Meet the Real Joe Black: An Inspiring Life - Baseball, Teaching, Business, Giving
172
Meet the Real Joe Black: An Inspiring Life - Baseball, Teaching, Business, Giving
172Hardcover
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781440171208 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | iUniverse, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 05/15/2010 |
| Pages: | 172 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.90(w) x 9.10(h) x 0.80(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Meet the Real Joe Black
An Inspiring Life - Baseball, Teaching, Business, GivingBy Steven Michael Selzer
iUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2010 Steven Michael Selzer and Martha Jo BlackAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4401-7119-2
Chapter One
What Goes Around Comes Around
My late father, Nathan Selzer, owned an auto body shop in our town, Plainfield, New Jersey. As is always the case, the shop was located in the poorest neighborhood adjacent to the railroad tracks. The shop had a yard full of wrecked cars next to it. Right next to the yard was a very modest house where a family lived, the Black family, composed of two parents and six children. The children would often play outside and always greeted my father with a friendly smile and wave, which he would return.
One summer day, as my father was leaving work to go home, he spotted young Joe Black, age ten, throwing rocks against the front stoop of his house on East Fourth Street. This was a common activity for Joe, who greeted my father in the usual way. My father smiled back, but instead of waving, he raised his left arm and with a flipping motion tossed an object into the air toward Joe. The young boy followed the flight of what he could make out only as a white sphere. When it came down toward him, he instinctively caught it and stared at it for a moment. He realized that this was the first real baseball he had ever touched. Joe looked up to thank my father. Too late. Nathan Selzer was down the road.
Young Joe Black slept with that ball for a year. He went on to become a major league pitcher, Rookie of the Year in the National League, and the first black man ever to win a World Series game when he pitched the Brooklyn Dodgers to victory over the rival New York Yankees in the first game of the 1952 World Series. It was a dream come true for him. His roommate on the Brooklyn Dodgers, Jackie Robinson, became a good friend, as did his catcher, Roy Campanella, who had also been a teammate on the Baltimore Elite Giants in the Negro leagues.
Joe told me that story only about ten years ago. He wanted me to know since he figured my father had never told it to me, because my father wanted only to do good deeds, not to be acknowledged for them. That was my father's reputation, he said. It was true; my father had never told me or anyone, to the best of my knowledge, about Joe and the ball.
Chapter Two
In the Beginning
Joseph and Martha Black moved in the 1920s from the South to the North for the new day and the new jobs that were available in the more industrialized urban cities. They had heard of opportunities in factories instead of in fields. They had fifth- and sixth-grade educations, respectively. Their migration carried them to Plainfield, New Jersey, a small residential/industrial city located thirteen miles from Newark and twenty-four miles from New York City. In Plainfield, they raised six children-Ruby Elizabeth, Leola, Joseph Jr., Alvin, Phyllis, and Allean.
Mr. Black was an auto mechanic who had never been given the opportunity in the workplace to become a master at his trade. Because of prejudice, he could only find employment pumping gas or sweeping out service stations. Those work opportunities became so scarce that in 1934, the Black family survived only because of the National Relief Act, an early form of welfare.
Because of her limited education, Joe's mother helped support the family by taking in laundry and doing domestic work in the homes of several prominent white families. Both parents kept their disappointments to themselves and gave time to the family. Martha Black had only an elementary school education but was, according to her son Joe, "a heavyweight in mother wit and common sense." Joe's sister Phyllis, three years younger, noted that their mother had no book learning but was loaded with street and common sense. Chores were assigned to all the children, and they were constantly reminded to look out for and help one another. Joe commented later, "Household assignments were our early introduction to responsibility. And although we would mumble/grumble as we performed the tasks, we enjoyed doing them because they made us feel like necessary 'cogs' in the family."
When Martha Black came home from a hard day's work, she always took the time to ask each of the children, "What did they teach you in school today?" If any child sought the easy way out by saying, "Nothing," that child, Joe said, "Would have a stammering good time trying to explain how you can sit in a classroom for six hours and not learn anything."
The Plainfield school system had a practice at that time, whether intentional or not, of placing most black males in Industrial Arts and black females in Home Economics once they reached high school. Joe completed his first day in high school in a disgruntled mood. He had been assigned to auto mechanics, basic arithmetic, and industrial courses. He explained to his mother that he would probably fail some classes because he did not like the subjects. She said, "Let's go see the principal tomorrow."
Joe recounted what happened:
The next day I was embarrassed as I walked to school with my mother. My peers, friends, and strangers were looking at me with that all-knowing grin on their faces because a parent coming to school usually meant that you were in trouble. We were invited into the principal's office, and he was courteous, but not convincing, as he attempted to explain that I had been assigned shop classes to prepare me better for the work world, since in all probability I would not be going to college. Wow! He shouldn't have said that. My mother stood up and maximized her five feet, eight inches and 180 pounds, looked the principal straight in the eyes, and pointed her finger as she told him, "Don't you tell me how poor we are, or what's gonna happen to my children-you just put Joe back in those classes with those rich kids, or it's going to be me and you." The principal flushed, but he recognized that my mother meant business, and as he ushered us to the door, he said, "We'll see what we can do." Needless to say, that was my last day as an Industrial Arts student. I was transferred to another tract, which included college preparatory courses. That evening while we were having supper, my mother reminded us that she would always be there if we had a problem but not to let anyone make us feel inferior. "You ain't no better than anybody else," she said, "and ain't nobody better than you."
Joe's mother's words, which she repeated often, became a mantra of self-esteem. He never did have a problem with the other half of the equation. There was never even a hint of arrogance about Mr. Joe Black throughout a lifetime of successes and well-deserved prominence. He needed no reminders that we all are in this world together, and he felt we owed it to each other to be respectful. According to his sister Phyllis, he was a great believer in humility. She said they were all taught that "the Lord can take away what he gave you when you overdo."
Chapter Three
The Rocky Road to the Big Leagues
The route to Major League Baseball was long and arduous for Joe Black. At Plainfield High School, Joe had excelled after he developed as a player. He started out as a catcher. He explained why:
Because my parents had limited spendable income, I told the coach that I was a catcher. You see, I didn't own a baseball glove, and the school provided the catcher's equipment, including a mitt. I tried to fudge it. I recall donning the catching equipment and convincing myself I would not blink when the batter swung at a pitch. I was asked to be the first catcher during batting practice. I squatted behind the plate and, if the pitch was within my range, I would catch it in the mitt. But, if it was to my right, I'd reach out and catch it with my bare hand. Other players gathered around the batting cage, laughing at my strange catching demonstration. After a few minutes, Coach Liddy asked me if I had ever caught before. Fortunately, Coach Liddy understood and taught the enthusiastic young man the fundamentals.
Young Joe made the junior varsity team. He would improve his game in the city's summer league. The director of the league, Mr. Vic Liske, and a former teacher of Joe's, in later years said, "Joe was completely gung-ho about baseball. Every morning he would help me with the equipment and on days when his team wasn't scheduled to play he would sit around hoping that one of the teams would need a substitute. His enthusiasm and love for baseball was really something else."
As a player, Joe had natural talent and could play most positions. In the Junior League, he had played third base, first base, and catcher. He had an outstanding arm and was a good hitter.
It was Joe's dedication to his beloved sport, baseball, that made him realize his fondest dream-becoming a Major Leaguer. Joe mentioned that among his memories about high school baseball is that he caught a glimpse of Albert Einstein when the team went to Princeton for a game. How many high school ballplayers would even take notice?
On a rare day when his father was able to see him play, he learned a very valuable lesson during the game. As he told it:
This is not the best way to learn you are a real part of a group because it was as the result of a fight. We were leading Nutley High in the sixth inning and it was my good fortune to get on base via a hit. I tingled with excitement when I saw the coach flash the bunt sign to the next hitter. Sure, I was six feet and one hundred ninety pounds, but I believed that I was a speedster on the base paths. The batter bunted the ball towards third base; when the fielder threw it to first, I didn't break stride as I rounded second and 'motored' toward third. I slid safely into the bag, but I guess my momentum made me bang into the third baseman. As I was brushing the dirt from my uniform, the third baseman jumped on my back; my teammate, Don Schmidt, who was coaching third, rushed over and pulled the player to the ground. That was the signal for five minutes of pushing, pulling, and punching among the two teams. When calm was restored, the umpire threw Schmidt and the third baseman out of the game. Some may ask, what's the big deal? It's a big deal when you are the only black ballplayer on the field and your teammates go to "Duke City" to show you that we are a team.
In high school Joe did well academically. Learning took a commitment that his mother had ingrained in him. He was a star athlete in football and baseball and received several scholarship offers. He went all out both in academics and athletics. He did not believe in failure and playing Major League Baseball was his dream. Two of the players on the baseball team were signed by professional teams. Joe explained:
"During my senior year, I eagerly awaited baseball season. But my anxiety and joy turned to hatred, frustration, and a deep-rooted hurt. Yes, some members of the 1942 Plainfield High baseball team were signed by baseball scouts, but I wasn't one of them. A scout simply said: 'I'm sorry, Joe, but colored guys don't play in the Big Leagues.'"
Joe had never really thought about that issue up until this point in his young life. He thought the scout was joking. That night he went through his baseball scrapbook. Every face he looked at-Lou Gehrig, Mel Ott, Paul Waner-all the Major League Baseball players were white. Joe remembered shredding his book. He did keep one newspaper picture of his baseball hero, Detroit Tiger Hank Greenberg, hitting a long home run. That was all that was left of his scrapbook. His dream seemed to be shattered:
"At eighteen years of age I could not understand why I wasn't allowed to play America's number one pastime, baseball. My grandparents and parents were born in this country. I was born here. I attended school and saluted the flag as I pledged allegiance. I sang the National Anthem and later 'God Bless America.' Now, if that didn't make me an American, then what did?"
Joe's mother, Martha Black, noticed the change in Joe's attitude including his acting cold toward some white friends and acquaintances. She asked him about his behavior. "I explained that I was still mad because white people would not let me play in the World Series. My mother listened and then told me, 'Sonny (my nickname), I don't know what white folks you talking about, but it sure can't be those children you go to school with.'"
His mother's common sense reasoning made him realize he was not thinking properly. Gradually, he came out of his shell and enthusiastically played baseball on several racially mixed teams over the summer. He also got a job at a printing company, working the graveyard shift so he could play ball in the Twilight League.
Chapter Four
College, Interrupted by the ArmyJoe Black made his family proud by attending Morgan State College (now University) in Baltimore in the fall of 1942. His entire family escorted him the three blocks from home to the railway station. His academic and athletic skills had earned a scholarship (actually a football scholarship, since Morgan had no baseball team, which was common at that time).
As he waited for the train, he was both proud and nervous. His mother was teary eyed. None of her children had ever left home before. She talked so she wouldn't cry.
"Sonny, we wish we could have given you lots of clothes to take with you, but you know we don't have a lot of money. Besides you're not going down there to be pretty. You're going to college to study and learn something. You listen to those teachers, 'cause I want to see some good report cards."
At Morgan State Joe did play football but he was a serious student. He made honorable mention All-Conference. He liked the motto of the 1942 team: "Be like the ivy on the wall, together cling or together fall."
One of the football coaches, Talmadge "Marse" Hill, taught Health Education as well. As a teacher in particular he gained Joe's respect and admiration because he spoke with eloquence and flair. Joe observed, "I'd sit in his classes and stare at him and silently wish that one day I could stand before an audience and articulate like him. That was a strange daydream for a man who was getting a C in Speech class because I couldn't stand in front of a class and talk. Also my vocabulary included youthful Jersey expressions such as 'Youse guys' and 'whatcha gonna do.'"
Years later, Joe Black was invited to be the guest speaker in 1974, when Morgan had its formal dedication of the Talmadge L. Hill Fieldhouse. This was a joyful event for Joe and was tremendously appreciated by Coach Hill, who sent Joe a letter which Joe treasured. A portion of the letter reads:
Dear Joe: On Dedication Day, October 25, you provided me with the greatest thrill of my life. I was completely overwhelmed by your articulate and soul-stirring dedicatory address. It was most thrilling to me because every word you uttered was filled with intense sincerity, glowing warmth, and indices of high reverence. Among the myriad flow of graduates of our Alma Mater in the past four decades, you stand out as a living example of the high aspirations, high desires, and high hopes that every coach or instructor envisions. Joe, you have wrought well. You have worn your cloak of fame modestly, and woven in and through the matrix of your garment shine the iridescent threads of dedication, determination, and devotion. Joe, I salute you as one of the most beloved scholar-athletes of my career. /s/Talmadge L. Hill
Joe Black always remembered the importance of Morgan to his education and his life. He gave back to the University in many ways, not simply financially but of himself. Even after Joe's life ended, the benevolent Bill Cosby gave two concerts at Morgan to raise funds for scholarships in the name of his dear friend.
Just before his sophomore year at Morgan, Joe received a letter that read: "Greetings from the President of the United States." It was notification that he was being drafted into the Army for duty in World War II. He spent two and a half years in Army khaki before being honorably discharged in 1946. Joe performed all of his military stateside.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Meet the Real Joe Black by Steven Michael Selzer Copyright © 2010 by Steven Michael Selzer and Martha Jo Black. Excerpted by permission.
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Table of Contents
Contents
Foreword by William H. Cosby Jr., Ed.D....................viiIntroduction by Martha Jo Black....................1
Chapter 1 What Goes Around Comes Around....................3
Chapter 2 In the Beginning....................5
Chapter 3 The Rocky Road to the Big Leagues....................9
Chapter 4 College, Interrupted by the Army....................13
Chapter 5 The Negro Leagues....................17
Chapter 6 A Step Closer to the Major Leagues....................23
Chapter 7 Meeting Jackie....................27
Chapter 8 The Majors, Finally....................35
Chapter 9 The Next Dream-Teaching That Counted....................69
Chapter 10 Happy Hour....................75
Chapter 11 Lessons Learned from Our Teacher, Mr. Black....................79
Chapter 12 The Difference between Wrestling and "Rasslin"....................87
Chapter 13 Teaching Teenagers How to Manage Anger....................91
Chapter 14 Teaching Us the Old Native American Prayer....................93
Chapter 15 A Major Leaguer as Junior High Baseball Coach....................95
Chapter 16 The End of Joe's Formal Teaching Career....................99
Chapter 17 The Greyhound Years....................103
Chapter 18 "By The Way"....................109
Chapter 19 Staying in Touch with His Students....................125
Chapter 20 BAT....................127
Chapter 21 Joe Garagiola and Joe Black....................131
Chapter 22 Continuing Education for Us....................137
Chapter 23 Mentor/Mentee-The New Relationship....................141
Chapter 24 Lessons Remembered and Applied....................145
Chapter 25 The Memorial Celebration of a Great Man....................149
Author's Notes....................155
Endnotes....................157
Acknowledgments....................159