Los Angeles herald., 1907-12-01
LIVELY STOR ES OF FAMOUS HORSEHlDE
ARTISTS THAT TICKLE THE FANS

NEW of the millions Of American base
ball fans who regularly attend the
u big league games ever stop to think
that perhaps the machines of the dia-
mond, who spend the best years of their
lives in amusing the public, are real, live,
human beings.
A ball player has as many.varying char
acteristics as his fellowmen and he usu-
ally adds the spice of wit and the sugar
of humor to a seemingly rough makeup.
Revere Rodgers, the we'll known Wash
ington newspaper man, tells the follow
ing interesting little stories of famous
horsehide artists, which serve to illus
trate the sad and gay sides of a ball
rlayer's life and his chronic sal.ies of
repartee among his mates:
outfelder Kay's Repartee
When the slugger Kay Joined the Wash
irgton outfit he hardly looked to be the
unconscious wit that he afterward turned
out to be.
The rest of the bunch. on account of
Kay's manner and his general disinclina-
tior to talk. thought that the big fellow
was farmer" and some of the players
in a iovial mood attempted to kid the big
fellow.
One day Case Patten, in joking sort of
way, said to Kay:
"And so, my re Dust friend, I under
stand that you came from Martinsburg,
W. Va"
Sure. 1 did" shot back Kay as he
looked Patten over, land wouldn't your
Al SeIbach's Bon Mot
AL Selbach, who played on the Wash
ington team years ago, is in the clothing
business in Columbus, Ohio, in the off
season. and rumor states. that the genial
AL and his brother do a fine retail trade
curing the snow flying portion of the year.
The other day George Carey known to
Washington baseball fans as Scoops"
Carey, and who is now a resident of East
Liverpool, Ohio. the birthplace of the
Charley Hickman, was in Colum-
bus, and he stopped in Al Selbach's store
iii order to purchase a suit of clothes.
George bought the clothes all right, but
the next day, being in a kidding humor.
he and Billy Clymer, another ball player,
cropped into Selbach's store, when Carey
said to A:
Look here. Rip that suit of clothes 1
bought of you yesterday was a bum fit"
well, what do you expect for s15." cried
Al, "a first class attack of epilepsy?'
Arlie Latham's Crack
When Chris Won der Abe was running
the st. Louis club he had his work cut
out for him and no mistake, for, with the
bunch of Indians who were working for
this eccentric though good-natured Ger
man, Chris time was always occupied
in trying to keep this lot straight.
One day when Cliff Carroll had failed
to show up and Fogarty had one of his
grouchy spells, Chris, with his face
49, CHI n
dialect that would have convulsed a vau-
devile audience with laughter, happened
to run against the clever Arlie Latham as
he came into the baseball yard.
Now Arlie was the bane of Chris life,
although it is doubtful if there ever was
another ball player who worked for Chris
who stood as high in the German man
ayers esteem as did Arlie Latham. But
on this particular day he grabbed hold of
Latham and exclaimed:
''Mein Gott, Arlie Laddam. you ball
players will give me brain fever if you
keeps on"
You'll never have that cried Arlie,
because you wouldn't have any place to
put it, Chris" he added, as he swiftly
ducked a short right arm jolt that Won
der Abe swung in his direction.
What Tom Hughes Told CantilIon
Just after the new club house was fin
ished out at the Nationals ball grounds
Cantillon gave strict orders that the
players must refrain from abusing the in
terror of the tastefully appearing place
Everything being new and attractive
Joe, who has an eye for the beautiful
wished to keep the club house in a first.
class condition.
Joe's instructions were obeyed to the
letter for the first two ' eeks, and ther
the spike shoe fraternity got into a care.
less mood and acted pretty nearly in al
independent a manner as they had wher
occupying the old club house that wa.
burned down the night of the livery stable
fire.
Joe noticed this by reason of the fact
that he would discover the amber coloreC
juice from chewing tobacco spattered ovei
the floor and also that the paint on the
walls was defaced in several places.
Joe fumed but he was unable to trace
the culprits, until one morning he cam,
into the club house somewhat before hi,
usual hour and found the elongated Mr.
Hughes, the box artist, tilted back in {
chair with his feet up against the wall
while he was squirting tobacco juic,
around like a geyser working overtime.
This was the managers chance and h,
started in to read the riot act to Ton
Hughes.
But he had unloaded only few choic,
expletives when Hughes arose, and will
sweep of his salary wing, he cried out
| Look her, Joe Cantillon there Is onl