Cleveland Classic: Loss of Mel Harder is Great One for Tribe

OCTOBER 21, 2002 — Mel Harder’s ashes will be scattered across Mel Harder Field in Chardon. That’s what he wanted.

The field was his love, and when the folks in Chardon named it after him, he considered it the honor of his life.

The longtime Indians pitcher and coach died Sunday morning peacefully after many months of fighting off illnesses, mainly difficulty with breathing and eating.

Through all his suffering, mention a baseball incident or ask a question about the game and his eyes would brighten and he would dip into that fine memory of his and offer pearls no other person had. He would say, for example, that Lou Gehrig was tougher to pitch against than Babe Ruth.

Harder’ s birthday was last Tuesday.

He turned 93. Russell Schneider, once my peer at The Plain Dealer and now a columnist for Sun newspapers, thoughtfully mentioned fans might want to send Mel a birthday card. He was inundated with them, and many carried warm personal messages of their recollections about this outstanding pitcher and special man.

Fortunately, he was able to have them read to him during the final few days of his life and to know how much we admired and cared about this exceptional pitcher and gentleman.

He was one of the greatest pitchers ever to put on an Indians uniform.

He came to the Indians at age 18 in 1928, pitched through 1947, and won 223 games.

Then he became the team’s pitching coach.

Bob Lemon is in the Hall of Fame.

He always said Harder made him.  

Early Wynn is in the Hall of Fame. He always said Harder put him there.

Bob Feller is in the Hall of Fame. He and Harder were teammates. During which time Harder often counseled the young pitcher at Feller’s request, and later Harder coached him. Ask Feller about Harder, and he’ll speak only in superlatives.

The fourth man of that Big Four staff-often called the greatest of all time-was Mike Garcia. Garcia, until the day he died, would tell me how much of his success he owed to Harder. And if Garcia had pitched long enough, he probably would be in the Hall of Fame today, too.  

Al Lopez was the manager under whom Harder coached. Together, they led the Indians through several outstanding seasons, the climax of which was a record 111 victories and the American League pennant in 1954. Lopez often told me of Harder’ s brilliance as a teacher.

“He never pushed his ideas on the guys,” said Lopez. “He would wait until they seemed eager for help and advice.”

Lopez is in the Hall of Fame.  

Harder should be, too.  

One of the disappointments in his life was that he had yet to be elected.

There is no pitcher more deserving.  

Joe DiMaggio told me more than once that Harder was the toughest pitcher he ever faced. I heard this from so many old-timers.

Ted Williams always found Harder a problem, and he campaigned hard, along with Feller and many of his fans here, for Harder to be elected.

It was not to be because the Veterans Committee was rife with politics and this year it was changed for that very reason, influenced in part by the fact that it was so unfair to Harder.

We thought we had enough votes for him in 2000. The group pushing his election talked with every member of the Veterans Committee and we were promised the votes to get him in. But we were double-crossed by those who had friends they secretly favored and thus were lying to us.

Harder, of course, had pitched long before many of those on the Veterans Committee became seriously involved with the game. They really didn’t know him and Harder was the quiet type who never made headlines with quotes or pushed himself. You’d never hear him toot his own horn.

So the man richly deserving of the honor lost out. It’s the Hall of Fame’s loss. The new selection process, of which I am now a part, makes it almost impossible for any old-timer to receive sufficient votes. I just voted for him—No. 1 on my list—and I’ll keep pushing because to be in Harder’s corner is a labor of love, although now a seemingly hopeless one.

But he did have that Mel Harder Field and the Wahoo Club every year gives out its Distinguished Service Award in Mel’s name. And he is in the Greater Cleveland Sports Hall of Fame, the Ohio Baseball Hall of Fame and many others.

There are a few of us around who saw him pitch. He pitched the historic opener at Cleveland Stadium. If memory serves, the date was July 31, 1932. It was Wes Ferrell’s turn to pitch, but on game day he begged off for some mysterious reason. Roger Peckinpaugh, the manager, asked Harder, pitching out of turn, to take the ball.

Harder never would say no. Before 80,000 fans, he and Lefty Grove of the Philadelphia Athletics engaged in a brilliant pitching battle, Grove finally winning, 1-0. (Incidentally, Grove is in the Hall of Fame.) Harder pitched mostly for poor Cleveland teams, yet managed to have two seasons of 20 or more victories, and to accumulate 223 victories with little hitting behind him reveals how great a pitcher he was. His exceptional curveball buckled the knees of the best hitters.

In 1940, the Indians had one of their better teams and rebelled against Manager Oscar Vitt, firmly believing his thoughtless, outspoken criticism of some players—one being Feller—was costing them the pennant.

Hal Trosky, the first baseman, was to be the team’s spokesman when the players presented their complaints to owner Alva Bradley and to request the removal of Vitt.

On the day of the meeting, Trosky had to leave the team for Iowa because of an illness in his family. Harder was asked to be the spokesman. Although this was not his nature, again he didn’t say no because it hurt him deeply to hear the manner in which Vitt, in front of everybody on the bench, cut up those on the field when a misplay occurred.

The “revolution” resulted in the team being called the Cleveland Cry Babies, and in a sense, Harder was left holding the bag, but he never regretted standing up for his teammates.

He always was a standup guy and ever the gentleman. Even against Vitt, he never was vitriolic or swore. I never have heard anyone, not even Vitt, say an unkind word against Harder. He lived and died without an enemy.

He was a super husband to his wife Sandy, who died many years ago, and a father of two daughters who idolized him.

And anyone who became acquainted with him became a permanent Harder fan and friend.

The Burr Funeral Home in Chardon is certain to be crowded Thursday from 1 to 4 and 6 to 9 P.M. for our last goodbyes.

If there is a Hall of Fame in heaven for the good and special people, Harder will be in it today.

Lord knows he belongs.

 

Author’s note

This article is excerpted from The Best of Hal Lebovitz: Great Sportswriting from Six Decades in Cleveland (softcover / $14.95 / 352 pages), 2006 by Hal Lebovitz. The book is available online from Amazon.com.