Distinctly Montana Magazine

D I S T I N C T LY M O N TA N A • S P R I N G 2 0 1 6 62 (SABR allows for the possibility that the two had met previously, through their affiliation with the Elks.) "Impressed by the lad's outgoing, confident demeanor, Herrmann offered him the role of 'continual mascot' with the Reds, contingent upon parental approval," wrote Phil Williams for SABR. "Brownie wrote his mother, obtained her bless- ing, then traveled eastward to catch up with the Herrmann party in Chicago. On August 3, 1909, owner and mascot arrived in Cincinnati." According to a story in the Cincinnati Post, Burke, just 16, made his on-field debut five days later. At the time, it wasn't unusual for baseball teams to employ men of small stature as "mascots." e now politically incorrect practice stemmed from the antiquated belief that midgets and dwarfs, as they were known then, brought good luck. "Lefthanders, hunchbacks and cross-eyed people were all considered [lucky]," wrote Harold Seymour in e Golden Age of Baseball. "Touching a hunchback was popularly believed to bring good luck." But mascots like Van Zelst and Burke became more than just superstitious sideshows. He worked more as a batboy than, as SABR put it, "a magical charm." He suited up for each game, delivered fresh balls between innings to the umpires and organized equipment for the Reds' players. Before a July 24, 1912 game, he helped Cincinnati pitcher Frank Smith warm up. e Cincinnati Post reported the next day that Burke couldn't catch Smith's spitter, much to the amusement of opposing pitcher and future Hall of Famer Christy Mathewson. Burke also helped off the field, becoming something like Her- rmann's assistant. When a player was released, Burke delivered the message straight from the owner to the player. Former Reds manager Joe Tinker, after being fired from the team in 1913, told the Cleveland Plain Dealer he believed Burke spied on players away from the ballpark and reported his findings to Herrmann. During Cincinnati's off-season, Burke stuck by Herrmann's side at social events. He accompanied the owner on trips to the World Series, performed at the owner's country club and made those three appearances with sitting presidents. His banter with President Wil- son caught the attention of the New York Times, which wrote about the exchange on October 16, 1913. After Wilson good- naturedly ribbed Burke for Cincinnati's lackluster showing in the season standings, the mascot remarked about the president to the paper, "He'd make some baseball manager." Simply put, people liked to be around Burke. His show- manship and natural gregariousness would eventually lead to Burke's departure from the Reds, and with the financial and moral support of Herrmann, his pursuit of an acting career. Success followed Burke during stage produc- tions. In letters on file at the Baseball Hall of Fame, Burke wrote Herrmann, "I'm going to telegraph [Montana's] Senator [omas] Walsh again and if he can't do anything to hasten my going into service, I'm going to pull my freight and go to Canada where I'm pretty certain I will have my chance." Burke was enlisted into the Ninetieth Infantry Division, Headquarters Detachment, on June 1, 1918, and began serving overseas a few weeks later. In typical fashion, he made a quick impression. American Legion magazine wrote in a 1940 article that "every solider and the Germans in Berncastle knew this little fellow." After the war, Robert Ripley of Ripley's Believe It or Not credited Burke as "the shortest man during World War I serving in the AES," according to the Helena Independent Record. Burke was considered the first native son to make the majors, arriving at least five years before St. Louis Cardinals pitcher and Cascade-born Rees "Steamboat" Williams, who has long been recognized as the state's trailblazer to the bigs. "Alas, such an opportunity for baseball immortality eluded Brownie Burke, and he is largely forgotten today," wrote Phil Wil- liams for SABR. "During his half-decade in baseball, however, his wide-ranging role with the Reds made him one of the sport's most public figures. By all evidence it was a very happy existence, one a turn-of-the-century boy from a remote, working class background could only dream of." at's the thing with Montana baseball stories: they don't always make Ken Burns documentaries, end up on the pages of Sports Il- lustrated or lead off Sports Center, but like the state itself, they tend to reveal overlooked or underappreciated treasures. ese stories help create the fabric of the game and provide a window into not only the history of baseball but the state of Montana itself. For a game that's long captured the nation's imagination, there's plenty of material to draw from — even way out here in left field, in Montana. [This excerpt is from the introduction to the book with the same name, published by The History Press, 2015] Burke, front and center with the 1910 Cincinnati Reds

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