Still a hero in hometown

GREENVILLE, S.C. -- If you're looking to call Shoeless Joe Jackson a cheater in this genteel Southern city, you're looking for trouble. Big trouble.

''I'd just about fight you over that," says Rufus Barfield, who lives on East Wilborn Street, Shoeless Joe's old address. ''He hit .375, didn't make any errors, and had the only home run [of the 1919 World Series]. He was found innocent in a court of law. You just can't do better than that. I believe he was taken advantage of."

But eight members of the so-called Black Sox, including Shoeless Joe, were banned from baseball for life by commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis for conspiring to throw the 1919 World Series. Jackson admitted to a Cook County (Ill.) grand jury on Sept. 28, 1920, that he received $5,000 as part of a gambling fix but said he tried his hardest to win. The White Sox lost to the Cincinnati Reds, five games to three, in what was then a best-of-nine series.

Portrayed variously as an illiterate country bumpkin, a shrewd liar, or an innocent tragic hero, Jackson indisputably was a great ballplayer. In 1911, he batted .408, the highest average ever by a rookie. His lifetime average is .356, third-highest in baseball history. Babe Ruth said he modeled his stance after Jackson's. Ted Williams said he may have been the greatest natural hitter of all time. And here in his hometown, where he worked in the textile mills at age 6, and returned after baseball to become a successful businessman, people are still passionate about Shoeless Joe, who died in bed in his hometown on Dec. 5, 1951.

Today, there's a Shoeless Joe Jackson Plaza with a life-sized statue, a Shoeless Joe Jackson Memorial Park, and a Shoeless Joe Jackson Memorial Parkway. There are Jackson murals near what used to be Jackson's liquor store and a coffee shop/museum with the name Cuppa Joe's across the street.

Jackson's empty red brick house will be moved near a new ballpark that is under construction in West Greenville, restored, and made into a museum. Last year, the Red Sox affiliate, the Single A Greenville Bombers, held a birthday party for Joe; 3,200 fans showed up to receive bobblehead dolls and birthday cake.

The Jackson family made a rare appearance that night. They shun publicity. Before her death in 1959, Jackson's wife, Katie, assembled the family and told them, ''It is time that we put an end to letting people use us." CMG Worldwide handles the Jackson estate, and royalties go to the American Heart Association and American Cancer Society. But that doesn't ease the pain for Shoeless Joe's great nephew, Ray Jackson, 63.

''When he died, [the ban] should have been lifted right there," he said. ''They let it go on for no reason. You're banned for life, life is over. But I don't talk to a lot of people. I just let it go."

There was a time when Shoeless Joe was not a universally beloved figure here. Ray Jackson used to fight those who called Joe a cheat.

''I used to love fights," he said. ''Joe said fighting is gonna get me. He didn't want to do it. It cost me a lot of pain. I'd get my butt kicked, too."

Ray Jackson wears a White Sox cap and has a 1917 World Series championship ring on his finger. In those days, players got timepieces, not rings. But Joe had the watch fob altered into a ring. The diamond still sparkles, though the gold is worn and the letters half-gone.

''Joe gave it to my daddy," says Ray. ''Told him to wear it with pride."

Ray says his favorite memory of Joe came not long before Joe died. Jackson, who had heart trouble, came out of the stands in a semipro game, took off his white Panama hat, and grabbed a bat with his massive hands.

''He came out in street clothes," says Ray. ''He batted once for both teams, and both of 'em were off the center-field fence. The fans went crazy. Everyone was jumping around."

Listening intently to his grandfather is Joseph Jackson, 13. The youngest Jackson wants to be a major leaguer.

Joseph Jackson is an eighth grader who calls everyone ''sir." He's happiest when he's spraying line drives around Joe Jackson Memorial Field, a home run away from the massive textile mills where Shoeless Joe labored. He doesn't have to fight anyone, though.

''The other kids just say they wish they were related to him," he says. ''How cool is that? They all signed a petition to reinstate him. He's innocent."

When his team won a recent tournament and lined up for a team picture, young Joe removed his cleats for the picture.

Shoeless Joe got his nickname while playing for the semipro Greenville Spinners in 1908. New spikes were causing blisters, so Jackson went to bat in his stocking feet. As he rounded the bases, an opposing fan yelled, ''You shoeless son of a gun!" and the name stuck.

Joseph Jackson bats left and throws right, just like his namesake.

''They got it backwards in 'Field of Dreams,' " he said. ''I didn't care for that."

He mimics Shoeless Joe at bat.

''At the edge of the bat, he put his little pinky around the handle," he says. ''I don't use quite as big a bat as he did."

Sometimes he goes to the Woodlawn Memorial Cemetery, where Joe is buried with his wife, Katie. As of last week, there were 10 baseballs at the site, along with two worn bats and a glove with a hand-scrawled message: ''Rest in peace, Joe. We will get you in your rightful place back in baseball."

Joe Thompson, 72, knew Joe Jackson as a boy. His father, Jimmie, was a local sportswriter and friend of Jackson's. According to Thompson, who wrote, ''Growing up with Shoeless Joe," Jackson swears he was not in on the fix, that his roommate, pitcher Lefty Williams, brought the cash to his room.

''Joe said, 'I don't want it, it's dirty,' and he threw the money on the floor and said, 'I'm going to report it.' " according to Thompson.

Thompson said a club secretary, Harry Grabiner, would not let Joe see team owner Charles Comiskey, so he went back to the hotel.

Thompson's account: ''Joe says, 'I was fluffing my pillows. I found the envelope. It was more money than I had ever seen in my life.' Joe says the next morning he took the money to Comiskey Park and knocked on the door. Nobody answered. Finally Grabiner raised the lattice ticket window and said, 'What do you want, Joe?' And he said, 'I want to turn in this money because it's dirty money and I don't want anything to do with it.' Grabiner said, 'Take the money, Joe. Go on back to Carolina and this will blow over.' "

After the scandal, Jackson felt disgraced. He played ball in local leagues under assumed names, then ran a successful dry cleaning service, a restaurant, and a liquor store. Ty Cobb once stopped into the liquor store, according to Thompson.

''Joe said, 'Can I help you, sir?' and Cobb said, 'I want a quart of bourbon,' and Joe turned his back to reach up the shelf and Cobb said, 'Joe, don't you recognize me?' And Joe said, 'Sure I recognize you, Ty. I just thought nobody from up there wanted to know me anymore.' "

But in Greenville, Jackson eventually won people over.

''He was a very admired man around here," says Lester Erwin, a distant cousin by marriage who is cofounder of the Shoeless Joe Jackson Society. ''In the back of his mind, he felt he was coming back disgraced.

Jackson's widow left his famous bat, ''Black Betsy," to the Erwins in her will. Lester once used Black Betsy for collateral on a house in Tennessee. Erwin sold the 34-inch, 40-ounce hickory bat -- now bent, scuffed, and tobacco-stained -- for more than a half-million dollars on eBay two years ago. Next month, it will be auctioned again by Sotheby's. Erwin says he misses it.

''Whenever I had it, it always made me feel good," he says. ''I could be having a bad day and see that bat, and flash back and see him and my Dad."

Jackson steadfastly maintained his innocence until his death. Reportedly, his last words, spoken to his brother David, were: ''This is it, good buddy. I'm going to meet the greatest umpire of all now. I know that he will judge me innocent."

Today, there are old-timers who defend him till the end.

John Burgess was Shoeless Joe's paperboy and neighbor as a kid. This season, he paid $12,000 to sponsor the birthday celebration at the ballpark.

''When I was 10, I delivered his afternoon paper," says Burgess. ''Joe wasn't Harvard-educated but he was smart. Most of the conversations were about life and succeeding and to honor your mother and father. Do what's right and stay out of trouble.

''He drove a blue Packard, and he'd come home from work and stop that car and get out and play ball with a bunch of 8- or 9-year-old kids."

Joe Anders, 84, a member of the Greater Greenville Baseball Hall of Fame, says Jackson was a generous man.

''I've seen him line up kids many days at the soda shop and buy them ice cream cones," says Anders. ''I've seen guys on hard times come by and hit Joe up for 5 or 10 dollars, and he'd never make a note of it. There was no telling how much money was owed that man, because that's the kind of man he was. Great heart. Great generosity. He was loaded with generosity."

Anders knew enough not to bring up the Black Sox scandal around Jackson.

''Well, he was depressed," says Anders. ''You could see it by the expression on his face. He was taken out of baseball, the game that he really loved. It would not have hurt him any more if he lost an arm."

Anders says he talked about the scandal only once.

''Joe brought it up and said, 'I'm innocent,' and I believed him, and I left it like that," he says.

Burgess came to know Williams, who fought to get Jackson reinstated.

''The passion he had for that subject, I think, really added to Ted's life," says Burgess. ''Look, let me tell you something. You say whatever you want to say. One, he was sentenced to a life sentence. Two, he served that sentence. Guilty or not guilty, he served that sentence."

Plus, he was tried and found innocent in two trials, Burgess said.

''If you are tried and you're acquitted, you are innocent," he says. ''You want to know what I think about O.J. [Simpson]? Guilty as hell. But a jury said he's innocent. He's walking around the streets."

Baseball commissioner Bud Selig told Williams that Jackson's case would be reviewed, but so far it has not been. A 1999 joint resolution by Congress also asked baseball to reinstate Jackson. A new resolution was drafted last week, co-sponsored by Senators Tom Harkin and Jim DeMint, pointing out that Landis banned Jackson without holding any hearings.

But Jerome Holtzman, Major League Baseball's official historian and a baseball scribe for more than 50 years who has been honored by the Hall of Fame, has another view.

''My take on Joe Jackson is that he was absolutely guilty," Holtzman said from Chicago, where the White Sox were in the World Series again. ''The day before the trial began, he admitted, here in Chicago, to the Associated Press and the United Press that he was guilty of slow fielding and that he allowed Cincinnati to score several runs that they would not have scored otherwise.

''Also, Joe Jackson in his confession, which was stolen or lost, revealed that he was [angry] because he only got $5,000 when he was supposed to get $20,000.

''He hit .375 and the only home run in the World Series, but what they fail to say is that in the first five games when the fix was on, he came to bat nine times with men on base and he didn't drive in a run. He drove all of his runs in and hit his only home run after the fix was abandoned, after the fifth game.

''So he was definitely guilty. I'm amused when I read that no one knows what happened. That's not true. A lot of people know what happened."

Williams petitioned Selig in 1998 on Jackson's behalf.

''Let me tell you about Jackson and the Black Sox," Williams once said. ''I know all about them. Now, Joe shouldn't have accepted money from a teammate, and he realized his error. He tried to tell Comiskey, the White Sox owner, about the fix. But they wouldn't listen. Comiskey covered it up as much as Jackson did -- maybe more.

''And there's Charles Albert Comiskey down the aisle from me in Cooperstown and Shoeless Joe still waits outside."

Selig, reached before Game 2 of the World Series in Chicago, acknowledged his promise to Williams to look into Jackson's case but added, ''None of my predecessors saw fit to change Kenesaw Mountain Landis's decision. It is under advisement. There's much to review. I do as much as I can."

But isn't life plus 54 years enough punishment?

''Well, I guess you could ask all the commissioners, starting with Happy Chandler and going on to the future," Selig said. ''That's a judgment. When we're all done with a very thorough review . . . after all, you're talking about something that's 85 years old and there's been a lot of work, huge files to review.

''Everybody is gone from that time. It's very hard to substantiate. So I have to talk to historians -- and by the way, none better than Jerome Holtzman."

Back in Shoeless Joe Jackson Plaza, Joe Anders stands near the statue of his old friend. When Greenville artist Douglas Young created a clay model of the statue in 2001, Anders was an adviser, making sure Shoeless Joe's swing was just right. And he's not letting go of his cause.

''I'm going to stick with him as long as I'm around," he says. ''And when that day comes, maybe I can join him on the field, somewhere."

Dan Shaughnessy of the Globe staff contributed to this report from Chicago.