The late, great Hank Aaron and Sanford Carter (My Late, Great Father)

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Photo Credit: Jean-Gabrel Fernandez

The Jan. 22 death, at 86, of Hank Aaron in Atlanta is hard to fathom for Milwaukeeans who recall his unique baseball skills and quiet demeanor during his memorable 1950s years with the Milwaukee Braves at County Stadium.

From a personal standpoint, “Hammerin’ Hank’s” passing also brings back memories of when my late father, Sanford Carter—a revered barnstorming star in the old Negro Leagues of the 1930s-‘40s—counseled the shy, 20-year-old, then known as Henry Aaron, after his low-key arrival in town. 

At the time, my father said Aaron was told to seek him out for advice and, as a result, he assisted Henry in finding a place to live in largely segregated Milwaukee. He also lent him his own fielder’s glove—a gesture he repeated a couple of years later, for Hank’s younger brother, Tommie Aaron, for a Braves’ tryout—much appreciated by Hank.

After they met, my father said he felt the young, inexperienced Alabama native—a minor league sensation—might not be aggressive enough in the big leagues. “Henry is so quiet,” he told me. “I just hope he can stand it as good as Jackie [Robinson] when they get hostile. Some white fans can be vicious. Even though that boy can really hit, the day may come when he’ll need some real thick skin.” 

The Slugging Short Stop

A lifelong follower of the game, my father told me that Aaron—a slugging shortstop who began in “semi-pro” in 1952 with the Mobile (Alabama) Black Bears, then the Indianapolis Clowns of the Negro American League, Eau Claire Bears of the Class C Northern League and Class A Jacksonville (Florida) Braves—initially swung the bat from a cross-handed stance before being coached to use an orthodox grip on his bat. “That’s how green he was,” Mr. Carter laughed. “But those days are over and, despite being so slim, he really found his groove as a power-hitter.” 

One of the best memories for black Milwaukeeans in those glory days was the Braves’ “A-B-C” outfield of Hank Aaron, Billy Bruton and Wes Covington. And how sweet it was. Young, emerging power-hitter Aaron in right, speedster Bruton in center and slugger Covington in left made all of us proud as proud can be

Among my lasting personal thoughts of Hank’s time with the old Braves here was his pioneering radio commercial for Banner Lumber and Mill Work, which he ended by saying: “And that ain‘t no Baltimore blues.” Back then, as sports editor of the old Milwaukee Star—and along with photographer Bill Stitt—I set out to meet an older Aaron during his visit to predominantly black LaVarnway branch of the Milwaukee Boys Club.

After hearing my name, I clearly remember Hank’s first comment. “Did you say Carter?” he asked. “Uh-huh,” I replied. “Don’t tell me you’re Sanford Carter’s son?” he again asked. As I nodded in the affirmative, Hank said, “Well I’ll be.” He then went on to heap glowing praise upon my father -- recalling the help and personal advice he received after coming to town from the minor leagues to play for the still new Milwaukee Braves in their second year after moving from Boston.

Wet Behind the Ears

“I was so wet behind the ears, Richard,” he laughed, “I didn‘t know nothin.’ And your Dad helped me more than I can say. And I enjoyed hearing about his days in the Negro Leagues, playin' with guys like Satch, Josh Gibson and “Cool Papa” Bell.

Mr. Carter’s barnstorming teams—including the Milwaukee Tigers and Twin City Colored Giants—also played in Racine and Janesville, as well as at wooden Borchert Field in a racially mixed Milwaukee neighborhood at 3000 N. Eighth Street. Seating less than 12,000, it was home to the American Association Milwaukee Brewers and filled the block between N. Seventh and N. Eighth and W. Chambers and W. Burleigh streets. The park was torn down in 1954 to make way for the I-43 Expressway. 

As a wide-eyed youngster, I recall watching Mr. Carter—a slick-fielding third-baseman in his 30s—making great plays at what was also called “Borchert Orchard.” Moving to the outfield as I watched, he once made a diving grab of a line drive. This prompted the public address announcer to tell the crowd: “Let’s give a big hand to Sandy Carter for that fine catch in right field.”I burst with pride. 

Part-time Players

Some skilled black players were ambitious youngsters, while others had jobs and played in their spare time. Such was my father—a community activist, realtor and partner in Carter-Moody Insurance, which shared a North Side building with WNOV-AM radio. Among Mr. Carter‘s personal effects were a newspaper story and baseball box score from 1935 in Bismarck, North Dakota, in which he hit a triple off the legendary Paige -- something he never tired of discussing.

In 1995, my father was inducted into the Hall of Fame of the Old Time Ballplayers Association of Wisconsin—its third black member. Old timers would say, “Sandy Carter would have made the big leagues if he came along a decade later, like Jackie Robinson.” Also attending was Milwaukee's late black female baseball historian, Aaronetta Anderson, who shared with us a congratulatory telegram to my father from Hank Aaron. Ironically, the gala affair was in a jam-packed hall on Milwaukee’s mostly white South Side.

My father, Sanford Carter, passed away in 1999, at  88. And now, “Hammerin’ Hank Aaron is gone, at 86. Both of these local black baseball greats belong to the ages.