Cooperstown Confidential: Thinking of Johnny Callison

It’s been five years since we lost a very good ballplayer, one who developed something of a cult following during his days in Philadelphia. Johnny Callison, who had struggled with a variety of heath problems for several years, died in 2006. For some reason, his passing was treated as an afterthought, even though he was both a productive player and a Philadelphia icon.

If you like stories of ballplayers with modest roots overcoming hardships, then Callison’s saga is one for you. I must admit that I’m a sap for these kinds of stories. Callison had to overcome a difficult upbringing as the son of migrant workers. Born in 1939 in a place called Qualls, which was undoubtedly one of the poorest places in the state of Oklahoma, Callison, with his family,had to deal with life in the dying days of the Great Depression.


Through a combination of hard work and natural talent, Callison signed a contract with the White Sox organization. Callison had a beautiful left-handed swing, terrific power, and a cannon-like throwing arm that was the envy of most outfielders not named Roberto Clemente or Al Kaline. He was one of those five-tool players we hear so often about; he could steal bases and hit home runs, and put together two terrific seasons at Triple-A Indianapolis, the Sox‘ top affiliate.

After he debuted in 1958 at the age of 19, the White Sox called him up for the stretch run in 1959. While the “Go Go” White Sox would win the American League pennant, Callison looked like he still belonged in the minor leagues. He batted only .173 with a scant three home runs in 49 games.

Regardless of his September swoon, Callison should have called right field at Comiskey Park his home for years, but the White Sox made the mistake of trading him after the 1959 season. They sent him to the Phillies for journeyman third baseman Gene Freese, a proven power hitter but a player with a far more limited ceiling than Callison.

Much like the White Sox, the Phillies did not see immediate dividends from Callison. In his first two seasons, he failed to hit with much power, falling short of double figures in home runs both times. But there were signs that he would be a good player eventually. He drew some walks, stole an occasional base, and basically terrorized opposing baserunners with his throwing arm. (From 1962 to 1966, he easily outpaced Clemente in assists, 103 to 76.) He also became a master of playing right field at ancient Connie Mack Stadium, where a 34-foot wall often made long fly balls into carom-filled adventures.

Callison emerged as a very good player in 1962, when he made the All-Star team for the first time. For the season, Callison put up a career-high OPS of .854. Two years later, he returned to the All-Star Game in high style, ending the Midsummer Classic by clubbing a three-run home run in the bottom of the ninth to give the National League a 7-4 win at Shea Stadium.

Reaching the 30-home run and 100-RBI plateaus in 1964, he seemed destined to win the National League’s MVP Award. But the events of the last fortnight of the season doomed him. By frittering away a six and a half game lead over the final 12 games of the season, the Phillies not only committed one of the great collapses in 20th century history, but they also denied Callison the MVP. Callison had to settle for a second-place finish to Ken Boyer, the All-Star third baseman of the pennant-winning Cardinals.

Boyer’s numbers were actually better than Callison’s, and he also played the more demanding position, but it’s doubtful that Boyer would have won the MVP if the Cards had finished second. The statistics of the two players were close enough that the man fortunate enough to play for the pennant-winner would stake claim to the MVP. As it was, Callison did little to contribute to the Phillies collapse. During the final 12 games of the season, he had two three-hit games, a two-hit game, and single safeties in four other games.

In a Sept. 27 game against Milwaukee, Callison put together one of the most memorable performances of his career by hitting three home runs, but he could not prevent a blowout loss to the Braves. Two days later, manager Gene Mauch sat Callison down because he was racked with the flu, complete with a high fever and a set of bone-piercing chills. Despite his condition, Callison appeared late in the game as a pinch-hitter, delivered a single, and insisted on running the bases himself. Feeling simultaneously chilled and fevered, Callison needed help from teammate Bill White, who helped him button his warm-up jacket. It was the kind of heroic moment that would have felt like a fitting scene in The Natural.

Callison continued to play down the stretch—in fact, he did not miss a game the entire season—but he could not prevent the slumping Phillies from coughing up the lead to the Cardinals. To his credit, Callison did not allow the disappointment of the late-season freefall to affect his performance in 1965. He remained a very good player; in fact, he elevated his performance for the Phillies, as he achieved career highs in home runs and slugging percentage.

Phillies fans came to appreciate Callison, not just for his production, but his style and personality. They loved his toughness. They appreciated his personable nature. They watched gleefully as he made rocket-like throws from right field that often removed runners from the basepaths. They enjoyed his silky left-handed swing, which perfectly complemented the right-handed power of Richie Allen.

At 27, Callison appeared to be in his prime. The Phillies anticipated that he would remain a star for several seasons. Yet, injuries started to take their toll in 1966; problems with his legs and back essentially prevented him from putting up what could have been a Hall of Fame resume. The injuries also added to his tendency to worry and fret. Even in his best seasons, Callison lacked confidence, his psyche racked with doubts. By his own admission, Callison worried far too much, and that also affected his performance adversely.

From 1966 to 1969, Callison put up mediocre numbers. Convinced that he was done, the Phillies sent Callison and an obscure right-hander named Larry Colton to the Cubs for hard-throwing reliever Dick Selma and a young outfield prospect named Oscar Gamble. Now playing for Leo Durocher, Callison responded with a bounce-back season in 1970, hitting 19 home runs and drawing 60 walks for the Cubs.

But Callison ultimately clashed with Durocher over a lack of playing time. Durocher felt that Callison needed to be platooned, Callison bristled at such a reduced role, and the manager placed the veteran outfielder into his doghouse. After the 1971 season, the Cubs sent the unhappy Callison to the Yankees for veteran reliever Jack Aker.

Growing up in Westchester County, I remember Callison best as a member of the Yankees in 1972 and ’73. I knew he had been a star, but I wondered why he now struggled. Little did I know that he was simply an aging player who was a fragment of his former self. In 1973, Callison’s hitting fell off the map. With the Yankees struggling to stay in the American League East pennant race and Callison’s average sitting at .176, the team needed to make room for first baseman Mike Hegan, just acquired in a trade with the A’s. In the midst of a road trip, manager Ralph Houk asked Callison to come to his hotel room. Houk informed the 16-year veteran that he was being released. Left stranded because his wife was vacationing at the Jersey shore, a stunned Callison remained at the hotel for two days

Sadly, Callison’s post-playing years would be marred, not by injury, but by illness. His health deteriorated in the 1990s and early 2000s. In the 1980s, he developed an ulcer that hemorrhaged, necessitating the removal of half of his stomach. While in the hospital, he suffered a heart attack, underwent a quadruple bypass, and saw his weight drop to 135 pounds. Then in the 1990s, he developed an aortic aneurism that caused a large bubble to form in his belly. He had to undergo a five-hour operation to remove the aneurism.

Then came a bout with cancer in the 2000s. This time, Callison would not recover. His 67-year-old body ravaged by so many years of ill health, he died on Oct. 12, 2006.

Several years after Callison’s career ended, I became a fan of M*A*S*H, the groundbreaking 1970s TV show about life at a medical hospital during the Korean War. And then, while looking at some of Callison’s Topps cards, I was struck by how much he looked like the actor who portrayed the memorably psychotic “Colonel Flagg” on M*A*S*H. Flagg was played brilliantly by character actor Edward Winter. In one episode, Flagg intentionally injured himself by ramming his head into a metal locker. On another occasion, he deliberately broke his arm by pinning it under a heavy piece of x-ray machinery, as Hawkeye (Alan Alda) and Trapper John (Wayne Rogers) looked on in stunned amazement.

In contrast to Colonel Flagg, the injuries that curtailed Callison’s career were not self-inflicted. Players have enough problems staying healthy without ramming themselves into metal pieces of furniture. Callison’s injuries were simply the result of bad luck, along with the natural effects of aging on a ballplayer. With a little more health and a lot more luck, Callison’s five-tool talents might have translated into a place in the Hall of Fame.

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  1. Tommy said...

    Callison was one of my favorites when I was a kid. Two points about the warmup jacket incident in late 1964, though:
    1) Bill White was the first baseman for the Cardinals, not a teammate of Callison, which made it even more touching;
    2) Only pitchers are allowed to wear warmup jackets on the bases, but the umpire looked the other way.
    Many people there called it the most moving thing they ever saw on a baseball field. It shows how determined Callison was, and what a great guy White was.

  2. Bruce Markusen said...

    Tommy, thanks for pointing out the correction about White, a classy guy to say the least.

    The warmup jacket rule was a strange one. I’m not sure why it mattered that a position player could or could not wear up a warmup jacket on the bases, but a rule it was.

  3. Edmundo said...

    Thanks, Bruce.  Callison was a hero to us in Philly, the ‘64 collapse nonwithstanding.  And what a gun—we begged opposing runners to try for that extra base.

    He also had problems with the bottle, as I understand.  Regardless, I’ve never heard anyone say a bad word about him; he seems to have been universally liked.

  4. Chris Waters said...

    Clemente was great, but Johnny Callison really was just as good or even better in the field. One had to see him to believe it. Amazing, and a real nice guy, too!

  5. Butch Haber said...

    Once again Great Job Bruce!! I remember Johnny Callison Very Well!! He was without a doubt a 5 tool player!! especially in 1964 and yes he would have been the MVP in 1964 had the Phils won the Pennant!! and of course living in Brooklyn all my Life I saw him on T.V. when he finished his career with the Yankees!! By the way Cliff Blau is a Very Good Friend of Mine A True Gentleman and Very Knowledgeable on Baseball and Music!! Thanks Butch!!

  6. Joe Pilla said...

    In real life 1964, Mr. Callison certainly had an MVP season.
    But to me, his card amidst the All-Stars in the Challenge the Yankees board game was my ace in the hole. I cannot tell you how many times he hit a decisive homer in my 1965 tabletop battles with friends who insisted on playing as the Bombers. His card was more golden than that of Yaz, Henry Aaron, or even Willie Mays.
    When I went to a Mets-Phils game a couple of years later, I expected him to be ten feet tall.
    Maybe not, but when he uncorked a throw to hold a Mets baserunner, I was wowed. It’s a true pity that he didn’t get to cap his special ‘64 season by exhibiting his skills in the World Series spotlight.

  7. Ralph Moses said...

    Like Vada Pinson, Johnny Callison was a five-tool star NL outfielder in the 1960s who has been all but forgotten today.  Callison was a clutch hitter and he had a cannon for a throwing arm.  He was one of my favorite players of the era.  This was a very fine article on an underrated and unappreciated star of the past.

  8. Jim Cooper said...

    Great article.  My brother and I always noted the MASH connection as you did.  Although not as obvious a resemblance, we think that current Philly, Ryan Madson, also resembles Callison, albeit a lot skinnier.

    Johnny was always a favorite of mine.  He lived for many years in my home town of Glenside PA and several of my friends went to school with his daughters.  I recall that he worked for a local car dealer in the off season and after retirement he worked as a bartender in local taverns. 

    He always seemed like a great guy.  I was sorry to hear how he was always having health problems.

    Thanks for the fond memories.

  9. Dave Donaaldson said...

    Growing up in Philly during the early ‘60’s, Johnny Callison was my favorite Phillie. Around 1986, I had the good fortune to be introduced to John and his wife, Diane, at a neighborhood function. Even though I made a complete fool of myself that first night, I was lucky enough to call John a friend for the next twenty years. This article fails to mention that John Callison was an all around nice guy and a good friend to many.

  10. said...

    Johnny was great ball player,if there was a ball involved he could do it and do it very we’ ll,was a very good football player and basket player also. We were kids together lived right across the field from John house.Was a good friend of my family and a very good friend of my brother in law.We to grammar school at River Blvd school and high school at East high school w/ Johnny.His sister Judie was a very good in sports. Knew is wife Diana very pretty girl and a nice person also,every body in Bakersfield stills talks about Johnny he is and always will be are Mickey Mantel ,I know he’s mine. RIP.John.

  11. Mike Hollander said...

    I was a 12 year old Philly fanatic in 1964 and had been a Philies fan since I could walk. After so many years of awful, losing teams, the 64 Phil’s were a breath of fresh air. The emergence of Rookie of the year Richie Allen, the solid pitching staff anchored by Jim Bunning and Chris Short. And, Gene Mauch, the young gutsy manager. But, Johnny Callison was by far my favorite player. Never met the man but by all accounts a good guy and class act. RIP JC, you are remembered with fondness by many an aging Phillies fan.

  12. Lou Garofano said...

    Johnny was a great player and even better person. One of his daughters is married to a good friend of mine’s brother. I was lucking enough to go to his home and meet him. He was very gracious to me and my friend. Signed several autographs for me and gave me about an hour of his time. RIP JC you were the best.

  13. George Latham said...

    As a Phillies fan growing up in Wilmington in the 1950s and 1960s I, like everyone else, idolized Johnny Callison. I remember being so excited when he hit the home run to win the 1964 All Star game. After years of experiencing Phillies losses and last place teams (question: What has 18 legs and lives in the cellar? answer: the Phillies) to see a Phillies player be a hero was like a man dying of thirst and finding water in the desert.

    So imagine the thrill I had caddying for Mr. Callison in a golf outing at Bidermann Golf Club somewhere between 1969 to 1971. Bidermann was and is not just a private course but also exclusive golf club north of Wilmington near Winterthur museum and gardens. This is DuPont country, beautiful, rolling green countryside. In those years I worked at DuPont Country Club and caddied at Wilmington Country Club, too. They needed caddies at Bidermann so a few buddies of mine and I went over to work the event. Bidermann was so exclusive I had not even heard of it and didn’t know where it was. I think Callison had married into the DuPont family and that was why he was in the field (someone may want to verify that for me). Obviously, it must have been in the fall after the baseball season was over. Of course I was unfamiliar with the course, but that did not seem to matter. To this day I can not believe I wound up on Johnny Callison’s bag. Maybe the caddie master helped me out since I was known as a good caddie (years later I did a few events on the PGA Tour). One of my favorite golf memories that I will always cherish.

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