As a Washington Nationals fan never wishing to miss a start by Jordan Zimmermann, I had two hours of sleep before 10 on May 13th so as to take in Nationals-Dodgers game, on the LA feed with the ageless Vin Scully—a throwback to the golden age, who called his first game for the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1950.

In classic style, Vin, now 85, calls the games solo. Nothing against “color” commentary, but it does tend to over-analyze the play-by-play. A solo announcer comes up with other things to fill the time. Scully is full of stories you ordinarily never hear. Whether this is good or not depends on how you like your broadcasts. But how else would we have learned that….

* In spring training, Nationals center fielder Denard Span was surprised to have a dead fish drop next to him in center field! He looked up, saw an angry osprey circling, and threw the fish over the fence in self-defense.

* Last year, reliever Drew Storen wore 37 hats. (How many hats does an ordinary player wear in the course of the season? Superstitious players probably won’t change a hat when they’re on a good streak.)

* Sal “The Barber” Maglie, the New York Giants’ 1950-55 pitching ace, “whose face was on wanted posters all over Brooklyn,”  joined the Dodgers in 1956, pitched a no-hitter in September, and was Don Larsen’s opponent in Larsen’s famous World Series perfect game on October 6th—called by Vin Scully:

Got him! The greatest game ever pitched in baseball history….A no hitter, a perfect game in a World Series….Never in the history of the game has it ever happened in a World Series….And so our hats off to Don Larsen—no runs, no hits, no errors, no walks, no baserunners. The final score: The Yankees, two runs, five hits and no errors. The Dodgers: No runs, no hits, no errors … in fact, nothing at all. This was a day to remember, this was a ballgame to remember and above all, the greatest day in the life of Don Larsen. And the most dramatic and well-pitched ballgame in the history of baseball…. Mel [Allen], you can put this in your ring and wear it a long time.

Great times, great broadcasters.

___________

See also: “The Summer of 1960.”

Excerpted from a tribute in Finest Hour, Summer 2013.

Barbara Langworth with Lady Thatcher, British Embassy, Washington, 5 November 1993

Everyone has read of Lady Thatcher’s career. Everyone depending on their politics will have their own vision of her. It is left to say here what she meant to the memory of Winston Churchill, who she revered more than any premier who held office between them.

Margaret Thatcher was named an honorary member of the International Churchill Society shortly after she resigned as prime minister in November 1990, not without concern. She had always been controversial. Some of our directors thought politicians are best taken aboard in pairs, one from each side, like Noah’s Ark. We invited her exclusively—because it seemed to us that as prime minister, she more than anyone had real appreciation for Churchill, had read his books, had remembered him frequently, even hosting a dinner for his family and surviving members of his wartime coalition. We never regretted our decision.

In 1993 she was in Washington to coincide with an International Churchill Conference hosting 500 people, including 140 students, a dozen luminaries, and ambassadors from all our member countries. Ambassador Sir Robin Renwick kindly hosted a reception for her and us at the British Embassy, inviting our honorary members Colin Powell and Caspar Weinberger. Here I first caught sight of the famous leader, though my wife, a much better talker, spent far more time chatting with her.

I did overhear a conversation between Lady Thatcher and General Powell, which at the time I thought singular. “Now Colin,” she was saying in her most powerful tones, “you must do it—you know you must. There is no getting around your duty.” I am told she was likely asking him to use his influence in solving the strife in Bosnia that had erupted the previous year.

She gave an eloquent little speech thanking America for supporting Britain in the 1982 Falklands War. The next evening at the Mayflower Hotel, I was seated next to former U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Jeane Kirkpatrick, who wanted to know what Lady Thatcher had said. Unknowing, I repeated her words: that many voices in America were opposed to helping Britain, “but Cap Weinberger was not one of those voices.” Mrs. Kirkpatrick said quietly: “I was one of those voices.”

Realizing I had not done my homework, but opting for Napoleon’s “l’audace, toujours l’audace,” I screwed up my courage and replied: “But you were wrong, weren’t you?”

A very long pause ensued, bringing to mind Churchill’s remark: “It certainly seemed longer than the two minutes which one observes in the commemorations of Armistice Day.” Finally Mrs. Kirkpatrick kindly said: “Yes, on reflection, I probably was.” I think this showed the power of personality that Margaret Thatcher exerted, even on those who had disagreed with her.

At the Embassy I had presented her with a finely bound copy of Churchill’s 1947 short story, The Dream, where he tells the ghost of his father all that has happened since Lord Randolph Churchill died in 1895. At one point, Winston says there are women in the House of Commons.  “Not many,” he assures his flabbergasted father. “They have found their level.” Lady Thatcher wrote me that she stayed up all that night reading the story. How she must have roared at that!

We met again at Fulton in 1996, when the Churchill Memorial, now the National Churchill Museum, marked the 50th anniversary of the “Iron Curtain” speech by inviting Lady Thatcher to give the anniversary address. Afterwards, she was surrounded by Fulton people, and by security. Celia Sandys asked, “Have you been ushered into The Presence?” No, I said. “Follow me,” she replied, approaching the guard at the inner sanctum: “I am Sir Winston Churchill’s granddaughter—and he’s with me.” We were allowed in to say hello.

Payback: at dinner that night, our generous hosts inducted two new Fellows of the Churchill Memorial. One was Margaret Thatcher. The other was me.

To my relief, they presented my gong first, which gave me a chance to say thanks and get out of the way: “It is a fine honor, but to receive it at the same time with the greatest prime minister since Winston Churchill is a unique experience.”

I said that looking directly at the Iron Lady….who gave me a smile, and a wink. Right, I thought. Now that’s out of the way, thank God.

It was years before the gratitude owed to her was toted up. No regular visitor to Britain during her time failed to notice the palpable improvement in the lot of Britons. No television viewer who saw her in action could miss her devastating effectiveness in debate. No one who admires principle and courage could help but admire her devotion to them, win or lose. The poll tax issue which some say was her downfall in 1992 manifested her principle that the cost of local government be paid by all, including those who previously paid nothing, while voting for everything.

Internationally, she was always out in front. Her reaction to tyrants, from Leopoldo Galtieri to Saddam Hussein, was consistent. She was the first to say “we can do business” with Gorbachev. Her support of the Anglo-American alliance was more than talk: it was an article of faith. Her relationship with President Reagan was a model we may never see again. Yet when she disagreed, as over Grenada or Strategic Defense, there was no doubt where she stood.

She fought the good fight and made a huge difference, for a time. Alas her time is past, lost in a collectivist dream. It is strictly my opinion, but this American has no hesitation in paraphrasing Sir Winston’s words on Roosevelt: She was the greatest British friend we have known since Churchill, and one of the greatest champions of freedom who ever brought help and comfort from the old world to the new.

Churchill, arriving at his wedding in 1908, was described as having “a glorified coachman appearance.”

Michael Shelden, author of Young Titan, a new biography of Churchill, has a gift for publicity. No sooner did he set London media buzzing with faintly supported speculation that young Violet Asquith attempted suicide after Churchill decided to marry Clementine Hozier (Finest Hour 158: 6) than he was at it again in a Daily Mail article, nicely entitled: “He caroused with West End call girls and proposed to THREE society beauties—who turned him down.”

A pause while we ventilate Mr Shelden’s new balloon. The society beauties were Pamela Plowden, Muriel Wilson and the actress Ethel Barrymore. And the most rakish thing even Shelden reports Churchill doing is showering Miss Barrymore with “armfuls of flowers” and showing up at Claridge’s “each night” after her West End play ended, where he would “insist she have dinner with him.” (Each night?) Not much gossipy joy there.

The rest of Shelden’s lurid headline—“He caroused with West End call girls”—has mainly to do with the 83-year-old story of Churchill as a Sandhurst cadet, standing up for the showgirls of the Empire Theatre when “prudes on the prowl” attempted to erect barriers sheltering their lair from more upright society. Churchill himself reported this in My Early Life (1930). As the barriers fell, he made what was apparently his first speech ever: “Ladies of the Empire! I stand for Liberty!” Some orgy.

The carousing story is amplified by Shelden’s discovery that Churchill and Lord Rosebery once dated a pair of “Gaiety Girls,” and each took one home. Alas, Winston’s date later told Rosebery he’d “done nothing but talk into the small hours on the subject of himself”—which jibes with numerous other reports of young Churchill, but falls a little short of carousing.

Shelden also offers boilerplate to argue that WSC was a dandy: “Everywhere he went he wore a glossy top hat, starched wing collar and frock coat. His accessories included a walking stick and watchchain”—even silk underwear!

If he had paid closer attention, Mr. Shelden would realize that he has merely described the standard dress of most Edwardian Members of Parliament—except for the silk underwear, which WSC explained to Clementine: “I have a very sensitive cuticle.”

And if young Churchill was a dandy, it must have escaped the notice of the Tailor and Cutter, who described his wedding outfit as “neither fish, flesh, nor fowl…one of the greatest failures as a wedding garment we have ever seen, giving the wearer a sort of glorified coachman appearance.”*

________

*Ted Morgan,  Churchill: The Rise to Failure 1874-1915 (London: Jonathan Cape, 1983), 255. Published in the U.S. as Young Man in a Hurry.

Concluded from Part 2…

Staniel Cay is an active stopover for sailing yachts with an affable yacht club for lunch. We spent an hour meandering its winding lanes and admiring the colorful cottages. On the way back we stopped at Compass Cay to “swim with the sharks”—big, friendly nurse sharks which behave like aquatic dogs, nosing up to a water-level dock to be fed bits of conch and allowing their sandpaper backs to be scratched.

These nurses are quite different from your image from “Jaws” (and as veteran Bahamian divers know, we have nothing that threatening in local waters anyway). Adult specimens are as big as a man, but they tend to spend most of their time on the bottom, feeding on lobster and other bottom dwellers, some covered with sand. With snacks in the water they swim up leisurely and literally take it out of your hand. Just watch the fingers to avoid being gummed.

We were back in Governor’s Harbour before sunset, and amazed that we were able to see so much in just a day, thank to Paul Petty’s expert knowledge based on his years in Exuma; he wasted little time shuffling us between points of interest. Even then, we had seen only perhaps a quarter of it. A high powered skiff is the quickest way over, but perhaps you want to think of something else if you’re over 50. For sailors. the place idyllic. We have never seen such water–even clearer and more shimmering than Eleuthera. Still, after any such adventure, Eleuthera is the best place to wind down.

More on the web:

Photos from the cruising yacht Solstice.

 Fodor’s Travel Guide to the Exuma Cays

Continued from Part 1…

Land and Sea Park (Bahamas National Trust)

Once reached, the gemstone islets of Exuma invite you to meander at a deliberate pace in placid, gin-clear waters. There were sailboats and cruising lots galore along the islets, and you can see why. Sailing from one to another, dropping anchor by whim or fancy, is an experience that will wash the world away.

Every islet is different and has its own attractions. At Warderick Wells Cay is the Exuma Cays National Land and Sea Park—a good first stop after crossing over from Eleuthera. A marine fishery and native plant preserve, it occupies 176 acres. Fishing is banned to preserve the amazing array of marine life, which you can see by diving or kayak.

Thunderball Grotto, location for a famous James Bond film, is a cave in the coral where at low tide you can swim inside, surrounded by schools of curious, multi-colored tropical fish.

The diving here is spectacular. An upper wet suit was the most we needed, and though Bahamian waters are not known for tepid temperatures in February, it seemed the water out there was warmer than the south side of Eleuthera—more like the Atlantic, which by a strange inversion of the Gulf Stream, is warmer than the Exuma Sound in the winter.

There are many more photos of this beautiful little ocean hole. Just Google “Thunderbird Grotto Exuma.”

Underwater photos by Barbara Langworth.

At Major Cay, the famous “swimming pigs” prove that Churchill was right: “Cats look down on you, dogs look up to you—give me a pig! He looks you in the eye and treats you as an equal.” Click here for a good video.

Miss Piggy

The establishment of pigs on this uninhabited islet near Staniel Cay began a few years ago by a friend of Paul Petty. They have a freshwater pond for water and food to root in the bush, but are also well fed by tourists, who beach their whalers or anchor in shallow water. The pigs swim out, dog-paddling with their noses snorkeling in the air. A half-dozen fat, seagoing pigs are the only residents. Baby porkers are removed when weaned, so the islet doesn’t overpopulate.

Concluded in Part 3…

Streakin’ Home.