This article was written by Barry Sparks
This article was published in the The National Pastime: Monumental Baseball (Washington, DC, 2009)
In 1922, the New York Yankees played the New York Giants in the World Series; the majors produced three .400 hitters; Rogers Hornsby won the Triple Crown; and Organized Baseball reached the Eastern Shore of Maryland.
Baseball had long been a popular pastime on the Shore. Almost every town supported a team, and competition among the amateurs could be fierce. Baseball’s prosperity on the Eastern Shore needed no more proof than the fact that crowds at ball games sometimes doubled the town’s population.
Since most amateur players were farmers, chores like planting crops and harvesting strawberries complicated team schedules. Rain postponed games and farm work alike, placing pressure on good weather.
Impatient fans looked to the Class D Blue Ridge League in West Virginia and saw a firmer game schedule, ostensibly better umpiring, and apparently less rowdyism. They believed they gazed upon better baseball.
As early as May 1921, the Salisbury Chamber of Commerce had proposed a six-team Organized Baseball league on the Eastern Shore. Each town that wanted a team posted a $1,000 forfeit fee as a guarantee of interest. As soon as officials of the Blue Ridge League learned of these plans, they sent league president J. Vincent Jamison to Salisbury to explain the working details of Organized Baseball and the features of Class D organizations. Thus, the Blue Ridge League played a major role in the establishment of Organized Baseball on the Eastern Shore. It not only served as an example but also helped to set up the league’s first set of rules.
The league formally organized in late October 1921, and began play in 1922. The original teams represented the Maryland communities of Salisbury, Cambridge, Pocomoke City, and Crisfield, along with Laurel, Delaware, and Parksley, Virginia. These towns formed a geographic wheel that simplified team travel. Easton, considered too far north of the hub, lost its bid for original membership. The league required every town with a team either to build a new ballpark or enlarge its current one.1
Crisfield’s opening day that first season proved rather unforgettable—and a bit ominous. Many years later, Salisbury attorney Stanley G. Robbins, who played second base for Crisfield that season, recalled the game.
I remember it vividly. We were hosting Parksley. Around the second inning, the umpire called a third strike on a Parksley batter. Boos rang from the crowd of 600 and then, lo and behold, this drunk ran out from the sidelines and clobbered the umpire. Players and some of the spectators ran out and pulled him off the ump, who was later taken to the hospital. He was pretty beat up, if I remember correctly, and the game was called at that point. It was certainly an unusual way to begin the season.2
Despite various efforts, fan disorder remained a problem throughout the league’s history.
During the winter of 1922 and the spring of 1923, officials from each franchise tried to cover the league’s first year’s deficit by selling additional stock. This was a common method of raising money under an agreement most minor-league clubs had with the majors.
By terms of the agreement, the town baseball association was responsible for paying player salaries that ranged from the lower limit of $1,750 per month in 1922 to $2,250 per month in 1947. Major-league clubs then paid about $2,000 for exclusive rights to draft players from the Class D organization. On a working agreement basis, the major-league clubs were responsible for supplying players to their minor-league affiliates. Sometimes the major-league club would bear the entire financial responsibility for operating a minor-league team. Or one individual could financially support a team, which would operate independently of any major-league club. This was a risky arrangement that often proved costly. Arthur Ehlers, who owned the Pocomoke franchise in 1937–38, was the only man to take that risk in the Eastern Shore League. He later confessed to hocking his furniture on occasion to meet the team’s monthly payroll.3
In 1923, eight teams comprised the league, which had elected a new president, M. B. Thawley of Crisfield, and accumulated more than $2,000 in debts. Conditions worsened in early July, when Milford, Delaware, refused to abide by the class-player limit of three (a class player was one who had played in more than 25 games in a higher-division league). This rule, along with the monthly salary limit, was the basis for the league. Yet both were frequently violated and turned out to be instrumental in the league’s failure.
For violating the class-player limit, the team had to forfeit all the games it had won while that player was on its roster. These forfeitures could drop a team completely out of the pennant race early in the season and thus dramatically affect attendance. Milford chose to quit the league rather than submit to the indignity of forfeiting so many of its victories and playing the rest of the season to empty seats.4
Dover won the 1923 pennant with future Hall of Famer Mickey Cochrane, who played under the name of Frank King to protect his amateur status. In mid-July, Dover played Martinsburg, West Virginia, in the “Five State Championship” series (featuring Class D teams from Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania, Virginia, and West Virginia) and won the best of seven games. Once again the playoff series was responsible for what money there was in the league’s treasury at the end of the season. Helping at the gate this year was the renowned commissioner of baseball, Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis, who came to the Eastern Shore to witness the playoffs. On July 19, which had been dubbed “Landis Day,” Judge Landis watched Cambridge beat Laurel in Salisbury.5
The commissioner’s blessing notwithstanding, the Eastern Shore League faced serious troubles. Burdened with debt and facing an unpromising financial picture, officials had to doubt that the Shore could support an eight-team league. The 1924 season started on shaky ground—with yet another new president, Harry Rew of Parksley, and heavy debt, plus reshuffled franchises.
Except for pennant-winning towns, attendance-related problems plagued the league until finally, on July 10 1928, at the Wicomico Hotel, directors disbanded the league by a vote of 4–2. President Rew, writing his treasurer, attributed the demise of the league to the fact that “every club was running heavily behind with no prospects of any better attendance.”6
During the Great Depression, the Eastern Shore was without professional baseball. By 1936, however, the economy had improved and popular interest in reorganizing the league had mounted. All that was lacking was effective leadership, which finally came from Tom Kibler, baseball coach at Washington College. Kibler contacted the promotional director of minor-league baseball and promised to renovate ballparks that had been idle for six years. Eight towns pledged support for franchises—Federalsburg, Dover, Cambridge, Salisbury, Easton, Centreville, Chestertown, and Pocomoke City. To avoid another financial collapse, league members stressed the importance of adhering to the salary limits. Happily enough, the director agreed to resurrect the Eastern Shore League in time for the 1937 season.7
That year the revived league offered fans a pennant race that received national attention. By June 18, the Salisbury Indians had compiled a record of 21–5. The following day, league president Kibler ruled that the Indians had been using an ineligible player and had to forfeit their 21 victories. Individual statistics, however, were not affected.
Kibler’s ruling threatened the league with another collapse. First baseman Robert Brady was the subject of the controversial ruling. At the time, no club was allowed more than two members who had played in a higher-class league. Brady had been under contract to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, in the New York–Penn League for a year. He never played, however, and had been placed on the reserve list. Indians owner Joe Cambria objected, saying Kibler earlier had sanctioned Salisbury’s list of eligible players, including Brady. Under extreme pressure, Kibler remained firm and produced turmoil in the often-troubled league.
“Kibler . . . always impressed me as being levelheaded, but in this case, he seems to have forgotten the words ‘common sense’ are in the English language,” said Cambria. When informed that the ruling might cause the league to fold for a second time, the steadfast Kibler responded, “Then that’s just the way it will be.” Not even his personal relationship with Salisbury manager Jake Flowers (who had played for Kibler at Washington College), deterred him from enforcing the letter of the league law. If the temporary setback rattled Flowers, he never showed it. “We’ve won 80 percent of our games so far and I don’t see any reason why we can’t continue to do that,” he told some skeptics.8
Flowers had several reasons to be optimistic. In Cuban Jorge Comellas and Philadelphian Joe Kohlman, he had the league’s best pitchers. He also had the league’s best-hitting team. Before the forfeits, Comellas was 5–0, surrendering only 33 hits in 42 innings. Kohlman owned a 4–1 record and had allowed only 28 hits in 45 innings. Comellas was a crafty, 20-year-old right hander with a roundhouse curve. He had entered pro baseball after a revolution at home closed the University of Havana and ended his student days. Kohlman, a 24-year-old righty, had tried out for the Philadelphia Athletics in 1934 and 1935 and had played minor-league ball elsewhere before joining Salisbury. When questioned about his success, Kohlman replied, “I just mix them up—fastballs, curves, drops, change of pace and an occasional screwball.” Most Eastern Shore pitchers relied on one pitch; Kohlman had five in his repertoire.
“Comellas and Kohlman were just out of their league,” recalled Fred Lucas, who managed Cambridge in 1937. “Most of the players in Class D were fresh out of high school. Comellas and Kohlman had a wealth of experience and maturity compared to the rest of the league. Kohlman lost the second game of the season to us, 5–4. If a player hadn’t overrun second, the Indians would have won it. That turned out to be his only regular-season loss. That’s how tough he was.”9
Immediately following Kibler’s June 19 ruling, Salisbury forfeited 21 games and fell to last place. The Indians then caught fire. They split their next four games, but Comellas and Kohlman provided a foreshadowing of their dominance with back-to-back wins on June 29 and July 1. Comellas struck out 21 Centreville hitters en route to an eight-hit, 11–5 decision and his ninth win of the season. Kohlman followed by fanning 18 Cambridge batters while tossing a three-hit shutout. Playing at a feverish clip, Salisbury moved out of last place on July 29.
From August 1 until the end of the season, the comeback Indians went 31–3. The club split a doubleheader with Pocomoke on August 6, giving the latter a 32–35 record and sole possession of fifth place. Three games later, the surging Indians reached the .500 mark after playing at a .790 clip following the forfeits. Once at .500, they immediately embarked on a 12-game winning streak that carried them into second place.
The pace of victory slowed slightly in August and September, but the Indians’ momentum continued. On August 19, Kohlman won his 20th consecutive game—a 9–1 decision over Centreville. The following day, however, Centreville snapped Comellas’ winning streak in a thrilling 2–1 game. Comellas was touched for seven hits, but two close calls proved crucial. Salisbury bounced back with three consecutive victories. In the third game, Kohlman made a relief appearance in the tenth inning and notched his 21st victory. That moved the Indians (47–36) just one game behind first-place Easton. A victory over Dover pushed the Indians into a first-place tie with Easton on August 27. The Indians maintained their momentum with back-to-back wins by Kohlman and Comellas.
With ten days remaining in the season, five of the league’s eight teams had a shot at winning the pennant. Salisbury appeared in trouble on September 1, after losing to Pocomoke, 4–3, while Easton won a pair of games. But a four-game winning streak moved Salisbury into first place by one and one-half games on September 3. In an important contest with Easton, Kohlman responded with a no-hitter and his 20th consecutive win. Salisbury then clinched the pennant by sweeping a doubleheader from Easton. Kohlman won the opener, 1–0, and Leon Revolinsky won the nightcap. The Indians had climbed from the cellar to win the pennant by three and one-half games.
For the regular season, the Indians had actually won 80 of 96 games for an amazing .833 winning percentage. That mark has never been equaled by any full-season minor-league club. Manager Jake Flowers was named “Minor-League Manager of the Year” by The Sporting News.
This heroic comeback, which featured 59 wins in the final 70 games, owed much to Comellas and Kohlman. But Salisbury’s offensive power certainly provided balance. On August 27, when Salisbury tied for first place, shortstop Frank Trechock was hitting .360, second baseman Jerry Lynn .344, and centerfielder Bill Luzansky .321.
The amazing Indians hadn’t finished yet. Salisbury entered the Eastern Shore League playoffs against Cambridge, while Easton played Centreville. The Indians defeated Cambridge behind Comellas’ 23rd win and Kohlman’s 26th consecutive victory. Centreville eliminated Easton in four games.
In the opening game of the best-of-five championship series, Centreville shocked everyone by shelling Comellas, 9–1. In game two on September 14, Centreville ended Kohlman’s winning streak at 26 when Lloyd Gross halted Salisbury, 3–2. Gross fanned nine, walked one and allowed just five hits. John Bassler rescued the Indians in the third game, beating Centreville, 6–3, with relief help from Comellas. Bassler came back to win game four by a 7–2 count to even the series. In a fitting finale, Kohlman threw another no-hitter as the climax to the Indians’ miraculous 1937 season.
While the summer of 1937 was the most memorable for Eastern Shore League fans (and one of the most unusual in baseball history), their heroes failed them in stiffer competition. Immediately following the playoffs, Kohlman, Comellas (who would not pitch in the majors until 1945), Trechock, Lynn, and catcher Fermin “Mike” Guerra reported to the Washington Senators, the team’s parent club. Fame proved brief for all but Guerra. Kohlman’s major-league totals show a 1–0 record in 27.7 innings during parts of two seasons, while Comellas closed at 0–2 in 12 innings with the 1945 Cubs. Trechock and Lynn each played in one game. Trechock went 2-for-4 and Lynn rapped two hits in three at-bats. Guerra went on to play nine seasons in the majors with the Senators, Philadelphia Athletics, and Boston Red Sox. He compiled a lifetime batting average of .242.10
The Eastern Shore League between 1938 and 1940 was financially stable and lost only one franchise (Crisfield was replaced by Milford in 1938); future big-leaguers Mickey Vernon, Carl Furillo, Sid Gordon, Mel Parnell, and Ron Northey all provided glittering play that helped fill the parks. Yet league problems like rowdyism continued. When the Eastern Shore brought Organized Baseball to the area in 1922, community leaders had hoped to eliminate misbehavior at the park. Instead, higher stakes led to more rhubarbs, team fighting, and fan abuse of umpires.
On July 26, 1938, a game between Cambridge and Centreville came to a head when manager Joe O’Rourke took a swing at his Centreville counterpart Joe Davis while discussing the possibility of resuming the game. It had been halted in the bottom of the eighth with two Cambridge runners on base and no outs. Fans rushed onto the field, and as the melee worsened Francis O’Rourke, brother of the Cambridge manager and secretary to the club, was knocked cold and had to be carried away for medical attention.11
Less than a month later, when Cambridge beat Easton 8–3, a police escort was necessary to return the umpire safely home from disgruntled Easton fans. Two bad calls, according to Easton partisans, had ignited the incident. A similar fracas took place on July 21, 1940, when Cambridge beat Dover, 7–2. At one point, the umpire ejected Cambridge manager Hugh Poland, bringing fans out of their seats in anger. Only the peacemaking efforts of the Cambridge players kept them from spilling onto the playing field. Spectators quieted long enough to complete the game. But the umpires, even with the aid of local police, could not leave the park until the wee hours of the morning.12
American intervention in World War II took many of the brawling ballplayers overseas. In 1941, Dover and Pocomoke City dropped from the league, leaving a six-team circuit. Between Pearl Harbor and V-J Day, more than 350 major-league players served their country, and many regional players joined the exodus. The year 1941 was the worst financially for the league since 1937. Attendance dropped and only one or two teams showed a profit. An interesting season would have helped receipts, but Milford had led the league by as many as 15 games at one point and won the pennant handily, by four games.
Harry Russell, successor to Tom Kibler as the league president, nonetheless believed that the league could have continued had war not broken out. In any event, the league folded. Once again the Eastern Shore went without Organized Baseball.13
Naturally enough, baseball men began planning a league comeback even before the war’s end. Activists in each of the old franchise towns met to discuss the possibility in the winter of 1945. They included John Perry of Centreville, Dr. W. K. Knotts of Federalsburg, Dr. Walter Grier of Milford, and Fred Lucas of Cambridge. Harry Russell remained on duty with the army air corps, and coordination with major-league owners was weak. These owners, moreover, were wary of overbuilding their minor-league teams during those uncertain times. As in the past, the issue of renovated parks, or new ones, remained critical.
Cambridge, with its reputation as the best baseball town on the Eastern Shore, became a leader in talks with major-league owners. Fred Lucas, who had managed the Cambridge Cardinals as a farm team for Branch Rickey’s St. Louis Cardinals, set to work to try to persuade Rickey, who now co-owned the Brooklyn Dodgers, to support minor-league baseball in Cambridge—and to invest some $65,000 in a new ballpark.
Lucas had his baseball arguments well mapped out, but hunting and fishing proved the easier path to Rickey’s attention. “I began making trips to Brooklyn to talk to Mr. Rickey,” recalled Lucas. “He didn’t warm to my idea. He was an avid outdoorsman and would rather talk about fishing than Class D baseball. One day he asked me, ‘How are the fish biting in Cambridge?’ Without hesitation and without really knowing, I replied, ‘Great. Why don’t you come down and try your hand.’ ” Rickey was quick to accept the invitation.14
A few weeks later, Mr. and Mrs. Rickey visited Cambridge and stayed with Lucas. The next morning Milford Elliott took him and the Rickeys fishing on the Choptank River. Within ten minutes, Mrs. Rickey landed a good-sized croaker. A few minutes later, Mr. Rickey did the same. By the end of the day, Lucas and the Rickeys had caught 96 fish. Delighted, Mr. Rickey wrapped 50 of them in old copies of the Cambridge Daily Banner and packed them in one of Lucas’ old suitcases. He then caught the Colonial Express out of Wilmington for New York, the fish stored in the train’s refrigerator car.15
The Eastern Shore’s natural resources continued to appeal to Rickey, who, when Lucas visited Brooklyn to talk minor-league baseball, always greeted the ex-manager with questions—not about baseball, but about fishing and duck hunting. Lucas invited him to go duck hunting in Dorchester County. Again Lucas made the arrangements, engaging Adrian Hynson of Hoopers Island as a guide. Lucas made sure he would be with Rickey every moment, ready to mix business and pleasure. This time Rickey brought along his 31-year-old son. The day got off to a bad start on the water. When the hunters reached the blind they quickly realized it was going to be one of the coldest days of the year. With everyone shivering and generally miserable (they only shot one duck), Lucas did at least get in some talk about baseball.16
Rickey remained skeptical about backing a team in Cambridge and building a new ballpark there until Lucas proposed a money-saving idea. He suggested that the Brooklyn Dodgers could use the park as the site of a tryout camp before the class season opened, thus cutting the Dodgers’ operating expenses. Lucas believed Rickey was at least thinking about the suggestion and began to take heart. “A few days after Mr. Rickey returned to Brooklyn,” as Lucas told the story, “he called me and told me to pick out a site in Cambridge for the ballpark. I selected the Linden Avenue location in the center of town. Mr. Rickey and his organization spent $68,000 to build Dodger Park. It was rated as one of the top three Class D minor-league parks in the country. Just as we hoped, the move encouraged other major-league owners to support our Class D franchises.”
Following Rickey’s lead, other major-league teams jumped in to help their proposed farm teams fix up their ballparks. By 1946, each town had become affiliated with a major-league club.17
Thus the Eastern Shore League appeared, for the third time, in 1946. Tom Kibler again became president of an eight-team league, comprised of Cambridge, Centreville, Easton, Federalsburg, Salisbury, Dover, Milford, and Rehoboth. Centreville’s phenomenal fan support received national attention in 1946. Centreville’s postwar population stood at 1,100; in 62 home games, the team drew 42,500 fans, averaging nearly 700 fans a game. Sometimes the team drew 1,500. The largest crowd—for a playoff game against Dover, Delaware—numbered 2,550. Townspeople boastfully dubbed Centreville “Baseball Town U.S.A.” The Orioles’ outstanding play gave Queen Anne’s County fans plenty to cheer about. They fashioned an 88–37 record (.703) and won the pennant by 11 1⁄2 games.18
Rivalries fueled by betting and various player incentives also boosted attendance. Merchants frequently would offer $5 or $10 to any player who hit a home run, the amount climbing according to the importance of the game or even inning. Jack Dunn III, president of the Centreville Orioles, recalled how in 1946 Bunky Langgood collected quite a treasure for a home run against Milford, Delaware.
“We had just knocked Milford out of first place when they visited us in late July. The game drew 1,500 fans and the tension ran high as a pitchers’ duel developed,” he recalled. After nine innings, the game was tied 1–1. Then the fans started to get into the action. Since many were dairy farmers, a quart of milk was a common prize.
“When it was all over, the fans of Centreville, Chestertown, Queenstown and Stevensville had raised an unusual kitty. I don’t know if that was the incentive or not, but Langgood delivered an inside-the-park home run in the bottom of the eleventh inning for a 2–1 win. He won 64 quarts of milk and $100 for his game-winning blow.”19
Reminiscent of the Salisbury miracle of 1937, the 1946 Orioles won 31 of their final 34 games. By the end of July, the Orioles were in first place by four games. Many of the Centreville players had just come out of the service. They had the maturity that many younger Class D players lacked. The team also boasted great pitching, speed, solid defense, and good hitting.
The Orioles had three pitchers who won 15 games or more. Late in the season the team obtained Al Heuser, who went 6–0. Three of his wins came in the playoffs. The outfield of Langgood, Nick Malfara, and Fred Pacitto hit well over .300. Langgood and Malfara each drove in more than 90 runs. Washington College graduate Jimmy Stevens was always a favorite with Centreville fans and established the Eastern Shore League record for stolen bases in a season with 80.
Neither bonuses nor winning seasons gave the Oriole players or management the rewards they fully deserved. Team president Dunn, for example, had to wear many hats during his first year as a club official. Early in the season, catcher Lou Isert got suspended for fighting on the field. He had a habit of throwing dirt into the batter’s shoes and that started a melee against Seaford. Dunn, as he recalled in an interview years later, filled in for the catcher for a while and hit .465 as a reserve player. He got a chance to direct the club when manager Jim McLeod went into the hospital with a bad knee. Dunn took over in early July with Centreville in second place. When McLeod returned at the end of the month, Dunn was able to give him back the reins with the team in first place. If the groundskeeper was sick, Dunn laid the foul lines and took care of the field. He got up at 5:30 a.m. to wash the team’s uniforms. “I was one of the few playing club presidents,” he said later (he went on to become a vice president of the American League Baltimore Orioles). “I always tell friends that I ended my playing days when I went in and asked myself for a raise and the request was denied.”20
Although the 1946 Centreville Orioles won the league championship and playoffs, they had almost nothing to show for it. The reward for winning the playoffs was $500—split 20 ways. Then, despite the Orioles’ success, the parent club (the International League Baltimore Orioles) declined to return the club to Centreville in 1947. The Baltimore AAA team had payroll problems of its own and was unable to afford the luxury of a farm system at the Class D level.21
Playing in Class D minor-league baseball certainly offered few immediate material benefits. Caroll Beringer, who pitched for Cambridge in 1946 and 1947, going 22–6 in the latter campaign, and later served as bullpen coach for the Los Angeles Dodgers and the Philadelphia Phillies, recalled the conditions.
He signed his first contract at age 17. The Dodgers offered him 90 dollars a month and he was a little hesitant. But when they said they would pay his way home at the end of the season, he said nothing could have stopped him from signing. At the time, Class D players received a dollar-a-day meal money. To stretch it, they frequently asked the bus driver to stop near a watermelon field when they were returning from a game. Several players would run through the field and grab what they could. The team would feast on watermelon for dinner.
Neither living accommodations nor playing conditions boosted their spirits much. Players never stayed overnight in a motel, because all league teams were less than two-and-a-half hours away. Three other players and Beringer stayed in $4-a-week rooms at a house just a few blocks from the ballpark. On the road, the crowds were typically hostile.
Visiting pitchers learned to throw while keeping an eye out for the occasional flying tomato. Umpires took a great deal of abuse, just as before the war. Only two who worked the 1946 season returned in 1947. When it became harder and harder to find major-league clubs to support Class D teams on the Shore, Milford and Dover were dropped from the circuit after the 1947 season.22
In 1948, the Salisbury Cardinals had little trouble capturing the pennant, but the league itself was having trouble surviving. Fred Lucas, the league’s new president, faced perennial problems—failure to obtain working agreements with major-league clubs, poor attendance in some towns, and the lack of financial backing. At winter meetings after the 1949 season, officials of the Eastern Shore League desperately attempted to strengthen it.23
By December, survival was dubious at best. Baseball enthusiasts on the Shore discussed possible changes to insure continuation of the league. Some observers suggested expanding Class D ball to the Western Shore, with eight teams and four-day road trips.
Extending the geographical base of the league would spark new interest and involve larger towns such as Frederick and Hagerstown. Supporters argued that league attendance would increase. Others suggested fewer games, shorter seasons, fewer players, and lower salary limits. Lucas supported an internal reorganization of the league. In fact, as he would maintain years later, his plan became the basis of the “All-Rookie Leagues” established across the country in the mid-1950s.24
Lucas, however, was ignored. Major-league executives and baseball organizers on the Eastern Shore failed to share his vision, and the Eastern Shore League died for the third time after the 1949 season.
1 Salisbury Times, 19 May and 31 October 1921.
2 Ibid., 14 June 1972.
3 Ibid., 10 March 1923; author’s interview with Arthur Ehlers, 20 November 1970.
4 New York Times, 6 July 1923.
5 Ibid., 9 April and 19 July 1923.
6 Harry Rew to league treasurer, 14 July 1924, collection of Fred Lucas; see also New York Times, 1 May, 11 July, and 13 September 1923.
7 New York Times, 15 January 1937.
8 Ibid., 3 May and 1–21 June 1937.
9 Ibid., 21 June 1937; see also author’s interview with Fred Lucas, 10 January 1971.
10 New York Times, 20 June–30 September 1937.
11 Cambridge Daily Banner, 27 July 1938.
12 Ibid., 17 August 1938 and 22 July 1940.
13 Author’s interview with Harry Russell, 27 November 1970.
14 Author’s interview with Fred Lucas, 10 January 1971.
18 Daily Banner, 13 May 1946; Queen Anne’s Record-Observer, 1 September 1946.
19 Author’s interview with Jack Dunn III, 2 June 1977.
22 Author’s interview with Carroll Beringer, 5 August 1977; Daily Banner, 1 June–30 September 1947.
23 Author’s interview with Fred Lucas, 10 January 1971.