Here’s another Kansas City ramble. I’ve always been a baseball fan, and a bit of a history buff and an early reader of Negro League Baseball histories. Back in the day, there was only one really good work out there, a book by Robert Peterson called Only the Ball Was White. I wrote a song based on it, and it appeared on my first band’s first record, the eponymous Bucket Number Six. The tune name-checked folks like Satchel Paige and Cool Papa Bell, but of course, the beauty of those players and others in the pre-integration years, is, that they played for the passion and the love of the game, while also carving a niche in African-American communities across the nation. Forced to be separate, they became more than equal; playing for the Kansas City Monarchs was like playing for the New York Yankees. 18th and Vine was hopping back in the day, I soaked up the stories and always respected these pioneers.
Because of that song, I received a lifetime pass to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, folks would send me Negro League baseball cards and such, and I wound up meeting people working the Negro League Museum in Kansas City, in its early days. Over the years, there has been much more written about those players, they are honored more regularly in Cooperstown, and this museum continues its legacy. This past year, I visited again and was pleased to see that the museum is thriving; crammed to the gills with guests and memorabilia. And, who knew Geddy Lee of Rush collected Negro League autographed baseballs? I followed a grandfather teaching his grandson all about Satch, Double Duty, Turkey, Cool Papa, and all the other legends that fill its aisles, paying tribute to the men and women who came before. I traded small talk with a couple groups of baseball aficionados, like myself, who were planning on catching the Royals-Phillies game that night. I spotted a man leading a group of African American youth on a tour, schooling them on the great Rube Foster, the Hall of Fame pitcher, manager, and pioneer of organized black baseball. Here you see me with Cool Papa on the field of legends.
After touring the museum, I drove down the block to check out the YMCA Paseo, which is also experiencing a resurgence. The YMCA? Why, you ask? Well, this is the spot where the aforementioned Rube Foster brought together a contingent of eight black baseball team owners on February 20, 1920, to found the Negro National League, the first organized black baseball league. It was very cool to see that this historic site is now the home of the Buck O’Neil Education and Research Center. There is a Negro Leagues Baseball Museum sponsored Field of Legends outside the building and a 25 foot by 50 foot mural of Buck O’Neill and seven legendary Kansas City Monarchs players including Ernie Banks, Willard Brown, Elston Howard, Buck O’Neil, Satchel Paige, Jackie Robinson and Hank Thompson. (Mural by Alexander Austin).
At the murals, I connected again to a father and son on their own baseball trip; they were about 45 and 70 years old, respectively, the former decked out in Cubs gear; the latter in 1980s White Sox garb. A lifelong Cubs fan, I commiserated nonetheless, considering the Sox epic fail of 2024. He nodded as if to say, “it’s okay, thank you for your sympathy.” Fellow Chicagoans, you know, it transcends North Side South Side. The son lived in Berwyn, where my brother was born. We talked about our home turf a bit and took each other’s pictures.
As I write this, I think about all these communities, of place, and sympathy. It’s fantastic to see how the Monarchs are lifted up across Kansas City and the baseball world, and especially cool how Buck O’Neil is honored. One of the great Americans, really, an ambassador for the game of baseball, always positive, a class act who never bemoaned the injustices he faced, but chose instead to rise above them. “I was right on time,” Buck used to say. Good karma to him and these heroes and all of us who visit, are reminded, and continue to learn.
Doug Hoekstra 