Leaning Tower of People [Sketchy]

Meet Stanley Coveleski [Not-So-Forgotten Cleveland Indians]

Stanley Coveleski, whose name was spelled “Coveleskie” for his entire baseball career (rumor has it that it was misspelled early on and he was too shy to correct it…if true, aww!), was an utterly awesome spitball pitcher.  He worked in the coal mines through his childhood and claims his amazing control came from throwing rocks at tin cans for fun.  Good times.  Anyway, not only is he written up here as a “Famous Coal Cracker”, but he’s a member of the Polish-American Hall of Fame.  Oh, and the Baseball Hall of Fame (please note standardly hideous plaque “likeness”.  Who does these?).   I recently found an old New York Times article about the 1920 World Series — which Stanley C. utterly dominated, by the way, to the tune of three complete game wins with a .67 ERA — that referred to him as “the stolid-faced Polack.”  Yes, really.  His wife had died during the season, and he married her sister a couple of years later, ’cause I guess that’s what you did back then.

Without further ado, the next in what my husband calls my “1920 Cleveland Indians Bookmark Collection”:

http://www.coalregion.com/Famous/coveleski.htm

Meet Steve O’Neill [Forgotten Cleveland Indians]

In truth,  Stephen Francis O’Neill (yes, a good Irish-Catholic boy — how could you tell?), catcher,  is not nearly as “forgotten” as the other chaps I’ve been drawing and posting here.  He played for 17 years, managed for 14, and was respectable at both.  Most of what I know about these guys befor I draw them is pretty much relegated to what happened in 1920, for example, I knew Steve’s wife had twins during that season.  What I didn’t know (and just saw on wikipedia) is that TWO of his daughters married major league ballplayers.  God, I hope it was the twins!

Anyway, one of said unions was between a Miss O’Neill and a Mississippian shortstop named Skeeter who played shortstop on a team Steve was managing.  That’s all I’ll say about that.

The Ballad of Harry Bunte…er, Lunte [Forgotten Cleveland Indians]

I’m gonna write a poem about this guy, entitled “Don’t Call Me Bunte.”

And here’s the first and only stanza:

Filled in for Chappie

When he died,

Oh, Harry Lunte

Had quite a ride.

Three weeks later

Poor ol’ guy

Pulled a muscle

In his thigh.

Yup, that pretty much sums up his career.  Another reason why I love Harry: we have the same birthday, give or take 80-something years.  We shall celebrate together henceforth.

Meet Ray “Slim” Caldwell [Forgotten Cleveland Indians]

Oh, I could go on all day about Slim Caldwell.  He was struck by lightning the first time he pitched for the Cleveland Indians — and finished the game.  He was a little too fond of booze — okay, he was a stone drunk — so to ensure he’d be sober on days he pitched, his manager (Tris Speaker) had it written into his contract that he was required to get as inebriated as possible after each game he pitched, and was not to report to the ballpark the day after.  Apparently this bizarre arrangement worked.  Way to think outside the box, Spoke.

Anyway, Slim became a telegrapher for a railroad (ah, these quaint old-timey occupations) after his 12-year baseball career ended, and lived into his seventies.