Bang The Drum Slowly (11 page)

Monday we drilled light and left for Boston.

We were a strong club. We had the best left-hand pitcher in baseball, plus Van Gundy, Van Gundy a little thin boy you doubt can carry his hat, no speed but a lot of breaking stuff, and top control. We had strong right-hand pitching. We had good relief if Horse and Keith come through.

We had the best outfield in baseball, bar none, and the best double-play combination in Coker and Perry. We had good, solid right-hand hitting, and we had tremendous left-hand power if Sid and Pasquale both had a good year.

But we had weak catching and a weak bench, Goose old and fading, Bruce never reliable, and Jonah no hitter. The bench was young and not yet ripe.

I floated $250 on the Mammoths to win in a little pool run by a crook name of Suss Melner in the lobby, but he give it back to me when we come down again from Boston, saying, “No takers, Author.”

On the following couple pages I am throwing in the roster, which I done the same in “The Southpaw” and received many letters from fans saying “Good idea,” for it helped them follow whose who. It seems crazy to me because I know the boys like the back of my book, what their voice is like and how they walk and talk and eat and comb their hair, how they stand in at the plate, how they throw, how they run, how they slide, where they spend their pay, who they hang with, what their wife and kids are like, or their girl. I know their voice through a wall. I can see a waiter in a diner with a tray full of food and pretty much know who ordered it. I know how they bet at poker, and what they smoke, those that do. I know whose rings are which piled in Mick McKinney’s box. Christ, if I see somebody head down on Mick’s table I know them by the callous on their feet. More things I know than this but probably better never mention for fear of getting them in trouble with their wife or their girl or the United States Bureau of Internal Revenue. Yet when you write a book you must remember that everybody don’t know what you might know. Holly says the same.

Running down the roster I see where out of the 25 boys on the 52 club that won both the flag and the Series only 16 are back. I also notice where I was the youngest man on the 52 squad but am now older than 9 others. Canada Smith is listed as an outfielder but also fills in at first base.

OFFICIAL ROSTER

NEW YORK MAMMOTHS BASEBALL CLUB, INC.

1955

L
ESTER
T. M
OORS
, JR. P
ATRICIA
M
OORS

MANAGER

S
CHNELL
, Herman H. “Dutch.” Born February 23, 1893, St. Louis, Mo. Residence: St. Louis.

COACHES

B
ARNARD
, Egbert. “Egg.” Born October 2, 1896, Philadelphia, Pa. Residence: Philadelphia.

J
AROS
, Joseph Thomas. “Joe.” Born March 31, 1895, Moline, Ill. Residence: Oak Park, Ill.

S
TRAP
, Clinton Blakesley. “Clint.” Born April 1, 1906, Mason City, Wash. Residence: Scranton, Pa. U. S. Army, World War II.

OUTFIELDERS

C
ARUCCI
, Pasquale Joseph. Born August 10, 1923, Port Chester, N. Y. U. S. Army, World War II. 5’10½,” 180 lbs. Bats L, throws R. Residence: San Francisco, Cal.

C
ARUCCI
, Vincent Frank. Born July 17, 1925, San Francisco, Cal. U. S. Army, World War II. 5’10,” 175 lbs. Bats L, throws R. Residence: San Francisco.

G
LEE
, Harry Justin. Born January 11, 1932, Chittenango, N. Y. U. S. Navy, 6’, 190 lbs. Bats R, throws R. Residence: Chittenango.

L
ONGABUCCO
, Frank Patrick. “Lawyer.” Born September 18, 1931, Peekskill, N. Y. U. S. Army, Korea, 5’11½,” 185 lbs. Bats R, throws R. Residence: Peekskill.

M
CGONIGLE
, Reed. Born February 1, 1932, New Haven, Conn. U. S. Army. 6’1,” 180 lbs. Bats L, throws L. Residence: New Haven.

S
MITH
, Earle Banning. “Canada.” Born October 14, 1929, Winnipeg, Canada. 5’11”, 185 lbs. Bats R, throws R. Residence: Winnipeg.

INFIELDERS

G
OLDMAN
, Sidney Jerome. “Sid.” Born May 7, 1928, Bronx, N. Y. U. S. Army, World War II. 6’1½,” 215 lbs. Bats L, throws L. Residence: Manhattan, N. Y.

G
ONZALEZ
, George. Born February 11, 1926, Pinar del Rio, Cuba. 5’9½,” 175 lbs. Bats R, throws R. Residence: Havana, Cuba.

J
ONES
, Robert Stanley. “Ugly.” (Captain). Born September 6, 1921, Batesville, Ark. U. S. Marines, World War II. 5’11½”,185 lbs. Bats L, throws R. Residence: Little Rock, Ark.

R
OGUSKI
, John Llewellyn. “Coker.” Born April 2, 1930, Fairmont, W. Va. 5’10,” 180 lbs. Bats R-L, throws R. Residence: Fairmont.

S
IMPSON
, Perry Garvey. Born May 27, 1931, Savannah, Ga. 5’10½,” 175 lbs. Bats R, throws R. Residence: Detroit, Mich.

T
YLER
, Willis James. Born April 16, 1933, Dade City, Fla. 6’22,” 205 lbs. Bats R, throws R. Residence: Newark, N. J.

W
ASHBURN
, Lysander. “Wash.” Born May 17, 1932, Ellicott City, Md. U. S. Army. 5’10½,” 175 lbs. Bats R-L, throws R. Residence: Ellicott City.

CATCHERS

B
ROOKS
, Jonah Francis. Born October 9, 1932, New Iberia, La. U. S. Army, Korea. 6’4,” 220 lbs. Bats L, throws R. Residence: New Orleans, La.

P
EARSON
, Bruce William, Jr. Born June 4, 1926, Bainbridge, Ga. U. S. Army, World War II. 5’11,” 185 lbs. Bats R, throws R. Residence: Bainbridge.

W
ILLIAMS
, Harold Hill. “Goose.” Born August 26, 1920, Terre Haute, Ind. U. S. Marines, World War II. 6’½,” 200 lbs. Bats R, throws R. Residence: Chicago, Ill.

PITCHERS

B
IGGS
, Porter Leonard. “Blondie.” Born June 7, 1932, Morristown, N. J. U. S. Army. 6’2,” 200 lbs. Throws R, bats R. Residence: Morristown.

B
URKE
, Lindon Theodore. Born March 12, 1930, Lusk, Wyo. 5’11,” 190 lbs. Throws R, bats R. Residence: Lusk.

B
YRD
, Paul Richard. “Horse.” Born November 19, 1921, Cul-peper, Va. U. S. Army, World II. 6’1,” 240 lbs. Throws R, bats R. Residence: Washington, D. C.

C
ASELLI
, Franklin D. Roosevelt. “F. D. R.” Born November 12, 1932, Oakland, Cal. U. S. Army, Korea, 5’10½,” 190 lbs. Throws R, bats R-L. Residence: Mill Valley, Cal.

C
RANE
, Keith Robert. Born June 22, 1929, Wooster, Ohio. 6’, 185 lbs. Throws L, bats R. Residence: Cleveland, Ohio. MACY, Herbert. Born October 1, 1928, Athens, Ga. 6’1,” 180 lbs. Throws R, bats R. Residence: Aqua Clara, Fla.

S
TERLING
, John Adams. “Jack.” Born March 16, 1925, East St. Louis, Ill. U. S. Navy, World War II. 5’9½,” 170 lbs. Throws R, bats R. Residence: Newport News, Va.

V
AN
G
UNDY
, James Sweetser. Born January 2, 1932, Central City, Nebr. U. S. Army. 5’9,” 155 lbs. Throws L, bats L. Residence: Central City.

W
IGGEN
, Henry Whittier. “Author.” Born July 4, 1931, Perkinsville, N. Y. 6’3,” 200 lbs. Throws L, bats L. Residence: Perkinsville.

W
ILLOWBROOK
, Gilbert Lillis. “Gil.” Born May 15, 1929, Boston, Mass. 6’, 190 lbs. Throws R, bats R. Residence, Aqua Clara, Fla.

PHYSICIANS
: Ernest I. Loftus, M.D., Hyman R. Solomon, M.D.

TRAINER
: Frank T. (“Mick”) McKinney.

SUPPLEMENTARY

COACHES:
M
ULROONEY
, Michael Conroy. “Mike.” Born June 2, 1896, Coraopolis, Pa. Residence: Last Chance, Colo.

T
RAPHAGEN
, Berwyn Phillips. “Red.” Born December 9, 1919, Oakland, Cal. U. S. Medical Experimentation Corps, World War II. Residence: San Francisco, Cal.

CATCHER:
W
OODS
, Thurston Printise. “Piney.” Born September 18, 1935, Good Hope, Ga. U. S. Marines. 6’1,” 195 lbs. Bats R, throws R. Residence: Good Hope.

ROSTER COMPILED BY BRADLEY R. LORD, SECRETARY

ON THE way up to Boston all was quiet, especially the new boys, for they were tight. Tomorrow was for the money. I was sitting reading a book Arcturus sent me name of “Widening Your Circle of Acquaintances.” Every book they send you they send a card asking how you like it, and I send the card back, saying, “Good for laughs.” I got more business than I can handle already and do not need to circle my acquaintances. Dutch come past and touched me on the shoulder, saying, “Author, come with me,” and I went back to his room with him and sat down, not knowing what was up and wondering what I done wrong, and he said, “Are you ever planning to get down to your weight?” But he did not wait for an answer, saying instead, “Did you have your tooth fixed?” I had a hole in one of my cavities, and I started to say “No,” which was true, for there was too much excitement over the weekend to go sit in the dentist. The club has this dentist name of Dr. D. K. G. Silverstein that opens nights and Sundays for Mammoths only, a Mammoth fan for years and years with a photo on the wall of each and every Mammoth he ever worked on. He has a big photo of Dutch that takes up half one wall that I personally do not consider the happiest thing to be staring you in the face at such a time. “How is the Mrs. coming along?” he said, which I did not even start to answer now, for I seen it was something else on his mind altogether.

“Author,” he said, “Joe tells me you and Pearson been playing Tegwar over the winter.”

“Sure,” I said. “Why not?”

‘When?” said Dutch.

“Just before camp begun,” said I.

“Where?” said he.

“Down at Bruce’s,” said I.

“What were you doing down there?” he said.

“You mean besides playing Tegwar?” I said.

“Do not stall,” he said. “Why did you go there?”

“He always wished me to meet his folks,” said I.

“Was the Mrs. with you?”

“Sure,” I said.

“You drove down by car?”

“Yes.”

“Very well,” said he. “We have got you and your wife by car in Bainbridge, Georgia. Leave us back up to whenever it was you spoke to Joe on the telephone in Chicago. When was that?”

“I never did,” I said.

“You never did? Are you telling me Joe is a liar?”

“No,” said I. “I never spoke to Joe. I suppose what he means is I spoke to his Mrs.”

“Yes, you know very goddam well what he probably means. Do not stall, Author, for you are stalling the wrong man. When was it?”

“Probably around in January,” I said.

“What were you doing in Chicago?”

”Besides calling Joe I was only changing planes,” said I.

“For where?”

“For Minnesota.”

“Where in Minnesota?”

“Minneapolis.”

“What was up?”

“Insurance matters,” I said.

“Name me somebody you planned seeing on insurance matters in Minneapolis.”

“Aleck Olson,” said I.

Dutch dug the Boston book out of his bag and looked up Aleck and threw the book on the bed. “Did you sell him?”

“I believe it is only a matter of time,” I said.

“This is all a lie,” he said.

“No, it is no lie,” I said.

“I got a feeling that these little statements are true,” he said, “but what they add up to is one big lie. Am I right?”

“About what?”

“About the feeling I got?” he said.

“I do not know what kind of a feeling you got,” said I. “If you say you have got such a feeling I guess you do.”

He laughed. “Get out,” he said. “I sure wish you could be wrapped in a sack and tossed in the river, all except your left arm.”

The first thing I done at the park Tuesday was race over to the Boston clubhouse. The boys were all sitting around eating bananas. “Where did you get all the bananas?” I said.

“Off a tree,” they said, and somebody threw me one.

“What in hell you doing in here?” said Alf Keller. “Get the hell out.”

”I just come over to use your scale,” I said. “What kind of a cheap management is it that got no scale in the visiting clubhouse?”

“What you need is a truck scale,” said Alf.

“What you need is a ball club,” said I. I stepped on the scale. “Alf, I know where you can pick up a couple girls off a softball club cheap.” The scale said “211½” and I threw my banana away.

“What you need I already got,” said he.

“Aleck,” said I, “could I see you a minute?” and we stepped out in the alley, and before I said anything he said, “Dutch called me.”

“What did he say?” I said.

“He asked me what you done in Minneapolis. I told him you bought a coat was all I remembered. He asked me if I bought insurance off you, and I said no, not yet. I think I will buy some.”

“Never mind that now,” I said. “What else did he say?”

“What is up, Author?” said Aleck. “I told him nothing if I could help it. If I knew what was up I could tell him the right thing. He asked me where you went. I said you got on the bus to see Pearson.”

“Did you tell him where I was going to see Pearson?”