crowding the crease

Dual Purpose: Mike Karakas (left) and Paul Goodman share a Chicago net in October of 1938. Note the script on their sticks: “Professional Goalie.” And if you zoom in on Goodman’s left mitt, you’ll see it’s inscribed with the name “Alex Connell.” Did Goodman borrow the leather, perhaps, from the august Ottawa goaler, whose career had come to an end in 1937, or maybe did he inherit it? Could be an autograph, I guess, or an invocation, Goodman’s reminder to himself of who he wanted to be emulating when the pucks started to fly.

Chicago Black Hawks goaltender Mike Karakas fractured a toe on the eve of the 1938 Stanley Cup finals, and for a while there that April it looked liked the Hawks would open the championship series against the hometown Toronto Maple Leafs with New York Rangers’ borrowed backstop Dave Kerr fighting their corner. There was a whole kerfuffle over that, featuring fistfights among coaches. As it ended up, the man featuring in the Black Hawks net was Alfie Moore, who’d played a little previously for the New York Americans, and happened to be on hand. In search of a more permanent solution, Chicago also rushed out and bought Paul Goodman from the AHA Wichita Skyhawks, though when the 33-year-old Moore helped Chicago beat the Leafs by a score of 3-1, they thought maybe he’d do fine.

But the NHL wouldn’t let them keep Moore, so it was Goodman — also 33, born in Selkirk, Manitoba — who got the start in game two.

The Leafs roared back with a 5-1 win, which can’t have done much for Goodman’s confidence, let alone Chicago’s. Karakas, 26, was back in for games three and four, sporting a customized shoe and toe-splint, and Chicago won both those games, which won them the Cup.

Initially, Chicago’s patchwork goaling trio all had their names engraved on the Cup with the rest of their teammates. They stayed there for 20 years, until the Cup was redesigned 1957, at which point five Hawk players whose names should, by rights, be etched into hockey history (including Moore’s and Goodman’s), were, by wrongs, left off.

You may have heard tell of the story that Alfie Moore was drunk in a Toronto bar just before he was hauled in to Maple Leaf Gardens to play for the Black Hawks. It’s one of those popular old hockey tales that’s trotted out over and over again to see whether it might someday harden into a piece of authentic truth. The Chicago Tribune devoted an entire page to retailing it in 2013, enriched with quotes from former Hawk captain (and later, PR man) Johnny Gottselig, who scored two goals in front of Moore that night. “He had about ten or a dozen drinks,” Gottselig seems to have told John Devaney for his 1975 book The Stanley Cup: A Complete Pictorial History. “We put some coffee into him and put him under the shower. By game time, he was in pretty good shape.”

Moore, who died in 1979, remembered things a little differently. He was at home in Toronto that April afternoon in 1938, he recalled — and sober. The Leafs called, collected him, took him to the Gardens. “I didn’t know what they wanted,” he told Larry Spears in 1965. It was only when he got to Chicago’s dressing room that he learned he’d be suiting up to play for the Stanley Cup.

“I had no interest in playing,” he said. “And Chicago didn’t want me. They thought I was in league with the Leafs.”

They changed their minds, later, of course. “I wouldn’t say that it was my best game, by any means,” Moore said subsequently. “It was just the circumstances of it, a minor league goalie, the Stanley Cup, and all of that.” He was duly fêted when he travelled to Chicago to see the Black Hawks finish the job he’d started. Paid $300 for his game-one troubles, he later got a gold watch from his fleeting Hawks teammates, while the club contributed a week’s holiday at their expense.

Paul Goodman was back with the Hawks in the fall of ’38; the photograph here dates to that pre-seasonal October. Toe-healthy, Karakas wasn’t quite ready yet to cede the goal on anything like a full-time basis, and so Goodman returned to Wichita for the duration of the 1938-39 season.

The year after that, Chicago had three goaltenders at camp, adding a young Frank McCool to the mix. He eventually returned to university in Spokane, while Goodman was assigned to the IAHL Providence Reds; Karakas kept his net. But only for a month or so: with the Black Hawks faltering in December, coach Paul Thompson decided a switch was in order. So Goodman finished the season as Chicago’s first-choice puck-parryist.

Karakas played a bit for Providence before he decided he didn’t want to be in the minors. Suspended, he, too, ended up as an emergency replacement before the season was out, appearing for the Montreal Canadiens in stead of the injured Wilf Cude and Claude Bourque. Karakas did eventually make it back to the Black Hawks’ crease, but it took a while: he had two more seasons in the minors ahead of him before he made his return.

Paul Goodman would keep Chicago’s 1940-41 net, but only temporarily. He got hurt not long after Christmas, and the Hawks called up 23-year-old Sam LoPresti — a son, like Karakas, of Eveleth, Minnesota. About to turn 36, Goodman decided he’d had enough, announcing his retirement before January was over.

 

we band of brothers

Blood Brood: For the first time in NHL history, four sets of brothers took the ice together in December of 1940. From left, Rangers Mac and Neil Colville line up with Lynn and Muzz Patrick, alongside Max and Doug Bentley of the Black Hawks, and Bill and Bob Carse.

There would be no gathering of the clans on this night in 1941 — not all of them, anyway, just some of them. In fact, by this point in the 1940-41 season, the brief era of the NHL’s greatest sibling assembly had already come and gone. There would be other nights of brotherly note in years to come, as when four Sutters took part in a 1983 game, but that wartime season was unlike any other insofar as four sets of brothers were on the ice together on several of the occasions when the Chicago Black Hawks battled the New York Rangers.

The Rangers, who were the defending Stanley Cup champions going in ’40-41, featured GM Lester Patrick’s boys that year, Lynn, 28, and 24-year-old Muzz, both born in Victoria, B.C. Also on the roster were Edmonton’s own Colvilles, 26-year-old Neil and Mac, 24. Chicago, meanwhile, had Edmontonians of its own in Bill and Bob Carse, aged 26 and 21 respectively. And they had dual Bentleys, too, from Delisle, Saskatchewan, 24-year-old Doug and, in his rookie season, 20-year-old Max.

While the two teams would meet eight times over the course of the regular season, all the brothers would be involved for just three of those games. The first of those was on December 1, 1940 in Chicago, with the home team prevailing by a score of 4-1. The novelty wasn’t much noted. There was the photograph, above and, here and there, a few newspaper inches on previous NHL brothers, Cleghorns, Cooks, and Conachers. Thompsons, too, one of whom, Paul, was the Chicago coach. Max Bentley scored the first goal of his career that night, early in the first period: Phil Hergesheimer passed him the puck and Bentley went racing through centre. “One lightning swish and Max blinded Goalie Dave Kerr with the first tally,” was how The Chicago Tribune wrote it. Bill Carse scored, too, in plainer prose.

The teams met again just before Christmas, though the brother act was incomplete this time, with Muzz Patrick and Bob Carse absent on the night. On Christmas Day, the teams tied 3-3 at Madison Square Garden with all eight brothers back in action. Lynn Patrick scored a goal that looked like this in the next day’s New York Times: he “steam-rolled” through the Chicago zone before he “stepped inside the defence and got off a drive that flew squarely into the cords.” (Bill Carse got another goal, also.)

The last time all the brothers were in a game together was on the night of January 7, 1941, in New York again, where the Black Hawks prevailed, 3-2. This time, Lynn Patrick’s goal involved “a terrific shot that eluded Goalie Sam LoPresti” (Chicago Tribune) and “converting a pass from Neil Colville” (Times). Carsewise, Bob scored.

And that was all. When the teams met again on this day in ’41, it was Max Bentley who was missing. Sent down that week for seasoning with the minor-league Kansas City Americans, he’d at first refused to report, though Kansas coach Johnny Gottselig soon talked him into it. Chicago won the January 26 game, while New York took the last three match-ups. Max was back in Chicago for those games, though they lacked, variously, Doug Bentley (troublesome back) and/or Bill Carse (skate-cut to the leg).

The brothers might all have re-united the following season, 1941-42, but for Muzz Patrick having departed the league for a higher calling. Does that sound morbid? The fact of it is that, having applied for and gained American citizenship, he’d joined up. As the rest of the brothers prepared for another season on ice, the U.S. Army’s Private Patrick was in basic training at Camp Wheeler in Georgia.

By December he’d been transferred north, to Fort Jay, New York. “That gives Muzz a chance to see the Rangers in action a few times,” fancied a sports columnist; “he’d probably like to switch uniforms long enough to give his dad and brother Lynn a hand some night.” Promoted lieutenant, he found his calling as a military policeman and served out the duration of the war. He got his discharge in October 1945, just in time to head for the Rangers’ training camp in Winnipeg.

Sight-Seer: Private Muzz Patrick mans a .50-calibre machine gun during basic training at Camp Wheeler, Georgia, in the fall of 1941.

lift-off

Flyboy: Like Frank Brimsek and Mike Karakas (and … well, Bob Dylan, too), Sam LoPresti hailed from Minnesota’s Iron Range. He guarded Chicago’s goal for two seasons in the early 1940s before volunteering himself out of hockey and into the U.S. Navy. Posing here in 1940-41, he puts Emile Francis to shame, I’d say, sailing across his net in search of a puck that may or not ever show up.

 

first to flee

thompsons

Thompson and Thompson: Boston’s Tiny and his brother, Chicago’s Paul, at Boston Garden, circa 1934-35. (Courtesy of the Boston Public Library, Leslie Jones Collection)

Art Ross was the first coach to pull his goaltender in desperation, we think. With good authority, James Duplacey’s The Rules of Hockey (1996) points to the second game of the 1931 Stanley Cup semi-final between Montreal and Boston at the latter’s Garden.

March 26 was the date. Battleship Leduc was wearing a boxer’s training helmet and didn’t play well. Dit Clapper lay on the ice in “anguish” after he dislocated his shoulder, which was before he relocated it and kept on playing. Montreal’s Georges Mantha scored in the first period. In the third, after Howie Morenz hit a post, Eddie Shore knocked him cold. Boston’s George Owen got a major penalty for that, or something, which made up to 16,550 people in the stands very unhappy. Many of them threw stuff. Four minutes remained in the game. Attendants who cleared the ice saw more stuff fall as soon as they’d finished their work, and so they returned to clear that. Bruins’ president Charles Adams then walked out to announce that anyone throwing more stuff would be prosecuted. Everyone threw more stuff. The hockey players went to their dressing rooms while the attendants went to work for a third time. Policemen ejected “one or two alleged paper tossers.” When play resumed after  a 15-minute delay, Montreal had its own penalty to serve — Johnny Gagnon, two minutes for “stalling” — and the teams briefly played four-on-four before Gagnon returned. Georges Mantha had scored for Montreal in the first period and so, with a minute remaining in the game, Ross yanked his goaltender, Tiny Thompson, to send out Red Beattie to join the shorthanded Bruins. Shore, Clapper, Art Chapman and Cooney Weiland were the rest of them trying to score, but they never got a clear shot at Montreal’s George Hainsworth before the bell ended what Victor Jones of The Boston Globe called “as lively a shindig as this pair of eyes ever gazed upon.” Final score: Montreal 1, Boston 0.

All of which is to set straight Dave Strader’s mistaken salute last night to the spurious 73rd anniversary of the first yank of an NHL goaltender. Play-by-playing Detroit’s game with Chicago on NBCSN, Strader anticipated Mike Babcock’s final-minute decision on whether Jimmy Howard would stay or go by telling his colour man, Brian Engblom, that March 16 was the day the first NHL goaltender left his net in favour of an extra attacker. Strader had all the details: Chicago’s Sam LoPresti was the goalie, Paul Thompson his coach, Toronto the opposition.

All of which check out. The newspaper accounts I’ve seen don’t explicitly mention LoPresti leaving the net, but the Leafs did score two goals in the final minute of the game, to win it 3-0. Good, then: except that game was 1941, a full ten years after Thompson’s well-documented departure. Paul was Tiny’s younger brother — could that be where the confusion somehow got started?

Then again, the NHL itself hasn’t quite got the story straight, at least on its website. At NHL.com, on the Miscellaneous Trivia page, this is the story they’re sticking to:

Pulling the goalie It was the New York Rangers who first pulled their goaltender for an extra skater, either 1939-40 or 1940-41. Frank Boucher, the club’s coach at the time is generally credited with the innovation.

In 1931, Ross’s innovation was an “amazing manoeuvre” (The Globe and Mail) and — well, Victor Jones at The Boston Globe was frankly more concerned about the “miscarriage of justice” that marred the game (the late penalty on George Owen). I don’t know who the next goaltender was to be pulled. Ross kept on yanking Thompson every now and again over the years that followed, but I’ve yet to find a case where it actually paid off with a goal. Who’s the first sixth attacker to have scored? That would be worth knowing.