Vintage Fridays: Joe Ginsberg, 1958 Topps #67

Here in Baltimore, we are smack dab in the middle of the path of Winter Storm Jonas, aka Snowzilla. So far, we're holding up alright. I'm stacked up on beer (Shiner Winter Cheer and a Breckenridge Mountain Series Sampler), firewood, ice melt, shovels, and groceries. We still have power (knock on wood), we've got several inches of snow on the ground, and we had a fairly leisurely day off from work. If you're getting nailed by snow, sleet, ice, wind, or any other chilly nastiness this weekend, stay warm and safe!

I couldn't find any O's player named "Jonas", so here's a Joe...Ginsberg, to be exact. It looks like somebody tried to take his picture in the midst of a blizzard, though I'm sure it's just a printing error on my copy of the card. That still doesn't explain why he doesn't have a number on the back of his jersey. I have it on good authority that Joe did actually have a number during his five seasons with the Orioles, and it was #22. I hope that he spent the last few decades of his life telling people that Baltimore retired his number. Technically, it's the truth.

Vintage Fridays: Willie Miranda, 1958 Topps #179

This week, my family said goodbye to my great uncle Bill, who passed away on May 20 at the age of 88. He was born in 1926, just like former Orioles Willy Miranda, Joe Ginsberg, Whitey Lockman, Ray Moore, and Robin Roberts, to name a few. He lived in Baltimore his entire life, spending much of that time in his home on Decker Avenue with Elrita his wife of nearly 70 years. (Incidentally, Elrita's maiden name was Ruth, and the family believes that she is related to the Bambino, though of course I don't have the specifics of it.) He was an active member of his community up until the last year of his long and happy life. Uncle Bill was a devoted parishoner of Our Lady of Pompei Catholic Church, where his funeral mass was held this past Tuesday. In January of 2014, he and his trademark wide smile were featured in a Baltimore Sun photo essay on the Patterson Bowling Center, where he participated in a senior league.

Bill, or "Albee" as he has been known since his youth, was famous within the family as the chief entertainer and gamesmaster for holidays and other gatherings. It was he who kept alive Highlandtown's Easter tradition of "egg picking" for so many years, until the Schenning branch of the family tree ran with it and spun it into a greater spectacle in the early 1990s. He would perform musical numbers and hold trivia contests, usually drafting the children into the merriment. It was only appropriate, because he was 100% in touch with his inner child. But Bill was most in his element each summer at the family reunion picnic, when he would invite all of the kids to take part in a variety of games, with all sorts of prizes at stake. Just so nobody would be left out of the fun, the adults were corraled into "horse races". Each person in the race grabbed a different-colored shirt and a post position and chose a horse name. The "horses" lined up in order, and the spectators bet a few dollars on their respective favorites. A couple of dice were rolled to determine which horse moved forward, and how many steps they were allowed to take. First one to cross the finish line won, and shared the money with the winning bettors. I'm proud to say that I took the prize last year in Uncle Bill's last horse race, wearing the red and going by the name Bunches of Oats.

As I've been reflecting on the life (and passing) of my grandmother Boots' big brother, two memories stand out in my mind. Nine years ago, when we learned that Boots had only a few hours left to live, the entire family gathered at the hospital to be with her. When everyone had arrived and the doctor took her off of oxygen, Uncle Bill led us all in singing the standard "Side by Side", originally written by Harry Woods in 1927 but popularized by Kay Starr. The second recollection is a bit more cheerful. When Janet and I got married in September of 2013, Bill and Elrita were in attendance. It meant a lot to me to have them there, being from my Gram's generation. After the ceremony, we stood for a receiving line so we could say a little something to all of our guests before getting caught up in the bustle of posing for formal photos. As Uncle Bill walked up, he gave me one of his big, beaming grins and said, "There's my buddy!". It's such a simple thing, but I'll carry it with me.

Vintage Fridays: Gus Triandos, 1958 Topps #429

Here is Gus Triandos, proving that loose-fitting uniforms are not a recent development. I can't even tell if he's wearing a belt. Of course, I've been looking at this card for so long, I'm having a hard time seeing anything. It's never a good idea to incorporate this much yellow in a card design. It's still there when I close my eyes. But at least now I know what it would look like if ol' Gus took his hacks in front of the world's largest lemon.

Vintage Fridays: Art Ceccarelli, 1958 Topps #191

It's been a while since I posted a vintage card that was good and beat to hell. Someone nibbled on the top right corner, and there's a hefty center crease that left a white streak running down the side of Art Ceccarelli's head. Of course, the smaller horizontal creases combined with the bright blue background make it seem like Art is standing in front of a sparkling swimming pool. It adds a bit of texture that you don't get with the generally static 1958 Topps cards.

My hasty research tells me that Art's last name is pronounced "chick-a-RELL-ee". The Dodgers signed him out of high school in 1948, but his big league debut came with the Athletics in 1955. In between, he served two years in the U.S. Military during the Korean War. He didn't have a very accomplished career in the majors, amassing a 9-18 record with a 5.05 ERA in parts of five seasons. 1957 was his lone season as an Oriole. He pitched in 20 games (eight starts), with an 0-5 record and a 4.50 ERA in 58 innings. Ceccarelli walked 31 batters and struck out only 30. After his career ended, the lefty acknowledged that he never really honed his craft as a pitcher, instead relying too heavily on his fastball. His best outing with the O's was probably May 22, 1957. He held the visiting Tigers to three runs on five hits and a pair of walks, and struck out five in nine innings. Though Art didn't earn the decision, Baltimore picked up a walkoff victory when Tito Francona scored on Al Pilarcik's tenth-inning single. George Zuverink was credited with the win in relief. Make of this information what you will.

Vintage Fridays: Billy Gardner, 1958 Topps #105

You can breathe easier now: The Maryland State Police Polar Bear Plunge is back on the calendar! Yep, on Saturday, March 8, I'm still on the hook to take a dip into the frosty Chesapeake Bay. I'm sure my generous donors will be glad to know that they not only contributed to the excellent cause that is the Special Olympics, but they also get the satisfaction (albeit delayed) of knowing that I briefly made a fool of myself in the name of charity. Besides, the way this winter is shaping up, we could still see snow here in the Mid-Atlantic in early March. My only concern is that I don't turn as blue as the background on Billy Gardner's fine old card here. Pictures to follow after the Plunge. Thank you, folks!

Vintage Fridays: Jim Busby, 1958 Topps #28

On this date 55 years ago, Orioles center fielder Jim Busby had a rough day. It was August 10, 1957, a Saturday, and the O's were hosting the powerhouse Yankees (70-38) at Memorial Stadium. Facing former Baltimore hurler "Bullet" Bob Turley, Busby went 0-for-4 with a pair of strikeouts. From his spot in the lush green outfield grass, Jim also had a close-up view of Mickey Mantle's first-inning home run as it sailed over his head and clear over the center field hedge at Memorial Stadium. The Mick's two-run blast traveled 460 feet in all, and it was the first ball to overtake that hedge. Mantle victimized Birds starter Ray Moore, who was hung with a loss after giving up five runs on six hits and three walks in just three innings. Turley fell one out short of a complete game, allowing three runs (two earned) in a 6-3 Yankee victory. Baltimore native Tommy Byrne earned the save for New York.

Vintage Fridays: Milt Pappas, 1958 Topps #457

This is Milt Pappas' rookie card, depicting the righty as a skinny 18-year-old "bonus baby". Some 55 years and 209 career wins later, he celebrates his 73rd birthday today. Your humble blogger offers a tip of the cap to Milt.

Fun fact: Milt got a start at second base against the Athletics on September 11, 1958...in a manner of speaking. Two of the Orioles' weaker-hitting regulars were second baseman Billy Gardner (.225/.271/.298) and center fielder Jim Busby (.237/.320/.330). With the O's playing on the road, manager Paul Richards optimized his offense by writing pitcher Jack Harshman into the lineup as the center fielder batting fifth. Pappas was penciled in at second base batting seventh. If their spots came up in the first inning, Richards could pinch-hit with his preferred bench bats. If not, the pitchers could be pulled, and none of the bench players would be burned needlessly. With two runners on base and two out in the first inning, Gene Woodling indeed pinch-hit for Harshman and flied out to left to end the inning. Busby and Gardner took the field in the bottom of the first, so Pappas was subbed out without his spot in the order coming up. It was all for naught, as the Birds lost 7-1.

Vintage Fridays: Bert Hamric, 1958 Topps #336

I honestly know 100% of nothing about outfielder Bert Hamric, so let's learn together. Okay, we've struck gold right off the bat. His birth name was "Odbert", poor devil. His hometown is Clarksburg, WV, also home to Herbert "Babe" Barna, who hit .257 with 58 RBI for the Giants in 1942.

But back to Mr. Hamric. He got his start in the Brooklyn Dodgers chain, entering pro ball at Class D Cambridge in 1949. Subsequently, Bert didn't reach AAA until 26. That was 1954, and he made up for lost time by hitting .350 in 88 games at St. Paul. The Dodgers gave him a glimpse of the big leagues the following April, but his experience consisted of two late-game appearances. He pinch-ran on the 24th and struck out as a pinch hitter against Bob Rush of the Cubs on the 28th. Then it was back to the minors, where he stayed until the O's claimed him in the Rule 5 draft in December 1957.

He made the big league roster to start the 1958 season, but received minor injuries in a car accident and had to sit out a few weeks. Throughout the month of May, he was used eight times as a pinch hitter with less-than-ideal results. He struck out six times, popped out once, and mercifully singled off of Bob Turley on May 14 for his only career hit. The 30-year-old rookie was sent to AAA Miami in June, and stayed there for two-plus seasons. He bounced around the minors through the 1961 season before hanging up his spikes with a total of 1,529 minor league games played compared to just 10 in the majors. But he did make it there - twice - and even collected a hit against an All-Star pitcher. All in a day's work.

Vintage Fridays: Bob Boyd, 1958 Topps #279

91 years ago today, Bob Boyd was born in Mississippi. His story is sadly typical of black players in the 1950s, as he was almost 32 by the time he made his major league debut with the White Sox in 1951 and didn't play regularly in the majors until arriving in Baltimore five years later. Prior to that, all he did was hit over .300 for five straight years in the Negro Leagues. When Chicago signed him in 1950, he topped .300 for five more consecutive seasons, this time in the minor leagues. He won the Pacific Coast League batting title with a .320 mark for the 1952 Seattle Rainiers. Boyd later said, "The early black players had to do much better than the white players to make the majors." One wonders how much better he could have done.

Bob, who was known as "Rope" for his ability to spray line drives, finally got his opportunity with the developing Orioles club in 1956. It was manager Paul Richards, who was familiar with Boyd from his previous post as White Sox skipper, who put him in the lineup. He took full advantage of the situation, hitting .357 until missing nearly three months with an injury. He returned in mid-August and was still at .357 as late as September 6, but fell off a bit and finished at .311. He played a career-high 141 games in 1957 and finished fourth in the American League with a .318 average and eight triples. He also placed seventh with a .388 on-base percentage, and seems to have been one of the better defensive first basemen in the league. Not bad for a 37-year-old. He continued to hit 'em where they weren't in 1958, rapping out a .309 average and a personal-best seven home runs (so power wasn't his game). That year he also hit safely in seven consecutive at-bats in a doubleheader against the Indians. Bob slipped to .265 the following year, and lost his starting job to Jim Gentile. In 1960, the 40-year-old Boyd capped his O's career with a .317 average while serving mostly as a pinch hitter.

The Orioles traded Boyd to the Athletics in 1961, and he split his final big league season between the A's and Braves. But he wasn't done playing baseball by a long shot. He played minor league ball for parts of three more seasons, and reportedly spent several years playing semi-pro ball for the highly competitive Wichita Dreamliners. He also worked as a bus driver for some time. Bob retired to Wichita, Kansas, where he passed away in 2004 at age 84. Consider this a tip of the cap to the first African American everyday starter in Orioles history, someone who deserved better.

Vintage Fridays: Foster Castleman, 1958 Topps #416

Since the order of the week is obscure Fosters, here's the sublimely named Foster Ephraim Castleman. Sounds like he should be a member of British high society, or at the very least a Yale grad with a summer home in the Hamptons. The back of the card refers to him lovingly as "Foss", which is a bit adorable. But in reality, he was a humble Tennessee boy who served in the Navy and then had his major league career stunted by knee injuries. He was the Giants' starting third baseman for one year exactly, that being 1956. He tied for third on the team with 14 homers but hit just .226. He would've killed for that mark by 1958, his first season with the O's and his last as a big leaguer. In 98 games his average was a bone-chilling .170 and he mustered three homers and 14 RBI in 200 at-bats. By comparison, pitcher Jack Harshman hit .195 with six homers and 14 RBI in 86 trips to the plate!

But I don't want to bag on ol' Foss. Baseball-Reference allows me to look for the good in every situation. I can tell you that on August 30, 1958 he started at shortstop in Fenway Park, batting eighth for the Birds. His two-out, three-run home run in the top of the second gave the Orioles an early lead in a game they won 7-2. He also singled in the seventh and scored the sixth Baltimore run. It was one of just five multi-hit games for Castleman in an O's uniform, the most notable of which was a 4-for-7 outburst in a 15-inning win over those same Red Sox on July 3! He was a regular Sawx killer, hitting .286 (14-for-49) against them on the year with eight RBI in 17 games...that's over half of his run production. If only he could've been in some kind of Boston-and-Detroit (.273 in 12 games)-only platoon.

Vintage Fridays: Joe Durham, 1958 Topps #96

Joe Durham was the first black position player in Orioles history, making his debut on September 10, 1954. He spoke to author Louis Berney of his experiences that year playing for the AA San Antonio Missions. There, as in Baltimore, he was the only black player to take the field on a regular basis, and as such he took a great amount of verbal abuse from racist white fans. Shreveport, Louisiana was the worst; there were whites-only bleachers near Joe's position in left field, and they would apparently pack the stands just to hurl insults at him. He claims that he did not feel threatened or especially angered by the hurtful language, as long as people didn't physically assault him. I cannot imagine having that kind of perspective and focus in the face of such bigoted behavior.

Durham also claimed that in the 1950s, there wasn't the same kind of loud, blatant race-baiting in the major leagues as he had endured in the minors:

"The only thing in the major leagues was that in a lot of places, you couldn't stay with your teammates. That makes it kind of tough. People don't realize that baseball is a family game. On your off days, families would get together and have picnics and cookouts and whatnot. But being on a team where you have to stay across town, and you don't see your teammates until you go to the ballpark, it takes something out of you. You have to work extra hard, or that much harder, to try to be successful. In 1954, blacks couldn't stay at hotels with their teammates in cities like Washington, Chicago, and Baltimore."

Joe went on to discuss being the only black Oriole in 1954 (pitcher Jehosie Heard had already come and gone), and having to stay by himself at a hotel farther away from the stadium than that of his white teammates. He couldn't even share a cab with a white, but pitcher Don Larsen would pick him up in his new Oldsmobile outside of a casino on Pennsylvania Avenue before games, and drop him back off afterward.

The social climate described in this interview was a very real thing fifty-five years ago. This past week, the United States of America elected its first black President. By no means does this one historic occurrence solve the racial tensions and inequities that persist in our country, but it's an astounding bit of progress.

Vintage Fridays: George Kell, 1958 Topps #40

I only started collecting older cards (1950s-1970s) within the last year or so. Since I've gotten most of them from eBay and trades, I haven't picked up many Tiptons. You can find an excellent illustrated definition here, but in short a Tipton is a well-loved card. The George Kell you see above was sent to me gratis by reader Ed, and it may be the most beautiful example of a Tipton in my collection. Even without the inky embellishments, the card's shape is a little warped, the corners are neatly rounded, and the surface is fairly worn. There's a nice crease running at about shoulder level. But really, it's all about the ink.

I always wonder what the thought process is for the original card owner in a case such as this. "Sure, George Kell had a Hall of Fame career, largely with the Tigers. He got his start with the A's, and was an All-Star in both varieties of Sox. At the close of his career, he mentored a young third baseman who, like Kell himself, was from Arkansas. But darnit, he doesn't get nearly enough recognition for his managerial work at AAA Oklahoma City! Well, me and my pen (and possibly black crayon) have something to say about that!"

The most confounding thing is that George Kell never managed the 89ers...at least according to Baseball Reference, whom I tend to trust more than mysterious homemade cards. At various times, the team was managed by former Oriole coaches Lee Elia and Greg Biagini, and even by Kell's former 1956 O's teammate Grady Hatton...but I don't see George's name on that list. His various online biographies make no mention of managerial accomplishments either. Was this a simple flight of fancy by a bored Oklahoman? Could be. All that I know is that I'm the owner of quite probably the only baseball card in the world that depicts George Kell as an OKC 89er.

Vintage Fridays: Gene Woodling, 1958 Topps #398

A lot changes in fifty years. The year this card was made, the Boston Red Sox still had not integrated; Pumpsie Green would become their first black player in 1959. The Dodgers and Giants brought Major League Baseball to California. Dodgers catcher Roy Campanella was left paralyzed in a career-ending car accident. There were eight teams each in the American and National Leagues. The Yankees downed the (Milwaukee!) Braves in an exciting seven-game World Series. Believe it or not, Cal Ripken, Jr. hadn't even been born yet.

The NFL's Colts were the toast of Baltimore and the country, putting pro football on the sporting map by winning a televised sudden-death championship game over the Giants that would be dubbed "The Greatest Game of All Time". Of course, fifty years later those Colts are in Indianapolis and the team with the most rabid fan base in Charm City is undoubtedly their replacement, the Ravens. Most people would say that this is a football town. My own gridiron-crazed uncle all but rolled his eyes at me last Sunday when he noticed that I was wearing an Orioles shirt. But having just come home from a very lively (and very unseasonably cold) Oriole Park at Camden Yards, basking in the glow of yet another comeback win, I believe that Baltimore has the will to be a baseball town once again.