October 10th is the 58th anniversary of the death of our grandfather Joseph Mattimore. He was only 66 years old when he died. It was totally unexpected, and likely a terrible shock to his five children, and to Harry, his only sibling. There was drama involved. And baseball. Read on for the story…
It’s October, with Major League Baseball playoffs underway. And with the recent chase for the home run record in the news, it seems appropriate to tell the tale of Joseph Mattimore’s 1964 death on the anniversary of that fateful day.
Featuring the National League champion St. Louis Cardinals against the American League champion New York Yankees, the 1964 World Series, and the season leading up to it, later became the subject for the David Halberstam New York Times bestseller October 1964. The Series is seen as a bellwether point in baseball history as it was the last hurrah for the 1950s Yankee Dynasty of Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Whitey Ford, and Yogi Berra among others.
Mickey Mantle, playing in his last Series, hit three home runs, raising his total to a record-setting 18, surpassing Babe Ruth’s mark of 15.
The first two games, played in St. Louis, were split, with the Series tied at one game a piece.
Game 3 was played on October 10, 1964 in front of a packed crowd at Yankee Stadium.
My mom was listening to the ballgame on the radio while cooking in the kitchen. Her dad, “Pa,” was upstairs in his bedroom watching the game on a small TV. There’s no doubt — they were rooting for the Yankees.
With the score tied at one through the first half of the 9th inning, lead-off hitter Mickey Mantle stepped to the plate in the bottom of the 9th. Reaching deep for one last ounce of Yankee magic, he swung at the first pitch, and hit it to the right field stands for a walk-off home run and win for the Yankees. Mantle’s home run (his 16th Series home run) broke Babe Ruth’s record for most home runs hit in World Series play.
My mom heard a thud sound from above. She didn’t think too much of it, but yelled up to her Pa, “Wasn’t that something?!”
When she got no reply, she went upstairs and found her dad on the floor in front of his recliner. She immediately ran to get Dr. Winter who lived two houses down. My sister Marie was playing with her friend Pam Winter at her house when my mom came running over in a panic saying “Jack, Jack, come quick, it’s my dad.” But by the time he arrived, it was too late.
Joseph Mattimore died from a heart attack on October 10, 1964.
For most of us, we were too young to remember much about the episode. My older brother Gordie, who was playing down by Ellicott Creek with friends, remembers that my dad walked down to get him. He explained that grandpa had died as they walked home. It was the first time by brother ever saw my mom cry.
Grandpa’s death was sudden and tragic. But looking back through the lens of 58 years, we can at least say that he died doing something he loved. He watched the Yankees win a thriller of a ballgame and witnessed Mantle’s historic home run. The rest of us will forever connect that dramatic World Series game with our grandpa.
A big thanks to my brother Rob for suggesting this story for the blog post, and for providing me with a video clip of Mantle’s walk-off home run to win the game (click on the square-looking bracket in the very bottom right of the video to view it larger).
If you have an idea for a blog post — something you think others might find interesting — please let me know.
P.S. The Cardinals went on to win the 1964 World Series in the 7th game.
Marie Cary says: I can still remember that day! I also remember going for walks with him on the Buffalo waterfront.
Wow, I love hearing this story again and again!
How synchronous that “Pa” died watching baseball. My own dad loved the game, I’m moved by the story!
💜🙌🏼🍀
Gordie says: So many things I remember about Grandpa Mattimore, but nearly nothing about Grandma Mattimore. I remember Macamley Street in South Buffalo, and our visits on special occasions. I remember when Uncle Dan brought home the latest gadget to show off to the family. A tape recorder! We kids gathered around and for the first time heard our own voices. Grandpa would hold court, often on the front porch, smoking his pipe. It was in many ways the age of innocents before the Vietnam War and the Hippie Rebellion. I remember when Grandpa moved in with us in our spanking new home on Willowgrove. He got the master bedroom, Mom and Dad got the smallest bedroom, and we 7 kids (sorry Bob) had to squeeze into the other two. I don’t recall exactly how long he lived with us, but feel it was only a few months . . . perhaps 8 or 9 or so.
Julia OHara says: This story brings chills. Thanks for the retelling, Rozanne (and the suggestion, Rob). Our family is forever linked to baseball.
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