This Papa Made Most of Big-League Money

His name appeared in only three major-league box scores, a total of two innings - no wins, no losses - but life after baseball has become a comforting success story for John Papa. Destiny decreed he’d be among the early Baltimore Orioles bonus boys, a time when the club was making exorbitant free-agent investments in such diverse talents as Dave Nicholson, Bruce Swango, Jim Pyburn, Bob Saverine, Frank Zupo, Steve Dalkowski, Wayne Causey, Bob Nelson, Tom Gastall, Dean Chance and an array of other names not necessarily preordained for the Hall of Fame.

The Orioles were free spenders then, as now, but their focus was in a different direction. With checkbook in hand, they were enticing young prospects coming out of high school and college in the late 1950s and early 1960s to come to Baltimore. Dollars never became a concern to Paul Richards, general manager/manager, who excelled in giving away the club owners’ money.

Richards’ working philosophy was that if only a small percentage of the players made the grade, he was ahead of the game in expediting improvements to the Orioles and their farm system. With players like Brooks Robinson, Boog Powell, Jerry Walker, Ron Hansen, Jerry Adair, Andy Etchebarren, Davey Johnson, Larry Haney, Dave McNally, Chuck Estrada and others, the Orioles more than fulfilled Richards’ expectations in the gambling search for expensive talent.

Some of the kid recipients made instantly wealthy by the Orioles didn’t always protect their money. They spent it, of course, on expensive automobiles, bought into businesses they knew nothing about, were tempted by land deals in the Arizona desert and made loans to friends. Not John Papa.

He came from a wise, hard-working family that owned a grocery store for 45 years on Barnum Avenue in Bridgeport, Conn., and the $65,000 in salary and bonus he received in 1958 was for the most part used to buy blue-chip stocks - IBM, Texas Instruments and Affiliated Funds. Papa was mature beyond his years, with more than a cursory understanding of the stock market.

“I didn’t need an agent,” he recalls. “I could think for myself. I listened to my father, who came over from Naples, Italy, and my mother, a Slovak, plus my Uncle Nick. They had known the tough times of the Depression in this country. I had an interest in investments from the time I was 15 years old. In fact, when I was in the minor leagues, I’d often spend part of my days visiting brokerage houses in the various towns just to watch the stock-market action.”

Papa, not to be confused with another right-handed pitcher, Milt Pappas, says his only regret is he didn’t do more to justify the confidence the Orioles demonstrated when scouts Frank McGowan and Joe Cusick signed him. Papa hurt his arm in 1960 trying to learn to throw a slider, an unfortunate condition known to occur frequently with young pitchers.

During his time down on the farm, in places such as Bluefield, Rochester, Elmira, Fox Cities, Ardmore and Aberdeen, he played with present Orioles manager Johnson and the team’s general manager, Pat Gillick. Papa is here on a visit to watch the Orioles and reminded Johnson that it was during a game in Binghamton, N.Y., in which he and Steve Cosgrove took him to the hospital after Johnson’s front teeth were knocked out when a foul ball came off the bat in a bunting attempt.

On opening day 1961, Papa relieved Pappas against the then-Los Angeles Angels in their first game as an expansion team. “The hitter I was to face was Ted Kluszewski, and I remember Paul Richards telling me I could probably blow the ball by him high and tight. I did with the first pitch. I had him two strikes and got the ball down, where I didn’t want it, and Kluszewski hit it high into the right-field seats. Catcher Gus Triandos came out to me, smiled and said, ‘Welcome to the big leagues.’ I struck out the next hitter, Bob Cerv.”

He says Dalkowski was the most awesome talent he ever observed. “I saw him strike out 16 and walk 12 in a no-hitter. The way he could start a pitch low and it would explode all the way up to a hitter’s shoulders was something to see. If he could ever have harnessed the ability, there’s no telling what might have happened. Suppose you had Pat Gillick’s head and Steve Dalkowski ability. Steve, just a real nice guy, would give you anything you wanted.”

Papa played for manager Earl Weaver in three different minor-league cities. “He was fair, and I respected him more than anybody I met in baseball. Earl was a player’s manager. I saw him when he would charge umpires, get on his knees and cover home plate with dirt and pick up second base and carry it into the dugout. A battler and a winner all the way.”

The gratitude Papa holds for the Orioles, who gave him what amounted to an economic start in life, is something that comes through in conversation, although he reluctantly adds, “I just wish I could have done more and accomplished something for Baltimore.” Now, at age 56, he lives in Shelton, Conn., is chairman of the parks and recreation commission and has twice been elected as a Republican alderman by the voters.

His wife of 33 years, Jane, teaches in the school system. The Papas have four children, all college-educated. Son John graduated from Xavier University with a degree in finance; David, an alumnus of Providence College, is a CPA with the Olin Corp.; daughter Lisa graduated from Southern Connecticut with a degree in psychology and is studying for a master’s, and the youngest, Karin, 22, has an English degree from St. Anselm and is to work as a volunteer for the next year in London, under the auspices of the Catholic diocese, to assist the blind and underprivileged.

“Our children have brought us a lot of pleasure,” Papa said. “As parents we are deeply proud of them. They never caused us any trouble and always accepted responsibility. We have a grandson, John, which means there have been four boys in four generations of our family carrying the name John. My father lived long enough to see him, which makes me happy to realize that.”

After leaving baseball, Papa went to work for Remington Arms, then General Electric and, for the last 20 years as sales manager in New England for Guard-All Chemical. He also spent eight years going to the University of New Haven at night for a degree in business administration. “And I owe it all to the Orioles,” he said. “None of that would have been possible if they wouldn’t have signed me and given me the bonus money.”

In moments of nostalgia, he wonders what’s happened to some of his former teammates, specifically mentioning Joe Pulliam of Baltimore, “a center fielder who before he broke his leg was the fastest man I ever saw on two feet.” He likes to reflect on Ardmore and actually living at the ballpark. “I was with Pete Ward and Frank Zupo. A couple of us slept in hammocks, under the stars at night, and showered and shaved in the dressing room.”

Ah, yes, the memories. But for John Papa, conservative and considerate, he was a bonus-boy pitcher who didn’t throw his money away. He went on to establish himself as a citizen, businessman, office holder, husband and father of, shall it be said, Hall of Fame proportions.