Also,
see McRae.
One
of the boys who grew up with us became a famous big league pitcher.
He was the late Walter Mails, often called The Great Mails. Walter, a
southpaw, had a terrific fast ball and a fast breaking, wide curve
ball. When he could get the ball over the plate, he was almost invincible.
One
day Mrs. Mails, his mother, came to me, knowing that I was going to
San Francisco the next day, and gave me a five dollar gold piece. She
asked me if I could buy a catchers mitt for Walter as it was his
birthday. At the time, Walter had ambitions to be a catcher. I was
skeptical, as left handed catchers mitts were unheard of, but said I
would try. After visiting several stores, The Emporium, Hales and A.
W. Spaulding, I found one at Reach Brothers.
Later
Walter took up pitching, and at St. Mary's College he got some good
coaching. He pitched for our semi-pro San Quentin team and for the
California State league, and then in the Pacific Coast league.
In
1919, when I was living in Sacramento, Walter was pitching for the
Sacramento Solons. Sacramento had a contract with the Cleveland
Indians in the American league, and Cleveland was a runner up for the
pennant. Toward the end of the season their star pitcher was hit on
the head by a pitched ball and he died from the concussion.
Cleveland
sent to Sacramento, asking that Mails be sent at once to help for
the rest of the season. Mails had played one season at Brooklyn in
the National league but he was not used very much due to his lack of
control. But Mails resented the lack of work. There was nothing he
wanted more than to be in there playing. Wilbur Robinson was the
Brooklyn manager and Mails grew to dislike him very much.
When
Walter was to leave Sacramento for Cleveland, a delegation of his
friends went to the Southern Pacific Station to see him off and wish
him well.
Walter,
never at a loss for words, made a short speech to the crowd, saying,
"Fellows, I am going back there and win the pennant for
Cleveland. And I hope that Brooklyn wins it in the National league,
and when we get together in the World Series, I am going to make
Wilbur Robinson weep."
As
it turned out this boast was pretty much as it was. Walter pitched
six games for Cleveland during the balance of the season and won five
of them. Cleveland won the pennant by a margin of one game. Brooklyn
won the National league pennant and in the World Series, Mails
pitched and won his game, and went in and saved another game, and
Cleveland was the World Champions.
An
incident about The Great Mails was the time when I had arranged for
a double header ball game with our kid's team at San Quentin and a
rival team in San Rafael. Walter was to pitch the afternoon game, and
the fellow who was to pitch in the morning, Jimmie Brown, was
disciplined by his parents for some reason and not allowed to come to
San Rafael. I was the manager so I decided to pitch the morning game.
We won that game 4 to 1.
After
lunch we played the same team and Walter Mails did the pitching. We
lost that game, and in after years I had a little fun telling about
the day that I out-pitched The Great Mails.
Mails
stayed with baseball, making it his life work. He was publicity
manager for the San Francisco Giants, and did fine work with service
clubs and organized groups, promoting baseball. He was also very
active in youth groups, urging them to play baseball and emphasizing
team play and fairness. He passed away early in 1974.
My
first recollection of Walter Mails was when a carriage drove up in
front of the Sheppard Hotel at San Quentin. Mrs. Mails was in the
carriage and a young boy was lying on the back seat. Mrs. Mails'
father, John McRae, owned the hotel. The carriage had come from the
hospital in San Rafael and Mrs. Mails, with some assistance, took the
boy and carried him into the hotel. He appeared to be paralyzed and I
learned later that he was stricken with paralysis, probably polio.
Mrs.
Mails devoted all of her time to the young boy, practicing massage
therapy and hot baths. Her treatments were successful and were
probably similar to those practiced by Sister Kenny, many years
later, that were quite famous.
Walter,
the stricken boy, recovered completely and grew up to be a very
successful athlete and big league pitcher.
My
brother, Ray, two years older than me, was an excellent ball player.
He played short stop and was a fine fielder and a consistent hitter.
When in high school he captained a winning team for three years.
After leaving high school, Ray joined the town team, The San Rafael
Regulars, playing short stop.
This
team was composed mostly of mature men and some were ex Coast league
players. Ray could have made it in professional baseball but he was
working for the Northwestern Pacific railroad and at the end of two
years he quit to go to engineering college. He graduated from Van Der
Naelen School of Engineering in Oakland as a Civil Engineer.
