Louisiana's "Marsh Madness" was magic

(First of three parts)

Where Louisiana boys state basketball tournament began in 1961

     The building stands on the Louisiana State Fairgrounds along Interstate 20 in west Shreveport, as it has since the mid-1950s. The name now is Hirsch Memorial Coliseum; when it opened, it was Hirsch Youth Center.
     Elvis played there, and left the building ... in 1957.
     Many other acts performed there -- singers, the circus, Centenary College basketball and the Louisiana Invitational Tournament/Gulf South Classic. 
     It is, mostly now, the home of ice hockey (the Mudbugs, a junior-level professional) team, and the rodeo site during the Louisiana State Fair.  
     But how we remember it most: A long time ago, it was the mecca of high school basketball in Louisiana.
     It was, from 1961 to 1966, the first home of the boys state tournament, the "Top Twenty." 
     And once upon a time, covering the state tournament was a magic time for a young sportswriter. Gosh, we loved it.
     The 60th annual edition -- 60 years, can you believe it? -- will be played this week at Burton Coliseum in Lake Charles.
     But the state tournament is not what it used to be. (Right, and your reaction is, what is?).
     In our boyhood, when it began (and we do remember that), it was one of the greatest things that ever happened for basketball in Louisiana. Yes, in my opinion, even better than Pistol Pete Maravich and -- arguably -- Coach Dale Brown at LSU.
     For years and years, state championships had been decided in school gymnasiums, one team as the host -- thanks to a coin-flip victory -- and the visiting team facing a road challenge.
     Many believed it wasn't fair, knowing that basketball-crazy states such as Indiana and Illinois had the right idea: a state tournament, played at a neutral site.
      After several years of in-fighting among the school principals who made the decisions in the Louisiana High School Athletic Association, the idea became reality. 
     So starting in '61, the final four teams in the five LHSAA  classifications -- AAA, AA, A, B and C -- came to one site for (at the beginning) three intense days of basketball. Four teams, five classes ... a Top Twenty.
     Don't know the origin of that tournament name, but -- just a bit partial here -- let's credit the organizers in Shreveport and the sportswriters at The Shreveport Times. And Hirsch Youth Center was a perfect home, for a short while. 
     That was home. We were the proud home team, so to speak.
     The guys in the sports department at The Times were the first to give the tournament the full coverage it deserved. And as the historical microfilm pages of the newspaper prove, they did a helluva good job. 
     (Yes, I am partial. Two years later, on those sports pages, I would begin a career of bylines.)
     Researching this subject, through the sports pages of the late 1950s and in 1960, there was clearly a divided state.
     On one side: Small-school principals (and coaches) preferred to take their championship hopes to the big city. They realized that playoff games in their small gyms often attracted overflow crowds, uncomfortable conditions for fans and the on-court action. Plus, their games got little press coverage. A state tournament, with writers from all over, would change that.
     Opposing side: Many/most South Louisiana schools -- especially a solid core of the bigger New Orleans schools -- were OK with a playoff format that The Times sports columnist Jim Dawson in 1959 called "probably the worst system in the United States."
      Among the opponents, though -- surprisingly considering his former basketball-coach role -- was Bossier High's Frank Lampkin. Well-respected, he and his coach, John McConathy, had proven their stance.
     When their team -- led by future major-league baseball and Centenary basketball star Cecil Upshaw -- made the Class AAA state title game in 1960, Lampkin and McConathy turned down a chance to play the game at Hirsch (10,500 seating capacity) and, not wanting to give up homecourt advantage, opted to stay at Bossier's tiny old gym, where some 600 fans crammed in to see the Bearkats beat DeLaSalle (New Orleans) 39-34. 
     DeLaSalle's Johnny Altobello, the state's most successful high school basketball coach of the 1950s and '60s, was with Lampkin in the battle "against" right up to the end. 
      For several years, one of the leading principals "for" -- and an advocate for Shreveport and Hirsch -- was J.H. Napper of Simsboro (Class B). His efforts were rewarded at the LHSAA meetings in March 1960.
      It was Shreveport that made the difference.
      Centenary athletic director-coach Orvis Sigler, a Missouri man who had come to town after coaching at the U.S. Military Academy, was a basketball promoter and the spokesman for the Shreveport group at the pivotal LHSAA meetings.
      Sigler's pitch: The Athletic Affairs Committee of the Shreveport Chamber of Commerce had agreed to underwrite the state tournament, offering a $12,000 guarantee to the LHSAA with all expenses paid for the visiting teams, plus $400 for each of the 10 finalists and $200 for each of the 10 losing semifinalists. Net profits after expenses would be equally divided among the 20 schools.
      Still, the LHSAA Executive Committee turned down the proposal by a 15-13 vote. Told of the strong support by the four lower classification schools for the tournament, Triple-A principals reconsidered by a 17-4 vote. And then the Executive Committee vote was 26-2 "for" (Lampkin and Altobello were the "no" votes.)
     The next day -- March 26, 1960 -- it was James "Little Fuzzy" Brown, principal of arguably the state's top athletics powerhouse at the time, Istrouma of Baton Rouge, who told the entire body of school principals: "Let's do this for the good of basketball in this  state, not for the interests of a few individuals."
     Napper and Minden High principal W.W. Williams joined Brown in pushing the "for" proposal ... and it passed in a landslide. 
     The next March, basketball took a huge step in Louisiana.
     (Next: Louisiana's basketball eyes were on Shreveport) 

Here's the toughest part ...

     Move into a seniors residency, which we did in June 2019, and you soon face a stark reality:
     Many of our fellow residents don't have long to live.
     And it hurts to lose people. It especially hurts when we have gotten to be friends with them, or with their family members.
     It's never easy, and it's been especially difficult the past two weeks as we've lost three men and one woman.
     Two of the men had been close for years, part of a three-couples group that spent much time together, in and out of the facility. Those two men, sadly, visibly declined health-wise over the past couple of months and their passings came four  days apart.
     Because of shared beliefs and interests, I became a parttime member of that little group. So those losses, while not unexpected, were tough to take.
     But again, reality check. We had 43 deaths here last year; in the first 67 days of this year, the count is 10.
     Not unexpected, though. The great majority of our residents (and there are about 450) are at least 80; a significant number are near 90, and many are ailing. I know of three that are 100-plus. 
     And so, health is fragile in many cases. Mobility is limited. That's just the way it is; aging is a challenge. 
     Here's what else: The great majority are genuinely nice people, and they are doing the very best they can manage. There is a lot of determination, and from me, there is admiration for all.
     When someone dies, the Resident Services office posts their photo and an "in memorium" label above it. Each day, as you walk past the spots where those picture frames are posted, you learn to look for them. 
     Any day without one of those picture frames posted is a good day. There are, fortunately, a lot of good days here.
     Every resident -- everyone, really -- has his/her own story, and we cannot possibly tell all. But because of the respect for and the connections with these three men and their families, here is a closer look.
     To begin, common threads: (1) long marriages; (2) military service; (3) college educations; (4) long, steady careers; (5) families of which they were proud, as those family members were proud of their man.
     Joe Armstrong, 85, was married to Frankye for 64 years; Bill Starz, 92, was married to Janice for 68 years; Robert Brower, 95, was married to Joyce for 74 years. Wow.

Joe Armstrong and Frankye at our recent Valentine's Day gathering
(photo by Daniel Mancillas)

     Joe, right out of high school, was a U.S. Marine who served in the Korean Conflict and he was as proud a Marine as one could be (then again, all Marines are proud). At our events here, with military mentions, he was the first one on his feet at the sound of the Marine Hymn ("The Halls of Montezuma"). His memorial service ended with that hymn.
     Bill was a Navy man; Bob in the Army Air Corps during WW II. 
     Mr. Brower grew up in Queen City, Missouri, and attended Vanderbilt and Tarrant County College. For years and years, he was postal inspector, retiring in Fort Worth in 1978 from a significant post in that role here. 

Robert Brower

Bill Starz

     Mr. Armstrong was from Bowlegs, Oklahoma -- not making that up; he loved being from Bowlegs -- and, while he worked in the utilities business, he went to night school for more than a decade to finally earn a degree from University of Texas-Arlington. 
     Mr. Starz was from the New York City area -- his accent told you that -- and he went to Seton Hall and New York University. In Fort Worth, he retired as a vice-president at Alcon Laboratories, the huge eye-care device company based here.   
     The Browers have two children, three grandchildren, six great-grandchildren; the Armstrongs have three children, nine grands, seven great-grands; the Starzs had three children -- two died relatively young -- and have two grandkids.
     Because Joe's original family was a large one, the family that attended his memorial service must have numbered at least 50.
     Reading the Starz obit, we saw a heartbreaking aspect of his and Janice's lives -- one child died at age 12, another at 24. Which is why they were big supporters of the WARM Place, a grief support center for children in Fort Worth.
     There were many conversations and fun times with Joe and Bill, and they were well-liked in this facility. 
     We knew that Joe Armstrong had a sly, quiet sense of humor and he was more a listener than a talker, but when he contributed to a conversation, it was usually a thoughtful (and often funny) moment. Bill Starz could spin some stories and he was our "harmonica man" -- he loved entertaining with that instrument -- and he was the driving reason for the expansion of our weekly Thursday afternoon "Social Hour." 
     Did not know Robert Brower as well; he was wheelchair-bound and not vocal, and his room was in our skilled-nursing unit. But we had a couple of connections -- his wife lives on our floor; his son and daughter went to high schools in Louisiana, and both attended Louisiana Tech University.
      The son, a doctor, is a Bolton High  (Alexandria) and Tech graduate who roomed there with one of our old Woodlawn High buddies, and he now lives in Baton Rouge, so he is -- what else? -- an avid LSU fan. (And he knows what's happening with LSU teams). 
      The daughter, a Behrman High (New Orleans) grad, has been the main caretaker for her mother and father, with much help from her son (their grandson) Nick. She, too, is an LSU fan, but also partial to TCU.
      We are sad for them, but so appreciative that they have been here so often for their folks.
      Just as we felt for Frankye and Janice as they took such great care for the loves of their lives over the past couple of months.
      We are blessed here to have a chaplain, Tricia Baldwin, who works to make her pastoral reflections at memorial services so reflective, finding ancedotes -- often humorous -- through her talks with family members and friends.
      There is much support -- and love -- here among the residents and staff, and what we know is that as we age, we need to stay active, physically if at all possible, and mentally. So many activities and events here are geared toward that.
     We know, too, that losing people is part of our lives. "We are living in God's waiting room" is how one resident puts it.
     We see our mortality; we know that one day it will be us.
     So we reflect on where we are, and we certainly can identify with the often-used words of condolence, "sorry for your loss." 
      
        

The strange, sad story of Don Bessent (and a connection)

    One of the saddest stories we encountered in our journalism career involved a 1950s baseball pitcher and where, when and how he died.

1957 Topps card

     The man's name was Don Bessent, the place was Jacksonville, Florida, the time was July 1990, and the circumstances were tragic.
     It was a self-imposed tragedy -- with alcohol as the cause.
     The details of his death and his baseball life are in the Los Angeles Times story below, published four days after the incident. I suggest you read that, as gritty as it is.
     Background info and connections:
     -- This ties into our blog a couple of days ago on The Boys of Summer, the Brooklyn Dodgers' 1950s teams and the book, and its author, Roger Kahn. 
     -- Don Bessent was a right-hander with much talent -- a hard thrower -- for the Dodgers from 1955 through 1958 (so Brooklyn the first three seasons and their first year in Los Angeles in that monumental move). 
     -- He was not mentioned much, if at all, in Kahn's book, focused on the 1952-53 Dodgers teams. Bessent was in the U.S. Army those years. But subsequently he was a teammate of most of the book's (and team's) stars, and Kahn is quoted talking about Bessent in the LA Times story. 
     -- And our connection? We were in Jacksonville, my first year at the Florida Times-Union, when news of Bessent's death broke. 
     It was a newsside story, really, but the sports angle helped enhance the coverage of the story. (Bessent's baseball career led to our department's follow-up efforts.)
     On that Monday, I happened to be in the 3:30 p.m. news meeting in which the contents of the next day's paper were outlined. Did not usually attend those meetings, but likely was there because the sports editor and assistant sports editors had the day off or other tasks.
     Among the stories newsside was covering was the death of a man inside his car parked outside the Wendy's restaurant near the Five Points intersection close to  downtown Jacksonville (and not far from our offices).
     That was on Saturday, but the police report apparently was not available to our reporters until that Monday morning.
     Sounded like a strange, sad story. And when the newsside editor said the man's name was Don Bessent, it got this baseball fan's attention. I remember saying something like: Hey, hold on, let me check on that. 
     I knew that name. Had to think, to try to place it. Had no idea about his Jacksonville background, but I knew it was a significant baseball name.
      Meeting broke up; I went to my desk and to the baseball guides on file and ... boom. Yeah, he pitched for the Dodgers in the 1950s. He is a local guy. It was a "wow" moment. 
       Back over to newsside to tell them: This is a significant sports name here. 
        As I recall, the newsside did its usual thorough job of coverage, and a day or two later, one of our sports columnists wrote a very nice piece on Mr. Bessent.
     He was 59 when he died. He had been out of baseball for 28 years by then. Lord knows the troubles he'd seen.
     He had two significant times of glory: 
     (1) As a rookie in 1955, he was part of the only World Series championship for Brooklyn, and his contribution was an 8-1 record after coming out of the minors to join the team near midseason;
      (2) Pitching in the 1956 World Series against the Yankees -- the team that originally signed him out of Lee High School in 1959 -- he was the winning pitcher in Game 2, working a strong seven innings (six hits, two runs) in relief. He stopped the Yankees for most of the game as the Dodgers, behind 6-0 after 1 1/2 innings, tied it with six runs in the second and rolled to a 13-8 victory.
      But he never blossomed into a major-league star; arm troubles curtailed his effectiveness. Although there are 1959 Dodgers baseball cards of him, he was in the minors that year and three more.
      In his final season, 1962, he pitched in 10 games for the hometown team, Jacksonville, in the International League. And then he was out of the game.
      In searching Google for information for this piece, we found the obituary for his widow, Joan, who died in Jacksonville last July 2 at age 85. 
      (Interesting sidelight on the LA Times story below: It mentions that Bessent was tipping off his pitches and the Yankees used whistling to alert their batters to what pitches he was throwing.).
      He was known in the Dodgers clubhouse as "The Weasel," a quiet guy respected as a loyal teammate. Good to know. It softens what was a difficult ending.         

Death of Bessent Is Special Tragedy : Baseball: Former Dodger pitcher is found in Florida parking lot, a victim of alcohol poisoning.

By ELLIOTT ALMOND, TIMES STAFF WRITER, JULY 11, 1990
    Perhaps Don Bessent was not the best known of the fabled Brooklyn Dodgers. He was a young role player among the Boys of Summer.
   Still, his death Saturday at 59 will be marked by a special sadness because of its tragic elements.
    Bessent, who pitched for the Dodgers from 1955 to 1958, died in the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant in Jacksonville, Fla., while employees watched.
    The Jacksonville Medical Examiner’s office reported that Bessent died of alcohol poisoning, aggravated by cirrhosis of the liver. The report said he had a blood alcohol level of 0.35% when he died, sometime between 4 p.m. and 5:30 p.m.
     Employees of the Wendy’s restaurant where he died said they noticed Bessent was slumped in his car in the parking lot. Police have not determined why he was at the restaurant in the upscale Riverside neighborhood of Jacksonville. Nor do they know where he had been earlier that day.
     Employees said Bessent at first said he was OK when they offered assistance, but later asked for help. They told police that assistant manager Cesar Taracena threatened to fire them if they called for help.
     Two employees, however, approached an off-duty police officer who called paramedics, said Sgt. Steve Weintrab of the Jacksonville sheriff’s office. The paramedics declared Bessent dead when they arrived.
     Mark Starbuck, a regional vice president of Wendy’s franchises in the Jacksonville area, said managers are not trained to handle the kind of emergency Tarcena encountered.
      Starbuck said restaurant officials are cooperating with an investigation by sheriff’s deputies and refused to discuss the situation.
      He said Taracena was fired Tuesday. Taracena refused to comment on the situation.
      Bessent’s death in his hometown ended a life that once was promising.
      Although overshadowed by such Dodger stars as Pee Wee Reese, Jackie Robinson, Roy Campanella and Duke Snider, Bessent made his mark--first as a starter, then as a reliever--in four seasons.
     He was best remembered for his World Series performances, pitching against the New York Yankees in five Series games in 1955 and ’56. He was 1-0 with a 1.35 earned-run average in 13 1/3 innings.
     Bessent, who grew up in Jacksonville, was called up to the Dodgers from their triple-A farm club in St. Paul, Minn., in 1955, at the same time as Roger Craig, now manager of the San Francisco Giants.
     The rookies were called when the team slumped in mid-summer after a 25-4 start. They gave the Dodgers a welcomed lift by pitching complete-game victories in a doubleheader against the Pittsburgh Pirates.
     Bessent went on to finish 1955 with an 8-1 record and a 2.70 ERA. In 1956, he was 4-3 with a 2.50 ERA and had nine saves. He was only 1-3 with a 5.73 ERA in 1957, then was 1-0 with a 3.33 ERA in 1958, the Dodgers’ first season in Los Angeles.
      “Don Bessent won my 27th game for me in 1956,” said Don Newcombe, one of the Dodger starters. “That save always reminded me Bessent was involved in helping me win the Cy Young (Award).”
      Teammates have fond memories of “the Weasel,” as they nicknamed him. Although Bessent was a quiet, well-mannered youngster, the Dodgers respected him.
     “He was quiet in his own way, but he would go to war for you,” Don Drysdale said. “They always talk about Dodger starters, but I’m the first one to say, ‘Hey, let’s talk about our bullpen, too.’ Don was part of those early great bullpens.”
     Newcombe recounted the time the Dodgers were barnstorming in Japan in 1956 when he and Roy Campanella, both blacks, were barred from certain establishments. Bessent and Bob Lewis refused to join their white teammates at such social gatherings, opting to stay with Newcombe and Campanella.
     Newcombe said he particularly respected Bessent for staying behind even though Bessent grew up in the South.
     Roger Kahn, author of “The Boys of Summer,” said Bessent’s quiet manner perhaps kept him from being more famous. But Kahn marveled at Bessent’s fastball, which many catchers did not want to catch because of its velocity.
     “His personality was recessive,” Kahn said. “He was just one of the many promising kids who came out of the Dodger system. One of the curious things was that they produced so many promising pitchers who blazed briefly and then expired. After the first year, we thought he would win 20 games.”
     Instead, Bessent was relegated to the bullpen, from where he could intimidate hitters with the fastball for a couple of innings.
      Drysdale recalled the frustration of having the Yankees read Bessent’s pitches, which encompassed a fastball and a curve. He said every time Bessent was about to throw a curve, they would hear a whistle from the Yankee dugout.
     “We couldn’t figure out why,” Drysdale said. “Later, we learned that every time Bessent threw a curve, he stuck his tongue out.”
      Bessent finished his big league career with a 14-7 record, a 3.33 ERA and 12 saves.
      He teamed with Clem Labine and Ed Roebuck to form one of the league’s best relief staffs.
     Bessent developed arm trouble in 1959 and retired in 1962 after four seasons in the minors.
      He graduated from Jacksonville Lee High School in 1949 and was drafted by the New York Yankees. After pitching for the Yankees’ farm club in Norfolk, Va., he was left unprotected and picked up by the Dodgers in the 1953 draft.
      “One thing that could be said for Don, he always went out strong every time he pitched,” Carl Erskine, a Dodger pitching star from the era, told the Associated Press.

Roger Kahn and "The Boys of Summer"

      Roger Kahn this week passed on the great baseball world beyond our lives. His best-known book will be in my life forever.
      My copy of The Boys of Summer is well-worn, the cover a bit tattered. It was one of about 20 books he wrote, along with thousands of stories/articles.
     The story of the 1952 and '53 Brooklyn Dodgers -- a fabled team -- is not just about baseball, it is about life. It is also the story of Kahn's early life and writing (sportswriting) career, and the love for the Dodgers shared by him and his father.
     And, in April 1972 -- just after it was published -- the book was the subject of my first book-review newspaper column. That's how much I loved that book.
     I began that column by writing about Gil Hodges, the man-mountain first baseman of those Dodgers who had died (heart attack) -- as the manager of the New York Mets just the previous Sunday.
     The Dodgers weren't my team, nor is this even my favorite baseball book. That one is named Dynasty, and you might the team and the era -- 1949 to 1964 -- that covers. 
     Yes, that is the team that kept Kahn's Boys of Summer from winning the World Series. (But not in 1955.)
     Let's clear this up: In 1952 and 1953 -- when I was 5 and 6 -- I was still in the old country, not knowing the second thing about baseball (the first was it was a sport I knew as honkbal.) Did not know about the Yankees or the Dodgers ...
     Roger Kahn, by then, was a young sportswriter covering his hometown team for a hometown newspaper. What a life.
     He was as much a fan as a writer. Not uncommon for us sportswriting types. And after 1972, I was a fan of his, just as I remain a fan of many, many baseball scribes.
     (In fact, folded inside of my Boys of Summer book is a Sports Illustrated article on another great baseball writer -- the best ever, I think -- also named Roger: Roger Angell.) 
     In another life, another setting, maybe I would have been a Dodgers fan. Thanks to Kahn's book, I greatly appreciate those late 1940s/mid-1950s teams that were the Yankees' foremost (and perhaps bitter, but much-respected) rivals.
     You had to love Duke, Campy, big Gil, Skoonj (Carl Furillo), Newk, Oisk, Preacher, Clem, Joe Black, Billy Cox, Shotgun Shuba, Andy Pafko, and mostly, Pee Wee and Jackie. 
     But not Leo the Lip.
     Kahn, after several mostly personal chapters, visited more than a dozen of those old Dodgers stars almost two decades later to tell their stories and update their lives (by then, a couple had passed, so he visited their families and hometowns).
       We can say that, in a way, we -- particularly at the Shreveport Journal in the early 1980s -- borrowed from his book with the "whatever happened to ..." stories. Kahn's format was, well, our role model. And to some extent, that is  what we have done with this blog over the past seven years.  
---
      Here from the February 7 New York Post is part of the Kahn obituary written by Zach Braziller:

Roger Kahn (Associated Press photo)

     Roger Kahn, the accomplished author known best for his tale, “The Boys of Summer,” died Thursday night at the age of 92. His son, Gordon, told the Associated Press that Kahn passed away at a nursing facility in Mamaroneck [N.Y.].
     ... His 1972 best-seller about the Brooklyn Dodgers ... was a hit, 15 years after the club moved to Los Angeles. It alternated between Kahn's time covering the team in the early 1950s for the Herald Tribune and 20 years later.
     "At a point in life when one is through with boyhood, but has not yet discovered how to be a man, it was my fortune to travel with the most marvelously appealing of teams," he wrote. 
     Kahn got his start in 1948 with the [Herald] Tribune, working as a copy boy. He began covering the Dodgers, along with the [New York] Giants and Yankees, in 1952. He became the sports editor at Newsweek by 1956. He also wrote for Esquire, Time and Sports Illustrated.
      ... He was inducted into the National Jewish Sports Hall of Fame in 2006.
---
      When I think of the Dodgers and this book, I think of two friends who were avid Dodgers fans: (1) Billy Don Maples, our longtime buddy from Bossier City (with ties to Bossier High, Louisiana Tech University and then as a coach at Airline High in Bossier) and (2) Pete Alfano, a veteran sports and general writer/columnist at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram  during my time there who had Brooklyn roots and kept a miniature scale model of the famed Ebbets Field ballpark on his desk. They loved their team.
      We lost Billy Don (to cancer) two years ago. Miss him. He followed the Dodgers to the end.
      When I wrote the column on the book -- geez, 48 years ago -- Billy Don was one of the people who liked it most.
      Pete has moved on from newspapers, but at last glance was working -- teaching digital media writing at the University of North Texas in Denton. And likely still rooting for the Bums. He was always happy to remember 1955 when the Dodgers -- finally -- beat the Yankees in the World Series.
      Carl Erskine, at 93 and in his hometown of Anderson, Indiana, is the last living link to the featured individuals in The Boys of Summer, a pitcher whose chapter in the book was one of the most endearing. 
       And now the writer himself, the talented Roger Kahn, is gone. We thank him.
       (Next: A sad story, a Boys of Summer connection)

A link to Dad (and the Holocaust) in 1942

     

    Look at these two photos -- from 1942 -- and know that they are special to us, and that, finally, we have copies.
     These two people are my father, Louis Van Thyn -- listed as Levie Van Thijn here -- and his first wife, Estella Halverstad. The photos came to us from Belgium, sent to us on Sunday through Facebook.
     Dad, pictured here, was 23; Stella was 21.
     Today is International Holocaust Remembrance Day, so the timing is perfect because these are Holocaust-related.
     They are on display and part of the large database from the Kazerne Dossin -- the national Holocaust memorial museum of Belgium. 
     (It is like the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., the World Holocaust Remembrance  Museum -- Yad Vashem -- in Jerusalem, Israel, and the Dutch National Holocaust Museum in our original hometown, Amsterdam.)
     The Belgian museum is located in Mechelen -- a city between Antwerp and Brussels, the two largest cities in Belgium -- and that is significant, and symbolic.
      Mechelen is where, mostly in 1942-43, Jewish and Romani (gypsy) "prisoners" of the Nazis were held and then sent on transport trains to the concentration camps. Read on for the numbers.
     We are grateful to our cousin, Heleen (Kopuit)  Borgenicht, and her husband, Jacky, for making the 17-mile (27-kilometer) trip from their residence in Antwerp to the museum and providing us with the photos for our records and this piece.
     As Heleen noted, the museum has four floors -- each floor with 160 columns and 40 rows of photos -- of the (mostly) Jewish "prisoners." Heleen wrote "the walls were covered with photos." 
     So, without having the specific location, she and Jacky had to search and search to locate my father's wall photo. 
     Which they did, and here is Heleen (right) pointing to Dad's photo, and a closeup look (left) at the then young Louis.
     It is, as you might imagine, emotional for us to see him as he looked when he was about to head to Auschwitz.
      All the people in the photos on the wall went to the concentration camps -- and for the great majority went to their deaths.
       The Kazerne Dossin website says 25,274 Jews and 354 Romani (gypsies) were transported from Mechelen and that two-thirds were killed upon arrival at the camps.
      Only 1,395 of those listed survived. That word "overlevende" stamped on Dad's photo means survivor.
      Stella did not survive (the word "disparu" on her photo and so many others means disappeared, or death).

Dad (fourth row down, middle)

      Note on Dad's database page: his date of birth (6-7-1919; here in the U.S., it would be 7-6-1919); his place of birth (Amsterdam); his geslacht/gender (man), his spouse's name (the last name is incorrectly spelled, a z instead of s); his beroep/occupation; his departure date from Mechelen (24-10-1942); transport (XV); transport number (180); the number (70726) the Nazis tattooed on his left forearm; and, finally,  the category overlevende ... the answer is "ja," YES.
       On another database page are listed his "arrest" date (18 Jul 1942); his arrival date at Auschwitz (26 Oct 1942); his father's name (Natan Van Thijn -- it should be Nathan); his mother's name (Sarah Van Beer -- it should be Van Beem).
      Meticulous as the Nazis were, they did mess up some record-keeping ... as well as millions and millions of lives.
     And they must have been proud, otherwise why not destroy all those records when it was obvious the war was coming to an end and they were not going to rule the world? 
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     In 1942, Dad was living in Antwerp, with hopes of learning the diamond-cutting trade (thus the "diamondslijper" listing for his occupation). Actually, that did not happen.
     He was already a Dutch Army veteran and, after Nazi occupation of The Netherlands, a released POW.  He had moved to Antwerp from Amsterdam at age 16, living with an aunt and uncle, and doing odd jobs before there was a place for him as a diamond-cutting apprentice.
       After the Nazis released Dad and other Dutch soldiers in late 1940, he went back to Antwerp and eventually married Estella, and they were living with her parents when the Germans/Nazis began their full-scale "arrests" of most Jewish people in western Europe.
     Estella's parents' photos, too, certainly are in the Kazerne Dossin museum.
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     Heleen also did a database search for her maiden name -- and found photos and information on two women: Trijntje Kopuit and Rosette Rachel Kopuit.
    And, yes, they are part of her family ... and ours. Both were born in Amsterdam.
    Trijntje was a great niece of my mother's grandfather Maurits. Rosette Rachel was a cousin of the brother-sister who were my grandmother and Heleen's grandfather.
     Trijntje, born in 1881 (age 60 when she was deported), is  listed as an employee' de maison -- domestic servant.
     Rosette Rachel, born in 1880 (63 at deportation), is listed as a professor. Neither survived the Holocaust.
     The name Rosette Rachel is significant to us, a link to family names. Rozette (with a z) was my mother's given name (Rose for short). Rachel is our daughter (named for Mom's mom, so our Rachel's great grandmother).
     Mom, as many know, also was a Holocaust survivor. Having been picked up by the Nazis in Amsterdam, like most of her family and Dad's family, her transit camp was in Holland (Westerbork). From there they went on the infamous cattle-car trains for the trip to Auschwitz.   
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     At Mechelen, the prisoners were held in Belgian Army infantry barracks. A commemorative plaque was first placed there on May 30, 1948, and beginning in 1956, an annual ceremony has been held to commemorate the Holocaust victims who were housed there.
     After the war, the barracks were converted to a school and had other uses before they became dilapidated, and torn down. But several groups pushed for a Holocaust museum to be built, right next to the barracks' area.
     The Mechelen memorial museum first opened November 11, 1995. A few years later there was need for a larger, updated facility, which opened November 26, 2012.
     Officially, it is the Memorial Museum and Documentation Centre on Holocaust and Human Rights.
     Through cousin Heleen, we first heard about the newest museum before it opened, and the Kazerne Dossin -- connecting me to Dad -- sent an invitation to attend the opening. 
     That did not develop, but through correspondence, we learned of the existence of this database and these photos.
     We had no clue of what we might be receiving, no preview, and to be honest, the museum was asking much more of a payment than we were willing to make.
     Heleen also had been unable to attend the museum opening, but promised that some day she would visit the museum and try to find Dad and Estella's photos. 
     She has come through and we have it to tie into today's Remembrance Day.
     It is the 75th anniversary of January 27, 1945, when the Auschwitz camp was liberated by Allied forces. My mother and father -- and my sister Elsa's -- were free (but never free of the memories) and a few months later they would meet in Amsterdam, starting new lives.
     We remember the Holocaust every day. We will never forget.

An LSU football prediction ... for 2043

      Joe Burrow reminds me of Steve Spurrier, and vice versa. And I have a prediction that will be a common bond concerning the Heisman Trophy.

Steve Spurrier (left) was one of the Heisman Trophy winners standing
behind Joe Burrow when the LSU QB accepted his award in December 2019.

     (You will have to read to the bottom of this blog to see the prediction.)
     Maybe even Spurrier -- never bashful -- would laugh at the quarterback comparison. Yes, both are Heisman Trophy winners (Spurrier 1966, Burrow 2019), but in complete different eras of football. Spurrier loved the passing game even in 1964-66 as Florida's starting QB, but in that era, the passing game was so limited.
     He was a good enough passer -- and a leader, and kicker -- to be a first-round NFL Draft pick. Burrow likely will be the first player to be selected in the 2020 NFL Draft. 
      Spurrier is partisan still to the Gators he coached into a national power for 12 years and also to  South Carolina, where he coached for 10 1/2 years. But we have to believe that he loved this LSU passing game and its quarterback (even if he was rooting for Florida on October 12 (Tigers 42, Gators 28).
     This is what I believe is the main common bond for Spurrier and Burrow: Both are total winners. 
     They both have national-championship credentials -- Spurrier in 1996 as The Old Ball Coach, director/designer of Florida's sensational passing game; Burrow in 2019 as the leader of LSU's best-in-history offense.
     Both honest, maybe too much so for some people. Brash -- Spurrier with his words, his biting "fun"; Burrow with his actions -- waving bye-bye to Texas fans, his "show the money" gestures, his pointing-to-the-ring-finger display Monday night.
     Spurrier, in his Florida association, was as much of a nemesis for LSU as Nick Saban has been as Alabama coach.
      Steve Superior, as the Gators' QB, was 3-0 vs. LSU in 1964-65-66. As Florida head coach (1990-2001), he was 11-1 vs. LSU, and most of those games were not close.
     LSU's only victory was in 1997 -- 28-21 -- when Florida was the defending national champion and ranked No. 1 again, and after that upset, LSU running back Kevin Faulk was on the cover of Sports Illustrated.
     But Spurrier this week was on LSU's side.
     He told 247Sports, prior to the national-championship game: "... They [LSU and Clemson] both know how to win. They aren't going to beat themselves. Both teams have excellent quarterbacks. As an SEC guy, I have to sort of pull for LSU.
     "Joe Burrow -- I got to know him a little bit during high school when he came up there. He's a wonderful young man and has a good family. ... It's really going to be an interesting game to watch."
     And it was.
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     Burrow, barring a trade, appears headed to the Cincinnati Bengals as the first pick in the NFL Draft. Good luck to him.
      No guarantee that he will be a great NFL player, a star, anywhere close to the magnitude of his 2019 LSU performance. 
      Look at the list of Heisman Trophy-winning quarterbacks starting in the 1960s, and it is a history lesson. 
      Terry Baker (Oregon State, 1962) was the first; Burrow is the 32nd.
      Baker was the first pick in the '63 NFL Draft, by the Los Angeles Rams, and lasted three years -- basically "a bust" -- before he was off to play in Canada.
       Only two Heisman Trophy QBs in the last six decades (Roger Staubach, Jim Plunkett) led Super Bowl winners, only one (Staubach) is in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, only one other (Cam Newton) has played in the Super Bowl.
      Evaluate the group and you find some starters who had nice seasons, some that faded away, some were busts (hey, Johnny Manziel) and some that never had a chance or even tried. 
      We'll see about the five Heisman QBs before Burrow -- Kyler Murray, Baker Mayfield, Lamar Jackson (this season's NFL MVP, playoff flop last weekend), Marcus Mariota, Jameis Winston. 
       I will make no prediction on Burrow's NFL future -- no "rocket" arm, just a darned accurate one -- except I would not underestimate him. His command of the game, his incentive and leadership will carry him a long way.
      But remember, he's going to the Bengals. They are not the Bayou Bengals.

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     Speaking of predictions, how about this one from our friend Paul Finebaum (Shreveport Journal sports-news writer, 1978-79) and now well-known SEC Network pundit (and, many think, Alabama booster) on Tuesday, November 19:
      "This will be LSU's last week at No. 1."
      Yes, we took note of that.
      Well, Paul was right ... for a couple of weeks and not entirely. LSU did drop behind Ohio State in the College Football Playoff rankings after that week -- after Ohio State beat Penn State -- but never fell from No. 1 in The Associated Press poll. 
     And, after the conference championship games, Paul was wrong. LSU went back to No. 1 in every poll/ranking ... and stayed. So Paul, on this, is wrong forever.
     It's his job -- analysis, predictions, interviews -- and be outspoken, keep viewers interested and  watching, keep them talking with and about him. So let's give him a break. 
     As my wife always reminds me, throw enough predictions out there, and some might even stick. 
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     So, back to Spurrier and Burrow, here is my prediction: 
Someday, as Spurrier did at Florida, Burrow will return to LSU as the head football coach. 
     He has the football genes (his father coached for decades), he has the football smarts, he might even play for 10 years in the NFL (Spurrier did, mostly as a backup QB to John Brodie with the 49ers), and then he can go into coaching.
    Like Spurrier as the folk hero returning to his alma mater, Burrow will return to LSU and Louisiana, where he is now a forever legend. 
      It took Spurrier 24 years (1966 to '90) between Heisman Trophy QB to Gators' head coach, so project Burrow at LSU in 2043. Not many of us will be around to see my prediction come true. ... (Throw enough out there and some will stick.)
       So, in 2043, when someone comes across this blog when Joe Burrow is named LSU head football coach, let our kids and grandkids know we got this one right. Thank you.