Reading the Signs

a lot of shouting on the field. Much of the way players talk is through hand signals and body language, and this isn't surprising. After all, sports stadiums are noisy places, and in baseball, every play needs to happen with clockwork efficiency. A pitcher and a catcher also need to strategize without the batter knowing what pitch will come next. Quick clear communication is the difference between a win and a loss.

In the year nineteen hundred, the New York Giants brought a pitcher up from the minor leagues to finish out their season. His name was Luther Taylor, a twenty six year old from a small town in Kansas. He wanted to be a boxer, as a kid, but his parents didn't approve, so he became a baseball player instead. As soon as he joined the Giants, people thought this rookie wouldn't be up to the task of the major leagues. He was in over his head, didn't have what it takes.

In a game against Boston, five players on the other team attempted to steal third base, assuming that Taylor wouldn't be alert enough to throw them out, but he did one after the other. He did this all without saying a word, and because of that he would earn the nickname Dummy Taylor. Now, in spite of the rude nickname, he was a popular member of the team. His teammates would remember him as a steady hand on the pitching mound.

The rookie, who everyone expected to underperform, closed the season with a respectable pitching record, and the Giants chose to bring him back for the nineteen oh one season. That year, he held the second highest record for most games pitched, but unfortunately, the Giants suffered from a weak hitting record, so they didn't perform as well as Taylor pitched. In nineteen oh two, he left the Giants persuaded by a

higher salary from the Cleveland Broncos. He was almost immediately miserable in the team though the rest of the team were uncommunicative with him, and he fell out. But the money was good and he was in the major leagues, and so he kept pitching. And then in May of

that year, a familiar face appeared in the stands. It was Frank Bauerman, a catcher from the New York Giants, and every time Taylor walked between the mound and the dugouts, Bauerman signaled at him with sign language, asking him back to the Giants and making an offer, And every time he signed, Taylor would shake his head. Doorman kept signing at him, increasing the amount of money they were offering Taylor, and finally Taylor nodded yes and left Cleveland for good

that evening. He pitched with the Giants until nineteen oh eight, before going back down to the minor leagues and finishing his career in nineteen ten. He had played nine seasons of professional baseball, earned himself a respectable record as a major league pitcher, all while having a very specific disability. You see, Luther Taylor was born deaf. His nickname Dummy was not a crack at his intelligence, but a reference to the fact that he didn't speak verbally. Think of

the phrase to be dumbstruck. He communicated only with sign language. Every man in the nineteen oh one New York Giants team learned sign language in order to communicate with him on and off the field. It was a level of commitment and inclusion that understandably he was sad to leave, and that's why he felt so out of place in Cleveland, where his teammates didn't know sign language and thus struggled

to communicate with the one deaf player they had. Taylor wasn't the first person to use hand signs on a baseball field, though, but his success popularized the practice in the public imagination. In fact, during his early career, it led to a game that disability rights advocates see as historic. You see on March sixteenth of nineteen oh two, nine days after his return from Cleveland, Luther Taylor took to

the mound to pitch against the Cincinnati Reds. On the opposing team, center fielder William Ellsworth Hoy came up to bat as their leadoff hitter. Hoy was forty years old on his last season for the Reds, and he was also another deaf player who went by the nickname Dummy. This game was the first and only time two deaf players had faced each other in the major leagues, and because of that, the fact had been well publicized. The stands filled with around five thousand deaf and hard of

hearing baseball fans. To these people, Taylor and Hoy's presence on the field spoke loud and clear, no hand signals required. There was a thick gray mist that was heavy in the air on the morning of October fourth, of seventeen seventy seven. The air was damp and already cold. It would be another few hours before the first rooster crowed, and the moon was still high overhead. Already, George Washington was hard at work. More accurately, George Washington and every

soldier at his disposal were hard at work. Four months had passed since the British had seized Philadelphia, the revolutionary capital. The Continental Army had made several unsuccessful attempts to retake it, But today Washington had a plan. Early in the morning, long before sunrise, American soldiers would split into several groups and ambush the British at their base camp before they even woke up. The surprise attack would give them the

edge that they'd been missing in previous battles. Washington hoped it would be enough. Already, the weather was getting cold, his soldiers were exhausted, and he lost good men in every battle over the past year, and so it would soon be too cold to do anything but survive this plan. This morning would be their last chance to take back the city before spring. Unfortunately, the mysts that hid them from their enemies also hid the men from each other.

You may have heard soldiers talk about the fog of war, but in this case, there really was a fog. Thick morning mist made it almost impossible to tell who was fighting on which side. Two groups of American soldiers fired on one another after mistaking the other side for the British army, and in all of that confusion, the British managed to escape. General William Howe, who had captured the city in July, rode swiftly away from the battlefield after

hearing shots. He assumed that a rebel scouting party was exchanging fire with patrolmen until the south of bullets followed him and his men out of their camp. Washington's plan the last hope of the Continental Army, had failed, not because of a mistake or because he was outsmarted, but because the fog literally caused mass confusion among everyone, from

the revolutionary soldiers to the British generals, and even to Lila. Lila, you see, was a sweet fox terrier who had followed her owner into the melee and then followed the Americans when they eventually retreated. The soldiers were dirty, exhausted, freezing, and embarrassed. They were angry. They wanted revenge. They wanted to go home. When one of the men spotted the well groomed dog back at the camp and picked her up,

he saw a shining silver color around her neck. These men were so cold and so hungry, and yet here was a dog who looked like she lived better than they did. To add insult to injury, Lila's owner had engraved his name on the gleaming silver collar. She belonged to none other than General William Howe. A few of the men, including the soldier who had found her, brought

Lilah to Washington. They were still stinging with defeat, and they wanted Lilah, with her plump belly and saft fur to pay the price, they asked Washington to hold her in retribution for their defeat. Fortunately, the formidable General Washington was what we might call a dog person. He kept many pets and had several hunting dogs himself. In fact, Lafayette once gifted Washington with seven greyhounds as a show

of friendship. So what did the brilliant strategist, the war general, and the first President of the United States do with his enemy's dog? While he instructed Alexander Hamilton to write General how a letter which would be delivered to the British soldier's camp under a flag of truce. And this

is what the letter said. General Washington's compliments to General Howe, he does himself the pleasure to return him a dog which accidentally fell into his hands, and by the inscription on the collar, appears to belowung to General how Now. Not only that, but Washington also insisted Lila be brushed and fed before she was returned. The dog had done nothing wrong, after all, and she would be treated with respect and gentleness, the way Washington hoped that his own

hounds would be if the roles had been reversed. The following day, Lilah was delivered to her owner. Along with Washington's note, One British officer wrote that How was so happy to see her that he picked her straight up and put her on his lap. Washington's original letter to General How can be found in the National Archives today, although any response from General How has vanished with time.

George Washington accomplished many things during his time serving the United States as both the General and a president, but this story shows his integrity, generosity, and grace even in defeat, and as far as we know, Lila never complained. After all, as they say, a dog is a great judge of character. I hope you enjoyed today's guided tour through the Cabinet of Curiosities. This show was created by me Aaron Manke in partnership with iHeart Podcasts, researched and written by the

Grim and Mild team, and produced by Jesse Funk. Learn more about the show and the people who make it over at Grimandmild dot com slash Curiosities. You'll also find a link to the official Cabinet of Curiosity's hardcover book, available in bookstores and online, as well as ebook and audiobook, and if you're looking for an ad free option. Consider joining our Patreon. It's all the same stories, but without the interruption for a small monthly fee. Learn more and

sign up over at patreon dot com. Slash Grimandmild, and until next time, stay curious.