A blog provided for those friends from Canonsburg,Pa to share, think back, indulge in a few memories... As I've said before: "Who had it better than us!"...enjoy, Dick Garboski
Labels: Herron
Michael Pantely
U.S. Army veteran was State Farm manager and CHS Teacher
Michael "Buddy" Pantely, 76, of Eighty Four, died Friday, December 25, 2009, in his home, following a six-month illness.
He was born May 19, 1933, in Port View, a son of the late Michael and Nancy Mento Pantely.
A graduate of Canonsburg High School and Waynesburg College, he served with the U.S. Army as a military policeman during the Korean War.
He lived in the Eighty Four area since 1987 and had been a member of St. Patrick Church in Canonsburg.
Mr. Pantely had been a teacher and wrestling coach with the Canon-McMillan School District before becoming an agency manager with State Farm Life Insurance.
On May 20, 1983, he married Arlene Elosh, who survives.
Also surviving are a daughter, Susan Elizabeth Pantely of San Francisco, Calif.; a sister, Barbara McConnell of Miami, Fla.; and several nieces and nephews.
Deceased are two brothers, Frank and George Pantely; and a sister, Sophia (Dolly) Thomas.
Friends will be received from 4 to 8 p.m. Monday in Salandra Funeral Service Inc., Joseph P. Salandra, owner/supervisor, 304 West Pike Street, Canonsburg, 724-745-8120, where a blessing service will be held at 9:30 a.m. Tuesday, December 29, followed by a Mass of Christian Burial at 10 a.m. in St. Patrick Church, with the Rev. John Batykefer, pastor, as celebrant. Interment will follow in Queen of Heaven Cemetery, Peters Township. Full military rites will be accorded by the honor guard of Veterans of Foreign Wars Post 191 of Canonsburg and American Legion Post 902 of Houston. The family suggests memorial contributions be made to Harmony Hospice or Washington Area Humane Society.
mike pantely died observer reporter dec 27.
| Hi Dick, I hope all is well with you. I have had some health issues but I am doing okay now. I may have sent this scan of a Patch's bus token before but I am not sure. I found it while going through some coins that my mother gave me a while ago. If not, please post it on the Canonsburg Friends blog. Thanks and keep up the good work on the blog. I hope you and your family have a Merry Christmas and a Blessed New Year. Lou Sculuca |
Just a short note of commendation for the excellent job done by the planning committee for the 1959 50th class reunion. It was well planned and thought out from beginning to end and I am sure it was enjoyable to all those in attendance. Special thanks to Dick, John and Donna, Jim Herron and Al Moze for the time and effort they put in to make this a successful event.
Without the effort put forth by the people on the planning committee, it would never have happened. Again thanks for all your efforts.
With appreciation,
Augie
(PS- It was especially gratifying to see the accomplishments attained by members of this class in the book compiled by Jim Herron.)
Judy and Art Scheffler on the dock by their cabin near Rangeley, Me., where the surrounding silence led Ms. Scheffler to a crucial discovery.
FOR three decades, Judy Scheffler followed the drumbeat of corporate America. But then she bought a simple two-bedroom log cabin in Maine. Doing so not only changed her life — it may also have saved it.
Judy Scheffler in her log cabin on Cupsuptic Lake, 25 miles from the Canadian border.
"I call it my magic mountain," she said about her cabin, which, even though it is within sight of the Appalachians — called the Blue Mountains in these parts — is geographically closer to a big lake, Cupsuptic Lake.
But Ms. Scheffler, 65, likes to reference Thomas Mann's "Magic Mountain."
"Mann talks about time, and that's what I mean with my magic mountain," she said. "You have to use time for your health and sensibilities. Up here, it's so easy to see that."
Things weren't always that simple. In the mid-90's, Ms. Scheffler was promoted to a high-powered job at AT&T. Unbeknown to her and most of her fellow employees at the time, the company was about to launch Lucent Technologies. As a computer executive, Ms. Scheffler had to help with the separation of the two information systems.
"I had my one job, plus five hours a day extra for Lucent," she recalled. "It was hectic and wild."
After a brief vacation on the Maine coast, she and her husband, Art, detoured inland to the vast but little-developed upper half of the state known as the Unorganized Territory, which has no local or municipal government. Zoning and planning in the area are handled by the Land Use Regulation Commission, known by its acronym, LURC. The commission oversees more than 10 million acres of mountains and forest running up as far as the Canadian border.
Mr. Scheffler, a sales manager for trade magazines who had studied wildlife management and forestry at the University of Maine, was convinced that a lakefront property in the Unorganized Territory could be had for less than $50,000. The couple looked at various homes where the price was right, but the houses were on minuscule lakes and were so far into the mountains they would have been snowbound and inaccessible in winter.
Then Ms. Scheffler saw a picture of Fox's Den, a cabin down a logging trail and right on Cupsuptic Lake, one of a string of interconnected lakes that had been named by the Abenaki Indians. The property was unusual in that it was close to the water, and not closed in by trees to make it invisible from the water, and had a permanent dock — features now disallowed by LURC but grandfathered in. Within a year, Ms. Scheffler bought it for $140,000.
"Art thought it was too far away," she said, "but I knew that I was very stressed at work and needed to do something about my life. Art agreed."
The drive to the cabin from their home in Summit, N.J., took nine hours — in fact, the local bank extended its hours to accommodate Ms. Scheffler's schedule for the closing. But the couple went north as often as possible, even in winter, when the temperatures on the lake can drop to 20 degrees below zero.
With the drive taking a day each way, they could usually squeeze in only three full days at the cabin. "But even in three days you can get in touch with things," Ms. Scheffler said. "When I go up there, I forget life in the city."
The intense quiet around them also helped her notice an inner noise that turned out to be a symptom of something that was going on in her body — an acoustic neuroma, a tumor that affects one's hearing.
"I believe that if I hadn't gone there, I never would have calmed down and would have never found my brain tumor," she said. "I found it by being very quiet and listening. It was a teensy sound. It sounded like swish. Shshsh shshsh. Sometimes twice, sometimes three times. Like a coded message."
The tumor took five doctors six hours to remove, but it was benign. Only a month after the operation, Ms. Scheffler, albeit a bit unsteady on her feet from the loss of hearing in her left ear but otherwise healthy, was back at work. Yet the combination of stress, the tumor, the knowledge that both her parents had died relatively young, and buying the cabin made her reassess her life.
"I realized that I didn't need that much money," she said. "I asked myself what's important in my life and what matters and I realized what it was — my daughters, my husband and myself." (Ms. Scheffler has two daughters from her first marriage.) So eight years ago, at age 57, she retired.
At the aptly named Fox's Den, where foxes have actually bred under the wood-paneled cabin, the Schefflers can be as remote as they want. This is an area, after all, where moose outnumber people two to one. The cabin is 15 miles from the nearest town, Rangeley, which turned 150 last year but still has a year-round population of only 1,500.
Closer to the cabin is the crossroads of Oquossoc, said to be the site of the first dogsled mail run in the Northeast in the days when anglers took the train there for vacation, though better known today for a restaurant called the Gingerbread House. Between the cabin and the Canadian border, 25 miles away, there's a forest of spruce and balsam that's almost impenetrable. When the Schefflers drive or hike along the tote roads in the forest — something the lumber companies let them do at their own risk — they are almost always alone.
Now that they are both retired, they spend more days at the cabin and take their time getting there, moseying along the scenic Route 91 and overnighting at a favorite inn in Vermont. They have slowly worked their way into the local community, and Ms. Scheffler is a member of the Rangeley Lakes Region Historical Society. But she still gives out their phone number rarely, and cellphones don't work in the area.
MS. SCHEFFLER doesn't regret giving up her career, although it wasn't something she did easily, having been among the first wave of female corporate executives in the country. Born in Canonsburg, Pa., a mill town not far from Pittsburgh, where her father worked for Pillsbury, Ms. Scheffler joined AT&T in the 60's. She had received a full scholarship toCarnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh, where she studied electrical engineering. She got her master's in computer science at the Stevens Institute of Technology in New Jersey.
In 2004, she edited a book of essays, "Beyond the Corner Office," by pioneering female executives in which they recounted the obstacles and challenges they faced in male-dominated corporations.
Now she is writing about how her own wild days in corporate America led her to the wilderness of Maine, and taught her that time is precious. The book is called, appropriately, "My Magic Mountain."
Sandy, Joyce, Isabelle, ,one lucky Dude, Donna and Sandy
(Click to enlarge)
What a great picture of five beautiful friends and am I ever jealous of your reliving another grand Kennywood experience, especially with such "BFFL" and those T-SHIRTS, well......... "the're the Most"Subject: CHS"59rs
Date: Mon, 10 Aug 2009
We thought you would like to see "The CHS'59rs reliving their youth at Kennywood last week. I had T shirts made for all of us and people loved seeing us have such a wonderful time. We rode all of the coasters as well as many other rides. Not too old yet.
Love,
As always,
Donna
(Photo from Jim Herron Collection) |
We have lost contact with these folks. Any info on there location please contact John DeFife at j641def@comcast.net.
| List Of Missing Classmates |
| |
| JUDY GILBERT BRINESFIELD |
| RONALD F. ENGLE |
| EUGENE JACKSON |
| WILLIAM LEWIS |
| MARGARET OKLESSON OLIVER |
| CAROL RODGERS |
| GEORGE R. WYLAND |
CHS'59 - 7th grade south side
First Row: John Graff, Dorthea Schussler, Dave McPeake, Jean McElravy
Second Row: Jim Herron, Susan Wiggs, Mrs. Carlson, ?
Standing: Judy Weber, Saundra Milligan, Donna Lipinski, Patty Leson, Reinette Boling, John Puchi, Harold Rose, Bob Kobert, Lou Penn, Eric Houston, Bob Hummell,
CHS'59 - 8th grade south side
Front Row: Helen Mezey, Patty Kopy Barbara Haley, Judy Weber, Saundra Milligan
Second Row: ?, Patty Leson, Anna Marie Colaizzo, Janet Horosky
Third Row: Patty Greytock, Dorthea Schussler, Donna Lipinski, Mary Livolsi
Fourth Row: Hazel Horton, Barbara Kohn, Dolores Hall, Susan Wiggs
Standing: Norman Bates, Bob Johnson, Jim Popovich, Lou Penn, Ken Ewasky, Pete Owens, Miss Smith, Bob Kobert, John Puchi, Dave McPeake, Ted Mohler, Tom Kolosky, Vernon Smith, Eric Huston, Bob Hummell, Donald Lobozzo, Ronnie Markel, John Graf.
CHS'59 - 6th grade south side
Front Row: Harold Rose, Kenny Paige, ?, Mary Livolsi, Barbara Haley, ?
Second Row: Donna Lipinski,
Third Row: Barbara Kohn, Reinette Boling, Rita Bonaventura, Helen Mezey, Patty Graytock, Patty Leson
Standing: Jim Herron, Eric Houston, Jim ?, Bob Hummell, ?, Saundra Milligan, Janet Horosky, Mr. Barsody, Judy Weber, Donald Lobozzo, Eugene Puchi, John Graff, ?
CHS'59 - 4th grade south side
Front Row: Marilyn Waschak, Mary Livolsi, Patty Graytok, Dorthea Schussler, Donald Lobozzo, ?, Dominick Bonatatabus
Second Row: Anna Marie Colazzio, Rita Bonaventura,
Standing: Jim Herron, David Crosson, Joe Rolek, Mrs. Wherry, Donna Lipinski, Saundra Milligan, Judy Weber, Vernon Smith
CHS'59 - 2nd grade south side
Top Row: Marilyn Washchak,
Third Row: Donna Lipinski, Ed Malinosky, Dolores Hall, Jim Herron, Judy Weber, Judy Pellman, Bucky Maughan, ?, Judy Weber, Donald Lobozzo,
Second Row: Barbara Kohn, Dominick Bonatatabus, Saudra Milligan, Diana Hackenson, ?, Donna Hackenson, Cheryl Tiedy, Jim Popovich
Bottom Row: Reinette Boling, ?, Rita Bonaventura, Jean McElravy, Charlotte Patmon, Patty Leson, ?, Dorthea Schussler, Linda Bird, Helen Mezey
CHS'59 - 1st grade south side
1st row, Jean McElravy(?), ?, Mary Livolsi, ?, Donna Lipinski, Linda Bird, Helen Mezey, Jean Balsama, Judy Weber, Judy Pellman?, Cheryl Tiedy?,
2nd row, Charlotte Patman?, ?, Patty Leson, Saundra Milligan, Reinette Boling, Mrs. Orr, Rita Bonaventura, Dolores Hall, Dorthea Schussler?, Donna Hackenson, Diana Hackenson
3rd row – Timothy ?, Donald Lobozzo, ?, Dominick Bonatatabus, Joseph Rolek, ? John Alterio, Bucky Maughan.
4th row – David Crosson, Vernon Smith, Eric Houston, Joe ?, Ed Malinosky, Jim Herron, Bob Hummell.
CHS'59 - Fourth Grade First Ward; Miss Rhys
Front Row: Lana Lanzy, Judy Jacoby, Betty Popovich, Walter Piechnick, John Rossero
Second Row: ??, ??, Denny Wrona, Linda Santora, Tony Dellorso , Carma Jean Dambrosio
Third Row: Henrietta Chuba, Joe Cava ,Mary Ann Royer, ??, Sandy Terling, Sabina Lekoski , ??
Standing: Joe Merante, Steve Sedora, Fred Lyon, Marty Kloska, ??, ??, John DeFife, Patty Allen, Joan Vintle, ??, Jim Gohacki
I have 7 more about this size and from the South side….1st thru 8th
I can send to you directly or find out what I need to do to post to Canonsburg Friends
Click on picture to enlarge
From: Pat McCormick <mpmccormick@cox.net>
For your collection of everything Canonsburg!
Probably 1949.
Can you name any of them?
John Foley is standing to the teacher's right. Daralyn, Barbara Ann and I are in the first row.
Best Wishes,
Pat
First row: Daralyn Lobozzo- Barbara Polansky- Joyce Rodgers- Pat McCormick- Barry Petracchi- ?
2nd row: ?-Reta Wozniak- Jerry Lazor- ? - ?- Rose Ferricks
3rd row: ?- ?- ?- Bob Lewis- Joyce Hirst- ?
Standing row: John Foley- ?- ?- Steve Boyan
I don't remember this teacher.
John Martincic
Hi Dick,
---------- Forwarded message ----------
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Just figured that I would let a few high school and college friends know about what I have been doing with my spare time. Check out the website www.ussranger.org and see how gray and chubby I have gotten. Hope you all had a great Memorial Day and thanks to all of you who served and to all the families that supported those that did serve. Went to the Memorial Day service here in Washougal, WA and we had a three plane fly over. Of course they were Bi-planes and despite what I look like on the picture on the website, I did not fly those. Have a great week and look forward to seeing you all soon.
Thanks, Ray & Judy Kutch
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In his later years with the Pirates, after he was the pitching coach for the 1979 champions and before the baseball bureaucracy no longer recognized his game, Harvey Haddix reflected on the most extraordinary game ever pitched.
"Not a day goes by that somebody doesn't ask me about that game," said the left-handed pitcher known as The Kitten because somebody else bigger than he was already The Tiger. "I think I got more notoriety from it because I lost."
Indeed. Fifty years ago, against the formidable lineup of the Milwaukee Braves, he retired batter after batter, inning after inning, accomplishing what no other pitcher in the game has accomplished before or since.
He was perfect for nine innings, but because the Pirates failed to eke out a run, he had to work overtime. With tension and excitement building on every pitch, he was flawless for 10 innings. Then 11. And finally, the Western Union operator, the text messenger of his day, typed "nothing across" for the 12th time as 36 batters faced Mr. Haddix and 36 went back to the bench. Nary a one of them reached base.
Perfection then yielded to the bizarre in the unlucky 13th inning when an error broke the spell. Following a sacrifice and an intentional walk, Joe Adcock hit a high slider out of the park for Milwaukee's only hit. But what should have been a three-run home run morphed into a one-run double.
A script with such zaniness would be summarily rejected. Yet it actually was a dark and stormy night, with a surreal backdrop of jagged bolts of lightning and wind and rain. Suddenly, a perfect game broke out. And the ending was so flawed that the events of May 26, 1959, could only be called perfect theater.
"There's never been a game like this," said Bill Virdon, the Pirates center fielder that night.
Today, a pitcher gets credit for a quality start if he gives up no more than three runs in six innings. Put that up against a 13-inning game, featuring just two pitchers, played in a crisp 2 hours, 54 minutes.
As Mr. Haddix wove his masterpiece, Lew Burdette also went the distance, scattering 12 singles without walking a batter. He was bailed out by three double plays, which the participants say were induced by his spitball.
"I have to be the greatest pitcher who ever pitched," the Milwaukee pitcher would say in later years, "because I beat the guy who pitched the greatest game ever pitched."
If anything, the game has become even more amazing over the years.
Milwaukee reliever Bob Buhl told Mr. Haddix, and repeated in an interview with sports editor Steve Stout, of the Urbana (Ohio) Daily Citizen, that the Braves' bullpen had pilfered the Pirates' signs. If catcher Smoky Burgess called for a fastball, a towel was made visible to the batter. On breaking pitches, the towel was out of sight.
"Smoky couldn't bend over very far when he caught, so with binoculars, you could pick up every sign from the bullpen," Mr. Buhl said. "Harvey had such marvelous movement and changes of speed that night that it didn't matter if the hitter knew what was coming or not."
Milwaukee's Johnny Logan, who later played for the Pirates, didn't recall anything about stolen signs. But he had a perfect context to a game played at a time when the only performance enhancer was the size of a man's heart.
"It was a time," he said, "when baseball was baseball."
Mr. Logan is among those who consider the greatest game ever pitched to be Don Larsen's perfect game in the 1956 World Series because it happened on baseball's biggest stage.
But plenty of baseball people believe that the Haddix game is unequaled.
"Twelve perfect innings, it doesn't get any better than that," said Dick Schofield, the starting shortstop that night. "It might never be done again."
The Pirates had won five consecutive games, beginning with a complete-game victory by Mr. Haddix, when they opened a road trip in Milwaukee.
In pregame preparations, Mr. Haddix, 33, noted how he intended to pitch against a team that had won two consecutive National League pennants and that included Eddie Mathews, Hank Aaron, Joe Adcock, Wes Covington, Del Crandall, et al.
"If you do what you say you're going to do, Harv, you'll pitch a no-hitter," said third baseman Don Hoak.
Laughter rippled through the clubhouse at the thought.
The Pirates would play without two future MVPs that night. Dick Groat was benched because he was slumping. Roberto Clemente, burdened with various ailments, didn't start a game between May 19 and July 9.
Fighting off a cold, Mr. Haddix got an out on his first pitch. Eddie Mathews worked the count full -- the only time a Milwaukee hitter went to three balls out of the strike zone -- before lining out. Hank Aaron, batting .453 at the time, flied out. Three up, three down.
Pitch counts and radar guns had yet to invade the sport, but according to the Western Union account, Mr. Haddix threw 115 pitches -- 82 of them for strikes. The most he threw in an inning was 14 in the 12th when he was tiring.
Not a single Braves hitter could solve the lively fastball, sharp slider or deceptive curve being thrown with pinpoint control.
Teammates in the dugout were awed.
"He was like a machine. We were breathing with him on every pitch," said pitcher Bob Friend. "It was the best game I ever saw pitched."
In the field, the play just moved right along.
"It was one of the easiest games I ever played in," Bill Mazeroski recalled. "Everything was pretty much routine. Everything was a two-hopper."
The opposing shortstops figured in what were the two toughest plays. Mr. Schofield speared a line drive off the bat of Mr. Logan in the third, and he also handled a grounder that took a funny hop in the sixth.
"Harvey was magnificent that day. He was throwing strikes, getting ahead of the hitters," Mr. Logan said. "Everybody on our bench wanted it to be a solid hit. We didn't want it to end on anything cheap."
Like his teammates, Mr. Schofield knew something special was unfolding.
"It seemed like every time I'd glance up at the scoreboard, there were two strikes on the batter and there were two outs," he said.
Harvey Haddix died of emphysema at age 68 in 1994 and is buried in the western Ohio farm country where he was born and raised. If someone was searching for the American heartland, the fertile fields about an hour west of Columbus would fit the bill.
Like many farm boys, Mr. Haddix took to baseball. Baling hay strengthened his hands and forearms. He learned to hit by tossing rocks up in the air and swatting them with a broom handle. He caught balls bounced off walls to hone defensive skills that would win him three Gold Gloves.
"He was just as happy putting on his blue jeans and doing chores while riding around on the tractor as he was on the mound," said teammate Vernon Law. "He did all the little things to better himself. He was a great competitor. He battled every hitter. Never gave in."
Mr. Haddix played his first organized baseball at Westville High School in Champaign County, riding to games in the trunk of the coach's car because he was the smallest kid on the team.
The Haddix family moved to a farm in Clark County, where Harvey graduated from Catawba High School. Signed by the Cardinals after attending a tryout camp, and following a hitch in the Army, he started his baseball career in 1947.
At 5 feet 9 and 155 pounds, he wouldn't merit a look today. It was the fight in the dog, not the dog in the fight, as they said in his day.
"I wish I had been 6-foot-4 and weighed 200 pounds. Then I wouldn't have had to work as hard," Mr. Haddix used to say with a laugh.
He was hardly a one-game wonder. A three-time All-Star, Mr. Haddix won 20 games in 1953 and was 136-116 in his career. He was the winning pitcher twice in the 1960 World Series, including the seventh game.
His first big-league win came in 1952 against the Braves, who then resided in Boston. The losing pitcher was Lew Burdette.
Mr. Haddix once flirted with a no-hitter in 1954. While with the Cardinals, he dazzled the Phillies for eight innings before Richie Ashburn broke up the no-no. He did, however, get the win.
While Mr. Haddix frustrated the Braves on that night in 1959, the Pirates couldn't buy a run. They bunched three singles in the second inning but didn't score because a runner was thrown out trying for third.
Even the weather was uncooperative. In the top of the seventh, the wind howled as it blew in from right field and rain began to fall.
With one out, Bob Skinner connected for what everybody thought was a home run to right. But the ball hung up in the wind and was caught at the wall.
On three occasions, when the Pirates had a man on, a double play killed threats.
"Burdette was in trouble a couple of times, but his spitball was pretty effective. That was his ace in the hole," said Mr. Law.
"He'd come with that great spitter at the right time," added Mr. Friend.
Baseball had its superstitions, andthe closest anyone came to mentioning all the obvious zeroes on the scoreboard was when Mr. Haddix came to bat in the ninth. Through his catcher's mask, Del Crandall said: "Say, you're pitching a pretty good game."
There was no TV that night, but Bob Prince gave hints all night.
"Don't go away," he told a rapt radio audience. "We are on the verge of baseball history."
Nine innings were complete when Mr. Burdette became the eighth and final strikeout victim. The County Stadium crowd of 19,194, which included a younger Bud Selig, the current commissioner of Major League Baseball, rose as one to salute Mr. Haddix. But it wasn't over.
Normally, bullpen ace Elroy Face would be all set for a call. But with Mr. Haddix so masterful, Mr. Face never went to the bullpen and never once warmed up.
"I sat on the end of the bench in the dugout all night. I had the best seat in the house. It was the greatest game ever pitched," Mr. Face said.
For the first and only time in major-league history, a perfect game went beyond nine innings. The Braves still couldn't scratch out a hit.
Then came the Kafkaesque conclusion.
Felix Mantilla led off the bottom of the 13th inning with a routine grounder. Third baseman Don Hoak fielded it cleanly, but his throw was in the dirt. Milwaukee's first base runner was aboard on the throwing error.
"Nobody felt worse than Hoakie, but he never once made an excuse. They still talk about Bill Buckner's error, too," Mr. Groat said.
After a sacrifice bunt and an intentional pass, Joe Adcock came to the plate.
Ball one was high. The next offering was a high slider that Mr. Adcock pounced on, driving the pitch deep to right center.
"When he hit it, it looked like a lot of trouble," Mr. Schofield recalled.
At the crack of the bat, Mr. Virdon raced to the fence.
"I started going back, but there was no chance. None," the center fielder said. "Adcock was pretty strong. He could hit to any field in any park."
A charge rippled through the Braves' bench like a thunderclap.
"It was getting late. We were tiring out. When [Mr. Adcock] hit the ball, our thought was: 'Felix, get to home plate! Get this game over with!" Mr. Logan said.
The ball sailed over the bullpens at the 392-foot mark, but Mr. Aaron didn't realize it had left the park. Thinking the game was over, he headed to the dugout after rounding second after he saw Mr. Mantilla cross home plate. Mr. Adcock kept running and passed him up.
All was lost -- the perfect game, the no-hitter, the game itself -- as confusion held sway.
Mr. Adcock was called out for passing a runner, so the three-run homer became a double. The umpires announced the score as 2-0, which most morning newspapers carried in their headlines.
The next day, the league office set the score at 1-0.
"The score shall be determined by disregarding the 'home run' and recording it as it would be if [Mr. Adcock] had a two-base hit, in which case only the run or runs score which are necessary to win the game," National League president Warren Giles ruled.
In the stunned clubhouse, Mr. Haddix asked writers for a moment to collect his thoughts. Then, like a perfect gentleman, he answered every query.
"My main aim all night long was to win. The perfect game would have meant something to me then," he said. "It's just another loss, and that's not good enough for myself or the club."
Years later, he would add: "It didn't matter to me whether it was 1-0, 2-0 or 100-0. All I knew was that we had lost the game, and that's what hurt me most."
From the Braves' clubhouse, manager Fred Haney called it the greatest pitching performance he ever saw.
"Haddix held us in the palm of his hand," he said.
By phone, Mr. Burdette told Mr. Haddix he deserved to win. And in that droll manner that once defined baseball players, he told the man who had just lost a one-hitter: "You have to learn how to spread your hits out."
Mr. Haddix and Mr. Hoak shared a cab to the team hotel, the Schroeder.
"I've booted some before, Harv, and I'll boot some again," Mr. Hoak had told him.
In the company of Mr. Friend, Mr. Haddix found a diner for a post-game meal of bacon and eggs.
"Do you realize what you've just did?" Mr. Friend asked.
"Yeah, but I lost the damn game," Mr. Haddix answered. "I'd rather have given up six hits and won. I didn't go out there to lose."
Later, unable to sleep, Mr. Haddix walked the streets until dawn.
Telegrams, which were the e-mail messages of the day, poured in via Western Union, 58 in all.
There was an offer to appear on the "Ed Sullivan Show" for $500 plus expenses, but Mr. Haddix turned it down. He figured his place was with his team.
His next start was a week to the day after his loss, and 28,644 fans turned out for Harvey Haddix Night at Forbes Field.
Local fans provided a standing ovation in a pregame ceremony.
Any chance of perfection was gone on the third pitch when Don Blasingame of the Cardinals singled.
Asked if it broke any tension, Mr. Haddix deadpanned: "How could it? The last guy I pitched to before him got a base hit, too."
Mr. Haddix scattered eight hits and won a complete-game shutout.
At the Haddix home in a tidy neighborhood of Springfield, Ohio, Marcia Haddix keeps some precious memorabilia in her late husband's honor.
One item is a seat from County Stadium, with the No. 12 on it.
The most treasured memento is a gift from the National League -- 12 silver goblets engraved with the play-by-play of each perfect inning, plus a silver tray etched with the autographs of his teammates.
The game is not officially recognized as a no-hitter by Major League Baseball. The ungainly named Committee for Statistical Accuracy in Baseball, chaired by commissioner Fay Vincent, announced in 1991 that it didn't meet the criteria because Mr. Haddix lost.
"I was really upset when we got the word," Mrs. Haddix recalled. "But Harvey said, 'I know what I did.' "
Speaking for all the Pirates, Dick Groat said: "I don't care if it's been taken off the books. It was still the greatest game I ever saw pitched."
Mr. Haddix died on Jan. 8, 1994. His tombstone is engraved with his moment of immortality.
And Tuesday, some column somewhere that prints what happened on this day in history will mention his game.
