Teach
12-27-2013, 10:05 AM
They were all men. They either lived, worked and played in Boston. Some were visiting, temporarily. I had dozens of names in “My Little Black Book.” Interestingly, I never made an entry myself. The men in my book all wrote their own names. Many were strong and agile. Unfortunately, in some cases, they signed their names in pencil. Many names have faded.
You may have figured out by now that “My Little Black Book” was my childhood autograph book. I took my book with me every time I went to a game. I had a collection of names from various sports: basketball, hockey and football. However, I was most proud of my baseball autographs.
There’s a story behind each of those autographs. I’ve selected four that I thought would be most interesting.
After the Sox games, my young friends and I would hang out near the Hotel Kenmore (it was located in Boston’s Kenmore Sq. at the corner of Kenmore St. and Commonwealth Ave.). In those days, the Hotel Kenmore (three blocks from Fenway ) was a mecca for ballplayers. It’s where all the visiting players stayed (when the Braves played in Boston, their visiting teams stayed there, as well). It was the natural place to seek out autographs.
On one occasion, my friends and I were standing out in front of “the Kenmore” when we spotted Cleveland Indians pitcher and future Hall of Famer, Bob Feller (we knew all the players from our baseball cards). We descended on Feller (then, near the tail end of his career) like a swarm of locusts. I believe, at the time, he was waiting for a cab. We came so close to him that one of us accidentally stepped on his foot. I distinctly remember him letting out with a yelp. I do, however, remember him signing each and every one of our autograph books or scorecards.
My second autograph story involves another Cleveland pitcher, Mike Garcia (he was nicknamed “the Big Bear”). We were sitting in the bleachers that day. We spotted Garcia walking around in the visitors’ bullpen (adjacent to the bleachers). We tried to see if we could get an autograph from him or any of the other Indians’ pitchers.
Although there were other players nearby, Garcia was the only one who talked to us. We asked him for his autograph. I remember that Garcia was friendly, but he said he couldn’t sign autographs just before the start of the game. He did, however, say that he would sign for us after the game. I remember him telling us to look for him around the Hotel Kenmore.
After the game, my friends and I hustled over to the Hotel Kenmore. About an hour later, we saw Garcia getting out of a cab. We reminded him of his promise (I think he remembered us). In any event, he signed for everyone.
The third autograph story involves a pitcher who was with the Red Sox in the early 1950s but was later dealt to Orioles, Yankees and Houston Colt 45s. His name was Hector “Skinny” Brown. In
Brown’s case, we spotted him on Kenmore St., near the side entrance to the hotel. When we saw him, we made a mad dash toward him. I recall that Brown was with his wife, or a significant other. I remember that my friends and I were running toward Brown, all the while we're yelling out, “Skinny, Skinny, can we have your autograph?”
The thing I remember most about trying to get Brown’s autograph was not Brown himself, but the woman who was standing next to him. As we kept yelling out “Skinny,” she was turning all shades of red. It was if she had just received an instant sunburn. In hindsight, we were callow, uncouth, wet-behind-the-ears kids who knew nothing of manners or etiquette. Nonetheless, Brown signed.
The last autograph story is a relatively recent one. It involves current Red Sox outfielder and future Hall of Famer, Manny Ramirez. A few years ago, I was a Fenway Park tour guide. On one occasion, I was leading the last tour (4:30 PM) around Fenway Park before the start of a night game against the Orioles. As I led my tour down the grandstand steps near third base line, I spotted Ramirez loosening up out on the field. I recall he was listening to music through his earpieces. As we used say here in Boston, it was “ Manny being Manny.”
Seconds later, some of our tour guests began yelling out to Manny. I decided to use the little Spanish I had learned in high school to try to coax Manny to come over to us. I remember out, “Senor Ramirez, por favor!” It seemed to work because the next thing I knew Manny flipped a baseball in our direction; one of our tour guests caught the ball on a bounce. Soon, Manny’s coming over to our group. Seconds later, Manny’s signing everything in sight: pieces of paper, caps, shirts, and that baseball that he tossed to one of our guests. There’s a nice touch to the baseball story. The young man who caught the ball was on his honeymoon. He told me later that it was one of the best wedding presents he’d received. As for me, I thought, “Where’s ‘my little black (autograph) book’ when I need it?”
Well, that “Little Black Book,” is still down my cellar collecting dust. But who knows, as my grandchildren grow older, maybe one day they’ll want to collect autographs, too. If they do, there’s just two pieces of advice I’d give them: (1) bring the autograph book with you every time you go to the ballpark, and (2) remember to always use a pen.
Oh, by the way, any autograph collectors?
You may have figured out by now that “My Little Black Book” was my childhood autograph book. I took my book with me every time I went to a game. I had a collection of names from various sports: basketball, hockey and football. However, I was most proud of my baseball autographs.
There’s a story behind each of those autographs. I’ve selected four that I thought would be most interesting.
After the Sox games, my young friends and I would hang out near the Hotel Kenmore (it was located in Boston’s Kenmore Sq. at the corner of Kenmore St. and Commonwealth Ave.). In those days, the Hotel Kenmore (three blocks from Fenway ) was a mecca for ballplayers. It’s where all the visiting players stayed (when the Braves played in Boston, their visiting teams stayed there, as well). It was the natural place to seek out autographs.
On one occasion, my friends and I were standing out in front of “the Kenmore” when we spotted Cleveland Indians pitcher and future Hall of Famer, Bob Feller (we knew all the players from our baseball cards). We descended on Feller (then, near the tail end of his career) like a swarm of locusts. I believe, at the time, he was waiting for a cab. We came so close to him that one of us accidentally stepped on his foot. I distinctly remember him letting out with a yelp. I do, however, remember him signing each and every one of our autograph books or scorecards.
My second autograph story involves another Cleveland pitcher, Mike Garcia (he was nicknamed “the Big Bear”). We were sitting in the bleachers that day. We spotted Garcia walking around in the visitors’ bullpen (adjacent to the bleachers). We tried to see if we could get an autograph from him or any of the other Indians’ pitchers.
Although there were other players nearby, Garcia was the only one who talked to us. We asked him for his autograph. I remember that Garcia was friendly, but he said he couldn’t sign autographs just before the start of the game. He did, however, say that he would sign for us after the game. I remember him telling us to look for him around the Hotel Kenmore.
After the game, my friends and I hustled over to the Hotel Kenmore. About an hour later, we saw Garcia getting out of a cab. We reminded him of his promise (I think he remembered us). In any event, he signed for everyone.
The third autograph story involves a pitcher who was with the Red Sox in the early 1950s but was later dealt to Orioles, Yankees and Houston Colt 45s. His name was Hector “Skinny” Brown. In
Brown’s case, we spotted him on Kenmore St., near the side entrance to the hotel. When we saw him, we made a mad dash toward him. I recall that Brown was with his wife, or a significant other. I remember that my friends and I were running toward Brown, all the while we're yelling out, “Skinny, Skinny, can we have your autograph?”
The thing I remember most about trying to get Brown’s autograph was not Brown himself, but the woman who was standing next to him. As we kept yelling out “Skinny,” she was turning all shades of red. It was if she had just received an instant sunburn. In hindsight, we were callow, uncouth, wet-behind-the-ears kids who knew nothing of manners or etiquette. Nonetheless, Brown signed.
The last autograph story is a relatively recent one. It involves current Red Sox outfielder and future Hall of Famer, Manny Ramirez. A few years ago, I was a Fenway Park tour guide. On one occasion, I was leading the last tour (4:30 PM) around Fenway Park before the start of a night game against the Orioles. As I led my tour down the grandstand steps near third base line, I spotted Ramirez loosening up out on the field. I recall he was listening to music through his earpieces. As we used say here in Boston, it was “ Manny being Manny.”
Seconds later, some of our tour guests began yelling out to Manny. I decided to use the little Spanish I had learned in high school to try to coax Manny to come over to us. I remember out, “Senor Ramirez, por favor!” It seemed to work because the next thing I knew Manny flipped a baseball in our direction; one of our tour guests caught the ball on a bounce. Soon, Manny’s coming over to our group. Seconds later, Manny’s signing everything in sight: pieces of paper, caps, shirts, and that baseball that he tossed to one of our guests. There’s a nice touch to the baseball story. The young man who caught the ball was on his honeymoon. He told me later that it was one of the best wedding presents he’d received. As for me, I thought, “Where’s ‘my little black (autograph) book’ when I need it?”
Well, that “Little Black Book,” is still down my cellar collecting dust. But who knows, as my grandchildren grow older, maybe one day they’ll want to collect autographs, too. If they do, there’s just two pieces of advice I’d give them: (1) bring the autograph book with you every time you go to the ballpark, and (2) remember to always use a pen.
Oh, by the way, any autograph collectors?