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THE HIGH-FLYING (WELL, .196) HAWK
Kenneth Harrelson
July 14, 1969
When Ken Harrelson moved his act on to Cleveland, he was careful to include Wendell, the valet who had supervised his vast wardrobe in the Boston pad. In many ways, the Hawk has decided, Cleveland is even grander. On crowded days he is airlifted to work from the roof of the chic Winton Place apartments, where he makes his new home close by Art Model!, owner of the Browns, and Vernon Stouffer, the restaurant and frozen-foods man. At the ball park he has two lockers to accommodate the overflow of custom-made suits, many of which he designed himself. Never one to hide his light—or anything else—under a bushel, Hawk begins on page 59 the story of how he, of all people, arrived on the roof looking like that. Immodest, often vain, certainly controversial, but always interesting, it is incomplete in only one way: there is no mention of how he is hitting in Cleveland .
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July 14, 1969

The High-flying (well, .196) Hawk

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"Well, you're going to get a phone call."

"Do you mind if I ask what it's about?"

"I'd like to tell you, Hawk, but I can't," Hodges said. His voice was sugar sweet. He had never talked to me in friendlier tones.

"Look, Gil, if I'm going somewhere I'd appreciate your telling me."

He paused, then said, "O.K. I suppose there's no harm in telling you. Charlie Finley's going to call you."

Half an hour later Finley called. He had bought me back from Washington for cash. I was going home to Kansas City, home to Alvin Dark, home to Charlie Finley.

I couldn't have been happier.

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