Norman Rockwell’s Umpire Paintings

Baseball has always been a favorite subject for artists wishing to portray popular aspects of American culture. Norman Rockwell (1894-1978), America’s “Dickens with a paint brush,” produced dozens of illustrations of the National Pastime for novels and magazine stories, commercial advertisements and magazine covers, notably 11 for the Saturday Evening Post. These paintings, which included The Dugout (1948) and The Rookie or Red Sox Locker Room (1957), were enormously influential as they conveyed an emotional sense of the game to a national audience decades before the appearance of multisport magazines featuring extensive color photography, Sport in 1946 and Sports Illustrated in 1954, and the onset of nationally televised major-league games in the 1950s.1

Rockwell’s paintings, almost never titled and crafted from photographs of modeled scenes, were not intended as depictions of actual games, but as images of a story in progress that would draw viewers emotionally into baseball experiences and required their imagination to complete. Two of his more than 30 baseball magazine covers were devoted to umpires. The Three Umpires is his most famous painting, while The Umpire is virtually unknown.

 

Norman Rockwell’s “Three Umpires” watch for rain — and also over the umpires’ room at Coors Field in Denver.

 

The Three Umpires

On April 23, 1949, appeared the most clever, complex, confusing, and controversial painting of Rockwell’s career. Now residing in the collection of the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, it is known by four names: Tough Call, Rockwell’s original title is spurious because no decision is called for; Game Called Because of Rain is nonsensical because it hasn’t been; Bottom of the Sixth is logical because the scoreboard indicated that; and, for obvious reasons, Three Umpires is fitting. The best known of his baseball pictures, it has assumed iconic status, widely reproduced as prints, collectibles, and decorations on a variety of commercial products ranging from whiskey bottles and ties, to cell phones and clothing.

The painting recalls the angst players, managers, and fans suffer when the vagaries of nature interferes with human design. Here he captures the moment when rain impacts a game between the Brooklyn Dodgers and the Pittsburgh Pirates at Ebbets Field. The painting is not about rendering a specific scene from an actual ballgame, but calls upon viewers to interpret baseball, calling upon viewers to interpret the unknown consequences of rain on any contest. And while presenting a detailed image for enjoyment and contemplation, Rockwell, as was his wont, cleverly inserted enigmatic elements into the picture to both confuse and amuse viewers.

Dominating the picture front and center are three umpires, their authoritative, even monumental presence magnified by the apparent elevated perspective of players in the dugout.2 They are front and center because they have the responsibility to determine the fate, termination or suspension, of a game in progress. The veteran crew looks searchingly at the sky: John E. “Beans” Reardon, with the home plate umpire’s chest protector commands the center; to his right, face uplifted, is Larry Goetz; to the left is Lou Jorda. It is not an accurate physical likeness of any of the arbiters, Reardon appears much too heavy, perhaps to emphasize authority; Goetz and, especially, Jorda look much older than their 53 and 56 years respectively.

Standing behind the men in blue are the team managers. Pittsburgh’s Billy Meyer, then in his first year with the Pirates, is hunched over, hands fretfully clasped in despair, also looking much older than his 55 years. Who is the Brooklyn representative, obscured save for a grinning face, arm pointing skyward, and cap doffed as if to mock in delight his counterpart? Dodgers manager, Burt Shotton, the last big-league skipper to wear street clothes instead of a uniform, although he did usually don a Dodgers cap, was prevented by baseball rules from going onto the field. Besides, he always wore glasses. The figure is Clyde Sukeforth, the coach who represented the team on the field for discussions with players and arguments with umpires. Also visible are two Pirates outfielders. In right field stands Fred “Dixie” Walker, the team’s leading hitter that season; in center is Johnny Hopp. The second baseman, hands on hips, is future Pirates manager, Danny Murtaugh

Rockwell staged the scene during the 1948 season at Ebbets Field. The date of modeling is unknown, but September 14, 1948, suggests itself. Reardon would have donned the balloon as the home plate umpire for the first game of a doubleheader, the only time that season the portrayed trio umpired a Pirates-Dodgers game in Brooklyn. For the other games Reardon and Goetz umpired with Pittsburgh in Brooklyn, either Jocko Conlan replaced Jorda or Dusty Boggess worked as the fourth crew member. (The four-man crew became universal three years later in 1952, but there were some four-man crews in 1948.)

Despite on-site staging, this is a fictitious game as Rockwell intended not to document a specific incident or contest, but instead to evoke conflicting, uncertain emotions about possible outcomes. As usual, he provided touches of authenticity to make the situation believable. Reardon’s use of the balloon chest protector worn outside the jacket was correct as he and Jocko Conlan bucked the National League’s tradition of using the inside protector. And both wore polka-dot bow ties instead of the traditional hand-in-four neckties favored by all other umpires. The Dodgers batting order on the scoreboard lists uniform numbers 20, 35, and 42. That would be pitcher Phil Haugstad, left fielder Marv Rackley, and second baseman Jackie Robinson. Rackley leading off and Robinson hitting second was not the usual batting order in1948, but one that occurred enough to be credible. The view over the right-field fence, the portion of the Botany Ties sign visible on the fence to the left, “Electricity” at the top of the scoreboard, and the famous Abe Stark clothing store advertisement at the bottom are all accurate. On the other hand, fence signage to the right is SCM instead of GEM (razors), perhaps because of copyright concerns, and Meyers’ uniform appears home team white instead of gray, and his stockings lack three yellow stripes, perhaps for artistic emphasis.3

Three crucial factual details have led to interpretive confusion. First, the scoreboard shows the game has reached the bottom of the sixth inning with Pittsburgh leading 1-0. Second, the Brooklyn “manager” is exuberantly gleeful, while the Pittsburgh skipper is dour and fretful. Third, because only seven scattered rain drops are falling, is rain beginning or ending and, in either case, what will be the result?

That the painting has four titles indicates confusion as to meaning and intention. And it is one of the very few Rockwell illustrations for which art experts have assigned interpretations. Christopher Finch variously posited two conflicting interpretations. He contended both that “the umpire is about to call the game as rain begins to fall from threatening skies” and that the Brooklyn manager is delighted because the “rain appears to be ending” so the game will continue with the Dodgers’ cleanup hitter at the plate.4 The brothers Stoltz claimed Rockwell “depicted that moment at which the ball game is brought to an early conclusion by foul weather” and that the Brooklyn manager is delighted because the Pittsburgh lead would not become official without the Dodgers getting to bat in the bottom half of the inning.5 The artistic experts misread the painting and misunderstood baseball rules. Illustrative detail points clearly to rain beginning, not ending, and the scoreboard indicates the Brooklyn cleanup hitter is not due to bat. It was an official game because the teams had finished five innings, and umpires would never “call” or even delay a game when it just starts to rain.

Although the mix of dark clouds to the west and blue sky to the east makes it unclear as to whether rainfall is beginning or ending, Rockwell intended to suggest it was starting to rain. He originally painted dark clouds across the entire sky, but much to his chagrin Post editor Ken Stuart surreptitiously commissioned artist William H. Rapp to insert patches of blue on the right side. Rockwell was furious, saying it was “better as I conceived and painted it.”6 Unauthorized prepublication alteration aside, if the rain was about to stop, Pirates players, the umpires and managers would not be on the field. They would be, of course, if it were just starting. But, then, if a storm were arriving the center-field flag would be flapping in the wind, not hanging limp.

Each umpire looking skyward, Reardon’s hand outstretched to capture a drop of rain, figuratively pose the question: What are the consequences of rain? The onset of rain, whether resulting in a delayed, called, or suspended game, does not at first blush explain the poses of the rival skippers. Why is the Pittsburgh manager upset? It was an official game as the teams had completed five innings, so according to rules, the Pirates, leading 1-0, would win if rain terminated the game. If the rain eventually stopped and the game continued, Pittsburgh still held the lead and might win, so there was no reason for such a worried reaction. The same is true if the game was suspended for completion at some future time. Why is the Brooklyn manager so happy? If the game were called, the Bums would lose as it was an official contest. If it were only temporarily halted then resumed, or suspended, the Dodgers might rally to win, but that uncertain eventuality does not warrant such exuberance.

However, the euphoric gesture makes sense if the Dodgers had just taken the lead with multiple runs in the bottom of the sixth, runs that according to custom in many ballparks, including Ebbets Field, would not be registered on the manual scoreboard until the end of the inning.7 Should the game be called, Brooklyn would win the game. That the pitcher was the next batter, suggests the sixth inning in still in progress. Had Brooklyn not yet batted in the bottom of the inning, at that point in a one-run game a pinch hitter would likely been used.8 Or perhaps he had not yet been announced. Since the Pirates are still in the field, could the umpires be assessing the onset of rain that might, should the game be called, mark a Brooklyn victory? As typical with Rockwell: Your call.

The much-beloved painting has been criticized by baseball aficionados for an unrealistic portrayal of the umpires huddled together on the field, the manner of assessing the nature of the rainfall, and the behavior of the managers. That confuses the creative license inherent in artistic representations with the accuracy required of documentary depictions: It is a painting, not a photograph, a fictional creation intended nothing other than eliciting emotions of the moment, leaving to the viewer to extrapolate various scenarios depending upon the implications of whether the rain is starting or stopping and the status of the game in progress. To criticize Rockwell for improbabilities is like criticizing Impressionist Claude Monet and Surrealist Salvador Dali for painting unrealistic images. Ironically, Rockwell’s association with the umpires would lead him to the only major artistic faux pas of his career.

The Umpire

Rockwell’s artistic creativity and desire to impart believability clashed as never before with The Umpire. As a follow-up to the Three Umpires, he envisioned a cover to celebrate the opening of the 1952 season that would feature an umpire. He was so enthusiastic about the project that he provided a rare explanation of what he intended to convey: “A brawny gorilla of an umpire was daintily dusting home plate with a little whisk broom while the batter and catcher waited. The contrast between the squatting umpire—big, red-faced, square-jawed, broad-shouldered—and his finicky, housekeeping gesture seemed humorous to me.”9

Since the Cardinals and Pirates were to open the season in St. Louis, he assembled a trio of local big leaguers at Sportsman’s Park in early winter1951. Two St. Louis residents, Stan Musial in his Cardinals uniform with bat in hand, and Joe Garagiola, who had been traded to Pittsburgh on June 15, 1951, outfitted in catchers’ gear, were positioned on either side of home plate. In between crouched veteran National League umpire Al Barlick, who had driven over from his home in nearby Springfield, Illinois.

As photographers took pictures of the posed trio, Garagiola mentioned that Rockwell had positioned Barlick the wrong way, his backside toward the grandstand. Tradition required umpires to face the spectators, not the pitcher, when brushing off home plate. But during the three days of posing and photographing, no one else said anything, not the half-dozen local newspaper reporters, the groundskeepers, Musial, or even Barlick. Thus when Rockwell returned to his studio in West Arlington, Vermont, and began painting the picture, he ignored Garagiola’s comment. After all that would have countered the focal point of the painting, the uber-masculine expression on Barlick’s face as he dusted off the plate. He was enthusiastic about the painting: “I had no doubts about this cover; it was a good one; I was sure of it.”10

The painting was half-finished when a close friend and neighbor, Jim Edgerton, who had modeled for several Rockwell paintings, pointed out that the umpire’s position was not correct. Rockwell frequently took minor liberties for artistic effect, but this was a major faux pas that violated a baseball custom that bordered on unwritten law. Taken aback by the gaffe, Rockwell submitted a revised painting, but the Post editors did not want readers looking at an umpire’s backside. Rockwell was probably relieved inasmuch as a correctly posed painting would be both uninteresting and unable to convey his visual intent. As a result, he never published the painting, which after 1953 hung in his studio in Stockbridge, Massachusetts.11

Over the years baseball fans, even the most ardent among them, have paid scant attention to umpires save for controversial decisions. Thankfully Norman Rockwell recognized not only their conspicuous presence, but also the central place of umpires in the game. His most famous baseball painting, The Three Umpires, is a dramatic representation of their prominent position.

If The Umpire revealed Norman Rockwell’s lack of familiarity with umpiring, he demonstrated an awareness of the conspicuous place of umpires in the game in The Three Umpires, a dramatic representation of their prominence that continues to provide baseball enthusiasts with visual and speculative enjoyment.

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 For a complete account of Rockwell’s baseball paintings, see Larry R. Gerlach, “Norman Rockwell and Baseball: Images of the National Pastime,” NINE: A Journal of Baseball History and Culture, Vol. 23, no. 1 (Fall 2014).

2 Christopher Finch, 102 Favorite Paintings by Norman Rockwell (New York: Crown Publishers, 1978), 96. incorrectly says the umpires are viewed from “about the height of the pitcher’s mound” as the perspective from there would have been downward. He also misspelled Goetz as Gaetz.

3 Marc Okkonen, Baseball Uniforms of the 20th Century: The Official Major League Baseball Guide (New York: Sterling Publishing, 1991), 185.

4 Christopher Finch, Rockwell: 332 Magazine Covers (New York: Abbeville Press/Random House, 1979), 365 and Finch, Norman Rockwell’s America (NY: Harry N. Abrams, 1975), 229.

5 Donald Stoltz and. Marshall Stoltz, Norman Rockwell and the Saturday Evening Post, Vol. 3, (New York: Fine Communications, 1997). 86.

6 See http://www.best-norman-rockwell-art.com/norman-rockwell-saturday-evening-post-cover-1949-04-23-game-called-because-of-rain-three-umpires.html#ixzz2kNB52tVy

7 Lyle Spatz, Dodgers fan and premier New York baseball historian, personally attested to when runs were posted on the Ebbets scoreboard in 1948.

8 Referee (March 1994): 9.

9 Norman Rockwell, My Adventures as an Illustrator (Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1960, 1972), 373-374.

10 Ibid., 373-375; and Oscar Ruhl, “From the Ruhl Book,”The Sporting News, January 23, 1952, 14.

11 The painting was part of a Rockwell exhibit entitled “Flops” at the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, Massachusetts. Garagiola was on hand to discuss the painting for a September 17, 1991, NBC Today show broadcast. Bea Snyder, “Today Show Broadcasts Live from Rockwell Museum,” The Portfolio, vol. 8, no. 3 (Fall 1991), 1-2.