Free Mr. Hockey My Story by Gordie Howe

with friends made me less anxious than I’d been the year before. Mr. Pinckney also went out of his way to make sure I made a good impression when I arrived in Windsor. He bought me the first suit I ever owned—jacket and pants, plus a coat, shoes, the works. He stuck the train ticket to Windsor in the breast pocket of the coat along with a five-dollar bill so I’d have some spending money. It was a heck of nice thing to do for a poor kid from the Prairies. The outfit even included a nice hat, but I ended up giving it to the train porter as a tip. I figured he could use a fedora more than I could.
    I felt different at the Red Wings training camp than I had with the Rangers the previous year. I was sixteen and, at that age, even a few months can make a big difference. I was still just a lanky kid, so my play wasn’t as physical as it would eventually become, but my puck handling seemed to impress the coaches and overall I remember feeling good on the ice. Holding my own against NHL-level talent once again helped my confidence. It was only a few years earlier that I’d been collecting BeeHive photos of guys I was now skating against, players like Bill Quackenbush, Carl Liscombe, and Syd Howe. In a funny bit of happenstance, my first Peewee team, the one I made using Frank Shedden’s equipment, was actually namedafter the Red Wings—teams adopted the names and colors of NHL franchises. I even ended up drawing Syd Howe’s jersey, which was fine by me. There was no relation, but I liked the coincidence of getting to wear my own name on my uniform. Who would have thought that in just a few short years I’d be playing alongside Syd himself. My dreams were becoming a reality more quickly than I’d ever dared to imagine. Unlike a year earlier, though, I felt less like a fish out of water and much more like I belonged.
    At the end of the two-week camp, Jack Adams, who was then the coach as well as the general manager, sat me down and asked if I’d join the team’s junior club in Galt, Ontario. Once again I was hesitant to commit. I asked if I’d know any of the other guys going to Galt and he told me there would be a couple, which was a big selling point. I also wanted to go home and talk it over with my parents. He said that wasn’t a problem, but that I should be sure to bring all of my clothes with me when I came back. That part was easy, since I really didn’t have many clothes to speak of. I wasn’t much of a negotiator at the time, but I did make one request before I signed—a Red Wings jacket. The players on the big club had these great team jackets and I really wanted one as well. My first reason was practical. I didn’t have many clothes and I knew I’d wear that jacket all the time. The other was more psychological. If I signed with the Red Wings, the jacket would help me feel like part of the team. Mr. Adams said he’d get me one, and with that we closed the deal.
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    I spent a few days at home visiting family and friends before getting back on the train for the return trip to Ontario. I didn’t know it at the time, but I’d spent my last winter in Saskatoon. The trainride was lonely and more like my trip to Winnipeg than the one I’d just taken to Windsor with my friends. I had a few long days to think about what I’d just signed up for. By the time the train pulled into Galt, which is about fifty miles southwest of Toronto, I can’t say I was feeling too confident about my decision. I didn’t have much of a clue about what was going to happen once we reached the station. I didn’t have a place to stay, nor did I know anyone in Galt. Much to my relief, Al Murray, the team’s coach, was waiting for me when I arrived. Instead of taking me into town, though, he hustled me back on the train and we headed straight to Windsor for an exhibition game. It was one of the few times that season that I’d play against real competition. Later, I’d find out that Detroit hadn’t been