DIGGING FOR DIGNITY AT NEW TRINITY: A Piece of Negro League and Military History: The Babe Ruth of the Negro League, Sergeant L.D. “Goo Goo” Livingston of Fort Worth, Texas.

DIGGING FOR DIGNITY AT NEW TRINITY: A Piece of Negro League and Military History: The Babe Ruth of the Negro League, Sergeant L.D. “Goo Goo” Livingston of Fort Worth, Texas. 

By Pastor Kyev P. Tatum, Sr., Publisher, Black Texans, Inc.

FORT WORTH, TEXAS — There are some stories you have to dig for.

Not because they are small.

Not because they are insignificant.

But because history buried them.

At historic New Trinity Cemetery in Haltom City, Texas — just northeast of Fort Worth — the ground holds more than graves. It holds courage. It holds excellence. It holds the unfinished business of remembrance.

And among those resting there is a man whose life crossed three defining chapters of American history:

Negro League baseball.

Harlem law enforcement.

World War II military service.

His name was Sergeant L.D. “Goo Goo” Livingston.

This is his story. And it is Texas history. It is an American love story — a story of talent, service, discipline, and dignity.

A Son of Fort Worth

Born and raised in Fort Worth, Texas, Lewis Davis Livingston came of age when opportunity for Black Americans required both talent and tenacity.

He attended I.M. Terrell High School — Fort Worth’s historic Black high school — where he distinguished himself as an all-state athlete. He later sharpened his skills at Wiley College in Marshall, Texas, one of the intellectual pillars of Black excellence during the Jim Crow era.

This was a time of segregation. A time of “colored” entrances and closed doors.

But talent has a way of breaking through the cracks of injustice.

In 1928, Livingston made his professional debut with the Kansas City Monarchs, one of the crown jewels of Negro League baseball and widely considered one of the greatest franchises in the history of the sport.

From 1928 to 1930, the Monarchs were a powerhouse — disciplined, strategically brilliant, and nationally respected. They were innovators of the game, masters of barnstorming tours, and recruiters of elite talent from across the country. The Monarchs were not simply a team — they were an institution. To wear their uniform was to be counted among the best Black ballplayers in America.

Livingston earned that uniform.

In 1931, he joined the New York Black Yankees, a premier Negro League franchise competing in the nation’s largest media market. The Black Yankees represented sophistication, big-city baseball, and high-level competition in the Eastern circuit. They were known for attracting top-tier talent and holding their own against the most formidable clubs in Black baseball.

To move from the Monarchs to the Black Yankees was not a step down. It was a testament to Livingston’s skill and reputation. He was a player in demand — recruited by elite organizations who sought disciplined, athletic, and dependable performers.

In 1932, Livingston joined the legendary Pittsburgh Crawfords, completing a trifecta of excellence.

All three teams — the Monarchs, the Black Yankees, and the Crawfords — were top-tier franchises. They recruited top players. They developed champions. They represented the highest standard of Negro League competition.

These were not second-tier athletes.

They were elite professionals locked out of Major League Baseball because of the color of their skin.

And yet they filled stadiums.

They thrilled crowds.

They built institutions.

They built pride.

The 1932 Pittsburgh Crawfords: A Dynasty of Greatness

In 1932, Livingston stood shoulder-to-shoulder with some of the greatest players in Negro League history as a member of the Pittsburgh Crawfords — a roster often described as one of the most talented teams ever assembled in Black baseball.

The back row of that legendary squad read like a Hall of Fame roll call:

Benny Jones, L.D. Livingston, Satchel Paige, Josh Gibson, Ray Williams, Walter Cannady, Cy Perkins, and Oscar Charleston.

The front row featured Sam Streeter, Chester Williams, Harry Williams, Harry Kincannon, Henry Spearman, Jimmie Crutchfield, Bobby Williams, and Ted “Double Duty” Radcliffe.

These were giants of the game.

Satchel Paige — the ageless ace whose fastball became folklore.

Josh Gibson — whose bat redefined power hitting.

Oscar Charleston — one of the greatest all-around players in baseball history.

And among them stood Fort Worth’s own L.D. “Goo Goo” Livingston.

He was not a footnote.

He was part of the fabric of that greatness.

On May 29, 2024, Major League Baseball officially incorporated Negro League statistics from 1920–1948 into its historical record, finally recognizing those leagues as “major.” That long-overdue correction restored rightful standing to players like Josh Gibson and affirmed what Black America had always known — the Negro Leagues were Major League in talent, discipline, and excellence.

That recognition also lifts the name of L.D. Livingston.

A Harlem Policeman

But Livingston’s life was larger than baseball.

In the 1930s, he joined the ranks of Harlem’s police officers, serving in one of the most culturally vibrant and politically complex Black communities in America.

Harlem was the epicenter of art, activism, intellect, and resistance. It was also a community navigating poverty, discrimination, and social tension.

To serve there as a Black officer required courage and balance.

Livingston chose order over chaos.

Service over celebrity.

Responsibility over recognition.

His badge symbolized discipline and protection during a transformative era in American history.

A World War II Sergeant

When World War II erupted, Livingston answered another call — this time to defend a nation that had not fully defended him.

He enlisted in the United States Army and rose to the rank of Sergeant.

Black servicemen in World War II fought fascism abroad while facing segregation at home. Yet they served with valor, commitment, and quiet patriotism.

Sergeant Livingston embodied that generation.

Athlete.

Officer.

Soldier.

Each uniform different.

Each calling rooted in service.

Why New Trinity Matters

After a life of excellence, Livingston returned home to Fort Worth. He died in 1957 at the age of 52.

Today, he rests at historic New Trinity Cemetery in Haltom City — one of the earliest African American cemeteries in Tarrant County and home to one of the largest burial grounds of Black military veterans in Texas.

More than 500 Black veterans are interred there, including Buffalo Soldiers, Civil War veterans, World War I patriots, World War II heroes, and generations of African American servicemen and women whose sacrifices helped shape this nation.

His burial there is not incidental.

It is symbolic.

New Trinity is sacred ground. It is moral memory. It is proof that Black Texans have always contributed — in sport, in service, in sacrifice.

When we walk those grounds, we are not walking among forgotten men.

We are walking among history makers.

The Publisher’s Charge: Preserving the Glory

For Pastor Kyev P. Tatum, Sr., this work is not academic — it is personal and sacred.

As Publisher of Black Texans, Inc., Pastor Tatum has dedicated himself to uncovering, preserving, and proclaiming the untold military and civic history of African Americans in Tarrant County and across Texas. Through public memorials, historical editorials, cemetery restorations, and national tributes honoring Buffalo Soldiers, World War I and II veterans, and segregated military units, he has positioned New Trinity Cemetery as a living classroom of courage.

Under his leadership, restoration efforts at New Trinity have moved beyond landscaping into legacy-building — partnering with veterans’ organizations, law enforcement agencies, and civic leaders to ensure that the stories of men like Sergeant Livingston are not reduced to fading headstones.

Pastor Tatum’s commitment reflects a deeper conviction:

that preservation is a form of justice.

that remembrance is a form of resistance.

that telling the whole story of Texas strengthens the soul of Texas.

Through guided tours, public commemorations, and national op-eds, he has called the community to see New Trinity not as forgotten ground, but as sacred ground — ground that testifies to Black excellence in uniform, in public service, and in sport.

For Pastor Tatum, digging for dignity is not metaphorical.

It is ministry.

Digging for Dignity

At Black Texans, Inc., we believe preservation is proclamation.

To tell these stories is to restore dignity.

To mark these graves is to reclaim memory.

To publish this history is to correct the record.

Sergeant L.D. “Goo Goo” Livingston’s life reminds us that Black excellence has always existed — even when it was excluded from official record books.

New Trinity Cemetery is not just a burial ground.

It is a testimony.

And as we continue digging for dignity, we uncover more than names.

We uncover a generation that played hard, served faithfully, and stood tall — even when America tried to make them invisible.

History may have buried them.

But we are bringing them back to light.