When a pitcher goes through a season garnering 25 wins against only 8 losses, you have to figure that he’s speaking loud enough alone by his performance on the field. Well, that was exactly how the soft-spoken Clarence Beers played it as the pitching ace of the 1947 Houstons Buffs. His efforts, with some considerable help from the ’47 Buffs offense, plus fellow 20-game winner Al Papai, proved plentiful enough in getting the job done. With good command of his several quality pitches, the cool-tempered 28-year old quiet man from El Dorado, Kansas had done more than enough to draw attention from the parent club St. Louis Cardinals when it came to thinking about 1948 season. Beers had been a late season call up for the Buffs in 1940, but he only got here long enough at age 22 to go 0-1. Now it was seven years later, but even at age 29, and in spite of the fact that his 25-game win season in 1947 was only the first 20 plus wins year since his career began back 1n 1937, Clarence Beers finally had earned a shot at the majors with the Cards.
The opportunity for Beers finally came in relief on May 2, 1948. Unfortunately, Clarence lasted only two-thirds of an inning against the Chicago Cubs at Sportsman’s Park in St. Louis, giving up four runs (one earned) on three hits and a walk. Beers had no strikeouts. A walk and and a wild pitch also didn’t help his cause in an early season game captured by the Cubs, 13-4.
As so often happens, that was it for Clarence Beers in the majors. He was soon assigned to Columbus of the AAA American Association. where he posted a lacklustre 10-12, 5.35 ERA record for the minor league Redbirds. In 1949, Beers was back here to play for a bad Houston Buffs club, finishing the ’49 season with a record of 11-14 and a 3.48 ERA. Clarenece Beers also began the 1950 season with the Buffs, but was soon dealt to the Beaumont Roughnecks, the eventual champions of the Texas League that season under manager Rogers Hornsby. His 7-7, 3.72 ERA in 1950 preceded a return to Beaumont in 1951, where he battled effectively through the season, finishing with a 14-15, 2.80 ERA record. 1952 would prove to be Clarence’s last full season when he went 5-18, with a 4.47 ERA for Toledo-Charleston of the American Association. Beers finished 1952 with no record and a 4.91 ERA for Seattle of the AAA Pacific Coast League. He then went 3-7 with three clubs in 1953 and then hung them up for all time.
When we add up the results of his fourteen year career (1937-42, 1946-53), we find Clarence Beers on the light side of a career record that included 148 minor lreague wins against 158 minor league losses. His statistically exceptional year came in 1947, when he also held the opposition scoring down well enough to finish with a 2.40 earned run aerage.
I only met Clarence Beers once – and that was at the 1995 Last Round Up of the Houston Buffs. I was impressed right away with his calm, quiet, cool, and steady manner. Everything I had ever heard about the man kicked in: He was a good guy to have on your side. He was about winning. He cared about the game – and he covered his teammates’ backs. No bovine bravado flowed from this man. He was just real. And it was my good fortune to have met the man who was one of the first professional pitchers I ever saw work back in 1947, the year of my baseball awakening.
Clarence Beers passed away on December 6, 2002, just three days short of his 84th birthday, in Tucson, Arizona.
It’s hard to find a good picture of fellows like Guy Sturdy, almost as hard as finding anyone other than the most arcane-interested of baseball researchers who even remember him. That’s Guy Sturdy in the St. Louis Cardinalesque uniform of the 1935 Baltimore Orioles. Guy had taken over as manager of the then AA International League Orioles in late 1934. He held onto the skipper’s job without much success until he was fired and replaced during the 1937 season. Based upon Baltimore’s 5th place finish, 13 games back in 1935, we are inclined to presume that the new Packard that Sturdy is receiving in the picture as a gift from fans must have taken place at an earlier, more wishful moment near Opening Day of that season.
The Ist Annual Knuckle Ball, a full dress benefit banquet established by the Joe Niekro Foundation to raise money for aneurysm research at Methodist Hospital in Houston, took place as scheduled on Friday night, July 31st, at Minute Maid Park. The gala dinner featured both a silent auction that filled the entire Union Station rotunda – and a live auction conducted by Stephen Lewis during the dinner itself.
Born in Martins Ferry – in the fall of ’44, Joe and Brother Phil – were the knuckler’s paramour! – They wound their way through baseball, vexing hitters all the same – From Mendoza’s line to Da Vinci’s circle, the knuckler was to blame!
Go forth, Joeseph Niekro, through the heavens afar! – Throw your tantalizing knuckler, so we’ll know where you are! – And, on some summer night soon, across a sky, black as tar, – We shall find you fluttering wobblers, striking out a shooting star!
A couple of days ago, I presented y choices for the All Time Buffs team, based upon career performances in the big leagues and their accomplishments with Houston. Four future Hall of Famers filled nine of those spots, but none of these guys are members of my all time favorite Buffs starting lineup. “Houston Buffs Forever” is my Buffs club, the one I grew up watching, the one I’d be willling to go to baseball war with as either a field or fantasy all star club manager. These guys were my heroes – and they all played during the years of my “open-to-role-models” years, 1947 to 1953. Anyone who played for the Buffs before or after that time frame had little to no effect upon me as a character mentor, with a few exceptions, but I did continue to learn about life and baseball from all the guys I watched play at Buff Stadium through their last year of 1961. Bob Boyd, who broke the color line in Houston in 1954, would be the biggest example of a teacher who came to me in thr middle of my adolescent years. I admired the cool-under-fire way in which Boyd handled the pressure of performing very well as the first black man to play for the previously all white Houston Buffs. I also loved watching future left fielder Billy Williams, third baseman Ron Santo, and pitcher Mo Drabowsky of the 1960 season club, but none of these guys, not even Boyd, made it to my personal starting lineup – the one I call “Houston Buffs Forever.” Here they are – my personal favorites – now and forever. I’d take on the whole baseball world with these guys – and I’d keep on trying, win or lose, with this same lineup, to excel against all odds. These guys are all a generous blend of baseball character and athletic talent.
SOLLY HEMUS, SECOND BASE: Solly was my first baseball hero back in 1947, that is, unless we don’t count my dad. but he was definitely my first role model from the professional ranks. Hemus played three seasons for the Buffs (1947-49) before going on to his very successful career in the majors with the Cardinals and Phillies. He is still going strong today in the oil business at age 86. Solly went into private business after concluding his tenure in baseball as a manager and coach, but he has stayed in touch with the game and a variety of charitable causes supported by various baseball concerns. Solly Hemus is one of the most humble philanthropists that the game has ever known. He supports a number of worthy works, but he avoids any action that will draw serious attention to his giving. If everyone we know had the heart of a Solly Hemus, and the modesty that only comes from the anonymity of the giver, the world would be a much nicer place for all of us. Solly Hemus is also the only member of the All Time Buffs Performance Club to make my personal Buffs preference team.
HAL EPPS, CENTER FIELD: They dubbed him as “The Mayor of Center Field.” His speed and defensive skill spoke to the origins of that nickname, ut he laso patrolled the Buff Stadium middle garden as though there were no term limits on his tenure of service. Long before I ever saw a Buffs game, Hal Epps played in Houston from 1936-1939 and again in 1941-1942. I first saw Hal play during his last three years in Buff Stadium, from 1947-1949. The former Philadelphia A’s and St. Louis Browns outfielder was a pivotal player for the 1947 Houston Buffs’ Texas League and Dixie Series Champions. After he left baseball, Hal Epps lived quetly in the Houston area until his death at age 90 in 2004.
LARRY MIGGINS, LEFT FIELD: Irish Larry Miggins had a four season stay in Houston (1949, 1951, 1953-1954) as a slugging outfielder for the Buffs. His 28 HR during the 1951 season were a big factor in the Buffs capturing the Texas League pennant that year. He also had a great tenor voice and was sometimes asked to sing at games on special holiday occasions. “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling” is the number I remember best. Miggins was noted for his honesty. One time, when he was playing left field for the Columbus Redbirds in a playoff game, a batter hit a ball over Larry’s head that the umpire ruled a ground rule double for landing in an unplayable area short of the stands. When the other team protested that it was really a home run that had then been dropped into the unplayable area on field, the umpire called time to ask Larry which call was correct. Larry’s words supported the opposing team’s view – that it, indeed, had been a home run for the opposition – thus, costing his own team a run. For that honesty, Miggins was almost run out of the stadium on a rail by the home crowd, but it was honesty the umpire wanted. And honesty is Mr. Miggins’s middle name – or should be. Larry Miggins is one of my dearest friends in the world. Today, at hearly age 84, he still lives in Houston with his lovely Irish wife Kathleen – and very near their surviving eleven grown children and numerous grandchildren.
JERRY WITTE, FIRST BASE: My first sacker is one of the greatest sluggers in minor league baseball history. Jerry’s 308 career home runs included the 38 he blasted to lead the 1951 Buffs to a Texas League pennant and, more incredibly for that pre-steroid era, the 50 HR he launched for the 1949 Dallas Eagles. Jerry Witte didn’t simply “”Crawford Box” these homers, he blasted them – high, hard, and faraway into the night or late afternoon skies – and in a manner that reminded of Babe Ruth. They were the baseball trajectory version of the great western Arch Memorial in St. Louis. – As a kid, Jerry Witte was the biggest hero I ever had. As an older adult, he was also my best friend. – A few years ago, I helped Jerry Witte organize and write his memoirs in a fine little book called “A Kid From St. Louis” (2003). (If anyone is interested in a copy, please contact me by e-mail for information about the purchase of a hard-bound first edition. As in all other matters, my e-mail address is houston_buff@hotmail.com . Jerry and Mary Witte were both myclose friends – and they spent most of their lives in the same East End section of Houston where I grew up, and attending the same St. Christopher’s Catchlic School that was my place as a kid. We lost Mary to cancer in 2001. We lost Jerry to a broken heart in 2002 at age 86. Jerry and Mary had seven daughters, whom I love today as if they were my own family. Jerry Witte was the most down-to-earth good man I ever met. Wish we could have kept him forever. The world would be a much better place for it.
KEN BOYER, THIRD BASE: When Ken Boyer joined the 1954 Buffs, he came with “great major league future” stamped all over his travelling trunk. He could run, hit, throw, hit for average, and hit for power. His 1954 Buffs stats included a .319 batting average, 21 home runs, and 116 runs batted in. He was too good for a second season in Houston, but he was the offensive force of that championship club while he was here. He actually performed better in Houston than Ron Santo did, six years later in 1960. Either guy is a great pick at 3rd base, but I’ll take Boyer as my personal choice – and that’s probably influenced by remnant bias in favor of people and things of the Cardinals over the same from the Cubs. I’m pretty much biased in favor of St. Louis, except for those times they stand in the way of our Houston Astros. Under that circumstance of St. Louis versus my beloved hometown, I’m for Houston all the way. Every time.
JIM BASSO, RIGHT FIELD: Jim Basso was a Buff in 1946 and for part of the 1947 season. I really didn’t get to know Jim until later in life, but that made up for a lot of lost time. Basso was one of fieriest guys I ever met. His biggest disappointment in life was his failure to reach the big leagues long enough to get into the record books as a former big leaguer. His greatest thrill was meeting and partying with Ernest Hemingway in Cuba during spring training one year in the late ’40s. – If Jim Basso were alive today, I’d want him in my lineup.
FRANK MANCUSO, CATCHER: I grew up on Japonica Street in Houston’s Pecan Park subdivision in the Est End. Frank Mancuso’s mother lived just down the street on Japonica, at the corner of Japonica and Flowers. My mom knew Frank’s mom. They went grocery shopping together in my mom’s car. Frank Mancuso and his brother Gus were everyday names in my life for as long as I could remember. The former Senator and Brown, who survived a parachute freefall in the Army during World War II – and then got home in time to catch for the only Browns club to ever visit the World Series in 1944 was another great human being. He didn’t reach the Buffs until 1953, but he was already deeply in the heart of Houston as a citizen. After baseball, Frank ran for a place on Houston City Council. He won – and then he stayed there for thirty years as probably the most honest politician to ever serve this community. He represented the East End well and he promoted the improvement of parks and sporting venues for the inner city kids who, otherwise, had little. When Frank left us in August 2007, at age 89, the people of Houston lost a man who really understood what public service was supposed to be about. Frank Mancuso was another good friend that I miss a lot, everyday. No one else could be the catcher of my “Houston Buffs Forever” club.
BILLY COSTA, SHORTSTOP: Little (5’6″) Billy Costa served two stints with the Buffs in 1946-47 and 1951-52. He was another of those Rizzuto-type pepperpot players who kept everyone on their toes, both on and off the field. When Billy came down with polio in 1951, I was crushed by the news. I promptly made all kinds of prayer and pubescent reform deals with God, if He would just cure Billy Costa of his affliction. The efforts of so many kid fans in prayer and bargaining must have done something because Billy Costa was well enough to play for the Buffs again in 1952. After baseball, Billy served a long time in politics as an elected member of the Harris County Commisssioner’s Court. I never met Billy personally, but I always liked him as a player. He died several years ago, long before the normal time span for most people. I’ll take Costa as my “HBF” shortstop, even if he couldn’t hit as well as Phil Rizzuto. Billy never made it to the big leagues.
AL PAPAI, PITCHER: On a day when knuckle balls are totally on my mind (I’m attending tonight’s Knuckle Ball Benefit Dinner downtown), Al Papai stands out as the clear choice to be my starting “HBF” pitcher. Al went 21-10 with a 2.45 ERA for the ’47 championship Buffs; he returned to go 23-9 with a 2.44 ERA for the championship ’51 Buffs. When his knuckle ball was bobbing right, nobody could hit it – and few catchers could catch it – but batters still swung at it, hopelessly, in self defense. Papai also had a wry sense of humor. In 1951, he was called upon to escort beauty queen Kathryn Grandstaff to home plate in a pre-game ceremony at Buff Stadium. When that same queen later married crooner Bing Crosby and became something of lesser light movie star, Al Papai enjoyed reminded others of his earlier service to the lady. “Just remember,” Al said, “I gave her the start that made her who she is today!” When Allen Russell was planning the last Round Up of the Houston Buffs in 1995, sadly, Papai’s invitation arrived in Springfield, Illinois on the day of his funeral. Dead at 78, the world lost another of the grandest old Buffs, but he survives here in this roll call of those who played with great heart on the field to take his rightful place with my eight other picks for the “Houston Baseball Forever” nine. As I said earlier, I’d take on the world with these guys playing for Houston in their prime.
In 2008, dedicated bseball writer Paul Dickson put together a book he called “Baseball’s Greatest Quotations.” With index, this 652 page work covered a number of the great quotes from baseball history and quite a few items that most of us had never heard previously. My own favorites were the lines from Shakespeare that Dickson found as references to baseball. Well, I nver knew that old Willie Boy could hit, throw, run, or play catch with a baseball, but I always admired his work. William Shakespeare did a pretty fair job of pitching words and ideas from the English language that covered all the bases, didn’t he? By the time he was done, he had gone through all the great plots of human edeavour, leaving all writers who followed him with the challenging task of cooking up some edible rehash.
We have Channel 13 Sports Direector Bob Allen to thank for today’s blog subject. Yesterday he sent me a nice note about his own early Houston Buff Stadium memories – and one of the names he mentioned among these jewels was Lou Mahan, the ballpark organist. Thank you, Bob! The mere mention of the talented Ms. Mahan alone simply pulls my spinal soul back to the place where it received its original baseball charge – and for people like Bob Allen and yours truly, that place was Buff Stadium on the Gulf Freeway at Cullen Boulevard, on the site of the recently closed Finger Furniture location there. If you followed my previous blog over at Chron.Com, you’ve heard me write about Buff Stadium many times. It was the home of our pre-major league Houston Buffs from 1928 through 1961.
Here comes the soundtrack … one item at a time … each new item simply adding to all others that came before it: … footsteps by the hundreds … laughter and loud voices shouting between fans who are meeting up for the game … the louder yells of early food vendors hawking hot dogs and beer to the early arrivals … the twilight ear buzz of Houston’s vampire mosquito squad … the sound of fungo bats banging baseballs into the deepests alleys of the Buff Stadium outfield … the occasionally muffled sound of private player talk, oozing into the stands as the players take defensive drill practice before the game … and one more thing – the sound of an organ playing in theme to whatever is going on upon the brilliant green playing surface of Buff Stadium.
They weren’t exactly bad. They were just absolutely horrible. The 1950 Houstons Buffs of the AA minor-level Texas League were well on their way to a deserved last place finish due to a severe absence of talent. It was one of those seasons in which the parent club St. Louis Cardinals had pumped all the talent upstream to their higher AAA level Columbus, Ohio and Rochester, New York teams.
Houston, Baseball, & Other Musings.
The Pecan Park Eagle 