The Los Angeles Dodgers just celebrated their 50th anniversary in Los Angeles with a special event at Dodger Stadium on opening day, the surprise appearance before the game of many Dodger greats of the past 50 years. Los Angeles Times columnist Bill Plaschke wrote a moving column on the celebration, “Past becomes a present to Dodgers fans,” in the
Dear Bill,
I read your column “Past becomes a present to Dodgers fans” in yesterday’s (April 1, 2008) Los Angeles Times with a heavy heart. At the same time that I appreciated your description of the ceremony at Dodger Stadium and your commentary about the old Dodgers and the reception they received, I felt a profound sadness.
I just turned 65 years old. I was born in Brooklyn in 1943 and grew up a devoted Brooklyn Dodgers fan. There will only be one group that carries the title “Boys of Summer” for me, and they were the Dodgers of the 1950’s. Their departure from Brooklyn in 1958 broke my heart and those of so many other Brooklynites. I migrated to Southern California in 1969 and have lived here ever since, now well more than half my life, and while I grew to root for the Dodgers here they have never come close to measuring up to my Dodgers.
When you wrote of Duke Snider’s appearance in center field at the ceremony, my eyes teared and I could only think of him as The Duke of Flatbush and nowhere else. While we in Brooklyn knew that Duke hailed from San Diego, he belonged to us, in Brooklyn. Perhaps Mays and Mantle were superior all-around players but even if they were, and I would never concede that, Duke was ours and in our eyes was the best of the three. But those Dodgers were a team and none truly stood out above and beyond the others. Whether it was Gil Hodges and his legendary strength, Carl Furillo with his bullet throws, Jackie Robinson with all that he represented, Pee Wee Reese, the captain, Roy Campanella, an anchor for so long, Joe Black for one remarkable season, Billy Cox, Preacher Roe, Junior Gilliam, Don Newcombe or, of course, Carl Erskine with that incredible overhand delivery, these were remarkable players who constituted a remarkable team. How could anyone forget the batting line up, although it began to change as the decade passed. Duke batting third, Jackie batting clean up, and then what? Campy, Hodges, Furillo or in some order like that? Carl Furillo, who won a batting championship, batting seventh? What consistent hitters. What power hitters. How in the world could we have lost to the Yankees so often?!!
And then there was Vin Scully who, unbeknownst to himself, welcomed me to Los Angeles in 1969 as I drove across the desert from Needles on the last day of my travels across the country. I knew no one here and to hear his voice was comforting, as it remains to so many generations of baseball fans. He was part of the Red Barber, Vin Scully, Connie Desmond trio who broadcast Dodger games in the early 1950’s and as a young boy I loved listening to all three.
I do not begrudge Los Angelenos celebrating the 50th anniversary of the Dodgers’ arrival here, although I have never entirely forgiven Walter O’Malley for taking our Dodgers from our midst or the Los Angeles political figures from luring him here. As an adult, I’ve come to better appreciate his efforts to build a stadium in Brooklyn and the ways in which Robert Moses thwarted those attempts. But if the Dodgers play a major part in bringing the people of Los Angeles together, imagine how central they were to the identity of the people of Brooklyn. The Bronx had the Yankees. Manhattan, or at least the residential parts, had the Giants. The Dodgers were ours, and then they were gone.
You wrote “At Monday’s opening day, Los Angeles was 56,000 Dodgers lovers with peanuts in their throats and Cracker Jack in their memories.” As I read your words, what came to my mind were flashes of Pee Wee Reese and Jackie Robinson taking leads off second and first, and then pulling off another double steal; Duke Snider hitting a fastball over the scoreboard on that high right field wall into Flatbush Avenue; Carl Furillo throwing out a base runner at third who tried to stretch a double into a triple; Gil Hodges breaking up a fight; Roy Campanella walking to the mound to reassure a nervous pitcher; and so many other memories of baseball at Ebbets Field.
So for me, celebrating the Dodgers’ 50th anniversary in Southern California is at best bittersweet. I’m glad the McCourts recognize the importance of history but Dodgers’ history goes back way before 1958. And I know I’m not the only transplanted Brooklynite here in Los Angeles who felt heartache yesterday. At least The Duke wore a Brooklyn jersey.
Thanks, Bill, for your moving writing.
Regards,
Donald Newman
