Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, February 7, 1991 TAG: 9102070242
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: STATE
SOURCE: DAVE ANDERSON
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
Even fewer endure long enough to celebrate the golden anniversary of their year. But for Joe DiMaggio now, it's as if it were 1941 when he batted safely in 56 consecutive games - a record that has never really been approached, a record that probably will never be broken.
"But if I thought after 50 years I'd be going to half a dozen banquets, I would have quit hitting after 40 games," he joked. "Don't get me wrong. I love that record."
That record must love him, too. They belong together. Baseball's most majestic record is held by its most majestic personality.
Up on the Sheraton Center dais at the New York Baseball Writers dinner, his silver hair glistened above his tuxedo.
He's 76 years old now. But he's still Joe D. The Yankee Clipper. Joltin' Joe. The Jolter. Or, as Ernest Hemingway wrote of him in "The Old Man and The Sea," the great DiMaggio.
"Joe, Joe DiMaggio," the voice of Betty Bonney had sung earlier while black-and-white film clips of his career were shown, "we want you on our side."
Another 1941 personality, Leo Durocher, who managed the Brooklyn Dodgers to the National League pennant that year before losing to the New York Yankees in the World Series, understood DiMaggio's majesty.
Honored for having been the manager of the 1951 Giants that won the pennant on Thomson's homer, Durocher is 85 now, gaunt and gravel-voiced.
"I read a squib that a certain athlete was getting a million-eight and he couldn't make it," Durocher said. "Joe, do you think you could make it on a million-eight?"
DiMaggio smiled gently. His highest baseball salary was $100,000. Now he earns more than that at memorabilia shows to sign, in his graceful flow, baseball's most coveted autograph.
But when Durocher finished telling stories about Jim (Dusty) Rhodes and Larry MacPhail, he glanced at DiMaggio.
"You've got the coup de grace here," Durocher said. "The greatest ballplayer of all time."
After introducing DiMaggio, Mel Allen, reached for a box containing DiMaggio's award.
"It's a piece of Waterford crystal, the only one of its kind," Allen said. "In the shape of a baseball glove."
But when Allen took the crystal out of its box, it was shaped like a vase, not a glove.
"Maybe this," Allen said, holding up the vase as if to catch a fly ball, "is how he did it."
After the film clips of DiMaggio's career had been shown an hour earlier, more than 1,000 people stood and applauded, then he stood and raised both arms in appreciation.
Now, as he arrived at the lectern, another standing ovation erupted before he congratulated the other honorees. He told his joke about wishing he had stopped after 40 games, then he stared fondly at the crystal vase.
"I had a collection of about 25 of these pieces," he said. "I gave them to my sister in San Francisco. You know what happened. The earthquake destroyed all of them. But this piece I'm going to keep."
He told stories about sportswriters of his time - about how at the dogtrack at spring training, Grantland Rice always had the winner because he bet on every dog in the race; about how on a fishing trip Jimmy Cannon didn't reel in a marlin because he was too busy reading a book.
Then he told about hitting a home run off Bobo Newsom, a big right-hander of his era who in his travels pitched briefly for the Philadelphia Athletics, then owned and managed by Connie Mack.
"I hit it into the upper deck in old Shibe Park," he recalled. "But when Bobo got back to the dugout, Mr. Mack told him, `Mr. Newsom, please sit next to me.'
"Mr. Mack said, `Mr. Newsom, what kind of a pitch did you throw DiMaggio? Bobo told him a fastball. Mr. Mack said, `Mr. Newsom, I want you to throw DiMaggio nothing but curveballs.' The next time up, Bobo threw me that wrinkle he called a curve. It didn't break more than 2 inches. This time I really got hold of it. I hit it over the roof.
"Going around the bases, I saw Bobo take a few steps toward the A's dugout and yell, `Mr. Mack, he hit yours farther than he hit mine.' "
Those homers occurred in 1946, five years after the streak in the year for which Joe DiMaggio will always be identified, will always be remembered. But now, in closing, he alluded to the true measure of his career: that during his 13 seasons from 1936 to 1951 (with three years in the Army), the Yankees won 10 American League pennants and nine World Series.
"One day somebody's going to come along and break that record and take it away," Joe DiMaggio said, meaning his 56-game streak. "But one thing they won't take away is the Yankee success during my era."
AUTHOR NOTE: Dave Anderson writes a sports column for The New York Times
by CNB