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GOIN’ FISHING

Franklin D. Roosevelt aboard ship during the Presidential Cruise, 1938TO: H. GREENBERG
FROM: L. EDWARDS,
OFFICE OF CORDELL HULL, SEC. OF STATE, WASHINGTON D.C.

RECEIVED COPY OF ROLF GRUND PASSPORT AND COPY OF SHIP TICKET. WILL PASS THEM TO SECRETARY HULL FOR FURTHER INVESTIGATION. RE: SHIP TICKET. MAY WE HAVE ORIGINAL?

7-18-38

Dear Mr. Edwards.

Somehow it seems I have lost the original ticket. I will be in touch about this.

Best,
Hank Greenberg

 

Harry:

I’m still staring at this British ocean liner ticket. It’s good to use for the next month. Should I do it? Should I jump the team and go over there and track this little kid down and bring him over? Yeah, it would be a yelow thing to do to the Tigers, but if I could actually find and rescue him, wouldn’t that be pretty damn heroic? Problem is that I wouldn’t even know where to start. And how could a big Jewish guy like me get into Nazi-held Austria in the first place?

I know you suggested the other night it might be smarter to let the whole mess go and let happen whatever is going to happen. But you’re not the one staring at this ticket.

In the meantime, I also visited the White House yesterday on our day off in Washington, hoping to talk to the President if only for a couple of minutes. Crazy idea, I know, but craziness in the world seems to be in fashion these days. Anyway, I was told at the front gate that Roosevelt is cruising off the coast of Mexico on the USS Houston all week and most likely “fishing at the moment”. Can you believe my lousy luck?

That’s one reason I was so heated when the game started today at Griffith. It wasn’t just the baking weather. As you saw, it sure helped me pick those Pete Appleton pitches and smash them for two home runs! You probably don’t know because I have to smack you over the head with a rolled-up newspaper to get you to read one, but that gives me 37 homers, putting me on a pace to hit 67 for the year!

Which might be the bigger problem about ditching for Europe right now. If I come up short on the Babe’s record, I’d rather not have that big son-of-a-bitch laughing at me all winter.

Hank
7.19.38

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