In honor of “Indie Pride Day!” — July 1st! (for independent authors)
Uncle Sam (a great believer in “Independence”) wanted to get in on the celebration!
Baseball season is upon us!
To celebrate this “National Pastime” I’ve decided to share an excerpt from my book—
“Bosses and Blackjacks: A Tale of the ‘Bloody Fifth’ in Philadelphia.” http://tinyurl.com/j4qbpsz
(From Chapter Twenty – 1916)
Out in the crisp air of the sixteenth of April, after leaving the station early that afternoon, Dave forgot the morning’s row and felt a bit like his old self. He began to whistle “It’s a Long, Long Way to Tipperary” as he waited for Howard and Johnny on the corner outside of Baker Bowl, the ballpark on Huntingdon Avenue.
“How’re ya doin’ Davey,” Johnny greeted him with his usual enthusiasm. “Damn, look at this crowd. They’re even up on the roofs! Lucky for us you got them tickets. Where’s Howard? Not here yet?”
“No, but I hope he gets here soon. The owners are going to give presents to the players for winning the pennant last year, and I don’t want to miss it,” Dave said.
He spotted Howard trying his best to rush through the crowd.
“Here he comes, Johnny. Over here, Howard!”
Howard spotted Dave, and waved back with both arms.
“Shit…I forgot how bad that limp of his is,” Johnny said. “Come to think of it, I don’t remember the last time I saw him.”
Howard’s broad face shone with anticipation and perspiration when he met up with them.
“Hello, Johnny! How’re you doing, Dave?”
They joined the large throng entering the ball field.
As they took their seats, the announcer on the field started naming the players as they entered, each one to louder and louder cheers. Grover Cleveland Alexander, the Phillies’ star pitcher, appeared last. Dave and his two friends joined the other rooters as they stood to give the pitcher his well-deserved ovation.
Everyone sat down again, anticipating the start of the formal ceremony. The owners presented each of the Pennant-winning players of 1915 with a monogrammed gold watch. At the end, the crowd stood again and cheered.
To start the opening game of the season, Mayor Thomas B. Smith threw out the first ball, which got picked up by the catcher who tossed it to Alexander. The Phillies’ twenty-nine-year-old right-handed pitcher’s uniform hung like a potato sack on his slim six-foot-one-inch frame and his cap looked like it belonged to a child, but he didn’t take notice. He curled into his windup and let fly.
“Can’t they afford to get their players uniforms that fit?” asked Howard. “He looks like hell!”
Grover Cleveland Alexander, Phillies star pitcher, 1916 “Old Low and Away”
“Who gives a shit how he looks as long as he beats the Giants?” Johnny replied.
About that time, a beer hawker came through the bleachers to where the friends were seated.
“Over here—three!” Dave called.
As he passed the beers to the other two, he said, “Beating these bums’ll be no problem—they were dead last, last season.”
In the first inning, however, the “bums” made a game of it thanks to a wild throw by the normally steady shortstop, Dave “Beauty” Bancroft, which allowed two Giants to score.
“Son of a bitch! What the hell are ya doin’?” Johnny yelled.
“Take it easy. Here, have some peanuts.”
“I’d like some more.” Howard reached into the sack Dave held, and grabbed a handful. He brushed peanut shell fibers from the front of his shirt. “Wish this damn wind would settle down. I think it’s throwing their game off.”
“It ain’t the wind—they just stink,” Johnny replied.
The Phillies answered with one run in the first, and two in the second. Johnny calmed down.
The Giants managed another run in the third inning. Johnny and Howard both cursed.
In the fifth inning, Dave worried Johnny would have a heart attack. Alexander tossed a rare hanging curve to Fred “Bonehead” Merkle, who smashed it 272 feet over the right field wall.
Johnny’s face turned purple. Howard held his head between his hands and moaned. Dave ordered three more beers and some more peanuts from the hawkers.
The sixth inning saw both teams score, bringing them to a tie at four each.
By the ninth inning, the tension became so great the three friends were not talking. They were leaning forward on their elbows with their beers gripped tight.
Then it happened. Ninth inning, Phillies up, with two outs. Stock, the third sacker, grabbed a free pass, stole second, and scored after a passed ball and a wild pitch. Final score: Phillies—5–4.
It all happened in a flash. Johnny and Howard and Dave stood in place in shock, along with about 21,000 other rooters. Then, as if on cue, they all began to cheer and laugh and hug and spill beer over each other.
“Damn, Davey…that was the best baseball game I ever seen!” Johnny said. “Thanks a lot for bringin’ me along.”
“Yeah, Dave. That was great!”
“Nothing like a ballgame with your buddies,” Dave said. “Let’s get the hell outta here. I’m starved.”
I have a question for you.
Why do writers (in this day and age) use pictures of old typewriters, pencils, pens, close-ups of typewriter keys, copybooks, lined tablets, et al as their website’s header image?
We all know that none of their blogs are produced using those arcane tools.
I mean, sure, some may begin by writing out their thoughts on paper with a wooden stick or ink-filled implement. But, c’mon—none of us would be able to access and read any of their brilliant posts, if that is where their efforts ended.
For instance—that is not me at the top of this page, and I did not use a typewriter from 1918 to accomplish this post. So, why do you suppose people think the only way to let their readers know that they are writers, is by reaching back into history for their photos?
I think I know the answer.
There is no romance, or mystery, or nostalgia in viewing a computer screen. Perhaps in one hundred years, there may be. But not now. Not yet.
To prove my point, dear readers, I leave you with this antique version of the “backspace key”—reminisce with me for a moment:
See what I mean?
So—A young Jewish girl from Philly walks into a bar…(You haven’t heard this one, have you?)
Actually, it is the year 1888, and the bar is the Gem Saloon in Deadwood, South Dakota.
I’m about 4,500 words into writing my next book (an adult historical novel loosely based on true events) and I hope you will come along for the ride!
At the moment, our seventeen-year-old protagonist is on a train, headed for Chicago. An attractive thirty-something stranger has insinuated himself into her adventure by taking the seat next to her. Away from home and family for the first time in her life, Mae is both wary and excited!
I hope you will find the time, dear readers, to follow along for periodic updates on: “MAE heads WEST” — (my working title).
(NOTE: If any of my readers are, or know experts in early modes of transportation in the U.S., I would love to hear from you in the COMMENTS. I have several questions that my internet research has not provided answers to, and would appreciate your valuable assistance going forward.)
The following is a quote from my book, “Bosses and Blackjacks: A Tale of the ‘Bloody Fifth’ in Philadelphia”— Chapter Ten, 1907: Follies
“Damn, Davey. Haven’t heard anything that funny in a long time!” Johnny took another swig of beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Smith’s got some sense of humor for such a big shot.”
“Yeah, he does. Thanks for meeting me here at McGillin’s. I tell ya, after the day I’ve had, I needed a drink. Want another beer?
“Nah. I’m finished. Think I’ll head home before the sky opens up.”
Dave patted Johnny’s back. “Yeah, you’re right, guess I should get going too. Next time, we’ll meet closer to home.”
As they emerged from the cool darkness of the saloon, Dave blinked a few times to clear his vision, then looked up at the sky and announced, “Those storm clouds are lookin’ mighty serious. Take care, old friend.”
% % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % %
(The following information is excerpted from McGillin’s own website:)
McGillin’s Olde Ale House threw open its doors the year Lincoln was elected president. That’s shortly after the Liberty Bell cracked and long before ground was broken for Philadelphia City Hall. The beer taps have been flowing since 1860 — making it the oldest continuously operating tavern in Philadelphia and one of the oldest taverns in the country.
Catherine & William McGillin opened the Bell in Hand Tavern.The Irish immigrants, who raised their 13 children upstairs, soon become known as “Ma” and “Pa” and the laborers who frequented the bar called it “McGillin’s.” The nicknames eventually stuck. The tavern grew to include the oyster house next door, the back alley/washroom and the house upstairs.
Abe Lincoln elected president. Although Lincoln visits Philadelphia, we have no proof that he visits McGillin’s. Of course, we have no proof that he doesn’t either.
McGillin’s customer, W.C. Fields, born. “Philadelphia is a wonderful place; I spent a week there one night.”
Pa McGillin dies & Ma McGillin takes over bar. No pushover, Ma has a list of troublemakers who weren’t allowed in. The list reads like the social registry, including some of Philadelphia’s most prominent citizens.
McGillin’s celebrates 50th anniversary with a new façade. Name officially changes to McGillin’s Olde Ale House.
Prohibition enacted. During Prohibition, Ma McGillin hires a chef. Serves food and ice cream and perhaps, a few tea cups were tipped on the second floor.
Philadelphia cheesesteak invented. A top-seller at McGillin’s.
Prohibition ends! Ma McGillin takes the key from her breast pocket and reopens the pub’s front door.
McGillin’s Olde Ale House
1310 DRURY STREET, PHILADELPHIA, PA 19107
Open daily 11 a.m. – 2 a.m.(Kitchen open until 1 a.m.)
IF YOU’VE EVER BEEN THERE, LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS!
My book, “Bosses and Blackjacks: A Tale of the ‘Bloody Fifth’ in Philadelphia” takes place at the beginning of the last century, and includes references to and the whistling of, tunes from that era.
Would you like to spend a little time in the misty nostalgia of the early nineteen hundreds?—No problem! I’ve created a playlist for you of the following songs mentioned in the book:
1. Meet Me In St. Louis — 1904, Singer: Billy Murray
2. School Days (When We Were a Couple of Kids) — 1907, Singer: Bryan G. Harlan (Recorded in Philadelphia.)
3. I Do Like to be Beside the Seaside — 1909, Singer, Mark Sheridan
4. Give My Regards to Broadway — 1905, Singer, George M. Cohan
5. Rigoletto — 1908, Singer: Enrico Caruso
6. Hark The Herald Angels Sing — Sung by Children’s Choir
7. Let Me Call You Sweetheart — 1910-1911, Sung by: The Peerless Quartet
8. I Wonder Who’s Kissing Her Now — 1909, Singer: Manuel Romain
9. It’s a Long, Long Way to Tipperary — 1914, Singer: John McCormick
10. Danny Boy — 1913, Singer, 1917 Ernestine Schumann-Heink
11. For Me and My Gal — 1917, Singer: M.J. O’Connell
12. The Star-Spangled Banner — 1814, Written by Francis Scott Key (GVES News Broadcast)
13. Jingle Bells —1857, Singer: Tom Roush
14. I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles —1919, Sung by: Irving Barr and Albert Campbell
15. Over There — 1917, First recorded by: Nora Bayes, Pictured on the sheet music.
16. K-K-K-Katy —1917, Singer: Billy Murray in 1918
17. Hail! Hail! The Gang’s All Here — 1917, Sung by Shannon Quartet
Feel free to sing or whistle along! And then, return here and tell us in COMMENTS —Which tune is your favorite?
Here’s the link:
While the blizzard of 2016 roars outside on the east coast—I thought I’d give you a little something to read while you take a break from shoveling the drifts! (And if you missed out on the snow—take a break anyway—it is the weekend, after all!)
I did it! I published my first book on Amazon—and it feels amazing!
If you are so inclined, please click on the link below. I hope it meets with your approval!
Bosses and Blackjacks is currently with the editor and I hope to make it available to readers before the end of the year. In the meantime, I thought I would whet your appetite by giving you a small bite to chew on…slowly, very slowly:
Politics in Philadelphia is a rough game…has been since the time of Ben Franklin. But, when murder takes place in the Fifth Ward on primary election day in 1917, it sparks outrage – not just in Philadelphia, but throughout the nation.
WWI now shares headlines with the conspiracy trial in the “City of Brotherly Love.” Police Lieutenant David Bennett, in charge of the “Bloody Fifth,” is arrested along with the Mayor and other members of the political machine run by the powerful Vare brothers. Interfering with a free and fair election, it would seem, is as contemptible as actually pulling the trigger.
Do you read? Do you like words placed in order that eventually add up to stories? Do you enjoy punctuation? If so, you’ve come to the right place!
This blog is only $19.95.** It slices. It dices. It extends the life of produce. And for the low introductory price of $9.99 I’ll send you an additional blog for free. (Shipping and handling, not included.)
Supplies are limited. Act now.
Individual results of blog usage may vary.
Side effects may include: entertaining discussions about writing; information about my first book, Bosses and Blackjacks; educational and humorous articles from other authors and bloggers; spectacular photos; and general musings.
** Totally not true.