leafs + bruins, 1933: it wasn’t hockey, but it was homeric nevertheless

Long Time Coming: Ken Doraty ends what still stands as the NHL’s second-longest game, in the early hours of Tuesday, April 3, 1933. (Image: City of Toronto Archives, Globe and Mail Fonds 1266, Item 29471)

The Boston Bruins were the favourites to beat the banged-up Toronto Maple Leafs that spring in the Stanley Cup semi-finals but (retroactive spoiler alert) that’s not what happened: the Leafs won. It was early April in 1933. Four of the five games in the series the teams played went into overtime, including the famous last one, which continued on at Maple Leaf Gardens 164 minutes and 46 seconds before it finally came to end, at ten to two on a Tuesday morning, when Boston superstar Eddie Shore made a mistake and the Leafs’ Ken Doraty took a pass and plunked an ankle-high shot past Tiny Thompson.

Toronto 1, Boston 0.

This was, at the time, the longest game in NHL history. The crowd of 14,539 also registered as the biggest crowd in NHL and Canadian history to that date. A new overtime mark — the one that stands to this day — was set just a few seasons later, when the Detroit Red Wings outlasted the Montreal Maroons in March of 1936. (Lorne Chabot was Toronto’s winning goaltender in 1933; in that record-setting ’36 game, he was on the losing end for Montreal.)

Toronto’s reward 91 years ago was joy, no doubt, and relief — for sure — but not much rest: within hours of dismissing the Bruins, the Leafs were boarding a chartered train and tracking down to New York to get the Stanley Cup Final underway against the Rangers.

As for Shore, he did what you do when your season comes to an abrupt end in Toronto in the middle of the night: he headed for the farm.

“Boys, you deserved that one,” Leaf managing director Conn Smythe told his team in the aftermath, “you kept coming and coming and coming.”

Leafs of Yore: The 1933-34 Leafs featured many returning players from ’33, with the notable exception of goaltender Lorne Chabot. Lined up here, back row, from left: Benny Grant, Buzz Boll, Charlie Sands, Alex Levinsky, Red Horner, Andy Blair, Busher Jackson, Bill Thomas, Joe Primeau, Hal Cotton, trainer Tim Daly, George Hainsworth. Front, from left: Hec Kilrea, King Clancy, Hap Day, Dick Irvin, Conn Smythe, Frank Selke, Ace Bailey, Ken Doraty, Charlie Conacher.

 

Doraty was 27 that year, a third-line right winger who can fairly be described as a fringe player — earlier that season the Leafs had demoted him to the IHL Syracuse Stars because he was considered too small to stand the pace of the NHL. But the man summoned to replace him, Dave Downie, didn’t work out, so Doraty was recalled. He was not large, it’s true: 5’7” and (as Baz O’Meara of the Montreal Star put it) “128 pounds soaking wet” were his specs.

A son of Stittsville, Ontario, he spent much of his life, hockey-focussed and otherwise, in Saskatchewan. With the Leafs in 1933 he was — like coach Irvin and teammates Andy Blair and King Clancy — living in the Royal York Hotel, paying (he later recalled) $1.10 a night for his room — about $25 in 2024 dollars. (Doraty’s salary that hockey season was $3,300 — about $74,000 or so in today-money.)

Boston did score a goal in the third period, by way of defenceman Alex Smith, but referee Odie Cleghorn said he’d already blown the play dead. The goaltenders, Thompson and Chabot, went on stopping everything that came their way. The NHL didn’t keep a record of shots on goal at that time, but some newspapers did, and while the puckstopping that went on that night may not constitute an official record, it deserves its due: Chabot deterred 93 shots on the night, Thompson 114.

Erstwhile Beantowners: The 1932-33 Boston Bruins lined up, standing, from left: Red Beattie, Billy Burch, Obs Heximer, Tiny Thompson, Art Chapman, Art Ross, Marty Barry. Seated, from left: George Owen, Percy Galbraith, Harry Oliver, Frank Jerwa, Nels Stewart, Eddie Shore, Lionel Hitchman, Dit Clapper.

 

As the game clocked on, later and later, the fans sagged along with the players. “The ice was about gone,” a Boston paper recorded.

Boston Globe writer Victor Jones maybe put it best: “It wasn’t hockey after the first hour of overtime, but it was Homeric nevertheless.”

After the fifth overtime, the restart was delayed a further 20 minutes as officials considered their options. Bruins coach manager Art Ross thought the teams should flip a coin to decide the outcome, and Smythe agreed. NHL president Frank Calder was on hand: he didn’t like the idea. Smythe suggested they should replay the game. Calder’s idea was to play on with no goaltenders, but neither Ross nor Smythe wanted to do that. So they continued into a sixth overtime.

The Daily Boston Globe: “Eddie Shore had the puck just inside his blue line and was wearily trying to get up steam for another trip down the ice.” Blair of the Leafs intercepted him —

 “the long-legged pokechecker.” He passed to Doraty, who was on his right, coasting, he and beat Tiny Thompson with a sharply angled forehander into the far corner.

The Toronto papers, as might be expected, made more hay. Here’s Lou Marsh, from the Daily Star:

The goat of the sensational upset is the greatest hockey player of them all … Eddie Shore … highest paid and most feared foeman in all hockey … the pride of Boston … of the Great West … and of all Canada, for that matter … wonder man of hockey.

That is the irony of fate!

Lady luck kisses the lowly and turns her back on the mighty!

And etcetera. Marsh eventually gets to the goal itself, relishing every moment, giddied, too, maybe, from watching all that hockey:

Shore, weak and weary from a terrific effort, gets the puck down at his own end on a despairing Leaf shot from mid-ice … circles and dodges to and from … looking for a place to break through as the spearhead of another of Boston’s power thrusts.

Shore weaves to and fro behind his own blue line trying to dodge that long-armed, long-legged, mid-ice checking limpet, Andy Blair. Suddenly Blair reaches out with a stick that seems as long as a fishing-pole … hooks the puck away just inside the blue line. Down the right boards comes the smallest man on the ice … the lightest and tiniest man in that grim struggle … scuttering and hopping along like a little bow-legged terrier. Blair shoots the puck back of the leg weary Shore as Doraty comes chop, chopping in like a man with club feet … he isn’t even a good free skate … but he gets there … strongest man on the ice at the moment.

Doraty picks the puck up.

Doraty shoots!

Doraty scores!! He scores!!!

Pandemonium. Shore’s head dropped. “Slowly and idly batted loose pieces of paper to and fro and then climbed wearily over the boards and staggered to the dressing room.”

All over. The Leafs caught their train to New York and were out on the ice at Madison Square Garden that same night — losing by a score of 5-1 to Lester Patrick’s Rangers. “Ten minutes of dazzling speed and they were ice-drunk,” was how one wire service summed it up.

“What could you expect from a team barely out of 164 minutes of play,” wondered Conn Smythe.

The game was over on this night by 10.45 p.m. By 11.30, the Leafs were back on the train and headed home for Toronto. The next three games played out at Maple Leaf Gardens, where it didn’t end well for the Leafs, with the Rangers taking the series 3-1 and captain Bill Cook collecting the Stanley Cup from Frank Calder.

Artist’s Impression: A fanciful rendering of Ken Doraty’s famous goal, featuring Eddie Shore blocking Andy Blair, along with a frozen Tiny Thompson.

leafs + bruins, 1935: talking pep, a north bay nugget

When last we looked in on the Boston Bruins and the Toronto Maple Leafs in the playoffs of 1935, they were battling hard: that’s over here.

Today we’re gazing on a pair of key goals from that same game at Maple Leaf Gardens on Saturday, March 30, 89 years ago. Focus your eye first on the image below, which shows the moment in the third period that Toronto’s Baldy Cotton scored to tie the game at 1-1. That’s (balding) Cotton departing the scene in exultation. The Bruins’ #11 is Red Beattie and beyond him, I think that might be Charlie Sands. If they appear dejected, teammates Tiny Thompson (in the goal) and (behind the net) Eddie Shore seem to be directing their energy into outrage and remonstration. As it turned out, referee Ag Smith did call off the goal, ruling that Cotton was infringing on Thompson’s crease when he scored. (Cue the aforepictured chaos.)

As previously mentioned, Toronto winger Regis (a.k.a. Pep) Kelly scored on the ensuing powerplay to tie the game. Then in overtime, the 21-year-old product of North Bay, Ontario, scored again to seal the deal for the Leafs. The top image shows one of those goals, though I don’t know which one. That’s Kelly with stick raised nearest the camera; his helmeted teammate is, I think, Joe Primeau. Tiny Thompson is the dispirited goaltender, with Eddie Shore facing him. Boston’s #4 is defenceman Bert McInenly, with Babe Siebert (#12) and Red Beattie (#11) turning away in disappointment.

(Images: City of Toronto Archives, Globe and Mail fonds, Fonds 1266, Items 36277, 36272)

leafs + bruins, 1932: on their mettle

Opening Night: Boston kicked off the 1932-33 NHL season with a visit to Toronto’s Maple Leaf Gardens on the night of Thursday, November 10, 1932. Tiny Thompson was in the net for Boston, Lorne Chabot for Toronto, the defending Stanley Cup champions: both goaltenders, according to the Boston Globe, were “on their mettle.” King Clancy opened the scoring for the Leafs, Red Beattie answered for the Bruins. Overtime solved nothing; the teams settled for a 1-1 result. (Image: City of Toronto Archives, Globe and Mail fonds 1266, item 28553)

leafs + bruins, 1935: few blows, but lots of hot talk and wrestling

Danger Close: Toronto’s Baldy Cotton attacks Tiny Thompson’s Bruin net on the night of March 30, 1935, at Maple Leaf Gardens. The Bruin by him, #2, is Eddie Shore.

“It was a wild spot for a minute or two — few blows, but lots of hot talk and wrestling.”

It was on the night of Saturday of March 30, 1935 that the Toronto Maple Leafs dispensed with the Boston Bruins in a Stanley Cup semi-final, earning the right to play the Montreal Maroons in the finals (Maroons won). In the decisive game against Boston, the Bruins took a first-period lead through Red Beattie. Toronto tied it in the third through Baldy Cotton — or thought they did.

“Leaf players threw their sticks into the air,” wrote Lou Marsh of the Toronto Daily Star, “and hugged each other. The crowd stood right up and a blast of cheers split the air like an explosion. Hats flews.” But — no goal. Referee Ag Smith ruled that Cotton was in Tiny Thompson’s crease. Chaos ensued. The Leafs rushed Smith, the Bruins mobbed the Leafs. Marsh:

Cotton jabbed Thompson in the mouth and cut his sore lip. Thompson fought back. Cotton tore free and raced at the referee. He was a wild man — berserk. Players clinched and wrestled and jabbed at each other and pulled the official around.

When the fury abated, Cotton and Boston Peg O’Neil were assigned majors by referee Smith, “for fighting,” as Marsh wrote, “— or just because.” (Cotton, he pointed out, was fighting Tiny Thompson.) Boston’s Babe Siebert got an extra two for leaving the penalty box during the fight.

On the ensuing Toronto powerplay, Pep Kelly scored, with assists to Joe Primeau and Charlie Conacher, sending the game to overtime. That didn’t last long: the same combination, Kelly from Primeau and Conacher, ended the game, and the series, which finished 3-1.

Chaos Ensued: The brouhaha following Baldy Cotton’s disallowed goal. At right, that’s Tiny Thompson with Leaf #9 Charlie Conacher and (I think) Charlie Sands. Leafs’ #10 (helmeted) is Joe Primeau.

 

(Images: City of Toronto Archives, Globe and Mail fonds 1266, items 36271 and 36273)

defence department

You’ve Got Us, Babe: Born in 1904 on a Thursday of today’s date in Plattsville, Ontario, Hall-of-Famer Babe Siebert was a star winger with the Montreal Maroons through the latter 1920s, combining with Hooley Smith and Nels Stewart on the dangerous S Line and winning a Stanley Cup championship in 1926. He eventually dropped back to play defence, and took his talents to New York to play for the Rangers. In December of 1933, Siebert was traded to the Boston Bruins. That’s him in the middle here, in March of 1936, with a couple of Bruin teammates, goaltender Tiny Thompson on the right and an old nemesis going back to the Maroon years (they did make their peace), Eddie Shore on the left. Siebert ended up back in Montreal, with the Canadiens, in the late 1930s, and was named Habs coach before his life was cut tragically short in the summer of 1939. (Image: Leslie Jones Collection, Boston Public Library)

shot clocking: linus ullmark < tiny thompson (but who’s counting)

Tiny Dancer: Thompson in the workplace, circa the 1930s. (Image: Leslie Jones, Boston Public Library)

Tiny Thompson did some counting before he retired in 1940. Thompson, of course, was a fixture in goal for the Boston Bruins for a decade in the ’20s and ’30s, helping them win their first Stanley Cup championship in his rookie year. After Frank Brimsek displaced him in Boston, Thompson played a couple of seasons with the Detroit Red Wings before calling quits on his NHL career. That’s when he came up with the estimate that he had stopped 100,000 shots in his time tending goals.

Whether or not Thompson notched his stick to keep track of shots incoming, I don’t know. Hard, really, to say whether that’s a realistic number or pure fiction. Thompson, we know, played 553 regular-season games in a 12-year NHL career and another 44 in the playoffs. He played another nine or so in minor leagues, before that, in the 1920s. No-one was keeping official track of shots on goal in those years, so it’s impossible to pronounce on Thompson’s tally one way or the other. We do know that the all-time NHL leader in saves, Martin Brodeur, made 33,758 of them through 1,471 games, regular-season and playoffs. Does that help?

The incumbent Boston goaltender, Linus Ullmark, has played in 199 NHL games, and his save count is up to 5,353. As you maybe noticed, the 31-year-old Swede and his numbers were much this week as he had himself, well, a week, right in the middle of having himself, well, a year.

Both have been extraordinary, but let’s focus here on the week’s doings.

Heading into Boston’s game in Vancouver on Saturday, February 25, Ullmark had nothing but wins to his credit for the month, winning all of his four starts to that point. Against the Canucks, Ullmark and his Bruins won again, 3-1, with the goaltender hoisting a late-game shot at Vancouver’s empty net to finish the night in style, scoring the first goalie goal in Boston’s 99-year franchise history. (He still has some work to do before he catches the all-time NHL goalscoring leader: Brodeur collected three in his day, including a game-winning goal.)

Still, that was exciting.

Three nights later, on Tuesday, February 28, Ullmark was the hero in Calgary as the mighty Bruins rolled on, beating the Flames 3-2 in overtime. Again the goaltender made history, this time for prodigious puck-stopping, as Ullmark turned away 54 Calgary shots, setting a new franchise high for a single game.

The Bruins, thrilled, were quick to herald this on Twitter, broadcasting the image below. If they didn’t quite get it right on the night, well, it was a big thrill, and facts can be hard to corral when you’re so very … thrilled.

Not to take anything away from Ullmark, but the finer points of the case do deserve an airing. As the NHL’s PR department was careful to clarify, Ullmark’s achievement involved, in fact, a somewhat narrower time-frame than all of eternity.

As reported next morning in the NHL’s Morning Skate daily news digest, “Ullmark made a career-high 54 saves and registered the most on record by a Bruins goaltender (since 1955-56 when shots on goal began being tracked), besting Tim Thomas (51 saves on March 1, 2007).”

Good to know. As is what came next in the NHL release: “Of note, Boston has featured one instance of a netminder making more saves in the Stanley Cup Playoffs: Tuukka Rask (59 saves in Game 1 of 2013 SCF).”

Right you are. Just why there should be, in this case, a distinction made between a regular-season feat of this nature and one performed in the playoffs isn’t clear (to me, at least), but then again the dubious distincting between regular season and playoffs is not anything unseen before in NHL record-keeping. It does, nevertheless, seem like a bit of a statistical slight to Tuukka Rask.

Which brings us back to Tiny Thompson. As the PR people at the NHL pointed out, the league didn’t start officially accounting for shots (and thereby, saves) until 1955, well after Thompson’s time, which means there’s no reliable official record of what he and his early netminding brethren were doing in the early decades of the league. That’s too bad.

It doesn’t mean that shots and saves were never counted in the pre-1955 NHL: sometimes they were. Not in every arena, not all the time, nor in any systematic way. There’s no verifying the accuracy of the tallies that contemporary newspapers reported in those years. But report they did, sometimes, and even if those records are anecdotal, these numbers hold their places in hockey history if not in official ledgers.

For instance?

Well, the 90 shots that Normie Smith of the Detroit Red Wings was reported to have diverted in March of 1936. That’s some goaltending. That game still stands as the longest game in NHL history, wherein Detroit beat the Montreal Maroons 1-0 in the sixth overtime of a Stanley Cup semi-final. (Lorne Chabot of the Maroons stopped 68 shots.)

Or what about Chicago Black Hawks goaltender Sam LoPresti, who stopped 83 Bruin shots in a game in 1941. (Three others that got by him secured a 3-2 win for Boston, who had Brimsek in their goal). Also something.

You’ll find, too, in the annals of Bruins history a Stanley Cup game played in April of 1933 that the Bruins themselves may well have forgotten, something the team tends to do when it comes to its own history, bizarrely, given how rich that history is — but that’s another story, one you can read about here (and here), if you feel the need.

But. 1933. Boston met the defending Cup champions, Toronto’s Maple Leafs, that year in a best-of-five semi-final series that was decided at Maple Leaf Gardens in another epic six-overtimes battle. Tiny Thompson was in the Boston net, facing Lorne Chabot at the other end. Both men were nursing shutouts when Leaf right winger Ken Doraty finally ended the thing (and the series) at ten to two in the morning when he beat Thompson for the winning goal.

Leafs Win: Artist’s impression of the game-winning goal Ken Doraty put past Tiny Thompson in April of 1933.

Distressed by the loss, exhausted, Thompson probably didn’t care how many shots he saved that night, but the number does seem to have been a remarkable one nonetheless. As reported in the Toronto Daily Star the following day, the Leafs fired 115 shots at Thompson, who saved 114 of them. 114! Chabot, for his troubles, stymied 93.

Tiny Tally: The Windsor Star clocks the shots, April 4, 1933.

It’s worth noting that most of the summaries that went out from Toronto that night included shot counts, period-by-period. Some, including in the Boston Globe and in both Montreal’s Gazette and Daily Star, offered different numbers when it came to saves, 111 for Thompson and 89 for Chabot. Again, there was no official count. These lesser totals seem to have been the result of someone, somewhere along the line leaving out shots fired (by both teams) during the final (sixth) overtime period.

This, again, doesn’t change anything that Linus Ullmark achieved last week. Well done, him. But Tiny Thompson does seem to have stopped more than twice as many shots one long night in Toronto in 1933. That seems pertinent, and of interest to Bruins’ fans, according to me.

As is (finally) another entirely unofficial incident from two seasons earlier.

Tiny Thompson is, again, our man. He was 27 in February of 1931 and (apparently) feeling frisky. It wouldn’t happen nowadays, but midway through that NHL season, Boston took the time between two of its scheduled regular-season games to travel to Providence, Rhode Island, to play a benefit against the minor-league Reds of the Canadian-American League. The cause was a good one in those Depression years: all proceeds from the game — $3,800 — went to support the unemployed.

“For the Bruins,” the Boston Globe reported, “it was little more than a workout.” They won easily, by a score of 7-1, powered by a pair of goals by Harry Oliver.

“Everything was in all seriousness until the final minute,” the paper assured its readers. Then? Tiny Thompson decided that he wanted in on the scoring action. So he headed up the ice. Stickhandling the whole way? Maybe. It sounds like the Providence defence parted for him. Did he have any kind of wrist shot? I can’t say. The Globe: “He went in alone from the blueline and beat [Reds goaltender] Mickey Murray on the far side of the nets.”

All in all, it was “a spectacular finish,” the Globe decided — a goalie goal that Linus Ullmark himself might have been proud to score, 92 years later.

On The Go: Boston newspaper clipping from 1932 showing Tiny Thompson heading up ice during a Bruins practice.

 

rallying the room

This was the scene in the Montreal dressing room at the Forum 83 years ago today when, on Saturday, November 25, 1939, the Canadiens lost their first game of the season. The Detroit Red Wings were the visitors that night; the final score was 6-4 Wings.

The hockey world was still in mourning that fall for Babe Siebert, who’d drowned in Lake Huron in a tragic summer accident. The former Canadiens’ defenceman had been slated to take over as Canadiens coach before his death. To replace him, Canadiens turned to another former star, Pit Lepine, who’d departed the team at the end of the 1938-39 season to serve as playing coach for the IAHL New Haven Eagles.

That’s Lepine on the left here, beside defenceman Doug Young. Centre stage is Jules Dugal, Montreal’s business manager (i.e. GM), who had himself served a stint coaching the team before Siebert’s appointment. Seated at right is centreman Charlie Sands, listening intently to the rallying words of Canadiens’ co-owner and team president Ernest Savard. The photo on the wall? That’s another former Canadiens defenceman, I think, Battleship Leduc.

Sands assisted on this night on a pair of Toe Blake goals to aid in Montreal’s losing effort, with Lou Trudel and Ray Getliffe adding goals for the home team. Detroit got their goals from Jimmy Orlando, Jack Keating, Don Deacon, Ebbie Goodfellow, Mud Bruneteau, and Syd Howe. Claude Bourque was Montreal’s goaltender; Tiny Thompson was in the Red Wing net.

Montreal’s season didn’t get any better after this: they ended up dead last in the seven-team NHL by year’s end, the only team to miss out of the playoffs.

(Image: Fonds La Presse, BAnQ Vieux-Montréal)

tiny to-do

Man In A Melee: Born in Sandon, B.C., on Sunday of this date in 1903, Cecil Thompson was only ever known as Tiny during his illustrious NHL career. A four-time Vézina Trophy winner, he played ten seasons for the Boston Bruins, helping them win a Stanley Cup championship in 1929, at the end of his rookie season. Elected to the Hall of Fame in 1959, Thompson was the first NHL goaltender to be pulled for an extra attacker. Supplanted by Frank Brimsek in the Bruin goal by 1938, he was traded to the Red Wings, playing two season in Detroit. That’s Tiny on the ice here, at Chicago Stadium in December of ’38, doing his second-period best to stymie any Black Hawks he can. In front of a crowd of 11,000, he was only somewhat successful, insofar as Chicago won the night by a score of 4-1. From left, that’s Chicago’s Earl Seibert (#17), Detroit’s helmeted Doug Young (I think) and Doc Romnes (quite possibly) of the Black Hawks). Marty Barry is the Wing with his back to the camera, alongside Chicago’s Johnny Gottselig (#7).

small wonder

Tiny Thompson kept his pads in a cardboard box when they weren’t strapped to his legs, and they were the very same pads he wore for almost all of his long and distinguished career, starting in 1924 in Duluth, where he suited up for the USAHA Hornets before taking his talents to Minneapolis and the AHA Millers. Thompson, who died this same week in 1981 at the age of 77, joined the Boston Bruins in 1928, playing parts of 12 seasons there before retiring as a Detroit Red Wing in 1940 at the age of 35.

Cecil was the name he was given when he was born, in Sandon, B.C. He’d grown to 5’10” by the time he was playing in Boston’s nets, wherein he won a Stanley Cup in 1929 as well as, four times, the Vézina Trophy. Thompson had stopped 100,000 pucks by the time he boxed up his pads for good; that was his calculation. “Never make a move,” he advised, “until the man with the puck has made his. There is no place for guesswork in goaltending.”

 

 

(Image © Arthur Griffin. Courtesy of the Griffin Museum of Photography. Photograph may not be reproduced in any form per the copyright holder. All rights reserved.)

spit take: nels stewart, newsy lalonde, and a jolt of tobacco juice in jakie forbes’ eye

Poison Control: A 1952 magazine ad for Pleasant Moments whisky celebrated Nels Stewart’s 1931 record-setting outburst with this imaginative view of one of the two goals he scored within four seconds to lead his Montreal Maroons to a win over the Boston Bruins. (Artist: John Floherty Jr.)

By early afternoon, the signs at Montreal’s Forum were already up: Standing Room Only. “And long before the referees called the teams together at centre ice to start the game, all this space had been grabbed up,” the Gazette’s Marc McNeil would recount. “It was a complete sell-out Saturday night. And those 13,000 fortunates witnessed a mighty spectacle that crammed action and thrills into every minute of play.”

Playing a leading role that night in January of 1931: Nels Stewart, star centreman for Montreal Maroons and the reigning Hart Trophy winner as NHL MVP. In a battle between two of the NHL’s best teams, Stewart, who was born in Montreal on a Monday of yesterday’s date in 1902, powered his team to a win over the visiting Boston Bruins with a third-period outburst, setting a record for speedy scoring that stands to this day.

That being the case, today’s another day that I’ll be pleased to gripe that Stewart doesn’t get the recognition he deserves. His absence from the NHL’s 2017 list of the 100 Greatest Players in league history tells you everything you need to know about that marred memorial. Stewart won a Stanley Cup with the Maroons in 1926 and was the first man to win the Hart Trophy twice. Along with his seven seasons in Montreal, Stewart played another five for the New York Americans along with four for Boston where, though the Bruins themselves have forgotten it, he captained the team. In 1937, the man they called Old Poison overtook Howie Morenz as the NHL’s all-time leading goalscorer, a height he held until Maurice Richard overtook him in 1952. Stewart was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1962.

Toronto Telegram columnist Ted Reeve grew up with Stewart in the Beaches, in Toronto’s eastern end. “The best natural all-round athlete I have ever seen in Canada,” Reeve called him.

“Extremely deceptive,” was Frank J. Selke’s verdict, “the brainiest player I have ever known.”

Selke also testified that Stewart “couldn’t backcheck a lick.”

“He is worthless as a defensive player, always has been,” Herb Manning wrote in the Winnipeg Tribune in 1939. “There is nothing streamlined about him. He lumbers along like a truck on a steep grade. He always seems to be ten feet behind the play, whether they are going backward or forward.”

But?

“But a split second is all the time he requires to complete a chore in the enemy zone.”

He got his chores done, scoring 324 goals in 650 regular-season NHL games, nine more in 50 playoff games.

In Montreal, he centred the famous S line, flanked by Hooley Smith and Babe Siebert. “Babe and Hooley did most of the work,” Stewart later said, “because I was a shambling six-footer who took relays from the corners.”

In 1938, the Ottawa Journal wrote about his “careless, almost lazy style,” noting also that “no goalie ever feels at ease while he is lurching and wandering around the vicinity of the net.”

Ottawa Senators goaltender Clint Benedict: “Nels liked to park and take a puck and fire it quick.”

“Nels was one helluva hockey player,” New York Rangers centreman Frank Boucher said. “He was almost impossible to move once he got in front of the net.”

Harold Burr of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle consulted former Senators star defenceman Eddie Gerard on Stewart’s virtues in 1932, when Gerard was coaching the New York Americans.

“Big and wide of beam,” was Burr’s description of Stewart, whose playing-days metrics came in at 6’1’’, 200 pounds.

No other player in the National Hockey League practices his loafing around the nets of the enemy. He doesn’t look dangerous. He isn’t a fast skater or a hard shot. But he does all his playing from the other fellow’s blue line.

“Watch him lift his shoulder to draw the goalie out,” warns Gerard, his old Montreal boss. “That’s why he scores so frequently — he makes the goalminder make the first move. But watch further. Nels never shoots from the shoulder. He just flips his wrist.”

Boston bought him in 1932. “He is a two-fisted fighting player,” coach Art Ross said at the time, “and the greatest inside player in the game.”

Greatest Inside Player in the Game: Montreal Maroons’ star Nels Stewart as he actually looked in the early 1930s.

Which brings us back to that night at the Montreal Forum in 1931, Saturday, January 3. Nearly halfway through the season’s schedule, the visiting Bruins were heading up the league’s American section, while the Maroons were atop on the Canadian side, neck-and-neck with the Canadiens, defending Cup champions.

Maroons prevailed, 5-3, despite going into the third period trailing 3-1. D.A.L. MacDonald wrote up the game for the Montreal Gazette, and he speculated that if the frenzied Montreal fans had any regrets, they might have centred on the hurry with which the home team turned the game around.

First winger Jimmy Ward scored. Six minutes later, Stewart stepped up after Hooley Smith slammed a shot into Tiny Thompson’s pads. “The rebound dropped barely a foot in front of the Boston goalie and big Nelson Stewart was in like a flash to flip the puck over his prostrate form,” was how MacDonald saw it. “If Nels had scooped it up with a dessert spoon he couldn’t have done it more neatly.”

That tied the game. Four seconds later, Stewart scored the winner. It went like this:

From the face-off once again, Stewart slipped a pass over to Smith that left the Boston front rank behind and at the defence back came the disc to Nelson. The big fellow rode right in on Thompson and the goalie never had a chance. Another flip of those steel wrists and Maroons were in front to stay.

Two goals in four seconds. “Shades of Frank McGee!” MacDonald enthused. “For quick scoring feats and high-powered excitement, Nelson the Great has few equals.” It would, indeed, take 64 years for another NHLer to match Stewart’s record. No, not Gretzky or Lemieux: in1995, Winnipeg Jets defenceman Deron Quint scored a pair of goals in four seconds versus the Edmonton Oilers to slip into the record book alongside Stewart.

Is there any indication that in scoring his brisk brace, Stewart might have distracted or disabled Tiny Thompson by spitting tobacco juice into his unsuspecting eye?

No, none. Though that is a stratagem that is persistently attributed to Stewart in latter-day accounts of his career. Mostly it’s offered up as passing proof of his cunning and/or outright nastiness, often with a hint of admiration — if not any specificity.

The general tobacco-spitting charge shows up in Stewart’s Wikipedia profile, for instance. Floyd Conner slots it into Hockey’s Most Wanted (2002), with his own twist: the eye-spitting was motivated by Stewart’s “contempt” for goaltenders. In his 2012 book, Next Goal Wins, Liam Maguire goes out on a limb of his own to venture that the nickname Old Poison derived directly from “his habit of spitting chewing tobacco into the eyes of opposing goaltenders.”

Stan Fischler has been one of the more enthusiastic purveyors of the expectorating story over the years; it repeats throughout his broad oeuvre. Here it is in his The All-New Hockey’s 100 (1998):

It was not uncommon for Stewart to chew a wad of tobacco, produce juice, and then spit it unerringly in the eyes of a goalie as he shot the puck.

None of the above mentions is sourced; not one identifies a particular instance which any first-hand accounting to back up the chewing/juicing/spitting combo that Stewart is reputed to have employed to such (purported) devilish effect. None of the authors cited above seems to have done any digging of their own. If they had, they’d have found that no-one seems to have been taking note of Stewart’s spitful habit when he was actually playing: my scourings of contemporary newspaper accounts from Stewart’s active years in the 1920s and ’30s haven’t turned up even a fleeting mention of any tobacco-chewing let alone spitting.

The legend does (fittingly?) crop up in the five-part hockey-history TV series that Vancouver’s Opus Pictures produced in 1996, Legends of Hockey, and my guess (it’s mostly a guess) is that it’s from this (also unsourced) documentary that the subsequent literary mentions originated and proliferated. (Wikipedia’s mention of Stewart’s adventures in chaw footnotes it.) The second episode includes short biographies of several colourful hockeyists, including Eddie Shore, Red Horner, and Ol’ Poison himself. You can click in to review it here, starting at the 27:26-minute mark, where you’ll soon hear narrator Alan Maitland intone:

As well as being poison around the net, the Montreal Maroons’ Nels Stewart had the nasty habit of spitting his chewing tobacco in the goalie’s eyes. Never a great skater, never a great checker, he was still a lethal goalscorer.

As Garth Woolsey of the Toronto Star wrote back in 1996, Legends of Hockey is, as a whole, a delightful confection. Specifically citing Stewart and his alleged spitting, Woolsey also notes that “in the off-hand fashion of such productions, this pungent detail is presented without elaboration. Legends delivers with more similar tidbits of history, whetting the appetite. What it might not explain meatily, the series suggests delectably.”

Is it possible that there’s truth at the root of the legend, wherever that might lie? Of course. But without any first-hand account of where Stewart might have been chewing his tobacco and loosing it on contemptible goaltenders, or when, or who the goaltenders might have been, I’ll be wary of treating the tale as fact. I don’t mind James Marsh’s formulation in his biography of Stewart in The Canadian Encyclopedia:

The story that he spat tobacco juice in the eyes of opposing goalies may be apocryphal but apparently is in keeping with his temperament on the ice.

If Newsy Lalonde merits a mention here (and he does), it’s because he’s a, well, key witness in the larger case — as well as a prime suspect.

Lalonde, of course, was one of hockey’s greatest talents, as well as another fairly glaring absentee from that centenary list from 2017. His pro career on ice started as early as 1906, and he went on to play seven NHL seasons, mostly with the Montreal Canadiens, before it was over in the late 1920s. He was famously uncompromising — which is one generous way of saying that he played the game violently and often with what still looks like, over the distance of years, breathtaking spite.

Not that he was (apparently) alone in his willingness to twist rules or (as the case may be) soak them in tobacco juice in those early decades. Long after he’d hung up his skates he was still recalling the transgressions of opponents like Paddy Moran, Stanley-Cup-winning goaltender for the Quebec Bulldogs and a fellow Hall-of-Famer. Here’s Lalonde reminiscing in 1951, as reported in the Montreal Gazette:

“Paddy chewed tobacco,” Newsy said, “and he could hit a keyhole at 40 paces. You had to duck when you skated behind his cage or he’d get you right between the eyes.”

Lalonde elaborated on this theme a decade later. This time he was talking to Andy O’Brien for a feature on hockey malice for Weekend Magazine.

“Paddy [Lalonde said] was in a class by himself by himself when it came to chopping toes of opposing forwards who came within range, and in those days the skate toes weren’t  so well padded. But his pet skill was squirting tobacco in your eye.”

In 1961, Newsy Lalonde implicated Paddy Moran for his chaw crimes.

What would it have cost Any O’Brien to press for just a few more details? As it is, I guess Lalonde’s long-range memories do get us closer to a confirmed case of tobacco-juice-in-the-eye without pinpointing anything precisely. The best we might be able to hope for on that count focusses again on Newsy Lalonde, though he’s not (and probably shouldn’t be expected to be) implicating himself this time. It’s another goaltender of old giving evidence here, Jakie Forbes, who was playing for the Toronto St. Patricks in the early 1920s when Lalonde was skating for — and captaining and coaching — the Canadiens.

Forbes’ news wasn’t exactly fresh when he got around to reporting it: one version I’m looking at dates to 1969, 50 years after the fact, when Forbes was 72, and the other is from Trent Frayne’s 1974 book The Mad Men of Hockey.

Both accounts are, it has to be said, fairly vivid, even if they don’t perfectly match up.

The first, from a genial Globe and Mail retrospective, has Forbes telling his tale this way to writer James Young:

The game is much faster now, but not nearly as rough as it was. In one game at the old Mount Royal rink in Montreal, Newsy Lalonde came around the net and caught me in the eye with his stick. I went skating out to protest to the referee and skated right into him, knocking both of us down. He said he had not seen the incident and sent me back to the net.

The next time Lalonde came down to my end of the ice I went out to stop him, using a high stick if possible. He skated to the side of me, spit his tobacco juice in my face and when I fell skated around me to score in the open net.

Trent Frayne’s framing of this same tale five years later isn’t quite the same; it does up the colour balance.

“He was,” Forbes says this time, by way of introducing Lalonde, “the dirtiest son of a bitch I ever played against.”

In Frayne’s version, Forbes stopped Lalonde and the puck was headed back the other way. As Lalonde rounded the net to follow it, he paused to punch Forbes squarely — and hard — in the face.

“Blood spurted from the goaler’s nose,” Frayne writes, “and he took off after Lalonde, brandishing his stick like a lariat.”

The referee is named as Cooper Smeaton, and he does get knocked down. Jumping up, he’s quoted threatening Forbes:

“Get back in the goal, you crazy little bugger,” he shouted at the five-foot-five goaltender, “or you’re out of the game.”

Frayne adds some fine points to the final act of the piece, too. Near the end of the game, with Canadiens leading 4-1, Lalonde broke in with the puck. Forbes was ready for him, “readying an axe-swing at Lalonde’s head.”

But at the last instant the flying Lalonde spat a long stream of tobacco juice into Jakie’s face, circled the net laughing, and pushed the puck into the goal past the sputtering Forbes.

Triangulating with a few of the details provided by Frayne, it’s possible to key in a couple of games from the two seasons Forbes spent with Toronto. The first time he played Canadiens in Montreal was on Wednesday, March 10, 1920, a night on which the local Gazette found plenty in his performance to praise: “Forbes the Youngest Goaler in NHL Made Many Brilliant Stops at Mount Royal Arena,” reads a subhead from the next morning’s dispatch.

Too bad for Forbes, Montreal won, 7-2, with Lalonde scoring a hat trick. But contemporary accounts mention no high sticks, punches, or other hijinks. Also, the referee that night was Harry Hyland. So that’s probably not the night in question.

A better bet altogether is a game from almost a year later, a Monday-nighter played on February 28, 1921. It was noteworthy affair on several counts. A former U.S. president was one of the 5,000 spectators on hand, for one thing: what’s more, William Howard Taft was “in position to have a good view” of a first-period fight between Toronto’s Ken Randall and Didier Pitre of Montreal.

It was a thoroughly bad-tempered occasion even before the teams hit the ice. Toronto was lending winger Cully Wilson to Canadiens that season, but just before the game, with centreman Corb Denneny ill and unable to play, the St. Pats tried to claim Wilson back for their own line-up.

NHL President Frank Calder was in the building and presided over a summit in the referee’s room. The Montreal Star mapped the terrain:

If he played with Canadiens, Toronto would protest him. If he played with Torontos, Canadiens would no doubt protest him, and if he refused to play with Torontos, whose property he was, he would be suspended. The president, however, refused to counsel him what to do, and told him to suit himself, bearing in mind that he was Toronto’s property.

Wilson sat out and, indeed, never suited up for either Montreal or Toronto again: the following season he turned out for the Hamilton Tigers.

In Montreal in 1921, the game went sourly on without him. “There were many unparliamentary clashes,” the Star reported. The Mount Royal Arena’s natural ice deteriorated as the game continued, too. In the second interval, the Star’s reporter watched as “the men who were supposed to scoop the snow off the ice only got water for their pains, and when the third period began, the ice was like mud. When a man fell he got up sopping wet.”

It was in the second period that Forbes and Lalonde first sparred, though whether it was a high stick or a punch that the latter perpetrated isn’t clear. Press reports make no mention, either, of a collision between Forbes and Smeaton. “Lalonde was given a minor for charging Forbes,” is as much as we get from the Gazette, though with an interesting coda: “Lalonde was booed for his attack on the net custodian.” (Le Droit: “Lalonde was hissed when he jostled Forbes.”)

In Trent Frayne’s telling, the game ended 5-1 for Montreal, which wasn’t the case on this night. Lalonde did score Canadiens’ final goal, towards the end of the third, to complete a 4-0 Montreal win (and Georges Vézina shutout). As the Star had it, “Lalonde’s brilliant lone-handed shot finished the scoring.”

But if reporters present saw Lalonde score, none of them would seem to have noticed him spit his tobacco or laugh, and nor did they catch Forbes’ sputtering as he failed to foil him. That doesn’t mean that a spit-assisted goal isn’t part of hockey history which remains, after all, mostly a matter of the many moments, savoury or not, that go unrecorded.

Famous Five: Lined up from left, Newsy Lalonde, Lester Patrick, Odie Cleghorn, Frank Calder, and Cooper Smeaton, circa the … early 1930s? (Image: La Presse)

 

 

 

stick exchange

Gladhanders: Bruins’ centre Cooney Weiland makes merry with goaltender Tiny Thompson (and a sheaf of sticks) in Boston Garden circa the mid-1930s. (Image: Boston Public Library, Leslie Jones Collection)

Born in Egmondville, in Ontario’s southwest Huron County, on a Saturday of this date in 1904, Cooney Weiland grew up in nearby Seaforth. He started his 11-year NHL career in Boston and finished it as a Bruin, too, winning bookend Stanley Cups in 1929 and 1939 with Art Ross’ team. He also saw ice-time for the (original) Ottawa Senators and Detroit’s Red Wings. He was Boston’s ninth captain. Appointed in 1937, he served two seasons in the role, between the tenures of Red Beattie and Dit Clapper. As a coach, Weiland had charge of the Bruins for two seasons, steering them to another Cup in 1941. Weiland went on coach the AHL Hershey Bears and then, enduringly, from 1950 through to 1971, Harvard University’s men’s team.

lapses in the legacy: checking in on boston’s still-forgotten captains

Special Ed: The epic Eddie Shore, as seen in a Boston Garden program from March of 1936.

If the measure of NHL success is whether or not your team hoists the Stanley Cup to finish a given season, then Patrice Bergeron’s first campaign as captain of the Boston Bruins was a flop.

The season itself wasn’t so dire. The Bruins, you’ll recall, finished third in their division, the old MassMutual East, accumulating 73 points, which was good enough for tenth overall in the NHL’s regular-season standings — just three points behind the eventual Stanley Cup champions, the Tampa Bay Lightning. Boston won their first-round playoff series, dismissing the Washington Capitals in five games. Then, of course, they faltered, losing out in six to the frisky New York Islanders.  

Historically, in the annals of Bruinly seasons going back to the team’s founding in 1924, Bergeron’s first as captain rates … fairly well. Measured by the percentage of points earned during the regular season, Bergeron’s Bruins (who went 33-16-7 in wins/losses/overtime losses) come in at .652, which ties them for 21st on the chart showing 96 seasons played to date. 

That’s well behind the Bruins best season, 1929-30, when the team compiled a .875 record in Lionel Hitchman’s second year as captain. But it’s better than a whole raft of other Boston seasons, including those in which some of the greatest names in team history took over as captain. 

Nels Stewart’s 1934-35 Bruins registered a .604 record before departing the playoffs in the semi-finals. Red Beattie’s 1936-37 team put together a .552 record, losing out in the quarter-finals. Bobby Bauer oversaw a .525 Bruins season in 1946-47; his Bruins lost in the semi-finals. Eddie Shore? He led Boston to a .521 record in 1935-36 and then out of the post-season in the quarter-finals. Marty Barry and Bill Cowley fared worse still: their respective teams, from 1933-34 and 1944-45 respectively, show points percentages of .427 and .350. Cowley’s team failed to get through the semi-finals; Barry’s missed the playoffs altogether.

Six times the Bruins have won the Stanley Cup in their history; it’s not unreasonable to imagine Patrice Bergeron raising a seventh during his tenure as Boston captain. Until that happens, he can take solace (maybe?) in the fact that the team he plays for actually acknowledges his captaincy.

It’s the least the Bruins could do, of course, though not (for the Bruins) so straightforward as you might think. Because while Boston does celebrate (and proudly) Bergeron’s role as team captain, the team still doesn’t allow that Barry, Stewart, Shore, Beattie, Cowley, and Bauer preceded him in the role. 

Yes, it’s back to that refrain again, which is to say, this one

To sum up, quick-like: at some point in the Bruins’ 97-year history, the team has mislaid a prominent chunk of that history, somehow overlooking the captaincies of at least six of their most famous players. Bergeron isn’t the 20th man to captain the Bruins, as the team is content to claim: he’s the 26th (or possibly the 28th).  

Red Beattie captained the Bruins in 1936-37, as noted in a Garden program from that season; according to the team’s erring record, it was Dit Clapper.

It’s not clear when exactly the forgetting originated, just that it’s well-entrenched and, now, widespread: the team’s erroneous record-keeping has become the standard for a bevy of (mostly otherwise) reputable online registers of hockey history. I could go on (and have) about the team’s carelessness when it comes to its own rich past. I took an interest in Bobby Bauer’s unacknowledged captaincy in 2019, following where others, like Bruins historian Kevin Vautour, have gone before. Finding evidence of Bauer’s tenure wasn’t hard, and before long I happened on references to all the others — Barry, Beattie, Shore, Cowley, et al — who’ve been ignored. 

I first contacted the Bruins in December of 2019 to ask about this and (politely) to offer to share my files. I’ve previously quoted the response I got, but it’s worth repeating here. It was Heidi Holland I heard back from, the Bruins’ the team’s director of publications and information, and thereby the gatekeeper of the team’s history, statistical and otherwise, as enshrined in the team’s annual Guide & Record Book.

Focussing on Bobby Bauer’s claim, she wrote:

This question has come up a couple of times over the past several years but unfortunately, I have no way of confirming it. The list of captains from earlier media guides lists John Crawford as captain in that season. The earliest media guide that I have is 1947-48 and Crawford’s bio in that book only says that he has “been captain or assistant captain of the Bruins in recent seasons.” Bauer does not have a bio in that guide.

When the subject first came up, I asked Milt Schmidt (as the only person who was active at that time) if he remembered Bobby being named Boston’s captain and he did not have any recollection that he did.

Fair enough, I guess … if also fairly dismissive of the idea that there just might be proofs out there that go beyond Milt Schmidt’s memory.

News of Bobby Bauer’s appointment reached the pages of Herb Ralby’s Boston’s Globe on October 17 of 1946.

Evidence of the overlooked captains has been out there, of course, for going on 90 years, available for the finding by anyone, including club employees, willing to bother to take the initiative to look for it. I keep coming across references in my archival wanderings, as do others, like Kevin Vautour and Jeff Miclash, a researcher in Burlington, Ontario, who’s working on a book about the Bruins in the 1930s. At this point, we have a regular online marketplace going where we gather to share newfound references to the snubbed captains and roll digital eyes at the Bruins’ ongoing oblivion. It was this past January, as Patrice Bergeron inherited the C, that I piled up the evidence and made my case in that puckstruck.com post of mine. I cc’d that to Heidi Holland and several other interested parties attached to the team without hearing anything back. At the risk of annoying these same people, I got back in touch in July, in the quietude of Boston’s post-season, in the interest of getting the record straightened out in time for the upcoming season. The response, again, was … none. 

That doesn’t mean, of course, that the Bruins are doubling down on the institutional inattention to detail that’s prevailed to this point. The end of their willful neglect of this history of theirs might well be on the horizon, even if we can’t see it yet, or access it on our browsers. 

Because here’s the thing: as a new NHL season approaches, the Bruins will be, in the next few weeks, unveiling their 2021-22 Guide & Record Book. It’s entirely possible that the team has tidied up the register of captains altogether quietly, on their own, righting the record that’s been wrong.

I’ll be happy to see it; I’ll salute their diligence. Meet me back here when — if — that happens. 

Meantime, I’m happy to barge back into the question of just how the Bruins came to not remember that Bobby Bauer and Eddie Shore et al. served the team as captains. The answer is probably lost for good, actually — but maybe can we narrow in to take a look at the timeline of the neglect?   

In that e-mail of hers, Heidi Holland mentioned the 1947-48 Bruins guide as the earliest edition she’s seen. That’s the one with Milt Schmidt on the cover, proudly wearing his C in the centre of his sweater. I haven’t tracked down a copy of that one, but I do have in hand the guide published ahead of the previous season, 1946-47 — that is, the one over which Bobby Bauer presided as captain. 

It’s hard to discern just how involved the team was in this producing this 64-page booklet that bears the subtitle “The complete story of a great hockey team” on its opening page. Compiled by a pair of Boston Globe sportswriters, Harold Kaese and Herb Ralby, it was promoted and sold through the paper (35 cents a copy, plus another five for postage), I’m surmising that it was a Bruin production through and through. I think it may be the very first Bruin guide to have been published, though I can’t confirm that. It’s packed with player profiles, historical rosters, team records — all the usual fodder you’d expect, if not (notably) a comprehensive listing of team captains. 

There’s no mention, in fact, of any captain in this ’46-47 guide. As the Bruins erringly tell it, defenceman John (a.k.a. Jack) Crawford skippered the team that season, continuing in the role he’d had the previous year. As I’ve noted before, Bauer had changed his mind about retiring in the fall of 1946, rejoining the team for one more campaign. On October 16, he was named captain of the team.

The Bruins guidebook pictured above was published a month later, on November 13. I’m speculating here, but my guess is that it was already in production when Bauer was crowned. That would explain why his captaincy isn’t mentioned.

Game for a little more esoterica? I thought so. The NHL had an official guide of its own in the 1940s. Overseen by a former newspaperman from Vancouver, Jim Hendy, it had been keeping scores and stats since the early 1930s. By the start of the 1947-48 season, it had split into two publications: Who’s Who In Hockey, which compiled active player data, and the Official Guide and Record Book, overseeing the NHL as a whole as well as minor and amateur leagues. 

It’s the latter of these booklets that’s of interest here: specifically, the write-up on page 37 and the photograph following on page 56. The former commemorates the winner of the 1947 Lady Byng Trophy: “Bobby Bauer, Boston Bruins’ great little captain.” 

The latter, reproduced here, shows Bauer front and centre, proudly wearing the C denoting his rank between the 1 and the 7 on his sweater. As previously noted, the 1946-47 season was the first in which letters were added to NHL sweaters to denote captains and their alternates. Bauer’s deputies show their As here: Murray Henderson standing tall beside coach Dit Clapper and, seated three places to Bauer’s left, then-former captain Jack Crawford. 

One last (for now) thread from the fabric. Fast-forwarding through the decades, we find the Bruins heading into the NHL’s 1973-74 season looking forward to their 50th anniversary. This is duly noted on the cover of the team guide they published that fall:

A gallery of remarkable hockey players on that cover, you’ll agree. Of the 11 depicted, all but four (goaltenders Frank Brimsek and Tiny Thompson, along with Bobby Orr and Phil Esposito) served with distinction as Bruin captains.

And yet two of them shown here — Bill Cowley and Eddie Shore — are still (then as now) missing from the historical record.

Their captaincies, along with those of Marty Barry, Nels Stewart, Red Beattie, and Bobby Bauer, are plain facts, despite what the Bruins recall. What the ’73-74 guide tells us is that the neglect that still seems to be in place goes back at least 48 years. The proof that the team was getting it as wrong in 1973 as it was in 2021 is on page 38:

Error Page: Boston’s overlooked captains have been missing from the record for at least 48 years, dating back to the team’s 1973-74 Official Guide.

What this may also illuminate is the how — and the who — of just what happened here. I don’t mean to be casting blame, or getting anybody into historical trouble, but, well, um, the man in charge of the ’73-74 guide was, somewhat remarkably, one of the men who’d collaborated on that ’46-47 edition, 27 years earlier. 

Herb Ralby was a sportswriter for the Boston Globe starting in the 1930s, when he was in his early 20s, and he was on the job until 1970, when he left journalism to join the Bruins full-time as the team’s director of publicity. (He died in 1994 at the age of 81.) Ralby was on the scene, that’s to say, going back all the way to the time Eddie Shore’s tenure as captain, and even reported on Bobby Bauer’s (below), well before he took charge of — and didn’t repair — the Bruins’ not-so-well-tended history that nobody since has bothered to set right.  

Stitches In Time: News you can use from a Herb Ralby column in the Boston Globe from November of 1946, a quarter century before he became the Bruins’ director of publicity.