of course

Green Energy:  Bruins Johnny Peirson (far left) and Bill Quackenbush (far right) take a break during a 1952 round. Second from right is Joan Kalloch, who married Quackenbush a year later; Peirson's friend remains unidentified. (Photo: Courtesy of the Boston Public Library, Leslie Jones Collection)

Green Energy: Bruins Johnny Peirson (far left) and Bill Quackenbush (far right) take a break on the golf course in Boston during the summer of 1952. Second from right is Joan Kalloch, who married Quackenbush a year later; Peirson’s friend remains unidentified. (Photo: Courtesy of the Boston Public Library, Leslie Jones Collection)

class of ’36

Eddie Shore, Dr. Martin Crotty and Milt Schmidt in Bruins locker room 1940ish

Birthday Bruin: There was a party today in Boston for Milt Schmidt, who’s turning 98; Kevin Paul Dupont of the Boston Globe has all the cake-and-candle news here. Born in Kitchener, Ontario, in 1918, he went on to star at centre for the Bruins. After a 16-year career as a player (he also missed parts of three seasons serving in the RCAF), Schmidt went to serve as Boston coach, and GM. The oldest living NHLer will have his TV tuned to the TD Centre tonight when the modern-day Bruins host the Washington Capitals. Schmidt first played for Boston in 1936. When he showed up for training camp that fall, aged 18, the talent on hand included Nels Stewart, Bun Cook, Eddie Shore, Dit Clapper, Bill Cowley, and Tiny Thompson. That’s Shore with him here, of course, one-skated, in locker-room repose in the old Garden in 1940 or so. Alongside is long-time Bruins physician (and proud spats-wearer) Dr. Marty Crotty, one of the men credited with saving Ace Bailey’s life in 1933 when Shore knocked the Toronto winger to the ice and he fractured his skull. (Photo: courtesy of the Boston Public Library, Leslie Jones Collection)

toronto cost me eight stitches  

brimsek

Frank Brimsek played ten seasons in the NHL and from the first he was one of the league’s best goaltenders, winning the Calder Trophy as outstanding rookie in 1939. Defending the Boston net, he won a Vézina Trophy that year while helping the Bruins to win the Stanley Cup. They added another in 1941, and the man they called Mr. Zero won a second Vézina in 1942. The year after that Brimsek went to war, serving the U.S. Coast Guard both on ice and at sea. He returned to the Bruins after the war and while he said himself that he wasn’t as sharp as he’d once been, he played another five seasons, the last one with the Chicago Black Hawks, before retiring in 1950. In 1966, he was the first American-born goaltender to be elevated to the Hall of Hockey Fame. He was one of the original inductees to the United States Hockey Hall of Fame in his hometown of Eveleth, Minnesota. He died in 1998.

In February of 1947, in a profile published in The Milwaukee Journal, Brimsek talked to sometime hockey novelist Philip Harkins about frantic fans, disputes with referees, and his preferred pre-game meal (steak and baked potato). And stitches:

Brimsek stops the puck with a variety of objects: his $60 leather leg pads, his $30 custom-made leather gauntlets; his $35 goalie skates or his less extravagant chest protector and goalie stick. All this equipment helps, but Brimsek is shot at with such nerve-racking speed and unpredictability that he is sometimes forced to stop the puck with his rugged, handsome face which is beginning to look as if he had dueled his way through the University of Heidelberg.

He associates these scars with shots fired in various cities of the U.S. and Canada: “This one over the eyelid? A deflected shot in Chicago — four stitches. This one over the lip? Toronto — four stitches. Matter of fact,” he smiles, “two recent games with Toronto cost me a total of eight stitches, a kind of record.”

The stitches were taken without the balm of anesthesia, for an injured is only allowed 10 minutes to be sewed back into one piece. Brimsek reports clinically that the numbing effect of these collisions at 90 miles an hour deadened the pain of all the operations except in the case of the sensitive lip.

Brimsek sorts shots into several harassing categories. A shot that struck his throat in New York and rendered him speechless for days was a “floater” — produced with the puck standing on edge. This take-off makes for a weird, weaving shot that even Brimsek’s 20-20 eyes find hard to follow. “Screen shots” are also hard to stop. The opposing team sends in one man to block Brimsek’s vision. This pest waits for the shot, then tries to deflect it into the cage with his stick or body. Brimsek likes to see his two defensemen flatten these human screens with jarring bodychecks.

Low, fast shots at the corner of the cage have to be handled by a quick thrust of Brimsek’s padded legs. An opponent who has succeeded in eluding all five of Brimsek’s teammates puts the goalie on a terrible spot and a dramatic split-second duel ensues between Brimsek and the onrushing opponent. Brimsek figures that he can win three out of five of these duels by outguessing the attacker and smothering his shot with “a split,” a quick graceful motion which leaves Brimsek with one padded knee resting on the ice in a prayerful attitude.

But if a goal is scored, the red light flashes atop the high wire screen placed behind the cage. This light is operated by an arch enemy of Brimsek’s called a goal judge. So far this season, Brimsek claims that goal judges suffering from optical illusions have twice flashed the light for pucks that were blocked with skill and daring.

hot spot on ice

(Top photo courtesy of the Boston Public Library, Leslie Jones Collection)

qu’appelle kid

Special Ed: There’s not a whole lot on the written record detailing Eddie Shore’s earliest days in Saskatchewan. In his 2010 Shore biography, Michael Hiam gets him born on page nine and, by the end of the paragraph, he’s five years old, milking cows in a cold barn. We do know that the birth was on this day in 1902, and the farm was his father’s, northeast of Regina, in the Qu’Appelle Valley. Later, the family moved up to Cupar, a distance of about 50 kilometres. Well … that’s what we think we know. The hockey executive and writer Jim Hendy told Hockey Pictorial the story of taking a commission during Shore’s playing days to profile Old Blood and Guts for a magazine. “I never give interviews,” is what Shore told him when he applied to talk to his prospective subject. Okay, Hendy said, fine. I can go ahead without your help. “Just tell me one thing: were you born in Fort Qu’Appelle or Cupar, Saskatchewan?” Neither, Shore replied. “I was born in a cart between the two of them.” (Photo: Courtesy of the Leslie Jones Collection, Boston Public Library)

Special Ed: There’s not a whole lot on the written record detailing Eddie Shore’s earliest days in Saskatchewan. In his 2010 Shore biography, Michael Hiam gets him born on page nine and, by the end of the paragraph, he’s five years old, milking cows in a cold barn. We do know that the birth was on this day in 1902, and the farm was his father’s, northeast of Regina, in the Qu’Appelle Valley. Later, the family moved up to Cupar, a distance of about 50 kilometres. Well … that’s what we think we know. The hockey executive and writer Jim Hendy told the story of taking a commission during Shore’s playing days to profile Old Blood and Guts for a magazine. “I never give interviews,” is what Shore told him when he applied to talk to his prospective subject. Okay, Hendy said, fine. I can go ahead without your help. “Just tell me one thing: were you born in Fort Qu’Appelle or Cupar, Saskatchewan?” Neither, Shore replied. “I was born in a cart between the two of them.”
(Photo: Courtesy of the Leslie Jones Collection, Boston Public Library)