The Pecan Park Eagle

Sometimes it’s better to let those you wish to honor speak for themselves through a sample of their own work. Today I find that one past article from the Sunday, November 7, 1965 pages of the Houston Post speaks volumes for two men: It screams loudly for the time-and-energy-generous man it’s about – and it calls equivalent attention to the genuine sincerity and Houston-heart of man who wrote it.

Their names were Duke Duquesnay, Houston Youth Baseball organizer, and Clark Nealon, Houston Post sports writer supreme. Both men had great impact upon my generation of post World War II Houston kids and our attachment to the game of baseball – more than I could ever hope to cram into a single column by way of explanation. I’ll be content today to simply allow Mr. Nealon to tell the story for us.

Thank you, Mark Duquesnay, for sending me this column and other items about your late grandfather to me. He was a great man, as was the felllow who wrote this version of his story. Houston is the lesser today for both their absences.

Perhaps Houston;s most significant baseball career came to an end Wednesday night. P.E> (Duke) Duquesnay died in Saint Joseph’s Hospital after a long, game fight following a stroke on Oct. 8, and old and new friends paid final respects at services Friday to a 78 year-old energy, dedication to baseball and organizational ability who may have touched more male lives in Houston than any other.

For almsot 60 of his 78 years, Duke Duquesnay was a firm force at the grass roots of baseball in Houston. No, his wasn’t a Hall of Fame career as a pro. He didn’t get the acclaim of a major or minor leaue manager, the newspaper space in big headlines, and certainly never the complete honor due his untiring efforts.

Duke Duquesnay: 1907-1965; H for Houston; H for Heart; H for a Man at Home in Baseball.

 YOU SEE Duke didn’t operate at the top, glamorous level. Ol’ Duke worked at the greass roots, the, the amateur and kid baseball foundation of a game to which he gave a lifetime of day-by-day devotion.

From the time he came to Houston in 1909, mind you, until the last few months, Ol’ Duke worked with baseball and kids. Through at least three generations, over more than five decades, this kindly onetime railroad clerk devoted himself, and most of those around him, to keeping kids playing baseball.

Yes, from days when baseball was the only game – and it never was anything else to Duke – through yers when the hardest things for a baseball struck young fellow to get was a glove, a bat, a ball, and a place to play and and organized team. Duke used amazing promotional ability to provided these facets. Through wartime and finally into the the time of pplenty with Little League and the abundance of youth baseball, Duke was a big man at the small fry level.

PERHAPS THE POPULARITY of Little League and all other youth baseball of recent years was a fitting reward to Duke. We’ve always thought that if there was such a thing as a Baseball Hall of Fame to be constructed on a vacant lot on a Saturday morning, then such a shrine be most fitting to the lifetime crusade of Duke Duquesnay.

That was where Duke operated longest and best, a ball bag in oe hand, a few bats in the other and a string of small fry chattering behind him.

Ankenman, Moers and Guggenheim

In a hundred offices, conservatively among thousands of Houstonians, Friday, there was a keen, intimate memory of DUke and his passing. A large percentage of those men either got their start in baseball or athletics under Duke, or knew him well from competing against his teams.

Duke, for instance, was on the Houston baseball scene a year before Fred Ankenman, the longtime president of the Houston Buffs. And Fred paid Ol’ Duke one of the highest of tributes.

“DUKE DUQUESNAY MEANT more to youngsters and parents of this city than any other man I know of,” said Fred. “He worked unceasingly for baseball and kids in the same proportion. And he had so many ideas about ways and means to keep a youngster program going. He was doing so many things that are popular now when he was practically the only one had thought of them.”

Then there’s Bobby Moers, now a prominent Houston physician and surgeon., but back there in the 30s a kid looking for a game of ball in the Heights.

“Duke started me,” Bobby said Thursday. “We used to walk across a trestle over the bayou to get to a diamond he had out there. Duke provided the the bats and the balls, the team and found a place to play when all of them were hard to find. Duke did as much as anyone for Houston kid and amateur baseball.”

MOERS, OF COURSE, WAS ONE of Houston’s finest all-around athletes, easily could have gone on to major league status as a baseball players but for World War II and his choice of medicine as a career. But Bobby is only typical. Duke had so many (of) Houston’s standout ball players at a tender age – Marion Asbell, Bobby Runnels, Mike Schroeder, Emmett Fore, on and on, back through the years. So many, many. So many years and teams.

And right on through the tough years into the plenty of the post World War II seasons.

Alvin Guggenheim, past president of Rotary Club Activities, Inc. described Duke and his work:

‘I DON’T KNOW OF ANY three men who did as much for youth baseball in Houston as did Duke Duquesnay. The man’s dedicaiton, his organizational and promotional ability, his energy were amazing.”

‘What You Want Me To Do, Duke?’

Roger Jeffery and Duke worked together on PeeWee baseball for the smaller small fry, played against his kid teams at an early age. “I’ve know Duke forever,” said Roger, “as a worker for kid baseball. When he called, I got so I had a stock answer: ‘What do you want me to do, Duke?’ You knew he wanted you to do something for for kid baseball and you did it if you could because you knew DUke.”

PERHAPS THAT WAS DUKE’S top secret, besides dedication. He had an organization of the generations of kids he had started, given that memorable first chance..

And Duke, through his baseball, was a social worker before that term was invented as we now know it. A man of limited means himself, he specialized in areas where it was harder for kids to get a chance to play. And he specialized in benefits, too, including a ovel one with Ankenman one time when the goal shoes for needy kids, and they provided truck loads of them, new and used.

DUKE GOT SOME honors for his efforts. He was an Honorary Rotarian of the North Side Club in appreciation for his efforts when  Rotary International entered sponsorship of Little League. A Little League field is named for him. He was an assistant manager of Houston’s Little League National Champs in 1950, and he was presented (with0 the keys to the City of Houston in a ceremony in appreciation of his long work.

Reward Was in the Doing

In our experience, Duke was unique for dedication and length of that dedication, and for the fact that, to him, there was only one season, baseball, 12 months of the year. For no other have we witnessed as many baseball notices. In the spring, baseball notices for Duke filled a letter-size page for every week end — teams in all divisions, supporting organizations, etc. He once had the Dukettes, a pep squad for girls of Little League age. ANother time time he had a complete team of lefthanders. Name it. Duje had it. For baseball.

DUKE, IN THE 30 YEARS we knew him, never asked for anything for his own benefit, on any angle. He never used a ball player nor his baseball prgrams for personal reward tp our intimate knowledge. Duke’s reward was in the doing.

In the past few weeks, as the years took their toll, you missed the almost daily calls and the greeting:

“Duke, talking.”

There won’t be any more calls now, but the memory of the man won’t e forgotten. By thousands of Houstonians whose lives he touched. From Saturday morning on the vacant lot until right now.