The Cincinnati Red Stalkings Read Online Free PDF Page B

that year, with the Morrisanias.” He put the display back on the wall. “Well, I better get to work. Especially since Tinsley doubled the amount I have to do.”
    “Doubled?”
    “Yes. He doesn’t want the exhibit to honor only the 1869 club, he’s insisting that I put together something to commemorate the 1919 championship. Says the White Sox shouldn’t be getting all the publicity. We should let people know about the team that won the championship.”
    “Sounds like a good idea to me.” The Reds were sometimes scorned as having been “given” the World Series. I thought they deserved to be treated as champions. Especially since it didn’t look likely that the city would have another championship anytime soon; the Reds had dropped to third place last year, and this season only the Philadelphia Phillies were below us in the standings.
    “Oh, I have no quarrel with the idea, just the work that’s involved.”
    “Why do you have to put everything out at once? Why not make a nice display of the ’69 team to start with, then later you can add things or change things around? That way people will keep coming back to see the new displays.”
    “Huh.” Perriman looked thoughtful. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. I’m surprised Tinsley didn’t think of it—he always has some gimmick or another to boost business.”
    “Isn’t that what he’s supposed to do?” Overall, I’d had few dealings with Tinsley. His job as the team’s business manager was to take care of the routine operations, like arranging our road trips and publicizing our home games. As far as I could tell, Tinsley was good at his job; the team stayed in decent hotels, paychecks were issued on time, and everything at Redland Field seemed to function smoothly.
    “Yes, yes, of course. I probably need his skills. Lord knows I haven’t any business sense of my own. If I did, I wouldn’t have put so much money into something like this.” He ran the handkerchief over his sweating upper lip. “I’ve had offers to sell the collection, but I can’t bear to do it. I was lucky that Tinsley decided to become my partner in this. Now I better just hope that he can really bring people in to see the exhibit. Only way I might get some of the money back.”
    “You’re going to charge admission?”
    “I’d have preferred not to. I never wanted this to be a money-making venture—all I wanted to do was honor the old Red Stockings. Tinsley convinced me that a nominal admission fee wouldn’t be inappropiate, however.”
    I wondered how much of that fee would end up in Tinsley’s pocket.
    “Well, I suppose I’m going to have another late night here,” Perriman said. “Better call my wife and let her know. You married, Rawlings?”
    “No, but I have a . . .” The common expression for Margie’s and my living arrangement was “light housekeeping,” but I didn’t care for that term. “It’s almost like ... Well, we’re keeping company . . .”

    Perriman’s droopy eyes perked up. “Yes, I understand.” “And I guess I better be getting home to her,” I said.

    It wasn’t until I was on the trolley home that I realized I’d forgotten to ask Perriman for more baseball cards. My thoughts were occupied with Margie and the status of our ... whatever it was called.
    We’d been sharing a home for less than a year, a situation frowned upon by proper society but not unusual for ballplayers or people in show business. Although living together felt comfortable and natural to Margie and me, it also seemed transient. Neither of us talked about whether or not we’d be together next year.
    Perhaps it was in our backgrounds. Both of us had been on our own since an early age, and we both ended up in careers where uncertainty was the only constant. Margie never knew where her next movie would be shot, or how long a vaudeville run would last in a given town. I never knew what team I’d be playing with next. Even while we’d been together, there was