Exactly 98 years ago today my grandparents were married in the living room of her parents' home just off the square in Marietta, Georgia. It was an unlikely match, perhaps, to some. "Billie" was a petite, vivacious 23 year old girl, one of 12 children born to R.E. Butler and Beulah Phillips Butler. Bob Hasty was the son of a prominent Cherokee County farmer, William Hasty. Between them, they had 19 living siblings. Bob called Billie his "Doll" and delighted in her small stature. She could walk under his outstretched arm. He was 6'4. She was 4'11.
The wedding was not originally planned for April 3, 1923. It was put together at the last minute because the Philadelphia Athletics and were playing an exhibition game against the Atlanta Crackers in Atlanta, and Bob decided to move the date up, since he was in town. Billie had been sick with flu but she felt well enough to go through with the wedding, and afterwards they had a 3 days honeymoon on the train, paid for by Connie Mack. Afterwards, Bob rejoined the team on its road trip, and Billie learned to be a baseball wife.
The bride wore a brown dress. It was her best dress. She wore a hat secured by elaborately decorated hatpins, and I still have those, 98 years later.
The "Billie" I knew from my childhood was a very proper southern lady, who was always telling me to "be a little lady!" [obviously I ignored that]. She wasn't always so proper, though.
Mom:
"By the standards of those days, Billie was a bit wild. She was the first girl in Marietta, Georgia to bob her very long hair. She was a flapper and could dance a mean Charleston. She smoked cigarettes [only when young] but always said she didn’t drink, just enjoyed a highball occasionally. (I suppose that was instead of just drinking straight whiskey?!)
Her three oldest brothers all owned automobile dealerships, so there were plenty of cars around, and she started driving when her feet reached the pedals, about age 11. She enjoyed driving around town with her sister Hazel when they were just kids.
When asked how tall she was, she’d grin and say, oh, about 5’2”-- but I never believed it. She was maybe 5 feet, standing tall. [My dad was over 6’3]. She had dark brown hair with reddish highlights. Her eyes were kind of green. She always had a beautiful complexion. She washed her face twice a day with mild soap and rinsed it three times. She powdered her face, used a little rouge, and red lipstick, and that was all she did for years. Her skin was so lovely she didn’t need a lot of makeup.
When Mother got older, she did use a little foundation make up, I think. For years, she only used a little Coty’s L’Origan perfume. About the time I married, she changed to Estee Lauder’s Youth Dew."
[Excerpts from Singing to the Cows, by Elva Hasty Thompson]
My grandfather Bob Hasty was the exact opposite of his wife. Big, slow moving, slow talking, very precise and deliberate, he had the mind of an engineer but the body of an athlete, his whole life.
Mom:
"Bob Hasty was 6ft 4in tall. A good weight for him was about 220 lbs. and in later years when he deliberately dropped down to about 190, he appeared to be thin. He felt that less weight would be kinder to his old bones. He had very blue eyes and black hair, though it turned gray fairly early, and he looked very distinguished.
He did not drink or smoke or cuss or chew – and didn’t approve of other folks doing it. He had the notion that an athlete was a person young folks looked up to so it was important to set a good example. He almost never raised his voice and seldom lost his temper, maybe once every few years. However, he could be stern and he expected his children to obey him. Mostly, he was a very kind and affectionate person, a wonderful listener, extremely patient.
Dad played for Connie Mack for 5 seasons, as part of the Philadelphia Athletics ballclub. Connie Mack made Dad take lots of dancing lessons as well as boxing lessons, to help such a big man learn to move more easily. I don’t remember his ever talking about the boxing but he dearly loved to dance. As a tiny girl I mostly learned to dance by standing on his big 13 D feet while we “danced.” He really had a good time doing his version of tap dancing too!
Especially in the south, we were accustomed to people coming up to Dad asking for his autograph and wanting to talk about baseball. It could be annoying to us, but never to him and he never refused or lost patience. People brought baseballs to him to sign and even mailed them to him."
You can still find cards he signed, and his baseball cards, on e-bay [LINK].
[Excerpts from Singing to the Cows, by Elva Hasty Thompson]
