Today in Chicago History: Siwash — the beer-guzzling duck and former Marine mascot — dies at Lincoln Park Zoo
Here's a look back at what happened in the Chicago area on May 23, according to the Tribune's archives.
Is an important event missing from this date? Email us.
Weather records (from the National Weather Service, Chicago)
1926: Chicago Cubs center fielder Lewis 'Hack' Wilson hit the 'longest home run ever knocked' at Wrigley Field (to that point anyway) in the fifth inning of a 14-8 win against the Boston Braves. The ball hit the center field scoreboard.
Later that day, however, Wilson was arrested 'in an alleged disorderly flat at 803 Sheridan Road,' that was alleged to be a speakeasy. He was charged with disorderly conduct, but the case was dismissed.
1954: Siwash, the duck mascot of the U.S. Marines' 2nd Division during World War II, died in Lincoln Park Zoo. The death was attributed to a liver ailment, which veterans said had nothing to do with Siwash's fondness for beer.
The female duck was brought to Chicago by former Marine Francis J. Fagan — who had won it in a tavern raffle in New Zealand — and used her to help with recruitment duties for the Korean War. Broadcaster Jack Brickhouse in 1967 recalled attending a 1944 celebration for Siwash at The Drake. 'So there she was, perched on a baby high-chair, being feted by half the bigwigs in Chicago. And, do you know, that darned duck quacked and drank beer and quacked, all thru lunch.'
Siwash had been expected at a Marine reunion in San Diego, so the duck was preserved quickly so it could posthumously attend the event. Afterward, it was donated to the National Museum of the Marine Corps at Quantico, Virginia.
Unfortunately, the duck's condition 'deteriorated rapidly (perhaps due to the hasty taxidermy job),' the museum told the Tribune, and is no longer part of its collection.
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Chicago Tribune
19 hours ago
- Chicago Tribune
Column: Remembering the ‘Sammy Wars' and other tales from Sosa's long and storied Chicago Cubs career
Closure is something we all crave, whether it's the perfect ending to a favorite TV series or a resolution of a real-life relationship. The closure of the long-running Sammy Sosa saga felt like a little of both, part 'Breaking Bad' finale and part end of a nearly three-decade story I've covered off and on at the Tribune. Now that Sosa is back at Wrigley Field, the story is complete. But how it ever got to this point was somehow overlooked in the Cubs' 'Welcome back, Sammy' production, which ignored his feud with ownership over an admission that was not forthcoming. For most Cubs fans, Sosa was a star of a long-running series they had watched for years, with some episodes — the corked bat, the great home run race, the sneeze, the final walkout and the destroyed boom box mystery — more memorable than others. For reporters covering the Cubs, Sosa was almost a separate beat, and competition for scoops — on contract extensions, his true feelings about the manager or whatever — was fierce. The Sammy Wars were a daily thing between the Tribune and Sun-Times for many years, and as much as he helped enrich the Cubs, he also sold a lot of newspapers in this sports-crazed town. Sosa's mid-career trajectory from serviceable slugger to superstar was dramatic, and by baseball standards, happened almost overnight. Sosa had a combined 22.4 bWAR over his first nine seasons, from 1989-97, with one All-Star appearance in 1995. Atlanta Braves manager Bobby Cox snubbed him when picking the 1996 and '97 National League reserves, and Sosa begged out of the '98 game with a shoulder bruise after being selected as a reserve despite hitting 20 home runs in June. On the final weekend of the 1997 season, manager Jim Riggleman alluded to Sosa in a rant to the media about a 'me-first' culture in the Cubs clubhouse. One the final weekend of a lost season, he berated Sosa in the dugout in St. Louis, in front of teammates such as Mark Grace and Ryne Sandberg, for ignoring a sign and getting thrown out on a steal attempt. That was also the weekend that bulked-up Cardinals slugger Mark McGwire went for Roger Maris' seemingly unbreakable home run mark, hitting three off Cubs pitching to finish with 58, three shy of the record. Sosa was paying attention. A bulked-up Sosa 2.0 showed up for spring training in 1998, and the great home run race with McGwire was about to begin. From 1998-2004, Sosa posted a 37.1 WAR, setting franchise records for home runs and becoming the Sammy Sosa that was feted Friday afternoon at Wrigley Field, ending his 20-year exile with the organization. It was a different Sosa than I remembered covering as a player. Still cocky enough to say he would be able to hit as many home runs onto Waveland Avenue despite the giant video board blocking his power zone but humble enough to act gracious for a chance from Chairman Tom Ricketts to return to what he called his 'home.' I spoke with Sosa a few weeks ago about his impending visit and told him he should go sit in the right-field bleachers behind Pete Crow-Armstrong, sharing time with his 'people,' the right-field bleacher bums. He laughed and ignored my unsolicited advice. Some things never change. There was no chance for spontaneity Friday anyway. The Cubs made no announcement of Sosa's return for fans, only to see the news leaked in the morning. This would be a Cubs production, directed by the Cubs for the sole purpose of promoting the Cubs. There was no time for anything that could not be scripted, from the bro hug with Ricketts to the in-game visit to the radio and TV booths to the postgame interview on Marquee Sports Network. Manager Craig Council gladly trumpeted Sosa's legendary status while reducing the steroids era to two words: 'History happens.' I thought perhaps Sosa could talk to the players, maybe give them a pregame pep talk before their game against the Seattle Mariners. 'He's not here to talk to the team,' Counsell said. 'He's here to … none of the guys that come in talk to the team.' Here to what? Why was Sosa here? 'Because we bring Hall of Famers back to Wrigley, and for the fans,' he said. 'You're not aware of that? You should probably do some work.' The Tribune regrets the error. Friday also provided closure for Ricketts, who for years demanded an apology/admission from Sosa and thought he had it in 2014 when radio co-hosts David Haugh and David Kaplan were dispatched to Miami for an interview with the former Cub star, who would 'acknowledge malfeasance.' But Sosa abruptly canceled and later told Sports Illustrated in a statement: 'When the time came, I felt like I was being swept up in a PR machine that was moving way too fast and not adhering to the spirit of our agreement, so I pulled out.' Ten years later, Sosa's people issued a semi-apology statement for making 'mistakes' by doing things to 'recover from injuries in an effort to keep my strength up to perform over 162 games.' He was then invited to the Cubs Convention and elected into the Cubs Hall of Fame. But at the convention he told the media he wasn't apologizing for any PED stuff but for depriving Cubs fans of his presence during the separation. The Cubs regret the error. It was a classic bat-and-switch. But Ricketts, at that point, didn't seem to care. He just wanted it over, like everyone else. 'We kind of inherited this Sammy situation from 2004, and it's always been a goal to put it behind us,' Ricketts told Tribune Cubs writer Meghan Montemurro at the convention. 'And I think that this year, the timing was right, and I think Sammy was in the right place, and it all worked out so I'm just happy.' Sosa repeated the narrative Friday, saying it was all just a matter of timing. 'I'm here now,' he said. It was nice to see Sosa back, adding some closure to our relationship, which was hot and cold, depending on whatever controversy was unfolding that day. During the height of the Sammy Wars, he was considered a Sun-Times guy, which the paper smartly used to its advantage, particularly whenever Sosa's contract was up for discussion. 'We're certainly the pro-Sammy newspaper,' former Sun-Time sports editor Bill Adee told the Chicago Reader in 2000. 'Sammy lives in my building. At the end of the night we ride up the elevator together.' Facetiously asked whether Sosa thought the paper was party to a 'corporate conspiracy' by Tribune Co. against him, Adee replied: 'Yeah, I think he does. Sure — which is to our advantage. As you well know, conflicts of interest — perceived or real, it doesn't really matter. When Sammy thinks Tribune Company, he thinks of the newspaper, the whole deal. He doesn't make a distinction.' Sosa continued to sell newspapers when Adee later moved to the dark side and joined the Tribune as sports editor. Good, bad or ugly, people have always been interested in the Sosa saga. Someday it'll make a great Netflix series.
Boston Globe
2 days ago
- Boston Globe
Seventy years after his premature death, there's still never been anyone in these parts quite like Harry Agganis
I was one of the many young lads growing up in the '50s who was enraptured by the fictional exploits of Clair Bee's Chip Hilton, a brilliant three-sports star who also never said or did anything wrong. But young people growing up in our area from 1945-55 actually had such a real-life model in Agganis, who received equal praise in his lifetime for his athletic accomplishments and the way he carried himself on a daily basis. Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up He began compiling his résumé in his early teens, when he attracted attention for his summertime baseball exploits. Before he was out of high school, he would play in baseball All-Star Games in Wrigley Field, Ebbets Field, the Polo Grounds, and, of course, Fenway Park. His Lynn Classical baseball team would win a state championship. He would have a high school football career without equal. Then came Boston University, a brief stint in the Marine Corps, and a move to the Boston Red Sox, who beat out the NFL for his services. Advertisement One more thing: Agganis's basketball exploits also were worthy of a college scholarship. A teammate happened to be Kentucky great — and future Celtic — Lou Tsioropoulos, who played with Agganis at Classical before graduating from Lynn English. Related : Advertisement Agganis's influence on his collegiate alma mater is on display 365 days a year with the presence on Commonwealth Avenue of the dazzling Agganis Arena. Naming it in his honor was an easy call. Along the way, he twice landed on the cover of Sport magazine, which was a must-read for any serious fan at that time. The first time it was a solo, and the second time it was shared with Allie Reynolds, Doak Walker, and Jackie Robinson, which was pretty good company. Agganis made such an impression as a Marine in his one year in uniform that a field has been named for him at Camp Lejeune. And, are you ready for this? On June 6, 1954, he hit a winning home run at Fenway against the Tigers, and when the game was over he hustled down Comm. Ave. to Braves Field, where he received his BU degree. Even Chip Hilton never did that. Nor Mickey Mantle. It was the only time a local athlete was cheered in two major league ballparks on the same day. Have I mentioned he had a fan club while in high school? Or that he also had the lead in his high school's production of 'Stage Door'? His Lynn Classical days will never be repeated. With southpaw quarterback Harry Agganis at the controls, Classical became a power. 'Manning Bowl was the place to be,' says Johnson. No kidding. Classical played to an estimated 160,000 people during the 1947 season. That was the follow-up to the fabulously successful 1946 campaign, when Classical topped it off by defeating Granby High of Norfolk, Va., in the North-South Shrine Game, which was played in the Orange Bowl. Advertisement Classical made news the following year by spurning an invitation to defend its crown for a most exemplary reason. Led by Agganis, Classical refused to leave behind Black teammates Paul Pittman and Tom Smith. This was in sharp contrast to the shameful Boston College decision six years earlier to play in the Sugar Bowl without Black running back Lou Montgomery. It is impossible to exaggerate Agganis's football skill. He passed. He ran. He punted. His nephew Mike Agganis loves to point out that one year he also intercepted a pass for every TD toss. Statistics and touchdowns are only the beginning of the Harry Agganis story. His elders had never encountered anyone like him. 'I have never once heard him say an unkind word about anybody nor utter an oath or curse,' said his high school football coach, Bill Joyce. 'In all my 28 years of coaching boys at Classical, he is the only boy from whom I have actually learned and from who I have actually sought advice.' Harry Agganis was not a mere local phenomenon. In 1947, he was chosen captain of the All-America high school football team by the 'Wigwam Wisemen of Oklahoma.' The word was out. He was recruited by more than 60 schools, which was a lot in those days. Among his most ardent pursuers was Notre Dame immortal Frank Leahy. It turned out those outsiders never had a chance. To the delight of Terriers coach Buff Donelli, Agganis chose BU because he didn't want to go far away from his widowed mother. A few years later, he would use the same reasoning to choose the Red Sox. Advertisement Before that choice, however, there was a stellar career at BU. It did not take long for people to take notice. In November 1949, Agganis's sophomore year, legendary Washington Post columnist Shirley Povich wrote the following: 'With each succeeding Saturday, what was Agganis's purely localized fame in New England has been burgeoning all over the football landscape.' The big issue eventually confronting Agganis was deciding between a professional career in football or baseball. Cleveland Browns pooh-bah Paul Brown lusted for him, but in the end Agganis chose to stay with the hometown team in what was still America's favorite sport. As was the custom everywhere he went, Agganis became the toast of Louisville en route to Fenway. He was named 'Colonel of the Year' by the Triple A affiliate, citing his 'brilliant performances on the field and his gentlemanly disposition.' After going through an up-and-down rookie season in 1954, he was figuring things out and was batting a robust .313 with some power when he was stricken with a blood clot issue in early June. He entered the hospital on June 5, 1955. He died of a pulmonary embolism emanating from the blood clot on June 27. The front page of the June 27, 1955, Boston Evening Globe shared the news of the death of Harry Agganis. Globe archives The news was stunning. Harry Agganis was Boston's young prince. He was only 26. How could this be? Austen Lake of the Boston Record-American spoke for countless thousands when he wrote, 'Now Harry is dead! My ears hear it, but my mind rejects the idea.' Mike Gillooly of the Record-American added this: 'He appeared immune to pain, plague, pox, virus, and that's why the death of Harry Agganis yesterday pierced the heart of the city; plunged the entire sports world into deep grief.' Advertisement The story was only going to get better. A deal was being worked out with the Red Sox allowing Agganis to report to training camp with the Baltimore Colts in 1955. Nope. You couldn't make this up. With Harry Agganis, you never had to fabricate anything. He just was. Bob Ryan can be reached at
Epoch Times
2 days ago
- Epoch Times
‘Come to the Stable': Blessed Bethlehem
NR | 1h 34m | Drama, Comedy | 1949 Director Henry Koster's breezy film 'Come to the Stable' (1949) draws on writer Clare Boothe Luce's story, believed to be loosely based on the real-life heroism of two nuns, American Benedict Russ and Frenchwoman, Mother Mary Aline Trilles de Warren. Both nuns immersed themselves in charitable work in France during World War II, then left Europe and, against heavy odds, set up America's first Benedictine monastery for women.
