black hawks at training camp, 1929: wrapped up in woolen sweaters and trunks of hockey

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Field Force: The Chicago Black Hawks on the Notre Dame field, October 25, 1929, lending an ear to new coach Tom Shaughnessy. Back row (from left): Assistant trainer Hayden, Johnny Gottselig, Ralph Taylor, Cy Wentworth, Frank Ingram, Charlie Gardiner, coach Dick Irvin, Stew Adams, trainer Tom Dyer. Front row: Vic Ripley, Tom Cook, Ty Arbour, Lolo Couture, Art Somers, Bobby Burns, Earl Miller, Mush March.

The Chicago Black Hawks shuffled through coaches after the coffee baron Major Frederic McLaughlin bought them into the NHL for the 1926-27 season. When Tom Shaughnessy’s turn came up in the spring of 1929, he was the fifth man to take the job. He wasn’t like the rest, all of whom were Canadians, all of who had played the game at the highest level (three of them ended up in the Hall of Fame). Shaughnessy was American-born, a Chicago lawyer, and the hockey he’d played was back in college at Notre Dame, though he was active, too, in Chicago’s amateur leagues. He’d played Fighting Irish football, too, as a teammate of the legendary Knute Rockne.

And maybe he was just what the Black Hawks needed. They’d finished each of the last two seasons sunken down at the bottom of the ten-team league. And Shaughnessy did have a plan, which he put into motion in early October of 1929 when he took his team, 15 players strong, for 12 days of pre-season training on the football fields of his alma mater at South Bend, Indiana. For an assistant he had Dick Irvin, just retired as a player, who’d also coached the Hawks from the ice at the end of the 1928-29 campaign. To crack the whip, the new boss looked to trainer Tom Dyer, a former British Army sergeant-major.

American press reports were only too pleased to declare Shaughnessy’s innovations that October, one of which was said to be the notion of putting hockey players under “military discipline” — even though Conn Smythe had his Leafs in Toronto under command of Corporal Joe Coyne a year earlier.

Among the Hawks at Notre Dame were veterans Cy Wentworth, Mush March, Johnny Gottselig, and goaltender Charlie Gardiner. Newcomers included Tom Cook, Taffy Abel, Helge Bostrom. Only captain Duke Dukowski was absent — he’d stayed back home to tend to his wife’s illness.

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Blocking Party: Black Hawks at work in South Bend. From left, Taffy Abel, Ralph Taylor, Cy Wentworth, Ty Arbour, Johnny Gottselig.

Harland Rohm was on hand to report on the preparatory proceedings for The Chicago Tribune. The labour was hard, he said, but the hockey players had reported in fair to good condition. “The weight sheet for the first five days shows no man to have lost more than two pounds and several of them have put on a pound or two.”

The camp was ice-free: the daily routine featured a three-hour field workout, with calisthenics, medicine balls, wind sprints. “A few dashes the length of the field and the boys are dropping on the grass, panting for breath — which isn’t unnatural, considering they’re wrapped up in woolen sweaters and trunks of hockey.”

Later, in the afternoon, they took to the softball diamond where two teams — Dick Irvin’s Shadows and Shaughnessy’s Plugs — vied for a $50 prize put up by coach Shaughnessy. (Irvin’s team won the first game 22-21 and the second 5-2, with Lolo Couture and Mush March distinguishing themselves.)

After lunch, those who wanted to golf headed out to the green (Ralph Taylor and Vic Ripley were among the keenest), while the rest of the team went for a walk.

Supper was at 7, followed by “a roundtable conference on hockey plays and rules” and lights out at 11.

Harland Rohm proved to be a serious scout:

Moving over to the shower, a casual server gets a surprise. Frank Ingram, rookie wing from St. Paul, weighs 172 pounds and has a physique a Big Ten coach would like to see among his candidates for back field. Art Somers, another rookie, a center from Vancouver, is like him, only twenty pounds lighter. Big Abel, who always looks fat when dressed, hasn’t a sign of any fat around his waist and appears ready to step on the ice. He weighs 224 now and is usually over 220 in playing condition.

Finishing up in Indiana, the team entrained for Tulsa, Oklahoma, where they started the season’s exhibition schedule against the local Oilers, champions of the American Association. Once the regular season got underway in November, Shaughnessy had his new and improved Black Hawks ascending the NHL standings. By the new year, he had them sitting second in the American Division, just back of the mighty Boston Bruins.

When the two teams met in mid-January, Chicago became the only team to beat the Bruins twice. Dousing the joy of victory somewhat was the news, next day, that Tom Shaughnessy was resigning. The official word was that he needed to devote more time to his law practice, but I’m going to venture here that there more to it than that, and that it just might have been that he and Major McLaughlin didn’t see eye to eye.

What we do know is that for the next several years Shaughnessy laid steady siege to the Major’s hockey dominion in Chicago. In the summer of 1930, he bought the American Hokey Association’s Minneapolis franchise for $60,000 and talked it about moving it west to the Lake Michigan shore. With James Norris’ backing, he also looked into buying the beleaguered Ottawa Senators and shifting them. McLaughlin was able to veto that, though Shaughnessy did eventually fall in with the upstart American Hockey League and get a team, the Shamrocks, into Chicago Stadium. As Bruce Kidd writes in The Struggle For Canadian Sport (1996), the Shamrocks actually outdrew the Black Hawks in 1931.

That was the year the AHL challenged the NHL for the Stanley Cup and the NHL refused, declaring they’d prefer to forfeit than face the “outlaws.” J. Andrew Ross has a full and fascinating account of this in his book Joining The Clubs (2015), which I recommend. The short version: the AHL and Tom Shaughnessy lost, and the league disbanded.

can the puck break a bone?

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Puckbitten: “Pete Pilote,” the papers sometimes called him, “Hawk captain,” as when in March of 1963 (in Chicago’s final regular-season game) a puck shot by Boston’s Wayne Hicks cut the back of his head for 12 stitches. A.k.(mostly)a. Pierre, he suffered his share of head wounds: in December of 1960, also facing the Bruins, a puck off the boards opened up his forehead. I think that must be the wound that Hawks trainer Nick Garen is studying here, above. In his memoir, Pilote recalled the ’63 incident with a wince. “I’ll never forget that one. Those 12 stitches hurt more than anything I’ve ever known … like somebody was pressing a hot poker into my head. It throbbed so much I couldn’t sleep for a few days afterwards.” When later the sutures opened, the Hawks’ Dr. Myron Tremaine suggested that he might have to add an extra stitch to seal the deal. “No, you don’t Doc,” the superstitious Pilote told him. “Not 13! Find room for one more.”

In December of 1934, Harold Parrott of The Brooklyn American talked to Dr. Henry Clauss, house doctor to the hockey players, boxers, and six-day bicycle racers who plied their trades at New York’s Madison Square Garden. The mention of the Art Ross puck is noteworthy, though it may not be entirely accurate. A new Ross puck did see service in the NHL in the early 1930s, only to be subsequently revoked, but I’ve seen no other reference to its being metal-middled. Following here, an excerpt of Parrot’s profile, edited, and poemized.

Sticks carried high, or swung viciously, (as often happens)
can do more deadly execution than
anything.

“The goalies are the ones that feel the brunt of the attack,”
said Dr. Clauss, wincing visibly. “I find that
the better the goalie, the more he
gets cut up, because
he goes to meet the play —
takes chances, to save goals.
Shrimp Worters, in the Americans’ net,
is always
getting
sliced
up.

“Can the puck break a bone?” I asked.

“It’s more damaging than a baseball
thrown by Mungo or Gomez,” said the Doc,
“and I know! It is heavy enough
to break bones now, although it is not
as bad as a few years ago,
when they used to use that Art Ross puck
with a metal center, and
they used to carry the players off
one after another. But the edge,
the cutting surface on the puck
makes it worse than
a baseball.”

maintenance day

hawksfixersUpkeep: “The Hawks have their own small hospital in the Stadium,” The Chicago Tribune advised its readers in January of 1938. On this visit, patients included (left to right) Johnny Gottselig, in for treatment on a swollen knee; Pete Palangio, sore of shoulder; and Doc Romnes, getting his stitches checked by Chicago team physician Dr. R. W. Meacham (a.k.a. Dr. Mayhem). That’s trainer Ed Froelich spinning the dials on the diathermy machine. The Hawks had been in a bit of a slump and before their next game, coach Bill Stewart saw fit to revamp his line-up. Palangio was part of that, ending up  St. Louis of the minor-league AHA. The Hawks who stuck around went on to beat Montreal’s Maroons 1-0 on a Gottselig goal. Things started looking up after that, all the way through to April, when Chicago beat Toronto to win the Stanley Cup. Palangio was back for that; as Andrew Podnieks points out, he even got his name engraved twice on the Cup that year. Well, more or less: the first time it’s spelled Palagio, with no first name attached.

sharpie

fonds 1266, Globe and Mail fonds

Tommy Naylor eventually took over as the Toronto Maple Leafs’ trainer but for years before he succeeded Tim Daly in that job, Naylor was the Leafs’ revered skateman. Was there anyone better at the sharpener? World and Olympic figure-skating champion Barbara Ann Scott wouldn’t let anyone else touch her blades; Frick and Frack, world-famous Swiss comedians-on-skates, swore that Naylor was the best. “As valuable as most players,” offered The Globe and Mail which, in 1947, when this photograph ran, was saying something. The Leafs were about to play for and win the Stanley Cup, beating the Montreal Canadiens, though not before Naylor put an edge to the players’ skates piled in front of him. That’s left winger Harry Watson attending at Naylor’s lair, beneath the stairs in the northeast corner of Maple Leaf Gardens.

If he wasn’t quite born to the grind, well, close enough. As a younger man Naylor held the Ontario half-mile speed-skating record, and he’d gone to work in 1918 as a messenger boy for A.G. Spalding Sporting Goods. When the regular skate-sharpener quit, Naylor took his job.

With the Leafs, he was the de facto equipment manager, “a bit of an expert with the needle,” as The Globe told it, and guardian of the sticks. (The Leafs went through 600 in 1946-47.) But:

Skates are the No. 1 priority. Each Toronto players has three sets of blades, which are kept sharpened at all times. After every practice or game the skates are rushed into Naylor’s shop for a going-over.

Every player has his favourite set and uses them, if possible, in every game, saving the extras for practices. Thus when the Leafs hit the road for an out-of-town game after a Saturday night stand at home, Tommy Naylor is a very busy man.

Between the time the players get into the dressing-room and change into street clothes for a rush to the train, Naylor sharpens 16 pairs of skates. Each player waits fro his own blades and carries them with him.

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

black jack + honeyWhen 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. Sometimes (above, in 1946) Black Jack read the newspaper while Red Wings’ trainer Honey Walker gave him a rubdown. I’ll let him 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, 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. Also: complete package, rock-solid, poise, work ethic, excellent stamina, brute force, and subtle clutching and grabbing. He never argued with the referee. “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. He said,

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, Hall of Fame’d 1964, died 1983. His love of horses was nurtured in Pilot Mound, Manitoba, where he grew up on the family wheat farm. Later, after the NHL, he was a judge for the Canadian Trotting Association. He’d always remember the day a teenager showed up, fuzzy-cheeked, name of Gordie Howe, with no great fanfare. “We knew he had it all,” Black Jack said.

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 said, who knew from trying. I guess he had a little bit of feud with Milt Schmidt: so he said himself. Something else he said was that every team had two players who were tough, for example for Chicago it was Earl Seibert and Johnny Mariucci.

Alertness on face-offs was, to him, a cardinal rule. As for conditioning, he tried to go walking as much as he could, over and above the regular amount of skating he did. “I eat foods,” he said in 1949, “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.”

stick gloves for goalies and charley-hoss pads

Daly, Leafs’ Trainer,
Thinks Moderns Sissies

St. Catharines, Ont. Oct. 4 — (CP) — Tim Daly, hockey’s greatest trainer of all time by his own admission, fears for what might have happened to today’s crop of National Leaguers if they had been playing “in the old days.”

The Toronto Maple Leafs trainer can remember when you could dress a hockey player for $38.50. “But these little darlins has to have pads for everything — elbow pads, shoulder pads, tendon guards, thumb guards, catching gloves for goalies, stick gloves for goalies and charley-hoss pads.”

“When Newsy Lalonde, Mummery, Joe Hall and the men were around they didn’t bother with such jim-jams,” said Tim. The old guy used to wear lacrosse pads and they called him a sissy.

• Montreal Gazette, October 4, 1947

herbie, honey

lewis Needler, Needlee: As NHL training camps move today from the medical room to the ice, a throwback to 1935, when Detroit ‘s trainer Honey Walker, right, inoculated left winger Herbie Lewis against — well, who knows. The Leafs, maybe? Calgary-born, Lewis won two Stanley Cups with the Red Wings and was elevated to the Hall of Fame in 1989. He noted then that the most he ever made in his 11 seasons in the NHL was $8,000. His citation at the Hall notes that he was the NHL’s fastest skater in his day, “with his trademark short, mincing steps.” His speed got him up on the big screen as he started his professional career. “At Detroit recently he posed for a motion picture concern, in a series of hockey flashes, and these films are to be shown in 104 theatres in Detroit.” That’s from The Lethbridge Herald, reporting in 1929.

In his first picture Lewis is shown circling the net, and skating down the ice stick-handling through his opposition for a goal. As he shoots, he is sprawling on the ice. The second picture shows a close-up. The third picture is styled perfect team work, in which George Hay and [Carson] Cooper make a rush down the ice, passing the puck and beating the defence.

Jack Adams prized him as a penalty-killer and all-round other-sport-shaming athletic exemplar. “He is a sportsman of the highest type,” the feisty Detroit manager once testified. “I defy baseball or football or boxing or any other sport to produce an individual who can eclipse Herbie Lewis as a perfect model of what any athlete should stand for.”