The younger Aparicio was much more than an outstanding baseball player whose endurance, defense, and speed during an 18-year old major-league career earned him a spot in baseball’s Hall of Fame. He was a symbol of the growth and development of the game of baseball in Latin America — specifically in Venezuela and in his hometown of Maracaibo. Aparicio’s place among the greatest players in baseball signified the climax of a cycle of progress for the game of baseball, which has become the national sport of Venezuela and an intrinsic part of its cultural heritage.

To fully understand the significance, impact, and legacy of Aparicio’s career, one needs to take a journey back into the first steps of the game in Maracaibo.

The emergence of baseball in Maracaibo began around the turn of the 20th century when an American businessman, William Phelps (who later became a media mogul and philanthropist), opened the first department store in town, the American Bazaar. While he imported baseball equipment from the United States, he also saw the need for educating local children about the game in order to sell his merchandise. Phelps became a baseball enthusiast and taught schoolkids the rules of the game, which they quickly understood. He served as the first umpire of documented games and built the first baseball field in the coastal city of Maracaibo.

From the sport’s inception around 1912, baseball quickly became a favorite pastime of people of all classes. Several fields were created throughout the small urban area, and both adults and children were fascinated with the sport. In just a few years, the game spread throughout the region and it was soon established as a professional game. People fell in love with the game, and were willing to gather and pay to watch the best players and teams. They called it “the game of the four corners.” The game of baseball had found its stage in the country.

Through the years, the region had a constant flow of American workers from oil companies who helped shape the identity of the city as well as the influence of American culture. Baseball was no exception. By 1926, a heated rivalry between Vuelvan Caras and Santa Marta was catching the attention of followers and local sports media. In fact, the first big hero of local professional baseball was a shortstop from Vuelvan Caras, Rafael “Anguito” Oliver. Early on, the media shone a spotlight on the role of the shortstop.

Oliver became an icon and two brothers were some of his biggest fans — Luis and Ernesto Aparicio Ortega. The Aparicio Ortega brothers (in the Latin American custom, they used their father’s and mother’s surname) were also natural athletes; Luis enjoyed soccer but ended up practicing baseball with Ernesto. Both became quality infielders. Luis, however, became the big star, the super athlete, while Ernesto, who had great playing tools, concentrated on learning the game as a science. He became a successful manager, coach, and team owner, transmitting his knowledge over generations.

Luis gained fame for his great plays and intelligence in the position of shortstop. He became a reference, a master, and a key player sought by many teams throughout the country. He played in both professional leagues in the country, in Caracas and Maracaibo. He became the first player “exported” from Venezuela when he signed with Tigres del Licey of the Dominican Republic in 1934.

Also in 1934, Ortega and his homemaker wife, Herminia Montiel, welcomed their son Luis Ernesto Aparicio Montiel. By the time Aparicio was born in Maracaibo on April 29, his father was shining as one of the first baseball superstars of Venezuela and Latin America. Ortega was an All-Star player and one the most famous players ever of Venezuelan baseball. “An artist in the shortstop position,” many called him.

Uncle Ernesto became a mentor to Luis. In Gavilanes, where his father also played, little Luis got his first job in baseball: batboy. His father and uncle taught him the secrets of the game. He also had the chance to learn from players of all nationalities, including Cuban, Dominican, and American players.

Baseball was his life. Aparicio recalls his mother washing baseball uniforms for his team and talking about baseball all day. From the age of 12, when he played shortstop for a team called La Deportiva, Aparicio displayed the grace and elegance he learned from his father. From then on, Aparicio was a member of several teams in Maracaibo, Caracas, and Barquisimeto. He was constantly moving with his family, depending on the time of year and which team his father was playing for.

That was his life: baseball, the stardom of his father, the knowledge of his uncle and whatever the game brought to the family table.

In 1953, Caracas hosted the Baseball Amateur World Series, and Luis Aparicio, then 19 years old, was selected to represent Venezuela. It was his first big tournament, and he played shortstop, third base, and left field. Although Cuba won the tournament, Aparicio was recognized both in the stands and in newspapers as the most electrifying player, who made great plays and showed security and maturity in all positions. Fans waved white handkerchiefs during this tournament, praising the teenager with great speed and a solid glove. All eyes were on him for the first time, but the name of his famous father would always be on his shoulders if he chose to be a professional player.

Soon after the Amateur World Series, the day arrived. Aparicio had to tell his parents he was quitting school to become a professional baseball player. His mother was not happy with the decision. His father, on the other hand, told him something that would stand out in his mind for the rest of his career. “Son, if you are going to play baseball for a living, you will have to be the number one always,” said his father. “You will never be a number two of anybody, always be the number one.”1

That winter, the best four teams in Venezuela played in the country’s first national tournament. The teams — Gavilanes and Pastora from Maracaibo, and Caracas and Magallanes from Caracas — rotated their games in four cities and it was the first tournament played under the umbrella of major-league baseball.

Aparicio signed with Gavilanes and his debut was scheduled for November 17, 1953, in Maracaibo. That day it rained, and his debut was postponed until the next day, November 18, which is a special holiday in Maracaibo. The city celebrates the day of its lady patron, the Virgin of Chiquinquirá, and festivities are held all around. Among them is the special baseball game between the crosstown rivals Pastora and Gavilanes.

Aparicio’s father, Ortega, who also played for Gavilanes, led off the game against Pastora’s Howie Fox, a major-league veteran. After the first pitch, Ortega went back to the dugout and pointed to his son with his bat, signaling it was time for Luis to take his father’s bat and replace him at home plate for his first official at-bat.

The crowd of 7,000 gave a 15-minute standing ovation to this simple but magical gesture. They were recognizing Ortega — known as “The Great of Maracaibo” — for his outstanding career, his talent as the best shortstop in Venezuelan baseball, for his dedication on the field, and for more than 20 years of contributing to the development of the game in Maracaibo. At the same time, people were showing Luis the huge burden he had on his shoulders for carrying his father’s name, and for the responsibility he had on the field from that moment.

Aparicio Jr., at 19 years old, understood the situation and embraced it with maturity. “I knew the responsibility on me. I knew about the expectations people had everywhere I stepped on a field. I just had to be great as my father, otherwise people would consider me a total deception,” he said in later years. “It was destiny.”2

Panorama, the local newspaper, wrote the next day: “Aparicio´s son’s debut was patronized by the Virgin herself.” For a very Catholic-religious region, this was a big deal.3

Aparicio ended up being named the best shortstop of the tournament. By December, the Cleveland Indians were negotiating with him. Gavilanes manager Red Kress, who was a coach for the Indians, spoke with general manager Hank Greenberg about signing Aparicio, but Greenberg replied that he thought Luis too small to play baseball. Chico Carrasquel, who was playing for Caracas and Chicago at the time, talked to Chicago White Sox general manager Frank Lane and told him about Luis, asking him to sign the youngster before someone else did. Caracas’s manager, Luman Harris, also talked to Lane. Soon after, Lane sent an offer and a contract for Aparicio with a $10,000 check. Young Luis became a member of the White Sox.

Aparicio’s days in the minor leagues were hard. His English was very limited. He knew he belonged in the majors, but the learning process was strict. Carrasquel was the big-league shortstop. After spring training in 1955, Aparicio was sent to Memphis in the Double-A Southern Association. He thought about going back to Venezuela and quitting the White Sox, but both his father and Carrasquel convinced the novice of his potential and explained to him the process of reaching the majors, a road even tougher for Latinos, especially in those years. Carrasquel, who was the big baseball idol in Caracas, became Aparicio’s mentor and a father figure for him. Aparicio also recalls meeting a singer that season in a small bar in Memphis, a young man named Elvis Presley.  

In October 1955, the White Sox traded Chico Carrasquel to the Cleveland Indians, leaving the door open for Aparicio. When Lane announced the trade, a Chicago journalist said: “You are trading your All-Star shortstop? You will need a machine to replace Chico.” Lane replied, “Yes, that’s precisely what we have — a machine, and his name is Luis Aparicio.”4

Aparicio was named the American League Rookie of the Year in 1956. He was the first Latin American player to win the award. He finished with a .266 batting average and a league-leading 21 stolen bases, and also led the league in sacrifice hits. The stolen base as a strategy was becoming less and less used in baseball in those years. Aparicio revived the essence of the stolen base from the moment he reached the majors. He injected the White Sox with the game of speed, the Caribbean game, where speed is a key. He was praised for his defense but during his first season had 35 errors.

Luis needed work on his throw. Venezuelan journalist Juan Vené, who covered Aparicio’s entire career, recalled, “Fans were afraid to sit behind first base and they were really aware of the throw every time Aparicio was fielding a grounder because the ball often ended into the stands.”5

His debut met everyone’s expectations at home, but he knew he needed to do more. After his first season, when he returned home with his wife, Sonia, Aparicio said, “By seeing how so many people have gathered to welcome me at the airport just to say hello and congratulations, it makes me realize that I still have a long way to go and a lot of work to do to go beyond their expectations. I need to put the name of my country and my people up high; I feel my game represents them.”6

In 1958, Aparicio won his first Gold Glove, was named to his first All-Star Game, hit .266, and led the league in stolen bases for the third consecutive year, with 29. Chicago ended up in second place for the second year in a row behind the Yankees. The situation in the American League was tough. The Chicago White Sox was an outstanding club but the Yankees were the Yankees, and in those years they simply dominated baseball. There were no playoffs. To go to the World Series they just needed to finish first in the American League. The White Sox needed to reach one more step, and they did it in 1959.

Dámaso Blanco, a former infielder for the San Francisco Giants, remembers 1959: “I went to Chicago in August 1959 with the Venezuelan baseball team for the Pan Am Games and they took us to Comiskey Park to watch the White Sox and Luis Aparicio. It was my first MLB game ever and I was very anxious. Aparicio hit a single on his first at-bat and we all noticed that people started to yell: ‘Go! Go! Go!’ At first we did not understand what was happening and then our guide explained people were actually rooting for Aparicio to steal second base. I can’t really describe how proud we felt listening to a full Comiskey Park rooting for a fellow Venezuelan and the team leader of the ‘Go Go White Sox.’ ”7

That season, the White Sox won 94 games and finally won the pennant. Among the keys to their success were Aparicio’s base-stealing skills and his defense along with his double play partner and close friend, Nellie Fox. For Chicago it was a magical era. It was their first trip to the World Series since 1919. This team was the complete opposite of the Black Sox. It was fun to watch. Aparicio remembers: “We were so close, like a family. We enjoyed our game and the fans of Chicago so much during 1959. Having guys in the team like Ted Kluszewski, Jim Rivera, Sherm Lollar, and Early Wynn was just amazing. We just had to win the league because we were good, having fun in the field, and playing very seriously.”8

Aparicio ended up second to his double-play partner Fox in the voting for the American League’s Most Valuable Player. He stole a career-high 56 bases that year. He realized no one in baseball was better than him at stealing. His speed was a key to victory. He led the team in runs with 98. “Before the season Al Lopez, our manager, told me he wanted me to focus on my base stealing,” Aparicio said long after his career ended. “They wanted me to spice things up in the club and that was going to be our key to win games that season.”9

After their great season, the White Sox lost the World Series to the Dodgers in six games. Aparicio hit .308 (8-for-26), and although he was thrilled to participate in the fall classic, he was deeply frustrated in not winning the Series. “The people were very excited in the city, because they waited 40 years to see their team in a World Series. They were disappointed, but at the same time they treated us like winners,”10 he recalled. This first trip to the Series made Aparicio realize how important it was to be a winner and how hard a team needed to work to win it all.

Hoping to return to the World Series in 1960, the White Sox instead slipped to third place. They fell to fourth place in 1961 and fifth in 1962. The Sox wanted to rebuild their team, and in January of 1963, Aparicio and veteran outfielder Al Smith were traded to the Baltimore Orioles for Ron Hansen, Pete Ward, Dave Nicholson, and Hoyt Wilhelm.

The trade was a jolt to Luis, but he was moving to a contending team built around a foundation of power and pitching. Aparicio added speed to the Baltimore lineup, winning two more stolen base titles in 1963-64 to give him nine consecutive seasons as the American League stolen base champion, an all-time record. More importantly, he helped solidify the Oriole defense. Luis and future Hall of Famer Brooks Robinson formed one of the best shortstop-third base combinations of all time.

In 1966, the Orioles won the American League pennant, and Aparicio once again faced the Dodgers in the World Series. Although his offense was not as solid as it was in 1959, he still contributed with four hits and great defense during the series, which the Orioles swept in four games. It was first and only championship ring of his career. He came back to Maracaibo as a hero, dedicating his part of the title to his parents, who were his biggest supporters.

In November of 1967, Luis was traded back to the White Sox. As a veteran player, he became the team leader and mentor. During his second stint in Chicago, his glove was still his great tool, though his speed was not the same. He worked on his offense and in 1970, at the age of 36, batted a career-high .313.

Before the 1971 season, Aparicio was traded to the Boston Red Sox and played with them for three more seasons. In two of them was he was selected to the All-Star Game. In 1973, at the age of 39, he batted .271 in 132 games and stole 13 bases in 14 attempts.

Vené remembers March 26, 1974: “Luis was in the Red Sox spring camp when he got the notice that he was being released. He wanted to play one more season; he was 40 and still felt he had it. When he went back to the hotel he had a letter from Yankees owner George Steinbrenner. It was an open contract that had a note saying: “You put in the amount to play for the New York Yankees.” 

Aparicio sent the envelope back with a note that said: “Dear Mr. Steinbrenner, thank you very much for your offer but I just get released once in my lifetime.”11 That was the end of Aparicio’s playing career. He went back to Maracaibo that day with his family.

From 1956 to 1973, no other shortstop was more dominant in his position than Luis Aparicio, who won nine Gold Gloves. He was a profound influence on the game during his era with his speed, helping to revive the stolen base as an offensive weapon. He was selected to 10 All-Star teams. He played in two World Series and won one, and he set the most significant personal record for himself: No player had played more games at his beloved position in the major leagues than he (2,583). (The record has since been broken by Omar Vizquel.) He finished his career with 2,677 hits, a .262 batting average and 506 stolen bases.

After 10 years of eligibility and a huge crusade by many Hispanic journalists pushing his candidacy for the Hall of Fame, he was elected to the Hall in 1984, becoming the first Venezuelan to ever receive this form of baseball immortality. “This is a triumph of Venezuela for all Venezuelans,” said Aparicio when he heard of his election.12

His biggest regret is that his father didn’t live long enough to see his son elected to the Hall of Fame. Luis Aparicio Ortega died on January 1, 1971. After his death he was honored with his election to the Hall of Fame of Venezuelan Sports. The Maracaibo baseball stadium was officially named Luis Aparicio Ortega “El Grande de Maracaibo.” After the creation of the Venezuelan Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum, the Aparicio Ortega brothers, Ernesto and Luis, were also inducted.

After retirement, Luis moved back to Venezuela and worked during the Venezuelan league in winter as manager. He managed Caracas, Zulia, Lara, La Guaira, Magallanes, and Cabimas. He was a celebrity and his retirement was not easy for him. They were hard times, not economically because he was very organized financially, but emotionally. He spent more time with his family and was part of many local projects of many kinds.

In the early 1980s he became a television commentator for Radio Caracas Television during the Venezuelan League. In fact, when he got the notice about his selection to Cooperstown, he was working with RCTV. Although he enjoyed it for a while, television was not his passion, but at least something to stay close to the game, if he was not managing.

In the 1990s Luis was back to the field with Tiburones de La Guaira in the winter league as a manager and coach. Aparicio moved to Barquisimeto. He enjoyed spending time with his family and especially his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. His family suffered a big setback when his daughter Sharon was the victim of a crime in Venezuela. After this incident, he concentrated even more on his family. He continued to enjoy and follow baseball and kept his participation in baseball and Hall of Fame events with the help of his son Nelson.

After his election to the National Baseball Hall of Fame, Aparicio’s status of celebrity increased greatly. He became known as the most important and influential Venezuelan athlete of all time, the most revered and followed. He also made several trips a year to the US to participate in autograph sessions, fan festivals and former player activities. He was a constant supporter of Hall of Fame gatherings, including All-Star games and Cooperstown induction weekends.

 His solid and impeccable image and personality caught the attention of ESPN International and ESPN Deportes who invited him as a special color analyst for the international broadcasts of Venezuelan baseball from 2011 to 2013, alongside veteran and famed Spanish-broadcasters such as Emmy-award winning Ernesto Jerez.

Aparicio has since become an active baseball follower and his voice is present through his social media accounts, where he has provided opinions and personals perspective of issues around baseball. Most notably in 2017 he was invited to participate in a ceremony honoring the Latino members of the Baseball Hall of Fame prior to the 2017 All-Star Game in Miami, Florida. Aparicio respectfully declined the invitation and publicly stated: “Thank you for the honor @mlb, but I cannot celebrate while the young people of my country are dying while fighting for freedom”13

Aparicio did not attend the 2017 Hall of Fame induction for the same reasons and actively became a strong opponent of Venezuelan dictator Nicolás Maduro and the regime that has ruled Venezuela since 1998.

Maracaibo still remembers every November 18 as part of the festivities around the Virgin holiday, the anniversary of Luis Aparicio’s debut. At the Aguilas del Zulia game, Aparicio has made the ceremonial first pitch. Every year the Luis Aparicio Award is given to the best Venezuelan player of the major-league baseball season. It was a tribute to his career and to the memory of his father.

In 2006 the Chicago White Sox unveiled the Luis Aparicio statue at the U.S. Cellular Field in the center-field concourse and created by artist Gary Tillery. Aparicio attended the event with Sonia celebrating 52 years of marriage and with his son Luis Jr and daughter Karen. The sculpture is part of a two-player series depicting Aparicio waiting to catch a ball from his longtime double-play partner Nelly Fox, whose widow, Joanne, also attended the ceremony. “This is my biggest moment in baseball. I thank the White Sox organization for giving me the opportunity to play baseball, and I thank God for giving me the ability to play this game. The only thing I can say is baseball is so much of me, I even met my wife playing baseball.”14

The 2014 season of the Venezuelan Winter League was played in honor to the 30^th anniversary of Aparicio’s induction to Cooperstown and he was honored at every ballpark of the league and the league reinforced and emphasized the biggest honor ever made to a Venezuelan baseball player: the retirement of his number 11 from every team in the country.

Much more than a great player, Aparicio was recognized as a great human being. Most people knew Luis for his playing feats, but ignored his great heart and family values. During his career the integrity he brought to the game was one of his strongest assets. He gave everything he had to win and help his teams. He played simultaneously for 19 years in Venezuelan baseball, doubling the amount of work year round. As a major-league player he played fewer than 130 games in a season only once.

Maybe his greater value was how he embraced and understood his position and his significance on and off the field for the people of Venezuela, a country filled with social problems that universally celebrates the achievements of its people. He was much more than an icon.

People always expected the best from him, and he gave nothing but the best both as a player and as a human being, working hard enough and using his abilities to be among the greatest players of all time. He had huge shoes to fill under the shadow of his father and he never let this issue pressure him during his life. Luis Aparicio assumed a social responsibility and went beyond expectations.

Aparicio was named the Athlete of the 20th Century in Venezuela. Beyond his recognition for being the best player ever born in the country, his integrity and family values always accompanied him. Moreover, he is the role model for future generations and the “godfather” of the dynasty of Venezuelan shortstops in the history of the major leagues. Panorama published a letter Aparicio sent to his mother in March 1956: “To Herminia de Aparicio, Maracaibo. Dear Mom: You are finally the mother of a big leaguer. Try to figure out what it means to me to become ‘a big leaguer.’ Today I’ve cried alone, when they told me they were sending my luggage to Chicago because I had made the big league team. Tears came out by themselves and I just thought about Dad. Mom, please tell Dad that my debt with him is finally paid. Kisses, your son, Luis.”15

Luis has said: “When my father asked me to be always a number one, I always kept that on my mind. I think I didn’t disappoint him. I wanted him to be proud of me, and I know he definitely was. That’s the achievement of my life.”16   

Last revised: January 23, 2018

An earlier version of this biography originally appeared in SABR’s “Go-Go To Glory: The 1959 Chicago White Sox” (ACTA, 2009), edited by Don Zminda.

Sources

In addition to the sources in the Notes, the author also consulted

Verde, Luis. The History of Baseball in Zulia (Maracaibo: Editorial Maracaibo SRL, 1999).

Perfiles: Luis Aparicio. ESPN International. 2002-2007. 

Author interviews with Luis Aparicio, Juan Vené, Dámaso Blanco, Angel Bravo. Luis Verde, Nelson Aparicio, and Rafael Aparicio.

¡A La Carga! Tripleplay Sports Productions, Maracaibo, Venezuela. Various televisión episodes 1998-2002.

www.eljuegoperfecto.com

www.baseball-reference.com

Notes

1 Author interview with Luis Aparicio, July 2008.

2 Aparicio interview.

3 Diario Panorama (Maracaibo, Venezuela), November 19, 1953.

4 Carlos Cárdenas Lares, Venezolanos en las Grandes Ligas (Caracas: Fondo editorial Cárdenas Lares, 1990), 78.

5 Author interview with Juan Vené, Cincinnati, August 2007.

6 Diario Panorama, October 10, 1956. 

7 Author interview with Dámaso Blanco, Cincinnati, August 2007.

8 Aparicio interview.

9 Ibid.

10 Ibid..

11 Vené interview.

12 Revista IND, Instituto Nacional de Deportes, Caracas, Venezuela. August 1984. 

13 Luis Aparicio, via Twitter, July 11, 2017.

14 Scott Merkin, “Aparicio, Fox honored with statues,” MLB.com, July 23, 2006.

15 Diario Panorama, March 2, 1956. 

16 Aparicio interview.

Arias was born in Ciboney’s Sugar Mill in Camaguey Province on June 6, 1931. His father, Arturo Arias, managed a railroad station and his mother, Zoila Martinez, was a housewife who never worked outside of the home. The young Rodolfo was a rebellious child and before too long got himself expelled from school and sent to an educational facility sponsored by the courts; his education fell short of high school equivalency.    

Baseball in Cuba started in the 1860s and it was frowned upon by the Spanish colonial government, considered a repudiation of everything from Spain and supportive of the new revolutionary mentality of the locals. It was and is the national sport of Cuba. Arias’s love for the game started very early and he took every opportunity to play the game with his friends. The equipment he had was crude indeed. The “ball” was a sphere tightly wound with black electrical tape until it took the shape and consistency of a baseball; the bat was simply a branch cut from a local hardwood tree, the guira, which was typically used to make the Latin American musical instrument known as the maracas. Rodolfo had no other real interests; it was, as he recalls, “what we kids did all day long.”1

Young Rodolfo was so good as a left-handed teenage pitcher that many of his friends wouldn’t play against him unless he played first base rather than pitch.

In the early ’50s, he played in the Habana Amateur League for a club formed by the Customs office, but the team was not that successful on the field. However, an opening in an amateur tournament on the island allowed him to join the Oriente Province San German club in the Pedro Betancourt League. The team finished in first place and continued on to take first place in the Popular National Amateur League, too. Winning that league enabled Rodolfo and his teammates to travel to the United States in 1953 to play in a double-elimination tournament in Michigan against U.S. amateur teams.

Before the team left Cuba for the United States, Joe Cambria, the Washington Senators’ legendary Cuban scout, tried to sign Arias, but Arias, after talking to Popular League president Pedro Tibanier, took Tibanier’s advice not to sign with anyone until he got to the United States. If he pitched well, perhaps he could command a better price. He left for the United States, but covered his bases by telling Joe Cambria that he would sign upon his return from the tournament.

From Habana the team traveled to Miami, where they got on a bus for the long ride to Michigan. In 16 days of baseball, they won just two games, both pitched by Arias. Although there were a couple of good players on the team, they were deemed too short by the scouts; Rodolfo, at 5-feet-10 and 155 pounds, cut the right figure to go along with his pitching abilities. Chicago White Sox scout Doug Minor signed him for $3,000. It’s his recollection that pitchers like Camilo Pascual and Pedro Ramos were each signed for only $75. Tibanier’s advice and his own decision had been correct.

Upon returning to Cuba, Arias was called by Miguel Angel Gonzalez (a former major-league player and coach with 17 seasons mostly as a catcher) of the Habana Lions for a tryout; they had heard of his pitching performance in Michigan. As he entered the park, he slipped on wet stairs and fractured his left arm. Rodolfo is still pained to recall how depressed he felt at the time.

During this period, he traveled to Las Villas Province, where he met his future wife, Olga; the couple fell in love and they were married in February 1954. Though Arias was from Camaguey, both his father and wife were from Las Villas. (Many sources say Rodolfo was from Las Villas, too, but he has not bothered to request a correction.)

During his professional career he alternated between playing in Cuba’s winter league, which began in late fall/winter, and the United States, where the seasons began in the spring. He never thought of or wanted to do anything but to play ball. He recalls thinking, “Why get a job when you can play ball?”2

Arias began his minor-league career in the United States in 1953 with the Madisonville (Kentucky) Miners of the Class-D Kitty League, appearing in 37 games, winning 16 and losing 10, and hitting .299. The White Sox advanced him to Class B the following year, and he pitched for the Waterloo White Hawks and had a record of 5-7 in 33 games.

His first year in the Cuban League was with the Habana Lions in ’54, playing for Adolfo Luque (who had pitched in the majors for 23 years, compiling a record of 194 wins and 179 losses). He describes Luque as a “warrior” who seemed to care for nothing more than winning baseball games, a demanding manager, perfectionist in his demeanor. Luque died three years later. Arias’s teammates included Don Blasingame at second and Ken Boyer at third. He pitched in six games with no wins or losses. He recalls with glee striking out the three “Americanos” of the Almendares team: Rocky Nelson, Gus Triandos, and Earl Rapp.

During 1955-57, Arias played for the Amarillo Gold Sox, the Colorado Springs Sky Sox, and the Toronto Maple Leafs with a combined record of 34 wins and 24 losses. In 1956, he played in the winter league for the Marianao team, winning two games. His son, Rodolfo (“Rudy”), was born during that year. He improved his record in 1957 with nine wins and five losses and in the winter played for the Caribbean Series championship representing Cuba (Marianao), which had five wins and only one loss. Their opponents were Mayaguez (Puerto Rico), Balboa (Panama), and Caracas (Venezuela). Arias was able to pitch in only one game for a total of one inning, giving up three hits with one strikeout.

The year 1958 had Rodolfo pitching in his homeland during the regular season. He was playing Triple-A ball in the International League for the Habana Cuban Sugar Kings with a record of 7-7 and a 3.80 ERA. One of his wins was the only no-hit, no-run game in the history of the team, on August 17 against the Rochester Red Wings. The only Rochester player to reach base was shortstop Roy Smalley, who drew a sixth-inning walk. Arias received $1,000 from Cuba’s Bohemia magazine for his feat that day. That winter, he returned to Cuba and played for Marianao again (3-7), returning to the Caribbean Series, where he made another brief appearance, giving up one hit and a walk. Marianao once again won the Series with a 4-2 record against the teams from Caguas (Puerto Rico), Carta Vieja (Panama), and Valencia (Venezuela).

During the 1959 season, at the age of 28, Arias was promoted to the Chicago White Sox. His first game saw him come on in the bottom of the ninth in the April 10 game against the Tigers in Detroit. The score was tied, with two outs and a runner on first. He gave up a single, but then recorded the third out, sending the game into extra innings. He was pinch-hit for in the top of the 10^th. Arias was used exclusively in relief by the White Sox in 1959, throwing 44 innings in all. He was 2-0, and allowed 49 hits and 23 runs, while walking 20 and striking out 28 batters. During the 34 games in which he appeared, he came to bat only four times, without a hit and striking out twice.

Rudy finished 13 games, his two wins coming on April 17 against the Tigers and on May 12, when he pitched the 11^th and 12^th innings of a 4-3 win over the Boston Red Sox in Fenway Park.

Arias’s last game in the majors was on August 26, 1959. He wound up with an ERA of 4.09, above the team’s collective 3.29 ERA. Arias was with the team the entire season and was a member of the Sox’ World Series roster. He received a full World Series share, though he saw no action in the Series.

Two hitters he feared the most were Ted Williams and Mickey Mantle. As he remembers, when pitching to Mantle in a spring training game he ran the count to 2 and 1, followed by a second strike with the count now at 2 and 2. The catcher asked for a changeup and Mickey took a mighty swing. According to Arias, who laughs as he tells the story, “That ball almost hit the sun.”3

Another time, Ryne Duren beaned Nellie Fox and when Arias took the mound, it was Duren’s turn to come up to bat. White Sox manager Alfonso Lopez called a time out and approached the mound. His message to Arias was “metele un pelotazo” or “bean him.” Arias said that is what you did in those days; there was no choice in the matter – you had to do it. So he reared back and threw at Duren who, knowing what was coming, jumped back and eluded the throw. Arias got him in the stomach with his next pitch. As a fight was about to break out, Earl Torgeson ran from first base and stood between Arias and everybody else. Torgeson was known to be handy with his fists, and nobody touched Arias that day.

His daughter Olga Cristina was born while he was pitching in Chicago. In fact, the White Sox were scheduled to be on a road trip to Washington when the daughter was about to be born but he was allowed to stay back in order to be with his wife. After the birth, he was driven to the airport by Bill Veeck himself, a gesture he appreciates to this day.

Arias returned to Cuba for its 1959 winter league and played for Marianao, where he had a record of 4-8, pitching 118 innings in 29 games with a 3.29 ERA.

He went back to Triple A in 1960, playing for the White Sox’ San Diego affiliate in the Pacific Coast League and the Miami Marlins, a Baltimore affiliate in the International League. He had a total of 10 wins and 10 losses in 174 innings. After the season, he pitched for Marianao, where he won 10 games and lost 9 during 150 innings of pitching with 93 strikeouts and 50 walks, and was selected for the All-Star team. On January 17, 1961, Arias set a Cuban League record by pitching a complete 18-inning game against the first team he had played for, the Habana Lions. He lost that game when Dan Morejon hit a single with a runner on second. Who was the winning pitcher in relief? Luis Tiant (Red Sox hurler of fame), who went on to win the Rookie of the Year award for his 10 victories. With the Castro regime fully in power, 1961 was the last season of professional baseball in Cuba.

In the spring of 1961, Arias pitched for the Jersey City Jerseys of the Cincinnati organization in the International League where his record was 8-9 in 157 innings. He returned later in the year to Cuba when he heard a rumor that the new government was starting the baseball league again. While there, he threw without practicing properly and without proper supervision and tore a tendon in his arm. Soon after, he learned that the rumors he had heard about baseball in Cuba were incorrect. Wanting to continue to play ball at the professional level, he left Cuba once more.

Arias pitched in 1962 for the Columbus Jets, a Pittsburgh affiliate in the International League, and San Diego, now part of the Cincinnati organization, but he threw only 15 innings because of his bad shoulder and didn’t record a win. The Cincinnati medical staff gave him a cortisone injection and the team sent him to the Macon Peaches, a Single-A affiliate in the South Atlantic League. He was 2-1 in 26 innings of work, but his arm was no longer able to respond to the demands of the game and the rigors of pitching, and so he retired.

It was hard to get baseball out of his blood, though, and after a few years, feeling his arm was better, he pitched in the Mexican League for the Poza Rica team in 1965 and 1966 and was able to put together a record of three wins and three losses, but a slide play at second base left him with a severe leg injury which became infected and prevented him from pitching any more. As he recalls, he was hardly able to walk but had also heard there were rumors that US teams might have an interest in him again. He returned to Mexico in 1967, but his arm had gone bad again. He stayed but one week before he was cut and retired for the last time from professional baseball.

Arias worked in construction in the Miami area but it proved to be too physically hard for him. He was playing softball in a Miami league for the Barnett Bank when a bank official offered him a job in security. He promptly accepted and worked security for 18 years until his retirement in 1995.

In addition to their two children, Arias and his wife Olga, who died in 2010, had four grandchildren and one great-grandchild. Their son, Rudy, was signed by Seattle in 1977 as a catcher but retired after suffering a broken jaw. Later he was a bullpen catcher in three major-league organizations for 11 years.

As for Rudy the elder: Living in the Miami area during his later years, his life was filled spending time with his family. He continued to receive mail from fans and collectors looking for autographs. After being hospitalized with respiratory problems, Rodolfo Arias died on January 12, 2018. He was buried alongside Olga at Woodland Cemetery in Miami.

An earlier version of this article originally appeared in SABR’s “Go-Go To Glory: The 1959 Chicago White Sox” (ACTA Books, 2009), edited by Don Zminda.

Sources

Interviews with Rodolfo and Olga Arias, July 6, 20, and 23, 2008

Echevarria, Roberto Gonzalez. The Pride of Habana (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999).

Figueredo, Jorge S. Cuban Baseball A Statistical History, 1878-1961 (Jefferson: McFarland & Company Inc., 2003).

Figueredo, Jorge S. Who’s Who in Cuban Baseball, 1878-1961 (Jefferson: McFarland & Company Inc., 2003).

Torres, Angel. La Leyenda del Beisbol Cubano, 1878-1997 (Review Printers, 1996).

Notes

1 Interviews with Rudy Arias, 2008.

2 Arias interviews.

3 Arias interviews.

Battey was born in Los Angeles on January 5, 1935, to Earl and Esther Battey. In his own words, “I was the oldest of three brothers and seven sisters. My father was a construction foreman in Whittier, just outside metropolitan Los Angeles. He pitched for the Seventh-Day Adventist Church, and my mother, believe it or not, caught for the Nine-O ladies team that played at church outings.”1 Battey attended Jordan High School in the Watts neighborhood of Los Angeles. There he was scouted by the White Sox. According to Bob Vanderberg, Chicago Tribune assistant sports editor, “Billy Pierce told me the story that when the Sox were in California training, Paul Richards after practice asked Billy to go with him to see a high-school game. When Billy asked why, Richards told him about a great young catcher [Battey] who supposedly was the best in the country.”2 White Sox scout Hollis Thurston signed Battey to a $3,999 contract. His mother was ill and his family needed the money. At that time, a player signing for a bonus of $4,000 or more had to be kept on the major-league roster for at least two years.

After high school the White Sox sent Battey to play for Colorado Springs in the Western League in 1953, and then to Waterloo in the Three-I League in 1954, where he hit .292, played in 129 of Waterloo’s 135 games and was the league’s rookie of the year. He spent most of 1955 in Triple-A, with Charleston, West Virginia, of the American Association. In a 1964 book that Jackie Robinson put together concerning integration in baseball, Battey said he encountered segregation for the first time playing in the minors. His Los Angeles neighborhood had a mix of races and no segregation. In the minors there was no problem at the ballpark, but he was forced to eat and sleep apart from his white teammates in some of the road cities, including Wichita and Louisville, as well as at home during the year he played for Charleston.3 He was a late-season callup to the White Sox when the roster expanded and made his first appearance in September of 1955. He also played in Chicago briefly at the beginning and end of 1956, but spent most of that year with Toronto of the International League, where he hit .178 in 101 at-bats. Of that season, Battey explained: “I was knocked out in a play at home plate. I suffered a knee injury that kept bothering me when I finally got back in the lineup.”4

Healthier, Battey hit .331 in winter ball in Venezuela and impressed new manager and former catcher Al Lopez during spring training with the White Sox in 1957. When the major-league roster was cut to 28 on Opening Day and then 25 a month into the season, Battey stayed with the team. He continued to impress defensively as a fill-in when regular catcher Sherman Lollar needed a rest. On June 4 the White Sox were in first place with a five-game lead, and Battey was one of a number of bright spots. Manager Lopez said, “I’ve tried to rest Sherman Lollar as often as possible. Having a good young catcher like Earl Battey gives us the chance to rest Sherman, of course. The development of Battey has been one of my pleasant surprises.”5 Battey’s hitting didn’t hold up, however. Later in June Lollar broke his wrist in a game against the Orioles and Battey and Les Moss shared the catching duties as Lollar missed 41 games. Lopez said: “Neither can measure up to Lollar. Lollar would have won one more game against the Yankees. Battey was up with the bases loaded and he struck out. We went on to lose, 6-5.”6 Battey hit only .174 in 48 games with the White Sox that year and in August he was optioned to the Los Angeles Angels of the Pacific Coast League. His hitting improved at that level and in winter ball in Venezuela he again hit over .300. He hit well in spring training of 1958 (“I now have the confidence that I can hit major-league pitching.”7) and made the major-league roster again. He showed more power (eight home runs in 68 games) and spent the whole season in the majors for the first time, but still hit only .226.

The 1959 season was catcher John Romano’s first full season with the White Sox, and his presence limited Battey’s playing time. In a preseason article, the Chicago Tribune speculated about moving Lollar to first if Battey or Romano began to hit with power.8 Romano did, and caught 38 games while hitting .294. Battey appeared in only 26 games, catching in 20, as he hit .219. Lollar won his third consecutive Gold Glove as the No. 1 backstop. Battey made the White Sox World Series roster in 1959, but saw no action as Lopez relied on the veteran Lollar to start all six games. (John Romano didn’t do much better; he got one at-bat in the Series.)

The 1959 team had been built on pitching, speed, and defense. Before the 1960 season began, the White Sox traded some of their young players in order to get some established power. The management wanted 1957 American League home-run champion Roy Sievers from the Washington Senators. The Senators asked for Battey and infielder Sammy Esposito, but Lopez opposed that trade, saying he was “reluctant to give up ‘two players who figure to be regulars for the Senators.’”9 In early April 1960, however, the White Sox offered Battey, minor-league first baseman Don Mincher, and cash for Sievers, and the Senators accepted.

Lopez was right; Battey became a regular for the Senators in 1960. No longer in the shadow of Sherm Lollar, he blossomed into an American League star. He led the league in games caught by a catcher (136), putouts, and assists, but also in errors and passed balls, and he won the first of three consecutive Gold Gloves. Washington won more than 70 games for the first time since 1953 and Battey was voted the team MVP. The right-handed batter drove in 60 runs and hit .270. He finished eighth in AL MVP voting.

The Senators moved to Minnesota and were renamed the Twins for the 1961 campaign. Battey hit over .300 for the only time in his career (.302) and hit 17 homers as he caught in 131 games. He asked for a $1,300 raise from the Twins’ owner, Calvin Griffith, but Griffith was noted for being tight with a dollar. “I was quite elated with my season,” Battey recalled. “I had never hit over .300 in the majors. But he said, ‘We finished in seventh even with you hitting .302,’ and he didn’t see any reason for a raise.”10

Metropolitan Stadium was an exciting place for the Twins in the next couple of years. Both the Twins and the Los Angeles Angels challenged the Yankees in 1962 before falling back. The Twins finished second by five games. Battey made the All-Star team for the first time, getting 150 votes from the players and coaches to Romano’s 84. Both the AP and UPI postseason polls voted him the best catcher in baseball. He had 17 home runs at the All-Star break the next year and was again voted the starter for the American League, outpolling eventual league MVP Elston Howard, 196 to 70, in the vote among players and coaches. Despite 26 homers, he was fourth in homers for the power-laden Twins. Harmon Killebrew had 45, Bob Allison, 35, and rookie Jimmie Hall, 33. Killebrew finished fourth in league MVP voting and Battey was seventh. The Twins led the league in homers (225), runs (767), and batting average (.255), but were eighth in defense. They won 91 games, but finished third behind the Yankees and White Sox.

The Twins dropped below .500 in 1964 for the first time since 1961. Battey was injured several times, but still caught 125 games. His most spectacular injury occurred when he was knocked out hitting his head against a chair after making a diving catch over a railing on May 10.11 He had reported to spring training at 260 pounds, a fact that caused the Twins to make $1,000 of his salary dependent on reporting at no more than 230 pounds the following spring. He also reinjured his right knee and was batting .220 at the end of June, but rallied to finish with .272. He did not make the All-Star team in 1964.

In 1965 the Twins, behind great pitching from starters Jim Grant, Jim Kaat, and Jim Perry, excellent relief work from veteran Al Worthington, and an excellent offense led by batting champion Tony Oliva, won 102 games and took the American League pennant by seven games over the White Sox. Always known for his great arm, Battey threw out 26 of the 54 runners who attempted to steal with him behind the plate that year, according to Retrosheet data. Earl hit .297 and was selected to start the All-Star Game. Though he struck out only 23 times all season, he fanned five times in the World Series against the Dodgers, including twice against Koufax, with two runners on in the first inning and with one runner on in the ninth inning of Sandy’s three-hit shutout in Game Seven. A factor in Battey’s .120 hitting performance in the Series was an injury he sustained in the seventh inning of Game Three. He hit his throat against a dugout railing in Dodger Stadium while chasing a foul pop hit by Willie Davis. He left the game, but returned to start every game in the Series. Nonetheless, the Dodgers stole nine bases in winning the three games played in Los Angeles after losing the first two in Minneapolis.

The Twins kept essentially the same lineup in the following year, 1966, and won 89 games, but couldn’t keep pace with the Baltimore Orioles and finished in second place, nine games out. Battey’s batting average dropped to .255, but he made the All-Star team as a reserve after Bill Freehan outpointed him among votes from the players and coaches, 111 to 95. Over the first six years of the Twins’ residence in Minneapolis, Battey had, despite frequent injuries, played in 805 of the Twins’ 972 games.

The 1967 season was Battey’s last as a player. It was the year of the exciting four-team race for the pennant among the Twins, White Sox, Tigers, and Red Sox, but Earl was frequently injured and lost his starting job to Jerry Zimmerman. On May 18, after Jim Kaat was knocked out of the box for his eighth consecutive start, manager Sam Mele sent Kaat to the bullpen temporarily and benched Battey. Zimmerman injured his finger on July 17 and Battey played for a while, but then he was placed on the 21-day disabled list on August 9 after a foul ball dislocated his thumb. He ended up playing in only 48 games that year, catching in 41, and hitting .165. The Twins finished in a tie for second place, one game out. He announced his retirement on November 3 after a season “plagued by injuries.”12

In April of 1968, Battey “accepted a job as baseball consultant to Consolidated Edison … to help run the [NYC] power company’s part of a baseball-community relations program.”13 It was known as the Con-Ed Answer Man program. Con-Ed would buy Yankees tickets and give them free to inner-city kids. The youngsters attended the game with Battey, “combination chaperone and the Con-Ed Answer Man (He answered their baseball questions).”14

In 1980 Battey enrolled at Bethune-Cookman University in Daytona Beach, Florida. He finished his undergraduate studies in 2½ years. After graduating he taught high school and coached baseball in Ocala, Florida.

Battey was named the catcher on the Twins’ 40th-anniversary all-time team in 2000, and attended a reunion ceremony. He died of cancer on November 15, 2003. He and his wife, Sonia, had five children (Earl, Corey, Darren, Brenda, and Barbara) and, at the time of his death, four grandchildren.

Since his death a number of Twins teammates have recognized Battey’s contribution during the 1960s. “Earl was a great storyteller, and he could tell them both in Spanish and English,” second baseman Frank Quilici said. “He had the biggest personality on the team. That was as close a group of players as I’ve been around, and Earl was probably the main reason.” Harmon Killebrew said, “Earl had two very important things going for him. He was a fun guy in the clubhouse. More importantly, he had everyone’s respect, because he had sore knees, sore hands, sore everything, but he stayed in the lineup. I didn’t realize how good of a catcher Earl was until he was gone.”15 Sam Mele, his manager from midway through 1961 to midway through 1967, said, “He was one of the best catchers I had in my life. He ran the pitching staff, I don’t mind telling you: He was the leader of my ballclub.”16

Earl Battey had a great career with the Twins, and one can only wonder if the White Sox would have been better off keeping him. As one White Sox blogger has noted, the Sox came close in 1964, and if they had kept one or two their young nucleus of future All-Stars — Battey, Johnny Callison, Norm Cash, Barry Latman, or John Romano — they might have won a pennant in the 1960s.17 In an interview with the Chicago Tribune in 1968, farm director Glen Miller shook his head, “as if to say ‘never again,’ when he [thought] of John Callison, Earl Battey, and Norm Cash, all of whom were Sox property.”18

An updated version of this biography appeared in “A Pennant for the Twin Cities: The 1965 Minnesota Twins” (SABR, 2015), edited by Gregory H. Wolf. An earlier version appeared in SABR’s “Go-Go To Glory: The 1959 Chicago White Sox” (ACTA, 2009), edited by Don Zminda.

Notes

1 Jack R. Robinson and Charles Dexter, Baseball Has Done It (New York: J.P. Lippincott Company, 1964), 183.

2 Mark Liptak, “Remembering Earl Battey,” Whitesoxintereactive.com aka FlyingSock.com, 2004.

3 Robinson and Dexter, 184.

4 “Battey to Stay with Sox,” Chicago Defender, April 27, 1957

5 David Condon, “In the Wake of the News,” Chicago Tribune, June 4, 1957.

6 Edward Prell, Chicago Tribune, August 2, 1957.

7 Russ J. Cowens, “Lopez Lauds Battey,” Chicago Defender, March 18, 1958.

8 Edward Prell, Chicago Tribune, January 20, 1959.

9 Edward Prell, “Lopez Opposes Sox Deal for Sievers,” Chicago Tribune, March 30, 1960.

10 Jon Roe, LaVelle E. Neal III, and John Millea, “Memories of Calvin,” Minneapolis Star Tribune, October 21, 1999.

11 A Smashing Catch,” UPI Telephoto, Chicago Tribune, May 11, 1964.

12 Chicago Tribune, November 4, 1967.

13 Chicago Tribune, April 23, 1968.

14 Blog posted by “Tim” on March 21, 2007, in response to “Absence of African-Americans in Baseball: Crisis or Fact of Life?”, “Extra Bases” section of 108 magazine, 108mag.typepad.com/extra_bases/2007/03/absence_of_afri.html.

15 Patrick Reusse, “ ’65 in 05: A Twins Reunion,” Minneapolis Star Tribune, August 19, 2005.

16 Jim Souhan, “Twins Notes: Battey joins team Hall,” Minneapolis Star Tribune, June 6, 2004.

17 Mark Liptak, “Remembering Earl Battey.”

18 Richard Dozer, “Meetings May Determine ‘Untouchables’,” Chicago Tribune, September 19, 1968.

Raymond Frederick Berres was born in Kenosha, Wisconsin, on August 31, 1907. “I thought it was wonderful,” Berres said about growing up in Kenosha. “The streets weren’t paved and we could play ball in the streets morning, noon and night.” Ray’s father, a carpenter and repairman, had immigrated to the US from Germany and had no interest in baseball. He died when Ray was 14; his mother was not a baseball fan, either, but his two brothers and four sisters encouraged his baseball ambitions (Ray was the youngest of the seven children).

In his late teens, Berres caught for sandlot teams in the Kenosha area, traveling as far as Chicago on occasion to play ball. He caught the attention of former major-league pitcher Dick Crutcher, who was managing a semipro team for Nash Motors in Kenosha. With Crutcher’s help, Berres was offered a professional contract with the Oklahoma City club of the Class A Western League. He went to spring training with Oklahoma City in 1929, but in his eagerness to show the team his throwing ability, he developed a sore arm. Rather than take a chance on waiting for the untried youngster’s arm to heal, the club handed Berres his release at the train station just before departing for its opening game. “Here I was, suitcase in hand, proud as heck,” Berres remembered years later. “I was really broken-hearted.”

Lacking the money to return home after his abrupt release, Berres began hitchhiking back to Kenosha. When he reached Waterloo, Iowa, he remembered that an old teammate of his from Kenosha was trying out for the Waterloo Hawks of the Class D Mississippi Valley League. He found the hotel where his friend was staying, met the manager, and was given an opportunity to try out for the team. His arm was still sore at first, but the club showed patience with him and offered him a contract (ironically, to make room for Berres, the team released his friend). Berres rewarded the club’s patience by hitting .300 in his debut season, but was limited to 64 games after spraining his ankle and hurting his knee sliding into second base. With the club threatening to release him, he returned to action with the ankle still in a cast, and came up with a sore arm again. But he soldiered on, grateful to have a job playing baseball. “I was making $75 a month,” he recalled.

After that season Berres’ contract was purchased by the Birmingham Barons of the Class A Southern Association for $7,500. “The Birmingham owner, Bill Curtis, kept calling me all winter about the ankle, telling me to do a lot of dancing to strengthen it,” he recalled. The Barons were loaded with catchers in 1930, and sent Berres to Montgomery of the Class B Southeastern League for that season. He was recalled to Birmingham in 1931 and spent three seasons there under manager Clyde Milan. “He was like a godfather to me,” Berres said of the former Washington Senators outfielder. “I asked him if he thought I would make it to the major leagues – I was a comparatively small man (5’9”). He said, ‘Your enthusiasm and your work and your ability will get you there. You’ll never be a good big-league hitter, but observant as you are and as cooperative as you are, you’ll always have a job.’” However, injuries continued to hold Berres back; played in only 69 games in 1930 and 36 in 1931. “I suffered a lot of broken fingers,” he recalled.

Berres was healthy and productive in 1932 and ’33, hitting over .280 for Birmingham both years, and after the 1933 season, he was drafted by the Brooklyn Dodgers. He made his major-league debut for the Dodgers in 1934, playing for manager Casey Stengel, and got into 39 games, hitting .215 while backing up veteran catcher Al Lopez, who became his roommate and lifelong friend. However, Berres’ arm began acting up again and he spent the 1935 season back in the minors with Sacramento of the Class AA Pacific Coast League. It proved to be a break for Berres. He developed a new way of throwing while in Sacramento that was less taxing on his arm. “The warm weather in Sacramento helped my arm also,” he said.

In December 1935 the Dodgers traded Lopez to the Braves and brought Berres back to Brooklyn. Sharing the club’s catching chores with Babe Phelps in 1936, he caught 105 games on a mostly veteran staff led by colorful right-hander Van Lingle Mungo. Phelps was by far the better hitter, but Berres’ throwing ability and his knack for working with pitchers helped him get playing time. His knowledge of hitters’ strengths and weaknesses was encyclopedic; even when he was in his late 80s, Berres could tell an interviewer what pitches were best to throw to Ernie Lombardi, Mel Ott, or the Waner brothers.

But while Berres was proving Clyde Milan correct when he told Ray that his knowledge and ability would get him to the majors, he was also living up to Milan’s prediction that he’d never be a good major-league hitter. Berres batted .240 for the Dodgers in 1936, a good season with the stick by Ray’s modest standards; however, Phelps, batted .367, and the next year Berres was back in the minors with Louisville of the Class AA American Association. “Burleigh Grimes (the Dodgers’ new manager) had never seen me play,” recalled Berres. “He had an outfielder in Louisville that he wanted, and Louisville needed a catcher.” So a trade was worked out. “I was really despondent; I was going to quit,” said Berres. “I thought my chances were going to run out.” But Berres was told that other major-league teams were interested in him, so he reported to the Colonels.

The Pittsburgh Pirates brought Berres back to the majors late in the 1937 season, but a broken toe limited him to two major league games that year. He spent 1938 and ’39 with the Bucs as a backup receiver. (“I was brought back primarily to catch the curveball pitchers, like Cy Blanton and Russ Bauers,” said Ray). In June of 1940, he recalled, “We blew a game in the Polo Grounds, and (Pirates manager Frankie) Frisch was going from one locker to the other, giving everybody hell. When he came to me, he said, ‘And you… get your ass up to Boston. I just dumped you.’” The Pirates traded him – for Al Lopez, of all people. (Pittsburgh also gave the cash-poor Braves $40,000.)

Reunited with his former Dodgers manager, Casey Stengel, in Boston, Berres earned playing time with his solid defensive work but continued to struggle mightily at bat – hitting .192 in 1940 and .201 in 1941. And according to Ray, he did not get along as well with Stengel as he had when the two had been together in Brooklyn. Despite that and despite his weak hitting, Berres got into 106 games in 1940 (85 of them after the trade to Boston) and a career-high 120 games in 1941. “My whole pride was in defense,” Berres said about his playing career. “I think one year I picked more men off the bases than one (regular) catcher threw out stealing. Somebody said I was included in the top 10 defensive catchers in the history of baseball.”

One of Berres’ best memories of his years in Boston was his marriage to the former Irma Ludwig in July, 1940. “Our families had known each other for years,” Ray said. The couple had a son, John, and remained together for 62 years, until Irma’s death in 2003.

The Pirates sold Berres to the Giants before the 1942 season. According to Ray, Bill Terry, the Giants’ general manager, had made the trade with the thought of sending Berres to New York’s Jersey City farm team to work with the team’s young pitchers, but Ray refused to go back to the minors. He did agree to spend spring training with Jersey City, then spent the 1942-45 wartime years with the Giants as a seldom-used backup catcher, getting a total of 107 at-bats in the four seasons. (Harry Danning, Gus Mancuso, and Ernie Lombardi were ahead of him on the depth chart. The Giants released Berres after the 1945 season, and he finished his major-league career with a lifetime average of .216 and only 78 RBIs and just three home runs in 561 games. (One of those home runs was inside-the-park.) He wasn’t quite through playing. He spent the 1946 a player-manager for Richmond of the Piedmont League, but decided, “I hated managing.” Though he never played professionally again, Ray Berres was far from through with baseball. The career that would win him lasting fame – as a pitching coach – was about to begin.

Ray began that second career in modest fashion as a bullpen coach (and possible emergency catcher, though he never got into a game) under Billy Southworth with the 1947 Boston Braves. Aware of Ray’s ability to impart his knowledge to young pitchers, the Braves arranged for him to room with Warren Spahn, who was then in his second full major-league season. It was probably no coincidence that Spahn improved from eight wins in 1946 to 21 wins in 1947, with a league-leading 2.33 ERA.

In 1948, the Braves sent Berres down to coach with their Milwaukee club in the American Association; while there he worked extensively in spring training with future major-league catching star Del Crandall. Then in 1949, Berres returned to the majors with the Chicago White Sox. “I got a call one day from (White Sox general manager) Frank Lane, asking me to be his pitching coach,” Ray recalled. Lane had been president of the American Association while Berres was coaching at Milwaukee, and was familiar with Ray’s reputation as someone who had a knack for working with pitchers.

Berres remained a coach with the White Sox for the next 18 seasons. The Sox team he joined had been the worst in the American League in 1948, losing 101 games and ranking next-to-last in team ERA with a 4.89 ERA. The White Sox moved up to sixth place in ’49, and the Berres touch was immediately evident as the club improved its team ERA by more than half a run, to 4.30. Berres had his first major success that year with left-hander Bill Wight, who went from 9-20 with a 4.80 ERA in 1948 to 15-13 with a 3.31 ERA in 1949.

After one more bad season (94 losses) in 1950, the White Sox in 1951 began a streak of 17 consecutive seasons with winning records – one of the longest such streaks in major-league history. Berres, who was the pitching coach for all but the last of those 17 years, was a major factor in the White Sox’ success. Under his guidance, the White Sox posted an overall team ERA of 3.33 in the years from 1951 through 1966 – the top mark for any major-league team over that time span.

One of Berres’ trademarks during his years as White Sox pitching coach was his ability to take pitchers who had struggled with other teams and turn them into winners with the White Sox. Among the pitchers who had the best seasons of their careers after hooking up with Berres were Saul Rogovin, who won the American League ERA title after being traded to the Sox in 1951; Sandy Consuegra, who went 16-3 with a 2.69 ERA in 1954; converted first baseman Jack Harshman, who won 40 games for the White Sox from 1954 through 1956; Ray Herbert, who had his only 20-win season for Berres and the Sox in 1962; and Juan Pizarro, who had several good years in White Sox pinstripes, including a 19-9 season in 1964. There were many others.

“I always went to the ballpark early,” said Berres about his ability to notice pitchers on other clubs who had the potential to help the White Sox. “I loved to watch teams work out, and I’d see pitchers getting their work in. I’d see a pitcher and think, ‘I believe if I could get him to go my way, he could help us.’” With Berres, it happened again and again.

“I owe a great deal to Ray Berres,” said Bob Shaw, who blossomed into an 18-game winner for the pennant-winning 1959 Sox club under Berres’ tutelage. “What he basically taught me was quite simple: you’ve got to break your hands, get the hand out of the glove, keep your weight back, get your arm up. It wasn’t all that elaborate. Just basic fundamentals and he knew ’em and there are really very few people in the country who know what they are.”

“He was the reason I got to the big leagues,” former White Sox pitcher Gary Peters said of Berres. “He had a knack for spotting mechanical problems and he could cure you pretty easily.” As with many pitchers, success came quickly to Peters once he was able to grasp Berres’ concepts. After several frustrating seasons in which he pitched well for Sox farm teams but could never stick with the big club, Peters won 19 games and the American League Rookie of the Year Award in 1963, then became a 20-game winner the next season.

“He was a quiet fellow, a very, very good coach,” Billy Pierce, the ace of the White Sox pitching staff during the 1950s, said of Berres. “Ray’s main theory was that a pitcher’s arm would drop down as he began to tire. He would watch that intently.”

Unlike most other pitching coaches, Berres preferred to spend the game in the bullpen rather than the dugout. “I was never on the bench. … I was always in the bullpen working with pitchers,” he said. “We worked on the phone between me in the bullpen and Richards or Lopez or whoever was in the dugout. I’d probably see things from the back of the pitcher that they couldn’t see from their angle.”

“He keeps a running stream of chatter all during the game,” said Bob Locker, a successful relief pitcher for White Sox in the 1960s. “Two of the things he’s always looking for are getting the arm up and not rushing the delivery. He thinks the pitcher’s motion is the key to everything.”

Along with helping the careers of numerous pitchers, Berres played a key crucial role in convincing the White Sox to keep Nellie Fox when the club was about to send Nellie to the minors early in Fox’s career. As he told David Gough and Jim Bard, authors of Little Nel: The Nellie Fox Story:

‘In 1951 Paul Richards came in as manager. In spring training Paul didn’t think Nellie was the answer at second base. They wanted someone who could hit the ball long.  They were all set to send him to the minors…. We had a meeting with Frank Lane, Paul and the other coaches. They wanted a consensus of opinion on what to do. I told them that I had seen Nellie in all of 1950 and that \he had hit the toughest .250 that I had ever seen. Lots of line drives. I told them ‘He can play.’”

The Sox wound up keeping Fox, in good part due to Berres’ strong support. And when Fox was posthumously inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1997, Nellie’s widow, Joanne, said, “It is with great appreciation that I remember his mentors, especially coach Ray Berres. I know that he is watching today.”

The high point of Berres’ years with the White Sox was the pennant-winning season of 1959 – a club managed by Ray’s good friend Al Lopez and led on the field by Fox, who was named the American League’s Most Valuable Player that year. On the mound, staff ace Early Wynn won 22 games; Bob Shaw was a career-best 18-6; dual bullpen aces Jerry Staley and Turk Lown combined to go 17-7 with 29 saves; and the White Sox led the major leagues with a 3.29 ERA. It was a typically excellent performance from a Berres-coached pitching staff. During the 16-season period from 1951 to 1966, Berres’ staffs finished first or second in the American League in team ERA 10 times and never ranked lower than fourth.

Berres was such an unquestioned master at working with pitchers that he was able to keep his position with the White Sox despite frequent changes in managers, front offices, and even owners. From 1949 through 1966 the Sox had six managers (Jack Onslow, Red Corriden, Paul Richards, Marty Marion, Al Lopez, and Eddie Stanky); four vice presidents/general managers (Frank Lane, Chuck Comiskey, Hank Greenberg, and Ed Short); three ownership groups (the Comiskey family, Bill Veeck, and Arthur Allyn) … and one pitching coach (Berres). It was an almost unmatched display of loyalty to a modest man who always preferred to stay in the background. “I attribute my longevity in baseball to the fact that I do not give interviews to reporters,” Berres once said. Toward the end of a long 1996 interview for the SABR Oral History Committee, he commented, “I probably talked more today than I did in 44 years in baseball.”

When Lopez retired as White Sox manager after the 1965 season, new skipper Eddie Stanky agreed to keep Lopez’s entire coaching staff (Berres, Don Gutteridge, Tony Cuccinello, and Kerby Farrell). After a year at the helm, Stanky decided that he wanted to select some of his own coaches, and Berres and Gutteridge were out of a job. The club nearly won a pennant under Stanky in 1967, but when the Sox got off to a terrible start in 1968, Stanky was fired and Lopez came out of retirement to take over the team. He brought Berres and Gutteridge back with him. Ill health forced Lopez to retire again early in the 1969 season, and Gutteridge took over as manager, with Berres continuing to serve as his pitching coach.

After the 1969 season, the White Sox gave Berres a new role as a minor-league pitching instructor. “That drove me nuts,” he said. “Those kids wanted to do things their own way.” After a couple of years, Berres finally retired for good, settling down with Irma in the home in Silver Lake, Wisconsin, which they had bought when their son, John, was born in 1947. Eventually they moved to the resort community of Twin Lakes, a few miles away. Both towns are in Kenosha County, where Ray was born.

Berres stayed active well into his 90s, though the aches and pains from years of catching and coaching occasionally caught up with him. “I had 18 pieces of chips taken out of my elbow just from working with pitchers,” he told an interviewer. And though he remained a quiet man, he loved telling a story about his first spring training as a professional player with the Oklahoma City Indians back in 1929. As Ray told it, the New York Yankees came to town to play an exhibition game against Oklahoma City, and young Berres was behind the plate when Babe Ruth came to bat.

“Babe came up with the bases loaded and two outs and the count went to 3 and 2, which meant that everybody was on the move,” Berres told Pete Jackel. “He hit the damnedest, highest pop fly that I had ever seen up to that time and the wind was spinning the ball. I started back-pedaling all the way to the mound … and fell on my butt. The ball bounced on the rubber and I happened to look up and I said, ‘Good God, that’s almost as high as the one he hit!’

“I felt terrible. Everyone scored and the fans booed something awful. When the inning was over, I was depressed, of course, and was walking slowly to the dugout. I thought I was going to get bawled out and, all of a sudden, I felt an arm go around my shoulders and it was the Babe. He said, ‘Kid, don’t let that bother you. That has happened to a lot of big-league catchers.’”

Several years later, when he reached the major leagues with the Dodgers, Berres was behind the plate for another exhibition game against the Yankees. And up came Ruth. “He had a habit of walking up to the plate and tapping it,” Berres related. “And as he did, he saw me down there and said, ‘Hey, kid! I’m glad to see you made it!

Ray Berres passed away from heart failure and pneumonia in his hometown of Kenosha on February 1, 2007, four years after the death of his beloved wife, Irma. He was 99 years old; at the time of his death only one former major leaguer, Rollie Stiles, was older. He had enjoyed a long and remarkable life; as a long list of people whom Berres had helped could attest, Ray Berres most certainly had “made it.”

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to Warren Corbett for his assistance with this piece, and to Dave Anderson for the material he contributed.

Sources

Ray Berres Interviews, March 8 and 19, 1996, SABR Oral History Committee

Interview with Billy Pierce, September 9, 2008

“Horn Tootin’ Not for Sox Tutor Berres,” Jerome Holtzman, Chicago Sun-Times, July 8, 1966

“He’s the Berres,” Dave Nightingale, Chicago Daily News, July 20, 1968

“Reluctant Legend,” Pete Jackel, Racine (WI) Journal Times, October 13, 2005

David Gough and Jim Bard, Little Nel: The Nellie Fox Story, D.L. Megbec Publishing, Alexandria, Virginia, 2000

Bob Vanderberg, Sox: From Lane and Fain to Fisk and Zisk, Chicago Review Press, 1982

www.retrosheet.org

The SABR Minor Leagues Database

Boone played in 89 games, batting a solid .306 with Wausau, but put his baseball career on hold by enlisting in the Navy in 1942. He missed the 1943, ’44, and ’45 seasons. After his discharge, in 1946, the Indians assigned Boone to Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, of the Class-A Eastern League. He split catching duties with Ralph Weigel and hit .258. On October 12, 1946, Boone married his high school sweetheart, Patsy Brown. In 1947 Boone was assigned to Oklahoma City of the Class-AA Texas League, where he began the season splitting catching duties with Ray Murray. When injuries struck the club, manager Pat Ankenman asked Boone to finish the season at shortstop. He brought his average up slightly, to .264.

As spring training opened in 1948, Cleveland player-manager Lou Boudreau kept Boone as the third-string catcher and also had him take infield practice as a possible backup to Boudreau at shortstop. With defensive stalwart Jim Hegan behind the plate, the Indians had no room for Boone, who wanted to play every day. Boone asked Boudreau if he could be sent to Hollywood of the Pacific Coast League. Boudreau granted Boone’s request, but three weeks later, hitting .250 for Hollywood, Boone was returned to Oklahoma City. There, his bat caught fire, and he was leading the league with a .355 batting average when the Indians recalled him on August 27. Because Boone played in only 87 games at Oklahoma City, he fell short of the 100-game minimum needed to qualify for the batting title. He did, however, make the Texas League All-Star team.   

Boone made his debut for the Indians on September 3, 1948, in St. Louis. He relieved Boudreau at shortstop midway through the first game of a doubleheader and doubled in a run in the eighth inning. For the month, Boone appeared in six games and had five plate appearances. Because he had been called up in August, he was eligible to play in the World Series, in which the Indians faced the Boston Braves. In Game Five, Boone faced Braves great Warren Spahn as he pinch-hit for right fielder Walt Judnich in the eighth inning. Spahn, who was working in relief of Boston starting pitcher Nels Potter, struck Boone out on the way to an 11-5 victory. It was Boone’s only appearance in the World Series. The Tribe came back to win Game Six behind starter Bob Lemon, and Cleveland won its first World Series since 1920.

On June 6, 1949, Boudreau named Boone his starting shortstop when the player-manager took over at third base to replace the slumping Ken Keltner. Boone responded by hitting the first two home runs of his career on June 15 at Fenway Park, belting the first off Walt Masterson and the second off Ellis Kinder. Boone played in 76 games at shortstop for the Tribe, and committed 21 errors. His batting average was a modest .252. Boone struggled in learning a new position and replacing the popular Boudreau who, while nearing the end of his playing career, had starred for nearly a decade. Boone had a pep talk with himself. “Raymond, what now?”, Boone said. “You have been a catcher all your baseball life. Now you are told you could be a good shortstop. You belong to Cleveland and the Indians have the greatest shortstop the American League has ever seen. Connie Mack says so.”2

The Tribe faced major changes with the approach of the 1950 season. Al Rosen took over at third base for Ken Keltner, who was released on the first day of the season and signed the same day with the Red Sox. Boone replaced Boudreau at shortstop on a full-time basis, and Bobby Avila was splitting second base duties with Joe Gordon. Luke Easter became the first baseman when the Tribe shipped Mickey Vernon to Washington on June 14.

Out of options, neither Avila nor Rosen nor Boone could be sent to the minors again without the Indians risking losing them. Given every chance to make good, Boone batted .301 in 106 games, third best on the team behind Larry Doby and Dale Mitchell. Cleveland finished a close fourth, six games behind the eventual world champion Yankees.

Released on November 21, Boudreau signed with the Red Sox (as a player) six days later. Al Lopez replaced Boudreau as Cleveland’s manager. Boone now had the shortstop position all to himself. Nevertheless, he could never quite seem secure in the shortstop spot, having so-so seasons in 1951 and 1952, during which he hit .233 and .263 respectively and made 26 and a league-leading 33 errors.

In 1952, the Indians finished only two games behind the Yankees, and Boone received much of the criticism for his team’s falling short. Late in the season, Lopez benched Boone in favor of George Strickland, who had come to the Tribe in a trade with Pittsburgh in August. Boone alone did not experience defensive lapses, as Rosen, Boone, Avila, and Easter combined for 94 errors, the most of any infield in 1952.

General manager Hank Greenberg continued to back Boone. “I will tell you something about Boone,” said Greenberg. “Many people in Cleveland think we ought to get rid of him. If we do, I know of at least four American League clubs that would be happy to have him. It’s easy for someone to see that a player has had a bad season. It isn’t so easy to find a fellow who is certain to do better. If Boone is not a big-league shortstop, why are those four other clubs anxious to get him?”3 

Boone beat out Strickland for the starting shortstop position in 1953, but by June, the Indians had kept Strickland while unloading Boone. After the Yankees swept the Indians in a four-game series just before the June 15 trading deadline, Greenberg traded Boone (hitting .241 in 34 games) and pitchers Al Aber, Steve Gromek, and Dick Weik to Detroit for pitchers Art Houtteman and Bill Wight, infielder Owen Friend, and catcher Joe Ginsberg. Initially, Cleveland was thought to have gotten the better of the deal since Houtteman was considered to have great potential, although he had struggled since winning 19 games in 1950 for Detroit.

Detroit manager Fred Hutchinson immediately inserted Boone at third base, and Ray responded by going 3-for-3 with a home run to lead the Tigers to a 5-3 victory over the Red Sox at Fenway Park on June 16. Hutchinson liked the left side of his infield now that Boone manned third base alongside rookie shortstop Harvey Kuenn. “With Boone and Kuenn,” Hutchinson said, “I believe we can figure that the left side of the infield is in good hands for at least five years.”4 

Boone’s offense and defense improved dramatically as a result of his relocation to third base after joining the Tigers. In 31 games at shortstop with Cleveland that season, he had made eight errors for a .952 fielding percentage. After the trade, Boone played in 97 games at third base for Detroit, making 14 errors with a fielding percentage of .958. He hit .312 with 22 home runs and 93 runs batted in only 101 games for the Tigers. Boone tied a major-league record since broken by hitting four grand slams in a season. Tigers general manager Charlie Gehringer was impressed. “He found himself at third at Detroit and gained confidence in the field. That helped his batting,” Gehringer said. “I always considered him a sound hitter. He isn’t fooled often. Have you noticed how he guards the plate and tries to hit to right field when the count is two strikes? Other hitters would profit if they did this instead of taking that last wild swing.”5   

While Boone became a fan favorite in Detroit, the Tigers were a second-division team for most of his time there, always appearing to lack both pitching and power hitting. During Boone’s five years with the Tigers, only he, Al Kaline, and Charlie Maxwell hit more than 20 home runs in a season, and no one hit more than 30.

Fans voted Boone the starting third baseman for the 1954 All-Star Game. The game took place in Cleveland, and Avila started at second base and Rosen at first. Rosen hit a three-run home run off Robin Roberts of the Phillies in the bottom of the third inning, and Boone followed his old roommate with a solo shot off Roberts. Boone ended the 1954 season hitting .295 with 20 home runs and 85 runs batted in. New York Yankees manager Casey Stengel said, “In my book, that Ray Boone of the Tigers is the best clutch hitter we face in the course of the season. There’s a guy who makes you give him good pitches. Then, when you give them to him, he’s apt to belt ’em a mile.” 6

In 1955, Bucky Harris replaced Hutchinson as the Tigers’ manager in a year that saw Boone develop injury issues, a problem that plagued him for the rest of his career. Boone suffered from aching knees, which worsened the more he played. Doctors discovered that he had calcium deposits in his knees, a condition he had suffered from since boyhood. But he overcame both a slow start and the injuries to tie Boston outfielder Jackie Jensen for the American League RBI crown at 116, and batted .284. In 1956 he hit .308 with 25 home runs, and again made the All-Star Team, appearing as a pinch-hitter at the game in Griffith Stadium in Washington.

In 1957, new Detroit manager Jack Tighe moved Boone to first base to minimize the wear and tear on his knees, which required regular cortisone injections. The Tigers had acquired Jim Finigan from Kansas City to play third base, and Boone approved of his new position. “I believe I can play more games there,” he said. “If my knee acts up later in the season like it did last year, I feel I can stay in the lineup at first base. I couldn’t do that at third base.”7 But his batting average dropped off to .273 and his RBIs fell to 65.  

In 1958, the Tigers added some veterans by bringing in Billy Martin to play shortstop (Kuenn moved to center field) and Boone’s former teammate Jim Hegan from Cleveland to help the young pitching staff. Boone started the season manning first base for the Tigers, but finished the year playing the same position for the White Sox. On June 15, 1958, five years to the day after Detroit had traded for Boone, he was sent along with pitcher Bob Shaw to Chicago for outfielder Tito Francona and pitcher Bill Fischer.

Boone performed steadily for the White Sox. His former manager at Cleveland, Al Lopez, inserted him at cleanup as part of a revamped batting order. Shortstop Luis Aparicio was dropped from leadoff to eighth. The leadoff spot and the third position were rotated between third baseman Billy Goodman and center fielder Jim Landis. Second baseman Nellie Fox batting second and catcher Sherm Lollar batting cleanup were for the most part the only constants in the batting order. The White Sox finished in second place, 10 games over .500, but 10 games behind New York. Between Cleveland and Chicago, Boone finished with a .242 average with 61 RBIs.

Relegated to the bench when the 1959 season started, Boone played sparingly in the early weeks. His best day came on April 24 in Cleveland, when he went 2-for-3 with a home run, had two RBIs, and scored a run. He had appeared in only nine games, going 5 for 21 (.238) with one home run and five RBIs, when the White Sox, looking for added power from the left side of the plate, dealt Boone to Kansas City for Harry Simpson on May 2. In spite of rumors that Boone, stilled plagued by his knee problems as well as bursitis, might retire rather than play with the Athletics, after a conversation with White Sox president Bill Veeck, Ray reported to Kansas City. After playing in 61 games for Kansas City and hitting .273, Boone was claimed on waivers in late August by the Milwaukee Braves, who were involved in a tight pennant race with the Los Angeles Dodgers and San Francisco Giants. Appearing mostly as a pinch-hitter, Boone got into only 13 games for Milwaukee in 1959 and in seven more in 1960 before being dealt again, this time to the Boston Red Sox. Released by the Red Sox on September 14 after batting just .205 in 34 games, Boone didn’t think he could be of much value to any team given his knee pain, so he decided to retire. He had a lifetime batting average of .275 with 151 home runs and 737 RBIs.

Boone began a second career with the Red Sox, signing on as a scout to work in the San Diego area, a role he fulfilled for more than 30 years. He also served as an extra coach at spring training. He signed many players for the Red Sox, including Curt Schilling, Gary Allenson, Sam Horn, Marty Barrett, Phil Plantier, and Kevin Romine. Even after retiring as a full-time scout, Boone maintained an association with the Red Sox.

Ray Boone died on October 17, 2004, at the age of 81. He suffered a heart attack after being hospitalized after experiencing complications from intestinal surgery. Boone had also suffered from diabetes for many years. He was survived by his wife, Patsy, sons Bob and Rod, and daughter Terry. He also left nine grandchildren and five great-grandchildren.

Boone’s memorial service was held on October 24, 2004. At the same time that his family and many friends were paying their last respects, Curt Schilling of the Red Sox was throwing the first pitch to start Game Two of the World Series at Fenway Park. The symbolism was not lost on those who were celebrating Ray Boone’s life, for Boone had signed Schilling to his first major-league contract, in 1986 with Boston.

Bret Boone told the gathering at the memorial service, “All the stories I saw referred to (Ray) as the patriarch of the Boone family,” Bret told the funeral assembly. “I looked up the word ‘patriarch’ to see exactly what that meant. It said a patriarch was the father and ruler of the family. That’s what Gramps was.”8

An earlier version of this biography appeared in SABR’s “Go-Go To Glory: The 1959 Chicago White Sox” (ACTA, 2009), edited by Don Zminda.

Notes

1 “Great Grandfather,” Sports Illustrated, October 25, 2003.

2 Dan Daniel, “Converted Catcher Subs for Lou at Shortstop, The Sporting News, June 29, 1949.

3 Ed McAuley, “Trade Talks Bring High Henry Nothing But a Battered Ear,” The Sporting News, October 15, 1952.

4 Watson Spoelstra, “Aber, Branca Join Hoeft in High Spots in Tiger Hill Plans,” The Sporting News, August 26, 1953.

5 Watson Spoelstra, “Tigers First Division Club Since June,” The Sporting News, September 23, 1953.

6 “Stengel Calls Ray Boone ‘Mr. Clutch’ of the Majors,” The Sporting News, July 14, 1954.

7 Watson Spoelstra, “Boone Experiment Success, Feels at Home at First Base,” The Sporting News, April 10, 1957.

8 Chris Jenkins, “Boones eulogize their patriarch at El Cajon services, San Diego Union-Tribune, October 25, 2004.

John Wesley Callison was born in Qualls, Oklahoma, on March 12, 1939, the son of Virgil (sometimes spelled Vergil) and Wilda (Faddis) Callison. The family supposedly had Native American roots. The Callisons were poor and his father worked odd jobs in and around Qualls in the dying days of the Great Depression. When Virgil joined the Army during World War II, Callison’s mother traveled the path of many “Okies” before her and in 1944 took young Johnny, his brother, and his two sisters and settled in Bakersfield, California.

The quiet and shy Callison discovered that he had exceptional athletic skills. One of his teachers noted that he could run faster backward than most of his classmates could run forward. Sports became his way out of a life of poverty and hardscrabble work. He said later in life that he “found my refuge in baseball” because only on the ballfield did he feel “worthy of measuring up.”2

Callison was a star athlete at East Bakersfield High School and especially stood out in baseball. The scouts were on his trail before he graduated from school, with the White Sox eventually signing him in 1957 for a bonus of $7,000 plus another $3,000 under the table. To ease his way into professional baseball, the White Sox assigned the 18-year-old Callison to his hometown team, the Bakersfield Bears of the Class C California League.

Callison made an impressive debut in 1957, hitting .340, rapping out 41 extra-base hits, and stealing 31 bases in just 86 games in a league that included such future major leaguers as third baseman Charlie Smith, pitcher Chuck Estrada, and outfielder Vada Pinson. Callison was named the league’s outstanding rookie. The White Sox brass believed they had a superstar in the making and the next season jumped him all the way to their Indianapolis Indians team in the fast-paced Triple-A American Association. At 19, Callison was one step from the majors.

Callison’s sophomore season saw the first comparison to his fellow Oklahoman, Mickey Mantle.3 While Callison’s average dipped to .283, he led the league with 29 home runs and drove in 93 runs while showing for the first time a cannon-like throwing arm. In September the White Sox brought Callison up for a taste of major-league life. He showed signs that he was ready for the big time by hitting .297 while driving in 12 runs in 18 games. The pitching-strong White Sox, who finished 10 games behind the Yankees in 1958, believed that they had a chance to win the pennant the next season. They brought Callison to spring training hoping that he would add some punch to their weak offense.

Callison made the team out of spring training but was a major disappointment, hitting just .173 with three homers in 49 games. He was sent back to Indianapolis in midseason. The always-competitive Callison was disgusted with himself and felt he had let the White Sox down. The White Sox brass decided that they needed to add offense to continue to compete with the Yankees; despite winning the pennant, they had finished last in the American League in home runs and sixth in batting in 1959. Callison became expendable.

In the offseason, the White Sox made two major trades to add power to their lineup. They got former home run champ Roy Sievers from Washington to play first base and exchanged Callison for third baseman Gene Freese, who had hit 23 home runs for the last-place Philadelphia Phillies.

The trade proved the making of Callison. Going to a developing team where there was no pressure to perform and especially coming under the tutelage of Gene Mauch, he blossomed into one of the premier players in the National League.

Callison’s best years were with the Phillies from 1960 to 1969. His first two seasons were a learning process. Mauch loved his potential and made him a special project. In some ways, Mauch saw Callison as the kind of ballplayer he would have liked to be. Callison was not only Mauch’s special project but also his pet. Mauch worked on smoothing out the 5-foot-10, 175-pound Callison’s left-handed swing and getting him to hit to left field. Mauch also encouraged the speedy Callison to occasionally drag bunt as a way to sharpen his batting eye and upset the defense. By 1961 Callison was showing signs of brilliance. One-third of his hits that season went for extra bases, including ten triples, the first of five consecutive years in which he reached double figures in that category. He led the league in triples with 16 in 1965. His 84 three-baggers for the Phillies rank him sixth in the team’s all-time list through 2012. He also ranked 12th in doubles and 12th in home runs in Phillies history.

Mauch tried Callison in left field but that didn’t make the best use of his great throwing arm. Beginning in 1962, Callison became the Phillies’ regular right fielder, quickly mastering the tricky bounces off Connie Mack Stadium’s 34-foot-high wall. From 1962 through 1965, Callison led all right fielders in the majors with 90 assists – quite a feat when you consider that the great Roberto Clemente, possessor of one of the strongest arms in the major leagues at the time, had 59.

The 1962 campaign proved Callison’s breakthrough season. He hit .300 for the first and only time in his career – Mauch benched him on the last day of the season to keep his average over the .300 mark. Callison hit 23 homers, tying the record for the most home runs by a Phillies left-handed hitter since the right-field wall in Connie Mack Stadium was raised in height. Then he broke that mark in each of the next three seasons. His 32 home runs in 1965 were the most for any left-hander in the history of Connie Mack Stadium. The 34-foot-high right-field wall probably cost the pull-hitting Callison a number of homers during his ten years with the Phillies.

Arguably, Callison’s greatest season came in 1964, the ill-fated season when the Phillies blew a 6½-game lead with 12 games to play and lost the pennant. Playing in all 162 games, Callison hit .274, scored 101 runs, and drove in 104 while banging out 31 homers. He won the All-Star Game with a dramatic ninth-inning, three-run homer off Dick Radatz. That home run became Callison’s most enduring memory. He said he was asked about that feat so many times that he felt like Bill Murray in the film Groundhog Day.4

During the Phillies’ ten-game losing streak, Callison, along with rookie sensation Dick Allen, was one of the few Phillies players to hold his own, hitting .275 with four home runs. Unlike some others, Callison didn’t blame Mauch for the team’s late-season collapse: “It wasn’t all Gene’s fault. We played!”5

Callison probably would have won the Most Valuable Player Award that season but for the Phillies’ pennant collapse. As it was, he finished second to Ken Boyer of the St. Louis Cardinals.

Callison twice hit three home runs in a game for the Phillies, the first against the Milwaukee Braves during the ten-game losing streak in 1964. The second time came a year later, June 6, 1965, against the Chicago Cubs.

Callison had another solid year for the Phillies in 1965, hitting 32 homers and driving in 101 runs. Then, beginning in 1966, his power numbers dropped precipitously. He hit just 11 home runs in 1966 and never hit more than 20 again. Beginning in 1966, Callison’s power numbers continued to decline. His slugging percentage reached a peak of .509 in 1965, but dropped over 100 points two years later.

At 27, Callison effectively was finished as a major-league power hitter. What happened to him isn’t clear. He claimed he suffered a number of nagging injuries – to his legs in particular – that destroyed his ability to play. In 1966 he complained of problems with his eyes. He tried wearing glasses and even adopted a vigorous exercise program that Carl Yastrzemski said benefited his own career. But nothing worked. In baseball circles it was believed that Callison had lost his self-confidence. Even at the height of his success in 1964, Callison had admitted that he was “the biggest worrier around” in an article in Sport magazine.6

After three more undistinguished years with the Phillies, Callison was traded to the Chicago Cubs after the 1969 season with pitcher Larry Colton for pitcher Dick Selma and outfielder Oscar Gamble. He loved playing with Cubs but couldn’t stand manager Leo Durocher, whom he blamed for some of his troubles, claiming that Durocher almost drove him out of baseball.7 Callison stayed with the Cubs for two seasons but clashed with Durocher over playing time. In July 1970, while Callison was in the midst of a good season, he wrote that Durocher “got a wild hair up his ass” and began platooning him. Callison found sitting on the bench “torture.”8 Despite playing in 147 games in the season, Callison got to bat only 477 times, an indication that Durocher was pinch-hitting for him at times. That was Callison’s last decent season; he hit.264 with 19 home runs while driving in 68 runs. After the 1971 season, he was traded to the New York Yankees, and he finished his career there in 1973.

After retiring, Callison worked in a variety of jobs including car salesman and bartender, none of which suited his talents. He longed to get back into baseball in some capacity but never found a place. For years he attended the Phillies’ fantasy camps in Florida, where he was popular with both the fantasy players and his former teammates.

Callison married his high-school sweetheart, Dianne Hammitt, while still in school. Along with their three daughters, Lori, Cindy, and Sherri, they resided for years in Glenside, a small town outside Philadelphia.

Callison’s health was poor after his retirement from baseball. He suffered from a serious case of ulcers, experienced a heart attack, and eventually died from cancer on October 12, 2006, at the age of 67.

Despite the decline of his careers with the Phillies after the 1965 season, Callison still has a significant place in the team’s records. Through 2012 he was among the top ten Phillies in games played in the outfield, triples, and extra-base hits. For five years, from 1962 through 1966, he was the idol of the city and easily the most popular player on the team. All in all, not a bad record to leave.

This biography is included in “The Year of the Blue Snow: The 1964 Philadelphia Phillies” (SABR, 2013), edited by Mel Marmer and Bill Nowlin. An earlier version originally appeared in SABR’s “Go-Go To Glory: The 1959 Chicago White Sox” (ACTA, 2009), edited by Don Zminda.

Sources

Bostrom, Don. “Johnny Callison’s Most Memorable Moment,” home.onemain.com.

Callison, John Wesley, with John Austin Sletten. The Johnny Callison Story (New York: Vantage Press, 1991).

Hochman, Stan. “The Survivors of ‘64’: Johnny Callison,” in Richard Orodenker, The Phillies Reader (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1996).

Rossi, John P. The 1964 Phillies: The Story of Baseball’s Most Memorable Collapse (Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland, 2005).

Westcott, Rich and Frank Bilovsky, The New Phillies Encyclopedia (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1993).

Westcott, Rich. Philadelphia’s Old Ballparks (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1996).

Notes

Camilo Garcia Carreon was born in the Southern California town of Colton to Miguel and Socorro (Garcia) Carreon on August 6, 1937. His father had immigrated to Colton from the state of Durango in Mexico and was employed at a cement plant in Colton for 30 years. Camilo was the youngest of five children. The family lived in a home next to a set of railroad tracks. Camilo honed his hitting as a boy by hitting rocks pitched to him, or ones that he tossed in the air to himself and swatted with a bat for hours at a time.

Carreon was a standout athlete at Colton Union High School, competing in football and basketball in addition to catching for the baseball team. As a senior in 1956, he was the captain of the baseball team and was named All-Conference catcher. After graduating from high school in 1956, Carreon played with the semipro Colton Lumbermen and worked for a local honey company. He also gained some experience playing for a semipro outfit in Bandon, Oregon, named the Millers. While playing for the Millers, he worked as a lumberman in Bandon.

While playing for the Lumbermen in June 1956, Carreon drew the attention of a pair of scouts for the Chicago White Sox, Hollis Thurston and Doc Bennett. They signed Cam for the White Sox and he finished out the year in Holdredge of the Class D Nebraska State League, the equivalent at the time of a rookie league. His first full season of professional baseball came with Duluth-Superior of the Class C Northern League. He played at Duluth-Superior for two seasons and moved up to Colorado Springs of the Class-A Western League in 1958. His performance that season drew the attention of the Chicago press, and a Chicago Sun-Times article quoted scout Jack Sheehan as saying he believed Carreon was the “most powerful fellow of all” of a group of White Sox farmhands that included Norm Cash, Johnny Callison, and Don Mincher.1 Carreon validated Sheehan’s praise by hitting .342 for Colorado Springs.

For Carreon, 1959 was a banner year. In February, he married his high-school sweetheart, Dolores Atellcio. When the season started, he was assigned to Indianapolis of the Triple-A American Association. He hit .311 for the Indians, and hit for the cycle in a mid-August game. His achievements were enough to earn him the Robert E. Hoey Memorial Award, given to the league’s outstanding rookie. To top off 1959, Carreon was called up to Chicago in September and had one at-bat for the American League champions, on the last day of the season in Detroit. He replaced Johnny Romano behind the plate in the bottom of the sixth inning and flied out to left field against Pete Burnside in the eighth. Needless to say, it was Sherm Lollar who caught for the White Sox in the World Series.

But 1960 again found Carreon plying his trade in the minor leagues, this time in San Diego, with another September call-up. On the 18th, he collected his first major-league hit, a single in the second game of a doubleheader in Detroit that he started. He broke camp with the team in 1961 and served as the backup to the 36-year-old Lollar, batting .271 in 229 at-bats. In 1962, roles were reversed and Cam received the majority of the playing time at catcher for the White Sox, with Lollar serving in the reserve role. Carreon played in 103 games, hitting .256 with 37 RBIs. He rebounded to hit .274 in 1963.

As Carreon became established as the starting catcher for the competitive White Sox of the early 1960s, he was approached by the Campbell’s Soup Company, which wanted him as a spokesman to appeal to its Mexican market. But according to his wife, Chicago had not affected Cam’s homebody tendencies, and even though Campbell’s offered to provide him with travel back and forth to Chicago, he declined because of his desire to be back home throughout the offseason.2

Colton remained home in his early career. Cam, or Camel, as he had been known to friends in high school in Colton, worked as a car salesman in the offseasons. Over time, he and Dolores took a liking to Arizona and moved to Tucson in the early 1960s. Nonetheless, Colton remained a part of their lives, as many of the family remained there. In 1968, Colton paid tribute to Cam by designating a local roadway as Carreon Drive for its hometown boy who made it to the big leagues.

Once the couple moved to Tucson, Carreon hung up his car salesman shoes and spent his offseasons playing winter ball in Latin America, which included stints in Colombia.

As a major leaguer, the promise in Carreon’s bat remained unfulfilled as his career took shape. Some had raved about his power while he was a prospect, but it had not developed in his minor-league career. He hit over .300 three times in the minors, but as the 1963 season approached, he carried a career major-league batting line of .261 with an on-base percentage of .327 and a slugging average of .354. He continued to struggle at the plate until a hot streak beginning in late July and extending into August brought his average to .302. An article by Jerome Holtzman in the Chicago Sun-Times quoted Carreon as crediting manager Al Lopez for his success. He said, “Before, I’d raise up and sweep at the ball. I don’t move up any more. Instead, I’m stepping and striding into the ball. It’s made a big difference. I hit the ball solid now.”3

Carreon cooled off over the rest of the season but still finished with his best batting average as a major leaguer, .274. There would be limited opportunity in the future to determine if he could carry over the improvement to future seasons. He hit the same .274 in 1964, but in only 37 games, largely because he injured his right shoulder badly while sliding into third base in June. Even before the injury, J.C. Martin had been receiving the majority of the playing time behind the plate, even though his production to that point had been worse than Carreon’s. At the time of Carreon’s injury, Martin was hitting .203 in 118 at-bats.

The shoulder injury proved to be the beginning of the end for Cam Carreon in the major leagues. In January 1965 he was part of a three-team trade that landed him in Cleveland. A season with the Indians that saw limited playing time (52 at-bats with a .231 batting average) was followed by a trade to Baltimore in March 1966 for (then) minor leaguer Lou Piniella.

Carreon played in only four games for the Orioles in 1966. They were his last major-league appearances. He spent most of the season in Baltimore’s Triple-A team at Rochester. The next season was more of the same as he appeared in 62 games for Rochester and Jacksonville and hit a combined .145. As his career took this nomadic turn and he continued to struggle with the effects of his 1964 shoulder injury, he was faced with a decision. Cam had always told Dolores that once their children began school, he wanted to stay home with them in Tucson and help raise them. She didn’t believe he would follow through, and told an interviewer in 2008 that she wasn’t certain what part the injury may have played in his decision. As their first child, Michael, began school, however, Carreon decided to retire from a playing career and stay home in Tucson with his family rather than try to hang on with a major-league team. A daughter, Camille, and a son, future major leaguer Mark Carreon, were already part of the family and Cam was happy to be home in Tucson to see them grow. Another son, Manuel, and a daughter, Christine, would follow. Mark broke in with the Mets in 1987 and enjoyed a 10-year major-league career.

Cam Carreon ended his time in the majors with a .264 lifetime average, 11 home runs, and 114 runs batted in. He was a good defensive catcher with only 13 errors in 320 games and a .993 fielding average.

Carreon enjoyed being close to his family, but he was not entirely through with professional baseball. When the Tucson Toros franchise joined the Pacific Coast League in 1969, he was persuaded to end his one-year retirement and appeared in 57 games, collecting 31 hits (28 of them singles) in 119 at-bats. He shared catching duties with Jim Napier. (Coincidentally, Carreon’s oldest son, Mike, became a Tucson firefighter working in the same station with Napier’s son.) Carreon played for the Toros just in that one season but remained with the team as a coach through 1972.

Carreon enjoyed being a family man and being able to watch his children grow up in Tucson. After his time with the Toros, he was able to focus on providing instruction to his children in Little League and was heavily involved in amateur men’s leagues in the area. The time spent with his sons bore fruit, as in addition to Mark’s professional success, both Mike and Manny were standout players. Mike was a member of the Cactus Little League team that played in the 1973 Little League World Series championship game, and Manny was a star in high school and played at Emporia State University.

Camilo Carreon’s devotion to his children helped turn out a handful of adults that any parent would be proud of and who also revered their father for his guidance. His involvement with his friends and the baseball community in Tucson evoked many similar feelings. After a battle with cancer, Carreon died on September 2, 1987, at the age of 50. Six days later Mark made his debut in the major leagues as a September call-up of the Mets. On that day he pinch-hit for Sid Fernandez in the third inning and hit into a fielder’s choice. Memorial services for Cam were well-attended both in Tucson and in Colton, where he is buried. Later, a memorial was dedicated in his honor at the El Rio Golf Course in Tucson, where he spent many afternoons with his closest friends. In 2006, Carreon was posthumously elected to the Colton Hall of Fame, the first Hispanic so honored. His family was present for the induction.

Carreon’s memory lives on to this day, as his family and friends gather in Colton every August around the time of his birthday to celebrate his legacy and that of his mother, who also shared an August birthday. His influence is also felt in Tucson, where his son Manny took up Cam’s role in the community, becoming involved in the amateur men’s leagues in the area. As an employee of the Tucson Parks and Recreation Department he was in charge of preparing the grounds at Hi Corbett Field for the final homestand of the Toros in 1997. Both Manny’s commitment to the community and Mark Carreon’s 10-year career in the major leagues helped preserve the legacy of Camilo Carreon.4

An earlier version of this biography originally appeared in SABR’s “Go-Go To Glory: The 1959 Chicago White Sox” (ACTA, 2009), edited by Don Zminda.

Sources

In addition to the sources cited in the Notes, the author consulted Basbeall-Reference.com and the following sources:

Burris, Jim. “Camilo Carreon Named A.A.’s No. 1 Freshman Player.” American Association Service Bureau press release, August 30, 1959.

Carreon, Camilo. Chicago White Sox questionnaire, June 18, 1956. Chicago White Sox    personnel file.

Carreon, Mark. Telephone interview. April 24, 2008.

Munzel, Edgar. “Injury To Carreon Hurt Sox,” Chicago Sun-Times, September 29, 1964. 

Notes

1 “Sox Tab Carrion [sic] For Future Power,” Chicago Sun-Times, 1958 (exact date unknown).

2 Delores Carreon telephone interview, May 22, 2008.

3 Jerome Holtzman, “Carreon Credits Clouting Spree to Tips by Lopez,” Chicago Sun-Times, August 20, 1963.

4 Greg Hansen, “Toros of Old Leave Their Mark on Tucson,” Arizona Daily Star, September 3, 2008.

Norman Dalton Cash was born on November 10, 1934, in Justiceburg, Texas. A railroad junction located southeast of Lubbock, Justiceburg boasted a population of 25 according to the 1925 population census. Fittingly, its most famous citizen wore 25 as his uniform number for most of his professional baseball career. Cash’s most dominant childhood memories were of helping on the family farm: “My dad’s life was hard work…he had 250 acres of fertile land and we grew cotton on 200 acres.  I drove a tractor from the time I was ten. Sometimes I drove it ten to twelve hours.”1

Working with a hoe on the farm also allowed him to develop his wrists. Ironically, those who knew Cash during his youth remember his athletic abilities, not on the baseball diamond but on the football gridiron. In 1955, during his senior year at Sul Ross State College in San Angelo, he set the school rushing record with 1,255 yards. Following graduation, Cash was even drafted in the 13th round as a halfback by the Chicago Bears. Instead, he chose baseball, signing with the Chicago White Sox as an outfielder on May 21, 1955. Meanwhile, Cash had married his childhood sweetheart, schoolteacher Myrta Bob Harper, on January 24, 1954.

After two seasons at Ft. Bliss, the left-handed hitter and fielder was promoted to Comiskey Park midway through the 1958 season. Cash was soon converted to a first baseman, and after some seasoning at Indianapolis, he was recalled by the White Sox in 1959. Playing backup to Earl Torgeson, Cash batted only .240 but fielded a stellar .993 in 31 games. The White Sox, led by speedy infielders Luis Aparicio and Nellie Fox, raced to the summit of the American League standings, hitting 46 triples and stealing 113 bases in 94 victories. The “Go-Go Sox” outdistanced second-place Cleveland by five games to capture their first pennant in 40 years. However, the Sox were badly overmatched by the Los Angeles Dodgers, losing the World Series in six games. Much like their 1906 predecessor, the ’59 incarnation of the White Sox were, indeed, hitless wonders. Not even late season acquisition Ted Kluszewski could save the Sox from their 97 aggregate home runs and anemic .250 batting average. During the offseason, President Bill Veeck acquired veteran Roy Sievers, Gene Freese, and Minnie Minoso to bolster Chicago’s offense. However, he was forced to mortgage his future prospects, including Earl Battey, Don Mincher, Johnny Callison — and Norm Cash. No match for Kluszewski and Torgeson, Cash was sent to Cleveland with Bubba Phillips and Johnny Romano in the seven-player Minoso deal on December 6, 1959.

Although Cash wore a Cleveland cap on his 1960 Topps baseball card, he never played an inning for the Indians. On April 12, as the Tribe headed north from Tucson at the conclusion of spring training, Cash found himself traded yet again. This time, he was dispatched to Detroit in exchange for outfielder Steve Demeter. Detroit general manager Rick Ferrell was dumbfounded when Frank Lane, his Cleveland counterpart, offered Cash for Demeter, unsure if he meant “cold cash or Norm Cash?”2 While Demeter’s career with the Indians consisted of merely four games, Cash became a fixture at first base in Detroit for 15 years. Lane was not through making controversial trades with the Tigers. Five days later, he sent Rocky Colavito to Michigan for Harvey Kuenn, and later in 1960, the two clubs swapped managers, Joe Gordon for Jimmie Dykes.

Cash’s teammates took an immediate liking to him. A comedian both on the field and in the clubhouse, he once tried to call time after being picked off first base. In another instance, Cash was stranded on second base during a thunderstorm. Once play resumed, however, he returned to third base. The umpire was baffled.

“What are you doing over there?”

“I stole third,” he answered.

“When did that happen?”

“During the rain.”3

On several occasions, he gave a muddy infield ball to the pitcher instead of the game ball so the hitters could not see it as well. Al Kaline remembers:

“Whenever you mention Norm Cash, I just smile. He was just a fun guy to be around and a great teammate. He always came ready to play. People don’t know this, but he often played injured, like the time he had a broken finger.”4 Sonny Eliot, Detroit’s ageless wacky weather man, describes Cash as “just old fashioned likeable,” comparing his physical form to a kewpie doll from a state fair. “Whenever he came to bat, I would yell ‘Hey kewpie doll,’ and he’d turn around and laugh.”5 It was another Southerner and recent transplant to Detroit who presented Cash with his nickname: “I was in Baltimore [for six years] and there was a fellow there named Norman Almony,” remembers Ernie Harwell. “Everybody called him Stormin Norman. When Norman Cash lost his temper once in a while, I gave him the nickname Stormin Norman. I don’t think he liked it at first, but after a while, he started treasuring it.”6

After a respectable 1960 season in which he batted .286 with 18 home runs, Cash captured the baseball world by storm in 1961. Although playing in the shadow of Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris, Cash posted one of the most outstanding offensive single season records in American League history. Stormin’ Norman led the junior circuit with 193 hits and a .361 batting average. Number 25 also established personal marks of 41 home runs, 132 RBIs, and eight triples. Even more astounding, he hit .388 on the road! Facing Washington’s Joe McClain on June 11, Cash became the first Detroit player to clear the Tiger Stadium roof, hitting a home run that landed on Trumbull Avenue. Another against Boston’s Don Schwall struck a police tow truck. He was equally skilled at first base, fielding a sterling .993 as he caught dozens of long foul balls before they could fly into the stands. With Kaline’s .324 batting average and Colavito’s .290 complementing Cash in the lineup, the Tigers, led by Frank Lary and his 23 victories, challenged the Yankees for the American League pennant. The Bengals came within a game and a half of the Bronx Bombers on September 1 before retracting to finish eight behind in the standings with 101 victories.

Was Norm Cash destined to become a one-year wonder? Even at the time, he knew his ’61 season was a freak, saying that everything he hit seemed to drop in, even when he didn’t make good contact. After Frank Lary injured his leg on Opening Day and Al Kaline broke his shoulder during a nationally televised game in May, it became clear that the Tigers would not again challenge the Yankees in 1962. The season was equally disappointing for Cash, who batted only .243 for the season. The 118 points shaved from his average remains a record of futility among batting champs. Cash ultimately found his swing, batting .342 in an autumn exhibition trip to Japan, but by that point, the regular season was long over. Still the 1962 season was far from a write-off for the affable Texan. Cash hit 39 home runs, including three more roof shots, as the league runner-up to Harmon Killebrew’s 48. His .993 fielding percentage was identical to his 1961 average.

Cash never again cracked the .300 plateau. Years later, when Mickey Lolich asked why, he replied that “Jim Campbell pays me to hit home runs.”7 Indeed, Cash’s 373 home runs for the Tigers remains second only to Al Kaline’s 399 among aggregate team records. However, it soon became evident that other factors besides the maturation of expansion pitching compromised Stormin’ Norman’s batting average. Cheating in baseball was as much an issue in 1961 as it remains today, and Sonny Eliot remembers why Norm Cash called that season “the Year of the Quick Bat.”

“We used to sit in the old Lindell’s A.C.,” said Eliot, referring to the popular watering hole adjacent to Tiger Stadium. “We’d just rib the hell out of him. ‘Did you put cork in the bat? If not cork, was it lead?’ Or whatever it was, we’d just rib him.”8  He struck out frequently, and fans expecting another batting title consistently booed cash for the balance of his career. Even his wife joined in the chorus on occasion.9 Stormin’ Norman knew that inherently, they were as good natured as he was. After all, when Mayo Smith removed Cash from the lineup during a slump, the manager was also

booed.10 Although he was not bothered by the sounds of tens of thousands of boos, “when one or two guys get on your back, they drive you nuts.”11 For their appreciation of his congeniality and humor, the Tigers Fan Club crowned Cash as King Tiger in 1969. George Cantor described Cash as “the most popular man on the team,” who knew “all the best watering holes” throughout the American League.12

Although Cash stifled the cork in 1962 and thereafter, he sound found himself fighting a much larger battle in alcoholism. Denny McLain described his roommate as “a modern medical miracle,” who abused his body so mercilessly that he “should [have turned] it over to the Mayo Clinic.”13 Stormin’ Norman violated every curfew rule in the book, but he somehow arrived at the ballpark every day, “not only eager to play, but madder than hell if he didn’t.”14 Granted, Cash rarely showed up on time: he “could not make 9:00 am workouts because he threw up until 10:00 am.”15 McLain credited hustle and determination as the secret to Cash’s big league longevity, although the bespectacled righthander did admit that he was  often bewildered “how he managed to remain upright” when he took the field. Still, McLain admitted that “I always felt better about everything when I looked over and saw Stormin’ Norman at first base.”16 Players were rarely unanimously accepted by their peers, but Cash proved an exception. As pitcher Jerry Casale once conveyed, “on a team with so many friends, there was no one nicer than Norm Cash.”17

Cash was nothing if not consistent for the balance of the 1960s. He was the only American League hitter to slug 20 or better home runs each year from 1961 to 1969. In 1964, he set a record among Detroit first baseman by fielding an outstanding .997. On July 9, 1965, Stormin’ Norman hit an inside-the-park home run against the A’s at Municipal Stadium in Kansas City. The blast must have ignited Cash’s non-corked bat, as he decimated American League pitching with 23 home runs and 58 RBIs in 78 games after the All-Star break. His second-half exploits earned him Comeback Player of the Year honors, and in 1966, he was invited to the All-Star Game. Cash, once again, led junior circuit first basemen in fielding with a .997 percentage. Meanwhile, the Cash family was expanding, as Norm and Myrta welcomed son Jay Carl on April 28, 1963, and daughter Julie Lee on December 28, 1964.

Stormin’ Norman proved to be the exception on the 1968 Tigers as he was fighting an early season slump. On July 27, the 6-foot-0 Cash was barely hitting his weight, batting .195 on a team cruising to its first American League pennant in 23 years. In dramatic fashion, he hit a torrid .333 in his last 54 games to finish the season at .263. Included in his 12 home runs and 33 RBIs in August and September was a three-run blast against Oakland on September 14. The winning pitcher of the 5-4 decision was Denny McLain, his 30th of the season. Cash led Tigers batsmen in the World Series, hitting .385 against Cardinals pitching. Setting a dubious October record as Bob Gibson’s 16th strikeout in Game One, he redeemed himself the following afternoon, homering off Nellie Briles in an 8-1 complete-game victory for Mickey Lolich. Facing elimination in Game Six, Cash enjoyed another productive day at the plate, accounting for two of the 13 Detroit runs, tying the Series at three games. This set the stage for an historic Game Seven. The Tigers were unfazed at the prospect of facing a pitcher who specialized in winning Game Sevens, Bob Gibson. In the clubhouse after practice, manager Mayo Smith encouraged his players that Gibson “can be beat, he’s not Superman!” To this, Cash chimed “Oh yeah? Just a little while ago, I saw him changing in a phone booth!”18 Tigers hitters proved to be Kryptonite with two outs and no score in the seventh inning. Cash ignited a Detroit rally with a single off Gibson, and later put the Tigers ahead as the first runner to score on Jim Northrup’s triple. The final score was 4-1, and the Detroit Tigers were world champions.

After being relegated to pinch hitting in 1970, Cash enjoyed a renaissance season playing in the Renaissance City in 1971. So torrid was his first half that spectators across Major League ballparks voted him to start the All-Star Game on July 13. Played in Detroit, it drew 53,559 spectators. American League manager Earl Weaver, however, took exception to Cash’s assignment, as he was not the reigning MVP playing for the defending World Champions. Boog Powell, Weaver’s first baseman in Baltimore, could claim both. Accordingly, Weaver, scrapped Cash from the lineup and replaced him with Powell. The roster move was not kindly received by the Detroit faithful. After public address announcer Joe Gentile introduced the National League All-Stars were announced, he began to present the American League. Starting with Weaver! Again, a cloud of boos rained over Tiger Stadium. Although Rod Carew was the next to be announced, the Twins’ second baseman did not take his place when called. Carew was apprehended by Cash and Bobby Murcer to prevent him from leaving the dugout, thereby prolonging the catcalls. Only after a prolonged interval did Carew emerge, breaking up the hecklers.19

When the dust cleared on the 1971 season, the Tigers had won 91 games, but finished 10 games behind Earl Weaver and the Orioles. Stormin’ Norman clubbed 32 round trippers — one shy of Bill Melton’s league lead — while driving in 91 runs, batting a respectable .283. His offensive record was enough to win his second American League Comeback Player of the Year Award. It would have surprised nobody to hear Cash proclaim, after accepting the honor, that he hoped he would win the award again next year. Cash was, however, named to the All-Star team once again in 1972, his fourth and final trip to the midsummer classic. is offensive output may have retracted, but the Tigers vaulted ahead in the standings to win their first American League East Division title.

A player known for his pranks, Cash saved his most famous stunt for the twilight of his career. It occurred on July 15, 1973, as the Tigers entertained the visiting California Angels. Not one Detroit batsman had hit safely off starting pitcher Nolan Ryan. With two away in the bottom of the ninth, the Ryan Express had already fanned 16 as his Angels led, 6-0. Potentially the final hitter of the game, Norm Cash strode to the plate substituting a table leg for a bat. Home plate umpire Ron Luciano forbade Cash’s creative use of equipment. Cash protested, “But Ron, I’ve got as much chance with this as I do with a bat.”20 As Jim Northrup remembered from the third base dugout, Cash reluctantly retrieved a bat and struck out on three pitchers against his fellow

Texan. The no-hitter was Ryan’s second in as many months; as Cash returned to the dugout, he turned to Luciano and expressed, “See, I told ya.”21

The 1974 season was a transitional one for the Tigers and their personnel. For only the second time in franchise history, Detroit finished the season in last place. Stormin’ Norman no longer held the nomenclatural monopoly when youthful infielder Ron Cash joined the Tigers in spring training. Equipment manager John Hand wanted to change the name on Norm’s uniform, but the first baseman refused. Cash exclaimed in disgust, “If the people can’t tell the difference between me and the other guy, something’s the matter!”22 He became even more incensed when he received a telephone call from the general manager on August 7. Batting only .228 with 12 home runs and 12 RBIs, Cash was released. “I thought at least they’d let me finish out the year. Campbell just called and said I didn’t have to show up at the park.”23

Norm Cash was a player who knew his baseball career would not last forever. As a player, his offseason occupations included banking, ranching, and auctioning hogs. In the early 1970s, Cash hosted a local variety show in Detroit called “The Norm Cash Show.” In 1976, he teamed with former October archrival Bob Gibson as broadcasters for ABC Monday Night Baseball. Although Cash continued to display his brand of humor, it was not appreciated by all. On-air remarks such as equating entertainment in Baltimore with going “down to the street and [watching] hubcaps rust” earned Cash his dismissal from the network.24 In 1978, he made his film debut with a cameo appearance in One in a Million: The Ron LeFlore Story. In a scene filmed at Lakeland, Cash was standing with Kaline, Bill Freehan, and Northrup to watch LeFlore in first spring training after accepting his release from Jackson State Prison. When the others marveled at his speed, Cash chimed in with “He can’t be too fast, the cops caught him.”25

Now divorced from Myrta, Cash married his second wife Dorothy on May 22, 1973. They moved upstate from Detroit, first to Union Lakes, where Cash worked as a sales representative for an automobile machinery manufacturer. When asked, Cash remarked that “it’s good money…but to tell the truth I’m looking for something else to do.”26 Sadly, the good times were short-lived. As Detroit automakers proved to be no competition for Japanese imports, Cash’s financial windfall proved to be short term. His health began to deteriorate, suffering a massive stroke in 1979. As Ernie Harwell remembers, Cash was out of commission for quite a while. Fortunately, by 1981 he was healthy enough to broadcast Tigers games for the ON-TV cable network. He and Hank Aguirre provided color commentary alongside Larry Adderly’s play-by-play. By 1983, partial paralysis of his face made him slur his words and he could no longer continue. In 1986, Cash returned to Tiger Stadium to participate in the Equitable Old Timers’ Game. Fans were shocked to see the first baseman a shadow of his physical self. He could no longer field routine infield balls, as a throw from third base hit him in the head before bouncing away. Cash handled the situation with humor, but privately, he was embarrassed by the incident.27 What nobody realized at the time is that the appearance would be his last at the corner of Michigan and Trumbull.

Scott McKinstry remembers Sunday evening of the Columbus Day weekend being a grey, misty one. “I was standing at the lighthouse…on Lake Michigan looking out over the water to where boats head out from Charlevoix to Beaver Island.”28 The weather forecast echoed the somber mood to be shared by Tigers fans in unison. Earlier in the day, Cash left his condominium to meet Dorothy and a friend for dinner at the Shamrock Bar on Beaver Island. Those present could affirm that Cash had been

drinking.29 After dinner, he returned to the dock to check on his boat after dinner. Unable to navigate the slippery pier in cowboy boots, he fell into the water and could not pull himself out.30 The next morning, he was found floating in 15 feet of water in St. James Bay.31 Norman Dalton Cash was pronounced dead on October 12, 1986. He was 51 years old. Tragedy would hit the Cash family a second time in 1987 when Norm’s son Jay committed suicide.32

Like Buddy Holly before him, the Texas legend of Norm Cash lives on. Ernie Harwell recalls receiving an autographed photo from Cash inscribed with his trademark humor, “to the second-best broadcaster in the big leagues. The other 25 tied for first place.”33 Gary Peters, who broke in with the White Sox concomitantly with Cash, remembers his diverse collection of hobbies which included horseback riding, fencing, waterskiing, dancing, and playing the ukulele.34 Whitey Herzog, Cash’s roommate in 1963, once claimed that “there was nothing Norm Cash couldn’t do.” Describing Cash as his roommate, however, might have been an exaggeration; Herzog recalls the experience as “just like having your own room.”35 On April 23, 2005, the sandlot in Post, Texas where Stormin’ Norman played Little League, was rededicated in memory of Garza County’s most famous athlete as Norm Cash Field.

Perhaps the most vocal and outward posthumous tribute to Norm Cash in the final hours of the ballpark whose first base he called home from the Eisenhower to the Nixon administration. A sellout crowd of 43,556 jammed Tiger Stadium on September 27, 1999 for the final game against the Kansas City Royals. Several Tigers switched uniform numbers to pay homage to players who passed before them. Paying tribute to Ty Cobb, Gabe Kapler did not wear any number at all. Rookie Rob Fick switching his number 18 for 25 to honor Norm Cash. Only Fick went one step further. The Tigers enjoyed a comfortable 4-2 eighth-inning lead when Fick crushed a Jeff Montgomery fastball for a grand slam home run. In true Norm Cash fashion, the ball nearly cleared the right field roof. Tom Stanton reports in The Final Season, a diary which paints Tiger Stadium as a metaphor for the bond between fathers and sons, that Fick “looked up in the sky and thought of my dad,” who passed away the year before. “I know that he had something to do with all this.”36

So did Norm Cash.

An earlier version of this biography originally appeared in SABR’s “Sock It To ‘Em Tigers: The Incredible Story of the 1968 Detroit Tigers” (Maple Street Press, 2008), edited by Mark Pattison and David Raglin. It also appeared in SABR’s “Go-Go To Glory: The 1959 Chicago White Sox” (ACTA, 2009), edited by Don Zminda.

Sources

In addition to the sources cited in the Notes, the author also consulted www.baseball-almanac.com, www.baseball-reference.com, www.imdb.com,and the following:

“Lobos Fall in Season Finale; Barber Breaks 1,000 Yard Mark” in The Sul Ross Skyline (16 November 2006): 18 pars. [Journal Online]. Available from http://www.sulross.edu/pages/3998.asp. Internet. Accessed 6 April 2007.

“Norm Cash.”  Brooklyn: Topps Chewing Gum Inc., 1960: 488.

Barnes, Tyler. Detroit Tigers 1999 Information Guide (Detroit: Tigers Public Relations Department, 1999).

Barnes, Tyler. The Inaugural Season: Detroit Tigers 2000 Information Guide (Detroit: Tigers Public Relations Department, 2000).

Cohen, Irwin. Tiger Stadium (Charleston, South Carolina: Arcadia Publishing, 2003).

Dewey, Donald, and Nicholas Acocella. Total Ballclubs: The Ultimate Book of Baseball Teams (Toronto: Sport Classic Books, 2005).

Hunt, William. “Justiceburg, Texas” in The Handbook of Texas Online (2001): 2 pars. Available from http://www.tsha.utexas.edu/handbook/online/articles/JJ/hnj13.html. Internet. Accessed 6 April 2007.

Lyons, Jeffrey and Douglas B. Curveballs and Screwballs: Over 1,286 Incredible Baseball Facts, Finds, Flukes, and More! (New York: Random House, 2001).

McMillan, Robin. Official Major League Baseball 1995 All-Star Game Program (New York: Sports Publishing Group Inc., 1995).

Middlesworth, Hal. Detroit Tigers 1973 Press Radio TV Guide (Detroit: Tigers Baseball Club, 1973).

Middlesworth, Hal. Detroit Tigers 1974 Press Radio TV Guide (Detroit: Tigers Baseball Club, 1974).

Middlesworth, Hal. Detroit Tigers 1975 Press Radio TV Guide (Detroit: Tigers Baseball Club, 1975).

Middlesworth, Hal. Detroit Tigers 1971 Yearbook (Detroit: Tigers Baseball Club, 1971).

Middlesworth, Hal. Detroit Tigers 1974 Yearbook (Detroit: Tigers Baseball Club, 1974).

Paladino, Larry. Detroit Tigers 1987 Yearbook (Detroit: Tigers Baseball Club, 1987).

Russell, Cliff. Detroit Tigers 2004 Information Guide (Detroit: Tigers Media Relations Department, 2004).

Thorn, John, Phil Birnbaum, and Bill Deane. Total Baseball: The Ultimate Encyclopedia, 8th edition. (Toronto: Sport Classic Books, 2004).

Notes

1 Bruce Shlain, “Stormin’ Norman” in Oddballs: Baseball’s Greatest Pranksters, Flakes, Hot Dogs, and Hotheads (New York: Penguin Books, 1989), 134.

2 Shlain, 132.

3 Fred T. Smith, Tiger S.T.A.T.S., (Ann Arbor: Momentum Books Ltd., 1991), 39.

4 Bill Dow, “Former Tiger Norm Cash,” Baseball Digest, September 2001.

5 Correspondence with Sonny Eliot, April 2007.

6 Correspondence with Ernie Harwell, April 2007.

7 Dow.

8 Eliot.

9 Patrick Harrigan, Detroit Tigers Club and Community: 1945-1995 (Toronto: University Press, 1997), 103.

10 George Cantor, The Tigers of ’68: Baseball’s Last Real Champions (Dallas: Taylor Trade Publishing, 1997), 10.

11 Shlain, 137.

12 Cantor, 39.

13 Denny McLain and Dave Diles, Nobody’s Perfect (New York: The Dial Press, 1975), 72.

14 McLain/Diles, 72.

15 Denny McLain and Mike Nahrstept, Strikeout: The Story of Denny McLain (St. Louis: The Sporting News, 1988), 34.

16 McLaine/Diles, 72.

17 Correspondence with Jerry Casale, 21 May 2001.

18 Tim DeWalt, “Tribute: Norm Cash” in TigersCentral.com (2001-2005). Available from. http://www.tigerscentral.com/comments.php?id=239_0_1_0_C.

19 DeWalt.

20 Bill Shaikin, “California Strikes Gold in Ryan” in Nolan Ryan: The Authorized Pictorial History (Fort Worth: The Summit Group, 1991), 66.

21 Brian Britten, Detroit Tigers 2006 Information Guide (Detroit: Tigers Public Relations Department, 2006), 256.

22 “There Are So Many Norm Cash Stories…” in Detroit Tigers History (2005). Available from http://www.detroit-tigers-baseball-history.com/cash.html.

23 Chris Stern, Where Have They Gone?Baseball Stars! (New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1979), 137-138.

24 Stern, 138.

25 DeWalt.

26 Stern, 138.

27 Cantor, 215.

28 DeWalt.

29 Harrigan, 103.

30 Schlain, 145.

31 Cantor, 215.

32 Shlain, 145.

33 Ernie Harwell, Life After Baseball (Detroit: The Free Press, 2004), 137.

34 Shlain, 139.

35 Shlain, 139-140.

36 Tom Stanton, The Final Season: Fathers, Sons, and One Last Season in a Classic American Ballpark (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2001), 236.

Circa

By then, the Cubs had already segued from Union Field via West Side Park through South Side Park to West Side Grounds, Chicago’s first double-decked cabash. The pennant-waving 1906-08ers owned the sole big – National – league. Success bred complacency, which, in turn, blurred vision.

In 1900, the minor American League requested a franchise in Chicago. “The N.L. said sure,” Jack Brickhouse said. “The A.L. was bush. Who’d see them?” The new “White Sox” chose the hardscrabble ex-Chicago Cricket Club at 39th Street and Princeton Avenue. Nationals roared: That owner Charles Comiskey, picking grounds as shabby as the team!

On April 24, 1901, Chicago beat Cleveland, 8-2, in the Sox — also, A.L. — big-league debut. South Side Park II wed a 15,000-seat capacity and overhanging roof and jigsaw of an outfield fence. Americans head Ban Johnson soon dropped the term minor: “a ruse,” he conceded, “to make the Cubs let us in.” A.L.-N.L. peace soon spun a yearly post-season “[Chicago] City Series.” 

In 1906, the “Sox Win Pennant by Great Pluck,” read the Chicago Tribune. “They Gamely Fight to Top.” The “Hitless Wonders” then beat the Cubs in a can-you-believe this Series? Alight, Comiskey made a note: A new ballpark might make the getting that was good even better.

Between 1909 and 1923, 14 new urban, mainly structural steel, parks increasingly spun baseball’s web: Crosley Field; Fenway Park’s Back Bay bijou; Detroit’s fortress at Michigan and Trumbull. Each sired “an infinite feel for the spirit of the past,” wrote Ellen Glasgow, “and the poetry of time and place.” 

The first Xanadus to open were 1909’s Pennsylvania’s Forbes Field and Shibe Park.

“Comiskey visited both,” official baseball historian Jerome Holtzman said, “deciding to move his team from South Side Park.” Heading “upstairs, not uptown,” he plotted 1910-90 Comiskey Park a.k.a. White Sox Park, Charles A. Comiskey Baseball Palace, or Baseball Palace of the World.

The Old Roman, 50, hired Chicago architect Zachary Taylor Davis to build at West 34rd and 35th Streets, Portland Avenue (now, South Shields Avenue), and South Wentworth Avenue (Dan Ryan Expressway). The Sox broke ground February 15, 1910, for luck laying the green cornerstone on St. Patrick’s Day. Built for $750,000, Comiskey opened July 1 before 32,000 in a 28,000-seat plot. Gaping, they found it grand.

“Hundreds of automobiles,” the Tribune said, “carted spectators to the game.” Four bands played. A military unit marched. Reach hailed what may “be without hesitation … declared to be the finest ball park in the United States.” Losing, 2-0, pitcher Ed Walsh augured his schizophrenic 1910: 20 losses and a league-low 1.27 ERA. A South Side cross-section watched: Catholic, Irish, and Eastern European with an ardor for the underdog. Their new home double-decked to first and third base. One tier trimmed the left and right-field wall.

“Comiskey wanted an ornate façade to fit his moniker,” wrote David Condon. Funds lapsed and a brick front replaced it. Arch windows studded a classical veneer. Roots were unclassic: an ex-truck garden and garbage dump. “A Sox committee visited other fields and then designed the park,” Veeck laughed. Its expanse – 363, lines; 382, power alleys; 420, center – gave hitters fits. In May 1917, Chicago was no-hit twice. On October 6, the Giants arrived for the Hose first post-’06 World Series. The Comiskeys quickly made up for lost time.

Eddie Cicotte and Red Faber spun a Sox 2-0 game lead. Winning twice, New York led next day, 5-2, on six Hose errors. The A.L.ers rallied, 8-5, then trained to the Polo Grounds, where fourth-inning muffs put two Sox on. Happy Felsch grounded to pitcher Rube Benton, who threw to third baseman Heinie Zimmerman, who vainly chased Eddie Collins home. “Goat?” he bellowed. “[Catcher Bill] Rariden was out of position. Who the hell was I supposed to throw the ball to? [Umpire] Bill Klem?”

Chick Gandil singled for two runs. Sox win the final, 3-2, their last title till 2005. Collins hit .409. Shortstop Buck Weaver batted .333. Catcher Ray Schalk snubbed doubt: “This is what we’re here for.” The memory jarred in the long free fall ahead.

The 1920-58 Series spurned Comiskey Park. In 1918, it visited sans Sox. “The Cubs won the pennant, but Comiskey sat more than Wrigley Field,” said Condon, “so they moved three games there.” Next year’s Hose waved another flag: their Classic hump, Cincinnati. “I knew some finagling was going on,” said the Reds’ Edd Roush. “Rumors were flying all around.” Grounded: Comiskey’s money. “Cheap!” cried pitcher Dickey Kerr. “Players hated it. But they played for him” – till the Classic.

Cicotte plunked its leadoff man: “a pre-arranged sign to gamblers,” said Holtzman: Reds, 9-1: The fix was on. Lefty Williams then walked six, having passed only 58 all year: Cincy, 4-2. Kerr countered, 3-0. The 1919 Hose batted .287, but got only six hits in Sets Four-Five, losing the best-of-nine. On September 28, 1920, a Chicago grand jury struck. “Eight Indicted!” the Tribune blared. “Query Goes On!” The jury cleared the defendants. Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis banned them for life. Soon the Sox feared becoming the Atlantis of the American League.

The 1921-35ers missed the first division. Eight managers came and fled. “Didn’t matter,” said Veeck. “The product didn’t change.” By 1932, only 233,198 visited a park that had, ditching the wooden pavilion for a $1 million outfield stand. “Nearly the entire park was roofed and double-decked. Only center’s bleachers were open,” said Condon. Capacity rose to 52,000. The Sox got Al Simmons and moved the plate 14 feet toward the outfield. Lines dealt 365 for 352; power alleys 375, 382; center 455, 440. Frank Thomas became Chicago’s 1990s “Big Hurt.” For 21 years Luke Appling hurt by endlessly fouling balls.

“Comiskey wanted to make me pay for fouls,” Luke laughed. Instead, Old Aches and Pains hit .310 lifetime, twice won a batting title, set a then-shortstop mark for chances, assists, putouts, and games, and grasped the Pleasure Palace’s already old-timey feel. “He’s chasing a grounder,” said Veeck, “when cleats caught on a buried coffee pot from when Comiskey was a dump.” It seemed nouveau July 6, 1933: baseball’s first All-Star Game, before 47,595 to raise money for a players’ charity. “We have a sellout,” said John McGraw, “a fine day, and I hope the best team wins.” The A.L. did, 4-2.

In September, Comiskey hosted the Negro Leagues’ first All-Star Game: West 10, East 7. Its first night game lit August 14, 1939: White Sox 5, Browns 2. Five years earlier Jimmy Foxx hit the first ball into the center-field bleachers. (Later: Hank Greenberg 1938, Alex Johnson 1970, Dick Allen 1972, Richie Zisk 1977, Tony Armas 1984, and George Bell 1985). In 1940, Bob Feller blazed the A.L.’s first opening-day no-hitter.

“Don’t look back,” jabbed another preternatural pitcher, Satchel Paige. “Somebody might be gaining on you.” The Sox weren’t. Paige pitched before a Comiskey night record 51,013 in 1948: Tribe, 5-0. By this point, the Hose expected a yearly full-cycle bath.

Rare 16-millimeter 1949 film shows Chicago’s Zeke Bonura sliding, Bobby Doerr covering second base, and blur of type on the scoreboard. “Chicago Cardinals. Comiskey Park. Pittsburgh Steelers, Washington Redskins, Los Angeles Rams, Philadelphia Eagles.” Next year hardship spread. Ted Williams crashed into a wall and broke an elbow in the All-Star Game. The Nationals won, 4-3, in 14 innings. “Some leagues are oh for a game,” a Sox pitcher said. “Our team is oh for a decade.”

The 1941-50 Hose made the first division only twice. General manager Frank Lane arrived to rebuild — the field. An inner “homer fence” cut right/left to 332 feet. Alleys became 362. A five-foot canvas wall made center 415. (Pens moved from left and right foul ground to behind the fence.) The diminution helped — a visitor. “We start April 22,” Lane said. “Eight games later, we’ve homered eight times, and the other team 15!” The Yanks played at Comiskey on May 5, 1949, the day Frank removed the fence. “That night two of our guys hit drives that would a’ been homers if I’d kept it up.” Amazingly, interest lived.

In 1951, the Sox drew a record 1,328,234. The trick was getting there. “Streets jam up and parking lots are inadequate, can handle only 3,500 cars,” wrote Robert Creamer. For $50, a season-ticket holder could park daily. A cab took 15 minutes: $2 from the Loop. “Or Clark Street car (20 cents) direct to work, or southbound El (from State Street, 20 cents)” to four blocks from the park. Minus: narrow aisles and ramps, only 12 rest rooms, and untruth in advertising – outfield/corner upper deck “box seats.” Plus: clubs finally worth your time.

The 1951-58ers finished fourth, third five times, and second twice under Paul Richards, Marty Marion, and Al Lopez – the Senor. Capacity fell to 46,550. Except for 1958, attendance topped a million. Billy Pierce v. Whitey Ford packed Comiskey. Catcher Sherm Lollar made seven All-Star teams. In 1951, a Cuban arrived via Cleveland to ding in his first at-bat. Orestes Armas Minoso – Minnie – was the Sox’ first black player. At last the Baseball Palace had a court.

Nellie Fox won three old Gloves, four times led in A.L. hits, had only 216 Ks in 9,232 ups, and played a bigs second-base record 798 straight games. Chico Carrasquel began a wave: the first great Latin shortstop. Replacing him, Luis Aparicio became 1956 Rookie of the Year. Nine times he won Gold Gloves and led the A.L. in steals. “Look at his records,” said Condon: most bigs games and league assists, chances, and putouts. The 1950s put homers first. Comiskey hyped throw, catch, and hit ‘em where they weren’t.

In 1958, Minoso returned to Cleveland. Pitcher Early Wynn arrived. Fox set a record for successive fanless games (98). Attendance hit 797,451. Next March, Veeck bought the team, built a left-field picnic area, and vowed a million. Opening Day failed to produce Fidel Castro,” wrote Condon, “and [Bill’s] fireworks display fizzled,” but free beer eased ire. A double-header vaunted 10 elephants, bare back riders, a sword swallower, snake charmer, and clowns: to Elson, “more predictable than the pennant we got.”

The Series began October 1. Veeck gave roses to 20,000 women, but barred familiar red, white, and blue bunting. “We’re proud of our clean park, and want fans to see it just the way it is for league play,” he explained. Unexplained: the Sox path traveled after 1959.

 “When you come to a fork in the road,” Yogi Berra mused, “take it.” In 1960, one road was paved with arms and gloves. (The ’59ers hit an A.L.-low 97 homers.) Veeck took the other.

“The Series,” Lopez observed. “All those guys left on base [43]. ‘I’d better get some power,’ Bill said” – and did. It changed the Comiskeys’ core.

Minoso, 37, re-upped. The Sox acquired Gene Freese, 26, and Roy Sievers, 33, strong and slow. Prospects left: Norm Cash, Earl Battey, John Callison. “Veeck liked the present,” Condon said. The ‘51ers had put an electronic scoreboard atop the bleachers. Bill scrapped it for an “exploding” board of fireworks, aerial bombs, rockets, tapes, and pinwheels. “What is this — Disneyland?” Jimmy Dykes huffed after a Comiskey blast. Tongue in cheek, the Yanks lit Roman candles upon Cletis Boyer going yard.

The Hose scored 741 runs v. 1959’s 669. By contrast, when Freese and Sievers caught anything not directly at them, sirens sounded across Illinois. Chicago lured 1,644,460, more than it would till 1977. Veeck painted Comiskey (white) and put names on the back of shirts (try Kluszewski). In 1961, an ailing Barnum sold the team. Eying the 352-415-352 outfield, the Sox repaired to pitching-first, placing fourth, fifth, then second thrice through 1965.

New owner Arthur Allyn renamed White Sox Park, ditched The Star-Spanged Banner for God Bless America, and installed an inner fence (335 feet, lines; 400, center). “Some teams had all-Astroturf fields,” wrote Dave Nightingale. “Only here – artificial infield and outfield grass!” The 1970 last-placers drew six thousand per date. Said Veeck: “Fans feared the park” – ¾ of a mile from its el stop. Then, in 1971, an ex-Cardinal duce left Oakland for Sox TV/radio. Soon the seats going first were under Harry Caray’s booth.   

Organist Nancy Faust played each seventh-inning Take Me Out To The Ballgame: by quirk, the only score that Harry knew. “I always sang, but nobody heard me.” Rebuying the Sox, Veeck, hearing Caray’s sotto voce, put it on the PA. mike. “What was that all about?” Harry later asked, voice booming all around. Bill: “I’ve looked for 40 years – and as soon as I heard you, I knew you were the guy.”

Caray beamed. Veeck then stuck the lance. “I figured that any fan knew he could sing better and would join in. If you had a good voice, you’d intimidate them.” Instead, Harry bayed, “All right, lemme’ hear ya’, everybody!” For a long time, Bill said, “He was the only star Comiskey had.”

The Bicentennial 1976 White Sox lost 97 games. Veeck lost $670,000. ”No one could have imagined that next year we’d rise like we did.” The South Side Hit Men broke their attendance mark, led the A.L. West till August, and revived a forgotten rock anthem: Na na na, hey hey, kiss them good-bye.

The Old Order said hello. Minoso returned as coach. Veeck II renamed White Sox Park Comiskey – “the world’s largest outdoor saloon.” Footage retrieved 352-440-352. Reborn: clowns and dancers, Limo and Ethnic Night, and beer halls under stands behind the plate. The foul lines were water hoses, painted white and flattened. Abiding was patchwork charm: bleacher wall speaker horns; wall clock to the flagpole’s left; and outside redolent of the Roman’s.

Comiskey hated to spend money. Veeck despaired of having it. A 1979 promotion petitioned disco records. Hundreds stormed the field flinging LPs like Frisbees. Bill booked rock concerts, gouging turf and raising cash. “Needed was someone who flew around in Lear jets and operated under the protection of a tax shelter,” wrote Richard Lindberg. In 1981, Veeck sold to a group led by TVS Network founder Eddie Einhorn and Chicago realtor Jerry Reinsdorf. “We’re going to clean things up,” Reinsdorf chimed, knocking Bill. “Baseball is more than a park full of drunks.”

By 1983, Comiskey was full of a record 2,132,821 carolers. The Sox clinched the West September 17, lost the League Championship Series, but “figured we’d get back,” said catcher Carlton Fisk. Instead, the ’86-89ers placed fifth and seventh. Einhorn and Reinsdorf began panting for St. Petersburg. “I will bleed and die before I let the Sox leave Chicago,” replied Governor James Thompson, siring the first baseball-only park since 1973’s Royals Stadium.

U.S. Cellular Field nee Comiskey II mimed the next-door original’s arches, exploding scoreboard, and rose-colored exterior. Two tiers passed each line. A bleacher deck connected them. Hitters liked the blue outfield backdrop. Few liked the tyro’s steep upper deck, small roof, and distance from the field. Comiskey fils opened April 18, 1991. That month a wrecking ball doomed its progenitor.

“I thought it would be here forever. I’m a grown man and I almost want to cry,” said an 80-year-old Canadian, who likely had as Comiskey turned dowager: loose wires, chipped asphalt, broken floors. Paint put makeup on a weary face. The Sox postponed a 1990 game after record 7-hour, 23-minute rain delay. The Baseball Palace was canceled September 30. “THANKS for the Memories,” read the last-game board. “Comiskey Park, 1910-90.”

Joni Mitchell sang, “They paved paradise to put up a parking lot.” A 7,500-car lot replaced Comiskey Park. Today an outlined plate and batting box recall a distant night, under a cloudless sky, with the moon over 35th and Shields. In Chicago, baseball still has a 1959 state of mind.

This article originally appeared in the book “Go-Go To Glory: The 1959 Chicago White Sox” (ACTA, 2009), edited by Don Zminda.

Sources

The principal source for this story was the author’s Storied Stadiums: Baseball’s History Through Its Ballparks.

Cooney could boast that he was the only man to have played in both the National League and the American League, coached in both leagues, managed in both, and umpired in one. He conceded that the managing part was a technicality; he filled in for manager Billy Southworth with the Braves while Southworth was sick and for Al Lopez with the White Sox when Lopez attended his mother’s funeral.

Johnny Cooney was born on March 18, 1901, in Cranston, Rhode Island, the son of Jimmy Cooney Sr., a shortstop on the Chicago White Stockings, and Ella (Dunham) Cooney. Johnny was only two years old when his father died.  His brother, Jimmy Jr., played with the Red Sox, Braves, Giants, Cardinals, Cubs, and Phillies during a seven-year major league career in the Teens and ’20s. An older brother, Harry, played in the New England and New York State leagues.

When Cooney was in high school in Cranston, he threw a one-hitter, which attracted the attention of baseball scouts. In 1920, at the age of 19, Cooney became a pitcher for the Willimantic team of the American Thread Athletic Association, an industrial league, hurling a 1-0 perfect game on August 20 against Rockville.1 Cooney pitched his gem under most unusual circumstances, according to a 1949 article in The Sporting News. On his way to the game, the train on which he was traveling struck an automobile and killed four people. Johnny tried to help get the victims out of the car, but couldn’t, and became physically sick. But he took a few sniffs of ammonia to overcome the experience, then went out and pitched the perfect game. After that performance, a scout for the Boston Red Sox, Paul Krichell, remarked that Cooney “had the goods” to become a major league player. As the story goes, Red Sox manager Ed Barrow offered Cooney a $500 check to sign with them. But his manager at Willimantic, Ed McGinley, wanted the money in cash, fearful that the check would bounce, and an incensed Barrow threw them both out of the office; as a result, the deal with the Red Sox was not consummated. The Boston Braves then offered Cooney the same $500 – in cash – and he signed a contract.

Cooney reported for 1921 spring training in Galveston, Texas, and although he showed great promise, he was still quite young and in need of further physical development. Despite this, he made his major-league debut on April 19, 1921, and pitched in eight games that season. On May 8, 1922, he was optioned to New Haven of the Eastern League, where he starred, posting a 19-3 record that included nine victories in a row. He also stepped in at times to play the infield and outfield. He was so popular in New Haven that the fans took up a collection for him and presented him with $200. Cooney was recalled by the Braves at the end of the season.

In 1923 Cooney made some appearances in the Braves rotation. Despite concerns that his light weight (around 165 pounds) would be a handicap throughout the rigors of a long season, Cooney started eight games and compiled a 3-5 record with a 3.31 ERA, while displaying an effective change-of-pace pitch. On May 24, he was admitted to St. Joseph’s Hospital in Providence for an emergency operation for appendicitis, but he was able to return later in the season, at one point hurling 15 consecutive scoreless innings; of note also was his .379 batting average in 66 at-bats.

Johnny followed that up with an 8-9 record and a 3.18 ERA in 19 starts in 1924, and in 1925 he had his best season pitching with the Braves when he started 29 games and completed 20 of them, winning 14 and losing 14 with a 3.48 ERA. During this time, Cooney also developed a “hesitation” pitch that served to baffle opposing batters. As described in the Washington Post:

“…the pitch is a “hesitation” delivery. When the batter is all set for the ball, Johnny winds up, comes down with his foot and then lets the ball go. Usually the foot comes down as the ball is leaving the pitcher’s hand. This delay throws the batter off his stride as the ball comes up to the plate after the batter is ready for it.” 2

Toward the end of the 1925 season, Cooney also appeared in a number of games at first base and in left field, coinciding with the development of a stiff left arm that limited his pitching appearances in 1926 and 1927.  He had a locked elbow; it prevented him from doing simple things such as scratching a mosquito bite. In the fall of 1927, he underwent an operation on his left arm in which 13 pieces of bone were removed, leaving it shorter than his right arm.  After being used sparingly by the Braves in 1928 and 1929, and following a holdout over salary issues which did not endear Cooney to the Braves management, he was sent to Jersey City of the International League in 1930 for a 20-day trial, which turned out to be 2½ months. Returned to the Braves, he was optioned to Newark of the same league. Between Jersey City and Newark, he had an 0-1 pitching record but batted .269 with 10 RBIs. He returned to the Braves at the end of the season and eventually was sold to Toledo of the American Association, managed by Casey Stengel, a former teammate of Cooney’s on the Braves; this began a four-year absence from the major leagues for Cooney.

Knowing that his days as a pitcher were over, Cooney continued the process of reinventing himself as a major-league player. Using his intelligence and speed, under Stengel’s tutelage he developed into a fine outfielder. True to his reputation as a jack-of-all-trades, he even played second base for a game despite the fact that he was left-handed. But the Toledo franchise was having financial problems and sold Cooney to the New York Giants, who used him in a trade with Indianapolis, also of the American Association. Cooney played for Indianapolis for four years, both as a pitcher and as an outfielder, and played in the 1935 American Association All-Star Game.  

Despite his success at Indianapolis, major-league teams were reluctant to take a chance on Cooney because of his age. But on September 10, 1935, the 34-year-old outfielder was sold to the Brooklyn Dodgers, due at least in part to the efforts of Stengel, who was then managing the Brooklyn nine; at the time, Cooney was leading the American Association in batting average and eventually won the title with a .375 average. Showing speed, a great throwing arm, and the ability to track fly balls with little apparent effort, he came to spring training in 1936 to vie for a regular outfield spot with the Dodgers. 3 But after securing the starting nod in center field for the season-opening series against the Giants, Cooney was benched after a poor start.  Upon being reinserted into the lineup, his hitting, although short on power, picked up, and that, combined with his steady and at times spectacular outfield play, kept him in the Dodgers’ starting lineup.4 Speaking of Cooney’s defensive prowess, teammate Van Lingle Mungo said, “I think Cooney is the best outfielder I ever saw in my life or ever heard of. He’s not fast, but he doesn’t have to be. He’s just always there when a ball has to be caught.”5

Cooney batted .282 and .293 in 1936 and 1937 and was highly popular with the Brooklyn fans. After the latter season, the Dodgers traded Cooney with three other players to the St. Louis Cardinals for Leo Durocher in a deal deplored by Brooklyn fandom because Cooney was leaving.6 The Cardinals wanted to send Cooney to their Columbus farm club in the American Association, but he resisted and was given his unconditional release in April. He immediately signed with the Boston Bees, again joining Stengel, by now the manager of the Bees. Cooney showed his versatility by playing all three outfield positions as well as first base, and sharing pinch-hitting duties, while batting .271 in 120 games. In 1939, on the way to batting .274, Cooney, by now 38 years old, hit the only two home runs he would have in the major leagues – in consecutive days on September 24 and 25. Both were hit in the Polo Grounds, both hit in the third inning, and both were two-run homers.

While beginning to prepare for life after baseball, Cooney signed with the Bees as a player-coach for the 1940 season; he finished third in hitting in the National League with a .318 average.  To acknowledge his great popularity with fans for his hustle and considerable baseball skills, Cooney was honored in September on Johnny Cooney Day; in addition, Cooney received the Walter S. Barnes Trophy at the annual Boston baseball writers’ dinner, as the most valuable Boston player of 1940.7

During the 1941 season, Cooney made an unexpected appearance as a major-league umpire, behind the plate, on June 28 against Brooklyn when the regular umpiring crew was fogged in off the Cape Cod Canal after a boating trip.  Cooney’s stint as arbiter was short, as the regular crew returned to the ballpark in the second inning.8 Slated to be a backup center fielder in 1941, Cooney continued to impress on the field with a .319 batting average, second best in the National League, and compiling a league-leading .996 fielding average in the outfield. The Sporting News selected him as Veteran Player of the Year for 1941.

Asked about his longevity, Cooney said that by keeping his legs strong, he was able to avoid charley horses, muscle pulls, and other nagging leg injuries that frequently hamper athletes. He also embraced a lifestyle that included no alcohol or tobacco and focused on physical fitness, including nine to ten hours of sleep each night.9

The 1942 season was not a successful one for Cooney. The 41-year-old appeared in only 74 games and slumped to a .207 average. The Braves released him outright in January 1943.  Feeling that he could still play, Cooney rejected a Double-A coaching offer from the Braves. Branch Rickey of the Dodgers, who referred to Cooney as a “coconut snatcher,” his preferred pet name for a utility player, signed him as a free agent and Cooney played sparingly with Brooklyn in 1943 and 1944. Displaying his usual team play and detailed preparation, but plagued by neuritis in his shoulder, he played in only 44 games for the Dodgers in the two seasons. He was released by Brooklyn in June 1944 and quickly signed with the Yankees, coincidentally by team president Ed Barrow, who had been unable to sign him for the Red Sox at the start of his career. Released by the Yankees in August, he spent the rest of the 1944 season with Toronto of the International League and in 1945 became a player-coach for the Kansas City Blues of the American Association, managed by his old friend, Casey Stengel, before his playing days came to an end.

After compiling a .286 lifetime batting average, Cooney was asked about his success as a hitter. He replied that “Casey (Stengel) showed me the advantage of hitting down the foul lines, first and third. He pointed out that there is only one man to get the ball by at third and first, whereas if you hit through the middle there are three men who have a chance to retire you — the pitcher, shortstop and second baseman.”10 Not only was Stengel a positive influence on Cooney in baseball matters, but the Perfesser also encouraged him to invest in some oil land in Texas that provided considerable money in royalties.

The 1946 season found Cooney employed by the Boston Braves as a coach, after he turned down a chance to coach again for Stengel, this time in Oakland. Cooney remained in Boston as a coach through the 1952 season, at one point assuming the managerial reins when besieged manager Billy Southworth was forced to step down temporarily due to “failing health.” Cooney’s previous experience as a major-league pitcher was extremely helpful with the Braves pitching staff and he also gave invaluable help to the outfielders. Although reports from the Braves clubhouse were favorable regarding Cooney’s leadership style, Johnny himself was very content to remain a coach, citing a desire to steer clear of the pressures of managing.  When the Braves franchise moved to Milwaukee in 1953, Cooney followed and remained in Milwaukee as a coach through the 1955 season.  

After sitting out the 1956 season, Cooney became a coach with the White Sox in 1957, retiring after the 1964 season; he was a part of the 1959 White Sox team that went to the World Series against the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Cooney died in Sarasota, Florida, in 1986 at the age of 85, leaving behind his wife, Alice, and a son, John.

Notes

1 “Cooney Hurls Another No Hit, No Run Contest.” Hartford Courant, August 29, 1920: 21.