Billy Murray

Friday evening, October 2, 1908: Billy Murray walks the streets of Philadelphia. Cigar in mouth, immersed in thought, he continues mile after mile, hour after hour.1 The fourth-place Phillies team he manages is well out of contention. But as one of the most famed pennant races in baseball history draws to a close, one of the sport’s greatest spoilers has a final act to play.

The Phillies conclude their season series with the Giants the next day, and New York is tied with Chicago, half a game behind Pittsburgh. The Phillies have tortured the Cubs, winning 13 of their 22 games against Chicago. They have flustered the Pirates, costing their in-state rivals nine victories. But Philadelphia has taken only five games from New York so far. Rumors of bribes are afloat. Questions of integrity have surfaced. As Murray strides, planning strategy, they gnaw at his thoughts.

On Saturday, Murray hands the ball to Harry Coveleski. For the third time in five days, the rookie left-hander beats the Giants, who will finish in a tie with the Cubs and lose the one-game pennant playoff. Murray’s stock soars. After years of success in the minors, he has twice led the underfunded Phillies to first-division finishes. That offseason he is signed to a lucrative contract extension. Within a year, however, his tenure will collapse in a sensational dismissal.

William Jeremiah Murray was born on April 13, 1864, in Peabody, Massachusetts. His parents, John and Margaret, were Irish immigrants. In the 1870 census, William was the seventh of eight children. The elder Murray worked as a bleacher, likely in one of the area’s textile mills.

Billy’s professional baseball career began in 1884 with Salem of the Massachusetts State Association. Murray played in Concord, New Hampshire, in 1885, Buffalo in 1886, Lynn, Massachusetts, in 1887, and Portsmouth, New Hampshire, in 1888. He stood 5-foot-8, weighed 160 pounds, and played both first base and the outfield early in his career. It is undocumented from which side Murray batted or threw.2

In 1889, Murray joined the Quincy, Illinois, team. That offseason, he was appointed the squad’s manager. Thus began one of the finest managerial careers in minor league history. Over 17 seasons, Murray’s teams finished first six times, second four times, and third twice. By varying accountings, his teams amassed either a .585 or a .587 winning percentage.3 As a point of reference, only seven major league managers who have managed at least 1,000 games have topped a .585 mark.4

A fine all-around athlete, Murray spent offseasons playing roller polo, a hockey-like sport played on roller skates.5 Later in life, he claimed to have run an “honest” eleven-second 100-yard dash as a youth.6 In the early 1890s, Murray played center field and was in the prime of his career. One observer considered him “a magnificent fielder” and “the fastest runner” in the Illinois-Indiana League.7 In 1891, Murray finished second in the circuit in both runs scored and stolen bases.

Player-manager Murray moved from Quincy to Joliet to begin the 1892 season, but after the league disbanded, he finished the season playing in Atlanta. Murray was appointed the Windjammers’ manager for the 1893 season. The team rebounded from a 58-65 mark in 1892, falling just short of the pennant with a 55-39 finish. Murray then moved to Providence in 1894 to take over a moribund squad that had sunk to 47-67 the season before. Under his guidance, the Clamdiggers won two Eastern League pennants in the next three seasons.

A contemporary remembered Murray as “one of the most affable and sociable of men” but also “one of the most irritable and quarrelsome in the heat of a game.”8 Umpires bore the brunt of his emotional edge. With Atlanta in 1893, after one of his players was called out, Murray “rushed with a bat in his hand up to the umpire and seizing him by the collar of the coat jerked him about and continued to shake his bat and talk excitedly and angrily.”9 Two years later, a correspondent wrote that Murray was “considered the worst kicker in the Eastern League.”10

Baiting umpires was no liability in the 1890s, and Murray’s success attracted National League teams. Late in the 1895 season, Giants president Andrew Freedman sounded him out. Murray, a newspaperman reported, “insists on having supreme control.”11 The courtship soon ended. A year later, rumors surfaced that Murray was a candidate to manage the Phillies. Correspondents warned him of the “band of crude Quakers” he would lead, and the venomous Philadelphia press.12 Murray stayed in Rhode Island.

Concussions and arm injuries cut down Murray’s playing career in the second half of the decade.13 The formation of the new American League in 1900 fueled ambitions that Providence might advance into faster company. Murray was by this time a minor stakeholder in the team. The last of these hopes was dashed in early 1901 when Washington secured an adequate location for its stadium. Turnover among Providence majority owners, meanwhile, resulted in less-focused organizational leadership.14

After the 1902 season, Murray left Providence, but remained in the Eastern League, taking over the helm of the Jersey City franchise. Again Murray worked first-year wonders. After finishing a distant third the season before, the Skeeters ran away with the 1903 pennant. But Murray’s ambitions again fell flat. As in Providence, he owned a minor interest in the Skeeters. In early 1905, he stood poised to ascend to the presidency of the team. A coup against league president Pat Powers (of whom Murray was a strong supporter) snuffed out the opportunity.15

Murray had nurtured relationships with National League teams for years. In the late 1890s, Providence was accused of being a farm team for the Boston Beaneaters, then the Brooklyn Bridegrooms.16 By 1905, Jersey City seemed to one onlooker as Pittsburgh’s “reputed farm.”17 Murray was on friendly terms with Pirates owner Barney Dreyfuss, who was also a member (albeit a silent one) of the Phillies’ ownership group.

In 1905, Hugh Duffy led the Phillies to a strong 83-69 finish. But in 1906, the team was beset by poor play, factions, and injuries.18 James Potter (who headed a syndicate of local owners) and team president William Shettsline met with Dreyfuss to plot a new course of action.19 After the 71-82 campaign ended, and upon the recommendation of National League president Harry Pulliam, they signed Murray to succeed Duffy.20 The new manager received a $7,500 contract to lead the Phillies for the next two seasons.21

Murray was an intense student of the game. “I have never met a man who watches a game deeper,” said one of his minor league players.22 After just one season managing Philadelphia, he was appointed to join Pulliam and Frank Chance on the senior circuit’s rules committee.23 Philadelphia sportswriter Edgar Wolfe, who occasionally sat on the Phillies’ bench, recalled that a tightly wound Murray “played the game with his men” by acting out the plays on the field. Once, late in a close game, a liner was hit towards short. “Mike Doolan leaped into the air after the ball, and as Mike went up, Murray jumped with him—and he crushed the derby he wore that afternoon down over his ears against the roof of the dugout. It was so funny, I couldn’t help laughing—and Murray chased me off the bench, mad as a hornet, though I was one of his closest friends.”24

Off the field, Murray was “not adverse to cracking a joke or helping the boys to enjoy themselves.”25 On the field, Murray compelled his charges forward with a “galvanized line of talk” audible to those “within 25 yards of the players’ bench.”26 He was a notoriously hard loser.27 Nor did he easily suffer fools. The era’s Phillies featured a few of these, making for lasting tales of Murray under duress. Once Coveleski put a man on first in a key game. Facing the next batter, the pitcher went into his full windup, and the baserunner easily took second. Utility player Dave Shean recalled the aftermath. “When he came in at the end of the inning, Murray called him for it … Harry said, ‘Honest, Billy, I didn’t know he was there.’ I thought Murray would have a stroke. Calling the rest of the players around him, Billy said, in mock seriousness, ‘Boys, hereafter when anybody gets on first base, please tell Harry. Let’s have no secrets on this ball club.’”28

But Murray’s greatest talent, and what had brought him to Philadelphia, was his proven ability to build a winning club with limited financial means. The Phillies’ ownership collective possessed neither deep pockets nor much interest in baseball operations. From the onset, Murray was Philadelphia’s de facto general manager, with resourcefulness at a premium. Looking backwards in 1910, sportswriter J. Ed Grillo claimed that Murray spent less on players “than any club in either major league.”29

That offseason, Murray snared infielder Otto Knabe and outfielder Fred Osborn by the waiver wire. Eastern League connections were even more valuable. Robert Davis, a New Jersey political boss who owned the Skeeters, let his friend Murray “have the pick” of the team each year at a heavily discounted price.30 After taking the Philadelphia job, Murray secured pitcher George McQuillan and third baseman Eddie Grant from the Skeeters. Murray also enticed Frank Corridon, who had pitched for Providence, back from outlaw baseball into the Phillies’ fold.

The Phillies rebounded to an 83-64 record in 1907. A month into the season, Murray replaced 40-year-old Kid Gleason at second base with Knabe, and the rookie responded with a fine effort. Gleason was retained and emerged as an “assistant manager.”31 Corridon had a career season, winning 18 games. McQuillan spent most of the season farmed out to Providence, but sparkled in a late-season call-up. Grant demonstrated defensive promise in sharing third base duties with Ernie Courtney.

Still, it was a distant third-place finish, 4.5 games behind the Pirates, and 21.5 games behind the Cubs. Murray’s outfield—Sherry Magee in left, Roy Thomas in center, and John Titus in right—was above average. But the Philadelphia infield—with first baseman Kitty Bransfield joining Grant, Courtney, Doolan, and Knabe—was limited offensively. Neither Red Dooin nor Fred Jacklitsch turned in a sterling season behind the plate. After Corridon and 22-game-winner Tully Sparks, the pitching staff was unimpressive.

The Phillies began the 1908 season with high expectations but stumbled out of the gate. Sparks and Corridon didn’t pitch in the early going due to injuries. Thomas, in his prime a fine leadoff man, was slowing down. Osborn took his place in center field, while Grant took his place at the top of the batting order. Neither change resulted in an improvement. By July 7, Philadelphia lay in sixth place at 27-35.

Then, on July 8, they swept a double-header in Pittsburgh. The next day the Phillies beat Fred Clarke’s team again to knock them out of first place, percentage points behind the Cubs. Murray’s men next travelled to Chicago to take four of six games from Chance’s squad, knocking them out of first place. The Phillies finished the season at a 56-36 clip.

Murray left his everyday lineup intact as the team’s fortunes swung. He did, however, deepen his pitching rotation. Through July 6, McQuillan started 20 of the Phillies’ first 62 games, as Murray often went with a three-man rotation. From July 8 onwards, Murray increasingly mixed Bill Foxen, Lew Moren, and Lew Richie into the mix, often using a five-man rotation. In September, Murray fit Coveleski (purchased from independent ball) and Earl Moore (another cheap Jersey City pickup) into the staff with memorable results.

The elements of the team’s psyche may also have factored into the turnaround. On one hand, the Phillies lacked the mental discipline of the National League’s finest squads. They could be impatient at the plate, lose their cool squabbling with umpires, and err on the base paths.32 “No team in the league is easier fooled,” opined one anonymous manager, whose infielders “never hesitated to ‘pull off stunts’” against the Philadelphians.33 After the 1908 season concluded, Murray himself spoke of “boozers and boneheads” in his clubhouse.34 Reserve outfielder Moose McCormick, a colorful scamp who had played for Murray in Jersey City, likely fell into at least one of these categories. Perhaps sending a message, Murray sold him to the Giants immediately before the Phillies started winning.

But, Wolfe recalled, the Phillies also “were a swaggering, swashbuckling crew that asked no quarter and gave none.” Dooin was a fiery field general behind the plate. Magee was a mercurial force in the outfield. Gleason had refined Doolan and Knabe into a bruising double-play combo. Years later, Murray recalled the protests of the neighboring Athletics against the flying spikes of their rivals. “I’d like to have seen them trying that against the club I had in Philadelphia,” the ex-manager smiled. “Mike and Otto would have been inviting them to come down, instead of protesting.”35

Murray’s contract concluded with the Phillies’ 83-71 fourth-place season. Highlanders owner Frank Farrell offered him a five-year deal, at $10,000 per season, to manage in New York.36 Philadelphia’s ownership group was reluctant to match such an offer, but Pulliam again urged them onwards. Murray was signed to a three-year contract, at $7,500 per season, plus 5 percent of team profits.37

In February 1909, it was reported that Dreyfuss had sold his Phillies stock to Murray.38 But the actual buyer was Murray’s Jersey City friend, Robert Davis.39 That same month, a triumvirate of Philadelphia power brokers—politicians Israel Durham and James McNichol, plus banker Clarence Wolf—purchased the majority holdings from the Potter syndicate. Durham, the new group’s lead, expressed full confidence in Murray. He also declared, “Money will not stand in the way of getting together a winning combination, and I am sure Philadelphia will soon have a pennant winner.”40

Yet the window for offseason dealings was essentially closed, and Murray had only made minor moves beforehand. Mostly it was hoped that, with Coveleski and Moore contributing for a full season, the staff would finally support a pennant run. The Phillies opened strong. After completing a sweep of the Giants on May 4, they stood atop the standings with an 8-4 record. Then the team started to lose. Sparks was aging, Corridon’s arm sore, McQuillan recovering from yellow jaundice, and Coveleski beset by wildness and injury.

Durham died on June 28. The Phillies were completing a month-long road trip, and returned home the next day for a month-long home stand. At 26-30, they were 16.5 games behind the first-place Pirates. Surveying Philadelphia’s press, sportswriter Francis Richter observed, “The hammers are out for the hapless Phillies in general, and Manager Murray in particular.”41 Attendance at National League Park was falling, eventfully down 25 percent from 1908 totals. Richter reported a “decline in spirit” amongst the players.42

Shattering the torpor, “the biggest bomb of this season in baseball” was announced on Saturday, July 24. Philadelphia real estate mogul and theatrical promotor Felix Isman, having just purchased the late Durham’s holdings, had traded Magee and Foxen to the Giants for Mike Donlin. Murray had objected as the deal was being initiated. Isman had responded by demanding Murray’s immediate resignation. Consequently, Donlin would arrive on Monday as the Phillies’ new player-manager.43

Yet, come Monday, Murray was still on the job. Walter O’Mara, a lawyer who represented Davis, explained to the press, “Since the death of President Durham there have been only four directors of the Philadelphia Club. Senators McNichol and Wolf, Mr. Murray and myself.”44 O’Mara and Murray opposed Isman. McNichol and Wolf could not be bothered with the intrigue. Neither was a baseball man. Each had lost his wife that July.

“A tremendous howl arose” from Philadelphia fans against the deal.45 Donlin was a gifted player, but was six years older than the talented Magee. Moreover, Donlin lacked any managerial experience, and had sat out the 1909 season to date, choosing instead to pursue a vaudeville career. The deal’s suspect value, and the power play against Murray, earned Isman scathing criticism. The Sporting News blasted the “preposterous” trade, and suggested Pulliam “protect” Isman lest he wreak further havoc on the franchise.46 But Pulliam was another tragedy of the summer, taking his own life on July 29.

Isman beat a hasty retreat, stating he had but an option to buy Durham’s stock. With his plans foiled, he would not exercise the option.47 For Murray, the damage had been done, not only from the Donlin-Magee fiasco, but also by revelations that the Durham group had earlier become irretrievably dissatisfied with his work.48 A mutual exhaustion between Murray and his players rose to the surface. Magee was pulled twice from games “for indifferent work.” After the second occasion, the outfielder and the manager engaged in a “bitter verbal clash … which was only prevented from degenerating into fisticuffs by the other players.”49 Murray suspended Magee. The Phillies finished in fifth place with a 74-79 record.

Horace Fogel was announced as the Phillies’ new president that November, having directed the purchase of McNichol’s and Wolf’s holdings. In practice, it was understood that he was the front man for the moneyed interests of Cubs owner Charles Murphy and his ally Charles Taft.50 For years, Fogel had labored as a sportswriter for Philadelphia papers and as a correspondent for The Sporting News. In this capacity, he picked battles with any handy target, including Murray. That August, the two had crossed paths in an Atlantic City café. Fogel was “alleged to have suggested that Murray retire.” Murray then was alleged to have “aimed a vicious blow at the newspaperman.” It was, alas, intercepted by a nearby peacemaker.51

It was easy enough for Fogel to dismiss Murray. On January 4, 1910, after naming catcher Dooin as the Phillies’ new manager, he wrote his old foe: “The Philadelphia baseball club no longer requires your services.”52 Ridding himself of Murray’s contract was another matter. Murray claimed he was due $16,500 (two full seasons of salary, plus an outstanding portion of his 1909 draw). Fogel insinuated that the previous owners had documented Murray’s dereliction of duties (not chasing after recruits, and spending minimal time with the team independent of games) to the extent that a civil court might support a case to break his contract. He offered Murray a $5,000 settlement plus an offer to secure him another position. Murray rejected the proposal, and took his case to the National League’s board of directors.53

Before and after the board’s meeting in mid-February, Fogel dragged his feet with a series of evasive actions. In late April a settlement was finally reached. Murray was paid an estimated $11,500. The Sporting News editorialized against the “summary dismissal, the outspoken alleged contempt for the contract … and the scarcely concealed petty ruses” of the Fogel regime. Towards Murray the paper expressed its “belief that he has the managerial ability to prove to his detractors that they have made more than one mistake in this instance.”54

But Murray expressed no interest in returning to managing: “I have a few dollars saved up, am getting old, and am not worrying about what will happen. I did all my worrying while I was in Philadelphia.”55 In 1911, Dreyfuss hired Murray to scout for the Pirates. His efforts for Pittsburgh were mixed, ranging from the bust of pitcher Marty O’Toole to Wilbur Cooper, a mainstay in the Pirates’ staff for a dozen seasons. In 1915, Murray left one old friend to join another, recruited by Powers to be the business manager for the Federal League’s Newark franchise. After the Feds folded, Murray briefly scouted for the Red Sox, then came back to the Pirates for several seasons.

By 1922, Murray had settled in Youngstown. During his baseball career, he had befriended many stars of the stage, such as George “Honey Boy” Evans. In Ohio, for his post-baseball career, Murray managed the Strand Theater.

On March 17, 1937, in Youngstown, Billy Murray passed away from cardiac failure. He was buried in St. Mary’s Cemetery in Salem, Massachusetts. On his death certificate, Murray was listed as a widower. Years before, during his Jersey City stint, there had been occasional references to Mrs. Murray in local papers. But specific information is elusive. Murray was highly guarded around newspapermen, and seems to have evaded census takers as well. Neither Youngstown nor Boston obituaries mention his wife, or any children.56

Sources

The author would like to thank Pamela Speis of the Mahoning Valley Historical Society for her assistance in obtaining materials related to Billy Murray’s life in Youngstown. In addition to the sources noted in this biography, the author also accessed Murray’s file from the National Baseball Hall of Fame, and the following sites:

ancestry.com

chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/newspapers/

fultonhistory.com/fulton.html

genealogybank.com

newspapers.com

Notes