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."