by Diane Moody
With the help of the Andy Frain ushers and police officers from the nearest precinct, Monday’s overnight vigil by those lined up for tickets at Wrigley had remained calm and orderly despite the cold temperature dipping into the low 40s. The Chicago Tribune’s Edward Prell described the scene of excited fans wrapped in blankets, some playing rummy, some warming their hands by fires lit in garbage cans. Mr. Frain and his men kept a close watch, and Frain quickly found himself the source of constant attention from folks trying to gain favor. A fan from nearby Waukegan even offered him a six-pound fish in exchange for good seats. Frain was amused but declined the offer.
When the twenty-eight ticket windows opened at 8:00 a.m. on Tuesday morning, owner Philip Wrigley was there to help supervise the distribution of tickets for Wednesday’s Game 7. Wrigley was particularly interested in helping the loyal fans who had attended games throughout the war years who’d been unable to attend any of the previous series games because they couldn’t get tickets. By 11:30 that morning, all reserve seats were sold out.
On Wednesday morning, the 5,000 bleacher seats went on sale, and when those were gone, the 2,500 standing room admissions were up for grabs.
If the Cubs fans were a bit tentative when they arrived for Game 6 two days prior, they were almost breathless with anxiety when they gathered at the corner of Clark and Addison. Like most others lined up, Danny and Joey kept their thoughts to themselves, just anxious to get the game started. When they reached Marv at the gate, he gave both of them a hearty handshake.
“Hi, boys! Today’s the day!”
“I sure hope so,” Joey said. “Regardless, there’s no way we’ll ever be able to thank you enough for these tickets. And just so you know, you’ll never pay for another movie ticket at the Windsor. Understood?”
“Really? That’s great. Thanks, Joey!”
Danny gave him a pat on the back. “It’s been unforgettable, Marv. I can’t tell you what a thrill it’s been. Thanks so much, pal.”
“Boys, it’s been my pleasure. Now go cheer our Cubs to the final victory. I’m counting on you!”
Just before Roy Nelson’s organ tunes filled the stadium, a collective groan rippled through the crowd as Hank Borowy left the bullpen and headed to the mound. No one would argue that Borowy was their best pitcher and had what it took to be a world-class champion. But with only one day off since pitching four innings in relief on Monday—and that, after pitching six innings on Sunday—most everyone questioned Grimm’s decision to send Borowy in to start Game 7.
As Borowy and Nicholson warmed up with a few more tosses, the stands began to thunder with cheers so loud, Danny wondered if they weren’t trying to infuse the Cubs pitcher with all their hopes and dreams for the championship.
“We can do this, Joey. We can!”
Joey said nothing, his eyes glued to number 26 as he wound up his first pitch.
The first inning did not go well. Borowy gave up singles to the first three Detroit batters. The stunned Chicago fans watched in disbelief as Charley Grimm marched out to the mound and held out his hand for the ball. Even from where Danny sat, he could see the surprise on the pitcher’s face. They exchanged some heated words as reliever Paul Derringer arrived to replace him. In protest, Borowy waited until Grimm was back in the dugout before he made his own final walk off the mound.
Danny, Joey, and the rest of the fans stood and gave Hank Borowy a loud shout of thanks. Without him, they knew they would never have made it to the World Series.
Unfortunately, Derringer didn’t fare much better. By the end of the first inning, Detroit had already racked up five runs. The Cubs answered with only one run on Detroit’s well-rested pitcher, Hal Newhouser. The tone of the final game was set as Newhouser went the distance for Detroit, striking out ten batters and allowing only ten hits through nine innings. Grimm, on the other hand, blew through a total of six pitchers and still came up short.
The Cubs lost the game 9-3, giving the World Series championship to the Detroit Tigers.
“I should’ve stayed home,” Joey moaned as they slowly made their way through the disheartened crowd. “I had a gut feeling this would happen. I just never thought it would all be over in the first inning.”
“I’m guessing Grimm will be raked over the coals,” Danny added. “He’ll have to answer for a lot of poor choices.”
“Just do me a favor,” Joey said, rounding the final exit onto Addison. “If by some bizarre chance we make it back to the World Series next year, remind me not to go. It’s too painful.”
Danny hooked his elbow around Joey’s neck. “Ah, c’mon, Joey. They played great ball! They may have lost the last game, but they clearly out-hit, out-fielded, and out-pitched the Tigers. Think about it. If you took Newhouser and Greenberg off their roster, who would have won the series?”
Joey pulled away with a chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, but none of that matters. It’s who comes up on top at the end, and apparently we’re destined to come up short no matter how hard we play. This makes seven times the Cubs have been to the World Series. And how many times have we won?”
“Only two, but lest we forget, both those wins back in ’07 and ’08 were against the Tigers. This was only their second series crown.”
“Yes, brother dearest, and lest we forget, who did they beat on their first visit to the series?”
“Okay, it was us, but—”
“Oh, give it a rest. It’s over. I’m over it.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
“But you’ve got to wonder if that stupid goat is to blame.”
“Oh, c’mon, Joey, you don’t really believe in curses, do you?”
“I didn’t use to, but think about it, Danny. When old man Sianis and his goat got kicked out just before Game 4, he went back to his bar and started ranting about the Cubs and saying they’d never win another World Series as long as they didn’t allow goats to attend. You yourself said we out-hit, out-fielded, and out-pitched the Tigers, yet we lost the series. It’s got to make you wonder, right?”
“Nope. Just a silly rumor and nothing more. You mark my words. The Cubs will be back next year!”
29
25 October 1945
London, England
“Oh no, here comes another one—ahhh!”
If Kate’s pinched and flushed face were any indication, Anya couldn’t imagine the pain her flatmate was experiencing with each new contraction. They’d begun two hours earlier, just before four that afternoon, with long sporadic gaps in between. They’d rung the doctor who gave Anya some simple instructions, and told her to telephone again when the contractions were five to seven minutes apart for at least an hour. Anya had also telephoned Sophie at the Rainbow. She promised to be home as soon as she could find someone to take her shift.
None of them knew where Gigi was, but that wasn’t unusual.
Anya noted the time then patted Kate’s brow with the cool, damp cloth until the contraction passed. She fell back against the pillows stuffed behind her and blew out a long sigh.
“That one wasn’t as bad, was it?”
“No, not really.” Kate raked her fingers through her long dark hair and smiled mischievously at Anya. “Do you realize you’re tensing when I do?”
“Am I? Really?”
“Yes, and every time you start breathing like I do.” She feigned the short, puffy breaths.
Anya shielded her face behind her hands and laughed.
Kate rested her head back against the pillows. “Don’t be embarrassed. Just think of all the practice you’re getting for when you have babies of your own.”
Anya felt her face warm. “Not if we never get on those blasted ships to America.”
“True. Will we ever see our husbands again? Sometimes I wonder.”
“Oh Kate—it just occurred to me that we haven’t placed a call to let Joe know you’re in labor. Shall I go back across the street to ring him?”
Kate’s eyes drifted shut. “No, not yet. I’d
rather wait until the baby is born. And at the rate I’m going, that could be next week. Maybe next month.”
“Not a chance. He’ll be here before the day ends.”
“He? So you think it’s a boy?”
“No. I’m not sure why I said that. Are you hoping for a boy?”
She opened her eyes again briefly. “Honestly, at this point, it doesn’t matter. Either will suit me fine.” She gently patted her enormous belly. “I just want this little one to pop out.” She winked then closed her eyes again with another weary sigh. “I think I’d like to rest now.”
“Good. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
Anya moved to the overstuffed chair in the corner of the room and relaxed a moment before picking up her pen and paper. With a large book beneath, she tried again to start her letter.
Dear Danny,
First, before I forget, I was sorry to read in your last letter that your Cubs lost the World Series. It’s a game I don’t understand, but since I know how much you love baseball and especially your Cubs, I know it must have been very hard for you and Joey to watch them lose. Maybe they’ll do better next year. I laughed out loud about the man who brought his goat to the first game. Do Americans often take their animals to baseball games? You don’t really believe he cursed the Cubs, do you? Perhaps I’ll bring them good luck when I move to Chicago, America.
You will not believe what I am doing right now. I’m sitting here with Kate, one of my flatmates, whose baby is on the way. She’s resting now between contractions, so I shall write during these intervals until her little one decides to cause another stir. Sybil should be home soon, and the doctor has been notified.
It’s a bit daunting, experiencing this birthing process. I witnessed lots of animal births when I used to help the Boormans on their farm back home. But this is so very different. Kate doesn’t seem nervous at all, which is fine since I’m nervous enough for both of us.
I’m still not quite used to living here in London, and I miss Sophie and Charlie terribly. Patrick, too. They were beginning to feel like family to me, Danny, and I would gladly have stayed with them longer. But it makes more sense to be here, close by should I finally get my turn to board a ship to America. Sometimes I wonder if it will ever happen.
Anya stopped, her pen poised over the letter. Guilt heated the vicinity of her heart as she knowingly omitted the truth behind her move. Charlie and Sophie promised they would not tell Danny about Sophie’s attacker in the pub’s alley and Anya’s part in it. Sergeant Ketner’s kind face flashed through her mind along with his warning: You’re in danger here. She would not tell Danny yet because there was nothing he could do. She would tell him someday.
Still, the guilt had its way, haunting her. She shook off the dark thoughts with a shudder and continued.
It’s quite different, living with three other girls. Sybil is so kind and has made me feel at home here. She’s excited about her baby too, and ever so relieved that she’ll be in America with Jack when hers arrives next February. I’ve been teaching her to cook some of the recipes I learned from Sophie at the pub. I had not known that Sybil lost both her parents in the Blitz. I couldn’t imagine that anyone so cheerful and outgoing could have suffered such loss. But it has given us a bit of a bond, and I want to learn from her how to leave the wounds of war behind.
I think you will find Kate’s story quite interesting. Her husband Joe lives in Long Island, New York. She met him at a dance club in Winchester. She said army lorries would stop by the Spitfire factory where she worked as a secretary and give the girls a ride to the dance club after hours. Joe was a musician who played in the Glenn Miller Band. I remember how much you liked Glenn Miller’s music. Such a small world, isn’t it? One night the band had taken a break, and Joe was standing off to the side of the stage. She thought him quite handsome, so walked right up to him and introduced herself. Just like that. They fell in love and married in May of last year. She was only seventeen—
Much later. I had to help Kate through several more contractions. I realize I’ve been rambling on about her, someone you’ve never met. Perhaps you’ll meet her once we all sail to America—
It’s happening—the baby’s coming—off we go to hospital! More later.
Love,
Anya
Sybil rushed into the bedroom just as Anya was helping Kate to her feet. “Kate, darling! Look at you! You’re about to have a—”
“Hurry, hurry! Get me to the lav! I can’t hold it—”
A gush of water puddled the floor beneath her.
Anya’s eyes went wide at the sight. “Wha—”
“Your waters broke!” Sybil squealed, her hands grabbing her own swollen abdomen. “Oh, Kate! I can’t believe it—my baby just kicked! It’s the first time!” She giggled as she yanked a coverlet off the bed and dropped it over the watered floor. “It’s like Mary’s baby Jesus who leapt in her womb when she saw Elizabeth—”
Kate cried out with another contraction, losing her balance. Anya caught her just in time and lowered her to sit back on the bed.
“How can I help?”
All three turned to find a tall American in uniform standing at the door.
“You all remember Lieutenant Powell? From the American Embassy?” Sybil said. “He was at the Rainbow when you telephoned and offered to drive me home then take us to hospital.”
Anya suddenly remembered why he looked so familiar. “You’re—”
“MUST HURRY …” Kate growled. “NOW!”
Powell rushed to her side. “Yes, ma’am. Let’s get you to that hospital.”
They all talked at once as the lieutenant wrapped Kate’s arm over his shoulder and took as much of her weight as he could.
“Sybil, open the door then help me ease her down the steps to my car.”
“I’m here, right behind you,” she said. “Anya, find her wrap and handbag. Oh, and grab that quilt and a few towels out of the lav, will you?”
“Yes, and I’ll be right there. Don’t leave without me!”
Just as she hurried down the hall to the bathroom, the back door swung open. Gigi walked in, stopping when she saw Anya staring at her.
“Gigi! Where have you been? Kate’s in labor and we’re—”
“What? Now?” She hurried by Anya and poked her head into Kate’s bedroom.
Anya turned to follow her. “Are you drunk?”
“Don’t be daft. Where is Kate and—what happened in here?” She looked from the floor up to the ceiling. “Is that another leak from the roof?”
Anya shook her head. “No, Kate’s waters broke. They’re helping Kate into the automobile out front.”
“Who’s they?”
“Sybil and Lieutenant Powell. Now make yourself useful and find Kate’s handbag for me.”
“Well, you don’t have to be so nasty about it.”
“Just do it, Gigi.”
A few minutes later, they all piled into Powell’s automobile, with Sybil and Anya on either side of Kate in the backseat and Gigi in front with Powell.
He glanced in his rearview mirror. “I’ll have you there as quick as I can, ma’am.”
“Yes, please, thank you,” she groaned.
“I didn’t know hospitals were open again for delivering babies. Last I heard they were still evacuating all the prospective mums to the emergency maternity homes out in the country. Are you even sure they’ll take you, Kate?”
“Why would you ask a question like that now?” Sybil snapped.
“Because it’s a valid question! All the maternity wards were closed down when the Blitz started. And last I heard, they were still closed. Why are you snapping at me like—”
“I talked to her doctor earlier today,” Anya interrupted. “He told us to bring Kate to St. Thomas’s.”
Kate groaned louder, clawing her fingers into Anya’s arm and Sybil’s knee. “Ohhhh hurry!”
Sybil winced
silently, pulling Kate’s hand off her leg. “You go right ahead and scream, love. We’re just a few blocks away from hospital now.”
Anya bit back a chuckle at the expression on Sybil’s face. By the looks of it, Kate’s manicured nails might have drawn blood on Sybil’s knee.
“Hold on!” Powell warned, taking a corner faster than expected.
“Ow-ow-ow-OW!”
In a flash, he stopped the car at the emergency entrance, and Kate was whisked inside by an attendant with Sybil close behind. A few minutes later, the lieutenant joined them just as Sybil found them in the waiting room.
“Oh, Phillip, you don’t have to stay with us. It was kind of you to drive us, but please don’t feel obligated to stay.”
“Unless you object, I’d prefer to stay. That way, whenever you three need a ride home, I can give you a lift.” He motioned for Sybil to take a seat across from Anya and Gigi, then sat beside her.
“But it could be hours yet, according to the doctor. We wouldn’t want to impose on you.”
“You’re not imposing at all. I had no plans for tonight, so I’m free to stick around. Unless you would rather I go?”
Gigi lit up a cigarette. “You might as well stay. If it’s going to take all night, at least you can entertain us.”
Sybil waved the cloud of smoke away from her. “Do you have to smoke that in here? You know how queasy cigarette smoke makes me.”
Gigi took another puff and blew it the other direction. “The way I see it, that’s your problem. Not mine. Besides, it relaxes me.”
“As if you needed anything else to relax you. You smell like a distillery. Where were you all afternoon?”
A naughty smile tugged at her red lips. “Just having a few drinks with a friend.”
“Oh? What friend?” Sybil shifted in her chair to get more comfortable and glanced at Gigi’s legs. “Are those new nylons you’re wearing?”
“Yes, aren’t they lovely?” Gigi stood, striking various poses.
Sybil tsked. “Good heavens, Gigi. Have you no shame?”