Frank “Hatbox” Jones – Missoula Baseball Personality
Frank T. “Hatbox” Jones – Missoula Baseball Personality
Frank T. Jones Is Dead at 84
Frank T. (Hat Box) Jones, 84, Missoula resident since 1910, public servant and baseball enthusiast, died Friday night at a Missoula hospital where he was taken Jan. 26 following a slight stroke.
The body is at the Squire-Simmon-Carr Mortuary and funeral arrangements are pending.
Mr. Jones was born at Etna, a suburb of Pittsburgh, Pa., Nov. 15, 1869. He came to Missoula from Pittsburgh on April 9, 1889, and then went to Butte, where he engaged in business. He was a deputy Silver Bow county clerk and was on the Butte Fire Department before returning to Missoula in 1910.
He established the Hat Box, a business on North Higgins avenue at which Mr. Jones sold, repaired and cleaned men’s headgear. He later was justice of the peace of Hell Gate township for six years and a deputy in the office of the clerk of District Court. In the latter capacity he served under Harry M. Rawn and subsequently J. R. Donehoo. He was deputy clerk and recorder, a deputy assessor and a constable of Hell Gate township. The latter was his last public office.
He had been secretary of the Kiwanis Club and of Eagles Aerie 32. He was a member of Hellgate Lodge 383, Benevolent & Protective Order of Elks, and for years made his home at the Elks Temple. He was a member of Missoula Lodge 13, AF&AM; Western Sun Chapter 11, Royal Arch Masons; St. Omer Commandery 9, Knights Templar, Bagdad Temple of the Shrine, Butte; and Immanuel Chapter 54, Order of Eastern Star.
Survivors are a nephew, J. S. MacDonald, Pittsburgh, and a sister-in-law, Mrs. Edna T. Jones, Little Fork Minn.
Baseball was a major interest in his life. He managed baseball clubs in Missoula and Butte and was for many years a Northwest scout for the Pittsburgh National League Club. He recommended several Western Montana players for trials. He served as an umpire in more than half a thousand games of baseball in Missoula, Butte, Billings and other Montana towns and had frequent offers to umpire in professional baseball leagues, but declined the seasonal occupation. Mr. Jones was president of the Missoula City Baseball League for years and an active booster for that and all other sports, attending many Grizzly athletic contests on foreign fields.
After retiring in 1949, he made an excursion to Wales to visit the homes of his forbears.
His wife died on May 18, 1930.
The obituary above appeared in The Missoulian on February 7, 1954.
The paragraph below is from Missoulian Sports Reporter Ray T. Rocene’s ‘Sports Jabs’ column, written in The Missoulian on 2/11/1954:
A final farewell to Frank (Hatbox) Jones today. Past 80, he retained as much interest in baseball as he did as a young man, though his was the era of John McCloskey, Cliff Blankenship, Bert Schils, Sam Kinville, Chief Meyers, Kirby Hoon, Moose Baxter, Charley Elsey, Bill Lussi, Blub Irby, Billy Oriet, Jimmy McQuaid, Moose Whaling, Weiser Dell, Eddie Hammond, Home Run Joe Marshall, Nig Perrine, Montana diamond aces of another generation . . . Among the prospects Frank Jones sent to the majors were Skipper Roberts, catcher; Rex Dawson and Vern Ulrigg, pitchers; Neil McKain, infielder . . . Hatbox was a great friend of Pittsburg in the days of Owner Barney Dreyfuss and Manager Fred Clarke.
Finally, an interesting article involving “Hat Box” appeared in The Missoulian on November 26, 1911:
Militant Preacher Lands Hard
Hatbox Jones Narrowly Escapes A Fight Through A Mistaken Identity.
This is a story of a militant preacher and it tells, incidentally, how he almost got Hatbox Jones into a fight for his reputation.
Really, the beginning of the story is its finish – or the finish is its beginning – for the story would not have been told had it not been for its ending.
Hatbox Jones, walking up Woody street, was accosted Friday afternoon by an irate individual on the other side of the thoroughfare, who, after hailing the altogether peaceful Welshman, shook a formidable fist in the air and shouted: “You can get yours any way you want it.”
Jones very promptly invited the stranger to come across the street and there to deliver the goods. He came and the closer he came, the more clearly Jones could see that he meant business. Whereupon, Jones was preparing to deliver his celebrated haymaker clout when the challenger apologized with the explanation that he had mistaken Jones for Harold Griffis, pastor of the Christian church, who does resemble Mr. Jones in figure.
Jones sought an explanation and the irate stranger said that Mr. Griffis had insulted him. The nature of the insult was that the stranger had been forcibly ejected from the study of the pastor and that the ejection had been accelerated by an application of the clerical boot in a manner and at a point of contact where it was most effective in accomplishing its purpose. For that the stranger sought r-r-r-revenge.
Now Jones is nothing if he is not serious and he followed up the meeting with a call upon Mr. Griffis. The pastor admitted the allegation.
The stranger who had been the most active player in this little drama of real life was found to be one Charles Daily. He has figured more or less frequently during the past week in offices, police court and jail. He came to Missoula some time ago as the publicity agent for a jag cure of whose efficiency he was supposed to be a convincing example. He wrote one graphic ad for a local paper – which was not The Missoulian – setting forth the evils of drink. This done, he proceeded to give a tableau vivant, illustrative of the same point.
He became a public nuisance. He “bummed” a half or a quarter wherever he could, all the while keeping up a running story of his former greatness as a writer. He was so offensive that he was ejected from several offices in town. Finally he had a fight with a policeman and got the worst of it. Judge Small was lenient with him and gave him a lecture. He went out and acted worse than ever.
He went so far as to intrude upon a conference of clergymen. The clerics were willing to help him but he became so insolently offensive that he was bidden to withdraw. This made him worse than ever. And then it was that Mr. Griffis did exactly the right thing. The intruder found himself on the outside, wondering how it had happened and speculating as to whether or not the lightning had struck anybody else.
Gradually it dawned upon him what had occurred. Then and there he started on the trail for the preacher.
Which explains why Hatbox Jones almost had to fight.