Stan Musial Breathes Joy into a Somber Night in 1993
This article was written by Mike Eisenbath
This article was published in Stan Musial book essays (2025)
On a bitterly cold winter’s night, almost 30 years after his last swing of a bat in a meaningful baseball game, Stan Musial again came through in the clutch for St. Louis Cardinals fans. In doing so, The Man sent everyone home with a smile and warm heart on what could have been remembered only as a tragic night.
The daytime high temperature was a mere 32 degrees on January 19, 1993. That plunged to 17 overnight. So hundreds of Cardinals faithful had to bundle up as they trekked to a downtown hotel for the 35th annual awards dinner hosted by the St. Louis chapter of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America.
Not much to toast about the 1992 Cardinals. The ballclub had finished four games over .500, in third third place in the six-team NL East and 13 games behind the first-place Pirates.
Catcher Tom Pagnozzi, pitcher Bob Tewksbury, and shortstop Ozzie Smith were All-Stars; the Wizard of Oz won another Gold Glove, and Tewksbury – with less than one walk for every nine innings pitched – landed number 3 in the Cy Young Award voting. Left-handed hurler Donovan Osborne came in fifth in Rookie of the Year balloting. Center fielder Ray Lankford finished among the top 20 in MVP voting with a team-high 20 homers and 86 RBIs; he also led the league in strikeouts and times caught stealing.
Lee Smith led the league in saves. Cris Carpenter was a Cardinals pitcher. No, not THAT Chris Carpenter, who didn’t wear the uniform for another 12 years. Andres Galarraga, Pedro Guerrero, Ozzie Canseco, Juan Agosto, and Bob McClure also were Cardinals in 1992.
Overall, the Cardinals had begun their second 100 years as members of the National League in mostly forgettable fashion.
That didn’t matter to several hundred fans who packed the grand ballroom of the Adam’s Mark hotel. They seemed to do it every winter: Look hopefully toward the next summer and – maybe more importantly – celebrate memories of a rich baseball history.
As a recap in the next day’s St. Louis Post-Dispatch said: “They heard Cardinals manager Joe Torre give his first pep talk of the season. They heard Ozzie Smith, the night’s principal drawing card, talk of his love affair with St. Louis and the Cardinals’ fans.”1
A group of us sat around a table just to the front-right of the long head table. The mood was festive. Once Christmas decorations come down in St. Louis, most folks in the region look with great anticipation to that date when pitchers and catchers report for spring-training camp.
Our table – with friends, family and co-workers – brimmed with that kind of excitement.
The most prominent guest at the head table, seemingly as usual, was Stan Musial. The St. Louis writers’ group had decided to give him their “Nostalgia Award” – for the fourth time. “That must be a record,” wisecracked Musial, certainly no stranger to setting records.2
Sometime after dinner and before the speeches – these moments of my memory are understandably hazy – the unthinkable happened.
One of our dining partners suffered a heart attack.
The event, so close to the front of the room, put an immediate pause on the program. Paramedics rushed to the man’s aid while the rest of the room filled with hushed whispers. Concern for the gentleman teetered against impatient curiosity about whether the rest of the night’s plans would be canceled.
After an ambulance took the man to a nearby hospital, the writers’ committee decided to move ahead. But how to lift the somber mood?
Musial stepped up and took center stage.
Musial, 72 years old, appeared to have some vim and vigor as he greeted the crowd. That proved a welcome sight, as there had been reports he had faced some recent health issues.
At that moment, Musial pulled out his harmonica, which always seemed to be inside one of his pockets, and immediately broke into a rollicking rendition of “The Wabash Cannonball.” By the second verse, everyone in the room was clapping along, then Musial enticed the crowd to sing along as he played “It’s a Small World.”
And the rest of the night moved along according to plan.
Yes, those of us at that table remember it as the night our friend, who loved baseball and the Cardinals, passed away. But the rest of the fans in attendance have good memories of the evening, and there always has been certain solace in that.
Thanks to Stan the Man, ever the hit of the party.
MIKE EISENBATH was a longtime member of the St. Louis BBWAA during his 25-plus years as a professional sportswriter, including 18 years at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.
NOTES
1 Cathie Burnes Beebe, “Stan the Harmonica Man Tunes Up the Baseball Writers Dinner,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, January 20, 1993.
2 Beebe.