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'El Senor' Gave So Much Of His Big Heart Away

By TOM McEWEN Special to the Tribune

Published: Oct 31, 2005

TAMPA -- The telephone call came about 10 a.m. Sunday at my house.

"Tom, this is Al Lopez Jr."

"Oh, oh, no, Al."

"Yes, my dad died. I know you'd want to know, as soon as possible."

"I am so sorry. Such a man. Call me when you can about the plans."

He said he would. Only thing I know for certain is that Al will want to rest beside his longtime wife, Connie, who died in 1983.

I was a regular for visits to Al's South Tampa home when he returned from his playing and managing heroics in the major leagues, as a player with the Brooklyn Dodgers, Boston Braves, Pittsburgh Pirates and Cleveland Indians, and later as manager for the Indians and Chicago White Sox.

Visited him in these last years as the friend I was, the admirer I was, of this man without fault. His grandson, Al Lopez III, had told me that El Señor seemed to be doing well these past few weeks, after some hospitalization and pain for an aching back.

Always Stayed A Tampa Guy

I wrote about him throughout most of his managerial career, of his pennant-winning years in Cleveland (1954) and Chicago (1959), and the years where so often he finished second to the hated New York Yankees. Then he retired to his beloved Tampa, which loved him back.

Al Lopez, catcher in the major leagues for 19 years and a manager for 17, was in those days terrific at those high-tension workplaces, always remaining calm, always remaining courtly, always remaining a Tampa guy. And all the while, the very first genuine big-time sports hero from both his native Ybor City and Tampa, and proud of it.

Al adored his family, his boys, and their wives and kids. They returned the love to the end. In this last year, he would spend the days at his home with a housekeeper who watched over him, and the nights at the home of Al Jr. or Al III.

But truthfully, not many knew where he lived. Close friends did, of course, though so many had left this world in recent years, including his regular Friday night dinner date at Palma Ceia Golf and Country Club, Benny Fernandez.

He still could be the best in his profession, the toughest, and the most expressive (in two languages). He was always neat and well-spoken, as if he were a graduate of, oh, say Columbia University -- not far from Yankee Stadium, the place where his Indians led by Early Wynn, Bob Lemon, Bob Feller and Mike Garcia played so tough.

Baseball knew him as a bare-knuckled catcher, then as a shrewd manager. The world knew him as Señor Al Lopez. Around here, we knew him as Al, our friend and hero. He loved Ybor, and loved his longtime friends there and around Tampa. Calling them by their first name. Was just as equally appreciated and endorsed by the media, locally and nationally.

When Al was moving about a bit better, before his back went and his legs got tired, he and his pals played golf passionately at Temple Terrace, then more recently at Palma Ceia. He was good. Know that. As he was good at dominoes, played at one of the many Latin clubs in Ybor.

A Memorable Birthday Gathering

Two years ago, around noon, a dozen of the tuxedoed waiters at the Columbia Restaurant gathered around a table where four senior men were having lunch in the beautiful Garden room, one of 11 in this historic place. On cue from the owners, Richard and Casey Gonzmart, standing behind one of the senior diners at that center table, sang "Happy Birthday."

Alfonso Ramon Lopez was born Aug. 20, 1908, the seventh of nine children of a hard-working couple who had come to America from Spain in 1906 by way of Cuba to work in the cigar business.

Al Lopez would make his fame in another, very American pursuit -- baseball.

Indeed, the Al Lopez sitting there at the Columbia on his 95th birthday at the center table by the fountain, moved so successfully through baseball he was inducted into baseball's Hall of Fame in 1977.

He was awarded an honorary doctorate from the University of South Florida. Except for work, he never left this place of his birth for long; indeed, on the occasion of his 95th birthday, what more proof to affirm that lifelong romance than to celebrate with friends of a lifetime, drinking café con leche, having flan and a cake on which his pal had an Al Lopez baseball card drawn in icing.

Friends at the main table included Ferdie Pacheco, the Fight Doctor of Muhammad Ali, who had been born in the same neighborhood, who has painted Lopez and written and lectured about him. Another friend was Phil Alessi, the master baker, master fisherman, master fight promoter, and lifelong pal of Al Lopez. Alessi's bakers hand-crafted Lopez's cake.

Then, there was the fourth at the table, the one-time sports editor of the Tampa Times and Tampa Tribune, so long befriended by Lopez. In my early times in the business, he saw to it I met the right baseball people, got me help when he could. I watched with admiration his work and his good humor and his grace in all circumstances.

Remembering His Youth In Ybor

On this day in 2003, he was called upon by us all, but mostly by historian Pacheco, who flew up from Miami for the lunch tribute, and by Alessi, who prompted Al's reminisces of old Ybor.

Pacheco is a man of many talents, many achievements. He had been a waiter at the Columbia as a youth and is a man of remarkable memory. But so was Al Lopez.

"No," Al said, "I didn't work here. But I delivered [fresh Cuban] bread before daylight, for Ferlita, to provide the Cuban sandwich bread for the cigar factory workers. By horse and buggy. We would hang it in a paper bag, on a nail, by their front door!"

He went on then to talk of his youth in Ybor, signing for $150, catching Walter Johnson, getting tossed out of two games, "including in my own park here in Tampa right after you got it named for me. I told the ump in the spring game he couldn't throw me out of my own park. Well, you must know what he said. He chased me," he said, laughing.

Yes, he remembered, he caught 1,918 big-league games, all those years of squatting surely responsible in part for the bad back that forced him to give up the golf he loved to play so well. At age 71, he shot 71.

And yes, people came over to say hello to this grand man of Tampa and of sports. He was ever gracious, but, frankly, eager to get at the café con leche and get back to his beautiful home that faced Tampa Bay. That's where his gin rummy buddies gathered almost daily for the game, two cents a point.

His sons and friends thought the daily gin kept his mind working as sharply as it did into his 90s. Al never disagreed with the theory.

Great Memory, Great Stories

Lopez would tell a few Minnie Minoso stories, a few Bill Veeck stories, Casey Stengel stories, Dizzy Dean stories. He would talk about the 1959 Go-Go Sox, which made it to the World Series, only to lose in six games to the Los Angeles Dodgers. But mostly, his stories were about Ybor City.

"Tough place. Ybor City was, once," he said. "I went to work one day and had to step around a couple of guys who'd been murdered, in the streets," but that was long ago.

"Great place, Tampa. Never, ever thought of leaving."

Then, we were gone, so Al could get ready for the gin games, after shaking the hand of everyone in the room who knew him. Most did.

We dropped Al off at his home, where the gin room doubled as a memorabilia parlor, but the centerpiece was the table. It was situated in front of a bar made of baseball bats, the table ready with stacks of new decks of cards and two friends already waiting and grumbling. Al had been a few minutes late.

The sessions would stop in a matter of months when some of his card-playing partners were lost to time. Not Al; he could have played until his time came.

Al Lopez Jr. said the doctors told him his dad died of a "massive heart attack."

It would have to be massive, that heart of Señor Lopez, massive and strong, sensitive and good, but tough even at age 97. There was good reason for that -- El Señor had given so much of his heart away.

Gracias, Al, for the part you gave me these 50 years of our friendship, for your guidance, generosity and patience in my early sports writing times.

You made all feel important. You put Ybor City and Tampa on the sports map.

Vaya con dios, Señor Lopez.