Harmony | Page 9

association,' says Ryan, and Art
had to give it up. But he didn't want Harper on the club for no other
reason than because he's a tenor singer!

"And then come that Dee-troit trip, and Art got permission to go to
Jackson. He says he intended to drop in at the ball park, but his uncle
wanted to borry some money off'n him on a farm, so Art had to drive
out and see the farm. Then, that night, this here Waldron was up to call
on Art's cousin--a swell doll, Art tells me. And Waldron set down to
the py-ana and begin to sing and play. Then it was all off; they wasn't
no spoonin' in the parlor that night. Art wouldn't leave the kid get off'n
the py-ana stool long enough to even find out if the girl was a blonde or
a brunette.
"O' course Art knowed the boy was with the Jackson club as soon as

they was interduced, 'cause Art's uncle says somethin' about the both o'
them hem' ball players, and so on. But Art swears he never thought o'
recommendin' him till the kid got up to go home. Then he ast him what
position did he play and found out all about him, only o' course
Waldron didn't tell him how good he was 'cause he didn't know
himself.
"So Art ast him would he like a trial in the big show, and the kid says
he would. Then Art says maybe the kid would hear from him, and then
Waldron left and Art went to bed, and he says he stayed awake all night
plannin' the thing out and wonderin' would he have the nerve to pull it
off. You see he thought that if Ryan fell for it, Waldron'd join us as
soon as his season was over and then Ryan'd see he wasn't no good; but
he'd prob'ly keep him till we was through for the year, and Art could
alibi himself some way, say he'd got the wrong name or somethin'. All
he wanted, he says was to have the kid along the last month or six
weeks, so's we could harmonize. A nut? I guess not.
"Well, as you know, Waldron got sick and didn't report, and when Art
seen him on the train this spring he couldn't hardly believe his eyes. He
thought surely the kid would of been canned durin' the winter without
no trial.
"Here's another hot one. When we went out the first day for practice,
Art takes the kid off in a corner and tries to learn him enough baseball
so's he won't show himself up and get sent away somewheres before we
had a little benefit from his singin'. Can you imagine that? Tryin' to
learn this kid baseball, when he was born with a slidin' pad on.
"You know the rest of it. They wasn't never no question about Waldron
makin' good. It's just like everybody says--he's the best natural ball
player that's broke in since Cobb. They ain't nothin' he can't do. But it is
a funny thing that Art's job should be the one he'd get . I spoke about
that to Art when he give me the story.
"'Well,' he says, 'I can't expect everything to break right. I figure I'm
lucky to of picked a guy that's good enough to hang on. I'm in stronger
with Ryan right now, and with the old man, too, than when I was out

there playin' every day. Besides, the bench is a pretty good place to
watch the game from. And this club won't be shy a tenor singer for nine
years.'
"'No,' I says, 'but they'll be shy a lead and a baritone and a bass before I
and you and Lefty is much older.'
"'What of it?' he says. 'We'll look up old Mike and all go somewheres
and live together.'"

We were nearing Worcester. Bill Cole and I arose from our table and
started back toward our car. In the first vestibule we encountered Buck,
the trainer.
"Mr. Graham's been lookin' all over for you, Mr. Cole," he said.
"I've been rehearsin' my part," said Bill.
We found Art Graham, Lefty, and young Waldron in Art's seat. The kid
was talking.
"Lefty missed it again. If you fellas knew music, I could teach it to you
on the piano when we get to Boston. Lefty, on the word 'love,' in the
next to the last line, you're on middle C. Then, on the word 'you,' you
slide up half a tone. That'd ought to be a snap, but you don't get it. I'm
on high A and come down to G and Bill's on low F and comes up to A.
Art just sings the regular