A Ball Player's Career / Being the Personal Experiences and Reminiscensces of Adrian C. Anson

by Adrian C. Anson

The majority of the members of our party tried their luck at the tables, as does everybody that goes to Monte Carlo, no matter how strongly they may condemn the practice when at home, and some of us were lucky enough to carry off some of the bank's money, Mr. Spalding, Mrs. Anson and myself among the number. There is as much of a fascination in watching the faces of the players around the tables as there is in following the chances of the game, and the regular habitues of the place can be spotted almost at the first glance. One day at Monte Carlo was quite enough for us and we were glad to get back to Nice and out of the way of temptation.

The second day after we arrived at Nice the flower festival took place, and luckily the weather was almost perfect. All the morning for a distance of some twenty blocks the Avenue des Anglaise, where the battle of flowers is annually held, the decorators had been busy preparing for the event, and by afternoon decked in flowers and gaily-colored ribbons, bunting and flags, the scene that it presented was a brilliant one. By three o'clock it was crowded with elegant equipages filled with men, women and flowers, the two former pelting each other with blossoms to their heart's content, the spectators in the adjacent windows and on the sidewalks taking part in the mimic war. Conspicuous in the party was the Prince of Wales and his friends, among which were several of our fair countrywomen, the whole party distributing their flowers right and left with reckless-prodigality. The number of handsome women, the splendid street decorations, and the abundance of flowers that were scattered about in lavish profusion made a brilliant picture and one that it is not to be wondered that tourists journey from all parts of the continent to witness.

The next morning we were off for Paris, stopping over at Lyons for the night, where there was snow on the ground, the weather being cold and disagreeable, and it was not until Saturday that we arrived in "La Belle Paris," the Mecca of all Americans who have money to spend and who desire to spend it, and the fame of whose magnificent boulevards, parks, palaces, squares and monuments has not extended half as far as has the fame of its Latin Quartier, with its gay student life, its masked balls, with their wild abandon, its theaters made famous by the great Rachael, Sara Bernhardt and others, and its gardens, where high kickers are in their glory. All of these were to be seen and all of these we saw, that is, all of them that we could see in the short week that was allotted to us, it being a week of late hours and wild dissipation so far as my wife and myself were concerned, we rarely retiring until long after the hour of midnight. Our days were spent in driving about the city and its environs, and in viewing the various places of interest that were to be seen, from the magnificent galleries filled with the rarest of paintings and statuary to the dark and gloomy Bastille, while our nights were devoted to the theater and balls, and at both of these we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.

In Paris we met a great many members of the American colony from whom we received much courtesy and attention, and to whom I should like to have a chance of returning the many kindnesses that were showered upon us during the time that we remained in the French capital.

As a business man the Parisian is not a decided success when viewed from the American standpoint, but as a butterfly in pursuit of pleasure he cannot be beaten. He is polite and courteous at all times, however, but is not to be trusted when making a trade, he having learned to look upon all Americans with money as his natural and legitimate prey, and so is prepared to take the advantage of you and yours whenever the opportunity is given him.

It was not until the afternoon of March 8th that we were given a chance to show the Parisians how the National Game of America is played, and then we put up a fairly good exhibition, both teams being more than anxious to win, and playing in a most spirited fashion. This game was played at the Parc Aristotique, situated on the banks of the Seine, just opposite the Exposition Buildings, and within plain sight of the great Eiffel Tower, it being walled in by gardens and big city residences. The game was made memorable by the large number of Americans that were present and by the distinguished people before whom it was played. Among these were General Brugere and Captain Chamin, representing President Carnot of the French Republic, who sent a letter regretting that his official duties prevented him from seeing the game; Mr. and Mrs. William Joy, of the American Legation; Miss McLane, daughter of the American Minister at Paris; Miss Urquhart, a sister of Mrs. James Brown Potter, the actress; Consul General Rathbone, and a host of others prominent in diplomatic, social and theatrical circles. It was in the second inning of the game that the famous "stone wall" infield of the Chicagos was broken up through an injury received by Ed Williamson, from the effects of which he never fully recovered. He had taken his base on balls in the second inning and, was trying to steal second when he tripped and fell, tearing his knee cap on the sharp sand and gravel of which the playing surface was composed. He was taken by his wife, who was among the spectators, to his hotel, and it was thought that a few days of rest would see him all right again, but such did not prove to be the case, as he was still confined to his room in London when we sailed for home, and it was until late in the season of 1889 that he was again able to report for duty. This necessitated Baldwin's going to first while Ryan took Williamson's place at short and weakened our team very materially, as Williamson was always a tower of strength to us. We were very decidedly off, too, in our batting, and it was not until the sixth inning that a home run by Ryan and a two-bagger by Pettit, and a passed ball enabled us to put two men over the plate. These were all the runs we got, however, and at the end of the second inning, when game was called, the score stood at 6 to 2 in All-Americas' favor.

How the members of either game were enabled to play as good ball as they did, not only in Paris but in other cities that we visited after the inactivity of steamer life, the late hours, and the continual round of high living that they indulged in, is a mystery, and one that is past my fathoming, and yet the ball that they put up on many of these occasions that I have spoken of was ball of the championship kind and the sort that would have won even in, League company.

At half-past eight o'clock we left Paris for our trip across the English Channel, taking the long route from Dieppe to New Haven, and if we all wished ourselves dead and buried a hundred times before reaching the latter Port we can hardly be blamed, as a worse night for making the trip could not well have been chosen. It was one o'clock in the morning when the train from Paris bearing the members of our party arrived at Dieppe, and the wind at that time was blowing a gale. Down the dock in the face of this we marched and aboard the little side-wheel steamer "Normande," where our quarters were much too cramped for comfort. A few minutes later the lines were cast off and the steamer was tossing about like a cork on the face of the waters, now up and now down, and seemingly trying at times to turn a somersault, a feat that luckily for us she did not succeed in accomplishing, else this story might never have been written. There was no doing on deck, even had we been capable of making an effort to do so, which we were not, as we could hear the large waves that swept over the vessel strike the planking with a heavy thud that shook the steamer from stem to stern, and then go rushing away into the scuppers.

Up and down, down and up, all night long, and if we had never prayed to be set ashore before we did on that occasion, but as helpless as logs we lay in our staterooms, not much caring whether the next plunge made by the ship was to be the last or not. I had had slight attacks of seasickness before, but on this occasion I was good and seasick, and Mrs. Anson was, if such a thing were possible, even in a worse condition than I was. At about three in the morning we heard the noise of a heavy shock followed by the crashing of timbers and the shouts of sailors that sounded but faintly above the roar of the tempest, and the next morning discovered that a huge wave had carried away the bridge, the lookout fortunately managing to escape being carried away with the wreck. The experience of that awful night is one never to be forgotten, a night that, according to the captain, was the worst that he had ever witnessed during his thirty years of experience, and it was with feelings of great relief that we dropped anchor in the harbor of New Haven the next morning, where the sun shone brightly and the sea was comparatively quiet.

We were a pretty seedy-looking lot when we boarded the train for London, where we debarked at the Victoria Station about half-past nine o'clock, still looking much the worse for wear and like a collection of invalids than a party of representative ball players. Getting into carriages we were at once driven through the city to Holburn, where quarters at the First Avenue Hotel had been provided, and where we were only too glad to rest for a time and recover from the awful shaking up that the English Channel had given us; a shaking up that it took Mrs. Anson some time to recover from, as it also did the other ladies of the party.