To Des Moines to See “The Babe”

Babe Ruth was coming to Des Moines in a week! He would be there on a baseball barnstorming tour with the Bustin’ Babes and Larrupin’ Lou’s. The Yankees had skunked the Cubs in the World Series 4-0 and they were touring the country, celebrating and bringing big league baseball to the common folks. Ted had actually arranged for me to meet Mr. Ruth!

I read the words over and over, sitting stunned on the side of my bed. A low-lying late October sun shone into the dorm window and glistened on the shimmering velvet quilt. It looked like the fields of Iowa farmland, and then suddenly a green patch on the quilt seemed to change into a baseball diamond. Talk about an active imagination. In spite of the words being right on the paper in front of me, I could scarcely believe I was going to get to meet Babe Ruth, the Bambino, the Sultan of Swat.

Mr. Ashby had thought of everything. Burnie’s father was going to drive to Purdue to get Burnie and then swing by Iowa City to pick me up. Burnie’s mother had written to my mother and asked her to have Uncle Albert drive her down to Des Moines to meet us. Ted was aware that Babe Ruth personally knew the new Drake University football coach, Bill Williams, and the coach had invited Babe to scrimmage with the Drake football team while he was in Des Moines for the exhibition game. Their baseball game was scheduled for Saturday morning and the football scrimmage was on Sunday afternoon. Babe Ruth said he had never played football, so thinking it sounded like fun, Babe accepted. He would be playing football, wearing a Drake football uniform, scrimmaging with the Drake team, and Ted was going to interview him. Ted had already told the coach about me last year, when I was trying to get on the boys’ swim team. He asked if he could bring me along, since I was such a huge baseball fan.

I was crazy with delight. My squeals brought girls from way down at the other end of the hallway. Our tiny room was packed, and with all of them talking at once, it was hard to tell what they were thinking. I had a chance to explain my squealing as they quieted down, and even though none of them squealed about my big news, I could tell they were impressed. There wasn’t a person in the whole United States who didn’t know who Babe Ruth was. A few gals patted me on the back and congratulated me. I didn’t feel like I quite deserved congratulations, but it was so sweet of them. As they left in small murmuring groups, I had the feeling that lots of other people would soon know, and I was right.

When I went to class the next morning, several other students came and asked me about my upcoming opportunity. Word certainly travels fast on even a large campus like University of Iowa. By the time I got to the Daily Iowan office after lunch, the guys stood up at their typewriters and applauded me as I came through the door. That was a surprise! Before, it seemed like they only noticed me when their coffee was cold. Now I was getting lists of questions they wanted me to ask Babe Ruth, as well as requests for autographs. I told them I would try to ask him some of the questions, but that I was not at all sure if I could even get an autograph for myself. They urged me to try and I smiled gamely.

All that day, after the word of me meeting Babe Ruth got around campus, I felt happy for the first time in at least a month, but I knew the reason, so my college pressure only subsided temporarily. I had my next anatomy test in the afternoon, and even with all the studying and help from Miss Camp, I had the feeling I could have done much better on it. I would not find out the grade until after I got back from Des Moines the following week, so I decided to just put it out of my mind.

I got busy getting ready to go meet The Babe. I made an appointment to get my hair trimmed and I shopped for a nice pair of gloves. Ladies still dressed like ladies, especially when meeting such a luminary person as Babe Ruth. I made a quick call to Mother to make sure the arrangements had been made, and she assured me that we would be staying overnight that Friday at Burnie’s house. That made me smile. Some time to spend with Burnie was just what I needed. And time with my mother, of course, but some of the things I’d been feeling were not ready to be revealed to her. Mother would not want to hear that I was thinking about quitting college for now and taking the time with her that I didn’t get in the fall. I knew I simply needed more time to recover from everything; I just had to find the right time to tell her. For sure, I had to talk to Burnie first.

Days went more quickly than I thought they would that week. Seals Club practice and my swimming laps were done in a blur. Swimming was going well. I was an athlete, after all, and counted on my fitness level to get me through rough practices. During practice I focused on practice, and then it flew out of my mind the moment it was over. The same went for my classes. I gave them my complete attention at the time, and then my mind went back to Babe Ruth, Burnie, Mother, and Des Moines.

“I thought you would never get here, slow poke,” was what I greeted Burnie with as he pulled up with his father right after lunch on Friday. His father assured me that Burnie kept on him the whole way to driver faster.

“He didn’t want to be late, Mable. Sorry, it was my fault.”

I reassured Mr. Orwig; I was just joking. I was very grateful for the ride and I let him know that Mother was going to give him some money to help pay for the gasoline. I told him right away that there should be no arguing with Mother about that either. She told me on the phone that she would help pay and she would not take “no” for an answer. Period.

All the way back to Des Moines, Burnie and I exchanged stories about our roommates, classes, the World Series, and new friends. It sounded like he had a lot more new friends than I did, but then he was not on the newspaper staff or involved in two sports as I was. He had more time for parties and such. His father had been listening to both of us, and chimed in, “Sounds like you are making a name for yourself ON campus, Mable, and Burnie is making a name for himself OFF campus.”

“But, Dad! I’m doing great in my classes!” Burnie protested.

“Wait until baseball starts in the spring, Mr. Orwig, he will be the Big Man on Campus at Purdue,” I assured him.

“Well,” Burnie posed, “it might take more than one baseball season to achieve that. I really just want to help them win games. I can’t set any records by myself like you can, Mable.”

“I’m nowhere near setting any records yet, Burnie. I spent the first two weeks of Seals Club practice trying not to drown myself or anyone else. I told you that in my first long letter! Next year will be the one when I hope to have a chance to compete at the Intercollegiate Telegraphic Meet and set some records there, if I’m still at Iowa.” Too late, I realized I had said too much.

“What? What do you mean, if you’re still at Iowa? Huh?” Burnie turned and faced me directly from the front seat. “What do you mean?”

I had to cover my slip! I could not have Mr. Orwig saying something to my mother about this.

“I mean if I don’t drown myself this year with that synchronized swimming jazz. That is nearly killing me. My leg muscles are starting to get muscles.”

There was a moment of complete silence. I couldn’t even really hear the engine of the car.

Burnie said under his breath, “Well, that makes more sense then.” Unobtrusively, he gave me a glance that told me we would be talking more about this later in private. I wondered if perhaps he had read between the lines of some of my short notes to him and had already sensed my dissatisfaction with my college life.

Mr. Orwig changed the topic back to baseball, and we jabbered long and loud about that all the way back to Des Moines.