Johnny Hopp played center field for the St. Louis Cardinals. He was shipped to the Boston Braves before the 1946 season. That event changed Pat Anthony's life.

She was Pat Auen then. Her father was the maintenance supervisor of St. Louis State Hospital, and the family lived nearby on Tholozan Avenue in south St. Louis. Pat was 17 and the fifth of seven children. Six of the kids were girls. That meant the family was well-known by parents in the neighborhood who needed baby sitters. In fact, Shirley, who was one year Pat's junior, was the chief baby sitter for the Hopps, who lived a block away on Mardel Avenue.

When Johnny was sent to Boston, the Hopps rented their house to Stan and Lil Musial. They had four kids, so Lil asked about baby sitters. The Hopps gave her Shirley's number.

When Musial and Julius Garagnani opened Stan Musial & Biggie's Restaurant on Chippewa Street in 1949, Shirley became the secretary for the two men. Another sister worked in the office. And Musial was getting so much fan mail, he couldn't deal with it. Shirley started bringing it over to Pat.

Pat was married by then and had three kids. So this was a perfect job, something she could do at home. In addition to the letters from fans, Shirley would bring stacks of 3x5 cards with Stan's signature. If somebody just wanted an autograph, they'd get a card. But if they had questions, Pat would answer them — and never pretending to be Musial. She would always sign her own name to the response. Sometimes she would have to ask Shirley to get the answers, but most of the questions were simple and Pat quickly learned the answers. "Who was your favorite player when you were a child?" "Honus Wagner." That sort of thing.

Pat went to work at the restaurant in April 1962. By then, the restaurant had moved to Oakland Avenue. In 1967, Shirley got married and Pat took over as secretary. Musial had interests in hotels here and in Florida. Pat's work had to do with all of it, but most of her memories have to do with the restaurant.

"It was like a family," she said. She told me about a Saturday morning in May. Musial was at the Kentucky Derby. There was a fire at the restaurant. Employees started calling each other, and people showed up at the scene to start cleaning up. More than 50 employees, almost everybody. It was like a miracle. They got the restaurant open that night.

Dick Balsano played the piano, and one night during the World Series in 1982, Al Hirt came in with Musial. Hirt went up to the piano and started playing his trumpet. Musial pulled out his harmonica and joined the two. They played and they played. As one couple was leaving, the woman said to Pat, "That trio is pretty good. Will they be here tomorrow night?"

The restaurant closed in 1986, but Pat continued to work as Musial's secretary. She continued to handle fan mail and make travel arrangements and such. She said that Musial was, and is, the kind of boss who often acts as if it's an imposition to ask an employee to do something for him.

Pat recalled a time when President George Bush invited Musial to the White House to meet the president of Poland. "I'll take care of the arrangements," Musial told Pat. But the day before he was supposed to go, he told her he had been unable to find a room. She called a hotel and asked to speak to the general manager. She explained she was trying to get a room for Stan Musial, the famous baseball player. Of course, said the general manager.

"Stan would never have done that," Pat said. "He'd call and ask if there were any rooms available and if the clerk said there weren't, Stan would just say thanks and let it go. He wouldn't think of trying to trade on his name."

In 1990, Musial moved his office to West County. I visited Pat at the office this week. Dick Zitzmann is Musial's agent and runs the office, which deals in Musial memorabilia. One of Pat's duties is to respond to fan mail. Just like she did in 1949.

But wait. Fan mail? Musial retired in 1963.

"He probably gets about 50 letters a month," Pat said. "ESPN shows old games and clips, so it's as if kids still see him play. They have all kinds of questions. I sometimes feel like I'm doing their homework assignments."

But to Pat, answering questions about Musial is almost a labor of love. He turned 89 on Saturday. Pat has worked for him, in one form or another, for almost 60 years, and has worked full time for him for almost 48 years. She said she has never heard him raise his voice. She has never seen him appear angry.

He still comes in almost every day to sign baseballs. I asked him about Pat. "She's wonderful. Put up with me all these years," he said.