‘Batter Ump’: Basebrawls Involving Umpires

“Kill him! Kill the umpire!’ shouted someone on the stand;
And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.”

 

Even people not interested in the national pastime are familiar with that homicidal exhortation from Ernest Thayer’s 1888 poem, “Casey at the Bat.” While murderous rhetoric has never become a reality, umpires throughout history have been subjected to pejorative pronouncements as well as physical abuse. This essay is not concerned with the rhubarbs — the vituperative, often profane arguments that have so delighted and excited spectators. Neither is it about bodily harm suffered incident to the game — contusions, concussions and broken bones from being struck by thrown or batted balls. The concern here is with the violent physical assaults on and off the field inflicted upon the game’s arbiters by players, managers and fans. And vice-versa.1

Bumped, jostled, punched, kicked, spiked, thrown to the ground, and spat upon, umpires have been subjected to far more corporeal abuse than officials in any other sport. It has always been thus.2 Even during the game’s formative years, the 1840s and 1850s, the club protocol of “gentlemanly behavior” was frequently breached as players were fined for swearing and disputing the umpire’s decision — no doubt often redundant occurrences. Such transgressions increased as revisions of the rules in the 1850s transformed the umpire from an enforcer of decorum to a decision-maker of play itself. In the 1860 Beadle’s guide, Henry Chadwick underscored newspaper commentary about “these days of finding fault with umpires” by lamenting: “[T]he position of an Umpire is an honorable one, but his duties are anything but agreeable, as it is next to impossible to give entire satisfaction to all parties concerned in a match.” Within a generation the gentleman arbiter had become an enduring folk villain.3

Greater responsibility — e.g., calling balls and strikes after 1864 — made the umpire an active participant in the game as well as an object of resentment and derision by pay-for-play professional players and the growing number of fans who paid to cheer on the home team. Rampant gambling, alcoholic inhibition, and competition between multiple “major leagues” increased the competitive stakes and thus “rowdy” behavior. Moreover, a single umpire could not always have a clear view of the action, and lack of frequent rotation promoted personal antagonisms. By 1884 it had become “perfectly disgraceful to see the manner in which the umpires are abused in the various cities throughout the United States,” and “and unless some decided steps are taken to stop this mob business, it will soon be utterly impossible to find a man who is willing to risk his life in umpiring a game.” Tim Hurst spoke for his fellow umpires in being disgusted with the frequency that players, employing “the worst language imaginable,” would “kick, howl, threaten, and browbeat,” even “threaten to lick an umpire after the game.”4

While verbal vituperation and threats of violence far surpassed actual violence — perhaps because most umpires were former players and thus protected by a brotherhood code — physical altercations sporadically erupted. The most egregious early assault on an umpire occurred on July 11, 1886, when George “Foghorn” Bradley was first pelted with beer glasses and then viciously pummeled by both players and fans who descended onto the field. Umpires sometimes responded in kind because, as Hurst aptly put it: “Epithets have been hurled at umpires that no man could stand without offering resentment.”5 For example, on July 24, 1873, while serving as a substitute umpire, Bob “Death to Flying Things” Ferguson, player-manager of the New York Atlantics and also president of the National Association, ended a heated exchange with Nat Hicks of the New York Mutuals by breaking the catcher’s arm with a bat.

The most combative arbiter was Hurst, a former boxer and fight referee, dubbed “Terrible Tim” for his temper and “Sir Timothy” for his umpiring ability. Never the aggressor but frequently the retaliator, in 1892 he flattened both an abusive player and a police officer with his mask, and in 1896 decked two Pirates players after the game with rights to the jaw. His most (in)famous encounter occurred on August 4, 1897, a few days after a fistfight with Reds catcher Henry “Heinie” Peitz when fans in Cincinnati showered him with beer steins. Struck in the back, Hurst fired one of the mugs back into the stands, skulling an innocent bystander. (He subsequently paid a fine for assault and battery.)

Berating umpires was actually encouraged. Nicholas “Nick” Young, a former umpire in the National Association from 1871-1873, admitted that during his tenure as president of the National League from 1885 to 1902, club owners, who routinely paid players’ fines, “believed that to stop the players from baiting the umpire would be a detriment to the game” because “it amused the spectators to see an official hauled and pushed about by a lot of players, and when it was suggested that this sort of a practice be eliminated, it was argued that it would kill the sport.”6 (No doubt the contemporaneous popularity of football and prizefighting contributed to spectators’ vicarious enjoyment of unabashed displays of violent behavior.)

Increased rowdyism prompted Henry Chadwick to rue in the 1895 Spalding Guide the increased “kicking,” “blackguard language,” and “brutal assaults on umpire and players.” Sportswriter Tim Murnane predicted: “The time will soon come when no person above the rank of garrotter can be secured to umpire a game.”7 And Young admitted in 1897 that he had become “very badly off for umpires and don’t know where to look for recruits.”8

Not surprisingly, the league’s laissez-faire attitude resulted in a period of unprecedented violence that continued through the turn of the twentieth century.9 It began in 1897 when Jack Sheridan, who had been hit by rotten eggs in St. Louis and Pittsburgh, was cold-cocked by Pirates pitcher Emerson “Pink” Hawley; John Kelly and Hank O’Day were hit by balls thrown by angry players; and Tom Lynch, the target of glassware in Louisville, on August 8 smacked Baltimore’s John “Dirty Jack” Doyle “fairly between the eyes” when the foul-mouthed player used an epithet “too much to be endured, even by an umpire.”10 Notable fracases in subsequent seasons included Doyle slugging Bob Emslie on July 4, 1900; Roger Bresnahan punching Bill Klem in the face on June 23, 1901; and Tommy Connolly being thrown to the ground by Detroit catcher Frederick “Fritz” Buelow on May 4, 1902, and, having to seek refuge in the Baltimore groundskeepers’ office for over an hour after being mobbed by fans after a game on August 21. In 1905 Tiger fans on August 22 mobbed ump Jack Sheridan, chasing him to the clubhouse, whereupon he forfeited the game to the Senators, and on August 30 disgruntled fans punched and kicked Jim Johnstone in the face on his way to the ballpark. Norman “Kid” Elberfeld, dubbed “The Tabasco Kid,” was reputedly “the dirtiest, scrappiest, most pestiferous, most cantankerous [sic], most rambunctious ball player that ever stood on spikes.” Elberfeld once threw mud into the open mouth of an umpire, and in 1906 twice attacked umpire Silk O’Loughlin, trying to hit him with a bat on August 8 and on September 3 attempting six times to spike his foot in what the New York Times termed “one of the most disgraceful exhibitions of rowdyism ever witnessed on a baseball field.”11

The umps sometimes lost control. On May 7, 1909, when Elberfeld jabbed Tim Hurst in the abdomen after being called out at home, the umpire smacked the player’s jaw with his mask. (American League President Ban Johnson suspended Hurst until May 13.) Three months later, on August 3, Hurst was involved in a career-ending set-to with Philadelphia’s Eddie Collins. The future Hall of Famer understandably argued being called out attempting to advance to second base after a fly out in the eighth inning of the second game of a doubleheader as the Boston second baseman had dropped the ball. The player’s commentary is unknown, but the umpire, perhaps weary after 17 innings over nearly four hours, expectorated tobacco-laden saliva at Collins, causing a near-riot as fans poured onto the field. (Johnson, who had suspended Hurst indefinitely on August 5, fired him on August 18.)

In 1909 there were 355 physical assaults in professional baseball by players and fans.12 League officials finally decided enough was enough.

Byron Bancroft “Ban” Johnson, president of the American League when it gained major-league status in 1901, continued his efforts begun as head of the Western League in 1893 to curb the rowdiness by investing umpires with increased on-field authority and support from league officials as well as demanding greater mutual respect from both players and arbiters. Subsequently, as president of the National League 1910-1913, Tom Lynch, a former major-league umpire (1888-1902), likewise pledged to curb rowdiness by supporting umpires and increasing penalties for offending players and managers, a policy continued by another NL president, John Heydler (1918-1934), who also had umpired (1895-1898). Perhaps more important than official pronouncements was the adoption of a second umpire by the American League in 1909, standard in both leagues in 1912, followed by a three-man crew in 1933, which provided better positioning to make calls behind the plate and on the bases, thereby reducing controversies. (Note: The deferential title in box scores of single umpires as “Mr.” and members of two-man crews as “Messrs.” was dropped by the 1930s.)

Still, rowdyism remained an ingrained part of the game, eagerly anticipated and enjoyed by many fans. Incidents of umpire-baiting and fisticuffs declined appreciably in the American League, in no small measure due to the example of its diplomatic chief umpire, Tommy Connolly, but persisted to a significant degree in the National League, reflecting both the aggressive style and confrontational demeanor of the likes of John McGraw, Leo “The Lip” Durocher, and the pugnacious St. Louis Cardinals “Gashouse Gang” led by Frankie Frisch, as well as the authoritarian bearing of umpires like Bill Klem and John “Beans” Reardon. Reardon admitted that he responded in kind: “I’d give it back to them a little better than they gave it to me. I could use profanity, and I blasted them pretty good.”13

Umpire responses to vituperative challenges were not only verbal. In 1915 when Buck Herzog on May 1 shoved Cy Rigler in the chest and spiked his foot, the ump hit the Cincinnati manager in the face with his mask, opening a gash over the right eye, and then decked him with a hard right; and on July 24 Ernie Quigley decked Johnny Evers after he spiked the umpire’s foot. In a game on June 23, 1917, Clarence “Brick” Owens, who got his nickname after being skulled by a brick in the minor leagues, called four consecutive balls on the first batter. The incensed Red Sox pitcher, Babe Ruth, charged the plate, bellowing: “Throw me out and I’ll punch ya right in the jaw.” Owens did. So did the Babe. Reliever Ernie Shore then retired the baserunner and then the next 26 Washington batters to complete a combined no-hitter, Ruth’s errant start spoiling an otherwise perfect game.

Fisticuffs were not limited to the diamond. On September 24, 1911, Billy Evans, while heading to the clubhouse, was cursed and beaten by fans before being rescued by police. He was also involved in the best-known postgame pugilistic encounter. On September 15, 1921, Evans and Ty Cobb settled their disagreement over a third-strike call under the stands at Griffith Stadium in Washington. Cobb had threatened to “whip” Evans at home plate, but the umpire invited him to try after the game at the umpires’ dressing room. Players from both teams encircled the combatants as they viciously bloodied each other before shaking hands, their manhood intact. Cobb was suspended for one game, while a bandaged Evans continued umpiring. On Memorial Day, May 30, 1932, umpire George Moriarty, a former boxer and combative player with the Detroit Tigers, took exception to the heckling of Chicago players as he left the field after a game in Cleveland, decking Mike Gaston, breaking his hand in the process, before being beaten badly by player-manager Lew Fonseca and catchers Charlie Berry and Frank Grube.

Tussles between umpires and fans on the diamond were infrequent due to increased security. The most notable incident occurred on September 16, 1940, when a Dodgers fan, 21-year-old Frank Germano, yelling, “Burglar! Burglar!” leaped onto the field and tackled first-base umpire George Magerkuth to the ground. Better known than the episode is the newspaper photo showing the combatants trading blows on the ground while security personnel stand by. It was not Maje’s last altercation with a fan. On July 19, 1945, he went into the stands to retaliate for repeatedly being called a “thief” and a “robber,” but regrettably struck the wrong man.

Missiles thrown from the stands, especially beer and pop bottles, endangered life and limb. Beans Reardon was right: “[I]t was like putting weapons in the hands of imbeciles.”14 On June 9, 1906, Klem escaped serious injury after being hit with seat cushions and pop bottles, but a year later, September 15, 1907, Evans suffered a near-fatal fractured skull when struck by a bottle in St. Louis. Connolly was hit in the mouth by a bottle during an argument with Ty Cobb on September 11, 1912. Among those struck by the barrage of bottles thrown in Cleveland on May 11, 1929, were Philadelphia Athletics shortstop Joe Boley, hit in the back of his head; umpire Emmett “Red” Ormsby, who suffered a severe concussion that almost killed him; and a fan, Lee Porter, who died three days later from his injury.

Talk of banning bottled beverages at ballparks came to naught. Bill Summers had to quit the field when struck in the groin by a whiskey bottle on July 26, 1936. Pop bottles continued to fly, sometimes a massive barrage, as in Cincinnati on July 17, 1935, and in Ebbets Field on July 26, 1938. In addition to glassware, fans hurled seat cushions, rotten fruit and vegetables, cans, and assorted debris including a woman’s shoe hurled at Charlie Berry in September 1945. In Philadelphia on August 21, 1949, Lee Ballanfant was hit in the mouth by a pop bottle and Al Barlick in the leg by “an over-ripe tomato” during a 15-minute brawl that resulted in a forfeit to the New York Giants, the first in the major leagues since 1942.

The umpires stoically endured the hails of debris. On July 21, 1935, Joe Rue received “a shower of pop bottles, partly eaten fruit, half-smoked cigars, rolled newspapers and scorecards, the like of which has never before been seen either at the (Yankee) Stadium or the Polo Grounds.” Although a bottle missed his head “by a scant inch or two,” Rue said: “I stood my ground at the plate, maybe a bit foolishly, but only because I was so absolutely right in my decision.”15

While commenting on the fusillade directed at Rue, sports columnist John Kieran decried bottle-tossing at games, but disingenuously said the problem was not bottles, but disorderly fans. Wiser heads prevailed. The lead in banning bottles from ballparks came, appropriately from St. Louis, where Sportsman’s Park had long led the majors in bottle-tossing. In response to a massive bottle-throwing episode in the Browns-Yankees game on April 18, 1953, the Cardinals and Browns announced on May 2 that henceforth beverages at Busch Stadium would be sold in paper cups. Other clubs subsequently followed suit.16

Less hurtful, if disgusting, was spittle. When umpires donned white pants on Sundays in the late 1920s and early 1930s, players routinely decorated the back of their pants legs with tobacco juice, and on July 15, 1939, New York Giants shortstop Billy Jurges and George Magerkurth exchanged wads of saliva and clenched fists over a disputed foul-ball call.

Joe Rue, an AL umpire from 1938 to 1947, summed up the treatment and character of umpires during the rough-and tumble first half of the twentieth century: “I’ve been mobbed, cussed, booed, kicked in the ass, punched in the face, hit with mud balls and whiskey bottles, and had everything from shoes to fruits and vegetables thrown at me. I’ve been hospitalized with a concussion and broken ribs. I’ve been spit on and soaked with lime and water. I’ve probably experienced more violence than any other umpire who ever lived. But I’ve never been called a homer.”17

 

 

Diamond disruptions declined dramatically after World War II. The advent of the four-man crew in 1952 further reduced questionable decisions on the basepaths, the advent of accredited umpire schools formalized professional conduct, and the onset of unionization for both players and umpires brought about increased salaries and greater job security. Confrontations between players soon devolved more to milling about and shouting than actual fighting, and the histrionic, often comically childish tantrums of managerial hotheads like Bobby Cox, Billy Martin, and Earl Weaver that replaced the spirited donnybrooks of yore ultimately were virtually eliminated by the advent of instant replay. Littering the field with debris, once commonplace, became rare, even after egregiously wrong calls such as Don Denkinger’s in the 1985 World Series. Lengthy suspensions and substantial fines for even the slightest contact essentially eliminated attacks on umpires.

Still, given the competitive nature of sport, confrontations periodically occurred.

In July 1960, a Kansas City fan jumped onto the field, tapped home-plate ump Bob Stewart on the shoulder and then decked him with a punch. Pittsburgh’s Bill “Mad Dog” Madlock on May 1, 1980, shoved his glove into Jerry Crawford’s face after being called out on strikes with the bases loaded. In the seventh inning of an AL East playoff game in New York City on October 9, 1981, a fan, upset by Mike Reilly’s call at third base the previous inning, leaped over the railing and knocked the umpire to the ground. When Lanny Harris tried to separate Atlanta’s Claudell Washington and Cincinnati’s Mario Soto during a confrontation on June 16, 1984, he was mistakenly hit by a ball Soto intended for Washington, who then threw the umpire down. On April 30, 1988, Cincinnati manager Pete Rose shoved Dave Pallone several times, later erroneously claiming the umpire had poked him in the eye; Rose was suspended for 30 games and fined $10,000. The last on-field assault occurred on April 15, 2003, when a fan came out of the stands at Comiskey Park and tried unsuccessfully to tackle first-base umpire Laz Diaz.

During a time when several umpires were known for being quick-tempered, “Cowboy Joe” West was the most often involved in physical altercations. He was suspended for three days and fined $500 for shoving Atlanta manager Joe Torre outside the umpires’ dressing room after a game on June 28, 1983; got involved in a postgame shoving match with Cincinnati player Ron Oester and manager Pete Rose on August 15, 1989; threw Philadelphia pitcher Dennis Cook to the ground during an on-field brawl on August 9, 1990; argued heatedly on July 23, 1991, with the Cubs’ Andre Dawson, resulting in the player being suspended for one game and fined $1,000 for bumping the umpire; and on September 14, 2014, grabbed Philly pitcher Jonathan Papelbon’s jersey during an argument.

During the first half of the twentieth century, umpire decisions not infrequently led to the disruption of play when irate fans strewed the field with thrown debris or stormed the field, occasionally resulting in forfeitures. Such occurrences, such as angry fans throwing promotional baseballs onto the field in Los Angeles on August 10, 1995, causing the first National League forfeited game in 41 years, and the October 14, 2015, littering of the diamond with trash including beer cans and water bottles in Toronto, are now rare.

On two other occasions not related to protests over decisions, umpires acted to quell far more serious instances of spectator violence. In the ninth inning of the Ten Cent Beer Night game in Cleveland on June 4, 1974, drunken fans, who had periodically thrown cups and other objects onto the field, poured out of the stands. The resultant uncontrollable melee prompted Nestor Chylak, who needed stitches after being hit in the head with a thrown chair, to forfeit the game to the Texas Rangers. Five years later, on July 12, 1979, during Disco Demolition Night at Comiskey Park in Chicago, fans threw music records, beer cans, and fireworks onto the field during the first game of a doubleheader, then came onto the field after a crate of records was exploded between games. Riot police restored order and groundskeepers cleared away the debris, but the umpires suspended the game because the explosion had torn a large hole in the outfield turf. The next day, AL President Lee MacPhail ruled the game forfeited to the Detroit Tigers because the White Sox had failed to provide suitable playing conditions.

None of the foregoing incidents remotely approached the seriousness of similar pre-World War II encounters. The no-holds-barred verbal and physical confrontations once commonplace on the diamond are now an arcane part of baseball history, and the exhortation “Kill the umpire!” a quaint rhetorical remnant of the game’s folklore. But it is instructive to recall with admiration and respect the courage and dedication of the umpires who historically endured abusive behavior on the field and from the stands in order to make it possible to play the game in an orderly, efficient, and proficient manner.

LARRY GERLACH, a member since 1979, has served SABR as president and founder of the Umpires and Rules Committee. Emeritus Professor of History, University of Utah, he has written extensively on his two historical loves, the American Revolution and baseball. The latter work includes The Men in Blue: Conversations With Umpires.

 

Notes

1 SABR member Alain Usereau has compiled an invaluable data base of over 3,300 “basebrawls” that chronicles, albeit incompletely, hundreds involving umpires.

2 For the history of umpires and umpiring, see James M. Kahn, The Umpire Story (New York: A.S. Barnes, 1947) and Larry R. Gerlach, “Umpires” in John Thorn and Pete Palmer, eds., Total Baseball (New York: Warner Books, 1989), 465-469, and “On Umpires: Historical Perspectives, Contemporary Observations,” in NINE: A Journal of Baseball History and Social Policy Perspectives, 7 (Fall 1998), 16-45.

3 See David Q. Voigt, “America’s Manufactured Villain — The Baseball Umpire,” Journal of Popular Culture, 4 (Summer 1970), 1-21.

4 Quoted in Peter Morris, Don’t Kill the Umpire: How Baseball Escaped Its Violent Past (Now and Then Reader eBook, 2012).

5 Ibid.

6 Ibid.

7 Rich Eldred, “Umpiring in the 1890s,” The Baseball Research Journal, 18 (Cleveland: Society for American Baseball Research, 1989), 75.

8 Eldred, 76.

9 In addition to Eldred, 75-78, see David W. Anderson, You Can’t Beat the Hours: Umpires in the Dead Ball Era, 1901-1909 (CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2013).

10 Eldred, 75.

11 New York Times, September 4, 1906.

12 Charles Leerhsen, Ty Cobb: A Terrible Beauty (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2015), 331.

13 Larry R. Gerlach, ed., The Men in Blue: Conversations with Umpires (New York: Viking Press, 1980), 17.

14 Gerlach, The Men in Blue, 19.

15 New York Times, July 22, 1935.

16 Both the Cardinals and Browns played in Sportsman’s Park; when August Busch bought the ballpark in February 1953, he renamed it Busch Stadium.

17 Gerlach, The Men in Blue, 51.