I missed all of my friends from the Braves, and especially my “sweetheart” Al Lopez, when we moved across Tampa Bay for spring training in 1938. But the Reds had lots of new friends waiting on the other side. Like Frank McCormick, the Reds first baseman, and his wife Vera. Frank was like a big brother to me, unlike my own older brother Bill, who was always teasing me and making my life miserable. Frank, who stood a towering 6-foot-4, was always so kind and gentle. And I remember Johnny Vander Meer, not so much for his back-to-back no hitters, but because of his green shirt which I dearly loved. He promised he’d give it to me some day, but I never did get it. But Johnny and his wife Lois were a lot of fun. I’d tease Johnny and poke at him and then he’d chase me around the mezzanine of the hotel in Tampa. I was only six years old when Johnny pitched his two no-hitters in 1938, my father’s first season with the Reds. I was too young to realize the full significance of what Johnny had done -- a feat that has never been equaled. But I remember coming into the kitchen the morning after he had pitched his second no-hitter in the first night game ever played at Brooklyn and how excited Mother was. “Guess what? Guess what?” she kept yelling. “Johnny pitched another no-hitter last night.” Just four days earlier he had pitched his first no-hitter against the Braves at Cincinnati. -more-
‘The Deacon’s Daughter’ 1,000-word Excerpt -- 2
Then there was Ernie (Schnozz) Lombardi. If Frank McCormick was big, Ernie was enormous, standing virtually as tall as McCormick and weighing in at 230 pounds or more, and with a nose to match, which explained his nickname. Ernie exuded a very rough exterior but he was really a cream puff -- if you treated him right. If you didn’t. . . Well, there was the day when I thought I was being funny when I said to him, “I bet you could hit a home run just by using your nose for a bat.” Ernie did not think that was the least bit funny and I had to run for my life. Fortunately for me, Ernie was very slow afoot and I lived to tell about it. But I’m still upset over being so unkind to someone who really was so nice and who meant so much to Dad and the team. In Dad’s first season with the Reds in 1938, Ernie was named the National League’s Most Valuable Player and in 1986 he was inducted into the Hall of Fame. Ival Goodman was one of the Reds’ outfielders and I remember seeing his wife one day and asking my mother, “Why is she so fat?” Mother quickly covered my mouth and explained in a hushed voice that Ival’s wife was carrying a baby inside her -- and that was my introduction to the “facts of life.” Reds’ pitcher Paul Derringer and his wife introduced me to one of the finer things in life. They had a place at the beach during spring training and had a set of Kirk’s Repoussee silver that so impressed me that I put it on my registry when I planned my first wedding many years later. The sterling silver is still in use today at the home Ted and I have in Jacksonville. -more- ‘The Deacon’s Daughter’ 1,000-word Excerpt -- 3
Another thing that stands out in my mind about that first year Dad was with the Reds was returning home to Wilkinsburg when spring training was over and listening to the Reds’ games being broadcast on the radio. Powel Crosley was the owner of the Reds and he had made a fortune in the automobile, broadcasting and consumer appliance fields. So we had a Crosley radio, a large piece of furniture that occupied part of the living room and we could hear all of the games direct from Station WSAI in Cincinnati. The announcers were Dick Bray and Red Barber and they were great fun. As it turned out, that summer was Red’s last as a Cincinnati announcer. Larry MacPhail lured him to Brooklyn with a huge bundle of money and the next year he started doing the Dodgers’ games. Mother really was upset and I remember her begging Red to stay in Cincinnati. And I knew I was going to miss him, too, and hearing him tell all about being in “the Cat Bird Seat.” Would Red have stayed if he had known how the Reds were going to do in 1939 and 1940? We’ll never know. But he sure missed a lot of excitement.
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