CHAPTER 1
A Friend
Have you talked to your friend lately? I don't meansomebody you are acquainted with but that one specialperson that you can sit down and tell your innermostthoughts to.
I haven't lived a long time yet, just 60 years but I havea friend that I met 55 years ago. We still see each otheroccasionally but not ofter enough. He lives up in Nashville andI hate to drive up there. Its not so much the going but thoseidiots that drive on the roads up there that makes me mad.Anyway, we grew up together. Shared a million laughs and afew tears. I know he's my friend because I could ask him foranything and if he had it he would gladly give it to me and Iwould do the same for him. I've told him things I haven't toldanother soul.
I know it's a sad thing but there are some folks that don'thave a true friend. I have known a few of these people andstrangely enough they are very much alike. Do you know whoI am talking about? Let's see if I can describe them. First ofall they can be either a man or woman, boy or girl. They arethe type of people who think they know everything abouteverything. They are always full of advice for you whether youask for it or not. They are good talkers but not good listeners.(Am I getting close?) One of the most common things I'venoticed about these folks is; they believe they are well likedby everybody when, usually, if you see them coming you try tohide or find something to do, quick!
When you really get down to it, these folks are lonely. Theyjust want to talk to somebody and share some experience withsomeone and they don't care who it is. The next time you seehim or her headed your way, take a deep breath, say hello, andreally listen to what they are saying. I think you'll see that theyare lonely. After all, they don't have a friend.
Memories of Sulphur Dell
I was born and raised in Nashville, Tennessee practically inthe shadow of Sulphur Dell and almost in hearing range of theGrand Ole Opry. During my first ten years of life, I gained a trueand genuine love for baseball and Country Music. As I listenedto the broadcasts of the Nashville Vols on radio with myGrandma, she would explain to me the basic rules of the gameas she knew and understood them. She would tell me aboutthe teams that were playing our Nashville Vols such as theAtlanta Crackers, the Birmingham Barons, and the Little RockTravelers. I could not understand why a team would be namedafter a little rock, but they were.
I do not recall the first time I was taken to the Dell but I amsure it was one of my two uncles that took me. I believe I wasabout four or five. For me, a trip to the Dell was a chance to eatpopcorn and drink a Neigh Hi grape drink. I don't recall muchabout the actual games at first because I was much too busywatching the men that would walk all around the stands yellingout: "Hey, ice cold beer" and "Hey, Ice cream" and "Hey, get yourcokes here". There were also men who sold hot dogs but I don'trecall them having to yell out as much because when they gotnear, you could smell the hot dogs. What a wonderful smell itwas!
Smell, now there's something that can bring a flood ofmemories rushing forth from the recesses of your brain. I havenever smelled a hot dog any better than those back then. Thepopcorn was very salty and smelled of melted butter. I onlywish I could find some today that tasted as good. I suppose theone smell that stands out in my mind most at the Dell was thebeer. It seems every grown man would be drinking a beer. Idon't remember but once that I saw a man really drunk and thePolice came and took him away. My uncles would always drinkbeer right out of those brown bottles and they never got drunk.It was never a problem with them getting caught drinking anddriving because we always walked the eight blocks from ourhouse on 6th Ave North.
We would walk past the sulphur springs at 5th Ave N. andTaylor St. where my uncles would always stop and get a drinkof ice cold sulfur water before going on to the Dell. To this day,every time I smell sulfur water I think about that spring. Nomatter how much they tried to get me to drink it, I refusedbecause it smelled like rotten eggs, and still does. We wouldcontinue down 5th Ave, cross the busy Jefferson Street and theoutfield walls would come into view. The green walls withtheir high 20 foot screens on top were a sign for me that wewere almost there. As we walked on the sidewalk next to theright field wall, I could hear the crack of the bats as the playerswere taking batting practice. I always hoped to get a home runball or even a fowl ball and I'm still hoping. Finally we cameto the main entrance where the big sign stood proudly atopthe stadium and proclaimed to all that this was "Sulphur Dell,America's most historic ball park since 1870."
As we entered through the turnstiles my mind would befilled with anticipation of what I wanted to eat first, popcorn ora hot dog. It would be years later when my excitement wouldbe about the players I was about to see and the ensuing game.But for the time being, I was satisfied eating and listening tothe men discuss the game, the players, the strategies and onoccasion who would be elected mayor next. Occasionally, theywould point out a player that was one of their favorites. Thefirst player I remember was Buster Boguski. I had a friendcalled Buster and I wondered if they were related (hey, I wasonly 5).
Another player I recall was a man who played for Nashvillenamed DiPippo. My Grandma always said he was the bestplayer she ever heard tell of. Every time he got a hit she wouldsay "See, I told you he was a good player." I only heard him play;I don't recall if I ever saw him.
As the game wore down to the bottom of the seventh, Iknew it was time for everybody to stand up. I didn't knowwhy for a long time then I was told it was called the 7th inningstretch. That made sense. For whatever reason, during thetop of the eighth inning the large sliding wooden doors whichwere at the upper lever of the grandstand would be openedand anyone could walk in off the street and watch the rest ofthe game for free, which was a good deal if the game went intoextra innings. At any rate, when the game was over, everyonewould file out these doors and head home or where ever theywanted to go. Most of the time we went straight home after thegames, because most of the games we went to were played atnight. Sometimes we went to day games which were usually onthe weekends. After some of those day games we would take adetour when we got to Jefferson St. and turn right. About threeblocks down was the absolute, very best, southern barbequethat ever existed. Charlie Nicken's BBQ was well known by allNashvillians as being the best barbeque in town, or anywhereelse.
The Dell was the most unique professional baseball park Ihave ever seen. You would enter from the street level and youwould walk down to your seats. The field was probably 30 feetbelow street level. The green wooden seats declined down tofield level 16 or 20 rows. This was not what was unique aboutthe Dell. It was the outfield that made it special. The statisticssay it was 262 feet to the right field wall but that only tells apart of the story. About 224 feet from home plate, the groundslanted upwards at a 45degree angle to the base of the woodenwall which was 20 feet tall. On top of the wall there was ascreen which stood another 20 feet in the air. This slant wascalled a hill, a dump, and many other unflattering names byright fielders and batters throughout the Southern Association.Across the street stood the huge brick building that was theAtlantic Ice House. Many homers were bounced off that brickwall over the years. The left field was only slightly better but iswas a bit further than 262 feet, at 334 feet. Oh, by the way ... italso had a hill/dump that started at 301 feet. Center field wasa no-man's-land at 421 to dead center field and, yes, a dump.Many visiting players, and some home town players, called itSulphur Hell! It took much skill and a lot of luck to play thatright field position in the Dell.
I recall one game in particular that stands out in my mind.It was in mid August 1954. The Vols were not in contentionfor the pennant but still the place was packed that night. MyDad explained to me that everyone was hoping to see BobLennon hit a home run. The Vols were playing the ChattanoogaLookouts. I sat there eating my popcorn and drinking my NeighHi grape drink when suddenly everyone cheered loudly andstood up. My Dad leaned over and said that Lennon hit anotherhomer. I had seen homers hit before but this one was special.As it turns out, he had hit his 58th homer of the year, shatteringthe previous record of 50. Bob Lennon went on that year to hitan amazing 64 homes.
Truly, 64 home runs in a season was an amazing featespecially for the minor leagues. What seemed to be anawesome display of power actually was a display of theuniqueness of Sulphur Dell's 262 foot right field wall. WhenLennon made it to the major leagues, he hit a steady array ofpop ups to right field. His big league career was short.
Many players who played their way through the SouthernAssociation did make it to the Majors. I remember whenNashville was a farm team for the Cincinnati Reds. Several Volswent up to the Reds and did well. Among them was Jim O'Toole,a left handed pitcher, who played for the Reds from 1958 to1966 and went on to win 94 games and struck out 1,039 overhis career. Another was Claude O'Steen, another pitcher, whoseMajor League career was from 1957 to 1975. He played withthe Reds, Cubs, and Dodgers and had a W-L record of 196-195and 1,612 K's.
One day in the spring of 1959, my best friend Billy, andI skipped school and his Dad drove us down to the Dell (Ihad moved away at this time). There was an exhibition gamebetween the Vols and the Chicago White Sox. Several bigleague teams would play their way back up north from SpringTraining. When we arrived, I noticed there were hundredsof other kids who had skipped school. This was a big thingfor all of us. We had the bubble gum cards with players facesmemorized. Now, here they were, in person. Luis Appericiostands out in my mind that day. He was standing beside thevisitor's dugout signing autographs for the kids. My friend hada program and Luis signed it.
I was in awe of the White Sox in their road gray uniformswith Chicago stitched across the front and the Sox emblem ontheir sleeves. One player stands out in my mind on that day,a young player for the Sox named Johnny Callison. What ashow he put on that day. He went 5 for 5 with a couple of longdoubles. Unfortunately, his Major League career was not asoutstanding as his performance that day. I think the Dell hadsomething to do with his wonderful day. I don't recall who didit but someone hit a home run over the center field fence! Onthat day, I was more interested in the game than the popcorn.In the end, the Sox won 20-10 and went on that season to playin the World Series against the Dodgers. I was rooting for thembut the Dodgers won the Series.
One spring day between 1955 and 1960, April 1st was ona Sunday. I don't recall which year but the Vols held an openhouse for the fans at the Dell. Everything had been freshlypainted and it was picture perfect. I got to go down into thedugouts, out onto the field, and even behind the concessionstand where they sold the best popcorn in the world. But thatday was special to me because I was allowed to walk up thatcatwalk to the top of the stadium, high above home plate to thepress box. What a thrill that was. I vividly recall sitting in thechair that Larry Munson would sit and call the games. He wasthe absolute best play by play man that ever spoke into a mic.He was let go by the Vols because one night when the Vols wereout of town, he was doing a simulcast from the radio studio.During a commercial break, the engineer forgot to turn off hismic and he was heard making some four letter word remarksabout broadcasting a game in the manner. He was fired by thestation. He went on to broadcast the Vanderbilt football andbasketball games for more than 10 years. He was lured awaywhen the Braves moved to Atlanta and in 1967 he was on theBraves network as one of four announcers. This only lasted ayear when he was replaced. He stayed in Georgia and found ahome with the University of Georgia. He has been the voice ofthe Bulldogs ever since and retired in 2010.
By the 1960's the glory days of the Southern Associationwas gone. The Vols were in a new league called the SouthAtlantic League or as everyone called it, the Sally League.The large crowds were never to return to the Dell after theSouthern Association dissolved. But there was baseball at theDell. Word came down that 1963 would be the last year forbaseball at the Dell. It was a sad time for all who loved baseballin Nashville.
Very near the last game of the season and the last game atthe Dell, my friend Fred and I went to see the Vols play one lasttime. How sad it was. Barely 500 people were there. The playwas sloppy and to the point of being embarrassing. If a gameor even a season could be put into a capsule it would be oneplay that day. A third baseman for the Vols made three errorsin one play 6 for the day. Poor old Henry Mitchell. I'm sure hewas giving it all he had but he just didn't have enough skill tobe playing at that level. He epitomized the season for the lowlyVols and wrote a sad ending to baseball at Sulphur Dell.
Shame
As a child, I realized there was a difference in the races ofpeople who share this earth. While I was with my mother ata bus stop, a black man and his young daughter, walked up towait for the same bus. I looked at the little girl with her shinyblack face, the colorful hair bows, and her pretty dress. Shewas about my age, five years old. I looked up at the man andsaid, "She sure is cute." He looked down at me, smiled andsaid, "Well, thank you, sir." My mother's grip on my tiny handtightened as she pulled me closer to her side. The bus camewithout us speaking another word. Later that night after wegot back home, Mom gave me a lecture about never speaking tostrangers on the street, especially "niggers." I understand nowthat was the way she was raised.
She said that black people were different from us and weshouldn't associate with them. "All black men carry knives, andsome have straight razors in their pockets, and would cut yourthroat if you look at them wrong", said Mom. For the next 16years, I never had an opportunity to be close enough to anyblack person to have a conversation, so, the prejudices of mypast stayed with me all those years. During the early 1960s,TV news reported the events of the Civil Rights Movementacross the country. I then realized that some of the things toldto me as a child were wrong. My older relatives still did notsupport the movement. Most told me the same story about how"niggers" were different and they should be separated from us.Fortunately, my step-dad had a different attitude from my otherfamily members. He believed that all people should be free tohave the right to eat where they wanted, get the job for whichthey were qualified, and vote for whomever they wanted. Theydeserved the same freedoms as whites received. I began tounderstand and believe the things my step-dad told me.
My mother's older brother who came to visit often was mymale roll model before my step-dad came along. They both hadbeen in World War II. I overheard them talking one day abouttheir experiences. My uncle said he had been in Germany andsaw a couple of the concentration camps. He never wantedto see anything like that again. He also said something thatstuck with me over the years. He said, "I used to hate coloredpeople until I got over there and saw what those Jews had togo through." He went on to say that he did not believe anyoneon earth should have to be treated like animals. I never heardeither of them use the "n" word.
A few years ago I saw Spielberg's movie, "Schindler's List."Knowing all those horrid things were not really happening tothe people on the screen did not keep the tears from streamingdown my face. My uncle was right about them being treatedlike animals. I felt ashamed to be a part of a human race thatwould be so inhumane, so overtly cruel, to other humans.Whether they are African-Americans, Jewish, Native Americans,Muslim or any other group of oppressed people, no one has theright to mistreat another human in that way.
