Sally O'Leary went to work for the Pirates in 1964. She continued to work for them pretty much until the day she died last week at 82.
She started as the secretary in the public relations department, moved up to assistant media relations director, and spent her retirement years as the liaison for the team's alumni association.
The titles didn't matter. The bottom line is she was really the heart and soul of the Pirates, the rock who remained while the personnel around her constantly changed.
Without making gender an issue, she also wound up blazing a trail for women in baseball.
Her love for the game led her to take a pay cut and leave an ad agency to join the Pirates. Bob Prince, who had known her from a fan organization, helped make up the shortfall by putting Sally on his personal payroll to handle correspondence.
If the Gunner ever wished your Cousin Anthony a happy birthday or mentioned Aunt Veronica and Uncle Nick's anniversary, it was because Sally provided a daily list from the mountain of letters.
When she wasn't keeping Prince's business in order, she was half of the two-person PR department. Her duties included clipping the daily newspaper stories and pasting them in large scrapbooks. It's a miracle she was never overcome by rubber cement fumes.
Those books are still in the Pirates' offices, providing a detailed chronicle of each season for researchers.
Forget about computers. There weren't even calculators in her early days with the Pirates. Stats were updated with the aid of charts which listed all the outcomes for totals of hits and at bats. The alternative was long division and a sharp pencil.
If Sally was ever "just" a secretary, that didn't last long. She was bright and dedicated and handled a lot of the responsibilities without being asked. The smart PR directors realized what an asset she was.
Her loyalty to the Pirates wasn't always returned. Teams back then didn't pay the office staff a lot, knowing that others were always anxious to sign on for the perceived glamour of working in sports. When Sally's supplemental income dried up with Prince's firing, coincidentally her rent increased. She took her case for a modest raise to the guy in charge, who gruffly suggested she should get a roommate.
Baseball changed. Players became more transient, and there was more distance. The personal relationships forged at Forbes Field became more scarce. Sally once famously said, "Barry Bonds doesn't know me from a bar of soap." That was his loss.
She endured, and stayed on through retirement in 1996. The Pirates gave her a party at the Allegheny Club, and needed that vast space to host her many friends.
Handling the alumni association was a perfect job for her. She built that organization into baseball's best with her customary diligence and attention to detail. Every former player received a birthday card from the alumni association every year. She compiled and published a directory of addresses and phone numbers so former teammates could find each other.
Sally treated them all well, but she had her favorites. Danny Murtaugh was on her all-time list. So were Bill Mazeroski and Steve Blass. More recently, Clint Hurdle won her over.
Sally's devotion to the Pirates was exceeded only by her love of all things Irish. She took on an extra job in the Three Rivers Stadium scoreboard room partly so she could fund a trip to Ireland with her sisters every other year.
I'll always remember the way her Irish eyes smiled, and her hearty laugh.
One of the best things about covering the Pirates for all these years has been having Sally O'Leary as a friend for all these years.
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