Al Campanis

Regarding the Al Campanis story ["The 'Nightline' That Rocked Baseball," April 6] and Vin Scully's summation, "It is truly an American tragedy": That's an opinion I've held from the beginning. It's interesting to see that it now appears to be the view of most fair-minded people and unanimously of those who know the real Campanis and his major contributions to the progress of black players in professional baseball. But where were all these fair-minded people in 1987?

Like the word surreal? Seems like we use it a lot, self included. Hard to avoid hearing someone describe some otherwise fairly innocuous scene as being just so surreal. Yet there was one moment in my life that truly seemed otherworldly, that even as you saw it transpire, felt uncomfortably eerie and unreal and as if you were watching it unfold while somehow suspended from above. Twenty-five years ago, Al Campanis sat on a wooden stool on home plate in the cavernous Astrodome.

Move over Tony Gwynn. Make way for Jim Campanis. The San Diego Padres locker where Gwynn's No. 19 once hung is now occupied by Campanis, a catcher and the grandson of former executive Al Campanis. Campanis, a former standout from Valencia High, spent last season at the Angels' Class-A affiliate at Lake Elsinore. Rookie Manager Bruce Bochy settled on a lineup for the team's first exhibition Friday against the Angels.

April 6, 1987. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened that spring night. I had just finished my first week as guest producer on ABC's "Nightline." And I got a quick introduction into the power of live television. Just a few words and neither the baseball world nor one man's career would ever be the same. I was the "Nightline" producer who first called Al Campanis, inviting him on the broadcast to honor Jackie Robinson 40 years after he broke baseball's color barrier.

Did you ever have an invitation you wish you hadn't accepted, turned down, pleaded a sick headache? Did you ever wish you hadn't answered the phone, wondered why you hadn't squirmed out of it? Does Napoleon wish he hadn't gone to Waterloo, Mrs. Lincoln wish she'd said thanks, but they'd already seen the play? On the face of it, the invitation that baseball executive Al Campanis got to go on the program, "Nightline," on the night of April 6, 1987, seemed innocent enough.

Al Campanis, the Dodgers' vice president in charge of player personnel, resigned under fire this morning in the wake of controversial statements he made about blacks in baseball on national television Monday night. Dodgers' owner Peter O'Malley asked Campanis to resign. Campanis, 70, had been in his job since 1968, a front-office employee since 1950 and a member of the organization since 1943.

It has been five years since anybody asked his advice, but Al Campanis still takes notes. Fifty-two years of experience are scribbled on yellow sheets of paper. Each scrap is neatly folded and carefully placed into his pocket. He takes notes while sitting in the club level at Dodger Stadium, behind home plate in Anaheim Stadium, in front of his television at midnight.

Roger Kahn, the man who shared those fateful minutes with Al Campanis on Monday night's "Nightline" television show, said Wednesday that he regrets, but has no remorse, over Campanis' firing. In fact, he implied that even more action against Campanis might be in order. "I have a heavy heart that a man with such a superb organizational record, who has built such great teams, should lose his job," Kahn said in a telephone interview from his home in New York.

LA AT 50: One in a series marking 50 years of the Dodgers in L.A. -- It was 21 years ago and it remains as clear as yesterday. Al Campanis imploded on national TV, and both the Dodgers and baseball swayed wildly for a while. A baseball team's public-relations nightmare became an entire sport's. What happened that night has been well documented. How it got so quickly to the Los Angeles public that hadn't seen the show, with that speed carrying great impact, has not been.

Gordon Edes quotes Al Campanis as saying that Pedro Guerrero wants to play third badly. Isn't that what he's been doing? DICK SMITH Long Beach

LA AT 50: One in a series marking 50 years of the Dodgers in L.A. -- It was 21 years ago and it remains as clear as yesterday. Al Campanis imploded on national TV, and both the Dodgers and baseball swayed wildly for a while. A baseball team's public-relations nightmare became an entire sport's. What happened that night has been well documented. How it got so quickly to the Los Angeles public that hadn't seen the show, with that speed carrying great impact, has not been.

Ross Newhan deserves his Cooperstown status, but his analysis of the worst Dodgers trades ever missed a couple of things. One is that the ridiculous trade of Paul Konerko for Jeff Shaw was the work not of Al Campanis, Fred Claire or the out-Foxed geniuses, but of Tommy Lasorda, who didn't even know that Shaw's contract included an "out" clause. The other is that one of the reasons for the trades of John Wetteland and Pedro Martinez is that the manager at the time wasn't using them wisely or well, and frankly didn't seem to much like them.

The kid wasn't playing every day, and he wasn't even a kid anymore. The Dodgers didn't trust him in the field, so they stuck him on the bench. He had heard the Montreal Expos might play him every day, if only the Dodgers would trade him. So Steve Garvey walked into the office of the general manager, Al Campanis, and asked what the Dodgers intended to do with him. "We still think you're an integral part of the team," Campanis told Garvey....

Now we know why Dusty Baker's calling was never in academia in the field of history. His true career path most likely could've been a circus clown contortionist, since he amazingly can put his foot in his mouth with absolutely no effort at all, while making people laugh at his ignorance. Chris R. Johnson Hawthorne I guess what Dusty Baker is really trying to say is that white players "don't have the necessities" to perform well in the heat. William O. Gaynor Newbury Park Now that Dusty Baker has made it OK to make inane comments about race in public, can Al Campanis have his job back as Dodger GM?

If anyone still believes the Dodgers are a major league franchise after the first three days at the stadium, then I can come to only one conclusion: The Giants made a deal with the devil; all the hitters are perfect, and their pitching rotation is, to a man, a combination of Cy Young and Babe Ruth. Will Barry Bonds hit 300 home runs? Will the Giant starting pitchers continue to throw shutouts, while going two for four at the plate? Will Dusty Baker make all the right moves and win the World Series?

I find it terribly amusing that Kevin Malone would want people to hear the truth several weeks after the fact. Usually one would fight for the truth to be known at once. On May 3, Mr. Malone is quoted: "I've got to be careful who I trust, because I'm open, I'm honest, and I said some things that were misunderstood because I am passionate." Man, that sounds a heck of a lot like Al Campanis, except to put a baseball mind like Al Campanis in the same sentence (or ballpark, for that matter)

Sept. 24: I wonder what Al Campanis thinks about the fact that a black (Anthony Nesty) from Suriname won the gold medal in the 100-meter butterfly? KELVIN FILER Compton

I wonder what Al Campanis thinks about the fact that a black (Anthony Nesty) from Suriname won the gold medal in the 100-meter butterfly? KELVIN FILER Compton

Congratulations to Mike Penner for his pinpoint essay ["Dodgers Have Struck Out as Champions of Tradition," April 1]. Every aspect of the feared nightmare in the wake of Peter O'Malley's announcement to sell has come true. The demise of the Dodger spirit is total. Thousands of us, fans for up to four decades, are repulsed that the team of Sandy Koufax, Steve Garvey, Al Campanis and organ music has been replaced by Carlos Perez, Gary Sheffield, Kevin Malone, and horrible rock music during player introductions.

Rocker balked. So? That's not the first time he has dropped the ball. His mentor must be Ryan Leaf. ERIS FORTUNATO San Diego Standing ovations for John Rocker in Atlanta? Figures--typical Atlanta fans (I know, I've been there). Al Campanis said eight words in 1987 and he was "gone with the wind" the next day. Compare those eight words to Rocker's five or six pages in Sports Illustrated . . . and what, "he didn't mean it?" Give me a break. The only difference between Rocker and your everyday skinhead is that Rocker hasn't shaved his head--yet.