He was such a great guy. He was very old when I knew him, but there was something extremely childlike and naive about him. Not negative traits; they added to his charm. He was a first generation American who somehow never lost the slight Germanic accent he must have picked up from his parents and Milwaukee neighborhood at the turn of the century. Such a different kind of guy from a ballplayer's standpoint. Lots of great stories.
When I visited him for the first time, he had just moved into a nursing home. The only possessions he had were some clothes, a photo of him and his wife, his old desk, some postcard photos, Xeroxes, Conlon cards and about 20 Sharpies. He was always trying to give me as many of those signed items as he could, as they represented the only gifts he had to offer. He had saved absolutely no memorabilia or equipment from his career: "That stuff was for playing, not for saving".
He was struggling with senility, but had his clear moments--enough that I managed to get lots of great stories out of him over the years! He was so generous in always insisting upon picking up the tab if I took him to his favorite steak house. The only way I could return the favor was to smuggle some contraband beer and cigars into the nursing home. They let him have his cigars, but not inside, and kept them under lock and key. Getting outside was a struggle with his bad knees and a dilapidated walker with tennis balls on the feet to prevent slipping. (This is the top-notch care you got for $3000/month nearly 30 years ago...). There's nothing better than sharing a few beers and a cigar with someone pushing 100. Better yet if that someone held a HR record not even the Babe could claim! Man, did he hate Ty Cobb, but he loved the Babe. He also had great respect for Walter Johnson.
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