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BASEBALL BAT
DATING GUIDE |
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De Wolf Hopper "Casey At The Bat" 78 RPM Record (With Lyrics) |
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De Wolf Hopper "Casey
At The Bat" 78 RPM
Record |
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Item Details |
-
CIRCA
- 1906
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RECOORD LABEL
- Victor
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CATALOG
NUMBER -
-31559 (single
sided)
-35290-A (1909
release)
-35783-A
(1926 release)
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SIZE
-
12"
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SPEED
- 78 RPM
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PRICE GUIDE
- $30.00-$60.00
Excellent - Near
Mint condition
Information
Provided by:
Keymancollectibles.com
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"Casey at the Bat" is a poem written
in 1888 by Ernest Thayer. A dramatic
narrative about a baseball game. The
poem became popular on the vaudeville
circuit, and has become one of the
best-known poems in American
literature. In 1888, De Wolf Hopper, a
life-long baseball fanatic, performed
the poem for the first time in front of
an opera house audience with the New
York Giants and the visiting Chicago
White Stockings in attendance. It was
an immediate hit.
After 10,000+ performances of the piece, the Victor Talking Machine Co.,
recorded Hopper's rendition. Two
versions of the "Humorous Rendition" of
the poem was released in 1906 and 1907.
One of the 12," 78 RPM, single sided
records, catalog no. 31559, featured
"$1. in U.S.A" printed to the left of
the spindle hole, the other reads
"Price $1.00 In U.S.A." wrapped around
the spindle hole. A two sided record
was released in 1909, 35290-A "Casey At
The Bat" and 35290-B "The Man Who
Fanned Casey." A different rendition by
Hopper, recorded in 1922, was released
in 1926 (35783-A).
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De Wolf Hopper "Casey
At The Bat" |
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| Single Side Record
(blank side) |
35290-A 1909
Release |
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"Casey At The Bat" Lyrics
Written by Ernest Lawrence Thayer - Preformed By – De
Wolf Hopper
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The outlook wasn't brilliant
for the Mudville nine that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more
to play,
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the
same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to the hope which springs eternal in the human
breast;
They thought, "If only Casey could but get a whack at
that—
We'd put up even money now, with Casey at the bat."
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a
cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to
the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the
ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had
occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging
third.
Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a
lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his
place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile lit
Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed
his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the
bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands
with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on
his shirt;
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into
his hip,
Defiance flashed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's
lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling
through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur
there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped—
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one!" the
umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a
muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and
distant shore;
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the
stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey
raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage
shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun
sphere flew;
But Casey still ignored it and the umpire said, "Strike
two!"
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo
answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was
awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his
muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by
again.
The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are
clenched in hate,
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate;
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it
go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's
blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are
light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children
shout,
But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck
out.
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KEYMAN COLLECTIBLES
RELATED RESOURCES |
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