Well, I'm still coming up empty on the gravesite of Tom Meany. It goes to show you that ballplayers get remembered longer than writers. Sorry, Dickens. The next administrator to leave his earthly form behind was one Wid Matthews who, unlike Meany, was a player --- a long time ago. Wid, an outfielder, garnered about a years worth of plate appearances over three seasons in the mid-twenties, playing with two American League franchises that would be as doomed as he by the time the Mets would come into existence: The Philadephia Athletics and the Washington Senators (or Griffs or Nats or whatever they were calling themselves then). A rare good time to be a Senator, though, and hopefully he got a piece of the post-season money. In his post-playing days, Wid (actual name: Wid) spent seven seasons as de facto GM of the Cubs, having learned the trade under Branch Rickey with the Cards and Dodgers. He broke the color line for the Cubbies, signing and promoting Ernie Banks. He also gave Buck O'Neil his first MLB job, but he wasn't as aggressive with black and Latino talent as his National League rivals and the team failed to prosper. He moved on to Milwaukee where he was second in command, before becoming one of the first front office employees the Mets signed in 1961. Cub history does not look kindly on him (or any of their GMs, to be frank). He made a few good trades, a few disastrous ones. He made a deal with his top minor league team that he wouldn't pluck any of the prospects mid-season without permission from them. I guess he was just too much of a gentleman. Once, when asked how he rated prospects, he said� "When I shake hands with a boy and he has a good grip, that's one of the essentials. Then I pat him on the shoulder to see how muscular he is." That may not have been meant to be taken seriously, but that's never stopped a Cubs fan. By 1956, they were hanging him in effigy at Wrigley. Seriously. (No photos available without payment, unfortunately, and I ain't paying.) The UMDB lists him as "Administrative Assistant," which could mean typist, but along with Johnny Murphy, he was a top aide to GM George Weiss, serving as irector of player personnel, and may have considered himself the heir apparent before resigning during the 1964 season. Maybe he was as frustrated with Weiss's dinosaur act as everybody else was. Moving on to the California Angels, he died following the 1965 organizational meetings, passing away in a West Hollywood hotel room, which is sad enough for a country song. The Angels would pay us back decades later by sending us Gary Matthews, who didn't die on the job but kinda did. Wid's the shizz. A thousand guys like him in baseball history, but none quite like him, you know? And maybe if he didn't bring O'Neill and Banks into the bigs, somebody else likely would've. But he did. So cool. Nonetheless, I can't find the man's remains. I've got bloodhounds on the case.