Leo Durocher, a fabulously uncouth so-and-so, is one of the most memorable characters in baseball history. His autobiography, Nice Guys Finish Last, written by Ed Linn is one of my favorite sports books. I remember Bill James pointing it out in one of his old books, and if I recall correctly, he praised Linn’s abilities as a ghost-writer (Linn also penned Veeck as in Wreck, a book with Ted Williams and one with the bank-robber Willie Sutton). Linn had a terrific ability to capture each distinct voice.
Anyhow, it goes without saying that Nice Guys Finish Last is a classic that belongs on any self-respecting sport fan’s bookshelf. Fortunately, you don’t have to go hunting too far for a copy these days, as it has just been re-issued by the University of Chicago Press.
Diggum.
I'm in the middle of reading it right now, I came across the new printing at Strand a few weeks ago and picked it up for like $8.
The first part is a little meandering, there are some good anecdotes about his playing career (the Ruth stories are great) but he just jumps backwards and forwards in time from story to story without any rhyme or reason. It can be a little tough to keep up.
It really takes off in the second half when he gets into his manegerial career. I just finished his axe-grinding chapter about Happy Chandler on the train this morning, its hilarious stuff. I really can't put it down.
On top of my list, also.
Little known factoid about Leo, the philanderer. Leo came to Middlebury, Vermont in 1964 to answer allegations in a complaint filed in Superior Court by a man who charged him with alienating the affections of his wife. Leo, whose marriage to Lorraine Day had broken up due to his diddling around, testified that he was not interested in the man's 51 year old wife, but rather in his 26 year old daughter, a woman he romanced while married to Lorraine who served as his "secretary."
The story appears in a book by noted Middlebury attorney Peter Langrock who has suggested to me that I should read the transcript and contact the parties who are still alive.
I can vouch for the book with Willie Sutton, Where the Money Was, which was reissued a few years ago as part of Luc Sante's great but short-lived Library of Larceny series. Sutton's as unrepentant as Durocher, and at least as much the rancoteur.
What were the other other books in that Sante series?
A great bio of Ponzi (Ponzi: The Incredible True Story of the King of Financial Cons) by Donald Dunn, a fun bio of a pool shark (McGoorty: A Pool Room Hustler, by Robert Byrne), an absolutely fantastic book by a con man (Con Man: A Master Hustler's Own Story, by J. R. "Yellow Kid" Weil), a collection of Liebling pieces called The Telephone Booth Indian, and--the only disappointment of the bunch--Do You Sincerely Want to Be Rich? The Full Story of Bernard Cornfeld and IOS, by Bernard Raw.
Start with Low Life. Luc Sante does photography better than anyone. Look at Evidence, too. It came out with Low Life. Someone stole my copy when I worked in Court. He did the forward to Walker Evans book of subway pictures. My digital camera is named Walker.
I don't know what the larceny series is, but I can say that Luc Sante brilliantly comments on everything. Check out his blog. I used to drink out of cups at Farrell's when I lived in Brooklyn. It was right up the street from my shul.