I can't speak for everyone who's worked as a journalist in Erie for a long time, but for me it's been a vocation. Let me tell you why.

First, you meet interesting people who do and say interesting things. You also see up close the role that Erie people play in history. Somtimes it's quite significant.

What prompts this train of thought is the death today of 84-year-old Walter "W.C." Crosby, who lived in a modest home on Short Street. Crosby was a quiet, decent fellow who looked like your next-door neighbor or, perhaps, your grandfather. Except for one thing, that is: he hand enormous hands. I mean, they were huge. When you shook hands with Walter, you got swallowed up into those soft mitts. You knew that at some point Walter had been a catcher.

Crosby's death is a milestone in Erie because there is now only one man left here who played in the fabled Negro Leagues. That would be Willie Grace, who, at age 88, is blind and struggling with sickness.

I last spoke to Crosby in February when Stephen Baxter, a young intern on our staff, was compiling a profile on him for a story during Black History Month. Walter was so modest that Baxter wasn't sure if he had the right W.C. Crosby. But once he shook hands with him, he knew he'd come to the right house.

Crosby was a catcher in Laurel, Mississippi, who was recommended to the Cleveland Buckeyes by Grace. W.C. started playing baseball professionally in 1937, and he spent several years with the Buckeyes until 1943, when he was drafted into the military.

W.C. still laughed more than 60 years later as he recalled the tongue lashing he received from Ernie Wright, owner of the Buckeyes, who was counting on Crosby to be his starting catcher that season. "As if I had a choice if I wanted to go into the service," Crosby said. "The war was on, man."

Wright's mother ran the Pope Hotel, and many players on the Buckeyes would come to Erie to work there during the off season. Some would stay for a winter or two. Or, in the case of Sam Jethroe, Lovell "Big Pitch" Harden, Grace, Crosby and others, they would remain for 60 years or more.

Baseball in the Negro Leagues must have been fun, exhilirating, exhausting and heart-breaking. For many, it had to be awful knowing you were just as good as the major league players, but could not play in the big leagues because of an invisible color barrier.

Many, such as W.C. Crosby, seemed to accept this cruel fate with equanimity. "What could I do?" Walter would say with a shrug. But it had to be hard to be this close to your dream, and then have it snatched away because of prejudice.

Crosby and the other old Negro League stars who settled here would remain active in the community. They played for the Pontiacs in the Glenwood League, some coached little league, and they'd occasionally attend special events at Ainsworth Field and, more recently, at Jerry Uht Park. In the last two decades, Americans have come to understand the importance of the Negro Leagues and the players. The former players emerged from obscurity and, in a sense, became heroes, though many remained unchanged from the unassuming people they'd been since the 1940s.

Walter Crosby was very special, and it was a joy to cover him all these years. I'm sorry about his passing, because he was a nice man, but I'm glad I had an opportunity to meet and talk with him. It wouldn't have been possible, I think, if I hadn't been a journalist living and working in Erie all these years.

-- Kevin Cuneo