Barnstorming to Heaven: Syd Pollock and His Great Black Teams

18. Repeat Champions

18 Repeat Champions American life in the'50s was not all drive-in restaurants, rock and roll and idyllic family life. National psychology in the'50s was framed early by the Korean War and throughout by the Cold War. The inconclusive police action against North Korea and Communist China, which lasted from June 1950 through July 1953, took lives and hinted to us that our nation might well be as mortal as its men in service. Fear of the Soviet Union and of the bomb dominated American life. The resulting need to escape may have helped provide the social setting for the growth of rock and roll and the carryover of the romantic movies and novels of the 1940s. Certainly, the Clowns were still useful. During the '50s, the draft was a focal point of young male adulthood. Most draft-age men either volunteered for the service of their choice or were drafted. Others had wives and children or educational deferments, and did not serve. Some baseball players played baseball in the service. Others didn't. Between baseball years lost to World War II and Korea, Boston Red Sox great Ted Williams missed his chance at baseball's career home run record. During the summer of 1951, I made a fool of myself over Ted Williams. It began over card flipping during 1950. One-on-one, my friends and I flipped bubble gum baseball cards spinning from hand to ground, heads up or heads down, and if the second boy matched the first, he won all cards. If not, he lost all cards. If nothing else, memories of aching jaws and wrists told me I had the entire Bowman Gum Company 1950 baseball card collection. I slept easy nights. Almost. Teddy Wilcher and Leon Evans both told me they had the 1950 Joe DiMaggio, that their fathers had put their cards in safes, that they 216 PAR T F I VET H E F 1FT I E S weren't allowed to show Joltin' Joe. Somewhere in my mind I doubted the completeness of my collection. I awoke sweating from dreams of flipping The Yankee Clipper away. Not every night, but some. The Bowman Gum Company was in Philadelphia. In 1951, Mom and Dad and I went to Philadelphia for a ClownsPhiladelphia Stars game. Next night the two teams were part of a four-team doubleheader in Griffith Stadium in Washington. I didn't notice when we checked into the Broadwood Hotel in Philadelphia that Dad reserved not just one, but two nights. I was too excited with the prospect of two straight Clowns games in different settings and my plans to somehow edge Mom and Dad toward the Bowman Gum Company to verify the non-existence of a Joe DiMaggio card. After we arrived back at the hotel following the Clowns Shibe Park game, Dad informed me I wasn't going to Washington, a matter he thought Mom had told me and she thought he had previously mentioned. "Wait a minute:' I said. "Yes I am:' "No. I'm going with the team on the bus, and you and Mother will stay here." "Why?" "We expect more than 15,000. Some will be drunk. I have three other owners and all my players to talk to. I want to talk to Buster and Bunny and Tut on the bus, and I don't want you and Mother alone in the crowd remnants after the games." "Then we'll have to leave Mom here, but you and I can go down to Washington in the bus." "You need to stay here to protect Mom." "If I can't protect her in Washington, what makes you think I can protect her here?" "There won't be 15,000 people milling around the hotel:' "Besides:' I persisted, "you're going to the drugstore where they have my favorite malteds." "They're my favorite malteds, not yours. You always say the malteds in Tarrytown are better:' "Until last year. The last one in Washington last year was pretty good:' "You stay here. I'll have Mother get you a malted, Professor, but it's going to be a Philadelphia malted:' It was hard to believe this guy was not only my father, but my best friend! REP EAT C HAM P ION S 217 Before bed, I negotiated one of the worst days of Mom's life. I would stay to...