the BIG FELLA

Jane Leavy, author of The Last Boy: Mickey Mantle (see my first review of 11/15/2010) writes an enjoyable tale of Babe Ruth’s historical barnstorming tour of 1927 with Lou Gehrig. Ruth had just finished the 1927 season with a record of 60 home runs. The hard-nose Commissioner of major league baseball, who was hired by baseball because of the 1919 Black Sox scandal, had a rule that the winner of the World Series couldn’t barnstorm that year. What?? Babe didn’t care about rules or fines. He made more money than God (just a phrase, but almost true) with his countless endorsements, vaudeville acts and silent movie appearances. The Babe had a sports agent! Yes, Christy Walsh is the sport’s world’s first full-time agent...and his only client was the Babe (who needs anybody else). The Babe’s team was called “Bustin Babes” and Lou’s team was “Larrupin’ Lou’s. They toured many cities from the east coast to the west coast, playing local all-stars sprinkled in with some major leaguers. They attended and missed many town breakfasts, luncheons, and evening banquets and local award ceremonials they were invited to. It’s been said that they signed 5,000 baseballs during the tour! Every town in America wanted it.

I wasn’t aware of how badly the Babe was harassed and catcalled his during his career. His ethnicity was constantly questioned because of his big lips. People like Ty Cobb (a known racist) yelled the N-word at Babe from his dugout whenever the Yankees played Detroit. Babe is best described by Brother Gilbert from St. Mary’s in Baltimore (Babe’s childhood home), “If you ever wanted to see a bone out of joint or one of nature’s misfits, you should have seen him.” A sportswriter said, “His ears stuck out. Like handles on a loving cup. His hair stuck up. His nostrils spread wide. His lips were full as the rest of him would become. He was dark complected, having inherited his olive skin from his mother’s side of the family. In the rough tongue of the playground, he quickly acquired a nickname: Nigger Lips, or Nig, for short.” Wow, yet he succeeded big time. “George Ruth never shared his first impressions of St. Mary’s with his family. He never spoke about what it was like to go from being one of two surviving children in a family defined by a loss to be one of the many, what it was to go to bed that night wondering when or if he’d see that family again. He never said what it was like to sleep in ordered rows and dress in matching clothes, to share sinks and stalls in a communal washroom, to surrender to a system predicated on uniformity and routine.” Doesn’t it make sense that as the Babe got older, he became a nonconformist and a champion for orphaned boys?

In the late 1940s, as Babe was dying, the author spelled out the many opinions of various doctors. Even during his dying days, everybody wanted a piece of him. John Rattray, a Maryland chiropractor, thought the operation to stop his headaches was unnecessary. “Rattray was convinced he could have restored the Babe to full health and that he died not of cancer but as a result of nerves severed during surgery.” Bernarr MacFadden, a physical culture doctor (what!), had Ruth’s picture on the cover of his magazine three months after his death. He said, “If he would have put Babe on an exclusive grape diet he might have returned to the baseball field for many years of active service, notwithstanding his age.” Haha. “Ruth chose another course. He consented to an experimental form of chemotherapy and radiation then being tested on mice at New York’s Mount Sinai Hospital, where doctors reported that tumors treated with the drug melted away.” As Mel Allen, the great NY Yankee announcer would say, “how about that!”

Jane Leavy’s style of writing is soothing but also a little annoying. You will be going along with something interesting and realize that she is suddenly talking about something in the past right in between the current stuff she was just talking about. It’s done almost unobserved. Does that make any sense? Her books do seem to be highly certified though. In this book, she has 104 pages of author’s notes and sources to back up her claims. Overall, I enjoyed this book mostly because of the subject matter...Babe Ruth.

Rating: 4 stars out of 5

Comment: From Jane’s Epilogue:

On August 12th,1948, the hospital announced his condition was critical. Two days later, doctors began issuing hourly bulletins. On the 15th, Paul Carey reached Julia at the nearby hotel where she was staying with Claire, “I think you’d better get over here.”

On Sunday, August 16th,1948, he managed to get out of bed and sit in a chair for twenty minutes, but his breathing was labored. His temperature continued to rise. He told Claire, “Don’t come back tomorrow, I won’t be here.”

Slugger rallies, pulmonary complications. Family at the bedside. Slugger sinking rapidly. Slugger failing.

“The slugger had never failed at anything and he certainly wasn’t going to fail at this. At 6:45 p.m., May Breen DeRose read him a telegram. As she got ready to leave, he lurched out of bed and started across the room. “Where are you going, Babe?” the doctor asked.”
“I’m going over the valley.”

“At 7:30 p.m., he received a final blessing (8/16/1948). Minutes later he fell into a deep coma. He was pronounced dead at 8:01 p.m.”

The autopsy showed that he didn’t die of cancer of the larynx. He died from a very rare and aggressive form of nasopharyngeal cancer that had spread to his neck, his lungs, and his liver.
His granddaughter Linda offered a different opinion. “I think baseball killed him; not cancer. He had no more worth in his head.”

Babe Ruth died at age 53, his clean-up hitter, Lou Gehrig at 37.