First in a series. And this is where Howard spills his guts. Not all at once, but during the series, which will run throughout the course of the 2012 pennant race.

As I’ve been saying proudly in the various About Us pages of my blogs since the year 2000, I am the son of Brooklyn parents. More on my mother in an another post. My father, Mort, was shall we say, a serious Dodger fan. I am one of literally millions of fans who inherited the love of baseball from his father.

Mort died in October of 1964, almost exactly a year following and a year before a Los Angeles World Series victory, and days after the team finished in the second division. Appropriately enough.

I don’t really remember him – not really – but I know he loved baseball, and loved the Dodgers like nobody’s business, and I am forever grateful that I managed to grasp the concept and hold on for dear life during our short time on the planet together.

Mort kept scrapbooks. Oh man, did he keep scrapbooks. My brother, Don, and I take turns possessing them, he for a few years, and then me. It’s my turn now, and with the benefit of the wonderful world of scanning, I thought it was time to digitize the collection, and little by little, share it with my readers.

There are about a dozen scrapbooks in all, manufactured by Fairfield Publications, “especially designed to accommodate pages and clippings from the Fairfield papers – Women’s Wear Daily, Daily News Record, Home Furnishings Daily, Footwear News, Men’s Wear, Electronic News and Supermarket News. Additional scrapbooks at $1 each are available from Fairfield Publications, Inc, 7 East 12th Street, New York 3, New York.”

Inside are contents from whatever paper my father chose to clip that day. Since he was in L.A. for the majority, it’s primarily Los Angeles Times and Los Angeles Herald Examiner stuff – headlines, game stories (many by Times’ beat writer Frank Finch), standings, Top Batters, Dodger Averages and the like. With the Dodgers playing mostly 8:00 p.m. games in those days, and because of the niceties of the papers’ print capabilities, boxscores were generally a day late. I’ll show you some of those along the way.

The books are too large for the scanner, but I’ll get the hang of it as we move through the summer. Sometimes you’ll see a headline and parts of a game story, often too small or worn to read, numbers in other posts. Each time I’ll highlight whatever strikes me as I look at it, and share it here.

I’m not going to go in chronological order, and yes, 1962 is, well, 1962. But I happened to grab this particular book first, open it to August by chance, and this seemed like a good place to start.

On the morning of August 9, 1962, your Los Angeles Dodgers stood at 78-37, 5 ½ games up on San Francisco, in an eight-team National League. New York’s Mets were in last place, of course, at 30-82, 46 ½ games back.

L.A. beat Philadelphia, 5-1, the night before in front of 34,729 (that’s actual paid attendance) at Dodger Stadium. Stan Williams went the distance on a seven-hitter for his 11th win, Jack Hamilton took the loss for the Phils.

Those Dodgers, like our lovable ones of today, didn’t hit much, getting by with a meager four-hit attack, which included a two-run home run from John Roseboro, along with Maury Wills’ 59th and 60th of what would be his record-setting 104 stolen bases.

Tommy Davis led the team with a .345 average and 112 RBIs, Don Drysdale paced the staff at 21-4, on his way to an eventual 25-9 finish, and the NL Cy Young Award.

Stan Musial led the league in hitting fifty years ago today, at .354, Willie Mays was first in homers with 34, and Davis led in runs batted in.

The Dodgers took the series finale against Philly the next night, before getting swept three by the Giants at Candlestick immediately after.

We’ll talk more about 1962, I imagine, because there were some good things. But it didn’t end well, OK, and I’ll let my father rest in peace.

What’s next from the scrapbook file, I have no idea, but I hope you’ll enjoy it. Until then, remember, glove conquers all.

 Please follow me on Twitter @Howard_Cole

17 responses


Do you want to comment?

Comments RSS ?

avatar

Sweet.

August 9, 2012 9:07 pm

avatar

 @scareduck Thanks, Rob.
 

August 9, 2012 9:10 pm

avatar

 @Howard Cole  @scareduck
 Great stuff, really enjoyed that piece.  1962 was great for the G’s except for that final out.  Doh!  Ouch!

August 9, 2012 9:18 pm

avatar

 @Tom in San Mateo  @scareduck Bobby Richardson snares Willie McCovey line drive, Giants forced to wait 48 years for ring.
 

August 9, 2012 9:24 pm

avatar

Some great stuff there, Howard. I’m looking forward to reading on. Your dad sounds like someone I would have loved to talk to. I guess this apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.

August 9, 2012 9:48 pm

avatar

Looking forward to more, Howard – this stuff is wonderful.  I envy you, and sure wish I’d kept all my old SF Chronicle Sporting Greens, as they were called. Had a lot of Dodger coverage in the old days.
I not only got my love of the Dodgers from my dad, but also my intense dislike of the Giants. He’d listen (or try to, through the static) to games from Ebbets Field on his old vacuum tube radio. No MLB west of the Mississippi then – Boston Braves days.
I’m ready for as many of these as you have the energy to give us, and hope you have a lot of energy.
(And I DO blame Rivera, BTW.)

August 9, 2012 10:02 pm

avatar

Thank you, guys. Much more to come, as I say, “throughout the course of the 2012 pennant race.” We don’t know how that will be now, do we?

August 9, 2012 10:22 pm

avatar

“throughout the course of the 2012 pennant race.”
 
you really knead rto share
those meds with us howard;
 
coffee tomorrow ?
 
 

August 9, 2012 10:39 pm

avatar

 @Howard Cole Don’t forget the myth that McCovey’s ball was barely snagged by Richardson. It was an atom ball; Bobby R barely had to move.

August 9, 2012 10:53 pm

avatar

Sure would’ve like to have had a dad to share it with, however short that may have been. You know how I feel mole, you’re a great man in my eyes.

August 9, 2012 11:03 pm

avatar

Sure would’ve like to have had a dad to share it with, however short that may have been. You know how I feel howard, you’re a great man in my eyes.

August 9, 2012 11:03 pm

avatar

Excellent piece. Good to learn more about the fam, and how you got to be “Howard”.
 
1962 was definitely my most painful year as a fan. I was 10, and of course Sandy was my idol. (and Big D too, they were sort of like good cop and bad cop). When Sandy got bombed out in the first playoff game trying to pitch even though he couldn’t feel his index finger, I went to the garage and cried.
 
Anyway, what’s the saying? What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
 
Looking forward to next piece, but let’s pick ’63 or ’65 or ’81……..

August 10, 2012 6:34 am

avatar

My Great Grandmother kept two scrapbooks of her husband’s accomplishments in the Southern League, the Major Leagues and the Pacific Coast League.  Those books are so personal I just love them.  All the newspaper clippings.  You would think by looking at these books that Wheezer Dell was as popular as Babe Ruth.  Wheezer wrote news articles too.  I have had a chance to see everything in these books and actually had them in my possession at one time hoping to meet with the Dodger historian because I know he would have loved to have seen them but unfortunately they were returned to my Uncle.

August 10, 2012 10:59 am

avatar

I probably listened or went to every game that year and kept score of a lot of them.  The end of the season… killer.  About the attendance, it wasn’t, in those days, actual paid attendance, but actual attendance – they kept count from the turnstiles, so it didn’t matter how many tickets were sold, but how many showed up.  Those were the days when you could really estimate how many were at the game – because, indeed, they were at the game.

August 10, 2012 1:20 pm

avatar

 @linkmeister
 yea, that was a myth.  I was sitting on the floor in our family room, had just started first grade, had seen number of baseball games at Candlestick by then, and was watching the game with my mom who was be standing at an ironing board, ironing. (boy that’s long gone)  She knew and knows baseball well and the finality of that out stunned me.  learned a lot about baseball that day. 

August 10, 2012 4:19 pm

avatar

Love the clippings, Howard. (Though I worry whether your dad was sending clipped messages to the police department about kidnapped children.) It does make me wonder where those shoeboxes of 60s baseball cards of mine ended up, damn…

August 10, 2012 4:30 pm

avatar

right. a myth perpetuated by frisco fans…for their lack of a championship for so long. I can’t tell you how much it bugs me not to have that to hold over their heads anymore.

August 10, 2012 5:54 pm

Comment now!













     


Trackbacks