Before today's game between the Washington Nationals and New York Mets (a veritable rout, it turned out), we were walking the concourse of Nationals Park and were walking by the Washington baseball history exhibit area (roughly behind home plate--interestingly, the internet wandering I have done has turned up no discussion of this exhibit area!). I have looked at this before, although maybe not with any intensity. Anyway, today I was struck by one photograph in particular.
While I am not sure what the caption of the photograph at the exhibit was, the caption on the picture to the left is roughly the same: "Bringing the Game to the Fans: Washington Senators radio broadcaster Arch McDonald is shown calling a Senators game during the late 1930s."
This got me wondering, in particular about the chimes that McDonald seems to be about to strike, which in turn led to this internet wandering exercise. [Note: unlike other exercises in this blog, I am not going in order of my exploration, because, for example, I could not even find this photo on first or second try.]
Thanks to the Detroit Tigers broadcaster Mario Impemba for posting this photo fairly recently on his Twitter feed. I don't know Impemba, but was happy (especially after my other explorations) to know that someone still recalls McDonald.
It was easy enough to find core information about McDonald. Wikipedia, as usual, gives the basics. There, I learned that he was "one of the first to use "ducks on the pond" as a term for players on base," and that he was noted "for recreations of road games—a common practice in the 1930s, when line charges were too expensive for live road coverage." [It was these recreations that Impemba was recalling.] "For many years, it was common for Senators fans to crowd around McDonald's studio at a drug store on G Street to watch his recreations." [Note: I always remember that Ronald Reagan got his start in the entertainment world through his recreations of Chicago Cubs games--which also got me thinking about how I am almost doing the same thing these days when I follow play-by-play reports on my iPod or iPad.] Digressions aside, the Wikipedia article did not get me to the chiming.
After several cracks at various search terms (and I quickly found out that I had better put "Arch McDonald" in quotes if I did not want to encounter 1000s of hits about McDonalds Arches!), I found what I wanted to know, thanks to Google and its scanning of thousands of newspapers. In particular, I found an article by Robert Ruark entitled "Robert Ruark Pulls Up His Bleacher Seat Via Living Room TVSet" from the August 2, 1949 edition of The Spartanburg (SC) Herald. Datelined New York, Ruark writes:
Well, that is wonderful, I found out what I wanted. However, this is about wondering, and wandering, so now I had to find out who Robert Ruark was, in particular because I was so taken by the rest of his article about some of the first TV broadcasts (not only from when I was born, but from before my parents had a TV set). Among other things, Ruark noted that while watching Musial and DiMag, he found that, in the process, "a certain amount of listening to the announcers is necessary." Reading the rest you might find yourself thinking, as I did, that over 60 years on, a certain amount of listening to announcers today might not seem so different.
So. it turns out (thank you, again, Wikipedia) that Ruark was not a baseball writer, but a syndicated columnist who worked out of Washington in the late 1930's and then again after World War II (although he attains greater fame for some fiction writing and for going of African Safaris and then writing about that, and hunting, etc., in both nonfiction and fiction (many of which are still available in print
). [The Robert Ruark Society, of much more recent vintage, is helping to keep his name alive.] But, he did keep his eye on baseball, and Google has captured on more article that is fun to read today. In this one (from the May 14, 1953, Sarasota (FL) Herald-Tribune) entitled "Baseball's Galahad Sounds Stern Warning"--writing about Commissioner Frick's assault on gambling by baseball players--that is "playing the game of hearts at high fee."
I am not sure what led to me my final wandering, but it brought me full circle, to an article I had not found before (remember, I saw "chimes" in the photo above!) of much more recent vintage: "Two voices from the past" from the May 14, 2008, issue of the Washington Times which references the photo: "The Nationals Park picture of McDonald shows him 'broadcasting a Senators game in 1939,'" but then says "[t]he photo also shows Arch with hammer in hand over an xylophone, which surely must baffle most onlookers. " So a "xylophone"--to my mind a 21st century corruption, since I saw chimes, and Ruark saw chimes 60 years ago! In any case, the article reaffirms Ruark's observation and adds a note:
"McDonald['s] schtick was to rap the instrument once for a single, twice for a double, etc. When you heard this signature call — 'there it goes, Mrs. Murphy! BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!'— you knew somebody had gone deep."
[Added the next day:] Deciding that "there it goes, Mrs. Murphy" would be worth a shot, I Googled it and found, this time, a great Google books entry. In A Two-Pennies Day: My Unfinished Life
, James Brewbaker writes: "'Here it comes and there it goes, Mrs. Murphy—a home run for Yost!' The gravelly voice of Arch McDonald, voice of the Senators, crooned the good news. Immediately following, four bells rang—dong dong dong dong!—sort of spaced out like a clock, one dong for each base plus home plate."
For further reading (not that Arch will be found there in depth):
This got me wondering, in particular about the chimes that McDonald seems to be about to strike, which in turn led to this internet wandering exercise. [Note: unlike other exercises in this blog, I am not going in order of my exploration, because, for example, I could not even find this photo on first or second try.]
Thanks to the Detroit Tigers broadcaster Mario Impemba for posting this photo fairly recently on his Twitter feed. I don't know Impemba, but was happy (especially after my other explorations) to know that someone still recalls McDonald.
It was easy enough to find core information about McDonald. Wikipedia, as usual, gives the basics. There, I learned that he was "one of the first to use "ducks on the pond" as a term for players on base," and that he was noted "for recreations of road games—a common practice in the 1930s, when line charges were too expensive for live road coverage." [It was these recreations that Impemba was recalling.] "For many years, it was common for Senators fans to crowd around McDonald's studio at a drug store on G Street to watch his recreations." [Note: I always remember that Ronald Reagan got his start in the entertainment world through his recreations of Chicago Cubs games--which also got me thinking about how I am almost doing the same thing these days when I follow play-by-play reports on my iPod or iPad.] Digressions aside, the Wikipedia article did not get me to the chiming.
After several cracks at various search terms (and I quickly found out that I had better put "Arch McDonald" in quotes if I did not want to encounter 1000s of hits about McDonalds Arches!), I found what I wanted to know, thanks to Google and its scanning of thousands of newspapers. In particular, I found an article by Robert Ruark entitled "Robert Ruark Pulls Up His Bleacher Seat Via Living Room TVSet" from the August 2, 1949 edition of The Spartanburg (SC) Herald. Datelined New York, Ruark writes:
"The baseball announcer I really admired is a bulbous gent named Arch McDonald who works out of Washington. Even with so miserable a commodity as the Washington Senators to deal with, old Arch always made me feel like I was sitting in the hot sun, just back of third base, with a mouthful of hot dog.
"Arch would holler the team in, and the statistics could go drown. "The ducks are on the pond," Arch would yell, meaning runners were on base. If one of the current transients was so lucky as to get a hit, Arch would bong on a chime—one bong for a single, 2 bongs for a double, and so on. If the lads needed a needle, McDonald would ring a cowbell. If a double-play killed off a Senator rally, as it nearly always did, Arch would weep into the mike and murmur 'dead birds.'"
Well, that is wonderful, I found out what I wanted. However, this is about wondering, and wandering, so now I had to find out who Robert Ruark was, in particular because I was so taken by the rest of his article about some of the first TV broadcasts (not only from when I was born, but from before my parents had a TV set). Among other things, Ruark noted that while watching Musial and DiMag, he found that, in the process, "a certain amount of listening to the announcers is necessary." Reading the rest you might find yourself thinking, as I did, that over 60 years on, a certain amount of listening to announcers today might not seem so different.
So. it turns out (thank you, again, Wikipedia) that Ruark was not a baseball writer, but a syndicated columnist who worked out of Washington in the late 1930's and then again after World War II (although he attains greater fame for some fiction writing and for going of African Safaris and then writing about that, and hunting, etc., in both nonfiction and fiction (many of which are still available in print
). [The Robert Ruark Society, of much more recent vintage, is helping to keep his name alive.] But, he did keep his eye on baseball, and Google has captured on more article that is fun to read today. In this one (from the May 14, 1953, Sarasota (FL) Herald-Tribune) entitled "Baseball's Galahad Sounds Stern Warning"--writing about Commissioner Frick's assault on gambling by baseball players--that is "playing the game of hearts at high fee."I am not sure what led to me my final wandering, but it brought me full circle, to an article I had not found before (remember, I saw "chimes" in the photo above!) of much more recent vintage: "Two voices from the past" from the May 14, 2008, issue of the Washington Times which references the photo: "The Nationals Park picture of McDonald shows him 'broadcasting a Senators game in 1939,'" but then says "[t]he photo also shows Arch with hammer in hand over an xylophone, which surely must baffle most onlookers. " So a "xylophone"--to my mind a 21st century corruption, since I saw chimes, and Ruark saw chimes 60 years ago! In any case, the article reaffirms Ruark's observation and adds a note:
"McDonald['s] schtick was to rap the instrument once for a single, twice for a double, etc. When you heard this signature call — 'there it goes, Mrs. Murphy! BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!'— you knew somebody had gone deep."
[Added the next day:] Deciding that "there it goes, Mrs. Murphy" would be worth a shot, I Googled it and found, this time, a great Google books entry. In A Two-Pennies Day: My Unfinished Life
, James Brewbaker writes: "'Here it comes and there it goes, Mrs. Murphy—a home run for Yost!' The gravelly voice of Arch McDonald, voice of the Senators, crooned the good news. Immediately following, four bells rang—dong dong dong dong!—sort of spaced out like a clock, one dong for each base plus home plate."For further reading (not that Arch will be found there in depth):
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