I was watching the HBO miniseries, The Pacific. In the next to last chapter, the Marines are engaged in the battle for Okinawa. It was a horrific fight, and the US suffered the highest casualties of any battle in the Pacific. It got me thinking about one of the people responsible for me loving the Dodgers and the game as much as I do.
In June of 1958, about a week after school was over and also a week after my tenth birthday, my mother made the decision to put me in the care of the Los Angeles County welfare system. At ten, all you feel is unwanted. Years later, I would understand the real reasons, but I never forgot the feeling. I was sent to a home for children in Highland Park. Hathaway Home was on Ave 66, not far from the Pasadena freeway.
We could ride our bikes down the wash all the way to the Rose Bowl, which we did on several occasions during the summer. Hathaway had the kids separated by age and gender. When I got there, there were 32 kids in residence, only 7 of whom were girls. They had the boys separated into what they called cottages. The young ones, 5-7, then the middle, 8-11, and the older boys, 12-14. You could not stay there beyond your 14th birthday. The little boys were the cubs, the middle, the rangers, and the older boys were the pioneers.
Each cottage had house parents… usually, an older couple whose children were grown. I cannot remember who the ranger’s house parents were, but the house father of the pioneers was a man we called Mr. Howell. He loved baseball. Even more than that, he loved the Dodgers. Originally from Connecticut, he very often would travel to New York to watch baseball games. He was a fountain of baseball history. He had seen Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio, Reiser, Robinson, all of the great NY players, yeah, the Giants Mel Ott too.
We did not have a real field at the home; what we had was a very large open play space with a chicken wire fence for a backstop. But he would work for hours with us, hitting fungo’s and teaching most of us how to field and throw properly. He also had a huge collection of photos taken at Vero Beach. One particular photo had two rookies he had seen early in their careers. Pee Wee and Pete Reiser.
Mr. and Mrs. Howell did not talk much about their son. I did hear his name mentioned once or twice. I found out later that their son, Aubrey, had been killed on Okinawa about three weeks before the island fell. At my age, I had not a clue what that must have felt like. But one of the things that kept him going was baseball. And with the Dodgers moving to LA, he was in heaven. House parents, for the most part, did not go on the field trips the home had us take. They had counselors for that. So when we went to the Coliseum to see a game, the counselors were the chaperones.
We went to about five games in 1958 and sat in the knothole seats down the right field line. The players looked like ants, but it was still great. One time we even got seats behind the screen in left field. They eventually bulldozed the hills behind the home and built houses. This was about 1960. Larry and Norm Sherry moved in on our street. Before they went to Vero, they would have us kids shag balls for them.
Mr. Howell recognized how much I loved the game and the team, and he would take me aside when I was going to play 1st base for the first time and taught me the footwork needed to be proficient. I was the first kid that Hathaway had allowed to play organized little league baseball. One of the boys who had lived there previously was on the team, and his dad was allowed by the staff to pick me up and drop me off after the game was over.
I was always very grateful to Mr. Howell for the encouragement and pointers he gave. I moved into the pioneer’s cottage when I was 11. One reason was that I was not really a problem child. The other was that they felt I needed my own room. And the pioneers were the only cottage that had a single room. I stayed at Hathaway until I was almost 14. Then about four weeks before my 14th birthday, I was placed in a foster home in Redondo Beach. My foster father neither shared nor cared for my love of the game. He was abusive and just a tyrant at times. And he was not athletic at all. We never played catch or talked baseball. I had to get all of that from my schoolmates.
After I graduated from junior high, I went to Mira Costa High School in Manhattan Beach. I sang in the choir, and in my freshman year, I made the Jr. Varsity baseball team. I was pulled off of the team by my foster father for some perceived wrong I had done. I was basically embarrassed and shattered by that. In my junior year, he gave me a choice, baseball or choir. I chose baseball. During spring, we had a visitor and a special BP pitcher, former Mico High alum Joe Moeller. I could not see what I was swinging at, but I heard it.
I made the JV squad again as a sub-outfielder and 1st baseman. I had pitched some in my freshman year, but my arm was shot. I didn’t play much, nor was I very good. I believed then, and I believe to this day, the fact that I played only one year of organized youth baseball, that whatever skills I had, were not honed the way they should have been. But by then, I had no illusions that I was going to be a professional ballplayer.
Just before my senior year, I was moved out of the foster home I was in and placed in what they call a temp home in the LA strip. I had to transfer to Narbonne High. I was planning on trying out for the baseball team when the tryouts came in January. I played JV football that year as a left tackle. I did it just to show my former foster parent I could play if I wanted to. In November, circumstances arose, and the welfare department decided they were going to move me to a large home for boys in downtown LA.
In the middle of my senior year?? When I would be off of their hands in 7 months anyway? Seemed pretty dumb to me. So, on a day I was on my own and supposed to take a bus to the place for my second visit, I simply walked away. I went to my aunt’s house in Torrance. When the welfare department finally found out where I was, I enlisted in the Army, and that was that.
My love of the team and the game has never left me. Mr. Howell was a huge part of that. Over my close to 9 years in the service, I followed the Dodgers as best I could. And watched games whenever they were on. Finally, in 1981, I got to step onto a major league field. Those of you who have cannot know the elation of just being on the field. I got to go into the dugout and meet a couple of the 1981 team and coaches. I had some of them sign my ball, given to me by Wes Parker, who had helped me get the Anthem gig. Then, I walked out to center field where they placed the mic back in those days.
Hearing the public address announcer introduce you to the fans. Nancy playing the intro to the Anthem, and then the panic sets in, and you wonder if you can get through it! But I made it all the way through. They took me behind the pavilion and through the tunnel past the Dodger locker room, where Rick Sutcliffe signed my ball. And then it was back up the elevator and into my seat to watch the game. To me, the absolute high point of my love of the game. I was even asked for a few autographs while sitting in the seats. Heady stuff. I had my 2 minutes of fame. It is a memory that I have and always will cherish. Thank you, Mr. Howell. You helped me love a team and the game for well over 60 years.
Discussion (32)
Disagree, not disagreeable
Beautiful piece today Michael.
Very much enjoyed meeting you. Not many like you around anymore.
Catcher I have just today become familiar with.
Pride of TJ. 5’8” / 245# . Baller.
https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRfXoYQH/
The Dodgers are playing so well, they might even beat Hawaii!
Great story, Bear.
It says a lot about how important a male mentor and role model is for a boy, the absence of which can cause lasting damage. You are who you are today in large measure because of Mr. Howell, who was a genuinely good man. I’m a Dodger fan to this day because the guy who eventually married my older sister was a guy I looked up to, and he was a Dodger fan.
Awesome Bear
You and I have a lot in common.
Baseball, the Dodgers and Vinnie were my escape from the problems of my childhood and I imagine that applies many other kids.
Old Bear, beautiful and moving story, is my humble and respectful comment.
Old Bear, you answered the question, we can all get along. And your story did it. At least for a day, and hopefully longer. Nice going !
Great story of your days. You came out a fine man and bless Mr Howell.
Dodger magic number to win the Western Division is nineteen(19) over SD and Fifteen (15) over SF. Also the Dodgers are averaging home attendance in 61 dates at 48,213 for a total of 2,941,025. They have a slight chance of reaching four million in attendance.
Nice writeup Bear. A heart warming story,
Wow Bear. Thanks so much for sharing your story with all of us. What a “long strange trip it’s been”. And thanks so much for your service.
It sounds like Mr. Howell may have saved you and given you hope in addition to the gift of baseball. I agree with the comment that people like him get a special place in heaven.
I’m sure you could have taken an entirely different path without the love of the Mr. Howells of the world. God bless him and you for what you’ve become.
Awesome photos as well.
* Speed kills.
Willy Adames beat the very nice Freddie to Hearney play at 1st, top 3, for a single and scored on Renfroe’s double that few would have even tried. Than we saw Trea Turner got his 26th or 26th infield hit in the 4th. What a tool to have. Have I mentioned I think we should sign Trea Turner for at least the next 5 years?
* Rethinking my earlier suggestion, Heaney may not be a good bullpen option after all. The last couple of outings he seems a victim of the long ball. Too many dingers is not a good things coming in out of the bullpen in the playoffs.
* Urias has to be thinking “what did I do?” In the past 5 games the Dodgers have scored 7, 10, 10 and 12 runs for May, Pepiot, Cat-Man and Hearney. Urias got tagged with who only loss when we scored Zero.
* How Freeman hit a low and in fastball in the 2nd that almost when out in left center, is beyond me. The pitch was in “the loop zone”, a danger spot for LHB to pull. Somehow he hit it to left center. We might see that ball be a Texas Leaguer that way, but he almost hit it out. He has perfected going opposite with the best of them.
* I have become a bigger advocate for Trayce to be the everyday left fielder against RHP.
From Jim Bowden:
“ Cartaya is the best catching prospect in baseball now that Adley Rutschman is thriving in the majors with the Orioles. The 20-year-old makes loud and consistent sweet-spot contact with his electric bat speed. That bat has tremendous opposite-field home run power, too. Defensively, Cartaya has soft hands and is an above-average framer. He has the arm strength to control the running game but needs to improve on blocking balls. Mike Scioscia, who managed the NL team at the Futures Game, told me that day during batting practice that Cartaya reminded him of a cross between Buster Posey and Salvador Perez. That means something coming from Scioscia, who has never been the type to exaggerate when evaluating players.”
39 games and then the line is to be drawn. If Dodgers lose only 13 of those games that would win 112 games a Dodgers record and I shouldn’t mention MLB’s all time record because that’s not likely to ever occur but if it does it’ll be the Dodgers who get that done. Okay I’m gonna guess 115 wins! And that is against tough competition ahead. Next.
To me it’s sad how much of the public infrastructure that helped make Bear the contributor to society that he is, are no longer in the same form and producing the same results.
Alas, a topic for elsewhere.
Bear, watch Station Eleven!
Hey Bear, what’d you have on Tom Mix?
Your Gene A piece got me thinking about Mix. What a life! He was one hella character.
Thx.
Awesome, thanks for sharing.
Good one Bear!
Talkin’ story. Cool.
I am waiting for a plane to put Las Vegas in the rear view mirror and get back the this Wedding on Saturday. Rehearsal Tomorrow and then big family party on Sunday. It should be a blast.
One thing : You don’t get to pick your parents but you can choose how you react to things. Things in life can be stumbling blocks or Stepping Stones.
Well done Bear! You had discussed some of your childhood when we had got together last year. But, you hadn’t mentioned Mr Howell or the details of the setup at the home at the time. Your detailed recounting those days and appreciation of Mr Howell quite remarkable. You had every reason to be otherwise. We have several posters here that have had interesting lives. I think MT and you may at the top of the list.
Thanks for the Post Bear. As a nation we need to improve The System, I think there is a country song waiting to be written about your childhood story.
Thanks for sharing Bear! And thanks again for serving our Country. I can’t imagine how it must have felt to be in front of all in attendance at your home ballpark. What an honor.
Thank you all for the kind words. A lot of kids had similar childhoods and probably some similar experiences. I held things in for many years, and that probably was the reason I had anger issues for some years after. It took me many years to forgive my mother. But she had problems of her own and I would guess her own demons to fight. I felt bad that she passed away when she was 42 and never met her grandchildren. Mr. Howell was one of those people who looked past his own grief at the loss of his only child, and along with his wife, decided they were going to help the less fortunate. I really wish I had a photo of him. But I can give you some idea of how he looked. Remember William Frawley, who played Fred Mertz on I Love Lucy? Well, Mr. Howell could have been his twin brother. Again, thank you all for the kind words.
Having communicated with you on various blogs for quite a while Bear I was familiar with some of your story but thanks for filling in the rest of the details.
Kids who are shuffled around like you were often take a bad path in life. Congrats for overcoming that and becoming the person you are today.
Nothing short of awesome, but I never expected less
Bear, your story is very touching. Seeing how your passion for baseball and the Dodgers developed, gives a new meaning to your writings and stories.
I’m convinced that there’s a special place in heaven
For great people like the Howells who sacrificed for this nation and gave back to their fellow citizens in droves.
Thank you for sharing your biographical story.
Tough, touching, but inspirational
THANK YOU!! BEAR
Wow!!! How incredibly sad of your abandonment at 10 years of age and your childhood in general. My heart goes out to you my friend. God bless you Bear.
Quite the story. Thanks for sharing.
What a story, Bear! I had tears in my eyes when I read it. For various very personal reasons .
Go Dodgers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And Belli could learn a thing or two about proper swing plane from the guy in that photo! It just touched me about what a tough upbringing you had Bear but the title of your story was one of gratitude. May each one of us be a Mr Howell to someone in need in our lives!
THAT was the best bio that you’ve ever done Bear. Thank you for sharing your incredible story. I can’t even imagine how devastating that had to be as a ten year old! Your love of the game runs deep and now we know why. GREAT photo! Didn’t know bears could be so good lookin!
Thanks Bear, that’s a very touching story, appreciate you telling it.
Interesting how we impact peoples lives. Two men, Mr. Howell and your foster father, made lasting impressions. What Mr. Howell gave you, you are passing on to us.
Well done friend.