Me, Johnny, and The Babe

By Mark Wirtshafter

This is the story of two 12-year-old boys who were best friends growing up on the mean streets of the Kensington section of Philadelphia. It chronicles their friendship and the conflicts that they faced. It also tells the remarkable, untold true story of how Babe Ruth came to their local parish to play in one incredible baseball game. On a September day in 1923, Babe Ruth was whisked away from the Yankees game to play charity baseball to raise money to pay off the debt for their field. That day would forever change the lives of these two friends.
Coming of age in the era of prohibition two young boys find themselves facing the many challenges and dangers of the inner-city. Their love of baseball is their guiding light and source of hope. The improbable events that unfolded during Babe Ruth’s appearance at Boger Field have been lost in baseball history. From the moment Babe put on the Ascension of Our Lord Parish uniform and took the field against the Lit Brother’s team baseball folklore was made.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Wirtshafter
• Release date: Jan 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310265822

Mark Wirtshafter

Born in the city of Philadelphia in 1958, baseball has been his passion since early boyhood. It coincides with his affection for the City of Brotherly Love, two themes that are lovingly explored in this his first novel. Me, Johnny, and The Babe is the culmination of five years of research and is a nostalgic look back at the lives of two boys coming of age in the Kensington section of the city in 1923.Mark currently lives in Bucks County, Pennsylvania with his wife and two children. He continues to enjoy baseball going to minor and major league games with his family and friends.

Book preview

Here I sit in the bedroom where I grew up, staring at a weathered old newspaper, and a small wooden pocket comb. As I flick the teeth of the comb with the tip of my finger, I carefully ponder the question. Should I tell her the story or keep it hidden inside as I have for the past thirty years?

Growing up in Kensington in the 1920’s was both hard and glorious. Life revolved around four major facets: family, friends, the Church, and especially baseball. Kensington was a lower working class section of Philadelphia and all the folks I knew labored very hard. Looking back, it might have been the poorest section of the city, but we never felt disadvantaged in any way. There was always food on the table, and I learned quickly not to want for anything that would have to be store bought.

I was an only child, born just months after my parents graduated from high school. They were both eighteen when they married and told me it was the happiest day of their lives when I was born. My dad had a job at Rumsey Electric Company where they sold parts for radios and other electrical supplies. He worked incredibly long hours. My mom stayed at home with me and took care of our house. Occasionally she would get some extra work cleaning other people’s homes, which would keep her out of the house for almost the entire day.

My mother was very patient; and would spend hours sitting on the floor playing with me when I was young. When Dad would get home from work he always seemed genuinely happy to see me, but after a few minutes, his attention would always drift elsewhere. He liked to read the newspaper and listen to the radio to relax.

The neighborhood where I lived was home to hordes of children. Most of the families on our block had five or more kids. The Garrity family who lived next door to us had ten children. The youngest was my best friend Johnny Garrity.

In a neighborhood surrounded by kids, somehow there was a sense of loneliness that dominated my childhood. For some reason Johnny was the only friend I had who I felt comfortable talking to, and the only person I truly enjoyed.

Being the youngest, everyone else in his family constantly picked on Johnny, so he loved to come over my house and pick on me. He was a few inches taller and weighed ten pounds more, and he used his physical dominance over me at every opportunity. It did not bother me since I knew he would never hurt me, and was the truest friend I had in the world.

I always helped Johnny get through his schoolwork and he defended me against any kids in the neighborhood who ever gave me trouble. I would put an extra thirty minutes aside each evening just to do Johnny’s homework. In our relationship, I was the brains and he was certainly the brawn. My friendship with Johnny formed the foundation of everything that I accomplished in my life and I will never forget him.

Johnny had five sisters and four brothers, so they were divided up evenly. His father would joke that they would stop when they got to an even dozen; Johnny’s mom never seemed to laugh at the joke.

Never forget that you and Johnny met in the hospital when you were born, Johnny’s mom would say.

After all you were only born three days apart, in the very same hospital, and you got to lie next to each other for two days before we brought you home, my mom would add.

I guess you two will be the only real lifelong friends, since you met on the very first day of your life, added Johnny’s mom.

Sometimes it seemed that Johnny and I were the only two kids in the world, even when there were gangs of kids running the streets all around us.

Johnny and I were content to play with each other and only looked for the other kids when we wanted to try to get a baseball game going. Incredibly, it did not take much effort to get eighteen kids together for a game of baseball. If someone had to go home early for dinner, it was no problem to recruit a substitute and keep the game going.

We lacked a real field to play on, so we played in the still empty section of the cemetery two blocks from where we lived. Filled with tombstones and crosses, the cemetery had a flat open clearing in the rear. We used a bare dirt spot for the pitcher’s mound and another one directly in front of it for home plate. The grass was green but when you looked at it closely, you realized that it really wasn’t grass at all. It was a collection of a wide variety of weeds. The sheer assortment of weeds was staggering. It seemed that no two spots looked the same. When you looked down the only thing you were sure of was that none of what you were seeing was real grass.

There was plenty of room to play except in right field. Any ball hit hard to right ended up going into the tombstones and the outfielder would have trouble running around the markers trying to find the ball. Some thought it should only be a double when the ball went into the tombstones, but I always thought it was funny watching the fielders try to jump over the low markers in time to get the batter out before he ran home.

The equipment we used was another story. We had sticks for bats, usually a remnant of a broom or some other item that had broken. Sometimes we had real baseballs, but other times we used any round object we could find. Gloves were a luxury; some kids had real gloves while others used worn out work gloves from their father’s jobs. Sometimes I wore a glove that Johnny was able to sneak out of his house. These were the same gloves that his sister would use to keep her hands warm on cold winter days. They were often colorful, and did not look much like anything that should be worn on the baseball field. The other kids would laugh at them, but they took some of the sting out when the ball hit your hand.

Johnny had a real glove handed down to him from one of his older brothers. It was torn and had quite a few ripped spots, but it was the best glove of anyone who played with us. If we were on different teams, he would always let me use it when his team was up at bat. When I wore it, it made me feel like I was a real baseball player. As real as you could feel while you were standing in the middle of a cemetery, holding a broken stick and swinging at a large round rock.

Baseball was everything to us. Our lives certainly lacked variety when it came to entertainment. For the adults there was radio and newspapers, but for us baseball was the common denominator. There was the local parish team, Ascension of Our Lord, whose games we got to watch. There were two Philadelphia teams, the Phillies and the Athletics. On my street, everyone was an Athletics fan, but only a few lucky kids had actually seen them play a regular season game. There was a family down the street named Carrigan, who had just moved here from New York. They were big New York Yankee fans and this did not sit well with the kids in the neighborhood. It was hard for us to admit but the Yankees had something we all wished we had. They had The Babe.

2

George Herman Ruth, a name for the ages. By April of 1923, even a couple of twelve-year-old boys in Kensington knew that Babe Ruth was someone very special. There was not a kid on our block who did not know his stats. After he was traded from the Boston Red Sox to the Yankees in 1919, he helped the Yanks win the American League Pennant in 1921 and 1922. Between 1918 and 1922, he led the American league in home runs four straight years. In 1918, he tied for the league lead with Tily Walker of the Athletics with eleven, but then his home run totals exploded in the following years. In 1919, he had 29 home runs, in 1920, he hit 54, and by the end of the 1921 season, he amassed an amazing 59.

However, there was so much more to watching the Babe. Johnny and I would talk about him endlessly.

The Babe is the greatest player ever to play baseball, Johnny said.

Yea, I bet he’ll hit sixty homers next season, I responded. You can tell that he really loves playing the game and I bet he would play even if they didn’t pay him.

Did you know he grew up in an orphanage in Baltimore?

Yea, I can’t believe he grew up all alone in an orphanage and became so great, I replied. Everyone that knows him says that he loves kids and he would do anything to help a kid in trouble.

A lot of the other players talk about the game like it’s a job, but not The Babe, he just loves playing the game, Johnny added. Can you imagine, he gets paid for just playing baseball, can there be anything better than that?

Yea, it’s unbelievable.

When I grow up I am gonna be just like The Babe, Johnny started. I’m gonna be a great baseball player and I’ll use my money to buy stuff for kids.

One day in the middle of April, Johnny came rushing over to my house with some big news.

Father Casey got ten tickets to see the Yankees play the Athletics in July, Johnny said. We gotta figure out a way to make sure we get two of those tickets!

My mom and Reverend Casey are very close, and he knows how much we love baseball; he has to let us go, I replied.

It’s about time all your mom’s praying actually did us some good, Johnny said with a grin on his face.

The Reverend William Casey ran our local parish, Ascension of Our Lord, and was the most respected person I knew. My mother was a very loyal church going person and made sure that Dad and I went as well. She and Father Casey had a wonderful relationship, and he was always there to help my family with whatever we needed. I wasn’t sure exactly how, but I knew that we would need my mom to use her influence on Father Casey to make sure we got two of those golden tickets.

A couple of days later, on a Saturday evening, Johnny knocked on my front door.

Hey, why don’t you come and we can do something?

Sure let me check with my dad, I’m sure he’ll give me permission.

I walked into the kitchen where my dad was standing on a chair putting glasses into the top cupboard.

Can I go out with Johnny and play?

Sure, but do me a favor and pick up an Evening Bulletin on your way home, he asked. Here’s the two cents you’ll need.

Okay Dad, I’ll make sure I get it on the way home.

I always liked going with my dad to buy the newspaper, since the store where he went to also sold penny candy and he always seemed to find an extra cent for a treat. There would be no candy tonight, all he gave me was two cents, and I knew it was strictly a newspaper.

When we got outside Johnny looked at me and grinned.

I got a better idea for those two cents, he said.

I did not like the sound of that. My dad wanted his newspaper and there could not be any alternate plan for the money.

Let’s go to the train tracks and put the pennies on the rails and have the trains flatten them, he said.

Flatten them?

Yea, flatten them. We lay them on the tracks and wait for a train to come. When it rolls over them we have two perfect round pieces of shiny copper.

But what about my dad’s newspaper?

That’s no problem. By the time we get back my dad will be done with his paper and I will sneak it out of the house and you can have it.

It seemed like a logical plan, and it would be something to have one of those brand new 1923 copper pennies flattened by a speeding train to keep as a souvenir. The thought of just taking the money to the corner store and buying two cents worth of candy also crossed my mind.

Come on, don’t always be a scardey cat, your dad will never know the difference, Johnny said with a phony sad expression on his face. You never want to do anything exciting.

I guess it’ll be alright as long as you are sure we can get the newspaper from your dad without anyone knowing, I conceded.

So began our journey. As we turned the corner of Tioga Street, I noticed Billy Brannigan sitting outside the drug store.

Billy was the neighborhood troublemaker, someone my parents had always warned me to avoid. He had dropped out of school before ninth grade and was always getting into trouble with the local police. People in Kensington could not wait until he finally did something bad enough so that the police could lock him up for good and the neighborhood would be rid of him.

Billy was about eighteen years old and was always out on the streets. He gambled in public, smoked cigarettes, and drank alcohol out in plain view. Even the adults in the neighborhood would cross the street to avoid walking in his path. He was about six feet tall and very thin. He seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face and I never remember seeing him smile.

I did not know anything about Billy’s parents, or why they let him get into so much trouble. I figured that they were probably afraid of him too.

Hey there is Billy Brannigan, I said to Johnny. Let’s cross the street so he doesn’t see us.

I ain’t crossin’ no street to keep away from no stupid Billy Brannigan, Johnny replied angrily. He doesn’t scare me none.

He doesn’t scare me either, I said, knowing it wasn’t the truth. I just don’t want to start any trouble.

Come on let’s go, Johnny said motioning me forward with a nod of his head.

I walked with my head down and stared at the pavement in front of me. I made sure not to make eye contact as we passed and prayed that Johnny would do the same. However, knowing Johnny as well as I did, I knew he was not afraid of Billy Brannigan. I could feel my heart pounding at the very moment we passed Billy, and then subside as we eased past him without incident.

I told you he wouldn’t do anything, Johnny said with a smile. If he ever tried anything with either of us, I would beat his ass.

That was one of the reasons I loved Johnny. I knew that he would always protect me and together I always felt safe walking the streets.

We walked for about a mile to get to the train tracks. In order to reach the tracks we had to climb a steep hill about forty feet high. Luckily, the hill had quite a few large rocks jutting out, so it wasn’t hard to get good footing. Johnny hit the top first, and reached back and grabbed my hand pulling me up the last few feet.

I’m always havin’ to pull you up, Johnny said. If wasn’t for me you would never get nowhere.

Thanks, I replied sheepishly.

Standing on top of the hill it seemed much higher than it had appeared from the ground.

There were two sets of tracks, one northbound and one southbound. A thin strip of black rocks separated the two tracks by about three feet. We walked along the strip for about a quarter mile or so until we reached a long and narrow bridge overpass.

That looks like a good spot, Johnny shouted.

A good spot for what?

A good place to get our pennies flattened.

We walked out about forty feet onto the middle of the overpass. I could not bear to look straight down, but I knew we were at least one hundred feet above the ground. Just peeking out over the side left me feeling quite dizzy. Johnny ran ahead and I pushed my legs forward even though they were beginning to feel quite heavy. He knelt down and peered down the tracks; leaning over them, he inspected the construction looking for the perfect position to place the pennies.

I got it, he said. Give me the pennies.

He held his hand out towards me. I squeezed my hand into my pocket and pulled out the two shiny coins.

Now, which side do you think will come first? Johnny asked.

How the heck do I know?

I certainly did not know, nor did I care; I just wanted to get off the bridge before any train came.

Johnny looked up and down the tracks, his head moving back and forth. His ears perked up like a dog trying to hear a high pitch sound. A moment or two passed as we waited in absolute silence, as if the world around us had stopped. Then a smile spread across Johnny’s face, a slight sound in the distance. His head turned towards the South. I watched him stare off in the distance until he saw what he was looking for. It was about a half mile away, but a train was approaching on the horizon in the northbound direction moving at a very rapid clip. Without saying a word, Johnny reached out for the coins, which I pushed hard into his hand. He slowly leaned over the tracks and placed the coins side by side on the inside rail of the track.

As he positioned them, we jumped back onto the rocky divider and began walking away from the train that was approaching on the northbound tracks. By this time, the noise had gotten so loud that my sense of balance was thrown off completely. Between the heights, the noise, and the approaching train I felt like I was going to be sick and throw up at any minute.

Johnny, we need to get off this bridge right now, I pleaded. I am feeling very nauseous and I’m can’t breathe.

Don’t worry we have plenty of time.

I wanted to walk faster but Johnny was taking his sweet time, and I did not want to get out in front of him.

Come on, Johnny, let’s get out of here! I said, forcing the words out of my mouth.

What are you so scared of? Johnny said, laughing as he spoke.

I glanced back over my shoulder to see how far away the train was, to make sure we would had enough time to get off the overpass before it passed. It was only a few hundred yards away from us. As I turned my head away from Johnny back in the direction we were walking, I saw the most terrifying sight that I ever seen in my life. Coming up the southbound track was another train curving around the bend near the entrance to the overpass. We had not seen it since there was a blind spot at the bend in the tracks. We would have heard it coming, except the sound of the northbound train had completely drowned it out.

It was a moment I will never forget, I completely froze. My body parts felt like hundred pound weights and I could not move my arms or legs. My dizziness and nausea turned to sheer terror. My body started to sway and I could feel myself losing consciousness. I felt my legs giving out and started falling towards the tracks. Before I knew what happened, I was on the ground laying face down on the jagged black rocks that divided the two tracks