Connecticut leaders remember Hall of Fame slugger Hank Aaron as a pioneer in baseball and civil rights
Henry “Hammerin’ Hank” Aaron — baseball’s long-reigning home run king who spoke softly, carried a big stick on the diamond, and later owned a string of automobile dealerships and fast-food franchises around Atlanta — passed away on Jan. 22 at the age of 86.
“On the field, #HankAaron was one of the greatest baseball players of all times,” State Treasurer Shawn Wooden wrote on Twitter. “Off the field, he was a pioneer for civil rights. Through his strength of character, he used his platform to advance racial justice. May he rest in peace.”
Across Connecticut, African American leaders remembered a quiet, dignified icon who was as much of a civil rights pioneer as any of his contemporaries.
Throughout his career, as a Black athlete in the racially segregated Deep South, Aaron battled atrocious prejudice in and out of the batter’s box — a struggle that climaxed during his 1974 race to break Babe Ruth’s all-time major league home run record.
But even after he hung up his cleats, Aaron became an idol to young Black athletes and entrepreneurs, who admired his courage, unflappable calm and undeniable charm and dignity.
“He was the man,” said state Sen. Doug McCrory (D-Hartford), a Georgia native. “He was way ahead of his time, as far as endorsements are concerned for Black athletes. He started this idea that being an athlete could transition to the business world and still be very popular.”
McCrory recalled how Aaron pivoted from being a professional baseball player to owning a number of automobile dealerships in the Atlanta area. He also recalled watching Aaron play and reading “If I Had a Hammer,” his influential 1991 memoir.
“He was so insightful,” McCrory said. “All the knowledge, all the information, everything that he had to go through coming up in the Negro Leagues to all the drama around him breaking Babe Ruth’s record — his story was amazing.”
Cornell Lewis, a community activist in Hartford, remembered the bitter abuse Aaron faced as he approached Ruth’s record, which he broke on April 8, 1974, by hitting No. 715 at Fulton County Stadium in Atlanta off Los Angeles Dodgers pitcher Al Downing.
“He was an interesting man, a dedicated baseball player,” said Lewis. “He believed in egalitarian rights for Black people. He went about it in a different way, but he still made his point silently.”
Lewis drew a contrast between the reticent slugger and more outspoken athletes like Hall of Fame running back Jim Brown and basketball legend Bill Russell.
“You had different people who approached egalitarian rights of Black people and race in America differently,” Lewis said. “I think Hank was what my granddaddy would call a ‘race man,’ but in a different kind of way, in a quiet sort of way.”
Scot X. Esdaile, president of the Connecticut State Conference of the NAACP and member of the National Board of Directors, said Aaron was one of his father’s favorite baseball players.
“My father taught me about [Negro League stars] Josh Gibson and Satchel Paige and all those guys, but they all said that this little guy from Alabama could hit the ball farther than the best of them,” Esdaile said. “He proved them right. He wasn’t a huge guy. There were no steroids involved. He was the real deal, and we must always pay homage to the legend. He was truly a legend.”
Esdaile called Aaron a “class act” and a “lunchbox guy,” referring to the slugger’s no-nonsense work ethic and understated demeanor.
“[Aaron] was a blue collar, go to work everyday and give it your all type of guy,” he said. “He did it with honor and respect and dignity, and he was true to the game. He should always be remembered for his dedication and his commitment to excellence.”
In the 1970s, baseball was an extremely popular sport — and often an obsession — for inner-city African American kids in Southern cities like Atlanta, where Aaron spent most of his professional career.
Rev. Carl McCluster, senior pastor of Shiloh Baptist Church in Bridgeport and an Atlanta native, grew up watching Aaron play ball at Fulton County Stadium. His father, who occasionally worked as a stadium usher, often brought young Carl to games, where he earned some extra money selling concessions to fans.
“There was an anticipation every time he came up to bat that this guy can do something,” McCluster said. “He wasn’t pointing out home runs or anything, but there was this determined confidence you had that if he was up in a situation, he was going to deliver. He’s the guy you wanted at bat, not just for the home run — if that’s what it took, he’d do that.”
The real golden era of baseball, McCluster said, was not the modern-day incarnation of the sport — where athletes sign multimillion dollar contracts, pull down huge endorsement deals and play for multiple teams across mid-length careers — but rather Aaron’s heyday, when pitchers brushed back Black hitters just for being Black.
“Martin Luther King said ‘the true measure of a man is not where he stands during times of comfort and convenience, but where he stands in times of difficulty and challenge,’” McCluster said. “I think that’s an appropriate quote for Hank Aaron, because in the most difficult of times, he rose to the occasion.”
Michael Hamad can be reached at mhamad@courant.com.
