Tribute to Stan Musial

Yesterday was a very sad day for baseball fans everywhere, especially for those of us who grew up listening to baseball games on the radio when we were kids. If my great Aunt Ann were alive today, she, too, would be very, very sad. Stan Musial, the great Hall of Famer of the St. Louis Cardinals passed away at 92. He played his entire career as a Cardinal.

Baseball was the National Pastime when I was a nine year old little-leaguer growing up in Woodsdale. Players like Stan-The-Man were colossal role models. When we played pick-up games, we would pick our favorite players to portray during the game. My favorite was Mickey Mantle, but I would pick Musial if he were still available when I got to choose. (Stan Musial, Babe Ruth, & Ted Williams always went one-two-three.)

One of my most pleasant childhood experiences was spending many wonderful hours with my Aunt Ann sitting on our front porch listening to baseball games. She was a true baseball fan, and shared that enthusiasm with me. She knew all the players and stats. She filled out a score card for every game she listened to. I think I learned how to score a baseball game before I learned my multiplication tables.

Our team was the Pittsburgh Pirates. She loved Bob Prince, the radio voice of the Pirates. His side-kick was simply known as the “Mole”. She definitely “saw” the game through their descriptions on the radio.

Our league nemesis was the St. Louis Cardinals. She cursed Stan Musial many times for his late inning, game winning home runs. Yet, at the end of the game she would usually say something about how lucky she was that Stan Musial played the game during her lifetime. She held Musial in higher regard than even Babe Ruth or Joe DiMaggio. There was only one other player she spoke of in such a reverent manner… Ted Williams.

I wish you all could have known my Aunt Ann…She would have considered us all quite fortunate to be baseball fans during the time of Stan Musial.

Hello From Bob Bertram

Hi to all of you at the Woodsdale Kids Blog, my name is Bob Bertram and I was a Woodsdale Kid from 1950 thru 1955. My brother Bill and I were also Woodsdale Children’s Home Kids on 14 Orchard Road and were more commonly referred to as “ kids from the Children’s Home “.

I think at this point I should give you some background information as to how we ended up in the Children’s Home in the first place. We where born in Steubenville Ohio and at some point my mother and father got a divorce, my father abandoned us and my mother could no longer support us, we also had a little sister, Carol. My mother agreed to place us in the home and my sister in a foster home until she could afford to support the family.

My mother came to visit us every Sunday and would never sign papers to put us up for adoption as other kids had been, I can remember a couple came to the home for adoption purposes and looked at me and said what a cute little boy I was and I’ll tell you I was afraid they where going to come to the home that night and get me, needless to say I didn’t sleep very well for a couple of nights. My mother got a job at the A&P store in Steubenville and brought us home along with my sister in 1955. Life in the Children’s Home is a story in itself, but all in all it was a better life than running the streets of Steubenville when I was in the first grade. The good Lord does watch over his children.

I don’t remember very many kids in my classes but I remember some teachers like Mrs. Johnson, Miss Riley in the 4th grade and Miss Fritz who always reminded us that it was Washington and not Warshington. My brother Bill mentioned a Mrs. Wolf that I don’t remember. I have some class pictures and pictures, along with names of some of the kids from the Children’s home that I will share with you when I join your Blog.

This has brought back a lot of memories from the past and it will take some time to review the Blog archives but I will post some memories of Woodsdale and the Children’s home that I hope won’t bore you.

Bob Bertram

A New Year’s Story

 

One New Year’s Eve when I was a freshman, my friend Randy Smith stayed over at my house. I believe his parents had gone out of town for a Bowl game. Randy’s dad was the sales manager of WTRF-TV and travelled quite a bit.

Randy and I had been to a New Year’s Eve party somewhere. I remember that my sister Helen was home from Duke for the holidays. She was our designated driver. Neither of us had a driver’s license. So, she picked Randy and me up at our party. My Mother and Father had gone to a big soiree at the Pine Room at Oglebay. It was around one a.m., as I remember, when everyone simultaneously arrived at our house. My sister, and Mom and Dad all headed for their bedrooms, and within fifteen minutes or so, I could hear my Dad snoring away raucously.

Randy and I, still pumped from our partying, decided to listen to some music. The stereo was in the dining room which unfortunately was right beneath my parent’s bedroom. So we had to keep the volume really low. I got out my 45’s and opened up the stereo. There on the spindle was an LP by a group I had never heard of, somebody named Doug Clark. Upon further inspection the label said his group was called “The Hot Nuts”. They were from Chapel Hill, NC. OK, my sister had brought home an album from college. Innocently, I placed the needle on the record. The first song was “My Ding-a-ling”. As we listened to the lyrics, it took only a minute to realize that this album was a DIRTY ALBUM!!! Not by today’s standards you must understand, but by 1960 standards, it was considered “dirty”. So Randy and I were glued to the speaker. We fell asleep as we played that album over and over giggling at what we heard.

The record was still turning when my sister came downstairs New Year’s Day morning. I stirred as she turned off the record player. She removed the record and put it back into its sleeve. She said quietly, “This will be our little secret”. I nodded and went back to sleep. I swore Randy to secrecy, and Doug Clark was mentioned no more, until….

I was in my 2nd year at UVA. A group of us decided to go to Durham two days after New Year’s for the opening of the ACC regular basketball season against Duke. We lost the game; however, at UVA our motto was “Never let the game get in the way of a good party.” It was a little after 10 pm, so we headed into Durham to find a place to drown our sorrows. We came upon a place called “The Cave”. As we entered, the band was playing a tune that sounded vaguely familiar. A song I had heard before, but a long time ago. As we settled in at the bar to get a beer, the refrain “My Ding-A Ling” roared from the stage and the people on the dance floor. I looked at the band, and there on the bass drum were the words “Doug Clark and The Hot Nuts. I immediately reflected back to those two boys with their ears pressed to the front of the stereo console blushing and giggling to this forbidden tune. So here I was witnessing the infamous Doug Clark “live”. The songs were all familiar, and much more graphic. I was not surprised. In no time I was singing along with the crowd at the top of my voice as if it were important to be heard. I never saw Doug Clark again, until…

While helping my sister Helen clean out the house last spring, I opened a box with some old albums, AND THERE IT WAS! “Doug Clark and the Hot Nuts”. Believe it or not, I felt myself blushing a bit.  I thought, “Now, where is that old record player?

Footnote: Doug Clark died in 2002.

Merry Holidays!

May all Woodsdale Kids have a Merry Holiday Season and many blessings in the New Year. This blogsite has put me back inn touch with some pretty amazing people so all the time and effort has been worthwhile.  We were so lucky to grow up where and when we did because our children and grandchildren will never know what it was like to feel so safe and secure and loved as we did. Look for the Spring issue of Goldenseal Magazine for an article about Woodsdale Kids and I hope to see more of you at this year's picnic.

Woodsdale Girls Take the Train

Today I was doing some research on the old B & O station which is now Northern Community College. It reminded me of a trip my Girl Scout troop took on the train to Pittsburgh about 1959 or 1960. The trains stopped running in 1960, so it must have been just before that. What a thrill it was for all of us. Our troop leader, Mrs. Greeneltch was so great in recognizing that some of us had never been on a train and this was historical...taking one of the last passenger trips out of Wheeling. I was enthralled. I remember especially going through the station at Elm Grove (now a Garden Shop).
   Since that day, I have had a love affair with trains and have taken the Pacific line up and down the West Coast several times and even one across from Seattle to Chicago and then on to Pittsburgh. Once I took the train from Pittsburgh to New York on crutches...the swaying of the train was a challenge, but worse yet was that I was in a full cast from hip to ankle so couldn't close the bathroom door as my leg stuck out the door...luckily, a friend traveling with me would stand in front of me when nature called. The people one meets on trains can only be described as "characters" and the seats should be described as "torturous"....but the dining cars, bar cars, and viewing cars with glass ceilings are wonderful.

Who Are These People?

Often when I am giving the Woodsdale Kids talk to different organizations, people give me photos of themselves....often without labels. So here are three I can't identify. Can you help?

A Halloween Short Story

One fateful Halloween night when I was around eight or nine, I remember having a great idea to have some “extra” fun after I finished trick-or-treating.

Without telling anyone, I climbed up one of the trees in front of our house armed with a couple of water balloons.  Surely,  someone worthy of a dousing would wander by. Maybe Sammy Heubacher, the neighborhood bully. Nah...Bad idea! He would pound me. Get the little kids! Yeah, that works. Nah, that won't work either. Their parents will be with them.

Well, the next thing I remember… there were flashing red lights and the sounds of a police radio underneath me . I could see and hear my Mother and Father talking with two policemen on our front porch. Strange, I thought, my Mother was describing my costume.

So, I climbed down to see what all the commotion was about. "Well. I'll be a sonofabitch! You get your butt up to your room this minute, Mister” bellowed my Dad as he gave me a swat. “I’ll deal with you shortly!” I scooted into the house while my parents apologized profusely.

As I went up the stairs, the grandfather clock in the hallway began to chime. “GEEZ LOUISE!!” It was Midnight.

It finally donned on me. I had fallen asleep up in that tree. And, the worst part about it was that I still had the water balloons in my pockets.