The Sad Tale of Alabama Pitts
By Michael Clark
On the evening of June 6, 1941, Edwin C. (Alabama) Pitts played
semi-pro ball for the Valdese (NC) mill team, playing center field
and hitting cleanup.
At 5 a.m. on June 7, he was lying in Valdese General
Hospital, a victim of a knifing by Newland LeFevers - or, perhaps,
of his own stubbornness. When Pitts died on that Saturday morning,
a fascinating chapter in baseball history was finally closed.
But baseball was never the same after Alabama
Pitts. By playing professional baseball - however brief his career
was destined to be - he made it possible for others to play the
game; he opened doors and made the game free. Pitts joined the Navy
at the age of 15, after his father and stepfather had both passed
away. He served three years, and, at the age of 19, he found himself
broke in New York City. He and a 20-year-old companion robbed, at
gunpoint, a grocery store, netting the grand sum of $76.25. Soon
thereafter the two were apprehended, and Pitts (after an agreement
with the court) plead guilty to second-degree robbery. Even though
the police thought Pitts was involved in other crimes, the judge
took into account the fact that he was under 21 and had not been
previously convicted, and sentenced him to Sing Sing Prison for
"not less than eight years nor more than 16 years." So Pitts became
a model prisoner at Sing Sing, and played athletics - drawing attention
of his warden, a man named Lawes, who believed in rehabilitation
at a time when most believed in locking doors and throwing away
keys.
Pitts prospered in football, baseball, basketball
and track, and when eligible for parole in 1935, Johnny Evers (of
Tinkers-Evers-Chance fame) was intrigued.
Evers was the general manager of the Albany Senators
in the International League. And, while it is trumpeted that Evers
believed in rehabilitation as deeply as Warden Lawes, one must assume
Evers also had a solid grasp of publicity. For, while Pitts was
still incarcerated, on May 22, 1935, it was announced that the 24-year-old
had signed a contract with the otherwise inept Albany team (destined
for last place at season's end) for $200 per month. He was to join
the hopelessly alcoholic Hack Wilson on a team that seemed designed
more for headlines than for baseball.
A problem arose immediately. International League
president Charles H. Knapp refused to approve the signing. He was
backed up in this decision by National Association of Professional
Baseball Leagues' president, Judge W.G. Bramham.
Bramham, writing of this decision, said the signing
of Pitts was "against the best interests of the game." But the public,
knowing a hero when they see one, said "hogwash." According to reports,
approximately 100 people greeted Pitts as he stepped off the train
in Albany. Oh yes. The date of his parole: June 6, 1935. Though
no one could possibly know it, the man who stepped off the train
for his debut was exactly six years away from his grand finale.
The next day, June 7, he was greeted by waves
of applause at Syracuse. Meanwhile, Evers was attacking. "I know
of no baseball regulation that would bar Pitts," Evers was quoted
as saying. Pitts' mother, Mrs. Erma Pitts Rudd, wrote a plea to
the crusty judge, begging him to reconsider his decision. Bramham
caved ... a bit. He agreed to submit the contract for consideration
by the N.A.'s Executive Committee, which consisted of Warren Giles,
who later became the president of the National League, but was president
of the Rochester International League club; J. Alvin Gardner, who
was president of both the Texas and Dixie Leagues; and Dan W. Hill,
who was president of the predominately North Carolina-based Piedmont
League.
This committee certainly didn't cave in. Despite
offers, editorials, phone calls, telegrams and messages (including
words of support for Pitts from Pepper Martin and Dizzy Dean of
the Cardinals), on June 12, by a telephone vote, the group sided
with the judge. But ... they left the door open for an appeal to
the Commissioner of Baseball, Judge Kennesaw Mountain Landis. The
New York Times, which had been putting information about the story
in the news sections of the paper, printed an editorial the following
day: "The decision was unfortunate in every way. The Association
president was wrong in his assumption that the public would resent
his inclusion in baseball. It is more likely to resent his exclusion."
The Times was correct.
In Otisville, N.Y., a merchant suffered a fatal
heart attack while arguing over the Pitts case. Pitts was offered
a job by Hal Roach, the legendary filmmaker. Even his 1930 stick-up
victim, John Costello, wrote a telegram supporting the distraught
would-be ballplayer. And Pitts, Evers and Warden Lawes appeared
on The Kate Smith Hour on NBC radio; Pitts refused to be paid for
his appearance on the show. (Ironically, the name "Kate Smith" was
to figure tragically into Pitts' life again six years later.)
The odds certainly were not in Pitts favor when
it came to an appeal. After all, Landis came into baseball with
a mandate for cleaning up the game. He'd banned the "Black Sox"
for fixing the 1919 World Series, even though they were exonerated
of any crimes. He was known for being extremely tough. In his decision,
written on June 17, 1935, he agreed with the actions of both Bramham
and the Executive Committee. But ... he ruled Pitts' contract should
be approved, and Pitts should be allowed to play - but only in games
that mattered. Landis wrote that Pitts was ineligible for exhibition
games, on the theory that the Albany team might be looking only
for a gate attraction. Interestingly, Landis said, while Pitts should
be allowed to play baseball, in order to encourage rehabilitation,
he drew the line on hiring ex-convicts in the front office. He said
that "character qualifications" should apply in that instance.
An overjoyed Pitts took the field for his first
professional game on June 23, 1935. A crowd of 7,752 saw him hit
two singles in five at-bats against two Jersey City pitchers. He
was an instant success, a certified champion - and the teams in
the league had the gate receipts to prove it. Unfortunately Pitts
was in over his head in Albany. He suffered from numerous injuries:
a shoulder bruise, a sprained finger, and, in August, a spike injury
that led to blood poisoning. For the season the young man hit .233
in 43 games, with three doubles. In addition, he was the league's
worst-rated outfielder, with a .911 fielding average and eight errors.
But, though he couldn't hit, he was a hit. The man was a certified
1930s superstar. His Albany manager, Al Mamaux, had planned a vaudeville
tour, but the warden nixed that concept. Nevertheless, Pitts knew
how to seize the moment. He signed a $1,500 contract with the Philadelphia
Eagles, coached by Lud Wray, for four exhibition games and four
regular season games. He ultimately played in just three, catching
two passes for 21 yards. Pitts was released and returned home to
Opelika, Ala. Eagles owner and new coach Bert Bell told the press
he'd love to have Pitts return for the '36 season but only if he'd
be willing to take a pay cut.
But the following spring Pitts announced he was
through with football, telling the press he'd earned $5,000 from
both sports, a large sum in those days (after all, the Depression
was still raging). He began the 1936 baseball season with Albany,
but by April 10, found himself in to York, PA, in the old New York-Pennsylvania
League, where he mustered only a .224 batting average - with six
doubles and two homers. That team was transferred to Trenton, NJ
on July 2; Pitts was released by Trenton before July closed. As
his star began to wane, Pitts career began to slide. In 1937 he
found himself in Winston-Salem, N.C., in the Piedmont League (Judge
Bramham's old stomping grounds). Pitts hit .278, but in only 27
games, and was released by the Winston-Salem club in June.
The story seemed to be over. The young man with
the golden future was another casualty of one of the baseball's
cruelest - you've got to hit the ball.
Pitts moved to the small Waldensian community
of Valdese, N.C. in 1937 and took a job in a local knitting mill.
There, amongst his co-workers, he met Miss Mary Walker, who hailed
from the Fallston area, south of Morganton near Shelby. Mary, born
May 13, 1921, was the daughter of Curtis and Callie London Walker.
Mary's mother died in 1926 at the age of 37. And, on March 31, 1937,
her father passed away at the age of 51. It is not known whether
Mary had any living relatives after her father's death; a gravestone,
located next to that of her parents in Fallston's Friendship United
Methodist Church cemetery is carved with the name Ruby L. Walker,
a birth date of June 9, 1925 and a death date of March 31, 1931.
Could this have been a sister?
It isn't hard to imagine that Pitts found in Valdese
the serenity his life had always been lacking. He played semi-pro
ball for Valdese and Lenoir mill-teams, and was, by all accounts,
still a very popular baseball player. But, in every other way, he
assumed a normal small town lifestyle. He coached the local high
school team, worked in the mill and formed fast friendships.
In 1938, Mary became pregnant, and on January
13, 1939 the couple's daughter, Patricia Ann, was born. Though Mary
was 18, her age was listed as 19, anticipating her birthday by five
months to the day. Perhaps this was unintentional; maybe the pair
thought 19 for her age looked better beside his age, which was 31.
Little is known of Pitts' life in 1939. But in
1940 the lure of professional baseball was too great for the star
to avoid. Hickory had formed a professional team in the Tar Heel
League in 1939, and finished fifth, just missing the playoffs. Manager
Woodrow Traylor needed someone to play outfield and, not coincidentally,
draw crowds.
So, in 1940, Alabama Pitts found himself 20 miles
away from his adopted home of Valdese, a member of the Hickory Rebels.
And he did well, putting up his best numbers as a pro ballplayer.
Over 64 games Pitts hit .302, with 14 doubles and 39 RBI. He also
swiped five bases.
Two of his former teammates remember the outfielder
as "a tough old bird." Al Kubski and Johnny Carr both remember his
hard-nosed approach to baseball. "He was a helluva ballplayer,"
Carr recalled. "He'd have been in the big leagues if he could've
hit the curve ball." And Kubski said that Pitts could do everything
except throw.
The three were roommates in Hickory, and both
considered themselves friends of the outfielder. "He was a loner,"
Kubski said, "but for some reason he took a liking to me." Carr
said that Pitts was "as nice a guy as you'd ever want to meet."
Both players told Pitts they'd seen him play in
the International League, a fact that impressed the outfielder:
"He kind of laughed," Kubski said, and added that "He never once
said anything about prison." Carr mentioned that the only past he
remembers Pitts conversing about in detail was his football past.
"He said he rode Bronko Nagurski (the Chicago Bears' great) 150
yards one day."
Still, bits of his past would intrude. "He'd walk
into a room, and his eyes would check the whole room," Kubski said.
Both Carr and Kubski recall Pitts as a ladies' man. "He had a way
with the girls," Kubski said. "He'd look around, and he always managed
to have the girls around him."
Both remember a fierce competitor who seemed to
believe that pain was a nuisance. For example, both noted that Pitts
wore nothing under his uniform - no sweatshirt, no jockstrap. "I
remember one time he slid into second," Kubski said, "and he got
a strawberry as big as my head. And I asked him, 'What are you gonna
do with that?' Well, he goes into the toilet and took out a roll
of paper, and slaps it on the thing, and let it absorb. When he
pulled it up it was all bloody and all, and he threw it away and
slapped another wad on it." Carr remembers the incident as well,
and said that he remembers him sliding on the wound the next day
as if it wasn't there.
One important thing was missing from his conversations
with his teammates. Carr said that, in the entire time he was with
Pitts, he never knew anything about the outfielder having a wife
or a daughter. Kubski confirmed this, but didn't think it too unusual.
"You just would have had to know him," Kubski said. "He really didn't
say much about anything."
In 1941 the Rebels folded for a season - actually,
the entire league disbanded. The team was to renter the pro ranks
in 1942, but Pitts wouldn't be with them.
In 1941, Pitts returned to millwork and to Valdese.
By all accounts his life was one of friendship and love. An editorial
in the Morganton News Herald said: "He had become Ed Pitts, 'one
of the boys' in the hosiery mill, with a wife and a child and all
the troubles and joys that might beset his fellow workers, and he
was measured not by something that was past but by the same standards
which measured the shortcomings and the good qualities of one of
their own men."
But there must have been demons. How much resentment
did he have for professional baseball? After all, he'd put up the
best numbers of his pro career and was still released on August
1. Here it was, a season later, and he's still working in the mill.
Was he bothered by that?
And, more importantly, was his family life as
ideal as might be suggested by the editorial? Why did he live in
a Hickory rooming house for $7 a week while his wife and year-old
daughter lived but 20 miles away? Why did he fail to mention either
of them to his roommates that summer?
Many of these questions might be answered by his
wife, Mary, and his daughter, Patricia. But, alas, too much time
has passed for anyone to remember where they might be found - if,
indeed, they are still alive. And many of his friends and teammates
on those Valdese squads have passed away or scattered too far to
locate.
So all we're left with are the facts of June,
1941.
On June 5, a House of David touring team visited
Morganton - 10 miles west of Valdese. Pitts played centerfield for
the House of David team, fielding flawlessly and hitting a home
run.
The next evening, June 6, Pitts played a game
for Valdese. The details of that game were lost in the more important
news the next day.
Sometime after the game, Pitts, teammate Reid
Suttle and Horace Tron went to Valdese most notorious roadhouse,
a service station/dance hall located at the swimming pool, just
outside the city limits of the town.
Around 3 a.m., Pitts - apparently quite drunk
- attempted to dance with a young lady, Miss Mildred Deal, of Valdese.
She had come to the club in the company of Miss Kate Smith, and
the two young ladies were escorted by cousins Roy and Newland LeFevers.
Newland LeFevers was dancing with Miss Deal when Pitts decided to
cut in.
According to the News Herald report: "Some difference
was heard in reports as to actual details and as to whether Pitts
was starting to hit LeFevers with his fist." What isn't in dispute
is that Newland LeFevers slashed Pitts with a knife, causing a four-inch
gash which severed the auxiliary artery in the ballplayer's right
armpit.
After the incident Suttle knocked down LeFevers
cousin, Ray. Newland, on the other hand, left immediately not to
be seen again in public for seven days. After his slight altercation
with the cousin, Suttle and Tron administered to their fallen friend.
Apparently the three tried to stop the bleeding with a tourniquet,
but to no avail. The two then rushed Pitts to Valdese General Hospital,
where it was reported that "he had bled as much as it is possible
for a person to bleed." According to the News Herald, Pitts told
the hospital personnel that "there was no fight and he was cut when
he attempted to break in on a dancing couple."
Two hours after he was cut, Alabama Pitts died.
It was 5 a.m., June 7, 1941. He was 30 years old.
LeFevers, a 23-year-old resident of Morganton,
remained at-large for seven days. J.P. Stilwell, the Valdese police
officer who conducted the investigation, must have known where the
young man was hiding. He told the press he was sure that the young
LeFevers would be apprehended as soon as the excitement died down.
Pitts was buried on June 8, 1941. The man who
"stepped from the spotlight of the sports world to become a hosiery
mill worker in the Waldensian city" four years previous drew an
estimated 5,000 people to pass by his casket in the small Valdese
funeral home. A brief service was conducted by Rev. M.I. Harris
of Valdese First Baptist Church, and then the body - followed by
a procession of 50 cars - traveled to Friendship United Methodist
Church in Fallston, a small community 20 or so miles south of Morganton
in Cleveland County. He was buried beside Mary's father, mother
and sister Ruby. The funeral was conducted by Rev. Sylvan S. Poet
of the Waldensian Presbyterian Church, and his pallbearers were
the Valdese teammates with whom he'd shared a field only a few hours
before his death - Will Bumgarner, Reid Suttle, Claude Owens, Harold
Pruitt, T.P. Baker and Louis Vinay. His half-sister, Miss Mildred
Rudd, and a cousin, Mrs. Lewis Green - both of Opelika, Ala. - were
in attendance.
Before their next game, against Morganton, the
Valdese players lined up, heads bare, eyes filled with tears, in
a silent salute to their center fielder.
LeFevers surrendered on June 14. He was represented
by Frank C. Patton, LeFevers had obtained not only one of the most
well-respected attorneys in Morganton; Patton was considered one
of the top lawyers in the entire state of North Carolina. In addition,
both Suttle and Roy LeFevers were charged with public fighting.
According to reports, Newland LeFevers was convicted
of murder. But he served only a few months before he was given an
unconditional pardon from Governor Broughton, who was swayed by
evidence that Pitts was quite drunk at the time, had forcibly grabbed
Miss Deal, and had raised his fist at LeFevers.
Newspapers from around the country noted the sad
end of Alabama Pitts. And then the country, and baseball (for the
most part) forgot about him. But without Alabama Pitts, there would
have been no Ron LeFlore, no Gates Brown (two Detroit Tigers with
criminal records prior to their baseball careers). The players who
have been charged with drug offenses and have regained respect for
themselves and served their time, would not have been able to continue
to play baseball. Steve Howe is just one of many who owes a post-drug
career to Pitts.
Thanks to a few writers across the country, including
Buffalo Bisons' team historian Joseph M. Overfield (who wrote an
excellent piece on Pitts' on which some of this is based: "Product
of Sing Sing Won Public's Support" for the 1985 Baseball Research
Journal, a Society of American Baseball Research publication), Pitts
has not gone completely unnoticed. And, in Valdese, several people
who were children in 1941 remember seeing Pitts perform and remember
stories of his life - and tragic death.
Perhaps if the Albany team hadn't been so interested
in "rehabilitation," Pitts might have had a quieter and easier time
adjusting from prison life to the high life. If he'd begun his career
in the Class D leagues, maybe he would have learned to hit the curve
ball, maybe he would have been able to make the throw from the outfield
a bit quicker ... maybe he wouldn't have been troubled by his obvious
demons.
His life can be looked upon as an example of bad
things happening to bad people - but, from all indications, Alabama
Pitts was not a bad man just a troubled soul who traded one prison
for another. Yet he still managed to enjoy the pleasures of life,
and - because of him - he made a baseball life possible for others.
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