I was nine years old and excited if not perplexed when, on April 1, 1962, I opened the sports section of the Dallas Morning News. It contained an article with an accompanying photo which pleased me greatly. Of course, I knew that Roger Maris of the New York Yankees had hit 61 home runs the previous season, breaking Babe Ruth’s record. But he had made a fairly shocking decision, leaving the storied Yanks to come to Texas. The Dallas-Fort Worth Rangers were a minor league club that played half of its games at Burnett Field in Big D and half at LaGrave Field in Fort Worth—a long way from Yankee Stadium in the Bronx.
Why would he leave the most storied franchise in baseball history to come to our relatively remote area? I did not know, but there it was in the newspaper. Maris was quoted as saying, “I’ve always wanted to be a Ranger.” And the photo of him in a D-FW uniform was indubitable proof. Early on that Sunday morning, I took a pair of scissors and clipped the story and photo. I did this even before our father had gotten out of bed and had a chance to read the paper. I hoped that Dad, who sometimes reminded us that we were living in “his house” or under "his roof," would not mind. After all, Roger Maris was joining the Rangers! This was obviously a momentous event.
He was not upset. In fact, a large smile formed on his face. It seemed he shared my joy about the Yankees’ famous home-run hitter coming to Texas. But when he started laughing, I wondered what was up. Dad could barely contain his mirth as he told me that it was an April Fool’s joke; Maris would stay with the Yankees. The staffers at the Morning News had fabricated the entire story—the quotes, Maris’ head on a Rangers uniform, everything. Nearly a half-century has passed, and I have not forgotten how gullible I felt or how my older brother savored my discomfiture.
I am reminded of this episode because something similar happened recently. While traveling on the KTX from Daegu back to Seoul, I read the English-language Korea Times. Michael Breen, a well-credentialed columnist, had written an article—dated April 1, which I did not initially notice—stating that the diaries of Dangun, legendary founder of Korea some 4,300 years ago, had been found. I avidly read Breen’s story, learning that hundreds of scrolls had been located in the attic of a pub in Yorkshire, England. The contents, Breen told us, are explosive and may lead historians to reconsider the origins of modern-day Korea and China. He said it was a discovery of immeasurable significance, and I agreed. I wondered why such stunning news had not been publicized before.
I should have known better because Breen dropped hints along the way. The Korean researcher who found the scrolls was named Ho-Heum (the pronunciation of which would be “ho-hum”), and the Englishman whose family had unwittingly held them for almost two centuries was named Harry Forger. Dangun’s diaries contained marginalia that resembled bear-paw marks. (He was, as all Koreans know, born on Mt. Baekdu to a heavenly father and a bear-woman mother.)
My suspicions were raised near the end of the article. Breen quoted Ho as saying that the diaries show Dangun was much like today’s Koreans. He was rude, he did not apologize after bumping into people, and he made illegal U-turns on his horse in the middle of the road.
The Morning News’ concocted story about Roger Maris leaving the New York Yankees to come to Texas in 1962 was clever, but this was downright hilarious. While I had been fooled again, I did not really mind.
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