Originally published in the Grand Forks Gazette’s Second Section on Wednesday, Aug. 13, 2003.
During the 1930s, a shy, soft-spoken man, with a walrus moustache and a twinkle in his eye, turned a vacant lot in Grand Forks, B.C. into a field of dreams for a generation of young baseball players.
Unlike the movie Field of Dreams, James (Jim) Donaldson never played the game and didn’t plow under a corn field to build a baseball diamond, but he was compelled by the same inspiration: “Build it, and they will come.”
Today, the field of scrub grass on which Donaldson spent so many seasons gently encouraging his young players is gone. In its place stands James Donaldson Park, nearly smack dab on the original diamond Donaldson built. Now a backdrop for the Grand Forks International baseball tournament, the stadium is a fitting tribute to one man’s foresight and dreams.
Born in Ontario, Donaldson arrived in Grand Forks about 1909 with his brothers Pete and John. While Pete went to work for the Canadian Pacific Railway, Jim and John opened the Donaldson Store in Columbia, as the area around the ballpark was known then. In 1930, a grass fire destroyed the store located near the CPR Station, now Grand Forks’ Station Pub. Although his brother rebuilt the store, Jim, nearing 50, decided to retire. With plenty of time to spare, he turned his attention to a lifelong passion – baseball.
Realizing that the neighbourhood boys needed a place to play, Donaldson volunteered his own property for a field. With rakes and shovels, he organized a work party to clear away weeds and rocks and make the field playable.
Old planks supported by empty wooden apple boxes became benches. Later, a backstop and simple bleachers were built. The outfield “fence,” consisted of a row of tall trees. It was the beginning of the Columbia ball team. Donaldson became the team’s coach and manager and dreams became a reality for many a young baseball player.
The Columbia team joined a league that included Grand Forks, Greenwood, Curlew, Republic and Orient. The players would travel rutted roads in cars. On some trips, the boys would chip in $5 and pay a farmer with a truck to take them all. In local tournaments they’d play against Trail and barnstorming teams like the Sons of David. Though the “West End” boys now had a place to chase down fly balls, many in the depression years could ill-afford the cost of gloves, bats, or balls. Donaldson again stepped up to the plate, supplying what was necessary. One former player still recalls Donaldson giving him an official Babe Ruth wooden bat as a birthday gift.
While it may be easy to dismiss baseball as just a game of hit and catch, Donaldson knew it was much more. He saw it as a way to teach lessons that would last far beyond the last strike-out. He impressed upon his players the idea that it was better to have played and lost, than never to have played at all. “Do unto others, as you would have them do to you,” he would say. At the field, fedora on head, Donaldson never hollered at his players’ mistakes. Indeed, Donaldson did his best to ensure all who played enjoyed themselves.
Donaldson’s house, a short hop from the ballpark, became a second “dugout.” A lifelong bachelor, he viewed the team as the children he never had.
The boys would come to his house to talk, play crib, read his vast collection of western books, or just hang out, listening to Donaldson play the piano. Respected in the community, Jim kept his players on the straight and narrow, becoming a father figure to many boys.
Not just the players benefited from his generosity. Every Christmas, Donaldson delighted in playing Santa Claus. He gave all the ladies he knew Pot of Gold chocolates. In addition, Jim would knock on the doors of newcomers and deliver a festive welcome, along with presents to the struggling families.
The start of the Second World War marked the passing of a remarkable era for baseball in Grand Forks. Many of the boys that Jim coached enlisted and went overseas, some never to return.
Others left Grand Forks, seeking work elsewhere. While Donaldson’s involvement dimmed over the succeeding years, his interest in the game continued to shine brightly.
Upon his death in 1961, Donaldson bequeathed his field to the city. It was his dream that the property be kept as a place for young people to play the game he held so dear.
While he never donned a uniform, imagining Donaldson taking a turn in the game isn’t so difficult. He weighed around 83.91 kilograms (185 pounds) and stood 1.78 metres (five feet, 10 inches).
With his stocky build, he would probably have been a catcher. Imagine, Donaldson standing behind home plate, a wad of chewing tobacco lodged in his cheek, his easy-going voice drifts across the diamond. Then squatting on his legs, he signals the pitcher to twirl him a fast ball.
Somewhere, the game continues and Donaldson still plays.
– Submitted by Shayne Konar
