History of the White Sox

They played the game on the streets and grimy backlots of Chicago’s teeming West Side, these ruddy-faced boys of Irish descent. Before there was a National League, the semi-pro teams of Chicago achieved legendary status. The Excelsiors, Aetnas, Libertys and Pastimes were just a few of the social-athletic clubs that young Charles Comiskey may have played for (or against) during the “Pearl Button Era” that was the 1870s and ’80s.

Comiskey and Chicago. First the father and then the sons made their mark on the city’s rich history. The family first settled in Chicago in 1848. John Comiskey distinguished himself in municipal government, first as a Clerk of the County Board, and then later as 10th Ward Alderman. John apprenticed his son Charles to a plumber because he modestly believed that this was the right and true path for a young man of strong physical capability. But the boy had other ideas.

After knocking about the semi-pros in Milwaukee and Dubuque, young Comiskey took over the first base duties for Chris Von der Ahe’s St. Louis Browns in the renegade American Association. Cammy, who on more than one occasion had to explain the intricacies of the game to his eccentric boss, defeated the Chicago White Stockings (now Cubs) four games to two in the forerunner of the modern World Series. Comiskey played for the Chicago Pirates of the Player’s League in 1890, and returned to minor league baseball.

The Western League began its operations without Comiskey’s presence on November 21, 1893. Teams were organized in Sioux City, Toledo, Kansas City, Minneapolis, Grand Rapids, Detroit, Indianapolis, and Milwaukee. Later, at the behest of the league’s dynamic young president, Ban Johnson, Comiskey purchased the Sioux City franchise and moved it to St. Paul in 1894. The league prospered, catching the attention of James Hart, owner of the Chicago White Stockings. Hart made a gratuitous gesture to buy a Western League team, but was denied by Johnson who did not want to surrender this lucrative market to the National League team who planned to use it as a farm. Johnson had secret plans to incorporate as a second major league.

In 1900 the Western League shed its image problems by changing its name to the American League. The St. Paul Saints, who had finished in the first division in four of the five years of Comiskey’s stewardship, were transferred to Chicago on March 21, 1900. In return for James Hart’s grudging recognition, the Chicago team agreed to locate on the South Side and to refrain from using the city’s name in its dealings. Sportswriters began calling them the White Stockings, and the small wooden park at 39th and Wentworth became a popular gathering place for fans desiring to watch free-spirited baseball without the internal chicanery of the weak and politically corrupt National League.

The Sox coasted to their first pennant in 1900, thanks to the spirited play of “Dummy” Hoy, Frank Isbell, and Dick Padden — the first player to be honored with his own “day”. Another White Sox first that year: Win Kellum hurls the first no-hitter against the Hose on June 16, while pitching for Indianapolis. The first Sox game: April 21, 1900, Milwaukee 5, Sox 4. First victory: April 22, 1900, Sox 5, Milwaukee 3.

With respectability attained, Ban Johnson violated the National Agreement and declared his league the second major league. Roy Patterson, the “Boy Wonder,” won the first American League game on April 24, 1901, which coincidentally was the first American League game played.

There was some grumbling when the Sox won their second pennant in a row under the leadership of ex-White Stocking Clark Griffith. Rumors to the effect that Ban Johnson and Comiskey were in collusion to build a Chicago “dynasty” no doubt hastened the feud between the two magnates. In just two years Comiskey upstaged his powerful crosstown rivals. Despite his repeated requests for an intra-city series to determine bragging rights, the Nationals refused.

The City Series finally began in 1903, a year in which the rebuilt Sox staggered home in seventh place. By contrast, the Cubs finished in the thick of the pennant race. Yet the surprising Sox played the Cubs to a 14-game standoff despite cries of”fix” by Hart. He claimed at the time that his pitcher Jack Taylor had thrown games to the Sox — which was unsubstantiated. The Sox performance established an early trend. The Sox routinely knocked off superior Cub teams in their dealings through the years.

Fielder Jones, perhaps the greatest of all Sox managers, led the club from 1904 until 1908. The fiery Sox skipper guided admittedly weak hitting teams to first division finishes in each of his four-plus seasons. This was the “Hitless Wonder” era, characterized by Comiskey’s “grandstand managing”, Jones’s showdowns with umpires, and indeed, a number of his own players. A salary haggle and Jones’ own intention to go into the lumber business in Oregon led to his departure shortly before the 1909 season began.

In their new ballpark, the Sox sank into a series of lethargic .500 seasons remembered chiefly for the fine pitching of Ed Walsh, the spitballer out of the Pennsylvania coal fields. Rebuilding was a slow process, but the “Busher”, Clarence Rowland, led them out of the wilderness in 1915. Rowland, an unknown commodity in 1915, led them to a third place finish that year. Comiskey felt some heat from the Chicago Whales of the Federal League, so he opened up the checkbook to purchase the contracts of Eddie Collins, Joe Jackson, Lefty Williams, Hap Felsch, and Eddie Murphy. One of the greatest forces in baseball history was together now. Ray Schalk later claimed that if this team had remained together in the 1920s, it is likely that the history of the game would have surely been re-written.

After the Sox, last world championship in 1917, and the heartbreak of the 1919 Black Sox, Comiskey purchased more star-quality players. Harry Hooper, Willie Kamm, Bibb Fald, and Bill Cissell could not stave off a run of second division finishes that dampened Comiskey’s spirits, and hastened his own physical collapse. The Sox were truly the “lost generation”. Teddy Lyons emerged from the Baylor campus in 1923, and Frank Chance was hired for what seemed to be a publicity stunt. When Chance died before so much as handing in his opening day lineup, Johnny Evers was given the unenviable task. He lasted one year. Collins, the best of the group, lasted two. And Ray Schalk made it through 1927, and a part of 1928.

Broken-hearted and disillusioned, Charles Comiskey passed on to a better world in October 1931. Day-to-day operations of the team were left to his only son, the sickly J. Louis Comiskey. His best move was the hiring of Jimmie Dykes in May 1934. The cigar smoking, teetotaling Dykes was another Fielder Jones in temperament. But that was okay. The Sox bad boys, Zeke Bonura and Bill Dietrich, occasionally needed his “guidance”. Together with his pitching coach Muddy Ruel and the skilled backstop Luke Sewell, the Sox rebuilt their pitching staff in 1935 and the results were promising. Of course the emergence of Luke Appling, Mike Kreevich, and Rip Radcliff didn’t hurt either. Under Dykes, their first farm system began in 1939.

Three events returned the club to its familiar losing ways by 1942. The death of J. Lou in 1939; Monty Stratton’s career ending injury; and the advent of World War II proved disastrous. Without J. Lou’s calming presence, a front office rift between General Manager Harry Grabiner, Grace Comiskey, and the First National Bank over her dower rights threatened the existence of the franchise. However, the courts awarded control to Grace and her daughters, while a young upstart was rebuffed. His name was Bill Veeck. Grabiner, who began his career as a soda pop boy in 1905, left for Cleveland to join the capricious Veeck in his ownership of the Indians. Dykes called it quits in 1946, leaving the Sox in the same position they had been in a dozen years earlier. Lyons was handed the job, but even with Red Faber as pitching coach, this team had more downs than ups. Promising youngsters were nowhere to be found, so by 1948 the Sox were losing 100 games again. Enter Chuck Comiskey from the Sox Memphis affiliate, Frank Lane from the Big Ten, and Paul Rapier Richards from the P.C.L. They committed themselves to the task before them. With a lot to gamble with, and certainly nothing to lose, the Sox front office trio masterminded a series of bold trades that brought in the “Go-Go” era. The familiar cry of “C’mon Luke” Appling was replaced with the famous Go-Go chant that helped encourage a bevy of base thieves that included at various times: Minnie Miñoso, Jim Rivera, Luis Aparicio and Jim Busby. Nellie Fox, Billy Pierce, and Sherm Lollar — all products of Frank Lane trades — provided the firepower and the pitching.

But the only constant to White Sox history is that someone in the front office is going to get mad. Richards departed in a huff in 1954; Frank Lane followed him out the door a year later. By that time, neither man was social with the other.

Chuck Comiskey andJohn Duncan Rigney (the son-in-law of Grace) were uneasy partners through the next three seasons. Comiskey was dissatisfied with the performance of Paul Richard’s successor, Marty Marion. After he left in 1956, Al Lopez was brought in from Cleveland. The Señor, who left Cleveland on his own accord, elevated the Sox to a second place finish in 1957 and ’58.

In 1959, with Lopez at the helm, the Sox ended a 40-year drought with their first appearance in a World Series. But Chuck Comiskey’s role was significantly diminshed after Dorothy Comiskey had sold her controlling interest in the team to Bill Veeck. Barnum Bill’s first tenure as Sox owner was largely cosmetic. The park was spruced up and the Veeckian gimmicks put a few fannies in the seats.

Comiskey assumed the role of fall guy, while Veeck captured his headlines with a team that had been assembled before his purchase. In 1960, the promising farm system was devastated with a series of ill-conceived trades engineered by Veeck to ensure a series repeat. Don Mincher, Earl Battey, John Callison, John Romano, Bubba Phillips, Barry Latman, and Norm Cash were dealt away for the lead-footed Gene Freese, fading Minnie Miñoso, and the highly coveted Roy Sievers. These trades set into motion the collapse that in many ways was akin to what happened after 1919. Only under a different set of circumstances of course.

Ill health forced Veeck into a premature retirement in 1961. His long-time business associate, Arthur Allyn Jr., purchased controlling interest in the club, adding the Sox to a list of companies under the Artnell Corporation umbrella. A few noteworthy player moves made after the 1962 season by G.M. Edwin Short elevated the Sox to three second place finishes in a row. With the firepower of Callison and Battey, it is conceivable that the light hitting White Sox might have won pennants during this time. We’ll never know.

Lopez retired in 1965 as the second winningest manager in Sox history. His successor, Eddie Stanky, kept the “Pale Hose” in the thick of things, both on and off the field. But his strict regimens were out of sync by the late 1960s. The punchless Sox made a good run at the pennant in 1967, but the inevitable collapse in 1968 led to Stanky’s dismissal on July 12.

The years 1968 to 1970 were years of struggle for a franchise with more than its share of misfortune. Bill Melton, Carlos May, Walt Williams, and Wilbur Wood provided a few sanguine moments, but it seemed that the only rumors concerning the Sox centered around their expected move to Milwaukee.

John Allyn, the white knight of this story, saved the Sox from this fate when he bought out his brother’s interests late in 1969. A new regime signaled another upswing in fortunes. Chuck Tanner was hired away from the California Angels farm system, and Roland Hemond was pirated away from Gene Autry the same way. The year 1971 saw a rebirth of fan interest, due in part to the irrepressible Harry Caray, and the home run hitting of Bill Melton. The future seemed rosy.

Dick Allen’s arrival on the scene in 1972 turned the Sox into serious pennant contenders at least for one year. And to no one’s surprise, the Sox drew a million paying customers for the first time since 1965. The team stagnated during the next three years as the old controversies surrounding the mysterious Allyn surfaced again.

The White Sox fortunes during this time paralleled the 1970s’ economy — sluggish. John Allyn dedicated himself to bringing home a winner, but he was out of options and out of money by 1975. To his credit, he resisted offers to shift the franchise to Seattle, and only an eleventh hour deal with Bill Veeck saved the franchise from yet another demise.

Sox fans everywhere owe a debt of gratitude to Bill Veeck for his efforts to save the team from the powers that be who wanted to move the team to the coast. But he was financially ill-equipped to run a baseball team in the high-stakes era of free agency. One glorious summer in 1977 proved to be an illusion. Bargain basement free agency worked when the players involved were Eric Soderholm and Steve Stone, but not Ron Blomberg and Ron Schueler. By 1980 the Sox were on the market again. When the league turned down a sale bid by Edward DeBartolo of Youngstown, Ohio, Veeck reluctantly sold his interests to a group of investors headed by Jerry Reinsdorf, of the Balcor Corporation, and Eddie Einhorn, a former executive of CBS Sports.

With some imagination and daring, the Sox were rebuilt in a relatively short time. Carlton Fisk was the cornerstone of the franchise, while younger players like Harold Baines and Richard Dotson developed gradually. In 1983 the Sox won the Western Division by a record 20 games. Admittedly, the Sox enjoyed career years in ’83, and their weaknesses were glaring in 1984. Television announcer Ken Harrelson proved to be a prophet when he declared early in 1985 that the season would indicate just how good the Sox were. In the end, he was correct when he said they would be somewhere in the middle.

But that was not good enough for Reinsdorf, who had just added the Chicago Bulls to his expanding sports interests. Tony La Russa, a better manager than what most people give him credit for, signed on for another year. Roland Hemond was elevated into obscurity, while Ken Harrelson was named Vice-President of Baseball Operations, with full control over player moves.

The Hawk captured headlines with his down-home easygoing manner, and his press leaks about imminent trades. This was what the Sox were looking for in the baseball wars of Chicago. Roland Hemond was just too low key, and too nice a guy to be quotable in the Cub oriented media.

In January, Bill Veeck died. In the final years of his life, Veeck had chosen to avoid Comiskey Park. He was unable to reconcile differences, real or imagined, with the new owners. Perhaps in his own enigmatic way, Barnum Bill knew his time was coming. Late in the season, he returned to Comiskey Park for the last time. He took his place in the distant center field bleachers, and he watched the Sox knock over the Cleveland Indians 10-0.

In 1985, an old and new page had been turned.