alcoholic drinks? the best they can do is ruin your health

Tabletop: Red Wings defenceman Black Jack Stewart catches up on the day’s news in the Detroit dressing room during a rubdown from team trainer Honey Walker, circa 1946.

When Black Jack Stewart played his defence on the left side for the Detroit Red Wings, a lot of the time Bill Quackenbush was on the right. I’ll let Stewart tell you where he got his nickname:

I bodychecked some fellow one night and when he woke up the next day in the hospital he asked who’d hit him with a blackjack.

He couldn’t remember the player’s name. In other tellings of the tale, it was his own dark visage and disposition that got him the moniker. He was a devastating hitter, says the Hall of hockey’s fame, to which he was inducted in 1964. His online bio there also includes the words: complete packagerock-solid, poise, work ethicexcellent staminabrute force, and subtle clutching and grabbing. He played a dozen NHL seasons in all, the first ten for Detroit, then the final two for the Chicago Black Hawks, where he was the captain. He won two Stanley Cups with the Red Wings; three times he was a First Team All-Star.

Best-Dressed: Stewart featured in a three-page fashion spread in the February, 1948 edition of Sport magazine. “In picking out the leisure wardrobe he is wearing on these pages,” readers were advised, “Jack looked for about the same things most men want in their Winter garments. He kept his eyes open warmth, comfort, and up-to-date styling.”

He never argued with referees. “I figured,” he said, “for every penalty I got I used to get away with around 19.” He carried one of the heaviest sticks at the time he played, in the 1930s and into the ’40s and ’50s. People remembered his bodychecks in Detroit for years after he was gone: when Howie Young played there a decade later, they said he hits almost as hard as Black Jack Stewart. Stewart’s philosophy? He said this:

A defenceman should bodycheck if possible, picking the proper spots and making sure that he gets at least a piece of the opposing player. But it isn’t wise to go in there with the sole idea of bodychecking everything on skates.

Some dates: born in 1917, died 1983, on a Wednesday of this date, when he was 66. The love he had of horses was nurtured in Pilot Mound, Manitoba, where he grew up on the family wheat farm. He went back home to work on the farm in the off-season when he was in the NHL. Later, after he’d hung up his skates, when he was making a living as a salesman for a Detroit lithograph firm, he was a judge for the Canadian Trotting Association.

He’d always remember the day a teenager showed up in Detroit in the later ’40s, fuzzy-cheeked, name of Gordie Howe, with no great fanfare. “We knew he had it all,” Black Jack said, looking back:

He showed spurts of being a really good one. But I think he held back a little that first year. He didn’t seem relaxed enough. But of course he overcame that after he’d had a couple of fights.

There weren’t too many ever got by Black Jack, someone who knew from trying said. I guess he had a little bit of feud with Milt Schmidt of the Boston Bruins: so he said himself. Something else Stewart said was that every team had two players who were tough, for example for Chicago it was Earl Seibert and Johnny Mariucci.

Here’s a story, from ’48, about another Red Wing rookie, the great Red Kelly, who was in his first year in the NHL, a 20-year-old fledgling. That January, driving in downtown Detroit, Kelly made an illegal left turn and hit a car belonging to one John A. Watson. Summoned to traffic court, Kelly appeared before Judge John D. Watts with his teammate Stewart standing by him to argue his defence.

Kelly’s license, it turned out, was Canadian, as was his insurance. Convicted for the improper turn, Judge Watts gave him a suspended sentence and told him to pay $52 in damages to Watson.

“You had better get another attorney before you go to jail,” the magistrate was reported to have told Kelly regarding Stewart’s courtroom efforts. “This man sounds more like a prosecutor.”

Watts did ask Stewart to make sure that his teammate paid the damages and secured a Michigan license. “I’ll see that he does both,” Stewart is said to have promised, “if I have to break his neck.”

The proceedings came to jocular end. “I fine you two goals,” Judge Watts told Kelly, (laughingly, according the Detroit Free Press), “and you’d better deliver them tonight or I’ll have you back in court tomorrow.”

Stepping Out: Stewart’s wool overcoat (with zip-out lining) would have set you back $55 in 1948. His imported capeskin gloves? A mere $7.

Detroit did dispense with the New York Rangers at the Olympia that night, by a score of 6-0, but Kelly wasn’t on the scoresheet. The team, the Free Press noted, “left for Canada shortly after the game.”

Alertness on face-offs was, to Stewart, a cardinal rule. That’s what he said in 1949, when he and his fellow All-Stars were asked to share their hockey insights.

When it came to off-ice conditioning, Stewart said he tried to go walking as much as he could. “I eat foods,” he added, “that my system has been used to and at regular hours. I go easy on pickles and pastries. A steak dinner is the thing not less than three hours before playing a game. I aim at eight hours’ sleep nightly. As for alcoholic drinks, leave them strictly alone — the best they can do for you is ruin your health.”

Smoking? “A boy who is really serious about coming a topnotch player will be wise to shun smoking until he has attained his 21st birthday,” Black Jack Stewart said.

hockey smokers: herbie lewis

Lighting Up: Born in Calgary on a Monday of this date in 1905, Herbie Lewis started playing left wing in Detroit in 1928, turning out over the next decade for all three of the city’s NHL incarnations, Cougars, Falcons, and — from 1932 — Red Wings. He captained the team during the 1933-34 season, and assisted in the effort, in ’36 and ’37, that won them back-to-back Stanley Cups. Lewis was inducted in the Hockey Hall of Fame in 1989. And? I guess he liked to smoke Camels, all the live-long day — during meals, even! — commending them here, in ’37, for easing his digestion and upping his all-around well-being.

hockey coaches in hospital beds: down goes dutton

American Lit: Red Dutton gets a light for his cigarette from an unnamed nurse during his stay at Gotham Hospital in February of 1938.

Another month, another loss.

That was the story in the winter of 1938 for the New York Americans, who ended January with a 4-2 home defeat at the sticks of the Montreal Canadiens. Four days later, the Amerks started their February schedule with a 6-1 drubbing at Madison Square Garden by the Detroit Red Wings. That was their fourth loss in a row, and extended their winless streak to nine games. With a little over a month to go in the regular season, the Americans were in a fight for their playoff lives, just two points ahead of the Montreal Maroons and the basement of the NHL’s International Division.

Forty-year-old Red Dutton was in his third season as the New York coach and manager. His interest in the team, shall we say, ran deeper still: having captained the Americans as one of the NHL’s most effective and bruising defencemen until his retirement as a player in 1936, he was also a co-owner of the team.

The Americans’ slump had Dutton in a rage. He bent Harold Parrott’s ear after the Red Wings’ shellacking and Parrot, the hockey writer for the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, was only too happy to share the coach’s none-too-complimentary musings with his readership.

Were the Americans altogether too clean-living to prosper in the rough and the tumble of NHL hockey? Dutton wondered, citing the example of his goaltender, Earl Robertson. “He never looks at a drink or a girl,” Dutton was quoted as saying, “goes to bed early and trains on a running track just to be in shape for hockey — and yet there must be spots in front of his eyes.”

Turning to defenceman Joe Jerwa, Dutton speculated that maybe he had too much money in the bank to care about buckling down and playing effective hockey. “But that can’t be the trouble,” Dutton went on, “because most of the other men haven’t the price of a ham sandwich and they still seem to play as if they didn’t care.”

Dutton advised Parrott that the team’s biggest lack was a defenceman who could rush the puck. He was apparently willing to name those he thought weren’t getting the job done, deeming fifth-year defender Al Murray “the worst of the lot,” according to Parrott.

I’m not the one who’s going to draw the line between that very public scorn and what happened next. It’s not for me to say that Dutton ending up in hospital a week later had anything to do with payback. I’m just reading old newspapers here and patching together what I’m seeing there.

That’s this:

The Americans played their next two games against the Montreals, tying the Canadiens 3-3 in Quebec, then coming home to beat the Maroons 3-1.

That was on the Tuesday, February 8. The Americans didn’t play again until the following Sunday, away to the Red Wings. With the annual Westminster Kennel Club moving in to occupy Madison Square Garden for the week, Dutton decided to take his team to Detroit early. Doc Holst of the local Free Press reported the exchange Dutton had with Jack Adams, his Red Wings counterpart, when the Americans showed up Friday at the Olympia to practice.

“Whatsa matter, Mervin [sic], no ice in the Gardens?” Jack Adams asked.

“Nope, no ice,” Red answered. “They drove us out to put on a dog show.” There was a bit of hurt pride in the redhead’s voice.

It was during that February 11 practice that Dutton suffered the injury that put him in the hospital and into the picture above. The coach was out on the ice, skating with his team when — well, here’s how the Associated Press accounted it:

He tried to carry the puck past his best body-checker, 155-pound Al Murray. Murray smacked his boss with a sound body-check, and Red went flat on his back.

He suffered through the weekend, much of which he seems to have spent abed at his hotel convinced that it was just a bad case of lumbago. He still managed to arrange a trade from that prone position, gaining winger Johnny Sorrell from the Red Wings in exchange for Hap Emms. The Sunday game finished as a 2-2 tie, whereupon the Amerks headed for home.

It was more than lumbago.

At some point back in New York, Dutton ended up in Gotham Hospital up on East 76th Street, under the care of Dr. Morton K. Hertz. A Thursday dispatch in The Daily News reported him to be “encased in a 10-pound plaster cast” as a result of his collision with Al Murray. The diagnosis was dire:

Dutton had torn the lower back (latissimus dorsi) muscles loose from the hip. They must heal before he can stand erect. Hemorrhages that produced a kidney stoppage further complicated his condition, causing intense pain.

The AP listed him as resting uncomfortably, if “very much ashamed of himself,” insofar as he’d never been seriously injured during his 15 professional seasons as a player. The last time he’d been in hospital, the Winnipeg Tribune cheerfully noted, was during the First World War, when he suffered “a bad dose of shrapnel.” That was a reference to his service with Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry, with whom he’d been badly wounded near Vimy in 1917. During his recovery, he’d been in danger of losing a leg to gangrene.

In 1938, with Dutton sidelined, veteran defenceman Ching Johnson stepped out of the Americans’ line-up to take his place on the bench for a Tuesday meeting with the Canadiens. The As won that game, 4-0.

In fact, Johnson continued to steer the team through a further four games.

That in and of itself is worth a notation: nowhere in the annals of NHL coaching records can I find Johnson getting credit for this brief coaching career of his, including in the NHL’s online register, here. Attention, NHL coaching historians and stats-keepers: Johnson’s name should be added (and Dutton’s adjusted) to reflect the respectable 3-1-1 record that then Americans compiled under their emergency-measures boss.

Red Dutton returned to duty for the Americans’ February 27 home game against the Montreal Maroons. Though they lost that night, 4-2, Dutton’s crew did make it into the playoffs later in March, going two rounds before they fell to upstart Chicago Black Hawks in the semi-finals.

Clarence Campbell was the referee for the second game of that series, controversially calling back a goal by the Americans’ Eddie Wiseman that would have won the game for New York and sent them to the Stanley Cup finals. As it was, Chicago prevailed in overtime and in the next game, too, ousting the Americans. Dutton’s protests didn’t help that, of course, but they did include a vow that his team would have no part of any subsequent playoff game officiated by Campbell.

Campbell’s post-reffing career was in the Canadian Army during the Second World War. His return to hockey came in 1946, when he took over as president of the NHL, succeeding the man who’d taken the job after Frank Calder’s death in 1943 — Red Dutton.

The end of the 1938 season saw Ching Johnson call it quits as an NHL player, subsequently taking his talents west to serve as playing coach for the American Hockey Association’s Minneapolis Millers. Before leaving New York, he was rewarded as all the Americans were that season: as reward for their ’37-38 playoff successes coach Dutton handed each man a bonus of $250.

 

 

stay out of the city

bcook pkstrk

 

“I am sure the reason
I have lasted this long,”

he said,

“is because
I spend my summers
out on my ranch near
Saskatoon.”

“Stay in the city and you
unconsciously fall
into habits that are
not beneficial —
such as
staying up late and
oversmoking.”

• Bill Cook was 39 at the end of the NHL’s 1934-35 campaign, his ninth as captain and mainstay of the New York Rangers. As the season wound down, Cook talked to George Maguire from the Canadian Press, telling him that he wouldn’t be retiring any time soon — not while he still had goals to score. Hereabove (excerpted, edited, and poemized), his best off-season advice for players looking to lengthen their icy careers.

 

 

hockey players in hospital beds: derek sanderson

sanderson

Severely Sprained: Derek Sanderson jumped from the NHL’s Boston Bruins to a $2.6-million contract with the Philadelphia Blazers of the upstart WHA in the summer of 1972. The team lost seven games in a row to start the season but Sanderson, 26, was scoring when he wasn’t sitting out penalties. In eight games he had three goals, three assists, 69 minutes of sanction. His final game, in Cleveland, in November, he came out of the penalty box, went for the puck and let’s let him tell it himself, as he does in the 2012 memoir, Crossing The Line, written with Kevin Shea:

My left foot landed on a piece of garbage that somebody had thrown at me. I slipped and I could feel the pain go up my spine and right down my leg. Boom! I dropped like a stone. The left leg went out from under me and I kind of did the splits. My back took it all because I didn’t have my weight balanced. I couldn’t get up. I couldn’t move.

He doesn’t remember getting back to Philadelphia, but that’s where he ended up, at the Hahneman Hospital with a severe muscle sprain in the low back. The pain was “unbelievably bad.” Dr. Arnold Berman wanted to operate. Sanderson had only one condition: the doctor had to sign an agreement guaranteeing that if, post-surgery, Sanderson couldn’t play hockey again, Dr. Berman would personally pay Sanderson’s salary for life.

Second opinion: a week’s bedrest should do the trick.

A few days later, lying abed in his suite at the Latham Hotel, Sanderson (above) held a press conference. “In retrospect,” he says in his book, “I should have held my tongue, but my style was to say what was on my mind.” No athlete liked playing in Philadelphia, he told reporters, because the fans were all sourpusses though only because the press was so very negative. As for marriage, he said he was looking for a girl who was “independent, strong, confident, intelligent, witty, beautiful, understanding and sensitive.”

He was ready to play again in December, but by then Philadelphia had decided that they couldn’t afford his contract. Early in the new year, Sanderson was back in Boston, a Bruin again.

smoke ’em if you got ’em, having just shut out detroit, while recovering from the chicken pox. plus, two stitches

abel + rollins

The Light Years: Chicago was in last place in December of 1953, thanks in part to first-place Red Wings trouncing them 9-0 and 9-4 to start the month. Still, a week later, the Black Hawks went into Detroit and beat them 3-0. Which pleased coach Sid Abel (left), understandably. With 40 saves, goalie Al Rollins earned the shutout and the smoke. A Detroit stick had cut him for two stitches by the left eye during the game. As game reports noted, he was also recovering from chicken pox.

The Toronto Star’s ever nimble Cathal Kelly wonders today (here, paywalled) about the nagging of athletes who might or might not smoke a cigarette every now and then. “While professional athletes and the stakes they play for are growing,” he writes, “players are perversely expected to avoid doing anything which puts themselves or others at risk of harm. That was once the whole point of most sports. Watching grown men trying to kill each other.

Now it’s the counterpoint — the constant reaction to violence in football, drugs in baseball, fighting in hockey and smoking everywhere.”

For a full perspective on hockey’s ashtrays and cigarettes, Kelly points the way to Adrian Dater’s 2012 comprehensive feature at Sports Illustrated, here.

firstsecondthird.2

FIRST. “Was there divine intervention in that goal? I don’t know if there was divine intervention or not but I know that Paul certainly intervened, for whatever reason.” Alan Eagleson ponders the eternal questions, sort of, as he recalls Paul Henderson’s famous 1972 goal in Jim Prime’s How Hockey Explains Canada (Triumph).

SECOND. If they build him, will it come? Quebec City is still trying to nail down details of a new 18,000-seat, $400-million rink that it hopes just maybe might be the thing to lure an NHL franchise back to town. The soonest it could be open for skaters would be oh, maybe 2015 or so? That won’t stop the city from raising statues on the site more immediately. Jean Béliveau is a good bet to get one, but first up will be Joe Malone (pictured here), the city says. Centenary celebrations for the two Stanley Cups his Quebec Bulldogs won in 1912 and ’13 are coming up, reasons as good as any to put  him on a plinth. The Phantom, they called him, which is pretty good. Playing on a Montreal Canadiens line with Newsy Lalonde and Didier Pitre, he scored 44 goals in 20 games in 1917-18. He still holds the NHL record for most goals in a game, the seven that he scored for Quebec against Toronto in 1920.

THIRD. “I couldn’t believe how many guys were into cigarettes when I joined the Blackhawks. Ashtrays in the dressing room! Stan used to puff away pretty good, even between periods.” Tony Esposito recalls the smoky past in Forever A Blackhawk (Triumph), by Stan Mikita and Bob Verdi.