and they could have the wedding and some kind of bullshit reception right there.
Frannie had brought along something that would pass for a wedding dress in the one suitcase she had. When Whitestone came to get her, it was already seven P.M . He told her it was OK, that night weddings were kind of special. Larue told Jimmy that Whitestone had even borrowed a tux to set up the gag just right.
So, when they came into the ballroom, the only other person Frannie sees is the preacher. When she looks closer, she sees that it’s actually the Vees’ third-base coach. Whitestone assures her that he is certified to do weddings in the state of Florida.
She asked her husband-to-be, as they’re walking toward the minister, if he has a best man.
“Oh,” Lucky Whitestone is supposed to have said, “I’ve got plenty of them.”
And that’s when the curtain that divided the room into two parts opened, and out came most of the rest of the Richmond Vees’ starting lineup from the year before.
He told Frannie he’d decided that, since they couldn’t figure exactly whose baby she was carrying, they decided she’d just have to marry the whole damn team. They kept her there and made her go through the whole ceremony. Larue said that, for a ring, Whitestone had rolled up a rubber and punched a hole through it. Then he handed her a one-way bus ticket to New York City and said to have fun on her honeymoon.
When she started crying, he apparently explained to her, with all his teammates encircling her, that every one of them would swear that she had willingly screwed them, and that if she knew what was good for her, she’d get the hell out of there before they gave her a wedding night she’d never forget.
She returned to her room, and when Lucky asked at the front desk in the morning, the clerk said she’d already checked out. Larue said he was kind of nervous the next couple of days, but he never heard from Frannie Fling again.
After Larue told Jumpin’ Jimmy the story, Jimmy tried to get in touch with her. She’d shown him a letter her parents sent her the season before, with a return address in that Vermont town. Whoever answered when he called hung up on Jimmy when he told them who he was looking for.
“I didn’t find out what happened to her until sometime in mid-April, I guess,” Jimmy says. “I was hanging out at the ballpark, just because that’s what you do in April. This fella who had been the assistant GM the year before, looking for a job anywhere he could get one, was there, too, and he told me what happened to Frannie.”
They found her in a motel room in Oak Ridge, Tenn. Nobody has a clue how she got there. She had slit her wrists on the tenth, and the maid didn’t find her body until the next day. The baby was dead, too, of course. It took them two days after that to get in touch with her parents, and it took the parents about three days to sic the lawyers on Lucky Whitestone. She’d sent her parents a letter, telling them that she and Whitestone were going to be married. They didn’t know a lot about what their disowned daughter had been up to, but they knew enough to sue.
“Too bad they didn’t give more of a shit when she was alive,” Jimmy says.
If Whitestone hadn’t been a top prospect, it might have ended differently. But the Yankees dug into their deep pockets and turned a battery of New York lawyers loose on Frances Flynn’s reputation. Lots of guys were willing to testify to her sexual dalliances. There were threats of a countersuit. In the end, the family settled for an amount that was less than Lucky Whitestone’s first-year major-league salary, just to bury their daughter with a little dignity.
“They didn’t care nothin’ about Whitestone,” Jimmy says, “but they didn’t want anything besmirking the fine Yankee tradition. Hell, after the family settled, they traded his ass to Cleveland.
“I visited her grave up there one time,” Jimmy says.
“In Vermont?”
“Yeah. Had
Frannie had brought along something that would pass for a wedding dress in the one suitcase she had. When Whitestone came to get her, it was already seven P.M . He told her it was OK, that night weddings were kind of special. Larue told Jimmy that Whitestone had even borrowed a tux to set up the gag just right.
So, when they came into the ballroom, the only other person Frannie sees is the preacher. When she looks closer, she sees that it’s actually the Vees’ third-base coach. Whitestone assures her that he is certified to do weddings in the state of Florida.
She asked her husband-to-be, as they’re walking toward the minister, if he has a best man.
“Oh,” Lucky Whitestone is supposed to have said, “I’ve got plenty of them.”
And that’s when the curtain that divided the room into two parts opened, and out came most of the rest of the Richmond Vees’ starting lineup from the year before.
He told Frannie he’d decided that, since they couldn’t figure exactly whose baby she was carrying, they decided she’d just have to marry the whole damn team. They kept her there and made her go through the whole ceremony. Larue said that, for a ring, Whitestone had rolled up a rubber and punched a hole through it. Then he handed her a one-way bus ticket to New York City and said to have fun on her honeymoon.
When she started crying, he apparently explained to her, with all his teammates encircling her, that every one of them would swear that she had willingly screwed them, and that if she knew what was good for her, she’d get the hell out of there before they gave her a wedding night she’d never forget.
She returned to her room, and when Lucky asked at the front desk in the morning, the clerk said she’d already checked out. Larue said he was kind of nervous the next couple of days, but he never heard from Frannie Fling again.
After Larue told Jumpin’ Jimmy the story, Jimmy tried to get in touch with her. She’d shown him a letter her parents sent her the season before, with a return address in that Vermont town. Whoever answered when he called hung up on Jimmy when he told them who he was looking for.
“I didn’t find out what happened to her until sometime in mid-April, I guess,” Jimmy says. “I was hanging out at the ballpark, just because that’s what you do in April. This fella who had been the assistant GM the year before, looking for a job anywhere he could get one, was there, too, and he told me what happened to Frannie.”
They found her in a motel room in Oak Ridge, Tenn. Nobody has a clue how she got there. She had slit her wrists on the tenth, and the maid didn’t find her body until the next day. The baby was dead, too, of course. It took them two days after that to get in touch with her parents, and it took the parents about three days to sic the lawyers on Lucky Whitestone. She’d sent her parents a letter, telling them that she and Whitestone were going to be married. They didn’t know a lot about what their disowned daughter had been up to, but they knew enough to sue.
“Too bad they didn’t give more of a shit when she was alive,” Jimmy says.
If Whitestone hadn’t been a top prospect, it might have ended differently. But the Yankees dug into their deep pockets and turned a battery of New York lawyers loose on Frances Flynn’s reputation. Lots of guys were willing to testify to her sexual dalliances. There were threats of a countersuit. In the end, the family settled for an amount that was less than Lucky Whitestone’s first-year major-league salary, just to bury their daughter with a little dignity.
“They didn’t care nothin’ about Whitestone,” Jimmy says, “but they didn’t want anything besmirking the fine Yankee tradition. Hell, after the family settled, they traded his ass to Cleveland.
“I visited her grave up there one time,” Jimmy says.
“In Vermont?”
“Yeah. Had
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