Finding Frank Grant

Every week I seem to come across another connection between New Jersey and baseball's past, sometimes a significant part of it or something that should be more well known than it is. The most recent find goes back to a Hall of Famer from the 19th Century -- and the game's segregated practices.

This spring, the Negro Leagues Baseball Grave Marker Project installed a stone on the previously unmarked resting place of Ulysses Franklin Grant, better known as Frank Grant -- perhaps the greatest black player of the 1800s. Born in Massachusetts, Grant died in New York City in 1937, but when pallbearers Sol White, Smokey Joe Williams and Nux James laid him to rest, it was at East Ridgelawn Cemetery in Clifton, N.J. The cemetery is not even 10 minutes from my house, so I took a drive over there.

Why Grant was buried in New Jersey is a mystery. He was poor, and so there was no headstone, but despite the lack of a marker, the location was preserved in cemetery records: Section 14, Block B, Row E, Number 6. And though articles written about Grant in 2006, when he was part of the Hall of Fame's largest induction class to date, said his grave would never be marked, that changed this year when Jeremy Krock and his group delivered the headstone. I don't know if it was a change of heart or a change in policy, but it's a welcome change. A player of Grant's historical signifigance should be honored and remembered with a headstone, at the very least.

From 1886-91, Grant played in integrated professional leagues in the Northeast. From Meriden, Ct., to Buffalo to Trenton to Harrisburg to Ansonia, Ct., Grant played (occassionally with Sol White as a teammate) in the Eastern League, International League (and later International Association), Middle States League, Eastern Interstate League, Atlantic Association and Connecticut State League. He was one of a handful of black players suiting up for white teams before segregation was more strictly practiced. In researching Grant's life, I found it interesting that once the International League forced Buffalo to cut ties with Grant, segregation became the norm, and when Jackie Robinson re-integrated what is referred to as Organized Baseball in 1946, he did so in the International League. In fact there may be a direct connection between Grant and Robinson from 1890, when Grant's Harrisburg Ponies may have come to Newark and Jersey City in Atlantic Association play, to 1946, when Robinson's Montreal Royals opened the season at Roosevelt Stadium in Jersey City. During the intervening 56 years, it may be that no black player suited up for an otherwise "white" team in a "white" or "Organized Baseball" league in New Jersey. (Grant, for one, did play in New Jersey often over the next two decades on all-black teams, either against other black clubs or in exhibition games against white teams.)

But that's just speculation. The full, detailed, day-by-day history of "outsider baseball," as writer and historian Scott Simkus refers to the players who weren't part of the Organized Baseball structure, may never be known because of the lack of records and contemporary coverage remaining today. But that doesn't mean we can't try, and Simkus and Gary Ashwell are among those doing noble work in digging up newspaper archives and other sources to put the pieces together. For a very detailed look at Grant's life, check out Brian McKenna's profile at SABR's Baseball Biography Project. Official MLB historian John Thorn also has two informative posts about Grant, one from 2006 and another from earlier this year. Each one goes into much more detail than I could hope to, at least not without several weeks of research or citing every sentence with a link back to their posts. (And for more on the Negro Leagues Baseball Grave Marker Project, here is a recent Chicago Tribune story and a New York Times article from last year that take a closer look at what Krock and his colleagues have done.)

Grant now rests in a quiet corner at East Ridgelawn, an 80-acre cemetery bordered by busy roads and divided by lanes allowing visitors to drive through the grounds. A large oak tree towers over the east end of Section 14, not far from a fence running along Fenlon Blvd. I wondered if the neighbors across the street knew of the famous ballplayer here beneath the lawn. Based on the photo accompanying a local story, I set out looking for a flat marker decorated with American flags. It didn't take me long to spot them across the undulating grounds, waving in the breeze. Dried, yellow grass from a recent mowing covered half of the inscription, but otherwise the stone looked new, but not fresh -- like it had been there for a few years, not a few months. I brushed the crusty blades of grass from the surface and took some pictures.

Other plots in the vicinity have headstones, but nothing within a few feet of Grant's grave. Though he must have "next-door neighbors" there, they lie in still-unmarked graves. I stood there a while wondering what the area looked like in 1937 and how it came to be Grant's final resting place. What did Sol White -- who died in 1955 and is buried on Staten Island -- and Smokey Joe Williams think of bringing their former teammate (in White's case) and friend to the Garden State?

As I walked back to my car, I figured I'll check in on Grant every so often, just to make sure he's not forgotten anymore and that Krock's efforts to have Grant's gravesite recognized are appreciated.

There used to be a ballpark: Hinchliffe Stadium

Bordering Maple Street, Paterson

Here, the ghosts of past indiscretions -- others' indiscretions -- still play. Tucked into a corner of Paterson, New Jersey, stands a massive stadium now overgrown with more than just grass and weeds. Trees sprout from the bleachers, shrubs grow on the benches. It should be hard to miss, such a huge multipurpose arena that stretches two blocks in one direction. But it's nestled into a hill, never appearing more than a story high, tucked behind a four-story school that looms over it like a fortress.

Not far from another corner lies one of New Jersey's great natural and industrial landmarks, the Great Falls of the Passaic, a spot of historical significance in the life of Alexander Hamilton and in the industrial history of America. But from the falls, Hinchliffe Stadium looks like another abandoned industrial relic, a dilapidated warehouse complex or a facade fronting a high school football field.

At one time, that's what Hinchliffe was, home to Paterson Eastside High School teams. It's where Larry Doby played before the Newark Eagles signed him, setting the stage for his Hall of Fame career that began with the Cleveland Indians.

Grafitti and turnstiles

Now, the stadium lies in crumbling decay. A walk down Maple St. allows for a peak into vandalized restrooms and gated entryways, the white of the stadium walls nearly blinding in the sun, yet splashed with the color of graffiti on nearly every open space within arm's reach. Curiously, the spray-painting Picassos seemed to have left the outside facade as pristine as the day the stadium opened, 75 years ago this September, when a coordinated effort under the cover of night could clearly have allowed an adept artist the opportunity to leave his mark there as well. Perhaps they did, only to have their efforts plastered over, but it is inside where their work remains, giving Hinchliffe the appearance of a plausibly functional structure upon first glance, saving its true identity and sad state of decay only for those who take the time to venture closer.

Hinchliffe Stadium ticket windows

The ornate tiles marking the ticket windows and the bronze reliefs of track and field athletes of various pursuits preserve time and tag the stadium as a great multi-use facility, one that regularly and easily hosted baseball, football, soccer, track and field, boxing, concerts and any number of other forms of entertainment and recreation. It's not hard to imagine passing by the gates on a hot summer night 50 or 60 years ago and hearing the roar of the crowd flow over the walls into the streets of Paterson.

I walked the length of Maple St. along the outer wall of the stadium. At the parking area at the bottom, I took the path that led to the overlook at the falls, the stadium blending into its surroundings more with each step I took. Looking back from the falls, the stadium was a simple white wall running up the block, a grove of trees stretching to meet it at the lowest corner. As I returned to my car, I followed a path at this point and found the lower end of the stadium closed off by merely a chain-link fence. Here my view was uninterrupted, save for the metal strands of the fence and the piles of brush and the growing weeds and saplings along the boundary. I stood at the far turn of the track, a light dusting of snow covering the Astroturf field, a blue shipping container somewhere near midfield, perhaps abandoned after a cleanup attempt or maybe the last remnant of what could have been the stadium's last, most recent purpose: storage, or a parking lot of sorts.

There used to be a ballpark

There is a movement backed by New Jersey's representatives in Congress to have the Great Falls Historic District established as a National Park, Hinchliffe Stadium included. Perhaps someday, the stadium can be cleaned up, renovated to an extent, re-opened for tours or maybe even games once again. Any refurbishment would serve as an adequate reminder, a fitting tribute to those who performed there, from Doby and Josh Gibson and Satchel Paige to Duke Ellington and Lou Costello and the high school students who played on that field for decades.

Today, if you go there and look out on the overgrown field and dilapidated bleachers, you can imagine the ghostly figures rounding the bases, the fans leaping to their feet to cheer, the sun sinking behind the school on the hill to the west. Hinchliffe Stadium feels old. It feels important and poignant, yet it also feels dirty and disgusting, the acrid smell of decay and neglect -- of disrespect -- having seeped into the cracks in the concrete and overwhelming what remains of the structure. What could be a venerated landmark in the history of New Jersey, the progress of America, instead remains just another boarded-up relic, another glaring example of disrespect and neglect.

New Negro league candiates for the Hall

WAY too long since I've posted.

Must ... update ... more ...

With the Baseball Hall of Fame announcing that it is considering players from the Negro leagues and before for enshrinement, New Jersey may see itself represented further in Cooperstown. Among the Negro leaguers are one-time Newark Eagle William Bell Sr., former manager of the Newark Dodgers and Eagles Dick Lundy, Eagles manager Raleigh "Biz" Mackey, Eagles co-owner Effa Manley, and Eagles player and manager George Suttles.

A partial and by-no-means complete (as far as I can tell) list of Hall of Famers with Jersey ties include:

Those born here
Goose Goslin
Billy Hamilton
Joe Medwick

Those who died here
Dan Brouthers
Larry Doby
Harry Wright

Those who played here
Yogi Berra (Newark Bears)
Monte Irvin (Newark Eagles)
Ray Dandridge (Newark Eagles)
Leon Day (Newark Eagles)
Willie Wells (Newark Eagles)

I'm hoping to do more research on the history of New Jersey baseball, but I've got so many other various little side projects like that, I don't know when I'm going to get to it. Perhaps once I become independently wealthy and no longer have to work a regular job.