KOM League Flash Report for April 1, 2019

The KOM League

Flash Report

for

April Fool’s Day

(a couple of days early)

2019

 

If this report were a song it could be entitled “Rambling Rose.” There were a lot of different comments received and some tangents I got on this past week so thought I’d share them and see if anyone would be interested in any of it. If this report bores you it is likely you are in good company. But, I was surprised at the number of times the report for last week was checked out on the Flickr site.

 

When readers are frank with me it is refreshing. “John - I have read all this about McKibben (hopefully, Neil did too). I’m addled. Guess I’m too old to absorb historical facts, dates, people, etc. I’m waiting for Neil to condense it for me. But it was interesting. I admire your perseverance.” Dave in Texas

 

Ed note:

 

Dave isn’t into necromancy but rather into remembering an old friend who talked him into reading the KOM league material. Referring to Neil is his way of keeping our mutual friend’s memory alive.

 

Favor:

 

It you have the fortitude to get there, read the story about the milk can at the terminus of this report. It will go into great detail as to why the photo in this edition was selected.

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Comments on an old book.

 

In recent weeks I’ve mentioned the issue of a book I wrote a couple of decades ago and how it “gets around.” An E-bay site offered it for more money than a KOM leaguer made in a full summer of traveling in broken down buses, eating all meals on $1.50--$2.00 a day while on the road and playing every day unless the game was cancelled due to rain.

 

Following is a comment from a long-time reader: Hi John. Two things..... the current Flash Report mentions a lady who is looking for a copy of the book. I have an extra copy, which I bought at auction, after my friend "Big John" Dingley passed away. It has an inscription signed by you & #'d as one for the first ones published. I am asking $115 for it, which is quite less than the other one she found. My eBay id is : ____ if you wish to pass that on to her, or to give her my email address: ________.

 

Second, & somewhat connected, is this note I received from someone who saw the book on eBay: "My dad played center field for the Indians in '49 & maybe '50, I think. His name is Bill Hahn-- Is his name on the replica score card?"

 

I replied that while his name is not on the '49 scorecard that day, I did find him on the '50 roster. I'm wondering if you might have any other interesting info that I might pass on to his son? (he's not bought the book....) I also do not have the son's full name or email, as I can contact him only thru eBay.) Thanks. Bob M

 

Ed reply:

 

Boy, I hate to quote anyone a price over its selling price but I guess antiques are worth more. The soft cover is cheaper than the hardcover in many ways.

 

Bill Hahn played for Iola in 1950. He lives in Independence, Mo. He was a big golfing buddy of Buck Walz, former KOM leaguer, of Jefferson City prior to his passing.

 

I have considerable information on Hahn but quite frankly he never wanted to talk about his KOM days or even his year, in 1949, with the infamous Leavenworth, Kansas Braves of the Western Association.

 

Ed comment:

 

If anyone cares to contact Bob M. regarding the book he has for sale I will send along his e-mail address. I guess anyone with Internet access could figure out how to locate that book on E-bay.

 

The following is an article I placed in a 1998 Flash Report that is a decent segue from the foregoing.

 

IT'S ALL OVER:--A story carried in a 1998 Flash Report and reproduced by the permission of the author…me.

 

Last time I mentioned that the book, "Majoring in The Minors" was nearly a thing of the past. Well, now I can report that it officially is. The Mid-Continent Library in Independence, Missouri bought 12 of them to officially deplete the stock. Someone asked if I planned a reprint. I thought maybe having 50 or so reprinted would be a cheap proposition. I called the printer and asked for a price quote on 50 or 100. When the printer didn't call back that same day I knew I was in trouble.

 

On the second day the printer called back and said 50 would cost $101.50. I said, "That's not bad for 50." The printer replied, "No that is $101.50 per copy." $5,000 seemed a little steep. I dared to ask what a 100 of them suckers would cost and didn't get off the floor for a few seconds after hitting my head from fainting. As it turned out it is about as cheap to buy 500 as it is 50. The 500 rate is about $9,000. Of course, 500 is the number originally purchased and it took 2 years to sell them. So, those of you who got in on the original order take care of those books, they are like gold.

 

Post Script:

 

A couple of years later, upon great insistence from the late Dr. Eldon Yung who had played for the Miami, Okla. Eagles in 1950, an update rather than a reissue to that book was undertaken. Over 5,000 changes were made in the second edition and Yung and I spent scores of hours at the book publishing company in Sedalia, MO making those changes. That was the end of my fascination with book publishing and the last time Yung ever volunteered to work with me on any project.

 

Here is my opinion on purchasing any copy of Majoring in The Minors. If it isn’t falling apart I would say it is worth the expenditure of funds. It is without any doubt the best book ever written on the subject of the KOM league. However, for the price of shipping the set of many years of KOM league Flash Reports, being offered by Bill Clark, probably contains more history of the KOM league, in print, outside of the KOM League Remembered Newsletter, which clogged the United States Postal Service facilities for 16 years.

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Comments from previous report:

 

•

 

Man, that McKibben story was really something. Bizarre, strange, fascinating. I couldn't stop reading it! Jerry Hogan—Fayetteville, Ark.

 

Ed comment:

 

That Hogan, not the late Bob Crane, is my “Hogan’s Hero.”

 

Reply:

 

Do you think I ought to continue it? I could make up a different plot each week.

 

Jerry’s reply:

 

Works for me!

 

Reply to Jerry

 

If I were a novelist I would write a tale where McKibben was actually the father or grandfather of Beto O’Rourke...both were in El Paso and both were budding musicians and each had/have a penchant for political office. I have an old photo of him as well as one for McKibben. Beto’s was as a member of the ”El Paso Pussycats” musical group.

 

•

 

Speaking of barred owls, we had one gnawing on a dead deer in the ditch right opposite our driveway. We’ve lived here over 30 years and that is only the second one we have seen. Bruce May—Son of Wilbert of the same last name who pitched for the 1946 Carthage, MO Cardinals.

 

•

A reader with a bad week.

 

Thanks for a great story John. Very disappointed that the trail of the McKibben lad went cold. Was hoping for a happier ending. Nevertheless, it sounds like he had a very heart wrenching life.

 

Just now getting around to reading the latest FR, as we have a rash of deaths here this past week. My Aunt in KC and at least six friends. Everything from cancer to auto accident to suicide to a tree falling on and crushing its victim. Hope all is well with you and Noel. Take care.

•

 

That's quite a fantastic story (about McKibben) thanks John. Sal Nardello—Berlin NJ—Shortstop 1949 Pittsburg, Kansas Browns

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Have it your way:

 

Bill Clark to John Hall: I tried to print out the long Flash report on e-mail and it refused to print. Gave me 10 blank pages. Is flicker the only way to read Flash Reports now? If I must use Flicker, can’t print without registering with yahoo. I didn’t even try to do so. I use yahoo all the time as a data source. I assumed I was already registered. I hate reading things I can’t hold in my hands. I always print out what you write so I can read it when and where I want.

THE CURMUDGEON

 

Ed reply:

 

There wasn't time to send the long version when the Flickr version was posted two days ago. So, this is the Special edition. Only a few readers will know that Harold John McKibben would have been 113 years in another 23 days. I'm aware of that since he and my father were born just two months apart. Also, have found in the last couple of days that McKibben's mother died in 1908, not in Joplin but in Picher, OK. So, keep all that in mind when you come to that feature, in this report. And, if you want to feel especially informed the young McKibben's mother’s maiden name was Lucille Belle Harper.

 

Even older Flash Reports:

 

For those of you working on your graduate degree in KOM league history you can go back 21 years for information at sites such as this.

groups.google.com/forum/#!topic/rec.sport.baseball/BB5DyO...

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We now pause for a reader’s submitted URL

 

Walt Babcock shared this for all readers who attend track and field competitions.

 

mail.google.com/mail/u/0/#inbox/FMfcgxwBWKbBjnMhkqKbFGHVh...

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Editor’s attempt to write about current events.

 

Johnny: In some of us, good poetry just runs through the veins. Stay with me on this ....

 

At times it seemed to me all you heard from the TV was "Mueller, Mueller, Mueller." Frankly, I got tired of it.

 

But it reminded me of a rally cry of the San Francisco Giants 50 or 60 years ago when their roster included Stu Miller, Chuck Hiller and Tom Haller. The rally cry was called the "Miller, Hiller, Haller Holler."

 

So, it occurred to me a commemorative denomination of paper money might be issued by the U.S. Government honoring Mr. Mueller, Ferris Bueller and Gustav Mahler. It would be ....

The Mueller, Bueller, Mahler Dollar.

 

What do you think, Johnny? -- Famous sportswriter and friend.

 

Ed comment:

 

No name was attached to his note because the famous writer didn’t give me permission to do so. Knowing the environment in which we live people get upset even if they suspect someone of having a differing opinion on any subject. Notice I have said this came from a famous writer. He is far beyond my pay grade for there are a couple of names listed I haven’t even heard of. I read the note to my wife, the famous writer sent, and her remark was “That’s good.” I can guarantee you she never heard of three of the six names cited.

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The Very Best Documentary on My Hero

 

For those who have known me the longest I’m known more for one thing, than anything else…my admiration for Stan Musial. God even allowed me to spend time in his (small case “his” represents the mortal— upper case “His” is the immortal one) presence three different times from the 1950’s to the 1990’s Recently, in clicking around on the Internet, I discovered the following and shared it with some of the people who have known me since Franklin Roosevelt was president or at least while Harry Truman occupied the throne. Here is a link to over an hour of pure delight. www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bw64-b1TlgI&feature=youtu.be

 

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A great surprise about an item from 69 years ago ---The old milk can

 

In early April from 1949 through 1952 great excitement descended on the baseball fans of Carthage, Mo. Chicago Cub farm teams from faraway places with some strange sounding names, with ball players with even weirder names descended on my hometown. Teams by the name of Canaries, Cubs and Owls took up all the hotel and motel space in town. When that happened Our Lady of the Ozarks Catholic school opened up their facilities for the players. Since only two blacks ever showed up in those years with Cub farm teams Solly Drake and Milton Bohanian stayed in the home of the Claude Redmond family. Drake was my favorite of all the guys who ever attended spring training of any club. He didn’t come along until 1952.

 

Not until 1950 did I know anything about spring training going on in my hometown. I never saw a real baseball game until 1949. After that season I was hooked. Upon the initiation of the 1950 spring drills I was surprised to see fellows from the 1949 Cubs in different uniforms. The names that stand out were Bob Speake, Johnny LaPorta and Phil Costa. Sioux Falls had a third baseman who had played for Miami, Okla., in 1949, and I immediately recognized Harry Bright who nearly a decade later saw major league service.

 

An item that was scare in any newspaper was photos of the ballplayers. A team photo would appear each year and some individual photos in a few publications but there were no photographers to cover any game action. If something out of the ordinary happened a plea would go out for someone adept at photography, meaning anyone with a camera, get to the ballpark immediately. That happened in 1947 when Jim Morris of Miami threw a no-hitter against the Carthage Cardinals. The negative of that photo was given to an Associated Press employee who attended that game and he hurried it off to Kansas City. The next day it was available on the AP photo wire and became the only photo of the KOM league to ever go nationwide.

 

Slowly I’m getting to the point

 

Upon subscribing to Newspaper.com in recent weeks I have been surprised at some of the things that have been found by accident. This week I keyed in “Sioux Falls Canaries.” Now that list of references is very lengthy. However, just a few items into the list page 31 of the Argus-Leader for April 23, 1950 appeared. Having absolutely nothing to lose I clicked on the URL. The first image that I saw on a page filled with photos led me to know that photo and probably all the rest were taken at Carthage.

 

On that page were “the brass” of the Canaries sitting in the native rock grandstand seats viewing what was transpiring on the field. Other shots were of the players going about their training activities and even stopping for a drink from the water cooler.

 

Confession time for this writer

 

One of the most embarrassing moments of my boyhood transpired one hot evening, in June of 1951, prior to the game. The Carthage team had been taking batting practice and had gone to the water cooler for a drink. I saw them surrounding that cooler, which was a cream can, and trying to solve a perplexing problem. What they were trying to figure out was how to extract the white enamel drinking cup from the bottom of the cream can. As those brilliant ballplayers attempted to fetch that cup a “bright” and daring lad stepped forward and exclaimed “I know how to get it.” Thereupon my right arm went into that can like an arrow and when I pulled it out, the cup was attached to my hand.”

 

At that moment I knew I hadn’t done the right thing. There were no “thank you” or atta-boys in the days prior to that slang term. The first person to speak up was Walt Babcock who said “Go show Biebel your arm.” I asked why that bit of admonition should be followed. Babcock assured me that if I showed Biebel he would understand.

 

I must confess that my hesitation, after that 1951 season, to contact any of those Carthage Cubs, might have been due to the fact I grew to know that sticking your arm in the water bucket isn’t good from any aspect.

 

Over 40 years later I had supper with Biebel in Sacramento, Calif. In the course of the meal I brought up that incident. He chuckled and said “Your skinny, dirty arm in that water can was not half as unsanitary as all the Carthage Cubs drinking from the same cup.” Biebel was always one of my favorites and after that comment, made at the meal it insured, that he would remain in that esteemed slot as long as we live.

 

How the mind was jogged.

 

While in Carthage for the 1950 spring training session of the Sioux Falls Canaries the Argus News Leader sent their sports scribe, Bill Ening to cover the activities. Ening brought along his assistant, Rumpelstilzchen, who went by the abbreviated name of “Rump.” Rump was a boxer of the canine family and went about any place he liked and Ening went along with his camera.

 

Hopefully, it has been made clear that not many photos were ever taken of anything happening inside old KOM league ballparks. However, in the middle of the page of the April 23, 1950 of the Sioux Falls paper was a photo that I recognized immediately. The caption to the photo read “Spring training is sometimes hot work and that cool jug of water gets plenty of attention from perspiring ball players. On the day the temperature at Carthage was in the 70s. Dick Heitholt, fixture at first base who played for the Canaries last year, is just winding up his drinking session while Manager Lee Eilbracht waits to take a belt at the bowl.”

 

Never did I ever think I would ever see that milk can and cup after 1951. In fact, I don’t suppose I wished to be reminded of that long ago arm in the can incident. However, being reminded of a long ago childhood incident led me to share it with my wife and daughter and now to a wider reading audience. I hope someone enjoys hearing the story more than my family members did. This photo has already been shared with some of the 1951 Carthage Cubs. Too bad there aren’t more of those guys left.

 

Now, that you know what the photo posted on the Flickr site is about here is further information.

The location of that can was on the north end of the third base dugout. That pipe against the wall was part of the frame that held the wire protective barrier for box seat holders sitting on the third base side. The dugout top was made of tar and many things got etched into it. One such inscription was “Stan Musial.” Whoever scratched that on there did a great job of forging Musial’s signature. Of course, Musial hadn’t played in the Carthage park for ten years and his dugout, as a member of the visiting team, was on the first base side.

 

Meaning of spring training for this editor

 

Of all the spring training camps held at Carthage the one in 1950 was the most memorable. The teams started arriving on April 6th and didn’t leave for three weeks. Each school day I would eat lunch at my grandfather’s house and I would see the teams with black players go past his home on their way to pick up or deposit the black players at the Claude Redmond home.

 

Upon spotting those buses I knew where I would spend each Saturday and Sunday for the remainder of April. Let it be known that I wasn’t all that enthusiastic to watch bunch of teenagers and old 24-year old guys managed by ancient 37-year old managers get in shape for the upcoming season.

 

Primarily, my objective was being the procurement officer to summer supplies for “John Hall Stadium.” That edifice was a lot beside my home on Valley Street where a bunch of boys gathered, most every day for a baseball battle. Guys showing up were Ted Williams, Stan Musial, Enos Slaughter, Red Schoendienst. Well, not actually, but the young boys who played endless hours at 1226 Valley Street thought they were going to be just like them.

 

A summer of baseball required numerous baseballs and bats. Thus, each spring I’d head off to the site of training camps for the Carthage Cubs, Topeka Owls, Janesville Cubs and Sioux Falls Canaries. My assistant was Corky Simpson. I placed him in that role for I owned the only bicycle between us. It was about 4 or 5 miles to the three baseball sites where spring training was occurring.

 

Each day my “designated peddler” of the bicycle and I had to determine where we would shag balls during batting practice and then during a game. There were definite advantages in knowing where to be at each moment of spring drills. In order to obtain the most baseballs the Twi-light league diamond was selected due to it having no fences. Simpson and I would position ourselves from the right field line to right centerfield and wait for balls to roll off the designated field. Between us was a hollowed out tree stump. As those balls came our way we’d throw the majority of them back into the field of play. However, some mysteriously made their way into the tree stump.

 

It was a good day when a bat was broken for we knew where it would be going. One cold afternoon stands out in my mind of all the days of the spring of 1950. The weather had gone from 70 degrees, the day before, to the 30’s. At game time it began to snow. Janesville was playing Sioux Falls. The first batter for Janesville grounded the ball to Harry Bright at third base. As it rolled slowly down the line it picked up the snow as it went and by the time Bright got to the thing was as big as a grapefruit. Bright picked up the ball, shook off the snow and threw to first base. And, that is all I recall from that game.

 

What transpired after the game is as vivid now as it was 69 years ago. When the Janesville and Sioux Falls teams cleared out Corky and I went to the tree stump and gathered up the loot. There were 12-15 baseballs, all old ones, in that stump. We didn’t have anything to put them in so Corky convinced me to give him my jacket and he placed the balls in there and tied the sleeves. Then, he took the broken bat we got that day and got it placed in a position that made it look like a hobo with his pack at the end of a stick.

 

My job was to carry the loot and he would peddle us both home. A short distance from the ballpark Corky suggested we stop at a local grocery store. He wanted to experiment with something he had seen some of the ballplayers use. When the grocer asked if he could help us Corky said “I want some chewing tobacco.” The grocer, already suspicious replied “Who is it for?” Corky, always quick on the comeback said “For my grandpa.” The grocer now having fun with us inquired “What is your grandpa’s name?” Now, Corky was taken off guard for the first time, stuttered at bit, and he looked at me and said “Bob Ling.” Bob Ling was a young man my sister was dating at the time who had gone out to one of the spring training games, with me, earlier that month. I knew he wasn’t the man for my sister because of his evaluation of Class D and C ballplayers. My sister didn’t find out what I knew in 1950 until 1952 went that “happily ever after” came to a screeching conclusion.

 

Well, by now the grocer knew what was up and asked what type of tobacco Grandpa Ling chewed. Corky hadn’t researched the subject of tobacco brands and replied “Any kind will do.” The grocer reached into the case and brought out a plug of “Red Man.”

 

If my memory is correct the grocer got 25 cents that Corky and I had scraped together for the item that would make us “Just like the ballplayers.” As Corky got in his place of designated drive for the bicycle he handed me the plug. He urged me to take a bit. I pulled off a sliver less than the size of a dime, got a taste of it and spit it out. Handing the plug back to Corky he took a big bite and off we went.

 

Less than two blocks down the road we came to a culvert and Corky alit from the mode of transportation and said that he was going to throw up. He gagged a bit and the last I saw of the “Red Man” it was flying through the air. After a few minutes of recuperation at the culvert off we went toward our respective homes with the balls and bat. What a trip that was. About every block we’d have to get off the bicycle and go chasing a baseball that had escaped from the coat and headed for freedom.

 

Looking back I suspect some of the balls made it to either the Simpson or Hall house. I’m sure the bat made it for Corky was proficient at first tacking the broken places and then wrapping them with white tape. The baseball’s lasted for a few weeks before the covers started coming off. However, from necessity I learned to stitch a baseball with the exception I could never hide the last stitch. My mother never could find her darning needles for I used them and heavy thread, rubbed in candle wax in putting those “Humpty Dumpties” together again.

 

Now, almost everyone who showed up at the 1950 Spring training camps of those four Chicago Cub farm teams are gone. Some who were there made it to the big leagues like Don Elston and Bob Speake. There were legendary baseball scouts and managers who were lending their expertise to help those young players reach their ultimate goal of playing big league baseball. But, that summer the Korean War broke out and the lives of most of those young men at Carthage in April were changed forever.

 

One person at that 1950 camp who was in charge of putting those teams together was legendary in the world of baseball. I didn’t realize who he was at the time. If I gave his name very few people of today would recognize Tony Lucadello. He was one of those people who loved baseball more than anything in life, even his own. I won’t go into that story now but if you have a scintilla of interest look up that name on the Internet and don’t stop until you come across his final act. It is a story that not even Hollywood could top and I don’t imagine they would even try. (Brandy Davis, former KOM leaguer was in the Philadelphia Phillies administration, with Lucadello, and told me to how Lucadello’s life was changed when the Carpenter family relinquished ownership of that franchise.)

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I now have to go. Get in touch if you have any comments.

 

Done