Regional Baseball Stories – Baseball in the Fork of the River

The people of “the Fork,” the Knox County lands between the French Broad and Holston Rivers, were no exception in enjoying America’s favorite pastime. Today’s Carter High School district baseball teams typically consist of school-age children, but back in the day, men in their twenties were the stars on the community diamonds. However, one of the regular Tuckahoe community players, Ben Bolin, was outstanding at age 52 in 1948, when baseball was the weekend pastime in the Fork. Other players for Tuckahoe included Max Mount, Ken Stiles, and Aubrey and Burl Russell. Tuckahoe’s field was behind the old Ed Jennings store at the intersection of Midway and Curtis Roads, and the team was part of the Pete Doyle League, named for the area’s former city league star who went on to the big leagues.

In the spring of 1950, the Mt. Harmony team, named for the nearby Baptist church, was formed shortly after organizer Jerry Lee graduated from Carter High. He asked Paul Oglesby to obtain the proper forms from Knox County Athletic Director Maynard Glenn, so he could distribute them to interested players for the City Junior League of Knoxville’s Bureau of Recreation. Some of the “boys of summer” had played for Carter High or had played the previous year in the Volunteer League. The roster included Jack and Ken Oglesby, Charles Burkhart sharing first and second bases, Carl “Goob” Lusby on third, Lynn Rudder as catcher, and Jack Brogdon as short stop, with Charles Sellers, Jerry Lee, Bill Cruze, Carl Horner, and Bob Odom sharing the outfields. Big hitters Charles Branch and Cornick Perry also played. Jimmy and Archie Bell were pitchers. Sam Cash, married to the Bell brothers’ sister, agreed to be manager. Our neighbor Jabo Branch was their last manager, and Walt Pilant served as umpire.

Mt. Harmony’s ballfield was established with a tractor in an unused mule pasture behind my Kitts grandparents’ property off Osborne Road in the Fork. They had a backstop but no bleachers or dugout. The players just stood around, and the spectators brought a chair. Any ball hit over the left field line was an automatic double because of the dangerous barbed wire fence along my grandparents’ border. The ballfield’s access, Callie Oglesby Lane, was a dead-end dirt drive. It was busy on weekends with Fords, Chevys, and Chryslers, but a lot of players and spectators arrived on foot from the nearby neighborhoods. They played against Riverdale, Tuckahoe, Mascot, Strawberry Plains, Burlington, Byington, New Salem, Inskip, and the Volunteer Portland Cement Plant and by mid-August the 1950 team had taken the season’s second-half title with five wins and no defeats.

Fork residents can’t talk about earlier local star baseball players of the late 1930s and early 1940s without mentioning L.D. Lusby, whose brother Jack was also a good player. Other Fork standouts of that era were James Cunningham, Roy Merriman, and Charles Kennedy. Families were commonly larger then, and brothers from just a few families could sometimes complete a roster. Norwood brothers Jim, T.W., and Roger often played together for Riverdale in the Pete Doyle League, but they also played independently on other teams, too. The young men were eager to play wherever they could on whatever team they could put together.

Besides sporting the names of churches, other Fork teams also represented their communities, such as Ramsey, and Riverdale, as well as grocery stores, barber shops, gas stations, and other businesses. John Learn and Abe Mays of L-M Garage, sponsored Ramsey teams whose uniforms bore their name, but having players on the same team with different uniforms was not unusual. Curt and Cal French played for L-M, while cousins Carl “Goob” Lusby and Bill Clabo played for Kodak Trading Center. In a photo of the “Carters” team, one player sports a Queen Barber Shop shirt, while Delmar Chesney is in pinstripes.

My dad, Carl Loveday, pitched and played right field for the early Mt. Harmony team, as well as for the Knoxville Wrecking Company with neighbor John Luttrell, who also pitched. My maternal uncle, Leon Kitts, tells me that my dad was quite a player. Even in his later years during the 1970s, he sometimes played in the “old-timers” games, reliving those glory days.

My siblings and I grew up on ballfields. My brother, Kenny, who was eight years older than me, was an all-star and KIL player from community teams through the Carter High School team and on into regional leagues. Although he was officially left-handed, he was an accomplished switch-hitter and an excellent pitcher, who also had a good arm for playing outfield in later years. We went wherever he played. I have a vivid memory of having a “snow-cone” (the icy forerunner of a Slushy) explode in my face because of a foul ball that was hit into the stands where I sat with my parents. Ballfields make good platforms for life lessons, such as “keep your eye on the ball,” even if you’re not batting.

The craziest thing I ever saw during a game was a guy who slid head-first into second and split his hand down between two fingers on the ground anchor but insisted on staying in the game until he ran home to score, dripping blood. It was an impressive example of dedication, determination, and perseverance. “Suck it up” and “walk it off,” were certainly catchphrases of personal development for our generation.

When I was eight years old, I joined the girls’ ball team at Holston Recreation Center. So few of us girls signed up that they had a wide range of ages on the team. As catcher, I got knocked out during practice when a twelve-year-old fired the ball into home plate as I was distracted by someone behind the backstop. My last line of sight was my mother jumping to her feet as I sank to the ground.

Winning teams were treated to snow-cones, and we liked to order a “suicide” that combined all the syrup flavors on the shaved ice in the paper cone. My mother didn’t approve of the term, but it wasn’t really an issue, because we didn’t win much that year, 1968. However, I still made it to the all-star team for games sponsored by the Northeast Knoxville Optimist Club.

The first time I had to sit on the bench in a game, I teared up because I thought it meant I wasn’t good enough to play. I’d never noticed my brother sitting out an inning. And being one of literally 50 first-cousins between both sides of my family who lived near one another, gatherings with kin meant not just ballgames, but ball tournaments! Apple trees and shrubs sometimes marked the bases, but it was serious business. Everyone played. In my family experience, there was no such thing as sitting on the bench, so at age eight I was personally unfamiliar with that element of team sports until I played in the community league.

At some point, a neighborhood businessman, Freeman Lee of Jones and Lee Electrical Supply, installed an official backstop in the field in front of their warehouse across from my maternal grandmother’s home on Osborne Road. It wasn’t a matter of “if you build it, they will come.” The ball players were already there in the community, often playing in back yards and cow pastures. Yes, dried “cow patties” made good bases at times, but of course they had to be repeatedly replaced.

Like my brother, I, too, continued to play on community and church teams on into my twenties, as had my sister, Carlene, who is twelve years older than me. Our parents often scurried between three different locations on the same day to watch us all play, even after we were adults. As pitcher, I learned very quickly to back up as the ball went toward the batter, because it always came back a lot faster than it went over the plate. Although I pitched some, my favorite position was first base, because there was always action there. Despite being fairly short at five-foot three-inches, I could still hang one toe on the base and stretch to catch the ball.

The chatter on the field and in the dugout taught us how important encouragement is and that there are proper limits to trash talk. “Three up and three down,” we shouted to one another as we took the field. “Easy out” and “Come on batter, batter, batter, SWING” were OK to yell toward the opponents to rattle them. Banter was expected as part of the game, and coaches required it. The school of hard knocks while playing ball also taught us to stay alert, be tough, persevere, and reach for what we want.

Jan Loveday Dickens