Houston Colt .45s of 1962-64 were endearing

The New York Mets became the poster child for expansion team futility in the early 1960s. Let's amend that to "early and mid '60s," really up to when everything turned around for them in 1969. The whole decade is sealed in treasured baseball lore. Partly that's because we're talking New York City, the great media capital that easily makes celebrities out of non-spectacular players. I mean like Joe Pepitone.
Or in the case of the fledgling New York Mets, Marv Throneberry. Throneberry could not have been as bad a player as popular lore made him out to be. The Mets indeed struggled and so their individual parts took on a like image. Casey Stengel was the old, eccentric-seeming manager of the original Mets, but he too could not have been as incompetent as the lore asserts. Anyone in the majors really had to "have it together."
The problem with expansion teams of that era - things seem not so bad now - isn't that their players were necessarily bad. Rather, the players fell into categories of 1) young guys on the way up, not fully seasoned, 2) older guys having slipped past their prime, or 3) role players who could be an asset for contending teams, but not with the skills to be everyday stars.
It is sad to reflect on how expansion team players could end up being portrayed in a mediocre light. They were not mediocre. In the case of the Houston Colt .45s, they entered the baseball universe far away from New York and its self-important media (e.g. Roger Angell of the New Yorker). The Mets became America's lovable losers while the Colt .45s, toiling in the incredible heat of Houston, developed into rather a garden variety expansion team.
I realize that sounds un-generous but I'm referring to the national consciousness: fans gave the Mets rather a mythic quality. The Colt .45s simply evolved painstakingly until the fruits started getting noticed.
Some of that pain was the elements in the pre-Astrodome days.
 
The short-lived original nickname
I suspect that many of the game's fans would need a primer on the "Colt .45s." I suspect the name itself might be unfamiliar to many. So let's raise a toast as we reflect on 1960s baseball, that decade which by its end gave us the divisional playoffs, and let's appreciate the Houston Colt .45s.
What happened to the nickname? I mean, we all follow the "Astros" now. My friend Del Sarlette says he still has trouble getting used to the Astros being in the American League. Fully understandable, as boomer-age fans have memories locked in from our youth. The Astros were a cool National League team that played in the space age Astrodome. We were in awe of "indoor baseball" and were told that the Astrosdome was "the eighth wonder of the World." So ironic given that it eventually was phased out and replaced with something new.
Us boomer fans in the '60s learned that the Astrodome was a great place for pitchers and not for hitters. We read the book "Ball Four" by Jim Bouton in which he played for the Astros and manager Harry Walker for part of the '69 season. Bouton recalled workouts where the guys had to go back to the old Colt Stadium to do sprints or whatever. "Look out for snakes," he wrote.

We can have a pretty good theory why the Colt .45s name was retired. The reference to guns was not palatable - the same reason why we saw "Baltimore Bullets" retired in favor of "Washington Wizards." The Bullets name was erased after the assassination of Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin. Rabin was walking offstage at a Tel Aviv "peace rally." Bullets owner Abe Pollin was a close friend of Rabin. Pollin announced within a week that no longer would "Bullets" be his team's name.
The Astrodome in Houston opened in 1965. That was a magical year for yours truly because my Minnesota Twins won the A.L. pennant.
The Astrodome was the world's first multi-purpose domed sports stadium. It was the "eighth wonder of the world" but reached the end of its lifespan in 1999. The old Houston Oilers of the NFL played there. It was the first major sports venue to have artificial turf. Remember when we talked about "Astroturf?" Tug McGraw was asked to compare grass with Astroturf and he quipped, quite famously for the amusement of my smart-aleck boomer generation: "I don't know, I've never smoked Astroturf." Remember, us boomers consumed Cheech and Chong humor.
The Astros eventually relocated to Enron Field - oops, that's an embarrassing name, so there was an adjustment to "Minute Maid Park." The grizzled old Astrodome would no longer meet the fire code in 2008. A rather ignominious fade. But Houston moved forward as a quite proud big league community.
The great baseball movie "Pride of St. Louis" about Dizzy Dean shows the player coming up in the ranks and playing for a time in Houston when it was minor league. Man, it must have been hot. Memories of the early Colt .45s often cite the weather and bug challenges. I suppose we could add snakes.
 
Cheering for Roman Mejias
Yes, the Colt .45s were obscure compared to the New York Mets who were christened the same year: 1962. My Twins began in '61. While the Twins had an enviable stadium at the start, Houston was ragtag, not that those memories aren't to be cherished by long-time fans. Yes, 1962 was a magical season for Houston: the big leagues had arrived!
Colt Stadium was built south of downtown Houston. Next door was where the Astrodome was gong to take shape. Loyal fans braved heat and mosquitoes from 1962 through 1964. They got attached to Roman Mejias among others. The history of the franchise begins with a three-game sweep of the Chicago Cubs at Colt Stadium! Obviously this wouldn't be the script throughout. The Colt .45s finished '62 with a 64-96 record. They were static with their success, posting a record of 66-96 in the next two seasons.
Then the curtain came down for the early version of the franchise - gone was the Colt .45s name along with the modest stadium for the first three seasons. (The box seats were folding chairs.)
The Colt .45s logo actually included a pistol. The name was seen as a relic of old Texas and old Houston. Might it have been eased into retirement partly because of this? Well I'm skeptical, but then there's another angle that you might not anticipate, and this was - da da! - business interests! Yes, major league ball is quite immersed in that. You see, "Colt" is the name of a firearms company, and it had reservations about merchandising rights. Might they want to demand a cut of the revenue? Well, Team President Roy Hofheinz had no reputation for going out of his way to be generous.
Maybe the nickname change reflected my gun violence theory, or maybe it was weighted with history (i.e. the "old" Texas) or maybe it was the business thing, but whatever, "Colt .45s" was not going to be long for this world. It's enshrined in baseball history and lore, make no mistake about it. I remember my baseball card for Harry Craft, the team's first manager.
 
Substantially better than the Mets
You can argue the team exceeded expectations the first year - whereas we expect first-year expansion teams to be prime candidates for the cellar, my, the Colt .45s placed eighth among the ten N.L. teams, but keep in mind the new Mets were below them. But, so also were the well-established Chicago Cubs. So let's bestow some kudos on that debut big league team for Houston.

Mejias batted third in the team's first game while Norm Larker was assigned cleanup. The shortstop was Don Buddin. And the pitcher? It was Bobby Shantz. It was April 10 of '62 when the curtain rose and on Day 1, Mejias hit a three-run homer in the third against the Cubs.
The Colt .45s won 64 games, quite superior to the "Amazin' Mets" who won just 40 playing at the hallowed old Polo Grounds.
Colt Stadium was built with the understanding it was temporary. It had an uncovered grandstand. The elements made for adversity, not to mention hordes of bugs, and never rule out the rattlesnakes. Humidity? Well. . .
Oh, who cares, because these memories are nothing but rich for those who were around to witness history: the birth of big league ball in Houston.
 
Stars of the future arrive
The second season of 1963 saw some guys come on board who would end up as "big names." Let's cite Rusty Staub (just age 19), Jimmy Wynn the "Toy Cannon" and Joe Morgan (future Hall of Fame second baseman). In '64 we saw big Walter Bond hit 20 home runs. Craft was fired in September. Lum Harris took over.
The Colt .45s never finished in last place. I remember Walt Bond joining my Minnesota Twins and showing promise until he died - a lesson for all us young fans on human mortality. Baseball was a lab for teaching us lots of stuff, a microcosm of real life in a way.
Yes, the Mets became a darling on the strength of futility, something that could only be spawned by New York City, I guess. But I say "hats off" to the intrepid Colt .45s who were superior and game to play in the Texas heat. Let's never forget the Houston Colt .45s. I remember my Turk Farrell baseball card!
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Did fame make Denny McLain undisciplined person?

Boys in their mid-teens form baseball memories that are indelible. That was a truism when I was growing up, maybe I should assume it isn't so true now. Surely the boomer generation boys of Minnesota developed a firm emotional attachment to the Twins.
I was 13 years old in 1968, right at that prime of making the ensconced memories. The Twins had made a strong run in 1967 but broke our hearts at the end. The '68 summer was not so encouraging. It was Detroit's turn to bathe in the limelight. Us boomer boys were mesmerized by the pitching of Detroit's Denny McLain.
One might say that "only in America" could such a complicated and conflicted person as McLain get in the limelight. He had the kind of rise and fall that feeds the most gripping biographies. He showed a mix of awesome talent and troubling failings. His period of stardom seemed meteoric. But to this day his name is familiar to my generation.
McLain was exhibit No. 1 of how 1968 came to be known as "the year of the pitcher." His prowess on the defensive side of the ledger was the equivalent of what Roger Maris achieved in 1961. Baseball had the pendulum swing from one side to the other. McLain's Detroit teammate Norm Cash batted .361 in 1961, a stat considered "the most anomalous batting average ever."
Baseball tweaked its product. Author David Halberstam noted that umpires started calling the high fastball a strike. Sandy Koufax licked his chops over that. McLain was poised to take advantage in no small part in 1968.
 
The context of '68 baseball
It is bittersweet to cite the memories, because America had a backdrop with a lot of dissent and conflict. Oh, the Vietnam war certainly seemed No. 1. But racial tumult was bubbling also. The generation gap was a very real thing. So in 1968 when Jose Feliciano sang the (sacred) National Anthem in his own stylized way, it was a big deal.
The older folks cried foul. The older folks were the equivalent to today's Fox News viewers, the souls who like to digest Laura Ingraham. Fox News has no issue with stylized renditions today and would find them appealing. By the same token the Fox News template of today is happy to lionize Martin Luther King or to say that Social Security is a necessary thing. Oh but back in the day, let me tell you.
So in 1968 with so much cultural bluster and conflict brewing, boys in their mid-teens with their coveted collections of baseball cards could follow the Fall Classic with delight. Call it escapism but it was therapeutic. Baseball had injustices as players were not rewarded well enough. Overworked pitchers often threw out their arms. Today, a person with an oddball makeup like McLain might get guidance, counseling and proper sports medicine to have a longer career. It was sad what could happen to the players back then and we probably could empathize some. But the game went on and we continued to be mesmerized.
McLain's 31 pitching victories in '68 - not just 30 but 31! - were the equivalent of Maris' 61 homers in 1961. Or, the equivalent of Norm Cash's .361 average of '61. Baseball worried that the pendulum had to be adjusted again. And so it was, in the wake of '68, as the pitching mound got lowered. This gave hitters a better chance.
 
The apex was in '68, for what salary?
McLain had the microscopic ERA of 1.96 in '68. He won the Cy Young and MVP awards. The Tigers won their first World Series in 23 years. We were impressed hearing about his salary of about $100,000. Isn't that something?
McLain made his big league debut pitching a seven-hitter victory and not only that, he hit a home run! His progress was steady after that. McLain had an image with several parts, quite unrelated to each other. He ended up with criminal notoriety, something that puzzled Commissioner Bowie Kuhn who reflected on it in his autobiography. People destined to be pro athletes generally develop dependable personalities with positive moral components, Kuhn noted. But human beings can defy all sorts of molds.
The freedom of America lets us see the full tapestry of human behavior.
McLain became a household name. You would not want your children emulating parts of his character. No inspiration would be taken from his dark side. And there's still another element of his nature, distinct from the two already cited here: McLain was an accomplished musician! I would personally assert that musicians tend to be good people, although you should probably always confirm that any checks they write are good! Rimshot.
Surely they don't gravitate to the really shady world of criminal behavior - the mobster stuff or embezzling. But McLain the musician could not escape his darker side any better than McLain the baseball star. His positive talent should have been the full focus of his energy. So, why wasn't it? Well, it's because he's a human being. A human being in America. He was both a celebrity and a criminal.
As a musician he specialized in the Hammond Organ. I wonder what got him attracted to that instrument. Not to really knock it - OK I'll knock it a little - but IMHO it has a rather cheesy sound. Listening to recordings, one realizes that McLain was a bona fide talent.
 
Truly the Tigers' year
McLain was guaranteed a permanent place in baseball's shrine of star players by what he did in 1968. The Tigers led the league (a year before the division system was implemented) almost the whole way. They opened up a gap of 12 games over the Orioles. It's amazing baseball could sell itself adequately in the days when there were two leagues and no divisions, thus at risk of letting suspense slip away.
The A.L. would seem to have been sans suspense in 1968. Yet us young fans were still captivated, still enthused at opening each new pack of baseball cards. They might have still been a nickel then.

McLain won his 30th game on national television. Remember, there was a time when baseball's televised exposure was minuscule compared to today! We depended a lot on Saturday's NBC Game of the Week with Curt Gowdy and Tony Kubek. (For some reason they seemed biased toward the Boston Red Sox.)
McLain got his 31st win on a day when he revealed his questionable character, as he "grooved" a pitch to Mickey Mantle - pretty blatant. Baseball's powers that be were disapproving. But McLain was still the man of the hour as he finished the regular season with the stupendous record of 31-6. Wow!
McLain did not have an outstanding World Series but he did win Game 6. Tiger pitcher Mickey Lolich won three games. McLain had another good season in 1969.
In '70 the man started getting separated from the myth. The mobster-like behavior became better known. McLain succumbed to a common weakness among pro athletes: trouble managing money. Aren't we all puzzled by that?
McLain was just 26 years old when he got traded to the Washington Senators. It was a celebrated eight-player deal. McLain was essentially done as his fastball had faded and the weight had come on. Legend has it he guzzled soft drinks. The Washington manager was the legendary Ted Williams and the chemistry was not there. Today on the podcast he co-hosts, Denny says Williams "hated everybody." Denny laments the shortcomings of that Washington Senators team which he said "didn't hit the cutoff man all season." Also, the big power-hitting Frank Howard, mesmerizing with his home run blasts, just couldn't run. And, this was in the days before the designated hitter!
 
Spiral into shady things, alas
Done with baseball, McLain plunged into dubious business ventures. His wife Sharon left him more than once but would float back. Poor Denny, who could have made a nice living just being Denny McLain, got involved in loan sharking and bookmaking. Kuhn would have liked to get into his head. The U.S. Justice Department got interested in Denny's "associates." Some of these guys were willing to "talk," get it?
So here come indictments vs. the great Denny McLain. He got a long prison sentence but it was wiped out on procedural grounds. For a while the legendary righty seemed "clean." But oh no he couldn't defy his basic nature. He and a "friend" bought a meatpacking company and lo and behold it went bankrupt. The guys got convicted on a laundry list of charges including embezzlement. My, McLain was on his way to the crowbar motel for seven years, no dismissal this time.
Sharon divorced him at the time he went to prison. But she would return to his side upon release of course. A romantic story I guess. They got remarried. They raised four children, one of whom was tragically killed in an auto accident at age 26.
It has been said that Denny McLain "lived by his own rules." In spades to be sure. He hurt many people who were closest to him. I wonder if he ever had truly sinister intent. It would seem he did, but I wonder. I guess I wonder if Denny was just one of those lionized pro athletes who got deluded by all the cheers and adoration, to where they felt they could get away with anything.
You can listen to Denny today on the No Filter Sports podcast, a real excellent product in which Denny pulls his own weight - he's not just there using his fame. These guys do a show much like the old "Sid and Dave" show in Minnesota on WCCO Radio. Only I'd say Denny and his sidekicks are better. They are so frank and uninhibited. I stay interested through the whole hour-long discussion. Please check it out!
Denny was a conflicted individual who transfixed us all with his fastball and his spirited leg kick up in his spectacular prime. We'll always hold on to those 1968 memories, the good ones I mean. The escape from the Vietnam nightmare.
 
Addendum: When researching McLain you might want to confirm that it's "McLain" and not "McClain," the latter spelling having been used by country singer Charly McClain (a female) in the 1980s.
 
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

My writing philosophy quite in line w/ Michael Wolff

Michael Wolff (Wikimedia Commons)

Never in my lengthy tenure in the local commercial press did I ever feel like a true fraternity member with other pros in the field. Some of my detractors will snicker at that sentence. They will say the sentence ridiculously states the obvious.
My journalistic brethren of the standard stripe fail to see their own imperfections. They fail to see that they live in a professional ecosystem where everyone scratches everyone else's back. The powers-that-be want the journalist/writers to occupy a "middle ground" with how they report the world around them. Objectivity becomes a mid point between two opposing camps on any subject. It becomes detached from a genuine understanding of the truth.
And the "proper" approach is one where the writers and power brokers can maintain a working relationship. Without that relationship, writers would fear they'd fall off their perch. They have a "job" and need an element of predictability and certainty, as one seeks in any job. But truth-telling or (more accurately) truth seeking should not hinge on such an environment. Truth is simply the truth. A true journalist should gravitate to that regardless of the expedient factors.
Thus I hope you share my fascination with the truth. I'll grant that the pure, unadulterated truth can be elusive. So, shall we sometimes write what we feel is close to the truth, an approximation of the truth or even a well-founded hunch simply based on trusting good sources? My days in the local print media made me privy to endless "background" about things. This access to news, to gossip and to the various gradations in between abruptly ended in 2006. But not completely. My instincts remain because I was essentially born with them.
 
Whose truth? Author explains
The standard corporate journalists, the breed with whom I couldn't gain affinity, typically gravitate to a story line that Michael Wolff would call a "negotiated truth." In other words, you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. It doesn't mean we'll always make you happy with what we write, but it means you'll be in the game. Controversies will be shaded in a way to hint there is shared blame, otherwise we might be painted as "biased." Ah, the "b" word.
"Informed sources" or the proverbial "sources close to (whatever)" tell a story that can leave me, well, maybe 90 percent certain of the truth. And if what I end up writing isn't 100 percent true, it's not as if it's zero percent true. If you have any familiarity with my online writing - I'd say "blog" but some people still see the term in a pejorative light - you know I share stuff both from the present and (oh my) the past that I could never write in the Morris newspaper. Quite ironic, because the insights I am willing to lay out would be most revealing and helpful. In theory it would "sell newspapers." And wouldn't that be the goal?
Don't be naive because you ought to know that advertising is the lifeblood of the commercial media. And in that environment, the "negotiated truth" as Wolff would call it is paramount. Don't let slip some sliver of absolute truth that would come across as sensational and scandalous because it might penetrate someone's force shield. Everyone must be allowed to maintain their force shield. Because, we're looking at a big ecosystem of shared survival.
Wolff knows this and shares about it unashamedly on the macro level. While yours truly most surely understands it micro. It's nice to feel brethren with Mr. Wolff, who, if his defects are so bad as what the self-reverential folks assert, why does he sell a ton of books? He's a book author and not a writer in the standard commercial media, the latter with those ecosystem restrictions.
When the monopoly distribution system took over for newspapers, we saw the birth of the "objective" creed which was, more than anything, a survival strategy for the commercial press. So, you find an artificial middle ground when reporting on anything that might be contentious. You might not please everyone, granted, but you can thump your chest and argue that "both sides" are acknowledged. You acquiesce to powerful people who want to issue a public denial of something. How can a lot of those people sleep at night?
All that yours truly has ever wanted to do is to write the truth, or at least perceive the truth in my own mind, because what else is there? For the preponderance of commercial press writers, they weigh their paycheck, their livelihood. And as an extension of that, their sense of a shared fraternity where I guess they feel a strength in numbers. All of which, I guess I don't give a flying f--k about. And neither does Michael Wolff.
 
Interpreting local subject
Did any local writer other than me even ask the fundamental question of what was likely behind the notorious sexual assault charges that created a sensation here? Am I the only writer who even posed the question, publicly in writing albeit online-only, about whether the thing was a "setup?" A setup by the accuser? No, I cannot absolutely affirm that "setup" was the case. And if it was, how could I know it for certain? And yet the question seemed relevant and central.
Thus a fair number of arguably quite intelligent local people bandied about on this. Even I was aware as a now-quite-detached person, compared to when I was Mr. Local Knowledge at the Morris Sun Tribune.
Did anyone besides me in the local media seek out and publish a photo of the prosecutor?
Did anyone else share incisive and necessary questions such as whether it would have been prima facie logical for the school board to dismiss the accused party, not because of presumed guilt but just on the known facts about behavior leading up to the incident in question? What a wild night led up to all that - could you imagine me, as someone not even expected to set an example for young people, behaving like that? Or, even close to behaving like that? I'm under the impression this individual continues to work in education. I wish him no ill will because our ethos today is for "second chances."
People inclined like author Wolff and yours truly must be cynical. Jim Morrison described me as a contrarian. The editor at the paper back in 1979 - Jimmy Carter was president - warned me by saying "people will lie to you." Yes, Pollyanna I am not. And I fail to see why so many might think I deserve to be stigmatized. Maybe it's because they never want to see the underbelly of bad things, to realize that "people will lie to you." But I'm a believer in the truth because the truth will set us free.
I should stress that there is no joy to be felt as someone not accepted among the commercial media fraternity, those "editors and reporters" who exist because of ad sales - a subtle but symbiotic relationship. I would prefer being accepted over not being accepted. But after 13 years of being out of the commercial fold, maybe I dismiss it as a non-issue. I try to share with readers my interpretation of things that I think is as close to the truth as possible. I won't be fooled by "plausible deniability" or word parsing.

Figures lie, liars figure
When a cable TV news host "denies" that she showed questions in advance to Brett Kavanaugh, I actually believe her. The germane question is whether the show's producer engaged in the nefarious communication, the kind of endeavor I would fully expect by Fox News. All those people feather their own nests.
Wolff thinks it's essential that we see what's before our eyes, so obviously, with the phenomenon of the Trump presidency. We should react with fear and put aside the normal sterilized instincts. But instead, the journalistic troopers slavishly continue getting "both sides of the story," always gravitating to the imagined middle ground where they can proclaim they are impartial. No one is really impartial, and the sooner we internalize this, the better off we'll be. If we can just wake up in time, which sadly I am not betting on.

Wolff says it's a given that he'll catch "flak" from other journalists over his new, fresh book, "Siege: Trump Under Fire." Like me, I don't think he relishes his outlier status, it's just that he's in his personal comfort zone as a journalist.
I have always felt comfortable writing the way I do, wouldn't have it any other way. Hell, I had a police scanner for part of my time at the paper. So, I was aware late one night when the cops were called to chase some card players at the Legion when they didn't leave fast enough at closing time - that group included a prominent local businessman.
 
Motivations, motivations, motivations
When I wrote what was really a pretty tame editorial suggesting that hockey deserved expansion in Morris, probably in the mid-1980s, a public school administrator pranced into my office and said "who are you after?" He felt I was deliberately trying to make life more difficult for school leaders who weren't on board with all the hockey enthusiasm. "We've been told to watch our backs," hockey advocate Ron Sharstrom said to me.
Speaking of ecosystem, hockey has climbed aboard in such a way with local sports, there's no cause for fuss.
Another hockey promoter told me that the school board at one point said "if you're going to build an arena, we want it to be a good one." Somewhat odd wording because, who would countenance anything to the contrary? In my rapier-like mind, a la Michael Wolff, I "translated" as such: "We're really rather skeptical of hockey because our school might not be able to absorb a whole additional sport, and besides we stand for academics and not athletics, but if you're going to succeed in getting an arena built (anyway), well, we want it to be a good one."
There was a mid-level administrator in the 1980s who was antagonistic toward hockey - no nuances. Personally, I felt somewhat betrayed when after just a short time, we lost our Morris High School team and had to accept an unlikely partnership with Benson. What the hell is the "Storm?" But it's better to have gone this route rather than tamp down hockey simply because the interests of other sports (translation: the coaches) might seem threatened.
Herb Brooks came here and said "how's it going to affect basketball?" He was right. He needled me in a way that did not obviously seem friendly, because I was a writer, he was familiar with the power of writers and he wasn't sure about me. But in the end I think it was all amicable.
The anti-hockey administrator or quasi-administrator had to mosey on down the road. So did the guy accused of sexual assault - all charges dropped of course - and this was after a lengthy paid leave of absence. Only in government, I guess. I theorized that the Morris school board probably had an attorney scared of his own shadow, advising "you can't terminate the guy 'cause he could end up suing you." Good God, the circumstances at the time the s--t hit the fan screamed for something to be done. Legal disposition wasn't entirely the crux of the matter, it was just a part.
Had I been in the corporate media, I would be walking on eggshells and gravitating to that "negotiated truth." Just find a nice comfortable spot somewhere in the middle, respect the defensive posturing and don't say s--t even if you have a mouthful.
 
The macro truth
Saying what we now know about Donald Trump should only take about five seconds. If Brett Kavanaugh actually did commit sexual assault, what are the odds he would ever say so? So why go through the whole standard journalistic exercise?
My journalist brethren with whom I am not kin would say "what about fact-checking?" Wolff says this: "I actually don't believe, if you know the answer, it is necessary to go through the motions of getting an answer that you are absolutely certain of." Amen and hallelujah. And if you're affronted by that attitude, here's how Mr. Wolff would elaborate further: "It's a distinction between journalists who are institutionally wedded and those who are not. I'm not." And Mr. Wolff, I am not, either.
Eat your heart out.
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

If Cyrus can have a big summer event. . .

Had occasion to drive through Cyrus, coming from the north, Saturday when the town was abuzz with its special summer event. I was coming home from the funeral for Margie (Gilbertson) Sherstad. The rites were held at Restoration Church on the outskirts of Glenwood. It's a nice, new-feeling church that is part of Assembly of God.
Seeing the crowd in Cyrus, I was impressed at the community enthusiasm. We should not be surprised. But then I had an obvious afterthought: Why have we in Morris abandoned our midsummer fest of Prairie Pioneer Days (PPD), on the basis at least partly of diminished interest?
I'm reminded of the conundrum of an earlier time in the Morris area, when our high school often did not compare well to the surrounding small towns in high school sports. Often I'd try saying "the emperor has no clothes," as it were, and ended up being put on the defensive in Morris because of it. That's an understatement. Strange.
It's a given that the "small towns" get fired up for community-oriented events, in a way that seems alien to Morris.
 
What kind of message?
It's a PR flub for us to even announce to the world that we've given up on the summer PPD. We could have kept a modicum of stability with that event while maybe experimenting with a September event as well. Wait a minute, we already have the welcome UMM picnic in early September. Actually the "UMM" reference has been taken out of that. Which is stupid. Obviously we're welcoming UMM. Now it's just a generic "welcome" as if there's a big influx of strangers in September.
It is true that Morris slides into a funk in summer, but why advertise that? It is true that PPD had been losing some of its vitality, vitality that I remember being very robust through many of the years when I covered it for the Morris paper. It was a super "big deal" and I'm proud to have been associated. But now it's all past tense.

Great PPD memories have been made here

Kevin Wohlers has expressed concern publicly about this and I'm on the same page. Kevin and I have communicated with each other. I used to make trips to Nashville TN with Wohlers family members. Kevin and I are Morris natives and we're quite attuned to the idiosyncrasies of the town. It's not too much to ask that we can keep a midsummer event energized in some way, for the benefit of those who don't find it mandatory to "go to the lake." We ought to at least try.
Here's a question: Was the Morris Chamber of Commerce doing everything it could? Kevin seemed concerned about the Chamber's position through all this. He felt it's not enough to just continue having a summer event, it's essential for the Chamber to take responsibility for it. I agree.
Too often I have been perceived as an outlier on Morris community matters. I remember visiting with a Cyrus school administrator many years ago at Don's Cafe, an old personal friend, and he reflected with some puzzlement on a Morris vs. Cyrus game which was more hard-fought than it should have been. He said: "(The fans) should be looking down (at the court) and saying 'this just doesn't make any sense.' " I mean, Morris against Cyrus? God bless Cyrus but it's rather a whistlestop community. That's an old term for a hamlet where a train doesn't bother stopping, it just blows its whistle. A train once stopped in Morris with Richard Nixon when he was vice president under Eisenhower. Morris was worthy of a stop.
I think we're still worthy of Prairie Pioneer Days.
 
Erv Krosch gives input
I bumped into Erv Krosch recently, also at Don's, and he thought maybe PPD could have been switched to June, but I fail to see what that would have accomplished. Erv was a promoter of PPD at the start. I remember him and Doug Peterson the furniture store/funeral home guy, walking alongside a parade unit in Hancock promoting the early PPD. I was charmed by how Peterson had such a backslapping way of greeting you.
And Erv! He was at the forefront promoting anything related to Morris. Remember when he operated the old Dairy Queen from its East 7th Street location? Boy, that's fading in our collective memory. The DQ's original location owed to the fact that 7th Street was the primary entrance to Morris from the east. The old "Pylin" drive-in was along there, along with the neighborhood grocery that was called Stark's in my childhood. And of course, the grand old school was on the hill to the south of the street. It was an abuzz community place.
I was expecting Erv to tell me that he'd like PPD to stay as it was. Maybe I'm detached from reality here but it appears there was a shared skepticism about PPD staying as it was. I confess I only went to one part of it last year: the Hancock bluegrass group at the museum Sunday night. I should have gone to the park and at least supported the First Lutheran foodstand.
I felt some resentment, perhaps not justified, at how "ribfest" was becoming such a big deal, perhaps elbowing out other attractions. Ribfest is associated with a local very important company. That company rightly or wrongly seems attached to a particular non-mainstream church in the Morris area. I salute the company - that's a no-brainer. I'm impressed by the great enterprise of its leaders. I'm bothered by a non-mainstream church getting such a foothold in the area. I fail to see the attraction.
A real bone of contention is the political inclination that seems most evident on the part of its members. I'll say once again: If you know of an Apostolic who did not vote for Donald Trump, let me know and I'll publish it. Of course, how would I really know? I'm concerned that the ties between Trump and fundamentalist Christianity could lead to a fundamental perception problem with the Christian faith. The extreme leaders want abortion to be prohibited. This is not practical.
 
The GOP's true stripes, always
I'm concerned that the church zealots are being "played" by the Republican Party. The Republican Party at its essence wants the same things that Republicans always seek: less regulation and lower taxes on the most wealthy among us. Everything else is posturing, as with abortion, to get the zealots eating out of their hands. Republican leaders don't lose any sleep over abortion. Some among them might even pay for an abortion for their mistress, under wraps of course. You all know this happens.
Ultimately the great masses of people must assert themselves by electing progressive leaders to make sure we're all properly taken care of. Don't expect the richest folks to ever volunteer generosity unless it's a token, maudlin sop once in a while: "charity." I hate the term "middle class." Let's just talk non-rich. The non-rich must be vigilant and assertive, not letting the Republicans derail them with all the usual tactics. You must be demanding. Be unapologetic about this.
It will come to that, whether we can now foresee it or not. Unfortunately a disaster must often happen first. In the current state of affairs we might get a blast of hyper-inflation. Chuck Grassley warns us that tariffs helped get the mid-20th Century on its dangerous path. Sound familiar? Let's all say a prayer and not about abortion.
 
A void in Morris?
It is mid-June and soon the reality will set in that we no longer have the traditional PPD. It matters to me. I'm told the new PPD will be at the fairgrounds? I asked if the Lee Center would be the hub and was told no, so I'm wondering if the "new" PPD will be just a repeat of the county fair, as if we haven't gotten enough of it yet.
I have issues with the county fair due to the same local company associated with ribfest. It takes over the fair for a day. I was rudely introduced to this one year when I took my late mother out there on Wednesday and saw "private parking" signs. I think it was a total affront. The county fair is supposed to be for everyone, except that I suppose the 800-pound gorilla that is that company can write a nice big check to the fair board. That's what makes the world go around I guess.
God bless the memory of Margie Sherstad, our old neighbor on Northridge Drive. The Saturday service for her was very nice. Great to see Margie's three daughters again: Jodi, Kristin and Sheila. Their brother Steven "Skip" Sherstad preceded his mom into heaven, as did Margie's husband Emmett. The Sherstad kids and yours truly were part of the baby boom generation in Morris: surely a unique time and unique generation. Nothing could contain us.
 
Addendum: I wrote a song in the 1980s which I ended up having put online four years ago. It's about yearning for the country and small towns, and in the imagery with the song you'll see Cyrus represented! The water tower fills the bill great. I invite you to listen to my song "Country Lovin' " by clicking on this YouTube link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RtatWrrcLIo
 
Addendum No. 2: Attention you Apostolics and others who have a spiritual obsession with politics: You really think things like abortion, anti-gay and other morality causes are so vital, or pure tax cuts all the time? Really? I would like to ask you this: How much do you know about the Federal Reserve? I mean, do you really understand the critical role this institution plays in our national well-being, how sensitive it is? Do I have to shake your shoulders and plead with you to realize the danger of the Fed coming under the direct control of the executive branch of government? This is what Trump wants. So often he gets what he wants even after we all swear it's absurd. It just happens. Try to open your eyes. Oh forget it, you won't.
 
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Tony Conigliaro "flew too close to the sun"

We might invoke Icarus from mythology in reflecting on the life and career of Tony Conigliaro. Baseball of the 1960s had Conigliaro in high profile. He stands as an icon in Boston Red Sox history. His story is profoundly sad, as injury robbed him of what was destined to be a Hall of Fame career.
The older I get, the more sensitive and aware I become of the risks taken by pro athletes. When young we are much too indifferent or shallow in our thinking when we hear news reports about athletes getting injured. This is probably connected to the whole "invulnerability of youth" syndrome. We lack proper appreciation of the risks we take. In other words, we feel so resilient.
I am now 64 years old. I feel much greater sensitivity on these matters. I appreciate my life and relatively sound health in a way that I lacked when young. Or let's put it this way: God created us to under-appreciate life's vicissitudes when young. Little did I realize as a boy that I was the lucky one, sitting at home on a couch watching the Minnesota Vikings on TV, as opposed to being one of the players. Oh, to be a Minnesota Viking, eh? But no, it could be a curse as with Fred McNeill and Wally Hilgenberg, to name two star-crossed players. Others have had post-career issues like Brent Boyd. Many no doubt choose to stay in the closet with these issues. And me? As I write this I believe I show no evidence of cognitive decline related to age. I never played high school football! I think it's sad that life's vicissitudes are such, a guy like me can feel grateful just because I lacked the talent and interest for playing a dangerous, Neanderthal game, a game for which society gives its imprimatur because high schools offer it. An abomination.
 
Young man with a homer bat
And now let's consider Mr. Tony Conigliaro, who may have felt some of that invulnerability of youth. What a lure it can be, when one considers the cheers, the glory and even the money that comes with sports success. The adulation showers down on you, from people who are oblivious to the risks you're taking. It really is a moral conundrum for us all. We are belatedly waking up to it.
Football may be under siege before too much longer, if the nation's mothers take the bull by the horns. Mothers and women in general are nurturers. They took the lead in attacking drunk driving.
So, Tony Conigliaro found glory as a very young man playing baseball with the Boston Red Sox. He hit homers at a pace uncommon for someone of his tender age. An American success story? Only superficially.
Conigliaro found that he could hammer the ball by assuming a type of stance in the batter's box. It's called "crowding the plate." He was warned about this. He blazed ahead while courting the risks. In this sense we might think of Icarus, in mythology the son of the master craftsman Daedalus, the creator of the Labyrinth. Icarus's father warns him of complacency and then of hubris. Icarus ignored instructions not to fly too close to the sun. When the wax in his wings melted, he tumbled out of the sky and fell into the sea where he drowned. Hence we got the tragic theme of failure at the hands of hubris.
Not to suggest that Conigliaro was vain, just that he succumbed to the temptation to maximize his success by taking an intemperate approach.
Football gets attention as the real hazardous sport these days obviously. But we are also made aware of baseball's very real dangers, the chief one getting struck in the head by a pitched ball. Or, even a catcher taking a foul tip to the mask. Danger, danger, danger. Yes it's there as in the tragic case of Kirby Puckett whose incident may well have led to his very death.
As a young Twins fan I was aware of Jimmie Hall getting "beaned" by Bo Belinsky of the Angels. Speculation had it that after that, Hall wasn't quite the same hitter. Hall made the 1965 All Star team but then ironically, ended up getting platooned for the '65 World Series. I wish manager Sam Mele had just rolled the dice and kept Jimmie in there full-time. That's easy to say now with the knowledge that we lost the '65 Series.
A player inclined to crowd home plate was bound to cause opposing pitchers to try to back him off. Part of this is sheer intimidation, the psychological element of the game. Conigliaro started getting hit by pitched balls: a harbinger. But in 1966 he was in full stride, progressing and looking quite good. He stayed free of the injury hazard. He banged out 28 home runs and drove in 93 runs. As a team the Red Sox were struggling though.
That changed in 1967. It was a charmed year for the Red Sox but not for Tony Conigliaro. Let's first note that on August 17, a partner of Tony's in his music sideline, Ed Penney, received a warning re. Tony from none other than Ted Williams: "Tell Tony that he's crowding the plate. Tell him to back off. It's getting too serious now with the Red Sox."
In other words, with the Red Sox now strongly contending, opponents were likely to seek any edge and not cut any slack. My Minnesota Twins were also strongly contending in 1967. We were edged out by Boston in a three-game series at the very end - heartbreaking for yours truly - but that Boston team did not include Tony Conigliaro. By then he had been felled by a life-changing injury. Us kids lacked understanding of just how serious it was at the time. We felt injuries could just be fixed.
 
Truly fateful August night
On August 18 of 1967, Jack Hamilton was the opposing pitcher and he struck Tony in the face with a fastball. The ball just missed the temple but hit him in the left eye and cheekbone. Tony was carried off the field on a stretcher. He sustained a linear fracture of the left cheekbone and a dislocated jaw with severe damage to his left retina. He was out of action for an extended time but not permanently. Nevertheless the injury became like a ticking time bomb. Flashes of his old self returned. Alas the young man had flown too close to the sun. He had to put his bat aside.
Tony fell into a vegetative state over the last few years of his life and passed away at the age of just 45. The Red Sox wore black armbands in remembrance.
I don't remember if I personally saw Tony Conigliaro play with the Red Sox at our Metropolitan Stadium (Bloomington MN). But I do remember seeing him in an early-season game when he was with the California Angels in 1971. I was excited by that Angels team because they had also acquired Alex Johnson, a talented but troubled player from the Cincinnati Reds. I remember Johnson hitting a home run in the game I watched at the Met. I can't remember if Conigliaro hit safely.
What may have been envisioned as a 1-2 punch did not turn out that way. Conigliaro had only 266 at-bats, Johnson 247. I notice that Johnson had only two home runs in 1971. Well, I saw one of the two.
Johnson ended up a tragic baseball story like Conigliaro, and in Johnson's case the young man had emotional instability. Such is life "in the arena," I guess. We are fascinated by the athletes who can be much like gladiators, risking so much. But I'm glad I never had the opportunity to trade places with them. God bless the memory of Tony Conigliaro, who by the way could sing quite well!
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Oh, THAT Willie Horton, w/ the Detroit Tigers

I lived much of my life not having a celebrity's name, then Brian Williams of NBC News came along as evening anchor. I'd start introducing myself by advising people that my name is easy to remember if you just think of the anchorman. I'd get comments occasionally.
These thoughts came to mind as I reflected recently on the Detroit Tigers of my youth. That would be the 1960s. The baseball players of one's youth can never be replaced.
This is the third post I'm writing on the Tigers of that era. Now my attention is turned to Willie Horton. Unfortunately this is the same name as a notorious person from political campaign history. Need I refresh you? The notorious "Willie Horton ad" appeared to sink Mike Dukakis and be a springboard for Poppy Bush. We're talking 1988.
When hearing the name "Willie Horton," how can you think of anything else?
Well, Willie Horton of Tigers history is the victim of coincidence here. It's rather a shame.
Until researching for this post, I had the impression of Horton as rather a sad figure toward the end of his career. He bounced around among several teams and even played in the minors. When a former big league star is willing to play in the minors, I think a lot of us stereotype that person as forlorn. Dizzy Dean did it.
Baseball players are complicated human beings as we all are. We should not generalize so readily.
Horton in fact has had a totally fascinating career and life with several down points to go with the ups, and that is to be assumed for anyone who has lived life "in the arena." His ups were incredibly impressive. He came up in the majors before the Curt Flood and Andy Messersmith cases really changed things for players. Us kid fans liked those quaint times when players didn't seem so preoccupied with money. But let's face it, players were abused in many ways. They have come light years now both in terms of their financial fortunes (which some might say are off the charts) and care in their handling as with the pitch count.
It was common when I was young to see players very likely to decline at around age 33. The money in the game gave players incentive to stay in top condition year-round. Sports medicine also made considerable strides.
 
Playing during times of unrest
Horton stepped forward during the societal tumult of the 1960s. Man, if only cable TV news had been around then! Can you imagine? Actually, cable news might have helped us get out of the Vietnam war sooner. Still, TV news could pack a punch as with the famous "Zippo lighter" story. Yes, a Vietnamese village could be burned down with a simple Zippo lighter.
Horton thrust himself into the Detroit riots in 1967. He fled Tiger Stadium in uniform to address the irate crowds in the streets. Horton is African-American. As a boy he was a standout on the sandlots of Detroit. His father moved the family of 14 children (!) to Detroit when Willie was age 5. Willie was the youngest. He grew up in the Jefferson Projects in downtown Detroit, close to the Tigers' Briggs Stadium. He batted left-handed until age 10 at which time father Clinton shifted him to righty.
Horton needed courage to step forward in uniform during the incredibly contentious time of rioting. It was called "the streets of fire." He pleaded with the restless Detroiters to calm the violence. Try as he might, his words did not appear to quell matters. The '60s were not a time for people to be pacified easily. Detroit burned for nearly a week.
I grew up as a fan of the Minnesota Twins. I'm sure I watched Willie and his fellow Tigers perform at least once at our Metropolitan Stadium, Bloomington. The Twins and Tigers were both impressive through the 1960s. However, each team won only one pennant. My Twins took the crown in '65 and the Tigers took the world championship in 1968.
 
Pitching at its apex
Baseball was marked by a dominance of pitching in 1968. It was "the year of the pitcher" and it could not be allowed to continue. The pitching mound was lowered for 1969 and the offensive stats got juiced a little. It seems that baseball caused problems for itself when umpires started calling the high fastball a strike. David Halberstam wrote that this is how Sandy Koufax rapidly became a superstar pitcher - it wasn't maturity or an adjustment in his mechanics.
Koufax was the nemesis for my 1965 Minnesota Twins in the World Series. Horton and his Detroit mates played St. Louis in the 1968 Fall Classic. Quite appropriately, Horton was at his best in that magical summer for the Motor City. Lots of ingredients came together for the Detroit crew, like Denny McLain (that strange case of a baseball star with criminal inclinations) winning 30 games. Other-worldly. Mickey Lolich was another stalwart pitcher.

And at bat, we saw Horton batting .285 which you might think is not overwhelming. Remember this was the year of the pitcher, and Horton's stat was actually good for fourth in the league. When people study our Tony Oliva's stats to see if he might be Hall of Fame-worthy, they see the .289 stat from '68 and think "well, that wasn't so good." But it was, totally! And Tony is definitely Hall of Fame-worthy. The .289 average put him in third. I think the Hall weighs longevity a little too much.
Horton swatted 36 home runs in Detroit's championship season, second only to Frank Howard's 44.
Bring on the World Series! This was the Series, incidentally, when Jose Feliciano sang the National Anthem in his own idiosyncratic way, considered highly controversial by the standards of the time. It was the generation gap era, the time of "America, love it or leave it" and of the Lawrence Welk show being popular for the older folks. We can forget what a real and unpleasant schism it was. In the years following, it was considered routine for well-known musical performers to render special interpretations of the National Anthem (which can be a bear to sing because of the vocal range).
 
Prowess with throwing arm
Horton made baseball history with his arm in the '68 Series. It was the fifth inning of Game 5. Detroit was down 3-2 and in position to fall further behind. Cardinal Julian Javier singled to left field. Horton scooped up the ball and fired a one-hopper to home, where the capable backstop Bill Freehan handled things vs. Lou Brock who was trying to score standing up. Detroit had now seized the momentum. Detroit won the game 5-3 and went on to win the rest of the way. Horton batted .304 with six runs scored and three extra-base hits.
We might describe Willie Horton as the African-American Al Kaline. Kaline built up the golden boy image through that Tigers era, well deserved to be sure. African-Americans were still struggling some to make strides in the game. Jim Bouton observed in his book "Ball Four" that while a number of superstars in the game were African-American, their numbers were lagging among the common players. Today, race and all manner of personal characteristics seem quite convincingly to have been pushed aside. In fact, the African-American element seems to have drifted away, appearing to prefer other sports. Big league ball ought to pine for the days when the likes of Willie Mays and Frank Robinson wowed fans.
The American League was slower than the National to truly welcome the non-white players. This proved to be a hindrance to the A.L. which came to be seen as not as exciting. This I think led to the creation of the designated hitter, a ploy to try to get more offense and stoke fan interest.
What if Vic Power, a Puerto Rican, had been called up by the New York Yankees when he should have been? It would have been good for both the Yankees and Power. He might have been the greatest fielding first baseman in history, and he did his work with flamboyance too. Would you believe, some of baseball's elders did not like seeing a non-white player play with a flourish or flamboyance? So sad to remember. Elston Howard became the Yankees' "token."
Horton was a fine survivor in big league ball during his long career in which he had the expected injury hurdles. In the end he indeed changed uniforms often. But who cares?
Tiger Stadium saw its final game in September of 1999. The post-game festivities had former stars run to their former positions. Horton got a tremendous ovation. He had played 15 seasons with Detroit and socked 262 homers with the team.
The little kid from the streets of Detroit has had the idyllic American life. When you hear "Willie Horton," forget about that other guy.
 
Click on the link below to read my post about Jose Feliciano singing the National Anthem during the 1968 World Series.
http://ilovemorris73.blogspot.com/2018/09/jose-feliciano-and-national-anthem-1968.html
 
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com