For Mahlon

I don’t know what happens when the last Star goes out.  I can only imagine how very dark the night sky will become.  I remember some time ago being in Washington State lying on my back in an open field, and watching stars appear one by one.  As the sky grew darker, I watched and counted them until they began to appear too quickly for me to count and they literally covered the sky.  I remember the feeling of peace and awe that filled my body.  As far as I could see, from the North to the South and from as far as I could see from the East to the West I was covered by the grace of the night sky.  I was blanketed by its stars.  My soul was reminded how important they were in the universe.  There are even songs which speak to the significance of the stars as we once “Followed the Drinking Gourd” (A Negro Spiritual which was code for slaves to follow the big dipper North to freedom.) My entire body remembered to give thanks and acknowledge them.  I was filled with overwhelming joy.  I cried.

Although I know that there is no difference but place, those stars are harder for me to find here in South Jersey.  The fact is:  I rarely look up at night.  I know the stars are there but it is a more difficult reach for me to see them because they are obscured.  We have replaced them with street lights, neon signs and the glow coming from security lights left on in high rises and homes.  We use them now as markers to guide our paths.  They mark our “way”.  A way once guided by the stars.  

These are the thoughts that have filled my mind this week.  This is the conversation that churns in my heart and takes me to my bed.  Another Star has faded farther from our view.  The sight line is dimmer, and I feel the void.  I remember when I first met Mahlon Duckett and some of members of the former Philadelphia Stars.  There were quite a few of them then.  They would come together with other members of the Negro Leagues to form the Negro League Players Association. My father was president.  I remember typing up the pages of a directory that was printed by Atlantic Electric, the company where I used to work.  Yes, there were pages. (I add these things for my own benefit.  It’s just part of my internal conversation ... my remembering.)  I remember being surrounded by these men and their hearts melded in shared struggle and joy.  I remember feeling blanketed by their grace and loved by them for simply being. It was very much that same sense of being that I felt on an empty field in Goldendale, Washington.

I don’t know how you explain the beauty of a night sky filled with stars to children/people who have never seen one.  I don’t know how you tell the story of Mahlon Duckett to people who have never witnessed that infectious smile, or the tender gentleness and smoothness with which he would call your name...as if it were his own.  

I don’t know much today except that I need to have this conversation here because I can’t yet speak it. (Can’t even speak his name yet until I figure out how to honor it.) I need to know that real stars/Stars don’t just “go out” even though we can’t see them/it.  I   need to remember that stars/STARS are light and real light is always present. (It’s only the artificial stuff that loses is radiance.)  I need to find a way to look up more, to reach out more, to search the skies for those STARS that really are still there to guide us/me. I need to remember to use my discernment to separate the real from the false.  I need to remember that beyond the sodium vapor street lights and the neon signs, which only provide a false sense of security, there is real light that the universe alone can provide. 

I need to remember that Mahlon Duckett died in the way that he lived:  surrounded by his loving family, and I need to remember that we will continue to tell his story because that’s how stars/STARS continue to shine and light our way in the darkness.

On the Friday before his death, I was speaking with my friend Michael making plans to go see Mahlon.  We never got there. 

You can read read more about Mahlon here:  http://www.csnphilly.com/baseball-philadelphia-phillies/negro-league-philadelphia-stars-mahlon-duckett-dies-92

How do You Honor 90 Years?

When the John Henry "Pop" Lloyd Committee published: "Out of the Shadows", Gils Wright, formerly with the New Jersey Historical Society, included these words in his introduction:

"This work of art thus serves as an impediment to historical amnesia; it is a reminder that black baseball players were historical actors in a story that was truly dramatic and compelling, a story of black athletes who excelled in the face of racial bigotry and adversity who demonstrated beyond a  shadow of a doubt that their mastery of the art of playing baseball was inferior to no one..."

On December 20th, the former Philadelphia Stars player, Mahlon Duckett will turn 90 years old.  Duckett continues to live in Philadelphia where he grew up and attended Overbrook High School.  

So, what do you give a 90 year old, former Negro League Player from Philadelphia for his birthday?  A man who happens to be the last living player for the Philadelphia Stars.  One of the few living Negro League players who played in Rube Foster's powerful social and economic construct that served as a focal point for the African-American community prior to "integration".  

 One of the few living pioneers  who can remember the 1946 Negro League World Series, and the 1946 Newark Eagles believed by many to have been "one of baseball's all time greatest franchises".

"The ’46 Eagles showcased a collection of players that rivaled any ever assembled.  At first base was Lennie Pearson, owner of a gaudy .393 average in the series.  Up the middle was Pearson’s high school friend, shortstop Monte Irvin, who led the Negro National League in runs batted in that year. He would go on to win a World Series ring with the ’51 New York Giants. His double play partner, Larry Doby, would be the first African American to play in the American League, where he won two home run titles.

The pitching staff included Leon Day, who marked his return from two years of war service by pitching a no-hitter on opening day that season. Another war veteran in the group, Max Manning, used a deceptive sidearm delivery to rack up an 11-1 record in ’46.

Three members of the ’46 team – Day, Doby and Irvin – would go on to be enshrined with the sport’s all-time greats in the Baseball Hall of Fame.  There they would be joined by two other Eagles: Ray Dandridge, regarded as one of the best third basemen in any league, and shortstop Willie Wells, who anchored the team’s “Million Dollar Infield” in the late ‘30s.  Even the team’s co-owner and business manager, Effa Manley, would be remembered as an extra-ordinary pioneer in the male-dominated world of baseball."   Soaring Eagles, Newark and the Negro Leagues

And Mahlon Duckett can describe for you what it was like at a packed stadium  during the Negro League East/West All Star Game.

Since it's formation in '90s, Mahlon Duckett has been an vital part of the work of the John Henry "Pop" Lloyd Committee, and has made yearly journeys to Atlantic City to share his knowledge, his warmth and his unmatchable generous spirit.

Believe me, Mahlon Duckett has all the ties, shirts, sharp suits, slippers and soaps-on-a-rope anyone could ever need.  He's got enough books, radios, magazine and newspaper subscriptions.  So, how do we honor the birth of this man 90 years ago?  We say "thank you", for his contributions to our legacy.  We say "thank you" for that sweet and gentle spirit that has only modeled dignity, humility and strength of character.  We then share his story and those of the men and women of the Negro Leagues so they are never forgotten.

Take a few moments to send Mahlon Duckett a birthday wish.  We're collecting 90 cards for 90 years.  Add your name to the numbers.