A Little Off the Top: Field of Dreams

It was the moment I'd waited for all winter, as I crouched down behind the plate for the first game of the season. I had looked forward to this moment for months — baseball season was finally here.

The pitcher wound up and threw a few in there for strikes. Then he stopped, stepped off the mound, and started tossing the ball back and forth with his shortstop. He was practicing his knuckleball, right in the middle of the game.

"Hey, you can't do that. You should have done that during warm-ups!" I yelled out to him.

But he just ignored me and kept tossing the ball back and forth in the infield, while the batter stepped out of the batter's box and gave me a "What do you intend to do about this?" kind of look.

Finally, the pitcher stepped back on the mound and prepared to deliver another pitch. It was then that I noticed a large piece of plywood had been set up on the other side of the plate, opposite the batter, basically blocking the entire outside portion of the plate and drastically cutting down the strike zone.

It was a batter's dream.

I continued to let the pitcher pitch, and the presence of the piece of plywood didn't seem to bother him. I didn't say anything about it, and the coaches didn't seem to care either.

In between innings, I talked with the spectators, which is kind of a no-no among umpires. The reasoning there is that it subjects you to too much potential for "helpful input," makes one team feel that they might be getting the short end of the stick if you're not talking to their fans, and it also makes you appear human and down-to-earth.

Umpires cannot afford to look like that, under any circumstances. You'll lose control of the situation. You must appear aloof, professional and slightly annoyed at all times — not friendly and approachable. Someone might think you're receptive to their feedback, and start providing some.

Anyway, while I was talking to the fans, I noticed a man walking around with a blue blazer on, that came all the way down past his waist.

It was at this point that I also noticed he wasn't wearing any pants or underwear. Only the blazer.

Ohmygodthatman'sexposinghimselftothekids.Ohmygodsomebodycall911weneedtogethimoutofhere …

I woke up right about the time the guy walked by me. It's normal for me to have these types of dreams during the baseball season, but not in November.

I'd talk about these dreams with my fellow umpires, but I'm worried they'd refer me to Dr. Phil-for-Umpires. They actually have some guys on the Internet who you can submit umpiring-related questions to, and they answer them for you, like Dear Abby.

("Dr. Phil, I have this reoccurring dream that I scream 'Infield fly, the batter's out' when there's only a runner on first. What's wrong with me?")

I interpret these types of dreams as me confronting my fears as an umpire. Despite our best efforts to appear in control and authoritative, umpires live in constant fear of the unknown. You see, I can control about 90 percent of the flow and tempo of the game, but it's the other 10 percent that will send you to an early grave.

And that's the beauty of baseball. You just don't know what's going to happen on any given game, on or off the field.

I've had to separate parents who were about to get into a fight, catch stray dogs running onto the field, I've watched teams come back from 11-run deficits, score a combined 30 runs in four innings (which lasted five hours), you name it.

Last year in Mission, I umpired a game in which the pitcher had five strikeouts in one inning, which I think is the major league record, as well.

(Three of the strikeouts were dropped third strikes. If the catcher drops the ball on the third strike, the batter can run to first base — if it's open — and force the team to throw him out at first. If there's two outs, the batter can run even if he's got a teammate already on first. Unfortunately, they couldn't get the force out at first, and all three dropped third strikes came with two outs. I didn't have any hair left after that game.)

Right about this time of year I break out the tapes to get me through the winter. I have taped games of Kerry Wood's 20-strikeout game, Roger Clemens' (first) 20-strikeout game, Nolan Ryan's sixth and seventh no-hitters, and a few others.

I know, I know, the season just ended in October. I'm sick, I accept the fact that I have a problem, and I'm OK with it.

There are a few times in baseball history when almost nothing goes wrong, and these games represent that. It's a night where the baseball gods touched the pitchers' arms, and they can do no wrong. It's awesome to watch, even when you already know the outcome.

So I sit back and watch, while it snows outside, and I dream of that first game of the season when I walk up to the plate, the sun is shining down on my pale skin, the batter steps into the batter's box, and I point to the pitcher and say, "Let's play!"

And hopefully, everyone in the stands will be fully clothed.

Among Other Things: Schnitz finally has decent grave marker

It took 67 years, but Polson's homestead era photographer Herman Schnitzmeyer finally has a deserving monument on his gravesite in the Missoula City Cemetery.

The monument was dedicated Oct. 29 during the cemetery's "Stories and Stones" historical tour. Denny Kellogg, Bigfork stonemason and avid collector of Schnitzmeyer photographs and information, attended the Oct. 29 event and furnished this photo. Denny had an extensive exhibit of Schnitzmeyer photos at the Polson-Flathead Historical Museum last summer. He also presented a lecture in Polson showing additional photos and telling about the colorful, eccentric but talented photographer.

Denny said, "All material and labor were donated by Bob Jordan from Garden City Monument Services in Missoula. Bob had the stone almost finished ahead of time, but put the final touches on as a public demonstration for the event.

"The mountain scene was engraved from Schnitz's signature photo of the Missions. I set up a display of some of Schnitz's photos and gave a short commentary as folks visited the gravesite. This is now the only monument in the pauper section of the cemetery."

The inscription "Love for motive - Reason for guide - Will for strength" was taken from my book "Schnitzmeyer: Homestead Era Photographic Artist."

The camera was added by Bob Jordan.

The original grave marker was a simple slab of concrete with H Schnitzmeyer stamped in it.

Herman Schnitzmeyer came to the Flathead Valley and homesteaded on Wild Horse Island. After proving up on his homestead, he opened a photo studio in Polson where he did portrait photography for folks lucky enough to find his studio open. His business hours were quite erratic. In the mornings he might be sleeping late or having one of several breakfasts at local cafes. Later he might be hiking along the lakeshore with his camera or having high schooler Bill Gregg driving him in a Model T along bumpy country roads as he searched for vantage points from which to photograph the Mission Range or valley scenes.

Gregg usually chauffeured the photographer to several vantage points. It was part the pragmatic Schnitzmeyer's strategy. If the breakfasts failed to hold his appetite in check, he'd make sure the next stop was near a promising looking farmhouse. Then he'd knock on the door and ask the lady of the house if he could buy dinner for his driver and himself. Gregg said, "Everyone knew Schnitzmeyer and we got a lot of good, home-cooked dinners that way. He was seldom refused."

Sometimes the photographer paid for the meals, sometimes he traded a picture of the house for it, and often he and his driver were simply dinner guests of a gracious homestead couple.

He also was assigned to do scenic photos for the Northern Pacific Railroad throughout the northwest and in Yellowstone and the Grand Teton areas.

In 1922 he sold his studio business to Julius Meiers, who had apprenticed under the master photographer. Four years later, Schnitzmeyer sold his equipment, scenic views and negatives to J.W. Rode of Berkeley, Calif.

He presented a series of talks in Missoula in 1932 and had a 200-photograph display at the University art gallery. His talks included telling of his experiences and lecturing on photography in general.

During the Depression he taught photography under a federal WPA project but refused to make out his WPA time sheet showing his teaching hours. He had someone else make up the time sheets for him. He also took up painting during his Missoula years.

He lived in Missoula in a small apartment in the Penwell Hotel. He died in 1939 in the Thornton Hospital in Missoula and was buried at county expense.

Probably Schnitzmeyer wasn't bothered much about his lack of financial success. A May 28, 1914, prayer, written by him on his Wild Horse Island homestead gives a clue:

"God, give me Love that I may feel the throb of your own heart; God, give me Reason that I may execute the mandate of your Love and Reason. Love, Reason, Will, this Trinity afford to me. If I have these, oh God, I know that I have Thee, the Source of all Creation."

More information about Schnitzmeyer and photos are contained in my booklet, "Schnitzmeyer: Homestead Era Photographic Artist," available in Polson at Page by Page Books, the Miracle of America Museum and the Polson-Flathead Historical Museum. I have some copies at my desk in the Leader office, too.