U.S. History 1866-1965

This postcard, which just went up on eBay last night for $8, could serve as the whole textbook for a pretty good class at Western ...

'The Priority of God'

On the first day of Christmas, here again is The Interpreter's Bible--this time about Luke 2:14 ...

Mark the order of the two halves of the great proclamation:

Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased!

Peace among men is the climax of life's great hope, but it is not the beginning. The beginning is the adoration of God himself. Our betterment cannot come from human schemes; it must come from God.

That is a truth which men in modern times can too readily forget. There is a flood of books allegedly telling how people may manipulate themselves so that they will feel at peace. They are to wind themselves up by a kind of windlass made of clever psychological ropes and cogs to a level of consciousness where they will feel better. Even churches may unwittingly be affected by the assumption that salvation from trouble and distress can be attained through our own devices. Well-meaning congregations, in what was meant to be a united movement of religion, in a certain region put up placards: "Come to church and find yourself." But the true message must strike a deeper note than that: "Come to church and find God and be found by God." The whole message of the N.T. is built upon gratitude for God's prevenient grace. Men must open their minds and hearts in thankfulness for what God has given in Christ before they can hope that the distracted elements within their lives will fall into place and so give them a peace that cannot be destroyed.

This same truth must be recognized not only in the area of the inner personality, but in men's efforts to make a better world in which to live. Humanism has suggested that a sufficient religion may be made out of the good impulses in ourselves projected into a large general beneficence which shall then deify, and think that it will automatically save us. Too many social workers have proceeded on the theory that religion in the old sense was unnecessary as long as people had kindly ideas toward their neighbors, and went out with a general program of clubs and classes and settlement house activities amiably conceived. They thought that we could get good will on earth and establish peace on earth without depending on any power higher than ourselves. Religion in its transcendent meaning must not be mentioned. Sociologically it was not good form.

We have learned better. We have learned, for one thing, that if we forget God, it is not so easy to exalt man and keep him exalted as we supposed. Without an infinite confidence grounded in something vaster than ourselves, how do we know that humanity is worth the long effort, so often laborious and unfruitful, so often frustrated, with which every attempted betterment of our world must reckon? If man is not the child of God, how do we know that he is any more worth saving than anything else which happens to emerge and flourish a little while and then die from off an accidental universe? How do we know that man is better than the amoeba, or better than the bacillus which may circulate in his blood? And even if we put all the questionings out of our mind and stubbornly assert that humanity is worth serving, just because we choose to believe that it is such, then nevertheless there also comes the moment when without religion our best and most unselfish energies may faint. For who is there who really wants to help his fellow man who does not come someday to the point when he sees that his own strength, yes, and the strength of all his co-workers, is inadequate to what he wants to do? He must call upon a mightier reliance if he is not to falter. He must believe that he is in touch with him to whom a day is as a thousand years and a thousand years is as one day. He must have caught from the Christian gospel something for his mind and heart which makes him able to say Glory to God in the highest, and in that glory he can go on to work and serve.

The Interpreter's Bible, Vol. VIII. George Arthur Buttrick, ed. (Nashville: Abingdon, 1955) 55-56.

The Dress Is Beautiful

Now let's have a meal together.

'It Is Nearly Evening; the Day Is Almost Over'

"As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus acted as if he were going farther. But they urged him strongly, 'Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over.' So he went in to stay with them.

"When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. They asked each other, 'Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?'

"They got up and returned at once to Jerusalem. There they found the Eleven and those with them, assembled together and saying, 'It is true! The Lord is risen and has appeared to Simon.' Then the two told what had happened on the way, and how Jesus was recognized by them when he broke the bread."

That's Luke 24:28-35.

'On That Same Day'

"Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him ..."

That's the New Revised Standard Version of Luke 24:13-16. Here's a link to the New International Version.

'On the First Day of the Week'

"On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. In their fright, the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, 'Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee ...'"

That's Luke 24:1-6.

'On the Sabbath'

Luke 56b: "... (T)hey rested on the Sabbath in obedience to the commandment." 

'The Sabbath Was About To Begin'

"... Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus's body. Then he took it down, wrapped it in linen cloth and placed it in a tomb cut in the rock, one in which no one had yet been laid. It was Preparation Day, and the Sabbath was about to begin.

"The women who had come with Jesus from Galilee followed Joseph and saw the tomb and how his body was laid in it. Then they went home and prepared spices and perfumes. ..."

Luke 23:52-56a.

'The Ninth Hour'

"... and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Jesus called out with a loud voice, 'Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.' When he had said this, he breathed his last.

"The centurion, seeing what had happened, praised God and said, 'Surely this was a righteous man.' When all the people who had gathered to witness this sight saw what took place, they beat their breasts and went away. But all those who knew him, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things."

That's Luke 23:44b-49.

'The Sixth Hour'

"One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: 'Aren't you the Christ? Save yourself and us!'

"But the other criminal rebuked him. 'Don't you fear God,' he said, 'since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.'

"Then he said, 'Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.'

"Jesus answered him, 'I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.'

"It was now about the sixth hour, ..."

This is Luke 23:39-43 and the first half of Verse 44.

'As ...'

"But with loud shouts they insistently demanded that he be crucified, and their shouts prevailed. So Pilate decided to grant their demand. He released the man who had been thrown into prison for insurrection and murder--the one they asked for--and surrendered Jesus to their will.

"As they led him away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus. A large number of people followed him, including women who mourned and wailed for him ..."

That's Luke 23:23-27.

'Then ...'

"Then the whole assembly rose and led him off to Pilate. And they began to accuse him, saying, 'We have found this man subverting our nation. He opposes payment of taxes to Caesar and claims to be Christ, a king.'

"So Pilate asked Jesus, 'Are you the king of the Jews?'

"'Yes, it is as you say,' Jesus replied.

"Then Pilate announced to the chief priests and the crowd, 'I find no basis for a charge against this man.' ..."

Those verses are Luke 23:1-4.

'At Daybreak'

"... The men who were guarding Jesus began mocking and beating him. They blindfolded him and demanded, 'Prophesy! Who hit you?' And they said many other insulting things to him. At daybreak, the council of the elders of the people, both the chief priests and teacher of the law, met together, and Jesus was led before them. ..."

That's the New International Version of Luke 22:63-66.

The Seventh Lesson

Here is the seventh lesson from the King's College Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols. This is probably my favorite passage in the Bible. I'm fascinated by the fact that angels are so terrifying:

7. The shepherds go to the manger.

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flocks by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lorn shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

And the angel said unto them, "Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly hose praising God, and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."

And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, "Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us."

And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.

Luke 2: 8-16

The Sixth Lesson

Here is the sixth lesson from the King's College Festival of Lessons and Carols:

6. Luke tells of the birth of Jesus.

And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.

And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.

And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.

Luke 2: 1, 3-7

The Fifth Lesson

Here is the fifth lesson from the King's College Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols:

5. The angel Gabriel salutes the Blessed Virgin Mary.

And in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God unto a city of Galilee, named Nazereth, to a virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin's name was Mary.

And the angel came in unto her, and said, "Hail, thou that art highly favored, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women."

And when she saw him, she was troubled at his saying, and cast in her mind what manner of salutation this should be.

And the angel said unto her, "Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favor with God. And behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Highest: and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his father David: and he shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever; and of his kingdom there shall be no end."

Then said Mary unto the angel, "How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?"

And the angel answered and said unto her, "The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee: therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God."

And Mary said, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word."

And the angel departed from her.

Luke 1: 26-35, 38

MLB Update (1974 edition)

I'm reading the second straight 1974 issue of Sports Illustrated in which we get a snide shot at Nolan Ryan.

In the June 24 issue, we get this item in Jim Kaplan's "The Week" column: "When California Manager Bobby Winkles threatened to remove Nolan Ryan after 12 innings against Boston, Ryan was aghast. 'But I haven't broken my record yet.' 'Record? What record?' 'Most pitches in a game,' said Ryan. In his pursuit of this questionable distinction Ryan was permitted another inning. He fell six short of his own mark of 241, but did establish a club high of 19 strikeouts—two below the major league record for extra-inning games." (In this same column, Kaplan refers to Bill Singer as the Angel's "top pitcher.")

In the July 1 issue, which I am reading this weekend and which covers games through June 22, Kaplan writes, "Kansas City's Steve Busby beat Milwaukee 2-0 to become the first no-hit pitcher of 1974 and the first man to throw no-hitters in his first two big-league seasons (he no-hit Detroit 3-0 on April 27, 1973). Busby was a reluctant hero. Recalling remarks roommate Paul Splittorff had made, Busby said, 'He told me only certain types of pitchers can throw a no-hitter. He mentioned Nolan Ryan. Then me. I climbed all over him. I'm no no-hit pitcher.'"

I think the CW must've decided that Nolan Ryan was Joe Buck, the big, naive Texan who can't cut it in New York. Despite the fact that he pitched very well for the Mets in the 1969 playoffs, the CW apparently never forgave Ryan for New York's mishandling of and then giving up on him. I know that, when I was growing up in the late 1970s, I certainly thought of Ryan as kind of a silly character on the serious baseball scene--a freakish, statistical side show who simply would find no quarter on a good team. Obviously, 10-year-old me would've been parroting the tenor of what I heard on some NBC Game of the Week or ABC Monday Night Baseball broadcast.

But Nolan Ryan just kept on chucking. He never exactly disproved the CW on its specific qualms. It's hard to imagine, however, Joe Buck turning out as resilient and lasting as Nolan Ryan has turned out to be. By the time he retired in 1993, Nolan Ryan had turned into a folk hero. He went into the Hall of Fame on landslide first ballot, and now he's part-owner and president of a team that made the World Series. I'd say Nolan Ryan got the last laugh.



OAK 37-31 TEX 1.5GB CHI 3
KC 3.5 CAL 9 MINN 9

One of my favorite things about Kaplan's weekly reports is how often he dives deep into description of specific, key plays: "Ron Santo apparently struck out on a 3-2, two-out pitch with Dick Allen and Ken Henderson running. Minnesota Catcher Randy Hundley, thinking it was strike two and the White Sox were attempting a double steal, threw wildly to third. Allen scored and Henderson was thrown out at home, but the umpires ruled that Santo had ended the inning by indeed striking out. Minnesota won 3-2."



LA 46-23 ATL 6GB CIN 7
HOUS 12 SF 14 SD 18

Kaplan again: "Here is the scene: bases loaded, two oats, 3-and-2 count on Joe Ferguson. On the pitch he appears to take a called strike. Lee Lacy, who is on third, thinks so, and heads for the dugout. Pirate Catcher Manny Sanguillen thinks so, and rolls the ball toward the mound. Jim Wynn, who is on second, thinks Ferguson has walked, and runs home. Lacy changes his mind and follows suit. Chaos. When players, managers and umpires settle down, the verdict is that Ferguson has walked. Wynn is declared out for passing Lacy and Lacy is safe at home. Pittsburgh Manager Danny Murtaugh protests, but the Pirates make it academic by winning 7-3."

And again: "With Garry Maddox on first, Ed Goodson hit a shot that St. Louis Centerfielder Bake McBride seemed to catch. Goodson rounded first and Maddox passed him on his way back to first. Actually, the ball had touched McBride's glove, fallen over the wall and been returned to him by a stadium attendant. McBride then threw the ball to the infield, causing the confusion. Goodson was given credit for a single but ruled out for passing Maddox on the bases. Maddox was allowed to score from first."

(Incidentally, if you think Dave Tomlin looks unhappy in that 1975 Topps card in the picture, maybe it's because he's a Maysville, Ky., native who lived in West Union, Ohio, and came up with Cincinnati--but was shipped out with Bobby Tolan to last-place San Diego in exchange for Clay Kirby in 1973, before the peak of the Big Red Machine fun.)



PHIL 37-32 ST. L 2GB MONT 4.5
PITT 6.5 CHI 7 NY 10

Kaplan reports that Pittsburgh won six straight, sweeping the Dodgers and Giants, to move from last to fourth over the last week of N.L. East action. Chicago's Rick Reuschel allowed 12 hits but shut out the Pirates, 3-0, to snap the Pirates' run.



BOS 38-28 DET 2.5GB BALT 4
CLEV 4.5 NY 5.5 MIL 5.5

At one game in Milwaukee, Kaplan writes, 18,871 attendees were allowed two cups apiece as part of a free-beer promotion. The Brewers beat the Orioles, 8-6.

(That pictured 1975 Elliott Maddox card on the back reads, "One of Yankee Mgr. Virdon's most controversial moves of 1974 was inserting Elliott in centerfield and moving Bobby Murcer to right. Elliott responded with superb hitting and flawless fielding." Maddox did hit .303, but I would point out that we just learned that Maddox's throwing error allowed Detroit's Bill Freehan to score the winning run in a 4-3 Yankees loss on June 21, 1974. Maybe Topps will issue a corrected 1975 Elliott Maddox card after its P.R. folks read this tomorrow morning.)

Lots of good stuff, as always, in this issue of Sports Illustrated.

Rod Carew's on the cover (and in the A.L. West picture above). He's the headliner of a Ron Fimrite story celebrating the rise of singles hitters, which also mentions Atlanta's Ralph Garr, Cincinnati's Pete Rose, Los Angeles's Bill Buckner, Houston's Greg Gross (pictured in the N.L. West collage above), Texas's Lenny Randle and Baltimore's Tommy Davis and Brooks Robinson. Fimrite spends some time writing about Carew's particular bunting prowess; the story says Carew practices the skill 45 minutes per day in spring training and 15 minutes before each game. "Not many modern players are willing to devote much time to something so personally unrewarding," asserts Fimrite.

There's a vicious and damning little item about Maryland's recruitment of Moses Malone. There's stuff on the facts that Arnold Palmer is getting old and the World Cup is a big deal.

And, yet, I find the most entertaining story in the issue to be about the NCAA golf championship, won by Wake Forest and freshman Curtis Strange. Here's Barry McDermott's first two paragraphs:

"A college golf coach is equal parts fidget and fuss, worry and anxiety. Watching one at a tournament is like studying the movies of a rookie father in a maternity ward. Only worse. Childbirth never takes 72 holes. Coaches play bump and run on the course, hiding behind the foliage, disguising themselves as electric golf carts, stalking their players as furtively as the CIA. They fret a lot. That's their job--fretting. And handing out golf balls. Usually their sage advice can be distilled down to this: 'Do better.'

"They were all at the NCAA golf championship in San Diego last weekend, squirming, exhorting, praying, wondering, hoping and giving with a lot of body English. They were easy to spot. Most had on straw hats, and they kept sticking money into the ballwasher and yelling about how the stupid machine would not give them any cigarettes."

I like that a load. The whole story's that lively, and there are a lot of great eventual-PGA Tour names sprinkled throughout. The sweetest peaches of sportswriting assignments are those events where the participants care intensely and there's a bunch of drama--but there's almost no one else (especially big TV) there covering it.

Meanwhile, I'm already looking ahead to next weekend's reading of the July 8, 1974, issue, as I see SI's planning something on the new World Football League!

Won't You Come Home, Bill Butler?

I spent pretty much every uncommitted three- to 90-minute pocket of my weekend searching for that 1975 Topps baseball card. Found it early Sunday morning shortly before stirred the wife and daughter and commenced the mad dash to get out the door and to church on time. I was so thrilled. The discovery made better everything good about a very great Memorial Day weekend.

Bill Butler's is the first baseball card I ever loved. It was one from three magical packs that my Mom purchased for me on a trip back across Paducah from our new house on Cairo Road (in the Heath High School-feeding Concord Elementary district) to our old place on Kennedy Road (in the Tilghman High School-feeding Clark Elementary district).

We had been in the Kennedy Road house only about a year after moving from Chicago and, just a few years before that, Evansville, Ind. These were for my dad, who would turn 50 in October of 1975, the choppy waters of what would turn out to be a giant career and life change--from late nights in offices, estimating what it would cost the company for which he worked to build various commercial and public structures (other office buildings, pump stations along the Alaskan pipeline, the Vehicle Assembly Building at Cape Canaveral, etc.), to early mornings in his own pottery shop, throwing stoneware crocks and vases. There was little room on our Kennedy Road property for a shop, as well as zoning restrictions against opening a retail storefront. And so off we moved to Paducah's western outskirts to give more flexibility for accommodating whatever Dad's (and our) future might hold.

I think we must've had two cars at the time--a white, Ford Pinto station wagon that was the family vehicle and a brown and yellow Nash Metropolitan that was primarily driven by the last of my three siblings to be living at home. I'll bet my brother was transporting little, delicate things that would fit in his tiny Metro and that my dad was loading and driving a U-Haul truck. In any event, I do know that it was just Mom and me in the Pinto, that we had just dropped our first load of boxes at the Cairo Road house and that we were headed back empty across Paducah to retrieve more. We stopped at a little grocery--at this time, it was either Holland's or Clement's--not far from the new place. I imagine we got little-bottle Cokes, probably for everyone, and I know Mom bought for me three packs of new, 1975-issue Topps baseball cards.

As Mom drove, I sat in the back end of the car, opening and thumbing through the cards from those first three of hundreds of packs that I would go through in the next 10, 15 years. The Pinto's back seat had been lowered flat to create an open bed for boxes. On the expanse of Navy-blue upholstery and in the 15 minutes or so it took to get back across town, I created some sort of baseballish game with the cards. I seem to remember Bob Collucio, Pat Bourque and maybe even All-Star Larry Bowa being among those first cards Mom bought for me. Bill Butler? No question. The 36-year-old memory of playing with his card in the hot back end of the windows-down Pinto ambling across Paducah glows like burning coal.

Paul Splittorff died last week, and that news sent me on a 1975 Topps baseball card jag. By some point Friday late night, I realized that Bill Butler was not to be found among the 400 or so cards that I have from the 660-card set. This would absolutely not do.

I started a search-and-rescue mission in earnest early Saturday, but efforts had to be more or less suspended once the ladies awoke Saturday. There was house-cleaning for a round of company this week. There was evening buffeting and playgrounding at Pennryrile State Park with extended family. There was getting the daughter to sleep that night. There were some short snippets of searching amid these activities, but things didn't ramp back up in earnest until early Sunday morning. After about 90 minutes of rifling through various boxes and stacks of cards, Bill Butler's misplaced face happily appeared. I spent a lot of the Sunday and holiday since reading about all-things 1974, the year documented on the back of the 1975 cards. (Turns out that Bill Buckner had a pretty storied World Series career even before Mookie Wilson's hit and that Julian Carroll's governorship had an interesting start, too.)

A couple of days later, I'm off to a slow start back to biz from the Memorial Day weekend. Still tangled up in this whole Bill Butler deal ... in the uniqueness of the whats that we treasure and the universalness of the how, in the woman and the coin, in the unequivocal "command" and "must" of loving, in "ways of childhood" vs. "childish things," in holidays and business and holy days and busyness, in vocation and occupation ... tick, tick, tick ... now 1 hours, 48 minutes late getting to work ...

My old Kentucky books: The Interpreter's Bible

It's so, so great:

"A sense of history, as distinguished from the mere recollection of past events, is a sign of maturity. Without conscious manipulation, the disjunct episodes of the child's life begins to assume the appearance first of continuity and then of significance. This enables the child to make a beginning on the important job of understanding himself and his relation to events he shares with others. It is a paradigm of social growth. The development of broken ejaculations into sentences made continuity of discourse possible. Telling stories made continuity of experience possible. As folk tales became stereotyped, the gaps between episodes filled up, and the first adumbrations of the sense of history were seen. The record of social growth is found in the long process from primitive monosyllable to sophisticated history. Every linguistic and communicative device has been employed to make this possible: from grunt to grammar, from knotted string to reckless metaphor, from blazed forest trail to book index, the movement has gone on. Arnold J. Toynbee tells us civilization has reached maturity when it has a military establishment to protect it, a system of propaganda to rationalize it, a highly developed administrative system to give it internal stability, and a money currency to establish its credit. If these are factors in estimating social age, they are also helpful in understanding how mature cultures implement their sense of destiny, which is the moral imperative born of a sense of history. Depending on certain internal factors, it may be sinister or noble, edifying or destructive."

The Interpreter's Bible, Vol. IV. George Arthur Buttrick, ed. (Nashville: Abingdon, 1955) 431.