Commentary - Stephanie Esworthy: Orioles’ opening game, 1954

Where are you when we need you, big “Bullet Bob” Turley?

A 90-minute parade through Baltimore City ending at the incomplete brick façade of Memorial Stadium launched opening day, April 15, 1954. In a renovated “chair seat” facing the Gunther Beer scoreboard, the majesty of American League Baseball overwhelmed me. At long last we were a Major League City, and we adored those former St. Louis Browns, renamed The Baltimore Orioles.

A record 46, 354 voices roared as catcher Clint Courtney smacked the first home run into the brilliant April sun. The warm comfort of hot dogs scarfed down in the cold outdoors completed the sensation of total well being as pitcher Bob Turley struck out nine.

Sports writers credited him with the 3-1 win that day against the Chicago White Sox. I elevated Bob Turley to hero status because of it.

Imagine my excitement when I read post-season that “Bullet Bob” would be in The Hecht Company Northwood men’s department on a Friday evening in October, “to advise gentlemen on their selection of fall men’s wear and sign autographs.” It was a miserable night with wind-driven horizontal rain making it a difficult walk to Hecht’s.

Ready to jockey with adults for a position in line, I pulled open the glass doors.

The main corridor was empty and quiet. So was the men’s department to the right. But under a fluorescent glow, as promised, without entourage or bodyguard, standing larger than life, broad shouldered without steroids, at six feet, two inches, 215 pounds, was Bob Turley. He seemed content in a white summer sports jacket accented with blue thread, standing behind a shamefully rickety card table, trying to keep a single row of unruly baseballs from rolling off the lopsided surface.

I hurried over, still expecting a crowd. But the Orioles had finished seventh of eight teams. Fans were not amused. I craned my neck to look up and was awed by his shining thick black Superman hair, the perfect pompadour wave slicked into place with Brilliantine. He smiled and said, “Well, young lady, are you here to be advised on your fall wardrobe?” I was taken aback and unprepared to respond to humor, so I launched into my prepared remarks.

I had done my research, took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’m here to ask you if you and your wife are enjoying your new baby and if you feel that you were the League’s ‘Strikeout King’ because of your unique no windup delivery which improved control.” He stared at me in silence. “Who are you, kid?” he asked dumbfounded. “I’m a loyal fan,” I whispered meekly, remembering that reporters reminded us not to be fickle during losing streaks. He gazed around dramatically and said, “No, you are my ONLY fan.” Laughing, he signed the sweet spot of a free baseball for me. Wanting to comfort him, I said, “Well, it’s date and movie night, plus there’s a tropical storm out there.” He just shook his head and sighed, “Thanks for coming out.”

This was an ominous harbinger of events to come. On November 18, 1954, the Orioles and Yankees exchanged 18 players and Bob Turley, 24, became a Yankee. I grieved. But we had bonded for 10 minutes and I was proud when “my friend” became a star. 1958 was his year: American League All-Star and Cy Young Award winner; The Sporting News Pitcher of the Year, Major League Player of the Year and World Series MVP. He never earned more than $150,000 a season. Retired from baseball in 1963, he joined Primerica Financial Services, earned millions, and now lives comfortably in Georgia.

Thanks Bob, for being a sports hero a kid could just walk up to and chat with on a rainy Friday night. Bob might say, win or lose, don’t forget to be a loyal fan.

Stephanie Esworthy was director of Media and Public Relations and the Baltimore City Film Commission for former Mayors William Donald Schaefer and the late Clarence “Du” Burns and served as head of Baltimore City’s Bureau of Music in every city administration since Mayor Theodore McKeldin. She may be reached at steph21093@verizon.net.