Genesis

-- Elizabeth Danner

Bob Lintoff

There was a man named Mr. Watt, who had been involved with Little League in the Mid West. He got them organized and helped them write their first charter.

There was Mr. McKenzie. Mr. Lintoff. Mr. .. ah ... Don Pihl. Mr. McNair. Paul Inserra ... and, of course, my husband. That was the bulk of them. They got it organized and got it started.

Each boy was given a book of tickets ... Dollar Booster tickets we called them. They were just plain tickets, and the boys went door to door and tried to sell them for $1 a piece. They also got stores and merchants to sponsor. The Lions Club was among the first to sponsor a team -- the Cardinals. That's how we made our first money: a few sponsors and the kids selling booster tickets door to door.

Our cost the first year?

Oh, my goodness, I have no idea! Oh ... a $1,000 maybe. $1,500?

There were four teams. The Giants, the Dodgers, the Braves, and the Cardinals, I think. I'm pretty sure they had uniforms the first year. Not those old, scratchy wool things, but nice cotton ones.

The first opening day, there was a game in the morning and a game in the afternoon. All four teams played. The diamond was where that little playground is now -- next to the gymnasium.

There was no parade the first year. That started later.

David Simon (Colts of the Senior League) and David Okawachi (Cubs of the Little League) sell $1 Booster tickets.

Bob
Luoma

Pride Before the Call

-- Fern Luoma

It was 1957.  I was at Super Stop Market and the clerk was a young man who always talked about the Little League.

So where was University Village?  We had to find it.

We came down -- and froze!

Next time, we came all bundled up.

We had little kids ... stepping stones at the time. You know -- short, shorter, and shortest.

Well, there was this gentleman umpiring at second base. (They had umpires at each base then.)

And ... Bob Luoma!   Every time that man made ... what do you call it? ... a call -- Bob Luoma would moan, "Oh, my God!"

Out loud!

He was doing what you're not supposed to do ... but he didn't know it at the time, see. He would groan, "Oh ... that was terrible!"

Finally, between innings, that man came over and said, "Do you think you can do better?"

Bob said, "I know I can!"

And that's how we got started in the league. 1957.

Bob became the chief umpire. Every Sunday night he made phone calls to schedule volunteers for that week's games. His problem then was not having enough games to assign the men who wanted to umpire.

Learning the Lingo

-- Fern Luoma

 The Albany Times was a weekly. It came out on Fridays, then switched to Wednesdays. When they told me how they wanted to handle game accounts, I said -- no, I can't do that, because that's a nothing job if I'm going to write a story.

 So I phoned the Berkeley Gazette and spoke with the sports editor. He told me, "This is what you do." He gave me the box score  form and some sheets and told me how to follow it ... then fill in the captions ... singles and doubles, and anything interesting.  So I did that.

 The next night it all came out in the paper: "whiffed" and "fanned" and ...

 Somebody said, "Fern! Did you write that?"

 I said, "I don't know. I'm not sure, because I don't know what it means!"

 So that was my introduction.

 But I did pick up the lingo, and every day I phoned in my stories by 7 a.m.  At first we only covered the majors, but then we covered all the teams ... with box scores, everything.  I had to phone by seven so the stories could run the next day after the game.

 The hardest part was getting the score book or the re-cap from the managers.  They wanted it in the newspaper, but they wouldn't take the time to wait a minute or to be at home for me to phone that night. Then if it wasn't in, they were angry with me.

 I always tried to get the winner, because they were up. But sometimes you had to phone the loser ... and that was a bummer. Not only did they have to report the game they just lost, but how they lost it.

Demonstration!

-- Bill Lewis

  Jim Scoggins succeeded Del Wisenor as president and Jim named Larry Eaton to manage the All Star team. When Larry could not find a coach, Jim named me, "because Lewis will be there watching his son anyway."

  At that time, players were voted on to the team by the managers. Each manager nominated players from his roster ... up to six ... then the managers altogether voted for the team. Only nominated players were eligible.

  I nominated Denny Torres, Glenn Silva, and my son Bill. Bob Luoma nominated two of his Cubs. Two managers nominated weak players because they were mad at some of their good players. Nine players were unanimous votes, but getting down to the 14th player was a war. The vote was split between Bob Luoma's two nominations. We argued, then voted some more, then argued some more.

  Finally, Jim Scoggins, as president, stepped in and picked a kid that was not even nominated because the kid's father had helped Jim by umpiring and such.

  The first game, my son Bill (who was voted on unanimously) played and Jim's selection did not. The next game, the kid's mother and sisters came with signs: "Billy Lewis – Nepotism." The police had to walk them out of the park. We went to San Leandro next and they showed up there, too. Had to stop the game as they were chanting those words. The police  had to remove them. We went on to Fruitvale, and there she was again. But her husband showed up this time, so she picked a fight with him.

  What a mess!

  When I was president in ‘85, managers were removed from the process. From a list of all eligible players,  the first nineAll Stars were picked by vote of the players. The All Star manager then picked the rest.

The Hair Cut Rule

-- Bill Lewis

 Little League, Inc. was challenged in court for not allowing girls to play and the city of Albany wanted to throw us off the diamonds. We were sued, too. I went to several city council meetings over the issue. Little League, Inc. claimed it had to get research on the safety of girls playing hard ball. When it decided to let girls play, it also generated the hair cut rule.

 The rule was no hair to block the eyes, ears or protruding down the back below the helmet. They must be able to see clearly, hear properly and prevent hair from being stepped on. It was basically a ploy to punish the girls and long haired boys. We allowed the hair to be pinned up, as complying with the rule. However we warned the kids if we went out of Albany they may be required to have their hair cut.

 It happened in Dublin. One of our boys had his hair cut before an All Star game to be able to play.

 The rule was modified later to insure unimpaired vision only. After two years, it disappeared.

Lilith's Mother

-- Bill Lewis

  When the suit against Little League, Inc. was settled, Chamness put the first girl to play in the league on my team so I could handle any problems.

 Can't remember her name now. She was not in the team picture, because the season had already started before she was put on. Her mother had filed a law suit,  too. The city threatened to throw us off the diamonds. We could not put a girl on a team because it was against the rules.

 The first game, I did not start her and the TV people were there and they got on my back. They wanted to leave but had to stay until I put her in to play. My son started at second base and after he hit and played in the field I put her in my son's place.

 Of course she made an error and struck out.

 However, she became a very good player. Had a great arm.

 When the next season started, I was president. I went to see why she didn't sign up. She told me her mother would not let her and she really wanted to play.

 I talked to her mother, who told me she wanted her to play tennis instead.

 I said her daughter was good and baseball would not interfere with tennis and she wanted to play.

 She said, "I tell my child what to do."

 Of course, no TV or newspaper people covered that story.

 We had lots of girls come into the league after that. In '76, the Tigers won the minor league Tournament of Champions with Michelle Cummins, Tracy Snyder, and Saiga Chowdry. Our White Sox won the minor league TOC again in 1977 with Diane Giblin. Diane was a power hitter. They walked her with the bases loaded! She pitched and homered in the TOC.

Wise Words for Warriors

-- Dave Krone

  Our fiery 10-yr-old-with-Temper had just popped up for the third out and our Focused-on-Winning-11-yr-old told him he'd botched it. The 10-with-Temper responded by vowing assassination and reaching for a bat. Our 12-yr-old-with-Muscles stepped in with an inverted bear hug and held The Temper upside down, feet wig wagging at the dug out roof.

  We were playing the first of two make up games we had to win to finish tied for the 2nd half season championship. We had finished dead last in the first half season, but started a winning streak on the fifth game of the second half that kept us in the race -- but every game was "sudden death," because one more loss would eliminate us mathematically.

   As the other eight kids took the field, the Temperamental 10 (our catcher and our ninth and last player) stomped into the bleachers. We would lose if he stayed there.

    I thought we were becoming the best team in the league (we were the toughest already) and I was alarmed the season might end right then before we could finish the run.

    I put on my most casual demeanor and strolled to the fence. "You know ... if you don't come down, this season is over."

    The other eight kids warmed up at their positions. The 10 steamed over the view a minute, then tramped down and hitched on his gear.

    We won, 3-1, even though  the Pirates' Roman Davis chucked a no-hitter at us (for the second time that year). As we cleared the dug out, the kids were animated, happy, and thankfully, non-lethal.  I said,

"Don't you guys want a post-game meeting? Hear my wise words?"

Kweli, our future Rhodes Scholar (Harvard, 1997) said,

With your wise words, we finished last!

Who's On First?

-- Rex Higginbotham

At first, I thought I had missed a batter. But the kid at bat was the right player, and the kid at second was the player who batted before him ... so who was the runner on first base?

After I conferred with the umpire, we discovered the team at bat had sent a kid to coach first base. Instead of going to the coach's box, the kid had stepped on first as a base runner and nobody had noticed.

I always wondered how we would have untangled the mess if the kid at bat had homered before we recognized the situation.

An E for Ernest

-- Stephen DeGange

 One day, I was privileged to witness a couple of gems from young Ernest. A fly ball that soared over his head didn't affect him whatsoever. He had no idea of its presence until his teammates had exhausted their lungs calling it to his attention as the ball came to a complete stop against the fence. Coach Lon Suffring shifted him to left field for the next inning. This time a ball came to Ernest as a gift from god. He didn't have to move. Just hold out the glove and receive the manna.

Alas ... clunk. E-7.

 After the game, I spotted his father, for the first time, escorting E.H. from the park. Both looked blissfully happy.

 A twist:

 Ernest buddied up to me on occasion to talk baseball. He knew his stats.  He followed the major leagues avidly, as if his destiny were to be statistician for the Everett AquaSox, or perhaps, assistant curator of the resin bag collection at Cooperstown.

 One day, after another game of failing to catch or hit any ball that came his way, young E spotted my bright red Dukes hat and volunteered, "I've seen some games in Albuquerque. They are the farm team of the Dodgers."

 So, outside the foul lines (as within) he was ... Ernest.