Lou Gehrig
On the night of June 2, 1941, a 19-game hitting streak meant nothing to Joe DiMaggio.
Closing in on first place, the New York Yankees could not care less.
Now in Detroit, at the Book-Cadillac Hotel, something was very wrong.
Kostya Kennedy’s book 56: Joe DiMaggio and the Last Magic Number in Sports describes the scene:
“DiMaggio stood silently in the splendid lobby of the Book-Cadillac Hotel. He shifted his weight and then smoothed his tie. It was 10:30 at night. The glinting marble walls and the gilded lattice work of the hotel seemed out of place, unreal.
“There was a tremulous hush all through the big lobby. (Lefty) Gomez stared somberly, seeing nothing. (George) Selkirk tore a piece of paper once, then again and kept tearing it until the paper was in tiny strips.
“McCarthy sat on one of the pinkish upholstered couches, alone and away from everyone else.”
Dickey had been out for a snack. When he returned, he sensed something was wrong. Before any of his teammates approached him, a bellman delivered the news: “Lou Gehrig is dead.”
This was not unexpected. The Iron Horse had been stricken several years before by a disease—amyotrophic lateral sclerosis—that would later carry his name.
But his death nonetheless ravaged the Yankees. Especially skipper McCarthy, Gehrig’s old roomie Dickey and Joe, to whom Gehrig had been so helpful in the three years they played together.
In the ’50s, DiMaggio told Life magazine he had never seen a better ballplayer than Gehrig. Plus, the way Larrupin’ Lou made Joe feel at home from the first day he entered the locker room in 1936 was something DiMaggio would always remember.
One by one, Yankee players stopped by the desk lobby, sending telegrams of condolence to Gehrig’s widow, Eleanor.
McCarthy and Dickey chatted for a moment, deciding both would take a couple of days off from the team to be in New York for services.
The rest of the guys tried to pull themselves together. There was a game the next day.
On June 3, New York lost 4-2 to the Tigers in a drizzle. DiMaggio homered in four trips. “The Streak” was at 20 straight games. Baseball fans around the country cared little about either. Lou Gehrig was to be mourned.
Later that season (on July 6), a monument was dedicated to Gehrig in center field at Yankee Stadium. It would be a huge day for DiMaggio at the plate, his now-humble streak intact almost a month later.
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