Ted loved listening to the radio
An exclusive excerpt of Ben Bradlee, Jr.’s “The Kid”: Growing up, on Saturday afternoons during football season, Ted [Williams] liked to get home in time to listen to the USC games on radio. He loved Irvine “Cotton” Warburton, a San Diego boy who was the team’s All America quarterback in 1933. “On Saturday night we’d listen to Benny Goodman,” Ted recalled. “Swing bands were the thing then. I still prefer swing to anything else.” His favorite radio program was “Gang Busters,” which, in collaboration with J. Edgar Hoover, dramatized closed FBI cases. Originally launched in 1935 and called “G-men,” the show featured dramatic sound effects of screeching tires, police sirens and tommy-guns.
(PHOTO: Ted Williams passing a football at the Navy Pre-Flight School, 1943. North Carolina Collection, UNC at Chapel Hill, Wilson Library.)
Another day another show. On Brattle Street. Sunday morning. Shhh!
After the #TonyAwards are over, I thinking @dianeborger might need some summer reading, curated by me.
Somebody loves me. A case of Clark Bars arrived in the mail today.
Love this shot. I wish I knew someone who knew more about the Central Artery...
Green line trolley next to Central Artery, 1976 May, Peter H. Dreyer slide collection, Collection #9800.007, City of Boston Archives.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 United States License. Please attribute to City of Boston Archives and credit Peter Dreyer.. For more images from this collection, click here
Bill and Kerry Brett’s ‘Inspirational Women’
- Father-and-daughter photographers Bill Brett and Kerry Brett compiled more than 125 black-and-white portraits of women with Boston ties for their book “Boston, Inspirational Women.” (45 photos)
Apparently my dad, Jim Beggy, is still alive and living at Cusack Terrace in Arlington. Someone not happy about the doggie do...
Can't wait for this book to come out. benbradleejr-blog:
Exclusive Excerpt from “The Kid” by Ben Bradlee, Jr.
The Kid appeared in the small room on the night of July 5th, 2002. Video cameras rolled, and the flashbulbs popped – just as if he were making another star turn of the sort he had made so many times throughout his celebrated life.
About 30 people had anxiously awaited the arrival of Ted Williams – the great Teddy Ballgame himself: American icon, last of the .400 hitters, war hero, world class fisherman, enfant terrible with the perfectionist persona. Yet, this was no press conference, no card show, no charity event or meet-and-greet where Ted would wave and say a few words to his faithful.
For he was dead, after all. Quite dead.
great advice...
SHONDA RHIMES ‘A screenwriter’s advice’
Just some musings and electronic gatherings of an ink-stained wretch turned social media junkie. As JADAL says: No trees were destroyed in the sending of this organic message. I do concede, however, a significant number of electrons may have been inconvenienced.
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