October 18, 1947: Cincinnati, OH
"This whole thing... it's nuts," Charley McCullough was telling Roger Cleaves.
Roger tugged at his collar. "I hate these things," he muttered, ignoring for the moment Charley's statement.
Charley frowned and said, "You were a Marine; you guys have that fancy dress uniform."
Roger pulled a face of his own. "I spent most of the war in green dungarees, Charley. I think I wore that dress uniform once or maybe twice."
Charley wanted to get back to the matter at hand, so he leaned in to whisper, "Your brother is probably making a mistake."
"Well," Roger said with a shrug, "It's his mistake to make."
"He's your brother," Charley insisted.
Roger gave him a flat look. "He's your best friend, and you know him a helluva lot better than I do. I didn't even know him until just before the war, and then I spent the bulk of the war out in the Pacific while he was here playing baseball."
"He's color-blind," Charley pointed out.
The look on Roger's face told the tale of what he thought of that. "I'm color blind too," he said. Charley was taken aback, and it showed. "Really? How'd you get into the Marines?" he asked.
Roger gave a gallows laugh. "Simple. They didn't test me, and no one cared. We had a war to win, remember?"
Charley, who'd served in the Navy, nodded. "Yeah, I remember," he said.
"Good," Roger noted, then grinned and added, "You're a good guy... for a swabbie."
Charley walked away shaking his head.
He found his wife chatting with her cousins Agnes and Martha. "What are you three talking about? You look thick as thieves," Charley noted.
"Oh, we're just talking about my idiot brother rushing into something stupid," Gloria told her husband.
Charley chuckled without mirth and told her he'd been trying to get Roger to talk to Deuce about just that subject. "Roger's thick-headed too, though I suspect he has a romantic streak he hides under all his 'I'm a Marine dadgummit' bluster," Gloria noted.
"Well, whatever his reasons, he told me to do it myself," Charley replied.
Gloria touched his arm and noted, "Deuce is 30 years old. If he wants to make a big mistake... well, he's more than old enough to do it."
"You two need to stop that," a new voice noted. Gloria spun around to see her mother standing there. "Mom... sorry, I didn't know you were there," she said.
"I'm a little dubious about this Debbie too," Edna noted. "But Rufus is a grown man, and it's actually about time he started acting like one. Maybe this will end up being a good thing," she added.
Charley muttered something under his breath, and Edna shot him a look. "You have something to say, Charles?" she asked, one eyebrow arched.
"Uh, no," Charley said. He had considered explaining to his mother-in-law exactly why he thought this was a mistake. Debbie's reputation as a woman of... low moral character... wasn't something he felt comfortable talking about with Edna, though Gloria knew all about it. Let her explain it to her mother, he thought.
Edna gave them all a stern look, noted that both Marty and Aggie looked "gorgeous" in their dresses, and drifted off.
Across the room, Tom Barrell was standing with Powell Slocum.
"So, Tom, I never got a chance to congratulate you," Powell said.
"On what?" Tom asked.
"You boys finished strong. I think the future looks bright for the Kings," Powell noted. This made Tom feel good - Powell had been his manager when Tom had pitched for the Kings, had spent a decade as the Kings' skipper and won the franchise's lone World Championship with Tom and his brothers Dan, Fred, and Harry all playing key roles.
"I like our club," Tom admitted. He had found some of the moves the new guy in the front office had made to be... strange. But after a 1946 season that was a disaster in most respects, the '47 campaign had been a breath of fresh air as things started to click. "After we traded away Tiny Tim and Rats... if you had told me we'd finish four games out this year, I'd have told you to get your head examined," Tom admitted.
"Ralph Johnson certainly was a revelation," Powell noted, and Tom nodded. "That he was," he agreed. Johnson was receiving his Kellogg Award that very day as the Continental Association's top rookie. And Tom had heard through the media grapevine that Johnson was a strong possibility to also cop the Whitney Award as the loop's top batter. "I hope all this adulation doesn't go to his head," Tom told his former skipper.
Now Powell leaned in and said softly, "So what's this I hear about Deuce's bride?" he asked.
Tom looked uncomfortable. "Debbie Scanlon?" he asked, simply to buy time.
"Yeah," Powell replied.
"Uh... well, she has a bit of a reputation, if you know what I mean," Tom said. Powell, of course, having been a Hall-of-Fame player as well as a long-time coach and manager, knew exactly what Tom meant.
"Really?" Powell asked.
Tom nodded and then he lowered his voice even further and admitted, "I, uh, actually dated her myself."
If Powell had been holding a drink, he'd have done a fantastic spit-take. Instead, he sputtered and asked, "What? Did you..."
Tom, looking even more embarrassed, nodded and softly said, "It was before, you know, Marla."
"Oh, brother," Powell muttered.
"Oh, brother what?" Tom heard a familiar voice say from behind him.
He spun around and said, "Hello, dear," then grabbed his wife and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Uh... Powell and I were talking about something one of the rookies on the team did. Unbelievable stuff," he said, shooting a glance at Powell.
The older man was a quick study - he nodded and said, "Uh, yes, these kids..."
Marla frowned for a moment and said, "The way you two looked... seemed a lot more serious than some rookie doing something dumb."
Tom shrugged and Powell tried to look innocent. Marla had a look on her face that Tom knew was a dangerous one, so he steered the conversation elsewhere, asking Marla if she'd met Claudia, Powell's wife, and James' mother. Claudia and James were approaching, along with Rose Winfield. James' fiance.
A moment later Marla was busy chatting with Claudia and Rose, allowing Tom a moment to shoot a relieved look at Powell while James, seeing this, wore a quizzical look. Tom muttered, "Later," to his nephew, who had the sense to give a small nod and keep his mouth shut.
In another area of the reception hall, Rufus and Alice were talking with Yancy and Nancy Scanlon, Debbie's parents. Alice could tell that Rufus was dying to ask if having rhyming first names was an issue for the Scanlons - he'd mentioned this to Alice several times, and she'd warned him, in no uncertain terms, not to bring it up.
"So..." Rufus began. Alice, suspecting what he was about to ask, shot him a glare, and she saw Rufus frown a bit before going on, "Are you from Cincinnati originally?"
Alice breathed a sigh of relief.
Rollie and Jack Barrell were sitting at one of the tables. "I'm starting to feel old, Rollie," Jack told his brother.
Rollie took a sip of his drink and noted, "I'm older than you, Jack."
"True," Jack admitted. "With Joe gone, you're the old man of the Barrell brothers. You wear it well," he added with a smile.
"Thanks," Rollie said and laughed. "I know what you mean, though... our kids and our brothers' kids... they're getting married. Heck, Gloria has a baby already. I need to give Pop some grief about being a great-grandfather," he said.
Jack motioned to the crowded room. "I will give Deuce some credit. He managed to get all of us together, and that's no easy feat with everyone having so much going on."
And it was true. All seven of the surviving Barrell Brothers were there, as was Betsy and her husband. This being a Saturday, Tom Bowens had a game the next day, but since he played for Rollie's team, he figured he was safe from Frank Yurik's wrath. Jack was briefly playing hooky from the Toronto Dukes, who were in the preseason. Dan was the boss over at the OSA, and baseball season was over anyway, which also freed up Fred, Tom, Bobby, and Harry. Bobby, who was chatting pleasantly with Al Wheeler at another table, had won the Triple Crown for the second time, after hitting .356 with 64 home runs and 143 RBIs. Jack had noted that there were a lot of baseball fans who'd love to be a fly on the wall for the conversation between Bobby and Wheeler, two of only three men to have hit 500 home runs. The third, Ohio congressman Max Morris was not in attendance, though he had been invited. Harry was in the back of the room, doing magic tricks for the assorted younger Barrells (and some Scanlons). "I just hope he doesn't give someone a hot foot," Rollie had noted with amusement when Jack pointed to Harry. Dan and Fred were deep in a conversation of their own, probably about scouting. Jack knew that Fred really wanted to manage, and he was up for some of the openings.
As for the happy couple, Deuce was sitting with his new wife at the head table. Debbie was chatting with her sister while Deuce was watching Charlie Barrell chat up one of Debbie's nieces. Deuce had a curious, almost wistful look on his face. Jack saw this and mentioned it to Rollie.
"Probably having second thoughts," Rollie said.
"Did you?" Jack asked.
"What? Have second thoughts after marrying Francie?" Rollie asked and then looked around for his wife - finding her dancing with Mike Barrell, Dan's oldest son. Rollie smiled and said, "Nope, not even once. You?" he asked Jack.
Jack thought for a moment and then smiled and said, "You know what? I never did either. Marie is something special," he said.
"And don't you forget it!" Jack heard his wife say. He turned and gave her a kiss, causing their daughter Vera, who was standing behind Marie holding a plate with cake on it, to mutter, "Eww."
Bobby Barrell was frowning. He was getting an earful about Debbie from Al Wheeler. "I'm not bent that way," Wheeler had told him (and Bobby knew this to be true, Harry having told him what a straight-arrow Wheeler was). "But I'm pretty sure Tom..."
Bobby held up a hand and said, "Understood." He looked at the head table. "Well, maybe she's changed her ways," he said in a hopeful tone of voice.
Wheeler shrugged. "I've seen a lot in my time around the game, Bob," he said, then shoveled a forkful of wedding cake into his mouth. "One thing I've seen, and I know you have too, is that ballplayers love to tomcat around. That's never going to change, far as I can see, and I'm not sure that the wedding band on her finger will keep the boys from sniffing around, you know?"
Bobby sighed and nodded. "I hope not, Al," he began, then shook his head and added, "But you're probably right, human nature being what it is."
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Deuce Barrell and his wife Debbie at their wedding, October 1947
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