Bill Veeck

"The great portion of any ball game consists of the pitcher holding the ball or throwing it to the catcher," wrote one-time Chicago White Sox owner Bill Veeck in his 1965 book "The Hustler's Handbook" (Ivan R. Dee: 352 pp., $15.95 paper). "Anything that can somehow turn that frozen tableau into a scene fraught with drama and excitement has solved about 75 percent of your problems." Veeck gave baseball fans plenty of drama before his death in 1986. Over 40 years, he owned four baseball clubs -- the White Sox twice.

Bill Veeck Baseball's Greatest Maverick Paul Dickson Walker & Co.: 446 pp., $28. -- I find my pass, pink and laminated, "1980 White Sox Cordially Invite You to the Bards Room. " My mind races, touches all the bases -- Bill Veeck, peg leg, craggy kisser, steel-wool hair, sans necktie (as always), quaffing beers, spinning yarns, making the hours fly by, enthralling and illuminating us in his postgame sanctuary while outside his ballpark is dark. The "exploding scoreboard" (his creation)

Bill Veeck, asked once for his views on religion, said: "I believe in God, but I'm not too clear on the other details." Following are some more quotes from the maverick owner, who died Thursday at the age of 71: On whether free agents lean toward playing in big cities: "Not really. They lean toward cash." On fans: "I have discovered, in 30 years of moving around a ballpark, that the knowledge of the game is usually in inverse proportion to the price of the seats."

"The great portion of any ball game consists of the pitcher holding the ball or throwing it to the catcher," wrote one-time Chicago White Sox owner Bill Veeck in his 1965 book "The Hustler's Handbook" (Ivan R. Dee: 352 pp., $15.95 paper). "Anything that can somehow turn that frozen tableau into a scene fraught with drama and excitement has solved about 75 percent of your problems." Veeck gave baseball fans plenty of drama before his death in 1986. Over 40 years, he owned four baseball clubs -- the White Sox twice.

Bill Veeck, 71, a fun-loving iconoclastic baseball owner who enlivened the game with a variety of zany antics that shook up the major league Establishment but delighted fans, died of a heart attack Thursday at the Illinois Masonic Medical Center. He had been admitted Monday for a chronic respiratory ailment. While serving as owner of three major league teams--the Chicago White Sox, the Cleveland Indians and the old St. Louis Browns--and the old Milwaukee Brewers of the American Assn.

Rebecca Veeck, 8, went to Cooperstown to see her grandfather. Looking at a photograph of Bill Veeck with Larry Doby, she took off her sunglasses and asked, "Which one is Grandpa?" Mike Veeck knew it was a matter of light and shadow. His daughter is losing her sight. Her eyes were slow to adjust to the room's brightness. Black was white, and white was black. And if for only a moment, the colors were the same--Which one is Grandpa? Mike Veeck recognized that moment. "A lovely thought," he said.

Bill Veeck, the colorful former owner of the Chicago White Sox who spiced up baseball with clowns, midgets, ethnic nights and giveaways, died of a heart attack today at Illinois Masonic Medical Center. He was 71. Veeck, who began his career as a vendor with the Chicago Cubs, went on to operate the old St. Louis Browns, the Cleveland Indians and the White Sox twice. His standard response to "How do you feel, Bill?" was "Not too bad for a balding old man with one leg who can't see or hear."

Having a 68-year-old Minnie Minoso play in a major league game may be a bit silly, but not nearly so much as the ridiculous mascots, dog races, et al, which cheapen our national pastime every day of the season. Where have you gone, Bill Veeck? STEVE HAMLETT, Lancaster

"Parting Word": James Thurber, 1872-1970 (Book Review, Jan. 19.). The Jim Thurber I used to know summers during the mid-late '30s at Martha's Vineyard was no 60-plus fellow. I thought at that time, say, 40-ish. Perhaps not the "Parting Word," but the "Last Word(s)" should be "James Thurber, 1894-1961." As they used to say about the midget that Bill Veeck sent in as a pinch hitter, "you could look it up." GEORGE SLAFF Los Angeles

Bill Veeck Baseball's Greatest Maverick Paul Dickson Walker & Co.: 446 pp., $28. -- I find my pass, pink and laminated, "1980 White Sox Cordially Invite You to the Bards Room. " My mind races, touches all the bases -- Bill Veeck, peg leg, craggy kisser, steel-wool hair, sans necktie (as always), quaffing beers, spinning yarns, making the hours fly by, enthralling and illuminating us in his postgame sanctuary while outside his ballpark is dark. The "exploding scoreboard" (his creation)

Pat Venditte, minor league baseball's switch-pitcher, hears it all too often. Fans, friends, even people with his parent club, the New York Yankees, all want to know: "How much longer will they let you pitch with both arms?" The reliever for the Class-A Charleston RiverDogs smiles for a few knowing seconds, his six-fingered black Mizuno pitcher's mitt on his knees. "The way I understand it, it's my job to prove to them that I can't do it," he said. So far, professional baseball's only righty-lefty reliever has done nothing but improve his chances of eventually becoming the Yankees' ambidextrous answer out of the bullpen.

Jay Edson remembers one of baseball's greatest gags as if it were yesterday. In fact, it was 50 years ago, on Aug. 19, 1951, that the late Bill Veeck, the maverick impresario of owners, sent 3-foot-7, 65-pound Eddie Gaedel to bat as a pinch-hitter for his St. Louis Browns at Sportsman's Park. That anniversary was marked by a reenactment Saturday at the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, N.Y. Edson, 77, of Naples, Fla.

Mike Veeck, son of legendary baseball impresario Bill Veeck, has been named a creative consultant for the Florida Marlins. And, like his father, he'll try anything. He told the South Florida Sun-Sentinel that his favorite promotion in the minors while running the St. Paul (Minn.) Saints was Mime-O-Vision Night. Instead of using instant replay, mimes stood on the dugout and re-created plays for the crowd. "Fans were stunned by the stupidity of it," he said.

Rebecca Veeck, 8, went to Cooperstown to see her grandfather. Looking at a photograph of Bill Veeck with Larry Doby, she took off her sunglasses and asked, "Which one is Grandpa?" Mike Veeck knew it was a matter of light and shadow. His daughter is losing her sight. Her eyes were slow to adjust to the room's brightness. Black was white, and white was black. And if for only a moment, the colors were the same--Which one is Grandpa? Mike Veeck recognized that moment. "A lovely thought," he said.

Jerry Reinsdorf, owner of the Chicago White Sox, has been severely criticized for saying, "Anyone who thinks we can catch the Indians is crazy," but old-timers point out that he isn't the first White Sox owner to make such a statement. "We don't have enough power to beat the Yankees," Bill Veeck said of the 1959 team at the time he bought it. That White Sox team won its first American League pennant in 40 years. But then, everybody always thought Veeck was crazy.

Mike Veeck, president and co-owner of the St. Paul Saints of the independent Northern League, is painting a picket fence in front of Midway Stadium. He's wearing gray sweatpants and no shirt on a warm afternoon. Libby, his wife, has a brush, as does anybody who passes by and asks. Veeck's plan for the grassy tree-shaded area enclosed by the fence is to have celebrities periodically conduct reading sessions with children during the season. "Another marketing breakthrough," he says, laughing.

Fun-loving Bill Veeck, the maverick owner who infuriated the bosses of baseball but delighted the fans, was elected to the Hall of Fame Tuesday by the veterans committee. Also named was power-hitting second baseman Tony Lazzeri, an integral member of Murderers' Row, the New York Yankee team that dominated baseball in the 1920s and '30s. Veeck and Lazzeri were selected from among 30 nominees who had survived a screening process.

Bill Veeck was a guy who never wore a necktie or drank from a glass in his life. He hated the New York Yankees, stuffed shirts, and anyone who went home before the ninth inning or the bars closed. In that order. He loved beer, baseball, summer and America. He was the only owner I ever knew who really loved baseball, not because it sold beer or tickets or chewing gum but because it kept us all young. He loved baseball the way a girl who only had his picture on her dresser loved Clark Gable.

The St. Louis Browns lost 111 games in 1939 and 102 in 1951. In 1952, the Pittsburgh Pirates lost 112. Johnny Beradino played for all three of those miserable teams. "Some of the worst teams there ever were," Beradino said at lunch recently, chuckling at the thought. "And the cheapest." After the Pirates had finished 54 1/2 games behind the National League champion Brooklyn Dodgers, Beradino retired from baseball, returned to California and took up acting full time.

We settled into our seats for a doubleheader between the Detroit Tigers and the St. Louis Browns on a hot August Sunday at Sportsman's Park in 1951. I started looking at the Browns' roster in the 10-cent scorecard. Any day you went to a Brown game, scanning the roster was imperative; Bill Veeck, who owned the ragamuffin team, was constantly shuffling players in and out of the minor leagues, making trades with other teams. The number that started the roster jumped out at you: 1/8--Gaedel.