By the time you read this, SABR members, the 2023 season will be over and some team will have been left standing triumphant on the field after the last out of the World Series. But as I write this in advance of the Baseball Research Journal being printed, manufactured, and shipped, I don’t yet know which team it will be.

I do know—without using any sabermetrics at all—that the winning team will not be the Boston Red Sox, nor the New York Yankees. No, at the moment the only question is whether either (or both) might manage to stay above .500 this season. As of today, FanGraphs projects them both to limp to 81–81 finishes and tie for last place in the AL East. Which raises the question, what’s less precedented, the combination of New York and Boston losing 162 games, or a division with not a single losing record?

From the perspective of Yankees and Red Sox fans, the 2023 season has been a disaster. Every night pundits come up with new measures of how long its been since the Yankees (or Sox) “tanked” this hard. Truly it’s a measure of just how spoiled rotten we are along the Northeast Corridor that a .500 season is considered disastrous, but out of curiosity I decided to look up how often it happens that Boston and New York combine for more than 162 losses.

Turns out, it doesn’t happen very often, only 14 times over the 121 seasons these two teams have faced each other. While some in Red Sox Nation and the Evil Empire might say that only proves how bad this season is, I suppose I am more of a win-column-half-full type of person than a win-column-half-empty type.

And maybe 2023 never had a chance to be a memorable season for me. Living up to 2022’s Aaron-Judge-fueled pursuit of history was always going to be difficult. Then there’s the fact that this is the year I lost my Dad, and I got COVID-19. The last baseball game Dad and I watched together was the finale of the World Baseball Classic. Despite his dementia, Dad still knew about Mike Trout and Shohei Ohtani, and he still loved watching sports. He’d lost the ability to remember the score shortly after the game was over, but during the games, whether it was baseball, or tennis, or one of his other favorites (golf, figure skating, Olympic anything) he lived totally in the moment. In those moments he experienced so much joy, and wonder, and excitement. And if there was the disappointment of a loss, he quickly forgot it.

I decided to try that out as a philosophy, to care less about who won or lost, and to just enjoy the moments, however fleeting. This works fine while I’m at the ballpark, especially when the weather is nice and the company is good. But ultimately I can’t live entirely in the moment. When the future looks bleak—or like .500—I take my solace in the past. There are plenty of memorable seasons and performances to be found in baseball history.

Hence, this Journal.

Congratulations to whomever won. Bask in the afterglow! To the rest, enjoy your offseason reading.

— Cecilia M. Tan
SABR Publications Director

Related links:

• Buy the magazine: Purchase the print edition of the Fall 2023 Baseball Research Journal from Amazon.com
• Download the PDF: Click here to download the PDF file of the Fall 2023 Baseball Research Journal
• Read online: Find articles from the Fall 2023 Baseball Research Journal online at SABR.org

It may be the most famous baseball painting of all time. Created by Norman Rockwell, it goes by many different names, including The Three Umpires, Game Called Because of Rain, Tough Call, and Bottom of the Sixth. It depicts a baseball game between the Pittsburgh Pirates and the Brooklyn Dodgers at Ebbets Field in Brooklyn. According to the scoreboard, the game is in the bottom of the sixth inning, with Pittsburgh leading, 1–0. The Pirates scored their only run in the top of the second inning. The three umpires of the title are standing together, looking at the skies. The home plate umpire is in the center of the trio, with his hand out to determine how hard it is raining, trying to decide whether or not to call the game. If the umpires call the game, Pittsburgh will win, since the game became official with the completion of the fifth inning and Pittsburgh is still leading. To the right and behind the umpires, the managers from each team are in a heated argument, although it is not clear what the dispute is about. In the distance, three Pirates fielders are shown.1

The original painting is in the collection of the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown, New York, where it is a favorite attraction for visitors.2 The Three Umpires is so famous, it has become a part of pop culture, and has been printed on a variety of commercial products, including whiskey bottles, ties, watches, and clothing.3 In 1982 it even appeared on a postage stamp of the Turks and Caicos Islands, a British overseas territory.4 Numerous prints of the painting are still being sold to this day.

This is the story of The Three Umpires, a painting which has intrigued baseball fans and others since its first publication on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post over 70 years ago.

NORMAN ROCKWELL

Painter and illustrator Norman Rockwell was born in New York City on February 3, 1894. Rockwell displayed a natural ability for drawing as a youngster and after attending several art schools to hone his craft, embarked on a professional career while still a teenager. He completed his first commissioned works before he was 16 (four Christmas cards for a client), illustrated his first book when he was 17, became art director of Boy’s Life magazine when he was 19, and produced a cover for the Saturday Evening Post when he was just 22.5 The latter is most significant because, despite numerous drawings and paintings for calendars, advertisements, commercial products, collectibles, and story illustrations, Rockwell is most famous today for his magazine covers. His works appeared on the front of virtually every major magazine, including Life, Look, Literary Digest, and McCall’s.6 But none rival the Saturday Evening Post, where Rockwell produced 323 covers over 47 years.7

Rockwell’s works usually depict aspects of Americana, often renderings of his real or imagined views of bygone eras, but sometimes contemporary subjects such as Rosie the Riveter (Saturday Evening Post, May 29, 1943), a painting about a female industrial worker on the job during World War II, and The Problem We All Live With (Look, January 14, 1964), a civil rights painting about a young African American girl integrating a Southern school. Rockwell drew numerous works about baseball, from illustrations for advertisements and short stories to paintings for magazine covers, the latter primarily for the Saturday Evening Post. Among his most famous Post baseball covers are The Dugout (September 4, 1948), showing an upset Cubs’ dugout presumably during a losing game being jeered at by the fans in the stands above, The Rookie (Red Sox Locker Room) (March 2, 1957) about a new player in a hat and suit, holding a suitcase and a bat in his hands, arriving in the Red Sox locker room and looking very out-of-place, and Knothole Baseball (August 30, 1958), depicting the view of an amateur or low-level professional game through a small hole in a fence.

By the mid-1930s, Rockwell usually painted his magazine covers from black and white photographs, first making a rough pencil sketch of the proposed work and then after obtaining preliminary approval from a publication, finding models he could pose in the positions he needed for the painting.8 (The models were often his friends or neighbors.) He then created several preliminary drawings of the painting, known as studies, including a detailed, full-size charcoal sketch of the work and then a small color sketch, before proceeding to the final work, which was oil on canvas.9

Norman Rockwell died on November 8, 1978, at the age of 84, in Stockbridge, Massachusetts—the future location of the Norman Rockwell Museum. In a career that lasted more than 60 years, he produced over 4,000 original works of art.10

THE CREATION OF THE THREE UMPIRES

On September 14, 1948, before the first game of a doubleheader between the Pittsburgh Pirates and the Brooklyn Dodgers, Norman Rockwell brought a professional photographer to Ebbets Field in Brooklyn for the purpose of taking reference photos of umpires, managers, coaches, and players to aid in the painting of The Three Umpires. Rockwell chose the individuals to be depicted in the painting and posed them as he expected them to appear in his work. He also had reference photos taken of the Ebbets Field scoreboard. There are numerous reference photos from that day in the archives of the Norman Rockwell Museum, twelve of which are available for viewing on the museum’s website.11

Despite the three umpires being grouped in the painting and the managers being face-to-face, reference photos were taken of each those models separately. Rockwell had such a strong image of the painting in his mind that even though not one bit of paint had yet been applied to canvas, he seamlessly blended the individuals into groups in the painting.

Because of the availability of the reference photos, the detail in the painting, and a blurb in the Saturday Evening Post, the five prominent individuals in The Three Umpires are easily identifiable.

The home plate umpire extending his hand is John “Beans” Reardon. Reardon umpired in the National League from 1926 to 1949—including five World Series and three All-Star games—before leaving the profession at age 52 to manage a beer business. He is one of the most memorable umpires in the history of the game, both for his tendency to swear at the players when he argued with them and for the great stories he told even after he left the game.

Reardon also had a unique look, wearing a distinctive blue and white polka-dot bowtie (instead of the usual necktie used in the National League at the time), although there is little detail of it in The Three Umpires. Prominent in the painting is the inflated, American League chest protector then worn by Reardon even though Reardon was a National League umpire, and he was supposed to wear a smaller chest protector underneath his coat.12

To the left of Reardon is base umpire Larry Goetz. Goetz umpired in the National League from 1936 to 1956, appearing in three World Series and two All-Star games. To the right of Reardon is base umpire Lou Jorda, who umpired in the National League from 1927 to 1931 and again from 1940 to 1952. He worked in two All-Star Games and two World Series. Jorda is wearing the traditional necktie in the painting.

The Pirates manager is Billy Meyer. Meyer managed the Pirates for five seasons (1948–52), with his teams finishing in the first division in only one year and finishing in last place in two seasons. His Pirates team in 1952 lost 112 games, still the seventh worst finish by average (.273) in the combined history of the American and National Leagues from 1901 to 2022. Clyde Sukeforth, a Dodgers coach, is the person arguing with Meyer. As a scout, Sukeforth was instrumental in bringing Jackie Robinson to the Dodgers and Roberto Clemente to the Pirates. As an interim manager for the Dodgers in 1947, he managed Jackie Robinson in his first two games in the big leagues.13 (The identities of the three Pirates players in the painting will be discussed below.)

Even though Rockwell had already visualized the painting before arriving at Ebbets Field, he was not wedded to his original conception. For example, there are no reference photos of the two outfielders in right field taken on September 14, 1948 at Ebbets Field, and as will be discussed later, it seems likely that Rockwell decided to add the outfielders to his painting sometime after September 14, 1948. The two outfielders enhance the picture, keeping right field from being empty and boring, and balancing the second baseman to the left of the umpires.

Rockwell also changed the portrayal of Clyde Sukeforth. In the available reference photos, he is holding his cap in the hand above his head and his lower hand is empty, perhaps stretched out to feel the rain. In the final painting, the cap is in his lower hand and his upper hand has a finger pointing to the sky. It is unknown why Rockwell made these changes.

Norman Rockwell took the reference photographs to California, where he and his family spent the winter, and completed the painting there. Ralph Kiner, the Pirates slugging outfielder, also wintered in California. During that offseason, Rockwell called Kiner and asked him if he happened to have his Pirates uniform with him. Kiner did, because he had played in an exhibition-game tour after the regular season. Rockwell visited Kiner to look at the unform, as a reference for Billy Meyer’s uniform. Rockwell later gave one of his original drawings to Kiner, for his help on the painting.14

The Three Umpires appeared as the cover of the April 23, 1949, issue of the Saturday Evening Post. As with most of Rockwell’s covers for the magazine, the painting is unrelated to any story in the issue.

When Rockwell first viewed the published cover, he was quite surprised. The Saturday Evening Post had made changes to his painting without consulting him. One of the changes, the alteration of the “GEM” (razor blade) advertising on the outfield wall to the generic “SCM” is understandable (although Rockwell should have been consulted), because the Post hardly wanted to give free advertising on its cover to a consumer product, and there could have been trademark or copyright issues. The other changes were much more problematic. The Post changed Rockwell’s dark gray clouds along the entire top of the painting into a blue sky with lightened gray and white clouds on the top right of the painting. It also darkened the Pirates’ uniforms.

An upset Rockwell wrote to Ken Stuart, the art editor of the Post who had authorized the changes, disputing his decisions and telling him that the sky “was better as I conceived and painted it.”15 Because this was the fourth time the Post had altered one of Rockwell’s paintings without his approval, “completely unethical” conduct according to Rockwell, the painter wrote, “I cannot go on painting with any strength or conviction with the threat of such changes to my work constantly hanging over my head.”16 The Post thereafter changed its protocols, at least with regard to Rockwell’s work, requiring additional editors to approve any changes to his paintings and to consult with Rockwell before any changes were actually made.

ANOMALIES, CONTROVERSIES, AND INTERESTING FACTS

The Umpires

One of the apparent anomalies in The Three Umpires is that, in accordance with the title, there are only three umpires depicted, instead of the usual four. This was not, however, an error on Rockwell’s part. Although four umpires were used in the World Series as early as 1909, a four-man crew was not officially instituted for all regular season games until 1952.17 And, in fact, there were only three umpires officiating the Pirates-Dodgers doubleheader on September 14, 1948, the day the reference photographs were taken. This was a bit of luck on Rockwell’s part. With only three umpires in the painting, the two base umpires provide a balance to the much larger home plate umpire in the middle. With four umpires, the picture would have been unbalanced and the home plate umpire would not have been the center of attention, as he is supposed to be.

Of course, baseball was played with more than three players on the field in 1948, but Rockwell chose to include only three in his painting. This falls into the category of artistic license. If there were nine players on the field, the painting would have been cluttered and the viewer’s eye would have drifted away from the focus of the work—the three umpires and the tough call to be made. Similarly, while many people have commented that the scoreboard in the painting does not match any of the action in either game of the doubleheader that was played on September 14, 1948, Rockwell was not chronicling any specific game in his work. He used the real players, umpires, and coaches who were on the field that day only as a reference for a drawing which sprang entirely from his imagination.

Burt Shotton

In September 1948, the Dodgers manager was Burt Shotton, but it is coach Clyde Sukeforth who is shown arguing with Pirates manager Billy Meyer just behind the trio of umpires. This anomaly is easily explained. Burt Shotton was one of the last of the big-league managers who did not wear a uniform during the game. While in the dugout, Shotton usually wore a suit, although on some occasions, he wore a warm-up jacket or windbreaker with “Dodgers” across the front and a team cap. On warmer, sunnier days, he sometimes wore slacks, a sports shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat.18 Thus, Shotton could hardly be used as the model for the Dodgers manager in Rockwell’s painting, since a man in street clothes would have seemed out of place. Although there is no specific major league rule that requires a manager to be in uniform, Shotton was apparently not allowed on the field because he did not wear a uniform. During games, Shotton used two of his coaches, either Clyde Sukeforth or Ray Blades, to argue calls with an umpire or replace a pitcher.19 Sukeforth, the better-known of the two, was the obvious individual to substitute for Shotton in the painting.

The Sprinkle Painting

Sandra Sprinkle, the granddaughter of Beans Reardon, passed away in 2015. Years before, she had placed what she thought was a signed print of The Three Umpires above the fireplace mantle of her home in Dallas, Texas. Sandra had obtained the artwork through inheritance. After Sandra’s death, her husband, Gene Sprinkle, moved to a retirement community. In the process of downsizing, Gene’s nephew emailed photos of Reardon memorabilia in Gene’s possession, such as National League season passes, original photos, signed baseballs, and the Rockwell print, to an auction house. Since the print was signed by Rockwell, they believed it had, at least, a little value.20 During this process, the nephew took a closer look at the Rockwell artwork and noticed brushstrokes. Could the print actually be an original painting by Rockwell? The auction house, along with some experts, thoroughly examined the piece and agreed—this was no print. It was an original, unknown painting by Rockwell.21 On August 19, 2017, the painting, previously thought to have little value, sold at auction for $1.68 million.22

Sprinkle’s painting was actually the Rockwell color study of The Three Umpires. The study is oil on paper, 16 x 15 inches.23 (The final painting, which is oil on canvas, is much larger, 43 x 41 inches.24) The study is incomplete, with the scoreboard essentially just a blue rectangle, the skies blue and cloudless, and the two outfielders missing.25 The newly found work is signed and inscribed in the lower right as follows: “My best wishes to ‘Beans’ Reardon, the greatest umpire ever lived, Sincerely, Norman Rockwell.”26

The Three Pirates Players

As noted before, the umpires, the Dodgers coach, and the Pirates manager are easily identifiable in the Rockwell painting. The three Pirates players are not. Their figures are so small that their faces are unrecognizable.

It seems logical that the two Pirates on the back right of the painting are the Pirates’ right fielder and center fielder, talking to each other during a break in the action. The playing position of the third fielder is more difficult to determine. Given his small size and what appears to be his proximity to the outfield wall, many have concluded that he is the left fielder. In fact, he is the second baseman, standing some distance from the outfield wall. In the painting, the third player appears to be taller than the two outfielders in right field, meaning that the player is standing closer to home plate than an outfielder would. From the perspective of the viewer, the third player is standing in line with the left side of the Ebbets Field scoreboard, which was located in right field of the stadium. Only the second baseman would logically be standing in the position shown in the painting.

Given the conclusion that the players depicted are the right fielder, center fielder, and second baseman, historian Larry Gerlach, in his seminal article on Norman Rockwell’s baseball paintings, “Norman Rockwell and Baseball Images of the National Pastime,” wrote that the players in the painting are Pirates right fielder Dixie Walker, center fielder Johnny Hopp, and second baseman Danny Murtaugh.27 While there is logic to that conclusion, there are no independent facts to support the contention that Walker, Hopp, and Murtaugh were the models for those players, partly because there are no available reference photos of the two outfielders taken at Ebbets Field on September 14, 1948.28 There are two reference photos for the infielder which were taken at Ebbets Field on that day. One shows a side view of the player and in the other, the player’s eyes are obscured by the shadows caused by his cap. It is therefore difficult to determine who the player is, but he does not appear to be Danny Murtaugh. In particular, the nose and chin of the player in those two reference photos are dissimilar to Murtaugh’s. Based upon the side view of the fielder in one of those reference photos, Rockwell may have originally intended to paint a shortstop or a third baseman to the left of the umpires, a further indication that the model was not Murtaugh.

After review of all of the reference photographs in the files of the Norman Rockwell Museum, it is clear that one person served as the model for the infielder and both outfielders. The files contain three reference photos of an unknown ballplayer in a Pirates uniform, taken not at Ebbets Field, but in a location in which the player is standing in front of a tree and a car.

In one of those three reference photos, the player is standing at the exact angle and in the exact pose as the second baseman in The Three Umpires, although he does not have a glove in his hand. In another, he is shot from a side view, in almost the exact pose of the right fielder in the painting, again without a glove. In the third photo, the player is posed just like the center fielder, this time with a glove in his hand. These are undoubtedly the reference photos that Rockwell used to paint all of the fielders in The Three Umpires, not the two photos that were taken at Ebbets Field.

It is plausible to conclude that Rockwell was unhappy with the two reference photos of the infielder taken at Ebbets Field, perhaps because the infielder’s face in the photos was partially obscured from view. Around the same time, Rockwell must have decided to add the two outfielders to the painting. He therefore needed additional reference photos, which required a new model and a Pirates uniform. Since it was too late to go back to Ebbets Field and use multiple models, Rockwell must have decided to use only one model for all three fielders in the painting.

Who was the model for the new reference photos? It could be a different Pirates player, appearing in photos taken when the team returned to Brooklyn just a week after the original reference photos were taken. While the timeline fits, it is difficult to match the face of the model with any of the players on the 1948 Pittsburgh Pirates roster. A more likely possibility is that the three new reference photos were taken some time later in California, where Rockwell completed the painting, with a model who may or may not have been a ballplayer, wearing a Pirates uniform borrowed from Ralph Kiner.29 There appear to be palm trees in the background of the photos, a likely indicator of California.Without any available documentation addressing the issue, all of this is conjecture. The identity of the model for the Pirates fielders used in The Three Umpires may never be known. It is clear, however, that Dixie Walker, Johnny Hopp, and Danny Murtaugh were not the models for those players.

The Scoreboard

There are no Brooklyn players depicted in The Three Umpires. However, the batting order on the scoreboard indicates that No. 35 is playing left field, and No. 42 is playing second base. Those are the uniform numbers of left fielder Marv Rackley and second baseman Jackie Robinson, respectively. The reference photos and the painting indicate that Rackley led off that day and Robinson batted second, and that was, in fact, the batting order for both games of the doubleheader. There was also a place on the Ebbets Field scoreboard for the insertion of the number of the player who was then batting, but since the reference photos were taken before the games started on September 14, 1948, that space has a “0” in it in the photos. However, in the painting, Rockwell inserted No. 20 into that slot.

Three different players wore No. 20 for the Dodgers that year, including pitcher Elmer Sexauer, who was on the roster in September. However, Sexauer, who only pitched in two innings for the Dodgers that year, did not play in either game of the doubleheader on September 14, 1948.30 It is unlikely that Rockwell was familiar with Sexauer and so, in this instance, Rockwell apparently randomly chose a uniform number for the “at bat” slot on the scoreboard, one which did not accurately reflect any ballplayer in the lineups that day for Brooklyn.

Rockwell made one mistake in his painting of The Three Umpires. On the real scoreboard, there are two lines at the bottom for the insertion of the batting orders of both teams. When the reference photos of the scoreboard were taken before the games on September 14, 1948, only the Dodgers lineup was on the board.31 Rockwell re-created a part of that line in his painting by including the numbers of Marv Rackley and Jackie Robinson in the correct order in the Brooklyn lineup, as shown in the reference photos. The Pittsburgh lineup was not shown in the reference photos, probably because they had not yet been provided to the scoreboard operator. However, by the bottom of the sixth inning, the Pirates lineup would have been displayed on the scoreboard, and Rockwell should have included at least a part of the lineup in his painting, which he neglected to do.

The Controversy

The primary controversy about The Three Umpires is that Clyde Sukeforth, the Brooklyn coach, is smiling, while Billy Meyer, the Pirates manager, is frowning. Yet, if the game is called because of rain, the Pirates will win the game. Shouldn’t their demeanors be reversed?

This incongruity was so worrying to the editors of the Saturday Evening Post that they addressed it on page 3 of the same issue in which The Three Umpires was published. In a paragraph titled “This Week’s Cover,” they first acknowledged that if the arbiters call the game, Pittsburgh will win. They then stated that this “irks the Brooklynites, who dislike having other teams win.” They then opined that Clyde Sukeforth could well be saying, “You may be all wet, but it ain’t raining a drop!” Bill Meyer is doubtless retorting, “For the love of Abner Doubleday, how can we play ball in this cloudburst?”32 Whether that imagined conversation justifies the expressions of Sukeforth and Meyer in the painting is for others to decide.

Another theory, suggested by Gerlach, is that since the score in any half inning was not inserted into the scoreboard at Ebbets Field until the inning was over, even if runs had been scored in the inning, there is a possibility that Brooklyn had already scored two runs in the bottom of the sixth inning, but the scoreboard had not yet been updated to reflect that fact. In that case, Brooklyn would win the game if the umpires called it because of rain.33 This contention seems to be too much “inside baseball” to be convincing, as it is hardly likely that Rockwell would have been cognizant of this practice in Brooklyn, or that Rockwell thought about it weeks later when he was painting the picture in California. In any event, if Rockwell had intended that Brooklyn was winning the game at the time of the tough call, why not simply make the scoreboard read 2–1 in favor of Brooklyn?

Among the other theories is one suggested by art critic Christopher Finch, who has argued that Clyde Sukeforth is happy because the rain is about to stop and the game will continue, giving Brooklyn a chance to win.34 While an intriguing interpretation, it is unlikely that the three Pirates fielders would have remained on the field during a rainstorm, and it is more likely that the rain has just started. Also, since Rockwell’s final version of his painting showed dark clouds in the sky, before the editors of the Saturday Evening Post modified it without Rockwell’s consent, it seems clear that at least from Rockwell’s perspective, the rain is not about to end any time soon.

Others have argued that Sukeforth and Meyer are merely acting out their differing positions concerning the rain. Sukeforth, with a maniacal expression on his face, has his cap off and is pointing to the skies, demonstrating to Meyer that it is not raining. The hunched-over Meyer, hands to his chest, seems to be showing Sukeforth that he is cold and wet, requiring the calling of the game for the health of everyone involved.

All of these explanations are possibilities. Rockwell often left ambiguities in his paintings, which made them subject to multiple interpretations, but also made them much more interesting. The interpretation of the expressions of Billy Meyer and Clyde Sukeforth in The Three Umpires is in the eye of the beholder.

OBSERVATIONS AND CONCLUSION

By painting the umpires from below, Rockwell made the arbiters into giants. They tower over the other people in the painting and even over the scoreboard and outfield fence. This makes the umpires the most important people on the field both symbolically and actually, because they are the ones who will make the tough call. The fact that Beans Reardon wore a balloon chest protector on the outside of his coat was fortunate for Rockwell. The insertion of the large protector in the most prominent spot in the painting adds interest to the already interesting tableau of umpires, stern and imposing, giving the viewer’s eye a place of focus once the faces of the trio of arbiters and the outstretched hand of Reardon are observed and studied. The oversized chest protector, the largest prop in the painting, also adds to the effect that Rockwell was trying to evoke—the umpires as giants among men.

Norman Rockwell’s baseball paintings are often fascinating because of some unusual aspects of them. Except for his earliest story illustrations, Rockwell seldom showed a batter batting, a fielder fielding, or a runner running. Rockwell was interested in the ancillary aspects of the game, such as the locker room, the dugout, the view of a game through a knothole in a fence, and in the subject piece, the decision by the umpires as to whether or not to call the game because of rain. Is there any other artwork about this particular circumstance in baseball, a circumstance which is unique to the sport? Only Norman Rockwell was able to envision the interest this situation could engender.

Although Rockwell painted portraits, he never painted landscapes or still lifes, being more interested in telling a story than catching a moment in time.35 He once said, “I love to tell stories in pictures. For me, the story is the first thing and the last thing.”36 In The Three Umpires, by providing details about the status of the game on the scoreboard, the tough call by the umpires has become tougher, since if they call the game, Pittsburgh will automatically win, and if they let the game go on, Brooklyn has a good chance of winning, down only one run, with a chance to bat in four more innings. No wonder the managers are in such a heated argument. There is a lot at stake in the umpires’ decision. What will happen? The viewer of the painting has to decide, because although Rockwell is telling a story, it is the viewer who must provide the ending.

Thus, The Three Umpires has fascinated, perplexed, and interested baseball fans and others ever since the painting was first published on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post more than 70 years ago. And there is little doubt that more than 70 years from now, baseball fans and others will still be arguing about the tough call of the three umpires and whether or not the game should be called because of rain. 

In 1904 when Tyrus Raymond Cobb arrived on the professional baseball scene, his first name was not at all well known. In fact, most fans had never even heard of anyone with that particular name—Ty himself apparently among them. That was to change in short order, however, as Tyrus Cobb’s fame spread nationally within a few short seasons. As Ty’s fame grew, so did the population with the name Tyrus, as many admiring fans gave that name to their newborns in honor of the rising star.

Today, every modern-day baseball fan knows the name. But many, if not most, fans believe the name to have been unique to Ty Cobb. Most Cobb biographers have felt the need to explain where this unique name came from—a testament to its uniqueness. Baseball fans, they reason, would want to know why Ty’s parents gave him such an uncommon name and how they arrived at their choice. But over the course of Ty’s much-documented life and career, multiple conflicting stories about his name have been told and retold. By examining the writings of Ty’s biographers and of Ty himself, and reviewing relevant ancient and modern historical sources, this paper will delve into these myths, debunk some—or perhaps all—and propose a heretofore unexamined explanation.

WHO’S ON FIRST?

The earliest mention of the source of his name is a quotation from Ty himself in a 1956 biography by John McCallum.1

Ty was always addressed as Tyrus in those days. Not until he climbed into the majors did Damon Runyon and Ring Lardner or one of the New York writers shorten it to “Ty.” Ty says he thinks he was the first “Tyrus” in the United States, though folks have named their youngsters after him. (Emphasis added.)

To make such a statement, Ty must have believed that his first name was not only uncommon but also unique, and he must never have met anyone with that name before.

NAMED FOR A GOD?

Ty Cobb’s 1961 autobiography, published just months after his death in July 1961, quotes Ty’s own explanation of the source of his name.2 This book was ghost-written by Al Stump, who would—sadly and with great detrimental effect—produce additional writings after Ty’s death. In numerous magazine articles and books after Cobb’s death, Stump proudly exercised his bent for besotted and perverted fantasies, sensational truth-twisting exaggerations, and out-and-out lies.3 Stump would later assert that the content of the 1961 autobiography was under editorial control of Ty himself, which makes almost everything in the book believable. It reads:

How my father came to pick my name, I am not entirely sure, but the story that it stems from Týr, the Norse god of war, is untrue. Father was an avid reader of ancient history. And the Tyrians of Tyre, an ancient Phoenician seaport, appealed to him. … Tyrus, a Tyrian leader, resisted the Roman invasion, before Alexander slaughtered the population, and from him comes my name.

That a story had previously circulated about Ty being named for the Norse god of war was news to me. I did a thorough search and found no mention of this story in any of the newspapers available on Newspapers.com Having no knowledge of Norse religion or mythology, I did not know if the name carried negative implications, but Ty seemed to think it did, and wanted to quash the story as a result.

I set out to study enough Norse mythology to learn who Týr actually was, and to get a feel whether Ty’s well-educated father, Professor William H. Cobb, might have conceivably considered naming him after this mythical god. Týr is not only the Norse god of war, but also the god of law and honor, and I learned he is deemed extremely intelligent, clever, wise, and cunning—able to create puzzles unsolvable by human minds. Týr’s superhuman powers and abilities allow him to excel in all forms of combat, both armed and unarmed, but he is also a natural pacifist and diplomat who uses his powers to seek peace for his people. All in all, pretty admirable and maybe not such a bad namesake as Ty seemed to believe. In fact, some of Týr’s attributes sound much like attributes that Ty himself would grow up to possess.

Although, Týr is pronounced like “tier” in English, the Latinized name is “Tius,” which is not so far removed from Tyrus. At that point in my investigation, it seemed no more a stretch to reach Tyrus from Týr or Tius, than from the name of an ancient city called Tyre.

WHO NAMES THEIR CHILD AFTER A CITY?

No one I ever knew named their first-born child after a city, ancient or modern. I have no friends or acquaintances named New York, Chicago, Atlanta, or even London, Rome, or Moscow. Certainly not Babylon, Memphis, Nineveh, Thebes, or Carthage. Who would do that?4 Yet that definitely seems to be the consensus among biographers as to the source of the name Tyrus. Not even Ty himself asserted that he was named for the city of Tyre, but rather for a leader of that city by the name of Tyrus. Let’s take a look at some of the assertions of Cobb biographers and their explanations.

In 1975, John McCallum wrote another, more in-depth biography of Ty Cobb. By that time, Ty’s 1961 autobiography had been published, so McCallum updated this 1956 assertion with this statement:

Professor Cobb, an avid reader of ancient history, had always liked Tyrus of Tyre, who had led his people in resistance to Rome before Alexander slaughtered the population of the ancient Phoenician seaport. So he named his son Tyrus Raymond.5

After extensive research I have not been able to find any reference to a person named “Tyrus of Tyre.” So, I believe McCallum errs, as does Ty himself, in stating that Tyrus is the namesake of a person named Tyrus of Tyre. McCallum also errs by stating that Alexander slaughtered the population of Tyre. Actually, the army of Tyre was slaughtered, while the non-combatants were taken as slaves.

In 1984, Charles C. Alexander, a respected historian and university professor with no stated relation to Alexander the Great, wrote a scholarly, well referenced biography also titled Ty Cobb. Echoing Ty’s own statement from 1956, Alexander attributes the name Tyrus to W.H. Cobb’s knowledge of ancient history, expanding the story to include specific mention of Alexander the Great, but avoiding the attribution of Tyrus to a person. Alexander states only that Ty’s father “hit on” the name Tyrus when recalling the city of Tyre.

W.H. Cobb had read about the stubborn resistance of the city of Tyre to the besieging armies of Alexander the Great in the fourth century B.C. Thus he hit on Tyrus as a suitable first name for his son. For no particular reason, the infant was given Raymond for a middle name.6

Interestingly, Alexander adds his own twist on the source of Ty’s middle name, Raymond, with a quotation that predates the famous Forrest Gump serial quotation by a full decade: “For no particular reason. …” No reference was given for this assertion.

A prolific history and sports author named Richard Bak from Detroit published another biography of Ty Cobb in 1994 titled Ty Cobb: His Tumultuous Life and Times. Bak went to great lengths in his early chapters to expound on the effect that the Civil War had on the family of Ty Cobb and then described the possible effect that the war had on selection of the name Tyrus—a new wrinkle in the discussion. Without attribution he makes this statement:

It’s even possible that the bitter legacy of Sherman’s march played a part in William Cobb’s naming of Tyrus, because after the war Atlanta often was referred to as “The Tyre of the South,” calling to mind the fate of that other unlucky city.7

Speaking of names, Bak even delves into the namesake of Ty Cobb’s adversary, Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis.8 He pointed out correctly that Landis was named after the Civil War Battle of Kennesaw Mountain, which was fought in Georgia on and around a pair of small ridges known as Big Kennesaw and Little Kennesaw Mountain, near the Atlanta suburb of Marietta. He also pointed out that Landis’ parents misspelled the name of those ridges by dropping an “n” from the usual Anglicization.

However, one must suspect Bak’s knowledge of Civil War history, and hence his unreferenced speculations that Ty’s parents were thinking of General Sherman when naming him. Bak incorrectly states that Sherman’s Union Army won the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain, which was actually a resounding Confederate victory. After losing nearly 3,000 men, Sherman withdrew all forces on June 27, 1864.9 This is a major error for any historian, bordering on unforgivable. Bak also asserts that Atlanta was often referred to after the Civil War as “The Tyre of the South.” Atlanta has been called a lot of things in the last century and a half, including “Gate City of the South,” “New York of the South,” “Chicago of the South,” “Convention City of Dixie Land,” “Dogwood City,” and others. But except for a single obscure reference in David Power Cunningham’s 1865 book Sherman’s March through the South, I found no other uses of this moniker.10

The year 1994 also saw the reemergence of Al Stump, a serious nemesis of Ty Cobb. Stump penned his magnum opus, a biography titled Cobb: The Life and Times of the Meanest Man Who Ever Played Baseball.11 The book was adapted into the movie of the same title, directed by Ron Shelton and starring Tommy Lee Jones as Ty. Stump carries on the war-and-warrior naming theme, discarding the Norse-god-Týr theory and expanding on the City-of-Tyre theory:

In naming his first son, the senior Cobb dipped into his interest in war and warriors. Tyrus was not named for Týr, a Norse god of arms-bearing, as would later be claimed by members of the sports press. In 332 B.C., sweeping across Asia Minor, Alexander the Great was halted by defenders of the ancient Phoenician city of Tyre. Through seven months of carnage, the Tyrians kept Alexander’s army at bay. Thence came the newborn’s name. The child’s middle name, which he much disliked, came from a distant relative, a gambler by profession, but friendly with the Professor.

Ever the sensationalist, Stump adds a juicy tidbit, speculating on the source of Ty’s middle name as coming from a distant relative, not necessarily a Cobb, who was also a (gasp!) gambler.12 Throughout his career, Stump peppered his writing with fictional statements to provoke thoughts and speculations about the negative or shady side of his subjects. This is undoubtedly an example.

In 2005 came a second Ty Cobb biography by Richard Bak—Peach: Ty Cobb in His Time and Ours.13 He carries on the story of the city of Tyre and its valiant but unsuccessful defense. Like all the other biographers who propagate this story, no explanation of the leap from Tyre to Tyrus is given.

William, who was widely read, had always admired the story of the ancient Phoenician city of Tyre, which in 332 B.C. had put up a gallant but doomed resistance to the legions of Alexander the Great. Hence the first-born’s unique name.

Charles Leerhsen’s myth-shattering and widely read biography titled Ty Cobb, A Terrible Beauty was published to great acclaim in 2015.14 Leerhsen openly admits that the source of the name Tyrus could have been a name that was invented by his parents, and further speculates that the source of Ty’s middle name Raymond is anybody’s guess.

Tyrus Raymond Cobb was the baby’s full name. Where his parents got “Raymond” is anyone’s guess. “Tyrus,” though it doesn’t sound so strange now (thanks largely to Tyrus Raymond Cobb), may well have been a name of their own invention. (It was only after he started hitting above .300 that people stopped calling him “Cyrus.”) W.H. apparently fashioned it from Tyre, the ancient Phoenician city that in 332 B.C. gallantly held out for seven months before finally falling to Alexander the Great.

Leerhsen does note that Ty’s father “apparently fashioned” the name Tyrus from the name of the ancient Phoenician city of Tyre, acknowledging what most earlier biographers failed to note—that there was no historically significant person in the city of Tyre by the name of Tyrus. No prior biography explains how the name Tyrus was derived from the city name Tyre.

Another Ty Cobb biography was published in 2015, this one by Tim Hornbaker titled War on the Basepaths, The Definitive Biography of Ty Cobb.15 Hornbaker makes only a small mention of the source of the name Tyrus, replaying what Ty said in his 1961 autobiography about the Norse god Týr and the city of Tyre, but he does acknowledge that it is a “rather unusual” name:

Regarding the rather unusual name, Cobb explained that it came from a “Tyrian leader” from Tyre, which today is in modern-day Lebanon. He disavowed a claim that it was from Týr the Norse god of War.

Hornbaker also fails to recognize that there was never a Tyrian leader named Tyrus.

One year later, in 2016, another Ty Cobb biography was published, this one by history professor Steven Elliott Tripp of Grand Valley State University.16 This biography was titled Ty Cobb: Baseball and American Manhood.17 Professor Tripp rehashes the City-of-Tyre theory:

Another indication of William’s attachment to Southern culture concerned the name he chose for his first-born—Tyrus. A student of ancient history, William admired the story of the ancient Phoenician city of Tyre which had resolutely defended itself against a number of invading armies during its storied past. Only the massive army of Alexander the Great was able to conquer it after a long and terrible siege. When Alexander finally broke through, he ordered that the entire Tyrian army be put to death and all its citizens sold into slavery. From a Southerner’s perspective, the similarity between the history of Tyre and what the South had endured in war and reconstruction could not be plainer. William’s choice of Tyrus as a name revealed his allegiance to the cult of the Lost Cause, a growing cultural movement that hoped to keep alive the dream of Confederate nationalism through public rituals and—as in the case of William’s choice of a name for his first-born—private acts. Like the ancient Tyrians, William hoped that his progeny would fight the righteous fight against unwelcome invaders.

Professor Tripp adds “the Southerner’s perspective,” waxing grandiloquent about Professor Cobb’s feelings about the Civil War, alleging—based on no stated facts—an ultimate fidelity to the Lost Cause, linking the naming of Tyrus Cobb to his father’s supposed allegiance to Confederate nationalism. This is no better than Stump’s fantastical inventions.

Professor’s Tripp’s condescending assertion is worse than suspect; it is an ahistorical overreach of massive proportions. Aside from expecting us to believe that he can discern what would be the deeply hidden motivations of a man who had been deceased for more than 12 decades, Tripp completely neglects that Professor Cobb came from a long line of abolitionists and Union sympathizers.

Ty’s grandfather, John Franklin Cobb, was drafted into the 39th North Carolina Infantry Regiment only two months after President Jefferson Davis authorized the Confederacy’s first Conscription Act on April 16, 1862, requiring three years of service from all males aged 18 to 35. He declared to the Confederate officer inducting him in Murphy that he was a Unionist, stating: “I am an American citizen. I am not a rebel,” but he was sworn in anyway.18

He was discharged in August for medical reasons a month before his regiment saw its first combat action.19 Thus he was not, strictly speaking, a Confederate war veteran, and it seems unlikely he would have either held the Lost Cause mentality or propagated it to his son. Tripp also fails to mention that Professor Cobb’s paternal grandfather, William A. Cobb, was a Methodist minister and devout abolitionist who shocked his congregation by preaching against slavery and was run out of the county for his beliefs and his advocacy.20

Strange also that Tripp could believe that Professor Cobb’s naming of his son in 1886 was a hidden act of allegiance to the Lost Cause when less than 20 years later his public acts promoted the exact opposite: as a Georgia State Senator, Cobb advocated successfully for state funding of Negro education. He later worked as editor of the Royston Record, the local newspaper in Ty’s hometown, which was owned and controlled by a well-known abolitionist and Universalist minister.

THE BIBLICAL HISTORY OF THE CITY OF TYRE

All but two of Ty Cobb’s biographers include the City-of-Tyre theory, but none explain how one gets from Tyre to Tyrus. Only Charles Leerhsen states that Cobb’s father “apparently fashioned” it, while Ty himself believed incorrectly that Tyrus was the name of a leader of Tyre. The link between the names Tyre and Tyrus actually comes from the King James Version of the Bible.

The original 1611 edition, with its very old English, was replaced in 1769 by a newer version which became the standard for all English-speaking Christians. This was the Bible in common use by Southern churches around the time of Ty’s birth in 1886, and his father, as an educated man and grandson of a minister, was surely familiar with it. This Bible uses both the names Tyre and Tyrus to refer to the ancient Phoenician city. There is no doubt that the two names refer to the same city, and the prominent use of Tyrus in the books of Ezekiel and Zechariah dispel any assumed need for Ty’s father to “fashion” one name from the other. The names Tyrus and Tyre were used interchangeably throughout.21

Cobb’s biographers consistently attribute the Tyrus name selection to the struggle of that city against Alexander the Great, but there is a rich history of the city both before and after—even into the New Testament time—that lead to many mentions throughout the Bible.

The first mention comes in the Old Testament book of Joshua as one of the cities of the tribe of Asher (~1200 B.C.), a seaport in Syria about midway between Sidon and Accho. The city was partially on an island and partially on the shore. It was a center of great commerce, sending goods to the east by land and to the west by the sea. The island part of Tyre was fortified with a wall recorded to be 150 feet high in places, and it held an exceedingly strong defensive position. Joshua had captured Jericho, but was unable to capture Tyre, and the city later rivaled Jerusalem.

In King David’s reign (~969 B.C.), Israel formed an alliance with Hiram, the king of Tyre. David’s use of stonemasons and carpenters from Tyre, along with cedars from that region, was essential to building his palace. In King Solomon’s reign (957–31 B.C.), the construction of the temple in Jerusalem, about 100 miles away, relied heavily on supplies, laborers, and skilled artisans from Tyre. The seamen of Tyre also aided in navigating the ships of King Solomon.

Israel continued its close ties with Tyre during King Ahab’s reign (~875–53 B.C.). Ahab married the Phoenician princess Jezebel of Sidon, and their union led to the infiltration of pagan worship and idolatry in Israel. Both Tyre and Sidon were notorious for their wickedness and idolatry, which resulted in numerous denouncements by Israel’s prophets, who predicted Tyre’s ultimate destruction.

The book of Ezekiel (~592–65 B.C.) laments for the city of Tyrus, identifying the Prince of Tyrus, who claimed that he was a god sitting proudly in God’s seat. In Ezekiel’s proclamations, God tells the Prince of Tyrus that he is a man and not God. Ezekiel then identifies the Prince of Tyrus as Satan himself. Other curses from God directed at Tyrus that were prophesied by Ezekiel include (among many others): “I am against thee, O Tyrus, and will cause many nations to come up against thee…”; “I shall make thee a desolate city…”; “I bring forth a fire from the midst of thee, it shall devour thee, and I will bring thee to ashes…”22

King Nebuchadnezzar II of Babylon laid siege to Tyre for 13 years beginning in 586–85 B.C. During this time, the inhabitants transferred most of their valuables to the island. The king seized Tyre’s mainland territories, but was unable to subdue the island fortress militarily and returned to Babylon. Tyre, weakened by the conflict, soon recognized Babylonian authority, which effectively ended the city’s autonomy.

After the restoration of Jerusalem in Nehemiah’s time, the people of Tyre violated the Sabbath rest by selling their goods in the markets of Jerusalem. Following the Babylonian period, Tyre remained in subjection to Persia from 538 to 332 B.C. In 332 B.C., Alexander the Great besieged and conquered the port city after a seven-month siege. He conquered the island part of the city by building a 200-foot-wide land bridge from the shore which still exists today. Afterwards, the Ptolemies, the Seleucids, the Romans, and the Muslim Arabs all had their turn at rule.

In the New Testament, Jesus mentions Tyre as an example of an unrepentant city (~A.D. 30). Jesus also ministered in the district of Tyre and nearby Sidon, healing the demon-possessed daughter of a Canaanite woman there.

The persecution that arose after Saint Stephen’s martyrdom (A.D. 36) caused the Christians in Jerusalem to disperse. As a result, a Christian church was established in Tyre which is said to contain a stone that Jesus sat upon when he visited there. Saint Paul later spent a week there with the disciples on the return voyage of his third missionary journey (~A.D. 58).

From the time of Christ up to the Crusades, Tyrus was a flourishing city of commerce, renowned for the great wealth it derived from dyes of Tyrian purple, extracted from shellfish on its coast.

In 1124, Tyre was captured by the first Crusaders, and later was successfully defended by them in the four-month Siege of Tyre by Saladin in 1187–88. It finally fell to the armies of the Mamluk Sultan Khalil in 1291, and the city was completely destroyed by the Saracens, thereby fulfilling Ezekiel’s prophecy: “They will destroy the walls of Tyre and pull down her towers…” The island part of Tyre remained a desolate ruin for centuries.

Although not biblical history per se, Shakespeare would later (1609) immortalize the city of Tyre in his play Pericles, Prince of Tyre.23 In this story, the Seleucid King of Syria, Antiochus the Great (222–187 B.C.), had a beautiful daughter who had many suitors. He discouraged all suitors by requiring each to solve a riddle in order to pursue her. If a suitor gave the wrong answer to Antiochus’ riddle, he was killed. When Pericles, Prince of Tyre, did solve the riddle, Antiochus attempted to kill him as well. But Pericles was repulsed by his correct answer to the riddle, which was that Antiochus and his daughter were in an incestuous relationship. Fearing death, Pericles fled back to Tyre with Antiochus in pursuit. The play covers the later trials and tribulations of Pericles and his family through many episodes of shipwrecks and tragedy, until Pericles is finally reunited with his own daughter, Marina.

Of course, there is a long tradition of giving children names found in the Bible, perhaps more notably thought of as a Southern practice now, as names like Ezekiel, Josiah, and Zebediah remain more prevalent in the Southeast than elsewhere in the US, but Biblical naming was certainly a popular practice in both North and South at the time of Ty’s birth. Given the repeated appearance of the name Tyrus in the Bible, one might expect to find other Tyruses in the historical record. But how does this fit with Ty’s own belief that his name was unique or that he might have been the first?

WHAT’S IN THE DATABASES?

While working on a book about the Civil War and looking for roster information about the 8th Regiment of Georgia Volunteer Infantry, I accessed a massive online database of military service records of US soldiers from the Revolutionary War onward.24 On a whim, I did a search on the name Tyrus over the entire database. I was surprised by what I found. My search shows that the name Tyrus was not nearly so unusual as previously supposed. There were actually many soldiers throughout history who bore that name.

Three soldiers fought in the Revolutionary War with the first name Tyrus, and three more in the War of 1812. One soldier in the War of 1812 had the last name Tyrus, and one soldier in the Mexican American War of 1846 had it as his first.

In the Civil War, a total of 28 soldiers had the first name Tyrus, 27 Union and one Confederate. Clearly the popularity of that name was much greater in the North than the South, perhaps explaining why Ty knew no other person who shared his own first name. In addition, there were seven soldiers whose last name was Tyrus, four Confederates and three Union (Exhibit 1). Continuing the search, I found 70 soldiers who served in World War I with the first name Tyrus, 22 soldiers with the last name Tyrus, and 47 soldiers with the middle name Tyrus. These soldiers were contemporaries of Ty, and thus he could not have been their namesake. Clearly, although the name Tyrus was not a common name, it was not an unheard-of name either (Exhibit 2).

Exhibit 1. Soldiers with the Name Tyrus, 1775-1865

Exhibit 2. World War I Soldiers with the Name Tyrus

Last names of 70 soldiers with first name Tyrus

Bailey, Bateman, Benton, Berry, Bingham, Caswell, Clide, Cobb (2), Collins, Conklin, Cooke, English, France, Freeman, Frost, Garrett, Gray, Habegger, Harris, Heindel, Heinmann, Hewet, Hill, Hilton, Holmes, Holt, Howard, Hunker, Hunter, Jefferies, Johnson, Joyce, Kehmier, King, Lane, Larson, Lemon, Lengle, Lesley, Lindsay, McCargar, McEwan, Meyer, Meyers, Middleton, Nuss, Peck, Peters, Phillips(2), Pittman, Price, Price, Ruston, Settle, Shaffer, Sims, Strohl, Syng, Thompson, Thorpe, Ulysses, Walters, Whitehorn, Youngblood, Youse

First names of 22 soldiers with last name Tyrus

Archie, Arthur, Cleveland, Clyde, Forrester, Gail, Henry, James, Joe, John (2), L. B., Lindsay, Marion, Robert (2), Rogers, Tidor, Timpko, Tom, Ulysses, Willie

Last names of 47 soldiers with middle name Tyrus

Barnard, Blacklock, Broadhead, Clark, Cash, Cobb (2), Epler, Flanders, Harper, Heimann, Hollon, Hovan, Hower, Jacobsen, Jones, Leigh, Lemaire, Lindsay, Long, Mainer, Martin, McChargue, Meimann, Money, Muggridge, O.Malley, Page, Pempin, Poska, Ray, Rhoad, Savage, Sharp, Shoener, Smith, Sooy, Sunderland, Tidwell, Vaughan, White, Wilfong, Wilfong, Willington, Wimberly, Wolf, Wyckoff

The database yielded more of note: two World War I soldiers with the first name Tyrus and last name Cobb (Tyrus Raymond Cobb of Georgia and Tyrus Anton Cobb of Indiana) plus two with the middle name Tyrus and last name Cobb (Harry Tyrus Cobb and John Tyrus Cobb, their resident states not recorded). Among the 1,216 draft-registered soldiers surnamed Cobb, a total of four had the first or middle name Tyrus.

In World War II, I found even more soldiers named Tyrus. Of course, many of these soldiers were named after Tyrus Raymond Cobb by parents who must have been baseball fans. There were over 3,000 service records of soldiers with either first or last name Tyrus, and 329 with the name Tyrus Raymond or Raymond Tyrus. Nineteen actually had the name Tyrus Raymond Cobb, without a doubt a tribute to Ty Cobb, and of these, two had this three-name tribute to Ty preceding a different surname. In the Korean War I found only 122 soldiers with the first or last name Tyrus.

Other sources of names I found include the Social Security Death Index (SSDI), the Social Security Birth Name database, and several other online databases. SSDI shows first, middle, and last names with birth year and death dates. Seven people with the first name Tyrus were born before Ty Cobb’s birth in 1886. (SSDI also shows one individual named Tyrus Raymond Cooke born in Missouri in 1889.) As expected, the number of people with the first name Tyrus increased dramatically beginning in 1909, matching the rise of Ty Cobb’s baseball fame. In all, there are 957 records for persons with the first name Tyrus, 224 with the middle name Tyrus, and 122 with the last name Tyrus, although there are some duplicate records within this data.

I was unable to gain direct access to the Social Security Administration Birth Name database, but did find a website which provided a visualization of selected names from that data.25 Exhibit 3 shows a plot of babies named Tyrus from 1900 through 2020, although the website cautions that data before about 1935 are not necessarily accurate. As expected, the plot shows rapid increase beginning after 1905 when Ty Cobb began to gain fame in baseball. Interestingly, it shows another significant increase around 1961, the year of Ty’s death. And finally, it shows a marked decrease in the late 1990s which might be attributed to the negative myths that were fabricated and popularized by Al Stump in his 1994 book and in the subsequent movie about Ty Cobb.26

Exhibit 3. Babies Named Tyrus, 1905﹣2020

ANALYSIS AND CONCLUSION

Firm conclusions about century-old individual actions and feelings are simply not possible. But this study has shown that several widely believed facts regarding the name Tyrus are either not true, or are not likely, and lead to one new piece of analysis. Here is a summary of what I have gleaned from this study:

Ty was quoted by John McCallum in 1956 as purportedly saying that he believed he was the first person in the US to be named Tyrus.27 The data reviewed here show he was definitely not the first in the country with that name.

Ty’s own 1961 autobiography stated he was named after a leader of the city of Tyre by the name of Tyrus. This cannot be correct, as there was no historical person named Tyrus who led the city of Tyre in its defense against Alexander the Great, and Ty’s statement includes several other historical mistakes including Alexander the Great leading a “Roman invasion” (Alexander was Greek).

Ty did offer the caveat, “I am not exactly sure,” when describing how his father picked his name, yet he seemed to be quite emphatic he was not named for the Norse god Týr. Given that Týr was actually a pretty good guy, it might not be completely out of the question that Ty’s father could have chosen Tyrus based on that.

Cobb’s biographers all parroted the City-of-Tyre theory in some form, many citing the city’s resistance to Alexander the Great as the supposed inspiration.28 Two tried to create a presumed link between the name Tyrus and the Southern Confederacy, neither of them credible. None recognized that “Tyrus” was actually the name of the city as written in several books of the King James Version of the Bible.

Presumably, following the convention of using biblical names, Professor Cobb might have taken it from the KJV Book of Ezekiel, where the name Tyrus is used exclusively and appears a dozen times in chapters 26–28 alone. But given the centuries-long condemnation of the wickedness of the city of Tyre described in the Bible, why would Professor and Mrs. Cobb would even consider naming their firstborn after Tyre at all? Not to mention that cities don’t seem to be typical sources of baby-naming at all?

The final conclusion of this study is that we don’t know why Professor Cobb and his wife named their first son Tyrus, and even Ty himself, as he clearly stated, did not know. However, it seemed to me a striking coincidence that in World War 1 there were two soldiers with first name Tyrus and last name Cobb (one of which was Tyrus Raymond) and also two soldiers with middle name Tyrus and last name Cobb. To examine this further, I asked the SABR Statistical Analysis Committee for assistance in analyzing these WWI name probabilities.

Here is how they posed the statistical problem: Assume a random distribution of the names of the 4.6 million soldiers which we know were in service in World War I. Of these 4.6 million soldiers, we also know there were a total of 117 soldiers with the first or middle name Tyrus—70 with first name Tyrus and 47 with middle name Tyrus.

It happens that 1,261 of the 4.6 million soldiers were surnamed Cobb. The probability that any specific one of the soldiers named Tyrus would be surnamed Cobb is easily calculated as 1261/4.6 million, or 1 in 3648. But, of the 117 soldiers with first or middle name Tyrus, there were actually 4 surnamed Cobb. What then is the probability that at least 4 of the 117 Tyruses in WWI were surnamed Cobb? That answer, assuming as usual a binomial distribution, turns out to be 1 in 26 million.29

The extremely low probability that 4 of the 117 Tyruses in WWI would be surnamed Cobb means that it is not merely a coincidence. I postulate that these Tyrus Cobbs were actually related to each other in some way. If this is true, then the source of the name Tyrus for the baseball player was from within the Cobb family and actually came from an ancestor or relative named Tyrus Cobb, not an ancient city cursed for centuries by the Judeo-Christian God and not the benevolent Norse god of war, law, and honor.

Toronto’s worst incident of civil unrest happened in one of its most storied ballparks. More than six hours of brawls, bloodbaths, and beatings were unleashed at the corner of Bloor and Christie streets because of tensions built during 15 years of postwar animus. It was a race riot, it was a lawless free-for-all, it was a surge that menaced the innocent. It was also the oppressed launching a counterstrike against their oppressors during nine innings of junior softball. The riot at Christie Pits Park permanently scarred the city of Toronto and its perennial branding as tolerant, orderly and just.

FROM SANDPIT TO SANDLOT

Ball diamonds were a late addition to the landscape north of Toronto’s downtown Bloor Street. Garrison Creek ran freely through what is today Christie Pits until the City of Toronto turned the creek into a storm sewer before the turn of the twentieth century. A natural sand mine was then established within the steep creek valley. The Christie Street sandpit was used to combat icy walkways and thoroughfares. The sand was also mined to repair eroded beachfronts, create abrasives, produce cement, and, of course, lay baseball infields. There was even a rush on city sandpits during an ill-advised fad of people eating sand to clean out their stomachs and toughen their skin.1 To both the municipality and the “sand eaters,” the desert in the Christie sandpit was preferable to the sands of Lake Ontario, which often included shells, refuse and avian waste. Colloquially and immediately, the city facility became known as Christie Pits, complete with its extraneous final “s.”

In the winter of 1905, the City of Toronto was under pressure to create more civic spaces for families, specifically playgrounds. Mayor Thomas Urquhart told interested parties that converting sandpits was the most convenient and affordable option.2 A year later, the city purchased and demolished the two houses bordering the edge of the Christie Street sandpit for a total of $3,020. A plan was announced to convert the pit and its immediate surroundings into a public park.3

The conversion from pit to playground took time and gruelling work. Piles of sand needed to be hauled out of the pit and dispersed along the city’s beaches, using shovels and wagons. Grading work would then need to fill holes and flatten earth. A few months into the arduous tasks, James Swan was standing on low ground, shoveling sand into a pile above his head. The mound he’d created gave way, covering him in an avalanche of sand. He was pronounced dead after his comrades pulled him from the debris.4

After a year of hard labor, the area was ready to be graded in December 1907. The city allotted $1,000 so that “the unemployed” and a number of horses could level the pit floor.5 The effort was divided into three-day contracts. Men could submit their name into a pool of workers, with 30 to 50 men chosen for each 72-hour work period. Demand was so high that hopefuls were routinely turned away. More than 225 names were added to the waiting list.6 The city announced plans for three baseball diamonds, a swimming pool, a lawn tennis court and children’s playgrounds on site.7 Another year passed as men toiled in the Pits. By the end of 1908 the city removed the workhorse stables and prepared the park for public use. While grading work was still in progress, the city announced a new name and park designation. The Daily Star editorial board mocked the announcement as premature: “The Christie sandpits will now be called Willowvale Park,” the editors wrote. “But that willowvale nothing towards making them fit for playgrounds.”8

The name change never did stick. Before the grounds were even officially opened, a reader of the Globe submitted a condemnation. “Why change the name from what it has been for a generation?”9 he asked. Three years after the official name change, it was accepted in Toronto that “what is now known as Willowvale Park is far and wide known to youngsters as the Christie sandpits.”10 Two decades later, locals in the Annex, Harbord and Christie Street neighborhoods of Toronto were still calling the park “Christie Pits.”11 In 1983, the City of Toronto finally abandoned the Willowvale moniker and rechristened Christie Pits officially.

The Pits baseball grounds were completed in May 1909. The Senior City Amateur League hosted the first reported game there on one of three diamonds ready for play. A team calling themselves the Ideals beat a group of ballplayers known as the Centennials by a score of 16–9. The Adair brothers, identified only by their initials, “S” and “B,” served as the battery for the Ideals.12 Teams bearing the monikers Kent, St. Andrew’s, Harbord, and St. Peter’s, named for various schools, streets, and churches, played baseball and softball in the Pits. After the completion of the first season of ballgames, two local aldermen led debate over the quality of the grounds. Alderman Dunn expressed regret that more had not been done to improve the quality of grass and infield dirt. He requested an additional $5,000 so that the diamonds could reach their potential. Alderman McBride was blunt in his reply: “It is just a sandpit and we can’t spend that much.” The City Council voted down Dunn’s request for more funds.13 McBride, however, was wrong. Christie Pits would prove to be much more than just a sandpit.

SOFTBALL IN THE PITS

In the era before television, entertainment often required a journey. Torontonians living between the city’s two embracing rivers could travel by streetcar to theaters, arenas and newfangled movie houses. If the radio serial wasn’t enough to keep them home, car owners could motor their way into the downtown core and attend any number of spectacles. Circuses, professional sporting events, and the last gasps of vaudeville were all enticing Toronto’s ticket buying public. Baseball was one of the greatest forces pulling people out of their homes. Maple Leaf Stadium, home to Toronto’s professional ballclub starting in 1926, was not the only baseball hotspot that routinely drew crowds in excess of 10,000.

People flocked to Christie Pits to see games. They would then, as they do now, sit on blankets or place chairs on the most welcoming parts of the grassy slope. The largest crowds turned up for senior men’s amateur baseball games, especially during playoff season. With multiple games happening simultaneously in the Pits, members of the crowd could shift from one diamond to another if their original game ended or became laborious. Games featuring men, women, and children, both baseball and softball, gained spectators as the days and evenings wore on. Big crowds were reported, but exact counts were hard to come by in the ticketless and seatless Pits. “Over 10,000”14 and “capacity attendance”15 were oft-reported attendances for various ballgames throughout the years. Charity softball matches, especially those featuring the National Hockey League Maple Leafs vs. the International League Maple Leaf baseball club, were highly attended events each year.16

By the end of the Roaring Twenties, at least 21 local softball organizations were recognized by the Toronto Amateur Softball Association.17 The TASA existed to collect fees, rent and allot diamonds, and ensure the amateurism of its softballers. The Exhibition League hosted games in the southwest, the Beaches League operated out east, while the Olympic, Intercounty, Danforth, and Elginton leagues all carved out their own sanctioned territories.18 The Playgrounds, Churches, and Western City leagues were the three TASA outfits operating in Christie Pits. The results of games and exploits of amateur softball players received consistent coverage in the Toronto Daily Star, a few column inches away from the professional baseball results. Even legendary sportswriter Lou Marsh, he of the formerly eponymous trophy awarded annually to Canada’s best athlete, devoted attention to softball and its many players. Great intrigue was added to the softball coverage in the early 1930s as the TASA sought to eliminate “shamateurism”19 and unaffiliated outlaw softball leagues20 from the diamonds of Toronto.

A reader of the sports page could also, at a glance, see the social fissures simmering in Toronto during the spring of 1933. Mixed in among the box scores, listed alongside softball teams called the Native Sons, Businessmen, Aces, Oaks, Lakesides, and Zion Benevolent, was a team in the TASA St. Clair League that had named themselves the Swastikas.21

ANTISEMITISM IN TORONTO

Owing to Canada’s deliberately Eurocentric immigration policies, the earliest Jewish immigrants to Toronto had been, for the most part, British subjects and merchants.22 At the turn of the twentieth century, the Jewish population in all of Canada was estimated to be just 16,401.23 That population remained small because the country’s immigration policy had always been as ethnically selective as it was economically self-serving. It entailed an unofficial descending order of ethnic preference, with Jewish and Black people at the bottom.24

The great majority of Jewish immigrants headed to large cities, where they rapidly formed an urban proletariat and began to fill crowded, often poverty-stricken neighborhoods in Winnipeg, Montreal, and Toronto.25 Toronto’s most prominent Jewish neighborhood could be found one block south of Christie Pits. The nearby Spadina Avenue garment industry employed many Jews who were excluded from other professions in the city.26 Numerous garment workers resided in homes north of Front Street, south of Harbord Street and west of Spadina.27 Harbord Collegiate Institute was the local high school. By 1919, there was a common belief among students that Jews and Italian Catholics were considered unwelcome in Christie Pits by the resident WASP majority.28

After the First World War, Toronto’s population was not immune to the concoction of anti-Semitic conspiracy theories and stereotypes infecting the Western world. “No Jews Allowed” and “Gentiles Only” signs could be seen hanging in the windows of restaurants, shops, and country clubs across the city.29 Ontario had practices in place known as Restrictive Covenants, which could prevent the sale of houses and property to anyone who was not Christian. The restrictions, struck down by the Supreme Court of Canada in 1948, were outlawed not because they were discriminatory, but because it was difficult to accurately assess the religion of potential buyers.30 Jews in Toronto were not just excluded from general society by their religion. They were also widely deemed to be a threat to that society.31

A pamphlet called The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, debunked as Russian propaganda by 1921, was widely read and considered responsible for the rapid rise of antisemitism in Canada. Available first at retailers and libraries, it was further disseminated when Henry Ford distributed 500,000 free copies across Canada and the United States via affiliated service stations and his network of auto dealerships.32 The Protocols presented itself as a record of meetings in which Jews from around the world plotted to subvert Christianity and gain world domination. By 1933, pro-Nazi pamphlets, some funded by the German party itself, were being distributed and read in Toronto. Both anti-Semitic and fascist groups formed in Ontario during that same year.33 So extensive was Canadian antisemitism that the American chargé d’affaires remarked on “the rapidity of its spread.” He informed his superiors in Washington that “Canadians had no desire to have Jews emigrate to their country” and that antisemitism was increasingly “finding expression in private conversations.”34 In 1930s Toronto, one did not need to be a devotee of fascism or Nazism to become suspect of Jews.35 Antisemitism was a common and accepted facet of everyday life.

On January 30, 1933, Adolf Hitler was appointed chancellor of Germany. His National Socialist German Workers Party won a minority government in the March 5 election. The German political scene was chaotic. Hitler consolidated support by framing his nationalist movement as a bulwark against Jews and communists. His speeches and statements were loaded with antisemitic untruths.

Hitler’s words and actions were closely followed by the daily papers in Canada. Within weeks of his selection, swastika clubs had formed and placed recruitment ads in Montreal and Toronto newspapers.36 These clubs espoused the political beliefs of their German inspiration. They placed antisemitism at the fore and used the new Nazi flag as their symbol. In April, shortly after Hitler issued the first of his more than 400 anti-Jewish laws and decrees, Andre Laurendeau became the first political figure in Canada to formally endorse the Nazi vision. He wrote in a Montreal newspaper that Jews constituted a social danger in Canada. His message was syndicated across the country.37 By the summer of 1933, Hitler and his policies were being widely discussed and debated on radio, in the newspapers, and on the streets of Toronto.38

The mere presence of Jews at areas of public recreation, including as softball spectators in the Pits, led to protests against Jewish use of public beaches and parks.39 The Balmy Beach Swastika Club was formed with the avowed intention of keeping Toronto’s largest beach free of “obnoxious visitors.” In early August 1933, the club paraded along Woodbine Avenue, 200 strong, with Nazi flags and “Hail Hitler” banners—a common representation of the slogan at that time, substituting the English word “hail” for “heil.” They said the symbol of the German Nazi party was for good luck, and would help their organization gain its objective. They sang as they marched: “Oh, give me a home, where the Gentiles may roam. Where the Jews are not rampant all day. Where seldom is heard, a lone Yiddish word. And the Gentiles are free all the day.”40

There were a few public voices directly condemning the swastika clubs. Jewish alderman—and future mayor—Nathan Phillips was the most prominent. “The whole principle is all wrong,” Phillips said. “I don’t think it will gain any prominence in an enlightened city like Toronto. This sort of rot simply won’t go.”41 Al Kaufmann, a Jewish resident from nearby Kew Gardens, formed an “up-town gang” to counter the swastikas. He and a number of Jewish youths marched the beach boardwalk looking for members of swastika clubs. “We couldn’t find any” he said. “If there had been trouble, I think we could have taken care of ourselves.”42

On August 2, 1933, the Daily Star ran a story with the headline “Feeling Tense.” It reported that for some time, “a real attempt at organizing a fascist movement aimed against the Jews has been in progress.”43 Evil that had been just below the surface was now in the open. The swastika banner that had been so prominently displayed at Balmy Beach would soon be unfurled during a softball game at Christie Pits.

HARBORD AND ST. PETER’S 1933 SOFTBALL CLUBS

St. Peter’s Church has stood at the corner of Bathurst and Bloor Streets in Toronto, six blocks east of Christie Pits, since 1907. It was expanded in 1925 to accommodate a growing number of Catholics in the area. The youth and young adult ministries at the church had been fielding softball teams in the TASA-affiliated Church League since games began in the Pits. By 1930, the St. Peter’s club had developed a reputation as speedsters. Nicknamed the “Galloping Ghosts,” they played a small ball brand of softball, winning games by virtue of their so-called snappy style.44 The team, in the Junior Division of the Church League, was also playing well defensively in 1933. Managed by William Carroll, St. Peter’s often allowed three or fewer runs45 and occasionally won games in a romp, such as their 11–146 drubbing of Westmoreland to cap the regular season.

By mid-August, St. Peter’s had successfully advanced through a series of playdown games. They were recognized by the TASA as champions of the Church League and scheduled to meet the winners of the Playgrounds League, with whom they shared the Pits.

The Playgrounds championship was decided during a best-of-three series played between teams representing Harbord Collegiate and North Toronto high schools. Harbord, coached by Bob Mackie, swept the series with a convincing 5–0 victory in Game Two. Sammy Brookes, the Harbord pitcher, was described as “sensational” by the Daily Star.47 Brookes had been involved in a game earlier that season when the free-hitting Harbord team smashed multiple home runs, including a grand slam, in a 24-run affair over a team from John Dunn Community Centre.48 The Harbord lads represented a school that first opened in 1892. It was a large and imposing Jacobethan Revivalist structure three blocks south of Christie Pits. Nearly 90% of its student population was Jewish.49

The Playgrounds and Church divisions of the TASA had produced their playoff teams for 1933. The citywide quarterfinal series was set to begin in Christie Pits on Monday evening, August 14. It would be a best-of-three showdown between the hard-hitting Jewish boys from Harbord and the speedy, small-ball Catholics of St. Peter’s. The religious affiliations of each team would overshadow their ballplaying abilities during the series. Five days before their first game, an omen appeared just beyond the left-field line.

A newly formed Willowvale Swastika Club paraded the Nazi banner down Bloor Street on Wednesday, August 9. Five Jewish men, residents of nearby Euclid Avenue, attacked the marchers, who retreated into the Pits. Sydney Adams, father of one of the Swastikas, dismissed the whole affair as “foolish nonsense and a lot of tomfoolery.”50

HARBORD VS. ST. PETER’S: THE RIOT AT CHRISTIE PITS

On August 14, over 11,000 people attached themselves to the steep sides of Christie Pits. Most of the crowd, described as one of the largest in the history of the park, came to see the Western City Baseball championship between the Vermonts and Native Sons.51 Several thousand spectators eventually crossed the pit to see the first game of the Harbord and St. Peter’s softball playoff.52 By this time, Harbord supporters had become aware of something more sinister in large crowds such as these. “Every time you went to watch a ballgame,” a Harbord fan later said, “these guys with swastikas would yell ‘Hail Hitler’ and all this.”53

The Toronto Telegram reported that a five-foot-long swastika banner, sewn in white cloth on a black sweater coat, was repeatedly unfurled by some St. Peter’s supporters whenever Harbord players came to bat. This continued throughout the game, “amid much wisecracking, cheering and yelling of pointed remarks.”54 The Harbord players managed to keep their cool, maintain their focus, and play well enough to tie the game in the bottom of the ninth inning. The top of the 10th saw no scoring, giving Harbord a chance to end it. Sensing their opportunity, the St. Peter’s supporters began flaunting their swastika banner. Shouts and epithets were hurled across the diamond as supporters of both teams found themselves on the verge of violence.

With a runner on second and animosities dangerously escalating, a Jewish boy came to the plate for Harbord. He looked not at the pitcher, but at the symbol of Nazi hatred being held aloft by his own countrymen. When the ball was nearly over the plate, he gripped his bat and swung it—not at the ball, but at them. He connected, hammering a double and winning the game for Harbord in dramatic fashion.55

Supporters of both teams filled the field as the players themselves retreated from the scene. Spectators, sure that a fight would follow, were surprised to see the two sides screaming at each other as they were pulled in separate directions.56 A young Jewish spectator told the Daily Star, “There will be trouble when the teams play here again on Wednesday evening.”57

Hours after Game One, during the early morning of August 15, members of the Willowvale Swastikas returned to the park with ladders, brushes, and white paint. On the roof of the communal clubhouse, in the center of Christie Pits, they painted a huge swastika above the words “Hail Hitler.” One of the painters was later found by a Daily Star reporter. Although he would not give his name, he admitted to the graffiti job and said, “We want to get the Jews out of the park.”58 William Carroll of St. Peter’s was eager to separate the actions of his supporters from those of his players. He stated that hoodlums beyond his control had started a sideshow. He then went on to defend those hoodlums: “Why should St. Peter’s supporters get the blame for it any more than the supporters of the Harbord team, or in fact, any other team in the park?”59

Game Two was scheduled for Wednesday, August 16. Two of Toronto’s daily newspapers printed warnings. The Mail and Empire quoted “Jewish boys” who said, “Just wait until the same teams meet again!”60 The Daily Star concluded its coverage of the painting incident by quoting a Harbord fan: “We won’t go to the next game to make trouble, but if anything happens, we will be there to support our players.”61 Another anonymous source told the paper that opposition to the swastikas would be more fearsome on Wednesday night.62

James Brinsmead, a municipal civil servant, visited the Ossington Avenue police station on Wednesday morning and informed constables there of the potential for violence. The police would eventually dispatch only a single officer to each of the two ballgames in the Pits that evening.63 Toronto’s chief of police, Dennis Draper, did not believe the second game of a softball series constituted a serious threat.64

It did not take long for a threat to materialize. Another “crowd of 10,000 citizens”65 was reported in Christie Pits. The western baseball final continued on the northeast diamond and the second Harbord vs. St. Peter’s game took place on the northwest softball field. Before the opening pitch of the softball game could be thrown, an altercation occurred between a member of the Swastikas and a Jewish spectator. The Swastika was hit in the head with a club while the spectator was thrown downhill into the cyclone fence of the backstop. Both men required medical attention.66

The first major incident of violence took place during the second inning. A group of Willowvale Swastikas approached an area of Christie Pits that was lined with 1,000 Jewish Harbord supporters. The Swastikas began to yell, “Hail Hitler” in unison. Incensed, a group of the Harbord supporters lunged at the chanters and told them to “shut up!” When the Swastikas persisted, a sawed-off lead pipe appeared and various members of the hate group were struck with it.67

A brawl ensued, with batons, more pipes, and other concealed weapons. Blood flowed freely as the fighters moved up the north hill towards Pendrith Avenue.68 They eventually brawled away from the Pits and found themselves fighting in nearby backyards. The softball game, which had paused to watch the fracas, resumed. The single police officer assigned to the neighboring baseball game ran across to support his softball associate. Order was temporarily restored.69

With the game tied after three innings, more cries of “Hail Hitler” rang out. Four Jewish youths drew sawed-off lead pipes and headed for two men they believed to be leading the Nazi sympathizers. Supporters rushed to the assistance of both groups of fighters.70 Three additional police officers, having arrived by motorcycle, joined the original patrol duo and helped defuse the skirmish.71 The atmosphere remained tense, but without incident, as St. Peter’s took a late lead. Harbord prepared for its final turn at bat in the ninth, down by a single run. It was not yet dusk as St. Peter’s secured a 6–5 victory by catching a deep fly ball from the last Harbord batter.72

As the crowd of thousands milled about after the game, two young men unfurled a large white blanket bearing a black swastika. In the words of the Daily Star, “a mild form of pandemonium broke loose,” and, as the Telegram put it, “The sign stood out like a red flag to a bull.”73 The antagonists bearing the flag were rushed by Jewish youths. One of the flag bearers was knocked out cold and another scurried away. The swastika flag itself was captured and torn in a pique of vengeful satisfaction by Walton Street resident Murray Krugle. What followed next was described as a “general inrush”74 of male youth who began to fight with fists, then with boots, and eventually with bottles, pipes, broomsticks, and baseball bats. The “Bloor Street War”75 was underway. The first bike pedalling recruiters feverishly cycled to adjacent neighborhoods pleading for reinforcements.

As word of the fighting spread, Jewish backup arrived by car and pickup truck from areas southeast of the Pits near Spadina Avenue. Next, carloads of Italian Catholics arrived from directly south of the Pits on College Street. The handful of police on site attempted to intercept the rolling cavalries, but they were quickly and badly outnumbered. Vehicles carried not only fighters but their weapons as well. A seven-foot-long piece of lumber with a spike driven through it was later found in an abandoned truck near the war zone.76

Brawling continued unabated for an hour before mounted and motorcycle police arrived. Their authority and presence did not immediately dissipate the rumble. The fighting merely tapered for another 90 minutes. Just before 10PM, the battle poured out of Christie Pits and onto Bloor Street as thousands of brawlers blocked the roadway. Streetcar bells and automobile horns added to the cacophony.77 Shortly after 10:30PM, the assembled police force was finally large enough to end the assaults.

The peace did not last. During the initial fighting, Joe Goldstein, a Jewish teenager, was chased across the Pits and knocked unconscious. He was carried first to the nearby home of his sister-in-law, and then by police escort to hospital. Goldstein was badly injured, but his wounds were not life threatening. Rumors began to spread around Jewish neighborhoods that Goldstein had died. Organization only took a few minutes, and soon, truckloads of shouting Jewish youths, armed with anything they could lay their hands on, were speeding back toward the softball grounds.78

Several of these trucks, each jammed with about 25 young men, were met by a column of police on horseback. The trucks broke through and soon found a large group of swastika-wearing enemies. The two groups attacked each other with black jacks, broom handles, stones, and steel and lead pipes.79 Hundreds of fighters who had already exhausted themselves and their original quarrels jumped right back into this new fray. The police were helpless. An eight-block section of Toronto—including one of its largest parks and downtown’s main northwestern thoroughfare—was lawless and out of control.

Both sides were accused of reckless irresponsibility during the riot. One eyewitness said he was horrified to see “a gentleman, passed middle age, who was taking no part in the violence, struck on the head with a baseball bat.” Joe Brown, a young witness to the fight, said he was walking home from the Pits when five youths jumped out of a passing car and assaulted him with clubs. A 21-year-old named Solly Osolky rushed in to help a fallen youngster on Bloor Street and was attacked for his efforts. “They belaboured me with their clubs,” he added. David Fischer had been a spectator at the ballgame. “I was preparing to go home,” he said. “Some fellow then hit me over the head and started to shout Hail Hitler.”80

Fighting continued in and around Christie Pits after 11:30PM. Injuries, fatigue, and a growing police presence began to divide the uprising into smaller and smaller battles. A crowd of rioters again blocked Bloor Street, causing the police to devise a new tactic. The motorcycle brigade would charge toward groups of fighters. When they were close enough to be effective, the officers would turn their exhaust pipes towards the combatants, spreading heavy, choking fumes throughout the crowd. By midnight, there were fewer than 200 people within 100 yards of the park. Occasional fistfights persisted. The police patrolled Christie Pits and the streets around the ball diamonds until the riot was officially declared over at 1:30AM, six hours after it started81.

Somewhat miraculously, no fatalities occurred during the riot at Christie Pits. Osolky, Brown, Fischer, Goldstein, and two men named Al Eckler and Louis Kotick were reported to have been the worst of the injured. They all suffered cuts, abrasions, and trauma about the head and neck. A few had broken bones. Most were released from hospital within a day. Undoubtedly, countless other street fighters kept their injuries to themselves.

Only two arrests were made during the riot. Russel Harris of Bloor Street was held on a charge of vagrancy, later dismissed. He’d been caught with a fishing knife. Magistrate Browne advised Harris to leave his knife at home unless he was scaling fish. Jack Roxborough was held on a charge of carrying offensive weapons. He’d been seen wielding a metal club above his head. He was given the option of paying a $50 fine or serving two months in jail.82 His decision has been lost to history.

Following the riot, Jack Turner, secretary of the TASA, announced that no more league games would be played in Christie Pits until the present trouble had been cleared up. The managers for both the Harbord and St. Peter’s teams denied responsibility for the riot and stated that none of their players had participated in the disturbance.83 Both teams would need to continue the series with new bats, owing to their equipment having been stolen and weaponized by the mob.

The TASA scheduled the third and final game in the series for Wednesday, August 23, at Conboy Soccer Stadium, an enclosed field with grandstand at the corner of Ossington and Dupont, about 12 blocks northwest of Christie Pits. The organization also announced that the game would be a ticketed affair. The TASA thought the cost of admission, and the park being a privately owned enclosure, would keep away the undesirables.84 A squad of police from the Ossington Avenue division surrounded the stadium and kept a strict watch on all points of entry. Police also forced a number of onlookers on a nearby rail bridge to vacate their unsanctioned seats. A few hundred others were said to have watched the game from nearby factory rooftops and household windows.85

Only 71 loyal spectators paid to see the rubber match at Conboy Stadium. It was described as one the finest exhibitions of softball ever witnessed in Toronto. The game went into the bottom of the 11th inning when “Red” Burke hit a walk-off home run to give the series to St. Peter’s by a score of 4–3.86 After losing a heartbreaking game, the Harbord team, “like true sportsmen, shook hands with the winners and wished them good luck in their future games.”87 St. Peter’s would go on to lose to a team known as the Millionaires, who were in turn bested by a team sponsored by the Cities Service oil and gas company (today known as Citgo). The Cities Service team claimed its trophy as Junior Softball Champions of Toronto during a ceremony held at the Royal York hotel on October 19, 1933.88

THE AFTERMATH

After the riot, the swastika symbol was cast in even darker shadow throughout Toronto. The Balmy Beach Swastika Club knew enough to abandon the symbol and change its name within 24 hours of the riot. At an emergency meeting, members were conciliatory, voting to allow Jews and gentiles to serve together on a new committee devoted to cleaning and protecting the beach.89 Other swastika clubs persisted but declined in favor and fidelity as the decade wore on. By 1936, Toronto’s newspapers were free of their mention.

Toronto Mayor William Stewart met the media a few hours after police had regained control of Christie Pits. He warned all citizens that people displaying the swastika would be liable to prosecution. “The repeated and systematic disturbances in which the swastika emblem figures provocatively, must be investigated and dealt with firmly,” said the mayor. “The responsibility is now on the citizens to conduct themselves in a lawful manner.”90

Toronto Police made three more arrests related to the riot the following Friday. 17-year-old Jack Pippy, 18-year-old Charles Boustead, and 21-year-old Earl Perrin were charged with unlawful assembly. In the Crawford Street garage owned by Pippy’s parents, police found the white paint and paraphernalia used to smear the swastika on the Pits clubhouse.91

When senior baseball returned to Christie Pits two days after the riot, the police presence was noticeable inside the park. About 100 teenagers mingled in the vicinity of the Pits, many of whom were said to have weapons and pieces of pipe concealed inside their coats.92 Though police said the boys were looking for trouble, they found none as “calm prevailed in the swastika war zone.”93 Police claimed that most of the youth had been drawn to the park out of curiosity. Both Harbord and St. Peter’s continued to field teams in the Christie Pits softball league for decades to come. There were no further overt incidents of antisemitism involving the two teams.

On September 10, 1939, six years and 25 days after the riot, Canada declared war on Nazi Germany and its swastika flag. By 1945, more than 10% of Canada’s population had joined the army. Over 1.1 million Canadians suited up and shipped out. Toronto supplied 2,000 recruits within 48 hours of the declaration of war and over 70,000 more as the conflict endured.94 Given the high number and youthful demographic of the rioters in Christie Pits, it would be reasonable to assume that many answered the call of king and country. The economic realities of the area around the riot zone make it even more likely. More than 60 men who died fighting for Canada during the Second World War lived in the immediate vicinity of Christie Pits.95

In 2008, the city installed a permanent plaque near the Bloor Street entrance to Christie Pits. It reads in part, “On August 16, 1933, at the end of a playoff game for the Toronto junior softball championship, one of the city’s most violent ethnic clashes broke out in this park.”96 Joe Goldstein, the boy whose rumoured death reignited the riot, now 88 years old, was present for the plaque unveiling.97 Another living Jewish witness to the riot, who wished to remain anonymous, remembered that August night quite clearly.

“When we got to the Pits, it seemed to me that half of the Jews and half of the goyim of the city were there,” he recalled. “There were a lot of heads broken. There was a tremendous confrontation, and I would definitely say that we won. We were proud. I think for a week we were higher than a kite.”98 

When the American League expanded for a second time in 1969 and split into a pair of divisions, the California Angels could be excused for still thinking of themselves as an expansion team, since they had come into existence only eight years earlier. Over the course of this brief lifespan, the Angels had compiled a desultory track record, forging a won-lost record of 614–679 (with one tie), a winning average of .475.

Trying to establish themselves in Southern California while the specter of the Los Angeles Dodgers loomed large, the Angels had moved to new quarters in Anaheim in 1966. But when the Angels dropped to 67–95 in 1968, their poorest record to date, and began the divisional era by going 11–28, Bill Rigney was relieved of his duties as skipper. New manager Lefty Phillips tried to right the listing ship, winning 60 while losing 63 (with another tie) and bringing the Angels in at third place in the AL West, but 26 games behind the division champion Minnesota Twins. California had much work to do to become a contender.

Lackluster Angels production in 1968—the team outscored only the Chicago White Sox and came in seventh or eighth (out of 10 teams) in several other offensive categories—was eclipsed by even worse numbers in 1969: The Angels finished last (now out of 12) in runs scored, hits, doubles, home runs, walks, batting average, slugging percentage, on-base percentage, and on base-plus-slugging. Expansion-year pitching had delivered no advantage to California batters.

Over the next two seasons, general manager Dick Walsh used the trade market to try to fortify the weak Angels offense, and in the course of doing so brought together two compelling figures who, by their most recent performances, should have brought a new degree of potency to the Angels lineup. This essay will show how those players, Alex Johnson and Tony Conigliaro, in their individual ways, failed to build on the stepping stone of an ostensibly successful 1970 campaign.

TRYING TO IMPROVE: STEP 1

In late November 1969, Walsh acquired Johnson and utility infielder Chico Ruiz, a close friend of Johnson’s, from the Cincinnati Reds in exchange for three pitchers. Johnson’s early career showed glimpses of promise: Breaking in with the Philadelphia Phillies in 1964, he put up a .303/.345/.495 slash line in 43 games, for an OPS+ of 135. The following season he hit .293/.337/.443 over 97 games, an OPS+ of 120. But he had a track record as a poor defensive player, having committed 30 errors in 321 games in the minors. Johnson confessed to being jittery when in the outfield, and although his work with the glove got better, his “perceived lack of effort and poor attitude” grated on Phils manager Gene Mauch, and in late October 1965 the outfielder was packaged in a trade to the St. Louis Cardinals.1

Johnson did little to distinguish himself in his early tenure with his new team, batting only .186 before being sent to Triple-A Tulsa in mid-May 1966. The following season, in which St. Louis ultimately captured the World Series, the right-handed Johnson was platooned in right field with newly acquired Roger Maris, but Johnson again faltered while playing in only half of the regular-season games and accumulating just 39 hits in 175 at-bats for a .223 average, one home run and an anemic 68 OPS+.

As his malcontent behavior became more of a detriment to the team, the 25-year-old once more was on the trading block. “We tried everything to bring out his potential,” said an exasperated Dick Sisler, the Cardinals hitting coach.2 This time he was dispatched to the Cincinnati Reds.

Upon his 1968 arrival at Crosley Field, Johnson transformed from bust to boom, with Reds manager Dave Bristol seeming to be the reason for the turnaround. Rather than nagging his temperamental player about his comportment, Bristol was content to leave Johnson to his own devices. Johnson became the everyday left fielder, appearing in 149 games and contributing a .312/.342/.395 line (116 OPS+), with little power but 16 stolen bases, earning him Comeback Player of the Year honors from The Sporting News, although Breakout Player of the Year would have been a more appropriate label.

As if to prove his rightful place as a prime-time player, Johnson improved in every meaningful offensive category in 1969, including 17 home runs, more than twice his previous career high. But just as the Reds were about to emerge as the Big Red Machine under new manager Sparky Anderson in 1970, their outfield became crowded with prospects Hal McRae and Bernie Carbo, who could platoon in left field. That made Johnson expendable. The Angels anticipated his production would continue to trend upward.

Phillips’s first full year at California’s helm was infused with a modicum of hope: The Angels had equaled their young franchise record of 86 victories in 1970 and resided in second place for most of the season before settling into third on Labor Day. By remaining within hailing distance of the Twins, who would repeat as division winners, California could lay claim to status as contenders in the AL West. However, this joy and optimism were tempered by the baggage that accompanied the acquisition of Alex Johnson.

While the Angels were pleased with the statistics generated by their new left fielder in 1970—named to the American League All-Star team, Johnson had his best offensive season and won the league batting title (by a whisker over Carl Yastrzemski) with a .329 average—his brooding and moodiness never deserted him. The enigmatic player was fined for lack of hustle, and while he led the Angels by grounding into 25 double plays, some of these may have been the result of his batting in the heart of the order. (Recall that Jim Rice of the Boston Red Sox led both leagues in GIDPs for four straight years in the 1980s.) He yelled at teammates and reporters who attempted to engage him in conversation. “There is venom in his bat and on his tongue,” noted The Sporting News of Johnson’s hitting ability and demeanor. His actions became an increasingly serious distraction.3

For his part, Phillips was held in high regard for somehow weathering the storm swirling around Johnson. The manager was credited with working psychological wonders in stroking the egos of several of his players who needed coddling, and although Phillips was quick to deflect the praise directed his way, the results, in the AL West standings and in Johnson’s performance at the plate, more than hinted at Phillips’s ability to hold up in a difficult situation. By writing Johnson’s name in the cleanup slot and leaving him in the game rather than replacing him with a late-inning defensive outfielder, Phillips gave Johnson much latitude in the hope of letting the ends of his production justify the means.

But as the summer of 1970 progressed, Johnson was trying the patience of too many of his teammates and, ultimately, his manager. Club officials worried over the negative impact that Johnson might have on younger players who would be better served by a more appropriate role model. According to The Sporting News, “His recent taunting of an Angel pitcher nearly precipitated a clubhouse free-for-all,” and “acknowledging his malevolent disposition, his wife, Julia, has apologized to the other Angel wives for the way her husband treats their husbands.”4

By season’s close, it seemed a miracle that California forged the win total it had reached. In the final weeks of September, Johnson and Ruiz “exchanged words and punches in a brief skirmish at the batting cage. … This outburst followed a reported melee of the previous night that left the clubhouse in disarray.”5 Through all this turbulence, Johnson was documenting his plight so that he could take his own complaints to the Major League Baseball Players Association, whose director, Marvin Miller, later observed, “Two things became quite clear. Many of Johnson’s grievances were legitimate, and he had serious emotional problems.”6

Turning the corner of the disruptive campaign, the Angels, on paper at least, possessed the means to build on their success. Yet the stat sheet failed to account for all the characteristics of what underpinned the roster and contributed to—or detracted from—the chemistry among the players and their relationship with the manager. And with the book barely closed on the 1970 season, Dick Walsh was already at work to add more power to the lineup, sending three players to the Red Sox for catcher Jerry Moses, pitcher Ray Jarvis, and outfielder Tony Conigliaro.

TRYING TO IMPROVE: STEP 2

“Tony C,” as Conigliaro was affectionately known to hometown fans, was the embodiment of a local kid made good. A native of Revere, Massachusetts, he burst onto the scene in 1964 as a 19-year-old who slugged 24 home runs and then led the American League in that category the next year with 32. With handsome looks to boot, Conigliaro also was a budding pop singer, with several recordings on the RCA label to his credit by early 1965. He had the world as his oyster even though he was playing for a team that was less than mediocre, the BoSox finishing ninth in the American League in 1966. As his power numbers continued to draw attention, he became the second-youngest player to belt 100 career homers, achieving the mark in July 1967, but as a batter who crowded the plate, he missed playing time due to HBP-related injuries that included broken bones in his left arm and wrist.

When Boston made an unexpected challenge for the AL pennant in 1967, Conigliaro was prominent in the lineup, batting cleanup for rookie manager Dick Williams’s “Impossible Dream” team and earning a berth on the AL All-Star squad. But the outfielder would not be on hand to relish the pennant that the Red Sox eventually captured: He was beaned on the evening of August 18 in a game against the Angels at Fenway Park. Hit in his left eye by a Jack Hamilton pitch and suffering a broken cheekbone, Conigliaro was relegated to the sidelines with the fear that he might lose sight in the eye, and his rehabilitation would cost him the entire 1968 season.

Diligence and persistence paid off for Conigliaro in 1969, when he earned AL Comeback Player of the Year honors. In 141 games, he tallied a modest .255 batting average but showed that his ability to hit the long ball remained in his arsenal, stroking 21 doubles and 20 home runs while driving in 82 runs, though his triple slash line of .255/.321/.427 and his OPS+ of 103 were all a big step down from his peak years in Boston. An even brighter season in 1970—“with one good eye,” according to Conigliaro’s biographer, he batted .266 in 146 games, with 36 home runs and 116 RBIs—seemed to lay to rest any doubts about his hitting ability, if not his recovery.7

But fourth- and third-place finishes in 1968-69 cost Williams his job, and the manager was rankled by strife in the clubhouse and by Conigliaro’s tendency to enjoy the nightlife. Friction between management and a few notable mainstays, among them Reggie Smith and George Scott, eventually led to the trades of several players, but Tony C’s circumstances were peculiar in their own way. Shortstop Rico Petrocelli said that Conigliaro “wanted to be treated like a superstar. It was his hometown. … He felt he should have been the guy, the man.”8

An internecine imbroglio between Smith, Red Sox newcomer Billy Conigliaro—Tony’s younger brother—and Yastrzemski, was the source of much angst. As the Sox elder statesman at the age of 30, Yaz incurred the wrath of Boston fans when the team foundered early in the 1970 season, and the former Triple Crown winner was accused of cultivating too personal a relationship with Boston owner Tom Yawkey.9

In the wake of the 1970 season, the Red Sox sought to address shortcomings with their pitching staff and pulled off several trades that allowed them to deal away some of their surplus offensive power. One of the prime subjects sent packing was Tony Conigliaro. His trade to the Angels provoked a firestorm of protest from Boston fans. “It was, however, a trade that took advantage of Conigliaro’s post-beaning value at the time it had peaked,” in the view of one baseball historian. Another opinion had it that Yastrzemski was a driving force behind getting his fellow outfielder off the Boston roster.10

Still cautiously optimistic about furthering what they had accomplished in 1970, the Angels were hoping that Conigliaro’s bat would bolster their offense— if, that is, he could overcome the shock of being let go by his now former team. There may have been some reactionary enthusiasm on the part of the Angels in response to the crosstown Dodgers’ acquisition of Dick Allen, who arrived via trade on October 5, 1970, from the St. Louis Cardinals. Six days later, the Angels countered with an exchange that gave them their own high-profile slugger.

Conigliaro’s new club exuded such confidence in him that his visage appeared on the cover of the Angels’ 1971 media guide along with the team’s three other headliners from the previous season: Clyde Wright, Jim Fregosi, and Alex Johnson. Even his mellifluous nickname, “Tony C,” graced the back of his road uniform instead of the traditional last name reserved for that spot. In its preview of the coming season, The Sporting News touted the outfield of Johnson, Conigliaro, and newly added Ken Berry as “the best in [the] club’s history.”11 So, what was not to like about the team’s prospects in the new year?

For one thing, the Angels finished spring training with an uninspiring 10–15 record, and Johnson had already been fined and pulled in the first inning of one contest for failing to run out a groundball. He was giving no indication of any change to his work ethic or improvement in his play in the outfield.

As Johnson perpetuated his annoyances, Conigliaro was settling in quite nicely in the sunny environs of Southern California. He worked to cultivate a cordial relationship with the local press, continued to appear as a singer, dreamed of a future in Hollywood movies, and picked up extra cash through commercial endorsements. That his next-door neighbor was Raquel Welch only burnished the luster of his new venue. Conigliaro’s reported $76,000 salary and the Cadillac El Dorado he drove were other perks that he enjoyed as the hero in search of something to conquer.

But for all the material trappings Conigliaro enjoyed, the real harbinger of his days as an Angel may have been the weak .186 batting average he compiled in spring camp as well as playing time missed due to back spasms and flu. More ominously, the closeness of family that underpinned his life in Boston was no longer available to him, his father Sal and brother Billy still ensconced back East. Though Tony worked hard as a professional ballplayer, “He was the new kid in the neighborhood. … He needed to win everyone over with baseball heroics.”12 This was a tall order considering that the fans at Anaheim Stadium were generally less passionate about their team than the denizens of Fenway Park.

FOR WANT OF A SPARK

As the 1971 season began, the confluence of Johnson and Conigliaro did not deliver the offensive punch the Angels had hoped for. The former hit decently, though not of batting-title quality, but the home fans persisted in vocalizing their displeasure with choruses of boos. The latter seemed destined for alienation from his teammates because of various ailments or inauspicious conditions, ranging from discomfort with his injured eye, which he attributed to the brightness of the West Coast sun, to pains in his neck, legs, and back. Pitcher Tom Murphy noted that the right fielder “always seemed to be hurt,” but Conigliaro wanted to dispel the notion that he was seldom up to the task, and, unlike Johnson, he strove to improve his defensive play so that center fielder Berry, already famed for his glove work, would have fewer worries.13

Through the first three months of the season, Conigliaro played in an average of 22 games each month but missed 15 contests. His batting average peaked at .264 in mid-May, but the power stroke that had been his signature was in short supply. California’s mediocre standing in the AL West in the early going was due in large part to the quality of its pitching, which ranked in the middle of the league, whereas the offense was second from the bottom.14

Conigliaro’s name never appeared on the disabled list, but an unwelcome amount of tarnish was accumulating on his reputation because of the time he was unavailable. Despite receiving numerous shots of cortisone for relief of back pain, Conigliaro could not convince his teammates of his woes. They took an increasingly dim view of what they were starting to believe was more hypochondria than the impact of actual injuries. Clubhouse pranksters greeted Conigliaro in early June with a display comprising “a stretcher set up in front of his locker with his uniform spread out on it and a pair of crutches wrapped in Ace bandages forming a coat of arms.”15 Offended by the exhibit, which was soft-pedaled by manager Phillips as just mischief that ballplayers perpetrate, Conigliaro retreated, fittingly enough, to the sanctity of the trainer’s room. None of his teammates had endured the near-fatal episode of being hit in the head and worked so diligently to return to the game, and it was impossible for any of them to understand his circumstances.

Try as he might to regain the form he displayed in 1970, Conigliaro only struggled more and found that his fellow Angels were labeling him a slacker. About the only persons in whom he could confide were Jerry Moses, the catcher who had accompanied Conigliaro in the trade from Boston, and, curiously, Johnson. The defending batting champion shunned the press for the most part, and he continued to exasperate his manager with aloof and indifferent play, yet Johnson now found a sympathetic companion in Conigliaro. It may well have been that the Angels were leading the league in malcontents, and this was prior to the Oakland Athletics gaining distinction as a team whose clubhouse became branded with its own infighting.

Early in the season, Johnson agreed to an interview with a new publication, Black Sports magazine, and in his conversation with journalist Bill Lane, he chided fans who reveled in booing him yet would instantly begin cheering him with the next base hit. Johnson, an African American from Detroit, confessed that some of his white teammates “get along with him very well,” but he was blunt in his assessment of the differences between the races. “I’ve been bitter ever since I learned I was Black. The white-dominated society into which I was born, in which I grew up and in which I play ball today is anti-Black. My attitude is nothing more than a reaction to their attitude. … The white society actually rejects the Black in everything. What we often take for true equality is smiling toleration.”16 Johnson had to have felt some degree of comfort in speaking freely to a reporter likely with a sympathetic ear.

As the 1971 season progressed, Angels players and team management found themselves in an increasingly untenable position. In trying to tolerate Johnson’s behavior, Phillips alternated between fining and benching the outfielder, then reinstating him, all to no avail as the half-hearted base-running and loafing after fly balls continued. Frustrated teammates—Berry and Wright in particular—wearied of trying to reason with Johnson and nearly touched off locker-side brawls. Ruiz, who “had an agreeable personality and was well-liked by … teammates and opponents alike,” as well as a lengthy and close relationship with Johnson, became the focal point of a notorious incident in which the infielder allegedly pulled a gun on Johnson in the clubhouse.17

Press photos of Johnson sitting alone on the dugout bench told the sad story of a man ostracized by those with whom he should have been relishing the opportunity and privilege of playing baseball at the highest level. Instead, the problem continued to fester as long as Johnson remained a member of the club.

An end of the tribulations was believed to be in sight when GM Walsh thought he had a deal worked out with the Milwaukee Brewers. Johnson would be traded for outfielder Tommy Harper. But when the latter’s bat showed signs of emerging from a lengthy slump as the mid-June trade deadline approached, the Brewers nixed the transaction.

Johnson played his last game for California on June 24. The Angels suspended him for 30 days without pay beginning in late June, and the expiration of that penalty dovetailed into his placement by commissioner Bowie Kuhn on the restricted list. Johnson’s case was taken up by the players’ union, which filed a grievance to be submitted to arbitration. In a Sports Illustrated profile that ran shortly after Johnson’s suspension began, the outfielder fingered Ruiz as “the cause of the dissension,” but the magazine placed blame in the most obvious place, citing “Johnson’s curious rebellion” and a “mockery of the game that cut his fellow players doubly deep. In a world of performance, to refuse to perform seemed to make fools of those who did, seemed to make nonsense out of the pure patterns of the game they played.”18

Dick Miller later reported in The Sporting News, “The number of fines and Johnson’s behavior, it was contended, should have indicated to General Manager Dick Walsh and Manager Lefty Phillips that Johnson was under extreme mental distress.” The final tally for the season came to 29 fines totaling $3,750.19 The adjudication of the grievance, however, came out in Johnson’s favor.

MLBPA director Marvin Miller, who was on the front line of Johnson’s defense, said, “I think it’s fair to say that most of the Angels didn’t grasp the depths of Johnson’s psychological problems.”20 Subsequent examinations by a pair of psychiatrists confirmed Johnson’s compromised mental state, and he won his case, as arbitrator Lewis Gill found that the player’s condition warranted a spot on the disabled list rather than a disciplinary suspension. The financial payout would be back salary minus the amount of the fines imposed by the ballclub, and Johnson was given a new home on October 5 when he and Moses were traded to the Cleveland Indians.

For Conigliaro, his ignominious finale came on July 9 in a marathon, 20-inning game at Oakland, when he went hitless in eight trips to the plate, including five strikeouts, yet these few statistics hardly tell the full story. A prelude occurred in the 11th inning when he fanned on a pitch that eluded the catcher, but with first base occupied and less than two outs, Conigliaro was automatically out. Still, he irrationally ran to first and argued with the home plate umpire about the play. Eight innings later came the ugly coda: Upon striking out after an unsuccessful bunt attempt—even trying after the bunt sign was removed with two strikes—Conigliaro “exploded” at plate ump Merle Anthony, who walked away to avoid worsening the confrontation. When the outfielder removed his batting helmet and swatted it fungo-style toward first base, he was ejected from the game, but not before“heav[ing] his bat over [first base umpire George] Maloney’s head.”21

Frustrated at losing 1–0 in the wee hours of the morning, Phillips grumbled to the press about Conigliaro’s actions, which exacerbated a deteriorating situation. The manager complained about his player’s lack of knowledge of the rules and his penchant for ignoring signals from the dugout, but then Phillips stunned the gathering by saying, “The man belongs in an institution.”22

Phillips’s blunt opinion was followed mere hours later by Conigliaro’s departure from the team. The embattled player confessed that headaches, coupled with vision that never fully recovered after his August 1967 beaning, had rendered him a shell of the player he had once been. Conigliaro’s emotional outburst was a sad denouement, and he immediately retreated to the safety of his home turf and family in Boston.

Conigliaro referred to his exit as a retirement, and with Johnson still suspended, one might have believed the air to be clearer for the California roster. But the Angels played roughly .500 ball for the remainder of the season—they went 36–37 after the late-inning meltdown on July 9—and fell to fourth place in the AL West, leading to the predictable dismissal of Phillips and his coaching staff.

As Johnson had filed a grievance over his treatment by the ballclub, so too did Conigliaro, who, after originally acknowledging that he was forfeiting about half of his salary by retiring, revived the claim that since a medical condition had forced him from the game, he was entitled to $30,000, which was eventually paid by the team.

Speculation in The Sporting News about the 1971 Angels having one of their best outfields ever had been predicated on the anticipated synergy created by the defending AL batting champion followed in the batting order by a power hitter who, to all appearances, had overcome his eyesight issue. Yet their statistics and the team’s won-loss record show that no chemistry emerged from this pairing, whether in the form of enhanced individual performance or in the club’s ability to gain in the standings.

Johnson hit third in the order, where he remained for most of the games in which he played; Conigliaro started out in the cleanup slot, but as ailments took their toll, he was dropped to sixth. In some instances, the pair were in the same contest only because one of them appeared as a pinch-hitter or a late-inning replacement. In any case, a combined batting average of a tepid .263 with an accompanying RBI total that would project to merely 50 (based on a 600 at-bat season) was not what the Angels had anticipated.

There is a curious intersection of what was acknowledged as Johnson’s “emotional illness,” in Miller’s words, and the dismissive comment by Phillips about Conigliaro being ripe for institutionalization. Through the 1970s, it was not uncommon in public discourse to hear references to “mental retardation,” “funny farm,” or other unkind vernacular related to behavioral issues; an editorial in The Sporting News went so far as to diagnose Johnson as “a social schizophrenic.”23

Thankfully, modern sensibilities and better medical knowledge have come to recognize behavioral illnesses that can be treated by trained professionals who today are better equipped—and supported by the general public—than they were decades ago. For example, yesteryear’s “shell shock” is better understood today as post-traumatic stress disorder. Johnson and Conigliaro’s respective circumstances—behavioral in the case of the former, behavioral (to a lesser degree) and the difficulties of recovery from a ghastly head injury for the latter—demand our attention and understanding.

SUMMARY

Through the vicissitudes of the baseball world, two All-Star players were paired up in the corners of the 1971 California Angels outfield, and optimists among baseball observers could only dream of the possibilities. That Johnson and Conigliaro both departed by midseason only adds to the intrigue, and their exits created a void similar to when a conflict ends: Peace has been achieved, but the effects fail to dissipate quickly. Picking up the pieces of a shattered campaign, the Angels won about half of their remaining games beyond early July, but the “one step forward” taken by the club in 1970 clearly yielded to “two steps back” by the end of the following season. Even the appointment of a new GM, Harry Dalton, whose success with the “Oriole Way” in building Baltimore as the most formidable team of the late 1960s and early 1970s set the standard of the era, could not correct the course of a franchise steeped in mediocrity.

Granted that the issues faced by California were deeper than the shortcomings of two outfielders upon whom so much rested. But there were lessons to be learned by the time Alex Johnson won his grievance case: Emotional issues, unremittingly part of the human condition, should not be given short shrift; and players suffering from physical injuries, especially the type of damage from one of the worst head injuries ever sustained, may likely endure long-term complications and perhaps only experience a tentative recovery.

It is to his credit that Johnson continued to play for several more years beyond his pair of volatile seasons with the Angels and that Conigliaro also persisted beyond August 18, 1967, a date after which his baseball career would be forever marked as a comeback. For the few months of 1971 when they both wore Angels uniforms, the bats of Johnson and Conigliaro yielded unremarkable production rather than the expected one-two punch, and their departures created the challenge for Dalton of having to fill a pair of vacancies in the outfield and in the heart of the California batting order. 

Notes

1 Mark Armour, “Alex Johnson” SABR BioProject, https://sabr.org/bioproj/person/alex-johnson/, accessed May 15, 2023. (Emphasis added.)

2 Armour, “Alex Johnson.”

3 John Wiebusch, “Don’t Try to Chat with Alex—Just Let Him Hit,” The Sporting News, May 2, 1970.

4 Ross Newhan, “Alex of Angels Is Falling from Realm of Glory,” The Sporting News, August 15, 1970.

5 Newhan, “A Lot of Wrongs Dot Wright’s Leap to 20,” The Sporting News, October 3, 1970.

6 Marvin Miller, A Whole Different Ball Game: The Sport and Business of Baseball (New York: Birch Lane Press, 1993), 135.

7 David Cataneo, Tony C: The Triumph and Tragedy of Tony Conigliaro (Nashville: Rutledge Hill Press, 1997), 190.

8 Cataneo, Tony C, 190.

9 Bill Nowlin, Tom Yawkey: Patriarch of the Boston Red Sox (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2018), 289.

10 Nowlin, 288; Cataneo, Tony C, 193.

11 C.C. Johnson Spink, “Spink’s Forecast: Orioles and Dodgers to Win,” The Sporting News, April 10, 1971.

12 Cataneo, Tony C, 198.

13 Cataneo, Tony C, 198.

14 American League batting and pitching statistics, The Sporting News, July 12, 1971.

15 Cataneo, Tony C, 200. The tasteless addition of ketchup-stained sanitary napkins also was part of the scene.

16 Bill Lane, “Alex at the Bat,” Black Sports, July 1971. This publication was ahead of its time: Not until well into the 21st century was “Black” capitalized in the mainstream media.

17 Jerome Holtzman, “’71 Saw Gate Up, Short Move, Alex Angry,” in Paul MacFarlane, et al, Official Baseball Guide for 1972 (St. Louis: The Sporting News, 1972), 281.

18 Ron Fimrite, “For Failure to Give His Best.,” Sports Illustrated, July 5, 1971.

19 Dick Miller, “Johnson Fined 29 Times 19 in ’71; Total: $3,000,” The Sporting News, September 11, 1971, 32; Armour, “Alex Johnson.”

20 Marvin Miller, A Whole Different Ball Game, 137.

21 Cataneo, Tony C, 201-02.

22 Cataneo, Tony C, 202.

23 “Better to Fight Than to Talk,” The Sporting News, July 31, 1971.

From a historical perspective, the primary event that took place in 1945 was the conclusion of World War II. But the war was still raging at the end of 1944, and additional manpower was needed to ensure victory over the Axis powers. Because of this, in December 1944, the director of War Mobilization and Reconversion, James Byrnes, ordered all dog and horse racing tracks to be closed in January 1945.1 He argued that people working in the industry would be better employed in the war effort, and that the fuel used by the industry, and by patrons getting to the races, was needed by the armed forces.

The order made the status of the upcoming baseball season uncertain as the calendar turned to 1945. Would the same edict be applied to other sports, including baseball? On New Year’s Day, Byrnes assured reporters that other sports would not be shuttered, but that the policy for 4-F draft deferments for athletes would be tightened.2 That could be a big problem for major league baseball: At one point in 1944, 260 out of 400 players (65 percent) were designated 4-F.3 How would teams replace players if more of them were draft eligible in 1945?

Uncertainty associated with the answer to this question persisted through Opening Day. A directive was issued on January 20 that required War Department review of all 4-F professional athletes.4 Some players were still considered 4-F after these reviews but many were not. There was also uncertainty about 4-F players working in war related industries. Their status wasn’t clarified until March 21, when the War Manpower Commission issued a directive allowing professional baseball players to leave their jobs until October to play.5

With many major league players already serving, the end result was that the rosters of major league teams when the season opened on April 17 consisted of a mixture of men too young or too old to serve, plus some 4-F players. A detailed discussion of the composition of major league rosters during World War II is beyond the scope of this article. However, there is a general perception that the overall quality of play was inferior to non-war years, especially in 1945. During that year, H.G. Salsinger of the Detroit News wrote, “Even the most charitable and amiable of men must admit that the quality of major league baseball in the current season is the poorest in more than 50 years.”6

The perception of low-quality play is not shared by all. SABR member Renwick Speer argued against the notion in a 1983 Baseball Research Journal article.7 He noted that major league players such as Lou Boudreau, Frank Crosetti, Babe Dahlgren, Phil Cavarretta, Al Lopez, Marty Marion, and Mel Ott did not miss a full season during the war years. Speer concludes, “We maintain that a good brand of baseball was played in the major leagues during World War II without pretending to imply that it was the same without Pee Wee, the Yankee Clipper, Rapid Robert, and the Kid.”

Regardless of the quality of play, what cannot be disputed is that there were two exciting pennant races in 1945. After play on Sunday, September 23, the two American League contenders were separated by a single game. The leaders in the National League were 1½ games apart. The World Series contestants were decided over the last week of the season. The purpose of this article is to examine and discuss the 1945 season to see what led to its exciting conclusion.

METHODOLOGY

Pennant races are usually described verbally based on the number of games separating teams. Fans are very comfortable with this convention, but there are two drawbacks associated with it. First, the standings in terms of games behind on any given day do not show what has happened over time. In addition, games behind is a relative measure because it is based on how far each trailing team is behind the leading team. The relative positions can change because the trailing teams are playing well, or because the leading team is playing poorly, but fans can’t know from looking at the standings on a particular day how the teams have fared recently.

Both of these drawbacks can be alleviated by using a graph of the standings over time. Unfortunately, a graph of games behind over time does not solve the relative position issue. That problem can be fixed by graphing the number of games over .500 for teams instead of games behind. A level line from data point to data point means the team played exactly .500 ball over the time period. A line with a positive or negative slope means the team played better or worse than .500 ball. Therefore, the discussion of the 1945 pennant race in this paper will be based on graphs of games over .500 for the teams under consideration. The more familiar number of games behind is always just half the difference in games over .500. Unless otherwise noted, all data are taken from Baseball-Reference.com.

SETTING THE STAGE

No baseball season exists in a vacuum. Teams and players that fared well the previous year are usually expected to do well again during the current season. Therefore, a brief discussion of the 1944 season and a few broader items will set the stage for the 1945 campaign.

With the exception of New York City, it is rare for two teams from the same city to play in the World Series. The only time that happened in St. Louis was in 1944. In the American League, the St. Louis Browns went 14–3 over their last 17 games that year. The Detroit Tigers went 13–4 over the same period. The two teams were tied with one game left in the season. The Browns won and the Tigers lost on the final day of the campaign to give the Browns the only pennant they won in over 50 years in St. Louis (the franchise moved to Baltimore in 1954). The Washington Nationals came in last with a 64–90 record.

There wasn’t a pennant race in the National League in 1944. The St. Louis Cardinals dominated the league with 105 wins. The Pittsburgh Pirates’ 90 victories were second best. It was the third consecutive year the Cardinals had won the NL pennant and won more than 100 games. The only other team with three straight 100-win seasons before the Cardinals was the Philadelphia Athletics from 1929–31.8 The Cardinals won the World Series four games to two. One notable aspect of the Series was that every game was played in the same ballpark, since the two teams shared Sportsman’s Park as their home field.9

The Cardinals’ chances for a fourth consecutive pennant were reduced when three 1944 All-Stars had to serve in the military in 1945. Stan Musial missed the entire season, and catcher Walker Cooper and hurler Max Lanier played briefly before being called up. The pitching staff took another blow when 22-game winner Mort Cooper, who had feuded with St. Louis owner Sam Breadon over his salary, was traded to the Boston Braves early in the season for nine-game-winner Red Barrett.

The two pitchers switched roles in 1945. Barrett collected 21 wins for the Cardinals while an elbow injury limited Cooper to 11 starts for the Braves.10 In addition to the surprise performance from Barrett, the Cardinals got an unexpected contribution from rookie pitcher Ken Burkhart, whose 18 wins and 2.90 ERA helped keep the Cardinals in contention through the year. In light of what happened in 1945, it should be noted that the Chicago Cubs finished the 1944 season 30 games out of first place with a 75–79 record.

The 1945 baseball schedule contained an unusually high number of doubleheaders. This was done in order to minimize team travel in response to wartime travel restrictions.11 Table 1 shows the dates of 1945 doubleheaders for the top two teams in each league. The schedule was a success in in minimizing travel, but it made the season a relentless grind for the players. This was justified as a wartime necessity, but it exhausted the players, especially pitchers, and made the last two months of the season as much a test of survival as a race for the pennant.12

The American League contenders got the worst of it. Detroit played six doubleheaders in May and July. This was followed by nine in both August and September for a total of 36 doubleheaders over the course of the season. The Nationals had it even worse. The team played seven doubleheaders in both June and July, and then had an incredible 14 twin bills in August, with nine more in September. The Nationals played a doubleheader on five consecutive days at the beginning of August (going 9–1 over those 10 games), and a total of 44 over the course of the campaign.

Why did the team play so many games the last two months of the season? In addition to wartime travel restrictions, the Nationals owner, Clark Griffith, had agreed to let the Washington professional football team use the field during the last week of the baseball season, so the Nats had to finish their schedule on September 23 instead of September 30. It’s likely that Washington was able to stay competitive in spite of having to play so many games during the last eight weeks because the pitching staff had four knuckleball pitchers. Dutch Leonard (17–7), Roger Wolff (20–10), Mickey Haefner (16–14), and Johnny Niggeling (7–12) all featured the easier-on-the-arm knuckleball.

Griffith’s early adoption of night baseball (the Nationals played more night games than any other team), which allowed wartime workers to go to games and increased attendance, also helped the knucklers. “The knuckler has the edge under the lights,” Wolff said. “Leonard and Niggeling and myself ought to do all right.”13 Wolff was right. Data from the 1945 season show the four pitchers had a combined 2.84 ERA during the day vs. 2.20 at night. The day/night split for batting average against was .243/.218. But these better pitching numbers didn’t translate into more wins. The Nationals had a .550 winning average at night against a .570 winning average during the day.14

The overall quality of play may have had something to do with the quartet’s success. Collectively weaker hitting in 1945 may have enabled Washington to rely on a primarily knuckleball-pitching staff. The history of night baseball is tangential to this story. However, a short digression will be of interest given the modern tendency to play games at night. The first night game was played in Cincinnati in 1935. But baseball was very slow to adopt the innovation. Why was that? The short answer is because of the attitude of the owners. “Why, this night game is baseball’s ruination. It changes baseball players from athletes to actors. It’s nothing more than a spectacle,” said Tigers owner Frank Navin.

Sportswriter H.G. Salsinger, summarizing the attitude of the time, wrote, “Baseball was made to be played in the daylight. It just isn’t as good at night, it can’t be. Infielders can’t get a jump on the ball at night. Ground balls go through the infield that would be fielded in daylight. You cannot see the spin of the ball at night—only a white object sailing at you. Night baseball is a much inferior game.”15

THE FIRST FOUR MONTHS OF THE 1945 SEASON

The performance in terms of games over .500 for the American League over the first two-thirds of the 1945 season is shown in Figure 1.

Figures 1 and 2 are a little confusing because they show the performance of all eight teams in each league. The easiest way to understand each graph is to start with the team names on the right side and follow the line for a particular team from right to left in order to see what happened to the team earlier in the season.

In Figure 1, the data points for Boston and St. Louis are on top of each other. Therefore, there are two lines coming out of the sixth data point and there are seven (instead of eight) final data points on the far right side. In 1945, the season opened on Tuesday, April 17. The AL standings after play on Sundays at approximately monthly intervals are displayed in Figure 1. One month into the season the New York Yankees and Chicago White Sox led the league with the Tigers just a game behind, and the defending champ Browns three games in arrears with a .500 record. However, the standings that day were of minor importance compared with the news that Germany had surrendered on May 8.

In addition to the national jubilation that followed V-E Day, the implications for baseball were significant. Two million soldiers, including many major league players, were to be released within the next year, and War Department reviews of 4-F professional athletes were suspended.16 This resulted in many players returning to their teams over the course of the 1945 season.

By mid-June, the Tigers had moved into first place and the White Sox had fallen off the pace. The Yankees trailed Detroit by 1 1/2 games while the Nationals were four games under .500 and 61⁄2 games behind. Two of the most important events of the season (from an AL pennant race perspective) occurred between mid-June and mid-July. The Nationals went 18–6 over the month to move into second place, just 1 1/2 games behind Detroit, on July 15. The most surprising aspect of this run was that most of it took place on a 19-game road trip.

Both teams got some excellent news in this timeframe. Hank Greenberg, one of the first major league players to go into the service, returned to the Tigers on July 1. He hit the 250th home run of his career in his first game back. The Nationals got an offensive boost from the return of Buddy Lewis on July 27. Although Lewis did not have Greenberg’s power, he batted .333 with 37 RBIs over 69 games to provide an offensive boost to a Nationals team that batted .258 on the season. These two teams continued to play well over the next month. They had separated themselves from the rest of the league by August 12, with the Tigers leading the Nats by two games.

The race in the National League prior to August 12 is shown in Figure 2. The two NL teams in New York got off to fast starts in 1945. The New York Giants went 16–5 over the first month to lead the Brooklyn Dodgers by two games just after V-E Day. Both teams fell back to the rest of the NL pack over the following month, so by mid-June, the top six teams in the NL were separated by just 3 1/2 games, with Brooklyn on top.

As in the AL, the next month was significant for the pennant race. The Cubs went 21–7 (which included a 13–3 road trip) to take a four-game lead over the Cardinals by mid-July. The Dodgers were just a game behind St. Louis. Chicago continued to play well for the next month, going 21–8 from July 16 to August 12. This increased their lead over St. Louis to six games with Brooklyn trailing the Cardinals by just a half game at the end of play on August 12.

THE FINAL SEVEN WEEKS IN THE AMERICAN LEAGUE

Although the war in Europe had ended in May, the conflict with Japan continued as the calendar turned to August. Thousands of men were sent to the Pacific Theater in preparation for an invasion of the Japanese mainland. Casualties on both sides were expected to be very high during the invasion. But a new weapon of war and the Soviet Union’s declaration of war against Japan on August 8 changed the course of history. Japan surrendered on August 14 after atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima on August 6 and Nagasaki on August 9.

From a baseball perspective, the end of the war meant that all of the former players would be coming back. The only question was whether they would return in time for them to play in 1945. Two prominent examples were Bob Feller and Joe DiMaggio. Feller’s highly anticipated return occurred on August 24 against the Tigers in Cleveland. It seemed as though he’d never been away. The Indians beat the Tigers 4–2 behind Feller’s complete game four-hitter (with 12 strikeouts). But the War Department didn’t discharge DiMaggio in time. His return would have to wait until 1946.

The last seven weeks of the pennant race in the AL are shown in Figure 3. There are several differences between the first roughly two-thirds of the race in Figure 1 and the last third in Figure 3. First, in order to focus on the contest for the pennant, only the top four teams in the league are shown. In addition, the results are shown weekly, rather than monthly.

Figure 3 shows that the league-leading Tigers stayed 16 games over .500 between August 12 and September 2, while the Nationals moved from 12 to 14 games over .500. This left Washington one game behind after play on the second day of September. The Nationals made up some of that ground by winning three out of four during a series in Detroit August 15–18. Although it is not shown in Figure 3, Washington trailed by just a half game on August 22 and August 24.

In spite of the heavy workload, Washington went 9–3 in the 12 games after September 2. But unfortunately for the Nationals, Detroit (which played five doubleheaders in the same timeframe) also played very well that week, so the Tigers maintained a one game lead after play on Monday, September 10. Detroit’s lead was reduced to a half game as the Tigers entered a crucial five-game series (back-to-back doubleheaders on Saturday and Sunday, with another game on Tuesday) against the Nationals in Washington starting on Saturday, September 15.

The Nationals’ chances to move into first place were improved because Greenberg could not play due to injury.17 Pitching, which had been the strength of the Washington club all season, did not perform well during the Saturday twin bill. The Nationals allowed seven runs in both games and were swept, leaving them 2 1/2 games back. A split on Sunday and a victory on Tuesday left them 1 1/2 games behind with just five more away games on their truncated schedule. Washington still trailed by 1 1/2 games entering its final two games, against the A’s in Philadelphia on September 23. The Tigers lost to the Browns that day, so a sweep by the Nationals would have put them into a virtual tie for first place. The Nationals won the nightcap, but the first game has gone down in infamy for Washington fans. Leading 3–0 in the middle of the eighth inning, two consecutive Nationals errors put men on first and second with no outs. That led to three unearned runs for the Athletics, and the game went into extra innings.

In the top of the 12th inning, the A’s center fielder, Sam Chapman, was having trouble with the sun so he requested timeout to have his sunglasses brought out. Bingo Binks, the Nationals center fielder, didn’t take the hint. He went out for the bottom of the 12th without sunglasses. With two outs, Binks lost an easy popup in the sun, and the batter, outfielder Ernie Kish, reached second base. Kish scored on a single by George Kell to give Philadelphia a walk-off victory, leaving Washington one game behind the Tigers as their season ended.18

Detroit had four games scheduled for the following week. If the Tigers lost three of four they would be tied with the Nationals. They split the first two games before traveling to St. Louis for a season-ending doubleheader against the Browns on September 30. Had the Browns swept, there would have been a one-game playoff in Detroit for the pennant.19

The first game of the twin bill is arguably the most well-known game played in 1945. It was raining in St. Louis for the 10th straight day on September 30.20 The field was a quagmire, and the game probably would not have been played if the pennant were not at stake.21 The contest commenced after a 50-minute delay, with Virgil Trucks, just a few days after being discharged from the Navy, starting for the Tigers.22 Trucks allowed a run in the bottom of the first, but the Tigers took the lead with single tallies in the fifth and sixth innings. The Browns scored single runs in the seventh and eighth to take a 3–2 lead going into the ninth. Pete Gray, the Browns’ one-armed outfielder, scored the go-ahead run in the eighth. Nels Potter, the starter for the Browns, was still pitching in the ninth. A single, fielder’s choice, bunt, and intentional walk brought Greenberg to the plate as a pinch-hitter with the bases loaded. Greenberg described what happened next:

As he wound up on the next pitch, I could read his grip on the ball and I could tell he was going to throw a screwball. I swung and hit a line drive toward the corner of the left-field bleachers. I stood at the plate and watched the ball for fear the umpire would call it foul. It landed a few feet inside the foul pole for a grand slam. We won the game, and the pennant, and all the players charged the field when I reached home plate and they pounded me on the back and carried on like I was a hero.23

The Browns failed to score in the bottom of the inning, and the second game was not played.

From a modern perspective, another interesting aspect of the story is that the Tigers would have won the pennant even if they had lost the first game. The weather conditions and darkness would have precluded the second game being played. There was no rule at the time saying a team had to complete its schedule, even if any unplayed games had bearing on the pennant race. Since the second game could not have been played, even with a loss, the Tigers would have won the pennant by a half game.24

THE FINAL SEVEN WEEKS IN THE NATIONAL LEAGUE

The last seven weeks of the pennant race in the NL are shown in Figure 4, which shows that the Cubs had a comfortable lead over the Cardinals and the Dodgers on August 12. Brooklyn went 2–8 over their next 10 games, including losing three out of four to the Cubs at Ebbets Field, which essentially ended their bid for the pennant. Chicago and St. Louis faced off seven times in late August and early September. The Cubs got swept in three games at home, and then lost three out of four in St. Louis. This put the Cardinals just 11⁄2 games behind Chicago after play on September 2.

Both teams had favorable schedules in September. The Cardinals were at home almost the entire month before finishing the season with six away games starting on September 25. The Cubs had an 18-game home stand from September 3–17, with eight away games in the latter part of the month. They both took advantage of playing at home. The Cardinals won seven straight from September 6–12. But unfortunately for St. Louis, Chicago went 13–4 from September 3–16 to increase its lead to four games after play on Sunday, September 16.

A Cardinals victory and a Cubs loss on the 17th meant the teams were separated by three games as the Cubs went to St. Louis for a three-game series starting on the 18th. The two teams were also scheduled to play two games in Chicago the following week. The Cardinals had good reason to be confident that they could catch the Cubs. The three-time defending NL champs were 13–4 against Chicago for the season, and had won three of their last four games going into the September 18 contest. St. Louis won the game on the 18th to close to within two games.

A late-season acquisition by the Cubs had a big impact on half of the remaining games between the two clubs. The Cubs purchased pitcher Hank Borowy from the Yankees for $97,000 (an immense figure at the time) on July 27.25 Borowy, who went 108–82 in a 10-year major league career, is not well remembered today, but he was the ace of the Yankees staff in 1944. He had 10 wins for the Bronx Bombers in 1945 before he was sent to the Cubs, and he made an immediate impact on the NL pennant race. Borowy went 8–2 with a 1.96 ERA for Chicago before starting against the Cardinals on September 19. George Dockins was on the mound for St. Louis for the contest on the 19th. The game was a classic pitchers’ duel. The Cubs put a runner on second in the first and fourth innings, but failed to drive in the run. The Cardinals loaded the bases in the sixth inning but Borowy ended the threat by inducing a double play, so the game was scoreless after seven innings. In the home half of the eighth, Borowy walked Dockins (who was batting ninth) with one out. The Cardinals hurler scored on consecutive singles to put St. Louis ahead, 1–0, entering the ninth.

Dockins got the Cubs leadoff hitter in the ninth to ground to third, but an error by St. Louis third baseman Whitey Kurowski allowed Don Johnson to reach first.26 A sacrifice bunt by Peanuts Lowrey put pinch-runner Ed Sauer in scoring position. The Cubs were down to their last out after Phil Cavarretta popped out. With one more out the Cardinals would be within a single game of the Cubs. But a single by Andy Pafko drove in the tying run, and the game went to extra innings after Borowy set the Cardinals down in order in the bottom of the ninth. The Cubs scored three times in the top of the 10th and won the contest 4–1, with Borowy again retiring the side in order in the home 10th.27

With the benefit of hindsight, the race likely turned on the outcome of the game on the 19th. St. Louis won the third game of the series, but Borowy’s victory meant the Cubs lead was still two games with just eight games left in the season. St. Louis trimmed a half game from that lead entering a two-game series in Chicago the next week. A sweep would put the Cardinals in first place with five games remaining. But St. Louis would have to beat Borowy in the first game to make that happen.

Borowy was not as sharp as he had been in the last game, and the Cardinals led 3–2 in the middle of the seventh. But the Cubs pushed four runs across the plate in the bottom of the inning to take a 6–3 lead. St. Louis made it close with two runs in the eighth, but couldn’t get the hit that would tie the game. The Cardinals won the second game of the series, but for the second consecutive week, Borowy had notched the win against St. Louis in a crucial game.

The Cubs won their last five games of the season to win the pennant by a final margin of three games over the Cardinals. Borowy was 11–2 with a 2.13 ERA after he was acquired by Chicago. It needs to be mentioned that Borowy was not the only Cubs pitcher to make a big contribution to securing the pennant. The wartime player shortage compelled Chicago to turn to 38-year-old Ray Prim in an effort to bolster their rotation. Prim responded with a career year that was topped by a tremendous run during the final three months of the season. From July 6 to the end of the season Prim went 11–4 with a 1.27 ERA. His 2.40 ERA overall led the league.

CONCLUSION

The main point of this article is to describe the 1945 pennant races, not the 1945 World Series. That said, it is appropriate to conclude the article with a brief description of what happened after those two exciting races.

The playoff structure in major league baseball was very simple before 1969. The pennant winners faced off in the World Series. So after two tight pennant races, Chicago, with a 98–56 record, played the 88–65 Tigers in the Fall Classic. Detroit’s chances against the Cubs had been boosted by the September return of Vigil Trucks, who started two games against the Cubs in the World Series, winning one and getting a no-decision in the other. Given the drama of the two pennant races, it seems appropriate that a World Series between these two teams would come down to a winner-take-all game. The Tigers scored five runs in the first inning of Game Seven and went on to win the contest 9–3. It was the second World Series victory for Detroit. The Tigers had won their first championship with a victory over the Cubs in 1935. Finally, it would be a dereliction of duty to summarize the 1945 World Series and not mention one of the most famous animals in baseball history. For over 70 years, until the Cubs reached the promised land in 2016, many Chicagoans believed that a goat was preventing the Cubs from winning the World Series. Legend has it that a Chicago tavern owner cursed the team when he and the goat he had brought to Game Four of the 1945 World Series were thrown out of the ballpark. The Curse of the Billy Goat was born. But there is more to the legend than that. Glen Sparks tells the rest of the story in SABR’s Wrigley Field: The Friendly Confines at Clark and Addison. The author was part of a small group of SABR members who had the opportunity to visit the Billy Goat Tavern during the 2023 SABR convention in Chicago. 

DOUGLAS JORDAN is a professor emeritus at Sonoma State University in Northern California. He has been a regular contributor to the BRJ since 2014. He runs marathons and plays chess when he is not watching or writing about baseball. You can contact him at jordand@sonoma.edu.

APPENDICES: OTHER INTERESTING ASPECTS FOR PLAYERS WITH DGS AWARDS

A-1. PLAYERS WITH THE FIRST DGS FOR VARIOUS FRANCHISES

Table A-1 provides, in chronological order, a list of the first DGS achieved by various franchises. Some franchises did not have any of their players achieve a DGS—for example, the Boston Braves, Philadelphia Athletics, Seattle Pilots, or Montreal Expos.

Table A-1 reveals that it took nearly a century for a St. Louis Cardinals player to achieve a DGS. There had been 89 golden sombreros by players on the Redbirds 1901–96 before Ron Gant earned the DGS in late 1996. That was the longest DGS incubation period for any of the eight franchises comprising the NL at the beginning of the twentieth century. Similarly, the original AL Washington Senators did not have any of their players accomplish a DGS 1901–60. It was not until 44 years after the franchise shifted to Minneapolis and became the Twins, that Jacque Jones collected the first DGS for the Nationals-Senators-Twins in 2004. There were 107 golden sombreros by Nationals-Senators-Twins players before Jones homered for the DGS. Six of the 34 players included in Table A-1 are Hall of Famers—Frank Robinson, Duke Snider, Willie McCovey, Mike Schmidt, Jim Rice, and Harold Baines.

A-2. DGS PLAYERS WITH GRAND SLAM HOMERS In addition to the jackpot wallop by Derek Norris shown in Table 5, five other players compensated for their four strikeouts with four-run homers. Table A-2 shows the first two jackpot DGSs were slugged by Reggie Jackson when he played for the Angels. He’s the only player with a pair of bases-loaded DGSs. Here are some of things Mr. October said about his first jackpot DGS performance: “I know I struck out [four times] but you have to keep plugging. I finally got something good to hit.”1 The 0 had this headline—“One swing wipes out Reggie’s four Ks.” In the article, Jackson stated, “As much as I strike out, I think I pay for my hits.” Seattle manager Rene Lachmann added, “We struck him out four times and he gets four RBIs—four big ones.”2 Since the Angels defeated the Mariners 11–9, Jackson’s 4-run downtowner was vital for the victory. Jackson also added, “I was lucky. The kid [Ed Vande Berg] made a mistake. I earned that S.O.B tonight.”3

While Reggie was the first (and still the only) player with two bases-loaded DGS performances, he was not the first player to accumulate a pair of DGS awards. That distinction was claimed by Dave Kingman.

A-3. PLAYERS WITH MULTIPLE DGS GAMES

Table A-3a. Players with Two DGS Performances

Table A-3a provides a list of “all” the players who accumulated a pair of DGS awards. In addition to the dozen players with a pair of DGS games, there have been three players with three or more DGS performances; they’re listed in Table A-3b. Ryan Howard has the most DGSs—five.

Table A-3b. Players with Three or More DGS Performances

A-4. PLAYERS WITH MULTIPLE HOMERS IN THEIR DGS GAMES Four players went downtown twice in their DGS games. As described previously, for two of these players—Evan Longoria and Brandon Moss—their second downtowner was a last-inning, game-winning bonafide walk-off home run.

TABLE A-5. DGS PLAYERS WITH GAME-STARTING LEADOFF HOMERS Seven players started their DGS game with a leadoff home run and then suffered four strikeouts. In fact, two of the players endured five subsequent strikeouts—Brian Dozier and Dexter Fowler—thereby meriting downtown platinum sombrero awards.

A-6. PLAYERS WHO EARNED THE DOWNTOWN PLATINUM SOMBRERO AWARD Five players have merited downtown platinum sombrero awards.

A-7. PLAYERS WHO ACHIEVED A DOWNTOWN GOLDEN SOMBRERO IN THE POSTSEASON Only four players have merited a DGS award in post-season play. The first one was achieved by Wayne Garrett in the 1973 World Series. It remains the only DGS in the Fall Classic. While there have not yet been any DGSs in the League Championship Series, there have been three DGSs in League Division Series. Of particular interest are the two in the 1996 ALDS—Bobby Bonilla and Rafael Palmeiro achieved their DGSs in the same game. They each went downtown in their first at bat and then struck out four times. Interestingly, they went downtown in back-to-back fashion. Palmeiro, batting clean-up, and Bonilla, batting in the fifth slot, took Cleveland’s Charles Nagy downtown in the second inning of the fourth game. Bonilla then struck out in his next four at bats before flying out in his sixth at bat; Palmeiro struck out in his next three at bats before flying out in his fifth at bat and striking out in his sixth at bat.

NOTES

1 “Reggie’s slam paces Angels,” Tulare (California) Advance-Register, August 7, 1982, 6.

2 “One swing wipes out Reggie’s four Ks,” San Francisco Examiner, August 7, 1982, C3.

3 Mark Wallace, “Jackson, Kelleher key Angels over M’s, 11–9,” The (Tacoma) News Tribune, August 7, 1982, B1.

At its 1876 founding, the National League presented the nascent professional baseball community with a business model radically different from that of its predecessor: the National Association of 1871–75. The key difference was membership restrictions that were widely criticized as arbitrary and elitist, and were not yet proven to be effective. Perhaps the foremost critic was Henry Chadwick, the leading baseball writer of the era and the only journalist enshrined in the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. He attempted to demonstrate that the league’s model was not superior by publicizing the many losses incurred by league clubs in their numerous exhibition games against outsiders. But he often failed to mention the always larger number of wins. This article hopes to set that record straight by summarizing, for the first time, the full results of those games during the key formative period of 1876–81.

The league’s successful 1880 and 1881 seasons (as we will discuss) confirmed the efficacy of its business model. In contrast, the National Association, with its erratic model, had failed, as had the minor International/National Association of 1877–80 that had adopted the NA’s model. In 1882, the American Association entered the field as a major league, using the league model, and had a generally successful 10-year run. Since then, the league model has been the dominant structure for baseball organizations, major and minor, and most other team sports organizations.

The first section that follows provides relevant background regarding early professional baseball. The second discusses in more detail Chadwick’s campaign to undermine the National League’s claim of superiority. The third section describes our data-gathering process. The results are then presented, covering more than 900 games between league and non-league clubs during 1876–81. National League teams won more than two-thirds of these games, contrary to Chadwick. The last section provides a summary and conclusions.

BACKGROUND

Professional baseball was first openly accepted for the 1869 season, but the first formal all-professional organization, the National Association, didn’t appear until 1871. Its main purpose was to provide structure for the national championship competition. Entry was essentially open, as any club could join simply by paying a nominal fee for a one-year membership. There were no other requirements, i.e., the NA was open to any and all comers. It somewhat resembled an annual tournament rather than a league as the word is now understood.

Mainly for this reason, the NA was highly unstable. Twenty-five different clubs participated over its five-year life, with the number varying annually from eight to 13.1 Some were relatively sound stock organizations with salaried players, mainly in big cities. Many others, however, often in small towns, were financially weak gate-sharing cooperatives, and still others were hybrids. The turnover was large, with 18 clubs competing in only one or two seasons. Also there were no fewer than 14 midseason failures, mostly co-ops, with at least one in every season. Only three clubs competed in each of the five years: the Athletics of Philadelphia, the Bostons, and the Mutuals of New York. The first season, 1871, began with nine participants. The NA also had a competitive balance problem, with the Boston Red Stockings winning four of five championships.

Dissatisfaction with the NA produced the National League, founded at a meeting in February 1876 whose true purpose was kept secret. It was organized by William Hulbert, president of the NA’s Chicago club. As with the NA, a main goal was to determine a national champion. Five other of the NA’s top clubs participated, including the mainstay Athletics, Bostons, and Mutuals, causing the NA to fold. The independent Cincinnati and Louisville clubs also were present at the meeting, with all seven attendees having been vetted by Hulbert beforehand. Not invited were any other clubs who might have had an interest in competing for the national championship, including other current and past NA members.

Also excluded from the meeting was Henry Chadwick, likely because he was presumed to favor the NA’s open organizational model over the league’s proposed restrictive model.2 In particular, membership was to be limited to eight stock clubs, only one per city, and only in cities with a minimum population of 75,000, although early exceptions were made to the population minimum. Last, the membership fee was increased substantially to $100 and, while it was still paid annually, membership was presumed to continue indefinitely until resignation or expulsion.3 The restrictions were designed to achieve league stability by promoting the financial success of clubs and minimizing midseason failures.

But the exclusion of other interested contestants for the national championship was criticized as arbitrary and elitist by many in the professional baseball community. For example, as business of baseball historian Michael Haupert notes, “Several newspapers spoke out against the league.”4 As Tom Melville observed in Early Baseball and the Rise of the National League: “The main criticism of the National League was its closed circuit format, the self-appointed right…to designate [the clubs] entitled to compete for the national championship.”5 Additionally, Chadwick accused Hulbert of having an unstated goal of usurping control of the professional game, which may indeed have been true. Many historians feel that he also took umbrage at his personal exclusion from the meeting, an affront to his image as America’s preeminent baseball writer.6

With the benefit of hindsight from a century and a half, the superiority of the league model seems obvious. But that was by no means clear at the time. While its performance during 1876–81 was an improvement over the NA, by modern standards it was still very much a work in progress. Table 1 summarizes league membership during this six-year period. It included 19 different clubs, with 11 competing in only one or two seasons. The 1877 Cincinnatis failed in June, but were quickly replaced with another Cincinnati club.7 And in 1879, Syracuse failed a few weeks before the season’s end, but with no replacement. By 1878, only two of the charter members remained: the Bostons and Chicagos, who participated in all six seasons.

But toward the end of the period, membership stabilized. In 1880, six of the eight clubs from the prior season returned, with a new club in Cincinnati, and in 1881 seven of eight returned. And in 1882, for the first time, league membership remained unchanged.

The economic depression that began in 1873 and lasted until March 1879 no doubt contributed to the league’s problems in its first few years.8 It was not a propitious time to initiate a major new business undertaking. For example, according to an official league statement published in August 1878, the “business depression has so far affected the receipts [of league clubs] that a loss is already assured.”9

The league also suffered from a balance problem. Table 2 shows the cumulative standings of the 17 clubs for 1876–81. Only six had a winning average above .500, and 45% of total wins were accounted for by just three clubs: Chicago, Boston, and Providence. And only two—Chicago and Boston—won five of the six championships.

Thus, during most of this formative period the jury was still out on the league and its unique business model.