John Delach

I had invited Dave Walker of Better Roofing to inspect our aging roof. As I expected, he didn’t have anything nice to say about its condition. Long story short, it had to be replaced. Our town has peculiar rules and regulations including the need for a permit to change a roof, unless the work is done in one day on a Saturday.

We picked the coming Saturday, June 23^rd. “Dave, you do know we currently have three roofs on top of the house?”

“Certainly, I’m aware of that, but my roofers will rake off all three with plenty of time left to add all elements of the new roof on Saturday.”

On Saturday, Dave’s acting foreman, Jorge, was waiting outside our house by 6:30. The six-man crew arrived at 7, proceeding to place tarps all around our property. At 7:30, a truck began to deliver various roofing material and the crew took to ladders like a practiced army to prepare for ready themselves for the town’s 8 am starting time.

They went to work raking the roof in sections and depositing the bulk of the derbies into an open truck parked on our driveway. The day was hot, part of a heat wave we were suffering through. Temperatures reached the 90s while we were still in the morning. Around 11, I  offered the crew water from our refrigerator. When they broke for lunch at noon, I offered them another round. Every time I did, the bottles of Poland Spring were universally accepted.

It seemed to me the sun was taking its own toll on the crew’s speed and stamina. By 2 in the afternoon, I noticed an area of bare wood that covered three of our four bedrooms. I was facing west, so I didn’t notice the black cloud heading our way from New York City. Not for long, however. It began to fill the sky. True, the forecasters had predicted the possibility of thunder storms, but not until later in the day. Well, they lost that bet as did I. The rain came quickly and it came ugly. It didn’t last long, maybe twenty minutes and the roofing crew didn’t seem all that excited.

Most of them continued to work through the storm unconcerned about the lightning. Perhaps the rain cooled them off. I did worry about their safety, but it seemed I was alone acting this way.

They kept going until after 7 pm including clean-up. As they were preparing to leave, Jorge explained to Mary Ann and me that they still had some minor work remaining and that he and two other workers would return on Sunday at 9 am.

Pizza for dinner. We finished around 7 pm. As we were cleaning up and preparing to watch television, we heard a thump from somewhere in the house. Not too loud, but enough to get our attention. We shook our heads, but didn’t do anything about it.

Instead, we watched our show, or most of it when I asked Mary Ann to pause it so I could use the bathroom. I decided to use the one upstairs off of our bedroom. When I opened the bedroom door, I stopped dead in my tracks. The floor in front me was white. For a second, I was stunned until I realized I was looking at what had been our bedroom ceiling. O.M.G! OH MY GOD, lots of foul language interspersed with calls to Mary Ann to come quickly.

Instead of just standing there, Mary Ann was resourceful enough to take three photographs of the ceiling and its bare wooden rafters. The beddings, furniture and every surface in the room was full of what had been sheet rock, fiber board and insulation. Mary Ann sent the three photos to Mr. Walker with a cry for help.

He did reply rather quickly that he had ordered two workers to our house that evening to dispose of all of the wet debris. We also called our neighbors, Rob and Linda who knew Walker. Linda and Mary Ann removed all of the wet bedding to our laundry to wash and dry it all the next several days. The two men worked past 10 pm and promised that a full crew including painters  would be present on Sunday.

Today is Wednesday June 25 and our restoration continues. We discovered moderate to severe damage to the other rooms on the second floor. My office was so badly damaged that the insulation and wall boards had to be completely removed and replaced. I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out and praise Walker for the incredible resources he threw at this disaster from Sunday to Wednesday. Most importantly, he was there when we needed him. To be Continued,

On the Outside Looking In will not publish again until July 17.

Polo Grounds Glory Days: 1954

April 2023, revised June 2024

Last night, June 18, 2024, while watching the Yankees game, I received the news that Willie Mays had passed away. I dedicate this revised edition about the 1954 World Series to Mister Mays, one of the best, ever.

A last hurrah, the final World Series championship won by the New York Giants at their venerable Manhattan home, the Polo Grounds.

Bill Christman shares his memories of that season:

August of 1954. My Dad took me to a Sunday doubleheader against the Pirates. We had an early, but traditional Sunday dinner of leg of lamb. My Mom made delicious sandwiches of left-over meat and off we went to see Johnny Antonelli and company win both ends of that doubleheader 5-4 and 5-3.

The Giants were my love, but things were rocky. They had lost three straight to the second place Dodgers reducing a 3 ½ lead to just ½ game. But the lead had replenished itself back to two games going into that Sunday. I kept one eye on the scoreboard that showed the Dodgers losing to the Phillies in both games of their doubleheader in Ebbets Field. I can still see in my mind’s eye the man to my right and several rows back yelling, “Philly got five runs.” When the sun set, the Giants lead was four games.

The Giants opponent in the World Series was the Al Lopez-led Cleveland Indians who won a remarkable 111 games that season, ending the Yankees run of five consecutive AL Pennants.

The Giants went on to sweep the Indians, four games to none. The accepted turning point of the series occurred in the top of the ninth inning of Game 1. With the score tied at 2-2, runners on first and second base, Giants manager, Leo Durocher brought in left-handed relief pitcher, Dick Littlefield, to pitch to Vic Wertz, the Indians first baseman batting second.

 Wertz hit a long fly ball deep into “Death Valley” also known as the Polo Grounds’ center field. Willie Mays, playing a medium- ranged center field position, took off at the crack of the bat. The ball and Mays reached the 440-foot mark at precisely the same moment. Mays, with his back to the ball, made a spectacular over-the shoulder catch.

 After catching the ball, Mays used his momentum to pivot 180 degrees back toward home plate. As he rotated, his right arm swung out and around him allowing Willie to release the ball at exactly the right moment with an amazing velocity. His perfect catch followed by his perfect throw forced the runners to hold up. Durocher called time-out to go to the mound. Littlefield greeted his skipper with a great understatement, “Well, I got my man out.”

The game remained tied as the runners were subsequently stranded. In the tenth inning, Dusty Rhodes pinch-hit a three-run homerun to win the game 5-2.

The next day, September 30, 1954, the Giants won the last World Series game ever to be played in the Polo Grounds, 3 to 1. Rhodes again was the hero driving in all three of the Giants runs. The Giants finished the series in Cleveland winning the last two games, 6 to 2 and 7 to 4 to sweep the Indians in four games.

1955 belonged to the Brooklyn Dodgers as “Wait until next year,” fell into the same category that the Boston Red Sox did to “Reverse the Curse” in 2004. By winning the World Series, it just did not matter anymore. The Dodgers won the pennant with a record of 98-55 while the Giants finished in third place behind the Braves.

Bill Christman remembered a Fourth of July doubleheader against the Dodgers.

The Giants and Dodgers hardly ever played each other in doubleheaders which made this a special event. I went to the Polo Grounds with a good group of neighbors and friends on a day that, weather-wise, could not have been a better day for baseball.

My scorecard shows that the Giants did not allow the Dodgers to score a run in the first inning of the first game. The next time they accomplished this was the second inning of the second game. Brooklyn won the first game, 15-2 and the second, 6-1.

Willie Mays hit 51 home runs in ‘55, but the pitching floundered. Leo Durocher resigned as manager on September 25 to be effective at the end of a doubleheader against the Phillies. The Giants won the first game 5-2. Here is how Noel Hynd described what happened in the bottom of the ninth inning of the second game with the Phillies leading 3-1 and the Giants at bat:

With Joey Amalfitano on second base and Whitey Lockman on first, Bobby Hoffman lined a ball to Phillies shortstop, Ted Kazanski. Kazanski flipped the ball to Bobby Morgan, the second baseman, to double Amalfitano. Then Morgan threw to first before Lockman could return there. Leo must have been muttering to himself as he took his final walk to the center field clubhouse. His reign in John McGraw’s old job had ended on the short end of a triple play.

The Giants reign in the Polo Grounds came to an end on Sunday, September 29, 1957. The home team lost to the Pittsburg Pirates, 9-1, before an angry crowd who did their best to demolish what they could. Some in the crowd chanted: “We want Stoneham with a rope around his neck.”

The Giants abandoned New York for San Francisco joining their principal rivals, the Brooklyn Dodgers, who abandoned Brooklyn for Los Angeles. The Dodgers home park, Ebbets Field, was quickly demolished to provide land for Urban Renewal housing.

Curiously, the vacant Polo Grounds was left intact. Good thing: It became the initial home, first for football in 1960 when the newly minted American Football League (AFL)  New York Titans made the Polo Grounds their home field.

When the baseball expansion New York Mets joined Titans successor, the Jets there in 1962, the life of this historic ballpark was extended until its replacement, Shea Stadium, could open in April of 1964. A week before the Mets inaugurated Shea with a contest against the Pittsburg Pirates, the jack hammers went to work beginning the destruction to erase this old friend.

 Frank Sinatra memorialized its passing with a song called, “There Used to be a Ballpark here.”     

After we lost Harry and Bubba, Jumbo became an only dog. Curiously, he didn’t seem to mind this at all. In fact, he reveled in his new-found attention.

Enter, Sandy, an insane Golden. My son had warned me that one of our colleagues  at work, a chap named Rob, told him that he needed somebody to take his dog.

Soon after, Rob came to my office to ask if we would adopt his family’s one-year old Golden Retriever, Sandy. He explained that Sandy was the first dog his family ever adopted, but she turned out to be a problematic, a first dog with a box full of problems. Questionably, I allowed him to bring her over one night so we could see what we were getting into. Rob jumped on this.

It turned out that Sandy was so uncontrollable that on one of her attempts to bolt out the front door to find the kids in her family, she caused his wife to fall breaking her leg. The interview didn’t go well. Rob brought all of Sandy’s possessions, many that closely resembled torture devices. When Rob released her, she proceeded to jump to the top of our living room furniture and race around the living room, totally out of control. Poor Jumbo just tried to get out of her way.

Despite the obvious issues and Sandy’s nuttiness, we kept her. How do you spell, sucker!

 Sandy would remain a work in progress her entire life. One thing that Mary Ann succeeded in doing was changing her name. Mary Ann hated the name Sandy since it was a first dog name and decided to give our new dog the  name of Maggie, after Bubba’s mother.

By this time, Jumbo had reached the age of seven or eight years old, the ages where Golden Retrievers contract cancer and I swear he decided to quit rather than endure Maggie’s reign of terror.

Our biggest issue with Maggie was her inability to ride in a car without getting sick. And by sick, I mean really, really sick. She was so terrified that, in addition to throwing up, her body would get so tense that she would break out in a enormous body sweat that would cover everything. We limited these discharges by purchasing an airline crate and lining the inside with newspapers before putting Maggie inside. Most of the timer, the crate gave her a sense of calmness, but, if we encountered bad traffic that included large trucks, our Golden Retriever would be overwhelmed.

Then we replaced our GMC Taheo with a brand-new GMC Suburban. Our first trip to New Hampshire was uneventful and when we reached Little House, I let her out, but she decided to stay in my truck. I drove her around on our circular driveway. She remained calm and I opened a window so she could stick her head out. When this worked, I drove her back to town and then returned to our house. She was perfect!

Unbelievably, Maggie had broken the code of riding in a vehicle and soon became a traveling dog. We actually drove her to three winter vacations on Sanibel Island making two overnight stops along the way. She actually complained about the length of our journey on the third day by vocally expressing her dissatisfaction with long and loud groans.

While Maggie didn’t have nine lives, she did escape death several times. One time she followed a critter into the woods at our New Hampshire house. We didn’t know something was wrong until that night when I petted her belly while she laid on the couch with me. She didn’t whimper or show any other reason that she was in pain, but my hand came away bloodied by a wound she had on her belly.

We took her back to Port Washington where Dr. Ann, our local vet took her in and treated her with anti-biotics and opening her wound and cleansing it several times a day for three or four days. Dr. Ann’s treatment saved her life and added years to Maggie’s  life with us.

But nobody could change her craziness. We loved her, but nobody else in our family did.

Our dog dynamics changed when our son, Michael and his wife, Jodie asked us to rescue their mixed dog, Buster. Jodie had adopted Buster from the North Shore Animal Shelter here in Port Washington while she and Mike were still dating. Jodie loved Buster and he loved her. Then life took it’s course, they married and had their first child, Drew. All went well until he became mobile. Long story, short, Drew annoyed Buster, Buster retaliated, and Buster joined us in Port Washington.

Buster accepted his new home, but Maggie never treated him fairly. Still, he never entered the CT house again. Those rare times, when we stopped at his old home, he refused to get out of the truck.

I have already written a piece about a trip to Sanibel with Maggie and Buster that is better than something new I could compose, and that will be next week’s piece

Before I continue the stories about our dogs, I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell the story of Jigger, Dorothy, Mary Ann’s mother’s last dog. Jigger was a Wirehaired Terrier. Someone once said to me: “When it comes to terriers, it’s not the size of the dog in a fight that matters, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.”

Before we married in 1967, Dorthy, who loved terriers, adopted Jigger as a puppy. Mary Ann remembers Jigger as a cute puppy, but as he grew older, he grew to be ornery and possessive. Jigger took possession of ordinary things and was more than willing to defend his possessions. My moment of destiny came one Christmas eve. Mary Ann and Dorthy went shopping leaving Jigger at our house. Our kids, Beth and Michael were in grammar school and decided to play knock hockey on the living room floor.

Their laughter, dialogue and the loud sounds from the game attracted Jigger. He took possession of the board and wouldn’t let anyone near it, including me. He actually walked onto the board and growled if we came near.

Enough was enough. I disliked him and I decided to shut him down. I grabbed a broom from the garage and started up the stairs toward the board. Jigger stood his ground growling and making feints as I banged my way up the stairs. I forced him into our kitchen securing the exits. There he stayed until the women retuned and I announced that he was banned from our house. My edict was probably overridden, but my recollection is that Jigger died soon thereafter.

Back to the Delach dogs, Jumbo was our fourth Golden. He had a peculiar marking The lower portion of one of his ear’s was jet black as if it had been dipped in an ink well. The breeder thought that at some point. A Newfoundland Retriever had stopped by for a roll in the hay. Jumbo was supposed to be a gift to Michael for his 21^st birthday, but the policy at his college changed to: No Dogs Allowed.

Michael did bond with Jumbo enough to teach him to drink beer out of a bottle. Funny thing, if you offered Jumbo a beer in a can or a glass, He’d ignore it. It was only beer from a bottle that made him salivate.

Both Harry and Bubba were with us when Jumbo arrived. Harry had turned ten and he was worn out. Let me share with you two good things from his senior years. One time, I came home from a business trip to find Harry asleep on his perch overlooking our living room. In my bag, I had a soft-toy of a Golden Retriever baby. I unzipped my bag and placed the puppy on the living room floor.

I walked away and watched Harry’s reaction. All of a sudden Harry raised his head, saw the puppy, got up and came down the stairs. Translating his thoughts, “OMG, not another puppy! I already raised three others.”

When Harry reached the stuffed toy, he sniffed it. Realizing it wasn’t alive, he flipped it over with his snout before returning to his perch.

My last Harry story happened on the last Father’s Day that we still had Harry. His ability to take walks with us had diminished to being only when necessary to relieve himself.

Michael was home from school so I asked him for a special Father’s Day gift. “Michael, Mom and I will take a walk to the beach with access to the Long Island Sound. Harry can’t make that walk so I want you to drive him to the beach so he can join us.

Harry had a great day and, for a little while, swimming in the Sound, he was young and agile again. After we finished, Michael picked him up, put him in the back of his GMC truck and  drove him home.