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He is learning, if he has not learned already, the routine of the big-city celebrity, including banquets, TV and radio appearances, thrusting autograph books, phone calls from strangers at all hours. He takes all this with a mixture of dutiful politeness and a country man's caution. But he can also rise to an occasion. Last month he was presented to the Duke of Windsor, who had just watched the Yankees for the first time in his life. The duke wanted "particularly to meet that switcher fellow."
"I've heard about you," said the duke. Said Mickey, embarrassed but not to be outdone: "I've heard about you, too."
With endorsements and personal appearances, he stands to earn about $30,000 above his salary this year. After one television appearance, for which he got $400 for speaking a few lines, Mickey said: "My father used to kill himself for eight weeks earning that."
A Star Is Born. Mickey Charles Mantle, born and raised in Oklahoma, was dedicated to the major leagues before he was even born. His father, Elven Charles Mantle, known as "Mutt," spent most of his working life in the Oklahoma lead and zinc mines around Commerce (pop. 2,442), but the big interest of his life was baseball. Mutt Mantle had been a sandlot player; Mutt's son was to be a big-leaguer.
Mickey remembers that his father never bothered to read anything except the sports section of the Daily Oklahoman. "Baseball, that's all he lived for," says Mickey. "He used to say that it seemed to him like he just died in the winter, until the time when baseball came around again."
Two years before Mickey was born, in tiny (pop. 213) Spavinaw, Okla., Mutt Mantle told his wife Lovell that their first child would be a boy, and that his name was already picked: it would be "Mickey," in honor of Mickey Cochrane, the hard-hitting catcher of the Philadelphia Athletics. ("I don't think he ever knew that Cochrane's real name was Gordon," says Mickey.) In good time the baby came, and Mutt Mantle had his way. The baby's middle name. Charles, came from both of Mickey's grandfathers, but especially from Grandpa Charley Mantle, another sandlot ballplayer.
Before his eyes could focus, Mickey got his first baseball. His father offered the baby his choice between a bottle and a ball, and was momentarily frustrated when Mickey did not reach for either.
"First, Second, Third." At six months, Mickey's mother officially clothed the baby for his future work by making him a visored baseball cap, complete with button on the top. Mutt taught him to count by reciting the bases, "first, second, third." At six years, he had his first uniform, cut from a pair of Mutt's old playing pants.
By that time the Mantles had moved to nearby Commerce, and Mickey's official baseball training had begun. With his lefthanded father and his righthanded grandfather taking turns tossing a tennis ball to him, he was taught switch-hitting from the start: his natural righthanded swing against father, a lefthanded swing against grandfather.