Chapter 12
The Color Barrier as Bill Saw It & Albert Spalding
Bill's host, the Reverend Howard Pentecost's brown eyes crinkled at the corners. "C'mon," he said, "we'll be more comfortable in my office."
He led me up the aisle to the front of the church then turned to the right. We went through a door and I found myself in a small, but very comfortable office with a desk and two chairs.
He settled in behind the desk, opened a drawer and took out two glasses. Taking the whiskey from his suit jacket, he poured us both a drink.
As I sipped mine, he reached into his jacket pocket and produced a Cuban cigar and carefully lit it with a kitchen match. He held the match in the air, still burning and watched the flame crawl close to his finger tips. He blew it out at the last possible second, and dropped it in the ash tray on his desk then cackled at me: "Think I wuz gonna burn myself?"
"Not after all the practice you've had. All those years, all those fine cigars...."
"Yeah, all them fine cigars..." He appeared to be off chasing a memory.
"You know," Bill said, "I ain't sure, but it seems that these here cigars had a better taste about forty years ago. Could be wrong, but it sure seems that way." "Let's get back on track, Bill."
"Sure, what do you want to talk about?"
"How about you telling me some of the memories you have of that first year or so with Hartford?"
"Just random like? I mean, I can't rightly recall things in the order they happened."
"That would be fine, Bill."
He started laughing, then almost choked, but after bringing up some phlegm, regained his composure and laughed. "Maybe I should have picked a healthier person."
I waited. He gave me a cagy look and began talking. "Okay, my first year in the big leagues I saw this guy... lemmie see, I know his name like the back of my hand...um, he wuz a first baseman from New Haven name of Waite, Charlie Waite. I remember laughing at him. Here I wuz catching bare-handed and this clown is wearing a glove to protect his itty-bitty fingers from throws by the infielders!
"You know, I shouldn't have been laughing at him, 'cause before you could say Jack Robinson − Al Spaulding, the pitcher, wuz wearing one too. He told everyone who bothered to ask that his hand hurt from - now get a load of this horse-shit − bruises he got from catching the return throws from his catcher! Well, to be fair he also claimed batted balls coming back at him hurt his hands as well, and I won't argue that.
"I'll have more to say about Mr. Albert Spaulding later on. But for the moment I'll just say he wuz a hell-of-a pitcher, glove or no glove. But you asked me what I recall from that first year in the majors, didn't you?"
"Yes, that's right, Bill, it can be anything. I just want to get a feel for what was going on at the time."
"Yeah, well there wuz the time old Dick Higham hit into the first triple play in the history of the National League against the Mutuals. It's funny because even though they pulled off the triple play, we walloped 'em 28-3, or something like that. Anyway we also set another record that day scoring 15 runs in the... um, fourth inning I think it was."
"Now that's good stuff. People will enjoy reading about that. Anything else?"
His brown eyes lit up. "Yeah, there wuz a series with Chicago where we got our ass handed to us. In the first game they scored in every inning but one. I think it wuz the first or second inning. But this guy they had, name of Cal McVey got himself six hits that day."
"That's unusual enough," I said, "Six hits, yeah that's some hitting."
"Did it again the next day, too." Bill said nonchalantly. "Crushed us something like 23-3. McVey went on to record 18 hits in the four game series. In fact he hit in 30 straight games. And in the third game of the series, another guy, name of Ross Barnes, got himself six hits against us. We lost that one as well. See the thing wuz our regular pitchers weren't able to take the mound on account of food poisoning. We had to grab two guys off the street. Oh they wuz local ball players and not all that bad, but Chicago wuz seeing the ball pretty good, and the locals were probably known to them, as they played each other on Sundays, you know? What I'm saying is the Blue Laws prohibited Big leaguers from playing on the Sabbath."
"Our pitching wuz actually pretty good that year. And once our boys were able to play again we did very well.
Another memory must have occurred to Bill as his brown eyes flashed, and he blurted: "Oh, yeah! We kinda got even in a way later in the season, Chicago come to town and we pulled the hidden-ball trick on Cap Anson of all people. I'd never seen it done before, but the way it happened wuz our shortstop, Tom Cary, you remember, he showed me around the whore houses?"
"I remember, Bill."
"Well he kept the ball instead of handing it to the pitcher. Now Anson wuz on third and strolled off the bag, intent of watching the pitcher, who wuz fiddlin' around waiting to see what Tom would do with the ball. Anyway, to make a long story short, Anson takes that one extra step off the base and Tom wings the ball over to Bob Ferguson playing third. Of course he puts the tag on Anson, who is livid with rage at getting caught like that."
"He was a pretty famous player," I said.
"He was, got over 3000 hits and all. As a manager, he took his Chicago team to five pennants. And if you count his five years in the National Association, he played 27 seasons in the big leagues and was a regular each year."