A Soft Sunday Morning in June 1925

It was many years ago, 1925 to be exact. I was a little boy of eight coming to Philadelphia with my father on a bright, sunny soft day in June. We took the train to Camden and while the ferry crossed the Delaware, I had visions of George Washington and his frozen crew rowing to surprise the Red Coats, unaware that the crossing took place many miles to the north. On debarking in Philadelphia, we climbed the cobblestoned streets and caught the trolley on Market Street to Uncle Mike O’Donnell’s house at 122 Ritner. Uncle Mike was my mother’s brother. My mother said he looked like a Billiken but had that rare Irish gift – a completely friendly and outgoing personality and a rare wit combined with a caustic yet kind humor.

 

His wife, Aunt Mary, idolized him and when he died in 1936, she died two years later leaving a wonderful family: Dorothy, John, George, Anne and Cass, all blessed with his humor and her gift of music.

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The occasion was the annual Mt. Carmel Parish “Married Men-Single Men’s” baseball game. Manager Mike O’Donnell had engineered a coup by importing Lefty Joe McCabe, well remembered as the “Scourge of Southwark” and second only in fame in South Philly to the immortal “Funk” Brennan. I was thrilled when I was awarded the bat boy job, in which I lined up the bats and took any advice proffered by the Married Men who, to my child’s mind, resembled a lineup of lookalikes of 1925 heroes and greats – Al Simmons, Mickey Cochrane, Eddie Rommell, Babe Ruth, Rogers Hornsby and Kiki Cuyler.

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Our team led off with my Dad and idol batting third. With two outs he bunted and was thrown out by five feet. “Joe’s just a little rusty” was the fans’ sentiment. In their half, the single men loaded the bases and their slugger lined a high drive to Lefty McCabe in center. Lefty came charging in, patted his glove confidently, only to have the hit soar 20 feet over his head for a bases-filled homer. Later in the inning he threw a peg well over third base and beaned a spectator, Miss Lizzie Reagan, president of the Sodality. Lizzie was revived with prompt treatment. Behind 7 to 1, the Benedicts rallied and loaded the bases in the third with two out. Lefty McCabe, swinging two bats, made his way to the plate, discarded one to me, and with vengeance in his eye took a mighty swing at the first pitch which only resulted in an ineffective pop-up to the pitcher. Some of the kindlier comments were, “Give ‘em the gate,” “Street the bum,” “Mike, where did you get that flat tire,” and “Evidently the slugger from the shore smelt the cork.” Uncle Mike replaced Lefty with Mickey Finn and he, with two circus catches and a timely hit, nearly pulled the game out of the fire. As in all Mt. Carmel games dominated by the Two Street crowd, beer flowed freely and the scotch and rye in this prohibition era were right off the boat. But while his father laughed and kidded about his performance, the bat boy with unlimited sodas and hot dogs was unusually quiet.