"He became a Knight Templar in Rapier Commandery and was one of its past eminent commanders. He was a member of the Scottish Rite bodies in the Valley of Indianapolis in the early days and performed his work with a ritual perfection unsurpassed. He received the thirty-third and last degree as a merited honor for proficiency and zeal.
"The conspicuous feature of his life was its indomitable purpose."
THE WORLD'S SERIES OF 1912
BY JOHN B. FOSTER.
No individual, whether player, manager, owner, critic or spectator, who went through the world's series of 1912 ever will forget it. There never was another like it. Years may elapse before there shall be a similar series and it may be that the next to come will be equally sensational, perhaps more so.
Viewed from the very strict standpoint that all Base Ball games should be played without mistake or blunder this world's series may be said to have been inartistic, but it is only the hypercritical theorist who would take such a cold-blooded view of the series.
From the lofty perch of the "bleacherite" it was a series crammed with thrills and gulps, cheers and gasps, pity and hysteria, dejection and wild exultation, recrimination and adoration, excuse and condemnation, and therefore it was what may cheerfully be called "ripping good" Base Ball.
There were plays on the field which simply lifted the spectators out of their seats in frenzy. There were others which caused them to wish to sink through the hard floor of the stand in humiliation. There were stops in which fielders seemed to stretch like india rubber and others in which they shriveled like parchment which has been dried. There were catches of fly balls which were superhuman and muffs of fly balls which were "superawful."
There were beautiful long hits, which threatened to change the outcome of games and some of them did. There were opportunities for other beautiful long hits which were not made.