The vanquished Chicago nine quietly and unostentasiously took their departure from the Union Depot last evening. There was an immense crowd of Saturday night travelers, but none of them knew that the windy city nine from Michigan Lake was about to make its retreat. There was no flag or proud banner to announce their presence, not the sound of a fife or drum to tell where the breezy crew could be found. They refused an escort, preferring to straggle by ones and twos in the disguise of dudish attire into a Pullman, rather than attract humiliating attention from the busy throng. So quietly did they take passage that no one but the conductor knew who they were. There was no bluster in their midst, and they made a mournful-looking crowd, that reminded one more than anything else of a delegation of undertakers who had performed the last sad offices for a friend. The name of Chicago was not spoken, and the defeated ball-players who came from there looked sad at the thought of having to return. All the gush and sentiment usually displayed by them was suppressed, and they were silent. A Texan, who was escorting the Mexican Band to the State Fair at Dallas, discovered them and insisted on giving them a few lively beats of the drum, but St. Louis hospitality prevailed, and the crestfallen crowd was allowed to leave without any demonstration to emphasize their idea of fallen pride.
-St. Louis Globe-Democrat, October 24, 1886
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