Today is Dia de los Muertos, the Mexican festival that celebrates the dead. It is not, as some people think, a Halloween festival, but instead it’s a joyous time of remembering those that lived and are now gone. Every year, families create festive “altars” in their homes to celebrate the lives of their dead family members. The families decorate them with photos, momentos, articles of clothing, whatever was special for that person. Some even cook special meals that the departed enjoyed. It is a wonderful way to keep the memory of the dead alive.

I think about that that idea often, as a history buff and a lover of all things old. I enjoy walking through old cemeteries and reading the names on the headstones, but I often wonder, who remembers these dead? Once their lives were so important to their families and certainly to themselves. They loved, they married, they had children, they worked, they laughed, and eventually they died. But now they have been dead for 150, 200, 300 years. Who remembers those lives that ended so long ago. The world is full of the dead, they surround us, even though we’ve forgotten them.

Fall River Marksmen

I have written extensively about Fall River Marksmen and their short run of excellence from the very early 1920s until the early 30s. Their dominance is almost unmatched in American soccer history, as they played in the heyday of the American Soccer League. I’ve written articles about the history of Fall River and so have others, so I’ll skip over most of the same old introductory material, because that’s not really what this article is about. What interested me were the names on the rosters of those great Marksmen clubs. Who were they? What were their lives like? What did they think about their success? Did they imagine the ASL would continue on just as the leagues in Europe had? That kind of information isn’t contained in a box score and in most cases, disappeared as these men died.

Sadly, so much of the history of that era is lost. Like the threads of a spider web built overnight, the winds have blown out all the supporting material and we’re left with gossamer strings, disconnected and untraceable. We know the scores, box scores, but the rest is gone for the most part. About two years ago, I began to grow obsessed with boxscores. I kept reading names and trying to find information about players and it was all turning up dust. No one seemed to have saved anything and if they did, they didn’t post it online.

I decided to seize on a single name, Findlay Kerr. He was the keeper for two of the BIG names in the ASL. First with Bethlehem Steel from 1920-1923, then from 1923-1927 with Fall River. I was struck that this keeper had played for two members of soccer royalty and wanted to know more about him. Who was he? So I began to search online.

Finding Findlay

There isn't a tremendous amount of pictures of Findlay online, but you can spot him in that famous video of the 1923 US Open Cup Final that is often passed around when the final rolls around each year. He appears at the the :10 mark in the second row of players, wearing his white sweater (which was the norm for keepers of that era). He’s furiously chewing gum and staring straight ahead. We have almost no context for this video, so maybe it was before the match and he was locked in. Who knows? He also appears to give up a goal towards the end of a video, though again, it is hard to tell what exactly is going on in the video. In the match, Fall River did give up two goals, so maybe that was one of them? They won 4-2, so it didn’t sting too much. Videos of players from this era are basically non-existent, so the fact that we have 33 seconds of grainy video and it just so happens the player I was looking for makes an appearance is pretty spectacular.

Findlay Kerr around age 30, in his final year with Fall River. (Photo supplied by Kerr family)

Findlay was at the top of his game in the mid 20s, even making an appearance for the US National Team in a 1926 friendly with Canada (USA won 6-2). His name is just one on a list of eleven, but he must have been proud to play for his new country, just six years after crossing from Europe. That year, Fall River had moved on to another keeper and Kerr was traded to J&P Coats where he made 89 appearances in 2 seasons. Clearly he was the starting keeper with that number of games. Just two years later, Kerr would retire and be done with the sport. And he disappears from history.

Or did he?

The story is about to take a weird turn and I hope you’ll follow me on it. It’s a story 2 inches deep but a mile wide. You will want more information and I won’t have it, but here is what I do know.

I began to dig online. First into the 1930 census records for where I last knew him to live. I found him, his wife, and his children. While I was confident Kerr was dead, I thought there was an outside chance his children might still be alive. I wasn’t lucky in my search, but I found obituaries for two of his listed children and both of those obits contained a list of who survived in the family. I used a background check style search engine site to search for those names. And I found them.

So I called three of his grandchildren.

None of them answered, as you might have guessed, because who answers a number that isn’t saved at this point? Let alone one from El Paso, Texas when you live in the midwest. But I left messages with each number. And within two days, they called me back.

I wish at this point I could share a massive amount of information about Findlay Kerr. But sadly I cannot. This is what I learned from the family.

Gossamer Strands

Findlay Kerr was born in Scotland and played in Glasgow for Rangers (or so the family remembers). He was having trouble getting playing time and when a scout from America showed up, he jumped at the chance. In this way, he was very much like many Scottish players of his era, jumping the pond and joining the up and coming ASL. It would eventually lead to FIFA pushing for the ASL to be barred by the US Federation. But he came to play at the best possible moment, as the league was on a massive upswing.

Kerr in goal. (Photo supplied by Kerr family)

Few memories survive within the family of his playing time, which makes sense, they are a generation removed. However, a piece of his uniform from his appearance with the USMNT is still within the family. The person I spoke with said it was the badge, but she wasn’t sure. It was in a different wing of the family and she hadn’t seen it.

Local endorsement deal for Kerr. (Photo supplied by Kerr family)

The memories that do remain are much more about the man, and less the soccer player. After Kerr’s retirement from playing soccer, he began selling insurance in Fall River, Massachusetts. He’d stay home all day and then around 5p, when the men would return from work, he’d gather his paperwork and travel through the local neighborhoods, selling insurance. He was good at it, even winning awards for his salesmanship. One wonders if he was a local celebrity in the working class communities of Fall River. He was a star keeper who had played for one of the most popular sporting clubs in the area for several years, maybe this was his way of cashing in on whatever fame he had. It would be no different than the car dealerships that feature ex player names, making a buck with what they have.

In the 1950’s, Findlay traveled to California to visit his son and his family. When he arrived, he was so blown away by the weather, he decided he was moving to California. He travelled back to his hometown, packed his things and moved west. He was so completely sold on the climate that when his family planned a vacation to the East Coast, he laughed and told them to go if they wanted, he was staying in California. His grandchildren remember his picking oranges in his backyard, feeding them with fruit that could only prosper in the warm climate of the American West Coast.

His grandchildren remember a warm man, a loving grandfather, a gentle and kindhearted patriarch of the family. These were not the memories I wanted to find when I dug into this story, but maybe that is the best way this story can end: in the memory of grandchildren.

Kerr in a stadium. Potentially Mark’s Stadium. (Photo supplied by Kerr family)

Memories

Findlay Kerr was a great soccer player. He played for the premier Scottish club. He was recruited and crossed the ocean to join the best American soccer league of that era. Starting for two clubs that dominated that era, he won multiple National Challenge Cups. He was one of the top keepers of the time, earning an appearance for the USMNT. And in 1930, as the attention of the country began to shift from soccer, he retired.

But his story didn’t end.

He became a salesman during the Depression, making a living that would provide for his growing family. He won awards doing his job. He raised four kids before eventually retiring and moving west. His grandchildren loved him. And he loved them. And one day he died.

And his memory lives on.

As a fan of soccer and history, I want to know the deep parts of those boxscore names. I want to know what they thought and how they lived. But history has robbed us of most of that. Instead, we must embrace what we do have. Because memories of grandchildren don’t stick on the soccer-playing days of grandpa. They focus on the warm summer days under an orange tree in California. The juice of a ripe orange dripping down their chin as they smile up at their beaming grandpa’s face. They laugh together and the memory fades.

- Dan Vaughn

This article could not have been written without the information and photos provided by the Kerr grandchildren. I offer my sincere thanks for their participation and hope they continue to stay in contact.