I suppose if you’re British—and loyal to the Queen, and also a sour grapes type— Independence Day in the United States isn’t your cup of tea.
But the Fourth of July holiday is special for many of us who experience family gatherings, parades, music and fireworks while remembering this country’s struggles for freedom, and the men and women who sacrificed so we could enjoy our lives.
Independence Day means multiple things to me including baseball. I can’t think of the July 4 date and the Twins, without memories of pitcher Eddie Bane. Some readers might say, “Who?,” but Bane earned a place in Twins history on July 4, 1973 when he made his major league debut right out of college after receiving a reported $55,000 signing bonus from our local franchise.
Twins owner Calvin Griffith didn’t like to spend money. Someone summarized his thrifty ways like this: “Calvin throws nickels around like manhole covers.” So because of Bane’s big check, Griffith might have been feeling sorry for himself when he left home for the ballpark on July 4 that year, but when he saw the huge crowd at Met Stadium he must have been grinning like a kid camped out near the Christmas tree.
The Twins had a dwindling fan base in the 1970s as the club faltered on the field. The franchise drew only 11,941 fans per game at home during the 1973 season, but the public was curious and hyped to see the debut of Bane, the 21-year-old left-handed pitcher from Arizona State. As I recall, a capacity crowd of more than 45,000 at Met Stadium hoped to celebrate the Fourth of July with the rookie.
Bane lost his debut game, although he only gave up a couple of hits and one run in seven innings against the Royals. Almost unbeatable in college, he didn’t win a game all season with the Twins. His major league career ended a few years later and he never established himself as a big time pitcher.
The legend of Eddie Bane is such that probably four times as many people claim to have seen him pitch his first game than were actually at Met Stadium. What is fact about Bane is he was the scouting boss for the Angels several years ago when they drafted Mike Trout—perhaps now baseball’s best player.
In early July fifty years ago the Twins moved into first place in the American League. About a week after Independence Day Harmon Killebrew hit a late inning home run at Met Stadium to defeat the defending American League champion Yankees. It was a milestone moment in a year that saw the Twins win the pennant and play in Minnesota’s first World Series.
As a kid, everything kind of stopped at our house when the Twins were playing—especially for my dad and me. The games were that important, whether we were at Met Stadium or watching on television. That focus could even be a major part of our July 4ths but that didn’t mean we forgot about patriotism, including my mom who joked that she was a nurse in the Revolutionary War (as a five-year-old I was pretty sure this wasn’t true).
My mother had documented her ancestors all the way back to the 1700s and I think had at least one relative who fought in the Revolutionary War. Mom belonged to the Daughters of the American Revolution, a service organization of women directly descended from folks who helped secure this country’s independence from England. Mom couldn’t have been prouder of her American heritage—even if she had George and Martha Washington for next door neighbors.
I grew up with feelings of reverence for America and its symbols. In grade school we saluted the flag each day and said the Pledge of Allegiance. Chills went up and down my spine when we sang America the Beautiful at school. Same thing when I sat in the stands prior to Gopher football games and the loudspeaker blared out John Philip Sousa’s Stars and Stripes Forever while the players warmed up.
Fireworks? The ones I recall best were at a public park in Crosby, Minnesota. The mosquitoes on those summer nights were big as grasshoppers. Sitting in the car, waiting for dusk, seemed to take a lifetime. It was like waiting for darkness at the drive-in movies—maybe worse since fireworks came just once a year.
As a kid, we were often in the Brainerd Lakes area during the summer. A family we knew had a lake home just a few miles back from the highway. The dirt road leading to the house sometimes could be a driving challenge because of muddy roads and “creatures “lurking in the woods.
Those “creatures” included skunks, and one night a little rascal—using its contemptible spray—targeted a Ford station wagon en route to the house. The odor from the station wagon was so bad the vehicle had to be parked in the woods, at a suitable distance from the house. And guess what? That vehicle was sold and replaced by another station wagon within a week.
As a pre-teen that lake place is where I learned to drive the family car. With no indoor toilets, everyone had to use the outhouse located a short distance from the house. Although the walking distance was minimal, I convinced the adults to let me drive them to the outhouse. The routine was this: pick up people at the house, drive them to the outhouse, turn the car around, wait for “customers” to finish up, and return them to the house.
Best job I ever had. (Well, not really).
A few years ago my Uncle John passed away at age 92. John had many admirable qualities such as volunteering for various organizations. He was also a patriot. Every morning at his south Minneapolis home he put up the American flag near the front steps. Later in the day he followed protocol by taking the flag down before dark.
John loved the USA and expressed his conviction mostly with actions, not words. Honoring America by displaying the flag was one way. He also made numerous charitable donations to veterans groups, and visited grave sites at Fort Snelling National Cemetery. For many years, while travelling to the North Shore, he stopped in Duluth to visit the widow of his friend Jim who died in World War II. The deceased soldier was survived by a wife and infant daughter.
Like many veterans, John never said much about his experiences in World War II. Soldiers from that era often don’t. But later generations appreciate those who have sacrificed in America’s wars throughout this country’s history of conflicts and defending freedom. A few years prior to John’s death he and another elderly friend were at a restaurant. As I recall the story, a stranger was somehow aware my uncle had served in the war. The stranger paid for my uncle’s meal and for his friend.
I am certain that story has been repeated countless times across the nation but it seems appropriate to share it as we approach the holiday weekend. Enjoy baseball, parades, family and other pleasures, but remember our nation’s founders and all those both living and deceased who helped make our lives what they are today.
Happy Independence Day!
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