The Valley’s sports icon you don’t know about

Beede, Arroyo, Mancini, Jaworski, Kosco, Stoops and Wilkins are among the many last names that get tossed out when people mention Youngstown’s sports royalty.

And Lehotsky.

Errrrrr ... who?

It’s OK if you said, “Who?”

Elmer Lehotsky of North Jackson High School’s Class of 1946 is unknown to the names noted above, and also to the thousands of people who talk about those names above.

He’s just as unknown by guys such as Mike Moustakas, Danny Duffy and Jonny Gomes, who just won the World Series with the Kansas City Royals.

But those three and thousands of others have a lot to be thankful for due to Elmer.

Elmer died this summer in Arizona – ending 65-plus years as a servant to America’s pastime – baseball.

Elmer is known and beloved just up the road a bit in Jefferson, where he and his wife, Jordan, would first live and start a family that would grow to seven kids.

It’s also where he organized the first youth baseball programs in 1953 as a young lad in his early 20s. Kids there have played the last 20 years or so on Lehotsky Field.

But it’s in Williamsport where Elmer is renowned.

Yes, that Williamsport – the Pennsylvania shrine that is to youth baseball what Canton is to football, Augusta is to golf and so on.

At the same time Elmer was ramping up his Little League efforts in Jefferson, the national organization was getting going in Williamsport. Founded in 1938 by a guy who organized his nephews, Little League grew quickly. At the time Elmer started Jefferson, the Little League World Series was already on TV.

After serving in Ohio roles for Little League, Elmer joined the main office in 1963, leaving his job at a local car dealership.

He told a newspaper back then: “I was reluctant. Then I realized what I most enjoyed in life, and that was helping youth through the formative stages. So I accepted the position.”

He didn’t retire until 38 years later, in 2002. Even then, when he moved to Arizona, he helped the Arizona Diamondbacks develop 20 youth baseball complexes throughout the Phoenix metro area.

“You could call it an obsession with Elmer,” said fellow Little League director Joe Losch. “He would stay and talk to people forever – he believed in our program so much. We went to western Pennsylvania one time to start a league, and were supposed to be gone just a few hours. But many of the organizers there were overnight shift workers. Elmer waited till morning for them to get off work to talk with them about their league.”

And that’s what he did for Little League across America – get organizations started; get them through problems; get them successful. Major League Baseball rosters today are anchored by players who made their way through the organization Elmer helped flourish.

His knack for troubleshooting was evident before he even joined Little League. In the growing pains of those early days, the League board and its founder had a rift. Elmer and 150 local officials from the northeast U.S. were invited by the founder’s supporters to a meeting in Pittsburgh in 1955.

When they got there, it was clear they were being lobbied to align with the founder. According to reports from then, Elmer said it was a confusing and vague presentation. But what was clear to him was that he’d sit on the sidelines of this fight – which the founder ended up losing in court.

It might be one of the few times Elmer was on the sidelines.

His passion was to get things done and command a room while doing so.

“My dad loved to command the room,” said youngest daughter Sherryn Adair. “I learned over time that it was not because he was self-centered, but rather his way of trying to show that he was working hard making things better. He was a real person – flawed, amazing, funny, unctuous ... but he was our dad.”

That’s about how I met Elmer.

He worked hard organizing his North Jackson Class of 1946 reunions. Off and on for the last 25 years, they would gather for summer and winter events. They wanted The Vindicator to cover one event timed with the opening of the new high school.

We didn’t, and Elmer let me have it in a letter, as did classmates Vera Davidson and Agnes Romyak. I promised them I would come to the next event. I did, and I’m so glad. (I’ll link my story of that event to this column on Vindy.com.)

As excessive as he was in beating me up over missing the first North Jackson event, he was just as gracious when he wrote me afterward.

“Elmer was the kind of guy who knew a lot about a lot of things – and didn’t mind telling you. You just accepted that,” said Lance Van Auken, Little League historian.

What was neat about Elmer was not that he was good at baseball. He was good at life, and baseball was just one of the beneficiaries.

Said Losch: “One of the best repairmen we had in Williamsport was Elmer. Washers, dryers, refrigerators – he was always moonlighting fixing things.”

Said Sherryn: “From him, we [sisters] all learned how to fix a stuck garbage disposal [‘Broom handle wedged and turned just so’] and to apply ourselves diligently to any home-improvement project. And we can swear like nobody’s business because of it.”

I’ll post some photos of Elmer on The Vindicator’s Facebook page. One makes me laugh: It’s Elmer and Gen. Douglas MacArthur. And as seems to always be the case with Elmer – it looks like it is MacArthur who is the one listening in that meeting.

As much as he loved baseball, Elmer loved life. He could see a life benefit from baseball. Here’s what he said for a 1968 Uniontown, Pa., story:

“We use baseball as a vehicle to develop a youngster in the right way of living. It’s an instrument we use to guide youth. And in measuring a boy’s growth on the field, we use a bat, not a yard stick.”

In death, baseball was never far away. When he died this summer in Arizona, Elmer still had in his home the 1956 Jefferson Red Sox trophy.

It was dinged, worn, blemished in spots, but still sturdy and captivating.

Kinda like Elmer.

Todd Franko is editor of The Vindicator. He likes emails about stories and our newspaper. Email him at tfranko@vindy.com. He blogs, too, on Vindy.com. Tweet him, too, at @tfranko.