Yellowhorse the Pirate

Pittsburgh baseball has been blessed with its share of giants: from those who made their fame here as players, coaches, managers, or front office personnel to those who passed through before or after making their names elsewhere. But just a notch below the heroes in the pantheon are a number of lesser-gifted athletes who in their own enigmatic way contributed to baseball lore.

One such athlete was Moses “Chief’ Yellowhorse. His primary claim to fame was his heritage. Moses Yellowhorse was a full-blooded Pawnee Indian. As one newspaper account of the time stated, “He was as dark as the previous night’s lunar eclipse. As he strode to the mound, he was greeted by the wild beating of drums and War whoops from the adjacent grandstands. Regardless of whether he was home or away, Yellowhorse was met in this noisy fashion. Surprisingly, it never seemed to bother him or adversely affect his pitching. The fans loved doing it, and soon after Yellowhorse made his first appearance in a Pirate uniform (1921), he had become one of the town’s favorite native sons.”

During ballgames, whether the score was close or not, the familiar chant of “Put in Yellowhorse!” was resoundingly audible throughout the Bucs’ Forbes Field. In fact, sometimes just the shouting of his name brought about the war whoops and drum tattoos. The tumultuous cacophony, reverberating through the ballyard, lent itself to a carnival atmosphere. Yellowhorse was truly a fan favorite, a man of the people.

He had arrived in the Steel City by way of Arkansas. Pirate President/Owner Barney Dreyfuss, known for his keen eye in judging baseball talent, believed Yellowhorse could help bring the Bucs back to their glory days. After its 1909 World’s Championship (with the exception of the disaster years of 1914-17), the team had remained consistently over .500 and in the first division. For the Pirates it seemed to be “close, but no cigar,” nearly every year.

During the 1921 and 1922 seasons, Yellowhorse was a sporadic contributor to the Pirate pitching staff. He finished his rookie season with a record of five wins and three losses, and sported a 2.98 ERA. He also became the only Pirate rookie pitcher to earn a victory on Opening day. The Bucs took the Reds that day 8-7, and The Chief took the “W.” Yellowhorse’s second season as a Pirate was curtailed by illness and injury, limiting him to a 3-1 record and a 4.50 ERA. He did hit .316, though.

Although his overall record was nothing to brag about, he was fondly remembered. In later years his peers recounted that he threw as hard as Walter Johnson. Though not possessing a good curve, Yellowhorse compensated with velocity and accuracy, and a natural agility which made him a good fielder. His innate athletic ability and baseball savvy earned him accolades even from the likes of Commissioner Landis. The Judge earnestly believed that the young Yellowhorse was destined for baseball greatness. Unfortunately, his belief didn’t come true.

In addition to injuries and illness, Yellowhorse’s career was cut short by alcohol abuse, a plague which has bothered Native Americans in the bigs since Louis Sockalexis. When Yellowhorse returned to his tribe in Pawnee, Oklahoma, he was subject to a double-edged opinion of his reputation. On one hand, having been a major leaguer made him an object of esteem. Yet simultaneously, his tribe never forgave him for letting alcohol shorten his career.

Over time, the tribe began to accept him more openly. Between 1924 and the time of his death 40 years later, Yellowhorse tirelessly devoted his time and energy to promoting baseball among the young Pawnee. He was also very instrumental in revitalizing many of their lost traditions and language. He became a motivational factor in the lives of his people, especially the young. Yellowhorse’s ability to perform, even under the most dire of circumstances, was largely attributed to the pride which he derived from his Pawnee heritage. His attempts to instill this pride and strength into his younger tribesmen did not go till noticed. In the eyes of the tribe, and especially the elders, he became one of their most beloved members. Tragically, he died of a sudden heart attack in 1964. He never married and fathered no children, yet he was survived by a legacy and a tribe that considered him both kindred spirit and favorite son.

From the 1930s into the late ’50s, the spirit of The Chief still lived in Forbes Field. It is said that many Pirate fans of the time remember the cry of “Put in Yellowhorse!” starting, then abruptly dying away. Was the spirit of Yellowhorse still alive within the steel-girder superstructure of Forbes Field?

By the 1960s it was evident that the Pirates were destined to relocate to a new, yet familiar, locale. The move was largely caused by higher education sprawl, the whims of the then city fathers, and business entrepreneurs who believed they knew what was in the best interest of the populace.

As construction of the new facility began, the question was asked, “What shall this new colossus of a baseball home be called?” Some suggested “Allegheny Stadium,” in honor of the river and the former city located on its banks. Others felt it should be named after a former Pirate great, such as Pie Traynor or “Flying Dutchman Field,” after superstar Hans Wagner. A few pundits even offered the name of “Chief Yellowhorse Stadium,” after the Bucco native American hurler of 50 years earlier.

Yellowhorse’s easygoing demeanor won for him a place in the hearts of many Pittsburgh baseball fans. Although he possessed a keen awareness of the game and its intricacies, he was destined to be an average player at best. However, as a human being, he was a solid .300 hitter, lifetime. A Pittsburgh fan favorite, he became a solid citizen and hero to his tribespeople: both as a Pirate and a Pawnee, a class act.