"One of the oldest attendants at games in St. Louis is L.C. Waite, a reporter; or, as he is best known by the boys, Deary Waite. Last year he organized the St. Louis Reds, and one day, after they had sustained a terrible defeat, a friend caught hold of Waite's ear and [said:] 'Your team is very snide.' 'Yes, yes.' shouted Waite in return. 'Very fine. They would have won but that they were without their regular pitcher.' 'That pitcher they had,' said Waitey's friend, 'looked like a terrier. You ought to put a chain around his neck and sell him for a fighting dog.' 'Yes, yes,' said Waitey, 'they nearly killed him. We would have taken him out, but we hadn't any one to put in his place.' But when scoring, Waitey was the best of everybody. Questions hurled at all other scores never affect him, and in the midst of a regular uproar he is serenity itself, and his score card always looks near and clean."
-Cleveland Herald, January 22, 1884