“They told me about Spartanburg, and I thought it through and said you know, I think that’s where I’m going to go,” he said. “I took that job knowing nobody in Spartanburg. I was 24 years old, the Phillies told me what to do and where to report upon arriving in town. I remember arriving on a cold, rainy, wet Sunday afternoon in February of 1965, and I was told to go to the house of one of the owners, Mr. R.E. Littlejohn. I did that, and I knocked on the door. His wife came to the door, and explained to me that he was away that day but would see me the next day at his office. And then just before she closed the door, she said ‘no matter how long you’re in ball’ – that’s what she called it, ball – she said ‘you will never meet another man like my husband.’ Well, I never had heard a wife say that before, and I’ve never heard a wife say that since, but she was right. Mr. Littlejohn had a huge impact on me, and that was the beginning of four memorable years here running the Phillies farm club in Spartanburg.”
Memorable is an understatement. Under Williams’ management, the Phillies set every attendance record for the South Atlantic League at the time. Crowds of 5,000 or more were common during his tenure, due in large part to the creative and innovative marketing and promotions of the team. Williams learned from the legendary MLB Hall of Famer Bill Veeck, whose promotions as owner of several major league teams set the standard for the industry.
“Bill Veeck’s theory, his philosophy, was simply this: you cannot sell the game, particularly in minor league baseball, on the won and loss column,” Williams said. “It’s too risky. You don’t know the players you’re going to get. You don’t know the level of competence your team is going to have. And you can’t guarantee anything. But, you can guarantee that every time somebody comes to your ballgame, they’re gonna have fun. They’re gonna have a memorable experience. Those are things you can really line up. And you never know from night to night things that are going to pop up that you can take advantage of to promote or to sell.”
Take pens, for example. With rostered players named John Parker and John Penn, and playing on the popularity of the Parker company’s writing instruments. Williams envisioned and promoted Parker Penn night. He tracked down the company, secured gift merchandise, and planned the promotion around a game.
A game, he said, that was cancelled due to ‘the worst rainstorm in the history of Spartanburg’. That weekend, John Penn’s wife was due to give birth. Soon after, John Parker was to be called up into the Army reserves.
No problem.
“We rescheduled it,” Williams said. “John Parker got a leave from the military, and John Penn’s baby had been born, and we re-did it on a good weather night.”
Then there were the special guests. Williams scheduled Bart Starr night, taking advantage of the popularity of the Green Bay Packers’ QB. Johnny Unitas visited. Oscar Robertson came to Spartanburg, and has been a friend to Williams since. Baseball legends Satchel Paige, Veeck, and Max Patkin all made stops.
Most pale in Williams’ memory, though, to Henri LaMothe and his famed “flying squirrel” dive. Williams remembers the bald, slender Frenchman and his planned entertainment – diving 40 feet off a ladder into 18 inches of water.
The pool was placed on the first base side of Duncan Park. LaMothe emerged in a one-piece bathing suit and a bathing cap, clamored up the ladder, and had someone measure the depth of his pool, and off he went. Williams explained that LaMothe was able to arch his back in a way that allowed him to hit the water flat on his belly.
“He emptied all the water all over the first base side of the park,” Williams said. “We had to bring the grounds crew out and figure out how to dry all this water up before the start of the game…Little Henry LaMothe. I never will forget him.”
Williams soon got the chance to move up the sports ladder, taking what he learned in Spartanburg with him.
“I had an offer to go to Philadelphia in 1968,” Williams said. They had just traded Chamberlain to the Lakers. The accusation was that those things would fly in Spartanburg, but in major city, at the big league level, would not work. I was determined to prove that it would work. We took everything – other than Henry LaMothe – up to Philadelphia and built it right into the fiber of those 41 home games. It was exactly the same thing. A year later when we got the call to go to Chicago, we did the same thing. You have the budget, and you can go higher. You’re looking for something off the charts, something a little different.”
Williams’ subsequent career was both off the charts, and a little different. Having won a world championship, he was restless. And when an insistent businessman offered the ultimate challenge – building an expansion team – Williams jumped at it.
“Starting a team from scratch, naming it, designing a logo, colors, getting an arena built, all of the above – that’s the ultimate challenge,” he said.
The result of that challenge was the Orlando Magic. Now, he’s involved in a group trying to bring baseball to Orlando. And as life sometimes comes full-circle, Williams was back in Spartanburg recently, even before the announcement that minor league baseball is coming back to the city. While here, he spoke to Dorman’s baseball team and he was able to tour Duncan Park, where it all started so many years ago. He was thankful for a driver, since most of the landmarks he remembers are vastly different. And, above all, he’s thankful for his time in Spartanburg.
“Spartanburg’s got a unique spirit to it,” Williams said. “I knew that when I was here. There’s something about Spartanburg that’s pretty special. It’s a friendly town. It’s a town with real spirit and vision. I’m excited about Spartanburg. I’m proud to tell people that my career really started here. And everything I’ve encountered over these 50-plus years, it all refers back to Spartanburg. Something happened here that carried on. I learned from that. All that happened here gave me a real foundation.
