An area of neglect among Rangers historians is the field of hockey journalism. The Maven will rectify that today with the first of thumbnail biographies of the creme de la creme of Blueshirt reporters.
We start with James Burchard of the New York World-Telegram (Scripps Howard) evening daily newspaper which boasted a large sports section during the Roarin' Twenties and thereafter.
Big, jocular and forever wearing a 1920's black fedora, Jim Burchard was the very first Rangers beat writer when Lester Patrick's sextet entered the league in 1926 and was forever revered for his wild adventures both behind and beyond his typewriter.
Except for World War II service as a staff member of Stars and Stripes, the GI's newspaper, "Thirsty Jim" never left the Rangers' beat.
"Jim was a character right out of the Broadway play 'Front Page'," said Herb Goren, the former Blueshirt press agent and New York Sun hockey writer. "As good a hockey writer that he was, Burchard was a daredevil as a human being."
Burchard's tales became legendary among the press corps including his swimming across the Hudson River and similar exploits too numerous to mention.
Because of his writing run from 1926 through 1942 and then from 1942 until his retirement in 1958, Jim became the "go to" guy for New York hockey fans who wanted the facts but also sprinkled with humor that was a key component of Burchard's persona.
Among his honorable attributes were positions as president of the NY Hockey Writers' Association as well as a similar role covering the New York Lawn Tennis Association. Jim loved the racquet game as much as he did its ice counterpart. (P.S. He was never a tea-totler.)
Prior to the 1949-50 season Jim was quaffing a few Martinis with Rangers manager Frank Boucher, when Burchard conned "Boosh" into making a prediction for the upcoming campaign after the Blueshirts had finished out of the playoffs in 1948-49.
"What are your guys gonna do this season?" Burchard offhandedly inquired.
"We'd made a big trade with Montreal in the off-season," Boucher said, "and got
center Buddy O'Connor from the Canadiens. Everyone thought he was washed up but I told Jim that – thanks, in part to Buddy – we'd make the playoffs and not Montreal.
"This was sort of between Jim and me, over drinks, but he then made a big story out of it – mind you the Canadiens' brass was not happy about it, to put it mildly – but don't you know it, we got in and Montreal was out. Thanks to Burchard's question."
When, early in the 1950-51 season,Gotham restaurateur – and intense Rangers fan – Gene Leone concocted a "Magic Elixir" to revive the slumping Rangers, it was Burchard who delivered it – via private plane – from New York to Toronto on a Saturday afternoon prior to the Rangers-Leafs game that night.
When the aircraft landed, Burchard was greeted by a posse of Canadian newsmen and cameramen. Leafs boss Conn Smythe knew about it and tipped off the Customs people. Smythe wanted no part of the stunt to get past the airport.
The Hockey Maven Picks His Five Favorite Rangers
Anybody can like a star; it's the easiest thing in the world.
"Despite Smythe, Jim – with the aid of a Globe and Mail cameraman -- somehow managed to get it beyond Canadian Customs. Then he finagled a police escort to our Maple Leaf Gardens dressing room," remembered Goren. "In those days we never beat the Leafs in Toronto. But after Jim and the Globe cameraman had our Blueshirts sip that crazy, gimmick drink, we actually won."
The Globe and Mail ran big with the story of Burchard and the paper's cameraman. The report featured a picture of Burchard, big black bottle in hand, giving the potion to the Rangers. The headline read: CAMERAMAN LUGS FLAGITIOUS FLAGON.
"Jim was larger than life and totally fearless as well as funny," said Rangers publicist Stan Saplin who had preceded Goren in that role. "When the Rangers went to the 1950 Final, we had a one-on-one press conference with NHL President Clarence Campbell with about a dozen reporters there.
"Put it this way, Campbell was a distinguished Rhodes Scholar and a very proper executive, but Jim didn't care. He was the only one who dared ask the President a question that no other reporter would try and even Clarence couldn't answer."
Then a pause: "James broke up the press conference like you wouldn't believe!"
When The Maven worked as Goren's assistant during the 1954-55 season, Jim impressed me as a one of a kind – and very loveable – character. He was a very warm buddy – like a favorite uncle -- helping the new kid Fischler break into the sports writing business.
Put it this way, the world of New York hockey writing never was the same after Jim Burchard said, "That's the three-oh (30 meant end of story) mark for tonight."