Kansas was a wild place in the 19th Century. When the time came for statehood, its status as a Slave State or a Free State was to be determined by a vote of its inhabitants, so advocates from the North and South flooded into the territory in an effort to tip the scales in favor of one or the other. When admitted to the Union on January 29, 1861, it was all a moot point; seven Southern states had already seceded and the first shots of the Civil War were mere weeks away. Kansas was by default a Free, Northern State, but in getting there had been steeped in violent bloodshed.

Twenty-five years later, the wounds were still raw. In September of 1890, the town of Atchison held a memorial event, a “sham battle,” at their fairgrounds. About ninety men, black and white, poured onto the field to do battle, led by make-believe Union and Confederate commanders. A cannon fired throughout the melee, as aging veterans attacked one another with crutches and canes. Men who had missed out on the original war belted one another with sword handles and rifle butts. Young boys, raised on their grandfathers’ war stories and longing for the glory of mangling a Yank or Reb, joined in, while women and children sipped lemonade and watched with amusement from the sidelines. Behind them, fist fights broke out and faces got smashed. It was all in good fun.

One 16-year-old boy raised a Union flag and charged across the grounds to plant it in the mouth of the cannon at the southern end of the field. He got there just in time for the big gun to be fired; there was no cannonball, naturally (though since this was 1890 Kansas, could you really be sure?), but his face was peppered with tiny clumps of sizzling gunpowder. “It will take Dr.Campbell the balance of the month to get all the powder out of his face,” chuckled the Atchison Weekly Patriot.1 The 16-year-old in the middle of the sheer Kansas chaos that rattled the teeth of the residents of Atchison was Frank Quigg — frontier-tough, which is what it took to one day survive a season as an umpire in the Iowa League.

Frank was no Wild West urchin. At 17, he went to Philadelphia for college and was a genuine lawyer and son-of-a-lawyer from one of the most well-to-do families in Atchison. He was as much a ballplayer as student, and spent the years playing madcap, 1890s-style ball wherever opportunity arose, from Kansas and Missouri to Texas and Tennessee. He built a reputation as a reliable pitcher, but also as a hardcore drinker. Much later, as his playing declined, the Leavenworth Standard suggested “his downfall is due to bad habits.” His playing career staggered to a halt in the town teams of Kansas in the last part of the decade, pausing briefly for a patriotic sojourn with the First Ohio Volunteer Regiment in the Spanish-American War.

Quigg decided if he couldn’t take the field, he would take charge. In 1903 he labored to organize Oklahoma City’s first long-running ballclub, but he was squeezed out and the team moved ahead without him. Determined to stay in the game, he took up umpiring in his home state that summer. The next year he was hired by the new Iowa League, where he was so uncompromising and loud (“with a voice like a Wisconsin bull frog”) that people both loved him and loathed him. In a league where umpires were regularly attacked by players and fans alike, it was a harrowing way to make a living. But opponents generally backed down in the face of Quigg’s firm countenance, and he was the only arbiter to withstand the entire Iowa League season.

Quigg’s superpower was knowing how to shut them down. Once, the Burlington bleacherites howled so loudly and uncontrollably that he couldn’t make his pregame announcement. The police had to step in to quiet the crowd. He finally pronounced, “When the snakes stop hissing and the rabble ceases showing its displeasure, I will announce the batteries.”2 Players knew that when he did blow a call, he would balance the scales with a call going the other way later on in the game. Still, the point was finally reached when grievances from every Iowa manager added up, and he ultimately got the axe midway into 1905. His reputation assured that he would never be out of work for long.

Over the years he officiated in one league after another, to generally high praise. At one point, he was approached by a touring group of Japanese players and investors who sought to recruit him to help organize their leagues back home; he ultimately declined to migrate to Tokyo. Everywhere he went, people called him “Senator” Quigg for his lawyer-like sense of authority and elocution. “Umpire Quigg is said to be a spellbinder and politician of considerable ability. When there is a prospect of a prolonged discussion over any of his decisions, he calmly pulls his watch and announces to the contestants that the ‘polls will soon close.’”3 Not everyone appreciated his demeanor, though, and he withstood fists and missiles from spectator and ballplayer alike; sometimes he got cold-cocked from behind, because he was such a threatening figure that even the toughest of the tough might be disinclined to challenge him face-to-face.

His status grew during a long stint down in Texas, and by 1908 when he landed in the South Atlantic League, he was being scouted as potential umpire material for the majors. For Quigg, the big league dream was within reach.

Just as suddenly, things went south. Always the man in charge on the diamond, he became disoriented on the field and overnight was unable to do an umpire’s job. The South Atlantic League fired him in no time, and he couldn’t last long in any other league he tried. He wandered the country and ended up back in Oklahoma City where, at the close of 1909, he hooked up with a genuine outlaw named Frank Carpenter, who had knocked off the post office in Golden, Colorado, just weeks before. Armed with a satchel of stolen stamps, Carpenter recruited Quigg and a third hombre, Harry Dilbeck, with his sights set on a slightly bigger target: the First State Bank in Harrah, a little town on the Rock Island Railroad just east of Oklahoma City.

The gang of three would-be Jesse Jameses sauntered into an Oklahoma City pawnshop run by a fellow named Gomez, where they unloaded the stamps and perused the shelves for various tools of the larceny trade. While they did their shopping, they jabbered away … something along the lines of: “We could use a stick of that dynamite … better make it two … and them there fuses. And that jimmy ought to work to pry open a door.” As they assembled their kit, they boastfully laid out the plan for the New Year’s Eve heist while shopkeeper Gomez listened silently at the counter. They topped off their shopping spree with a pair of well-worn six-shooters, packed up their booty and left.

Not long after, local U.S. Marshal Jack Abernathy got wind of suspicious packets of stamps that were turning up around town; the breadcrumbs led right to Gomez’s pawnshop. It wouldn’t have been Gomez’s first strike, so the seedy shopkeeper quickly spilled out a diversion. “This is small potatoes,” you can picture him sputtering, “but if you let me off the hook, I can tell you all about the real action, the big bank job that is happening later this week.” Marshal Abernathy began assembling his posse.

Back with our bank-robbing gang, there was plenty going on behind the scenes. What Quigg and Dilbeck didn’t know was that Frank Carpenter was harboring a secret.

Somewhere along the line, Carpenter must have realized that the odds were low for the success of this particular trio of bandits. Or maybe he simply saw an easier route to a “score” on this heist. In any event, Carpenter snuck away from his compadres for a little while to pay a visit to the Marshal’s office, where he spilled the beans about the whole Harrah First State Bank job, in return for a supposed cash reward that may have only existed in his imagination. He insisted that Quigg himself was the brains behind the operation. The deputy he spoke to was surely bemused; the Marshal and his men already knew about the upcoming New Year’s Eve plot, and their job kept getting easier and easier. Besides, of Carpenter’s three-man gang, there was only one man who was actually wanted by the law, and the deputy was looking right at him.

So it came down that, at one a.m. on Friday, December 31, a trio of desperados rode furtively into Harrah, South Dakota, hitched their horses and buggy in a secluded area, and crept under the moonlight to the alley side of the town’s little bank building. Adjacent was the Harrah Post Office – post offices being familiar territory for Carpenter – and they spent a fair amount of time trying to jimmy open the door. Failing that, they slunk around to the front. While Carpenter and Dilbeck kept watch, Quigg worked to remove the glass window in the door.

In the darkened windows of the hotel directly across the street was U.S. Marshal Abernathy, watching the scenario unfold. In the shadows of the surrounding buildings were a dozen other lawmen, shotguns cocked. They were waiting for the trio to gain entry into the bank so they could advance, trap them inside, and take them alive. But it was taking Quigg forever to simply get the window off the door. Just then came a huge commotion. It was one o’clock in the morning and a giddy teenager was racing down the street, firing a pistol and singing at the top of his lungs, his galloping steed leaving a cloud of dust in its trail. This country boy had been to a New Year’s Eve country dance, with rollicking tastes of kisses from his country girl, and was hellbent on waking the whole country up. The Carpenter gang froze, thinking a posse had arrived. The jimmy dropped — CLANG — from Quigg’s hands. Carpenter and Dilbeck started for the alley. And out of the darkness, the Marshal’s men opened fire.

Quigg dug into his pocket for his gun, the rickety revolver obtained from Gomez’s pawnshop in exchange for two-cent stamps. Squinting into the darkness across the street, he squeezed the trigger.

The next day, a newspaper reporter was beside himself in admiration as he panted his own version of the story: “Quigg stood his ground and although volley after volley was poured at him, he did not give an inch until he fell. Mortally wounded in four places, Quigg returned the fire until a bullet from the gun of one of the officers went through his heart.”4 It reads like a glorious dime novel, but it didn’t exactly go like that.

Instead, when Quigg pulled the trigger, he got nothing but an empty click. Nothing. The pistol from Gomez’s pawnshop was worthless.

A rain of shotgun fire came down upon poor Frank Quigg, though it was said that it was a bullet from noble Abernathy’s rifle that ultimately pierced his heart. Hit in the chest and stomach eighteen times, he was probably, as they say, dead before he hit the ground, thudding to Mother Earth at the same instant as his ineffectual pistol. Dilbeck scuttled as far as the post office back door and huddled there until his capture. Carpenter was mortally wounded as well, despite his broad gestures to remind the officers that he was the snitch who was cooperating with them. Though he lingered a while before expiring, he was the biggest fool on the scene, moaning and bleeding to death on a Harrah side street.

It’s a scene that belongs in a flickering silent movie, three hapless clowns on a ridiculous and felonious misadventure. And it would be nice to end Quigg’s story with this bit of comically fatal slapstick. But of course, there’s more to the tale.

Two years earlier, in the spring of 1908, umpire Frank Quigg was settling into his Macon hotel room following a hot and humid Sally League game. Preparing to enjoy a cooling bath, he slipped and cracked his head on the rim of the tub. No one knows how long he was out cold or how much blood was spilled. Any medical care would have been minimal as he couldn’t have afforded a hospital; besides, he was a ballplayer at heart and eschewed doctors. His mind was never the same again. In the weeks that followed, his performance as an umpire spiralled downward until he could no longer find work.

Quigg took to haunting the towns where he had long ago starred on the ballfield, seeking any kind of job to no avail. He was arrested for vagrancy in Marion, Ohio; after being jailed overnight, he was ordered by the mayor to take the shortest road out of town. He spent time in a Texas sanitarium and, being an American war veteran, was held in the Soldiers’ Home in Leavenworth for three weeks. His widowed mother lived in a fair amount of luxury back in Atchison — after his father’s death, she married into further affluence — but in her new home he was unwelcome.

He managed to latch onto an umpiring job in the Texas League, but Quigg’s gig only lasted for a matter of weeks. One day, he was mobbed by forty rabid Oklahoma City fans after a game full of bad calls. After that he stuck steadfastly to the safety of one spot in the middle of the diamond, where he called entire games. No one knew what was going on with the great old umpire, but he was soon out of work for good. With nothing left but a lifelong reliance on drink, Frank Quigg had become a “desperado” in every sense of the word: in desperate need of food, work, money and support.

Finally came “rock bottom” in Harrah.

Word of his death as a would-be bank robber spread fast, accompanied by every punchline you would expect.

“This Umpire was a Real Robber,” quipped the Washington Post. “Noted students of this species of mankind agree that there is no good umpire but a dead umpire.”

Author’s Note

This article is excerpted from the first volume of the author’s newly released Iowa League project, Fort Dodge and the Bawling, Brawling, Hard-Balling Iowa League, Scotnik Press, 2026.

Notes

1. Atchison Weekly Patriot, September 20, 1890.

2. Burlington Hawk Eye, August 9, 1904.

3. Burlington Evening Gazette, May 6, 1904.

4. Oklahoma City News, December 31, 1909. A pair of Hall of Fame brothers, Paul and Lloyd Waner (born 1903 and 1906), were young boys in Harrah at this time. As they later pointed out, “You can spell that backwards or forwards.” A detailed article by Leif Rudi Ernst about the Harrah robbery was published in the Journal of the Wild West History Association, December, 2008. Ernst makes the compelling case for the Carpenter double-cross theory; this was also suggested in some contempo-rary reports but doesn’t account for Carpenter being gunned down along with Quigg. It’s also suggested that Quigg was the brains behind the attempted robbery; knowing what we do about his state of mind (or lack thereof) he seems to fit the role of a patsy more than a mastermind, but anything’s possible. The Journal ac-count is pretty authoritative, but based almost exclusive-ly on one deputy’s self-aggrandizing account. It seems like everyone had their own version of the Legend of the Carpenter-Quigg Gang.

Scott Perry (Trading Card Database)

In 1919, Major League Baseball returned to full strength after the disruption of war. Its revival echoed far beyond the big cities — professional and independent clubs sprang back to life in small towns across the country. Ballplayers were returning from military service, while others who had spent 1918 in essential industries had discovered the advantages of playing for well-paid factory teams.

What follows is an account of independent baseball during the brief post-WWI economic upturn, when two small towns, still wringing the lingering drops from the northwestern Pennsylvania oil boom, carried their profits onto the ball field and touched off an unsustainable arms race.

THE SETTING

Franklin, Pennsylvania, and Oil City lie 10 miles apart, on the banks of the Allegheny River, about 90 miles north of Pittsburgh. Franklin is the seat of Venango County, but Oil City is the larger of the two. In 1919 Oil City’s population was about 20,000; Franklin’s was 10,000.1 The towns had a baseball rivalry stretching back to 1866,2 coinciding with the rise of northwestern Pennsylvania as the cradle of the American oil industry.

The Oil City club played at the West End Grounds along West 1st Street,3 where a railroad car barn crowded right field, just 200 feet from home plate.4 The field had a new clubhouse, with showers, for the 1919 season. Franklin played at Miller-Sibley Field, part of 14 acres donated to the city in 1913. Franklin’s field had no fence in centerfield.5 Each field had a grandstand; the seating capacity at either field remains undiscovered. Any Oil City player hitting a home run was entitled to a free silk shirt.6 In Franklin, the same feat got you free laundry services for the rest of the season.7

Pennsylvania law still prohibited Sunday baseball in 1919. Ohio law permitted it, though, and both Oil City and Franklin crossed the state line to play Sunday games at Idora Park, an amusement park outside Youngstown.8 In May, New York allowed each municipality to decide for itself, and both clubs visited the resort town of Celoron Park, near Jamestown, for Sunday games.9

Oil City and Franklin were hardly alone in the region’s strong baseball scene. Closer to Pittsburgh were clubs such as Allegheny Steel of Tarentum, the Aluminums of New Kensington, the Pittsburgh “Collegians,” and the Homestead Grays. Sixty miles west, the Youngstown, Ohio, area fielded formidable teams including the McElroys, Carnegie Steel, and Sharon Steel Hoop just across the state line in Sharon. 160 miles to the north, the Buffalo region boasted the Niagara Shoe Company team — the “Niagaras” — along with several other powerful nines. Most of these clubs benefited from company backing, a luxury neither Oil City nor Franklin possessed. The president of the Oil City club was John Dickson Rynd, an oil producer, and the Franklin club’s president was James Brown Borland, editor of the Franklin News-Herald.

Reportedly, these teams signed players to contracts, though little evidence remains to show the specific terms. Clubs occasionally “loaned” players to one another, often as short-term replacements for injuries. Sometimes players from one team would appear for another under an alias, with a local newspaper frequently exposing his true identity. Even players under contract to clubs in Organized Baseball10 sometimes took the field, under assumed names.

Neither the Oil City nor the Franklin club had an official team name. The Oil City team was usually referred to simply as the “Independents”. Writers sometimes called the Franklin team the “Nurserymen” or “Nurseryites,” reflecting the city’s nickname as the “Nursery of Great Men.” To avoid confusion, I do not use any of these informal names in this article.

In retrospect, the rivalry is often referred to as the Two Team League. Strictly speaking, there was no “league,” but this term did emerge during the 1919 season. Newspapers initially described games between the two clubs simply as part of a series (against the other team). The earliest use that I found of “two-team league” for this rivalry appears in the June 29 Pittsburg Press.11 By the following week the News-Herald adopted the phrase,12 and within another week began using “The Two-Team League” as the heading for team standings.13

THE STAKES

On the surface, little more than bragging rights were on the line between Oil City and Franklin and their fans. Oil City had had the best of things in 1918, posting a 19–8 record with one tie.14 I’ve found no evidence of a trophy or any monetary prize awarded for the series between the two clubs, even though both teams did offer cash challenges for short series with other opponents in the region.

However, there was substantial betting on these games. Some Oil City and Franklin fans reportedly had a standing $50 wager on each game.15 (The author resists the temptation to convert 1919 currency to modern dollars, but an approximate ratio is 20 to 1.) The News-Herald often mentioned the prevalence of wagering in the ballparks; betting odds were also mentioned, if only after the fact. Moreover, the so-called “Scott Perry Incident,” in which Franklin inserted ringers in the second inning, strongly suggests Franklin management itself had money riding on the outcome.

In the aftermath of that affair, directors of the Oil City club, as well as the News-Herald, publicly condemned betting on the games and called for wagering to be barred from the grounds.16 If anyone made a serious effort to enforce that call, I found no trace of it. On the contrary, betting seems to have continued in Oil City, with thousands of dollars wagered on its final home game.17

FINANCIALS

The teams were funded through stock sales, “subscriptions,” “memberships,” paid attendance, and fund-raising carnivals. I found no evidence of any ancillary income such as concession sales or parking fees.

Oil City attempted to raise money with a campaign to secure 2,000 “members” at $2 a head. By mid-March, however, only about 600 signed up, barely sufficient to cover the salary of new manager Jake Pitler.18 By April 1 that number had increased to 900. The club also sold season tickets at $5 each, good for admission to all non-holiday games between Memorial Day and Labor Day — roughly sixty games. By May 2, 400 season tickets had been sold, with another 300 anticipated.19 Taken together, the 900 memberships and 400 season tickets suggest Oil City entered the season with just under $4,000 in hand.

By February of 1919, Franklin had offered 100 shares of stock at $25 apiece.20 The incoming manager, Otto Jordan, had agreed to take the position only on the condition that the entire $2,500 issue be sold.21 Demand proved strong enough that an additional ten shares were soon offered.22 It’s unclear what these shares actually conferred — did ownership entitle the holder to a share of any profits, or were they simply a thinly disguised donation? Additional subscriptions were expected to pull in several hundred dollars. The proceeds cleared several hundred dollars in debt from the previous season and left roughly $2,000 in working capital.

Those initial funds would not last the entire season. Franklin was close to running out of money by mid-June and raised another $300 in subscriptions.23 On July 1, the News-Herald published a reminder that subscribers who had not yet paid were requested to “make payment at once,” and that “any others who wish to see the club maintained at its present, or increased, strength are asked to make a subscription.”24 Meanwhile, Oil City was also having trouble. By late July it made a plea that the team “needs the money, and needs it now.” Club officials gave many reasons, among them that they’d lost $500 for a home game when Franklin refused to show up, and that much of the club’s bankroll was tied up in a local bank that was shuttered by the State Banking Department.25

Both teams held special fundraising events during the season. Franklin held a two-day street carnival in late July, raising more than $1,000,26 expected to be enough to “place the club on Easy Street for the remainder of the season.”27 A month later, Oil City hosted its own carnival, raising at least $2,500.28 Both teams also declared certain games “booster days,” with a $1 admission charge. Franklin’s stated goal for a booster day in late August was to raise $5,000;29 but gate receipts amounted to only $1,272.30

Ticket prices fluctuated throughout the season, and contemporary newspaper accounts are not always clear in their wording. My reading is that “35 cents admission and 10 cents to the grandstand” meant a 35-cent charge to enter the park, with an additional ten cents required for a seat in the grandstand.

At the beginning of the season, Oil City set admission at 33 cents, and 11 cents for grandstand seating. These prices included the ten-percent war tax on entertainment. 31 By the end of June, however, it became clear that handling odd pennies was slowing the flow at the gate, so the club adjusted prices to a simpler 35¢/10¢.32 Special games incurred higher prices. For example, when Oil City hosted the morning half of the Fourth of July doubleheader it charged 50 cents for adults, 15 cents for children.33 A ticket for the July 29 Booster Day game against Franklin cost a dollar.34 In August the price was raised to 50¢/10¢.35

Franklin began the season charging 50 cents.36 I found no specifics regarding the extra fee for the grandstand, but since this fee was rescinded for September games against Oil City, there must have been a fee earlier.37 The admission price was raised to 75 cents prior to the September 30 game, due to an escalation of player payroll including “the heavy expense involved in bringing George Sisler to Franklin.”38 It was reported afterward that the higher price had not cut down the crowd, with fans evidently realizing “they are getting their money’s worth in the only opportunity many of them will have to see in action famous big league stars whose names are household words among baseball fans.”39

Oil City and Franklin had agreed that each team would usually retain the full gate receipts from its home games.40 The clubs made an exception to split gate receipts for the two-site Fourth of July double header, netting $810 apiece.41 For games against other opponents, it was more common to pay a fixed guarantee, rain or shine, rather than a share of the gate, although newspapers seldom reported precise amounts.42 Franklin was said to have asked for $150 to travel to Jamestown,43 but it is not known if this amount was typical.

Newspapers reported attendance figures sporadically, often only in general terms such as “the largest crowd that ever gathered at West End Park”44 or “there were so many at the game that dozens of women were forced to stand in the bleachers.”45 Attendance for a few specific games was reported though. Oil City’s opener in mid May was witnessed by 800.46 A week later, Franklin’s opener drew only 250-300.47 But Franklin’s half of the Fourth of July doubleheader had 2,200 paid admissions,48 and two games there in August had 1,100 and 1,280.49 The final meeting of the two teams, a booster day at Franklin, pulled in 1,400.50

A mid-July report in the Pittsburgh Leader claimed Franklin averaged about 400 a game.51 This can be compared to an estimate for gate receipts and attendance derived from the reported $1,350 in war tax Franklin collected for the season.52 That equates to a roughly $15,000 total gate.53 With admission costing at least 50 cents for every one of Franklin’s 41 home games, total attendance was no more than 30,000, and the average no more than 750. In contrast, the lowest attendance for a major league club that year was just under 2,500 per game.54

All told, the Franklin club seems to have made a profit of $200 for the season, lowering the $800 debt it had coming into the season to $600.55

Player salaries are also hard to pin down. The only concrete figures I encountered are these: first, Honus Wagner received $100 per game to play for the McElroys in 1918;56 and second, Elmer Knetzer was said to be asking $800 per month the pitch the final two months of the 1919 season for Oil City.57

A 1961 article in the Oil City Derrick claimed that Oil City’s payroll ran to $12,000 per month, but that figure likely refers to the 1921 season rather than 1919.58 The same article stated that some Oil City players received as much as $1,000 a month, in contrast to the $600-per-player monthly pay ceiling then in effect in the Class AA American Association. For further context, the Memphis News-Scimitar reported in 1918 that a hanger-on in the class A southern Association earned about $200 per month.59

THE 1919 SEASON

Both cities were optimistic about their team’s chances versus the other for the upcoming season. The clubs had met nearly 30 times the previous year, with Oil City enjoying a wide margin, winning 19, losing 8, and tying 1.60

For the 1919 season, they agreed to a fairly regular schedule of games every Tuesday and Wednesday from Memorial Day to Labor Day, 13 weeks, and three holiday doubleheaders, including the Fourth of July. The midweek games alternated home-and-home, and the holiday doubleheaders featured a morning game in one city and an afternoon game in the other. This would have been 32 games, but with some minor changes, the two teams ended up meeting 34 times in that period. They decided to extend the series into early October with another 12 games, bringing the total to 46.

Each team’s schedule also included other teams. These seem to not have been arranged more than a few weeks in advance. Oil City ended up playing another 34 games, with 23 at home, while Franklin played another 33, 17 at home.

At the outset, Oil City’s operation was much better organized. New manager Jake Pitler, formerly of the Pirates, had wintered in Oil City, and by early April the News-Herald reported roughly a dozen players that he’d secured.61 Among these was Ben Shaw, one of Pitler’s Pirate teammates. Most of the other players had played for Oil City in 1917 and/or ’18; some of these had Organized Baseball experience, but at levels below the high minors. A few of the announced players did not end up in Oil City, most notably Carmen Hill of the Pirates. But by and large, the players reported to be with the team were. The team held its first practice on April 23.62 It played its first game on May 17, before 800 fans,63 and played two more prior to the first meeting with Franklin, winning all three.

In contrast, Franklin’s new manager, Otto Jordan, didn’t arrive until May 1.64 Jordan had been in charge of athletics at Camp Jackson in Columbia, South Carolina, and his arrival was delayed as he awaited discharge from the service.65 Jordan was not forthcoming about specific players he was recruiting; at one point, he was quoted as saying, “Just tell the boys that when the season opens, I will have a club that will give any independent club in the country a run for the money.”66 A roster was finally announced on May 12, the day before the first practice was to be held.67 Most of the 18 players listed apparently had no Organized Baseball experience; only one had major league experience — Larry Cheney — but he didn’t end up with the team. Of the 18 players listed, 7 were either rumors or not good enough, and none lasted the entire season. Franklin called off a practice game scheduled for May 21 because several players hadn’t arrived yet.68

The first contest with Oil City was little more than a week away, Oil City had been practicing for nearly a month, had already played its first game, and Franklin didn’t even have a full team in place. Even up to Franklin’s first game, on May 23, player information was sketchy. The day of the game, the News-Herald reported the arrival of “… two new players from the Buffalo district. Another from there, a pitcher, arrived last night, and a third baseman is to come Monday. They are all players of Class A calibre.”69 That first game was played in front of 250-300 loyal fans on a wet day; one of the Franklin reserve players was furnished with a box of sawdust and tasked with keeping baseballs dry.70

Franklin and Oil City began play with a doubleheader on Memorial Day, Friday, May 30 — the teams met in the morning in Franklin, then reconvened in Oil City for an afternoon contest. The grandstand and bleachers were both packed. Fans sat along the outfield, in the field of play. Oil City won both games, 5-1 and 9-3.71 The two teams met again the following day in Franklin, Oil City winning again, 3-2. The News-Herald reported that the Franklin team was “outclassed” and that there was no mystery why Oil City wins: “… it has the better team — a better one than we have so far been able to get with money.”72

With nearly a week before its next scheduled game, the Franklin club responded to the Memorial Day catastrophe by releasing six players “in order to make room for men who can hit.”73 Manager Jordan was sent out of town to round up some new players — “that they will be heavy hitters is the general expectation,” and “every effort of the Franklin backers has been directed toward securing men who can wield the stick and field to perfection.” 74 They did have four new players in the lineup for their game against the McElroys on May 6. However, none of these appear to have had any Organized Baseball experience, and two of them were not with the team beyond that weekend. Franklin’s stopgap roster changes were an improvement, though, as they split the next four games against Oil City.

An altercation caused a temporary cancellation of the series after only 8 games had been played. A near riot broke out in the first inning of the June 17 game at Franklin. Newspapers from the two cities gave differing accounts but agreed on some basic details. With runners on first and third, Franklin attempted a double steal. The runner from first, Jack Snyder, was out, but prevented Pitler from throwing home to catch the runner scoring from third. Fans and players swarmed the field. Oil City’s catcher, Ben Shaw, may have punched Snyder but Franklin’s sheriff intervened, preventing either a first or second punch.75 The game resumed after officials restored order, apparently without further incident. The umpire had ejected both Snyder and Pitler.

The next morning’s Derrick reported that Snyder had started the fight; and that his act was one of rowdyism. It included a side article reminding fans that Franklin, including Mr. Snyder specifically, would be playing in Oil City that evening.76 Fans were advised to buy tickets during the day to avoid long lines at the box office. To this modern reader it seemed like an invitation to another riot.

The Franklin team did not show up for that June 18 game at Oil City.77 Around noon Franklin’s management informed Pitler they would not be coming, claiming their scheduled pitcher was unable to make it. Franklin’s claim was probably an excuse to avoid a potential riot. However, just a week earlier Franklin found itself without its expected pitcher because manager Jordan had neglected to inform Hageman, who lived 60 miles away in Youngstown, that he would be pitching in the June 11 game.78 That was a home game, though, and Franklin trotted out the same pitcher it had used the day before (and lost to Oil City 13-2).

Pitler’s stance was that Franklin should play — many tickets had already been sold and it was too late to inform the public of a cancellation. He offered to let Franklin use any of his pitchers of choice so the game could be played. Thinking this offer had been accepted, the Oil City team and fans showed up for the 6:10 game and waited until 7:30 to no avail. Oil City lost an estimated $500 due to the cancellation.79

The next evening the Franklin stockholders met to discuss the fate of the club.80 It had become clear that, as things stood, the team could not compete with Oil City; Franklin had won only 2 of 8 games. Moreover, very little of the initial capital of $2,500 remained. Though the team was not in debt, more money would be needed. Subscribers pledged an additional $300 during the meeting and officials planned to solicit more.81 Whether or not to continue playing games against Oil City was left undecided — but this was a moot point since Oil City’s management decided to terminate the inter-city series.82 While Franklin sought to acquire better players, the two cities’ newspapers traded thinly veiled insults on a daily basis.

Within a week, the two clubs had mended fences and resumed play on June 24. The two midweek games, already on the schedule, were played as planned, and additional contests were added for Friday and Saturday. Each team posted a deposit, which it would forfeit in the event of any future failure to appear.83

Meanwhile, Franklin began its talent upgrade, announcing two new players: centerfielder Gene Layden and shortstop Lester Buffington. Both had Organized Baseball experience, albeit at class B and C, respectively; both had been in the military in 1918. Buffington had played for Oil City in parts of 1917 and ’18 and had been expected to rejoin them upon his return from France.84

Coming into the Fourth of July doubleheader, the improved Franklin team was holding its own versus Oil City. It had won the three most recent games, bringing the series standings to 5-7 (5 wins, 7 losses). Not to be outdone, Pitler was now in search of players to strengthen the Oil City Club.85 Franklin directors requested that subscribers who had not yet paid do so, and anyone who wished “to see the club maintained at its present, or increased, strength” should subscribe.86 The News Herald wrote that a professional umpire would be needed, as “the war has reached that stage;” and noted that “the teams are costing so much that we’ll probably retire from the business for a few years at the end of the season.” 87 The race was on — but it would be a slow start.

Either Jordan found the heightened managerial task beyond him, or Franklin’s directors found Jordan unequal to the task. By July 8 he had resigned and the club was negotiating with Billy Nixon to take over.88

Pitler had little early success in finding better players. On July 4 he added outfielder Munch, a former class B player who’d played for Oil City in parts of 1917 and ’18 and had just returned from France. On July 15, infielder Tommy Ray was lured away from the Pittsburgh Collegians. On July 16, Pitler brought in Elmer Knetzer to pitch a game, but it was 3 weeks before he’d reappear. (In the interim, Knetzer may have pitched in one game for Franklin; probably two.) On July 25, it was announced that “star shortstop” Merle Edmunds would be joining the team; Edmunds’s prior experience was mostly at class D, but he’d been a popular Oil City player in 1917. Ray was just a good player in western Pennsylvania independent ball; Knetzer was a former major leaguer, considered one of the best pitchers in the region. Knetzer was the best of this bunch but it didn’t seem that Pitler would be able to hold onto him.

In the same period, Nixon’s only significant acquisitions for Franklin were George Murray (July 15) and Bill Thompson (July 18), both from other western Pennsylvania independents. On August 9, Franklin decided it could not afford the luxury of a backup catcher, owing to “the high cost of the club.”89

Pitler’s first real upgrade was pitcher Ray Gordinier, who arrived for the July 29 game. Gordinier was under contract to Buffalo of the International League. Newspapers reported that “Oil City is paying real money this season for ball players and to get Gordinier to jump the International must have required a big slice.”90 At the same time, Oil City also signed pitcher Lory Lodestro, recently released by class B Kitchener.

Tom Rogers

On August 14, it all went to the next level with a fresh influx of talent and the Scott Perry Incident. Franklin brought in Scott Perry and Tom Rogers, who’d recently jumped from the Philadelphia Athletics.91 Moreover, Perry and Rogers (and another newcomer, Harry O’Donnell) didn’t enter the game — didn’t show up at the ballpark, even — until the second inning, after bets had been placed.92 The kicker — though Perry gave up but three hits, Oil City won the game 1-0 in ten innings behind the five-hit pitching of Knetzer.

Oil City responded by signing Knetzer for the rest of the season93 (though he also continued to pitch for Allegheny Steel) and bringing in four new players over the next two weeks — pitchers George Mohart and Bob Steele, and outfielders Pete Knisely and Lee Strait. Mohart had been with the Niagaras and was one of the better pitchers in the Buffalo area. Steele, Knisely, and Strait were all jumping class AA contracts.

Franklin answered with a salvo of its own, adding pitcher Herb Kelly on August 30. Kelley was jumping from class A Chattanooga.

Despite the roster turnover, the two clubs were evenly matched. Beginning with the Fourth of July double-header they split the next 19 games evenly through late August (with one tie), neither winning more than twice in a row. By that point, Oil City remained two wins ahead, just as things stood before the Fourth. Oil City then captured the final two games in August to take an 18-14 lead going into the Labor Day doubleheader.

For Labor Day, Oil City added Charley Caton from the Pirates. In the second game they enlisted a mystery pitcher known only as “James,” said to be from Buffalo of the International League. They swept the double-header, closing out the originally scheduled series with a commanding 20–14 edge. A second series, consisting of twelve additional games, was then set to carry the rivalry through September — culminating with four games ending on October 4.

Franklin brought in several new players in the first half of September. Anderson (1b), Harber (ss), and Fielder (3b) in the infield; Sullivan in the outfield. Anderson and Harber were class B players who’d been out of Organized Baseball for a few years. Fielder and Sullivan were fresh from the Southern Association. Lober, a former class AA outfielder, was brought in to play one game before Sullivan’s arrival. Both teams brought in pitchers in the middle of the month — Main for Oil City and Peterson for Franklin. Main was a former major leaguer who’d left the Pacific Coast League earlier in the season. Peterson came directly from the International League. Each team added one more player prior to the big four-game showdown at the end of September. Oil City added Hersche from class AA Toronto, while Franklin added Kennedy from class C Greenville.

Franklin had won five of the first eight post-Labor Day games against Oil City, and tied one, reducing Oil City’s edge to 22-19. It would need to win all four of the remaining games, set to start on September 30, to take the season’s series. With the major league seasons ending on the 28th, the two teams were able to bolster their rosters with a few bona fide non-jumpers.

On September 26 it was rumored that Wilbur Cooper, of the Pirates, and Bill Doak, of the Cardinals, would be pitching for Oil City.94 That rumor would turn out to be true, though Cooper used the name Wilson. On September 29, the public was informed that the Browns’ George Sisler would be joining Franklin for the series, and he would be bringing another player with him.95 The other player turned out to be Joe Harris of the Indians.96 Newspapers listed these two in the top five in batting average in the American League (though by modern standards, Harris would not have enough at-bats to qualify). False rumors flew right up to game time, with Ray Caldwell and George Uhle both reported to appear. Big-city newspapers claimed that these lineups were full of major leaguers.97 In reality, for the first of the four games, the Oil City lineup had four players with recent major league experience — Pitler, Shaw, Caton, and Cooper/Wilson; Franklin’s lineup had three — Perry, Sisler, and Harris. Oil City followed up with four in the second game, Doak replacing “Wilson;” and dropped to three and two in the final two games, pitching Gordinier and Steele while Pitler sat out two games for Yom Kippur. With Rogers or Perry on the mound, Franklin had three every game.

Franklin won only one of the four games, Oil City two; the other was tied. This gave Oil City the final edge, 24 wins to 20. Franklin took solace in the fact that it had the advantage in the “second series of 12 games,” six wins to four (with two ties).98

THE AFTERMATH

The arms race did not end with the 1919 season. Immediately following the season, the Franklin directors issued a statement that “sentiment among the directors was for a strong club in 1920” and that “fans of the city are practically unanimous in their desire for one.”99 Thus, plans were begun for the 1920 season.

In fact, the push for each team to outdo the other’s roster only escalated in 1920 and into 1921, with several players enticed away from the major leagues. But the salaries were too high — it was not sustainable. It all came crashing down in July of 1921, when the Franklin club folded.100 The Pittsburgh Post reported that $5,000 of debt still remained from 1920,101 and the News-Herald opined that if only Oil City “would agree to live up to a proper salary limit, we would be able to make a go of it,” but admitted such an arrangement was unlikely to work. Oil City folded a few weeks later;102 the ballpark at West End Grounds was dismantled, and the lumber was sold, with the proceeds used to cover some of the club’s deficit.103

But while Oil City and Franklin had folded, the desire to improve a local team, financial sanity be damned, had spread to other independent teams across the state, and beyond. Many of the players ended up playing for Clearfield (about 90 miles east) and its rival, Philipsburg. A third club in that region, Osceola, apparently went so far as to hire the entire team away from Allegheny Steel.104 When these teams went down the tubes, some of the players crossed the state to join the Mahanoy City-Tamaqua rivalry and later found their way to Hornell, New York, for its rivalry with Corning.105

EPILOGUE

Billy Nixon had originally signed to manage Franklin through the end of 1920,106 but resigned the position shortly after the end of the 1919 season.107 The 30-year-old Nixon had purchased co-ownership in a dry-cleaning establishment in Meadville (about 30 miles away). His resignation letter included this assessment of the rivalry:

“I have been accustomed to playing ball where, when the breaks of the game went against a club and they lost, it was taken as a matter of course, but every game between Franklin and Oil City is a World’s Series contest, with all the tenseness that implies, and each one is played over in the evening by the fans and all the mistakes discussed, with a liberal sprinkling of what ‘might-have-beens.’ No, I much prefer the quiet life.”

We end with this limerick, penned by your author:

Two small towns in west Pennsylvania

Infected with rivalry mania

Had salary frenzy

That spread throughout Pennsy

And chased common sense from their crania.

ENDNOTES

1. In 1920 Oil City had 21,274 residents, Franklin 9,970. In contrast, the city of Pittsburgh had 588,313. Department of Commerce Bulletin, Fourteenth Census of the United States: 1920; Population : Pennsylvania, page 20.

2. “First Franklin Oil City Game Was Played 53 Years Ago,” Franklin (Pennsylvania) News-Herald, September 4, 1919: 3; “History of the Game Here,” Oil City (Pennsylvania) Derrick, August 25, 1919: 12. “Some Local Gossip,” Franklin News-Herald, August 19, 1919: 3.

3. “Steelers Win, 6-2, Before West End’s Large Assemblage,” Franklin News-Herald, August 29, 1919: 9.

4. “Munch Recalls Player Fights,” Oil City Derrick, December 28, 1961: 11.

5. It was noted that the lack of a fence in “middle field” conveniently provided the umpire with an escape route for a hasty retreat. “Notes of the Game,” Franklin News Herald, July 19, 1919: 3.

6. “Notes of the Second Game,” Franklin News-Herald, May 31, 1919: 3.

7. “Eisenbeis to Have Laundry Done Free,” Franklin News Herald, July 11, 1919: 3.

8. “Jake Pitler’s Team Plays at Youngstown,” Franklin News Herald, May 16, 1919: 3; “Jordan’s Crew Captures Game at Youngstown,” Franklin News-Herald, June 30, 1919: 3.

9. “Larry Lobestro [sic] Walloped In Sunday Game,” Franklin News-Herald, August 18, 1919: 3; “Jamestown Team Beaten,” Oil City Derrick, August 4, 1919: 10.

10. Organized Baseball refers to the formal alliance of the two major leagues — the National League and the American League — together with the National Association of minor leagues, all operating under a common agreement that governs player contracts and the reserve clause. The term distinguishes this structured system from independent clubs and so-called outlaw leagues (such as the short-lived Federal League), which were not bound by its rules or authority.

11. “Franklin Wins This Time,” Pittsburg Press, June 29, 1919: 24.

12. “4 Games on Card for Franklin Next Week,” Franklin News-Herald, July 5, 1919: 3.

13. “Standings of the Clubs,” Franklin News-Herald, July 10, 1919: 3.

14. “Independents Had Big Margin Over Nursery Batters,” Franklin News-Herald, September 5, 1918: 3.

15. As part of a series of reminiscences four decades after the fact, specific values like “50 dollars” should be taken with a grain of salt. “Local Club’s Payroll Was High,” Oil City Derrick, December 27, 1961: 13

16. “Some Local Gossip,” Franklin News-Herald, August 16, 1919: 3.

17. “Steelers defeat Oil City in Final Game of Big Series,” Pittsburgh Post, October 8, 1919: 12.

18. “Oil City is Long On Stars, But Short On Funds,” Franklin News-Herald, March 21, 1919: 3.

19. “Stovers in Oil City Plan Big Parade,” Franklin News Herald, May 2, 1919: 3.

20. “Three-Fourths of Stock for Ball Team is Sold,” Franklin News-Herald, February 12, 1919: 3.

21. “Jordan’s Terms Satisfactory to Fan’s Committee,” Franklin News-Herald, February 10, 1919: 3.

22. “Baseball Team Assured …,” Franklin News-Herald, February 19, 1919: 3.

23. “Local Team to ‘Carry On’; New Players Signed,” Franklin News-Herald, June 20, 1919: 3.

24. “Subscribers to Baseball Team Requested to Pay,” Franklin News-Herald, July 1, 1919: 3.

25. “Booster Day Will Be Dollar Day At Oil City Ball Park,” Franklin News-Herald, July 25, 1919: 9.

26. “To Boost Ball Team,” Oil City Derrick, July 29, 1919: 12.

27. “Baseball Directors Grateful for Help,” Franklin News Herald, July 29, 1919: 3.

28. “Carnival Yields Baseball Team $2,500 or More,” Franklin News-Herald, August 25, 1919: 9.

29. “Some Local Gossip,” Franklin News-Herald, August 18, 1919: 3.

30. “Some Local Gossip,” Franklin News-Herald, September 2, 1919: 8.

31. “Independents Look First Rate in First Game,” Franklin News-Herald, May 7, 1919: 3.

32. “Battle Royal Expected, Oil City Derrick, June 27, 1919: 12.

33. “Two Games on Friday,” Oil City Derrick, July 3, 1919: 12.

34. “Booster Day Will Be Dollar Day At Oil City Ball Park,” Franklin News-Herald, July 25, 1919: 9.

35. “Baseball Rates Raised,” Oil City Derrick, August 1, 1919: 12.

36. “50 Cents to be Charged for Ball Games This Year,” Franklin News-Herald, May 20, 1919: 3.

37. “Some Local Gossip,” Franklin News-Herald, August 30, 1919: 3.

38. “George Sisler, St. Louis Star, Joins Franklin,” Franklin News-Herald, September 29, 1919: 3.

39. “Notes of the Game,” Franklin News-Herald, October 1, 1919: 3.

40. “Booster Day Will Be Dollar Day At Oil City Ball Park,” Franklin News-Herald, July 25, 1919: 9.

41. “Friday’s Crowd at Ball Game Second Largest for City,” Franklin News-Herald, July 5, 1919: 3.

42. Ibid.

43. “Westfield Seeking Game With Locals,” Franklin News Herald, August 4, 1919: 3.

44. “Steelers Win, 6-2, Before West End’s Large Assemblage,” Franklin News-Herald, August 29, 1919: 9.

45. “Notes of the Game,” Franklin News-Herald, August 21, 1919: 9.

46. “Independents Start Season With Victory,” Franklin News-Herald, May 19, 1919: 3.

47. “Jordan’s Players Get Off With Win, 8 to 0,” Franklin News-Herald, May 24, 1919: 3.

48. “Franklin and Oil City Split Even in 2 Games on Fourth,” Franklin News-Herald, July 5, 1919: 3.

49. “Some Local Gossip,” Franklin News-Herald, August 16, 1919: 3; “Notes of the Game,” Franklin News-Herald, August 20, 1919: 3.

50. “Franklin Loses to Oil City Crew in Closing Game,” Franklin News-Herald, October 6, 1919: 3.

51. “Richard Guy Thinks Well Of Bill Nixon,” Franklin News-Herald, July 12, 1919: 3.

52. “Baseball Finances In Good Condition; Debt Is Reduced,” Franklin News-Herald, October 9, 1919: 3.

53. For a 10% tax, the tax amounts to 9.09% of receipts. $1,350 divided by 9.09% is $14,850.

54. The Cardinals and Braves averaged 2,421 and 2,462 fans, respectively. From the table at baseball-reference.- com/leagues/majors/1919-misc.shtml.

55. “Baseball Finances In Good Condition; Debt Is Reduced,” Franklin News-Herald, October 9, 1919: 3.

56. SABR BioProject for Casey Hageman. sabr.org/bioproj/ person/casey-hageman.

57. “Baseball Gossip,” Franklin News-Herald, July 21, 1919: 3.

58. “Local Club’s Payroll Was High,” Oil City Derrick, December 27, 1961: 13.

59. “The Sporting Spotlight,” Memphis News-Scimitar, December 2, 1918: 9.

60. “Independents Had Big Margin Over Nursery Batters,” Franklin News-Herald, September 5, 1918: 3.

61. “Franklin’s Old Hoodoo, Murray, To Oppose Again,” Franklin News-Herald, April 1, 1919: 3; “Oil City Already Has World Beater; on Paper, at Least,” Franklin News Herald, April 10, 1919: 3.

62. “Oil City Takes On Two More Players,” Franklin News Herald, April 23, 1919: 3.

63. “Independents Start Season With Victory,” Franklin News-Herald, May 19, 1919: 3.

64. “Jordan Arrives; Fans to Greet Him Next Week,” Franklin News-Herald, May 2, 1919: 3.

65. “Manager Jordan Asked to Report Here on April 15,” Franklin News-Herald, March 31, 1919: 3.

66. “Otto Jordan Promises Good Club; Will Be Here Soon,” Franklin News-Herald, April 12, 1919: 3.

67. “Candidates for Baseball Team Due to Report,” Franklin News-Herald, May 12, 1919: 3.

68. “Practice Contest for Tonight is Off,” Franklin News Herald, May 21, 1919: 3.

69. “Jordan’s Players Have First Game Here This Evening,” Franklin News-Herald, May 23, 1919: 3.

70. “Jordan’s Players Get Off With Win, 8 to 0,” Franklin News-Herald, May 24, 1919: 3.

71. “Notes of the Second Game,” Franklin News-Herald, May 31, 1919: 3.

72. “No Mystery About Why Oil City Wins,” Franklin News-Herald, May 31, 1919: 3.

73. “Six of Jordan’s Players Draw Their Releases,” Franklin News-Herald, June 2, 1919: 3.

74. “New Players to Oppose M’Elroys, of Youngstown,” Franklin News-Herald, June 5, 1919: 3.

75. “Oil City Wins Game,” Oil City Derrick, June 18, 1919: 12; “Franklin Loses 11-Inning Battle to Oil City,” Franklin News-Herald, June 18, 1919: 3; “Answer Franklin Claim,” Oil City Derrick, June 19, 1919: 12; “Mr. Cunningham’s Affadavit Didn’t Go Far Enough,” Franklin News-Herald, June 19, 1919: 3.

76. “To Play Here Today,” Oil City Derrick, June 18, 1919: 12.

77. “Franklin Not On Hand,” Oil City Derrick, June 19, 1919: 12.

78. “Locals Forced to Use Hurler Who Had Not Rested,” Franklin News-Herald, June 12, 1919: 3.

79. “Booster Day Will Be Dollar Day At Oil City Ball Park,” Franklin News-Herald, July 25, 1919: 9.

80. “Baseball Fans Call to Meet at 7:30 Tonight,” Franklin News-Herald, June 19, 1919: 3.

81. “Local Team to ‘Carry On’; New Players Signed,” Franklin News-Herald, June 20, 1919: 3.

82. “Oil City Dates to be Ignored by Local Club,” Franklin News-Herald, June 20, 1919: 3.

83. “4-Game Series With Oil City is Scheduled,” Franklin News-Herald, June 24, 1919: 3.

84. “Franklin Signs 2 More Players; Buffington One,” Franklin News-Herald, June 21, 1919: 3.

85. “Some Local Gossip,” Franklin News-Herald, June 30, 1919: 3.; “Some Local Gossip,” Franklin News-Herald, July 1, 1919: 3.

86. “Subscribers to Baseball Team Requested to Pay,” Franklin News-Herald, July 1, 1919: 3.

87. “From Franklin’s Viewpoint,” Franklin News-Herald, June 28, 1919: 3.

88. “Franklin Wins Easily,” Oil City Derrick, July 9, 1919: 10; “Meeting of Directors Called,” Franklin News-Herald, July 8, 1919: 3; “Nixon Secured to Manage Local Baseball Team,” Franklin News-Herald, July 9, 1919: 3.

89. “O’Toole Through As Arbiter in Inter-City Games,” Franklin News-Herald, August 9, 1919: 3.

90. “Gordinier is Star Buffalo Pitcher,” Franklin News-Herald, August 2, 1919: 3.

91. “Jack Meehan Lands Trio After Fruitless Trip to South Bethlehem to Get Players On Disbanded Plant Team,” Franklin News-Herald, August 15, 1919: 3.

92. There are many accounts of this event, with differing details, variously called “The Scott Perry Incident” or “The Hays Hollow Coup.” Some appeared in newspapers decades after the fact. Here, we only reference the accounts from the next day’s newspapers in the two cities. “Oil City Captures Great Game; Franklin Signs 3 Big Leaguers,” Franklin News-Herald, August 15, 1919: 3; “Franklin’s Bluff Fails,” Oil City Derrick, August 15, 1919: 12.

93. “Franklin Signs Leaguers,” Pittsburg Press, August 16, 1919: 11.

94. “Some Local Gossip,” Franklin News-Herald, September 26, 1919: 3.

95. “George Sisler, St. Louis Star, Joins Franklin,” Franklin News-Herald, September 29, 1919: 3.

96. “Sisler And Harris Arrive; To Play Here This Evening,” Franklin News-Herald, September 30, 1919: 3.

97. “Ambridge Must Play Better Ball … Big Leaguers Galore,” Pittsburgh Post, September 30, 1919: 16.

98. “Outlucked, That’s All,” Franklin News-Herald, October 4, 1919: 8.

99. “Baseball Finances In Good Condition; Debt Is Reduced,” Franklin News-Herald, October 9, 1919: 3.

100. “All Efforts To Save Club Have Failed,” Franklin News Herald, July 9, 1921: 3.

101. “Oilers Win Final From Franklin; To Finish Out Season,” Pittsburgh Post, July 10, 1921: 23.

102. “Oil City Club Disbands; West End Park Goes Too,” Oil City Derrick, July 27, 1921: 12.

103. Ibid.

104. “Knetzer and Tyson Help Osceola Win,” Pittsburgh Post, August 9, 1921: 8.

105. “Joe Harris To Finish Season With Hornell,” Franklin News-Herald, September 10, 1921: 3.

106. “Richard Guy Thinks Well Of Bill Nixon,” Franklin News-Herald, July 12, 1919: 3.

107. “Franklin Must Find New Pilot For Next Season,” Franklin News-Herald, October 15, 1919: 3.

Jack Coombs of the Philadelphia Athletics (Library of Congress)

During a game at Boston’s Huntington Avenue Grounds on September 1, 1906, Jack Coombs of the Philadelphia Athletics faced 89 batters.1 The two whom he walked consecutively during this 24-inning marathon — the most innings played in a game during the Deadball Era — may have been the most consequential.

In the bottom of the nineteenth inning, on the heels of twelve consecutive scoreless innings, Philadelphia manager Connie Mack instructed Coombs to walk Boston batters Hobe Ferris and Jack Hoey in succession with one out and Freddy Parent on third. Mack’s “perfect strategy,” according to Coombs, worked: swinging third strikes from Myron ‘Moose’ Grimshaw and Red Morgan with the infield in ended Boston’s threat. “Experience by the older man, Mr. Mack,” said Coombs, “saved the situation.”2

Coombs, then 23 and a sidearm pitcher, was matched against Joe Harris, then 24, of the Boston Americans.3 Coombs was straight out of Colby College. Later, Coombs earned great fame from battling Ed Walsh in a sixteen-inning scoreless tie in 1910 and by winning three games in a single World Series. Mike ‘Doc’ Powers that day caught Coombs for all 24 innings. Harris, “a big youth from Melrose, Mass.” entered the game with a disheartening 2-17 record.4

This memorable game, played in four hours and 40 minutes, featured many elements that made Deadball Era baseball so captivating: abundant scoring chances, strategic moves, a quick pace, critical umpiring decisions, and individual endurance. The game also marked a turning point for three players.5

For Coombs, it was his first magnificent pitching effort, one that previewed his pitching greatness, but the strain placed on his arm from the marathon outing likely affected Coombs in the future. For Harris, the game was a single enduring highlight in a career short-circuited by illness. For Powers, it represented his greatest achievement in a decorated but truncated career, but the game also became a symbol of what might have been. Less than three years later, Coombs was a pallbearer at his catcher’s funeral.6

Coombs was a rookie. He made his debut only 59 days prior, pitching a complete-game shutout against the Washington Senators. As recounted by baseball historian Norman Macht, Powers and Harry Davis settled Coombs down after some initial trouble in his debut.7 Powers was known to be a savvy handler of pitchers: a vintage Boston Herald piece said that Powers, himself trained in medicine, “often calmed the high-strung [Eddie] Plank with his familiar chant: ‘Work hard, old boy, work hard.’ They were friends off the field too, and Doc even became Plank’s personal physician. Powers was a gentleman with a sunny disposition, respected and well-liked.” 8

Harris, a right-hander, had made his debut for Boston nearly one year prior. In what could be taken as an omen, he lost a complete game decision at home in his debut, 2-1 against Harry Howell and the St. Louis Browns. Harris’ lone win in 1905 for the Jimmy Collins-managed team came against the Tigers of Ty Cobb and Sam Crawford on September 30, a seven-inning complete game during which Harris struck out eight.

The 1906 Athletics did not exhibit the pennant-winning form they had a year before, on the way to a sluggish fourth-place finish. Still, circumstances were appreciably worse in Boston. The presence of both Cy Young and Jesse Tannehill in Boston’s starting rotation notwithstanding, the Americans that season lost their first twenty games of the month of May, plunging into last place. The team’s performance led to Chick Stahl, the team’s RBI leader in 1906, replacing Collins as a player-manager on August 27, just five days before this game in Boston. It is a delight that two otherwise forgettable teams would play the most remembered game of 1906.

Boston was buoyed by a crowd of 18,084 fans for this 1:30 pm Saturday afternoon game, the first of a scheduled doubleheader. The game had one umpire: Tim Hurst, known best for his combustible personality, behind the plate.9

The third inning brought the first run. Powers struck out, but Coombs reached when Harris slipped trying to field his grounder. Coombs stole second and advanced to third on a Topsy Hartsel groundout, scoring when Bris Lord beat out a hit.10

Philadelphia came close to getting an extra run in the top of the sixth inning. Hartsel got to second after a single and a Lord sacrifice. After a Davis groundout got Hartsel to third with two out, Freddy Parent made “a phenomenal stop and throw of Seybold’s grounder from behind second,” ending the scoring chance.11 In the bottom of the sixth, Boston finally scored: following a Hayden groundout, Parent, on the heels of his run-saving play, hit a triple. Stahl then singled, scoring Parent, only to thereafter be part of an inning-ending double play on a grounder by Ferris. The game was now tied, 1-1.

During the seventeen consecutive scoreless innings to follow, the teams tried to manufacture runs without success. There were many scoring chances for each team: in the top of the eleventh inning, for instance, Ossie Schreckengost (‘Schreck’ in most box scores) — pinch hitting for Davis in Philadelphia’s only substitution of the game — tripled before Socks Seybold’s groundout ended the inning. In another instance, in the bottom of the fourteenth inning, Parent got to second base only to have Stahl and Ferris strike out and Danny Murphy ground out to end the threat.

A controversial moment occurred in the bottom of the fifteenth inning. Buck Freeman pinch-hit for Bill Carrigan with one out and Grimshaw on second base. According to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Freeman swung at an intentional ball four and easily grounded out to the mound. “It was Boston’s last chance to score.”12 With the heading: “Dumb Work by Freeman,” the Boston Daily Globe characterized Freeman’s reach as “the dumbest play ever seen at the Huntington Av. Grounds” and threw “away a splendid chance at a Boston victory.”13

The crowd at the Huntington Avenue Grounds appeared to appreciate the magnificent efforts of both pitchers:

“Every good play by Philadelphia was as generously cheered as a good play by Boston. Coombs was given an ovation every time he went to the bench, just as Harris was. Even after the game had been lost the rooters stood up and cheered Harris.”14

Recounted The Boston Daily Globe:

“The game developed into a wonderful machine-like affair. One side came to bat only to be retired by some fast fielding stunt, and as inning after inning passed on, and neither pitcher seemed to weaken, the continual outs tired a part of the crowd. “Watching a ball game four hours was more than enough for many, and they left the park, but their number was very few.”15

It is sometimes forgotten that Powers threw out Hoey and Hayden stealing in consecutive innings (the twenty-first and twenty-second, respectively), a feat that may have saved the game. During the game, Powers caught 24 consecutive errorless innings at catcher, a record which still stands and one which ranks among baseball achievements that are least likely ever to be surpassed.

It was becoming dark, and the second game of the doubleheader was canceled. But umpire Hurst “has no record of calling a game,” reported the Boston Daily Globe, and he did not do so on this day, no matter what pressure he received from the respective teams.16

In the top of the twenty-fourth, the Athletics’ ship found new wind. Following a Coombs strikeout, Hartsel singled, and Lord struck out. Then, Schreckengost’s two-out hit scored Hartsel all the way from first, finally breaking the 17-inning tie. With quick efficiency, the Athletics padded their new lead. Seybold’s triple scored Schreckengost, and Murphy’s triple scored Seybold. Three runs were in by the time Monte Cross flied out to end the inning.

But here, the crowd had affected the outcome of the game. With the sun setting, the enthusiastic fans moved closer and surrounded the players. “But for this, two of the triples made off of Harris would have been outs or doubtful two baggers.”17

The bottom of the twenty-fourth inning was almost anticlimax: Hoey grounded out, Grimshaw was out, and Lou Criger grounded out. The game was over, with Philadelphia a 4-1 victor.

It is worth noting that Philadelphia stole six bases in this game, and Boston stole one. The only player to steal two bases on that September afternoon was Coombs, who toiled for 24 innings on the mound.

Though no record of pitch counts exists, if Coombs and Harris each averaged three pitches per batter, it is reasonable to assume each threw roughly 250 pitches overall. Note also that each pitcher came up to bat nine times. In one instance, Coombs batted with a runner on second base and two outs in the ninth inning, a re-markable event especially since no substitutions had been made in the game to that point.

Coombs was the winner, and Harris was the very hard-luck losing pitcher. Perhaps surprisingly, Coombs later said that this 24-inning complete-game victory was not as good as the game he pitched against Walsh.18

The inside game of baseball, beyond pitching prowess alone, was also a factor. Coombs walked a total of five batters intentionally, living dangerously in a tight game.

“The great work of the pitchers was due as much to the catchers as to the box work,” opined the same outlet, “with Powers showing special strength in this line of work, and he seemed happiest when asked to work out of some small hole.”19

Powers was a team stalwart, even if he was the epitome of a light-hitting catcher (not hitting above .200 in any of his final seven full seasons). He continued in that same role for Athletics through the season opener in 1909, the day that Shibe Park opened. That day, Powers experienced major abdominal pain around the seventh inning, later diagnosed as acute gastritis. He subsequently endured three surgeries, including “the removal of least twelve inches of his bowels.”20 Powers, “one of the best known and most popular players in the country,” died of gangrene two weeks later.21 A posthumous benefit game in Powers’ honor was held on June 30, 1910.

Called “the game of all games” by the Boston Daily Globe, the September 1, 1906, 24-inning contest was the essence of pure Deadball Era baseball.22 The game featured six triples and no home runs, constant scoring chances, and perpetual excitement, as the teams played nearly two complete scoreless games with the score tied 1-1. Even with singles, sacrifices, triples, and walks in nearly every frame, the average time of a complete inning in this game was approximately 12 minutes.

Coombs struck out 18 batters in this game; no other pitcher struck out more Red Sox batters in a single contest than Coombs did until 1962.23 Harris, too, pitched brilliantly. The Boston Daily Globe recounted that the home team “had a dozen chances to win by anything like a sharp hit, but was at the mercy of the young college pitcher.”24

During his own complete game, Harris faced 87 batters, yielded 16 hits, and struck out 14 Philadelphia hitters. Formidable as Harris may have been on this September day, he finished the 1906 season with a 2-21 record, leading the American League in losses. More critically, “Harris,” noted one account, “was stricken with typhoid shortly after the game and never regained his speed or his ability. Whereas Coombs proceeded to the heights, Harris dropped back to the minors in 1907.” Harris never won another major league game.25

One recapitulation of this game noted that Coombs “impressed the overflow crowd with his precocious poise and ability.”26 Still, it is easy to wonder if Coombs’ endurance in this game hurt his future prospects; Coombs had “arm trouble” to wind down the 1906 season, and, after a promising start to the 1907 season, he strained his arm. Coombs played 47 games in the outfield during the 1908 season on account of arm tendon issues.27 His top-notch pitching form was realized until 1910 when he posted a 31-win season, and one can reasonably wonder if Coombs might have had a Hall of Fame career but for his extended outing in this 1906 game.

Perhaps just as consequentially, the game was a seminal moment for Coombs, who eventually enjoyed sustained success, and for Harris, who didn’t. That day’s game also represented the apex of Powers’ career. At once, it was a majestic baseball moment but also a reminder that fates can be fickle, especially in baseball and even more so during the Deadball Era.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

With thanks to the National Baseball Hall of Fame for providing clippings of vintage articles cited in this piece and to Bill Lamb, who provided helpful suggestions.

NOTES

1. Box score of September 1, 1906, game between the Philadelphia Athletics and Boston Americans available at https://baseball-reference.com/boxes/BOS/BOS190609010.shtml.

2. Jack Coombs, as told to Frederick G. Lieb, “My Greatest Diamond Thrill,” The Sporting News, November 2, 1944, 17.

3. Harry Grayson, “Strong-Armed Jack Coombs Overcame Typhoid Spine,” November 21, 1963. No publication given. Unattributed clipping from Coombs’ Hall of Fame file. Mack noted that Coombs, especially around the time of his first injury, had a “dinky little curve” but “got so he could break it all the way to the ground” in 1908.

4. “Longest Game Finished in Baseball History,” New York Times, September 2, 1906.

5. The 4:40 time is included in the box score on baseball-reference. com, but it is worthwhile to note that some contemporary accounts list the game as lasting for 4 hours and 47 or 48 minutes.

6. Joe Dittmar, “Doc Powers’ Shocking End,” The National Pastime (Vol 13: 1993), 64.

7. Macht, Norman. Connie Mack and the Early Years of Baseball (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press: 2012), 368.

8. Dittmar, 62-65.

9. The fan total and the umpire are noted in the baseball-reference. com box score, and the start time of the game is included in “New Pitcher Wins Longest Game in League’s History,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, September 2, 1906, pp. 1-2. At this time, Retrosheet does not have a play-by-play for this game.

10. All play-by-play recounted in this article derives from “New Pitcher Wins Longest Game in League’s History,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, above, 1-2. At this time, Retrosheet does not have a play-by-play of this game available.

11. “New Pitcher Wins Longest Game in League’s History,” 2.

12. “New Pitcher Wins Longest Game in League’s History,” 2.

13. “Boston Beaten in 24th Inning,” 1-2.

14. “Athletics Win in 24th Inning,” Chicago Sunday Tribune, September 2, 1906, 9.

15. “Athletics and Boston in Record 24-Inning Go,” Washington Post, September 2, 1906, S1.

16. “Boston Beaten in 24th Inning,” 1.

17. “New Pitcher Wins Longest Game in League’s History,” 2.

18. Coombs, as told to Lieb, 17.

19. Coombs, as told to Lieb, 17.

20. Dittmar, 62-65.

21. “Catcher Powers, Veteran Catcher of Philadelphia Athletics Is Dead,” Cincinnati Enquirer, April 27, 1909: 4.

22. “Boston Beaten in 24th Inning.”

23. Joe Dittmar, “The Coombs-Harris Marathon,” undated clipping from Coombs’ file at the Baseball Hall of Fame.

24. “Boston Beaten in 24th Inning,” 1.

25. Frederick G. Lieb, “Jack Coombs Dies at 73; Won 24-Inning Marathon,” The Sporting News, April 24, 1957, 30.

26. Joe Dittmar, “The Coombs-Harris Marathon.”

27. Coombs, as told to Lieb, 17.

The date was July 16, 1909, and there was baseball in the air.1 The catcher showed up in a Panama hat. The left fielder was clad in white flannel trousers with a black silk watch fob dangling from his belt. The third baseman arrived in a suit described by one newspaper as having been stolen from a circus clown. The opposing center fielder—a future Speaker of the House of Representatives— wore a pair of checkered golf trousers tucked into long brown stockings and a silk shirt described in one news account as a “negligee.” The venue for this fashion festival? American League Park in the nation’s capital. The occasion for all of this sartorial sporting splendor? The very first Congressional Baseball Game.

The crowd of spectators was variously estimated to number between four hundred and one thousand, the difference likely being explained by the inclusion of the multitude who entered using free passes. Remember, this is the U.S. Congress about which we are talking. For those in attendance who were focused on the quality of play, the contest was destined to disappoint. The pitching was less than mediocre, but even that out-classed the fielding. Generous scorekeepers among the press on hand tallied only fourteen official errors; it was a charitable estimate. The batting star of the game was obvious—Representative Joseph Francis O’Connell of Massachusetts managed five hits in six trips to the plate, among them the first home run in congressional baseball history. Sort of. The home run ball did not come close to clearing a wall; it simply rolled around in the outfield and by the time it was retrieved and thrown in O’Connell was huffing and puffing toward the plate. He scored only because the catcher, James Francis Burke of Pennsylvania, muffed the throw.

For a time, the contest was nip and tuck. After two innings and a ten-run frame, the Democrats led 12-2. After five innings and a ten-run frame, the score stood at Democrats 14, Republicans 13. But by the end of the seventh, when the game was called because of fatigue and aching muscles, the final tally was 26-16 in favor of the Democrats. According to the box score,2 there were forty-five hits in all, four walks (Vice President Sherman, who did not attend, had decreed that a base on balls would require five balls rather than the customary four, though it is not clear whether this rule was implemented), and twelve strikeouts. The flavor of the game was perhaps best reflected in two particular plays. In one thrilling sequence captured by a newspaper photographer,3 Mr. Burke of the GOP is seen attempting to steal home while his counterpart, William Oldfield of Arkansas, awaits him at home plate, holding up the ball and yelling, “Come to my arms, Jimmy darling.” Unfortunately for Mr. Oldfield, he then simply dropped the ball, and the run scored. In the other play, during the Republicans’ mid-game rally, the watch-fobbed Democratic left fielder, the Honorable J. Thomas Heflin of Alabama, who by then had positioned himself beneath a large tree along the foul line where he was aided by a large dog that he dispatched to retrieve any balls hit in his direction, was presented with a line drive off the bat of Leonard Paul Howland of Ohio, the GOP first baseman, that was headed straight for him. Heflin ducked as the ball sailed by, and Howland should have had a home run. Alas, when he made it to second base he collapsed of exhaustion and called for someone else to come out and finish running for him.

Seated in the front row of the grandstand, with his feet for a time propped up on the railing and his purple stockings in full view, was Joseph “Uncle Joe” Cannon, the Speaker of the House and arguably the most powerful man ever to occupy that position. When it became clear that his Republican charges would fall to ignominious defeat, Cannon, by one account, threw down the large cigar he had been smoking and stomped out of the ballpark to a chorus of derisive catcalls from the Democrats.

But even as the GOP lost the baseball game, Cannon himself was the winner in a much larger contest. For this was a story less about a baseball game than about political gamesmanship. The “game” was played to serve the purposes of the chief gamesman. And at least in the short run, it performed that task quite well.

Congressman Edward Vreeland.

PLAYING BALL ON THE HILL

Joe Cannon had a problem, albeit one of his own makings, and a little inside baseball between the two parties— both on and off the field—would buy him the time to solve it. To understand why the game on the field was played, we first need to understand the game that was being played in the House. As in all things “Washington,” that means we need to follow the money.

Until 1909 the government had remained small. It was funded primarily by a highly protectionist tariff system. But an emerging movement, the progressives, saw the high tariffs mainly as protecting the trusts, fast growing and powerful industrial corporations which they were intent on reining in, and they demanded reform. To replace the revenue that they knew would be lost in the process, and to fund the growth in more aggressive government regulatory initiatives—a.k.a. trustbusting—that they craved, the progressives also backed new alternative forms of taxation, including the imposition of a personal income tax. A recent court decision had made clear that the latter could not be enacted without amending the Constitution.4

Standing against this was a conservative majority of Republicans in the House of Representatives led by Speaker Cannon, along with a similarly protectionist-minded majority in the Senate.

Cannon, who was a sharp operator—savvy, cagey, determined, and often vindictive—had seen the legislative battle over tariffs coming, and in the prior Congress he had pressed his colleague, Sereno Payne, who was both majority leader and Chair of the Ways and Means Committee, to take a deep dive into the tariff structure and prepare a bill that would not be introduced until 1909—after the 1908 election. In March 1909, a newly elected President Taft called for a special session of Congress to deal with tariffs. Cannon then promptly had Payne bring forward his legislation, which gave every appearance of responding to the progressives’ demands for tariff reform. But appearances were the point; Cannon and Payne had no intention of allowing for the passage of true reform. To the contrary, they adopted a highly cynical strategy of encouraging the reformers in public while assuring that in the end they would fail.

Payne’s bill was introduced in March, debated briefly, then passed in April and sent to the Senate, where it came under the control of fellow protectionist Nelson Aldrich, Chair of the Finance Committee. Aldrich stewarded the bill through nearly three months of open debate, in the course of which it was amended 847 times—always in the direction of greater protectionism. While this was happening, all the Democrats and Progressive Republicans in the House could do was to watch. That was because Speaker Cannon, who had wide-ranging powers, refused to name any legislative committees in the House until the tariff bill was passed in final form and signed by the president. Since the committee process was then as now the lifeblood of Congress, this meant that literally nothing substantive could happen in their absence.

The only exception to this came in June, when the proposed Sixteenth Amendment to the Constitution, authorizing the personal income tax, was rushed through the House with the complete support of the Speaker and his allies, who opposed the tax itself but backed the amendment for two reasons: they knew it would assuage the progressives, who were becoming increasingly restless, by continuing the fiction that the House would pursue a reformist agenda, and they were confident that the requisite number of states would never vote for ratification.

In the meantime, Washington’s typical summer weather— intense heat and humidity—began to build in earnest. And though mechanical air conditioning had been invented by Willis Carrier a few years earlier, the Capitol Building was three decades away from installing it. The weather, then, combined with the enforced inactivity of the body and the Speaker’s increasingly obvious circumvention of efforts at tariff reform, was generating another kind of heat in the halls of Congress. The mixture of frustration, anger, boredom, and impatience was boiling over. Something had to be done.

On Day 100 of the confrontation, the House leadership moved toward cooling off the situation, at least long enough to complete passage of the bill.

TAKE IT OUTSIDE! THE GENESIS OF THE CONGRESSIONAL BASEBALL GAME

On that day, June 23, three weeks before the competing nines would square off at American League Park, a caravan of sorts—a pair of touring cars—set out from the Willard Hotel in Washington for Oriole Park in Baltimore, some forty miles away.5 Members of the party could have taken the electric rail service that ran every half hour between downtown Washington and central Baltimore, a one-hour trip. But they opted instead to make the drive, a two-hour journey at best over a poorly delineated and at points lightly maintained network of county and state roads marked by multiple rough railroad grade crossings. Car trouble along the way delayed the group even further, but that was acceptable because most likely the real purpose of the drive was to provide an opportunity for some private, uninterrupted strategizing, and the longer trip allowed for more conversation.

In one auto rode Sereno Payne, two fellow Republican congressmen, one a member of Payne’s Ways and Means Committee, and a tariff lobbyist. In the other were newly elected congressman John Tener, two other Republicans, and a lone Democrat who had already cut a deal on a product-specific tariff. A ninth participant, the recently retired Republican House whip, met the group once they eventually reached their destination. While we cannot know what was said during the drive, it is amply clear that, once at the ballpark, all of the discussion within the group and with reporters at the game focused on the dominant issue of the day, the tariff bill.

John Tener was the first former major leaguer to be elected to Congress. Tener pitched two seasons for the Chicago White Stockings in the late 1880s, participated in the Spalding World Tour of 1888-89 (where he did double duty as treasurer of the venture and Spalding’s personal secretary and was the participant selected to explain the game of baseball to the future King Edward VII when the tour reached England), and many years later would serve as president of the National League. In the course of the tour, Tener became fast friends with Ned Hanlon, who recruited him to the Pittsburgh entry in the short-lived Players League in 1890. When the league folded, Hanlon returned to the baseball career that would lead him to the Hall of Fame, while Tener, who was from the Pittsburgh area, began a career in banking and other businesses. By 1909, Hanlon was owner of the Baltimore Eastern League team. We know that the congressional junket to Baltimore was arranged in the course of a telephone call between Tener and Hanlon on June 22. This fact has led historians to conclude that it was Tener who originated the idea for the initial congressional matchup. But that overlooks evidence to the contrary. There were other claimants to this title, perhaps most credibly Congressman Edward Vreeland of New York. Vreeland was a Republican insider and would be named to chair the Banking Committee once Cannon resumed the normal conduct of business in the House.6 Vreeland and Tener were both bankers from the western parts of their neighboring states and may have known each other professionally. But regardless, chances are that upon arriving in Congress banker Tener, who continued in the business during his term, would have sought out Vreeland in any event and Vreeland, a baseball fan, would have been open to such a gesture.

Vreeland was originally scheduled to make the trip to Baltimore but begged off at the last minute. However, it is quite possible that he had a conversation beforehand with Payne, another close follower of baseball, or even Cannon, where he shared the idea for the game. Whatever the case, it was immediately after the Baltimore visit that planning began for the congressional contest.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Tener was the face of organizing the GOP roster, while Champ Clark, the minority leader, organized the Democrats. But there are reasons to believe that Tener’s role was limited. For one thing, almost none of the players he named in his first lineup actually played in the game. The entire group, save one, was changed at the last minute. In contrast, the initial Democratic lineup changed very little by game day. But more fundamentally, there was a great deal more involved in organizing the game than simply naming the players. A field had to be located and reserved, tickets and passes needed to be printed and distributed, vendors and stadium staff needed to be recruited, the charity that would benefit from the gate had to be selected, funds needed to be collected and, following the game, distributed to the chosen charity, and more. John Tener was, in reality, a one-term congressman with an abysmal voting record,7 limited staff support, and no particular institutional interest. He was useful to the leadership mainly as a minor celebrity who could serve as the face of the game and attract participants and spectators from the political class and the media. And that was precisely what the leadership needed if the baseball game were to serve its primary purpose—as a pleasant distraction that could buy a little time.

Another indicator of the probable limits of John Tener’s role is the makeup of the Baltimore travel party. If he had been the moving force behind that trip, one thing he almost surely would have done would have been to assure that he rode in the same auto as his most powerful companion, Mr. Payne. But Payne and Tener rode in separate vehicles. Moreover, given that Tener, during his congressional tenure, displayed no strong policy interests whatsoever, it would seem more likely that he would have selected friends and acquaintances to accompany him to Baltimore rather than a bunch of tariff experts. He almost surely knew one member of the party, lobbyist J.B. Fischer, because Fischer had served on the national board of the Elks organization around the time when Tener had been that group’s Grand Exalted Ruler, its top national leader. But as to the others there is no obvious personal link.

One final point in this regard. Given that the 1909 congressional game was, on its own merits, a political success that achieved media attention and public approbation, if Tener had been truly motivated by the idea he would most likely have organized a second contest the following year, 1910. He did not. The second game in the series was not played until 1911, when Tener was back in Pennsylvania serving as the state’s governor.

Whatever the details of the planning, the “athletes” representing their respective parties took the field at American League Park on July 16, just three weeks after that trip to Baltimore. Comments by the players themselves during the course of the afternoon were replete with references to the tariff bill, and news accounts both before and after commonly used the legislation and the state of the House as a frame for their game coverage. As the Boston Globe put it on the day of the game in an article headlined, “Greater Issue Than the Tariff: All Washington Excited Over the Congressional Ball Game.”

The conference on the tariff, the urgent deficiency bill [today we would call this a supplemental appropriation], and in fact all other legislation has been forgotten. Plastered all over the lobby, back of the speaker’s desk and in the cloak, rooms are big notices that the game will be pulled off today. It is a rare event indeed, when the sacred precincts of the house [sic] contain a notice of anything except to keep off the grass or to stay out of the private elevators, but in this case all rules have been swept to the winds.8

The Cincinnati Enquirer echoed the theme in its next-day recap:

The Democrats pounded the ball in much the same spirit they would hammer away at the tariff bill if “Uncle Joe” Cannon gave them half a chance, while the teamwork of the Republicans was as disjointed as their views are on the subject of raw materials and downward revision. There is only one way for the Republicans to get even, and that is through a series of special rules, which Speaker Cannon devises, containing every ingeniously cruel limitation upon the already curtailed privileges of the minority in the House….9

Or, as one unnamed Democratic participant put it: We had scores to settle, and this sort of partly evens things up, though I’m rather afraid that “Uncle Joe” will plant his foot more firmly on some of our necks to get back at us.10

1909 Congressional Game Box Score

HARDBALL ON THE HOUSE FLOOR

At the end of July, just a few days after the game, the Senate passed and returned to the House its amended, and far more protectionist, version of the tariff bill, now referenced jointly as the Payne-Aldrich Bill. The House promptly rejected the Senate version and sent it to conference for reconciliation. This was the critical point in the Speaker’s strategy, for Cannon, in concert with Senator Aldrich, controlled the conference committee, which promptly reported out a “final” version of the bill —one that incorporated all 847 Senate amendments. Through his control of the Rules Committee, which set the terms for floor consideration of all legislation, the bill was presented with virtually no opportunity for debate, and none at all for other than technical (proof-reading) amendments. It passed the House on August 5, 1909. President Taft, who had been waiting in a room just off the House chamber, signed Payne-Aldrich into law just minutes later.

Literally five minutes after the bill became law, recorded beginning on the very same page of the Congressional Record,11 Speaker Cannon proceeded to name members to all of the House committees of the 61st Congress, taking care to reward those who had helped him on the tariff, after which the House immediately adjourned the special session. Members would not return until December.

Uncle Joe had won the battle, but the victory was pyrrhic. In the next (1910) session of the House, in a clear repudiation, the Speaker’s powers were sharply reduced. No Speaker since Cannon has wielded such control of the body. In the 1910 election, Democrats reclaimed the House itself, making Champ Clark the Speaker. In the next Congress, the Payne-Aldrich tariffs were replaced by a much less protectionist regime. And not long afterward, the Sixteenth Amendment was ratified by the states and incorporated into the Constitution. Not surprisingly, it did not take Congress long to begin taking advantage of this new power.

All of Cannon’s political machinations, then, in the long term were for naught. But in the moment—at a critical time in the political game—the very first congressional baseball game had played its part. It is perhaps worth noting that the 2025 Congressional Baseball Game, the ninetieth to be contested between the two parties, comes at a time when tariffs, progressivism, and internal factional disputes are once again at play in Congress.

J.B. MANHEIM was founding director of the School of Media & Public Affairs at The George Washington University and is a past chair of the Political Communication Section of the American Political Science Association. He is author of The Deadball Files, an award-winning series of present-day mysteries and legal thrillers grounded in events of the Deadball Era and, with Lawrence Knorr, co-author of What’s in Ted’s Wallet? The Newly Revealed T206 Baseball Card Collection of Thomas Edison’s Youngest Son. This article is based on his latest book, The House Divided: The Story of the First Congressional Baseball Game, which will be published in spring 2025 by Sunbury Press.

NOTES

1. The much abbreviated account that follows is based on an amalgam of the information, often overlapping, provided in the following sources: “Democrats Win Real Ball Game,” Washington Herald, July 17, 1909, 1, 9; “Carnage Is Something Awful When Those Big Swatting Democrats Cut Loose: Republican Ball Team Ground into Dust,” Cincinnati Enquirer, July 17, 1909, 1, 2; “De-mocrats Win Baseball Game,” Philadelphia Inquirer, July 17, 1909, 4; “Arkansas, Alabama and Tennessee Stars, Who Figured in the Recent Congressional Baseball Game,” Commercial Appeal (Memphis, Tennessee), July 23, 1909, 8; “Democrats Score Their Only Victory of the Extra Session,” Nashville Banner, July 17, 1909, 3; “Solons Play Ball,” Washington Post, July 17, 1909, 1, 4; “List of Cripples Numbers Twenty,” Washington Times, July 17, 1909, 4; Mary Craig, “A Comedy of Errors: The First Congressional Baseball Game,” The Hardball Times, April 10, 2017, accessed July 9, 2024, at tht.fangraphs.- com/a-comedy-of-errors-the-first-congressional-baseball-game; and Robert Pohl, “Lost Capitol Hill: The First Congressional Baseball Game,” February 27, 2012, accessed July 11, 2024, at thehillishome.com/2012/02/lost-capitolhill-the-first-congressional-baseball-game.

2. See, for example, “Democrats Win Real Ballgame,” op. cit., 9.

3. See “Arkansas, Alabama, and Tennessee Stars…,” op. cit.

4. The 1895 case, in which the Supreme Court reversed a previous decision, was Pollock v. Farmers’ Loan & Trust Company. See Cynthia G. Fox, “Income Tax Records of the Civil War Years,” Prologue Magazine, Winter 1986, 18:4, passim.

5. See, for example, “Ned Hanlon As Host: He Will Enter-tain a Congressional Party at Oriole Park,” Baltimore Sun, June 23, 1909, 10; “Noted Men to See Game: Represen-tatives From Several States to Be Guests of President Hanlon,” Washington Evening Star, June 23, 1909, 14; and “Congressmen on Tariff: Visitors to Baseball Game Talk Of ‘Revision Downward,’” Baltimore Sun, June 24, 1909, 12.

6. “Rep. Vreeland Is Doing Well,” Buffalo Evening News, July 16, 1909, 1.

7. Voting data are drawn from “Rep. John Tener,” accessed July 2, 2024, at www.govtrack.us/congress/members/ john_tener/410707.

8. “Greater Issue Than the Tariff,” Boston Globe, July 16, 1909, 8.

9. “Carnage Is Something Awful…,” op. cit.

10. “Solons Play Ball,” op. cit., 1.

11. Congressional Record–House, Vol. 44, Part 5 (Washington: United States Congress), August 5, 1909, 5088.

A SABR member since 1985, Henry Chadwick Award recipient, and winner of the 2008 Ritter Award for “Connie Mack and the Early Years of Baseball,” the first of three volumes on Mack which Macht researched over 66 years, Norman Macht is among the most qualified to comment on issues relating to the Deadball Era. Macht recently offered opinions in the interview below which will be of interest to members of the Deadball Era Committee.

Q: Every so often, we hear about Deadball Era players who have yet to be elected to the Hall of Fame. Sherry Magee, Gavy Cravath, and Jake Daubert are three notable examples. Do you believe that Deadball Era players deserve consideration for the Hall of Fame at this point, considering that no one living has seen them play?

A: Nobody alive today ever saw a majority of U. S. presidents, but that doesn’t stop historians from rating them. And what are we but Deadball Era historians? And what is the role of the veterans committee but historians? It’s the veterans committee’s job to do the research or ask employees of the Hall of Fame to provide it. The stats are there; contemporary comments by teammates, opponents, and sportswriters are more easily researched than ever. Deadball Era players should be judged in the con-text of their time: wearing heavy woolen uniforms, batting against mashed, nicked, grass- and tobacco-stained pitches in the twilight of spring and fall, fielding with pancake hand-size gloves on a variety of field conditions, traveling by non-air-conditioned trains and sleeping sometimes two to a bed in stuffy hotels.

Q: While stolen bases have been on the rise recently in baseball, sacrifice bunts, doubles, and triples are less a part of modern-day baseball than they were during the Deadball Era. At the same time, fans today have complained about the “three true outcomes,” where most plate appearances end in home runs, strikeouts, or walks. Part of the attractiveness of the Deadball Era game was that it was aesthetically fun to watch and often unpredictable. Please describe what you feel would have been particularly appealing about watching a Deadball Era game.

A: Putting the ball in play is what makes baseball fun to watch — and that’s what the Deadball Era offered. The three true outcomes today involve zero action. A home run in a crucial situation can be exciting (but seeing it repeated ad nauseam on scoreboards or TV is boooring). I’d rather see a batter beat out a bunt — or even be out on an attempted bunt. And the restrictions on pitchers’ holding a man on first plus the shortened distance between the enlarged bases have robbed some of the excitement of that action.

Q: Which Deadball Era stadium do you believe would have been the most enjoyable in which to watch a game?

A: I’m old enough to have seen some games in ballparks built during the Deadball Era. The Polo Grounds was fun because of its vast outfield — a cab ride from home plate to the center field fence — providing plenty of action. And in those days a general admission ticket allowed you to sit anywhere except the few rows of box and reserved seats. I also liked Ebbets Field for a different reason: it was small and you were close to whatever was happening wherever you sat. Right field had a high screen with a slanting billboard at its base — no fence, no bleachers, no home runs — just right fielder vs. base-runner battles of arms versus legs.

Q: Deadball Era pitchers were known for pitching a lot of innings, including regularly completing games. How, without modern medicine and weight training techniques, do you believe pitchers from more than a century ago were able to be so durable and have such sustained success?

A: Deadball Era pitchers threw a lot of complete games because they expected to finish every game they started and they were expected to by managers and club owners. Pitching staffs were small. At contract time, a club owner would say, “You expect me to pay two players to pitch a game?” And if you couldn’t do the job, you were gone. It was the job description. You were handed the ball to pitch the game, whether it took 9 or 12 or 15 — or even 26 innings. And pitchers resisted being taken out of a game, even if they were injured, or were being hit hard in an early inning. They made adjustments and hung in there. They paced themselves. The ultimate goal was to retire the side on three pitches, not to strike out the side. If they had a comfortable lead, ease up and throw a hittable pitch. It had nothing to do with weight training and medicine. An ideal pitcher’s build was long, dangling arms, flat muscles and big hands. A lot of pitchers were farmers and hunters in those days. They were sturdy, they walked a lot. During the season they threw a lot. (Fifty years later Johnny Sain was a pitching coach preaching that pitchers had arm problems because they didn’t throw enough.)

Q: Many Deadball Era players, such as Eddie Collins or Ty Cobb, were known for their baseball instincts and the abilities to anticipate situations. To what degree did managers serve as pitching and hitting coaches or were Deadball Era players mostly left to their own devices to figure out what worked and what didn’t?

A: Managers had a coach or two, often an old catcher or pitcher, but without the titles of hitting or pitching coach. McGraw did all the strategic thinking for the Giants and tried to call the pitches for some of his pitchers, who didn’t like it. (Other later managers did the same, including Bill Terry and Joe Cronin.) Connie Mack looked for smart players, especially infielders, and encouraged them to develop strategies and plays on their own, but he moved his outfielders depending on the pitcher and batter. And he was specific about what pitchers and hitters could use some tips and who to leave alone.

Q: With legalized sports gambling gaining an increasing foothold, the public’s expectation of the interaction between gambling and baseball has also changed. Please describe how gambling was viewed in the context of baseball during the Deadball Era, both by the sport itself and by the public at large, and to what degree public confidence in baseball was shaken by the Black Sox Scandal.

A: Players betting on their own teams was common knowledge, often admitted and publicized, and not frowned upon by the public. If a pitcher almost al-ways beat a particular team, he might bet on himself when he pitched, and some teammates might also. Players betting on a World Series in which they were not involved evoked no outcries from the public or club owners. In a 1955 letter to Connie Mack, Ty Cobb wrote: “Two times Boston and Washington wagered on their pitchers, Johnson and Wood, in a game. The papers were full of it. Pitchers who knew they would win more than they lost would wager on themselves for extra pocket money.” Clutches of gamblers sat in the outfield stands, betting among themselves on all sorts of impending events: a hit, a strikeout, a home run — whatever. But AL president Ban Johnson agreed with Connie Mack that gambling in baseball could not help but harm the game. It wasn’t until Judge Landis became the Commissioner following the 1919 World Series scandal that a concerted effort was launched to curb all gambling by players and managers. The occasional rumbling of earthquakes felt today may be caused by Landis spinning underground at today’s marriage of betting and baseball.

Q: The Deadball Era spans from 1901 to 1919, but the second half of the Deadball Era was very different from the first. Not only was offense very un-Deadball-like in 1911, but many of the accomplished players in the second half of the Deadball Era (such as George Burns, Bobby Veach, or Dave Robertson) are also nowhere near as well-known as players in the first decade. Accounting for World War I’s impact on the game, why is the latter portion of the Dead-ball Era sometimes an afterthought?

A: The first half of the Deadball Era was something new: a second major league meant twice as many big league players, new stars, new rivalries, the World Series. While the effects of the start of the Great War in 1914 cannot be minimized, and the U.S. entry into the war heightened those dampening effects, I would hardly regard as an “afterthought” any part of an era that introduced the likes of Babe Ruth, Edd Roush, Joe Jackson and George Sisler.

Q: Which Deadball Era players did you have the opportunity to interview?

A: I interviewed two players from the Deadball Era. One was Shag Thompson, a cup-of-coffee outfielder who was the last surviving member of the 1914 Philadelphia A’s. He was in his 80s when I visited him but was still sharp. We talked about Connie Mack and the A’s, which was my interest at the time, and not about what it was like playing in the Deadball Era. The other player was John Francis Daley, whom I visited on his 100th birthday (in 1987) in Mansfield, Ohio. (He was the oldest former major leaguer when he died at 101.). He described what it was like to bat against Walter Johnson in the late afternoon when games began at 3:30: “In 1912 I was playing shortstop for Mansfield in the Class D Ohio State League. Along about July the St. Louis Browns, who would lose 101 games that year, needed infielders. They bought me for $3,500 and I was suddenly in the big leagues. In my third game, on July 20 in Washington, the score was 3-3 in the top of the eleventh. It’s getting dark. I’m up to bat. And who’s pitching? Walter Johnson. He’d come in in relief in the ninth inning. I worked him to a 3 and 2 count and fouled off a few. The next pitch I never saw. I heard it smack in the catcher’s mitt and the umpire call strike three. I guess I looked sort of dazed. Our manager, George Stovall, said to me, ‘What’s the matter, kid?’ I told him, ‘You can’t hit what you can’t see.’” (At the end of that inning, the game was called on account of darkness.)

Q: In the Deadball Era, it was rare for players to be quoted in newspaper articles recounting particular games. One did not, for instance, typically see quotes from Eddie Plank or Rube Waddell after a well-pitched game. Considering that reporters often traveled with the teams and were close to players and managers, why were players of the time quoted so rarely?

A: In those days writers did not rush down to the clubhouses after a game to get quotes. They had enough to do writing their game stories for the telegraphers to send to their papers for the early editions. And they wouldn’t have been welcome in the clubhouses. Some interviews took place on trains and in hotel lobbies. But a lot of players were farmers or small-town boys who didn’t have much to say or were wary of reporters (which has always been the case). And, truth be told, some well-known writers made up interviews.

Q: To what degree is the Deadball Era still relevant today? More than a century later, what are the most important things to recall about the Deadball Era?

A: The Deadball Era is relevant because it’s history, man. It’s part of the Americanization of the immigrants of the first 20 years of the twentieth century, as well as the evolution of the baseball fans of not just America but the world. And it’s full of fascinating stories about fascinating characters and once-in-a-lifetime events.

This article was published in the SABR Deadball Era Committee’s August 2024 newsletter.

Standing less than five-feet tall, Deadball Era arbiter Barney Bricelin was the game’s smallest umpire. That diminutive stature, however, garnered him little sympathy or respect from players, baseball fans, or the sporting press. Bricelin’s umpiring tenure was punctuated by assaults upon his person, displeasure voiced from the grandstands, and harsh newspaper criticism. Nor did he get much support from the minor league executives who employed him, being dismissed mid-season on several occasions. Still, Bricelin persevered, rising as high in his profession as the Class B Central, Connecticut State, and Eastern Leagues. And he remained active on the baseball scene of his Ohio hometown until shortly before his death in March 1927. The paragraphs below recall the life and times of this long-forgotten miniature man in blue.

John Lewis Bricelin was born on March 16, 1879 in Franklin, Ohio, a municipality located about 35 miles northeast of Cincinnati.1 He was the eighth of nine children born to coal miner John W. Bricelin (1832-1919) and his wife Mary (nee Maley, 1844-1922), both descendent of Irish Catholic immigrants.2 When Barney (as our subject was called by family, friends, and the press)3 was still a toddler, the Bricelin family relocated to East Liverpool, a pottery manufacturing center located near the Ohio border with Western Pennsylvania. For the remainder of his days, Barney called East Liverpool home. And apart from his time on the ball field, he spent his working life as a potter in various East Liverpool area mills.

Little is known of Bricelin’s early years, but life was not likely easy for someone as undersized as Barney. Bricelin was not a dwarf or otherwise physically stunted. He was, rather, a normally proportioned, well-coordinated young man, but an exceptionally small one: standing about 4’11” and eventually weighing somewhere in the neighborhood of 110-120 pounds.4 His lifelong connection to baseball was first memorialized in an April 1898 news item that listed the 21-year-old as a member of a local pottery mill nine.5 The following year, he played shortstop for East Liverpool’s amateur team.6 Barney also maintained his place in the pottery mill league, manning the outfield for the West End club in 1900.7

Fires rage in San Francisco after a major earthquake on April 18, 1906. (Photo: US Army Center of Military History)

In the early hours of April 18, 1906, California was shaken by a major earthquake. The catastrophe was one of the worst natural disasters in the nation’s history, and San Francisco was especially decimated. By the time the sun set that evening, much of the city had been leveled, and fires had the city skyline glowing through the entire evening. When news of the tragedy appeared in newspapers the next day, many people across the country were left waiting to find out if their friends and family were among the thousands that perished. Organizations of all types immediately started raising funds to donate to the victims and the recovery effort.

Recreation Park, the home of the Pacific Coast League’s San Francisco Seals, was not spared by the quake. The park was destroyed, and the Seals were left to play their remaining home games at Oakland’s Idora Park. Though major league teams were not impacted as directly by the earthquake as the PCL teams, they still felt its effects. Several major leaguers called San Francisco home and were anxious for news about their families and homes.

When news of the great San Francisco earthquake broke, many major league teams were quick to assist with desperately needed financial aid. Owners of that era are often looked back on as penny-pinchers, and some of them deservedly so. Owning a major league baseball team in 1906 wasn’t quite the mega-million-dollar pastime it is today. That’s not to say owners of the day couldn’t turn a substantial profit running a baseball team, but they had to watch costs much more closely.

On April 19, the day after the quake struck, Philadelphia Athletics president Ben Shibe pledged to donate the team’s share of gate receipts from their upcoming April 20 home game against the New York Highlanders to relief funds.1 Spring rain showers in Philadelphia kept many fans away that day. However, 3,081 people still came to Columbia Park and saw Andy Coakley hold the Highlanders to five hits, as the Athletics easily defeated New York 11-3. New York pitcher Al Orth kept the Highlanders in the game until a ten-minute rain delay stopped the game in the sixth inning. Following suit, the St. Louis and Cleveland American League clubs both agreed to donate half of the shares of their April 21 contest to the victims. A respectable-sized crowd of 11,250 attended the game at St. Louis’s Sportsman’s Park and $1,512 was raised for the California relief effort.

The National League also jumped to action after the earthquake struck. On April 21, the league office announced that the clubs had given approval to NL President Harry Pulliam to donate $1,000 to go to the victims of the earthquake. The ruling board of the major leagues, the National Commission, also gave $250. Commission member and Cincinnati president Garry Herrmann pledged $250 on behalf of the Reds, raising the overall group donation to $1,500.2 Herrmann had earlier announced that proceeds from an upcoming game between his Reds and the St. Louis Cardinals would go to San Francisco, but he opted to stick with the Reds team donation. Other clubs went with this option as well. The Pittsburgh Athletic Co. (the Pirates) donated $100, and team president Barney Dreyfuss kicked in another $10.3 Washington Nationals (Senators) owner Thomas Noyes’ name could also be found on a list of contributors with a $20 pledge.4,5 Some National League clubs decided to instead donate funds from games. The Philadelphia and Boston NL clubs had the best of intentions when they announced that all gate receipts from their scheduled game in Boston on Monday, April 23, would be donated.6 But in what became a common feature of these benefit games, the weather was terrible. After morning rains and a bitter wind blew through the South End Grounds in Boston before the game, Philly president Bill Shettsline and manager Hugh Duffy asked the Boston Nationals to push the game back a day. Boston executive William Conant called for the game to go on as scheduled. The Boston Globe derided the decision, sarcastically pointing out that Conant and the other Nationals magnates made the decision while “… refusing to take a chance of getting a cold by visiting the grounds themselves.”7 Only about 540 shivering cranks showed up for the game, though more would surely have attended if they thought the game would actually take place that day. Those fans who did attend probably wished they had stayed home. The game ended up in a 1-0 Phillies victory. The most interesting thing that happened in the game occurred in the ninth inning when Nationals manager Fred Tenney pinch-hit for all his outfielders using a pitcher and two light-hitting catchers. Tenney didn’t support playing the game under the weather conditions in the first place;8 perhaps he decided to call it a day and throw in the towel. A month later it was reported that Boston decided to hold onto their gate receipts,9 but it would be hard to blame them after such a low turnout for the game.

NEW YORK TEAMS HELP WITH THE EFFORT BUT ALSO SEE AN OPPORTUNITY

With three major league teams in the vicinity of New York City, there was ample opportunity to realize a large collection from the area. After receiving news of the earthquake, an unspecified New York Congressman was said to have asked the Giants and Brooklyn Superbas to donate part of the gate receipts from their game on April 19. Giants owner John T. Brush apparently did not want to put that responsibility on the fans, but he did offer to write a personal check, “… if it was needed.” 10 One report later claimed that he donated $500 to earthquake relief.11 Rather than give proceeds from one of their games, the Giants instead allowed a relief support group to sell newspapers to raise funds at their April 21 game against the Brooklyn Superbas. Before the game, an automobile drove around the park selling papers, and then more were sold throughout the stands during the game. Manager John McGraw himself was said to have purchased a paper for $200.12

The Brooklyn club in turn announced that all proceeds from their April 22 game at Washington Park against the Giants would go to San Francisco. Any game between Brooklyn and the rival Giants caused excitement around the city, but this one caused some stirring as well, for it was to take place on a Sunday. Baseball on Sundays was a hot topic in New York State at the time; it was still illegal for sports to take place on Sundays, at least if people were charged to watch the games or if the crowds were thought to be disturbing the community. Brooklyn owner Charles Ebbets hadn’t been afraid to evaluate the flexibility of these laws over the previous two seasons. In 1905 Ebbets allowed free admission to fans for Sunday games, thus the team did not make any money from ticket sales. The fans were encouraged to buy scorecards, however, with sales going back to the team.13 Brooklyn scheduled a game on Sunday, April 23, and it was later ruled by police to be illegal. The police did not interfere with the game, but four days later the Superba battery mates Malcolm Eason and Lewis Ritter were arrested for their role in starting the illegal Sunday game since they took part in the opening pitch. The charges were dismissed in May.14 The team played four more Sunday home games before the Brooklyn courts and law enforcement let it be known that the Sunday games must cease. Ebbets tried for Sunday baseball again in 1906 when he scheduled a game against the Boston Nationals for April 15, the first Sunday of the season. Again, no fans were charged to get into the game. Instead, donation boxes for the San Francisco relief effort were placed around the park and fans could make donations if they wished. Ebbets took the precaution of notifying the local authorities, and police kept a watchful eye on the crowd to make sure no programs were sold and that no one was turned away if they did not donate.15 Otherwise, the game would be allowed.

Brooklyn had already made plans after their April 15 game to play the following Sunday against the New York Giants. When the San Francisco earthquake struck just days before that April 22 date, Ebbets had the perfect reason to promote a Sunday game. Collection boxes would again be placed around by entrances, and all fans were encouraged to make donations, all of which would go to the earthquake relief efforts. Even if the Superbas did not make a penny from the game, it would be a showing that Sunday baseball was perfectly acceptable. The game was approved because money was being raised for charity and because the previous Sunday game had not caused any provocations in the stands or the surrounding community. But there was one problem; the New York Giants declined to play in the game. A reason was not published. It was possible that enough of the New York team didn’t want to break the Sunday baseball laws, or perhaps John Brush just didn’t want to give Ebbets the satisfaction of hosting the game.

Instead, the Superbas played an intrasquad game between their regular starters and their second squad of “Yannigans.” New York Giants utility man Sammy Strang joined on with the Yannigans for the day, batting leadoff and playing second base, and the team also picked up a local player by the name of Hagan. Veteran umpire Hank O’Day volunteered his services for the exhibition game. The Brooklyn regulars managed only five hits and were defeated 3-2 in 10 innings by the makeshift Yannigans. Nearly 7,000 fans did not take offense to the Sunday activity and came out to Washington Park to watch the game, and the effort raised $1,254.16 The game was popular enough that the Superbas set up another game the following Sunday against the Phillies, again for donations. For that game, however, there was no mention of the proceeds going to San Francisco.

Frank Farrell and his New York Highlanders weren’t quite as daring as the Superbas when it came to Sunday baseball. They played in the city on Sundays but stuck to exhibition games against local teams. But following the success of the Superbas’ Sunday game, they announced that an exhibition game would take place on Sunday, April 29 with the Athletics at American League Park (aka Hilltop Park). The two teams had just met on April 20 in Philadelphia’s earthquake benefit game, and now New York would take their turn to give the proceeds. The Highlanders had just played another benefit game two weeks earlier. On April 16 New York had donated their gate receipts from a home game against Boston to victims of another disaster, the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in Italy on April 7. But now, with an emergency closer to home, the team was up for another fundraising effort.

Unlike the game in Brooklyn, the Highlanders were able to charge admission for their benefit contest since Highlander owner Frank Farrel was said to be on good terms with the local authorities and thus was able to “… induce them to allow his team to play … a Sunday game for the benefit of the earthquake sufferers”.17 New York Mayor George McLellan permitted the game, said to be the first major league professional game on a Sunday in New York City in 20 years.18 The game raised the largest collection of any of the benefit games or collections involving major league teams. An estimated 15,000 fans turned out for the game and raised $5,602.

Although the Brooklyn and New York games did much good for raising money for San Francisco, they didn’t do much to change state lawmakers’ perception of Sunday baseball. Brooklyn continued to try playing Sunday “donation” games after the San Francisco benefit game, but the local law enforcement made an edict that Sunday games for money must cease. The authorities made it known that if any games were played on Sunday for money, even in the form of donations, the managers and a player from both teams would be placed under arrest (though the game would be allowed to play out).19 When the Superbas and Reds played on Sunday, June 17, the donation boxes were out again, and local police stayed true to their word. Ebbets, Superbas manager Patsy Donovan, and Reds Manager Ned Hanlon were arrested, as were players Chick Fraser and Malcolm Eason (again). The city courts later considered the arrests to be unlawful and dropped the charges. The issue went all the way to the New York Supreme Court, and they ruled that Ebbets’ donation games violated the state Sunday ordinances. Other than a couple of WWI-era games in support of the Red Cross, Sunday home games would not appear again on the schedules of the New York teams until 1919.

BETTER LATE THAN NEVER IN CHICAGO, BUT ALSO NEVER

On the opposite side of the active New York clubs was one club that was interestingly absent from mention of benefit games or donations — Charles Murphy’s Chicago Cubs. Outside of supporting the overall gift from the National League, the author was not able to find any mention of Murphy or the Cubs making donations, at least not in online newspaper searches. If this was the case, Chicago missed an opportune time to help with fundraising. On April 21 Chicago held a grand celebration to raise a banner celebrating their championship in the city league series against the White Sox the previous October (the two teams would meet in a much more important series the next October). The festivities that day began with a parade to escort the players from the Victoria Hotel to West Side Grounds, and Chicago Mayor Edward Dunne was on hand at the game to throw the ceremonial first pitch. Just a day earlier Dunne had to decline an invitation to do the same at the Chicago White Sox home opener, stating he committed to attending a meeting of the city’s relief committee in response to the disaster. National League President Pulliam was also in attendance, the same day the contribution from the National League was announced. The weather for the game was ideal, sunny, and cool, and about 9,000 fans came out to see the Cubs take on the Cardinals. Maybe the Cubs should have waited until the next day for the ceremonies when over 14,000 Cubs rooters came out to see the first game of the series against the league-leading Pittsburgh Pirates. Any percentage of the proceeds from either of the two games could have raised a substantial amount.

As the end of April approached, there was no indication that Chicago’s other team was planning to act either. Neither the White Sox nor the Detroit Tigers had yet been mentioned in any fundraising efforts. After the earthquake struck, Ernest P. Wheelan, a popular popcorn vendor at Detroit’s Bennett Park, pledged to donate 15 percent of his popcorn sales at the Tigers home game on April 25 to help San Francisco.20 The Tigers and White Sox weren’t as quick to action as Wheelan, but on April 30 they announced that half of the proceeds from that day’s game in Chicago would be donated, as would those from an upcoming game in Detroit.21 Around 2,100 fans braved the cold temperatures in Chicago that day to come to South Side Park and witness the visiting Tigers beat the White Sox 2-1.

As with the Cubs, the author could not find mention of separate contributions being made by the Boston Americans22 or the St. Louis Cardinals. The total earned from the initial Philadelphia Athletics game was not found in any game reports, and the amount raised by the New York Giants could not be determined. Assuming the Boston Nationals and Philadelphia Phillies held onto the earnings from their game, there was still over $10,000 raised by the major leagues in support of San Francisco, not including any donations that players may have made on their own. When that city was again struck by an earthquake in 1989 Major League Baseball contributed a minimum of $1.4 million. The amount raised in 1906 would equal nearly $350,000 in 2024 dollars.23 This amount doesn’t quite compare to the amount raised in 1989, but the citizens of San Francisco appreciated every penny.

ENDNOTES

1. “Base Ball Receipts for Sufferers”, Philadelphia Inquirer, April 20, 1906: 16.

2. “Ball Players Send Contribution of $1,500”, Standard Union (Brooklyn, NY), April 22, 1906: 2.

3. “Local Fund Took Big Jump”, Pittsburg Press, April 22, 1906: 4.

4. “Contributions To the Star”, Evening Star, Washington, D.C., April 20, 1906: 2.

5. The Noyes family owned the Washington Star and likely donated through the newspaper.

6. “Plan Athletic Meet” under section “Benefit Game”, Boston Globe, April 21, 1906: 2.

7. “One Run Is Just Enough”, Boston Globe, April 24, 1906: 8.

8. “One Run Is Just Enough.”

9. J.B. Sheridan, “The Sportsman’s Niche”, St. Louis Post Dispatch, May 17, 1906: 18.

10. “Six Straight for Superbas and Not an Umpire to Blame”, Brooklyn Daily Eagle, April 19, 1906: 15.

11. J.B. Sheridan, “The Sportsman’s Niche”, St. Louis Post Dispatch, May 8, 1906: p 14.

12. “Superbas Meet Defeat in The Ninth Inning”, Brooklyn Daily Eagle, April 22, 1906: 57.

13. “McGraw Asks Court to Remit His Fine”, under section “Eason and Ritter Freed”, Brooklyn Daily Eagle, June 2, 1905: 2.

14. “Ball Players Discharged”, Brooklyn Citizen, May 15, 1905: 12.

15. “Sunday Baseball at Washington Park.”, Brooklyn Daily Eagle, April 16, 1906: 6.

16. “Gessler Goes to Chicago, Jordan to Play First”, Brooklyn Daily Eagle, April 23, 1906: p 15.

17. “Sheridan.”

18. “Big Benefit Game in New York”, Evening Star (Washington, D.C.), April 25, 1906: p 18.

19. “Legality Of Sunday Ball Games Will Come with To Day’s Contests”, Standard Union (Brooklyn, NY), June 17, 1906: 6.

20. “Old Favorites” under section Baseball More Briefly, Detroit Free Press, April 24, 1906: 10.

21. “Benefit Game Today”, Inter Ocean (Chicago, IL), April 30, 1906: 9.

22. Like Thomas Noyes, Red Sox owner John Taylor’s family ran the Boston Globe and likely made donations in the paper’s name.

23. This figure was estimated using multiple online inflation calculators.

Walter East is hardly the sole Deadball Era career minor leaguer to have led an interesting and eventful life. But more than a century later, he may well be the only one to have his own Wikipedia page. Regrettably for East, the reference work narrative focuses almost exclusively on his involvement in a harebrained scheme to fix the outcome of two 1906 pro football games. Left unmentioned is anything about East’s personal life; accomplishments as a three-sport athlete on the collegiate and professional levels; success as a minor league field leader; and post-athletics life as a practicing attorney and political operative in his adopted hometown of Akron, Ohio. The paragraphs below endeavor to fill that void.

Walter Rufus East was born on March 29, 1883, in Coulterville, Illinois, a downstate hamlet situated near the Missouri border. He was the fourth of five sons born to Rufus East (1846-1907), a Union Army veteran turned restaurant proprietor, and his wife Lucinda Jane (nee Robinson, 1846-1936), devout Presbyterians of working-class stock.1 Nothing is known of Walter’s youth or his introduction to the sports in which he would later achieve fleeting acclaim except for a report that he began playing team baseball at age 16.2

BEGINNINGS IN BASEBALL

Walter East is first discovered in the public record as a 20-year-old, playing first base for the Pittsburg (Kansas) Coal Diggers of the Class D Missouri Valley League. Amply sized — officially listed as 5’11”/180 pounds but probably a bit larger3 — East was recruited by his older brother Claude, a Pittsburg club co-owner.4 At the time, Walter was an undergraduate at Geneva College in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, and a three-sport (football, basketball, baseball) stalwart for the Reformed Presbyterian Church-affiliated school’s athletic teams.

A right-handed batter and thrower,5 East posted only a .233 batting average for the weak-hitting Coal Diggers6 but impressed with his defense, a Pittsburg newspaper describing “his work at first base [as] unusually good.”7

At season’s end, Walter returned to the classroom and playing fields of Geneva College. The following spring, he joined a semipro baseball club representing nearby Sharon, Pennsylvania. Released in late June, East soon found a berth as a second baseman with a nine sponsored by the Akron Athletic Club,8 beginning an association with “the Rubber Capital of the World” that would last the remainder of his life. Upon arrival, he unveiled a yarn that became a staple of his biography. “When I started my career in a little town,” East related, “the other players in the outfield were named North and West” and were aligned in the club batting order to place “North at bat, East on deck and West in the hole.”9 Big Walter, as he was often called, quickly became a local favorite, deriving special satisfaction from hitting a game-winning homer against his former Sharon clubmates in late August.10 He also began to attract major league interest, with Cleveland Naps founder-owner Charles Somers personally scouting East. The prospect, however, had already committed to remaining in Akron for the ensuing season and was thus unavailable to the Naps.11

Now bent on the study of law, Walter transferred to Western University of Pennsylvania that fall.12 But for the time being, football was his primary concern. Playing right end for an undefeated WUP eleven, he was a standout, “being invincible on defense and a sure gainer with the ball.”13 But the priggish East expressed reservations about teammates who were “hard to handle and refuse to cut out smoking and other indulgences that do not mix with football.”14 Over the winter, he played basketball for the Ohio National Guard team. For the 1905 baseball season, East signed with the Akron Buckeyes of the newly formed Class C Ohio-Pennsylvania League but did not report until his spring semester college course work was completed.15 Shortly thereafter, Akron club management deposed skipper Frank Motz and placed the 22-year-old East in charge. Under his direction, the Buckeyes played well, posting a commendable (66-42, .611) final record. And East himself performed creditably, being selected as the second baseman on the All-Ohio minor league all-star team selected by Cleveland Plain Dealer sportswriter Henry Edwards.16

Despite allegations of professionalism — it was reported that East had recently signed with a pro football team in Canton, Ohio, and that he had earlier been remunerated for transferring from Geneva College17 — East returned to WUP and his fitful legal studies that fall.18 And again, he played right end for a talented university football team. Belying its excellent 11-2 record, the WUP team was strife-torn, with various players turning against Coach Arthur Mosse. Among those who threatened to leave school if Mosse was not discharged was Walter East.19 His hostile attitude toward a respected local football coach, however, did not sour Pittsburgh baseball fans on East, and by late December there was public clamor for a major league ball club to audition him the following spring.20 But that did not happen. In the meantime, East spent the winter playing basketball for the WUP varsity.21

Bypassed in the minor league player draft, East returned to Akron for the 1906 season.22 And despite protestations that he did not want the job, East resumed duties at the club helm.23 Along with predicting a pennant, “the youngest manager in the league” announced new disciplinary mandates, including nightly curfews and the imposition of fines for “stupid plays. I believe the best way to get a player’s thinking apparatus to working rightly is to assess fines for dumb plays,” East declared.24 He then set about discovering and signing prospects for the club roster.

The Akron ball club, now nicknamed the Rubbernecks, got off to a slow start as manager East had to fend off interference from the club directors.25 But thereafter, Akron surged in league standings with its youthful field boss leading by example. Big Walter batted a team-leading .291, while his defensive stats reflected the wide fielding range that produced the high total chances (706), putouts (332), assists (321), and errors committed (53) marks that would annually characterize his work as a second baseman. In the end, only untimely late-season defeats stood between Akron (83-55, .601) and the O-P League champion Youngstown Tire Works (84-53, .613). Thereafter, East was named the second baseman on the league all-star nine selected by Youngstown sportswriter Ed F. Bang,26 and promptly reengaged as Akron manager for the 1907 season.28 In the interim, East returned to the gridiron and his rendezvous with scandal.

THE FOOTBALL SCANDAL

Long before the NFL came into existence, Ohio was a hotbed of professional football with various localities fielding a gridiron squad. Two of the most formidable were based in Canton and Massillon. With home fields separated by a mere 15 miles, the Canton Bulldogs and Massillon Tigers were considered among the nation’s top pro clubs and fierce rivals. In the November 1905 championship game of the top-notch Ohio League, Massillon defeated Canton, 14-4. With a rematch the following fall likely in the offing, the sides stepped up their recruitment of playing talent, with rugged end Walter East approached by both teams.28 In time, he opted for Massillon.

In the run-up to a 1906 season-ending away-and-home game showdown with Canton, Massillon extended an undefeated streak that stretched back three seasons. On November 6, the Tigers administered a 32-0 shellacking to Pittsburg Lyceum in which right end Walter East “showed his many old college friends … that he is even better now than during the days that he was playing a star game with the Western University of Pennsylvania eleven.”29 But shortly thereafter and with the initial clash with Canton only days away, East was released by Massillon, reportedly because of “a bad case of ‘charley horse.’”30

On November 16, 1906, Canton upset betting favorite Massillon, 10-5.31 Eight days later, the Tigers evened the score with a 13-6 triumph and thereby retained the Ohio League championship.32 A full accounting of the brouhaha that subsequently erupted, often considered the first fixed-game scandal in professional football history, is beyond the scope of this essay.33 But in brief, days after the second Canton-Massillon game, Massillon club owner Ed Stewart alleged that with financial backing from gamblers, ex-Tiger Walter East and Canton coach Blondy Wallace had attempted to engineer a fix via bribery of players. Under their scheme, Canton would win the first game and Massillon the second, setting up a high-stakes rubber match to be played in Cleveland.34 Wallace furiously denied the accusation, promptly instituting a $25,000 defamation lawsuit against Stewart and the Massillon Morning Gleaner, the newspaper that first published the Stewart charges.35 The response from East, however, only complicated matters. Exonerating Wallace, East asserted that there had, indeed, been an attempt to corrupt the Canton Massillon games but named its instigator as Massillon coach Shelburn Wightman.

According to East, Wightman offered to arrange for Massillon to lose the opening game in exchange for $4,000, allowing plot insiders to clean up betting on underdog Canton. East then took the proposition to John T. Windsor, a financial supporter/director of the Akron Rubbernecks baseball club and a well-to-do sporting man who agreed to back it. To modern eyes, however, the mechanics of the fix plot border on deranged, particularly its terms being memorialized in a written pseudo-contract signed by Wightman, East, and Windsor. 36 When the scandal erupted, Windsor publicly corroborated the East account of events.37 But the clincher was East’s production of the incriminating document itself, signed in triplicate by the fix principals. Forced into a corner by this irrefutable evidence, Wightman acknowledged participation in game rigging negotiations but insisted that he had done so acting on orders of Massillon club boss Stewart, so as to entrap East and Windsor, the true fix masterminds.38 But Wightman promptly undermined the credibility of this dubious claim by further alleging that East had also boasted of obstructing Akron’s efforts to capture the Ohio-Pennsylvania League pennant earlier that fall.39

This baseball-related charge was greeted by widespread skepticism, with Cleveland sportswriter Harry Neily declaring that East and his Akron charges went all-out to win the OPL pennant, “plugging hard for every game.”40 And when Wightman declined to appear and repeat his allegations at a quickly-scheduled Ohio-Pennsylvania League meeting, his charges were discounted and no disciplinary measures were imposed on East by circuit overseers.41 Looking back on the scandal today, it is unclear whether fixing the Canton-Massillon clashes ever got beyond the talking stage. And there is little, if any, hard evidence to substantiate whether either game was rigged. Nevertheless, the corruption allegations dramatically affected the fortunes of professional foot-ball in Ohio, with both the Canton and Massillon elevens thereafter suspending operations for a time.42

REFOCUS ON BASEBALL

Although he went unpunished, the fixing scandal effectively ended Walter East’s time on the gridiron. From there on, he concentrated his sporting attentions on baseball. With the support of dominant board director Windsor, Big Walter returned as player-manager of the Akron Rubbernecks. But other club directors held his connection to the football scandal against East, creating season-long tension among club executives that eventually culminated in Windsor physically assaulting another team director.43 Meanwhile, manager East attempted to boost Akron prospects by signing former Cleveland Naps second baseman Nick Kahl, a longtime acquaintance from hometown Coulterville.44 But an irreparable arm injury soon forced Kahl’s release.45 East suffered another disappointment when the National Commission disapproved contracts signed by hard-hitting first baseman Bill Schwartz and himself which did not include a reserve clause.46 On another futile front, Big Walter tried to improve his players’ lot by patenting “an inflated rubber protector to cover the leg, body, and arm” of Akron batsmen, but the device proved impractical. 47

Notwithstanding the above setbacks and the season-long hostility of minority club directors, East had the Rubbernecks in the OPL lead as the season entered the home stretch.48 But like the year before, Akron was nipped at the wire, finishing a close (83-53, 610) third to Youngstown (86-52, .623) and the Newark (Ohio) Newks (86-53, .619). East’s playing performance was also a near-repeat of the prior season. He posted a solid .285 BA with a team-best .379 slugging average and upped his fielding stats to 343 putouts-378 assists-30 errors = .960 FA. Those numbers made him the second baseman on the OPL all-star team chosen by Cleveland Plain Dealer sportswriter Neily49 and a selection by the Little Rock Travelers of the Class A Southern League in the post-season minor league player draft.50 Unhappy that he was not deemed a free agent, East protested his draft selection, but to no avail. The National Association, overseer of minor league baseball, ordered him to report to Little Rock.51 On another sports front, East was also unsuccessful in efforts to secure a franchise in the newly organized Central Basketball League of Ohio.52

However disgruntled he may have been about the National Association directive, the Little Rock draft launched Walter East toward the modest summit of his baseball career. Initially, though, things did not work out well for him, particularly when appearing before quickly-turned-hostile home game fans.53 By early June, it was widely reported that a disgruntled East was hoping to leave Little Rock to assume managing the Erie (Pennsylvania) Sailors of the O-P League.54 But that did not happen. Instead, East was sold to the Nashville Volunteers, 55 for whom he proceeded to play the best base-ball of his pro career and contribute significantly to the club’s come-from-behind Southern League championship. 56

“Since Walter has joined the Volunteers, he seems to hit the ball very hard, and very often,” observed a New Orleans newspaper in late July. “He also seems to field nicer than ever before. In short, he is playing star ball.”57 Posting respectable batting (.260) and fielding (.949) averages58 and providing heady on-field leadership, East was deemed “instrumental in landing Nashville the pennant” by the Memphis Commercial Appeal.59 That view was echoed back in Akron where the Beacon Journal stated that “East can claim credit for being one of the big factors for his team getting the Southern League flag.”60 Thereafter, he compounded the satisfaction of being a member of a pennant-winning ball club with another professional achievement. In December, East passed the bar examination and was admitted to the practice of law in Ohio.61 The newly minted attorney then spent the winter in Akron, working as an associate at a city law firm and coaching the Buchtel College basketball team.62

Although his employment options were now greatly expanded, East was not yet ready to abandon baseball. But he was unenthusiastic about returning to Nashville. Instead, he applied to fill a managerial vacancy with the Zanesville (Ohio) Infants of the Class B Central League, but was turned down.63 After a brief contract holdout, East reported to Nashville’s spring camp ready to resume his place as the club’s second baseman and team captain.64 By mid-June, however, shaky performance turned hometown fans against him, the grandstand abuse reaching the point where East asked Volunteers manager Bill Bernhard to release him.65 But Bernhard refused, declaring “I consider East one of the most valuable ball players in the league, and one of the brainiest, besides [being] one who has given his best efforts to the club.”66

East rewarded his manager’s confidence by soon returning to form. By season end, his numbers (.266 BA/.947 FA) nearly duplicated those of the previous year, but Nashville’s improved (82-55, .599) log was good only for second place in the Southern League pennant chase. Once his ballplaying duties concluded, East effected a change in his domestic status, marrying 29-year-old Alice Durhoff in late October.67 Over the ensuing winter it briefly appeared that the now 26-year-old might receive a major league shot when his contract was sold to the Cleveland Naps.68 But days later, the sale was revealed as no more than a device for transferring East to the Buffalo Bisons of the Class A Eastern League.69 East got off to a good start with his new club, but his hitting then fell off sharply. In late June, he was traded to an EL rival, the Montreal Royals.70 The change of livery did not spur improvement, and by season’s end the East batting average had sunk to .231 in 73 games played, combined. Jettisoned by Montreal, East returned to the Southern League, reuniting with Bill Bernhard, now manager of the Memphis Turtles.71 Bernhard, a former major league pitcher, had relied on East to orchestrate the in-field defense while the two were in Nashville, and in-tended to repeat that protocol in Memphis, appointing East his team captain.72 But success eluded them this time as Memphis finished a distant sixth in final Southern League standings.

As before, East returned to Akron for the winter which he spent angling for a managerial post close to home in the newly-formed Class D Ohio State League.73 Rebuffed once again, he returned to the Southern League for the 1911 season, his contract having been sold to the defending circuit champion Atlanta Crackers.74 By June, however, a .240 batting average in 40 games earned East his release. After a brief sojourn with the Kansas City Blues of the new top-echelon Class AA American Association, 75 East assumed the post of player-manager of the Ohio State League’s Mansfield Brownies.76 Taking over a club with a pennant-contending 47-36 (.567) record, East contributed on the field, registering a career-best .293 BA in 33 games. But he flopped as Brownies leader, his charges not responding to his command and saddling their new skipper with the only losing (25-31, .467) mark of his managerial career.

The stint in Mansfield ended the professional baseball career of Walter East. Although never good enough for the majors, he had been a competent high minor league ballplayer with a decent bat, wide defensive range, and plenty of on-field smarts. Big Walter had also been an excellent lower-tier minor league manager, accumulating a 287-181 (.587) record in four sessions at the helm. But now approaching age 30 and with the business, legal, and political worlds beckoning, he left the game for other pursuits.

LIFE AFTER ATHLETICS

Late during his minor league days, East opened a commercial laundry in Ashland, Ohio, hometown of wife Alice.77 The business proved successful, providing the budding entrepreneur with a healthy off-season income. An ensuing venture, however, proved an embarrassing fiasco. In February 1913, East and a business partner bought a dilapidated hotel in Marion, Ohio, intending to transform it into European-style resort.78 Security pledged to finance renovations included East’s Ashland laundry. When the hotel venture collapsed and its financiers attempted to foreclose on the security, it was discovered that East was not the laundry owner. His wife was. Angered backers then charged East with fraud and had a warrant issued for his arrest.79 Sometime thereafter, the matter was quietly settled out of court.80

After that disagreeable experience, East gravitated toward the law and local politics, interrupted only by brief state-side military service during World War I. In August 1920, East was an unsuccessful candidate for the Republican Party nomination for prosecuting attorney for the City of Akron.81 Thereafter, he did criminal defense work and accepted court-appointed trustee assignments. Given his background, it was logical for a local syndicate looking to hold on to the Akron Buck-eyes as an International League member to retain East as legal counsel in early 1921.82 When the league awarded the failing franchise to Newark (NJ), East oversaw the financial end of the transaction.83

East remained involved in local Republican Party politics throughout the 1920s, serving on various committees and speaking at meetings. Meanwhile, his marriage ended in divorce. Relocation to the Akron suburb of Barberton did not improve East’s prospects for political office. A run for a municipal court judgeship was unsuccessful, as was one for city solicitor.84 Thereafter, East undertook the high-profile defense of a county commissioner charged with embezzlement and official misconduct. A February 1930 trial finally yielded an East triumph of sorts, as the jury was unable to reach a verdict.85 Preparation for the retrial brought East to Philadelphia where he suddenly fell ill. He died of uremic poisoning at Mercy Hospital on the evening of August 28, 1930.86 Walter Rufus East was 46. Following funeral services conducted in Akron, his remains were returned to his birthplace and interred in Coulterville Cemetery. Childless, the deceased was survived by his elderly mother, four brothers, and ex-wife Alice.

Almost a century after his passing, Walter East is remembered, if at all, only for having played a shrouded role in pro football’s earliest fixed-game scandal. But a closer look reveals that event as forming no more than a passing chapter in a life presumably like that of other long-forgotten Deadball Era minor leaguers — one full of incident and interest.

PHOTO CREDIT

Walter East: Akron Beacon Journal, April 2, 1906.

NOTES

1. Walter’s brothers were Lovejoy (born 1869), Charles (1871), Claude (1873), and Stiles (1885).

2. According to “Diamond Dust,” Mansfield (Ohio) News, September 20, 1906: 7.

3. Per player vital statistics published in the New Orleans Item, March 24, 1908: 14, and East’s TSN player contract card. Another contemporaneous source put East’s weight at 190 pounds (Canton (Ohio) Repository, September 19, 1905: 6), while the adjective big was often affixed to his name in sports reportage.

4. As reported in “Base Ball Gossip,” Pittsburg (Kansas) Headlight, April 20, 1903: 2.

5. Per the Walter East TSN player contract card and con-firmed in vintage newspaper photos.

6. Six of the 12 Pittsburg players batted under .200.

7. “Base Ball Talk,” Pittsburg (Kansas) Kansan, July 30, 1903: 4.

8. See “New Second Baseman Has Been Signed,” Akron (Ohio) Beacon Journal, July 7, 1904: 5.

9. “East Is Also a Football Player,” Akron Beacon Journal, July 8, 1904: 5.

10. See “Big Walter Got Another Four Bagger,” Akron Beacon Journal, August 25, 1904: 5.

11. As reported in “The Cleveland Club Watching East,” Akron Beacon Journal, September 13, 1904: 5.

12. As reported in the Akron Beacon Journal, September 30, 1904: 9. WUP was renamed the University of Pittsburgh in 1908.

13. Akron Beacon Journal, November 1, 1904: 5, reprinting praise published in the Pittsburg Dispatch.

14. Per “Items of Interest to the Gridiron Warrior,” Akron Beacon Journal, October 27, 1904: 5. Despite such player failings, WUP went 9-0 in 1904.

15. Per “No Trouble about Holding Walter East,” Akron Beacon Journal, February 4, 1905: 5.

16. As reported in “All Star Team Picked from Ranks of In-dependent Clubs,” Akron Beacon Journal, July 31, 1905: 5. Baseball-Reference provides no 1905 season stats for East and data for OPL players were not found elsewhere.

17. See “Walter East with Canton,” Pittsburg Press, September 14, 1905: 14; “East Will Play Foot Ball at Canton,” Akron Beacon Journal, August 18, 1905: 5.

18. As reported in “Walter East to Join Western University Team,” Pittsburgh Gazette, September 21, 1905: 11; “Goals from the Field,” Pittsburg Press, September 21, 1905: 14. The fact that East had played professional baseball did not affect his ability to play other college sports.

19. See “East Rebels,” Akron Beacon Journal, December 4, 1905: 5. For a fuller take on player unrest, see “Players Mutiny Over Coach,” South Bend (Indiana) Tribune, December 4, 1905: 3; “W.U.P. Factionalism Angers Team Fans,” Pittsburg Post, December 3, 1905: 5. The situation was later resolved internally with Coach Mosse returning for the 1906 WUP football season.

20. Per “O.& P. Players in Great Demand,” Cleveland Plain Dealer, December 31, 1905: 15.

21. As subsequently noted in “Manager East Here to Take Charge of Team,” Akron Beacon Journal, April 7, 1906: 5.

22. See “Must Come Back,” Akron Beacon Journal, January 24, 1906: 5, noting the interest that Pittsburgh Pirates club boss Barney Dreyfuss had shown in East.

23. As reported in “Base Ball,” Elyria (Ohio) Reporter, February 7, 1906: 6; “Walter East Selected as Akron’s Man-ager,” Akron Beacon Journal, February 5, 1906: 5. The previous fall, East had announced that he would not manage the Akron club again.

24. See “Will Fine ‘Em,” Mansfield News, April 17, 1906: 7.

25. As noted in “Dark Clouds in O.P. League,” Cleveland Plain Dealer, June 24, 1906: 28.

26. According to “All Star Team for O.& P. League,” Akron Beacon Journal, October 15, 1906: 3. Sportswriter Bang later became a longtime sports page editor in Cleveland.

27. As reported in “East Will Manage Akron Again,” Cleve-land Plain Dealer, September 18, 1906: 8; “East Will Re-main,” Columbus Evening Dispatch, September 17, 1906: 11; and elsewhere. East’s new contract included a pay raise and the promise of a $500 bonus if Akron won the pennant.

28. Per “East Is Sought by Both Teams,” Canton Repository, September 1, 1906: 6.

29. “It Was Easy,” Akron Beacon Journal, November 7, 1906: 5.

30. Per “East Released,” Akron Beacon Journal, November 12, 1906: 5. Other reports were opaque, citing unspecified conditioning problems as the cause of East’s discharge. See e.g., “Canton Will Be the Mecca of Football World Next Friday,” Zanesville (Ohio) Times Recorder, November 13, 1906: 8.

31. See “Cantons Down Massillon Tigers,” Springfield (Ohio) Daily News, November 17, 1906: 7, which placed the pre-game betting line at four-to-three in Massillon’s favor.

32. As reported in “Tigers Retain Championship,” Akron Beacon Journal, November 26, 1906: 5

33. An in-depth account of the scandal is provided by Gregg Ficery in Gridiron Legacy: Pro Football’s Missing Origin Story (Los Angeles: The Ringer, LLC, 2023).

34. As recounted in “An Ugly Charge,” Mansfield News, November 27, 1906: 7; “Charged That Gamblers Backed Walter East,” Akron Beacon Journal, November 26, 1906: 5; “$4,000 Bribe Offered,” Piqua (Ohio) Daily Call, November 26, 1906: 1; and elsewhere.

35. See “Suit Brought by Coach Wallace,” Springfield Daily News, November 30, 1906: 7: “Suit Brought by Wallace,” Cleveland Plain Dealer, November 26, 1906: 8.

36. As reported in “Charges Wightman as Leading Conspirator,” Wooster (Ohio) Daily News, December 7, 1906: 3; “Walter East Tells Story,” Cleveland Plain Dealer, December 6, 1906: 6; “Manager Walter East Confesses to Canton-Massillon Football Deal,” Akron Beacon Journal, December 6, 1906: 1. Readers should understand that contracts which require the commission of an unlawful act are unenforceable as a matter of law. Collection of gambling debts and murder-for-hire scheme obligations fall into this category.

37. See e.g., “Windsor Tells His Side of the Foot Ball Deal,” Akron Beacon Journal, December 7. 1906: 1.

38. See “Wightman’s Statement,” Akron Beacon Journal, December 7, 1906: 1.

39. Per “Wightman, Sr., Talks,” Akron Beacon Journal, December 8, 1906: 5.

40. As reported in “The Fans’ Corner,” Akron Beacon Journal,” December 11, 1906: 5. See also, “The Fans’ Corner,” Akron Beacon Journal, January 12, 1907: 5: “Few [Akron fans] believed that East had made the statements attributed to him by Wightman.”

41. See “East Will Stick,” Cleveland Plain Dealer, January 3, 1907: 8; “East to Remain,” Columbus Evening Dispatch, January 3, 1907: 15; “Wightman Refuses to Back Up Charges,” Akron Beacon Journal, January 2, 1907: 5.

42. The Massillon Tigers hung on for the 1907 season, but the Canton Bulldogs did not. Thereafter, the two teams did not resume playing until 1911.

43. See “Is Fined for Assault,” Canton Repository, September 6, 1907: 5; “Fight May Depose East,” Marion (Ohio) Dai-ly Mirror, August 6, 1907: 6. See also, “O.& P. League Meeting Soon,” Cleveland Plain Dealer, October 13, 1907: 20.

44. Per “Nick Kahl Deal Is Closed,” Akron Beacon Journal, April 24, 1907: 5; “Akron Gets Our Nick Kahl,” Colum-bus Evening Dispatch, April 15, 1907: 11.

45. See “Akron Releases Nick Kahl,” Cleveland Plain Dealer, May 22, 1907: 9; “Manager East Release Kahl,” Akron Beacon Journal, May 21, 1907: 5.

46. Per “Schwartz and East to Be Reserved,” Akron Beacon Journal, April 16, 1907: 5. See also, “Sporting Gossip,” Zanesville Times Recorder, April 19, 1907: 11. Had the non-reserve clause contract been accepted, Schwartz and East would have become free agents at season’s end.

47. As reported in “East’s Invention May Handicap Pitcher,” Akron Beacon Journal, July 20, 1907:5. The only one handicapped by the bulky apparatus was the batter and it appears never to have been used in a game.

48. See “Akron Ahead in O. & P. League,” Cleveland Plain Dealer, September 8, 1907: 19.

49. “All-Star Team Well Divided,” Cleveland Plain Dealer, November 24, 1907: 17.

50. As reported in “Little Rock Signs Four New Players,” Montgomery (Alabama) Advertiser, October 26, 1907: 6; “Finn Gets Walter East,” Atlanta Journal, October 25, 1907: 18; and elsewhere.

51. Per “East Turned Down,” Akron Beacon Journal, October 31, 1907: 5; “Minor Leagues Start Row Among Them-selves,” Cleveland Plain Dealer, October 31, 1907: 6.

52. See “Still a Chance for Basket Ball,” Akron Beacon Journal, October 18, 1907: 5; “Basket Ball League to Include Six Clubs Soon to Be Launched,” (East Liverpool, Ohio) Evening Review, October 24, 1907: 1.

53. See “Knockers Drove East from Little Rock,” Akron Beacon Journal, June 29, 1908: 5.

54. See e.g., “Walter East May Manage O.-P. Team,” Canton Repository, June 7, 1908: 14; “Walter East May Be in Charge of Erie Team,” Erie (Pennsylvania) Daily Times, June 6, 1908: 9. Baseball-Reference erroneously lists East as 1908 manager of the Erie Sailors.

55. As reported in “Viewed from the Press Box,” (Little Rock) Arkansas Gazette, June 25, 1908: 8; “Walter East Released,” Montgomery Advertiser, June 24, 1908: 6; and elsewhere.

56. Nashville (75-56, .573) shaded the New Orleans Pelicans (76-57, .571) in final Southern League standings.

57. “East’s Three Doubles Beat Birds,” New Orleans Item, July 28, 1908: 5.

58. Per Southern League stats published in the 1909 Reach Official Base Ball Guide, 220-221.

59. “Nashville Team Ready,” Memphis Commercial Appeal, March 7, 1909: 21.

60. See “East Ought to Be Happy,” Akron Beacon Journal, October 23, 1909: 5.

61. See “Walter East Is Full Fledged Attorney,” Akron Beacon Journal, December 24, 1908: 5. Earlier that year, East had finally completed his academic course work and been awarded a degree in law by WUP.

62. Per “Will Play Two Champion Fives in Four Days,” Akron Beacon Journal, December 22, 1908: 5. East, formerly a star player,” had been a basketball teammate of various pros then members of the Central Ohio Basket Ball League.

63. See “East Wants to Manage Zanesville,” Akron Beacon Journal, January 8, 1909: 5.

64. Per “First Player to Arrive in Town,” Nashville Banner, March 1, 1909: 4; “Champions’ Baseman Is Holding Out,” Memphis Commercial Appeal, March 1, 1909: 12.

65. See “Fans Hiss Walter East,” Akron Beacon Journal, June 16, 1909: 5; “About Teams and Players,” Canton Repository, June 16, 1909: 3.

66. See again, “Fans Hiss Walter East,” above.

67. Marriage records maintained by the State of Illinois indicate that the couple was married in Chicago on October 21. 1909. The identity of the “Mrs. East” previously men-tioned in sports page reportage (See e.g., Nashville Banner, March 1, 1909: 4; (Little Rock) Arkansas Democrat, March 14, 1908: 8) is unknown.

68. As reported in “Naps Bought Walter East,” Akron Beacon Journal, January 25, 1910: 8; “Walter East Is Sold to Cleveland Team,” Nashville Banner, January 23, 1910: 10.

69. See “But One Position on Local Team Unfilled,” Buffalo Courier, January 29, 1910: 8; “About Filled Up,” Buffalo Express, January 28, 1910: 11; “Star Second Sacker for Bison Herd,” Buffalo Evening News, January 27, 1910: 28.

70. As reported in “Walter East Is No Longer a Bison,” Buffalo Times, June 23, 1910: 12; “East Traded for Deal,” Buffalo Evening News, June 22, 1910: 1; and elsewhere.

71. Per “Walter East Is Signed by Bernhard for Memphis,” Nashville Tennessean, February 13, 1911: 7; “Turtle Team Is Complete,” Nashville Banner, January 17, 1911: 16.

72. See “Memphis Is Formidable,” Chattanooga (Tennessee) Daily Times, April 5, 1911: 7. Bernhard posted a fine 116- 61 (.589) record during a nine-season big league career that ended in 1907.

73. As reported in “Walter East May Manage,” Nashville Banner, January 23, 1912: 14; “East Wants Canton Berth,” Akron Beacon Journal, January 17, 1912: 5; and elsewhere.

74. See “Walter East Is a Cracker,” Chattanooga Daily Times, April 22, 1912: 3; “1911 Turtle Captain Sold to Atlanta,” Memphis Commercial Appeal, April 22, 1912: 9.

75. See “Walter East at Kansas City,” Nashville Banner, June 24, 1912: 13. The AA minor league classification was created in 1912 and restricted to the American Association, International League, and Pacific Coast League.

76. The East hiring was reported in “Mansfield Club Gets Shakeup; East Becomes Manager,” Cleveland Plain Deal-er, July 1912: 8; “Big Shakeup in Mansfield Baseball Club,” Mansfield News, July 18, 1912: 10; and elsewhere.

77. See “Walter East Runs an Ashland Laundry,” Akron Beacon Journal, February 21, 1911: 7.

78. See “Walter East to Open Hotel,” Columbus Sunday Dis-patch, February 16, 1913: 3. See also, “Walter R. East Is to Receive Release,” Marion (Ohio) Daily Star, February 17, 1913: 3, which related that the Mansfield Brownies had released East from the club’s reserved list so that he could pursue the hotel renovation project.

79. As reported in “Was in Wife’s Name,” Akron Beacon Journal, October 30, 1913: 10; “Walter East Held for Embezzlement,” Columbus Evening Dispatch, October 26, 1913: 15; “Walter R. East Is Held to Answer,” Mansfield News, October 25, 1913: 10.

80. No follow-up newspaper coverage was discovered, but circumstances suggest that Alice East, a woman of some means, likely satisfied her husband’s creditors.

81. A political ad for “Walter R. East, Candidate for Prosecuting Attorney,” was published in the Akron Evening Times, August 9, 1920: 4. Days later, East placed fifth in a five-man nomination contest.

82. Per Jack Gibbons, “Syndicate Asks for Option on Base-ball Franchise in Akron,” Akron Beacon Journal, February 22, 1921: 13.

83. See Jack Gibbons, “Akron to Sell International League Baseball Franchise to Either Montreal or Newark,” Akron Beacon Journal, February 28, 1921: 11. See also, “Akron Franchise Going to Newark,” Sandusky (Ohio) Star-Jour-nal, February 25, 1921: 2. The price paid by Newark for the Akron franchise was reportedly $41,000.

84. See “S.A. Decker Elected Mayor Despite Republican Power,” Akron Beacon Journal, November 6, 1929: 31. East finished a distant third in the voting. East’s election setbacks were also noted in his obituaries.

85. See “Briggs Case Jury Discharged After 26 Hours’ De-bate,” Akron Beacon Journal, February 22, 1930: 15.

86. As reported in “Barberton Leader Dies at Hospital,” Akron Beacon Journal, August 30, 1930: 8: “Summit County Attorney Dies,” (Massillon, Ohio) Evening Independent, August 30, 1930: 12; and elsewhere.

Ed Reulbach is remembered principally for three things: for his five-year run of pitching success for the Chicago Cubs between 1905 and 1909; for his then unprecedented one-hit game in the 1906 World Series; and for shutting out the Brooklyn Superbas in both games of a doubleheader during the 1908 pennant race. His successes invite recollection of this Deadball Era figure whose career shone exceptionally bright during the period’s first decade.1

Described by David L. Porter in the Biographical Dictionary of American Sports as both “a superlative pitcher” and as “brainy,” Reulbach was among the elite pitchers of his day, with strong statistical parallels to Pittsburgh’s Sam Leever.2 Both Reulbach and Leever pitched for thirteen seasons in the National League, each led the league in won-loss percentage three times, and both won roughly two-thirds of their respective pitching decisions. Yet Reulbach’s peak was undeniably higher, with Ed’s ERA being under 2.00 in four of his first five seasons and Reulbach’s three straight seasons of leading the league in winning percentage has been equaled in baseball history by only one other pitcher: Lefty Grove.3

Surely, as Cappy Gagnon recounts so deftly in Deadball Stars of the National League, Reulbach’s relative lack of renown stems from being perpetually overshadowed. Reulbach likely ranked second or third on a Cubs pitching staff led by Mordecai Brown which also included Orval Overall (himself a similar pitcher to Reulbach), Jack Pfiester, and Carl Lundgren. Reulbach’s remarkable achievements aside — such as a 20-inning complete game victory against Philadelphia in 1905 — Reulbach was never the best pitcher in the city of Chicago during his own career, firmly landing third behind Brown and Ed Walsh of the crosstown White Sox. Adding some insult to injury, Reulbach was, as Gagnon notes, not even the best “Big Ed” in his own city, losing out on that distinction too to Walsh (even if both were roughly 6’1”).4

Is there another elite performance more often forgotten than Reulbach’s World Series one-hitter in 1906? With the Cubs having lost Game 1 to the upstart White Sox, Reulbach’s top-level effort in Game 2 came at a time when the Cubs needed it most. Though Reulbach did yield an unearned run in that game — on account of his own wild pitch and a Joe Tinker error — the right-hander gave up only one hit, a seventh-inning single to center by Jiggs Donahue. Reulbach’s six walks aside, it was surely one of the greatest World Series games pitched during the Deadball Era. Reulbach also squeezed home a run in support of his own victory.

Still, when Monte Pearson of the New York Yankees pitched a two-hit complete game in Game 2 of the 1939 World Series against the Cincinnati Reds, Reulbach’s World Series one-hitter came under review. At issue was the first play of the fourth inning of that game in 1906, where Fielder Jones reached on a two-base error by Johnny Evers. A book edited by George L. Moreland titled Balldom, according to a 1939 published piece, noted that “every Chicago paper” the next day “showed that two hits were charged against the husky Chicago hurler.” Tribune sportswriter I.E. Sanborn apparently said that “Jones hit an ugly bounder between first and second that went for a double.” If true, Pearson would have equaled Reulbach’s feat for a low-hit World Series game.5

A 1961 obituary of Reulbach written by Fred Lieb noted the controversy, saying that the Chicago Tribune credited the White Sox with two hits in Game 2, but the official score complied by A.J. Flanner of The Sporting News and Francis Richter of Sporting Life gave the White Sox only one hit, a single by Jiggs Donahue.”6 Most accounts cite Sanborn as the primary source of the discrepancy. Evers, responding to a query from sportswriter Mike Gaven years later, noted: “Ball hit to me by Fielder Jones was very bad fumble by me, and it was charged as an error. Remember it very distinctly, like all youngsters remember their first important game.”7 At the time, the National Commission ruled it to be a one-hitter and so it has remained. This tempest in a teapot more than three decades later may have chipped away a bit at the distinctiveness of Reulbach’s achievement.

Reulbach’s two shutouts in a doubleheader could not have come at a better — or, from the perspective of recognizing Reulbach’s achievement, more vexing — time. In close competition with both the New York Giants and the Pittsburgh Pirates for the pennant, the Cubs knew they needed to win both games to remain in close contention and turned to Reulbach, who often dominated the hapless Superbas. In the first game, according to Bill Gottlieb in a 1942 article in the Brooklyn Eagle, Brooklyn starter Kaiser Wilhem “never had a chance against the superlative pitching of his opponent” in a 5-0 Cubs victory during which Reulbach retired the last fifteen batters consecutively.8 As Lee Allen noted in a 1968 article, with the first game taking only 1:40, Reulbach then talked Frank Chance into letting him pitch the second game, which itself took only 1:15.9

The second contest, against Jimmy Pastorius, then with a 3-19 record, pitching for Brooklyn, was tighter. Upon the conclusion of the second game — a 3-0 Cubs win — Reulbach had pitched thirty consecutive scoreless innings. But Reulbach’s unmatched achievement was dulled by its timing since it came only three days after the Merkle game, the central event of the 1908 season. Reulbach’s singular moment has, in some sense, been lost to posterity in the wildest pennant race in baseball history. In Cait Murphy’s Crazy ’08, an authoritative history of that season, Reulbach’s doubleheader shutout is summarized on less than a single page.

Like Hippo Vaughn, Jack Coombs, and Deacon Phillippe, Reulbach is respected but not well known. He has been, fairly or unfairly, lumped into the group of workmanlike starting pitchers integral to team success but never considered consistently dominant. Though known as a practical joker at Notre Dame, his opacity on a personal level derives some too from playing under three assumed names before reaching the major leagues. It no doubt hurts Reulbach’s cause that he never pitched more than 300 innings in a season during a time when it was relatively common to do so. Except for a 20-win season for the Newark Peppers of the Federal League in 1915, Reulbach’s final eight professional seasons were, at best, good and never great.

Ed spoke of the competition of his era in a 1944 interview with sportswriter Al Laney:

I have not seen a baseball game since 1922,” said Reulbach, “so I am not qualified to speak of the present day. But I love to talk about the old days. Distance probably gives them a value in our minds that they don’t have. But they seem like wonderful days now. I wonder if the team spirit is as great these days. I doubt it. The team was everything then. We didn’t bother so much about our individual averages, but if anybody smiled in the clubhouse after we were beaten, he was likely to get a stool draped around his neck. We hated those Giants, and we were ready to fight them on the field and off. The fans hated, too, in those days. We weren’t always safe on the streets of New York, and neither were the Giants in Chicago.10

In an interview with the New York Journal-American in 1946, Reulbach, like many pitchers of his day, admitted to throwing a mud ball:

Beat National League clubs with it for years, and they never caught me throwing it,” said Reulbach. “I would load the glove with saliva before the previous pitch, which I would waste. Then when the ball landed in my glove it was soaking wet. Then all I had to do was drop the ball in the dry dirt and I had my mud ball. You talk about experiments. That’s the trouble with pitchers today. They don’t experiment enough. Every few days I took home a couple of balls and bounced them on the sidewalk. Every batch of balls was different. One week they would be lively, and the next shipment would be dead. I pitched accordingly.11

A recurring theme in articles about Reulbach’s career is that he was overshadowed, whether it be by the star power of his pitching contemporaries, the timing of his two shutouts in a doubleheader, and even by the timing of his own death, as Reulbach died within hours of Ty Cobb. More so, the issue appears to be that that Reulbach’s career was ascendant for a relatively brief period and that fans do not have as much of a window into Reulbach the person as they do for many of his contemporaries. Reulbach’s career is a testament to quiet efficiency and occasional transcendence. While Reulbach has not been elected to the Hall of Fame, the history of the first decade of the Deadball Era cannot be written without him mentioned as a central figure. That, in and of itself, is good enough.

Photo credit

1911 T205 Ed Reulbach Piedmont baseball card, Trading Card Database.

Notes

1. With thanks to the Giamatti Research Center at the National Baseball Hall of Fame for providing article clippings cited in this article.

2. Porter, David L. ed., Biographical Dictionary of American Sports. Undated clipping from Reulbach’s player file at the Baseball Hall of Fame.

3. Statistics in this article are courtesy of baseball-reference.com.

4. Simon, Tom, ed. Deadball Stars of the National League (Society for American Baseball Research: 2004), pp. 111-112.

5. “A Lighter Topic.” Unattributed clipping from Reulbach’s Hall of Fame file dated October 13, 1939.

6. Lieb, Fred, “Ed Reulbach, Star Twirler of Early Cubs Champs, Dead,” The Sporting News, July 26, 1961, p. 36.

7. “Evers Settles Dispute.” Unattributed clipping from Reulbach’s Hall of Fame file dated October 12, 1939.

8. Gottlieb, Bill, “Ed Reulbach’s Double Shutout in 1908 Still Stands as Record,” Brooklyn Eagle, October 29, 1942.

9. Allen, Lee, “How Many Shutouts in ’08?” The Sporting News, September 14, 1968, p. 6.

10. Laney, Al, “Ed Reulbach in There Pitching, Helping to Shut Out Axis at 61,” New York Herald-Tribune, January 16, 1944. No page number given.

11. Gaven, Michael, “Modern Pitchers Lack Initiative Says Reulbach on Visit to Frick,” New York Journal-American, January 25, 1946, p. 20.

If Fred Odwell isn’t the most obscure home run champion in the history of major league baseball, it’s only because the competition is surprisingly stiff. After all, who remembers Oyster Burns, who shared the National League lead in 1890, or Braggo Roth, who led the American League in 1915? Who remembers that when Babe Ruth won his first home run crown, leading the AL with 11 in 1918, he shared the honor with Tilly Walker? Even considering comparatively recent time, how many fans remember Nick Etten, who led the AL (with 22) in 1944, when the unavailability of rubber forced the use of inferior balls?1

The fact that Odwell, an outfielder with the Cincinnati Reds, needed only nine homers to lead the National League in 1905 wasn’t unusual at the time. Home runs totaled just 338 in both major leagues during Odwell’s big year and dipped below 270 from 1906 to 1909 before rising again in 1910-1911 as the cork-centered ball was introduced. Nine times between 1901 and 1909, and 13 times between 1901 and 1919, league leaders failed to crack double figures.

What separates Odwell from those other deadball sluggers is that he lasted only four years in the big show, despite being consistently praised for his all-around play. “No player that ever donned the red grasped affairs in the outfield with greater intelligence than Fred Odwell,” the Cincinnati Enquirer declared within months of his debut. “Possessed of clear eye, active brain and superb whip, Odwell is the ideal student of the game. … He ‘lays’ for the opposition in places to which the ball is most apt to be driven [and] … he has the baserunners of the enemy terrorized.”2

Sportswriter Ren Mulford Jr. called him the Human Greyhound.3 When all games were played in the daytime and weekday games generally started in late afternoon, Odwell was also valued for his skill at playing the sun field.4 If his game had a weak link, the writers agreed, it was batting. Odwell is almost certainly the only player who ever led his league in home runs, then apologized for his disappointing season.

Frederick W. Odwell, often called Fritz or Oddie, arrived in Cincinnati without fanfare in 1904 as a 31-year-old rookie. He stood 5-feet-9½ and weighed 160 pounds. He had broken into pro ball as a pitcher with control trouble,5 going 6-24 for last-place Wilkes-Barre in the Eastern League in 1897 before being moved to the outfield. Standard sources say he batted left-handed, but it’s likely he earned his long-ball laurels hitting as he threw, from the right side.

In his less-than-meteoric rise, he developed no reputation as a home run threat; records are incomplete, but Baseball-Reference.com shows him with just 20 homers in the minors through 1903. His power didn’t emerge immediately in Cincinnati, either. It was August 3 before he tagged his first and only home run of 1904, off Tully Sparks in Philadelphia. He completed the season with 22 doubles, 10 triples, 75 runs scored, and a highly respectable .284 batting average.

Of all the odd aspects of Oddie’s homer-happy 1905 campaign, one of the oddest is how late he got started. He didn’t record his first four-bagger until June 19, in the Reds’ 56th game and his 44th. By that time New York’s Bill Dahlen had five and his teammates Mike Donlin and Dan McGann had three each, as did Philadelphia’s Sherry Magee.

Once he got started, Odwell sprayed homers to all fields. He homered in six ballparks and against every opposing team except Pittsburgh. He homered three times in Boston, whose South End Grounds were one of the era’s more homer-friendly venues6 and whose pitchers led the league in home runs allowed three of Odwell’s four years with the Reds. He hit eight off right-handers and one off a lefty, seven on the road and only two at home.

Oddie hit four inside-the-park, including the two in Cincinnati. This was not surprising given Cincinnati’s huge outfield, with fences up to 450 feet from home plate; during the 10 years that configuration existed, barely 10 percent of all home runs went over the fence, and most of those did so on the bounce.7 Of the eight pitchers Odwell victimized, three were rookies and only one would complete his major-league career with a winning percentage above .500. That said, he caught two of the eight during their best season.

Victim number one was the most obscure of the lot. The Giants’ Claude Elliott was in his second and last big leagues season. The homer was “a terrific drive over [center fielder] Donlin’s head”8 on a sweltering day at Cincinnati’s League Park;9 Odwell “was so nearly overcome by the heat that he could hardly make it around the bases.”10 The eighth-inning solo blast capped the scoring as the Reds won 17-7. Odwell also singled twice and stole home on the front of a double steal. Elliott pitched in only 10 games in 1905 with an 0-1 record. Only decades after his death would somebody reexamine the record and discover that he also led the major leagues in saves that season, with six.

Odwell next struck on June 27 at Chicago’s West Side Grounds. The three-run shot came in the seventh inning and completed the scoring in a 6-0 Cincinnati victory. The ball sailed over the head of left fielder Frank Schulte “and rolled on and on to the far corner in left center where the clubhouse wall meets the left-field bleachers” more than 440 feet from home plate, “as long a hit as can be made on these grounds.” Fritz crossed the plate before the ball “got back to a point where it could be distinguished from a pea.”

Cincinnati sportswriter Jack Ryder, apparently believing that running should be a component of any proper home run, applauded “a clean home run, unaided by fence or barrier.”11 The pitcher was Bert “Buttons” Briggs, who had won 19 games for the Cubs in 1904. His five-year major-league career ended in 1905, when he had a modest 8-8 record. But his earned-run average was 2.14 and five of his victories were shutouts.

Odwell hit his third on July 14 in Boston. By now both Magee and McGann had hit their fourth. Coming with a man on and the Reds trailing 3-2 in the sixth, Odwell’s homer lifted Cincinnati to a 4-3 win. Descriptions of this one are somewhat difficult to reconcile. Where the Boston Globe said the ball “struck the top of the [right-field] fence and bounded over,”12 the Cincinnati Enquirer reported “the longest hit made on these grounds this year,” clearing the wall 30 feet fair – about 350 feet from the plate – and landing “beyond the streetcar tracks on Columbus Avenue.” 13 Pitcher Irvin “Kaiser” Wilhelm was suffering toward a 3-23 season for the Beaneaters, who would lose 103 games and finish seventh.

This time Odwell connected again just four days later on July 18. His solo homer in the ninth inning at Philadelphia’s Huntingdon Street Grounds (later renamed the Baker Bowl) tied the score at 4-4; on a day when a thermometer placed in the center field grass registered 116 degrees, 14 both starting pitchers went 14 innings before the Phillies’ Bill Duggleby secured a 5-4 verdict over the Reds’ Bob Ewing.

The home run initially looked like a routine single or double to right-center field. But according to eyewitnesses from both cities, the ball seems to have defied gravity. One account said that after hitting the wall, the ball “bounded up into the bleachers.”15 Another said it “ran up the brick barrier like a squirrel.”16 It was that kind of year for Bill Duggleby. Though he won 18 games, he also led the major leagues in home runs allowed with 10.

After that it was a month before Odwell homered again. By the time he notched his fifth in Boston on August 17, Bill Dahlen had pushed his league-leading total to six. Odwell’s latest went over the short left field fence (250 feet down the line) with the bases empty in the seventh inning. Coming off lefty Irv “Young Cy” Young, it gave the Reds a 5-1 lead; they won 5-3. Considering Harry Steinfeldt’s earlier two-run homer to practically the same spot, a Boston writer concluded that “the visitors won the game by virtue of the fence.”17 Young, a rookie, led the league in starts, complete games, and innings. The workhorse of a team that barely avoided last place, he managed a 20-21 record, best of his six-year career.

Next day the two teams engaged in a “batting carnival,”18 combining for seven home runs in a doubleheader as Odwell moved into a tie for the league lead. Again his shot, in the fourth inning of the second game with a man on, cleared the left field fence. Again the victim was the luckless Kaiser Wilhelm. After dropping the first game, Cincinnati won the second 8-7 when Odwell scored after tripling off relief pitcher Dick Harley in the tenth.

On August 28 Dahlen homered for the seventh time, pulling ahead in the home run derby. Odwell caught up the next day, belting one “high over the right-field fence”19 at Brooklyn’s Washington Park. The hit, off Fred Mitchell with the bases empty in the sixth, helped the Reds to a 7-3 win. Teammate Cy Seymour, in a season when he led the league in nearly every major offensive category, also notched a four-bagger, his fourth. This was the only time he and Odwell ever homered in the same game. The game was the last Mitchell pitched in the big leagues, although he later made a comeback and caught 62 games for the New York Highlanders in 1910.

Odwell finally took the lead on September 4. His eighth of the season was “a murderous line slam to deep left”20 in the first game of a doubleheader at Robison Field in St. Louis. The two-run clout gave the Reds a 2-0 lead in the fourth inning but the Cardinals struck for seven in the seventh and won 9-2 en route to a sweep.21 The pitcher was rookie Jake Thielman, who netted half of his ca-reer wins in 1905. He stuck in the majors through 1908, compiling a 30-28 record.

Our man didn’t connect again until the next-to-last day of the season, but he was never headed. Dahlen, who led the way for most of the season, struck for the last time on August 28 and finished with seven. That total was matched by Mike Donlin, who collected his last on October 6, and Brooklyn’s Harry Lumley, who arrived late at the party but moved into contention with five homers between August 26 and September 16. Seymour, another latecomer, homered five times in the last five weeks of the season and finished second to Odwell with eight. In the American League, the Philadelphia Athletics’ Harry Davis led the parade with eight.

Odwell’s final home run, the exclamation point on his season, was a drive “to deep center” off Buster Brown. It came with a man on in the eighth inning of the second game of a home doubleheader against St. Louis on October 7, sealing a 6-3 win and giving the Reds a split of the twin bill.

In this article we’ve viewed the season as a race for the National League home run title, but no one was tracking the chase at the time. Cincinnati correspondent C.J. Bocklet’s dispatches to The Sporting News rarely mentioned Odwell and unlike today, when updated statistics from around the league are available almost instantaneously, sportswriters had no convenient way of keeping up with players outside their own cities.

The Cincinnati Enquirer covered baseball as extensively as any local newspaper in the country. But when the 1905 season concluded the Enquirer could report only that, based on its own unofficial statistics, Odwell had “possibly” led the National League in home runs.22 In any case, the home run leadership wasn’t viewed as a big deal. When the league’s official stats were released, the version published in The Sporting News included columns for stolen bases and sacrifice hits but none for doubles, triples, or home runs.23

Odwell’s achievement – his sole claim to baseball fame – was acknowledged in the ninth paragraph of a Ren Mulford column in Sporting Life,24 but apparently it was never mentioned in TSN until it provided the lead to Odwell’s obituary in 1948. At that time a weekly paper near his home in Downsville, New York, attempted – with some exaggeration – to put his feat into perspective. “Those were the days of the greatest pitching ge-niuses the game has known, and before the advent of the lively, hopped-up ball,” the writer explained. “A home run was a sensational thing, calling for headlines.”25

In fact, some newspaper accounts in 1905 noted Odwell’s home runs only in the box scores. In an era when standard baseball tactics mostly fell under what is now somewhat dismissively called “small ball,” Odwell’s prowess as a slugger made little impression on Reds manager Ned Hanlon. While Odwell hit one homer while batting third and another batting fifth, most of the time Hanlon batted him sixth or seventh. All most observers noticed about Odwell’s stickwork was that his batting average dropped from .284 in 1904 to .241 in 1905. The player felt obliged to offer an explanation.

“It wasn’t my batting eye that went wrong. … It was my left leg,” he said. “Why, there were times when every time I came down hard on that pin it felt like when a fellow jars the funny bone in his arm. … Sometimes when I was running round the bases it would feel like I hadn’t any left foot at all.” Odwell blamed a torn tendon.26 In fairness, this wasn’t some sort of after-the-fact alibi. Mulford had reported six weeks into the 1905 campaign that Odwell had hurt himself on Opening Day “when he caught the spike of his left shoe in one of the drainage lids in the outfield,” then aggravated the injury three weeks later sliding into third base.27 He was out for two weeks before returning to the lineup on June 3.

Less than two weeks into the 1906 season, Odwell ran into his old friend Buster Brown, who delivered “a swift, quick-breaking inshoot” that caught Odwell below the heart.28 He suffered a cracked rib and was out for three weeks. While he was recuperating the Enquirer’s Ryder reported, as if it were a new development, that Oddie was “batting left-handed these days, and will continue in that style.” The change was viewed as a way to help Odwell beat out bunts and infield hits.29 It might also have offered some protection for the injured rib. Regardless, he never got untracked and as mid-season approached he was hitting .223. The Reds traded the erstwhile home run king along with pitcher Charlie Chech to Toledo in the American Association for outfielder Frank Jude.

Odwell’s downfall, in the opinion of the Enquirer, was “a weak style at the bat.” The writer – presumably longtime baseball specialist Ryder – lavished praise on all other aspects of the player’s game: “Odwell is as fast and clever an outfielder as can be found in the country today. He has a remarkable whip, and uses the best of judgment, both in fielding and throwing. He is a fine baserunner and a sensible man on the coaching lines. In addition … he is an admirable character personally … who always places the interest of the team above everything else.” But none of that could outweigh the fact that “his swing is so long that he has to start it before the ball is anywhere near the plate, and, as a result, he is often fooled by a curveball.”30

Odwell hit .306 (with five home runs) for Toledo and the Reds – with Hanlon expressing the hope that he had overcome his weakness against the curve – gave him another shot in 1907. He batted .270 in 94 games and was said to have “improved wonderfully,”31 but he went down with another leg injury – possibly a pulled muscle – late in the season. The Reds sought waivers on him in December and ultimately released him to Columbus in the American Association.

After his ninth and final homer in 1905, Odwell amassed 481 more major league at-bats but never hit another home run. He retired with a career total of 10, the lowest of any single-season leader since 1891. Charles “Count” Campau, who led the American Association – then a major league – in 1890 with nine, also retired with 10. So did Levi Meyerle, who shared the National Association lead with four in 1871. Campau’s big league career consisted of a mere 147 games between 1888 and 1894. Meyerle played in the National League in 1876-77 and in the Union Association in 1884 but hit all his home runs in the National Association from 1871 to 1875.

The only home run champ with fewer career homers than Odwell is Fred Treacey, who shared the NA title with Meyerle (and Lip Pike) in 1871. Treacey’s home runs – a total of seven – all came in the NA between 1871 and 1873.

Nobody remembers Fred Treacey either.

Photo Credit

Fred Odwell, courtesy of the Colchester Historical Society.

Notes

1. Bill James, “Reflections of a Megalomaniac Editor,” Baseball Analyst, Volume 35 (April 1988): 19.

2. “All Sorts,” Cincinnati Enquirer, August 28, 1904: 30.

3. Ren Mulford Jr., “The Human Greyhound Tells of Suffering in Silence,” Cincinnati Post, May 24, 1905: 6.

4. Jack Ryder. “Notes of the Game,” Cincinnati Enquirer, May 17, 1906: 4.

5. H.G. Merrill, “Odwell’s Career,” The Sporting News, August 27, 1904: 7.

6. From 1904 to 1907, Odwell’s years with the Reds, the South End Grounds yielded 112 home runs, a total exceeded in the NL only by New York’s Polo Grounds. No other park in the league saw more than 81. Bill James, John Dewan, Neil Munro and Don Zminda, eds., STATS All-Time Baseball Sourcebook (Skokie, Ill.: STATS Inc., 1998): 100-12.

7. Ronald M. Selter, Ballparks of the Deadball Era: A Comprehensive Study of Their Dimensions, Configurations and Effects on Batting, 1901-19 (Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland, 2008): 77. Batted balls that bounced over the fence counted as home runs until the rule was changed in 1931. See Bob McConnell and David Vincent, eds., The Home Run Encyclopedia: The Who, What, and Where of Every Home Run Hit Since 1876 (New York: Macmillan, 1996): 4.

8. “Reds in Third Place; Win From Giants,” Cincinnati Commercial Tribune, June 20, 1905: 6.

9. Though the ballpark where the Reds played from 1902 to 1911 is commonly referred to today as the Palace of the Fans, that name at the time properly applied only to the ornate main grandstand. See for example Ren Mulford Jr., “Redland is Dazed,” Sporting Life, April 25, 1903: 3: “The Palace of the Fans … and all other stands inside League Park were packed.”

10. “Smashed,” Cincinnati Enquirer, June 20, 1905: 4.

11. Ryder, (headline missing), Cincinnati Enquirer, June 28, 1905: 4. The two-story clubhouse in cen-ter field was a new feature of the West Side Grounds in 1905. See Philip J. Lowry, Green Cathedrals: The Ultimate Celebration of Major League and Negro League Ballparks (New York: Walker & Company, 2d ed., 2006): 50.

12. “Triple Play,” Boston Globe, July 15, 1905: 3.

13. Ryder, “Duplicated the Boston Triple Play,” Cincinnati Enquirer, July 15, 1905: 3.

14. Ryder, “14 Innings in the Sun,” Cincinnati Enquirer, July 19, 1905: 4.

15. “Phillies Won Out in 14th Inning,” Philadelphia Inquirer, July 19, 1905: 13.

16. Ryder, “14 Innings.”

17. “Young ‘Cy’ Must Bow to ‘Spit-Ball’ Ewing,” Bos-ton Herald, August 18, 1905: 8.

18. “Batting Bee in the National League,” Boston Herald, August 19, 1905: 5.

19. “Minus Their Leaders Reds Break the Streak,” Cincinnati Commercial Tribune, August 30, 1905: 6.

20. “Big Holiday Crowd Sees Cardinals Win Two Bouts,” St. Louis Star-Chronicle, September 5, 1905.

21. Odwell’s home run log at Baseball-Reference.com says this home run bounced into the stands. None of the newspapers consulted for this article – four from St. Louis and four from Cincinnati in addition to Sporting Life and The Sporting News – mention that. The two most detailed descriptions suggest that Odwell had to run for the homer, indicating that the ball remained inside the park. One said that after hitting the ball, Odwell “started a sprint, which landed him across the plate.” The other said he made “an easy trip around the pillows, with [teammate Harry] Steinfeldt skedaddling in front of him.” See “Cardinals Continue Winning and Cincinnati Twice Falls Victim,” St. Louis Globe-Democrat, September 5, 1905; and “Big Holiday Crowd Sees Cardinals Win Two Bouts,” St. Louis Star-Chronicle, September 5, 1905.

22. “Last Batch of Red Averages,” Cincinnati Enquirer, October 10, 1905: 4.

23. “National Leader,” The Sporting News, October 28, 1905: 2.

24. Mulford, “A Red Desert,” Sporting Life, October 21, 1905: 3.

25. “Fred Odwell, Old-Time Big Leaguer Died Thursday,” Margaretville Catskill Mountain News, Au-gust 20, 1948: 1.

26. “Gossip of the Players,” The Sporting News, March 10, 1906: 4.

27. Mulford, “The Human Greyhound.”

28. Ryder, “Notes of the Game,” Cincinnati Enquirer, April 25, 1906: 4.

29. Ryder, “Champs of the Wide, Wide World,” Cincinnati Enquirer, May 12, 1906: 3.

30. “All Sorts,” Cincinnati Enquirer, July 22, 1906: 30.

31. “Reds Must Have a New Manager,” Cincinnati Commercial Tribune, September 22, 1907: 17.