication of a book, Shades of Glory, which traces the dramatic history of Black baseball from the Civil War to present day.”

The Hall of Fame

I also asked about the lack of African-American managers, in general, in the Hall of Fame, and why more Black post-integration managers haven’t really come up for consideration. (One Facebook friend rightfully suggested Cito Gaston, for example, who won two World Series with the Blue Jays in 1992 and ’93.)

Shestakofsky offered the case of the legendary Frank Robinson, a second-generation, post-integration African-American Hall of Famer. Robinson presents an interesting case because, just like the aforementioned Negro Leaguer Dick Lundy, he excelled as both a player and manager.

Shestakofsky said:

“When considering Frank Robinson, who was inducted in 1982 during his sixth year as a big league manager, please note that each candidate’s entire contributions to the game are a part of Hall of Fame evaluation. For that reason, Robinson’s role as a trailblazing MLB manager is considered a significant part of his Hall of Fame legacy. While Black managers make up a relatively small percentage of total managers in Major League Baseball history, eligible candidates continue to be considered by the Era Committee processes as these groups consider all candidates for potential Hall of Fame election.”

This returns to the point about how many baseball greats, regardless of color or era, accumulated careers that included multiple roles — player, manager, executive, representative, etc. — that, taken collectively, support his or her candidacy and possible induction at Cooperstown.

In terms of segregation-era Black baseball, the example that immediately jumps out in Rube Foster himself, who played so many crucial roles in the development, popularity, viability and legacy of the game that he stands today as the Father of the Negro Leagues.

Sol White

Another already-inducted example is Sol White, who, over the span of several decades from the late-19th-century to the early-20th-century, excelled as a player, manager, team founder and, later on, as an author, journalist and historian.

And that brings us to the longstanding elephant in the room — no, not the Denver White Elephants, the continued lack of induction for Buck O’Neil.

Buck has a prestigious award named after him, and a permanent, bronze, life-size statue of him greets all visitors to the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum.

However, O’Neil has yet to be actually elected to the Hall as an inductee, which many fans and observers view as a near-tragic omission that must be rectified, post haste.


The Buck O’Neil statue

True, Buck O’Neil might not merit induction based solely on his career as a player, and he might not merit induction solely as a manager. He was certainly very capable and accomplished in each of those roles, but perhaps not enough to get over the election hump by themselves.

But Buck’s impact on the tradition and history and research of Black baseball history moves beyond his batting average or winning percentage. As an ambassador of the Negro Leagues and of baseball as a whole; as the driving force behind the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum; as a commentator and source for journalists; as the author of the seminal book, “I Was Right on Time”; as the first African-American scout in MLB history … his overarching role in the Negro Leagues and Black baseball’s preservation is absolutely undeniable. Buck more than merits induction under the tag of contributor or something similar.

Another such case from segregation-era Black baseball is, of course, the ubiquitous, the enigmatic, the incomparable Bud Fowler. The 19th great was truly a Swiss Army knife of America’s pastime, a guy who could do it all — and quite frequently did.


Bud Fowler

Fowler’s exploits are too numerous and storied to go into here. Suffice it to say, he was recently selected as SABR’s 2020 Overlooked 19th Century Base Ball Legend. While that designation hasn’t guaranteed eventual HOF induction, it did happen for one previously winner — third baseman Deacon White, who received the SABR honor in 2010 and was subsequently elected to the Hall in 2013.

Several of the other previous 19th Century Overlooked Legend recipients, such as Doc Adams (2014) and Jim Creighton (2019), have generated a groundswell of popular support for Hall membership, much like Fowler.

However the cases of Buck O’Neil and Bud Fowler will remain for another day …

Two final notes. First, another of my own personal Hall of Fame suggestions, Dizzy Dismukes, will hopefully be addressed in a later blog post, because in my mind, he was a next-generation Sol White — player, manager, journalist, scout — and as such deserves special mention at some point.

Second, as Kevin Deon Johnson pointed out, Seamheads has produced a quantitative listing of the best Negro League managers, by the numbers. Check it out here.