Some people—many people—will see that I have selected Roy Campanella as the second subject of my series and object that his story is far from “forgotten.”
I would reply that they are wrong.
Sure, any student of baseball history, as well as many casual observers, can tell you a few things about the man known affectionately as “Campy”—the five World Series appearances, three National League Most Valuable Player Awards (which was, at the time, unprecedented), and the 242 home runs. The fact that he spent the last 35 years of his life confined to a wheelchair.
However, there is so much more than that to the story of Roy Campanella.
Roy was born Nov. 19, 1921, in Philadelphia, to John and Ida Campanella. John Campanella’s parents were of Italian descent; Ida was Black. The neighborhood the Campanellas initially lived in was known, ironically enough, as Nicetown.
It was anything but nice; it was, in fact, one of the worst areas of Philadelphia.
Roy’s parents were poor; all five of the Campanella children began earning money just as soon as they were able, in order to help their hard-working parents make ends meet.
By the age of nine, young Roy was cutting grass, delivering milk and newspapers on routes, and shining shoes to help the family put food on the table.
Perhaps it was then that Roy’s discipline and toughness—attributes that would boost him time and again as he grew older—began to develop.
At a very early age, Campanella developed a squat, powerful physique, while exhibiting remarkable gifts on the baseball diamond. The precocious teen was such a prodigy that by the tender age of 15—fifteen!—he had found a new way to help support the family:
He became a professional baseball player, the only place they would sign him, the Negro Leagues, as a catcher.
Campanella first started catching for his Simon Gratz High School team. This was not because of his physical attributes, but rather, his fortuitous realization that no one else wanted the position.
His instincts told him that becoming a catcher would be the surest way to make the team.
He did not play high school ball for very long. In 1937, Campanella joined a semi-pro Black team, the Bacharach Giants. In so doing, he relinquished the remainder of his high school eligibility.
It did not matter. The following year, at 16, Campy was inked by the Baltimore Elite Giants, one of the very best teams the Negro Leagues had to offer. A new teammate, Othello Renfroe, called Campy “the biggest 15-year-old boy I ever saw in my life.”
However, Campanella didn’t see himself playing baseball for a career.
"I remember I felt so lost," he told Dodgers biographer Peter Golenbock a year after his retirement. "I had no idea in the world this would be my profession. Truthfully, I wanted to be an architect."
Roy quickly got over his “lost” feeling and threw himself into baseball with remarkable zeal. He would play as many as four ballgames in a single day!
And though he was playing a game that he loved, his burgeoning reputation as an "Iron Man," despite the inevitable dings suffered behind the plate, was more financial than anything else.
“You didn’t get hurt when you played in the Negro Leagues,” he would explain years later. “You played no matter what happened to you because if you didn’t play, you didn’t get paid.”
Campy’s stellar play made him a much sought-after commodity on the barnstorming circuit. He ended up playing winter ball in Mexico, the Caribbean, and Latin America.
“I never thought about the big leagues, playing in it,” he confided to Golenbock. “Never.”
He just didn’t know how wrong he was.
After a stint in Venezuela in 1946, Campanella was summoned to Brooklyn by Branch Rickey, the Dodgers general manager.
Though Jackie Robinson had already been signed to a professional contract with Brooklyn in Oct. 1945 and was being groomed to be the first Black player in the modern Major Leagues, Rickey was determined to integrate all levels of baseball.
Rickey signed Campanella and another black player, pitcher Don Newcombe, to play with Nashua, N.H., the Brooklyn farm team in the Class B New England League.
Nashua’s roster included aging first baseman-manager Walter Alston, who would later skipper the Dodgers for 23 years and make the Hall of Fame in 1983.
Campy and Newk were the first Blacks ever in the New England League.
Campanella had made around $500 a month in the Negro Leagues; he accepted a pay cut to less than $200 a month at Nashua in 1946.
“Roy of course was better than a Class B player,” Alston stated emphatically. “But he knew why he was there. He was part of Rickey’s plan to begin integrating baseball. He knew he was going to start something important.”
It meant a steep pay cut for Campanella, but the chance to help make baseball history was too tempting to pass up, and so, he accepted.
Campanella moved up in 1947, batting .290 and being voted the Eastern League’s Most Valuable Player. He even managed a game after Alston (who had also been promoted, as manager) was thrown out by the umpire.
In that contest, Campanella used Newcombe as a pinch-hitter; Newk slugged a game-tying homer. Campy managed his team from a 5-2 deficit to a 7-5 victory.
Campanella thought he would spend the 1948 season as the Dodgers catcher, but Rickey seized his opportunity to integrate the American Association instead, signing Roy to a $5,000 contract with Brooklyn but sending him down to St. Paul after only three games—while giving Campanella a $1,500 raise for his troubles.
Still, Roy wasn’t exactly happy about the move.
“I ain’t no pioneer,” he grumbled. “I’m a ballplayer.”
At St. Paul, Campanella batted .325 and hit 13 homers in 35 games. At the end of June, Rickey called him up to the Dodgers. Roy was a part-time catcher for the balance of the year.
The following season, 1948, at the age of 26, Campanella became the regular Dodgers catcher. It was a position he would keep for 10 years.
Campanella leaned on Rickey to help him gain acceptance, until it sank in that he would have to earn his own respect.
“One of the main things (Branch Rickey) taught me: I had to get all of the white pitching staff to respect my judgment in accepting signs,” Campanella admitted after his career ended.
Along with the three MVP awards (won in 1951, ’53, and ’55), Campanella was the subject of almost universal acclaim, including this heady comment from no less than Ty Cobb, one of the original five members of the Baseball Hall of Fame:
“Campanella will be remembered longer than any catcher in baseball history.”
In the blink of an eye, everything was seemingly over.
Keep in mind, even star ballplayers typically had side jobs in the '50s and '60s. It was the only way to make ends meet.
Campanella had bought a liquor store in Harlem, which thrived. It was just over an hour's drive from his home in Glen Cove, Long Island.
Campanella and his wife, Ruthe, made the commute faithfully each day, trying to build something that would sustain the family after Roy’s playing days were over—which he knew was going to be soon, from the accumulation of injuries that were sapping him of his resplendent skills.
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