Life in the Archives

Written by: Claudette Scrafford

As the Manuscript Archivist here at the Hall of Fame, I process a variety of items. There are scrapbooks, some put together by the player’s family and some by fans. There are scorebooks, again, some by sportswriters and some filled out by someone at the game. I have processed organizational papers, whether they were kept by a league or a team.

All of these are interesting to look through and process. But the most fascinating thing to me is when I process someone’s personal papers.

When you read through someone’s personal correspondence or see holiday and birthday cards, I really feel a connection to them. It really brings the person up close and personal and gives them human qualities as opposed to simply being a baseball executive or player.

In the Tom Shea Collection, BA MSS 69, notes and articles are all folded and stored in shoe boxes. I really did not look forward to transferring all those bits of papers, matchbook covers, notes on napkins to archival shoe boxes. But as I researched Tom Shea and got to know him as a person, I could see why his collection took the shape it did. He was a travelling salesman and on his journeys, he would stop and research the local baseball history, talk to waitresses, and to anyone else who would take the time. This explained the matchbooks and napkins.

Organizational and personal papers belonging to former Baltimore Orioles executives Herbert and his son Richard Armstrong are housed in the Hall of Fame archives. (Milo Stewart, Jr. / National Baseball Hall of Fame)

The Dick Armstrong Collection, BA MSS 110, features organizational and personal papers of a father and son who worked for the Baltimore organization. Herbert Armstrong was the business manager from 1953 – 1973. Richard Armstrong, who delivered this collection to us, was appointed public relations director for the Orioles in 1953, but left the business of baseball in 1955 to study theology. As I am organizing this collection, I come across holiday letters which were sent out every year, personal correspondence. I read about children growing up and going to college. There are weddings, births, retirement banquets followed by obituaries.

The Bob Quinn letters to his son, BA SCR 383, include four volumes of personal correspondence from Quinn to his son, Robert, who was a student for the priesthood in the Order of Preachers when this correspondence starts in 1924. Mr. Quinn writes to his son over the course of the next 25 years. His deep religious beliefs and his love of baseball are in every letter. In 1939, when Robert is recovering from typhoid fever, Bob Quinn writes to encourage him and to have faith. He tells him of when he was a toddler and taking him to church and asking for a blessing for his child. Over the years, Quinn writes to his son about his thoughts and feelings on a variety of subjects, including baseball.

As I begin to process someone’s personal papers, I research their history, which naturally includes their death date. It makes me sad when I know they won’t make a certain planned event or a family gathering, even those so familiar such as Lou Gehrig. But on the other hand, processing has taught me to enjoy each day. Processing has taught me to appreciate the art of letter writing. Processing has taught me that regardless of who someone is professionally, they have their personal side, which is what I find so fascinating.


Claudette Scrafford is the manuscript archivist at the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum

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