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January 18, 2006

Taking the world by storm

My editor at Harper Collins, Mauro Dipreta, just passed on a note someone sent him. The Greatest War Stories Never Told is being pushed as a hot new title by Liberty Books, which describes itself as "Pakstan's largest Bookseller."

As of this writing, it is listed as a "Top 10 Book" on their website.

So we're big in Lahore!

Posted by rickbeyer at 09:19 AM | Comments (0)

Joshua where are you?

A 16 year old named Joshua sent me an email with a bunch of suggestions for book I am working on now, The Greatest Presidential Stories Never Told. When I tried to respond to say thank you, my emails were bounced back to me. So, Joshua, here's my note, hope you get it:

Dear Joshua,

I am delighted to know that you have enjoyed my first two books, and I appreciate all the suggestions you have made for the new one. Some of the ideas you have noted I was aware of, others I will take a look into. The assassination attempt on TR is already part of a story that will appear in the book about how one speech killed a president (Harrison) and one speech saved a president’s life (the folded up manuscript in his pocket slowed down the bullet that went into TR.)

If any of your ideas lead directly to a story in the book, I’ll be sure to let you know.

How wonderful that you are interested in history. I fell in love with history when I was about 12, and for nearly four decades it has continued to fascinate me. I hope it will do the same for you.

Stay well...

Rick Beyer

Posted by rickbeyer at 09:11 AM | Comments (0)

January 10, 2006

Baseball Poetry (and history)

I’m working on the presidents book (suggestions welcome) and one of the possible stories is about President William Howard Taft originating/inspiring/popularizing (take your pick) the seventh inning stretch. One of the things my research turned up was the following NYT article that contains what may be the first ever mention of the phrase "seventh inning stretch" in print. It is a May 26, 1910 article about a White Sox Yankees game. It appears a about a month after Taft supposedly initiated the maneuver on Opening Day of that year.

But what’s really cool is the way the article is written. I’ve reproduced the first four graphs below: Read it out loud: It’s poetry! It’s literature! It’s wonderful! If only writers penned baseball articles like this today. Sadly, the article is unsigned, so I have no idea who wrote it.

The Yankees shut out the White Sox on the Hilltop yesterday by a 5-0 score, the campaign being commanded by Russell Ford, who twirled a brand of gilt-edged ball which is not at large very often during a season. He had unerring control of his damp toss, which broke and jumped over the plate in all sorts of angles. Between Ford’s fingers and thumbs the ball took on a lot of “English” as it spun from his hand, and the Chicago batsmen strained their shoulders trying to bang it. No use. Willie Hoppie in his keenest moments never caromed the billiard ivories off the cushions with any more skill than Ford bounced the pellet off the White Sox sticks in such a way that it tripped merrily to the zones where there was always a Yankee watching on duty.
Just centre your glims on what Ford did, and then you will be sorry you didn’t pawn your watch and mingle in the crush that Subwayed up. Only twenty-nine Chicago batsmen faced Ford. From the first inning until two were dead in the ninth, the Sox went out in one, two, three order. Gandil in the first, and Purtell, in the second, each picked off a single, and each of them were bold enough to try to steal second. The elongated whip of Ed Sweeney snapped nicely, and both runners were stabbed with the ball long before they reached the mattress. Zeider singled in the fourth and took a big lead off first. Sweeney had the ball down to Chase in a jiffy, and caught Zeidler while he was yet snoring. After 25 men came to their end successively, Collins was sent in to bat as a last hope. He planked the ball to centre for two bases, and Zeider followed with a single.
Collins might have saved Chicago the humiliation of the whitewash bath but for the fact that he ran from second to third with all the speed and grace of a mud-turtle, and there he stuck. He had enough time to roll a cigarette and light it before the ball got back from left. The Sox were not only almost hitless yesterday, but they were also nearly motionless.
Laundry note: The white hosiery which adorns the Chicago calves are rapidly fading to dark black.

And that's a decade before the Black Sox scandal! For baseball history buffs, here is the reference that led me to the article in the first place:

Ford cut short the seventh inning stretch by lamming a hot one to left. Pat Dougherty fell all over it and Ford got to second in a canter.

Posted by rickbeyer at 06:36 PM | Comments (0)

January 06, 2006

Lou Rawls Marriage Advice

I note the passing of Lou Rawls today at age 72, which prompts a memory of a memorable encounter I had with the velvet-throated singer.

It took place on March 12, 1988, at the Marriott Hotel in Omaha, Nebraska. The date is easily fixed because it was the night before the wedding of my friends Henry Florsheim and Doe Cohn. I was Henry’s best man. Many of the guests at the wedding were from out of town, and in place of a bachelor party, I invited all of them, male and female, to a party at the bar of the Marriott. There were had a wild time, drinking and harassing the buttoned-down groom to be. There was a DJ spinning records, and even he got into it. Much to Henry’s discomfort, he began dedicating songs to “My man Shoes” (Shoes being Henry’s nickname).

Some hours into this event, when only a handful of diehards were still engaged in making merry, someone coming back from the bathroom said they had seen Lou Rawls sitting elsewhere in the sprawling bar. Many of us scoffed at this report, refusing to believe that the words Lou Rawls and Omaha, Nebraska could go together. Nevertheless, we sent out a deputation to assert whether there was any truth to this sighting. They returned a short time later saying that not only was Rawls there, but that he had invited the groom over to his booth in order that he might dispense some “wedding advice.”

Henry showed no little alarm at this prospect, but with his reflexes perhaps slowed by the evening’s activities, he was unable to escape his friends, who escorted him over to the booth where Lou Rawls sat with several members of his entourage, having just performed at a Concert at the Askarben Coliseum (that’s Nebraska spelled backwards—swear to GOD). Lou made a space for Henry to sit down beside him, and the rest of us crowded into the booth to hear what he had to say. Asking a few questions, the singer quickly divined that Henry’s nickname was “Shoes.” put his arm around him, and then launched into the following oration, which I reproduce as faithfully as possible, given the fact that nearly 18 years has elapsed since that day.

“Shoes,” he said, in that rich deep voice, “Shoes, I want to tell you how to know when the marriage is in trouble. Now, if you’re in bed with your wife, and you’re making love to her, and she’s eating crackers, that’s not a sign the marriage is in trouble. Even if you are right in the middle of doing it, and she’s reading a book, that’s not a sign the marriage is in trouble. But Shoes, if you are getting it on with her, and she’s just lying there looking up, and right at the moment she says to you ”Honey, I think we should paint the ceiling pink’ that’s when you know the marriage is in trouble.”


Posted by rickbeyer at 02:06 PM | Comments (0)