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tion looking down upon the wilting Schacht. "Now how do you reckon that ball got there?"
Quickly Alexander's hand went for a hip pocket. And his face became suffused with red as he sheepishly stammered, "Aw, look ump. I was just fooling."
O'Brien boomed, "Well, you're out for interference! And I ain't foolin'! I'm going to report this to President O'Toole, an' that'll probably cost you fifty bucks!"
Al paid the fifty. But that was the last time it ever cost him money to clown.
This cut-up, Alexander Schacht, is the same Al Schacht who was N.umher One on the list when Yanks in every theater during World War II were asked to name the male entertainer they would like best to perform for them. And during the war, Al visited almost every front. One night in Africa he had the stolid British soldiery and their distinguished general, Sir Bernard Montgomery, doubling with laughter on the eve of the Sicilian invasion.
This is the same Al Schacht whose performances have been witnessed by some 70,000,000 people during the last 28 years. For more than two decades he has been the most seen-inperson star in comedy entertainment history. When considering the fact that in a single World Series, Al does his stuff for something like a quarter of a million fans, it is not difficult to account for the over-all figure. Some leagues offer records to prove that their attendance figures tripled when the Clown Prince of Diamonds was in their parks.
To ask what makes him great is like asking what makes people fall in love. Neither can be analyzed satisfactorily. As to why people laugh at him; it isn't too hard to understand when you picture a man of fifty-odd years in a black cutaway coat with a bright red lapel, an emerald green baseball uniform and a much-in-disrepair top hat. Add to this the somewhat Indian-like facial characteristics, marvelously expressive eyes and a rudder-like profile. And if you laugh yourself sore at his baseball buffoonery, don't worry about it. He did the same to Christy Mathewson. Honus Wagner, John McGraw, Ted Williams, Bob Feller and Hal Newhouser.
Schacht does not resort to theater tactics. Showman that he is, he uses very few props and sticks resolutely to baseball. He loves the game and all the good Americanism it stands for.
"I was nuts about baseball," Schacht wrote in his book Clowning Through Baseball, "from the first time I heard the crack of batted balls as they echoed up from Harlem. The Polo Grounds was only a stone's throw, or a short swim from my house. And there was no thrill in the world for me like seeing the game's