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FRANK C, LANE, MAN OF THE MONTH
39
in an open field. You were chasing some of them all the time.
The minor leagues are all back in operation, and with old and warweary traveling equipment, more headaches are probably in store for the management.
The western division of the Yankee Farm Clubs includes Kansas City in the American Association; Beaumont in the Texas League; Quincy, Illinois, in the Three-Eye League; Twin Falls, Idaho, in the Pioneer League; Joplin, Missouri, in the Western Association, and Fond du Lac, in the Wisconsin State League.
The Yankee organization is headed by McPhail, with Del r\\ Webb, president of the Blues and Dan Topping, president of Newark, New Jersey, as ^r], vice-presidents. A third vicepresident is George Weiss, of the home office in New York. Included among very important people in the Blues organization in Kansas City are Fritz Nicolai, public relations director, who will be remembered as a first rate shortstop in the American Association from 1925 through 1930; Mrs. Gertrude McClure, secretary; O. D. Lenn, grounds superintendent; Pat Bales, supervisor of concessions; Bud Dyke, office assistant, and a large crew of helpers, groundskeepers and assistants.
Out on the playing field of course is the man who baseball men have marked as the outstanding manager in baseball — including the major leagues — William Meyer. Bill's chief sidekick is Golden (Goldie) Holt, the coach, who doubles just about everything from nursemaid to road secre
tary. A valuable man, Mr. Holt.
But Lane's most vivid memories are not connected with baseball and its many implications. They rush back to a certain night not many months ago when he was in the Navy. The PBY amphibian of which he was in charge became badly weathered during a flight from Rio to Recife, in Brazil. Ceiling was zero and the air was a combination of rain, mist and fog. They could see exactly nowhere for quite a distance, Frank recalls.
Finally, with the gas supply running low, they decided to set down at Amapa, where there were no radio beams, no control tower, no anything . . . just _\ makeshift two-way communij cation with the field operator ^ ... who failed to make himself V clear.
» Just as they were about to
touch wheels they saw the runway under them but at an angle. They were drifting sideways. A second later they crashed into a commisary shack. Nobody was hurt but the ship was badly wrecked.
To add climax and insult to bewilderment, the field operator at Amapa said he was glad it happened . . . because he had been crowing all along to the Army how badly they needed a radio control tower.
"And to think that fellow was glad that we darn near broke our necks," concluded Lane.
Truth in advertisine; was upheld when some shirts, said by their manufacturer to be able to laugh at the laundry, came back with their sides split.