Warning: this article contains minor language.
Well, shit. I might as well try, right?
Told ya (sorry kids).
I proceeded to hit 'send' on a Facebook message to a perfect stranger named Jay Valentine.
Hi Jay, I hope you’re well! My name is Alex Painter…I am a Negro Leagues writer and researcher based in Richmond, Indiana…
Jay, a 63-year-old Chillicothe, Ohio native, had self-identified as the center fielder for the Indianapolis Clowns from 1977-1978 in a Negro Leagues Facebook group I am a participating member of. If connection is truly a core human need, I guess I have it in spades, having long been the type to try to find proactive ways to plug myself into my passions. Hell, I was 12-year-old Civil War reenactor at one point.
I would LOVE to talk to you about your experience with the Clowns…The Clowns came here (Richmond, Indiana) dozens of times over the years. Anyway, if you’d be willing to talk to me, I’d really appreciate it.
While initiative or gumption is not something that I lack (it’s probably kind of annoying to my loved ones) – I can also gracefully accept being ignored or told ‘no’. I suppose that’s the perk of growing up in an incredibly large family (second oldest of ten children here - my parents are awesome - there was just a lot of, uh, competition for their attention). Anyway, I guess that’s my fancy way of saying that if Jay didn’t reply to my message, I’d take it in stride. No one bats 1.000 after all.
But, Jay did respond - I suppose this would be a short story otherwise. He gave me his phone number and we soon set up a Zoom conversation. Like I did in college…and high school…and in pretty much every school setting I ever found myself in, I crammed in as much information as I could in short order, like I was prepping for an exam. While I am incredibly familiar with the Clowns through, oh, let’s say the late 1950s, I was far less acquainted with the 1970s editions of the team. Unlike school, I didn't want to settle for a C+/B- range.
Fast-forwarding a bit, we had so much fun during that first conversation we set another one up a few weeks later. Jay proudly wore his Clowns gear and had plenty of photographs, newspaper clippings, and other ephemera to help curate his story. I enjoyed the hell out of our talks.
By the way, they’re both on YouTube (and just surpassed the 600-view mark…go us!). You outta check ‘em out...just saying.
I learned two things quickly. First, Jay had a much wider breadth of baseball experience than just playing those couple seasons with the Clowns. He also had garnered an invite down to the Spring Instructional League in 1976 with the New York Yankees (later that spring he also caught on with the Baltimore Orioles). He recalled playing with star Reggie Jackson, and rubbing shoulders with a young Orioles prospect named Eddie Murray. In recollecting the first time he saw Murray in action, I got a first glance at Jay’s humor.
They were taking the Jugs machine and shooting balls straight up in air (for flyball practice)…and there’s this guy (Murray) with a big afro…but not bigger than mine. People (ask) ‘Ah, so yours was like Oscar Gamble’s?’ But nah. Mine was better than that.
He ain't lying, folks.
In addition, Jay played college ball at Sioux Empire Community College in Hawarden, Iowa. His head coach? Twelve-year MLB veteran Bob Cerv – who famously spent nine of those seasons with the Yankees. In 1961, Cerv was roommates with both Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris. Simultaneously. During the famous home run chase. You know he had some stories.
Second, I kind of got the vibe that few folks had asked him about his career – at least to the depth we were able to discuss. I could tell that Jay, particularly as far as his baseball exploits, seemed to skew modest and I got a sense that our talks energized Jay in way that maybe he hadn’t felt in a while. That energized me. Even if he already knew, I wanted to impress upon him how important I felt like his place in baseball history is. At the very least to let him know that I knew. Through days of back-and-forth exchanges, we found that spark that kindred spirits do. We became friends.
I never really talked about myself. Everybody knew I played baseball but they didn’t know the extent (or what) level…Now it’s Jay’s real untold story by ALEX PAINTER y’all!
Without further ado, here’s a history of the Indianapolis Clowns through the eyes and lived experiences of my pal, former Clowns center fielder Jay Valentine.
***
The history of the Indianapolis Clowns can be told in three movements – or, taking a page straight out of infamous former Clown manager Frank ‘Bobo’ Nickerson’s playbook from a 1974 interview:
First there was Clowns heyday, all through the 1930s and early 40s, you know. The team was all-Black and played in the Negro American League…they played in Yankee Stadium, Comiskey Park, big crowds, it was great. Then, the big leagues opened up and Black kids got a chance to play. The Clowns were still all-Black and supplying kids to the big league teams. Hank Aaron was a Clown, you know. And now, the third phase. The small towns, the total clowning phase. I guess you can say the dying phase.
The dying phase. While that assertion rings true, the death rattle would be a decades-long process for the indefatigable Clowns. Anyway, we will be firmly entrenched in the latter of the three phases, but let’s unpack the first two here in minute.
First...an injection of perspective.
The Clowns of this era, decades removed from the integration of baseball, encompass a wide spectrum as far as how they are remembered - if they are remembered at all. I think many folks aren't sure what to make them, or how to contextualize this era of the storied franchise. Others roundly dismiss the team as a baseball sideshow and not worth mentioning in the annals of Negro Leagues and baseball history.
I'll say this...while the Clowns history is long, it is important to note that continuity is effortlessly found – which ties Jay (and the rest of his mates) directly back to the glory days and legends of the franchise. In addition, if one considers barnstorming a critical component to the history of baseball, the Negro Leagues, and the spread of the National Game (as you should), shouldn't the final barnstorming team standing (of hundreds throughout baseball history) count for something?
I think so.
***
The Origins and Peak of the Clowns
1936-1954
The Indianapolis Clowns find their origins in the 1930s. In 1936, a Jewish-American from Tarrytown, New York named Syd Pollock became part owner of the team, then called the ‘Ethiopian Clowns’, an all-Black barnstorming team based in Miami. By this time, Pollock had been in baseball for almost two decades, and had regularly incorporated vaudevillian acts and comedy routines into the games of his previous teams. He would soon implement the same for the Clowns.
In addition to crack baseball and ‘slapsticky’ entertainment, the team would often paint their faces like, well, actual clowns. ‘Clown names’ were also assigned, such as ‘Nyasses’, ‘Wahoo’, and ‘Tarzan’. The racial undertones smacked heavily, and this brand of baseball suffered many attacks over the years. According to an excellent piece by Raymond A. Mohl:
Baseball clowning was attacked by sportswriters and some players in the black press as demeaning and undignified. Clowning around on the ballfield, it was argued, played to the negative and offensive stereotypes about Blacks common at the time.
Though incredibly controversial in many quarters, Pollock’s team was a commercial success – and he bought the Clowns outright in 1939 and became sole owner. They were really damn good, too. In 1941, they won the Denver Post Tournament (the ‘World Series of Semiprofessional Baseball’). Catcher Buster Haywood earned MVP honors.
The Indianapolis Clowns competed in the Negro American League and played their home games at Victory Field (the former Perry/Bush Stadium). The team was anchored by standbys such as catchers Haywood and Sam Hairston, second baseman Ray Neil, first baseman Reece ‘Goose’ Tatum (internationally famous as a member of the Harlem Globetrotters), and pitcher Jim ‘Fireball’ Cohen.
Throughout most of the '40s and '50s, Clowns games were highlighted by the presence of pantomiming comedy duo Richard ‘King Tut’ King and little person Spec Bebop, as well as actual clown and Pollock business partner Ed Hamman. The rags routinely billed the Clowns as the ‘(Harlem) Globetrotters of the diamond’. It was an astute comparison; in a similar fashion of the ‘Trotters ‘magic circle’ routine, the Clowns had perfected their own ‘shadow ball’ number. Shadow ball was the act of warming up or taking infield without an actual baseball, masterfully and humorously coordinated.
Of course, Major League Baseball’s 1947 integration did quite a number to the Negro Leagues, with a vast majority of the teams folding up within a few seasons after Jackie Robinson debuted with the Brooklyn Dodgers. The Clowns, as they would show for decades, wouldn’t be put to bed so easily.
The team signed a teenaged Henry Aaron in 1952 to his first professional contract. He suited up as a Clown for three months before being scooped up by the Boston Braves – subsequently hitting 755 home runs. The following year, Pollock signed Toni Stone, a second basewoman, to a contract. Although a clear ploy to get more butts in the seats, the intrepid Stone played heroically, and even hit .243 in 50 games that season.
Famously, Hall of Famer Oscar Charleston (perhaps one of the best baseball players in history) managed the Clowns in 1954. The same year as their final Negro American League pennant, and the legendary Charleston's death.
Think about that for a moment. The Clowns gave Henry Aaron his first job in baseball, Oscar Charleston his last. You know, for a guy who thinks too much, I never thought of it like that.
***
The Clowns Continue
1955-1971
The 1955 is selected as the ‘middle’ because this was the year that the Clowns began to make their bones exclusively through barnstorming around the country – forfeiting their spot in the Negro American League as well as their home stadium. After committing themselves to a strictly nomadic existence, they would never look back.
Oh, ‘barnstorming’ is when a team travels from town-to-town, city-to-city to stage exhibitions with local teams, or other teams in the area at the same time. During the days of the old Negro Leagues, barnstorming was critical to a team’s financial survival. Sometimes barnstorming meant playing a factory team on their lunch break at a ramshackle municipal park, other times a major league team in a stadium, and everything in between. As mentioned, it was truly a nomadic existence.
One year into the wholly itinerant experience, Pollock sold 40% of the Clowns to Hamman in 1956. Clarence ‘Choo-Choo’ Coleman, who would gain a cult following after playing for the ‘loveable loser’ 1962 Mets, suited up for the Clowns in 1956.
In 1964, Pollock sold his remaining stake in the team to Hamman, who then became the sole owner of the team. That same year, Hamman sold star catcher Hal King to the California Angels for $8,000.
To say the Clowns were hanging on by a thread, well, that may have felt charitable at times. But the Clowns were relentless. They persisted. They would experience some brief vestiges of relevancy – even signing future Hall of Fame hurler Satchel Paige for stints in 1966 and 1967.
He was fairly vocal about his dissatisfaction with the experience.
To be fair, Ol’ Satch’s sour feelings may have stemmed from the fact that throughout the 1960s and early 1970s, the Clowns’ hijinks and uniqueness, though omnipresent in team history, were definitely dialed up a couple notches. A one-armed first baseman named Steve ‘Nub’ Anderson suited up from 1964-1970. James ‘Nature Boy’ Williams often played his position with in a lawn chair. Little people Dero Austin and Billy Vaughn took their turns at the plate with comically oversized bats. A contortionist nicknamed ‘The Great Yogi’ milled about the diamond while walking on his hands. In the early 1970s, former model Nancy Miller was hired to join the team as a part-time umpire.
I think she helped put people in the stands. You could always get her picture in the paper, too.
Frankly, Hamman feels nothing short of a small-scale Bill Veeck in this regard.
Now, if they were hanging on by a thread earlier, it probably felt like they were pissing into the wind as the seasons marched on. To underscore this, the Clowns once played game in Grifton, North Carolina to exactly two paid admissions. But, again, the Clowns were relentless. They persisted.
By now, one can probably see where it is easy to be dismissive of the latter-day Clowns. But, I’ll say it point blank – there are few examples in baseball history with such indomitable spirit on display day after day, season after season, decade after decade. There were seasons when the Clowns were unpaid, short of a couple bucks a day for meals.
James Friend, who played third base for the Clowns in 1968-1969, will never forget Hamman, or the Clowns.
Ed Hamman told us we would be making memories we would not trade for a million dollars…he was right. I think of my time with the Clowns every day.
By 1968, the team had been relegated to a roster of approximately a dozen players (including some of the team’s first white ones). In an effort to keep the ship afloat, Hamman not only reduced the roster size, but the schedule as well. After traditionally playing north of 150 games per season, the schedule was trimmed to approximately 60-70 games. It had been several seasons since the Clowns were able book big (or even very many midsize) cities and stadiums – so they continued to play in small cities and towns across the heart of America.
One such place was Muscatine, Iowa, where a local baseball luminary, after decades of watching the Clowns come to town, would soon alter the course of Jay Valentine’s life forever.
***
The George Long Era Begins
1972
So, Jay, what was (Indianapolis Clowns owner) George Long like?
Twelve minutes into Jay and I’s initial conversation, I was still feeling a bit like a stiff. I guess it didn’t help I was still wearing the shirt and tie I wore to work. Anyway, while poking around before our talk, I discovered a trove of information about a gentleman named George Long. It was in 1972 that Ed Hamman, clearly at the end of his baseball string, sold what was left of the Indianapolis Clowns to a certain Muscatine, Iowa resident George Long. He seemed like a very interesting guy – and an absolute baseball lifer. He managed the semipro Muscatine Red Sox from 1930 through the 1996 season. No, that’s not a typo. While setting up the question and giving some exposition about Long, I saw a hint of a smile creep onto Jay’s face. I knew I struck a chord. It occurred to me that in the four decades since suiting up for the Clowns, I may have been one of just a couple folks to ask him about his former team owner.
After finishing the question, Jay let out a laugh - the kind that leaves all your teeth exposed for a couple seconds.
George Long! He traveled with us for like two, three weeks out of the season. He only had two change of clothes – one on his back and one in a paper bag…with two dozen green apples. That’s what he’d have. And there’d be apple juice spilling all down his shirt. And when we’d get to a town, he’d just go walking and advertising…go around advertising that we were in town. Just kind of an old hillbilly guy, ya know?...He walked more than any guy I ever knew.
Jay waxed affection when he mustered an impression of his former owner.
George Loooong! If ya can’t hit, I gotta send you home, I can’t afford to feed ya!
George Walpole Long was born on June 6, 1906. He grew up in Buffalo, New York before moving to Muscatine, Iowa in 1929. He immediately involved himself in the Muscatine baseball scene, joining a team that was sponsored by the local Mecca Café. In the midst of the Great Depression, the owner of the Mecca couldn’t financially keep both the team and restaurant afloat. He turned the team over to George – who had no interest in letting baseball in the town (population: 16,778) go kaput.
George, just like he would decades later as the Clowns owner, walked all over Muscatine to drum up support for his team for the 1930 season. He called his team the Muscatine Independents before later adopting the Red Sox moniker. George kept the team alive through the rest of the Great Depression and World War II. It would have probably taken the rapture to stop George from managing the Red Sox. The Red Sox played their home games at Tom Bruner Field - according to a 1977 article in the Quad-City Times, you could even catch George's wife Ellen at the ballpark tearing tickets and running the concession stand.
At the end of the day, George Long played for, managed, and promoted his beloved team for over six decades to a 1,260-705 record. Along the way, he rubbed shoulders with Bob Feller, Satchel Paige, Tommy Lasorda, Ted Turner, and countless others.
Anyway, heading into the 1973 season, it was announced that Ed Hamman, after nearly three decades with the Clowns in a variety of roles, had sold the team to a handpicked successor…George Long.
It was reputed that George, who also worked in a ladder factory, spent his life savings of $4,000 to purchase the Clowns from Hamman.
***
Jay Gets His Shot
1976
Meanwhile, in Oberlin, Ohio (the Valentine family had relocated from Chillicothe), sophomore Jay Valentine was suiting up in center field for the Oberlin High School Indians during the 1974 season - which also happened to be the season that former Clown Hank Aaron busted his record-setting 715th home run.
Though Jay was a natural left hander (the only southpaw of his three brothers), he had quickly learned to also use a right-handed mitt since his father didn’t have any of the left-handed variety. Following an unfortunate ‘beer on the bus’ incident after a high school ballgame, the Indians were kicked out of their conference and Jay was kicked off the team (Me personally? I still say he got hosed). However, the ballplayer in Jay wouldn’t be subdued; he rallied and committed himself fully to the American Legion circuit out of Norwalk, Ohio, and the local ‘Hot Stove League’ for the rest of his high school career.
While still a senior in high school, Jay took advantage of some opportunities and attended some local tryouts – MLB scouts saw enough from the slick fielding center fielder with a penchant for slap hitting and base stealing to offer him a spot in the 1976 Spring Instructional League with the Yankees (and later the Orioles) down in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. And off he went.
I left Ohio kind of like it is now, snowing…two hours later, I’m in a pair of shorts in phone booth calling my parents, letting them know I made it…I went to the house, and there’s seven guys already (there). We slept on the floor with sleeping bags…no curtains in the house.
So, the weather was awesome, the accommodations…kind of shitty. But no matter, Jay was doing something few have the opportunity to do; he was officially a pursuant of his baseball dream.
Seven o’clock in the morning you gotta be up because you gotta be at the ballpark…from then I was just in awe…seeing Reggie Jackson and Mickey Rivers. After shagging fly balls and ground balls for the big leaguers, then we’d have our practice, where we (would receive coaching) and work on the flaws in our game.
Jay stayed in Florida for eight weeks before returning to Oberlin to walk with his class that June of 1976. He continued to play American Legion ball for Norwalk during the summer of 1976.
He stayed in-touch with a fellow Instructional Leaguer named Curtis Wallace, who was heading off to play his second season for the Clowns that summer.
Wallace may have put in a good word for Jay to George Long – the Clowns owner ultimately called Jay to invite him to tryout for 1977 edition of the Clowns.
***
A Band of Baseball Vagabonds – Jay’s Time with the Clowns
1977-1978
By the mid-1970s, and even well before that, the ‘Indianapolis’ portion of the Indianapolis Clowns was merely for name recognition – the team hadn’t been based in the Hoosier State since the 1950s. In his final years as owner, Pollock had moved the team’s base of operations to Buffalo. When George Long had bought the team, the team’s base moved west to Muscatine. The fact that the team had virtually no tie to Indianapolis was once underscored by former player/manager Bill Heward, famous for his 1974 book ‘Some Are Called Clowns: A Season with the Last of the Great Barnstorming Baseball Teams’.
…What makes me sad sometimes is that even when we play in Indianapolis, we bat first.
It was in Muscatine that tryouts for the 1977 squad, the team’s 48th season, would occur. Among the 50-60 players in attendance was a still-teenaged Jay Valentine – standing six feet tall and tipping the scales at 145 pounds.
The team kept exactly 12 ballplayers. By the time all the drills were run, players assessed, and the final cuts were made, Jay Valentine was one of the dozen left standing. Jay, following in the steps of ‘Goose’ Tatum, Hank Aaron, Satchel Paige, ‘Choo-Choo’ Coleman, and countless others, was officially an Indianapolis Clown.
Many of the players on the roster were like Jay; teenaged or college-aged prospects looking to get noticed somewhere, anywhere on the road. Crosschecker, bird dog scout…it didn’t matter a lick how. But the Clowns weren’t going to make their bones, much less survive, with a team of prospects. Fortunately, George Long had a pair of marketable shock troopers to deploy to galvanize the crowds.
‘Birmingham’ Sam Brison and Nate ‘Bobo’ Smalls.
***
‘Birmingham Sam’
Brison had been with the Clowns since 1962 after being discovered by Ed Hamman while suiting up for the Birmingham Black Barons. He was reputedly offered spots on the Cincinnati Reds and Milwaukee Brewers (though I was unable to find any record of this). Brison gained further notoriety after playing the role of shortstop Louis Keystone in the 1976 movie ‘The Bing Long Traveling All-Stars and Motor Kings’, a sports comedy based on Negro League barnstorming team during the 1930s, starring Billy Dee Williams, Richard Pryor, and James Earl Jones.
Brison was widely-acknowledged as the ‘clown prince of baseball’ (a role on the team formerly held by Goose Tatum and King Tut), and was generally leader of most of the Clowns comedic hijinks on the diamond. That shouldn’t detract from the baseball-playing wizard that Birmingham Sam the ballplayer was. He played every position. I had to ask Jay about the uniquely talented Birmingham…
‘Birmingham Sam’ was the best player I ever, ever, ever played with…and him being the ‘clown prince’ as well…He could field a ball at shortstop, drop down to his knees and (still) throw you out. He could throw a ball between his legs from home plate, on a loop, all the way down to second base...He'd always call me 'Junior'.
When the Clowns rolled into town, it was Birmingham who typically received top billing. After decades on the road, this was a role he approached with near-fatalism. Inevitability. Maybe a little sadness, even. He shared a glimpse of this in 1978 with a reporter from the Quad Cities Times:
It gets to be kind of a grind. We might be tired after traveling all day and then get to some place that doesn’t have the full facilities ballplayers need. The parks may not have hot showers or we might have to dress at a high school because they don’t have a dressing room at the park…I look at my life like that of a man going into the army. It is something I’ve got to do. I’ve got to play with the Clowns.
For quite some time, if the rest of the Clowns were the ventricles, it was Sam who was the beating heart.
***
‘Bobo’
If Birmingham was the heart of the 1970s Clowns, pitcher Bobo Smalls was unequivocally the soul. Joining the Clowns in 1965 at age 19, Bobo was native of Savannah, Georgia. Friendly, affable, and a complete showman in his own right. Former Clowns shortstop Paul Painter (who was only 16 during his 1977 stint with the Clowns) fondly recalled Bobo in a Satchel Paige-like story.
Bobo was the best. He was funny, and talented as ever. There was a time in Bluefield, West Virginia, where the opposing team was heckling (him). We were in front of a crowd of about 3,000 people. He told the outfield to go on into the dugout (saying) he didn't need them. They trotted in, and he struck out the batter. Then he told the infield to take a seat and relax. So, we sat on the ground. Bobo struck out the next batter. Then he turned and told us all to go in the dugout. We get in, and (second baseman) Mike Coco says to me, ‘Don't sit down, get ready to run out if the guy hits the ball!’ (But) Bobo struck that final batter out. Unbelievable! He was a fun and good guy.
Jay recalled a time when Bobo threw three different balls to three different catchers at the same time. All strikes. Mercy. He stayed with the Clowns ‘til nearly their last gasps – 1986.
As Dr. Layton Revel, founder of the Center for Negro League Baseball Research, shared:
Bobo was a legitimate star baseball player who never made any money at the game. He saw the end of Black baseball in America. He lived the final chapter.
***
On Monday, May 30, 1977, the Clowns season officially began in Davenport, Iowa against the Quad City Area All-Stars. After a quick exhibition game with Long’s Muscatine Red Sox the following day, the Clowns hit the road.
Each Clown was paid five dollars a day in meal money, and an extra two dollars (called ‘ridin money’) if the team didn’t shack-up in a hotel room. Clowns could pick up a few extra bucks if they were part of the ‘show’, or the in-between inning entertainment the Clowns were famous for.
I was getting $11, $12, $13 a day.
They’d drive countless thousands of miles during the next couple months of the season. One thing I learned from Jay during our first conversation was long gone were the days of the team bus that allowed ballplayers to stretch their sore muscles after a day spent traveling, playing then traveling again. Instead, the team traveled in a 12-passenger, nine-door Checker Aerobus. They threw their luggage, equipment, and other shit they had on top and packed in. Go ahead - if you’re otherwise uninitiated to what one these things look like, jump over to Google and see for yourself.
Yes, the Indianapolis Clowns crisscrossed the country in an airport limousine.
For a short leg of the season, the Clowns would welcome an esteemed guest into the Aerobus...Clowns owner George Long (when he could schedule time off work, that is). Over four decades after the fact, Jay was amazed by how much that guy would walk. Walk around every town they'd pull into. Walk around preaching the gospel of the Indianapolis Clowns to the locals.
In such tight, uncomfortable quarters, under pressure to perform (and wildly entertain) on the diamond every day, those who were true, as Heward put it, ‘roadmen’ became clear in a hurry.
There’s more to being a Clown than playing baseball. It is the ‘roadman’ who gains respect. Baseball, at most, is one half of making it with the Clowns. What’s a good roadman? He’s the guy who’s first out of the wagon to fix a flat tire. He’s the guy who get his hits in front of small crowds just as frequently as he hits in big crowds. He can play any position. He can drive all night.
Slater, Iowa. Sheboygan, Wisconsin. Provo, Utah. Beatrice, Nebraska. Salina, Kansas (where half of the stadium lights went out during the game).
But I still couldn’t get over this Checker Aerobus. During the second part of my conversation with Jay, I just had to ask him…
Jay, what the hell would you guys do to pass the time? You surely talked each other out…what else would you do?
He let out a laugh. Probably marveling at my naivete. I’d like to think I jogged some memories.
Some slept…but other than that man, you were either driving, or drinking…(Mike) Coco, who was our second baseman, he was kind of like ‘the’ driver. It was hard for him to give up the wheel.
Mike Coco…adamant Aerobus driver. Mike Coco…poked his first home run in tiny Wyoming, Illinois in front of a tinier crowd on June 5, 1977, pushing the Clowns to a 3-2 victory. Mike Coco…roadman.
Jay continued.
That thing (the Aerobus) would break down…I remember when we were in Iowa, pretty close to Muscatine. The tire, the rear tire, passed us up (on the highway) in a ball of fire. That thing probably had over 300,000 miles on it.
I’ll say! Even having a deep familiarity with the logistics and difficulty of Negro Leagues travel during through the 1940s, this still seems like utter madness.
Shortstop Painter shared that the Clowns, at least for a time, had an accompanying car. However, after getting pulled over in Smithfield, North Carolina, it was discovered that the car didn’t have any registration paperwork.
…and that was the end of the accompanying car.
Not for nothing, according to Painter, it would seem strongly that the local Sheriff didn’t care too much for having the Clowns drive through town late at night – particularly with George Sanders (a Black man) behind the wheel.
When the Clowns were on the field – the crowd-pleasing antics had to keep pace with the ballplaying. The classic Clowns routine of ‘shadow ball’, or the pantomiming act of warming up or taking infield without an actual baseball, was still masterfully employed. In this regard, Jay, a future theatre major, fit in immediately. In the midst of defeating the Lincoln County (Wisconsin) All-Stars 1-0 on July 13, 1977, Jay got to flex his comedic chops with one of the best. In a recap written by the Wasau Daily Herald…
Outfielder Jay Valentine and (Birmingham) Sam teamed up to row an imaginary boat with baseball bat oars during a break between innings. The routine ended with the boat swamped and a doused Valentine spouting water as Sam attempted to revive his teammate.
Despite seemingly all odds, the Clowns wrapped the season around August 7, 1977 back in Muscatine, Iowa, having won ‘75%’ of their games.
***
Jay actually stayed in the Hawkeye State after the season, having opted to go to school and play college ball at Sioux Empire Community College (SECO) Titans in Hawarden, Iowa (on the Iowa/South Dakota border).
As mentioned, SECO’s head baseball coach was former New York Yankee Bob Cerv, who had accepted the head coach position the previous September. Jay starred in left field for the Titans, moving from his traditional spot in center because Cerv wanted him to mentor new teammate Belvie Kennerly (who despite having heavy feet, Jay insisted that 'he could scoot').
The Titans, with a new coach and a left fielder with plenty of seasoning under his belt, went 14-9 (.609 winning percentage) that 1978 season - a runway success for the junior college. Jay credits Cerv in large part for the turnaround.
As a coach, he (Cerv) was unbelievable...I learned so much from that man. He had these big, thick, heavy hands that he'd always hit you in the chest with when he wanted you to listen to him.
The band got back together for the 1978 season, with Jay (and Birmingham and Bobo) once again in-tow. Jay was prepared to parlay Cerv's teachings into another successful campaign with the Clowns, their 49th in team history.
After 23 games, the Clowns were reported to be off to a sterling 20-3 start. The 20th win of the season was in Lake Norden, South Dakota (population: 400). The fast start was in no small part thanks to some brilliant play of their center fielder and leadoff hitter, who had come to acquire the nickname of 'Doctor Deuce' (and not just because he bore a number two on his jersey's back).
If you walk me, you're walking a double - possibly even a triple. I was a base stealer. Baserunning was my thing. I'd still get some power sometimes; I probably hit seven home runs as Indianapolis Clown.
The rags also back Jay's assertion. In a July 9, 1978 issue of the Elyria Chronicle Telegram, they dedicated some ink to the area kid who was making good.
Oberlin man stars with traveling team
Oberlin's Jay Valentine has gotten off to a good start in his second year with the Indianapolis Clowns baseball team by hitting .400 in 21 games. The Clowns have a 70-game schedule this season. Valentine, who plays center field, travels from coast-to-coast with the Clowns playing all comers. The Clowns have seen a lot of talent pass through its ranks in its 49 seasons of ballplaying. Among them are Satchel Paige, Goose Tatum, and Hank Aaron.
By the end of July, the Clowns were reported to have a 55-12 record. They soon pedaled back to Muscatine and packed it in for the season. Season number 49 was officially a wrap.
It was Jay Valentine's swan song with the Clowns, too.
***
Afterward
George Long owned the Indianapolis Clowns until 1983. He died in 1998 at age 91. He managed his Muscatine Red Sox all the way through the 1996 season. He told a reporter around the same time that he only planned to give up the Red Sox 'when he got old'.
After George died in January of 1998, the local Muscatine PBS station played a 1984 special dedicated to him, called 'Muscatine's Own Mr. Baseball, George Long' over and over again throughout the rest of the year. You can see it here.
Muscatine High School athletic director Chuck Van Hecke paid tribute to Long. It was spot-on.
George was one of the most unique people I've ever known. His love for baseball was unheralded in this country. There will probably never be another person like George Long. I think he probably never got the recognition that he should have as far as the importance of what he did for baseball.
As it were, 1978 marked the final season in a Clowns uniform for the best player Jay Valentine ever saw, 'Birmingham Sam' Brison, ending a 16-year run in baseball. He died in April 2014 in Birmingham, Alabama.
Remarkably, the Clowns persisted in the 1980s. Long sold the team to former Clowns player Dave Clark. Clark, a polio survivor and as dogged as the Clowns themselves, played the game on crutches.
The team, finally at the end of the string, gave its last performance in 1989 - coincidentally, the same year that former Clowns owner Ed Hamman died. Through the 1986 season, the Clowns still boasted one final draw to the ballpark - the soul of the team, Nate 'Bobo' Smalls.
Bobo died in June 2019. His death rocked the community of Danville, Illinois, where he had served as a mentor to underserved and at-risk youth. A force of positivity and anti-violence, Bobo was known locally as one of the 'Three Kings of Peace', a group of three elders who advocated and collaborated for less violence in the schools and community. You would almost always find Bobo at the local parks, or running gym activities at the local Boys & Girls Club. Ed Butler, a longtime friend and president of the local NAACP chapter commented:
A lot of young people in Danville can truthfully say they led positive lives because of Bobo Smalls. A generation of youth looked to him for advice.
After the 1979 season at Sioux Empire Community College under Bob Cerv, Jay transferred to the NAIA Sioux Falls College Cougars (now called the Division II University of Sioux Falls) for the 1980 school year and season, where he played for coach Kevin McDonald.
In 1981, the Cougars went 19-12 and finished as the runner-up in the SDIC (South Dakota Intercollegiate Conference). The 19 wins were the most in school history at the time. Jay was named all-conference, and won the Cougar Hustler team award.
After college, Jay caught on with the Valley National Bank Class A amateur team in Sioux Falls, South Dakota - the first chapter of a long post-college career. My friend Jay kicked around on the diamond until he was 45, often playing against 'kids half his age'.
So, where does this leave us? Hell if I know.
Actually...maybe I do.
The Indianapolis Clowns are one of the most important and culturally significant teams in baseball history. If you don't believe that now, well, I gave it my damndest.
And my pal Jay Valentine was there to live it.
Jay and I met in-person on June 13, 2021 while visiting family in Cleveland (Jay lives nearby). He signed autographs for my entire family.
