“That means that a wrong has been corrected, because of course the greatest thing that came out of this move was Josh Gibson,” said Kimbro-Hamilton, 70, who published a book on her father’s life and career. “That’s a major, major move for Major League Baseball to recognize the greatness that was already there, side by side.

“All the biggies that everybody knows about, but not only them, but people like my father who were not known, they were baseball greats. And they were very, very gifted. And if it had not been for the barrier of segregation, then they would’ve taken their place in baseball history long before this. ... So that has been corrected.”

A man of few words

Drew, 58, recalls her father — whose five kids include two older children from previous relationships — as a humble, hard-working paradox: a chain smoker who remained athletic and trim, a victim of the Jim Crow South who bore no long-term bitterness, and a living, breathing reservoir of baseball memories who had little time for nostalgia.

“I’m learning it almost as everybody else because, I’ll be honest, when I was a kid he was very modest,” said Drew, a widow who has resided in St. Petersburg since 2000. “He never talked about baseball. It wasn’t really until I got into middle school and high school that I realized he was a baseball player in another life. And only when I would ask him about it, he would tell me about it.”

Through probing and prodding, Drew and her siblings learned that Henry Kimbro was a sleek, stocky (5-foot-8, 175 pounds) slap hitter who amassed a .300 career batting average (per baseball-reference.com) with three clubs over a dozen Negro League seasons (1937-1948). Most of his career was spent with the Baltimore Elite Giants, who pronounced the middle word as “e-LIGHT.”

Though not noted for his power, he was one of the few players to launch a home run over Briggs Stadium in Detroit. He ultimately started in five East-West All-Star games (and was a late substitute in another), and hit .300 or better four times.

But hardship seemed to accompany every hit. Kimbro and his teammates often were denied entry to hotels or restaurants, and were forced to sleep and eat inside the vehicles transporting them from town to town.

In one of his rare revelations, he told his daughter about his team’s sprawling station wagon that couldn’t quite accommodate every player.

“Everyone, their stuff, the equipment, everything fit in the car except for one person,” Drew recalled her dad telling her.

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