New Musial book reveals true ‘Man’

'The Donora Greyhound' they called him when he first came to the major leagues, in an era when sportswriters felt comfortable slapping nicknames on baseball players they barely knew.

In the Washington County town of Donora, where he grew up, they called him, 'Stash.' In time, all of baseball and much of the nation would come to know him as, 'Stan The Man.'

For Stan Musial, that was the nickname that ultimately stuck and over time, it resonated. He first earned it for his play on the field and kept it primarily for his exemplary behavior off the field. Nobody's done it better.

'Here stands baseball's perfect warrior. Here stands baseball's perfect knight,' are the words that former baseball commissioner Ford Frick said about him on the day Musial retired in 1963. The words are on his statue which stands outside Busch Stadium in St. Louis.

'More than any other person of his era, he exhibited what we consider heroic qualities,' said James N. Giglio, distinguished professor of history at Southwest Missouri State University and author of an excellent new book on the most famous Cardinals player of them all, 'Musial: From Stash to Stan The Man,' (University of Missouri Press).

Giglio makes that statement after spending five years researching Musial's life and career. He stands by it despite the fact that Musial, long admired for his geniality and accessibility to fans and media, refused to cooperate with Giglio and instructed people close to him not to cooperate either.

'I was devastated at first,' said Giglio, the author of several books, including one on former President John F. Kennedy. 'I took it personally.'

He was too far into the research to give up the project, however, and, without Musial's help, he has sculpted a realistic look at the man behind the legend. As he sees it, revealing Musial's human frailties only highlight the qualities that make him heroic.

'He was a much more private, more sensitive individual than I thought he was,' Giglio said.

In that regard, Musial once again was a perfect reflection of the Depression era in which he was raised. His father, Lukasz, emigrated to the United States at 19 and headed to Donora, then a bustling industrial hub on the Monongahela River. There, he met Mary Lancos, the woman who would become Musial's mother, who had worked as a housekeeper from the age of 8. Giglio speculates that Musial's persistent reluctance to talk much about his upbringing stems from a desire to save his parents any embarrassment.

The more you read about Musial, the more he amazes. Not so much because of his seven batting titles, his three MVP awards, his 3,630 lifetime hits, or his lifetime batting average of .331.

No, what amazes you is the man. He was the kind of man who would make it a point to console pitcher Joe Black of the Brooklyn Dodgers after a Cardinals player shouted an ugly racial slur at him while Musial was at bat. The next day Musial waited until he saw Black and said to him: 'I'm sorry that it happened, but don't let things like that bother you. You're a good pitcher.'

Or, there was the time when a Cardinals owner 'tricked' Musial and surprised him by staging a public-contract-signing day after Musial already had agreed to a salary for the upcoming season. The owner presented Musial with a blank check and told the media that Musial could put in any number he chose. How many other players simply would write down the agreed-upon figure rather than something higher• Musial did.

Musial's kindness toward other players was legendary. When Ron Necciai, a former Pirates pitcher from Monongahela was struggling as a rookie, Musial sent an emissary to the Pirates clubhouse to encourage the young pitcher and to wish him well.

'He was then and still is my idea of what a great person is,' Necciai told Giglio.

Musial also was the kind of man who had his son turn down an athletic scholarship to Notre Dame because he thought it was only fair that the money go to a more needy athlete.

Oddly, Musial's 'nice guy' persona might have hurt him in terms of his place in baseball history. Many of the more controversial superstars of his era - most notably Ted Williams - have been elevated in retirement, while Musial has sort of drifted away.

But Giglio knows that for many people, Musial's reputation never has diminished. To those who saw him play and understand the era, Stan always will be 'The Man.'

'A lot of people tell me they want a copy of this book for their fathers,' Giglio said. 'They tell me, 'My father's hero is Stan Musial.' '

Bill Modoono is a columnist for the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review.