A few years ago I told you some things about my old man. His name was Robert, like mine, and his nickname was Bud. He was Big Bud and I was little Bud. He was born in 1901. Back then times were pretty tough. He had to drop out of school when he was eight years old and go to work shoveling coal at the steel mill in Marcus Hook, Pennsylvania. Times were tough and so was he. I mentioned before how he sailed around the world as a merchant seaman, how he was in the Navy during WWI, and how he worked in the silent pictures for Fatty Arbuckle and Buster Keaton. Back in Chester PA in the 1920’s he was the leader of a gang of tough guys who, besides being on the iffy side of the law at times, were members of a local football team. There were a lot of stories about him. Like once during the Depression after he stole a crate of eggs to give to his neighbors, a policeman hit him with his nightstick. Big mistake. I don’t know how long he stayed in jail that time after he beat the cop up. Well, I’m getting off what I wanted to tell you about. His gang of young hoods were known as the BH9 – Bald Headed Nine. They started as a baseball team and then played football. Here’s a photo of the team in 1926. My father is the one in the front row. He played without pads or a helmet. My Uncle Chis is the guy in the top row wearing the white sweater. 
Now the reason I am revisiting this is because my cousin Joan, whom I hadn’t seen in almost 40 years, came through town over the holidays. Her grandmother, Mable nee Grace, was my father’s younger sister. We revisited old family memories, especially about the BH9. And what do you know, just coincidentally, at the same time she was here, her son sent her a song about the BH9 that he had just written and recorded. Here it is along with the transcription. Thanks, Will!
©2026 William Hatch
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©2026 William Hatch
This is from 1999:
