Moon wasn’t even on the roster when the Cardinals started spring training.[fn]“Wally Moon Senior League Rookie of Year.” St. Joseph Gazette, December 20, 1954.[/fn] The trade put “team manager Eddie Stanky, who had advocated the trade,” on the spot, but the spotlight glared with even harsher intensity on Moon.[fn]Gross, 70.[/fn] “All of a sudden they told me that I was going to be on the St. Louis Cardinals roster and I’m going to open in center field Tuesday,” Moon recalled. “This was on a Sunday. I’m shocked, but I’m excited.”[fn]“Wally’s Reflections: Wally Moon’s First Big League Home Run.” www.wallymoon.com/ahomerun.htm.[/fn] Moon was given a cool reception the next day during the team parade through downtown St. Louis. All along the parade route, fans carried signs expressing their disapproval of the trade and shouted at the rookie. Riding in an open convertible, Moon couldn’t help but hear the calls directed his way.

“Everyone along that parade route was yelling ‘We want Slaughter! We want Slaughter,’” Moon recalled. “There was a huge picture on the front page of the newspapers with Slaughter weeping in a towel. He had been there seventeen years and was an icon and a great player. I loved him as a young man listening to him on the radio. So to replace a legend like that, there was a lot of controversy, a lot of upset people. So I made that parade route through downtown and was not well received.”[fn]Bock, Gabe. “Aggie Flashback: Reflections from A&M Legend Wally Moon.” September 20, 2011. http://v4.texags.com/Stories/2978.[/fn]

Moon, however, showed the fans that he belonged in the lineup. The rookie outfielder stepped into Slaughter’s shoes, smashing a home run in his first at bat as a major leaguer. After outfielder Rip Repulski flied out to first for the first out of the inning, Moon connected on a 2–0 pitch from the Chicago Cubs’ Paul Minner. The ball went over the roof of the right-field pavilion in Sportsman’s Park, onto Grand Avenue. Only one other Cardinal had debuted with a home run, left-handed hitter Eddie Morgan, who hit one off Lon Warneke of the Cubs in the 1936 home opener. By the time Moon got to second base, the boos had changed to roars of applause. “It was a huge, magnificent home run for me,” Moon wrote in his 2011 autobiography, Moon Shots. “And it took a lot of pressure off.”[fn]Moon, vii.[/fn]

Moon became a hitting sensation from that point on and helped take away some of the sting of losing Slaughter. Moon batted .304 on the season (12th best in the league), banged out 193 hits, clubbed 12 home runs, scored 106 runs (sixth best in the league), led the Cardinals with 18 stolen bases, and was named NL Rookie of the Year. Slaughter, by contrast, started in only 22 games in the outfield and batted only .248 in a limited role for the New York Yankees. He missed over a month of the season after crashing into the outfield wall at Yankee Stadium, fracturing his wrist in three places and was traded the next season to the Kansas City Athletics. (The “Old War Horse” then rebounded to hit .322 for Kansas City and was reacquired by the Yankees for the waiver price on August 25, 1956. Although he was used sparingly over the next four seasons, Slaughter would go on to help the Yankees to win three straight pennants and two World Series between 1956 and 1958.)

Wally Moon almost didn’t get his chance. By the time he arrived in the major leagues in 1954, Moon had already earned both a bachelor’s and a master’s degree from Texas A&M. After four years in the minors and with a newborn child at home, Moon had determined that if he did not make the Cardinals roster in 1954, he would give up baseball and go back to teaching. He had thrived in 1953 under manager Harry Walker with the Cardinals’ Triple-A team in Rochester. Walker was a former National League batting champion whose ten-year career in the majors was spent mostly in the Cardinals outfield, alongside Slaughter and Stan Musial. Walker was being groomed as a big league manager. Moon matured offensively as a Red Wing, batting .307 with 12 home runs and 61 runs batted in. “The baseball gods were smiling on me when they brought Harry Walker into my life,” Moon recalled.[fn]Ibid., 65.[/fn]

Impressed by his performance at Rochester, the Cardinals  suggested he continue to hone his skills in winter ball. Excited about the possibility, Moon, with his wife and infant son in tow, headed to Maracaibo where he was assigned to Pastora de Occidente in the Venezuela League. The team went on to win the Venezuela League championship and would represent the country in the Caribbean World Series in San Juan, Puerto Rico. The Venezuela club wired the Cardinals to ask if Moon could remain and got permission for him to stay with the team for the World Series. Moon was scheduled to report to the Cardinals minor league camp in DeLand and because of the tournament would be late reporting to spring camp. When the Caribbean World Series was over, Moon wired the Cardinals for instructions. General Manager Dick Meyer gave Moon the option of reporting to either the club’s minor league base in DeLand or St. Petersburg, where the big league club was working out, whichever worked out best for him.[fn]Creamer, Richard. “Hope of St. Louis.” Sports Illustrated, April 22, 1957. http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1132365/index.htm.[/fn] Moon talked it over with his wife and reached a critical decision.

“Just two months in Rochester and the winter in Venezuela made me realize that I was no longer willing to keep dragging my wife and child with me in pursuit of my baseball dream,” Moon wrote in his autobiography. “I believed I had the talent and I wanted the big club to take a look at me and make a decision. I needed an answer one way or the other.”[fn]Moon, 74.[/fn] Moon took Dick Meyer at his word and decided to head to the Cardinals’ big league camp in St. Petersburg.

The Cardinals held spring training in two stages in those days. They had an early camp about 20 miles from Daytona Beach at DeLand, Florida, for rookies and players they wanted to look at. Then, after two weeks, the team moved to St. Petersburg to start regular spring training. Because of the Caribbean World Series, Moon recalled that “there were only a few days left in the rookie camp and I knew that manager Eddie Stanky already had left camp and wouldn’t even see me.”[fn]Fraley, Oscar. “Moon Not Worried by Sophomore Jinx.” United Press, February 5, 1955.[/fn] After checking his wife in at the Cardinals headquarters at the Bainbridge Hotel in St. Pete, Moon walked the half dozen blocks to Al Lang Field where the team worked out and introduced himself to the manager. Stanky was angry.

“You were supposed to report to Daytona,” Stanky said. “You weren’t supposed to report here.” Moon explained the choice he had been given and told Stanky, “Yeah, but you’re here. They’ve seen me play. They know what I can do. I want you to see me.” Stanky growled a bit, but liked his spirit and told Moon that he could hang around and work out with the Cardinals until they straightened the situation out.[fn]Creamer, http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/ MAG1132365/index.htm.[/fn]

It was a daring move for the young rookie. “I showed up in St. Petersburg and said to the Cardinals, ‘You promised me a shot. I want to find out if I can play in the big leagues. And I’m not going to sign a minor league contract and go back to Triple-A baseball,” Moon recalled in a 2011 radio interview.[fn]Bock, http://v4.texags.com/Stories/2978.[/fn] Stanky asked if Moon had his equipment and said Moon might as well work out since he was there. Two left-handed pitchers, Al Brazle and Royce Lint, were throwing batting practice that day. Moon filled the park with line drives. “I found my groove quickly and I sent frozen ropes to right, center, and left fields,” Moon recalled.[fn]Moon, 75.[/fn] Stanky called Moon out of the outfield early during that first morning’s workout and sent him to get outfitted with a spring uniform with the number 20. “He made an impression on all concerned,” Stanky said.[fn]Gross, 49.[/fn]

Moon’s timing was perfect; the team was looking to unload its aging star in Slaughter.[fn]Moon, 115.[/fn] The Cardinals had finished in a tie for third place in 1953—22 games behind the Dodgers—and new club president “Gussie” Busch wanted to build a winner. Anheuser-Busch had bought the team from Fred Saigh, who had become an embarrassment to baseball after he had run afoul of the Internal Revenue Service during the 1952 season. Saigh was hit with a fine and given a fifteen-month jail sentence.[fn]Honig, Donald. The St. Louis Cardinals: An Illustrated History. New York: Prentice Hall, 1991. 142.[/fn]

Busch set out on a long-range program of building the team from the ground up. “The Cardinals are trying to build a young ball club,” Busch said.[fn]Ibid., 142.[/fn] Stanky knew the Cardinals had to be reshaped and that Slaughter had to be replaced if the team was going to be competitive. But until his replacement was found, the club had hoped he had one more good season left in him.[fn]Gross, 78.[/fn]

Slaughter had no idea his days with the Cardinals were about to end. On December 28, Busch signed a contract with Slaughter for the 1954 season. “After the signing he said to me, ‘You’re a credit to the game, and you’ll always be with me,’” Slaughter wrote in his autobiography.[fn]Slaughter, Enos with Kevin Reid. Country Hardball: The Autobiography of Enos ‘Country’ Slaughter. Greensboro: Tudo Publishers Inc., 1991, 153.[/fn] But going into spring training, Slaughter was about to turn thirty-eight and the “old man” talk was already starting. He had been synonymous with the Cardinals for sixteen years in a career marked by brilliant fielding, clutch hitting, and a reputation for hustle. Slaughter, whose lifetime batting average with St. Louis was .305, was the last member of the colorful Gas House Gang. He had played against the Yankees in the 1942 World Series and also in 1946 when he hit .320 in the seven games against the Red Sox and scored that Series’ most storied run. He had played well in 1953, appearing in 143 games and hitting .291 while driving in 89 runs.

Slaughter was excited about the Cardinals’ chances against the Dodgers. Busch had not only bought and renovated Sportsman’s Park, but spent more than $300,000 in money and traded players for three minor leaguers.[fn]Musial, Stan as told to Bob Broeg, The Man Stan Musial…Then and Now. St. Louis: The Bethany Press, 1977. 151.[/fn] And during spring training, the club gave $75,000 and two minor leaguers to the Yankees for 35-year-old powerhouse right-handed pitcher Vic Raschi. Slaughter saw the trade for Raschi as a big plus, “But I wasn’t aware that the other shoe was about to drop.”[fn]Slaughter, 153.[/fn]

Slaughter faced competition in the outfield that year in spring training from Joe Frazier, a journeyman who had played in nine games with Cleveland in 1947 and had hit .332 at Oklahoma City, and from Moon, who had hit .307 at Rochester. Slaughter was conscious of the situation, but everyone expected that he would play his usual 140 or 150 games. “Even though both of these outfield prospects displayed potential for power, I wasn’t bothered by the situation,” Slaughter wrote.[fn]Ibid., 153.[/fn] He stopped at Moon’s locker one day and told the young rookie, “Don’t worry. You’re not going to get my job.”[fn]Creamer, http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/ MAG1132365/index.htm.[/fn]    

Meanwhile, Moon drove himself hard. “I gambled on everything,” Moon told Sports Illustrated in 1957. “If I hit a single, I’d go for two. If I had two, I’d go for three. I tried to catch everything I had the slightest chance for in the outfield. I ran every place. Boy, was I tired that spring. I’d get home after practice and I’d fall asleep on the couch. Bettye would wake me up for supper and we’d eat, and I’d fall asleep again. That’s the way it went all spring.”[fn]Ibid.[/fn]

Moon went all 45 days of spring training without a contract of any kind. The Cardinals wouldn’t give him a major league contract, and he wouldn’t sign a Triple-A contract. Fortunately, he was in great shape from having played winter ball and was playing well. “I know I was making an impression on Eddie Stanky and his staff,” Moon reflected.[fn]Bock, http://v4.texags.com/Stories/2978.[/fn] Stanky said little to Moon, but continued to insert him into the lineup on a regular basis.

Moon took it as a good sign when he earned a spot on the travel squad which was heading to Los Angeles for a weekend series against the Chicago Cubs. “I viewed my presence as a sign the team was beginning to like what it was seeing from me,” Moon wrote.[fn]Moon, 78.[/fn] As it turned out, Stanky had seen enough. “We’ve got at least an outside chance to win the pennant,” Stanky told reporters. “So if I think Moon can help us more than another outfielder, he’ll stick as one of our 25 players. In other words, I’m not going to worry about whether he’d be better off playing regularly in the minors than infrequently with us. If he can help, he’ll stay.”[fn]“Stanky Is Cautious in Trimming Squad.” Associated Press, March 24, 1954.[/fn]

When the team broke camp for its trek north to St. Louis, Moon was invited along for the ride, although the final regular season roster had not yet been determined. A few more cuts would have to be made. Moon still did not know whether he was destined to become a St. Louis Cardinal. Moon approached Dick Meyer about a contract but was told, “We’re not ready to make a commitment yet.” Asked what he should do with his wife and child, Meyer replied, “If I were you, I’d send them home to her mother.”[fn]Moon, 81.[/fn]

The Cardinals played a series of exhibition games with the Chicago White Sox as both teams traveled north. Stanky mostly kept Moon on the bench, using him as a pinch runner or as a late-inning defensive substitute for Slaughter. Moon didn’t know it at the time, but as it turned out, the club was “parading Slaughter on an abbreviated farewell tour during the team’s excursion in cities and towns in Cardinal country.”[fn]Ibid., 82.[/fn]

In St. Louis for the team’s weekend pre-season series with the Baltimore Orioles — the Browns franchise had moved from St. Louis to Baltimore after the 1953 season[fn]This article incorrectly named the Cardinals’ preseason opponent as the Browns instead of the Orioles in the original version. We apologize for the error.[/fn] — Slaughter doubled off Bob Turley for the game-winner. It turned out to be his last hit as a Cardinal. Slaughter was not in the line-up for the Sunday game. In the eighth inning, with the Cardinals down 8–1, Stanky informed Slaughter that general manager Dick Meyer wanted to see him. As he changed into street clothes, Slaughter had no idea it would be his last time in a Cardinals uniform. He strolled up to Meyer’s office “completely unprepared for the news I was about to receive.”[fn]Slaughter, 154.[/fn]

Meyer gave it to him straight. “Eno, all good things must come to an end,” Meyer said. “We’ve traded you to the New York Yankees.”[fn]Ibid., 154.[/fn] Slaughter was shocked. He had always thought he would retire in a Cardinals uniform. Tears gushed from his eyes “like water from a broken pipe.”[fn]Ibid., 154.[/fn]

“It cut my heart out,” Slaughter recalled. “I cried like a baby. I couldn’t help it. I’d been a Cardinal since 1935, and I don’t think anybody who’s ever worn a Cardinal uniform was ever more loyal to it than I was, or put out as hard as I did, or gave as much.”[fn]Honig, 144.[/fn]

Slaughter joined Meyer and Stanky for a press conference where Meyer announced that Slaughter had been traded for outfielder Bill Virdon, pitcher Mel Wright, and Emil Tellinger. The Old Warhorse was seated with his hands on his knees, nervously unfolding his handkerchief. “This is the biggest shock of my life,” Slaughter sobbed. “To think that I spent nearly all of my life with this organization and then they trade me after I’ve given them everything I got. I didn’t think it would ever happen to me. I’m not through. And I’ll say this—I’ll be around when a lot of the guys they got now will be gone. But you can tell ’em in New York that I’ll give ’em 100 percent just as I did in the Cardinal organization.”[fn]“Yanks Sought Enos in Rashi Deal.” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, April 12, 1954.[/fn]

Many baseball writers speculated that the Slaughter trade was part of the February 23 deal in which the Yankees had sold Vic Raschi to St. Louis for $75,000, but Meyer and Stanky denied it. Meyer said the Yankees expressed an interest in Slaughter around the time of the Raschi deal but were told he was unavailable until they saw how he would perform in spring training. The deal developed quickly, he said, after the Cardinals left Memphis on their homeward-bound barnstorming trip.

Stanky said the trade had been made to make room for Moon in the outfield. The 24-year-old Moon had been impressive in spring training and Stanky felt he was ready for major league ball. He also did not believe the 38-year-old Slaughter could adapt to a reserve role. “A player like Slaughter just can’t stand sitting on a bench,” Stanky told the press.[fn]Broeg, Bob. “Trade of Slaughter Puts Rookie Moon and Cardinal Office on Spot.” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, April 12, 1954.[/fn] Stanky also pointed out that the club had other rookie outfielders like Joe Frazier and Tom Burgess and “if I had Enos sitting around I know I wouldn’t use them.”[fn]“Cards Deal War Horse to Yanks. Slaughter, Mates, Fans Shocked.” Associated Press, April 12, 1954.[/fn]

Meyer and Busch admitted the trade was a gamble, but said they felt it was a sound organizational move because of the opportunity to give the younger Moon a chance to play. “We realize this is a difficult thing from a public relation viewpoint,” Meyer said. “But we’ve got a continuing obligation to have a top contender. We can’t buy a pennant. We have to build a cycle to develop stars. We don’t think we’ve imperiled our chances. But we realize we are taking a risk.”

Busch, in a prepared statement, added, “The Cardinals are building a young ball club. We are looking for an organization that will give us strong teams and pennant winners for years to come and we must look to the future. We have several very promising young outfielders with the Cardinals and in our system. They are knocking on the door of the Cardinals right now and we have to make a place for them.”[fn]Ibid.[/fn]

Stanky predicted that if Moon lived up to his potential, he would soon make the fans forget about Slaughter. “Moon has some flaws like the rest of us,” Stanky said. “But he is the best prospect I’ve seen here in three years outside of [Rip] Repulski. If he hits or makes the great plays, he’ll have his own following too.”[fn]“Yanks Sought Enos in Rashi Deal.” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, April 12, 1954.[/fn]

Meanwhile news of the trade had not yet filtered down to the players. Moon had taken his time leaving the field after the final exhibition game, fearing it might be his last time wearing a baseball uniform. As he sat in the clubhouse at Sportsman’s Park, he slowly undressed and clung tightly to his No. 20 Cardinals jersey before finally tossing it in a pile of soiled uniforms. He had come so close. He had played hard in spring training and played well, but none of the signs looked good. He had received less and less playing time as the season opener drew close. “With the regular season opener just two days away, all I’d gotten from team management regarding my future with the club was a half-hearted ‘we’ll see,’” Moon recalled.[fn]Moon, 2.[/fn]

Then one of the locker room attendants came up to him and told him, “Stanky wants to see you.” A few teammates looked at him as he got up to walk to the manager’s office. He felt like “a dead man walking to his baseball doom.”[fn]Ibid., 2.[/fn] Moon was sure the manager was going to tell him that he didn’t make the team. Moon and his wife had already discussed the options if the Cardinals chose to send him back to the minor leagues. He had a wife and a young son to support which was difficult on a minor league salary of only $300 a month. But with a college diploma and a master’s degree, they were prepared to return to Arkansas where he could teach and coach. “Bettye was in full agreement,” Moon recalled. “If I didn’t make the Cardinals opening day roster I’d give up the dream and devote myself full time to a career in education.”[fn]Ibid., 3.[/fn] Fearing the worst, Moon closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and walked into Stanky’s office.

“Well,” Stanky said. “You’ve made the team.” “Thanks, Eddie,” Moon replied. “I won’t let you down.”[fn]Ibid., 4.[/fn] Stanky had one more bit of news. Not only had he made the team, the club had traded Enos Slaughter and he would be taking his place in right field. “That’s it,” Stanky said. “Congratulations.” Walking back to the locker room, Moon was congratulated by several of his teammates. But there was a somber silence that hung in the atmosphere as the club digested the news that Slaughter had been traded.

One veteran quipped, “It looks like the manager is giving up the stars and reaching for the moon.”[fn]Gross, 49.[/fn] Stan Musial saw Slaughter in the parking lot and the two men looked at each other and cried. “We had spent a lot of years together in the heart of the Cardinals lineup and it was really sad for both of us to know that our one-two punch had been broken up,” Slaughter recalled.[fn]Slaughter, 155.[/fn]

Cardinals fans were used to management trading away good players. General Managers Dick Meyer, Frank “Trader” Lane, and Bing Devine were forever trying to pull off the one deal they thought would make a difference. But as Cardinal historian Bob Rains wrote, “Unfortunately, at least until the end of the decade, almost every deal the Cardinals had attempted turned out to be a mistake.”[fn]Rains, Bob. The St. Louis Cardinals: The 100th Anniversary History. New York: St. Martins Press, 1992. 134.[/fn] In 1951, the Cardinals traded Joe Garagiola, Howie Pollet, and Ted Wilks and two other players to Pittsburgh for Wally Westlake and Cliff Chambers. The trade backfired as Garagiola had several good seasons for the Pirates, while neither Westlake nor Chambers turned out to be effective for the Cardinals.[fn]Ibid., 134.[/fn] But the trade that produced the biggest fan reaction was Slaughter’s. Furious callers flooded the Cardinals’ switchboard, many threatening to cancel their season tickets. Some cried as much as Slaughter. Busch had to take the phone off the hook at his Grant’s Farm estate.[fn]Ibid., 135.[/fn]

Stanky also had to endure the barbs. “I’ve been a so-and-so before and I guess I am a bigger so-and-so now,” Stanky said. “But I can take it.”[fn]“Yanks Sought Enos In Rashi Deal.” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, April 12, 1954.[/fn] Fan reaction was overwhelmingly negative. “I’m surprised and I definitely think it will hurt the Cardinals,” said a bartender. “I think it is a very good move for the Yankees.” A salesman said the club was “crazy.” One taxi driver called the Cardinals “stupid” and another said “that’s a dirty deal.” The second cab driver went further: “Since they got rid of Slaughter they just might as well get rid of Stan Musial and the rest of the good hitters and give up baseball.” One of the briefest comments came from a cashier who said, “It’s lousy.”[fn]Cards Deal War Horse to Yanks. Slaughter, Mates, Fans Shocked.” Associated Press, April 12, 1954.[/fn]

Bob Burnes, a columnist for the Globe-Democrat, wrote that while the Cardinals could find reasons to justify the trade, none of them would satisfy the fans. “Enos Slaughter was more than a ballplayer, as any Cardinals fan could tell you,” Burnes wrote. “He was an institution—not only among the fans, but among the players as well. Enos was the ballplayer’s ballplayer—he played the game the way it should be played.”[fn]Rains, 135.[/fn]

The day after the trade, Moon made his first official appearance as a Cardinal, in the aforementioned parade, during which the fans expressed their displeasure.[fn]Moon, 5.[/fn] “As the motorcade revved to a start, it was now official before God and thousands of Cardinals fans. I was the player designated to fill the spiked shoes of the legendary Enos Slaughter,” Moon recalled.[fn]Ibid., 6.[/fn]

During the Cardinals’ final pre-season workout Moon seemed “nervous, even a bit embarrassed as he vigorously chewed gum during an interview at the batting cage.[fn]Broeg, Bob. “Wally Moon Replacing His Idol; Says Admiration for Slaughter Inspired Signing with Redbirds.” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, April 13, 1954.[/fn] Moon told reporters that although he’d had offers from sixteen major league clubs—several for the $6,000 that would have made him a Bonus Baby—he chose to sign with the Cardinals “because they were my favorite team and Slaughter my favorite player. I admired the way he hustled and how hard he played.”

When asked about the mental pressure of replacing a popular player like Slaughter, Moon replied: “It’s an honor to replace a player like Slaughter. Yes, I was surprised—surprised that he was traded and surprised I got the chance—but I’m happy. No, I don’t think I’ll be nervous in the game.”[fn]Ibid.[/fn]

It wasn’t until Monday, the day before Opening Day that Moon was called into the front office. “I guess you better sign a contract,” he was told. “I guess so,” Moon agreed. “I would have signed anything after all those weeks.”[fn]Creamer, http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1132365/index.htm.[/fn] Things weren’t any better the next day for Moon as the Cardinals opened the season against the Chicago Cubs. With a crowd of 17,027 on hand, it was the first afternoon opening game at home for the Cardinals since 1950. Prior to the game as he took batting practice or warmed up on the field, Moon could hear the hecklers in the stands. “For many in attendance that day I was already the team villain, and I hadn’t said or done a thing.”[fn]Moon, 1.[/fn] Moon was scheduled to hit second in the lineup that day. Minner was a 6-foot-5 lefty. As Moon knelt in the on-deck circle he felt like the most despised player in baseball. But, he said over and over to himself, “‘You can’t let this bother you. This is what you’ve been waiting for. This is the one chance you have been asking for.’ I pep-talked myself.”[fn]Gross, 49.[/fn]

As soon as Moon stepped into the batter’s box, chants of “We want Eno! We want Eno!” echoed throughout the ballpark. Minner’s first pitch, a curveball, missed the outside of the plate for ball one. His second pitch, an off-speed pitch, came in for ball two. “Take the bat off your shoulder,” Moon heard someone shout.[fn]Moon, 8.[/fn] With a 2–0 count, Moon expected the fastball and he sent it over the roof of the right field pavilion to give the Cardinals a 1–0 lead. The chorus of boos quickly turned into cheers. “It’s still my biggest thrill in baseball,” Moon recalled. “All I remember about the homer is coming back to the bench after I hit it and seeing Gussie Busch in his box near the dugout, jumping up and down.”[fn]Creamer, http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1132365/index.htm.[/fn] The game was also notable because it marked the debut of twenty-three year-old first baseman Tom Alston, who was the Cardinals’ first black player.[fn]Snyder, John. Cardinals Journal: Year by Year and Day by Day with the St. Louis Cardinals. Covington, KY: Clerisy Press, 2010. 405.[/fn] The Cubs got 16 hits however, and won the game 13–4. It was the Cardinals’ worst home opener in years. But as Moon recalled, it wasn’t a complete loss for him because, when he didn’t wilt under the pressure, “from that afternoon forward St. Louis fans held me in much higher esteem.”[fn]Moon, 11.[/fn]

As previously mentioned, Moon became only the second Cardinal to hit a home run on his first major league trip to the plate. Eddie Morgan accomplished the feat on April 14, 1936, in the season opener against the Cubs at Sportsman’s Park in St. Louis.[fn]Tomasik, Mark. “Oscar Taveras, Eddie Morgan: Flashy Start to Cards careers.” June 18, 2014. http://retrosimba.com/2014/06/oscar-taveras-edie-morgan-flashy-starts-to-card-career. With the Cards trailing 12–3, Manager Frankie Frisch sent in Morgan in the seventh as a pinch-hitter for reliever Bill McGee. The left-handed rookie connected on the first pitch he saw from Lon Warneke, sending the ball over the right-field wall for a two-run home run.[/fn]

Moon continued to hit the ball well the rest of the season and did his best to make St. Louis fans forget Enos Slaughter. On April 23, Moon collected five hits in a 7–5 loss in 11 innings at home to the Milwaukee Braves, in a game that saw Hank Aaron hit his first major league home run. Moon had another five-hit performance against Pittsburgh on May 12. On May 25, Moon stole four bases against the Cubs, coming within one of what was then believed in the press to be the National League record of five. (The actual NL record was seven, albeit with a different definition of stolen base. Under the definition in effect in 1954, the record was actually four.) By midseason Moon’s batting average was hovering around .325 and sportswriters were already talking about him as a sure candidate for Rookie of the Year.

Musial was impressed: “I’ve never seen a rookie who is less concerned when he has two strikes on him. He always knows he had a third coming.”[fn]Gross, 79.[/fn] Stanky added that “he controls the strike zone better than any first year player I’ve ever seen. He’s as familiar with that strike zone as he is with the palm of his hand.”[fn]Ibid., 79.[/fn] Moon hit well over .300 most of his rookie season and was in the thick of the race for the NL batting championship, but fell into a slump during the final two months of the season that dropped his average some 35 points. He hit only .239 in August and .227 for the month of September. “One reason is that I wasn’t beating out those infield hits,” Moon said. “I had played in winter ball and I was tiring badly at the end of the season.”[fn]Fraley, Oscar. “Moon not Worried by Sophomore Jinx.” United Press, February 5, 1955.[/fn] Moon still finished with a .304 average and ended the year the same way he started it—with a home run. In the 11th inning of a game in Milwaukee, Moon belted a pitch from Ernie Johnson 400 feet into the center-field bullpen for a two-run home run, handing the Cardinals a 2–0 win over the Braves.

Despite topping the league in just about every offensive category, the Cardinals finished 72–82, sixth in the league. But as Time pointed out in its August 23, 1954, edition, the good news for the Cardinals was that Wally Moon had made the grade. “He is filling in so well for Slaughter that the fans have almost forgiven the Cardinal management for selling Old Enos to the Yankees. Unless he suddenly picks up the habit of catching fly balls on his head, Wallace Wade Moon is a sure bet to be selected National League Rookie of the Year.”[fn]Moon, 99.[/fn] Moon got 17 of 24 votes from a committee of sportswriters, beating out future Hall of Famers Ernie Banks and Hank Aaron for Rookie of the Year honors in the National League. The writers noted that Moon did a “whale of a job all year,” collecting 193 hits, scoring 106 runs, and batting a respectable .304. “The lean, serious-minded outfielder with a masters degree from Texas A&M proved a triple threat man with the Cardinals. Besides his outstanding hitting and fielding, he also proved adept on the bases, stealing 18 sacks.”[fn]“Wally Moon Senior League Rookie of the Year.” St. Joseph Gazette, December 20, 1954.[/fn]

For Moon, it was a dream come true. “All of my life I knew I would make it someday,” Moon said. “I had faith in myself. But I never would have foreseen it happening the way it did.”[fn]Gross, 79.[/fn]

Moon followed his sensational rookie year with four more productive seasons for the Cardinals, batting .295 with 19 home runs and 76 RBIs in 1955, .298 with 16 home runs and 68 RBIs in 1956, and .295 with 24 home runs and 73 RBIs in 1957, but slumped in 1958, playing in only 108 games and batting only .238 with 7 home runs and 38 RBIs—all career lows. He had injured his left elbow in May when he leaped for a fly ball off the bat of San Francisco’s Orlando Cepeda and collided with the unpadded concrete wall in left-center field, and then with teammate Joe Cunningham, who fell on top of him.

After his disappointing 1958, the Cardinals traded Moon, along with pitcher Phil Paine, to the Dodgers for outfielder Gino Cimoli. The right-handed hitting Cimoli wasn’t much better that year. Cimoli’s batting average had dropped from .293 in 1957 to .246 in 109 games and he was in and out of the lineup all year long. Moon was upset and bitter about the news. Not only did he hear about the trade first from the Dodgers, but his pride was hurt when he found out it wasn’t a straight-up trade. “The trade rocked me to the core,” Moon wrote in his autobiography. “My employer, my favorite team since childhood, had given up on me for someone I considered a lesser talent.”[fn]Moon, 146.[/fn]

“The Dodgers made a helluva deal,” Moon told Dodgers GM Buzzie Bavasi. “A lot better one than the Cardinals made.”[fn]“Wally Moon Now Rated Top Prophet with Dodgers.” Associated Press, June 22, 1959.[/fn] The Cardinals, however, felt they were getting a defensive upgrade from Moon and that Cimoli’s “ability to hit to right center will be useful at Busch Stadium.”[fn]Broeg, Bob. “Cards Trade Moon for Cimoli.” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, December 4, 1958.[/fn] Cards manager Solly Hemus told reporters that while Cimoli probably wasn’t the .293 hitter of 1957, he was better than the .246 batter of 1958.[fn]Broeg, Bob. “Moon Gone, Cards May Use Cimoli as Bait for Moryn.” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, December 5, 1958.[/fn] Cimoli was “an excellent outfielder with an outstanding throwing arm.” Sportswriter Bob Broeg wrote that “we wish Wally well, but a reporter who travels with the Redbirds these last several seasons would not be hypocritical if he didn’t acknowledge disappointment in the athlete from Texas.”[fn]Ibid.[/fn] Broeg continued, “Even though he fell off to .238 last season, Moon is basically a good hitter, a man of power at the plate when he connects, but he disappointed consistently afield, both fly chasing and throwing. He seemed so satisfied with his inadequacies that his lean and hungry look appears merely an unfortunate illusion.” Dodgers Vice-President Fresco Thompson saw it differently, commenting, “Moon’s got 80 percent ability and gives you 100 percent. Cimoli’s got 90 percent ability and gives 75. In the end, we’re ahead with Moon.”[fn]Moon, 146.[/fn]

Thompson was right: Moon would turn out to be a great pickup by the Dodgers. He rebounded to hit .302 with 19 home runs and became a fan favorite by hitting “Moon shots” over the Coliseum’s left field screen. He was a critical part of the Dodgers’ 1959 World Series championship team. He was initially concerned about playing in the Dodgers’ temporary home—the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum where the right field foul pole was 440 feet away and where fly balls went to die. He had little success there in 1958, going 2-for-22. But thanks to advice from former teammate Stan Musial, Moon learned how hit the ball the opposite way over the 42-foot-high left field fence, which was only 251 feet away.

“He set me down and told me I could use that screen to my advantage,” Moon recalled. “I was just going to have to put more emphasis on hitting to left. I knew pitchers in the Coliseum threw inside to left-handed hitters hoping to get them to hit to right or center where they couldn’t get the ball out very often. What I did was get my hands inside of the ball, leading the bat through and extending it for power. I tried to hit the bottom half of the ball to produce high fly balls.”[fn]Springer, Steve. “Dodger’s Moon Found Success in Coliseum.” Los Angeles Times, March 23, 2008.[/fn]

Of the 19 home runs Moon hit that year, 14 were at the Coliseum and nine of them were over the screen. At one point, Moon hit safely in 17 straight games and showed some of the old spark and daring on the basepaths, stealing 15 bases. “He is just the type of player we thought we were getting,” Bavasi said.[fn]“Wally Moon Now Rated Top Prophet with Dodgers.” Associated Press, June 22, 1959.[/fn] Moon was named to play in both All-Star Games and finished fourth in the National League’s Most Valuable Player balloting. The Los Angeles writers voted Moon the Most Valuable Player of the 1959 World Champion Dodgers, and he finished second in the Associated Press Comeback Player of the Year to Philadelphia’s Gene Conley. Moon was also the choice of United Press International for the No. 1 Comeback Player of the Year in the National League. “Certainly in a year in which so many Dodgers stood out at various stages of the campaign, Moon must be singled out,” Bavasi said. “No player was more consistent throughout the campaign and no one man was more a team player than Wally.”[fn]“Moon Voted No. 1 Comeback in National Loop.” United Press International, October 22, 1959.[/fn]

Although he would go on to be a part of three World Series winning teams, Moon always considered that first storybook home run to be the greatest thrill of his baseball career. Speaking to the Craighead County Historical Society in 2012, Moon reflected, “Everyone from Northeast Arkansas dreamed of playing for the Cardinals. And there I was in the lineup and hitting a home run. It is hard to beat anything like that.”[fn]“Former Cardinal Moon Recalls Playing Days.” Jonesboro Sun, July 24, 2012.[/fn]

MARK RANDALL has been an award-winning journalist for the past 15 years. He has covered a number of beats for newspapers in Massachusetts, New Mexico, Florida, Utah, Alabama, Arizona and Arkansas. He holds a bachelor’s degree in history from Northeastern University, a master’s degree in broadcast journalism from Syracuse University, and a second master’s degree in history from Arkansas State University, where had has also taught undergraduate history courses.

Editor’s note: This article incorrectly named the Cardinals’ preseason opponent as the St. Louis Browns instead of the Baltimore Orioles in the original version. We apologize for the error.

Game One
New York Giants 5, New York Yankees 1
October 4, 1951, at Yankee Stadium

With the recurring sounds of “the Giants win the pennant!” still echoing, a World Series – even a subway World Series – had to come as an anticlimax for baseball fans after the Miracle of Coogan’s Bluff. As columnist Red Smith put it, “After that final play-off game in the Polo Grounds, this sport can hold no more surprises, offer no excitement or entertainment that wouldn’t seem milky-pale by comparison.”1

Still, the two teams presented attractive contrasts. In contrast to the inexperienced Giants (only Alvin Dark and Eddie Stanky, with the Boston Braves in 1948, had World Series experience) with their fiery skipper Leo Durocher and their rookie sensation Willie Mays, the two-time defending World Series champion Yankees had easily captured the American League pennant behind manager Casey Stengel and notable rookie outfielder Mickey Mantle.

In the opener Durocher had little choice but to turn to fourth starter Dave Koslo, and Stengel seemingly had the advantage with Allie Reynolds, who had five days of rest since his last start, a no-hitter (his second of the season) against the Boston Red Sox.

The mismatch on paper turned into a mismatch in practice, but the Giants unexpectedly upended the Yankees, 5-1, the first World Series Game One defeat for the Bronx Bombers since 1936 (which covered eight Series appearances). Reynolds extended his hitless streak by retiring Dark and Stanky before walking Hank Thompson, the replacement for an injured Don Mueller,2 a harbinger of the wildness3 that would see the Giants draw seven walks in Reynolds’ six innings of work.

Monte Irvin’s single stopped the no-hit streak and started a memorable day for the left fielder. Whitey Lockman’s ground-rule double brought home Thompson for the first run, while Irvin had to stop at third … for the moment. With Bobby Thomson at the dish for the first time since his remarkable homer, and the Yankees focused on the famous hitter, “Durocher brazenly gave the pantherish Irvin the signal to steal home. It was easy, too. The Giants were ahead for keeps.”4

After the game Durocher, who had coached alongside Irvin at third, happily took credit for the bold decision that resulted in the first World Series steal of home in 30 years: “When we saw Reynolds take the catcher’s sign and then look down, Monte looked at me and I said, ‘When you’re ready, go ahead.’ So when it happened again, Monte had inched up to a lead as long as this room and the minute Reynolds crooked his finger Irvin was off.”5

Thomson, too, ended up walking, but Mays flied out to end the inning.6 The two runs proved more than enough for Koslo who, in his ghostwritten column, humble-bragged, “The Yankees aren’t so tough. I expected to go out there and find a bunch of world-beaters, but they can be licked. … Really nothing to get excited about. Just a day’s work. I’ve pitched in tougher ball games during the regular season.”7

“Hoping to accustom the Yankees to the lefthanded slants of Dave Koslo, Casey Stengel asked lefthanded throwing Tommy Henrich to pitch batting practice. … He baffled the Yanks. It was a tip off of what was to come.”8

Yielding only six singles, a double, and three walks in a complete-game effort, Koslo, “a second-line pitcher with no real fastball,”9 rarely confronted trouble. The Yankees cut the lead in half in the second inning thanks to a Gil McDougald double and a Jerry Coleman single on which Thompson erred, allowing the run to score. The rally continued with a single by Reynolds and a walk to leadoff hitter Mickey Mantle, but Koslo escaped the jam thanks to “a slick bit of first base covering on a tricky roller by Phil Rizzuto … with Lockman [making] a good peg to … Koslo [after which] the Yankees were done for the day.”10

Irvin backed Koslo on the bases, at the bat, and in the field. In the top of the third he singled for the second straight time. In the bottom of the frame, he robbed Joe DiMaggio “with a Gionfriddo catch,”11 a reference to a grab by Brooklyn Dodgers outfielder Al Gionfriddo in the 1947 World Series that deprived DiMaggio of an extra-base hit. Irvin tripled in the fifth inning (“[a] screamer that sailed 400 feet on the fly and rolled up against the 457-foot mark on the fence”12) but did not score, so the Giants had just a 2-1 lead to start the sixth inning.

In that frame, as in the beginning of the game, Reynolds could not put the Giants away with two outs. With Wes Westrum on second after a single and a Koslo sacrifice, Reynolds walked Stanky to bring up Dark. Trying to avoid a seventh walk on a 3-and-1 count, Reynolds tried a fastball. “Dark disclosed … [h]e was looking for a fast ball.”13 “[His] rousing home run blast … put the game out of reach”14 and concluded the scoring. Later in this, his final frame, Reynolds did walk his seventh batter, Thomson again, before departing. Irvin followed the walk with his fourth hit of the game (he would finish 4-for-5) and tying the World Series record for hits in a game.

After Mantle fittingly flied out to Mays to end the contest, the conclusion-drawing began. Surprisingly, observers thought that the exhausted Giants had more jump than the “washed out”15 Yankees. Grantland Rice wrote that the Giants “had the pep, the drive, the dash against a listless, over-rested Yankee team that never had a chance.”16 “Some of the old timers were saying the Yankees reminded them of the 1914 Athletics, who dropped four straight to the miracle team of Braves.”17 The Yankees would next face a pitcher with a more imposing record, namely, 23-game winner Larry Jansen, who would start Game Two for the Giants.

Game Two
New York Yankees 3, New York Giants 1
October 5, 1951, at Yankee Stadium

Eddie Lopat bested Jansen in a 3-1 complete-game triumph marred by a knee injury to Mantle in right field that knocked him out of the World Series and hampered the rest of his career.

Again, Stanky and Dark were retired to begin the match for the Giants, but unlike Reynolds in Game One, Lopat put away Thompson.

The Bronx Bombers struck first, this time with some uncharacteristic small ball featuring consecutive bunt singles by Mantle and Rizzuto. “Both bunts were breathtaking affairs and perhaps, on his own say so, no one was more surprised than Stengel himself, Casey later insisting that he had not conceived this part of the attack.”18

Unlike Durocher, who took partial credit for Irvin’s steal of home in Game One, Stengel disavowed any role in the unusual Yankee attack.19 Mantle later “admitted he had planned to bunt the first time up against Jansen even before he left the clubhouse for the game. … It was a perfect drag, too fast for the tumbling Jansen to reach, too slow for Stanky to play in time.”20 Mantle took an extra base on Scooter’s bunt due to some sloppy defense by the Giants: “There was no chance to nail Rizzuto, but Lockman threw anyway. His throw eluded Stanky, and Mantle took third.”21

Mantle scored when Gil McDougald “lifted a rather feeble pop fly in short right. Henry Thompson … came tearing in for it and for a few fleeting moments, it looked as if he would catch it.”22 But when the Texas Leaguer landed, Mantle crossed the plate, giving the Yankees the lead for the first time in the Series.

Continuing his hot hitting, Irvin singled to start the second and “stole another base, pilfering second base with a fallaway slide worthy of Ty Cobb.”23 But Lopat needed just seven pitches to garner three groundouts and strand Irvin.

The rest of the Yankees’ Game Two offense featured RBIs from the eighth- and ninth-place hitters. With two outs and no one on in the bottom of the second, first baseman Joe Collins hit “a towering high fly with barely enough strength to drift into the right-field stand.”24 This classic Yankee Stadium homer put the home team up 2-0.

No one scored through the middle frames, but three future Hall of Fame center fielders intersected historically in the top of the fifth, when Mays flied out to DiMaggio, and Mantle, preparing to back up on the play, severely injured his knee. Patrick Burns photographed the play for the New York Times. Mantle sprawls on the grass with one leg down and the other scissor-kicked up in the air while DiMaggio, probably distracted by his fallen mate, goes up on tiptoes with his glove under the path of the approaching ball as if readying to make a basket catch. The framing of the picture shows seated fans, many of whom sport suits and ties, following the ball and the outfielders, doubtless oblivious to how a seemingly routine fly ball would impact Mantle in both the short term and long term.

Stengel’s propensity to platoon meant the Yankees had a more than adequate substitute for Mantle in Hank Bauer, who would go 0-for-2 in Game Two, then play a major role in the rest of the Series.

Meanwhile, Lopat “was at his coy best, befuddling the right-handed batters with a screwball that faded away and mixing just enough fast balls with his curves and change-ups to baffle all.”25 “He tosses an odd assortment of [pitches] at various degrees of comparative slowness. Although the ball looks big as a balloon, lucky is the fellow who contrives to nick a piece of it.”26

The Giants threatened only in the top of the seventh as the incomparable Irvin singled, Lockman singled, and, with one out, Westrum walked. With the bases loaded, Durocher made a trio of moves, using two pinch-hitters and one pinch-runner, but got only one run, on a Bill Rigney fly ball to Bauer, the latter’s only putout after he came on for Mantle.

Lopat helped the Yankees get the run back in the bottom of the eighth with sloppy Giants defense once again playing a key role. After Bobby Brown singled, Stengel pinch-ran Billy Martin. Collins grounded to third baseman Thomson, “[b]ut Dark and Stanky somehow left the keystone sack uncovered and, with nobody at second to retrieve his throw, Thomson finally fired the ball to first for the putout on the batter.”27

Shortstop Dark deserved no blame as the second baseman should cover the bag in this situation. The usually heady Stanky, however, “was somewhere between first and second, thinking beautiful thoughts.”28

The Yankees capitalized when Lopat singled to score Martin, who barely beat the throw by Mays, and give the Yankees a 3-1 lead. In 19 World Series at-bats over the Yankees’ five straight titles, Lopat would have three RBIs, an excellent total for a pitcher.

The Giants did get the tying run to the plate in the ninth after Irvin once again singled for his seventh hit in two games. “‘If any of you guys know how to pitch to Irvin,’ Casey Stengel told the writers who visited his office after the game, ‘I wish you’d tell me. .. I don’t even know how we got him out twice.’”29

Lopat retired the final three Giants after Irvin on groundballs, getting the last putout himself on an assist from Collins for the first World Series complete game of his career … but not the last one of the Series.

Game Three
New York Giants 6, New York Yankees 2
October 6, 1951, at Polo Grounds

After his brain cramp in Game Two, Stanky used his guile to lead the Giants to a 6-2 triumph in Game Three to give his team a 2-1 Series lead. Rarely does a stolen base matter more than a three-run homer, but Stanky’s can-can attack of Rizzuto at second sparked the decisive rally in favor of the National League champions.

For the first time in the Series, neither team scored in the first inning, although both threatened to do so. In the first inning, in a bit of foreshadowing, Stanky used his body to get on base (via a hit-by-pitch), and Rizzuto cost the Yankees at second base (when he was caught stealing).

The Giants took the lead in the second inning thanks to a Thomson double (his first home at-bat since the homer off Branca) and Mays’s first World Series hit, an RBI single. The press had started to pick up on Mays’s lack of production, but the struggles of Joe DiMaggio drew more unfavorable attention. “The Clipper had another disastrous day at the plate, going hitless for the third consecutive game, and so contributed nothing to the slim five-hit total which the Bombers managed to compile off [Jim] Hearn and [Sheldon] Jones.”30

While the Yankees repeatedly capitalized on miscues by the Giants in Game Two, they failed to do so in Game Three. In the third, after Bauer reached on an error by first baseman Lockman, who failed to corral a throw from Dark, Yankees starter Vic Raschi bunted back to Jim Hearn, who forced Bauer at second. This time Dark threw the ball away on a double-play attempt, but Raschi ran into a double play anyway instead of either staying at first or speeding into second.

Media accounts offered three theories regarding the play: (1) Dark faked out Raschi at second base by standing there nonchalantly until the throw arrived; (2) Raschi failed to hustle; (3) Raschi ran with the proverbial piano on his back.

The game account in the New York Times supports the second theory: “Raschi rumbled down to second as leisurely as though the little white pill were rolling down Eighth Avenue. Big Vic, therefore, was the most surprised person in the arena when Lockman threw to Dark in time to nip Raschi standing up.”31

Two other writers for the Times had fun with the 32-year-old hurler’s slowness: “Big Vic chugged past first base like a moving van toiling uphill.”32 “Time flies, but Vic Raschi crawls. … Raschi … had what seemed like ninety seconds to negotiate ninety feet, [but] was retired.”33

Durocher, true to form, credited his clever shortstop: “‘He really decoyed him,’ Leo laughed. ‘Raschi thought there wasn’t going to be any play at second base. Then he slowed up and Dark really put it on him. I thought I’d fall right off the dugout steps.’”34

Some combination of all three theories plus an injury unreported at the time35 likely explains the odd 1-6-3-6 double play. In more than 700 career plate appearances, Raschi had just one triple and no stolen-base attempts, suggesting a lack of both speed and a desire to take the extra base. Dark’s long managerial career attests to his smarts. But an even more interesting play on the bases happened just two innings later, featuring a more evenly matched pair in Stanky and Rizzuto.

The game remained 1-0 with one out in the fifth when Stanky again reached, as was his wont, without the benefit of a hit (he walked this time). Stanky then set off for second. American League Most Valuable Player Yogi Berra threw a perfect peg to Rizzuto, who had the ball in his glove, waiting for Stanky. “He slid into Rizzuto and Phil never realized that Master Eddie was a skilled soccer player in his youth. Stanky never kicked a better goal in his life.”36 “Stanky looked to be a dead duck. But the Brat still had one more trick up his sleeve, or rather it should be said, in his shoe.”37 The Brat booted the ball out of the Scooter’s glove. As Rizzuto ran into the outfield to chase the ball, Stanky raced for third base. Somehow the Brat had transformed a caught stealing into two bases.

Rizzuto and Stengel predictably protested. They claimed both interference by Stanky via the kick and the failure of Stanky to touch second base since Rizzuto claimed he had it blocked. The two bases instead of the out did matter in a one-run game, and more than half of the contest remained. Nonetheless, something changed as a result of the imbroglio. The Yankees swiftly lost focus. The Giants, a one-man Irvin-led offense through Game Two, suddenly began to hit.

Dark singled to plate the heroic/villainous Stanky. Thompson singled to chase Dark to third. Irvin grounded to Brown at third, who threw home to Berra in plenty of time to get Dark, but Berra dropped the ball for an error to allow another run to score. The Yankees now trailed 3-0, a troubling but not impossible deficit to overcome. But then “Lockman lined a three-run homer into the lower deck of the right field stands,”38 a hit that may well never have taken place without Stanky’s startling kick at second base. “He upset the applecart and the Bombers haven’t picked up all the scattered apples yet.”39

Stanky had a history with this particular play, nevertheless offered an alibi of sorts. “[I]t was the third time this season that Stanky has pulled this trick. He kicked the ball away from Red Stallcup of the Reds and Roy Smalley of the Cubs when he was palpably out. He tried it against the Braves, but of course they were too smart – or they knew their former teammate better.”40 “Stanky, a mocking grin on his face and a look of pretended innocence in his eyes, explained: ‘I guess Phil Rizzuto didn’t have too good a grip on the ball.’”41

The score remained 6-0 until the top of the eighth. Hearn hit the slight Rizzuto, who took a beating on the day; gave up a single to McDougald; and then, with two outs, issued consecutive walks to Brown and Collins, the latter of which scored the Scooter. Sheldon Jones replaced Hearn and got out of the bases-loaded jam with a comebacker off the bat of Bauer.

Gene Woodling homered in the ninth to set the final score at 6-2, but Hearn earned the last win of the season for the Giants to swing the Series back in favor of the National Leaguers. Unlike the sensitive Rizzuto, who fumed about the play for more than a generation, Stengel kept his sense of humor and perspective about the plays and the games, saying, “All the kicking wasn’t done by the other fellows. We kicked away a couple of chances to win. … They kicked the ball over for a while, too.”42

Game Four
New York Yankees 6, New York Giants 2
October 8, 1951, at Polo Grounds

“The next day it rained and it was as if the rain cooled the Giants off, for they were not the same again.”43

The National League champions’ attack did diminish over the final three games. After scoring 12 runs in the first three games, the Giants could muster only six in the closing trio, matching the total the Yankees scored in dropping two of the first three contests.

Having accounted for 59 of the 98 wins the Yankees accumulated in 1951, Reynolds, Lopat, and Raschi served as a Big Three for Stengel, who had no appealing fourth option. Casey had split the 63 starts that the Big Three did not make among 11 other pitchers. Tom Morgan led the way with 16, and Spec Shea followed with 11 starts. The former appeared in the Game One blowout, the latter not at all.

Stengel had seemingly tapped late-season acquisition Johnny Sain, who had made only four starts for the Bombers that season, to pitch Game Four,44 but the rainout allowed him to roll out his Big Three once more.45

Going into Game Four of what the curmudgeonly Grantland Rice called “no delirious display of brilliant or dramatic baseball,”46 the Giants seemed to have momentum given the Series results so far, the National League squad’s superior starting pitching depth, the fact that Durocher had not yet used Maglie (his ace), and the battering that Reynolds had taken in Game One.

The first inning of Game Four increased the momentum the Giants had. After walking Bauer to open the game, Maglie retired the next three Yankees in order, culminating with a strikeout of DiMaggio, who with the K fell to 0-for-12 for the Series.

In the bottom of the frame, Dark, who had the big homer off Reynolds in Game One, doubled with one out. With two outs Irvin, who had gone 4-for-4 off Reynolds in the opener, singled to score Dark. But Berra threw out Irvin trying to steal, and whatever momentum the Giants had seemed to disappear with that play.

A Woodling double and a Collins single allowed the Yankees to tie the score in the top of the second. Mays hit into a double play to end the Giants’ half of the frame.

In the third DiMaggio got his first hit of the Series, a harmless single that would prove to be a harbinger of bigger hits to come.

In the top of the fourth, the Yankees took a 2-1 lead thanks to an RBI hit by Reynolds, which matched Lopat’s RBI single in Game Two. By losing track of the positioning of the cutoff man and getting throw out in an 8-6-3 rundown, however, Reynolds also matched Raschi’s misadventures on the bases in Game Three.

Allie’s adventures did not impact his pitching although he did give up another double to Dark in the fourth.

In the fifth Berra singled with one out, setting the stage for DiMaggio. To John Drebinger of the New York Times, DiMaggio became the emotional hero of the game: “The aging Clipper, thought by many to have slipped deep into the shadows … exploded with a two-run homer … that … gave Casey Stengel’s Bombers all the inspirational lift they needed. …”47

After days of stories about DiMaggio’s slump, and batting tips he had reportedly received from Ty Cobb and Lefty O’Doul (DiMaggio said he never talked to Cobb), DiMaggio, who altered his stance by “shifting his body a little more toward the pitcher,”48 took a hanging Maglie curve and walloped his eighth and final World Series home run: “The ball went into the upper deck in left and it was still rising when it landed for a homer.”49

In Game Four, the older generation of great New York center fielders showed he would not yet yield the stage to the future stars. With Mantle out due to injury, Mays hit into a second double play in the bottom of the fifth, after which Durocher unsuccessfully pinch-hit for Maglie.

Trailing 4-1, Dark tried to spark the Giants with his third straight double – and fourth straight extra-base hit over two games against Reynolds – but Reynolds stranded him.

Rizzuto and Stanky crossed paths again in the top of the seventh, but this time the Scooter came out on top, although he once again took a physical beating. After Rizzuto singled and Woodling walked, “Rizzuto, taking too big a lead off second, apparently was … trapped as … Westrum whipped a fine throw to the bag. But … Phil, in a desperate situation, tried for third. Eddie Stanky’s throw hit him in the head. The ball bounced outside third and Phil kept going until he crossed the plate.”50

McDougald followed with an RBI single to score Woodling, saddling Sheldon Jones with two unearned runs and giving the Yankees a commanding 6-1 lead behind Reynolds, who stayed strong until the ninth.

The Giants began the rally with a Thompson walk and another hit by Irvin. Reynolds went to a full count on Lockman before retiring him on a fly ball to left on a pitch “about even with his cap” (according to Durocher) or “about letter high” in the strike zone (according to Lockman).51

Thomson followed with an RBI single to make the score 6-2 and bring up Mays with two men on base against Reynolds, “who revealed that he did tire at the finish.”52 “But ‘Amazin’ Willie’ merely extinguished himself as well as the ball game by drilling into his third twin killing of the day.”53

Refreshed by the rainout and kick-started by the DiMaggio blast, “the pendulum has swung in a new direction, toward the Yankees.”54

Game Five
New York Yankees 13, New York Giants 1
October 9, 1951, at Polo Grounds

The pendulum kept swinging the same way: Gil McDougald hit the third grand slam in World Series history, Eddie Lopat pitched his second complete-game five-hitter of this Series, and the Yankees bombed the Giants, 13-1, taking the lead for the first time with a 3-games-to-2 edge.

With injuries to regular right fielders Mueller and Mantle, both managers made lineup changes. Durocher put Clint Hartung in right for Thompson, and Stengel inserted Johnny Mize at first, which pushed Collins to right.

Shoddy outfield play by a regular outfielder led to the first run. After a single by Dark, “one of two Giants still able to hit the ball,”55 Irvin had his 10th hit of the Series on a single to left that Gene Woodling misplayed, allowing Dark to score.

The Giants still led 1-0 going into the top of the third. Larry Jansen had walked two to put two on with two out for DiMaggio, who singled to left to tie the score. Left fielder Irvin also erred on the play, which sent Berra to third and DiMaggio to second. Durocher faced a dilemma: Attack the veteran Mize with the open base or pitch to the rookie McDougald with the bases loaded?

Durocher opted to go after the youngster, who looks “awkward in everything he does,”56 according to DiMaggio, a not always complimentary teammate.

Jansen missed with his first pitch, leaving him no margin for error. After the game he explained, “I didn’t think I could risk getting behind on McDougald any more with the bases filled and my first pitch a ball. I gave him a fast one – and you know what happened.”57

McDougald had not gotten all of the ball, but the dimensions of the Polo Grounds meant that even a lesser shot could go into the stands. Of the key blow, McDougald confessed, “It was … letter-high. I didn’t know it was going into the seats when I struck. … But I knew it was a solid smack.”58

Another Yankee second baseman had hit the last World Series grand slam, also in the top of the third inning at the Polo Grounds against the Giants. In 1936 Tony Lazzeri’s swat had extended a 5-1 Yankees lead to 9-1 in a game the Yankees would go on to win easily by an 18-4 count. McDougald’s hit similarly enabled the Yankees to cruise in 1951, as his tiebreaking blast staked his club to a 5-1 lead.

Jansen’s day ended after the third inning. Monty Kennedy came on for the fourth, when Rizzuto popped a two-run blast to put the Yanks up 7-1. George Spencer came on in the sixth and gave up two more runs, one on a double by Mize,59 to widen the lead to 9-1.

The next inning went even worse for the home team. “In the seventh, the Giants looked like Bill Veeck’s midgets as Spencer was routed during a four-run assault.”60 Spencer did not survive the frame. He and Al Corwin combined to issue three walks, throw a wild pitch, and yield a bunt single by Collins (in a 9-1 game!) and a DiMaggio double.

With the Yankees up 13-1, the rest of the game would seem to offer little suspense, but two plays of interest transpired, both involving Gene Woodling. He tried for an inside-the-park homer after tripling but was thrown out, Hartung to Stanky to Westrum. Making up for his first-inning error with two outs to go, “Woodling made a magnificent catch when he grabbed Monte Irvin’s smash after a desperate run and a frantic leap in the ninth inning, robbing the Giant of a chance to tie the World Series record for total hits.”61

After the catch on Irvin, Lockman grounded out Rizzuto to Collins (who had moved in from right field) to end the game. Most observers thought that the Yanks merely needed to show up to close out the Giants the next day, a sentiment summarized by columnist Arthur Daley of the New York Times: “If the Giants had to get some bad baseball out of their system, this was the time to do it. As a matter of fact they haven’t much time because the clock is running out on them. Midnight is approaching for Cinderella.”62

Game Six
New York Yankees 4, New York Giants 3
October 10, 1951, at Yankee Stadium

The clock did strike midnight on the glorious Giants in Game Six, but the Yankees barely hung on to take the Series in a 4-3 victory sparked by the heroics of Hank Bauer at the plate and in the field. As befitting a crazy season that columnist Red Smith called a “catter-brained rigadoon,”63 the 1951 baseball campaign closed with Sal Yvars facing Bob Kuzava, two players who had not appeared in the Series until its climactic final frame.

For Giants fans, Game Six began with an ominous echo of Game Five. With Jerry Coleman on third and Berra on second, Durocher again faced a choice of pitching to a veteran (DiMaggio this time, in what would turn out to be the last game of his career) or walking him to face McDougald. Durocher made the same choice, and Dave Koslo fared better than Jansen, yielding a sacrifice fly to McDougald that put the Yankees up 1-0.

Raschi held the lead through four innings, thanks in part to a pair of double plays started by Rizzuto, who would hit into a double play of his own in the fifth inning and turn his third double play of the game in the sixth. “The Scooter was the hidden star of this series, ripping off one double-play after another until the Yankees had reached a record total.”64

The Giants broke through to tie the score on an unearned run in the fifth thanks to a Mays single, a Berra passed ball, and two flyouts. Still looking for his Series-record-tying 12th hit, Irvin grounded out with two out and two on to end the fifth with the score knotted, 1-1.

Back in right field in Game Six against the right-handed Raschi, Thompson made an error on Berra’s one-out single in the sixth that allowed Yogi to take second. Again Durocher walked DiMaggio to get to McDougald. Koslo threw a wild pitch to advance both runners, but McDougald lined to third. Koslo passed Mize to bring up Bauer with the bases loaded, two out, and the score tied. “With the count three and two, Hank hammered a high fly toward left field and for many a day Polo Grounders will argue whether Irvin could have caught that ball. Monty, bothered by a stiff wind, did not play it too well. For one thing, he turned the wrong way. For another, he appeared to have been playing too shallow for a left field, long ball hitter like Bauer.”65

“Monte may have felt that he could have made the catch had he been playing entirely healthy. Without saying anything about it the Negro outfielder has been unable to run at his usual speed since a slide into second base in the second game.”66

“For a moment the shot looked like another grand slam homer, but it didn’t quite have enough carry. It struck the front railing of the field boxes in back of Irvin and as the ball bounded away all three Yankee base runners scored, with Bauer pulling up at third.”67

Woodling could not cash in Bauer, but with the Yankees now up 4-1 with three innings to go, the extra run seemed superfluous.

Raschi yielded singles to Mays and pinch-hitter Bill Rigney to start the seventh. The Giants suddenly had the tying run at the plate. Stengel had seen enough of Raschi and pulled him in favor of Johnny Sain, the first of two Yankee relievers who would make their first appearances of the Series this day. Sain retired Stanky, Dark, and Lockman in order to preserve the three-run cushion.

Hearn, who could have started the game, came out of the bullpen to pitch successfully around a Rizzuto infield single in the seventh.

After dousing Raschi’s fire in the seventh, Sain started a conflagration of his own in the eighth after retiring Irvin and Thomson on flies. Sain had set down the first five Giants who faced him but would retire only one of the next seven batters. Thompson walked, Westrum singled, and Mays walked. The Giants had the tying run on base and the go-ahead run at the plate with two outs. Ray Noble pinch-hit for Hearn but struck out looking to strand three.

Still, the Giants rallied. After giving up the last hit of DiMaggio’s career, a double, to start the eighth, Jansen needed to retire only two more batters to escape, thanks to a fielder’s choice off a McDougald comebacker, a Collins fly, and a caught stealing of McDougald.

Facing a fading Sain, Stanky, Dark (a bunt), and Lockman all singled to start the ninth. “Stengel, who somehow always seems to have the right card at his disposal, called on his southpaw relief star Bob Kuzava for perhaps as deep and mystifying a piece of managerial strategy as any world series has seen.”68

“Kuzava frankly admitted he was nervous,”69 “but Stengel gambled with … Kuzava, because of his control. ‘Get it over. Make ’em hit it in the air. We’ll get ’em out,’ Casey told Kuzava.”70

A Yankee for less than four months, Kuzava came in to face Irvin, Thomson, and the pinch-hitting Yvars. The first two both hit deep flies to Woodling in left. All three runners advanced on Irvin’s ball. Inexplicably, Woodling threw to third to try to nab Dark, allowing Lockman, the tying run, to take second. Thomson, who in the NL playoff against Brooklyn had homered in the ninth with two on and two out with his team trailing 4-2, fell just short this time, although his sacrifice fly cut the lead to 4-3, leaving Lockman in scoring position as Yvars made the only postseason appearance of his career in a pinch-hitting role.

Yvars acquitted himself admirably with an opposite-field liner, but Bauer in right made an “amazing catch”71 even though he admitted, “I thought for a while I wouldn’t make it. I lost it in the shadows. I was playing him shallow. But [I] started running with the crack of the bat. Even so, I had to leg it like all get-out and wound up sitting down to make the catch, skidding along the ground. I knew I couldn’t let that one get past me and didn’t.”72

In his first three years as manager of the Yankees, Stengel had skippered his squad to Series wins over the Dodgers, Phillies, and Giants, with an especially bravura use of his bullpen in Game Six. “A man eating a plate of spaghetti while standing on his head would have had little on Casey Stengel today. Stengel stood strategy on its head, kicked it on the shins, and tickled its ribs – but, as usual, he was the winner.”73

“Stengel had called on a left-handed pitcher to stop three long-ball hitting right-handed batsmen and … had got away with it.”74

The incredible 1951 New York Giants season had ended with high drama, a fitting conclusion to a memorable campaign. While some lamented what might have changed had Don Mueller played,75 others with more perspective realized that the Giants, while falling to the Yankees in the Series, ultimately triumphed over the Bombers in the annals of the most memorable teams in baseball history.

MARK S. STERNMAN recapped the 1914 World Series in SABR’s “The Miracle Braves of 1914: Boston’s Original Worst-to-First World Series Champions.” In 1951, his Dodgers-loving father, nearly 8 years old, cried after listening on the radio to the final game of the Dodgers-Giants playoff series. Director of Marketing & Communications for MassDevelopment, Sternman lives in Somerville with his wife Kate and step-daughter Ella.

Notes

Broadcaster Russ Hodges captured Thomson’s shot and froze it in time, echoing it through baseball’s ages. After the ball soared over Dodgers outfielder Andy Pafko’s forlorn face, the ecstatic Thomson bounded around the bases, past his manager and third-base coach Leo Durocher to his winning, pennant-clinching run. The Giants had come out of a seemingly bottomless hole to victory.

When Thomson rounded third base, likely no one in the 30,000-plus crowd paid any notice to Durocher. Perhaps no one except the newsreel camera. With Thomson jogging to the plate, the joyful, leaping Durocher suddenly stopped, turned around, and picked up the glove Thomson had left near the third-base coaching box as he left the field the previous half-inning.

Seconds later the Giants’ Eddie Stanky would jump atop Leo, who was still carrying Thomson’s glove. All would head toward the mass celebration.

What was Thomson’s glove doing at third base? This was still the day when ballplayers customarily left their gloves on the field between half-innings. Thomson had been playing third base and dropped his glove near there to return to the dugout for his team’s last at-bat.1

Fortune must have smiled on Thomson, Durocher, and the glove. Maybe it was due to Durocher. The Giants manager was an ardent believer in luck and lucky charms. Before the first at-bat and when assuming his coaching position at third base, Leo performed a good-luck ritual. He would work his hand into and pound the glove left behind by this third baseman near his coach’s box. Thomson’s dropped glove that inning had to be luckiest glove Durocher ever pounded.

Were baseball gloves considered lucky? Many a defensive player might agree with that assessment when his glove saved an out or cut off a rally.

And manager Durocher might have been familiar with perhaps the most famous of lucky gloves. That belonged to his former teammate with the New York Yankees in the 1920s, Babe Ruth. Ruth, in fact, dubbed the peppery Yankee rookie shortstop “the automatic out.”

Lucky glove? It was Babe’s own Draper & Maynard G41 model. He used this glove in his last years with the Boston Red Sox and in his first seasons with the Yankees. Ruth even coined the “lucky” tag for his soft, gray-toned glove. The Bambino had declared his Draper & Maynard glove and those like it to be the “lucky dog kind.” The company logo was a bird dog owned by one of the owners and it was stamped into each D&M glove.2

The Dog Logo had emerged from a meeting attended by the two owners, Jason Draper and John Maynard. Maynard’s bird dog, Nick, wandered into the room and someone exclaimed: “There’s our trademark.” It stuck, and soon the dog emblem was used throughout the company’s advertising and promotions.

Ruth would put the “Lucky Dog” meaning into the D&M advertising and literature later when one day he spotted a rookie Red Sox outfielder coming on to the field with a D&M glove and Babe yelled, “So you’ve got one of the lucky dog gloves?” That remark, coming from the game’s most famous player, soon caught the attention of the company, which began using the phrase in its advertising.3

Still, it’s hard to deny that Thomson’s 35-inch Adirondack bat had stolen the equipment show that October playoff day, capping the Giants’ unbelievable, almost mythical rise from 13 games back to overtake the Dodgers that day for the pennant.4

Baseball is a game whose playing gear consists largely of leather and wood. Although Thomson’s Adirondack wood stick won the day, plenty of prime cowhide leather was available for the skilled Giants defenders’ hands. They were a fast, quick, and alert defensive unit. Monte Irvin and Willie Mays were of Gold Glove caliber in 1951, several years before that award was established in 1957. Center fielder Mays took home many Gold Gloves after the prize was created. Other Giants – Thomson, Al Dark, Stanky, Whitey Lockman, Hank Thompson, and Wes Westrum – were all considered better than average defenders at their positions. And they were versatile. First baseman Lockman was a former outfielder. Thomson was adept at third and the outfield as was one the game’s earliest black players, Henry “Hank” Thompson, who could play third base and the corner outfield spots.

The irascible Stanky was a noted glove prankster. One of his best tricks was that of hiding opponents’ gloves.

Thomson himself had once been a victim of Stanky’s glove antics. When he was a Giants rookie playing second base, Stanky, his opposite number at second for the Dodgers, made his glove disappear. Between innings Stanky kicked Thomson’s glove from near second base, where it had been left on the field, to the outfield bullpen area. Thomson spent puzzled minutes looking for his missing glove. Bill Rigney, another Giants keystoner of the period, once complained that Stanky buried his glove under second base during a game.5

The 1951 Giants used a mixture of models, but likely most were Rawlings, the preferred brand of its day. Rawlings had built a massive reputation among major-league players in the preceding 20 years. The company had a stroke of luck in the early 1920s. St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Bill Doak strolled into the company’s St. Louis plant one day and demonstrated a novel idea to the company: a glove that would form a natural pocket and be more flexible. Doak’s idea was to raise the glove’s thumb to form a deeper pocket, and to provide a laced leather web that eliminated the stiffness of the older style sewn web. Rawlings introduced the Bill Doak model to major leaguers shortly afterwards. It had an immediate positive impact on defensive play and arguably countered the effect of the lively ball era to some degree. Orders came pouring in. The Bill Doak glove would stay in the Rawlings line for 30 years, with other glove manufacturers soon following suit with similar styled models.6

By the 1950s the vast majority of major leaguers were wearing Rawlings gloves. Only a sprinkling of Wilson, MacGregor, and Spalding gloves dotted the defensive landscape. In fact, Rawlings’s annual player surveys showed that 70 to 80 percent of players wore Rawlings gloves during the 1950s. Rawlings had not only captured most of the fielders’ glove use market the leagues, but its popular “Trapper” first baseman’s mitt had a stranglehold in popularity at that position from the late 1930s through 1950s.7

While most players used Rawlings gloves, it didn’t mean they had contract endorsements with the St. Louis manufacturer. Many major leaguers had signed glove endorsement contracts with other companies and typically received two free gloves and a couple of pairs of baseball shoes for their endorsement. Loyalty went only so far on the field, though.

Thomson, for instance, had become a staunch MacGregor glove endorser and user. But some Giants like Dark and Sal Maglie, though they might showcase Spalding gloves in that company’s advertising, wore Rawlings leather on the field. Others, including Stanky, Hank Thompson, Irvin, and Westrum (who wore a Wilson Mancuso mitt) endorsed lesser-known brands like the Denkert Company, which produced youth models and private-label gloves. In fact Denkert’s Hank Thompson retail glove became one of the most popular youth gloves in the country.

Several Wilson glove endorsers from other teams, like Gold Glovers Gil Hodges and Roy McMillan, preferred Rawlings gloves on the field. McMillan stayed with his Rawlings glove until Wilson came up with its revolutionary A2000 model in 1957, then he switched. Daryl Spencer, who joined the Giants in 1952, said that “I used several different models during my early career. I signed with MacGregor while still in the minors, but never did use the model they designed for me.”8

Future Hall of Famer Robin Roberts was also a MacGregor endorser but a Rawlings user. He once caught a good deal of flak from MacGregor when he appeared on the cover of a national sports publication with his Rawlings glove clearly identifiable.

The glove companies were faced as well with the issue of signing black stars to endorsement contracts and placing their names on retail model gloves. Jackie Robinson, for instance, signed a contract with the Dubow glove company of Chicago, but few seem to have been distributed judged by their rarity today. Post-career Robinson “autograph” gloves would appear in the 1960s under the Caprico exported brand.9

MacGregor, based in Cincinnati, was the most active in signing black players and using their names on its store-sale gloves. Its endorsers included outfielders Willie Mays, Hank Aaron, and Frank Robinson. Wilson later signed Roy Campanella and Ernie Banks, but the practice of signing black players as endorsers didn’t begin until the mid-1950s. St. Louis-based Rawlings was last, finally placing Yankees catcher Elston Howard’s name on its catchers mitts in 1960.

Yankees stars largely endorsed Spalding, a practice begun by Babe Ruth after he switched his endorsement from D&M to Spalding in the late 1920s. Joe DiMaggio, Bill Dickey, Phil Rizzuto, and Yogi Berra all followed.

With the growth of TV, glove endorsement contracts became quite lucrative by the 1990s, and the players who signed had to be careful to match their wearing brand with their endorsement. In recent years, some pitchers, for instance, have sewn or glued their endorsed brand over that of the glove brand that they actually use, wary of television cameras zooming.

The glove that Willie Mays used to make his historic catch of a Vic Wertz drive in the 1954 World Series is in the Baseball Hall of Fame. Rumor has it that Thomson’s glove from the 1951 series is also at Cooperstown.

At least according to Leo Durocher, that’s the lucky one.

JOE PHILLIPS is a former sports editor and semipro baseball player who has been a Cincinnati Reds fan since the late 1940s. One of his devotions has been to vintage baseball gloves. On that subject he has written a book, “Nokona Ball Gloves — A Texas Tradition,” a history on the Nokona ball glove company. Phillips serves as an appraiser of baseball gloves and has produced various guides and articles to help collectors in this hobby. He has been featured in “Sports Illustrated” and has served a columnist for several sports memorabilia publications.

Notes

Durocher was the right man at the right time during spring training, recognizing immediately how good a ballplayer Robinson was. He had defended him with a fierce, profanity-laced outburst when some of his players voiced their opposition to playing with a black man. We can be sure he would have been even more fierce in defending Robinson against the opposition. Every beanball, unnecessarily hard slide, or actual spiking, would have propelled Durocher onto the field demanding the umpires throw the perpetrator out of the game. Based on his previous history, we can be certain he would have ordered retaliatory measures by Brooklyn pitchers and baserunners. Shotton, by contrast, was a non-confrontational man by nature. Moreover, because he managed in street clothes, he was forbidden by rule to even step on the field, much less face up to an umpire or opposing manager or player.

Commissioner Happy Chandler’s one-year suspension of Durocher for actions detrimental to baseball came one day before the Dodgers signed Robinson to a major-league contract and six days before the season opener. Dodgers president Branch Rickey’s first choice to replace Durocher was Joe McCarthy, the long-time Yankees’ manager who had resigned in early 1946. When McCarthy turned him down, Rickey offered the position to coach Clyde Sukeforth, who had recommended Robinson. Sukeforth agreed to manage the club until Rickey could find a permanent manager, saying he preferred to remain a coach. On April 18, the Dodgers announced the hiring of Shotton, Rickey’s old friend and frequent employee. We all know how important it was to Branch Rickey for Robinson to succeed, so the question is, did Rickey make the best managerial choice in ensuring Robinson’s success?

Shotton appeared as surprised as anyone to find himself managing the Dodgers. He was 62 years old and hadn’t been a full-time manager since being fired by the Philadelphia Phillies in 1933, after six unsuccessful seasons. He was completely unfamiliar with his new team, and there were hardly any National League players still around that he had managed or managed against. The only National League manager remaining from 1933 was Charlie Grimm of the Chicago Cubs. So my question is, why did Rickey choose Shotton?  

Durocher had told his players they were good enough to win the pennant no matter who Rickey got to replace him, but why Shotton? Did he consider anyone else, someone more familiar with not only Brooklyn’s players, but the National League as a whole? Let’s look at some of the available possibilities, both in the Dodgers system and elsewhere. Among those already under contract were Ray Blades, Clay Hopper, and Jake Pitler. Blades, like Shotton, had a long history with Rickey, dating back to their days with the St. Louis Cardinals. He had been hired to replace the departed Charlie Dressen, Durocher’s assistant manager, a role we now call a “bench coach.” When the suspension was announced, the New York press assumed he would be the new manager.

“Durocher Suspended for Season: Blades Likely to Take over Job,” was the headline in the New York Post. Hopper, a Mississippian, had managed Robinson at Montreal in 1946, and despite his initial opposition to having a black player, he had come to admire and respect Robinson’s talent and character. Under Hopper’s leadership, Robinson won the International League batting championship, and the Royals won the Junior World Series Pitler had been managing in the Brooklyn farm system since 1939 and been instrumental in the development of future Dodgers Duke Snider, Ralph Branca, and Clem Labine. Additionally, Pitler had looked after Robinson during spring training and was one of the rookie’s strongest boosters.

Among those available who were not in Rickey’s employ were former managers Frankie Frisch, Luke Sewell, and Freddie Fitzsimmons. Frisch and Sewell were experienced managers, who had won pennants, and in Frisch’s case a World Series. Both men had been let go during the 1946 season: Frisch by the Pittsburgh Pirates and Sewell by the St. Louis Browns. Fitzsimmons had been fired by the Philadelphia Phillies a year earlier. All three were younger than Burt Shotton.

Other former big league managers serving as coaches and possibly available were Bill McKechnie and Del Baker. McKechnie had 25 years of major-league managerial experience, including four pennants and two world championships. He had been fired by the Cincinnati Reds at the end of the previous season and had signed on as a coach with the Cleveland Indians. Baker, who’d won a pennant with the 1940 Tigers, was a coach for the Boston Red Sox. McKechnie and Baker were also younger than Burt Shotton.

Supposedly, one of the reasons for McCarthy’s lack of interest in the Brooklyn job was that Rickey could not guarantee him more than the one year Durocher would be gone. That might also have been a factor in attempting to sign Frisch, Sewell, and Fitzsimmons; although none had McCarthy’s reputation or the comfort of knowing he could have almost any managerial job he wanted. McKechnie and Baker were under contract to other clubs, an obstacle Rickey easily could have overcome. Most organizations allow a coach to move on to an offered managerial job.

We don’t know if Rickey even considered any of these former major-league managers, or even any of his own coaches, except for Sukeforth. What is intriguing is whether he ever considered any of the three leaders he had on his own roster, already under contract for as long as he wanted them. Player-managers were no longer as plentiful as they had been in earlier decades, but at the start of the 1947 season Mel Ott and Lou Boudreau were filling that role for the Giants and Indians, respectively. Joe Cronin was only two years removed from being the Red Sox playing-manager.

Boudreau and Cronin were shortstops, as was Pee Wee Reese, a player who was well-liked and respected by his teammates. Reese had been the least resistant among the Dodgers’ Southern contingent to playing with Robinson and had befriended him early on. Rickey thought so highly of Reese’s leadership qualities, he would later appoint him as the Dodgers’ team captain.

Second baseman Eddie Stanky had overcome some early doubt and fully accepted Robinson as a teammate. He quickly recognized not only Robinson’s talent, but that the competitive spirit that burned in him was much like his own. Aware that Robinson could not fight back against his tormentors, Stanky, the man closest to him on the field, would not have let the hard slides and attempted spikings Robinson received go unanswered.

There is no need to go through all the verbal abuse directed at Robinson in 1947. Let’s just focus on the first series against Philadelphia, in the second week of the season, to serve as a symbol for all the rest. Robinson later called this series his worst experience of the season. Led by manager Ben Chapman, the Phillies attacked Robinson with a steady stream of vile racial insults. An outraged Stanky called Chapman a coward and dared him to pick on somebody who can fight back. Stanky was clearly managerial material. Five years later he was the player-manager for the St. Louis Cardinals, the start of a successful seven-year managerial career.

Eddie Stanky would have been an excellent choice to manage the 1947 Dodgers; however, I believe Dixie Walker would have been an even better choice. Despite his well-publicized opposition to Robinson joining the Dodgers, Walker was, above all, a professional. Like all the Dodgers, once the season began he accepted Robinson as a teammate. He did so not out of any sense of social conscience, but the quick realization that the rookie’s exceptional talent and his strength of character could be a key contributor in helping Brooklyn win the pennant. That meant more money for him and all the other Dodgers.

The 36-year-old Walker, a major leaguer since 1931, was among the most respected players in the game. He was the Dodgers’ player representative, and his fellow National Leaguers had chosen him to represent them on a Joint Major League committee organized to deal with issues affecting all the players, such as pensions and benefits.

Dixie Walker was the team’s most popular player, perhaps the most beloved Dodger ever, at least to that time. He was also the undisputed team leader. His acceptance of Robinson would have sent a message to everyone around the league that this black man was a Dodger and we will not tolerate anyone trying to do him harm. Nor would he have sat on the bench and quietly observed the abuse. Walker, a gentle man off the field, had been in several notable brawls throughout his career, including one with several members of the Cubs a year earlier. His most notable brawl had come as a member of the Yankees in a 1933 game at Washington, when he rushed to the defense of his teammate and best friend, Ben Chapman; the same Ben Chapman who 14 years later was directing the attacks on Robinson that first week in April. Walker had not been as vehement in his reaction to the attacks as Stanky, simply telling his old friend to “lay off.” Had he been the manager, he likely would have had more words for Chapman, and they would have carried more weight. Walker, who owned a hardware store in Birmingham, Alabama, had been receiving letters from customers warning of a boycott of the store if he played with “that nigger.”

At a time when players depended on outside income, this was not a threat easily ignored. Yet while Walker never showed any outward signs of friendliness toward his black teammate, he did something more important. Robinson has written of how during an early season slump, Walker corrected his swing and the positioning of his feet. It was valuable advice from a man who later became an outstanding batting coach, and Robinson never forgot it. Walker was never unpleasant to him, Robinson remembered, while describing him as a man of innate fairness.

Becoming a big-league manager was always in Walker’s plans. Rickey thought enough of his teaching and leadership skills to offer him the managing job at Triple-A St. Paul for 1948. Walker preferred to continue as a major league player, and spent the next two seasons with the Pirates. Afterward, he managed for ten seasons in the high minors, compiling a .530 winning percentage, but never got a big league chance.

When Walter O’Malley bought out Rickey after the 1950 season, he fired “Rickey’s man,” Shotton, leading The Sporting News and several other newspapers to predict Walker would be managing the Dodgers in 1951. Instead, O’Malley chose Charlie Dressen, a man with an abrasive personality, no communication skills, and an extremely questionable in-game strategy. The 1951–1953 Dodgers were so strong they won two pennants despite Dressen; they lost a third because of him.

In late October 1950, when Walker was still being considered for the job, a reporter asked Robinson his opinion. It was fine with him, Jackie said, adding that he would not mind playing under Walker. Too bad he didn’t get the chance in 1947. Had Robinson been managed by Walker, one of the most respected men in baseball, one who would have had no hesitation in confronting his tormentors, Robinson’s life would likely have been a lot less burdensome.

LYLE SPATZ has been a member of SABR since 1973 and chairman of the Baseball Records Committee since 1991. His book “1921: The Yankees, the Giants and Battle for Baseball Supremacy in New York,” co-authored with Steve Steinberg, was the winner of the 2011 Seymour Medal, and his “Dixie Walker: A Life in Baseball” was the 2012 winner of the first Ron Gabriel Award. He was the chief editor for “The Team That Forever Changed Baseball and America: The 1947 Brooklyn Dodgers,” released in 2012, and “Bridging Two Dynasties, The 1947 New York Yankees,” released in 2013.

We are all aware that the pipe smoker belongs to a breed apart from other men. His pleasures are contemplation and relaxation; he does not rush, he is not nervous. His joys are the casual and meditative ones, those of the fireside, the easy chair, and the good book. The pipe stands as a symbol of this type of man, easily recognized by his even frame of mind, his unhurried approach to life’s problems.1

George Cushman, editor of Pipe Lovers magazine, wrote:

The observation is often made that pipe smokers are all of a certain temperament, that not just any man can be a pipe smoker…most of them are solid, steady, rather easy going people who have more than the average amount of patience.2

Does pipe smoking relate to baseball? “Solid, steady, easy going”—those might be true in some cases, but the images of Pete Rose, Ty Cobb, Billy Martin, Earl Weaver, or Roberto Clemente don’t conjure up those adjectives.

“I don’t want pipe smokers on my club,” quipped Joe McCarthy, the great Yankees manager.3 Marse Joe had an aversion to pipe smoking ballplayers. He believed pipe smokers were too complacent and self-satisfied. When asked by a reporter prior to the 1937 All-Star Game if he planned to mirror National League manager Bill Terry’s strategy, McCarthy snapped, “Let that pipe-smoker manage his team, and I’ll manage mine.”4 Stories about McCarthy and pipes abound. Lefty Gomez, a cigar and pipe smoker himself, recalled one about Yankees third baseman Red Rolfe. Red smoked a straight-stemmed pipe:

Joe had a fixation about guys smoking pipes. I roomed with Red Rolfe and Red loved his pipe. But he couldn’t smoke it in the lobby. McCarthy thought it had something to do with making a man complacent. It was the funniest thing in the world to see Rolfe sneaking a quick pipe in his room with me standing guard at his door.5

Although McCarthy later claimed that his negative comments about pipe smokers were said in jest (“I don’t care if a guy smokes a pipe, just as long as he plays up to his ability”),6 the press had a field day with him. Joe had to “look the other way” in some instances. Reporter Bob Broeg observed:

[Lou] Gehrig…whose pipe smoking Joe McCarthy tolerated because Mac was a smart manager who knew how to lead men, but also how and when to leave them alone when they buttered his bread.7

Pipe-smoking shortstop and former Philadelphia Phillies manager Art Fletcher served as a Yankees coach under Joe McCarthy. When asked by a writer to pose for a picture with his pipe, Fletcher refused, and explained to the reporter, “Not me…Don’t you realize by now that McCarthy doesn’t like a pipe smoker? [He] thinks a fellow is too self-satisfied [or] too complacent if he smokes a pipe.” Fletcher continued:

I shall never forget the time Joe caught Johnny Schulte (another Yankees coach) with a pipe. He laid him out—in a nice way, of course. And there was the time Lou Gehrig and other fellows brought out their briars. Joe couldn’t stand it because he thought the fellows looked too self-satisfied, or something.8

Dixie Walker started in the majors playing for McCarthy’s Yankees, and was 33 years old before he touched tobacco in any form. Shortly after taking up the pipe, while wearing the uniform of the Brooklyn Dodgers, Walker went on a 72 for 169 (.426 average) batting tear. Walker delivered a shot aimed at McCarthy when he said, “I don’t know whether I am a ball player or not, but I’m contented.”9

Eddie “The Brat” Stanky, a pipe smoker and the antithesis of complacency, who owned and smoked at least a dozen pipes, defended the practice. “Oh, a pipe smoke is a source of great solace and relaxation. It caresses you in victory, and it expands your thinking processes in defeat. I am afraid that McCarthy had the pipe all wrong.”10 Still, McCarthy’s influence was strong. When Chicago White Sox shortstop Chico Carrasquel began smoking a pipe in 1955, manager Marty Marion worried, “I hope it isn’t a sign of contentment.”11

A manager on the opposite end of the McCarthy spectrum was St. Louis Cardinals (1929-1933) and St. Louis Browns (1938) skipper Gabby Street. The former catcher, who played for five different teams during an eight-year major league career, was not only a great smoker of pipes, but he also had a collection of 70 pipes, which he displayed and proudly showed off visitors in his home.

There are big pipes and little pipes, odd-shaped pipes, straight and curved stems, engraved pipes, ancient pipes and pipes with the newest inventions and the latest fads, pipes that college boys are supposed to smoke and the kind on which grandpa likes to puff while wearing his soft slippers and reclining in his easy chair. The pipes are gifts. Some are inscribed and others carry symbols on the bowl. One is a long-grooved creation more than a foot in length, once owned by a lieutenant in General Custer’s troops—an officer who left the service just three days before the fatal massacre—and the pipe wound up in Gabby’s possession instead of Chief Sitting Bull’s. There is a bit of history or sentiment attached to each pipe in this collection and none will be smoked. Gabby has enough of the other kind to puff on for a lifetime.12

Two pipe-smoking infielders who played for Street’s 1938 St. Louis Browns were George McQuinn and Don Heffner. McQuinn began his career in the Yankees organization. But two things were against him. First, he was a first baseman during the early 1930s, a time in which Lou Gehrig pretty much took care of business at first base in the Bronx. Second, McQuinn was a pipe smoker, and he knew McCarthy wanted no part of pipe smokers. McQuinn was a kindly and good-natured soul who enjoyed the outdoors and a simple life. He was also very devoted to his pipe. The Sporting News reported:

[McQuinn] smokes an occasional cigar only to give the limited number of pipes a fellow can carry with him a chance to cool off and dry. If George had to choose between the first base job with the Yankees and his pipes, we honestly believe he would take the briar.13

This may be stretching things, but the point is clear. McQuinn was not a good fit for the Yankees or McCarthy. He went on to hit .276 for four different clubs with 135 home runs in a career that spanned 12 years. Interestingly, he finished his career with the New York Yankees in 1947 and 1948, but by then Bucky Harris had replaced McCarthy as Yankees’ manager.

Another pipe smoker who was traded from the Yankees to the Browns was Don Heffner. Much more competitive than McQuinn, Heffner’s major league career lasted 11 years. Unlike McQuinn, Heffner played for McCarthy’s Yankees (1934-1937), as well as Street’s 1938 St. Louis Browns team. Heffner never had a real shot with Joe McCarthy. Besides being a pipe smoker, Heffner had to compete with the likes of Tony Lazzeri. He appeared in only 161 games during his four-year stint. In 1938, playing for Street, Heffner appeared in 141 games.

In addition to Gabby Street, two other major leaguers smoked and collected pipes. Like many ballplayers, Hank Sauer enjoyed golf. But his hobby was pipe collecting. He kept one pipe in the club- house and he smoked every day before he put on his uniform.14 Former MVP and HOF great Joe “Ducky” Medwick was a huge fan of the pipe. He purchased many fine pipes from Henry Jost and Son, who owned and operated a tobacco store on Sixth Street in St. Louis. Players, if nothing else, are superstitious. Medwick recalled:

It’s a funny thing. But one day I came in here [Jost’s shop] and bought a pipe. That afternoon I hit a home run and, in fact, had a swell day all around. And after that, I noticed that every time I came back and bought a pipe, I’d have a wonderful day. Boy, the pipes that batting average cost me!15

Tobacconist Henry Jost said of Medwick, “One day after he hit one of those home runs, he came in and bought nine pipes for those other Cardinals.” To which Medwick replied:

Don’t get the idea that I am keeping the whole team in pipes….Quite a few of the Cardinals, including manager Frankie Frisch, are pipe smokers and I’ve bought a lot of ’em in here. Bob Weiland, the pitcher, is a great pipe fancier, but he goes in for antiques and that sort of thing. Fans, knowing my interest in pipes, sometimes send me antiques, but I’m not interested in ’em. I want pipes I can smoke.16

If one is to believe pipe tobacco advertisements, the clown prince of baseball, Al Schacht, was a long- time pipe smoker. Al is better known for his clowning antics in the third base coaching box than for his three-year major league pitching career with the Washington Senators. He mimicked third base coaches and entertained players and fans alike as he danced his way through exaggerated, imaginary bunt and hit- and-run signs.

Schacht may have not been the only one sending unique and unusual signals to batters. While managing in the Negro Leagues, Hall of Famer Rube Foster reportedly used his pipe in a number of different ways to communicate signs and signals to his players, and on occasion, as a weapon. Several different versions of Foster and his pipe permeate baseball lore. He may have smoked a meerschaum pipe,17 but whatever the material, Foster was an inveterate pipe smoker. Some claim he gave his players steal and bunt signs by altering the way he blew smoke from his pipe.18 Others say the smoke signals were decoys, and that Foster communicated the signals by holding his pipe at different angles,19 or by removing it from his mouth.20 He was also known to use his pipe as a means of discipline:

Foster brooked no disobedience to his orders. Earl M. Foster, Rube’s son, remembers one time Jelly Gardner was sent up to bunt and he tripled. He came back and sat down on the bench. The old man took the pipe that he smoked—he always had it—and he popped him right across the head. And he fined him and told him, as long as I’m paying you, you’ll do as I tell you to do.21

Cigarettes were not tolerated by Rube Foster. A player could not even hold one in his hand while sitting on the bench. However, pipes and cigars were permitted. It is difficult to separate fact from fiction, and perhaps we will never know the entire truth. No matter. The image of the great Rube Foster puffing smoke signals from a pipe, whether it is made of the aforementioned meerschaum or a badly chewed corn cob in the corner of the dugout, is an image to cherish forever. And, wherever the truth lies, Rube Foster deserves his place in the Baseball Hall of Fame and, if all is fair in the world, a spot in the Pipe Smoker’s Hall of Fame.23

A number of players, managers, team owners, and umpires enjoyed the pleasures of the pipe. Sparky Anderson frequently addressed reporters before and after games while puffing on his pipe. The cantankerous Billy Martin, not known for his patience, smoked a pipe. In fact, he starred in a number of television commercials and magazine ads extolling the virtues of Captain Black pipe tobacco. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Ted Williams, during his Washington Senators managerial days, took a page out of Joe McCarthy’s book. Williams had an aversion to pipe smokers and their “I’ve got it made” disposition. Fortunately for pipe-smoking pitcher Joe Coleman, he was traded from the Senators to the pipe-friendly Detroit Tigers under Billy Martin in 1970, where he proceeded to win 20 games.

Great pitchers such as Christy Mathewson and Cy Young were pipe smokers, as was fellow Hall of Famer Nap Lajoie. Young owned a number of pipes, including a heavy one and a stubby one. He often received pipes for birthday gifts, and on his 80th birthday celebration, he received a lifetime supply of Granger Rough Cut tobacco, his favorite brand. The Brooklyn Dodgers’ Clyde Sukeforth was an inveterate pipe smoker and an expert on pipe tobacco. He was able to identify any brand of fine-cut tobacco after only one puff. And Dodgers team captain Pee Wee Reese was often seen, “…after a game in Ebbets Field … sitting before his locker, placidly puffing on his old briar pipe, with a group of Dodgers around him.”24

No fewer than 14 of the 1936 Pittsburgh Pirates team, among them Big Poison Paul and Little Poison Lloyd Waner, smoked pipes. The great Al Simmons took up pipe smoking. Perhaps he was subtly persuaded; his prospective father-in-law ran a wholesale tobacco business. Pitcher Ray Moore was a tobacco farmer in Maryland in the off-season. Moore was a pipe smoker, and may have influenced his 1960 Washington Senators teammates, nearly all of whom took to pipe smoking. Cubs owner William Wrigley had more than chewing gum in his mouth. He also had a pipe protruding from his lips. Bill Benswanger, who owned the Pittsburgh Pirates in 1932-46, was rarely, if ever seen without his pipe. If the late Cleveland Indians general manager Phil Seghi held his pipe in his left hand, that meant “somebody’s going.” A trade was imminent, recalled Oakland’s Sal Bando.25

The legendary Babe Ruth was known for his off-the-field antics as well as his prowess on the field. After one of his all-night affairs, Ed Barrow caught Ruth in bed, under the covers, smoking a pipe at 6:00A.M. When questioned by Barrow about the pipe, the Babe replied, “It’s very relaxing.”26

Among the thousands of pre-smoked church-warden style clay pipes on display at Keens Steakhouse in New York City is pipe number 19499, formerly owned by Babe Ruth.

Who can forget pitcher turned author Jim Brosnan? The Professor was an intellectual who, off the field, wore a blazer and incessantly smoked a pipe. Eddie Grant, who played third base during 1905-15, was known for his Ivy League diplomas. Nicknamed “Harvard Eddie,” he could generally be found smoking a pipe and reading a book. Sadly, he is best remembered not for his appearance in the 1913 World Series, but as the most prominent major leaguer killed in combat in World War I.27

In the 1980 World Series, millions of people watched the Philadelphia Phillies defeat the Kansas City Royals in six games. These same fans took note of U. L. Washington and his ever-present toothpick. U. L.’s toothpicks raised a few eyebrows. Is it safe? What if he swallows it or stabs another player with it? Red Hoffman, columnist for the Lynn, Massachusetts, Daily Evening Item, posed the question: “Is a protruding toothpick legal?” He was told there were no rules about it, and therefore it was legal. What about lollipops or pipes? wondered Hoffman. Could a player come to bat with a pipe hanging from his lips? The answer came from Bob Grim, staff assistant to American League president Lee MacPhail. “It would be the umpire’s judgment,” was the response.28 Keep watching, fans. You may see your favorite player grab two very different pieces of lumber before emerging from the dugout and strolling to home plate. With white ash in hand, and a fine old briar protruding from his mouth, the batter sets. Here comes the pitch.

Acknowledgments

I wish to thank SABR member Peter Richardson for his assistance and help researching Rube Foster.

Notes

1. Weber, Carl. Weber’s Guide to Pipes and Pipe Smoking. New York: Cornerstone Library Publications, 1973, 7.

2. Cushman, George. “Blowing Smoke Rings with the Editor,” Pipe Lovers, Vol. 11, No. 2, 1947, 366.

3. The Sporting News, November 10, 1954, 16.

4. The Sporting News, July 11, 1956,7.

5. The Sporting News, March 16, 1963,11.

6. The Sporting News,January 28, 1978, 40.

7. The Sporting News, January 14, 1978,42.

8. The Sporting News, November 9, 1939,3.

9. The Sporting News, May 4, 1944,10.

10. The Sporting News, March 12, 1952,2.

11. The Sporting News, August 10, 1955,9.

12. The Sporting News, January 19, 1939,6.

13. The Sporting News, February 24, 1938,3.

14. The Sporting News, July 20, 1949,16.

15. The Sporting News, November 11, 1937, 3.

16. The Sporting News, November 11, 1937,3.

17. O’Neil, Buck. I Was Right on Time, New York: Fireside, 1997.

18. See McNary, Kyle. Ted “Double Duty” Radcliffe: 36 Years of Pitching and Catching in Baseball’s Negro Leagues, Minneapolis, MN: McNary, 1994, and Whitehead, Charles. A Man and His Diamonds: A Story of Andrew Rube Foster and His Famous American Giants, New York: Vantage, 1980.

19. Holway, John B. Black Ball Stars: Negro League Pioneers, Westport, CT: Mecklermedia, 1988.

20. Peterson, Robert. Only the Ball Was White, New York: McGraw-Hill, 1984.

21. Ibid., 111.

22. Hue Magazine, August 1957.

23. Located in Galveston, Indiana.

24. The Sporting News, October 15, 1952, 17.

25. The Sporting News, July 25, 1970, 14.

26. The Sporting News, June 2, 1954,3.

27. Simon, Tom, ed. Deadball Stars of the National League, The Society for American Baseball Research, Inc., 2004.

28. The Sporting News, November 29, 1980,6.

Manager Eddie Dyer talked softly with his wife in a closed compartment, and wondered how long it might be before his team would get this close again.1 Farther down the tracks, their landlord, the St. Louis Browns, wrapped up a dismal season of their own by losing 101 games while drawing fewer than 271,000 spectators. Although the two franchises paired to win five pennants and three world championships in the 1940s, those seasons of glory seemed far behind in the rearview mirror when the calendar turned to a new decade.

The 1950 Cardinals finished fifth and fell into the second division for the first time since 1938, while the Browns maintained their losing ways in both games and attendance. The Browns seemed to graciously shrug at the “laughing stock” slogan attached to them – “First in shoes, first in booze, and last in the American League.”2  As different managers came and went for both Mound City squads during the next couple of seasons, a war of nerves between the two team presidents also broke out and festered. In the most noteworthy squabbles, new Browns owner Bill Veeck demanded that the Cardinals’ Fred Saigh sign a new ballpark lease, and Veeck snatched up Cardinals pitcher Harry “The Cat” Brecheen for double the salary Saigh was paying him. Saigh later claimed that the Browns had tampered with Brecheen before the Cardinals released the veteran southpaw at the end of the 1952 season.3

In actuality, the maverick mannerisms of Veeck, along with his multiple Barnum & Bailey promotion tactics seeking to woo area fans to the Brownies, were the least of Saigh’s worries.  Saigh had been indicted by a grand jury earlier in the year for federal income-tax evasion, and despite proclaiming his innocence of the charges in an article in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, had to consider selling the Cardinals. “The Cardinals are a great ballclub and I would not want them to be hurt in any way even though I believe that I will be completely vindicated,” Saigh said. “I don’t have this coming to me. I’m completely shocked because I understood that a settlement was being made. I’d better say no more until I see my lawyer.”4

The citizens of St. Louis and its metropolitan area had embraced a pair of major-league baseball teams for 50 years, but they were now perplexed as they read about the possibility that one or both might be sold and leave town. Rumors periodically circulated either about baseball teams relocating or about a third league forming to satisfy the growing number of cities wanting professional baseball. Lou Perini, the beleaguered owner of the Boston Braves, certainly made baseball fans think about other deserving locales when he voiced his concerns and projections to The Sporting News: “The country is ripe for (a third major league). Eventually it is going to happen. Such cities as Houston, Toronto, Montreal, Milwaukee, and the areas surrounding San Francisco and Los Angeles can support one.”5 During a late-summer automobile trip to the Southwest, Saigh listened to a solid financial proposal from Houston investors for the sale and transfer of the Cardinals to Texas. Saigh declined their overture and stated, “The Cardinals have been nurtured through the years by a tremendously loyal audience in the Midwest area. So long as it’s within my power, I’ll never desert St. Louis for the money involved in any proposed transfer. No, money would not be the deciding factor. There would have to be other considerations more important, considerations I don’t care to go into.”6

As January 28, 1953, the time to defend himself in court, approached, Saigh remained committed to St. Louis. After consultation with his lawyer, Saigh, not wanting a lengthy jury trial, decided to switch his plea from not guilty to nolo contendere in hopes of a lighter sentence. His decision backfired in the worst way when the judge, in a surprise judgment, sentenced him to 15 months in federal prison and fined him $15,000. Saigh staggered toward the bench and pleaded that his aged mother would be alone, but Judge Roy Harper snapped at him and reminded him what his no contest meant.7  Harper, who had once been employed as the business manager of a lower-level Cardinals farm club,8 showed no favors and gave Saigh four months to get his personal and business affairs in order before his sentence began.9

Saigh met with Commissioner Ford Frick in New York during the winter meetings, and later announced that he would divest himself of his treasured ballclub for the good of baseball. The commissioner agreed with Saigh’s plan to appoint a three-member committee of civic-minded people from St. Louis to run the club until the sale. Frick acknowledged his admiration for the embattled Saigh. “He is doing this to spare baseball any repercussions and we salute him for it,” the commissioner said. “He certainly was entitled to bow out of baseball with all the grace possible under these unfortunate circumstances.”10

Veteran Cardinals All-Star Stan Musial said he understood that “business was business,” but added that he felt sorry for Saigh and wondered what was down the road for the team.11 The beleaguered Saigh analyzed several local bids for the Cardinals, but determined that none of them would work out. Just before spring training in 1953, a Milwaukee syndicate swiftly worked themselves in as the front-runners to buy the club. A sale approved by National League owners would result in the franchise being transferred to the “beer and cheese capital” in Wisconsin. It was early February and Saigh knew he had little time left to get a purchase arrangement that he felt was acceptable, so he told his St. Louis office employees that they would be paid for moving expenses and compensated for losses selling their homes since it appeared Milwaukee would be acquiring the team.12

As Saigh prepared to return to the Big Apple to meet with Frick and get the sale to the Milwaukee group approved, he was suddenly asked to postpone his trip because a new St. Louis entity was prepared to negotiate with him. Saigh agreed to halt his business plans after he learned that David H. Calhoun, president of St. Louis Union Trust Company, and James P. Hickok, executive vice president of First National Bank, were representing Anheuser-Busch to discuss a sale of the Cardinals to the brewery. The two well-known area businessmen, who had both been considered for the commissioner’s approved three-person civic committee, convinced Saigh that Anheuser-Busch had a serious interest in acquiring the ballclub to keep it in St. Louis. Saigh laid out his request to Calhoun and Hickok and stated that he would take less money than the Milwaukee group had offered. (It was later announced to be about $4 million.13)

A deal was readily consummated and a 6:00 A.M. press conference to announce the sale agreement was scheduled for February 20 at First National Bank downtown. The early hour was to allow the St. Louis Post-Dispatch to fully report the proceedings in its evening edition.14 The elaborate session was staged in the bank’s sixth-floor directors room. In addition to local newspaper and wire services, area radio and television stations were there. As the “changing of the guard” commenced, Saigh stood and opened with a timeline to describe how the Anheuser-Busch offer to purchase the team and keep it in St. Louis had been conveyed to him.15

Fifty-three-year-old August A. Busch Jr., president of the brewery, would assume the same role with the Cardinals on March 11 after a vote by the Anheuser-Busch stockholders. Busch began his formal statement with these words: “During its 100 years of existence, Anheuser-Busch has shared in all St. Louis civic activity. The Cardinals, like ourselves, are a St. Louis institution. We hope to make the Cardinals one of the greatest baseball teams of all times, and we propose to further develop our farm clubs.” William Walsingham Jr., the nephew of the late Cardinals owner Sam Breadon, would retain his position as vice president and operating head of the baseball organization. Several directors of Anheuser-Busch and legal counsel of the brewery were in attendance. This was the first time that the Cardinals would be owned by a corporation rather than a single owner or a small group of investors. Busch said the Cardinals would not sell stock to the public.16

National League President Warren Giles journeyed from Cincinnati to be present at the proceedings and had already approved the transaction between Saigh and the brewery. Giles said: “The sale of the Cardinals was appropriate and beneficial to St. Louis, the Cardinals and the National League. It was appropriate that an institution like Anheuser-Busch would identify itself with the Cardinals. I am glad to welcome Busch and his associates to the National League and to baseball.” Giles was quizzed about any obstacles from other team owners and responded that he saw no problem with approval of the sale.  He said that had the Cardinals been sold to someone who wanted to relocate the club, it would have been necessary to receive unanimous consent from all National League clubs to move forward.17 Although Busch was known as a sportsman within the high-society circles, it was with show horses and hunting clubs, so the personal welcome to the sport of baseball from Giles was beneficial.18 Longtime comrades and acquaintances referred to Busch as “Colonel” or “Gus,” which is what he preferred over “Augie” or “Gussie.”19

Saigh appeared very subdued after his initial narrative of the transaction, but he did answer several questions pertaining to monetary details of the sale. The total financial outlay from Anheuser-Busch was headlined as $3.75 million with Saigh receiving $2.5 million, which was what he had requested. Busch confirmed that the brewery would assume $1.25 million in debt, and Saigh acknowledged that he had deposited $1 million in escrow to guard the new ownership against additional liabilities. Busch seemed well informed as he replied to myriad queries with short but ardent responses. He said the Anheuser-Busch purchase of the Cardinals was done completely from a sports angle and was not a product sales weapon, and that he would honor the rival Griesedieck Brothers beer-sponsorship contract of Cardinals radio broadcasts. Sportsman’s Park was not part of the transaction since it was owned by the Browns, with whom the Cardinals had a secure stadium lease guaranteed through 1960. Busch wished the Browns luck in the coming season and said he hoped they remained in St. Louis.  Busch indicated that he would be active in the management of the Cardinals, and he endorsed incumbent manager Eddie Stanky. He said he would be heading to St. Petersburg, Florida, soon to watch the team participate in spring training.20

KSD Radio, owned by the Post-Dispatch, taped the press conference and scheduled a playback of the event for 7:00 P.M.21 KSD-TV, also owned by the newspaper, filmed an interview to be broadcast later in the morning introducing Busch. KSD special-events director and newscaster Frank Eschen was flanked on his right by Saigh, with Saigh’s attorney just behind him. Busch and Warren Giles stood on Eschen’s left as the interview commenced. Eschen first received a concise statement from Saigh that he had indeed sold the Cardinals. As Eschen shifted to move the microphone and speak to Busch, Saigh forlornly placed his hands on his hips, bowed his head, and slipped off-camera to his right, but apparently had his escape pathway blocked. Saigh looked back to see that his lawyer had turned left and was squeezing awkwardly behind the three men who were in front of a large backdrop curtain. With no option to move out of the way, an obviously distraught Saigh drooped his shoulders and followed his attorney for an unplanned “out with old, in with new” scene as the camera rolled and Eschen’s dialog continued.22

Eschen commented, “Now, congratulations are in order for you, Colonel Busch, for the fine thing that you have done in buying the St. Louis Cardinals.” Busch replied, “Well, thank you very much. We are delighted to be the owners of the Cardinals, and we are going to start to give the fans everywhere the finest baseball that is known in the United States.” Eschen concluded, “Well, I’m sure that you will fully live up to the old Cardinal tradition.”23 Busch had little time to process what Eschen might have meant by “the old Cardinal tradition” because a brewery associate had leaned in to inform him that he and his entourage were late for a tour of the administrative offices at Sportsman’s Park and to meet several employees of the ballclub. 

Busch excused himself and returned to the room where the papers had been signed to retrieve a fountain pen. Unknowingly, he walked in on Fred Saigh sitting alone at the table, with his hands over his face, sobbing. Busch never told anyone about witnessing this until years later.24 As Busch entered the car for his ride to the ballpark, he thought back to how he eventually sold the idea of purchasing the St. Louis Cardinals to the brewery’s board of directors the week before. He had convinced them with an entirely different vision than what he had stated at the morning’s press conference. When Busch concluded the closed-door presentation to the brewery leaders, he emphatically predicted, “Development of the Cardinals will have untold value for our company.  This is one of the finest moves in the history of Anheuser-Busch.”25

Meanwhile, team officials had contacted Cardinals manager Eddie Stanky at St. Petersburg during morning spring-training drills. Stanky, starting his second season as the Redbirds’ skipper, was asked to be in his office at Al Lang Field for a phone call in the early afternoon. With no knowledge of what had taken place in St. Louis, he assumed a player deal was in the making. When Stanky answered the telephone, it was Fred Saigh on the line explaining that he had sold the club to Anheuser-Busch. Stanky asked Saigh if he was satisfied with the deal, and Saigh replied in the affirmative. Stanky, who was under contract through 1954, responded to Saigh, “Then it’s all right with me. I’m very sorry, as you know, that you had to do this.” Stanky was grateful to Saigh for giving him his first opportunity to manage a major-league club, saying later, “Our relations were extremely pleasant. There was never one iota of interference with the operation of the club on the field. If my relations with the new owners are half as good as they were with Mr. Saigh, it will be 100 percent satisfactory.” Stanky also spoke briefly to Busch and John Wilson, an officer of the brewery, and said he was happy for them before inviting both to the club’s training camp.26 Busch had affirmed earlier that he felt Stanky was one of the best managers in the game.27

Player reaction to the sale ranged from reflective to tongue-in-cheek. Veteran second baseman Red Schoendienst recalled, “Before Busch bought the Cardinals, he had Stan and I and [traveling secretary] Leo Ward out to his hunting lodge for lunch. We were talking about the ballclub, and what was going happen to the franchise, and both Stan and I suggested that Busch buy the team. His response was that he didn’t know much about baseball, but I wonder if he already had been thinking about it and just wanted to see what our reaction would be.”28 A pair of unidentified St. Louis players were a bit loose with their retorts. “I guess if we go into a tailspin, they’ll call us the ‘Busch’ team of the league,” said one. Another jokingly said, “I always liked that Budweiser. Hey, do you think they’ll take the Redbirds off our uniforms and put beer bottles there?”29

Busch got to Sportsman’s Park for his planned visit to the team headquarters nearly an hour late. Bill Veeck had been waiting in his Browns office for a courtesy visit from Busch, but now, pressed for time, he took it upon himself to walk over to the Cardinals outer offices to meet his new intracity rival. Busch was summoned and the two owners warmly shook hands. Veeck said, “It’s nice to have you. We’re glad to see you. But I’m afraid you’re going to offer us some difficult competition.” Busch replied with a grin, “You’re right.” Glancing around the workplace surroundings with piqued interest, Veeck offered, “You know this is the first time I’ve ever been in this office.” Busch replied, “Well, it’s my first time too.” Noting that he had an apartment in the ballpark, Veeck said, “You know I live right next door, you must come and see me.” Busch responded, “You bet your sweet life I will. You’ve got to come see me and we must visit each other often.” With that, the two men shook hands again, and Veeck departed for a downtown appointment. 30

As he moved rapidly through the two floors of the Cardinals offices, Busch’s main interest in the building was whether it was fireproof. He looked closely at the names on the large blackboards and listened intently as Cardinals scout Joe Monahan and minor-league director Joe Mathes explained the rosters and the method by which players were transferred from one team to another. Busch posed for several pictures with team employees. Fred Saigh, who was present for the orientation, declined to be in any of the photographs.31

In his last act as owner of the Cardinals, Saigh went to St. Petersburg on March 8 to talk with Stanky, watch a game against the New York Yankees, and speak briefly with the players about the sale.32 Busch had ventured to Hot Springs, Arkansas, for 10 days’ rest before traveling to Florida to see his squad in action. Busch donned a Cardinals cap and uniform shirt, grabbed a bat, and took some practice swings against relief pitcher Eddie Yuhas. When he did not connect with the soft tosses delivered by Yuhas from about 30 feet away, Stanky cracked that Yuhas might find himself on another club if Busch didn’t hit the next one.33 Busch delivered a clubhouse talk to the team, attended games, and visited the Cardinals’ minor-league camps in Daytona Beach, Florida, and Albany, Georgia.34 Since a slight rift had developed in St. Petersburg regarding the Cardinals’ lease, Busch met with Mayor Sam Johnson and local baseball ambassador Al Lang to get a new agreement in the works to continue at the longtime spring training facility.35

Busch returned to St. Louis to make an early April inspection of Sportsman’s Park before the season began, and demonstrated that he had not paid much attention to his surroundings in the few times he had attended a major-league baseball game in St. Louis. After scrutinizing the grim conditions of the concession areas and the restrooms, he rasped, “I’d rather have my ballclub play in Forest Park.”36 Busch was appalled at how small and decrepit the ballpark seemed, and lectured associates about how ashamed he would be to bring his friends out to the ballpark. An angry Busch made a list of demands to his landlord to fix the place up, but Veeck said that he had no money to do anything.37 The warmth the men had shown several weeks earlier had just turned frigid, and the future of “Baseball in St. Loo’” would quickly shift to an unforeseen, but predictable pathway.

Sources

In addition to the sources cited in the Notes, the author accessed Retrosheet.org, Baseball-Reference.com, SABR.org/bioproj, and The Sporting News archive via Paper of Record. Additional websites accessed were newspapers.com and stltoday.com.

Notes

1 Stan Musial, as told to Bob Broeg, The Man Stan: Musial, Then and Now (St. Louis: Bethany Press, 1977), 139.

2 Evault Boswell, “The Bad News Browns,” Missouri Life, May 2016. missourilife.com/life/the-bad-news-browns/, accessed September 15, 2016.

3 Ray Gillespie, “Bill Veeck Is ‘Trying to Laugh Brecheen Case Out of Court,’ Says Fred Saigh, Filing Charges,” The Sporting News, November 12, 1952: 9.

4 “Saigh to Put His Baseball Future Up to Frick, Giles; Indicted on Tax Charge,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, April 24, 1952: 1.

5 Clif Keane, “Perini Gives Hub Two Years to Back Braves,” The Sporting News, October 1, 1952: 1, 6.

6 Bob Broeg, “Houston Bid for Major Club Five Years Too Early – Saigh,” The Sporting News, November 5, 1952: 7.

7 Bob Broeg, Memories of a Hall of Fame Sportswriter (Champaign, Illinois: Sagamore Publishing, 1995), 218.

8 Ray Gillespie, “Judge Who Sentenced Saigh Was Card Farm Executive,” The Sporting News, February 4, 1953: 12.

9 Ray Gillespie, “Owner Given 15 Months, $15,000 Fine,” The Sporting News, February 4, 1953: 11.

10 Dan Daniel, “Saigh Studies Flock of Bids for Cards,” The Sporting News, February 11, 1953: 5.

11 Musial as told to Broeg, 148.

12 Rob Rains, The St. Louis Cardinals, the 100th Anniversary History (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1992), 128.

13 “Cardinals Ball Club Sold to Anheuser-Busch,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, February 20, 1953: 4.

14 Broeg, Memories of a Hall of Fame Sportswriter, 219.

15 “Cardinals Ball Club Sold.”

16 Ibid.

17 “Cardinals Ball Club Sold to Anheuser-Busch Inc. by Fred Saigh for $3,750,000,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, February 20, 1953: 1.

18 “New Cardinals President Busch Long Active in Field Sports,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, February 20, 1953: 4.

19 Broeg, Memories of a Hall of Fame Sportswriter, 221.

20  St. Louis Post-Dispatch, February 20, 1953: 1.

21 “Cardinals Ball Club Sold.”

22 Video Production, St. Louis Cardinals, A Century Of Success, 100 Years of Cardinals Glory (St. Louis Cardinals and Major League Baseball Properties, Inc., 1992).

23 Ibid.

24 Peter Hernon and Terry Ganey, Under the Influence, the Unauthorized Story of the Anheuser-Busch Dynasty (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1991), 212.

25 Hernon and Ganey, 213.

26 J. Roy Stockton, “Cardinals Look Forward to New Owner’s Visit to Florida Training Camp,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, February 21, 1953: 6.

27 St. Louis Post-Dispatch, February 20, 1953: 1.

28 Red Schoendienst with Rob Rains, Red: A Baseball Life (Champaign, Illinois: Sports Publishing, 1998), 71.

29 J. Roy Stockton, St. Louis Post-Dispatch, February 21, 1953: 6.

30 “August Busch Jr. Visits Cardinals’ Offices, Takes Over March 11,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, February 21, 1953: 1.

31 St. Louis Post-Dispatch, February 21, 1953: 4.

32 Dan Daniel, “Saigh, in Farewell to Game, Foresees End of Two-Club Ball in Three Cities,” The Sporting News, March 18, 1953: 9.

33 Red Byrd, “‘We’re Behind You on Every Play,’ Busch Assures Cards,” The Sporting News, March 25, 1953: 11.

34 Red Byrd, “Busch Inspects Cardinals’ Farm Camp at Albany, Ga.,” The Sporting News, March 18, 1953: 9.

35 Frederick G. Lieb, “‘Busch Heals St. Pete Rift With Redbirds,” The Sporting News, March 25, 1953: 11.

36 Broeg, Memories of a Hall of Fame Sportswriter, 221.

37 Peter Golenbock, The Spirit of St. Louis, A History of the St. Louis Cardinals and Browns (New York: Avon Books, Inc., 2000), 405.

But if the Dodgers played their money games against the Redbirds, they had their blood matches with the Cubs. Between 1940 and ’49, Brooklyn took Chicago on 119 occasions while the Cubs were victorious 101 times. Considering that the Dodgers nearly always had a far superior team, it was a fine showing for the Cubs.

In 1940, the Dodgers had become a force to be reckoned with after years of general dormancy, thanks mainly to the often controversial leadership of fiery manager Leo Durocher. The Cubs, on the other hand, were a franchise on the decline. After 14 straight years as contenders with four pennants—yes, that actually happened—the Chicago Nationals would drop to fifth place that season. While the Dodgers and Cardinals had built massive farm chains, the Cubs waited for apples to fall in their direction.

Such was the scene when the Lords of Flatbush locked horns with Chicago’s North Side gang on July 19, 1940, at Wrigley Field. In the bottom of the eighth inning, one-time Cub Hugh Casey on the mound for the visiting team. The Cubs had already scored two runs on Bill Nicholson’s 14th home run of the year, and Hank Leiber was on third base when Cub ace Claude Passeau came to bat. According to Chicago Tribune sportswriter Ed Burns, “Hughie wasn’t feeling especially chummy.”

Casey’s first offering to his mound rival was a wild pitch, Leiber scored easily. Now a bit incensed, Casey plunked Passeau between the shoulder blades. Not known as a pacifist, Claude hurled his bat at the offending Brooklynite as the dugouts emptied. After ducking the missile, Casey charged on Passeau with help from teammate Joe “Muscles” Gallagher, who attacked the Cub pitcher. As Cub manager Gabby Hartnett pulled him off Passeau’s back, Chicago third baseman Stan Hack put Gallagher out of commission with a haymaker.

Eventually, the umpires, ushers, and Chicago police brought the brawl to an end as the Cubs went on to an 11-4 victory. It was Passeau’s 11th win of the season and his fourth in a row.

The stage had been set. During the winter of 1940- 41, Cub owner Phillip K. Wrigley hired former sportswriter Jim Gallagher (no relation to Joe) as general manager and Jimmy Wilson as field boss. Together, the “James boys” embarked on a series of trades that made the Cubs look like a farm team for the Dodgers. Jealous of the popularity of Cub second baseman Billy Herman, Wilson and Gallagher swapped him to the Dodgers for $40,000, infielder Johnny Hudson, and a player to be named later. Not long thereafter, pitcher Larry French and outfielder Augie Galan were handed to Brooklyn on silver platters as well. Thought to be over the hill, all of these players soon found the fountain of youth in Brooklyn uniforms. The blood rivalry was heating up!

The Dodgers were back in Chicago on May 19, 1941. In the bottom of the second inning, the Cubs were already ahead 3-0 when Hugh Casey walked Bill Nicholson to start the inning. Usually a fireman, Casey appeared uneasy in a starting assignment. Nicholson easily stole second behind his back, after which “the Mad Russian,” Lou Novikoff, drew a free pass to first.

Up to the plate came the bulky rookie Cub catcher, Clyde McCullough. Although slower than a rock moving uphill, McCullough beat out a drag bunt to load the bases. Chicago second baseman Lou Stringer then coaxed Casey’s third walk of the inning to force Nicholson home. Seconds later, Dodger third baseman Cookie Lavagetto muffed Bobby Sturgeon’s grounder, allowing Novikoff to score. As if this were not humiliating enough, pitcher Claude Passeau smashed a grand-slam homer to make the score 9-0 with still nobody out.

At that point, Casey went to the showers and Mace Brown took the mound. It looked like a forerunner of instant replay as Stan Hack drew a walk and went to third on Phil Cavarretta’s double. Dom Dallessandro then flied to Pete Reiser for the first Cub out, with Hack scoring on the sacrifice. Up for the second time in the frame, Bill Nicholson swished a home run for the eighth and ninth Cub runs of the inning. Novikoff singled and went to second on McCullough’s sacrifice. Stringer walked, but Sturgeon flied to Joe Medwick to end the inning. The score was Cubs 12, Dodgers zip.

That was the way it stood in the top of the fifth inning when Leo Durocher announced to plate umpire Lee Ballafant that his team was playing the game under protest on grounds that the Cubs were allegedly over the player limit. Interestingly, the Cub of controversy was the “player to be named later” in the Billy Herman trade, Charlie Gilbert. In reality, Gilbert had indeed reported to Chicago on May 6 but was still on the disabled list due to an ankle injury.

Ballafant requested that Cub field announcer Pat Pieper relay Durocher’s message to the audience, but Pieper’s translation to the partisan crowd was that Leo was complaining “because the Cubs have too many runs.”

Chicago went on to a 14-1 victory as Leo the Lion’s grievances were dismissed by league officials.

As that fateful season neared its end, the rivalry was already entering its “believe it or not” stage. In the first game of a September 10 doubleheader in Chicago, Brooklyn held a 4-2 lead. With one out in the top of the ninth, Cub pitcher Johnny Schmitz—in his major league debut—replaced Bill Lee, who had earlier relieved Claude Passeau. On Schmitz’s first offering, Cookie Lavagetto grounded into a double play to end the inning. In the bottom of the frame, Chicago bailed it out to win, 5-4. In hurling but a single pitch, Schmitz had gained his first victory!

To add icing on the cake, the Cubs won the second game by the same score. Despite the victories Brooklyn would win its first flag in 21 years while the Cubs dropped in the standings to sixth place.

By 1942, the Cubs had acquired the services of a temperamental rookie pitcher named Hiram Bithorn. Brooklyn was in town on July 15 and Bithorn was on the mound. Durocher began needling the young hurler from the visitors’ dugout. Getting a bit fed up, Bithorn whirled and fired a fastball at Leo’s skull in the top of the fifth inning. Players emptied onto the field from both benches, but the umpires managed to restore order before a full-scale rumble erupted. Hardly intimidated, the Dodgers bumped off their hosts, 10-5. Ex-Cub Billy Herman knocked a home run as ex-Cub Kirby Higbe took the win with relief help from ex-Cub Hugh Casey. As the Cubs ended up sixth again, the only consolation they could take was that the Cardinals surpassed the Dodgers at the end of the season to win the pennant by two games.

Wartime shortages were soon hitting home in baseball. The Brooklynites were back in Chicago on July 30, 1943, for an apparently unique event in history. With Johnny Allen on the hill for the Dodgers in the third inning, Phil Cavarretta cracked a home run off the left-field foul pole. In pre-war times, the baseball would have been discarded. But this time the umps gave it back to the Brooklyn pitcher. On the next pitch, Bill Nicholson slapped the pellet onto Sheffield Avenue for his 15th round-tripper of the year. To this writer’s knowledge, it was the only time that two homers were hit off successive pitches and with the same baseball. The Cubs sailed away to an easy 12-3 victory, a sweet taste of revenge for pitcher Hiram Bithorn. But Brooklyn enjoyed the last laugh, finishing third to Chicago’s fifth.

As the Chicago-Brooklyn antagonism continued, strange happenings resumed along with it. On May 18, 1945, Dodger outfielder Luis Ohno made history by hitting a grand slam home run plus a bases-loaded triple ( along with a double for good measure), as the Dodgers outslugged the Cubs, 15-12, at Ebbets Field. It was Chicago’s sixth straight loss. Earlier, Bill Nicholson’s three-run homer with two out in the sixth had temporarily knotted the score at 9-9. But in ’45 the Chicagoans were not to be stopped.

They won their “most recent” pennant, leaving Brooklyn 11 games behind in third place. Included in the championship drive was a 20-6 mauling of the Dodgers at Brooklyn on August 15. Cub catcher Paul Gillespie, chiefly remembered (if at all) as their first player to wear a crew cut, drove in six runs with two homers and a single. Andy Pafko and Heinz Becker also homered for Chicago, while Hank Borowy went the distance for the victory.

But the Cubs had won the 1945 flag largely because they had more 4-F’s than any team in the league and because the Cardinals (who finished a close second) lost Stan Musial to the Navy. By 1946, that temporary advantage had gone up in smoke. While the Dodgers and Cardinals had superstars coming back from the service, the Cubs had a few good journeymen at best.

The defending league champs were once again in Flatbush on May 22, 1946. With the score tied at one apiece in the top of the 10th, Cub shortstop Lennie Merullo slid into Dodger second baseman Eddie Stanky spikes high to break up a double play. Merullo and Stanky, who had not gotten along when they were Cub teammates in 1943-44, were wrestling it out in the dust before umpire Lynn Boggess and Brooklyn shortstop Pee Wee Reese broke it up. The two fighters were ejected from the game, which Brooklyn finally won, 2-1, as Dixie Walker’s double off Johnny Schmitz drove in Dick Whitman with the winning run in the bottom of the 13th. 

The bad blood was far from over. During a pregame practice the following day, Merullo walked into the batting cage to show Reese his black eye, reportedly telling him that if he wanted to hit him again to do it while he was looking so that he could break Reese’s neck. Sneaking up from behind, Dixie Walker slugged Merullo on the back of the head, and then headed for the home dugout. Lennie grabbed Walker, tripped him to the ground, and knocked out one tooth while breaking another in half. By now every­body on either side of the fence had become involved in the melee. Phil Cavarretta was pushed back by the police, “who apparently thought the Dodgers needed protection,” according to writer Irving Vaughan of the Chicago Tribune. Cavarretta later denied taking part in the brawl but was conspicuously silent when asked if he had punched Leo Durocher in the nose.

From that point on, five policemen were stationed in each dugout. Again, the Dodgers pulled off a 2-1 victory, this time in only 11 innings. Walker, Reese, Merullo, Cavarretta, and Cub coach Red Smith were all slapped with fines. Jim Gallagher protested those of the Cub players, but his face-saving gesture went nowhere.

The Cubs were going nowhere either, finishing a distant third as the Cardinals and the Dodgers duked it out for the pennant. St. Louis eventually won it, along with the World Series. In their last gasp of winning ways for another two decades, the Cubs squared off with the Dodgers in Brooklyn on September 15, 1946, winning the first game of a twin bill, 4-3, in 10 innings. But in the sixth inning of the nightcap, a swarm of gnats descended upon Ebbets Field like an Old Testament plague. The obnoxious insects refused to depart, causing the contest to be called as a 2-0 Dodger win. Perhaps that was Brooklyn’s way of saying to Chicago, “Gnats to you!”

Cub fans gloated over the winter as commissioner Happy Chandler suspended Durocher for alleged associations with gamblers and other unsavory characters. But with Leo gone and Burt Shotton as their “temporary” manager, the Dodgers changed baseball forever by hiring Jackie Robinson, the first African American player in the majors since 1884 as well as the first to make racial integration permanent. On May 18, 1947, a crowd of 46,572 shoehorned its way into Wrigley Field to see Robinson’s Chicago debut. Although Jackie went hitless in his first Chicago appearance, the Dodgers won the game, 4-2, en route to another pennant while the Cubs sank to sixth.

By the end of the ’40s, Leo Durocher deserted Brooklyn permanently to become field boss of the New York Giants, while the Cubs had become the doormat of the National League. But the smoldering Chicago embers could occasionally still turn into a blazing fire when Brooklyn was around. On June 19, 1949, another overflow Wrigley Field assemblage (42,089) saw Cub manager Frankie Frisch, catcher Bob Scheffing, and bench warmer Al Walker get tossed from the game over umpiring calls which they thought were a bit too much in favor of the Dodgers. Momentarily inspired, the Cubs snapped a seven-game losing streak with an 8-2 triumph, helped by the long ball hitting of Andy Pafko and Hank Sauer. Far from demoralized, Brooklyn went on to win 17 games from Chicago that year. Ironically, the Cubs even helped the hated Dodgers win the pennant by thumping the Cardinals two out of three during the final weekend of the season.

As the ’40s evolved into the ’50s, the Cub-Dodger hatred still simmered, even if the open belligerency declined. In July 1950, Hank Sauer, Ralph Kiner of the Pirates, and Enos Slaughter of the Cardinals were voted as the starting outfielders for the National League All-Star team. But team manager Burt Shotton decided to replace Sauer with his own Duke Snider of Brooklyn. Up went a roar of protests from Chicago as Shotton was besieged with derisive mail. Frankie Frisch said (publicly, at least) that he would not swap Sauer for five Sniders. Yielding to pressure, league president Ford Frick ruled that Sauer would indeed start the game and play at least three innings. The Dodger manager obeyed but yanked Sauer after the third inning. Diplomatically, he replaced him with Cub teammate Andy Pafko.

For good measure, the Cubs acted as spoilers in the pennant race again. This time, they spanked the Dodgers 12 times out of 22 to help the Phillies win their first flag since 1915.

It would be the Cubs’ last major hurrah against their despised enemy for years to come. Throughout the 1950s, the Dodgers went on gathering pennants while the Cubs languished in or near the cellar. Not until 1964 would the Cubs again edge the Dodgers—by then relocated to the world’s largest suburb—in a season’s series. By 1966, the once loathed Leo Durocher had become the Cubs manager. That, however, is a story in itself.

ART AHRENS lives within walking distance of Wrigley Field. He attended his first game there on September 26, 1959, when Chicago beat Brooklyn, 12-2. He is the author of many articles on the Cubs.

The Dodgers signed Robinson to a major league contract just five days before the start of the 1947 season. Baseball people, especially those in Brooklyn, were still digesting the previous day’s news of manager Leo Durocher’s one-year suspension (for conduct detrimental to baseball), when the story broke of Robinson’s promotion from the Montreal Royals. He would be the first black American to play in the major leagues since catcher Fleetwood Walker played for the Toledo Blue Stockings of the American Association back in 1884.

Robinson had played second base for the International League’s Montreal Royals in 1946, but on orders from the Dodgers he had been working out at first all spring. He played first base in Brooklyn’s final three exhibition games against the Yankees, and again two days later when the Dodgers opened the season at Ebbets Field against the Boston Braves. Rumors of a sellout may have discouraged some fans from attending, but whatever the reason, a crowd of only 26,623 saw Robinson’s debut.

Jack made the game’s first putout, receiving the throw from fellow rookie Spider Jorgensen on Dick Culler’s ground ball to third base. Interim manager Clyde Sukeforth had Robinson batting second, so after Eddie Stanky grounded out, Jack stepped in against Johnny Sain for his first major league at-bat. Sain, the National League’s winningest right-hander in 1946, retired him easily on a bouncer to third baseman Bob Elliott. After flying out to left fielder Danny Litwhiler in the third inning, Robinson appeared to have gotten his first big league hit in the fifth. But, shortstop Culler made an outstanding play on his ground ball and turned it into a well-executed 6-4-3 double play.

When he next batted, in the seventh, Brooklyn was trailing, 3–2. Stanky was on first, having opened the inning by drawing Sain’s fifth walk of the afternoon. It was an obvious bunt situation and Robinson laid down a beauty, pushing the ball deftly up the right side. Boston’s rookie first baseman, Earl Torgeson, fielded it, but with Robinson speeding down the line, he was forced to hurry his throw. The ball hit Jack and caromed away, allowing him to take second and Stanky to reach third. Pete Reiser’s double scored both runners and finished Sain. Reiser later scored on Gene Hermanski’s fly ball off reliever Mort Cooper as the Dodgers won 5–3. Hal Gregg, in relief of starter Joe Hatten, got the win, and Hugh Casey got the first of his league-leading eighteen saves. Of course nobody had ever heard of “saves” in 1947, and Casey would die never knowing that he had twice been the National League leader.

When the Dodgers took the field in the ninth inning, Robinson remained on the bench as veteran Howie Schultz took over at first base. Sukeforth had inserted Schultz as a defensive measure, but the Dodgers soon realized that Robinson needed no help. Schultz played in only one more game before Brooklyn sold him to the Phillies. Ed Stevens, the team’s other first baseman, played in just five games before he was sent back to the minors.

The popular Pete Reiser, coming back from yet another injury, clearly had been the star of the game, and it was he, not Robinson, who was the focus of the story in the next day’s New York Times. Roscoe McGowen’s game account mentioned Robinson only in relation to his play, leaving columnist Arthur Daley to take note of his debut, which he called uneventful. In retrospect, it would be easy, and fashionable, to attribute the writers’ casual treatment of this history-making game to racism. However, I prefer to think that they handled it in this way because it took place at a time when baseball reporters believed that that’s what they were: baseball reporters, men who felt their sole duty was to report what took place on the field. Red Barber and Connie Desmond, the Dodgers’ radio broadcasters did the same. The mind boggles to think how the media would cover such an event today.

LYLE SPATZ is the editor of “The Team That Forever Changed Baseball and America: The 1947 Brooklyn Dodgers”, the first book in SABR’s “Memorable Teams in Baseball History” series with the University of Nebraska Press. This chapter evolved from the author’s presentation at the “Jackie Robinson: Race, Sports, and the American Dream” conference held at the Brooklyn campus of Long Island University on April 3-5, 1997.

The most interesting race was National League third base where Ken Reitz and Mike Schmidt finished in a dead heat. Each player captured 148 votes. The 1970s’ best fielding team also had three players from the 1960s’ best fielding team – pitchers Jim Kaat and Bob Gibson and the smooth fielding Brooks Robinson.

SABR members were invited to vote on defensive stars who had played at least six seasons of the 1970-79 period, including five in one league. Three outfielders were to be selected with no reference to a specific position.

Not surprisingly, the teams with the best records had the greatest number of all star fielders. Baltimore, with the American League’s best record for the seventies, placed four players – Grich, Robinson, Belanger, and Blair. The Reds, who won more games than any other National League team between 1970 and 1979, placed three players – Morgan, Geronimo, and Bench. The Phillies placed Schmidt, Bowa, and Maddox from their current team and Jim Kaat who spent three plus years in Philadelphia.

Here are the results of the SABR survey by league and by position.

American League

National League

This survey of the best fielders of the 1970s continues a survey made by the Society in late 1972 when the best fielders for each position were selected for each decade since 1900. That selection, made by a much smaller group, still holds up pretty well. Little additional research has been conducted in the interim regarding the defensive skills of players of the early decades of this century.

There are, of course, drawbacks in selecting standouts from a specific 10-year period. Players with moderately short careers may split their time in two different decades. This is what happened, for example, with Billy Cox, a premier infielder who broke in with the Dodgers in the 1940s as a shortstop. He later switched to third base but his NL career just barely stretched to 1954. With that one exception, the really outstanding defensive players are included in the following tabulation of the leading fielders by position for each decade since 1900.

HISTORICAL SURVEY OF BEST FIELDERS BY POSITION