CHAPTER XVIII. FROM CHICAGO TO DENVER.

It was a jolly party that assembled in the Union Depot on the night of October 20th, 1888, and the ball players were by no means the center of attraction, as there were others there to whom even the ball players took off their hats, and these were the ladies, as Mrs. Ed. Williamson, the wife of the famous ball player, and Mrs. H. I. Spalding, the stately and white-haired mother of Mr. Spalding, as well as my own blue-eyed wife, had determined upon making the trip that few people have the opportunity of making under circumstances of such a favorable nature. In addition to these outsiders, so far as ball playing was concerned, were President Spalding, of the Chicago Club; Harry Simpson, of the Newark, N. J., team, who acted as Mr. Spalding's assistant; Newton McMillan, the correspondent of the New York "Sun;" Mr. Goodfriend, of the Chicago "Inter Ocean;" Harry Palmer, correspondent of the Philadelphia "Sporting Times" and New York "Herald," and James A. Hart, then of the Milwaukee Club, but now of Chicago.

The Chicago, Burlington & Quincy Railroad had provided for our accommodation two handsomely furnished cars, a dining and a sleeping car, and in these we were soon perfectly at home. It was just seven o'clock when the train pulled out for St. Paul, that being our first objective point, with the cheers and good wishes of the host of friends that had assembled at the depot to see us off still ringing in our ears. We had dinner that night in the dining car shortly after leaving Chicago, and long before the meal was over the tourists had become a veritable happy family.

As we sailed along through the gathering darkness over bridges and culverts and by stations that seemed like phantoms in the dim light the song of the rail became monotonous in our ears, and we turned for recreation to that solace of the traveler, cards, with which every one in the party seemed well provided. It was not long before the rolling of the chips made the sleeper resemble a gambling hall more than anything else, and the cheering and enthusiastic crowds that greeted us at every stopping place received but a small share of our attention at our hands. As the ladies in the party had given the boys permission to smoke where and when they pleased, the blue veil that hung over the various tables was soon thick enough to cut with a knife. A mandolin and guitar in the party added to our enjoyment, and it was not until the midnight hour had come and gone that we sought our couches.

When we arrived at St. Paul on Sunday morning we found a large crowd at the depot to greet us. A game had been scheduled for that afternoon, St. Paul being in those days a wide-open town, and Sunday the one great day in the week so far as base-ball was concerned.

"The frost was on the pumpkins" and the air so chilly that a winter overcoat would have felt much more comfortable than a base-ball uniform. Nevertheless it would not do to disappoint the people, 2,000 of whom had assembled at the grounds to see us play.

In the absence of Mike Kelly, who had faithfully promised Mr. Spalding that he would join us at Denver, and didn't, Frank Flint, "Old Silver," who had been prevailed upon to accompany the party as far as Denver, was sent in to catch for the All-Americans, and as Kelly's name was on the score card it was some time before the crowd discovered that it was "Old Silver" and not the "Ten Thousand Dollar Beauty" that was doing the catching. Flint's batting was not up to the Kelly standard, however, and they soon tumbled to the fact that Flint was an impostor. At the end of the sixth inning, and with the score standing at 9 to 3 in favor of the Chicagos, the game was called in order that the Chicago Club might play a game with the St. Pauls, then under the management of John S. Barnes. This game attracted far more interest than the preceding one, owing to the local color that it assumed, and the crowd waxed decidedly enthusiastic when the game was called at the end of the seventh inning on account of darkness, with the score standing at 8 to 5 in St. Paul's favor.

So elated was Manager Barnes over the victory of his pets that he at once challenged me for another game with the Chicagos, to be played at Minneapolis the following day, a challenge that I accepted without the least hesitation.

The special cars in which we journeyed were run down to Minneapolis the next morning, where we had a royal reception, in which a parade in a dozen landaus drawn by horses with nodding plumes of old gold and new gold blankets, and headed by a band of twenty-one pieces, led by a drum-major resplendent in scarlet and gold, was not the least of the attractions. In spite of the fact that the day was even colder than the one that we had encountered at St. Paul, some 2,000 people assembled to witness the game. Van Haltren pitched an excellent game for the All-Americans on this occasion, while Tener was freely hit and badly supported, the result being that we were beaten by a score of 6 to 3, but four innings being played. Then followed the game that the crowd was most anxious to see, that being the one between the Chicagos and St. Pauls. For the St. Pauls Tuckerman pitched and Billy Earle caught, while I sent in Mark Baldwin to do the twirling for the Chicagos. It was a pretty game, and as neither side scored for four innings the excitement ran high.

In the fifth inning the St. Pauls were again retired with a goose egg and Pfeffer crossed the home plate with a winning run for the Chicagos. It was a great game for the St. Paul Club to play, and Manager Barnes had a right to be proud of the showing they had made, as he certainly must have been.

There was but little time for sight-seeing left when the game was over, and at seven o'clock that evening we were on the road for Cedar Rapids, Iowa, which was to be our next stopping point. The great majority of us retired early, but the sleep that we got was scarcely worth talking about, as Tom Daly, whose propensity for practical jokes was unbounded, kept the car in a roar of laughter. No one was exempt that could be reached, and as a result there was no sleep for any of us.

At Cedar Rapids, where we arrived Tuesday morning, we were the recipients of quite an ovation, and our cars, which had been switched on a side-track near the Union Depot, attracted as much attention as though they contained a whole menagerie instead of a few traveling ball players. Special trains were run in from adjacent towns, and long before the hour set for the game the town was crowded with visitors. The day was a beautiful one and the crowd that assembled at the grounds would have done credit to a League city, the attendance numbering 4,500. A crowd like that deserved to see a good game, and that is what they were treated to, the score being a tie in the fifth inning and again in the eighth, it then standing at five each. In the ninth inning Ryan crossed the plate with the winning run for Chicago, and the crowd cheered themselves hoarse over the result, though they would doubtless have cheered just as long and hard had the All-American team been the victors.

At 6:30 that evening we left Cedar Rapids for Des Moines, arriving at the State capital the next morning. Thus far all of our traveling had been done in the darkness, but as there was nothing to be seen save the rolling prairies, that I had been familiar with as a. boy, this occasioned no regret so far as I was concerned.

At Des Moines some 2,000 people turned out to witness the game, which proved to be close and exciting. At the request of some of the citizens Hutchinson and Sugie, of the Des Moines Club, were allowed to fill the points for the All-Americans, Baldwin and Ryan doing the pitching for Chicago. The local men proved to be decidedly good in their line, and as a result the score at the end of the ninth inning stood at 3 to 2 in favor of the All-Americans.

On across the prairies, where the ripened corn stood in stacks, the train sped to Omaha, where we arrived the morning of October 25th, and we were met with another great reception. Here Clarence Duval turned up, and thereby hangs a story. Clarence was a little darkey that I had met some time before while in Philadelphia, a singer and dancer of no mean ability, and a little coon whose skill in handling the baton would have put to the blush many a bandmaster of national reputation. I had togged him out in a suit of navy blue with brass buttons, at my own expense, and had engaged him as a mascot. He was an ungrateful little rascal, however, and deserted me for Mlle. Jarbeau, the actress, at New York, stage life evidently holding out more attractions for him than a life on the diamond.

Tom Burns smuggled him into the carriage that day, tatterdemalion that he was, and when we reached the grounds he ordered us to dress ranks with all the assurance in the world, and, taking his place in front of the players as the band struck up a march, he gave such an exhibition as made the real drum major turn green with envy, while the crowd burst into a roar of laughter and cheered him to the echo.

When, later in the day, I asked him where he had come from, he replied that Miss Jarbeau had given him his release that morning. I told him that he was on the black list and that we had no use for deserters in our business.

"Spec's you's a' right, Cap'n," he replied and then he added, with a woe-begone expression of countenance that would have brought tears of pity to the eyes of a mule: "I'se done had a mighty ha'd time of et since I left all you uns." I told him that he looked like it, but that he had deserved it all, and that we were done with him, and this nearly broke his heart. When I got back to the car I found the little "coon" there, and ordered him out, but the boys interceded for him, raised a purse, in which I chipped in my share, of course, and I finally consented that he should accompany us as far as San Francisco, and farther, provided that he behaved himself.

The little coon did not prove to be much of a mascot for Chicago that afternoon, as the All-Americans dropped to Ryan's slow left-handed delivery after the fifth inning, he having been a puzzle to them up to that time, and pounded him all over the field, they finally winning by a score of 12 to 2. The heavy batting pleased the Omaha people, however, and they cheered the All-Americans again and again.

That night we were off for Hastings, Neb., where we were scheduled to play the next day. Arriving there Clarence Duval was taken out, given a bath, against which he fought with tooth and nail, arrayed in a light checked traveling suit with a hat to match, new underwear and linen, patent leather shoes and a cane. When he marched onto the field that afternoon he was the observed of all observers, and attracted so much attention from President Spalding, who had been absent on a trip to Kansas City, and who had returned just in time to see his performance, that it was at once decided to take him to Australia. The contract that he was made to sign was an ironclad one, and one that carried such horrible penalties with it in case of desertion that it was enough to scare the little darkey almost to death. When I looked him over that night on the train I told him that I should not be in the least surprised were he again to desert us at San Francisco, and especially if Miss Jarbeau should run across him.

"Den dat's jest 'case you doan' know me," he retorted; "I specs dat if dat 'ooman sees me now," and here he looked himself over admiringly, "she's jes' say to me, 'My gracious, Clarence, whar you been? Come right along wid me, my boy, an' doan' let me lose sight ob you no more.' I know she'd just say dat."

"What would you say then?" I asked.

"What I say? Why, I jes' say, 'Go on, white 'ooman, don't know you now, an' I nebber did know you. No, sir, Mr. Anson, I'se done wid actresses de rest ob my nat-rel life, you heah me."

To my astonishment he kept his word, remaining with us all through the trip and returning with us to Chicago. Outside of his dancing and his power of mimicry he was, however, a "no account nigger," and more than once did I wish that he had been left behind.

Just before the game at Hastings began a section of the grand stand, some twenty feet in height, gave way, but as no one was killed, and as there were 3,000 people present, many of whom had come from the surrounding towns to witness the game, the accident was soon lost sight of. The game resulted in a victory for Chicago by a score of 8 to 4. Baldwin pitched for the Chicagos and Van Haltren for the All-American team.

On our way from Hastings to Denver that night we met the train from St. Louis at Oxford, Neb., and were joined by Capt. John Ward and Ed Crane of the New York team; Capt. Manning of the Kansas Citys had joined us at Hastings, and when Billy Earle of St. Paul, who had been telegraphed for, met us at Denver, the party was complete, Hengle, Long and Flint leaving us at that point to return to Chicago.

The early morning of the 27th found us speeding over the plains some fifty miles east of Denver. As we looked out of the car windows while at breakfast that morning we caught glimpses of the snow-capped mountains in the distance, and so near did they seem to be in the rarefied atmosphere that they seemed not more than six or seven miles away, consequently we were much surprised when informed by the conductor that they were forty-eight miles distant. I have since been told the story of a sleeping-car conductor who had been running into Denver for some time, and who sat in the dining-room at Brown's Palace Hotel one morning looking over toward the foothills, remarked to the steward that the next time he came there he intended to take a little run over there before breakfast. Asked how far he thought it was he replied, some two or three miles, and was astonished when informed that they were twenty-two miles distant.

We found Denver a really beautiful city and both my wife and myself were astonished by the handsome buildings that were to be seen on every side and by the unmistakable signs of prosperity that surrounded us. The parade to the grounds that afternoon was a showy one and we were greeted by great crowds all along the line.

The game was witnessed by 7,500 people, who recognized every player the moment he appeared. The field was a bad one, and this, combined with the rarefied atmosphere, to which the players were not accustomed, caused both teams to put up a decidedly poor game, as is shown by the score, which stood at 16 to 12 in favor of the Chicagos.

The next day, however, in the presence of 6,000 people, the players more than redeemed themselves, John Ward making his first appearance with the All-Americans, and playing the position of shortstop in a masterly fashion. The fielding on both sides was superb, and it was not until two extra innings had been played that the victory finally remained with the All-Americans, the score standing at 9 to 8. The feature of the game and the play that captured the crowd was Hanlon's magnificent running catch of Sullivan's long fly, which brought the crowd to its feet and resulted in a storm of cheers that did not cease until that player had raised his cap to the grand stand in recognition of the ovation. Our two days' stay in Denver was made decidedly pleasant, and we saw as much of the city as possible, although not as much as we should have liked to have seen had we had more time at our disposal.