Frank ‘Home Run’ Baker: Not Just His Nickname Was Interesting

Frank Baker started in major league baseball as one of those raw country lads so endearing to sports writers of his era, and retired a gentleman farmer. Born on a farm just south of Trappe, Maryland, which had been in the family since before the Revolution, he began to play baseball with his brother Norman and the other children of the area before starring for the Trappe High School team. Until then, few saw him as anything more than another farmer’s son.

Helen Berry went to school with Baker and once described the boy everybody in Trappe knew: “He came in late in the fall after the farm work was finished … A rather clumsy country boy … so dark he seemed almost sun-baked, with thick black lashes and dirty hands.” But there was always, “the typical Baker grin, so good natured and sympathetic it was consoling … Frank was always the one to sharpen slate pencils, turn the jumping rope and climb the mulberry tree and throw down mulberries to the girls who couldn’t climb; very quiet and easy going…”1

It was his brother Norman who everyone thought would make the big leagues. He had a blazing fast ball and a temperament to match. Norman got a tryout with Connie Mack’s A’s, but he hated the city, opting to play for local and Baltimore independent teams.

Frank followed in his older brother’s footsteps, pitching for the high school team until he came of age. Preston Day, owner of a local sawmill, had connections with the local semipro circuit. He was brother to the father-in-law of future major leaguer, Buck Herzog, then a nineteen-year-old manager of the Ridgely Club. Day alerted Herzog to Baker’s talents, and he was signed to a contract of $5 a week plus board. The young Trappe farm boy was recruited as a pitcher, but with Sam Frock and Si Nichols sharing those duties, he got little chance and had to settle for some action in the outfield. Early in the season the starting third baseman went down with an injury, so Herzog tried Baker there. The manager was so impressed with what he saw that he was left at that position for the rest of the year. Baker would later be a part of the famous “$100,000 infield” for the A’s with Jack Barry, Stuffy Mcinnis, and Eddie Collins, and now he found himself on its equivalent among local semipros. The Ridgely squad boasted of five future major league players. With Nichols at short, Herzog at second, Baker at third, Bill Kellogg at first, and Frock on the mound, this small-town team proved a worthy competitor for clubs from larger communities.2

Baker signed with the always solid Sparrows Point team of Baltimore in 1906 for $15 a week, but returned to the shore to play for Cambridge late in the season. He turned down an offer to play in the Texas League the following year and, after a five-game tryout with Jack Dunn and the Baltimore Orioles of the Eastern League, signed again with the independent Cambridge Club in May. This was one of Dunn’s few misjudgments of talent. The Oriole manager thought, like many of Baker’s old schoolmates, that he was nothing but a clumsy farm boy. The Cambridge Club sponsors spared no expense in their pursuit of players and their claim to the unofficial Maryland State Championship. Baker and his manager-catcher Leonard Bassett were the only starters from the May lineup to finish the season with the team.3

An offer by the Reading club lured Baker into Organized Baseball in 1908, where he came to the attention of Connie Mack and was purchased for $500. He was out of the major leagues only twice over the next fifteen years — both times at his own choice.

Baker’s easygoing temperament and an aversion to tobacco, alcohol, and abusive language quickly endeared him to many fellow players and fans. A hero in the eyes of the people he grew up with, towns from Salisbury to Easton proclaimed him as their native son once he had established himself in the major leagues. Cambridge felt it had as much claim as anyone. While playing for the local independent team, he had met and fallen in love with Ottilie Tschantre, the daughter of a local jeweler. When his busy schedule permitted it, Baker was often seen going down to Kirby’s Wharf where he would get into a skiff and row the two miles across the Choptank River from Trappe to Cambridge in order to visit his sweetheart. Ottilie soon moved with her family to Oakland, California, but once Baker had secured his position on the Athletics, he traveled to the West Coast and proposed.4

Baker led the American League in triples his rookie year with nineteen, and accepted the most chances at third base. Many agreed with Mack that he covered more ground at that position than anybody in the league. Seven times he would lead the junior circuit in putouts at his position, at one time owning the lifetime mark for the American League. No longer considered a clumsy farm boy, Baker gained a reputation as the best third baseman in the league.

But it was an era of cutthroat baseball, and Baker’s reaction to the game’s most cutthroat player earned him a reputation he found difficult to live down. In a 1909 game in Detroit, Ty Cobb went hard into third with a hook slide, cutting Baker on the arm as he applied a bare handed tag. A player was supposed to accept these tactics as part of the game and say nothing, but the press and the fans publicly vented their anger over the incident. Cobb received several death threats, and when the Tigers came to Shibe Park the stands were filled with policemen in anticipation of a riotous crowd. Nothing more came of it, but it did earn Baker a reputation as being “spike shy.”5

The 1910 World Series brought the young player to the attention of baseball fans throughout the country. The A’s were led by Jack Coombs’ three victories over Chicago, while Baker’s .409 average for the Series was bested only by teammate Eddie Collins.

But it was the 1911 Series that captured the imagination of fans, especially those from the Eastern Shore of Maryland, and gave Baker his lasting reputation — and his famous nickname. It was Baker and the A’s against Buck Herzog and the Giants. Baker was a native and Herzog had played ball on the peninsula, married a local girl and lived on a farm outside Ridgely. They had been teammates starting out, and many credited Buck with discovering Frank and moving him to third base. Both were in the prime of their careers, and had earned solid reputations in the national pastime. The Giants were a rough and tumble lot under the fiery leadership of John McGraw, and were well aware of Baker’s reputation after the incident with Cobb.6

The 1911 World Series is a source of much baseball legend, but contemporary accounts show that the dramatics of the contest need little embellishment.

Many say the New Yorkers were ordered to take their spikes to the A’s third baseman. Baker felt that Hughie Jennings, manager of the Tigers and a former teammate of McGraw’s, was responsible for telling the Giants he could be intimidated — that going hard into the bag would “send me up in the air.” Fred Snodgrass was the Giant who seemed to have the most opportunity. Although Snodgrass later denied he was after Baker, he did admit that many Giants sat on the bench sharpening their spikes in full view of the A’s as they took the field for the first game. The Giant outfielder was the first to have a shot at the “spike shy” Baker and would later offer a fanciful description of the incidents to Lawrence Ritter. 7

The first game of the Series matched the peerless Christy Mathewson and Chief Bender in a classic pitching duel. By the sixth inning Baker had already singled twice and scored the Athletics’ only run. In the bottom of the inning Snodgrass was awarded first base after being hit by Bender for the second time. After being sacrificed to second, he took off for third when Merkle struck out on a pitch in the dirt. Catcher Ira Thomas threw a strike to Baker, who blocked the bag as he waited for the Giant runner. Snodgrass went in hard and his spikes dug into Baker’s left arm. The umpire initially called the runner out, but changed his call when he saw the ball rolling on the ground. The trainer came out and patched up Baker’s cuts so play could continue. The Giants won the game, 2-1, but the tone had been set for the Series. Baker took his revenge at the plate.

It was the sixth inning of Game 2, with the score tied, 1-1, when Collins stole a signal and relayed it to Baker, who promptly sent the Rube Marquard delivery over the fence for a two-run homer and an Athletic victory. Christy Mathewson, in his ghosted, syndicated column, criticized Marquard for allowing the blow and implied he would have done better.

The next day, the A’s Jack Coombs locked horns with Matty. The Giants were ahead, 1-0, with two out in the ninth inning, and the count stood at one and one to Baker. Mathewson blamed the umpire for what happened next. Brennan called the next delivery a ball. Mathewson strongly disagreed, but he was now in the hole and had to lay the ball near the plate. Baker hit the fat curve out of the park to tie the game.

In the bottom of the tenth, with one out, Snodgrass made it to second base. The ball got away from the catcher, and he broke for third to find Baker blocking the base with the ball in his glove. Snodgrass went into the bag hard, once again spiking Baker’s left arm. This time the third baseman held on to record the out. The A’s won the gamein the eleventh inning.

Baker had twice refused to be goaded into a fracas that might have cost his team his services. He returned to Philadelphia a “battle-scarred hero.”

A reporter noticed that the odor from the dressing on Baker’s wounds was “quite distinct,” and the usually reserved Baker was riled up enough that when he was pressed he finally “blurted out,” “Yes, Snodgrass spiked me intentionally. He acted like a swell-headed busher. You can use those very words too.”

“It has always been my policy to keep quiet about such things, but I think a fellow like this Snodgrass should be shown up in the papers. Heretofore when I was hurt I simply said nothing and stood the pain, but Snodgrass acted very mean, I think.”

“After he cut me he remarked, ‘If you don’t get out of the way I’ll cut you down. I’ve got a new pair of shoes and spikes for you — yes, all of us have.’”

This time, Christy Mathewson defended his teammate. “[Baker] is awkward in covering the bag and sprawls all over it, blocking the runner out. A runner is entitled to the base line and any player knows when he tries to block a runner off he is likely to get spiked. Snodgrass was well within his rights when he slid into Baker yesterday and only did what nine out of every ten runners would have done under the same circumstances.”8

The A’s went on to win the Series, 4-2, with Baker leading his team with nine hits, five runs batted in, and a .375 average. Not only had he hit home runs on consecutive days, but one of them had come off Christy Mathewson with the game on the line. The national press dubbed him “Home Run” Baker. At least one fan, the Rev. E. Lansing Bennett, was inspired by the muse to record this event, and it shows the excitement generated by Baker’s heroics in the Series. With apologies to the Reverend Bennett, only a portion of the poem is cited,

Then a silent youth named Baker
Came to bat and toed the plate.
His eagle eye was gleaming.
And his batting pose was great.
But Matty—Perilous Matty—
Had predicted what he’d do
To this same Baker fella
For his weakness sure he knew.
There’d be no precipitation
Of a ball knocked from the yard,
For ’twas Matty that was pitching
Not that rattle brain Marquard.
So Matty—Perilous Matty—
Signaled Meyers and touched his hat
As he wound up for the fade-away
With Baker at the bat.
The ball poured straight across the pan,
And Matty’s grin was wide.
The fade-away was working!
“Strike one!” the umpire cried.
“I’ll sneak a swift one over now
And make it number two,”
Thought Matty as the horsehide
Toward the waiting Baker flew.
The rest is better left unsaid.
‘Tis sad when I recall
That over near the Polo Grounds
They still hunt for that ball!
For Baker—Mighty Baker—,
With sure and deadly aim,
Had knocked another homer,
And the crowd had gone insane!

… And somewhere little glooms abide
While busy spielers hawk,
But they never speak of Baker’s name
In little old New Yawk…9

Baker led his team again in the 1913 Series with nine hits, a home run off Marquard, and seven RBIs in a five-game defeat of the Giants. It seemed Mack’s juggernaut would last forever, but it ended with the embarrassing loss to the Miracle Braves in 1914.

Mack decided to dismantle his team. He claimed his “$100,000 infield” was aging, but competition with the new Federal League also played an important role. The outlaw league lured star players away from Organized Baseball with lucrative contracts, while others used the threat as leverage in negotiations. Mack quickly threw in the towel when confronted with this new competition for players. In November he got rid of the heart of his pitching staff when he released Plank, Bender, and Coombs. A month later he sold Eddie Collins to the White Sox.lO

Baker had led the American League in home runs for four consecutive years, and in RBIs twice. He further claimed to be in the second season of a three-year contract that allowed him to retire after the 1914 season if he chose to. Baker must have felt he was in prime position to better his financial prospects. But both Mack and Baker would characterize the subsequent salary dispute as a “retirement.”

In December 1914, the St. Louis Federals announced that Baker would soon be signed. Baker flatly denied this rumor saying, “I haven’t given a thought to the Federals and don’t intend to. There has been no disagreement between Connie Mack and myself and I am signed up with the Athletics for next year. I have not boned Mack for an increase in salary. You may print all I said.”l1

Connie Mack shocked the baseball world two months later when he announced to a banquet of Philadelphia sports writers that Baker had retired. Baker put the Federal League matter to rest when he explained his decision to a local reporter. “Now, before the start, let me put you straight on this Federal League talk. They have nothing to do with my quitting the game. I have not the slightest intention of going with them. I am just as much in love with baseball as ever, and quite likely I will amuse myself around here this summer batting out a few with the boys.

“I’ve had it in mind all winter that it was much more comfortable down here on the farm than jaunting around the country. I am sick and tired of traveling, so I notified Connie that I would not play again …

“If the yearning for the big show ever gets too strong … Connie Mack is the first man I shall ask for a job. … I don’t need the money and I’m going to please my own fancy.”

His manager confirmed these convictions, explaining that in recent years it had taken an annual visit to the farm to coax his reluctant star back to the baseball wars. He admitted that Baker signed his latest contract with the stipulation that he would be allowed to retire at the end of the season. “He does not have to play ball for a living any more, and says he has grown tired of traveling around the country.”12

He may not have needed the money, but few saw Baker’s retirement story as other than a bargaining tactic that would let him out of his contract. In March, Hughie Jennings referred to Baker as a “hold out.” As opening day approached, most thought Baker would return to baseball, and he seemed to be leaving the door open when he said, “I don’t know a thing more than I already told the press. So far as I am concerned, it looks like I’m going to be a farmer. But as I have said before, if a sufficiently large offer is made by the Athletics, I shall take it up and return to the diamond. Now, that’s straight.”13

Once the season began, the relationship between Mack and Baker began to deteriorate. In late April Mack declared he was through with Baker and wouldn’t let him out of his contract for a million dollars. A month later Baker said he was yet willing to return to the Athletics if Mack would tear up his three-year contract, but his stubborn manager would not give in.

But Baker couldn’t rid himself of the baseball bug as easily as he had thought. During the course of the summer he kept busy playing for the Upland, Pennsylvania, club in the Delaware County League, the Trappe town team, and the Easton Club of the independent Peninsula League. He also played for Atlantic City and for Accomac, Virginia, at the Pocomoke Fair. Local fans took this opportunity to pay tribute to their hero. Easton held a Home Run Baker Day before one of their games, presenting him with a fine silver service set in a ceremony at home plate. Other towns took the cue, and he was soon being feted up and down the peninsula. Baker would graciously agree to play for the local club after the ceremonies. Federalsburg, Berlin, and Crisfield were among the town teams for which he played.14

In February 1916, his contract was dealt to the Yankees, and he reported to New York that spring.

Many thought that Mack dealt Baker to the last-place club as a way to punish him, while others thought Mack was doing Baker a favor, since the Yankees could afford his price. Some even believed the American League brokered the deal, hoping Baker would be a drawing card for the Yankees against the rival Giants. Whatever the reasons, the Yankees had been after Baker for a year, and Mack didn’t deal his star third baseman until they raised their offer to $37,500. Early in the season, Baker severely injured his ribs chasing a foul ball into the stands, and he missed much of the year.

The game seems to have passed Baker during his year on the farm. The seasons with the Yankees were respectable, but his 52-ounce bat no longer carried the thunder it once had.

In February 1920, news went out that the Baker home was in quarantine. His wife Ottilie and their daughter had scarlet fever.

Representatives of the Yankees were in communication with their third baseman, and the rumor was that he would not play in the coming season. A few days later, Mrs. Baker passed away. Baker told a reporter through a cracked door at the still quarantined home, “The death of Mrs. Baker has killed all chances of my playing baseball again. … Since the death of my wife I have lost interest in the game and feel I could not do justice to myself or the club if I entered the sport this year.”15

Baker’s mother moved in to care for the still sick child, and to help run the household. It appears that he genuinely felt that the children, the farm, and his other business interests would keep him occupied. But in April he went with a friend on a trip to Chester, Pennsylvania, and before long, he was playing baseball again. He returned to the Upland Club for which he had played in 1915, but his family and farm were his priorities. In August he visited New York to “take in a few games” and he came home having agreed to play again for the Yankees in 1921.

He was assuming more of a utility and pinch-hitting role now, as he watched Babe Ruth redefine the home run. Baker played in two more World Series with the Yankees, in 1921 and 1922. In thirteen major league seasons, Baker appeared in six fall classics. Not bad for a clumsy country boy.

He hung up his spikes in 1922, and married Margaret Mitchell of Baltimore, by whom he would father two more children. He wanted to settle into a life of working the family’s three farms and do a little duck hunting, but the Class D minor leagues had replaced independent baseball on the peninsula, and a call was sent out to Trappe.

Easton had gained entry into the Eastern Shore League for the ’24 season, and Baker was asked to manage the club. He agreed, provided the Rev. Donaldson of Easton’s Christ Church was named president. It was a lackluster season for the Easton Club, notable only for the introduction of another country boy to Organized Baseball. Dell Foxx, a contemporary and competitor of Baker’s in the days of independent baseball on the peninsula, had come down from Sudlersville to tell him about his son. Baker knew raw talent when he saw it and he signed sixteen-year-old Jimmie Foxx as a catcher.

A player’s talent, acquired skills, and feats on the diamond are worshipped by his fans, but a man crosses a discernable line from the heroic to the human when he assumes the responsibility of managing a baseball team. Baker returned to manage the Easton team in 1925, but not all were satisfied. Many thought the team should have done better the previous year, and the disappointing play continued. There was also dissatisfaction over the sale of Jimmie Foxx.

Baker had gone up to see his two former teams in a series during the 1924 season to tout his new phenom. He later said New York laughed at him when he portrayed Foxx as a righthanded Ruth. Mack seemed more receptive. Other major league scouts began to show up at Easton games, and Baker quickly steered his prospect to the Athletics for the purchase price of $2,000.

Foxx’s account may shed some light on his manager’s intentions. Jimmie recollected that Baker encouraged him to go with Connie Mack since he would get his chance with the Athletics sooner than he would with the Yankees. There may have been another motivation as well. When Mack was once again dismantling his team in the early 1930s, he asked Foxx which teams he would be interested in playing for. Foxx replied that he would go anywhere but New York, referring to that deep Death Valley in Yankee Stadium’s left field. Baker took the heat for looking out for the young player’s future. Even a novice fan knew that the $2,000 paid to Foxx was a paltry sum for such a promising talent, and with the Easton Club doing poorly in the first half of the 1925 season, the “uptown managers” were grumbling. In July both Donaldson and Baker were sacked.16

Baker occasionally dabbled with playing or coaching other area teams but was soon out of local baseball altogether. He returned to farming, hunting, and raising a family. Up at 6 AM every morning to work the fields, he was more than a farmer in his community. He served several terms on the Trappe Town Board, acted as tax collector, was director of the State Bank of Trappe, and was active in the volunteer fire company. Baker was deeply respected in his community.

He never lost his love for baseball, and in later years was often seen at local Little League, Pony League, and Babe Ruth League games. These were particular favorites since he thought that the league activity promoted family unity, not like his day when boys simply ran off to a vacant field to play. Today, the Talbot County Little League is named for him.

Though he had all the respect and admiration he ever wanted at home, he was not recognized for his contributions to the game by entry into the Hall of Fame. It was now in the hands of the Veterans Committee, who met sporadically and did not appear interested.

In the early 1950s a friend, Sherwood Yates of Cambridge began to write letters — hundreds of them — to sportswriters throughout the country, and to nationally prominent citizens. Local newspapers, the Easton Star-Democrat, the Daily Banner of Cambridge, and the Salisbury Times picked up on it, and soon there was a national campaign in the works. As much as Baker deserved the honor, the communities themselves seemed to need it. The Veterans Committee belatedly selected Baker to the Hall in February 1955. In typical taciturn Eastern Shore fashion he remarked, “It’s better to get a rosebud while you’re alive than a whole bouquet after you’re dead.” Actually he was quite proud of the honor, as he was heard to say, “I’m walking with a light step today.”17

After attending the Hall of Fame ceremonies in the fall of 1961 he suffered a stroke. The following spring, as he waited for the opening day ball game to come on the television, he confessed to a friend his true feelings for the game he twice forsook for principle and priorities, “Baseball is a great game. The older I get the nuttier I get about it.”18

MARTY PAYNE of St. Michaels, Maryland, says, “This was written for my nieces who, when playing in the Home Run Baker Little League, would often ask, ‘Who was Home Run Baker?’ Special thanks to Barry Sparks and Mark Millikin.”

 

Additional Sources

“Home Run Baker’s Rise,” Literary Digest, 44:718, April 6, 1912.

“Explaining the Athletics Victory,” Literary Digest, October 25, 1913.

Craig Carter, ed., World Series Records (St Louis: Sporting News, 1984).

Cooperstown: Where Baseball Legends Live (St. Louis: Sporting News).

 

Notes

1. Quoted from Preston Dickson, Trappe: The Story of an Old-Fashioned Town (Easton, Md., 1976), p. 100.

2. From an article on Buck Herzog and his rise to the major leagues, “Work and Win is Clever Motto of Charley Herzog,” by C. Starr Matthews in the Baltimore Sun, March 12, 1911. Bill Kellogg was a veteran of the Baltimore semi pro circuits and the leading hitter of the Salisbury Club in 1902-03. He was a utility player for Buck Herzog and the Cincinnati Nationals in 1914. Si Nichols was a teammate of Herzog’s at the University of Maryland and played six seasons in the major leagues. He started at shortstop for the Philadelphia Athletics in 1907. Sam Frock pitched for the Boston and Pittsburgh National League clubs for four seasons and was with Pittsburgh for the 1909 World Series. Buck Herzog had a thirteen-year career with Boston, New York, Cincinnati and Chicago of the National League. He played in four World Series and managed Cincinnati 1914-16.

3. Baker’s early career is presented in the Easton, Md., Star-Democrat, February 4, 1955. Other local sources include the Dorchester Democrat-News, May-September 1907, and the Cambridge Daily Banner, May-June 1907. See also Martin Appell and Burt Goldblatt: Baseball’s Best Hall of Fame Gallery (McGraw Hill).

4. The story of Baker’s courtship is told in Preston Dickson, Trappe: The Story of an Old-Fashioned Town.

5. In a letter to Taylor Spink of The Sporting News dated February 15, 1955, Ty Cobb explained that the charges against him were “unfair and untrue.” He further asserted that Baker was not responsible for the accusations that led to the public outcry. The Sporting News Website.

6. In the opinion of Christy Mathewson, the personalities of the “stoic” Baker and the “high-strung” Herzog reflected those of their respective teams and the managers. John McGraw drove the Giants hard and called every play on the field, while Connie Mack let the Athletics play their own game. Mathewson felt that since most of the Giants were so dependent on their manager for direction, the self-reliant Philadelphia players were better suited to handling the pressures of a World Series. This was not a fault of McGraw’s so much as a necessity, given the talent of the club.

He says of Baker prior to the first game, “It was ten o’clock, and ‘Home Run’ Baker, stretching to his feet, yawned abysmally and announced: ‘I want my sleep.’” A half hour later Herzog would reply to a friend, “I’m not a bit sleepy. I could stay up all night.” Mathewson went on to say, “This little incident shows the difference. The Athletics are a calm, stoical crew, while the Giants happen to be composed of a number of highly strung, nervous, almost temperamental players. And through the games that followed those who knew these things forecast the outcome. As day by day the tension tightened, the Giants cracked wider and wider, until in the last contest, as a result of the nervousness, they showed to total disadvantage.” Mathewson made these comparisons in an article he wrote for Everybody’s Magazine, October 1914, “Why we Lost Three World Championships,” which was reviewed and summarized in the Easton Star Democrat, October 3, 1914.

7. What a local reporter referred to as “Baker’s Iron Nerve” is recounted by Fred Snodgrass in Lawrence Ritter, The Glory of Their Times, (New York: Macmillan, 1966) pp. 103-106. Snodgrass’s version of the spiking incident is far different from contemporary accounts. According to the Giant center fielder, he was on second base in Game 1 watching Bender snap his curves in the dirt. When one got away from the catcher he broke for third. Baker waited in front of the base. He had no chance with a hook slide so he went straight at the bag. The collision knocked the ball from Baker’s grasp, and when the play was over, Snodgrass’s spikes had torn Baker’s pants from knee to hip and he suffered a slight abrasion on the leg. A blanket had to be brought out to cover the third baseman so he could change his pants and play could continue.

According to Snodgrass, a similar situation arose a few days later. This time Baker held the ball in the collision, but once again, his pants were torn and he suffered a mild abrasion. Snodgrass was much chagrined that the baseball public vilified him for what he claimed were unintentional incidents.

Compare this version to what was reported at the time.

8. Quoted from the Baltimore Sun, October 19, 1911, as reported by C. Starr Mathews. Christy Mathewson’s defense of Snodgrass, and his account of the home run are from his syndicated column from the New York Herald printed in the same issue of the Sun. Events of the first three games of the World Series are from the Baltimore Sun, October 15, 1911, Baltimore Sun, October 17, 1911, and Baltimore Sun, October 19, 1911. One of the other often repeated stories of the 1911 World Series is that Baker’s home run off of Mathewson came with two strikes. One account even states that he barely fouled off strike three before the blast.

9. From an undated clipping from the Easton Star-Democrat in the Baseball File at the Talbot County (Maryland) Free Library.

10. See “Why the Athletics were Scrapped,” Literary Digest, 51:74, July 24, 1915.

11. The St. Louis Dispatch began, “J. Franklin Baker will leap from the Mackmen to the St. Louis Federals. He will take the jump sometime within the next two weeks.” Phil Ball, manager of the St. Louis Federals, went on to say, “We do not want a lawsuit over Baker. We don’t want anymore lawsuits than necessary. I have reason to believe, however, that we can get Baker without the chance of being beaten afterward in court.” Easton Star-Democrat, December 12, 1914.

12. Easton Star-Democrat, February 20, 1915.

13. In spite of St. Louis’s contention, Baker consistently denied ever negotiating with the outlaws. He appeared to be perfectly willing to return to the Athletics, provided he received what he considered to be fair market value for his services. From a feature article on Baker and his family and life on the farm in the Easton Star-Democrat, April 10, 1915. However, C. Starr Matthews reported differently in the Baltimore Sun, December 30, 1915. According to the story, Baker met in Philadelphia with president Gilmore of the Federal League, and was handed a $10,000 check as an inducement to sign a $40,000 five-year contract guaranteed even if the league failed. Baker supposedly refused the check, preferring to play in the American League.

14. Baker’s playing independent baseball was another source of controversy. When the Peninsula League met to form, the Salisbury and Cambridge clubs protested Easton’s use of Baker. They proposed that he rotate his services between the four participants. Easton refused to take part in the scheme. As far as they were concerned, they could have a league with Baker playing for Easton, or have no league at all. Salisbury and Cambridge offered a compromise that Baker play at least five games a week, but late season statistics show he appeared in only nine of thirty games for the Easton Club. See the Easton Star-Democrat, July 31, 1915, and September 11, 1915.

In April of 1915, E.M. Hackney, president of the Philadelphia Suburban League, tried to support Organized Baseball by protesting Baker playing for Upland, saying he was a contract jumper. When Baker was granted approval to play, President Rogers and three leagues resigned from the Interstate Association in protest. (Notes of Barry Sparks.)

15. Easton Star-Democrat, February 21, 1920.

16. The partnership of Donaldson and Baker was recounted by the Rev. Donaldson for the Easton Star-Democrat, March 25, 1955.

17. Easton Star-Democrat, February 4, 1955.

18. Easton Star-Democrat, July 3, 1963.