Ed Sullivan was a legendary showman who grew up in Port Chester, New York. His career as a long-time television host came about from hard work and good luck. His background taught him to open doors to those—particularly African Americans—who lacked access. In the process, he changed American entertainment.

When The Ed Sullivan Show was at its height, between 45 and 50 million people tuned in weekly. They saw live performances of the biggest musical acts (including Motown singers), performances of numbers from Broadway musicals, an array of stand-up comedians, magicians and jugglers, as well as ventriloquists, dog acts, Chinese tumblers and drill teams.

Audiences loved the variety, and The Ed Sullivan Show had it all.  

Early Life

When Edward Vincent Sullivan was born in 1901, the family lived in Harlem. The neighborhood was a mixture of Irish and Italian immigrants. Ed was a twin, but his brother, Danny, died before their first birthday.

When another Sullivan child died in infancy, their father Peter Sullivan decided to move the family out of the city. He chose Port Chester, New York, to be their new home. It was a small village at that time. The town still relied on a local blacksmith as well as a doctor who made house calls via a horse-drawn carriage.

Ed was the middle child of the surviving five children, and in his autobiography, Always on Sunday, he wrote: “I still recall the excitement of Helen, Charles, and me en route to Port Chester, where we first saw cows grazing in the country fields.”

House Filled with Music

The Sullivans rented the top floor of a two-story house on Washington Steet. The entire family loved music, and someone was always playing the piano or singing. A phonograph was a prized possession; the family loved playing all types of records on it.

Ed’s mother hoped Ed would master an instrument. Each week if she could spare the change, she gave him money for piano lessons. Ed dutifully left the house, but he went to the nickelodeon near Liberty Square where he could watch short films instead.

His father Peter worked as a customs agent, but with five children, everyone needed to contribute. When Ed was still in grammar school, he and his brother Charles would meet after school and walk the three miles to the Apawamis Club in Rye, where they worked as golf caddies for 35 cents a round.

Loved All Sports

Ed and his siblings attended St. Mary’s Catholic School and then Port Chester High School. Sullivan was a gifted athlete, earning 12 athletic letters in high school. He played halfback in football, and he was a guard in basketball. In track, he was a sprinter. With the baseball team, Ed was catcher and team captain, and he led the team to several championships.

Baseball made an impression on him that affected his career as well as the culture of America. Sullvan noted that in suburban high school sports integration was taken for granted.

“When we played against teams in Connecticut, they, too, had Negro players,” he wrote. “In those days this was accepted as commonplace; and [that explains] my instinctive antagonism years later to any theory that a Negro wasn’t a worthy opponent or was an inferior person. It was just as simple as that.”

Enlisted for War

With the U.S. entering World War I, Sullivan, only 16, applied to the local draft board. He was turned away for being too young.  Sullivan was determined, so he took a train to Chicago, figuring no one would know him there. Unfortunately, recruiters in Chicago also required proof of age. He couldn’t afford a train ticket home, so he got a job as a busboy to decide on his next plan. Six months later, he wrote his brother asking for train fare to return to Port Chester.

Back to High School

He returned to high school and continued to play sports. He also wrote about them for the school newspaper. During his senior year, he contacted the local paper, The Portchester Daily Item, and asked to write a column on high school sports. Sports were big in town, so the editor agreed. Sullivan was paid on a per column basis.  

After high school, he continued to write for the Item.

Newspaper Career

In 1919 he moved to The Hartford Post and then on to The New York Evening Mail. When that paperclosed, Sullvan worked for a succession of newspapers as well as the Associated Press. When he was hired to write a sports column for The Evening Graphic, he was in good company as show business journalist Water Winchell worked there. 

When Winchell was hired by the larger New York Daily Mirror, the Graphic asked Sullivan to take over Winchell’s show business column.

Always Looking for Extra Money

Newspaper writers were not well paid, so they all scrambled for extra work. Ed Sullivan wrote screenplays for B-level movies at one time, and then in 1942, he started doing a radio show, “Ed Sullivan Entertains.” 

Following in Walter Winchell’s footsteps, Sullivan began recording his shows at the El Morocco night club. (Winchell headquartered at the Stork Club.)

Sullivan’s column, “Little Old New York,” was eventually picked up by the New York Daily News, where he stayed for 40 years. Even after he started appearing weekly on television, he continued to write for the newspaper. His last column appeared in the paper the day before he died.

More Side Gigs

Because of his contacts with entertainers he interviewed for print and on his radio program, Sullivan was often asked to produce vaudeville shows. He had a good eye for talent and was always on the lookout for new acts. He stayed in touch with the entertainers in Harlem as he knew theater producers there were always on the cutting edge of what was popular.

For a good number of years, the New York Daily News sponsored a huge charitable show, the Harvest Moon Ball, held at Madison Square Garden. Sullvan served as master of ceremonies and was in charge of talent procurement.

TV Arrives

In 1947, he was preparing for that year’s Harvest Moon Ball, and CBS decided to televise the event. Television was in its infancy, and this was CBS’s first remote broadcast. It went well.

One of the executives liked Sullivan as M.C. and hired him to host a show CBS wanted to launch called “Toast of the Town.” Sullivan was 46 when he first hosted the program. CBS knew that as more Americans bought televisions, the audience would grow, and it did.

Sullivan served as both host and impresario for “Toast of the Town,” nailing down the guests he wanted to have on the air. Sullivan clearly had an eye for what people liked, and he soon became known as a star maker.

In 1955, the title of the show was changed to “The Ed Sullivan Show.”

Ultimately Sullivan’s show ran successfully for 23 years—1948-1971– what Sullivan pronounced as “a rillllly big shew!”

Cultural Issues Arise

From Elvis’s swiveling hips to the Black performers that were featured on Sullivan’s show, television advertisers were always nervous. They kept tabs on what CBS was going to do about the performers. Camera angles could help with appearances by Elvis, but with the Black performers, it was a different matter. Some advertisers didn’t want these performers on the program at all, fearing that television sets across the South would click off. But as the network saw how popular the acts were, they took a new stance: Sullivan should keep his distance—he should not shake hands with the men or kiss the ladies.

Ed Sullvan was having none of it. He knew from his experience in high school athletics, that people of all ethnic backgrounds were the same. What’s more, many of them helped him out when he was producing his local charity events. He wasn’t going to cut them out now.

According to a recent Netflix documentary, Sunday Best, Sullivan also had a hunch that great music and incredible talent would appeal to viewers. Even people who marched against integration might take a few minutes to see who was appearing on the show. The performers were electric and the music was catchy…it was hard to resist.

Sullivan had everyone from Nat King Cole and the Supremes to Pearl Bailey on his program. These performers got the same handshake or kiss on the cheek as any of the white performers. By giving Black talent equal status with white, Sullivan was instrumental in diversifying American entertainment.

Sunday Night

The show was broadcast from CBS Studio 50 at 1697 Broadway at 53^rd Street. Eventually the show settled into its long-running time slot—Sunday night from 8-9 ET.

When asked by a reporter to explain his success, Sullivan shared his secret: “Open big, have a good comedy act, put in something for children and keep the show clean.” In short, he believed in something for everyone.

He also gave credit to the medicine men who used to stop in Port Chester to peddler their wares: “Those medicine men were my first contact with great showmen. They had pace and great authority with an audience.”

Did any of the acts ever miss? Of course there were a few, but Sullivan’s most resounding failure was when he tried to introduce opera to middle America. Families either changed channels or quickly turned off the set.

Elvis Presley

Steve Allen actually was first to bring Elvis Presley to television, and when Allen’s show beat Sullivan in the ratings, Ed was on the phone to Presley’s manager within 24 hours.

The Beatles, however, were all Sullivan. They came directly from England, making their American debut on Ed Sullivan’s show on February 9, 1964. The chaos of the teen girls, both in and out of the theater made for an event that few people alive at the time will forget.

Sullivan became powerful with his bookings and sometimes specified what songs even the big-name performers (including Buddy Holly, Bob Dylan, and Bo Diddley) were to perform. Those who defied him found they sometimes weren’t invited back.

Unusual Host and Star

As a television host, Sullivan received mixed reviews. He was an awkward man, a situation partly caused by injuries caused by a serious car accident. His sternum and ribs were crushed inward, and his front teeth were knocked out. His movements were described as “wooden.” He also sometimes garbled his introductions: One night he announced, “Right here in our audience, the late Irving Berlin.” 

In 1971, CBS was in search of a younger audience, and they cancelled The Ed Sullivan Show.

Ed Sullivan felt betrayed and refused to do a final show that season. However, he and CBS finally agreed to a truce. Sullivan subsequently produced and hosted a number of specials.

Personal Life

On April 28, 1930, he married Sylvia Weinstein. They had one daughter, Betty, who married Sullivan’s producer, Bob Precht.

For many years Ed and Sylvia lived in the Delmonico Hotel at 59^th and Park Avenue in New York City. He called Sylvia after every show to get her comments.

While Sullivan’s life was mostly centered in Manhattan, in later years he returned to Port Chester to help with local benefits. In 1965, he was honored by the village with Ed Sullivan Day.

Sullivan died of esophageal cancer (age 73) on October 13, 1974, at New York’s Lenox Hill Hospital. His funeral, attended by 3000 people, was held at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. He is entombed in a crypt at Ferncliff Cemetery in Hartsdale.

Ed Sullivan brought popular culture to all of America at a time when families were excited to gather around the living room television set just to see what Mr. Sunday Night had to offer. People came to know of and appreciate songs from a wide variety of performers.

Song pluggers were a big part of the growing music industry during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

Before recorded music could be distributed, publishers hired professional songwriters to churn out new hits. Then songs were aggressively promoted through “pluggers,” who performed songs in vaudeville theaters and other venues to boost sheet music sales.

The job of a song plugger was to get the public excited enough to buy the sheet music and play the songs at home.

A song was considered a “hit” based on how many copies of its sheet music were sold. Newspapers started printing lists of the best-selling sheet music of the week. (This tradition continues with published lists of all sorts of top-selling forms of entertainment.)

How Music Spreads

Americans have always loved music, but before record players and radios, the only way to introduce new music was for people to hear another person sing or play music they didn’t know.

During the 19^th century, families might sit together in their parlors or on their porches to sing hymns or family favorites. Violins, banjos, and harmonicas were common in the home.

If a community was big enough to support a theater, then musical performances and vaudeville often presented new material.  But growth was slow since new music had to spread community by community. 

Train travel helped. Pullman porters worked hard but had idle time during trains stops. They met with local people to sing and talk. As they got back on their route, they took the music with them.

The Golden Age of the Piano

After the Civil War, pianos became a longed-for household luxury item. An upright piano cost several hundred dollars, but families often saved for them as they offered great entertainment for all members of the family. From 1869-1905, manufacturers sold upward of 261,000 annually.  

Along with instrument sales came a growing need for sheet music. While some people can play by ear, most need music.  The time was right for this growing trend, because printing methods were easier and cheaper. The use of lithography (printing from slabs of limestone with rolled-on ink) made printing accessible to more publishers. Mustic publishing could expand in ways that no one dreamed.

Companies printed everything from patriotic marches to folk songs like “Oh! Susanna,” as well as waltzes, sentimental songs, and ragtime.

By 1890, many department stores opened counters for the sale of sheet music, and its popularity brought the price down. Customers could expect to pay from 10-25 cents per song.

Song Demonstrators in Stores

As department stores set up sheet music departments, they needed ways to boost sales, so they added “song demonstrators.” Many big city department stores had mezzanines where they placed pianos. When a customer selected a few sheets of music that were of interest, the sheet music was sent to the pianist. With luck, the customer bought the music requested—and perhaps a few other people in the store who heard the songs decided to buy the music, too.

These music demonstrators were store employees who were top-flight at sight-reading new music.

Music Publishers Needed Song Pluggers

The first music publisher to employ song pluggers is thought to be the Harding Music Company, located in the Bowery in New York City. The store originally sold instruments and classical sheet music, but times were changing.

The neighborhood was filled with vaudeville theaters and saloons. When one of the sons inherited the business, Frank Harding (1864-1939), knew it was time for change. He loved the lively musicians who hung out around the vaudeville theaters. He began buying and publishing their songs. (Some said that Frank traded beer for songs.) 

Harding then saw that he needed to hire performers to introduce the songs in other parts of town. To expand his reach beyond the theaters in his neighborhood, he hired singers and pianists to go uptown to bars and sporting events to promote the songs he published. 

Tin Pan Alley

As the music business developed, several companies established their businesses in Manhattan in the west twenties (between 5^th and 6^th avenues). Because the companies had no air conditioning, windows were left open during warm weather, and the cacophony of music could be heard around the area. People started referring to the neighborhood as Tin Pan Alley.

The publishers soon had their own song pluggers appearing across the city.  

Who were Tin Pan Alley Song Pluggers?

A good song needed to be presented in such a way that listeners want to hear it again, so the best song pluggers were magnetic performers who could “sell” a song.

Some pluggers had connections with some of the big stars of the day. If they had performed with someone like Al Jolson or Bing Crosby, they could put in an “ask” to the big star. If Jolson or Crosby performed it, the song was likely to be a hit.

 For men (and it usually was men) who wanted to become composers, music publishers hired staff composers and lyricists. These employees could improve their situation if they could also perform well–someone had to plug it.

Composers were also incentivized by a change in copyright law in 1909. Congress passed the Copyright Act. For the first time, composers could collect royalties for public performance of their work.

Some Big Names Started as Song Pluggers

While there were many pluggers, only a few song pluggers achieved lasting fame. A few of them are names we still know today: Irving Berlin, George Gershwin, Jerome Kern, Cole Porter, and Lil Hardin Armstrong (Louis Armstrong’s wife), to name a few.

Irving Berlin (born Israel Isidor Baline) was a particularly astute song plugger who composed and plugged for Tin Pan Alley for several years. Eventually he refined the process when he moved to Los Angeles to write music for the movies.

Berlin’s Early Years

The Baline family (the name with which they immigrated) fled Russia in 1893 to escape persecution. Isidore/Irving (1888-1989) was age 5 at the time. While the lower east side of New York offered community and a level of safety, life was not easy.  Irving Berlin’s father, a cantor, could find no appropriate employment, so he worked for a kosher butcher. His mother was a midwife. After school, the children did what they could to add to the family income.

Like other young boys, Irving sold newspapers on street corners. He found that if he sang while selling, customers would sometimes pitch him another penny or two. He told his mother that his dream was to work at one of the cafes with singing waiters. 

Within a couple of years, Berlin’s “dream” came true. As a singing waiter at the Pelham Café, Berlin found he could fiddle around on the piano when there were no customers. This brought about his first musical sale. He and the pianist collaborated on a song called “Marie from Sunny Italy.”  Berlin wrote the lyrics, and when the song sold, he earned 33 cents for the rights.

Playing the Black Keys

Like other untrained composers, Berlin mostly played from the black keys. It made it easier to find harmonies, and he needed to work with only a five-note scale. With this simplified system, he could translate the melodies in his head to the piano.

As he progressed in his career, he was introduced to the “transposing piano.” This invention dated to 1801. British instrument maker Edward Ryley came up with a way for pianists to change the key in which they played without having to transpose the written music. The transposing piano had a lever under the keyboard that could be shifted, thus moving the entire keyboard laterally. (See below for a photograph of one of Irving Berlin’s transposing pianos, currently on view at The Weitzman National Museum of Jewish History in Philadelphia.)

 For accompanists, these pianos made it easier for them to switch keys to suit a particular vocalist. For Berlin, it opened a new world.   With a transposing piano, he could work from the keys with which he was comfortable (generally composing in F sharp). When he was satisfied, he could use the transposing piano to create the ultimate sound he wanted to hear. 

 Berlin was known for saying: “The black keys are right there, under your fingers. The key of C is for people who study music.”

From Song Plugger to Top-Selling Composer

Berlin’s early songs capitalized on his heritage with “Yiddish Eyes” and “The Yiddish Ball Player,” but he soon put to use all that he learned as a waiter, a plugger, and as a lyricist.  In 1911, his song “Alexander’s Ragtime Band” sold a million copies.

As Irving Berlin’s success grew, the movie business beckoned. When he first arrived in Los Angeles in the 1920s, musical movies were not particularly popular, but there was employment. Though the films were not necessarily big hits, Irving Berlin had a couple of songs that emerged from that time. Both “Mammy” and “Puttin’ on the Ritz” brought him enough fame that he was featured on the cover of Time magazine.

Since the entertainment industry slowed during the Depression, Berlin returned to New York. Then in 1935, he received an offer from RKO Productions that took him back to L.A. With this new opportunity, Berlin began studying how to get a song to “pop” in a movie.

Song Plugging in the Movies

Berlin saw that since movies offered longer sustained entertainment for audiences, featured songs could be longer, too. With added time in the soundtrack, audiences were more likely to remember it.

Audiences also responded positively when a well-liked tune was used again. Another character could echo the song that had been introduced, or the song could be used during dance scenes.

By this time, songs were being heard on radio, and flat disc records were being made, but sheet music was still popular. These small refinements led to increased music sales of all types.

Irving Berlin left behind a massive legacy, composing an estimated 1,500 songs. He rose from humble beginnings as a singing newsboy and waiter to become a master song plugger and legendary composer. “Alexander’s Ragtime Band” (1911), “God Bless America” (1938), “White Christmas” (1942), and “There’s No Business Like Show Business” (1946) are just a few of the songs for which he’ll long be remembered.

Like any good plugger, he knew how to bring home a song.

Thank you to The Weitzman National Museum of American Jewish History for added information and the photo use of Irving Berlin’s transposing piano.

The first two elephants brought to the United States arrived separately. Both were newsworthy. One arrived in 1796; the other in 1804. What they had in common was the fact that they were destined for lives of travel so they could be shown to the public as curiosities.

At the turn of the 19^th century, there were no zoos in America, and circuses, also new to the country, were not yet presenting elephants. The owners of the elephants each had to figure out how to feed, transport, and make money on these exotic animals. The first elephant was sold several times; the second elephant found a single owner who kept her for the remainder of her life, using her as the first exotic animal in his menagerie.

The Crowninshield Elephant

The first elephant to arrive in the United States is known as the Crowninshield elephant. It is so called because the captain of the ship, The America, was Jacob Crowninshield. The Crowninshield family operated a shipping business out of Salem, Massachusetts.

The first documentation of the Crowninshield elephant was on November 2, 1795, in Captain Crowninshield’s own journal: “We take home a fine young elephant two years old, at $450.00. It is almost as large as a very large ox, and I dare say we shall get it home safe, if so it will bring at least $5000.00. We shall at first be obliged to keep it in the southern states until it becomes hardened to the climate.”  [From An Account of the Private Armed Ship America of Salem, by B.B. Crowninshield.]

The America, left Calcutta on December 3, 1795. One of the officers on board was named Nathaniel Hathorne. (His son, altering the spelling of the family’s last name to Hawthorne, would go on to write books including The House of the Seven Gables and The Scarlet Letter.) The shipboard Hathorne’s journal makes note of the elephant.

During a replenishment stop at St. Helena Island, due west of the African country of Angola in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, Hawthorne wrote: “greens for the elephant.” According to George G. Goodwin in Natural History magazine, Hathorne then wrote in capital letters: “ELEPHANT ON BOARD.” Some have interpreted this to mean that Hathorne was surprised to discover the elephant midway through the journey, but it is hard to believe that Hathorne wouldn’t have observed a large animal in cargo and that none of the men would have talked about it.

Elephant Arrives in Salem

After they docked in Salem, Captain Crowninshield sold the elephant. From there, historians trace the elephant’s whereabouts via newspaper advertising: On April 23, 1796, The Argus and Green Leaf Advertiser ran an ad that described the exhibition of an elephant in New York at the corner of Beaver and Broadway. Other ads put the elephant in Boston, Marblehead, and Beverly, Massachusetts. His appearance in Philadelphia was in the spring. This may have been after a trip south to avoid the colder weather in New England.

The elephant may have been returning south that following autumn, as we have documentation from President George Washington himself. George Washington always kept careful track of information, and in his Philadelphia Household Account Book (11/16/1796), he noted that he paid to see the elephant. (For a Short Time Only by Peter Benes.)

Old Bet Arrives in the U.S.

Another elephant, eventually known as Old Bet, arrived in Boston harbor in 1804. Some have speculated that the Crowninshield elephant and Old Bet were one and the same. However, contemporary descriptions of the two elephants make it clear that the two differed substantially in size and appearance.

The second elephant’s future owner was destined to be Hachaliah Bailey (1774-1845), a farmer and entrepreneur in Somers, New York. (There is much confusion over this Bailey exhibiting an elephant, but he was not a relative of James Bailey or Barnum & Bailey.) Bailey and other farmers saw that despite their hard work, farms were very dependent on the weather. Without other enterprises, it was difficult to change one’s lot in life. Bailey was a part owner of a Hudson River shipping sloop. He also became a partner in the Croton Turnpike Company, collecting tolls on what is now Route 100 in Westchester County.

Later, Hachaliah Bailey owned the Red Bird Stagecoach line. His most lasting legacy is the Elephant Hotel. In 1807, he bought land at a crossroad point in Somers, New York. It’s now the center of town, and known as Route 202. In 1820, he began constructing what would become the Elephant Hotel. The tavern and inn opened in 1825. (Today the building still stands and is used as the Somers municipal building. It was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 2005.)

Acquiring Bet

The story goes that Hachaliah Bailey took cattle to New York City, planning to sell the cattle at the slaughter yards located in lower Manhattan. Somers historian Terry Ariano, writing for The Westchester Historian (summer 2008) dates this particular trip as either 1805 or 1806. Farmers often drove the cattle on foot but because Bailey owned a sloop and used it for other goods, he may have loaded his cattle on to the boat to take them down the Hudson to the slaughter yards.)

Slaughterhouse business was often conducted at the Bull’s Head Tavern in lower Manhattan. It was near there that Bailey saw the elephant and decided to buy her. Some say that he intended to use the elephant as a beast of burden to help with farm work. Others think he always saw the possibility of exhibiting her.

As Bailey led the elephant to the sloop to transport her to Somers, he saw that Old Bet attracted a lot of attention. Once back in Somers, he offered viewings, charging 25 cents to see Old Bet. After the people of Somers saw her, he took her to other towns. Bailey and Bet visited Putnam and Dutchess Counties, traveling at night so that people along the road would not get a “free look.”

Once he arrived at a new location, he rented a barn where he could keep Bet out of sight. Then he advertised that people should come to see her.

Exotic Animals Attract Attention

As a result of Hachaliah’s success, his neighbors realized the potential in exotic animals. As they saw Bailey add other animals to his collection, several of them did, too. Somers residents purchased everything from a rhinoceros to camels, monkeys, and parrots. Somers soon became the center of the menagerie business.

People today associate elephants with circuses. (However, Ringling retired all its performing elephants in 2016 after public pressure.) In 1812, Old Bet is thought to have appeared with the equestrian performers in the Pépin & Breschard Circus. But a menagerie animal performing with a circus was unusual for the 19^th century.

Circuses were considered risqué, making them more challenging to promote. Menageries could be advertised as educational, which indeed they were. With no television or movies and at a time when few people could travel, the menageries offered the public a rare opportunity to see and perhaps learn about animals from other lands.

Travels Continue

In 1816, Hachaliah Bailey and Bet visited Maine. They sailed up the Kennebec River to Augusta and Hallowell. After visits to Lewiston and New Gloucester, they proceeded to the town of Alfred, Maine.

As they left Alfred, they were stopped by a local farmer named Daniel Davis. Davis shot and killed Bet. The stated reason for Davis’s anger was that he found it sinful for poor people to spend money to see an elephant. (Locals of the time describe Davis as a “miserable vagabond,” according to the book, For a Short Time Only.) He may have just been a troubled soul.

The marker notes that Old Bet was co-owned by Hachaliah Bailey and George Brown Company os Somers. As Bailey continued to show Bet and add other menagerie animals, he accepted investors to help defray his costs.

Later that year, Hachaliah Bailey displayed Bet’s remains in New York City, but he knew his income from Old Bet was at an end. He invested in other animals, including other elephants, and continued to tour a menagerie.

In 1821, Bailey sold Old Bet’s remains. The next record of her being on display is in the American Museum in New York City. While some report that P.T. Barnum made the purchase, he did not own the American Museum until 1841. Chances are good that a member of the Scudder family, who owned the American Museum at that time, purchased her remains. Barnum would have acquired them when he purchased the museum.

Keeping Bet’s Memory Alive

In 1825, Hachaliah Bailey’s Elephant Hotel was finished. Bailey erected a tall granite pole in front of the hotel with a wooden statue of Old Bet atop it. The location of the hotel was at the intersection of the Croton and Danbury turnpikes. This was an important stagecoach stop and offered a perfect resting place for travelers. The statue of Bet was a lovely commemoration of her. It would have also been a memorable attraction for travelers.

The original carved statue of Bet deteriorated over the years. In 2024, a local family paid for a replacement statue made of bronze. It should last for many years, continuing to mark Somers as the “cradle of the American circus.”

Bailey Moves On

In 1837, Bailey sold the hotel and bought land in Fairfax, Virginia. It became known as Bailey’s Crossroads.

Some of Hachaliah’s family remained in Somers. In 1845, Bailey came back for a visit. While there, he was kicked by a horse and died.  The family buried him in Ivandell Cemetery near Somers. His inscription reads: “Enterprise, Perseverance, and Integrity.”

Note: James Bailey who became P.T. Barnum’s circus business partner in 1881 when the two men combined their circuses is not directly related to Hachaliah Bailey. James was an orphan who joined circus man Frederick Bailey—a very distant relative of the Baileys who lived in Somers. James took his mentor’s last name.

Old Bet Remembered

Even after P.T. Barnum was no longer living, the men who ran the Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Circus understood the importance of promotion. In 1922, Dexter “Pap” Fellows, a business manager and press agent for the circus, latched on to an idea for promoting the circus during its New York run. Fellows heard about Old Bet, by now thought of as the “first” elephant in the U.S. (probably due to the Somers statue). Fellows decided to stage a wreath-laying ceremony. A Ringling Brothers elephant would present a wreath to decorate Old Bet’s statue/memorial.

As the details were worked out, Old John, a tuskless male elephant, was chosen for the promotional stunt. Old John had been in several circuses before becoming part of Ringling in 1896 when Ringling Brothers acquired the Adam Forepaugh Circus. Old John was known as the “boxing elephant” and was named after pugilist John L. Sullivan. He wore a boxing glove on his trunk and regularly knocked out his trainer.

The Promotional Tour

Dexter Fellows wrote a book on his work with the circus. Readers must keep in mind that Fellows was a press agent, but it does provide some idea of how the trip worked out.

For the trip from the old Madison Square Garden to Somers, Old John wore a banner promoting the circus and the destination. Fellows also arranged for special leather boots to be made for John to wear on the 50-mile journey. (John did not much care for the blue boots, according to contemporary reports.)

John was to walk up Fifth Avenue where, for the sake of the news photographers, he turned and bowed to Patience and Fortitude, the two stone lions that guard the New York Public Library. From there, he was bound for the Bronx, where there was a nice barn to stay in.

Reports on his other stops vary. He definitely stayed at the Agricultural Building at the White Plains fairground. He eventually turned toward Somers.

Elephant Nears Somers

On April 11, 1922, a youngster acted as town crier and ran through Somers shouting that the elephant was near. People were indeed excited. Even if they had seen an elephant before, Old John was the first who had ever come to town. The New York Times reported:

“After a triumphal circle of the [Somers] City Square, the veteran was led to Wesley’s garage. … Old John lost no time in consuming a bale of hay, topped off with twenty buckets of water. He then settled down for a good night’s rest, parked between a motor truck and an automobile.” (The New York Times, April 12, 1922.)

The next day dawned, and The New York Times reporter writes of Old John being readied for the ceremony at the Brady Farm just outside Somers. Either the above story about the garage was inaccurate, or they moved Old John to the farm the next morning so that he could bathe and be fed again.

The Ceremony

In that day, Somers had a population of about 300 people. The reporter writes that there were about 300 cars and 2000 people along the route from the Brady Farm to the inn where Bet’s statue awaited its wreath.

Dexter Fellows arranged for a well-labeled circus truck to be visible along the route. (Later, the truck would convey Old John back to New York…John’s work was done.)

The Parade

Dexter Fellows (1871-1937) (spelled Fellowes in the NYT) led the parade. He had a cornet and invited some locals to join him to create a band. When the cornet “didn’t work very well,” Fellows led the parade using the cornet as a bandleader’s baton.

They arrived at the Elephant Hotel, and the group paused. Fellows walked over to Old John and gave a command. Old John let out a wondrous trumpeting sound and started for the inn. It took a little coaxing to slow him down and bring him back to the monument where he was to lay the wreath.

The crowd grew quiet, speeches were made, and the wreath was placed at the bottom of the pole. Then Fellows goofed up: “I see this once modest hamlet has grown to be a city of thousands of happy people—I see the influence of the Grand Old Party of which I am also an unworthy member, and I take pleasure in saluting you in this stronghold of Republicanism. Three cheers for the Grand Old Party.”

But that was as far as he got. An uproar from the crowd let Fellows know that it had been a very long time since the residents of Somers voted a Republican into office.

When the crowd calmed down, the event concluded with the singing of “Should auld acquaintance be forgot…” (Auld Lang Syne).

On to the Tavern!

Afterward, one would presume that everyone, except the youngsters and Old John, went off to the tavern to raise a glass to Old Bet, Old John, and most of all to Ringling Brothers for what was a generally successful multi-day circus promotion.

For the purpose of accuracy, we’ll hope that someone at the tavern knew that the Crowninshield elephant had preceded Old Bet to the U.S., and that this whole event was just a bit of circus fun and flim-flammery.

***

Thank you to circus historian and author David Carlyon for providing some background on the beginnings of menageries and circuses. Carlyon is author of Dan Rice: The Most Famous Man You’ve Never Heard Of (2001).

To read more stories of circus, see P.T. Barnum: Extraordinary Showman or James A. Bailey, Circus Impresario, or Mabel Stark: First Woman Tiger Trainer.

P.T. Barnum is remembered as a circus impresario, and he was definitely that. But his career spanned many decades before he went into the circus business. He published a newspaper, owned more than one retail establishment, and went into politics. At heart, however, Barnum was always interested in ways to entertain the public.

He was a good businessman. He respected his audience, but he believed that some of the stories (spoofs) he told were ones his audience wanted to believe. Most historians concur that the quote, “There’s a sucker born every minute,” was not said by Barnum.

Promotion and advertising were key to all his businesses. One fellow referred to him as the “Shakespeare of advertising.”

P.T. Barnum, Early Life

P.T. Barnum (1810-1891) was born in Bethel, Connecticut. His family was middle class, so he had sporadic opportunities to attend school. But even as a child, he was eager to work. As a boy, he drove cows to and from the pasture, helped on the farm, and rode the plow horse.

As a young adult, he became a shopkeeper, and then started a local newspaper called the Herald of Freedom. Three years into the business, however, he encountered legal trouble, so he stopped publishing. At that point, he moved to New York, casting about for what to do next.

Joice Heth, P.T. Barnum’s First Exhibit

In 1835, he came upon a down-and-out promoter who was exhibiting a slave whom the promoter said was George Washington’s mammy, Joice Heth. Barnum sensed opportunity, so he bought the slave and continued the promoter’s story, adding that she was 161 years old. (Some report that he freed Heth from slavery but kept her in his employment.)

Heth said she was a devout Baptist. This gave Barnum the hook he needed. He forged baptism documents and sent an advance man to towns they would visit to schedule meetings for Joice Heth with ministers. By presenting her documents to “men of the cloth,” Barnum hoped to establish credibility. In addition, he wrote and published her biography, The Life of Joice Heth, the Nurse of George Washington.

When abolitionists agitated about exhibiting a slave, Barnum announced that all money raised would go to anti-slavery causes. There is no record of whether or not he followed through on this. He became an abolitionist late in life, however.

Touring Heth

With the proper groundwork laid, Barnum started traveling with Joice Heth. He established himself in each town and charged people admission to come in and see her.

While not anywhere near age 161, Heth was old and infirm, so it helped with Barnum’s story. When customers arrived, Heth was happy to talk to them and make up stories about caring for little George Washington. For several months, Barnum brought in about $1500 a week from the exhibit.

When ticket sales slipped, Barnum renewed interest in her by telling reporters a new story. He explained that she wasn’t real at all; that she was actually a machine made of whale bone. This brought in paying audiences again. They wanted to come back to see for themselves that she was a living being.

Economic Slump

In 1837, Barnum hit two pieces of unrelated bad luck—the U.S. economy dipped, and Joice Heth died. He had her body autopsied. The coroner said she was probably about 80 when she passed away. To his credit, Barnum arranged for Joice Heth to be buried in the Barnum family plot in Connecticut.

For the next few years, Barnum did what he could with some small performing troupes.  But businesses were struggling, and Barnum lost money.

In 1841, Barnum learned that an attraction known as Scudder’s New York Museum was for sale. These “dime museums,” as they were called, were a popular entertainment in Europe as early as the 16^th century but they reached peak popularity in the late 18^th and early 19^th century.  The museum collections typically consisted of all sorts of oddities ranging from natural history exhibits to live fish and animals. Completely fabricated beings were not ruled out.

Opening the American Museum

In 1809, John Scudder purchased a collection from previous owners. He maintained the museum for almost thirty years. When P.T. Barnum purchased it from him in 1841, Barnum knew the more unusual the displays the better. He moved Scudder’s collection to Broadway and Ann Streets (New York City) where he housed it in a series of buildings. To attract attention, Barnum flew flags along the rooftops of the buildings and had the exterior walls decorated with paintings of animals.  He also purchased a revolving light from a lighthouse so that he could attract customers at night.

Inside, the attractions ranged from natural history displays to odd zoo animals, people made of wax, and any “freaks” that Barnum came upon in his wanderings. The “Feejee Mermaid,” a monkey torso sewn on to a fish tail, was a very popular exhibit at the museum.  There was also a theater space for lectures and performances.

Because dime museums frequently attracted “riffraff,” Barnum hired guards. He wanted women alone and families to feel safe coming to his establishment.

At the height of its popularity, the museum was open 15 hours per day, six days a week.  The public couldn’t get enough of what Barnum had to offer.

Connecticut Legislature

In 1865, shortly after Barnum relocated to Connecticut, the Museum caught fire. Everything was lost. Barnum stayed in the museum business, re-building in Manhattan. When the second museum was destroyed by a fire in 1868, Barnum closed the museum for good.

By this time, he was serving in the Connecticut legislature (1865-1869). During this time, Barnum put his heart and soul into improving Bridgeport. His headquarters were there, and he worked hard to bring new businesses to the town. Barnum later served as mayor (1875-1876).

The Circus Business Beckons

In 1871, Barnum joined circus owners Dan Castello and William C. Coup to launch P.T. Barnum’s Grand Traveling Museum, Menagerie, Caravan, and Hippodrome.  By 1875, he owned it outright.

He was always casting about for new performers. In Bridgeport, he came to know a young boy, Charles Stratton, who was affected by dwarfism. Barnum saw potential in teaching the young boy about show business. Eventually, he was presented as General Tom Thumb, one of Barnum’s most successful attractions. 

Bailey Comes to Bridgeport

James Bailey (1947-1906) was on his own at a young age and got a job with the William Lake and John Robinson Circus. When Robinson died unexpectedly, Bailey took on the role of manager. He bought an interest in another circus that came to be known as Cooper and Bailey. He eventually added other shows to his portfolio. 

As Bailey built his circus business, he knew his primary competition was P.T. Barnum. In 1880, Bailey took one of his shows to Bridgeport, Connecticut, to go head-to-head against Barnum. To Barnum’s consternation, Bailey’s circus outsold Barnum’s, taking in $2 for every $1 made by Barnum’s show.

Barnum saw benefits to Bailey’s operation and proposed a merger. Bailey took over management of business affairs, and Barnum focused on running the shows.

Among the sensations that Barnum brought to the United States was opera singer Jenny Lind (1820-1887). Known as the “Swedish Nightingale,” Americans loved her. Jumbo the elephant was also a huge attraction. Together, the two men really did run the “greatest show on earth.”

Death of the Greats

P.T. Barnum died in 1891. James Bailey succumbed unexpectedly in 1906, The Ringling Brothers, a competitor made up of seven siblings who toured their circus had their business eye on Barnum & Bailey. One of them attended Bailey’s funeral and soon made a deal with his widow. At first, the two units operated separately, but by 1919, the two operations were united for good. Fittingly, the first appearance of Ringling Brothers, Barnum & Bailey Circus was inNew York City’s  Madison Square Garden. 

To read more about that enterprise, see the profile of James A. Bailey.  Also read How Jumbo Joined the Circus—  a great tale about two circus men and an elephant.

Mr. Potato Head had a very humble beginning. The inventor who came up with the idea did so in 1949. At that time many Americans still had home gardens that were necessary because of rationing during the war.

To George Lerner, the idea of making funny faces on a potato or another vegetable spurred his imagination. Initially, he experimented by adding items like bottle tops, pipe cleaners, and parts of other vegetables. He quickly  saw that all types of characters could be created.

This was the beginning of what eventually became Mr. Potato Head.

Early Job in the Toy Industry

George Lerner was born in Brooklyn, New York, in 1922. By the time he was 20, he lived in East Moline, Illinois, where he worked at the Buddy L Company, an offshoot of the Moline Pressed Steel Company. Their specialty was manufacturing automobile fenders and other stamped body parts for cars, trucks, and some types of farm equipment.

Long before Lerner joined the company, Moline Pressed Steel added a small division to make metal toys like trains, trucks, and cars. That was the department where Lerner worked.

War on the Horizon

By the late 1930s, American companies were responding to governmental pressure. President Roosevelt hoped that by exporting equipment and tools needed for the war in Europe, he might be able to keep the U.S. out of war.

But in the meantime, manufacturers needed to do their part to make military supplies. At Moline Pressed Steel, all metal would be used for the war. In the Buddy L toy division, metal toys were redesigned as wooden toys. Cars, trucks, and trains continued to be made but in ways that saved steel.

War Affects All

For George Lerner and other young men, the war altered their future. They were required to register for the draft. Even if they were not sent off to fight, young men often had to move to be where the jobs were.

It is not clear how the war affected Lerner, but after the war, he returned to Brooklyn where he grew up.

Continued Dreaming about Toys

By 1949, Lerner was seriously contemplating how to make his “potato toy” something he could market. His early assumption was that since many people still had home vegetable gardens, the vegetable itself was something they could obtain easily.

What he needed were small items to use as facial features for funny faces. If he could manufacture ears, mouths, eyes, and other features then he could package and sell them. To his advantage, one of the side benefits of the war was that plastic was now being used in mass production.

In 1951, he and a partner went into business together. With Julius Ellman, another Brooklynite, Lerner and Ellman combined their names to become the Lernell Company. The two men patented many toy inventions. The business continued successfully for another thirty years.

Funny Face Man

While it is unclear whether Ellman was part of the packaging of Lerner’s “potato toy”, the fact that the two had created a business may have made it easier for Lerner to come up with the needed funds and to invest in manufacturing plastic facial figures for his toy.

The first packaged set included lips, eyes, ears, hairpieces, a hat and other accessories that Lerner thought were fun. Each plastic piece had prongs on it that were sharp enough to penetrate a potato skin, zucchini, or whatever basic fruit or vegetable a child chose to use.   

Lerner called his new toy the “Funny Face Man.”

Making the Rounds

With a prototype of “Funny Face Man” under his arm, he began making calls on toy companies. However, the food rationing that took place during the war left an indelible mark on Americans.

Toy company executives worried that the toy would be seen as “wasteful.” No one wanted it.

But Lerner had another idea. In that day, cereal companies added “premiums” to their boxes of cereal to increase sales. Some premiums were small plastic toys; others were cards with games or riddles on them. Kids often requested a certain cereal because they wanted the toy.

When Lerner met with the executives at Post Cereal, they liked the Funny Face Man idea. All features were packaged as a long strip (like a bookmark) with plastic items attached. Post paid Lerman for all rights and soon the packaged set was offered inside one of their cereals.

New Interest

Whenever a product reaches the public eye, it often sparks new interest. This is exactly what happened with Funny Face Man.

A textile remnant company in Providence, Rhode Island, was growing and adding product lines. The Hassenfeld family began in textile remnants and expanded into fabric pencil pouches and fabric-lined pencil boxes. They soon added pencil-manufacturing to their products.

When father and son (Henry and Merrill Hassenfeld) saw the new premium offering in a Post cereal box, they contacted George Lerner. They wanted to buy the rights from him. When they learned that Lerner had already sold full rights to Post Cereal, Hassenfelds suggested a deal.

They encouraged Lerner to buy the rights back from Post Cereal. Hassenfelds promised they would re-package the Funny Face Man and sell it as a separate toy.

When Lerner approached Post executives, Post said they would sell the rights back to him for $5000 if Hassenfelds would put in an additional $2000.

Re-Named Mr. Potato Head

The Hassenfelds moved quickly. They began manufacturing the toy right away and decided to rename the toy. Calling it Mr. Potato Head, the first sets were marketed in 1952. Each set included more than twenty plastic features packaged together–hands, feet, ears, two styles of mouths and pairs of eyes, four noses, three hats, eyeglasses, a pipe, and eight felt pieces resembling facial hair. The recommendation was for children to use any type of larger vegetable such as a potato. 

First Toy Advertised to Children on Television

Hasbro—as the company became known–really wanted to grow their business, and they saw Mr. Potato Head as a great opportunity. The television industry was still small, but advertising toys to adults to buy for their children was a growing field.

The Hassenfelds decided to change the formula. There were some new television shows for children on the air. Advertising on those programs was less expensive, and the Hassenfelds felt that if they could promote Mr. Potato Head directly to children it could work. This was a first for the television industry. As Hassenfelds proved, the “nag” factor by children could be very effective!

In addition to the commercials, local toy stores got behind the product. A search through any local paper from 1952 show that Mr. Potato Man was well-advertised. The cost for the feature packages? 98 cents.

Toy was a Hit

The Hassenfelds spent well. Within several months, the kits raked in $4 million in sales, according to Paige Polinsky’s book about toy trailblazers. By the end of the first year, more than a million Mr. Potato Head sets were sold.

Fewer Toys Then

Mr. Potato Head was marketed as “the most wonderful friend a boy or girl could have.” And it was. Children had many fewer toys then—no Barbie, no American Girl, no My Little Pony, not even a GI Joe. 

The beauty of Mr. Potato Head was that kids used him in many types of make-believe play. They went to bed, and the next morning they—and Mr. Potato Head—were off on new adventures.

For that reason, Hassenfelds quickly moved forward to expand the play. Mrs. Potato Head was introduced in 1953. She came with a purse, earrings, and stylish accessories.  Clearly, the Hassenfelds were on to a good thing.

Son Spud and daughter Yam came along shortly. The family had a car, a trailer, and a boat. They even got pets.

Changes

The next version of Mr. Potato Head was a boxed set. The company was now called Hasbro, and they decided to try including a Styrofoam head and a plastic body that could be used for creating the figures.

But the Hassenfelds soon saw that the Styrofoam didn’t last long. It became heavily pockmarked as children poked features into it. The Styrofoam soon broke off into pieces.

Expanding the Market

In the early 1960s, Hasbro introduced the Tooty Frooty Friends. This kit contained 60 plastic pieces. Kids could create Katie the Carrot, Pete the Pepper, and Oscar the Orange. 

But still the company sensed there was more room to grow. They turned to American history, folk lore, and the news of the day. Soon Mr. Potato Head could explore the Wild West and with another kit, he could dress as an astronaut and travel in a spaceship to other worlds. Other career and adventure sets were created.

Consumers Urge Changes

In 1964, Hasbro decided some product changes were necessary. Parents complained that their kids took vegetables to their rooms to play with their Mr. Potato Head toy. Then they forgot about them. By the time someone went in to clean the room, the vegetables were moldy.

The other complaint Hasbro received was that the spikes on the plastic pieces were quite sharp. They needed to be in order to penetrate anything from a raw potato to a zucchini or eggplant. Parents felt they were dangerous.

For that reason, Hasbro transformed the toy. The government often noted that they wanted to create a child safety agency. This could lead to some toys being banned, and Hasbro wanted to keep their toys off any list of banned toys.

A New Version of Mr. Potato Head

As the developers re-worked Mr. Potato Head, they created a plastic head and a separate body that was sold with the kit. The add-on features could be snapped into pre-cut holes that existed on the head and body, so they did not need to be sharp. Hasbro also made the add-on features larger than previously. This meant they did not present a choking hazard.

The Hasbro changeover came at the right time. In November of 1969, President Richard Nixon passed the Child Protection and Toy Safety Act. With that law in place, the government created a toy testing department. They banned any toys that seemed dangerous.

By 1974, more than 1500 toys were banned, but Mr. Potato Head was still flying high.  

Within a few years, another change was made. Hasbro quit manufacturing the Mr. Potato Head body and created a larger head. The head had an added element: the back of it opened so that all the smaller pieces could be stored inside.

Not a Couch Potato

By the 1980s, Americans were becoming more interested in physical fitness. Video games were introduced which meant that something needed to counter the time children spent sitting in front of a game console.

For that reason, Hasbro made a Mr. Potato Head that wore a baseball cap and sneakers and toted a water bottle—he wasn’t going to be called a Couch Potato!

He also gave up his pipe (a long-time accessory). No more bad health habits for him.

Focusing on health was very much in vogue at that time, and the “good health” Mr. Potato Head came to the attention of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. For three years (from 2005-2007), Mr. Potato had the pleasure of being a giant balloon in the Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Classic Toy

Forty years after Mr. Potato Head was introduced to the public, the toy and many of the accessories earned a full-time spot on most toy store shelves. But then a miracle happened.

Animator and movie director John Lassater began working on a new movie called “Toy Story.” The movie told the tale of a group of toys and their adventures. Lasseter knew the movie’s audience was children, but he wanted to create characters that were appealing to their parents. By choosing classic toys parents remembered, Lasseter felt adults would be more willing to take their children to the movies (often multiple times).

One of the main stars was Mr. Potato Head. He was accompanied by Mrs. Potato Head. When the movie premiered in 1995, the film was a huge hit. Toy sales exploded as well. 

More Branding

By this time, the consumer world was different. Hasbro knew that with a new movie out, they would be able to sell many more toys as well as anything they could brand with Mr. Potato Head. Soon they had deals for everything from children’s underwear and board games to key chains.

Sadly, George Lerner died that year (1995). While he would have known of the movie deal, he did not have the pleasure of sitting in a darkened theater with a tub of popcorn watching Mr. Potato Head come alive.

Success Continues

Fortunately for Hasbro, the Toy Story achievements continue. There have been three additional successful sequels. Toy Story 5 is slated for release in June of 2026.

In the meantime, Mr. Potato Head was inducted into the Toy Hall of Fame in 2000.  In 2010, George Lerner was posthumously given a Toy & Game Innovation Award from Chicago’s Museum of Science and Industry.  

And not to be forgotten is the fact that George Lerner and Julian Ellman ran a successful toy manufacturing business in Brooklyn for more than 30 years. While Mr. Potato Head was certainly the most successful toy to be introduced, Lerner and Ellman hold many patents for different toys and games they developed. Not every invention needs to flourish if you have a triumph like Mr. Potato Head.   

Roberto Clemente was an extraordinary baseball player with a presence that captivated fans, especially young people. Known for his powerful hitting, swift base-running, and an arm likened to a “rifle” for its strength and precision, Clemente left an unforgettable mark on the game. While he loved baseball, his devotion to his family and his homeland of Puerto Rico came above all else.

Today, baseball showcases players from many ethnic backgrounds, but there was a time when Latino players faced severe discrimination. Although Jackie Robinson’s entry into Major League Baseball in 1947 marked the beginning of integration, progress remained slow and uneven. For Latino players, even in the 1960s, segregation persisted, as they were often barred from staying in the same hotels or eating in the same restaurants as their white teammates during spring training in the South.

The Pittsburgh Pirates

Roberto Clemente (1934-1972) persevered, playing for the Pittsburgh Pirates for eighteen seasons. He won four national League batting titles; 12 Gold Gloves, recognizing his work as a defense player in right field. Remarkably, he achieved 3000 hits during his career (one of only ten players to do by 1972 when Clemente hit that record. He was also the first Puerto Rican to be voted Most Valuable Player (1971 World Series). Later, he was selected for the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Clemente’s values involved doing all he could for his country of birth. Whenever he had the opportunity, he ran baseball clinics for children there, as that was an opportunity that he never had.

During the baseball season, he visited children in the local hospitalswhere the team played.

He died during the baseball off-season when he was in a plane crash taking supplies to earthquake victims in Nicaragua on New Year’s Eve 1972.

Early Life

Roberto Enrique Clemente was the youngest of seven siblings born to Luisa Walker in Carolina, Puerto Rico. His father, Melchor, was a foreman for a sugar cane enterprise. Resources were tight, so Melchor Clemente’s sons often worked alongside their father. Sugar cane is heavy and hard to handle so the boys became strong doing the work.

Both parents set an example of hard work and discipline. His mother took care of the family but she and Melchor also committed to providing lunch to many of the sugar cane workers. Luisa rose early every day to prepare the midday meal.

In high school, Roberto Clemente was a great athlete. He became a track and field star, participating in high jump and the javelin throw. But his preference for sports play was baseball.

Baseball in the Barrio

Baseball was a popular street game in the barrios, but in the Carolina district, many of the children did not have money for equipment. Clemente and his brothers sometimes used a broomstick or a Guava branch as a bat.

They often lacked a baseball, so they used a paper ball, a rubber ball, or a lumpy sphere of strings and old rags, according to the National Baseball Hall of Fame. 

During one barrio game, Clemente was noticed by an executive with the Sello Rojo rice company. The company sponsored a softball team, and the fellow recruited Clemente to play for them.  

Getting Noticed By the Dodgers

While still in high school, he signed with the Puerto Rican baseball team, the Santurce Cangrejeros, a winter league team supported by the Puerto Rican Professional Baseball League. The first year he saw little play, but during the second year he was on the starting lineup. A scout for the Brooklyn Dodgers noticed him.

In 1954, the Brooklyn Dodgers offered Roberto Clemente a contract with a signing bonus. Following the Baseball League rules, players paid more than $4,000 as a signing bonus were considered “Bonus Babies.”  Clemente’s bonus was $10,000 to sign.

According to the League, the teams were to abide by certain rules with bonus babies. The signing  player was not to be shipped off to a farm team at the beginning of his contract. He was to stay with the team that signed him, playing when he could. In theory, this was a good idea, but bonus babies were young players and needed more opportunity to play before working with the Major Leagues, so in many cases, it was counter productive.

The Brooklyn Dodgers must have hoped that no one would notice that they placed Clemente with an affiliated team, the Montreal Royals. They wanted him to have more playing experience, but the coach of the Royals was told, “If you notice baseball scouts in the crowd, bench him.”

They knew Clemente was special, and they didn’t want him seen and possibly drafted by another team. 

Return to Puerto Rico For the Winter League

Customarily, Black and Latino players finished the regular baseball season in the U.S., and then joined a team to play for a Latin American country for the winter season. These players made less money than their white counterparts. They loved the game, but it also offered the opportunity to increase their income.

After Clemente finished his second season with the Royals, he returned to play ball with a Puerto Rican team as he always did. It was probably there that he was spotted by the Pittsburgh Pirates. According to Rule 5 in baseball, if the team that signed a “bonus baby” violates the contract, then Rule 5 permitted other teams to make offers.

Someone with the Pirates must have known that Clemente was playing for the Montreal Royals, so they bought out Clemente’s contract with a payment to the Dodgers of $4,000.

By the mid-1950s, Clemente was on his way to Pittsburgh.

Father Comes to a Few Games

 Melchor Clemente was a hard-working man. He loved his family but he didn’t have time for side interests or hobbies.  Finally, when Roberto was playing in the winter league and making a name for himself, Melchor agreed to come to a game. In an anecdote from David Maraniss’ book, Clemente: The Passion and Grace of Baseball’s Last Hero, Maraniss writes that Melchor did not understand baseball.

After one of the games, Melchor told his son he was very sorry that he was relegated to run around to all the bases when most of the others got up to bat and then got to sit down.

Joined the Marine Reserve

Puerto Ricans are U.S. citizens by birthright. Because Roberto Clemente was a patriotic man to both Puerto Rico and America, he was proud to sign up for the U.S. Marine Corps Reserve in 1958. His training involved six months active service, split between Parris Island, South Carolina, and Camp LeJeune, North Carolina.

He ultimately said that the strength training he did with the military helped him overcome back problems he suffered since his car had been hit by a drunk driver when Clemente was only 20.

Personal Life

While home in Puerto Rico, Roberto Clemente became smitten by a young woman he met. It took persistence for Clemente to get Vera Zabala to agree to go out with him. Then when it worked out between them, he worked hard to persuade Vera and her father to agree to a marriage.

The couple was married in November of 1964. It was a great marriage. They had three children. The discriminatory atmosphere in the United States made both Vera and Roberto very uncomfortable. Vera visited when Clemente was in the U.S. but tended not to stay long

Both Vera and Roberto felt strongly that their children should be born in Puerto Rico, so each time, she was pregnant, she returned home.

The two were also united in the charity work that Clemente found important and rewarding.

Segregation

Both Latino and Black players continued to face discrimination in the United States, even as late as the 1960s.

Because Clemente was one of the first Latino players to qualify for a major league team in the United States, he often encountered discrimination. Three Latino baseball players, Victor Pellot, Hiram Bithorn, and Luis Olmo, known as the Three Kings—preceded him. There were still many obstacles to overcome.

When the team traveled, he could not travel or eat or stay with the team because of “whites only” restrictions. The practice was that the Black and Latino players wait on the bus while the white players went into a restaurant for a meal. When the team came out, they would bring food for the waiting team members.

Clemente was both saddened and angry by this and felt that there should be no “second class” team members.

By 1961, Clemente was sick of this treatment and complained bitterly. The Pittsburgh Courier, a Black newspaper, took up his campaign. Team management finally responded, but the solution was not to let the men join their white friends. They were provided with a station wagon. Instead of traveling on the bus, the minority players were able to drive themselves to the next destination and look for restaurants where they could be fed.

He and the team’s Cuban shortstop were placed with Black families in Pittsburgh because they could not stay with the team.

Visceral Understanding of the Civil Rights Movement

Clemente became friends with Martin Luther King, Jr, and the two men enjoyed the opportunities they had to talk together.

King was in Memphis in April of 1968 to aid the sanitation workers who were on strike. He was assassinated while there.

Clemente was beside himself at the loss of his friend and the civil rights leader. King was to be buried on April 9, and yet Clemente and his team were to start the new season on April 8 of that year. Led by Clemente, the Black players refused to play unless opening day was moved to April 10 so the players could attend the funeral.

As the Major League management saw what had happened, they wisely moved the opening day for all teams. Despite that, the early games took place against the backdrop of civil unrest in more than 100 cities. 

Demons

Roberto Clemente was first to admit that he had many demons. The car accident when he was only 20 dislodged three of the discs in his lower spine. Low back pain followed him the rest of his career. Every game was preceded by a trip to the team trainer.

He had great difficulty sleeping, perhaps partly because of the back pain. His disrupted sleep was particularly vexing during baseball season when he couldn’t get the rest he needed.

In all likelihood, the chronic pain led to many of his other health concerns. However in the winter of 1965, he came down with malaria and was seriously ill. He was hospitalized and lost almost 25 pounds.

To have been seriously ill only compounded his anxiety about his aches and pains. The media sometimes wrote of him as a hypochondriac. This further angered him.

Baseball Achievements

As a baseball player, he was beloved by the public and seemed to have a magnetic appeal. Clemente was known for excellent out fielding. He could catch and throw whatever came his direction. He had a strong arm, powerful wrists, and one writer described him as having eyes in his fingertips—his catches were so uncanny.

He earned 12 Gold Gloves for outstanding fielding, and he emerged from his career with 3,000 hits and was a four-time batting champion. He was also selected as outstanding player of 1971 World Series. (For complete statistics on Roberto Clemente, see his Major League Baseball page.

Because he stayed in such good shape throughout his career, reporters were always looking for answers to his eating and exercise routine. He got tired of answering the question as he got older and started telling writers that he put in a hard 3-hour workout during the off-season. In fact, nothing could have been further from the truth. He was more likely to be at home doing small repairs on the house than at the gym exercising.

The Bats He Preferred

At the time, Clemente became one of the baseball players that had 3000 hits in his career, he was one of only ten players. (Today that number is only 33 players. It’s an exclusive club.)

Fans loved watching him when he came up for bat. He preferred heavier bats. They were a challenge to lift, but Clemente made it look easy.

He originally used a bat made by Hillerich & Bradsby, commercialized as the Louisville Slugger bat.  Later in his career, he came to prefer a bat that was made by the same company but was originally made for a baseball player named Bernard Bartholomew “Frenchy” Uhalt. Uhalt played in the Pacific Coast League, and while his career spanned only 57 games in the minor leagues, he became well-known because Roberto Clemente came to favor his bat.

At the end of the season, Clemente generally met with a representative from Hillerich & Bradsby. He knew everything about the bats he liked, and one of the points he made was that the bats should be made of wide grains, He knew that wide grains were from summer growth, and that was what he preferred.

He tested the bats by swinging them against each other and could identify based on the sound.

Just before his death, the company was at work on a new model for him. In late December, they sent two versions of the bat so he could choose. Sadly, he likely never held either in his hands.

At the Plate

Fans loved watching him approach home plate when it was his turn to bat. He never smiled. He sometimes took with him two or three bats to the on-deck circle. According to Davad Maraniss, he carried them all in one hand and then put one knee down to check the bats again. He then made his selection, and clearly his system worked

Good Works

While Roberto Clemente’s time for other activities was limited during the baseball season, one deed he could do was visit children in hospitals, which he faithfully did. He generally sorted through the letters himself to decide which place he had time to visit.

After his career, he aspired to build a “sports city” in Puerto Rico so that kids would have opportunities he never had. Even before he retired, he ran clinics for kids whenever he could. (Today 30 percent of baseball players are Latino, the largest group of players in the MLB.)

Pride in Puerto Rico

Clemente took to heart that Puerto Ricans were U.S. citizens, and he couldn’t understand the condescending attitude he encountered time and again.

His love for his home country was sincere, and he wished to be respected for his patriotism to his place of birth. When the Pittsburgh Pirates won the World Series in 1971, Clemente made his first remarks in Spanish, paying homage to the values and skills that he learned there.

Even once he had been in the Major Leagues for a time, he always tried to return to play in the winter league in Puerto Rico. He wanted to do all he could to make the lives of his people better.

He and Vera also wanted all three of their children born there, so even if she was with Roberto for part of the year, she went home before her due date was near.

Good Works

While Roberto Clemente’s time for other activities was limited during the baseball season, one deed he could do was visit children in hospitals, which he faithfully did. He generally sorted through the letters himself to decide which place he had time to visit.

After his career, he aspired to build a “sports city” in Puerto Rico so that kids would have opportunities he never had. Even before he retired, he ran clinics for kids whenever he could. (Today 30 percent of baseball players are Latino, the largest group of players in the MLB.)

Earthquake in Nicaraugua

In late 1972, Roberto Clemente served as manager of the Puerto Rico national baseball team at the Amateur World Series. The games ended in Managua, the capital of Nicaragua.

When Managua experienced a massive earthquake in December of 1972, Clemente was deeply affected by the difficulties the country faced. He immediately started collecting food and supplies the people would need, in addition to raising money

The goods began being shipped to Nicaragua, but soon word came to Clemente that the money and the supplies were not getting through to the residents most affected by the disaster. Political graft was siphoning off money and supplies.

With that information, Clemente decided he had no choice but to take the latest collection of supplies to Nicaragua himself. A friend helped him find a plane he could charter. Neither of them knew that the airplane had been poorly maintained, and the pilot who was hired at the last minute had no experience with this particular plane.

The results were disastrous.  With Clemente on board, the plane took off. Almost immediately the aircraft dove into the water. All was lost and Roberto Clemente’s body was never recovered.

It was a sad day for baseball; a sad day for America, and an absolute tragedy for his family and the people of Puerto Rico who revered him.

Hall of Fame

The sports world was so stunned by the tragedy, they opted out of the five-year rule on when players were eligible for the Hall of Fame. Eleven weeks after the plane went down, Roberto Clemente was inducted into the Hall of Fame.

Clemente once said:
“If you have a chance to help others and don’t, you are wasting your time on this earth…” 

Also read about Roy Campanella.