The Sawdust Trail: Billy Sunday in His Own Words

pages 61 - 86

The Sawdust Trail  John Ward, captain of the Giants, became attorney for the Brooklyn Rapid Transit Co. John K. Tener, who used to pitch for Chicago, became governor of Pennsylvania, and gave old, brokendown ball players jobs as guards at the penitentiary. Ad Gumbert, Chicago pitcher, became sheriff of Allegheny County, Pennsylvania, of which Pittsburgh is the county seat. Ed Swartwood was deputy sheriff under Gumbert. “Home Run” Frank Baker owns several farms on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Cy Young lives on his big farm near Canton, Ohio. Fred Clark owns  acres near Winfield, Kansas. Fred Dunlap became a diamond merchant. He would buy diamonds from fellows who were hard up, then sell them for a big profit. He was an expert in judging their value. He could tell within five dollars what Bailey, Banks & Biddle, of Philadelphia, or Tiffany’s, of New York, would give. Fred could neither read nor write. I used to write his letters for him. A woman in Detroit got sweet on Fred and would write him. I read the letters to him, but balked on answering them after I found out that she was married. When we played in Detroit, and he would go to bat, a boy would dash out with a horseshoe made of flowers higher than Fred’s head. At that time I had not heard the advice: Do right—and fear no man; Do not write, and fear no woman. When I joined the old White Sox, in , the ball grounds were located on the lake front at the foot of Randolph, Washington and Madison streets, near where the Art Institute now stands. Later they were moved to the west side of the city, and in going from the grounds I always went north on Throop Street to the hotel where I boarded.  The Sawdust Trail On the corner of Throop and Adams streets stood Jefferson Park Presbyterian Church. One Sunday evening I went there to attend Christian Endeavormeeting,andwasintroducedtoablack-eyed,black-hairedyoung lady eighteen years old, named Helen Amelia Thompson. Her father was William Thompson, who at that time had the largest milk dairy and icecream establishment in the city. The family lived across the street from the church. The first time I saw those flashing black eyes and dark hair and white teeth, I said to myself, “There’s a swell girl.” I always planned to attend that church and the young people’s meetings whenever our club was playing in Chicago. After several weeks I braced up one evening and asked Miss Thompson if I could see her home. She shied off for a minute, then smiled and said, “Yes,” and from that time on I was hooked. I used to attend prayer meeting and always sat on a row of seats along the wall where I could keep one eye on Nell, as everybody called her, and the other on the preacher. She had a fellow and tried to “team me up” with a girl chum of hers, but I didn’t like the other girl. She had a camel-like neck and humped over when she walked, liquid gazelle-like eyes, was flat-footed and had a drawling, croony voice like Rudy Vallee’s, and I passed her up as a pay car does a tramp. IpassedtheThompsonhomeonmywaytopracticeatteno’clockinthe morning, back to lunch at noon, back for the game in the afternoon, then home for supper. Nell used to time my goings and comings and would be out sweeping the front steps and the sidewalk. If we had an extra-long game, she swept on until I showed up. I would explain the game, who won or lost, how many hits and runs I made. The Sawdust Trail  Wedding Bells  Finally, one time I went to see her—it was New Year’s night, . She had on an ox-blood cashmere dress, and a natural-colored lynx neckpiece thrown about her shoulders, which her parents had given her for Christmas , and which I had never seen before. Oh, boy! She was a knock-out! She looked like I imagine the Queen of Sheba did when she visited Solomon . She had ditched her beau, and I had given the gate to a girl I had out in Iowa. So I braced right up, just before midnight, and asked “Nell, will you marry me?” She came back at me so quick it almost floored me: “Yes, with all my heart.” I went home...