When he saw what Stargell was capable of doing, Freeman came up with yet another idea—this one involved sending Stargell to tour around the country with the New York Philharmonic, serving as an ambassador of classic music. He would perform in the morning for inner-city teenagers with major orchestras of National League cities, then accompany his audience to a ballgame in that city’s National League park. Freeman had been moved to think about this project by something inspiring Stargell had said over dinner to Freeman’s then 18-year-old son, John, a catcher who had been invited to attend Major League tryouts. When John demurred, saying he was not a fast enough runner, Stargell told him that the only National League record he held was for striking out. “Stargell told him, ‘You see, John, you can’t hit home runs if you can’t learn how to strike out. And what is true in sports is also true in politics, in business and in the arts,’” Freeman recalled. Freeman said Stargell’s remarks immediately made him think how powerful that kind of a message would be for inner-city youth in a program that included elements of baseball and music, and he developed a proposal for the Ford Motor Company. But the financing fell through and Stargell got interested in other projects.
Those who collaborated on New Morning for the World would cross paths periodically later on. Effron, who grew up in Cincinnati, once attended a Reds game there when Stargell was coaching first base for the Pirates. “I was with some people and they didn’t know that I knew him,” he said. “I told them I was going to walk down between innings and talk to Stargell. They told me he wasn’t going to talk to me. But he came running over and gave me a big hug. They all said, ‘God, he knows Stargell.’ It was the highlight of my life.”
Although Stargell had no fulltime “next career” lined up yet, he strode into retirement confidently following his foray into the world of symphony music, “ready for tomorrow,” as he wrote in an article that appeared in Parade magazine in April 1983. He was no longer driven to play the game that had brought him fame and a healthy paycheck. He talked about his work with the Willie Stargell Foundation and its focus on sickle cell anemia. “For each dollar I raise to aid in the cure of this disease, I think of a kid lying in a hospital bed who will never be able to live his or her dream,” he said.9 He’d first gotten involved in the fight against sickle cell more than a decade earlier, when he learned his oldest daughter, Wendy, was diagnosed as a carrier of sickle cell anemia, an inherited disorder that decreases the blood’s ability to deliver oxygen to the body. Several noteworthy professional athletes, including Stargell and Atlanta Braves slugger Henry Aaron, got involved, lending their names to various fundraising efforts. But Stargell did more than generate money. Even during his playing days—first with the Black Athletes Foundation, which organized in 1963 before morphing into the Willie Stargell Foundation in 1979—he sought out those in positions of power, hoping to open the nation’s eyes to the little-known disease. In the winter of 1971, for example, he met with Pennsylvania Senator Richard S. Schweiker to discuss a pilot program designed to open the door to more screening opportunities. Schweiker even co-authored a senate bill that would authorize federal grants for voluntary screening and counseling, educational materials and research for the prevention, treatment and cure of the disease.10
Over the years, the Willie Stargell Foundation raised thousands of dollars, much of it used to buy laboratory equipment designed to diagnose the disease, although funding was spent in other areas. One of them was a 1980 seminar geared toward the world of academia and aimed at bringing sickle cell anemia into the classroom as a discussion topic.11 Neddie Hollis, executive director of the Sickle Cell Society, Inc.—one of the nation’s first community-funded sickle cell disease centers—said the Willie Stargell Foundation was not tied structurally to the society. “We were separate entities and had totally separate goals,” Hollis said. “But Willie was very supportive of the society’s efforts and accomplishments.” Hollis’s predecessor, Ruth White, was the society’s executive director from the early 1970s until 1989, and during that time, Hollis said, Stargell was a major helper with fundraising activities, including bowling and golf tournaments. Hollis said, that Stargell “seemed to have had the presence to command respect among the most powerful people in the city.” Hollis said Stargell and White had an excellent relationship. “To hear her tell it, Willie was genuinely concerned about the disease. He was sincere about helping in any way he could.”12
Stargell’s foundation had its share of success in terms of generating money for the sickle cell cause. In 1980-81 alone, the year after the Pirates’ feel-good world championship of 1979, the foundation raised $159,805. But the next year, that number dropped to $50,000—and much of that was used to run the organization. As a result, less than $10,000 was made available in direct grants to those suffering from sickle cell anemia, Stargell told the Greensburg Tribune Review in June of 1982. “We haven’t been able to give anybody the funds that we have in the past,” Stargell said. “It doesn’t make us feel very good.”13
That’s the year when the Pennsylvania Commission on Charitable Organizations ordered the organization to undergo an independent audit. According to a published report that cited state officials, the foundation started the 1980-81 fiscal year with $23,286. But by April of 1982, the commission ordered the organization to cease operations, claiming it had failed to submit to the audit and had spent too much on administrative costs.14
A key financial failing was linked to the foundation’s 1980 decision to sell the 300 Neiman prints that Stargell discussed during the first of his “days” honoring him at Three Rivers Stadium. The goal was to raise $600,000 but over a two-year period, only 20 of the prints were sold. In the meantime, the foundation moved into new offices and hired several employees, figuring that the Neiman prints would bring in sufficient funding to operate at that level. Without revenue from the print sales, the foundation was unable to pay its bills.15 Even though the foundation that bore Stargell’s name had its problems, Stargell remained committed to the cause. In April 1983, a malt liquor company known as Champale initiated its second annual fundraising campaign to help the National Association for Sickle Cell Disease and named Stargell as its national spokesman. The firm also launched a major public service publicity effort to call attention to the NASCD programs.
The Commission on Charitable Organizations later reinstated Stargell’s foundation fundraising rights, but by that time the damage had been done and in the first few days of 1984, the foundation was on its last legs. In January, the foundation’s office equipment and sports memorabilia were put up for auction at its East Liberty headquarters after the foundation was unable to attract sufficient donors to keep its operation afloat. The storefront building was sold for $22,000 and the proceeds were to be distributed to several charities.16 Stargell told the Pittsburgh Press that his foundation had “suffered from the economics of the times” and could not operate the way he wanted it to operate. “The corporations were unable to help us as they had before,” he added.17 Stargell’s foundation was just one of the areas into which he had delved following his retirement from the game. By the middle of 1983, he had been promoting such disparate products as poetry, fur coats, sandwiches and politicians, and the local media speculated that his endorsements were earning him at least twice as much as the estimated $700,000 he had made during his final season as a player.18 Stargell was broadcasting Pirate games for Home Sports Entertainment, a regional cable sports channel; earning $2,500 to $5,000 for motivational speaking engagements; operating a Pittsburgh-based construction firm; and endorsing various food products. He was even contacted about a possible role in a television show to be created by the producers of Hill Street Blues, a popular police drama at the time. Steven Bochco, creator and executive producer of the show, to be called Bay City Blues, said, “We’re all big Willie Stargell fans here and we’re in the process of casting and Willie’s name just came up. We thought it would be an interesting avenue to explore.” Stargell, though, couldn’t find time to do
a screen test. “I’m locked in with a lot of other things right now,” he said. “As it is, I have about 30 seconds left for myself.” Stargell said the multiple offers did not result from any sort of marketing strategy on his or his attorney’s part. His lawyer, Litman, said Stargell’s attractiveness stemmed from the way he comported himself. “He has the closest thing to a perfect personality,” Litman said. “He’s a beautiful man and it emanates from him.” William Stankey, an agent at Greater Talent Network—the New York–based management firm that handled Stargell’s lecture schedule—called Stargell a “bona fide national hero. Because of that, people see him in a different light. He cares about people, and it shows.”19
Just as Stargell was able to bring all races and creeds together in a clubhouse to create a family atmosphere, he seemed able to transcend boundaries in the area of product promotion and endorsements—lending his name to everything from low-income natural gas grants to plush coats for a downtown furrier. Stargell said the key was to reach people on the most basic level. “You take away a title or a position and the person underneath is still important,” he said. “It doesn’t matter who or what he is.” It wasn’t as if Stargell was accepting every deal pitched his way, though. He told the Pittsburgh Press he rejected a $225,000 annual fee to serve as spokesman for the American Pork Association because he had concerns about potential links between the product and high blood pressure.20
Stargell kept busy in other ways. He was nominated to serve on the Pennsylvania Council of the Arts in early 1984—the agency responsible for encouraging and developing the arts in Pennsylvania through a grant program. A few years later, he would become involved in something of a different nature—serving as honorary chairman of the “Share the Joy” program, designed to educate new parents about the dangers of child abuse.21
Although retired as a player, Stargell maintained an affiliation with the Pirates as Peterson’s special assistant. The club’s official news release, sent out on March 18, 1983, stated that Stargell would focus much of his part-time work with the organization’s minor league players and would also handle various duties at the major-league level. He would also devote some time in working with the John W. Galbreath Company, a real estate development corporation owned by Pirates chairman John Galbreath and his son, Dan, the Pirates’ president. “I can’t say how pleased we are to have Willie working with the organization,” Peterson said. “I can envision him doing so many outstanding things for the Pirates. He is a class individual who will be a great addition to the staff.” Stargell said in the club’s press release that the one thing he desired more than anything else was to remain with the Pirates in some capacity. “I wanted the opportunity to give back some of the many things this organization gave me,” he said. “This is an ideal situation for me ... it is very refreshing to know that I’m still going to be around and involved with this group of people.” Stargell told reporters he envisioned helping youngsters who hadn’t yet found their way to Three Rivers Stadium, focusing on the psychological aspects of the game. “I am more interested in the kids in the minor leagues,” Stargell said. “With so many players, it’s not so much the talent, it’s the mental part that allows you to sustain the time you have in baseball.... I want to be the friend of the kids in the minor leagues.”22 Stargell served his first two post-retirement seasons as a minor league adviser for the Pirates, and in October of 1984 the club named him minor league hitting instructor. “Willie has been an integral part of our organization and has had a great influence on our minor leaguers over the last two seasons,” Peterson said. “We are quite pleased that Willie will continue to work in our minor league system.”23
Early in his playing days, Stargell downplayed the idea of sitting in the manager’s seat someday, although he had waffled a bit as he neared the end of his playing career. Indeed, teammates and even opposing managers had speculated about Stargell’s interest and aptitude for managing while he still had some gas in his playing tank. During spring training in 1980, Sparky Anderson, who was then managing the Detroit Tigers but had faced Stargell from the opposite dugout numerous times as skipper of the Cincinnati Reds, said he believed anyone could be a good manager if he could communicate well with his players. “And Willie has never been a two-faced guy,” Anderson said. “All he’d have to do the first few years he manages is go in with four excellent coaches—not friends, coaches—who can help teach fundamentals. Willie has always been able to produce and maintain dignity. If he could take over the Pirates someday, it would be perfect.”24
By spring training in 1985, Stargell had grown comfortable with the idea of managing. “When I retired I did not want to manage,” he said. “I didn’t want to be on the other side of the fence. But now, after being around a while, my mind is changing. I need another year or two, time to observe. But I think I want to manage.” He was getting a taste of it in Florida’s Grapefruit League, managing in “B” games and picking Tanner’s brain. “It is starting to intrigue me,” Stargell said. Tanner said he thought Stargell would be a good manager but that he needed to go down to the minor leagues and manage a while—perhaps as long as four years. Stargell said he would not be averse to managing in the minor leagues but would not make it a lifetime job. He also said he would not have a problem working for another organization—even an expansion club—provided he would have some say in player acquisition. “I would not go into an expansion team with a two-year contract,” he said. “I would have to grow with the organization.” Stargell said he would keep his rules to a minimum if he were to lead a ballclub. “Be on time and play like hell on the field,” he said. “You just have to try to make men be men and athletes be athletes.”25 Less than three months later, it appeared as though he was taking a significant step toward that end when the Pirates named him to serve as first-base coach under Tanner. Joe Brown, brought back as interim GM, said he didn’t expect Stargell to work any miracles with the club, which was in last place in the NL East with an 18–37 mark at the time and averaging a paltry 10,100 fans per game, but was simply trying to make the team more attractive. “Chuck and I are enthusiastic about Willie’s acceptance of our invitation to become a member of our field staff,” Brown said. “He’s a winner and always has been a winner.” Tanner was all for the move. “Without question, he’s a future Hall of Famer and one of the greatest players in Pirates history,” Tanner said. “He always maintained the right attitude even when he was slowed by injuries. Willie has always stressed the mental side of the game and his mental approach was just as great as his physical abilities.” Stargell, who would replace Steve Demeter in the first base coaching box, said he hoped to inject a spark into the moribund club. “It’s just a case of having fun again, and that’s what the game is all about,” Stargell said. “I just want to get down there and see the guys have some fun. I’m glad to have a chance to be part of the atmosphere of the stadium again. I’m willing to help in any capacity. I just hope I don’t miss any signs down at first base.”26
He also reiterated his desire to sit where Tanner was sitting. “The more I’m connected with it, the more I sense the urge to manage,” he said. “To be honest, I’m not ready yet because I haven’t been around it. But this time next year....” Prior to his first game, Stargell told his old Pirate teammate Skinner—now the club’s third-base coach—that he “didn’t know a darn thing about coaching first base.” And no one was about to argue a few hours later when, in the first inning, Pirate base runner Joe Orsulak was picked off first. “I thought to myself, ‘What the heck is going on here?’” Stargell said later with a laugh. “Get me out of here and back to the minor leagues so I can teach these kids how not to get picked off.” Pirate players were happy to see Stargell back on the field, pickoff or no pickoff. “I think a lot of us found ourselves saying, ‘I wish Willie was here,’” outfielder Doug Frobel said. “He was always such a guiding force. He’s still the biggest guiding force for this team.” Added Madlock, who played a key role on the Bucs ’79 title team: “
It’s important to have a guy who is familiar with the modern-day ballplayers. The players feel like they can relate to Willie.”27
Perhaps, but Stargell’s presence did little to cure the Pirates’ woes, as the club finished the 1985 season 57–104, a whopping 43½ games behind the division champion Cardinals. That was hardly the worst of it, though. That summer, word surfaced regarding a federal drug probe that focused on activities involving cocaine sales to major league baseball players. At least a dozen players were questioned by a federal grand jury—three of them Pirates: pitchers Rod Scurry and Al Holland and outfielder Lee Mazzilli, and two former Pirates in outfielder Lee Lacy and infielder Dale Berra. Seven men were indicted, six of them from Pittsburgh. It seemed like a million years—and a million miles—from 1979 and “We Are Family,” as Stargell would admit. “We had a feeling in this city back then that we could do anything,” he said. “You know, the city of champions.”28 In September, the federal cocaine trafficking trial of a Philadelphia caterer named Curtis Strong began in Pittsburgh, and on September 10—the fourth day of testimony—Berra dropped a bombshell, testifying that Stargell and Madlock gave him amphetamines, a stimulant that was not uncommon among players before being banned starting in the 2006 season. Berra testified that amphetamines—referred to as “greenies” by many in the game—made players more alert and alleviated aches and pains.
“It just makes your body feel stronger,” Berra testified. Berra, under questioning from Strong’s attorney, Adam Renfroe Jr., said he used greenies in Pittsburgh as well as Portland, Oregon, a minor-league affiliate of the Pirates at the time. When asked who had given him amphetamines in Pittsburgh, he told Renfroe it was Madlock and Stargell.
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