Category Archives: Baseball Glove and Mitts
Baseball gloves are, perhaps the most personal piece of equipment that a ball player owns. Compared with bats, uniforms and even caps, a baseball player could use multiple sets in a season. Bats are a little bit more uniquely associated to players however they may work their way through countless examples throughout a season due to breakage. In contrast, a player could use the same glove for several seasons or even span an entire career with the same leather due to the very individuality, tailoring and customizing and breaking in that fuels the players’ need to hold onto their gloves and mitts, indefinitely.
There are a few different types of baseball glove collectors. Some may pursue specific eras, brands and even player-endorsed signature models (all retail) just to have examples of such. There are also those who focus on seeking out professional players’ game-used gloves in order to own both a piece of the game and the player’s blood, sweat and tears. For militaria collectors, there is a similar aspect of owning a piece that has an historic connection or association. To be a caretaker of a uniform, boots or even a weapon that was carried by a soldier into a known battle is not only an honor but awe-inspiring. As I noted in An Intercontinental Wartime Veteran – S/SGT “Chick” McRoberts’ Rawlings “Bill Doak” Model Glove, the idea of being not only a steward of a military-used baseball glove but one that was carried with a veteran as he traveled through one combat theater to another.
With a handful of these leather baseball tools in my collection, the pursuit has been focused more on sourcing marked gloves (such as the two armed forces branch-marked GoldSmith Elmer Riddle DW model gloves that are already in my collection), I have stumbled upon an area of the glove hobby that I hadn’t considered until acquiring the USS Savannah glove (see: Navy Wartime Leather: Extracting History From a Vintage Glove) from World War II.
Ironically, glove collectors expend considerable effort to remove indelible ink markings in order to “restore” a vintage glove’s appearance. However, preservation of these individual marks is more preferable as they tie the glove to both their history and the veteran who owned it. Similar to military uniform marks, what a service member inscribes on their gloves is varied. With the Savannah glove, it is difficult to narrow down the inscribed information to a single person. With the 5th Army glove, the opposite is true in that S/Sgt McRoberts was more detailed with his pen on the glove’s wrist strap.
The 2018 auction listing for the vintage catcher’s mitt was rather vague. Absent from the accompanying photos were details that demonstrated the most important aspect of the glove. The title of the listing was almost ambiguous save for the the mention of “military” leaving it up to the bidder to decide to take the risk or to move on. What was shown in the photos was the adjustable wrist strap decay showing the dry-rotten leather and heavily oxidized buckle yet the rest of the mitt’s condition was quite good. The listing’s opening bid was incredibly low prompting me to take a chance due to the low-financial risk, should my bid top all others.
With a sniped bid and my low-expectation (as to the outcome) set, I let the auction ride for the next few days to countdown without a second thought. The notification email that indicated my auction win (at the opening bid price) left me stunned (and a little concerned as I thought, “what did I just buy that no one else even offered up a bid?”). When the mitt arrived in the mail from Georgia, I checked it for any signs of military stamps or markings, completely overlooking the most glaringly obvious indication. “G. W. Benninghoff PhM3/c” was clearly marked in (faded) ink on one of the edges of the back side. Immediately, Considering that the Navy pharmacist’s mate rating had a large number of their ranks assigned to Fleet Marine Forces (FMF), embedded directly with Marine platoons, serving as the assigned combat medical personnel, rendering aid and care in the midst of combat. In addition to the sailor’s name, a closer inspection of the wrist strap showed that it was in far worse condition than was discernible from the photos.
I began my search in earnest hoping that Benninghoff’s name would, as I suspected, be unique enough to locate the veteran’s information among the millions or records. The small number of search results instantly provided the veteran’s full name, dates of birth, death, enlistment and discharge and more. Not only had I found Petty Officer Benninghoff, but also his command assignment (albeit only his last one of World War II).
Gerald Wesley Benninghoff was born and raised in Indiana. By 1930, he was 23 years old, married and providing for his household, working as a grocery store manager. By 1940, Benninghoff was divorced and living in Michigan still managing a grocery store. In response to the newly enacted peacetime selective service, Benninghoff registered in mid-October as he was working in Gary, Indiana for the National Tea Company (which would later be one of the companies that would become The Great Atlantic & Pacific Tea Company that was better known as A & P stores – defunct since 2016). It wasn’t until December 15, 1942 that Gerald Benninghoff enlisted into the U.S. Navy.
Without requesting (and hopefully obtaining) Benninghoff’s service history (through a National Archives Freedom of Information Act submission), locating his service history prior to May, 1945 is a fruitless effort. On May 12, Pharmacist’s Mate First Class Benninghoff reported for duty to the escort carrier, USS Kula Gulf (CVE-108) for duty. The 12th corresponds with the date that the aircraft carrier was commissioned which means that Benninghoff was assigned to a pre-commissioning command as the ship was nearing the end of its construction at Todd Pacific Shipyards in Tacoma, Washington.
Benninghoff served aboard the Kula Gulf for the duration of the war, being transferred off 47 days after VJ-Day (he served just 160 days on the ship), he was discharged by December 17th of that same year. For his 36 months of service, not a single shred of documentation regarding his service or even playing the game while on active duty is available. Though I am satisfied with the research results so far, patience must prevail in hopes that more data is added to online research resources in the coming months.
The availability of authentic military baseball equipment can vary depending upon what one is seeking for their collection. For me, bats and balls have posed the greatest challenge in locating. To date, only one confirmed wartime sphere has been secured. When it comes to glove leather, I have managed to secure two stamped WWII gloves – both of which are GoldSmith Elmer Riddle signature models (one marked, “U.S. Army” and the other, “U.S. Navy”). As a collector of militaria (in addition to baseball-specific military artifacts), locating personally-used and identifiable pieces is far more interesting and lends to greater satisfaction when the results of researching the veteran that is associated with or connected to the piece.
Last year, I located a glove that came close to being personally-associated to an individual service-member (see: Navy Wartime Leather: Extracting History From a Vintage Glove). The glove, ink-stamped with command (the light cruiser, USS Savannah) and several individuals’ names was quite a find for my collection in that it provided a taste of personal connection or at least that of a naval combatant warship. Since acquiring the USS Savannah glove, two more leather pieces have arrived but with each glove, individual attribution was part of what drew me to them.
Perhaps the subject of a series of articles that encompasses the range of gloves that were acquired (by the Bat and Ball or Professional Base Ball fund) for and distributed throughout the armed forces ranks during World War II is fast-becoming a necessity for this site as there is very little information available in any one location. Many glove and military collectors have, in recent years (myself included) in wartime baseball gloves and mitts, seeking out the tools of the trade that were used by service team ball-players and troops on R&R. Aside from the highly sought after stamped gloves (with markings such as “U.S.,” U.S. Army,” “U.S. Navy,” “U.S.M.C.” or “U.S. Special Services”), there are glove makes and models that collectors, in particular, seek out.
In the last few years of researching military-used gloves, I inevitably touched on and subsequently absorbed details regarding the development and progression of baseball gloves and mitts. Through that self-educating process, I opened myself up to the possibilities for my collection and how to be a bit more discerning in what to pursue. Researching an article about Rawlings gloves (see: Besides Their Gloves, Rawlings had Another Significant WWII Veteran) – those that found their way into World War II military service (along with glove designer Harry Latina’s son, Rolle), I have been seeking a Bill Doak model.
A few weeks ago, a glove surfaced at auction that grabbed my attention featured a 1940s-era Bill Doak model glove. While it lacked any official stampings, what was marked onto both sides of the wrist strap motivated me to pursue it.
My heart leaped with excitement as I was immediately reminded of my Fifth Army Headquarters uniform set and how fantastic it would be to display the two together. Considering my upcoming public showing at a local AAA (Pacific Coast League) ballpark, I was even more motivated to pursue this glove.
The condition was almost an afterthought for me as I zeroed my sights in on the possibility of not only having a 5th Army glove but one that is named to a veteran. \AS few days after closing the deal, the glove arrived and I was not disappointed. Opening the box, I was shocked to detect the scent of leather (albeit with an aged overtone) was prevalent, rather than being overpowered by a musty, moldy odor that a few of my other gloves arrived with.
The one photo that I previewed that showed the original owner’s personalized markings wasn’t clear enough to reveal all the details that the veteran marked onto the inside of the wrist strap. The largest part of the inscription showed the soldier’s name and rank, “S/SGT Nick McRoberts” along with an eight digit series of numerals, “36053528.” Since WWII army serial numbers were alpha numeric (formatted as “A-100123”), the digits are lacking any context to correlate to something that could be researched. However, the name is unique enough that a simple search for him produced a few results.
Nicholas C. McRoberts, born on December 24, 1915 in Curran, Illinois (in the central part of the state) and was living in Springfield, working in the Department of Public Health in 1940. One month (to the day) after the peacetime Selective Training and Service Act of 1940 was signed on September 16th, McRoberts registered. It wasn’t until November 14, 1941 that McRoberts entered the U.S. Army.
As he noted on the wrist strap of the Rawlings glove, McRoberts found himself with the U.S. Fifth Army in (French Morocco) providing defensive stabilization for the area following the Allies success with Operation Torch that unseated the Pro-Nazi forces of both Vichy France and their local Algerian and Moroccan supporting forces. Despite my best efforts to uncover any further information surrounding McRoberts’ service in North Africa. As the Fifth Army prepared for the invasion of mainland Italy, it is possible that McRoberts saw playing time with a team in one of former major leaguer, Master Sergeant Zeke Bonura‘s North African baseball leagues. According to Gary Bedingfield’s Baseball’s Greatest Sacrifice, Bonura established “baseball leagues as well as softball leagues for male and female service personnel. By the end of the summer, Bonura had set-up 20 baseball diamonds with salvaged materials and supervised 150 teams in six leagues, involving nearly 1,000 players. The culmination of the season was the World Series of North Africa between the Casablanca Yankees and the Algiers Streetwalkers. The Yankees were crowned North African champions.”
On September 9, 1943, the landings on the beaches near Salerno commenced and McRoberts’ Fifth Army comprised much of the main American force. According to what is inscribed on S/SGT McRobert’s glove, he was a part of the operations. Whether or not he found opportunity to place baseball that fall is undetermined with the intense resistance that the German’s committed against the Allied forces.
Where the glove’s story takes a twist is with what is inscribed on the extreme inside end and at the bottom middle area of the strap. Immediately below the “S/SGT” marking appears to be written, “Leonard” (the characters that follow to the right are indecipherable) with “1944.” Over towards the middle of the strap is inscribed “956 Eng.” which does not correlate to anything within the Fifth Army order of battle history. The only unit with this designation that I have located is the “956th Engineer Topographic Company” which is most-likely U.S. Army Air Forces unit (more research forthcoming). Did the glove change hands? Did McRoberts get reassigned to a the Army Air Forces branch following the Italian invasion? These questions will probably remain unanswered.
Nicholas C. “Chick” McRoberts made it home from the War and lived a full life. Absent access to an old obituary, no determination can be made as to whether he played baseball following World War II. He passed away on May 5, 2003 at the age of 88 years. He is buried at Camp Butler National Cemetery near his life-long home in Springfield, Illinois.
I am left to ponder the idea that Staff Sergeant McRoberts possibly carried this glove from the United States to the African Continent, on to Italy and then back home leaving it soiled with Algerian and Italian dirt to co-mingle with the soil of Central Illinois.
If you are fortunate enough to be treated to a behind the scenes tour of a museum to see their archives of artifacts that are not on display, you would be hard-pressed to avoid touching an object with unprotected hands. I have had the honor of such tours in a few local area museums and was able to handle some artifacts. Perhaps one of the reasons that I enjoy collecting is that the onus is upon me to care for and preserve the pieces which allows me the tactile interaction with history.
Collecting and researching baseball militaria-related artifacts for the last decade has been quite a slow process in terms of locating and acquiring verifiable pieces. It has been the mission my mission to share this collection of artifacts with the public through Chevrons and Diamonds, publications and with public displays. Allowing fans of the game to have a glimpse of pieces that were worn or used by service members (possibly professional ball players) during a time of national crisis while sharing the story of how this nation pulled together against a common enemy (even through the game) is fulfilling and solidifies many of the reasons for this pursuit.
One area of collecting baseball militaria that affords the need and ability to handle the artifacts lies within the equipment from the game. In this collection are a smattering of pieces (besides jerseys and uniform items) such as bats, balls and even spikes. One area that has been particularly slow in development for this collection has been surrounding the most common element – gloves. With millions of gloves and mitts being provided to troops both within the combat theaters and domestically, it would stand to reason that there would be an overwhelming supply of surviving artifacts that permeate the baseball memorabilia market. However, scouring online venues and antique stores reveals a contradicting story…or does it?
How can one determine if a glove was issued to and used by service members during wartime service? Aside from the small percentage of equipment that was marked with proper military branch designations (U.S. Army, U.S. Navy, U.S.M.C., U. S. Special Services, U.S.A.) or possess rock-solid provenance from the original owner, there is no real way to accurately associate a piece. Collectors must perform due diligence in researching the markings applied to gloves prior to accepting a piece as an authentic wartime piece. Research the manufacturer’s markings, the model number and the logos to determine when the glove was made. Does the patent number (often stamped into some makers’ gloves) correspond with the other information? There are many resources available for researching nearly every aspect of a glove.
Several months ago, I came across a rather unique glove, purportedly tied to wartime service. The information associated with the item noted that it was from the USS Savannah and that it dated from World War II. The accompanying photographs shows that the glove was stamped with the ship’s name (ink markings) and had what appeared to be signatures in several places. The glove design, hand-shaped, single-tunnel and split fingers, dates it to the late 1930s through into the early 1950s. In the absence of a glove model database (I have yet to find one), I have not been able to verify the model number (322-14) for this Wilson-made glove.The ink stamps and markings are the only remaining elements that I can use to make verifying attempts.
Reaching out to the BaseballGloveCollector.com, I sent photos of this glove in a last ditch effort to determine the age. I was little surprised to learn that Spalding model numbering, configuration (###-##) that is present on my glove, concluded after the 1938 model year, having been in use for most of the 1930s. The expert that reviewed my inquiry determined that the USS Savannah-marked glove dates from 1938, corresponding with the year in which the ship was commissioned.
Nearly every aspect of the glove is in fantastic condition with only some degradation of the lacing that holds the tunnel in place between the thumb and the index finger. The leather is very soft and supple and lacks cracking or the commonly present musty odors that exist with my other 60-75 year-old gloves.
The glove is stamped (using rubber ink-stamp) in a few places with the ship’s name. Due to era of the glove, the only possible vessel that aligns is the light cruiser (CL-42) that was commissioned in 1938 and served through World War II, decommissioning in 1947. Six navy warships have born the Georgia city’s name with the immediately preceding vessel, a submarine tender (AS-8) that was decommissioned in 1933 and the fleet refueling oiler (AOR-4) that was commissioned in 1970 narrowing the possibilities down to the Brooklyn-class cruiser.
The USS Savannah’s war record in the Atlantic commenced with neutrality patrols in 1941, prior to the United States’ entry into WWII. She saw action in support of the invasions of North Africa, Sicily and Salerno. She was struck by a radio-guided German bomb, killing 35 men. In all. Savannah lost 197 of her crew from German counter attacks as she provided gunfire support of the allied forces landing at Salerno. requiring extensive repairs lasting from December 1943 through July of 1944 when she returned to operations in the North Atlantic.
Turning to the inscriptions on the glove, I searched through U.S. Navy muster sheets for the USS Savannah for the names that were legible. Despite the derivations of the inscribed names and the subsequent searches, I was unsuccessful in cross-referencing anyone to the USS Savannah. As disappointing as these results are, the lack of positive results doesn’t necessarily equate to disproving the glove as an artifact from the cruiser. Over the 45 months of WWII, there would have been a few thousand men who served aboard the ship and not all of the muster sheets are available in the online and searchable resources…yet.
I am deferring the dating of the glove to experts in the field of vintage glove collecting. As I await a verdict from an authority, I am very certain that the piece was part of the morale, welfare and recreational equipment that was used by USS Savannah (CL-42) crew members in the 1940s. True to many shipboard items (that tended to “grow legs” and disappear – sailors will be sailors, after all), the glove was marked in several locations with the ship’s name as a feeble theft deterrent. In my best judgment, this glove is authentic and is a great addition to the collection.
A slight restoration such as restringing the tunnel may be in order for this beautiful wartime piece and ensuring that it remains free from moisture and extreme environmental fluctuations will help to keep this glove in great condition for years to come.
Last week I mentioned (see: My First Baseball Militaria At-bat; I Lead-off with the Marine Corps) that I was preparing for a public showing of my collection of baseball militaria at a local minor league ballpark. As a brief follow-up (ahead of an upcoming article about that experience) I should say that the experience and reception was incredible and a great success! Since I am on the subject of reviewing my recent open ended articles that may have left some readers wondering, I did have a great experience with my first restoration of a vintage baseball bat (read: Nothing To Write? I Think I’ll Just Restore a Vintage Bat, Instead).
In recent years, I connected with a few groups of fellow baseball memorabilia collectors with the idea that I wanted to learn from and share my own information among a gathering of others who have a wealth of knowledge. Sharing with and drawing from others who have been collecting for decades longer and in areas that I hadn’t previously committed much energy has served me well and opened my eyes to the extent of passion that others possess. In terms of collecting bats, I only had a smattering of pieces of lumber that I either acquired in anticipation of obtaining a player’s signature or that I landed while working at the aforementioned minor league ballpark, decades ago. Though my scant collection included some game-used wood from players who never went far with their professional careers, it was fun to have their bats (which were signed at one point since I obtained them). The other sticks in my collection were vintage store-model (they look very similar to what professional players receive from manufacturers but are sold in sporting goods stores for amateur use or autographs) bats.
Last year, I obtained an early 1950s store model, Ferris Fain signature bat that had seen a lot of use and abuse. In addition to the heavy wear, accumulation of dirty grime and house paint spills, the bat had extremely faint manufacturer’s stamps and the player’s signature mark was nearly impossible to see. Professional model bats (for game use) have deep and distinct, burned-in markings that are quite difficult to obscure with use and time but the same is untrue for these lightly-marked store-purchased pieces of lumber. Rather than the burned-brands, thes Louisville Sluggers have foil-stamped (the stamps are subtle) marks that get worn or rubbed off with use. By no means am I a vintage bat expert but I have some excellent resources to draw from. In terms of Hillerich and Bradsby (maker of the most famous brand, Louisville Slugger), this reference is very detailed in providing information to discern age and models of ‘Slugger bats.
Store model bats, though sought after by collectors, are quite affordable and can be great display pieces when shown with other items (jerseys, caps, gloves, autographed photos, cards, etc.) when costly game-used bats are unavailable or unobtainable. Player-signature store model bats were made bearing the autographs of the more prevalent stars of the game. Some signature models were continued far beyond the career years of players that transcended the game. However, with some of the more mercurial stars like Fain whose career burned brightly and faded quickly due to his all-out style of play and propensity for injuries (and fighting), signature bats are considerably more scarce. Scarcity doesn’t necessarily drive demand or values upward as they do for well-knowns such as Mantle or Williams (with store-model bat production in orders of magnitude far above Fain models) however, for collectors like me, landing one of his bats in any condition is a bit of a boon. In terms of baseball militaria, a Fain signature (store model) bat would not be a part of any collection as he wouldn’t have had such a bat made for him until he was established in the major leagues in the years following his wartime service in the Army Air Force.
When I brought this bat home and shared it among my fellow collectors, the reception for such a beat-up old stick was mixed with one collector (whom I greatly respect) offering the suggestion of unloading it in favor of one in better condition. The recommendation was that my bat wasn’t worth any restorative effort. Taking this input with a grain of salt, the collector also gave me guidance on how I should proceed and the careful steps that I should take along with the products that I should use in order to protect the patina and signs of use while cleaning it up.
Removing the grime
This bat was quite darkened by usage and years of handling and storage (no doubt in someone’s garage among the paints and garden tools). The surface was heavily oxidized to a dirty gray hue and had a variety of stains and markings from various objects that made contact with the bat. Soaking a small area of a paper towel with Goo Gone, I began to gently massage the handle of the bat exercising a bit of caution and hesitancy as the dirt began to slightly dissipate on the wood’s surface. Moving around the handle and downward (towards the barrel), I continued to wet the paper towel and lift away the dirt a little bit at a time. After nearly an hour, I completed the entire surface and noted that very little was removed despite the appearance of the nearly blackened paper towels that I had been using. After a few more hours of working the bat and noting only slight improvements (while absolutely none of the paint was removed), I decided that something more aggressive than paper was required to cut through the years of soiling.
Needing something with a bit more abrasive power, I grabbed a section of 0000 steel wool, wetted it with the Goo Gone and repeated the cleaning cycle. The steel wool began to peel away the layers of dirt with relative ease leaving a warm, aged color to the wood while retaining the usage markings and indentations in tact. The paint required a bit more attention but was no match for the fine grit of the steel pad.
Restoring the Foil Stamps
Fortunately with store-model Louisville Slugger bats, the brand and signature markings can be distinguishable even if the black foil (which resembles the burned-in brand has faded or been worn off. Since none of the black foil remained on my bat, I decided to replace it with something indelible and that would hold up to the final step in the restoration process (reconditioning the wood surface with oil). Any novice restorer might be convinced that locating an extra fine tipped pen (to re-trace the near-needle-thin lines) would be well-suited for such a task. However, ink would be problematic when met with linseed oil. If one were to forego the oil-reconditioning, the ink would be subject to oxidation and fading with time. What my fellow collector recommended was to use a pen that, instead of paint as its medium, acrylic black paint would be used to fill in the stamps and markings. The challenge that I faced in seeking a paint pen marker was to locate one with an extra-fine head and unfortunately, the best option was a 1.5mm tip. I used the Molotow ONE4ALL Acrylic Paint Marker, 1.5mm and a boatload of patience.
At my age, free-hand tracing of fine lines required the use of ample light and magnification to be able to see the original markings. Using a jeweler’s magnifying lamp afforded me with the best opportunity to carefully guide the pen through each stamped indentation. For those who are not familiar with the mechanics of paint pens, they can be quite a challenge as they require depressing of the tip (in order to draw the paint downward) which can be a bit messy and cause more paint to flow onto the bat’s surface than intended. I recommend using a newspaper to press the tip of the pen to the desired paint-saturation. I spent a few hours, stopping to rest my eyes and hand at intervals and to allow the paint to dry and avoid transferring it to my hand and to other areas of the bat.
Once the painting was done on both the brand and the signature stampings, I didn’t like the crispness of the paint. I also had a few spots where I was unable to keep the pen tip within the lines. I followed the painting with careful and deliberate application of dry steel wool removing the over-painted areas and the shiny paint surface to match the used and aged condition of the bat.
All that remains with the restoration of the Ferris Fain bat is to carefully apply linseed oil to properly treat the surface of the wood. Looking through my wood finishing supplies I see that I am lacking in linseed oil which will leave this Fain bat unfinished at present.
When I began my research for my lone World War II vintage U.S. Navy service glove, I inadvertently discovered an obituary for a man who passed away in 2002. In quickly reading the article, I noticed that he had a moniker, “the Glove Doctor” and I was interested in learning more about him as he was also mentioned as the glove designer for the Rawlings Sporting Goods Company, a role (along with the moniker) he inherited from his father, Harry Latina. In my article about Elmer Riddle and his signature glove, I focused on the aspect that though the pitcher never served in the armed forces, gloves bearing his name saw service across the globe throughout both theaters of combat operations.
To most non-ballplayers and non-collectors, a baseball glove is nothing more than a functional tool constructed of animal skin that is intended to assist the baseball player in receiving the (seemingly) rock-hard baseball from its flight having been batted or thrown. The soft leather and padding provide the fielder with more surface area for sure-handed catches and insulation to reduce pain from the impact of the fast-moving orb into their hand. It is purely a fundamentally functional object. However, to the ball player and collector, the glove has vastly more significance.
In the book, For the Love of Baseball: A Celebration of the Game That Connects Us All, Stefan Fatsis wrote in his essay, My Glove: A Biography,“ that he had wanted to “write about my glove for years. Not only is it the single most personal object that I own – the one thing that I would be devastated to lose – it is my last, best connection to the baseball that defined my life as a kid. Not just playing the game incessantly, but being a crazy fan of it, too. My glove is a reminder that the innocence and thrill that made baseball so great and so important still exist in this thirty-year-old hunk of leather.” The glove is the long-lasting personal interface between the individual and the game. One might argue that the same could be said of other equipment; bats, uniforms, spikes or even the ball itself; all of these items are either subject to wear or obsolescence during a season or even within a single game. A ballplayer’s glove will last for an entire career. In holding my own glove (that I have used since I was an adolescent) or my WWII vintage Elmer Riddle, I never once thought of the person who invested his time and expertise into the design or the significance of the imprinted patent numbers that can be found on many of them.
With minimal research effort, one can easily see how Harry B. Latina had an incredible impact on the game beginning with his work immediately following World War I. According to The Fascinating History Of The Baseball Glove, “Rawlings came to the forefront of glove manufacturing in 1919, when St. Louis (Cardinals) pitcher Bill Doak went to the company with the idea of putting a web between the thumb and index finger. Known as the Bill Doak glove, it transformed the way a baseball glove was viewed: no longer as a means of protection, but as a tool.” The primary person at Rawlings who worked with Doak was Harry “The Glove Doctor” Latina who would be on the forefront of countless innovations and patents that would vault Rawlings to the forefront of glove manufacturers over the course of the Twentieth Century.
Aside from the many advancements in baseball glove design, perhaps Harry’s greatest contribution to baseball originated within his family. Harry and his wife, Florence had three children: Harry B. Jr., Roland and Carol Lee “Mimi.” In the 1940 federal census, Harry Jr is listed as an assemblyman with an electric motor manufacturer, heading in a different direction from his father as did Carol Lee. Roland, however took an interest in his father’s profession joining him at Rawlings a few years following the end of World War II (in 1947).
“What does all of this have to do with the military?” you might ask. I could stretch out the idea that Rollie worked with ballplayers returning to the major leagues from the war (he did) but that isn’t it. I could refer to Rollie’s father’s innovations appearing on the makeshift ballfields in the war theaters, but that isn’t it, either. No, Harry’s middle child contributed to the war effort of his own accord, enlisting to serve in the United States Navy soon after graduating from high school in East St. Louis, IL in 1942. In researching Rollie’s service, the Gunners’ Mate spent his time serving in the Pacific theater aboard a few ships as well as an amphibious landing group aboard a Landing Craft Tank (LCT).
Latina’s earlier ships, the Anthedon and Clytie were both part of the Navy’s auxiliary Forces – submarine tenders (essentially, sea-going submarine repair, refit and refueling facilities) before he made his way to the front lines. Serving aboard landing craft – vessels that deliver U.S. Marines and SeaBees to enemy-held beaches while under fire could be considerably hazardous duty during the island-hopping allied offensive in the Pacific Theater. With further research, one might be able to determine more specifically the battles and engagements his units may have participated in. Prior to his LCT service, GM3/c Latina detached from the Clytie and was assigned to serve under the Commander Seventh Amphibious Force, Rear Admiral Daniel Barbey for a few months before reporting aboard USS LST 881.
During the next two years following Latina’s service during the war, he joined his father at Rawlings working alongside Harry as he learned the art of glove-making while listening to professional ballplayers to continue the advancement of designs. When Harry Latina retired, Rollie took over the role and soon became known by the same “glove doctor” moniker that was with his father for more than 40 years. Rollie would retire from Rawlings in 1986 having developed many of his own patented designs:
A Sampling of Rollie “The Glove Doctor” Latina’s Patents:
- Wrist strap construction for a baseball glove
- Ball glove having a concave backstop
- Baseball glove construction
As a collector of baseball militaria, I am constantly researching and educating myself about the men and the equipment, ephemera, documents and uniforms they used in and surrounding the game in association with military service. The more that I educate myself I discover that there is considerably more to learn and this mindset holds true with WWII gloves and their makers. Part of my education process is to capture and document as much information regarding gloves that were used by service members, focused primarily upon the WWII time-frame. I am hopeful that the result of this effort would be some form of a visual database that collectors can refer to when they acquire a military glove.
- Sports Illustrated: Glove Story
- Baseball’s Glove Man – Bob Clevenhagen
- For the Love of Baseball: A Celebration of the Game that Connects Us All
- Good Glove photos are tough to find – Harry/Rollie Latina Photos
- Rawlings’ Patents
- Rawlings Sporting Goods Co., Inc. History
- Rawlings’ ‘Glove Doctor’ dies
- Roland Latina’s Findagrave Memorial