Before she became famous as the only black president in baseball, Tracy Lewis found an Army man willing to jump out of a plane wearing a bird suit belonging to the Savannah Cardinals` mascot. Better yet, the guy did it for just gas money and a couple of bucks for the pilot. En route, the bird`s head blew off, but the parachutist landed safely near home plate.
The incident ruffled a few feathers. The mascot, a college student who reluctantly had let the parachutist borrow his costume, was upset. Lewis was worried that somewhere on the steamy streets of Savannah a Georgia peach had been squished by a bird`s head. She dispatched some kids to search the neighborhood around 7,500-seat Grayson Stadium.
”I got a phone call right after that,” she said. ”A lady said: `Did you lose your bird head? It sort of floated down into the parking lot of Burger King.` ”
Tracy Lewis has it her way. She is 25, tall, slender, freckle-faced and the only black president of a baseball franchise in the country.
”I walked into the winter baseball meetings last year, and it was overwhelming, absolutely amazing. I thought: `There`s no black people in this lobby. There`s no women in this lobby.`
”Even here, some of the old black people still come in and sit in the stands down the third-base line because that used to be the colored section. See that building down in the picnic area in left field? That used to be the colored-only bathroom. It`s incredible. It wasn`t that long ago.”
Last year, the Savannah Cardinals finished second in the Class A South Atlantic League, and season attendance increased 35 percent to 45,787. Although they rallied to finish the first half of this season in third place, it was rough going for the first part of the year with the Cardinals seemingly unable to get out of last place.
The team batting average hovered around .199, lower than the price of general admission ($2). Things were so bad that in one game the third baseman made errors on three consecutive batted balls. In another, he fouled a pitch off the plate and the ball broke his nose. It required surgery. The shortstop and second baseman, both from the Dominican Republic, no hablan ingles. The manager was losing his hair, and the park was infested with gnats.
Tracy Lewis placed an ad in the Savannah Morning News that said: ”No more gnats! Grayson Stadium is now sprayed every night.”
Tracy`s father, Thomas, bought the ballclub for $285,000 after seeing an ad in the classified section of the Wall Street Journal in 1985. He is the first black owner of a baseball team since the demise of the National Negro League in 1954. He is also owner of Inter-Urban Broadcasting, a conglomerate of seven radio stations. Included among them is station WSAI, which broadcasts every Savannah game.
”He really progressed from being a teacher in the Chicago public schools to driving an oil truck in his own business to banking and then to broadcasting,” said Tracy.
The Lewis family grew up only six blocks from Comiskey Park, but Tracy only went there ”three times at the most.” She graduated from the University of Chicago Laboratory School and went on to major in English at Williams College. After a year of studying law at Tulane, she left to become personnel director for WILD in New Orleans.
She remembers getting a phone call from her father. ” `We just bought a ball team and we`re going to make you president,` he said. I said: `Sure. Why not?` I figured I`d be sort of a figurehead. I was never interested in baseball. It seemed boring,” she said.
Savannah, still angry because the Atlanta Braves pulled out their Double A team years ago, is a tough ticket to sell.
”I worry,” said Lewis. ”My dilemma is to get good quality and good prices and to get them to come out to the ballpark. I`ve worked in the ticket booths; I`ve worked to get good quality at good prices. We`ve given away trips to Belgium, two or three air conditioners, ceiling fans, weekends at Hilton Head. My background is in radio, so promotions are natural. We`ve sold all but one of the 44 outfield billboards.”
Last year, the team lost money, but Tracy Lewis is optimistic that this year they will make money. Still, when a Cardinal breaks a bat, she thinks,
”Uh, oh, there goes 12 bucks,” even though the parent St. Louis Cardinals pay for the first 25 dozen.
After missing most of a recent game at Charleston doing an interview with CBS News, Tracy Lewis returned to her box seat to see Cardinal outfielder Chuck Johnson hit a towering three-run homer over the Piggly Wiggly sign in right field. Had he knocked out the light bulb in Piggly Wiggly`s gloved hand, it would have meant $5,000 to some lucky fan and $5,000 for his favorite charity. The home run gave the Cardinals a 5-4 lead and brought Tracy out of her seat, clapping her hands so that her five gold bracelets clanged together. In the bottom of the ninth, Charleston rallied to tie it on a misplayed fly-ball double, a controversial walk and a wild pitch. From the box seats, Lewis uses language that is best associated with another president, Richard Nixon. She doesn`t realize it, but a Charleston cop stays nearby to protect her from the 892 paying customers, just in case.
General Manager Mike Blaser, a 26-year-old graduate of Eastern Kentucky University, sits behind her, shaking his head. Blaser called Tracy Lewis last year on his way back from spring break in Ft. Lauderdale and said he was looking for a paid summer internship. Lewis, then wearing the two hats of president and general manager, said they had no internships, thank you, but they had an opening for general manager. Blaser got the job.
Now with two outs, score tied and the fastest runner in the San Diego Padre farm system on second, the ball bounded to the shortstop. For a fraction of a second, he couldn`t dig it out of the webbing of his glove, then he threw to first. The umpire bellowed ”safe,” and the first baseman wheeled around to protest. He never said a word, he just glared, the umpire said later. While he did, speedy William Taylor touched third base and kept on coming as if he`d just gotten the call to the big leagues. Ballgame over.
Tracy Lewis slouched in her seat, head in hands, as the patrons filed out and the stadium lights were quickly shut off to save money. Below her feet, she could hear the players smashing things around the plywood cubicle locker room under the stands. Three wins, 11 losses. General manager Blaser declared, ”If they break anything down there, they have to pay for it.”
Like the young players on the team, Tracy Lewis dreams of the bigger leagues. ”I`m trying to prove that, yes, you can be black and be successful, that I can withstand the gnats and the broken bats and last 140 games and still be floating.”
Outside, the temperature was close to 90 and the sun beat down on the asphalt-like clay infield.
”I wanted to go swimming today, but I was too busy,” Lewis said. ”I`m going tomorrow for sure. I`m a good swimmer. I have buoyancy.”
