Editor’s note: Last week, Major League Baseball announced that Negro Leagues statistics from 1920-48 are now part of MLB’s historical record. Local baseball historian Bill Swank tells the story of Walter McCoy, who played three seasons (1945-47) pitching for the Chicago American Giants and lived in San Diego from childhood until his death in 2015.
Obscure and unforgettable would both describe stoic San Diegan Walter McCoy.
Channel 4 held broadcast rights to the Padres when Petco Park opened 20 years ago. I was asked to assemble a group of lesser-known San Diego players with deep roots in the community to talk about playing baseball downtown in their youth. For added hometown flavor, the low-key event was filmed at the venerable Chicken Pie Shop on El Cajon Boulevard.
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After the taping, my friend Lenny Arevalo — who had been the Padres’ bullpen catcher from 1969 through 1983 — raved about one panelist.
“At first I wondered, ‘Where did Swank find this guy? He’s so old and frail… he barely talks,’” he said. “But when he got going, he was great. I learned a lot about San Diego baseball before I was born.”
Arevalo was talking about Walter McCoy, then an 84-year-old former Negro Leagues pitcher and semi-retired building contractor.
Earlier, while preparing to do research in the newspaper archives of the San Diego Library, I asked McCoy if he remembered when he pitched against the House of David at Lane Field. Without hesitation, he told me a specific week to review in August 1947. At the library, I quickly found the microfilm of McCoy pitching for Satchel Paige’s All-Stars against House of David, the team Paige called “the Jesus Boys.”
Later, while attending a tribute to the Negro Leagues, we visited the African American Museum and Library at Oakland. McCoy wanted to find the box score from the game he pitched against Bob Feller’s All-Stars in Oakland. We went to the microfilm and promptly located the article and box score. In all of my research, I have never had another player direct me straight to requested box scores.
Walter Lorenzo McCoy was born Feb. 20, 1920 in Leavenworth, Kansas. His Seventh-day Adventist family immediately moved to San Diego, where he would fall in love with baseball. As a boy, McCoy recalled, his father allowed him to watch part of a ballgame at Sports Field (the predecessor of Lane Field) for 20 minutes.
McCoy laughed. “I just remember thinking to myself that I’d like to stay right there for about 20 years,” he said.
Adventists observe the Sabbath from sunset Friday to sunset on Saturday. McCoy deeply respected his father, but the Sabbath became a problem between the two. The elder McCoy expected his children to learn a trade, work hard and follow the good book. The Sabbath was a time for worship and rest — not baseball.
Walter McCoy would learn later that his father was his biggest fan. Although he didn’t understand anything about baseball, Walter’s mother told him, the senior McCoy enjoyed going to the barber shop to listen to all the men talk about his son.
‘Mac,’ Buck and Jackie
I once took McCoy to an event at the San Diego Hall of Champions attended by beloved Negro League baseball ambassador Buck O’Neil. I asked O’Neil what it was like to face McCoy.
The Hall of Famer smiled.
“Look at him,” O’Neil said. “He’s a cigar-store Indian. His expression never changes. You never knew was was coming. ‘Mac’ had a good fastball and he liked to pitch inside.”
A box score from Walter McCoy’s 1945 win over the Kansas City Monarchs. Jackie Robinson played shortstop for Kansas City, going 0-for-4 and scoring one run.
The Chicago American Giants and Kansas City Monarchs opened the 1945 Negro American League season in Milwaukee. McCoy tossed a six-hitter as the Giants beat the Monarchs and their rookie shortstop Jackie Robinson, 4-2. A story McCoy never tired of telling was another game when he picked Robinson off third base … twice.
McCoy also remembered a 1945 lunch with Robinson. All the Negro League teams used the same gas station on their way to and from Birmingham, Ala. Sitting alone inside the Chicago bus one afternoon, McCoy heard a high-pitched voice ask why he wasn’t eating outside the restaurant with his team.
Players were served from the back door of the restaurant beside the gas station. McCoy answered back: “I don’t believe in that.”
Robinson mentioned to McCoy he saw a store down the road.
“We can get some crackers and cheese and soda pop,” he said.
McCoy agreed, and together they ate in the shade of a tall tree beside their buses.
McCoy became a legend in San Diego adult baseball circles. Even into his 70s, McCoy was the leading hitter for Jeff Marston’s Mets. I asked what kind of a player his teammate and San Diego City Club founder George Mitrovich was.
Walt slowly drawled, “Oh, you mean ’Thud?’”
Why was he called ‘Thud’?
“That was the sound of all the names he dropped … and the sound of all the fly balls that dropped around him in the outfield,” McCoy said.
In 2008, to honor Buck O’Neil, all 30 Major League teams held a special draft of former Negro League players in Orlando, Fla. The Padres selected Walter McCoy. McCoy and the other drafted players symbolically received MLB contracts.
His voice is heard in “We Are The Ship: The Story of Negro League Baseball,” a beautifully illustrated book by nationally renowned local artist Kadir Nelson.
Peter Bavasi, former president of the Toronto Blue Jays and Cleveland Indians, attended a book signing and spoke with McCoy.
“I learned more about the art of pitching from Walter that evening than in most all of my earlier baseball tutelage,” he recalled. “Walter was very clear about what he thought made for successful pitching: Work fast, change speeds, throw strikes, and pitch inside which today you can’t do unless you want to be suspended for the season.”
Walter McCoy and San Diego State baseball coach Tony Gwynn in 2010.
(Bill Swank)
A good teammate — and a better man
I will never forget a particularly troubling phone call from McCoy in 2010.
He was very upset, he told me, because Tony Gwynn was angry at him. That didn’t make any sense.
I sent email to Gwynn, who responded that he had “nothing but respect for Mr. McCoy.” I visited Walt at his Lemon Grove home, but nothing could change his mind. I suggested we go to San Diego State, where I assumed Gwynn would be conducting practice. It turned out that the Aztecs were preparing for a game against Long Beach State.
As soon as Gwynn saw us, he flashed his famous smile and said, “Mr. McCoy, it is so good to see you.” He called his players off the field and into the dugout to meet Walter.
The umpire finally interrupted.
“Tony,” he told him, “we’ve got a game to play here.”
McCoy’s son, also named Tony, later explained that his father, now 90, had developed dementia and was talking to the television during Padres games. When Gwynn didn’t respond, he assumed he was mad at him.
In 2015, Tony McCoy called to let me know his father had stopped eating and talking. It was a hot day when I arrived. Walter was curled in a fetal position under a single sheet on his bed. He had almost shrunken away to nothing.
I mentioned my name. No response. I mentioned the name of his good friend and teammate, Johnny Ritchey. Still no response.
When I said, “Chicago American Giants,” he softly whispered, “That’s my team.”
He died shortly after that. Walter McCoy was 95.
My friend’s memory may have failed, but, characteristically, he remained loyal to his team until the end.
Walter McCoy was a good baseball player and an even better man.
Baseball historian Bill Swank is the leading expert on early San Diego baseball, including the Lane Field Era (1936-57). He has authored and co-authored six books on San Diego baseball.
