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Regardless of what Richard Ben Cramer thinks, he has thrown another curve into the
realm of hero-worship. Perhaps we have Jim Bouton, Yankee alumnus and author of the
classic BALL FOUR, to thank for this; perhaps someone else would have come along to show
us that the emperor Joe DiMaggio's clothes were less than pristine. But JOE DIMAGGIO: The
Hero's Life, this long-anticipated biography of the Yankee Clipper, could not, would not
have been written 30 years ago. And even now, in this "enlightened" era, many
readers might find this book a cruel intrusion into that place set aside for their
cherished beliefs.
DiMaggio's talents on the field are never an issue. His career statistics include a
batting average of .325, 361 home runs (against 369 strikeouts) and 1,537 RBIs. Joltin'
Joe was the bridge between the days of Lou Gehrig and Mickey Mantle. He led the Yankees to
championship after championship, appearing on 10 pennant winners during his 13 years. His
hitting streak of 56 games is one of the records least likely to be broken. During his
reign as baseball's best, he exuded a pastiche of class and elegance. Life magazine, in
what they must have considered forward thinking at the time, featured him in an article
proclaiming that he didn't smell of garlic or talk with an accent --- a true American!
Why did DiMaggio inhabit such a place as a legend in American history? "His very
blandness, his lack of words...allowed us to put upon him what we needed at any one
moment. As war was looming, he was the poster boy for victory. Joe was the one guy we
could always look to."
When his playing days were over he remained on our minds: The husband of Marilyn Monroe,
perhaps the most glamorous movie star of all time; spokesman, in his golden years, for a
coffee machine and a savings bank; voted the Greatest Living Ballplayer in 1969, during
baseball's centennial celebration. No matter where he went, he was The Yankee Clipper,
instantly recognizable, adored and honored. And when this country lost its way for a time
during the late '60s, the question was asked "Where have you gone, Joe
DiMaggio?" Where had our heroes disappeared to? Who could we look up to anymore?
Before television and sports-radio stations and million dollar contracts for .250 players
were in vogue, before newspapers felt obligated to turn the sports pages into police
blotters, athletes, for the most part, were role models. None more so than Joe. Everything
about him was perfect, from his feats on the field to the clothes he wore to the women he
squired. Much of his persona, especially in the early stages of his career, Cramer claims,
came at the hands of the sportswriters who followed his every move.
In time, DiMaggio came to understand that regardless of how well he did, the team (and by
extension the writers, who were quasi-employees of the club) called the shots. When he
held out for more dough and returned to the team after spring training, rusty and battling
injuries, the fans actually booed him, the writers were no longer complimentary. They
"taught him a lesson, or confirmed a lesson he was already prepared to believe: They
were fans, they were friends...as long as he was a winner. But that could be over in a
day."
After Joe's second stunning season, Connie Mack, who managed the Philadelphia Athletics
for half a century, suggested he could be the greatest ever. "At twenty-two, with a
baseball lifetime ahead of him, Joe was money in the bank. So where was his?" Joe
realized he would never get the money he felt he deserved. "If he was going to get
the dough...he would have to take care of business himself, inside of baseball --- or
outside. Outside, no one would have to know a thing."
Obsession is a most accurate description of DiMaggio, whether relating to baseball or his
two ill-fated marriages or his feelings about money. Like Roy Hobbs, the protagonist in
Bernard Malamud's THE NATURAL, DiMaggio desperately wanted to be known as the best who
ever played the game. In the twilight of his career, Joe was asked why he still played so
hard. His answer? "I always think, there might be someone out there in the stands
who's never seen me play."
While Cramer's depiction of DiMaggio on the field is the very essence of the term
superstar, it is Joltin' Joe's life away from the stadium that makes us shake our heads.
The author goes under the surface, perhaps even getting under the reader's skin, as he
reports DiMaggio's dark side. The transformation of DiMaggio, from a shy, awkward teen to
a womanizing, misanthropic, selfish hermit is painful to behold. Yet Cramer's ease with
the telling makes it like an accident from which you can't avert your eyes.
Off the field, DiMaggio is portrayed as a poor husband, a lacking father, a faithless
friend, ready to toss off an old pal for the slightest faux pas, regardless of "years
of service;" there was little forgiveness in the man. Cramer's tales of visits to
brothels make one wonder if this was de rigeur behavior for males of the day in general,
and athletes in particular.
When it actually came to stepping up to the bat when his country needed him, to go off to
war, DiMaggio was anything but a leader. For whatever reason --- fear of death or injury
or fear of lost wages --- DiMaggio simply did not want to join up, as many of his
contemporary stars did (Bob Feller and Hank Greenberg, just to name two). It would seem
the only reason he finally did enlist (in 1943, after Joe's local draft board had closed
off enlistments) was to placate his wife, with the hopes of boosting their failed
marriage. "Dorothy (Arnold, his first wife) wanted him in the Army --- she'd made
that clear enough; otherwise it would be divorce... Still, if he gave himself over to the
Army, then nothing would be in his control. Who could tell how long this war would go on?
Or what they'd do with him? He could get hurt, and that would be the end of baseball for
him. He could lose everything."
His courtship, marriage, divorce, and reconciliation with Marilyn Monroe is another part
of the DiMaggio legend. An old-fashioned man at heart, he didn't want his wife to work,
especially not if it meant that she would be the object of millions of male fantasies. And
Marilyn, goodness knows, had her own problems. They had "one big thing in common. In
fact, they may have been the only two people in the country, at that moment, who could
understand each other." They loved each other but couldn't live with each other.
Their marriage lasted less than a year, but he was still a major part of her life, a
source of strength and comfort. That her death came just before they were to be remarried
just adds to the sadness of their saga.
There is a 27-year gap between Marilyn's death and the "Earthquake Series"
between Oakland and San Francisco, where the tale resumes. "When Marilyn Monroe
died," said Cramer, "he was already sealed away from us." Her death
confirmed Joe's suspicions and revulsion with what the hero's life meant. This was the
emotional peak of the book, and Cramer felt he didn't want to put the readers through a
quarter century (and a few hundred more pages) of Joe's quiet life.
For all these less-than-sterling qualities, Cramer still claims this is a positive book.
He doesn't understand why excerpts and reviews dwell on the "salacious" items.
To hear him talk, all of these foibles could and should be forgiven because DiMaggio was
the hero we all wanted him to be. For such men, concessions are made.
Cramer has done a marvelous, exhaustive job of research, spending five years on his tome.
But whether this research is worthy of a man who won a Pulitzer in 1979 for international
reporting and the author of the acclaimed WHAT IT TAKES: The Way to the White House or is
more suited to the editors of supermarket tabloids is another question. In either case JOE
DIMAGGIO: The Hero's Life has that proverbial "something for everyone."
--- Reviewed by Ron Kaplan
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