The Wicked Wine of Democracy: A Memoir of a Political Junkie, 1948-1995

4. Frosty

4 FROSTY 48 coming up on the 1956 elections, i had a score to settle with someone over something that had been simmering in my psyche for some time. Curiously, the object of my animus would have only vaguely recognized my face and certainly not my name. My bête noire was Herman Welker, Idaho’s junior senator. Elected in 1950, Welker—a former movieindustry “fix-it” lawyer—had been Joe McCarthy’s leading acolyte in the Senate . Politicians in those years were black or white to me, and no one was blacker than Herman Welker. His record and general deportment had been outrageous, so much so that even conservative columnist Holmes Alexander had written of him: “He mercifully should be retired by the voters of Idaho.” My abomination of him, however, was not political; it was financial. When I had left Idaho in August 1946, I had passed on my $25–a-month retainer as stringer scout for the Pittsburgh Pirates to Tom Tuttle, baseball coach at Payette High School (which later was to produce the home-run slugger Harmon Killebrew). He knew of my abiding, almost proprietary interest in Vernon Law and my hope that he would sign with Pittsburgh when he graduated from Meridian High School in May 1947. A covey of majorleague scouts had other ideas. Vernon had been discovered. Tuttle called me in Seattle, where I was the music and book critic of the Post-Intelligencer, and asked if I could come to Boise for Vernon’s graduation weekend, when he most likely would be signed. Six other major-league clubs were offering contracts, Tuttle said. He wanted me there because “Mrs. Law likes you.” I did not drink coffee or smoke cigarettes, and my mother had taught me deferential manners, especially in the presence of older women. A horde of scouts was clustered in the lobby of the Hotel Boise when Tuttle and I walked in—Joe Devine of the Yankees, who had discovered Joe DiMaggio, Tony Lazzeri, and Frankie Crosetti; Johnny Moore of the Boston Braves; Howie Haak of the Brooklyn Dodgers; and my Ogden, Utah, friend, George “Highpockets” Kelly of the Cincinnati Redlegs. Tuttle and I felt like army recruits tossed in with a bunch of Congressional Medal of Honor winners. Bing Crosby, who was from Spokane, Washington, and a major investor in the Pirates, had heard about Vernon Law, and he wanted to come up with a good player from his home digs. Before leaving the Pittsburgh organization , Babe Herman, the Pirates’ chief western scout, had persuaded Crosby that the Mormon youngster was a hot prospect. Crosby had contacted Welker, who had returned to Idaho following his eight-year sojourn in Hollywood as a law partner of Jerry Giesler, a famous “fix-it” operator, and authorized him to do whatever it took to sign Law. The Law family was what we called “true Mormons.” They followed the teachings of founder Joseph Smith to the letter; and alcohol, coffee, and tobacco were taboo. So just about every one of the big-time scouts disqualified himself in the Law kitchen by lighting up a cigar or cigarette or maybe asking for a cup of coffee. Tuttle and I were hellers, but one wouldn’t know it from looking at us. Tom looked like a pietistic Baptist deacon out of Oklahoma , which he once was. One of my more sardonic girlfriends used to call me “Jack Armstrong, the All-American boy,” which gives you an idea. Besides, we had a hole card that the other scouts did not have. The Pirates had a farm team of the Class C California State League at Visalia, which was heavily populated with Mormons. By sending Vernon and his brother there, the Laws could be sure their teenage son was in good hands. How much we influenced the signing I have no way of knowing, but I am sure that it was a lot more than Welker did. He was florid and Hollywoodian , and too much exposure to the senior Laws could have queered the deal. I went back to Seattle before the deed was done, and left Tuttle as the closer. Tom later told me that all he got was a $100 bonus from the Pirates and that Welker submitted a statement to them for $5,000. I was paid plane frosty 49 fare and the hotel. Tom was philosophical; he and his kin had...