Notes #450 — ‘Tweener

                             NOTES FROM THE SHADOWS OF COOPERSTOWN
                                           Observations from Outside the Lines
                                     By Two Finger Carney (carneya6@adelphia.net)
 

#450                                                                                                                        JUNE 25, 2008
                                                                   ‘TWEENER
 

            Pirate fans who remember broadcaster Bob Prince know what a Tweener is — it’s a hit that falls in between the infield and outfield, or between outfielders, or shoots between infielders. I don’t think Prince coined it, but it was a popular term around 1960. It’s an appropriate title here not just because the Yankees are playing in Pittsburgh, for the first time since 1960 (to be precise, October 13, 1960, 3:36 PM) … but because I am sneaking this issue in between a couple of road trips.
 

            The 38th SABR Convention begins Thursday, June 26, and I’ll be there thru next Sunday, the 30th. I’m not presenting this time around (a long story), and the program does not look as strong as the past four years, but I’m semi-hooked on these gatherings now, and would enjoy the event even without attending a research presentation, or a player panel, or a committee meeting, or a ballgame. Anyway, that’s on deck, and I hope to see some NOTES readers there.
 

 

THE OLD(ER) BALL GAME  
 

            Just completed, is the trip to Indianapolis and Greenville, two celebrations book-ended around a week in North Carolina visiting my brother. It has occurred to me that while I have mentioned my father, my sister, my kids, and assorted other relatives (including my cats) here in Notes over its fifteen seasons, my brother Mike has not had much space. He would probably prefer it stay that way. Yet this is odd, because he remains an active ballplayer , and a good one. I only caught two of his games in NC, but enough to see that Mike is still a real athlete, who plays ten or maybe twenty years younger than his age (65). Maybe thirty or more. Growing up together in Pittsburgh, he was always a league above me, so we rarely played on the same fields, but we shagged fungo flies together and played umpteen games of catch (with our sister, too). I stopped playing pretty much after college, but Mike has never stopped, and shows no signs of stopping. His “retirement” calendar is cluttered with tournaments and league games (he one of the young ones there), squeezing out his golf but not his other travels, to Alaska or Europe or, well, he’s got this list.
 

            To be honest, I was not at all surprised to see how well he played — it was a doubleheader, two seven-inning affairs. What surprised me was how everybody played . Men in their 70s, and maybe older — who could tell?  It reminded me more than anything of the games played on sandlots — where we tailored the rules to fit the space (fields carved out of forests, or fabricated on streets), and our own abilities. For the seniors, many rules were to prevent injury (no sliding, no collisions, OK to over-run the bases) — and to speed things along (five run limit per inning, the third strike fouled off, you’re out). ANY injury can end a season, a career; we don’t heal quickly like we did as kids. We can’t stand the heat and sun all day, like we did back then. Some of us need pinch-runners, regularly.
 

            We?  Us?  No, I didn’t play, but I could easily relate to these guys — more easily than I can to major leaguers, who — once upon a time — were all older than me. Now they are all ridiculously younger. So it goes. Anyway, I had fun watching them have fun, doing what they enjoyed, one more time . In the game, they can forget their medications and aches and their fading abilities to hear or see or drive or whatever. They are there to do what they can do, dammit. No government interference, no family interference. Free as kids on the sandlot. For as long as they can be.
 

 

EIGHT MEN OUT REMEMBERED  
 

            Eliot Asinof died on Tuesday, June 10, three days before I flew to Indianapolis for the 20th Anniversary of the film Eight Men Out , the John Sayles movie based on Asinof’s 1963 book. For a moment, I felt like attending the services, if there were any in upstate NY — he lived south of Albany, the address was Ancramdale, which is much easier to locate than his home. I sent a card, and I think participating in the Indy festivities was probably a much more fitting way to honor his memory. My day with Eliot Asinof was described in NOTES #305 , and if I forget to tack it on here, you can look it up in the Archives.
 

            This was my first time to Indianapolis, and it came courtesy of the Indiana Medical History Museum. The IMHM is one of the sites where 8MO was filmed, and credit Norma Erickson for taking the lead and organizing the “Extra Innings!” festival. (To be accurate, 8MO shared the spotlight with Take Me Out to the Ballgame — see last issue of NOTES — the song that turns 100 this year, and whose familiar melody originated in the mind of Albert Von Tilzer — of Indianapolis.)
 

            I think the tour we took could be packaged as a tourist draw. Starting at the IMHM, our bus stopped at the Meredith Nicholson Home (the Bards Room in the film), the US Court House (where the B-Sox trial and a few other scenes were shot), and Bush Stadium (which doubled in the film as Old Comiskey Park as well as Redland Field). We also drove by some locations that might be familiar to 8MO movie buffs.
 

            There were several “extras” along on the tour, to add some color commentary to our guides’ stories. It must have been a fun movie to make, for all involved, judging from the 20-year-old memories that were on display. I had warmed up for the day by watching the 20th-Anniversary DVD, which includes a scene-by-scene commentary by Sayles. (More on that in a future issue.) The effect of that and the tour was to deepen my appreciation for the care Sayles and his crew took, to get things looking right, taking us back to 1919.
 

            The festivities also included a full day of Vintage baseball on the IMHM grounds, six teams of young(er) men playing with old uniforms, equipment and rules. Over the years, I’ve concluded that Vintage ball is most fun when you are playing, and it often can be played by almost everyone — including older folks, women and children!  It’s not my cup of tea as a spectator sport, tho, and maybe that’s why baseball evolved and spread in popularity as a sport to be played first, and watched second. Somehow, I think it would have done just fine without those crowds and cheering Katie Caseys, without peanuts and Cracker Jack.
 

            My talk on the B-Sox was not the only presentation, Geri Strecker gave a nice session on  Oscar Charlton and Black Baseball in Indianapolis. It could have fit nicely into a SABR convention or a Negro Leagues workshop.
 

            Our setting was the room in the IMHM that had been used for autopsies — a classroom with steep rising rows of chairs and balconies above, all focused on the center space. “A perfect spot to dissect the 1919 Series.”  I observed that while it sometimes goes rough on de-mythologizers, that has not been my experience when I try to separate the fact from the fiction in 8MO . Most folks realize that movies often enhance or distort or embellish on history. 8MO is no exception, and while it is a terrific filming of Asinof’s book, the book itself is problematic in many ways. A good example is in NOTES #413 , where I sorted out the chronology of the film 8MO , between the end of the 1919 Series and the 1921 trial. Lately I’m thinking this is perhaps the most serious flaw: the film covers up the cover-up!   Many fans, familiar with the film, are stunned to learn that another whole season went by before the Fix became public knowledge.
 

            It was a long, full, fun day, and I can’t wait till the 25th Anniversary comes along. By then, we ought to know a lot more!
 

 

GREENVILLE GOES SHOELESS  
 

            A week later, June 21, Greenville cut the ribbon to the Shoeless Joe Jackson Museum and Library. Joe’s former home — the one where he spent his final years — now sits across the street from the ballpark in a scenic part of town, not far from where Joe’s statue stands. This event was a long time coming, and give credit for this to Arlene Marcley, the assistant to Greenville’s mayor and curator of the SJJM.
 

            Fittingly, the ceremony was short and simple. Bobby Richardson was one of several former ML players to attend, and he spoke for everyone, I think, when he shared his opinion that Jackson deserves better recognition by MLB, deserves to be honored not just in his old hometown, but in Cooperstown.
 

            The house is small, but loaded with history. The displays are not distractions — it would be easy to cover every wall with some poster or artifact. No, Jackson’s story is told respectfully, his glowing statistics not emphasized any more than the vintage refrigerator and teapot. Visitors to the Hall of Fame can get lost in a maze of exhibits and spend full days wandering around; but at Joe’s house, they will be out in plenty of time to catch batting practice. With a lot to talk about.
 

            I gave a lunchtime talk to the local SABR Chapter, and focused on Jackson. I had hoped to have more from the Chicago History Museum’s “new” collection of documents — sharing only what I’ve seen so far seemed almost unfair, because it leaves us dangling — what else did Jackson say about that meeting with Austrian before he went to the grand jury room?   Oh well.
 

            The media seemed to take this event as the launching of some new campaign to clear Jackson and nudge him toward Cooperstown honors. But I don’t think that is what the SJJM is all about. It is precisely to honor Jackson despite MLB’s official stance. Jackson’s lifetime .356 BA (his house has the number 356) is what keeps him in the spotlight. What the Museum may do, however, is become a magnet — drawing donations not just of money, or artifacts related to Joe’s life and times — but also new information, perhaps letters or diaries, from relatives and friends in Greenville and beyond. Info that will help us all better understand his role in the events of 1919-21 — and that of MLB. Time will tell.
 

 

BASEBALL CHANGES!  
 

            There’s a rare headline. But I have to note here that while I was away from my word processor, MLB took a bold step into the future — it looks like later this summer, it will experiment with “Instant Replay” on a limited basis. I like it. I like it being a tool for umpires, not for managers. It’s long overdue.
 

            It will be fought, like the DH. But both of these things make sense. Let’s just hope that it is employed by both leagues!
 

            Driving around the Carolinas, I was exposed to another technology, newer, and one that MLB might think about a while. I am referring to that gizmo you can buy to give you directions while you are driving. I suppose the voice could be annoying if it was allowed to ramble on — ONE-QUARTER MILE AHEAD, TURN LEFT, THEN STAY RIGHT — but I was impressed how it navigated us thru a strange city.
 

            How would baseball use this technology?  Well, eventually the gizmos will be smaller, and players can wear them, with earphones. Fielders will be directed — BACK UP! NO, TURN THE OTHER WAY, TOWARD THE BULLPEN!  JUMP! — and maybe when the technology gets really good, batters will be fed info on incoming pitches: SLIDER DOWN AND IN, TAKE IT! 
 

            Yes, I jest. But I am all for Replay.
 

 

From the NOTES Archive, #305, September 7, 2003
 

            In honor of Eliot Asinof, here is my report of the day I spent with him, just about a year after I first stepped onto the B-Sox trail.
 

SIX HOURS  
 

            Eliot Asinof likes short titles with numbers — well, Eight Men Out (1963) has been very, very good for him. But not nearly as good as it might have been, had he not sold the rights, long ago, for what seemed like a fortune at the time. The only income he receives from the movie, is from his cameo appearance as NL president John Heydler, in pajamas. However, the royalties from 8MO are steady, around $6,000 a year, and steadily increasing as time goes by, a tribute to the book’s classic nature.
 

            The six hours in my title refer to the time spent, on a sunny Sunday at the tail-end of this summer, with Eliot Asinof. David Fletcher ( clearbuck.com) made the arrangements, and picked a perfect day. Asinof lives an hour or so south of Albany, NY — not too far from the Shadows of Cooperstown, but the “or so” part was a little tricky. His home, built by himself with his son eighteen years ago, is not only off the beaten path, it’s not even close.
 

            I have written about Eliot Asinof over the past year more than a few times, especially in Notes #269 and 276 (we were corresponding by then). And I refer newcomers there, for my takes on 8MO and Bleeding Between the Lines . I also recommend his book 1919 , and somewhere on the internet he has a nifty article that accompanies his contribution to ESPN Classic’s documentary on the B-Sox (try http://espn.go.com/classic/s/black_sox_moments.html). I’m repeating none of that here.
 

            I arrived armed with lists of questions, but most of them came up naturally as we talked over brunch at the general store, then in his spacious living room, then outside in his yard and on his deck. He was gracious with his time and seemed to enjoy our company as much as we did his. He lives alone but is no hermit, he seemed to know every other person entering the store, and while we talked his phone rang more than a few times. It was obvious from his office that he also keeps up lively correspondences. (Right now, he’s working on a novel.)
 

                                                                  Harry’s Diary
 

            Eventually “Harry’s Diary” — that tantalizing chapter in the book Bill Veeck wrote with Ed Linn, The Hustler’s Handbook , came up. 8MO was published a few years earlier than THH , but when the latter came out, Asinof spoke with Veeck, who noted how much Asinof had right, without the benefit of the diary. Then Asinof mentioned that he had read the diary — Ed Linn had typed up and sent him a copy! I know my eyes were wide as he told the story. So where is it now?
 

            Well, it seems that when Asinof participated in the ESPN Classic documentary in 2001, he loaned three or four items to the producer, including the copy of Harry Grabiner’s 1919 Diary. The items were all returned, except for — you guessed it. Eliot did not seem nearly as upset about the loss as I was. (My search for the Diary took me as far as Mike Veeck, who said it was back in the Grabiner family, and had been for many years.)
 

            Anyway, it was exciting to learn that there are typed copies out there somewhere. Ed Linn passed away in San Diego at age 77 a few years back. He may have left a copy with his papers, which he may have donated to a library or college. ESPN may have Eliot’s copy somewhere in their files. More targets is the way I see it.
 

                                                                       Harry F.
 

            In Bleeding Between the Lines , Asinof writes that he was advised by an editor to add a fictional character to Eight Men Out to protect it, or identify it as his own, since “you can’t copywrite history.”  When we asked him about that, a twinkle came to his eye. He indeed had given a fictional name to a character, to the thug who threatened Lefty Williams and his wife. He decided to call him “Harry F.”  It was a kind of harmless joke.
 

            Of course there was more to the story. Earlier, we asked him why he was not the main “talking head” in Ken Burns’ 1994 epic Baseball — I may not have noticed it then, but looking back, it strikes me and many others as a glaring omission. Without getting into the details, Asinof explained that he had had some problem or misunderstanding with John Thorn (some time before, I think), and when Thorn wound up as a main advisor for Ward and Burns, Asinof was out .
 

            But here is the punchline. In the book that accompanies the Burns’ video, on page 140, is this line: “Rothstein did not like to take risks of any kind. He is said to have arranged to have a Chicago thug known to history only as ‘Harry F.’ pay a call on Lefty Williams, who was to pitch the eighth game.” Eliot was obviously pleased to tell this story with some glee, as he recalled the first time he learned about how Harry F. had become part of history.
 

                                                                      Harry R.
 

            Asinof threw out one teaser, which I mention here with some reservations. He said that he heard or read that Harry Redmon — the St Louis gambler and theater owner who had lost big on the Series, then tried to collect Comiskey’s reward money by telling what he knew of the Fix — was in fact Harry Rothstein , Arnold’s brother. He had moved away from New York and changed his name, and Asinof said we could look it up on his death certificate. I ran this past David Pietrusza, whose book on Rothstein is kneeling on deck (I can’t wait), and he doubted it, noting that Harry Rothstein was dead by 1919. I don’t think Asinof spoke with any certainty, my feeling was that he wanted us to try to find out if this rumor was true, or bunk.
 

            If it proves to be true, that’s an interesting twist, but I don’t think it changes much. For one thing, you’d expect a Rothstein to win his bets — this Harry lost. If he decided to tell all to get even with his wealthier brother, that would add a layer of motivation, but he already had one, to recoup his losses ($5,500, according to Harry Grabiner’s diary). Redmon met with the White Sox people right after the Series, later with Ban Johnson, who was investigating, and finally he testified before the 1920 grand jury. (I have a snippet from a letter Johnson sent to Redmon in July 1921, but can’t add it here. I have requested permission from MLB — see last issue — so, maybe next time.)
 

                                                                  Short Stories
 

            Eliot Asinof is a marvelous story-teller. I heard him speak a few years back in Cooperstown, and he was captivated, without notes. He is to be the keynote speaker for NINE ‘s annual conference in Tucson, Arizona, next March.
 

            He was quick to give due credit to James T. Farrell, for giving him the material he had collected, and for urging him, when he started out on the trail, to interview as many of the living players and others as he could. Eliot had not known much about the scandal before meeting Ferrell, who told him to focus on the WHY of the story. Because Ferrell was so helpful, Asinof has tried to help others along, and that was evident to us.
 

            Asinof has continued to follow baseball — he recalled a number of stories from his own minor league career. He had many stories about his books, and about the making of the film Eight Men Out (1988). He makes no apologies for not footnoting 8MO , he wrote it the way he wanted to write it.
 

            At one point, his storytelling reminded me of the old TV character Lieutenant Columbo, or rather of Peter Falk. Maybe the cigar he smoked, pausing often to re-light it, added to that feeling. There was a definite similarity between his tone and pace, and Falk’s, and then, there was always one more thing .
 

            The day was not one-sided, we were able to tell Eliot a few stories about the Fix that he’d not heard before, and to recommend a few books that had escaped his notice. I was surprised when he expressed interest in my book and offered to give it a read. I certainly was not expecting that.
 

            So the conversation continues, beyond the six hours.
 

                                                                        * * * * *
 

            Asinof loved the first chapter of BURYING THE BLACK SOX, even though I was harsh on his friend, Jerome Holtzman. His encouragement meant a lot. There is a lot on Eliot Asinof and “the making of” EIGHT MEN OUT in BURYING, but I think I see a future issue of NOTES that will include some of our correspondence. Asinof’s contributions are unique, and he was an original. R.I.P.