Star of David Glove
One of the nicest things about living in France is the regular cycle of brocantes. Brocantes are a combination flea market and antique fair that crop up throughout the country. They can be big or small and can draw dealers who handle everything from soup terrines to nutcrackers. One thing you never see is baseball equipment.
Well, almost never.
We were at the semi-annual brocante at the site of the Bastille in Paris when we spotted one stand with antique sports equipment. There were old rugby balls, cricket bats, posters from long-ago Tours de France, and way in the back was a baseball glove unlike any we’d ever seen. Stitched into the webbing was a Star of David. Another star seemed to be branded onto the outside part of the thumb. The glove was definitely old and well-used; the makers’ mark was long gone, but some branded numbers were still visible.
The dealer said he had no idea where it had come from; it was just in a pile of stuff he bought a few years ago. He couldn’t remember where.
I like a good mystery; Don treasures historic baseball equipment and we both love baseball and history. Result? We bought the glove and then set about trying to figure out just what it was and where it had come from.
We surfed through the glove company sites and those of glove collectors on the internet, but couldn’t find a match or even a clue.
Then we remembered the House of David Baseball teams. They were the famous barnstorming groups from the House of David cult in Michigan who criss-crossed America from the 1920s on through the 40s. The teams were known for hair — lots of hair. They were forbidden to cut the hair on their head and they grew beards that put modern-day baseball players to shame. Teams took advantage of their hirsute quality in their Harlem Globetrotter-like play: baseballs would disappear into their beards and pop out of their long, long locks.
A little more internet time took us to Chris Siriano who runs the House of David Museum (http://house-of-david-baseball-museum.mycylex.com)in Benton Harbor, MI, the hometown of the now moridund cult.
We called the museum and told him about the glove. Chris could not have been nicer or more helpful. “Hey, that’s fascinating. You found it in Paris? Can you send me a picture?” he asked. “I’ll tell you if it’s from one of the teams or players.” We told him we’d donate the glove to the museum if it was indeed from the House of David.
A couple of clicks later and our photos were on their way across the Atlantic, through the ether.
The answer came back almost as fast. “No. It’s not from the House of David,” Chris said. He went on to explain that, in spite of its name, the HoD was not a Jewish institution. It took as its symbol an eight-pointed star, rather than the six-pointed Star of David. He gave us the name of some Jewish teams and suggested we check with them.
“Look,” Chris added, “when you finish your baseball book, would you let me know. I’d like to display it in the museum and sell it here.”
You can see why we think Chris Siriano is a nice guy!
To date, we’ve not found any more information about our glove’s provenance, but, as I said, I like mysteries so more investigation lies ahead.
For information and dates of some of the upcoming brocantes in Paris, try joel-garcia-organisation.fr/
— Petie
