El Profe: Bithorn and Báez — Finding inspiration in a persevering pioneer
By Adrian Burgos
Among the first images I saw out of Puerto Rico after Hurricane María was of a statue on the ground. Broken arms. Broken right leg. And let’s not even talk about my broken heart.
It was the bronze of Hiram Bithorn, the first Puerto Rican to play Major League Baseball, which until last week stood tall in front of the stadium that carries his name in San Juan.
Left leg raised, right arm back, about to whip the ball toward the plate — it was almost as iconic an image for islanders as Roberto Clemente’s statue forever frozen in a batter’s pose, ready to unleash his powerful swing.
And there was Bithorn, smashed to pieces, another of María’s countless victims.
Puerto Rican Pioneer
This past April 15 marked the 75th anniversary of Bithorn’s debut with the Chicago Cubs. A moment that came and went without much fanfare across MLB.
Who remembered? Puerto Rican fans in Chicago, and across the diaspora — sometimes called diaspora-ricans — and, of course, on the island.
The first of #LosNuestros to get to the big show, Bithorn came before Luis Rodríguez Olmo.
Before Clemente.
Before Cha Cha, Robbie and Pudge, all who would join The Great One in Cooperstown.
Bithorn’s path to the Cubs and the major leagues was neither swift nor smooth. He originally signed with the New York Yankees in 1936, as did a number of notable Puerto Rican prospects in the 1930s and 1940s.
The Yankees let Bithorn go.
As did the New York Giants.
Bithorn, a stocky and athletic hard-throwing right-hander, finally got his chance in 1942 with the Cubs.
Stepping onto the mound to face the Cardinals at Sportsman’s Park in St. Louis on April 15, Bithorn made his own kind of history. He was the first. That’s what most mattered to all of Borinquen.
Answering the Call
A U.S. citizen by virtue of his Puerto Rican birth in 1916, Bithorn entered in the U.S. Navy following the 1943 season on November 26.
He switched uniforms after a stellar season with a 1943 Cubs squad that finished fifth in the National League. Bithorn made his mark by leading the National League with seven shutouts while throwing 19 complete games, finishing 18-12 with a 2.60 ERA.
Like many others who would serve during World War II, Bithorn would return from two years of military duty a changed athlete, if not a changed man.
He never again enjoyed the success he had in 1943.
His 26 appearances — primarily in relief — with the 1946 Cubs, followed by two relief outings for the White Sox the next season would bring his major league career to a close.
Clearly, for Puerto Ricans the length of Bithorn’s major league career was not as significant as the journey and the man.
Bithorn’s Legacy
For us boricuas, his accomplishments as a ballplayer were buoyed by the challenge of being a native Spanish-speaker in an English-speaking institution — in this instance, Major League Baseball.
Although by island standards of race and color, Bithorn was un blanquito — a white man — that was not exactly how those in the minor league and major league circles typically viewed or treated him.
At best, he was racially ambiguous to them, a foreigner who was not black, but whose accent and propensity to interact with people of all shades and colors — and even claim them as his family — threw off U.S. sensibilities about race in the 1940s.
Such were the days for those Latinos like Bithorn who played in the minors and who did make it into the majors before Jackie Robinson broke the color line in 1947.
There were questions, not just about talent but about makeup, psychological and racial.
This is part of what we celebrate about Hiram Bithorn. We understand what it took to become the first.
Javy Remembers Hiram
Javy Baéz is a “hard get,” to use the parlance of TV journalism.
Everyone at Wrigley wants a piece of Javy.
Fans want autographs.
Media want time: Just answer a few questions, whether on camera or on tape.
The Cubs have their own public relations and media needs for their Puerto Rican star.
This past April 15, I was part of that contingent of people seeking Javy’s time.
But I and La Vida Baseball had something that no one else had at Wrigley that day. A small item that actually made Javy stop as he left the field after batting practice.
A 9-by-12-inch photo of Bithorn in a 1942 Cubs uniform.
I asked Javy in English if he would pose with the picture and answer a question about the 75th anniversary of Bithorn’s debut.
He answered, beautifully and emotionally — in Spanish.
“I am extremely proud that this is happening, that we are recognizing this, and especially being a fellow Puerto Rican,” he said.
Perhaps it was the comfort that he felt in speaking with a Latino member of the press that he opted to respond in Spanish. That he wanted those of his beloved Puerto Rico to hear and understand clearly his shared pride in being boricua and in being part of a rather unique history.
Or maybe it was the reverence that Latino and Puerto Rican players have for those who paved the way into the major leagues for them. The attempt to address them — or speak of their place in history — in Spanish.
In either case, on the occasion of the 75th anniversary, Javy showed why it is that Puerto Ricans honor Bithorn, why they named the principal baseball stadium in San Juan in his honor and erected a statue of him.
It is about love, passion and respect.
The photo gave him pause. Reason to make time. To speak to the past and to honor our pioneers, those who persevered.
And it is those same sentiments that help us know that among the many other things que vamos levantar, that we will rebuild in Puerto Rico, will be the statue of Hiram Bithorn.
Featured Image: @shawtylilyami / Twitter
Inset Image 1: Jorge Fidel López Vélez
Inset Image 2: Adrian Burgos / La Vida Baseball