Spitting On Diamonds: A Spitball Pitcher's Journey To The Major Leagues, 1911-1919 (Sports and American Culture)

Spitting on

Diamonds

Sports and American Culture Series Bruce Clayton, Editor University of Missouri Press Columbia and London

Spitting on

Diamonds A Spitball Pitcher’s Journey to the Major Leagues, 1911–1919 Clyde H. Hogg

Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook.

Copyright © 2005 by The Curators of the University of Missouri University of Missouri Press, Columbia, Missouri 65201 Printed and bound in the United States of America All rights reserved 5 4 3 2 1 09 08 07 06 05 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Hogg, Clyde H., 1941– Spitting on diamonds : a spitball pitcher’s journey to the major leagues, 1911–1919 / Clyde H. Hogg. p. cm. — (Sports and American culture series) Summary: “Biography of early twentieth-century baseball pitcher, Bradley Hogg”—Provided by publisher. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-8262-1569-6 (alk. paper) 1. Hogg, Bradley, 1888–1935. 2. Baseball players—United States—Biography. I. Title. II. Series. GV865.H577A3 2005 796.357'092—dc22 2005000679 This paper meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, Z39.48, 1984. TM

Designer: Jennifer Cropp Typesetter: Crane Composition, Inc. Printer and binder: Thomson-Shore, Inc. Typefaces: ExPonto, Berkley

To my son Ben, who resurrected Bradley, and Charlene, who said it was all right to live off his fifteen minutes of fame.

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Contents

Preface ix Introduction 1

1. 1909–1911: Warming Up 4 2. 1911: At the Foot of the Master 10 3. 1912: A Minor Influence 59 4. 1913: Look Away, Dixie Land 74 5. 1914: The Ball of Wax 104 6. 1915: The Southern Star 117 7. 1916: On the Wings of Angels 141 8. 1917: On the Right Hand of Chance 177 9. 1918: Spitting on Diamonds 208 10. 1919: In the Eye of the Storm 233 Epilogue: One Last Ride on the Merry-Go-Round 258 Appendixes 265 Notes 297 Bibliography 308 Acknowledgments 315 Index 317

Spitball: A pitch thrown by wetting the tips of the fingers to elimi-

nate friction between fingers and ball, reducing the ball’s spin so it drops sharply at the plate when it’s thrown. Depending on which way the pitcher turns his wrist when he throws it, the ball drops low, away, or low and away. Thrown like a fastball, it can be as erratic as a knuckleball and just as difficult to hit. —Jonathan F. Light, The Cultural Encyclopedia of Baseball, 679

In order to increase scoring and improve fan interest, with seventeen grandfathered exceptions, the spitball and the pitchers who threw it were both banned from the game on February 9, 1920.

Preface

It’s an amazing thing to watch a dead man come to life. I’ve been doing that for the last five years, ever since my son Ben called, asking if we were related to a Bradley Hogg of Buena Vista, Georgia. As it turned out, Bradley was my grandfather’s younger brother, making him my great-uncle and Ben’s great-great uncle. Since he’d died before I was born, I never knew him, or the fact that he’d played professional baseball beyond something called “town ball” back in the 1920s. “Not town ball, Dad, major-league ball.” According to Total Baseball, Ben was right: “Boston, 1911–12, Chicago, 1915, Philadelphia, 1918–19.”1 Brad Hogg, major-league pitcher. A distant statistical memory from a time that few are still alive to tell about, much less remember. As I searched for more information about his career in the early days of baseball and the life and times in which he lived and played, the more I looked, the more I found, and the more amazed I was when his career went, beyond coincidence, all the way to Cooperstown. For nearly thirty years before the Hall of Fame was built, its members were alive and well and playing on the same ball field with him, often wearing the same uniform. Bradley knew every player by name, ability, and batting average, as well as who could hit his spitball—and who couldn’t. For as it turned out, my uncle Bradley was truly baseball’s Forrest Gump. Throwing his spitter in more than three hundred games between 1911– 1919 in his journey from the minors to the majors, Bradley played with, for, or against twenty-seven of Cooperstown’s immortals. But to him, they weren’t immortal. They were baseball players. And his job was to strike them out. From Cy Young to Casey Stengel, this is the story of how well and how

ix

x Preface often he did it. And of what it was like to be alive and to play professional baseball in the second decade of the twentieth century, when America and its national game came of age. And now, even though Bradley threw his last pitch nearly eighty-five years ago, the uncle I never knew is unknown no longer. To me, he’s still alive and well and warming up on the sidelines, ready to face Wagner, Mathewson, Stengel, and company one more time. Pitching in the ultimate game, at the ultimate time, a lifetime ago. While spitting on diamonds.

Spitting on

Diamonds

Some things never change: “In the light of present conditions, athletics are gaining an undue ascendancy. The main business of a college is to turn out developed brains; and when it ceases to do this, it is no longer worthy of the name college. Intercollegiate athletics have been introduced as a means of developing the body, while the brain is being trained, as a means, not as an end. Athletics must be subservient to the main business of a college, acting as a prop rather than a foundation.” The Mercerian Mercer University, Macon, Georgia, 1910

Introduction

April 23, 1918: Baker Bowl, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The ball left the tall pitcher’s hand at the top of his throwing arc, beginning its erratic, sixty-foot, six-inch journey toward the inside corner of the plate. It was the last step of a fascinating eight-year journey, whose end would be announced with a single word: “Strike!” This is the story of that journey, taken more than ninety years ago, through an America only visible today in faded pictures. But before a journey ends, it has to begin. This one began with a cry for attention in southern Georgia, thirteen years after the formation of the National League. March 26, 1889: Tazewell Community, Marion County, Georgia. One hundred and seventy-three miles southwest of Atlanta, the little country crossroads of Tazewell, Georgia, is virtually unchanged since the first of half a dozen houses, one church, and two stores were built more than one hundred years ago. It’s still seven miles north of Buena Vista, the county seat of Marion County, in rural farming country out in the middle of nowhere, a hard place to earn a living, even now. Twenty-four years after Lee’s surrender at Appomattox, it was even harder. Benjamin Harrison was in the White House, thirty-eight stars were on the flag, and there was less money, less future, less of everything across the land. Except children. As audible proof, the seventh child in the Hogg family made his appearance on March 26 in a farmhouse a few miles from Tazewell—a boy named Carter Bradley. His father, James Hamilton Hogg, was a forty-five-year-old Confederate veteran, farmer, and teacher, and his mother, Mary, was his father’s third wife. Since childbirth made life not only harder for women in

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2 Spitting on Diamonds those days but also often considerably shorter, some men married repeatedly. And in the Hogg household the children kept coming—six boys and a girl. On this day, Bradley was the loudest, and got the most attention. Growing up in southern Georgia at the turn of the century put him dead center in small-town, rural America, where the world revolved on a slower axis. His life was typical of boys of the time: he made himself useful around the farm, and went to his father’s schoolhouse and to church. Along with his older brother Willis, he also did the things boys have done since time immemorial: hunt, fish, and generally raise as much hell as they could get away with. Some of this hell left a permanent impression on everyone who ever met him, and occurred at a July 4 party around 1905. There he saw Willis lose an eye to an errant Roman candle during a fireworks display, a traumatic event that contributed toward Bradley’s hair turning prematurely white virtually overnight. His white hair, in addition to his athletic ability, would make Bradley stand out for the rest of his life. Bradley’s universe was surrounded by gently rolling hills and fields of cotton, corn, and peanuts, as Buena Vista’s economy was built on the hit-andmiss proposition of farming. The town itself was built around a tree-filled square featuring a two-story brick courthouse and the obligatory statue of the ever-ready Confederate soldier. Summers were long and hot, winters gray, cold, and short, and Saturdays were the main event of the week. For that was the day everyone went to town for shopping and socializing. There was usually a dance when the sun went down, and church on Sunday was a given. Church socials on Sunday played their part in the town’s expansion, providing social outlets with dinner on the grounds followed by athletic contests such as foot races and the occasional game of baseball. With sacks for bases, sticks for bats, and heavy spheres of tightly wound cloth as the object of attention, enthusiasm made up for the rough equipment and skills of the participants, who were cheered by all. The most progressive and well-off of the town’s twelve hundred citizens talked about the games and the changing world on one of the most remarkable exhibits of change, the telephone, after Mr. Bell’s newest invention connected them with five nearby towns in 1901. A year later the volunteer fire department was formed, complete with a one-horsepower engine that had to be fed daily. By 1913 streetlights had made their appearance, and electric lights were switching on in homes all over town, while the chain-drive Metz owned by Bradley’s father became less of a novelty as fifty-two Model T Fords, Studebakers, and Overlands puttered and honked their way around, over, and through the red clay roads of the county.1 Unlike many parents of the time, Bradley’s father believed in the value of

Introduction 3 an education, even for women. Bradley’s older sister, Nell, was educated proof, graduating from the University of Georgia in 1899 and becoming a schoolteacher. His brother James became Buena Vista’s mayor and eventually a state senator, and along with the rest of his family had a deserved reputation for meeting the new century head-on—and on their terms. As the youngest, Bradley continued the competitive tradition. After graduating from high school in 1907 and spending two years at Gordon Military Institute in nearby Barnesville, he enrolled at Mercer University in Macon, Georgia, to study law in 1909 at the age of twenty. There Bradley’s trip to the courtroom took a decade-long detour across the baseball diamonds of America.

1

1909–1911 Warming Up

When Bradley arrived in Macon in the fall of 1909, America had settled into the twentieth century with confidence, and prosperity was in the air. Like a growing number of young adults walking onto the Mercer University campus, he was looking for the key to the future. Or the courthouse, in his case, for he had enrolled at Mercer Law. As it turned out, the small Baptist college not only had a well-deserved reputation as one of the best law schools in the state, it was one of the more athletically oriented schools as well. Fielding successful teams in football, baseball, tennis, and the relatively new game of basketball, Mercer made a name for itself across the South by successfully competing against far bigger and better-known rivals such as Georgia, Georgia Tech, Vanderbilt, Auburn, and Alabama. Bradley fast became a Big Man on Campus, immersing himself in college life, becoming a regular at the law library, joining the Phi Delta Theta fraternity, and winning varsity letters in football and baseball his first year. With his easy-going personality, he also made friends easily, one of whom was the introspective Lawrence Stallings, nephew of New York Highlanders’ manager George Stallings. Larry went on to be a successful playwright in New York in the early 1920s, and answered the door when Hollywood came calling in 1925 to gain additional fame and fortune as the author of the expressionist antiwar blockbuster movie What Price Glory, based on his experiences in the U.S. Marines during World War I. Stallings’s screenwriting credits would eventually run the gamut, including milestones such as Ernest Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises and John Ford’s Western classic She Wore A Yellow Ribbon, starring John Wayne.1 But in 1909, flickering images on movie screens were not on Bradley’s mind. He was ready for some football. A new religion in the South in 1909, football was gaining converts by the day. When Bradley made the Mercer varsity as a halfback that fall, schools

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Warming Up 5 such as Auburn, Georgia, and Georgia Tech had already been playing the game for more than a decade. On October 23, Mercer played Howard College of Birmingham in a game one observer said resembled the War Between the States.2 The Howard coach and a number of their players were from Pennsylvania, one of the earliest examples of a southern school recruiting football players from the North. During the game, two Howard players were ejected for cursing a Mercer player, but “as Howard had only brought one substitute, they were allowed to stay in the game.” Curses. Mercer lost, 6–5, missing a potential game-tying point after touchdown at a time when touchdowns counted for five points. By 1910, Mercer had expanded the football program and hired a new coach, Dr. C. C. Stroud of Rochester University, as “director of physical culture, coach and history professor,” which meant they made him earn his money. To guarantee this, the football schedule was lengthened to nine games, in which the Bears would post a 6–3 record. Though still a rough, bloody, and dangerous affair, football itself was changing. Rules still prohibited forward passes of more than twenty yards, but pushing or pulling the ballcarrier forward became illegal. For the first time, substitutes could enter the game during quarters instead of only between them. And since there were no television cameras, end-zone dancing wasn’t a problem. Communicating with players was, however, for it was considered poor sportsmanship for coaches to yell encouragement from the sidelines or to make coaching suggestions to the men on the field, which meant players had to pay attention in practice. Wearing uniforms of thick wool sweaters, leather pants and helmets, and little if any padding, the Mercer Bears opened their 1910 schedule with a 32–0 win over Locust Grove College, with Bradley making “three good gains.” As odd as it seems today, the officials for the game were the opposing coaches.3 After wins over Clemson and the University of Georgia Medical School that featured “outstanding play” by left halfback Bradley Hogg,4 the team’s bubble burst when regional powerhouse Georgia Tech, coached by trophy namesake John Heisman, shut out the Bears 46–0. Mercer rebounded by taking the University of Florida to the woodshed 13–0, but Bradley’s “outstanding defensive play” as a 175-pound left tackle couldn’t prevent the Bears from losing their next game 21–0 to Georgia. A 6–0 loss to Chattanooga was followed by a 21–0 win over the Citadel to finish the season. The final game was highlighted by the Cadets trying to run the “Carlisle Indian stunt,”5 where one man put the ball behind his back under his sweater while another player pretended his leather helmet was the ball and ran down the field. “Thanks to sharp eyes,” the Macon Telegraph reported, “the ploy only produced a fiveyard gain instead of the usual touchdown.”6 While football took center stage each fall, baseball was still king in the

6 Spitting on Diamonds spring, and never more so than in the spring of 1910. College baseball, which predated the National League by seventeen years, had become an important feeder system for the major leagues. And in an era before major-league clubs had farm teams and most college teams lacked full-time coaches, it was in their mutual interest to get together in the spring. The southern schools provided warm weather and baseball fields for spring training, and the majorleague clubs provided an unending source of players willing to coach eager students. This was a good thing, for once the season began, college players were on their own. The closest thing schools came to having anyone in charge was the team captain, or in Mercer’s case, co-captains, who functioned as athletic directors by scheduling games and arranging travel, so it paid to watch and listen and learn from the best every spring when Mercer had the best teachers money could buy. Free. Just for the use of the college ball field. Mercer’s first baseball coach was Cy Young, the major leagues’ all-time leader in pitching wins, who, while training with the Boston Red Sox in Macon between 1903–1906, not only introduced the pickoff play to southern baseball at Mercer but also apparently instructed his students effectively enough for them to win the Southern Intercollegiate Athletic Association championship twice. The Cleveland ball club trained in Macon in 1907– 1908, as did the New York Highlanders in 1909, three years before they changed their name to “Yankees.” Both these teams provided Mercer players with additional insights into the game, while Georgia native Ty Cobb also put in some coaching time with the Bears during his career. So it was no accident that at Mercer, baseball was spelled with a capital “B,” and it showed season after season. As a result, Bradley’s going out for baseball in the spring of 1910 put him on a much bigger stage than football provided in the South at that point in time. College-educated major-league ballplayers were definitely not the norm at the turn of the century, nor were college-educated men in general, since less than 2 percent of the twenty-three-year-old male population of the United States held degrees by 1900. But by 1909, more and more players were coming into the game by degrees with degrees, and the game was changing as a result. The players, and the game, were getting smarter. Future Hall of Fame pitchers Christy Mathewson of the New York Giants and Eddie Plank of the Philadelphia Athletics had gone to Bucknell and Gettysburg respectively; like Plank, pitcher Jack Coombs of Colby College was winning big for Connie Mack’s Athletics. Future Olympian and New York Giant Jim Thorpe was making headlines at Carlisle, and dozens of other future doctors, lawyers, and teachers were earning a living in the major leagues by the beginning of the century’s second decade. Unlike today, however, most col-

Warming Up 7 lege players understood that professional sports at the turn of the century were not a viable lifetime career, so they got their degrees before heading into the spotlight. Though most college baseball teams played fewer than thirty games per season due to bad weather, the hardships of travel, and players actually going to class, major-league scouts were usually able to track down the best players. This wasn’t difficult, as the lack of diversions made the baseball player at the turn of the century the center of attention everywhere he went. Mercer’s baseball team had held tryouts in early February ever since 1894 when his friend Larry Stallings’s uncle George, then manager of the Philadelphia Phillies, had introduced the game to the college as a varsity sport. Sixteen Februarys later, future attorney Bradley Hogg found himself the starting first baseman for the 1910 Mercer Bears, a full-fledged hero-in-waiting. Being a first baseman in the college game at the turn of the century was a hard job made even harder by poor to nonexistent equipment, for there were few sliding pads, no batting helmets, unbelievably small, poorly made gloves, and only the sketchiest of training facilities. Batters faced additional difficulties, since pitchers used a wide variety of deliveries, including many that are illegal today, and the baseballs used were “dead” and not easily driven over outfield fences, meaning doubles and triples were the big hits of the days. Bradley turned out to be a big hit himself, with his bat initially overshadowing his arm. Against the Georgia Military Academy he hit two triples, against Chattanooga two doubles, and he steadily doubled against the rest of the teams on the Mercer schedule as well. In Mercer’s first-ever three-game road sweep of Auburn he had three hits, including one of the few home runs in his career. A turning point occurred on April 23, when he was listed as pitcher of record for the first time in a 4–3 loss to Chattanooga in his only mound appearance of the year. By 1911 the future was looking grim in Macon, as all three of the Bear’s All-Southern pitchers had graduated and few replacements were in sight. When Bradley’s teammates told their springtime coaches that their first baseman could throw the ball as well as catch it, he got a trial as a pitcher. Then, as now, timing is everything. Timing, and a newly developed spitball, which he used successfully on opening day. With his spitter breaking better and better as the season progressed, Bradley had wins over Georgia Tech, Trinity, Vanderbilt, Auburn, and Florida, and Mercer’s erstwhile first baseman–right fielder had found a new calling. On May 1, Mercer beat a strong University of Alabama team 5–0 with Bradley in right field. Twenty-four hours later he was on the mound, striking out twelve as Mercer did it again, 7–5. Bradley added a three-for-four day at the plate into the bargain. By that time major-league scouts had found the

8 Spitting on Diamonds ballpark. A few days later they got to watch Bradley pin the tail on the Tigers when Clemson came to town for a doubleheader in front of the largest crowd of the year in city-owned Central City Park. Even better, as the Macon Telegraph stated, “It was Ladies’ Day, and the band would be on the job.”7 The newspaper also reported that the sellout crowd got its money’s worth: May 11, 1911: Central City Park, Macon, Georgia. Mercer Beats Clemson Tigers In Two Games. Hogg’s Pitching the Best Seen at Central City Park This Season, the Mercer Twirler Yielding But a Single Hit. Mercer outclassed Clemson in all departments of the national game at Central City Park yesterday afternoon, taking two games from the South Carolina collegians, the first by the score of 6 to 0, and the second, 11 to 5. Hogg pitched the best game that has been twirled since men in uniforms first began capering on the park diamond. He went eight innings in the first game and allowed but one hit, being carried off the field on the shoulders of his cheering teammates after the last out.

After pitching an eight-inning shutout, Bradley was in right field for the second affair. When Frank Norman, Mercer’s starter, walked the first two batters and was in the process of doing it again with a third, Bradley was called in to take up where he left off and Norman sent out to right field. As Bradley struggled to finish the inning, it was obvious he was done for the day, so the two players swapped positions again. After Norman proved for the second time that it wasn’t his day, “Laughing John” Voss, normally a pitcher, was brought in from left field to finish the game, which Mercer won going away, 11–5. First base. Right field. Pitcher. Small rosters had their advantages, as players got to learn the game from several perspectives simultaneously. Wherever he played, Bradley played well, but pitching brought out his competitive fire, and his twelve-win unbeaten season gained him the attention of every majorleague scout in the South. Meanwhile, Bradley was beginning to focus on something besides home plate: a redhead named Agnes Brown. A good-looking nineteen-year-old from Hawkinsville, Georgia, Miss Brown was visiting a friend in Macon when she was talked into going on a blind date. The date turned out to be Bradley, who was introduced to her as “Mr. Swine,” but attraction must have overcome the name, for they continued seeing each other for the remainder of the spring. As it turned out, this would continue for several years, as Agnes had some major-league competition: Boston, of the National League. During the season, Bradley had been approached by several different

Warming Up 9 teams with contract offers he refused to sign, because he was smart enough to finish what he’d started and wouldn’t leave Mercer without his degree. Since Boston was the only team willing to wait until he graduated, Boston was where he would take his diploma and his right arm. And where his real education would begin.

2

1911 At the Foot of the Master

After signing with Boston in late May, Bradley agreed to report to the team as soon as his classes were done, even though it meant he would miss the graduation ceremony itself. His diploma would come in the mail. By uncharacteristically agreeing to wait, Boston let Bradley know exactly how much they needed him, and reading the newspapers told him why. Boston’s decade of futility was continuing on the field in 1911, and the team was willing to take any opportunity to change this, even if it meant bowing to the wishes of a green college pitcher looking for enough money to buy his law library—the reason Bradley signed a professional baseball contract in the first place. Signing a professional baseball contract in 1911 was a momentous occasion, especially in an age of limited media exposure and few professional sports options. Boxing was the only other professional sport taken seriously by fans, and it was far down their interest list. The odds of signing a professional contract during the dead ball era were also longer than they are today, since there was far less media exposure for young athletes and fewer than half as many major-league teams, scouts, and organizations spending their days looking for the next Cy Young. Just as today, not only talent but also timing played an enormous part in who received contract offers and who did not. Why timing was so important was a matter of numbers. Using 1918 as an example, there were only 183 regular position players on the sixteen majorleague teams, or about eleven men per team. There were only 106 pitching regulars in both leagues that year, an average of six per team, which is deceiving in itself since rotations were made up of three to four men, with pitchers usually starting every three days, and sometimes more often than that. Some pitchers started once every two days, or even made two starts on the same day in a doubleheader, meaning they definitely earned their money.

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At the Foot of the Master 11 Relief pitching as a vocation did not exist at the time, although several men might be used in that unofficial capacity. But no one was officially called a “relief pitcher,” for this was an era when pitching meant going the full nine innings or longer every time unless one’s arm fell off, which occasionally happened, at least figuratively. Eighteen-inning games will cause that, and give credence to the necessity of pitching arsenals containing far more than fastballs or an occasional curve. The difficulty in acquiring steady work as a major-league ballplayer was simply a matter of numbers. For example, when pitchers and position players were combined, there were only 289 men playing major-league baseball during the 1918 season, an average of about seventeen players per team, not counting late-season call-ups and tryouts. With the population of the United States at a little more than one hundred million,1 this meant that the 289 men represented about .00000027 of a percent of the total population. Discounting the half that were female, the odds against playing major-league ball were still infinitesimal, and the odds of signing a professional baseball contract are still longer than the odds of winning any lottery. Bradley just happened to have the winning numbers in 1911. There’s no record of how much money he originally signed for, but signing bonuses as such were, at the time, usually limited to several hundred dollars. And since major-league rookies in 1911 usually earned in the vicinity of two hundred dollars a month for a six-month season, baseball was definitely no get-richquick scheme. However, multiplying twelve hundred dollars by twenty to get the value of a rookie’s original contract today, Bradley probably made the equivalent of about twenty-four thousand dollars,2 which by the standards of the day meant he was doing well, making more than twice the average worker at a time when good suits at Saks in New York cost eight dollars on sale. Best of all, everything Bradley earned was tax-free, as income taxes wouldn’t become part of the American experience until 1913. To put his income and the income of the average American in perspective, in 1911 twelve hundred dollars went a long way. While the average worker earned around five hundred dollars a year, or the equivalent of ten thousand dollars today, Palmolive soap cost only a dime, nine pounds of macaroni cost only eighty cents, and a box of crackers was only a nickel. Even better, a young bachelor could find decent room and board for around five dollars a week. This meant that even though many baseball owners were tight with a dollar, Bradley wasn’t going to starve, or go naked into the night. So, after delivering the evidence of his college years to Buena Vista and stopping in Hawkinsville to kiss Agnes good-bye, Bradley’s great adventure began. Boarding the train to Atlanta and points north, he eventually arrived in Boston on the morning of the fifth of June, suitcase in hand, and took a

12 Spitting on Diamonds taxi to South End Grounds, home of the Boston Rustlers of the National League. And there, for the first time in his life, he walked through the gate of a majorleague ballpark. After meeting with Hepburn Russell, the club owner, and Fred Tenney, the team’s first baseman and manager who also held stock in the team, only three weeks after his last college game, Bradley put his name on a professional contract. As a newly minted lawyer, Bradley must have found the fine print interesting, to say the least. Especially a certain clause buried inside that he had to find hard to believe, and possibly illegal—which, seventy years and many court cases later, it turned out to be. This was baseball’s infamous Reserve Clause. One of the most contentious paragraphs ever written, it was included in every contract signed by every player in professional baseball, regardless of league or salary. A social aberration considering the Civil War had ended slavery forty-six years earlier, the clause bound a player to his original team for life, regardless of the contracts’ expiration date. Once he signed a contract, a player became a club’s property forever. The clause in Bradley’s contract specifically stated that by agreeing to play for Boston, part of the money he was to be paid was for his services the following year. Thus a contract never really expired. This eliminated competitive bidding and gave players a choice of playing for the salary offered or not playing at all. Some players, such as Ty Cobb and Babe Ruth, were eventually able to hold out for better terms, but only the very best ever got anything near the money they were worth. In the end, players still made more money than they could have by working in factories or stores or on farms, which were the options for the majority of ballplayers without college educations, but the salaries paid were nowhere near those paid today. Regardless, a holdout was a player’s only recourse, and for it to be effective at all, he had to have a profession to fall back on that would pay him comparable wages, such as medicine or law. And every holdout had to be ready to find another line of work, for clubs were quite willing to let a good player go rather than negotiate. This legalized collusion not only guaranteed management total control of salaries, it also guaranteed baseball’s monopoly. The results of these machinations were reflected in the overall major-league salary structure. Around 1900, major-league teams set seasonal payrolls as low as seventy thousand dollars a year ($1,039,500 today), which covered some twenty-five players on a squad, including substitutes, part-time players, and tryouts.3 That came to approximately $466 per player per month, or $18 per game.4 Major-league baseball in 1911 was a very hard world, where good hitters and pitchers died broke, contracts weren’t guaranteed, paid medical treatment was cursory, and pensions and disability payments were nonexistent.

At the Foot of the Master 13 Bradley received proof of his tentative position when he was issued his first professional uniform and saw it wasn’t new. But it was free, and until he earned a place on the team, the emperor would wear the clothes of others. The sun was burning off the morning chill when Tenney took Bradley around the ball field and introduced him to a group of curious ballplayers shagging flies and taking batting practice. With his white hair and funny name, Bradley was definitely a novelty, especially since players were unaccustomed to welcoming newcomers at that time of year. There was nothing funny about his introduction to slight, wiry Johnny “Noisy” Kling, one of the best catchers in the game. His meeting with Kling was all business. In his eleventh season, Kling was one of the few good players on Boston’s roster, having been spitefully traded after a heated discussion over money with his former employer, the Chicago Cubs. The National League’s best-fielding catcher for three straight years between 1906 and 1908, Kling had caught some of the best pitchers in baseball, including Mordecai “Three Finger” Brown, “Big Ed” Reulbach, and Orval Overall, who helped lead the Cubs to three straight World Series. Tenney told Bradley to pay attention to what Kling had to say and for Kling to pay attention to what Bradley threw, and to get him ready for an exhibition game in two weeks that would decide Bradley’s immediate baseball future. Two weeks of sweat, pitching, and more pitching, of getting his control down, his spitter to dance, and his curve to bend, told Bradley that this was going to be working baseball as much as playing it, while his sweat-soaked old uniform told him his college days were done. As a bonus, he got to sit on the bench in the afternoons and watch last-place Boston absorb beating after beating without being able to do anything about it. Finally, Tenney announced that the team would leave Sunday afternoon on the eighteenth for Fall River, Massachusetts, where they would play an exhibition game on Monday against the Fall River Breinies of the New England League. The game would kick off a week-long Cotton Centennial celebration in the city, featuring an appearance by President William Howard Taft. Of course, like most exhibitions played before and during the season by professional teams of the era, players made nothing extra for their efforts, but were still expected to go along with the extra duty for “the good of the club.” And since management always took the receipts, regardless of the score, they always won. Monday morning found Bradley and the rest of the Rustlers dressed in their high-collar wool uniforms in front of their hotel, boarding an open, horse-drawn, double-decked omnibus. Preceded by a brass band, they began their trip to the Fall River ballpark with fans cheering and jeering along the way and children running alongside to get an up-close look at the “big league” ballplayers in the flesh. The presence of a major-league ball club in town, even a last-place aggregation like Boston, was an exciting event.

14 Spitting on Diamonds Arriving at the little wooden ballpark called Athletic Park, players began warming up around the rough infield as the grandstands filled with a holiday crowd of some three thousand fans while the band made its presence known to every ear. When the umpire took the megaphone, faced the crowd, and began announcing the lineups of each team, for the first time in professional baseball history customers heard the name “Bradley Hogg.” The next day, in addition to the results of the game, Bradley got to read the first of many negative references to his name in the Fall River Daily Evening News report: “Tenney was trying out one of his string of pitchers. He owned the euphonius name of Hogg, and was unheard of in this part of the country, and is probably little known elsewhere.”5 As little known, apparently, as the correct spelling of the word “euphonious.” If Bradley was nervous going up against a minor-league team such as Fall River, he should have been, considering the Breinies had six former major leaguers in their starting lineup. For Boston may have been major-league in name, but they were last in the standings for a reason. Going up against 5'11" future Detroit Tigers righthander Willie Jensen, Boston was facing a pretty fair country pitcher, and Jensen set the Rustlers down in order in the first inning. Then, as three thousand noisy fans gave him the raspberry, Bradley walked out to the mound to make his first professional start for an unfamiliar team against an unfamiliar opponent in an unfamiliar ballpark in an unfamiliar part of the world. In other words, it was pretty much the same situation every rookie has faced since the beginning of baseball time. What Bradley was familiar with was how to get batters out, which he did with the first batter. Tenney hadn’t made it any easier by leaving Johnny Kling at home and starting another rookie as his battery mate, a catcher named Nelson who was on a tryout of his own, but when Bradley got Fall River’s first batter to ground out to short, the ice was broken and he was a virgin no longer. The next man popped out, but Bradley’s perfect game went into the toilet when the third man doubled to center and took third on an error by yet another Boston rookie, third baseman Scotty Ingerton. The fourth batter reached base as well, and while Bradley was concentrating on the runner at third, the runner on first stole second. With the crowd yelling for a score, the next batter popped out, and Bradley’s first professional inning was over. When Boston scored a run in the third, Bradley was able to hold the lead for one inning before Fall River tied it up. Each team scored again in the sixth to tie it again, Fall River’s run coming on Bradley’s first home run ball to Tommy Devine, who cranked it over the left field fence. Boston took the lead in the seventh, an inning in which Bradley coaxed a walk and stole his first professional base. In the bottom of the ninth things

At the Foot of the Master 15 got rough in a hurry when Fall River manager Harry Wormwood put himself in as a pinch hitter and singled to center. The next batter stepped into one of Bradley’s curveballs for a free pass to first, and the fans were on their feet. When Larry Knopf, a future ten-year major leaguer, slapped a ball down the first-base line that bounded by Tenney into right field for an error and a run, hats went into the air and the game was tied and the runners were on the move. With the partisan crowd screaming for blood and a runner rounding third, Bradley cut off the throw to the infield and threw to the plate to prevent a score. But Nelson’s rookie rawness came to the fore as the catcher tried to nail the man in a rundown and promptly threw the ball and the game into left field and his major-league career out the window. Fall River 4, Boston 3. Fred Tenney was infuriated by the loss, for it was embarrassing, and he let the sweaty Boston players know it in no uncertain terms as they boarded the omnibus back to their hotel. The locals knew it too, and as the Fall River Daily Evening News reported, “The team had to take a lot of jellying from the fans on the streetcars.”6 To make matters worse, as their omnibus was crossing the trolley tracks the lead horse lost its traces, holding up several streetcars and providing the opportunity for further tasteful commentary from the fans, one of whom yelled, “Come on, get off the tracks. Always at the tailend, draw out and get to the rear where you belong.”7 After giving up eight hits, hitting two batters, and striking out four, Bradley had convinced Tenney that he did not belong in the major leagues. Yet. In the parlance of the day, “he needed some seasoning.” Exactly where he would get it remained to be seen. After a week of jockeying back and forth with various minor-league teams in the Boston area, Tenney finally found Bradley a home in Haverhill, Massachusetts, in the Class B New England League with the last-place Haverhill Hustlers. This meant that when Boston sent Bradley down, at least he didn’t have far to go.

The Minor Leagues While not thrilled at the prospect of being sent down to the minors, Bradley was treading where thousands of ballplayers before him had gone and would go again. For the minors have existed for many of the same reasons from day one: to train young ballplayers and to refine their skills in preparation for a career in the major leagues. There’s always been a career ladder in baseball to get to the top, and every player has to climb it. How high they climb is up to them. And timing. And luck.

16 Spitting on Diamonds By 1911 there were dozens of minor leagues across the United States where this refinement occurred, with hundreds of minor-league teams at every level and classification from D, the lowest, to AA, the highest. The designations were usually determined by the size of the city and the strength of the league. At the time, minor leagues also had one very important thing in common: a heavy population of former major-league veterans. Many of these men, despite fading skills, were still good ballplayers who continued to earn their living on the diamond, but in a dimmer spotlight. This meant the minors were very competitive and nearly as good as the majors, traits that were apparent every day and that made the minor leagues a far more difficult place to play than most rookies ever imagined. Also unlike today when most minor-league teams are either owned or controlled by major-league clubs, in 1911 minor-league clubs were independently owned and answerable only to their own interests and the ever-popular dollar. One of the primary ways they made money was by buying players and later reselling them to higher-classification leagues. The major leagues made these player sales necessary with a singularly successful legal maneuver called the Draft, which minor-league clubs went along with because it was their only protection from major-league raids on their rosters throughout the year without any compensation whatsoever. At one or more specified times during the year, major-league clubs selected players from minor-league teams by submitting a check, or draft, to the major-league office. Then clubs were allowed to purchase the selected player or players from a minor-league club for a previously agreed-upon price that was usually nowhere near the player’s actual value on the open market. If there had been an open market. The draft also prevented raids by other minor-league clubs by setting up a “class” pyramid where Class AA teams could draft from teams in Class A, B, C, or D, clubs in Class A could draft from teams in the classifications below them, and so forth. In other words, the higher a team’s classification, the more teams it could take advantage of. Another method of controlling players was the Option, an arrangement that allowed major-league clubs to send players such as Bradley to minorleague clubs with the option to recall them later. Rather than an outright sale, it was a loan of a player to a minor-league team to see what he could do. This was how Bradley went from Boston to Haverhill. Together, the Reserve Clause, the Draft, and the Option kept an iron fist around the future of every ballplayer in America. While inherently illegal, these tactics were widely advertised by major-league officials as being necessary for the economic stability of baseball, when in reality they were only necessary for the economic advantage of major-league owners. When Brad-

At the Foot of the Master 17 ley was optioned to Haverhill, it was the first of many chattel moves that would occur during his career.

The New England League With no other professional sport remotely close to baseball’s popularity at the turn of the century, every town in America seemed to have a team, and every region a league. With baseball king, a local team was a town’s connection to royalty. One of these connections was Bradley’s first professional team, the Haverhill Hustlers, charter members of the eight-team Class B New England League, formed in 1886 around a group of amateur and semiprofessional teams that had played during the Civil War.8 New England League teams were located in the area surrounding Boston, and had names that usually reflected each town’s history, geography, and industrial connections to the region. The New Bedford Whalers, for example, played in one of the most famous whaling towns in America, while the Brockton Shoemakers were named after the city’s most notable product. The Fall River Breinies, oddly spelled name and all, connected with the town’s shipping industry, while the Lowell Spinners were named after the large number of textile mills in the area. The Lawrence Pirates decided to honor an earlier, less law-abiding time on the river in that area of Massachusetts and celebrated their history with the skull and crossbones. Civic pride led the town fathers to christen Worcester’s team the Boosters, while the city of Lynn went out on a limb and named their team the Live Oaks. Finally, Haverhill, Bradley’s new team, named their club the Hustlers, which unfortunately could be taken to mean at least two things, only one of which was complimentary. The league’s teams played in small, wooden ballparks that were prone to fire and usually seated only a few thousand fans. Bearing little similarity to the manicured lawns, perfect infields, and customer amenities commonplace in ballparks today, the fields were rock-filled and badly kept, with little grass and infields laced with potholes. These were ballparks. Amenities? Who needed dressing rooms or showers when players could change into their uniforms in the privacy of their hotel rooms before coming to the game? Dugouts? They only became a necessity because of the incessant stream of beer and pop bottles thrown by dissatisfied fans, which were occasionally returned to the stands with interest. This meant that the fans were into the game in a big way, regardless of the fact that it wasn’t big-league. It was theirs, and that’s what mattered. When Bradley arrived in Haverhill on the afternoon train from Boston, he walked into a picture-book New England town. Haverhill, with its population

18 Spitting on Diamonds of forty-four thousand, was more than thirty times larger than his hometown of Buena Vista, and with shoemaking the primary industry, the view of most of the population was at street level.9 Besides finding most of the population wore shoes, Bradley found Haverhill’s other claims to fame included the original home of Alexander Graham Bell and the Bell Telephone Company, as well as the original location of Macy’s. Founded in 1851 as a dry goods store, Macy’s was the originator of the first Macy’s parade, which was attended by one hundred people that same July.10 While pitching for Haverhill, Bradley was also able to spend a few evenings in Mr. Louis B. Mayer’s theater and see a movie for the first time in his life. Mayer got his start in the motion picture business in Haverhill in 1907 at the age of twenty-two when he purchased a run-down theater, applied some paint, renamed it the Orpheum, and began showing one- and two-reel silent motion pictures to an enthralled public between the customary vaudeville acts. Building on his success in Haverhill, Mayer expanded throughout New England, and by 1914 owned the first and largest chain of movie theaters in the region.11 What was happening on the silver screen, however, wasn’t nearly as interesting as what was about to happen on the ball field. Reporting to Haverhill owner Dan Clohecy on July 13, Bradley was greeted at Athletic Park by a desperate man. Clohecy’s team was in dire straits and needed a savior, in the standings, on the mound, and at the gate. In the middle of another disastrous season and without a league title since 1907, Clohecy’s attempts to give the city a winning ball club had fallen flat. With the Hustlers making continual personnel changes in search of a winning combination, by the time Bradley arrived in Clohecy’s office, the only player who had played the entire season with Haverhill was hard-hitting former Dodgers first baseman Ed McGamwell. The original manager had quit early in the season, and his replacement had quit before managing a single game. At that point Clohecy decided to manage the team himself, with predictable results, and the Hustlers had been fighting to stay out of the cellar from day one. This was the situation Bradley walked into when he arrived at Athletic Park on July 13. He was joining a team with nowhere to go but up. The Hustlers were sixth in an eight-team league in fielding and had only four batters hitting .300 or better. Ineffectual pitching only made things worse, and the team’s earned-run average of more than six runs a game was about as bad as it could get; the team had allowed 135 more hits, 27 more triples, and 30 more home runs than it had produced. After signing a contract for approximately two hundred dollars a month for the remainder of the season and a thirty-dollar voucher for the cost of his

At the Foot of the Master 19 uniform, Bradley dressed and reported to the field. He was an immediate hit with the players and fans, soon providing Haverhill with the first good pitching they’d had all season, for Bradley had the spitball down and a pretty good curve as well, and his fastball was dangerous. He would work on adding other pitches to his repertoire, for like every pitcher of the era he needed all the help he could get. At the turn of the century, baseball pitchers got that help by using a wide range of deliveries to defeat batters, many involving foreign substances applied to the ball. Mud, paraffin, spit, licorice, and tobacco juice were the usual culprits, and while not approved, they, like the elephant in the living room, were overlooked. And since the same ball was used throughout a game as much as possible, it tended to get downright mushy, nasty, and hard to see in the late-afternoon shadows of games that usually started around three o’clock. With a cross-section of former major-league veterans, career minor leaguers, and young prospects on the mound of every minor-league team, batters faced an amazing variety of pitches that would have driven a modern batter out of the box in disbelief. Not every pitcher had every pitch, nor were all pitchers competent with the pitches they had, but the degree of difficulty a batter had reaching base ninety years ago was considerable. That so many of them did get on base is a story in itself, for batting helmets hadn’t been invented, and the inside pitch was every pitcher’s stock in trade.

The Spitball Bradley’s main pitch from day one, which he learned in the spring of 1911, was the spitball. The pitch had been around since the early 1870s, but only became popular when Jack Chesbro of the New York Americans gave both himself and the pitch a fearsome reputation by winning forty-one games with it in 1904. “Big Ed” Walsh added to its reputation by winning forty games with it in 1908 while pitching for the Chicago White Sox.12 A pitcher threw a spitter by wetting the tips of the fingers so there was no friction at the contact point between finger and ball, reducing the ball’s spin so that it dropped sharply at the plate when thrown. Depending on which way the pitcher turned his wrist when he threw it, the ball could drop low, away, or low and away, and at times was as erratic as a knuckleball. Spitball pitchers often kept pieces of slippery elm or tobacco in their mouth to keep the saliva flowing, and put their fingers to their mouth before every pitch to make the batter think every ball would be a spitball, even if he went several innings without throwing one. But the pitch was always there, and was a great set-up for anything else—such as the shine ball.

20 Spitting on Diamonds

The Shine Ball In addition to the expected fastball and curve, Bradley mastered the shine ball in 1914. In wide use throughout baseball until 1920, it was another artificially manufactured breaking ball that was extremely difficult to hit. Created by rubbing the ball on a spot of wax that had been melted into the side of a pitcher’s pants or another part of his uniform,13 a shine ball broke like a spitter without the moisture. Other breaking balls such as the emery ball, created by rubbing a piece of hidden emery board on a ball between pitches, and the cut ball, using a raised glove eyelet to cut the ball, were popular with some pitchers, but these weren’t Bradley’s bread and butter. The same goes for the licorice ball and the mud ball, named for obvious reasons and used to disguise the ball on its way to the plate in the late-afternoon shadows. If the ball happened to be hit into the stands, another sign of the times was players, managers, and even police going into the crowd after it if it wasn’t thrown back. Occasionally an arrest for “attempted theft of club property” was made, for “cranks,” as fans were called at the time, didn’t get a free souvenir. After all, a dollar was a dollar, and a baseball was a dollar in the round. Loaded, cut, misshapen, and discolored, these were the balls Bradley would come to throw or know while playing what was known then and now as “inside baseball.” Perfected by New York Giants’ manager John McGraw, it was a much different game from the one played today. Requiring players to completely understand the games’ nuances as well as its fundamentals, inside baseball was a physical and psychological contest consisting of continual action to force the issue. Repetitive and multiple steals, the hit and run, lots of bunting, sacrifices, tight defense, spike-high slides, and frequent use of the squeeze play were all integral to its success. Pitchers would get a one- or tworun lead and make it hold up, backed by players who wouldn’t give an inch. And with the dead ball in use prior to 1920, most home runs were insidethe-park, with the ball being hit over a drawn-in outfield. Inside baseball was a thinking player’s game, and a man had to be on his toes not to be eaten alive playing it, for many men went at it like war. The order of the day was attack, because standing around waiting for a home run was out of the question. Waiting for Bradley was out of the question too, as far as Haverhill owner Dan Clohecy was concerned, so on July 14, 1911, only hours after his introduction to his new teammates, Bradley walked out to the mound in a Haverhill uniform in front of a less-than-overflow crowd of two hundred to make his first professional start. Ironically, he was pitching against the same

At the Foot of the Master 21 team that had beaten him three weeks earlier, which resulted in his being in the New England League in the first place. The article the next day told the story: July 15, 1911: Haverhill, Massachusetts. Breaks String Of Seven Defeats. Hogg, New Pitcher, Looks Good—McGamwell Returns To First Sack And Spills Pill In River. Finishing off an uphill fight with a sensational ninth inning, Haverhill turned seeming defeat into a 10–9 victory over Fall River yesterday. The win followed seven consecutive defeats and the players and fans left the grounds exceedingly happy. Hogg, the new twirler whom Manager Clohecy had on the way, worked for Haverhill and pitched good ball in spite of the fact the club was behind all the way from the first of the second inning through the last of the ninth. He is a big youngster who hails from Macon [sic] University, Georgia. He reported to the Boston Nationals June 5 and was bought by Haverhill with the option of returning him if he makes good. Yesterday was his first game of professional ball.

Bradley’s nervousness was apparent when he gave up a run in the first inning, but Haverhill got it back with interest, and going into the second he had a one-run lead. It didn’t last, as four Haverhill errors combined with a breaking ball that didn’t resulted in four more Fall River runs and a Breinie lead of 5–2. In the sixth, it was 5–3 Fall River when Bradley got his first professional hit and scored his first professional run, making the score 5–4. However, when the Breinies proceeded to put on a clinic in bunting, aggressive steals, and timely hitting that resulted in a 9–4 lead, things looked hopeless. At least until Fall River’s pitcher/manager suddenly exploded, giving up four runs that included a rare, dead ball–era home run over the fence and into the river by first baseman Ed McGamwell that made the score 9–8 going into the ninth. At that point, Athletic Park was as noisy as two hundred rabid fans and twenty-eight ballplayers on both sides could make it. When Bradley shut the Breinies down in the top of the ninth, it was up to the Hustlers to live up to their name. After two quick outs, the Evening Gazette reporter noted that “the outlook was exceedingly dark,” but suddenly third baseman Garry Wilson singled and there was light at the end of the tunnel. When pinch-hitter Bert Grubb singled and kept running to stretch his hit into a double, men were on second and third and the game was on the line. Then when catcher and off-season itinerant corn doctor “Doc” Milliman came to bat with Bradley on deck and wasn’t walked, he made Fall River pay

22 Spitting on Diamonds for the oversight by hitting a single to right that scored both runners. And in a flash, a cloud of dust, and a rain of straw hats, peanuts, and scorecards, the game was over. Haverhill 10, Fall River 9. In spite of giving up nine runs on thirteen hits and three bases on balls, at the end of the day Bradley had won his first professional baseball game, contributing one hit and one error along the way. Nobody ever said Class B baseball was major-league. But for the first time, on the fifteenth of July, the Haverhill Evening Gazette said that Bradley Hogg was a winner. In its notes on the game, the newspaper also mentioned that “Haverhill got a pitcher named Hogg and perhaps that is why they won a game at last.”14 For the exhausted Haverhill players, it was their first win since the fourth of July, and the source of their frustration led directly to the pitcher’s mound. In a time and a league where teams normally carried a maximum of four pitchers, Haverhill’s pitching mound bore a striking resemblance to a turnstile. Fifteen pitchers had already been on the roster by the time Bradley arrived, and every time out was put up or shut up time for somebody. Making matters worse, a string of injuries to prime hitters and fielders and two of the few reliable pitchers had Clohecy in a state of permanent insomnia. In spite of the win, the jury was still out on Bradley according to the Evening Gazette, which commented, “Bradley Hogg is a big, husky lad and ought to do something, but the game the previous Friday against Fall River which was won in the bottom of the ninth inning showed he had a lot to learn.”15 In the meantime, there was another game with Fall River to play, and Bradley’s first appearance as a pinch-hitter. He got his pitch and cranked a shot deep into center, but not far enough, so his pinch-hitting record remained negatively perfect.16 The only highlight of Haverhill’s 9–2 loss was center fielder “Chief” Williams’s long drive against the fence that hit the Bull Durham tobacco sign, earning him fifty dollars from American Tobacco. It was only the second time the sign had been hit all season, and in today’s dollars it was worth a thousand-dollar prize. Bradley went after a prize of his own two days later when he walked out to the mound to face the Lynn Live Oaks in his second start, in front of a crowd that had doubled since his first game to four hundred people. After giving up the second home run of his career, Bradley watched Haverhill get it back when Chief Williams put another ball over the fence for a 2–1 lead. As Williams crossed the plate, an enthusiastic fan ran onto the field and presented him with a dollar bill.17 Williams was turning into a money machine. Three errors and some rookie pitching kept Bradley from holding the lead, as he gave up three more runs in the third and fourth and found himself be-

At the Foot of the Master 23 hind 4–2 going into the bottom of the fifth. Finally taking matters into his own hands, Bradley singled to start a rally that resulted in a 5–4 Haverhill lead, which held up as the final score of his second win. Meanwhile, adding texture to life in the second decade of the twentieth century, newspapers throughout the country constantly reported the foibles of the human condition, along with reminders that the old days weren’t so old after all: July 22, 1911: Los Angeles, California Earp’s Faro Plan Fails. Marshall Arrested In Raid. Wyatt Earp, Arizona Marshall of early days, was remanded to prison to-day for failure to produce $500 bond for his arrangement in a “getrich-quick” charge. J. Y. Peterson, a realty broker, told detectives that Earp had unfolded to him a scheme to break a faro bank, which Earp was operating as an employee. According to Peterson, he was to appear in the gambling room with $2,500, and by means of marked cards was to be permitted to win $4,000 to be shared by Earp. Peterson pretended to acquiesce in the arrangement, but when the big winning was to have taken place detectives whom he had previously informed raided the place and the faro outfit was confiscated.—New York Times

Apparently good guys don’t always wear white hats. Sometimes they wear green eyeshades. Regardless of Earp’s apparel, the charges were later dropped, as the court believed his plea of innocence, and the lawman walked out of court a winner after all. Two days later the Evening Gazette commented on the role money played in winning league titles, writing, “Whichever New England League club finishes second ought to be considered the real pennant winner as Lowell was out of the class of the other seven teams. This is due to the fact that Lowell has a salary list that is believed to be in the $3,000 mark.”18 With a fourteen-player roster, a $3,000 monthly salary cap would have averaged $214 per player. George Steinbrenner obviously had his predecessors when it came to buying a pennant, for this was the highest-salaried team in the league. Success has always come at a price, and in Lowell’s case that price was 25 cents a ticket and an average of 650 fans just to meet the payroll. The following Friday, Bradley got to see what success had bought when he went up against the rich boys from Lowell: July 22, 1911: Athletic Park, Haverhill, Massachusetts. Tail-Enders Beat League Leaders.

24 Spitting on Diamonds Hogg Twirls Great Game in Superb Battle of Pitching Artists. Hogg, the Macon, Ga. University pitcher secured from the Boston Nationals a week ago, was about the whole works in the game with Lowell yesterday afternoon, when he held the league leaders to three hits and no runs for eight innings and got two hits himself and scored the run that decided the game. He has pitched three games for Haverhill and won all three.

Lowell was on a nine-game winning streak, leading the New England League by six games over second-place Lawrence and twenty-three games over last-place Haverhill when Bradley went to the mound that Friday. Their management not only had a good eye for talent and the money to buy it, but also most of their starters were either former or future major leaguers. With his teammates playing error-free ball for the first time that season, Bradley’s spitter shut down the Spinners for eight innings while the Hustlers ran up a 3–0 lead to the amazement of the crowd. A shot to center scored two Lowell runs in the ninth, but a pop-up to first made Bradley a winner again and the toast of the town. In giving up a total of six hits and one walk while striking out five, he’d had a very good day. What made it better was adding a double and a single and a stolen base to the cause, resulting in the Evening Gazette reporter stating in the vernacular of the times, “Take your hats off to Mr. Hogg, he sure is the candy.” He added, “The locals might have been traveling a little beyond their speed, but it was an indication of what the club is able to do with a dependable box man.”19 As far as speed was concerned, the game took all of an hour and thirty-five minutes. Ironically, not only was Bradley’s pitching fast, but his bat was too, with his .364 average making him the second-best hitter on the club. The press put him further up on the pedestal when it stated, “Pitcher Hogg has partially put the club on its feet, having won all three games he has pitched. He is a husky young fellow with lots of gray matter.”20 When the New Bedford Whalers sailed into Athletic Park the following day, the Evening Gazette writer proved how long a lead-in sentence can be and still get by an editor: July 26, 1911: Athletic Park, Haverhill, Massachusetts. His Fourth Victory. Pitcher Hogg Struck Out 14 New Bedford Players Yesterday. His Timely Single in 10th Inning Won One of Best Games of Season at Athletic Park Retaining the title of the leading twirler of the league and holding the Whalers practically helpless in all but one inning, then finally winning his own game with a timely slash over second in the ninth inning,

At the Foot of the Master 25 Pitcher Hogg of the Haverhill club flung circles around the visitors at Athletic Park in one of the most exciting games on the local grounds this year.

With the score tied three-all in the ninth, Doc Milliman stepped to the plate and singled to right, and the crowd was on its twelve hundred collective feet. When a sacrifice fly put Milliman on second, the stage was set, with Bradley at the bat. This was an event the crowd enjoyed immensely, according to the Gazette, as “Hogg hates worse than poison to have a strike called on him. He stands way back from the plate and when a strike is called he turns a withering glance upon the umps.”21 After several withering glances and with the noise swirling around him on a three-two count, Bradley stepped into the money pitch and nailed a shot over second to win the game, 4–3. The Evening Gazette enthusiastically stated the obvious: “Hogg is the best man in the Haverhill outfit and Boston will be recalling him before long if he keeps this pace up. A few more Hoggs and Haverhill would be there.”22 When Bradley won his fifth in a row by beating Lawrence 4–2, he did it in spite of having Mr. Duffy umpiring behind the plate. A notorious “homer,” Duffy’s reputation for impartiality was unquestioned. He didn’t have any. This resulted in heavy “kicking,” as arguing and giving umpires hell was referred to at the time. The fact that two umpires were there at all was unusual in the minor leagues in 1911—normally only the major leagues employed more than one. With one umpire, the arbiter would call balls and strikes behind the plate with nobody on base, but once there were base runners he would station himself behind the pitcher to make his decisions. At ten dollars per umpire per game, it was obviously cost-efficient if not particularly effective to use a single umpire, as a lot could happen—and did—behind his back that could affect the game. Runners cutting corners or interfering with throws, fielders physically restraining runners, missed calls, and caught balls that weren’t were just a sample of the open Pandora’s box. That same week, Bradley witnessed another baseball first when New Bedford manager Tom Dowd refused to leave the team after he had been fired. Stating that he had an ironclad contract to manage the Whalers that included a guaranteed 25 percent of the sale price of any New Bedford players, he wasn’t going anywhere until he got his money. Determined, he continued to show up every day at the ballpark in uniform to manage the team, which amazingly still took his directions.23 Neither the umpires nor the police would interfere in what quickly became a ridiculous situation, so the team directors watched games from their automobiles on the edge of the outfield while the new manager they’d hired

26 Spitting on Diamonds watched from the stands, unwilling to take charge while Dowd was on the job. Realizing the only way to solve the problem was to actually honor Dowd’s contract, the directors finally did, the check cleared, and he was gone. On the normal three days’ rest a pitcher had in the small rotations of the time, Bradley wasn’t going anywhere but up in the win column as he cut down the Lynn Live Oaks 7–1 in a record one hour and twenty-eight minutes for his sixth win in a row. This was in spite of the Evening Gazette report that “Hogge and umpire Tom Bannon were at odds as to just how near the centre of the plate a ball would have to come to be called a strike.”24 That “e” had appeared on the end of his name for a reason, as the paper reported, “It has been discovered that the Haverhill twirler took exception to being called ‘Hogg,’ and has given out that there is an ‘e’ on the end of it. It is pronounced ‘Hoggie.’” The paper also stated, “Thus he is playing hoggie, for he is winning all games for Haverhill.”25 From sow’s ear to silk purse. If there had been an “e” at the end of his name, his father would have told him twenty-two years earlier. Proving all the fun in the New England League wasn’t at the ballpark, Jack Beckwith, cartoonist and photographer for the Lynn Evening Item, announced he was arranging a minstrel show featuring members of the Lynn ball club. Since success follows success, an additional one hundred fans were in the seats for Friday’s game against Lynn, and they got their money’s worth as Bradley beat the Live Oaks again, 6–1. In the following day’s headline, the Evening Gazette reported dutifully, “Hogg Attaches to His Record the 7th Straight Victory With Grunt of Satisfaction.”26 Bradley’s pitching had suddenly brought Haverhill back from the dead. Noting this fact, the Evening Gazette exclaimed, “Interest in Haverhill is reviving with the late wins the club has achieved. Even the kids on the street are singing the praises of Hogg and know his whole life’s story. In telling things about him after yesterday’s game, one kid said ‘He’s a fellow from the big league. He comes from the Bostons.’”27 His whole life’s story. Bradley was twenty-two. That the Lynn ball club’s minstrel show was still in the news, and that umpire Lanigan had been asked to sing, was visible proof that some people have too much time on their hands. Lanigan hadn’t made up his mind, saying, “I would sing if the rest of the umps did.” Letting the thought roll around in his head, he added, “Maybe we could get up a quartet. Duffy sings tenor, I understand, and I don’t know what Stafford sings. If he can carry the air we can get Rorty for baritone and I do a turn at bass sometimes.”28 In the smallest town in the league, this kind of fun was hard to find. But miracles? They were easy to find, occurring every Friday in Lynn on Second Avenue if the following ad in the Lynn Daily Evening Item was to be believed:

At the Foot of the Master 27 August 8, 1911: Lynn, Massachusetts. Proofs On Every Side. Every Friday Only: Tells Your Weaknesses On Sight. Here in Lynn is located a physician who, after a complete course in medicine, confines his entire treatment to herbs, roots and barks. Dr. J. H. Liverpool not only removes the disease for the time being, but removes the cause, producing a permanent lasting cure to Asthma, Consumtion, Deafness, Paralysis, Diarrhoea, Diseases of the eye, Cancers, Cold Feet and Hands, St. Vitus Dance, Disease of the Brain, Carbuncles, Heart Disease and Gout.

No miracles were needed in Haverhill on August 8, as Bradley not only won his eighth straight in a 6–4 decision over New Bedford but also got his picture in the paper for the first time, an occurrence players referred to as “making a splash.” Some players made a splash just by being what they were, as the Item demonstrated in the column “Baseball Brevities.” In an incredibly clumsy attempt to justify prejudice, the paper stated, “Balenti, the new Indian outfielder of the Cincinnati club, isn’t as dark as Bender or Meyers, and is hardly to be taken as an Indian even on close inspection. Nevertheless, he is a Cherokee from Oklahoma. This tribe is the proudest, fiercest and most dangerous of the aborigines.”29 For those words the writer might have been in danger from Mike Balenti, but pitchers weren’t. After batting .183 in a total of seventy-eight games in the major leagues between 1911 and 1913, Balenti was back in the minors with nothing more than memories and insensitive newspaper clippings. Charles “Chief” Bender’s career with the Philadelphia Athletics, on the other hand, would lead him into the Hall of Fame, while catcher John “Chief” Meyers would play in four World Series with the New York Giants and Brooklyn. And both men would have knocked you flat if you had called them “aborigines.” Racism was a fact of life in 1911, and nowhere more so than in the white world of professional baseball. Diversity was only visible in nicknames, with appellations such as “Chief,” “Heinie,” “Swede,” and “Rube” applied to players with Native American, German, Scandinavian, or rural backgrounds respectively. Dominated by Irish and German immigrants from its inception, baseball accepted Indians, Jews, and even dark-skinned Cubans as a matter of course, but after the establishment of a color barrier in the mid-1880s, no black would officially wear a major-league uniform until 1947. Occasionally, teams would try to get around the unspoken rule. In 1901, Orioles’ manager John McGraw unsuccessfully tried to pass off black second baseman Charlie Grant as “Chief” Yokohama, but Charlie Comiskey of the White Sox blew the whistle. Regardless, McGraw was always looking for an

28 Spitting on Diamonds edge so he didn’t stop trying. Finding a lot of black talent in his off-season forays to Cuba, McGraw eventually signed twenty-year-old pitcher Emilio Antonio Palmero, if that really was his name, to a Giants contract at the end of 1915. Supposedly born in Guanbacoa, Cuba, in 1895, Palmero was extremely dark and conveniently spoke only Spanish, according to McGraw, effectively warding off questions about his past. McGraw didn’t skate on this either, for many knew what he was up to. This was made clear in an item buried in the Philadelphia Inquirer: “Learning that Pitcher Palmero of the Giants was a Cuban and could not speak English, a fan sought him out at the hotel where the New York club was staying. ‘Can’t you speak American?’ said the fan, according to the story relayed to us. ‘No, not a word,’ answered the Cuban.”30 Meanwhile, only sixty-eight words went into the New York Times’s story of a legend losing his major-league uniform, proving there’s no such thing as baseball immortality while you’re alive: August 16, 1911: Cleveland, Ohio. Baseball Notes. Denton True Young, the veteran pitcher of the major leagues, was released yesterday by the Cleveland team of the American League. Young has a great record in baseball. He made his debut against Chicago in 1890 pitching for Cleveland. He twirled his five hundredth victory in the major leagues last season, and after twenty-one years of pitching “Cy” declares that he’ll stay in baseball for years yet.

Three days later, Young returned to the scene of much of his success before 1910, signing with the Boston Nationals for one last hurrah and about a thousand dollars.31 Young had pitched for the Boston Red Sox from 1901 to 1908 and still had a great following in the city, and Rustlers’ owner Hepburn Russell figured he would be good for the gate. Any wins that came with the deal would be a plus. On August 11, Bradley’s plus finally turned into a minus against Lawrence, and eight hundred fans were there to see the deduction. The day had to come, but it had been a long time arriving. Winning his last twelve games at Mercer and the first eight he had pitched as a professional for Haverhill, Bradley had not lost a game that counted in more than five months and had a twenty-game winning streak on the line. Bradley had to figure it was a bad omen when umpire Rorty spat on the ball for luck before throwing it to him to start the game, for Rorty was the most banged-up umpire in the league. When Lawrence banged out a run in the first inning, Bradley knew it. When a shot over first in the fourth for a

At the Foot of the Master 29 double was followed by a single sending the runner toward home, Bradley watched a run score when a good throw to the plate bounced over the catcher’s head. At that point, Lady Luck got up and left the ballpark, leaving him on the short end of a 3–0 score. Ms. Luck wasn’t at the ballpark on the fifteenth either, as Bradley dropped his next game to Lawrence in spite of seven shutout innings. What eased the pain was finding a new uniform in his future: August 17, 1911: Boston, Massachusetts. New England League Hurler Goes To Red Sox. C. Bradley Hogg, the sensational young hurler of the New England League, has been sold by the Haverhill club to the Boston Nationals for cash and players. Hogg has won eight out of ten games, and of these there were six straight. He will join the Bostons at the close of the New England League season. —Boston Globe

Other than getting both the team and the league wrong in the headline and the length of his winning streak wrong in the story, this was the best news Bradley could get. When Boston offered Clohecy cash and several players for Bradley’s contract in exercising their option, he couldn’t turn them down. In commenting on Bradley’s sale to Boston, the Evening Gazette opined, “Pitcher Hogge has been returned by Haverhill to the Boston Nationals after he did some damage to several clubs. Lynn lost several games to Hogge, and if the rules were observed regarding taking a pitcher from the big league, those games should be forfeited.”32 This meant the paper thought he was major-league from the start, and that Boston was guilty of “covering him up” from other clubs by hiding him in Haverhill, a common, if illegal, method at the time of protecting more players than a major-league club could carry on their roster. Doing a major-league job on Fall River the following day, Bradley got his ninth win of the season, walking off with an easy 11–3 decision. Buried beneath the commotion regarding Bradley’s win was manager Tommy Devine’s reference in the paper to Fall River’s combination of pitcher Sullivan and catcher Solomon as his “Jew’s Harp Battery.”33 No one seemed to notice except maybe Sullivan and Solomon. On August 20, Haverhill’s biggest home crowd of the season turned out to watch Bradley pitch a fine 6–0 shutout over the woeful New Bedford Whalers. The crowd of twelve hundred not only got their twenty-five cents’ worth but also got to see his tenth and last win as a Hustler. Three days later, Bradley walked out to the mound for the first time in Lowell for his last game in a Haverhill uniform, a game that would be memorable not

30 Spitting on Diamonds only for what happened during the nine long innings but also in the several weeks that followed: August 23, 1911: Spalding Park, Lowell, Massachusetts. He Lacked Control. Pitcher Hogge Touched Up For 20 Hits Be Lowell. Pitching his 13th game of the season against Lowell yesterday afternoon at Spalding Park, Bradley Hogge was buried beneath an avalanche of 20 hits, nine of which were for extra sacks, and Haverhill was defeated in its last game with the Grays this season, 15–3. The big fellow didn’t have a thing, but stuck it out for the eight innings and pounded out three singles in as many times at bat and scored two of the local’s three runs. He had his nerve right with him all the way but lacked control. —Haverhill Evening Gazette

The comments about the game kept coming. After the game, Fred Lake, a scout for the St. Louis Browns who was sitting in the grandstand, remarked, “It was only one of those days when a club seems to be able to hit anything.”34 The next day’s Evening Gazette remarked, “Thirteen is surely an unlucky number for Hogge. He has now won 10 and lost three games. It was his first game in Lowell, and the fans that recognize him as easily the best pitcher in the league were tickled pink to see the hits pile up.” Any way you looked at it, it was one hell of a way to go out. Haverhill owner Dan Clohecy was going to guarantee it. Immediately after the game, Clohecy exploded in the dugout and accused Bradley of “laying down” or throwing the game, screaming that he was fining the pitcher fifty dollars, which was about a week’s pay, today’s equivalent of a thousand dollars.35 Not in the best frame of mind after having his head publicly handed to him for the first time on a baseball diamond, Bradley replied in kind while his teammates looked on in amazement, telling Clohecy not only was he crazy but that he didn’t have a prayer of collecting the fine. And if he wanted to go to hell and look for it, that was fine too. Then he picked up his glove and left for Boston. Clohecy stormed off to the telegraph office to send a few wires. The first was addressed to J.H. Farrell, secretary of baseball’s ruling body prior to 1920, the National Commission: August 24, 1911: Haverhill, Massachusetts. Mr. J. H. Farrell Dear Sir—I have fined Pitcher C. Bradley Hogg $50 for indifferent pitching in Lowell August 23rd. It was his last game with Haverhill and he deliberately laid down to the Lowell club.

At the Foot of the Master 31 He asked for and received his check before the game so I could not keep it (the fine) out, But we insist on his paying the same before he pitches for the Boston National, and have notified Manager Tenney to this effect. I also ask you to notify the Boston National club. Yours truly Dan Clohecy President Haverhill Club.36

This was serious, for Bradley was being branded a cheat before the baseball world. With no proof other than an awful performance—Cy Young had one just as bad just three days earlier in Boston—the frustrations of the season had boiled over, and in spite of his ten wins Bradley was the one getting scalded. Clohecy was absolutely livid, and wanted not only his money but also Bradley’s head, so he went to the only people he knew that could legally give it to him: baseball’s National Commission. Until the owners hired federal judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis as the game’s first commissioner in 1920 as a result of the 1919 World Series fixing scandal, the National Commission was baseball’s ruling body. Consisting of August “Garry” Hermann, owner of the Cincinnati Reds; Bancroft “Ban” Johnson, founder and president of the American League; and Tom Lynch, president of the National League, the commission was not a group of disinterested observers, as the three men were financially involved and never totally neutral in any of their decisions. Arbiters for everything great and small in the business of baseball, they were called on to make thousands of decisions affecting thousands of players in both leagues over the years. Two of those decisions affected Bradley Hogg. This was the first. The seriousness of the charge of “laying down” or throwing a game was juxtaposed with the determination to keep totally hidden the fact that many players actually did it on a regular basis. The “inherent honesty” of the game and its players was publicly sacrosanct, and these three men—in agreement with the club owners—meant to keep it that way in spite of obvious and continual violations. The culprits included players such as first baseman Hal Chase of New York, an inveterate gambler who liked to wager against his own team and did his best worst to win the bet, and Henry “Heinie” Zimmerman, a sour but effective utility infielder then with the Chicago Cubs who often did the same. These men were at the tip of an ever-enlarging iceberg in both the major and minor leagues that had existed for years. This also meant that when the accusatory wire from Dan Clohecy reached the National Commission’s headquarters in Cincinnati, it wasn’t the first of

32 Spitting on Diamonds its kind. And the question before the commission was simple: did Bradley throw the game? The commissioners released a statement to the press of their intended actions, putting everything on hold until an investigation could be made of the charges: As this accusation involves the integrity of the game and the penalty inflicted is totally inadequate to the offense, if the player is guilty, the Commission remands the case to the National Association, with instructions to Secretary Farrell to direct the New England League to make an immediate and thorough investigation of President Clohecy’s charges and report the results within ten days to his office for transmission to the Commission. Pending report of action by the New England League, the player will not be required to pay the fine imposed by the Haverhill Club, nor will he be suspended for the reason that so far the proceedings are ex parte and the Commission does not want to prejudice his case. B. B. Johnson T. J. Lynch Aug. Hermann National Commission, Sept. 6, 1911.37

While Clohecy raged, Bradley arrived in Boston and went straight to the South End Grounds. Checking in with manager Fred Tenney, he signed a probationary contract for the rest of the season and drew a new Boston Rustler uniform, signing a thirty-dollar chit. If Bradley’s white hair didn’t do the job, having the only clean uniform on the field would guarantee he stood out. As uniforms made of heavy wool were prone to shrinking, players rarely washed them, so the sight of clean clothes on the ball field was, like today’s high numbers, a dead giveaway regarding a player’s rookie status. Status was definitely something Bradley’s new team lacked. Nicknamed “Rustlers” after its owner, W. Hepburn Russell, and occasionally referred to as the “Heps,” Boston held a death-grip on last place in the National League. The team, which had been owned by the Dovey brothers between 1907 and 1910, was operating under its third name in five years and was still routinely called the “Doves” in newspaper headlines as late as 1912. The only thing that didn’t seem to change was the team’s position in the league standings, and after only one year of ownership, Russell was looking to sell the club. The city of Boston had a long history of professional baseball, and none longer than its National League entrant. The team that eventually was called the Braves began play in 1871 as the Red Stockings, and are the only majorleague club to field a team during every season of professional baseball. Although the early teams were consistent winners, by 1899 fortunes had reversed and the team hit bottom, which is where they still were when Bradley walked through the ballpark gate on August 29.38

At the Foot of the Master 33 With poor attendance due to their well-earned position in the standings, the Rustlers were a perfect example of baseball on the cheap. A roster of raw, over-the-hill, troublesome, and marginal players all secured at bargainbasement prices resulted in a team that was going nowhere fast, while manager Fred Tenney was continually going into the stands after foul balls in order to save a dollar, hoping the bottom line would still be there at the end of the day. Russell had signed forty-four-year-old Cy Young three days after his release by Cleveland, hoping fans would pay to see a legend one more time, and when he signed Bradley, he truly had both ends of the baseball spectrum: a 507-game winner and a zero-win hopeful. When the hopeful walked onto the field at the end of August, he walked square into the face of history. Tall, overweight, and sanguine, Cy Young was a living legend. A big-league baseball player for more than twenty years, he had seen the game change and players, teams, and leagues come and go. Pitching styles, pitching distances, and rules alike had all evolved with him along with 507 wins, so you could say with 100 percent certainty he had seen it all. All except a pitcher from Georgia named Hogg. When Bradley walked up and introduced himself, Young had another first in his book. When Cy found that Bradley had gone to Mercer, they immediately had something in common since Young had once coached there, And when Bradley asked for advice, Young, unlike many major leaguers, gave it to him, for he had nothing to fear. Rookies in the major leagues have always found it tough to make a place for themselves, and few veterans go out of their way to help, for the rookie might end up taking their job. So making a place for themselves in the clubhouse involved making their presence known on the field. This is what Tenney had in mind when he told Bradley to get ready, for the Rustlers had a late-season tour of New York ahead of them, beginning with a series in Washington Park with the Brooklyn Dodgers. Beginning life as the “Atlantics” in the 1860s, the Dodgers had fielded a team in the National League since 1884. Wearing the name “Bridegrooms,” they won their first pennant six years later and claimed another in 1899 under yet another alias, the “Superbas.” Since new manager Ned Hanlon had the same name as popular Broadway impresario Ned Hanlon and his dancing “Superbas,” it was a natural, as was the name “Trolley Dodgers,” applied because of the maze of tracks customers had to cross to get to the ballpark.39 Regardless what people called them, good or bad, they were Brooklyn’s team. This was hard to understand when Charles Ebbets took control of the team in 1902 and took it right to the second division of the National League with an average fifth-place finish for the next twelve years. Playing in a dirty, outdated ballpark covered in clouds of cinders from nearby factories, by 1911

34 Spitting on Diamonds the seventh-place Dodgers were only for the hard-core fan, and would only begin moving up in baseball society when they moved into newly constructed Ebbets Field in 1913. As a rookie, Bradley’s entry into major-league society began the same way that it has for pitchers for more than a hundred years: after some initial workouts to familiarize catchers with their deliveries, a manager will give a pitcher a little work in the late innings of a game for a taste of the real thing before his first start. That is how Bradley walked into the major leagues, in the bottom of the eighth against the Brooklyn Dodgers on September 1, 1911. Replacing rookie Hank “Pepper” Griffin with the team already behind 4–2, the game wasn’t Bradley’s to lose. All he had to do was get the final two batters out, which he did, one-two, throwing the last batter out on a returned grounder, to appear in a major-league box score for the first time in his life. He was the eleventh pitcher to appear in a Boston uniform in 1911. Along with an extraordinarily large and ineffective pitching staff that was matched by the team’s equally ineffective hitters, Boston thankfully had its share of colorful characters to bring levity to an otherwise dismal season. One was outfielder “Turkey Mike” Donlin, who earned his nickname because of his arrogant strut. A terrific ballplayer who couldn’t make up his mind whether he wanted to perform on the ball field or on the vaudeville stage, Donlin went back and forth between the two and never really became the star he could have been in either one, but his .333 career major-league batting average suggests what might have been. A heavy drinker and fighter who was abusive to women, Donlin went to jail twice for assault, but in the interim he was never far from the lights of Broadway. Shortstop Al Bridwell was another good ballplayer on a bad team. Traded to Boston by the Giants in midseason, Bridwell was quoted as saying, “Playing shortstop for Boston in 1911 and 1912 was the hardest job I ever had in the major leagues, for they had four spitballers. Whenever the ball was hit to me, it was usually so wet and loaded that it was almost impossible to throw it to first on a straight line.”40 Bradley was one of the spitballers. Donlin, catcher Johnny “Noisy” Kling, and first baseman–manager Fred Tenney were some of the better-known talents on an otherwise talentless team that took the field behind Bradley on September 2 when he made his first major-league start with only fifteen professional games under his belt. Watching from the bench was the best pitcher in the history of the game and the starter for the second game of the doubleheader, his teammate Cy Young. No rookie ever had a more discerning audience: September 2, 1911: Ebbets Field, Brooklyn, New York. Uncle Cyrus Keeping Up His Habit of Winning.

At the Foot of the Master 35 Heps Drop First Game by Score of 4 to 3, Veteran Twirls 2 to 1 victory in Second. Nothing that baseball games are expected to provide was left out of today’s double-header here when the Dodgers and Boston divided the half holiday allotment before 10,000 fans. Brooklyn made an uphill fight in the opener and wrung out a 4 to 3 victory. That was inspiring enough, but the second helping was richer in nutriment than the first, even if the Rustlers did scamper away with a 2–1 triumph. “Sigh” Barger had a merry little session with Hogg, a recruit from the University of Georgia, as his opposition in the curtain raiser. The Heps got away in front, were promptly overtaken, then Brooklyn tied the score while the Rusters stood still, permitting the winning run to trickle home in the seventh. Both twirlers were whales at bat, Hogg making three hits before being replaced by Flaherty.—Boston Globe

In front of the biggest crowd he’d ever seen in his life, Bradley worked on even terms with Brooklyn’s Cy Barger pretty much all day. However, Mike Donlin’s two missed shoestring catches in center and a bloop single between first and second did him in, resulting in the 4–3 loss. It was not a great day, nor a winning one, but it was a first day. And a day when Bradley kept Brooklyn’s future Hall of Fame center fielder Zack Wheat off the bases four times in four at-bats. Ironically, while Bradley was breaking into the major leagues in Brooklyn, several men in Oregon were breaking into something else, completely ignoring the fact that the Wild West had already been tamed: September 2, 1911: Ashland, Oregon. Express Train Held Up. Robbers Blow Open Safe on Southern Pacific. Southern Pacific train number 13, southbound, was held up at Sims, south of here, tonight. Two safes were blown open, but it is said no one was injured. The robbers obtained but little booty.—New York Times

Ironically, at the same time train robbers were reliving the past, the future of mail service was up in the air: September 1, 1911: Long Island, New York. Delivery Of Mail By The Air Route. Experiment to be Tried at Nassau Aviation Meet on Long Island. Delivering mail by aeroplane in the latest innovation to be experimented with on the coming meet of the Nassau Aviation Corporation to be held Sept. 23–30. Managers of the meet are negotiating with Pierre Vedrines, winner of the flight from Paris to Madrid, to have him give a

36 Spitting on Diamonds series of experiments with the aeroplanes and to prove its practical use in the transportation of mail matter. It will take off with sealed mail bags strapped to the machine.—New York Times

Two days later, the Rustlers traveled across town to New York’s Polo Grounds for a series with the first-place Giants and their manager, the legendary John McGraw. The Giants had long been one of the National League’s main attractions, having won their first two pennants in 1888 and 1889 and the championship Temple Cup in 1894. But by the time John Brush bought the team in 1902, bringing in the fiery and aggressive John McGraw from Baltimore to manage a turnaround, the Giants had owned a second-division membership for eight consecutive years. McGraw changed all that. By 1903, with Brush cornering the best players money could buy, including two future Hall of Fame pitchers, Joe “Iron Man” McGinnity (114 wins over the next four years) and newcomer Christy Mathewson (116 wins during the same period),41 the Giants were on a tear. An excellent and aggressive team in the mold of McGraw, the Giants kept their opponents on their toes or crushed them, while their rabid fans cheered the team’s every move. By early September of 1911 McGraw had another National League pennant in his pocket—it would be his third, to go along with a World Series championship in 1905. Boston seemed to be as cooperative as ever when they lost the morning game of the doubleheader 9–7, and when Tenney sent in Hub Perdue to face future Hall of Famer Rube Marquard, the stage was set for a sweep. But this time, despite his eventual twenty-four wins in 1911, Marquard dropped the broom. Spotted a four-run lead, Rube let Boston tie it up 5–5 in the eighth. After Bradley was sent in to relieve Perdue and pitched two innings of scoreless, two-hit relief, Marquard suddenly exploded, and Boston scored three runs in the top of the tenth. “Buster” Brown then relieved Bradley and did his best to lose the lead, giving up two runs and loading the bases before a line drive to third resulted in the third out and an 8–7 Boston win. Which the official scorer incorrectly gave to Buster Brown. With Bradley as the pitcher of record in the eighth and ninth innings, he should have been given the win when Boston scored its go-ahead runs in the tenth. The best Brown should have been credited with was a save. But perfection is rare, and rarer still in baseball. Three days later in Boston, while sitting on the bench, Bradley almost witnessed perfection in the game of a lifetime that lasted all of an hour and twentyseven minutes: Cy Young went up against the Phillies’ marvelous rookie Grover Cleveland Alexander, who was on his way to his record-setting twenty-eight-

At the Foot of the Master 37 win rookie season. Giving a demonstration of what was in store for National League batters for the next nineteen years, Alexander beat Young 2–1 and came within a scratch hit of perfection, which in the parlance of the times would have been called a “no hit, no man reach first game.” The game was not only impressive but also instructional, for Bradley got a firsthand look at what it was going to take to succeed in this man’s business. On September 12, the Giants rolled into Boston, and Bradley and Cy Young were both on the doubleheader bill again, but perfection was nowhere in sight. Hub Perdue again started for Boston against Rube Marquard, and after five innings the team was down 5–1 when Tenney sent in Bradley for a couple of innings of two-hit relief. When Marquard faltered for the second time in eight days and gave up five runs and the lead in the seventh, things were looking up. As the New York Times stated, “Boston fans, usually dignified in the face of stirring events, laid aside all restraint and actually yelled with delight when Marquard was hammered out of the game. They rose on their feet when umpire Johnstone put Mike Donlin out of the game for being ‘too allfired gabby’ and cheered him as if he was a natural son.”42 Then Bradley walked a man and made Tenney nervous. Pepper Griffin was sent in to relieve him, which proved to be a bad move, for the Giants salted Pepper away with a four-run eighth while Bradley watched helplessly as his first major-league win evaporated into thin air. However, a week later on September 19, Bradley found his name on the winning side of the ledger when the National Commission finally released the results of their investigation into Dan Clohecy’s charges of his throwing a game: As the investigation by the New England League disclosed that the charge against player Hogg was unfounded and President Clohecy qualified his accusation by imputing to him only indifference to his team’s interests in the game referred to, the Commission concluded not to take any further action. B.B. Bancroft T.J. Lynch Aug. Hermann National Commission, Sept. 19, 1911.43

In addition, manager Gray of the Lowell team that had beaten Bradley that day was quoted as saying, “So far as he knew there was nothing wrong about the game and he is certain no inducements were offered Hogge.”44 Inducements. This meant Bradley got to keep his reputation and his fifty dollars, and Dan Clohecy had struck out.

38 Spitting on Diamonds Meanwhile, the Giants were back in town, and Bradley got another shot at them along with future Hall of Famer Christy Mathewson, who came into the game in the eighth to check a Boston rally. Stopping Boston dead in their tracks, “Matty” also contributed a double at the plate, knocked in three runs, and stole a base, showing Bradley what this legend business was all about. When Bradley came into the game in the top of the ninth with Boston already down 7–4 and gave up three hits, three walks, and six runs, he looked exactly like what he was—a rookie—while Mathewson showed why he was more than hard to beat. In his prime, on his way to tying Grover Alexander for the third-best all-time major-league pitching record of 373 wins, Mathewson was almost unbeatable. Using his fabled “fadeaway” or screwball, he would win twenty or more games in a season thirteen times—and thirty or more three times. Using Mathewson in relief during a year-end game against Boston was like using a cannon to kill a fly. After the game, the Times commented, “Fred Tenney wore a grouch which would make an Egyptian mummy look as if it was smiling.”45 Nobody was smiling when they boarded the train for St. Louis and their final series with the marginally better Cardinals, least of all Bradley after he gave up fifteen hits and five stolen bases on the way to a well-earned 8–2 loss on the September 18. As the season moved slowly toward its final innings, weeks of sweat, futility, and desultory hotel meals in strange cities made an impression on Bradley. For in spite of appearances, major-league baseball was not all fun and applause, and he realized success was going to involve more work than he ever imagined. With that in mind, he began working with catchers Johnny Kling and Bill Rariden every day before games, pitching to a spot, working on his control, and listening when Cy Young gave advice. It was on-the-job training at the foot of the master. Not realizing history was being made, Bradley watched from the bench four days later when Cy gave his last lesson, beating Babe Adams and the Pirates 1–0 on the September 22 while recording his 511th and last career victory.46 Bradley was still looking for victory number 1. Two weeks went by before Tenney looked his way in Philadelphia and told him to warm up. With Boston behind the Phillies 6–3 in the sixth, Tenney had to find a workable arm and did, Bradley going at it with a will, giving up only one hit over the final three innings and providing the only good Boston pitching of the day. The New York Times took note, commenting, “Hogg, the third pitcher used by Boston, was effective.”47 Bradley had earned himself some more time in the dim, late-season spotlight, but before that happened, the strangest thing he had ever seen occurred while he was sitting on the visitors’ bench in the Polo Grounds on October 6.

At the Foot of the Master 39 Late in a meaningless game played against mostly second-stringers in the mud and cold, Boston was leading New York 4–2 behind Lefty Tyler when Giants’ manager John McGraw had a quick discussion with an agreeable Fred Tenney about his intentions. McGraw then sent his delusional team “good luck charm” in to pitch an inning. Charles Victor Faust, not actually on the roster but wearing a Giants uniform, walked out to the mound fully believing he was a major-league pitcher. Aware of what was happening and going along with the farce, what was left of the crowd cheered and sat back to watch. The first of four Boston batters hit a double, the second a comebacker, the third a sacrifice fly, and a grounder to third finished “Victory” Faust’s scoreless inning. In the bottom of the ninth, however, the Giants went down in order and the game ended with Faust in the on-deck circle. Continuing the farce, Boston let him bat. A hard swing resulted in a weak roller to pitcher Lefty Tyler, who purposely threw over Fred Tenney’s head at first base, letting Faust take second. When Tenney did the same to the second baseman, the crowd cheered and Charley Faust took third with a long slide through the mud. Another intentionally wild throw sent him home, where an accurate throw nailed him at the plate as his teammates applauded and hats went into the air.48 Fun at the old ballpark, and no charge for the extra out. In the perverse insensitivity of the era, this display was not unusual. Many major-league teams had human “mascots,” usually individuals nature had shortchanged. Some, like the Philadelphia Athletics, had hunchbacks. Others had midgets. In Faust, the Giants had a man who was certifiably insane and who would die four years later in an asylum. All of these individuals were considered lucky by players, and when they found one, they would keep him on the bench with them throughout the season. Dressed in uniforms and paid by players chipping in, these unfortunates were a twisted feature of the early twentieth-century game. In the end, however, Charley Faust had the last laugh without ever knowing it, for his record is dutifully noted in every copy of Total Baseball: “Charley Faust, major league pitcher.”49 Exactly what he said he was. That was more than Fred Tenney thought about Bradley after his contributions in a season-ending doubleheader in Philadelphia two days later. Boston won both games, but it wasn’t due to Bradley’s effort in the second inning of the last game. He did contribute at the plate with a double toward Boston’s 3–1 lead, but after he gave up four hits, three walks, and three runs with nobody out to give the lead back, Tenney pulled him and he was done

40 Spitting on Diamonds for the year. After Buster Brown and “Big Jeff” Pfeffer gave up seven more runs, Boston came alive and added ten of their own, eventually taking a 13–10 win and the doubleheader with them as a going-away present. And after 44 wins and 107 losses, Boston’s forgettable 1911 season was over. But Bradley’s season was memorable: over the previous seven-plus months, counting college, the minors, and the majors, his record for the year was twenty-two wins, six losses, and one save. Appearing in eight major-league games, he’d had three starts, pitched two complete games and a total of 25 2⁄ 3 innings, and earned three losses and a save. Giving up thirty-three hits, or slightly more than one per inning, wasn’t as bad as his fourteen-walks-toeight-strikeouts ratio and his final earned run average of 6.66.50 The only thing worse was losing credit for his win over the Giants and Rube Marquard on September 4. If anything, what Bradley had proven over the seven months was that when he was good he was very, very good, but when he was bad, he was awful. In the terminology of baseball, that’s called being a rookie. There was work to be done and control to be mastered if he was to have any future in Boston, which would give him something to do in the offseason besides chase a certain redhead in Hawkinsville, Georgia. With that in mind, 131 days after leaving Mercer and a final beer with his teammates, Bradley shook hands, checked out of his hotel, and boarded the midnight train to Georgia.

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Seriously, Bradley is fifteen. Bradley practices his serious look for the camera in 1904, while showing off his new suit, haircut, and the fact he could still breathe while wearing an incredibly tight detachable paper collar. Photograph courtesy of Amelia Halley.

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Georgia’s newest attorney. In his Sunday best, Bradley poses for his 1911 Mercer University yearbook photograph. With a diploma on the wall and a baseball contract in his pocket, you’d think he’d be smiling, but being twenty-two is serious business. Photo courtesy of Jack Tarver Library, Mercer University.

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Rah! 1910 Mercer Bears fullback Bradley Hogg is seated on the last row, second from the right. With only eighteen men on the team, everyone got to play. A lot. Note everyone had hair piled on top of their heads, providing extra padding missing from their primitive leather helmets. Photograph courtesy of Jack Tarver Library, Mercer University.

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Working up a sweat. In this picture taken by famed baseball photographer Charles Conlon on September 2, 1911, Bradley is shown in Brooklyn’s Washington Park warming up prior to his first major-league start. Note the shoes are as new as the ballplayer. Photo courtesy National Baseball Hall of Fame Library, Cooperstown, N.Y.

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Hogging the news. In a sign of things to come after his big win over Lynn, Bradley made his first newspaper appearance in cartoon form on August 1, 1911, in the Haverhill Evening Gazette. Porcine commentary, both written and illustrated, would pepper the papers throughout his career, ironically, most of it complimentary.

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You have to start somewhere. In this case it was in Brooklyn, according to the game article from the New York Times on September 3, 1911. Featuring Bradley’s first major-league start the day before, a loss to Brooklyn that poor fielding helped secure, note that Brooklyn’s future Hall of Fame outfielder Zack Wheat went 0–4, while Bradley’s teammate Cy Young was the starter—and winner—of the second game.

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A sweaty spring in Georgia. A photograph of the Boston Braves, taken in Augusta, Georgia, in the spring of 1912, this is a rare picture for at least one reason: it’s the last photograph of Cy Young in a professional uniform, as he would retire in May. Standing in the back row, fifth from the right at his twenty-second and last spring training, Mr. Young graces the workout sweater teams fancied at the turn of the century. Four men down on his right is Bradley Hogg, enjoying the rites of spring for the first time. If the sweaters and uniforms seem mismatched, consider each man owned what he wore and brought it with him from other teams. At the beginning of the season they would only be mismatched by the rest of the National League. Photograph courtesy of National Baseball Hall of Fame Library, Cooperstown, New York.

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All dressed up and ready to fly. This composite photograph of the 1913 Mobile Gulls not only shows how small minor-league ball clubs were at the time but also features an even dozen players who made it to the major leagues before or after 1913, including Bradley Hogg, Milt Stock, Mike Schmidt, and the infamous Gene Paulette. The huge handlebar mustache of manager Mike Finn was definitely old school, but infielder Paulette was of the newer, more capitalistic bent and occasionally threw games for money. Photograph courtesy of University of South Alabama Archives.

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In his dreams. This rookie is ready to set the house afire during the upcoming 1913 season, at least in his dreams. During the second decade of the twentieth century, baseball cartoons were a staple of every newspaper, and often the cartoonist was the sportswriter. This explains why cartoon home runs were so few and far between. From the New Orleans Times-Picayune.

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Bradley says cheese. In this picture taken on the ball field in Mobile, Bradley strikes the customary “pitcher’s pose” of the time for his brother Willis. Note the grass seems to lack the perfection of today’s ball fields, parts of it being disguised as dirt. Photograph courtesy of Miriam Hogg.

51 Bearish on baseball. This photograph, taken on the ball field in Mobile in 1914 shows Bradley with his pet bear, “Mercer,” who, along with Bradley’s brother Willis, had driven all the way from Georgia to see a ball game. Given to Bradley by enthusiastic fans at his alma mater, Mercer was raised from a cub to appreciate the finite intricacies of the spitball. Photograph courtesy Miriam Hogg. To view the complete page image, please refer to the printed version of this work.

News later than this hadn’t been printed. When the Chicago Daily Evening News printed the scores from games in progress every half hour, in the days before radio the only way you could be any more current was to be at the game. Twelve editions daily meant the very latest news was the very latest news indeed. And in this case, on September 28, 1915, in the bottom of the seventh, Cubs pitcher Bradley Hogg was two innings away from pitching a complete-game 5–0 shutout over the Cincinnati Reds.

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Chicago Cubs’ West Side Park. When Bradley pitched for the Cubs in 1915, this is where he threw the ball. Also known as Cubs Park and located across the street from the present-day Cook County Hospital, the sixteen-thousandseat venue was the home of the Cubs from 1893 to 1915. Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division (pan 6a29751).

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Heaven. Cloud-free, it was also known as Washington Park, home of the Los Angeles Angels of the Pacific Coast League. This panoramic photograph is proof of the popularity of Coast League baseball in 1916, along with the fact that you didn’t need to be good to get into heaven after all. You just needed fifty cents. Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division (pan 6a29679).

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Cover of 1916 Los Angeles Angels postseason victory banquet program. Courtesy of Miriam Hogg.

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Bradley got it in writing. His autographed 1916 Angels’ team victory banquet program. At the end of a successful season, tradition was to have a team banquet and hand out verbal accolades. The Los Angeles Angels’ team banquet thrown by owner John Powers on October 25, 1916, was more verbal and written than any Bradley had ever attended, but this was also the first pennant he had ever been involved with winning. These are the front and back covers of the banquet program, found in Agnes’s scrapbook of Bradley’s career eighty-five years after the last bite had been taken. On the autograph market, Frank Chance’s signature alone is worth around one thousand dollars, not counting the others, which included players, girlfriends, team notables, sportswriters, and hangers-on who signed Bradley’s program for free as he passed it around. The people who signed it (including the ones who weren’t supposed to) and their years of major-league play, are as follows:

56 Bradley Hogg (pitcher) 1911–1912 Boston (N), 1915 Chicago (N), 1918–1919 Philadelphia (N) Lynn Scoggins (pitcher) 1913 Chicago (A) George Zabel (pitcher) 1913–1915, Chicago (N) Charley Hall (pitcher) 1906–1907 Cincinnati (N), 1909-1913 Boston (A), 1916 St. Louis (N), 1918 Detroit (A) Pete Standridge (pitcher) 1911 St. Louis (N), 1915 Chicago (N) Jack Ryan (pitcher) 1908 Cleveland (A), 1909 Boston (A), 1911 Brooklyn (N) Joe Schulte (shortstop, minor leaguer) John F. Powers (owner and president, Los Angeles Angels) Phil Koerner (first baseman, assistant manager; career minor leaguer) Frank L. Chance (manager) Hall of Fame first baseman, manager, 1905–1912, Chicago (N) 1913–1914, New York (A), 1923, Boston (A) Bobby Davis (second baseman, utility infielder; career minor leaguer) Howard McLarry (second baseman) 1912 Chicago (A), 1915 Chicago (N) John Bassler (catcher) 1913–1914 Cleveland (A), 1921–1927 Detroit (A) Walter Boles (catcher: career minor leaguer) Harry Wolter (outfielder) 1907 Cincinnati, Pittsburgh, St. Louis (N), 1909 Boston (A), 1910-1913 New York (A), 1917 Chicago (N) Harl Maggert (outfielder) 1907 Pittsburgh (N), 1912 Philadelphia (A) George Ellis (outfielder) 1909–1912 St. Louis (N) James C. Galloway (Los Angeles Examiner sportswriter) Charles H. Jackson (outfielder) 1915 Chicago (A), 1917 Pittsburgh (N) Scott Finlay (trainer) Charles “Boots” Webber (team secretary) Arthur “Bud” Mars (Los Angeles Examiner sportswriter) W. A. Reeve (unknown) Charles R. Napier (Los Angeles Examiner sportswriter) Jane Norton (unknown) George P. Quigley (unknown) George T. Pine (unknown) A. B. Cartwright (unknown) Clyde C. Buchanan (unknown) Harry A. Williams (Los Angeles Times sportswriter) Matt Gallagher (unknown) Ed Floyd (unknown) Oscar Horstmann (pitcher) 1917–1919 St. Louis (N) Rose Stammer (unknown) Erna Lacy (unknown)

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Winged Victory. The 1916 Los Angeles Angels team photograph. This tinted panoramic color photograph was printed on card stock and is suitable for framing. Those permanently enshrined courtesy of Mr. Eastman’s technology are, from left to right: Scotty “Doc” Finlay (trainer); Bobby Davis (utility infielder); Charles “Lefty” Jackson (pitcher); Otis “Doc” Crandall (pitcher); Oscar Horstmann (pitcher); Lynn Scoggins (pitcher); Charley “Sea Lion” Hall (pitcher); Joe “Ham” Schulte (shortstop); Bradley Hogg (pitcher); Howard “Polly” McLarry (second baseman); George “Zip” Zabel (pitcher); Jim “Bad News” Galloway (third baseman); Pete Standridge (pitcher); George “Rube” Ellis (outfielder); Phil “Beef” Koerner (first baseman); Harry Wolters (outfielder); Jack “Gulfport” Ryan (pitcher); John Bassler (catcher); Walter “Boley” Boles (catcher); Harl Maggert (outfielder); Charles “Boots” Webber (team secretary—today he would be the business manager) (in front); Kelly Powers (team mascot and son of Angels’ owner John Powers) (in ovals); Frank L. Chance (manager); John F. Powers (owner and president, Los Angeles Baseball Club)

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A Hall of Fame pitcher, $1.29 a day. This Los Angeles Times cartoon editorializes on future Phillies’ Hall of Fame pitcher Eppa Rixey’s holdout for a two-hundred-dollar raise in 1916. Having gone 11–12 during the Phils’ pennant-winning 1915 season with an earned run average of 2.39, he wanted more money. Two hundred dollars over the season equals $1.29 per day, and was the equivalent of $3,258 today. Rixey eventually proved he was worth it by going 22–10 in 1916, with an E.R.A. of 1.89. The word “jit” in Rixey’s cartoon quote was slang at the time for “microscopic amount,” which matched his raise perfectly.

3

1912 A Minor Influence

When Bradley got back to Georgia he was famous, on a small-town scale, for many people still found it hard to believe a man could earn a living playing a game. However, after two months that included several trips over Christmas to see Agnes in Hawkinsville, Bradley began working on his deliveries, using his brother Willis as his catcher. And all through the hard cold of the Georgia January he kept at it. Meanwhile, residents of Arizona had kept at it too, and on February 14 they were no longer outsiders, being admitted as the newest and forty-eighth state. With the country getting bigger, the flag industry was flying. The end of February brought his Uniform Player’s Contract, along with a note to sign and return it and report to Augusta, Georgia, in March for spring training under a new regime. Hepburn Russell had sold the team to New Yorker James Gaffney over the winter, and Gaffney put former major-league infielder and future Hall of Famer John Montgomery Ward in charge of the club as president. This meant another new uniform and another thirty-dollar charge for the privilege of wearing it, as the team’s name had been changed to the “Braves” thanks to Gaffney’s membership in the New York’s Tammany society. Gaffney was enamored of a carved wooden Indian mascot in Tammany’s New York headquarters named Chief Tamenund, and decided to change the name of the team for the third time in six years in its honor, making the Braves the only professional baseball team ever to be named after a corrupt political machine.1 By 1911, major-league teams had been training in the South for about a decade, taking advantage of the weather and local competition to prepare for their season up north. In the beginning they changed sites on a yearly basis, but when teams found they could work the system they began working it hard, settling into semi-permanent and profitable relationships with various

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60 Spitting on Diamonds cities and towns across the South. Hot Springs, Arkansas, was one of the first training sites, used primarily for its healing waters by the White Sox and Yankees, while John McGraw’s Giants settled in diversion-free Marlin, Texas. By 1911, the Reds, Pirates, and Dodgers had also put their toes in Arkansas water, while the Cubs went to New Orleans and the Indians and Tigers went to nearby towns in Louisiana. Other teams had moved to such places as Atlanta, Savannah and Athens, Georgia, and Jacksonville, Florida.2 Arriving in Augusta, Bradley checked into the team’s hotel and went searching for his new manager, catcher Johnny Kling, to offer his congratulations, for Kling had been given the job after the release of Fred Tenney during the off-season. Whether congratulations were really in order was an entirely different subject, but putting those thoughts on hold, Bradley got dressed and went to the ball field to see who he could see. What he saw was virtually a new team. Only eight players from the 1911 Boston roster were still around. One of the missing players was “Turkey Mike” Donlin, who had exited stage left to Pittsburgh in an off-season trade. Jay Kirke, the rookie third baseman who introduced himself to Bradley, would hit .320 in his first season and prove to be a definite improvement over Scotty Ingerton. Pitchers Hub Perdue, Lefty Tyler, and Buster Brown were also wearing their new Boston uniform, but most of the pitching staff from 1911 was gone. When Bradley met some of the new arms in camp, one in particular would cross his path for years: thirty-three-year-old Swiss native Otto Hess. After seven years with the Cleveland Indians that included a twenty-win season in 1906, Hess had become the star of the Southern Association in New Orleans in 1910–1911, winning forty-five games before being picked up by the Braves in the spring of 1912. At the far end of the spectrum were rookies such as Ed Donnelly and Walter “Hickory” Dickson, and at the near end was the redoubtable Cy Young, back from a session in Hot Springs, sweat-free and ready for his twenty-second year in the major leagues. Joining this group in the age-old routine of sweat, exercise, and repetitive drills, Bradley was in the same boat as everyone else: he had to make an impression fast or find another line of work. This was difficult, for unlike today when most players stay in condition year-round, at the turn of the century most worked at off-season jobs and used the first several weeks of spring training just to get into shape. Johnny Kling had been to more than one spring training under future Hall of Fame Cubs manager Frank Chance, and with Chicago’s record of success at the time, he undoubtedly followed Chance’s lead. Players began limbering up, then ran, sweated, and sweated some more, followed by more of the same plus some easy throwing. Once loosened up, pitchers settled into a routine of

A Minor Influence 61 going onto the ball field every morning, finding themselves a catcher, and warming up. And “the right kind of catcher,” according to Christy Mathewson, “is never satisfied with anything a pitcher does.”3 Throwing slow balls, aiming at the corners, and working on control was the name of the game, while six-inning contests between the veterans and the “yannigans,” as rookies were called, allowed every pitcher the illusion he was invincible for an inning. Under the watchful eyes of Kling and catcher Bill Rariden, Bradley was coming around. His curve was beginning to bend, and his spitter had a life of its own, for his off-season work had paid off. After several weeks, the team took to the road for a series of spring training games against the Reds in Columbus, Georgia, and the Yankees in Atlanta. Yankees in Atlanta? Before they left, Kling had everybody get together after practice for a photograph to commemorate Boston’s 1911 spring training, and sweaty, unsure, or confident, thirty-two potential Braves were recorded by the camera for posterity, which was the only place where half of them would remain after thirty days. Bradley was four men down from Cy Young on the back row. Exhibition games were a vital and financially necessary part of spring training, providing both competition and income to cover the costs of the trip. Moving from town to town and game to game, teams worked their way north toward opening day in a continual, well-attended road show. Decisions were made based on the resulting performances, and players were released, sold, or sent down to the minors until the roster was trimmed and the eventual starting lineup took shape. No walk in the park, every town seemed to be armed with a rough collection of local heroes out to take a shot at the major leaguers. And while these teams might have been outclassed, they couldn’t be outfought, with every game including beanballs and fistfights. When combined with coarse fan behavior and thrown bottles, the games were a lot like the real thing. Which, if not intentional, was the idea, for the real thing was just around the corner. In the meantime, as a reminder that owners ruled the game, the National Commission issued a warning, which appeared in the New York Times, to holdouts refusing to sign inadequate contracts: April 2, 1912: Cincinnati, Ohio. Warning To Ball Players. The National Baseball Commission today restored to good standing W. G. Dell of the St. Louis Nationals who had failed to report for the 1911 season as he was dissatisfied with the salary offered him. Hereafter, those who are offered a reasonable salary by a major league club for their first season will be fined if they refuse to report for duty.

62 Spitting on Diamonds Considering two of the three commission members in 1912 were Garry Hermann, owner of the Cincinnati Reds, and John Farrell, president of the New York Yankees, there couldn’t have been anything more self-serving ever written. At the same time, a notice inside the Times five days later couldn’t have been more prophetic: April 7, 1912: New York City. Ran Into Ice Field. Steamship Lord Cromer Came In With Water-Line Plates Dented. The British steamer Lord Cromer from Stockton-on-Tees came into port yesterday with many dented plates due to a battle she had with field ice off the banks of Newfoundland. The vessel was 150 miles east of St. Johns when she ran into the ice, which covered a great area.

While steamships dodging ice in the Atlantic failed to get much attention, suffragists in New York were having much better luck, in spite of their obvious class-consciousness: April 8, 1912: New York City. Suffragists At Tea With Circus Women. Their Feats Prove Them Worthy of the Vote, Declare Their Hostesses. Mrs. Sandine, Who Can Lift Three Men and Throw Them Around, Excites Much Admiration. “The Suffragette Ladies Of The Barnum & Bailey Circus,” the new circus women’s suffrage Association, 800 strong, was entertained at tea yesterday afternoon by the Women’s Political Union at its headquarters, 46 East Twenty-ninth Street. The circus women were asked to help the Union raise funds to carry on the campaign for the women’s vote. The circus suffragettes were out in their new spring hats, and their fine appearance in general was much admired. Mrs. Katie Sandine, the strong woman, who lifts three men as if they were kittens, was in attendance along with a family of female acrobats.

By the time tea was being poured, Boston was done with spring training’s heavy lifting, arriving in New Jersey for one final exhibition game with Princeton before the start of the regular season. Giving the Ivy Leaguers an education in dishonesty by stealing seven bases on their way to an easy 8–2 win behind Bradley’s spitter, the team finished spring training in 1912 on a high note. However, before the first pitch was thrown in the regular season, some-

A Minor Influence 63 thing bigger than baseball was about to make headlines, for the anticipated arrival of a new ocean liner made the papers and the city was rolling out the welcome mat, the Times reporting When the Titanic steams into the Hudson this week, New Yorkers will see a ship that is more than four city blocks long and which, if stood on end, would be 131 feet higher than the Metropolitan Life tower. The ship also has a main dining room that can accommodate 600 passengers in comfort at the same time, as well as a French restaurant where 200 more can dine a la carte. There are Turkish baths, a swimming pool, a finely fitted gymnasium and a squash racquet court.4

The only problem with this floating palace was the price of admission, which became evident four days later: April 14, 1912: Cape Race, Newfoundland. New Liner Titanic Hits An Iceberg; Sinking By The Bow At Midnight; Women Put Off in Lifeboats; Last Wireless At 12:27 A.M. Blurred. At 10:25 o’clock to-night the White Star steamship Titanic called “C Q D” to the Marconic wireless station here, and reported having struck and iceberg. The steamer said that immediate assistance was required. Half an hour later another message came reporting that they were sinking by the head and that women and children were being put off in lifeboats. The last signals from the Titanic were heard by the Virginian at 12:27 A.M. The wireless operator on the Virginian says these signals were blurred and ended abruptly.

While the disaster filled the front pages of the nation’s newspapers, baseball got quietly under way, giving the papers something to print besides lists of the missing. Unfortunately, some of the coverage involved a game in Boston on the eighteenth when Bradley and three other pitchers took it on the chin from the Phillies 14–2, proving all disasters didn’t occur at sea. In a brilliant public relations move by major-league baseball, the next day the Giants and Yankees announced an exhibition game for the benefit of “destitute Titanic survivors.” That same day, the Times printed the hymn “Autumn,” which Harold Bride, the Titanic wireless operator, asserted the band was playing just before the ship went down. Contradicting the accepted “Nearer My God To Thee,” the Times believed Bride was correct, due to the line in the hymn pleading, “Hold me up in mighty waters” and that all his other reports of the disaster had proved true.5 Two days later, in the first legal baseball game ever played on a Sunday in

64 Spitting on Diamonds New York, the Giants defeated the Yankees 11–2 in front of 14,082 fans who contributed $9,425.25 by buying a program instead of a ticket for admission. According to the Times, there were a few side features: “George M. Cohan gave us an impression of a newsboy selling papers, and a number of girls went among the spectators asking for donations. They called themselves the female Giants, but were all featherweights. Charley Faust was resurrected for the occasion, while moving picture men took pictures of it all.”6 An interesting point about the game’s proceeds is exactly who the recipients were, since most of the women and children rescued had been in first and second class and were hardly destitute. They may have been suddenly and unfortunately widowed or orphaned, but most of the survivors had money in New York or English banks. The destitute passengers, on the other hand, were immigrants in steerage—more than a thousand men, women, and children—and were the majority of those that drowned. Trying to keep his own head above water in Boston, Bradley added seven innings of successful relief as he kept looking for that elusive first majorleague win. Two days later at 4:30, he began looking for his second: May 4, 1911: South End Grounds, Boston, Massachusetts. Brooklyn Loses Again. Poor Work of Stack and Knetzer in Box Gives Boston a 6–4 Victory. Boston won from Brooklyn to-day, 6–4. Knetzer, who succeeded Stack in the Brooklyn box with two men on bases in the third inning, was wild. He passes three men in this inning, forcing in two runs and Devlin’s single added another. Hogg, who replaced Brown in the first inning was steady, except in the sixth and seventh innings when Brooklyn bunched hits for three runs.—New York Times

Bradley replaced Buster Brown in the first inning with one out, after Brown had given up two hits and a run. Kling had become a man with a quick hook, so he sent in Bradley for his third appearance in three days. With his spitter working right from the start, the Dodgers could only score one run over the next five innings, while the Braves ran up four. When Brooklyn scored two to tie it in the seventh things got interesting, but after the Braves came back with two in the eighth Bradley shut down the Dodgers and his first majorleague victory went on the books. As it turned out, the celebration was short, for the next stop on Bradley’s abbreviated world tour was a little ballpark near Lake Michigan called West Side Grounds, home of one of the National League’s strongest teams: the Chicago Cubs.

A Minor Influence 65 If Chicago and its exploding population had one set of heroes, it was the National League ball club organized in 1870 by future Hall of Famer Al Spalding. Aggressively in the championship hunt on a yearly basis under future Hall of Fame first baseman–manager Frank Chance, the Cubs had won consecutive pennants from 1906 to 1908, along with consecutive World Series in 1907 and 1908, and could do no wrong on the North Side. Because of this, and in addition to the presence of the White Sox, baseball was the game of the hour in Chicago, a game people could keep up to the minute with by buying a newspaper or ten. With more than a half-dozen papers published in Chicago every day, including the Evening Post with its twelve afternoon editions printed on the half-hour, all a fan had to do to keep up with the play-by-play in the days before radio was spend two cents every thirty minutes to be the best-informed baseball fan in town for less than the price of admission. Thousands had decided to see the game against Boston in person rather than read about it, filling dozens of streetcars on the way to the ballpark on the corner of Lincoln and Polk Streets during the afternoon of May 9. There, a young pitcher who thought the world was his oyster was going to find out that oysters could bite, sometimes with very unflattering verbiage: May 9, 1912: West Side Grounds, Chicago, Illinois. H. Zimmerman Beats Brave Bean Eaters Almost Single Handed. Cubs Bag Their Third Straight Game From J. Kling’s Invaders by Score of 9–8.—Mr. Hogg is Neatly Rendered Into Leaf Lard by West Side Slaughterers. The active application of Heinie Zimmerman’s hitting implement brought about the desired result yesterday after nearly two and a half hours of mingled melodrama and high art. Score 9–8. Mr. Hogg is Slaughtered. A rising young athlete by the name of Hogg started for Kling. Mr. Hogg’s journey through the slaughter pens was marked by much disaster and misfortune. He went to the scalding vats after one-third of an inning. His record of crime consisted of two hits, one pass, and two runs. Mr. Hogg was rendered into leaf lard as soon as our noble Cubs could get at him. Sheckard carved him for a single and Schulte walked. Joe Tinker sacrificed and Hofman took a meat ax and helped himself to a slice that scored Sheckard and Schulte. Mr. Hogg was then packed, stamped, labeled and shipped.—Chicago Inter-Ocean

Captain Hook was getting faster by the day, for Bradley had thrown less than a dozen pitches before he was down 2–0 and out of the game. When reliever Lefty Tyler’s first pitch to Heinie Zimmerman went over the right field

66 Spitting on Diamonds wall to score two more, the die was cast. And even though Mr. Kling “went out to speak feelingly to Mr. Tyler about the necessity of throwing strikes,” according to the Inter-Ocean, he didn’t, and Boston eventually lost 9–8. Boston lost more than a game that day, it also lost a legend. Attempting to warm up for his first start of the season, Cy Young realized after twenty-one years of major-league ball that he was done. Giving Kling the news, he shook hands all around, and minus any fanfare took the next train for Ohio and the history books. After a loss to the Phillies a few days later, things began to get very dark for Bradley when the Braves took the train to New York for a series against the Dodgers in prehistoric Washington Park. According to the Times, “The games were played in a shower of cinders that made 3,000 fans sigh for the new ball park which Ebbets is building for his Superbas. The little cinders floated in on a stiff breeze from the powerhouse of the E.R.T. Company, just beyond the left field wall.” The Times also commented, “In the sixth inning, play was temporarily suspended while umpire Bill Brennan underwent an operation on his right eye, which had been clogged with cinders. Umpire Owens led the attack on his colleague’s optic, while players from both teams gathered around. Some of them were unkind enough to suggest that the cinder had been bothering Bill all afternoon.”7 Again Bradley went in to pitch short relief, stopping the Brooklyn barrage that had driven Hickory Dickson out of the box in the fourth inning. Giving up one hit and one run and hitting one batter in two-thirds of an inning, by the time he was through so was Boston, down 6–1 on the way to a 9–3 loss in front of Brooklyn’s manager-for-a-day, future Hall of Famer “Wee Willie” Keeler. A nineteen-year veteran of the major leagues and still holder of the National League’s longest hitting streak of forty-four games, the 5’4” Keeler first stated the obvious when he said his success at the plate was due to “hitting ’em where they ain’t.” In this, his one and only managing stint, Keeler was filling in for his friend and regular manager Bill Dahlen, who reporters euphemistically reported was out with “stomach trouble.” More likely it was a hangover. The euphemisms weren’t nearly as kind a week later when Bradley took all the suspense out of a 1–0 pitcher’s duel with Pittsburgh in the top of the ninth, throwing the game and his future in Boston away in front of an unappreciative home crowd. The only notable moment in this game for Bradley was facing future Hall of Fame shortstop Honus Wagner for the first and only time in his life, walking him on four pitches. When Chief Wilson stepped into his next pitch and put it over the wall, it was all over but the shouting, most of it aimed in Bradley’s direction. Nearly two weeks went by before Kling let Bradley get anywhere near a

A Minor Influence 67 pitcher’s mound, and when he did on June 20, it was part of a composite horror story. Boston was already down 9–0 to the Giants when Bradley went into the game in the fifth, after getting a hit off Christy Mathewson’s leg that bounced into left field for a run. Bradley kept the New Yorkers in check for three innings before he collapsed, giving up eleven hits and twelve runs in the ninth on the way to a 23–12 debacle. A debacle made even worse when Braves rookie catcher Gilbert Whitehouse allowed nine stolen bases. Erratic use of his pitching staff and the obvious lack of a reliable starting rotation was telling the tale on Kling’s management style, which was unusual for he’d been around long enough to know what he was doing. If he didn’t feel his pitchers knew what they were doing, he was right, but it was his job to show them the way. In any case, irregular use had led to the collapse of his staff and of Boston’s chances in 1912 by the second month of the season. This had to drive Kling nuts, for he’d been promised a bonus if the team made a profit, and wins were the only thing that would fill up the seats. In the end, inexpensive and undeveloped young pitchers were going to cost him his job. Ironically, if Bradley had wanted to see success that day, all he had to do was look up, for Miss Blanche Stuart Scott became the first woman to fly an airplane in New England in an air meet outside the city.8 Bradley was about to take a trip too, but it would be on a train, for the seconds had been ticking away on his major-league clock. When the Giants finally set off the alarm, all that remained was working out a deal. After Kling talked the situation over with team president John Montgomery Ward, contacts were made with several teams in the New England League about a trade. With Haverhill out of the running due to Bradley’s run-in with owner Dan Clohecy, Ward was exploring other options. When Bradley found out what was in the works, he was furious. Adamant about not going down to the minors, he brought out the bargaining chip: his law degree. Threatening to quit baseball altogether, he finally consented to a move when Ward told him he had a good chance of catching on with another club if he had more seasoning, and would be foolish to throw the opportunity away. He knew deep down both Ward and Kling were right, but being sent down grated on him, as it has every ballplayer since the beginning of the game. But numbers don’t lie, and his weren’t good. Appearing in ten games with the Braves in 1912, he’d won one, lost one, and had one save. But records can be deceiving: he had one start and no complete games in thirty-one innings, and after giving up thirty-seven hits and sixteen bases on balls his earned run average was an awful 6.97.9 So something had to be done. It was a matter of numbers, and his was up. By June 23, a deal had been worked out with New Bedford of the New

68 Spitting on Diamonds England League to take a pitcher in exchange for a shortstop, along with that all-important lubricant for any deal in baseball: money. As a result, a Hogg was traded for a Rabbit: Walter “Rabbit” Maranville. June 25, 1912: Boston, Massachusetts. Maranville For Boston Club. Shortstop Maranville of the New Bedford Club of the New England League has been purchased by the Boston Nationals. The player will report at the end of the New England League season.—New York Times

In the arrangement, the Whalers’ diminutive 5’5” shortstop would be allowed to finish the season in New Bedford before reporting to Boston in September, and New Bedford would get one thousand dollars for his contract plus Bradley Hogg. Part of the money would be used to cover the extra cost of Bradley’s major-league salary, for one of the few rules the National Commission made teams stick to was not lowering a major leaguer’s salary when they sold him to the minors. In Bradley’s case, it meant he lost his Boston uniform but got to keep around forty dollars of their money every month. In exchange for Bradley, the Braves were getting a pretty good shortstop. They just didn’t know how good Rabbit Maranville was, or that he would play nearly forever, or that after a twenty-three-year major-league career ending in 1935 he would have a final address in a place named Cooperstown. When Bradley got off the train in New Bedford on June 26 and grudgingly walked back into the minor leagues, he was only thirty miles from the Boston spotlight. It might as well have been a thousand. The quiet and industrious New England town of some fifteen thousand had been sitting at the mouth of Buzzard’s Bay for 272 years, originally sheltering pirates and privateers during the American Revolution. Burned by the British in 1778, it was later rebuilt into one of the world’s great whaling ports, but by 1912 was undergoing its own industrial revolution into textiles and fishing.10 When Bradley walked into James Smith’s office at the New Bedford ballpark, the owner of the Whalers was really glad to see him, for he remembered what Bradley had done to his team in 1911, and hoped he could return the favor to a few of the Whalers’ opponents. Before Bradley would agree to a new contract, however, he was adamant on one subject: he wanted a piece of his sale price when he was eventually sold, or he wouldn’t pitch an inning.11 That bargaining chip again. Although surprised at the stance of so young a player, Smith realized Bradley was serious, and promised to broach the subject with the New England League commissioner, since it had rarely been the practice to agree to this kind of proposition at the minor-league level. Taking that for a “yes,” Bradley

A Minor Influence 69 signed his contract, paid his thirty dollars, and took delivery of another uniform. He now had $120 worth of flannel in his collection. Introduced to his new manager, former major-league shortstop Frank Connaughton, Bradley told him, “I would have done all right with Boston had I been given the chance.”12 That remained to be seen, but based on 1911, Connaughton was more than willing to take a look, as he had seen enough between 1894–1906 with New York and Boston to be a pretty good judge. In the Whalers, Connaughton had a team that was fighting hard to get into the league’s first division, and like most New England League teams, they had their share of former major leaguers on their eighteen-man roster. The best known and the one with the hardest-luck story was pitcher Tex Pruiett, who had been with the Red Sox for two years, compiling an earnedrun average of 2.83 while losing eighteen games in 1907. It got worse the following season when he won only one out of seven with an earned run average of 1.99 and lost his job.13 Career minor leaguer Len Swormstedt had played with Bradley briefly in 1911 at Haverhill after pitching a total of eight games in the majors, while catcher Pat Kilhullen, first baseman Jack Ness, and utility infielder Walter Morris had all tasted big-league coffee before coming to New Bedford, and some would again. In addition, like most minor-league teams, the Whalers had their share of hopefuls, major leaguers all, at least in their own minds. And then there was 5'5" shortstop Rabbit Maranville. The other half of the Bradley Hogg transaction, the hell-raising Maranville fielded his position with speed and uncanny ability, eventually leading the league in fielding with a .944 average. This was amazing, considering the rough and rock-strewn minor-league fields of 1912, and basically meant whenever Bradley pitched for New Bedford, he had a short human fence between second and third. As the Whalers boarded the train for league-leading Brockton the next morning, they were hoping Bradley was the pitcher they needed to get out of the middle of the pool, while the Shoemakers were looking to add another stitch to their anticipated 1912 pennant. It was time to stand and deliver. What Bradley delivered was absolutely nothing: June 27, 1912: Centre Street Grounds, Brockton, Massachusetts. C. Bradley Hogg Makes Debut as Connaughton Colt. No Hit, No Run Game. Hogge Pitched Superb Ball for Colts vs Brockton C. Bradley Hogge, formerly with Haverhill in the New England League and late of the Boston Nationals, signalized his return to this circuit by twirling superb ball for New Bedford against the Brockton leaders

70 Spitting on Diamonds at the Centre Street Grounds here this afternoon and allowed them not a hit nor a run in the entire game. His teammates, an apparently rejuvenated aggregation, piled up 11 runs for him and made the Shoe-makers look about as bad as can be imagined. Hogge’s assortment of pitches included everything. He bent them over the outside corner in such a manner that they were unhittable. He hooked them over the inside corner where the Brockton batters could do naught but hit them with the handle of their bats, and frequently he shot a fast one over the groove and mixed in a slow one so that Brockton hitters were continually befuddled from the start to the end, allowing Hogge to accomplish his end that is, to pitch a no hit, no run game against the leaders.—New Bedford Evening Standard

While a no-hitter was a great way to come back into the league, this game was far from perfect, as Bradley gave up two walks and his teammates committed three errors. But a no-hitter is a no-hitter, and nobody is going to turn one down. Especially when it turned out to be the only no-hitter in his career, and the only one pitched in the New England League in 1912.14 Awestruck after the game, manager Frank Connaughton exclaimed, “With Hogge on the staff, New Bedford is as good as any team in the New England League.”15 The New Bedford Evening Standard added, “Hogge is not only a pitcher that will burn up the league but he is a hitter. He got into the ball yesterday as if he were Joe Jackson and slammed the ball hard every trip up to the plate. He got two hits and drove two hard flies to the outfield. The way he pitched looked like child’s play, and he did not exert himself at all but to see the way he hooked that ‘ol baseball over the rubber was a caution. If the addition of Hogge does not draw the fans out in New Bedford, nothing ever will. Look Out New England, Hogge Is Back In The League Again!”16 The line of the week had to be the article’s last one, which read, “Hogg will be the idol of New Bedford fans within a week or we miss our guess.” This meant the idol business was looking up, and for the immediate future all pronouncements from on high would be in a southern accent. Other parts of the world were seeming to speak with a southern accent as well, even though it was in the southern part of Canada: June 28, 1912: London, Ontario, Canada. Colored Athlete May Be Allowed To Enter Olympics. The reinstatement of the Negro member of Canada’s 1912 Olympic team, J. A. Howard of Winnipeg College, is under consideration and will be decided this morning. Manager Knox of the team made the announcement of the dismissal of Howard on the charge of insubordination. —New Bedford Evening Standard

A Minor Influence 71 The euphemism “insubordination” meant the man didn’t know his place in 1912 Canada, which, obviously, was the same as it was in the United States, meaning that regardless of how fast he was, Howard would always end up in the same place. Last. The Fourth of July was a big day in New Bedford, as it was all over New England. A sea of flags waved in time to the music of enthusiastic brass bands, and for a change women and children made up a large part of the fortyfive hundred fans filling the little crackerbox ballpark, along with something Bradley had rarely seen: grizzled old veterans of the Grand Army of the Republic. Although people down South again celebrated the Fourth, the old soldiers who showed up, like his father and uncle, wore uniforms of a more neutral color. And the tune of choice was still “Dixie.” Bradley was in a different land. But north or south, in 1912 the flag and the game was the same. And he was New Bedford’s starting pitcher in the morning game of a festival doubleheader against the Fall River Breinies. A starting pitcher on what became an adjustable pedestal, after he gave up eleven hits and struck out nine and lost the game 7–1. The idol business had lasted all of two hours and five minutes. And after a shutout in the second game by Fall River, the tune of the day was a dirge. Four days later in Lowell, after another good crowd showed up for a steam bath and a ball game in the July heat, Bradley’s “rather porky exhibition” against the newly renamed last-place Tigers made major-league metaphors seem lightyears away: July 9, 1912: Spalding Park, Lowell, Massachusetts. Tigers Land On Hogge. Colts’ New Pitcher Gives Porky Exhibition. With perspiration from all things animate, and even the big bull on the right field fence wearing a pained expression on his noble countenance, Lowell and New Bedford went through the motions of a ball game at Spalding Park yesterday afternoon. Lowell won, 6 to 5. C. Bradlee Hogg was on the hill for the Whalers. Conny Connaughton stuck Hogge in with the idea of bringing home the bacon, but the rooters weren’t with him and after he had given a somewhat porky exhibition it was evident it was not his day.—New Bedford Evening Standard

Bradley may not have been consistent, but sportswriters were, as their writing and fact checking were equally bad on a daily basis. Along with sophomoric verbiage and rarely getting any part of Bradley’s name right, the Evening Standard set the standard, and the proof was in the paper.

72 Spitting on Diamonds On the fourteenth, Bradley surprised everybody when he came within inches of winning his own game and hitting the only home run of his professional career: “O’Connell had hit safely and he was resting at first when Hogge came to bat with one down. Hoff slipped a shoot in the imaginary groove and the big New Bedford pitcher whanged it to the leeward, sending it high in the air in an arc that made the gazers start. The ball was unqualifiedly due to slip over the right field fence. Instead of following its rightly due course, however, the hide bound pill hit the very edge of the scoreboard and bounded back to the field at right angles, falling into the hands of Luyster.”17 If the ball hadn’t been dead, it would have been gone. Red Hoff would have also given up his first home run as well, which would have been astonishing, for the 5’9” lefthander eventually had stints with the Yankees and the St. Louis Browns without giving up any. Even more amazing, a 1.24 earned run average and a 2–2 record with St. Louis in 1915 wasn’t good enough for him to keep his job.18 In a move that would be unbelievable today, after losing 2–1 to Lowell on the twenty-first, Bradley was sent out the very next day by Frank Connaughton to pitch the seven-inning second game of a doubleheader. Bradley gave it his all, but he also gave up three runs while the Whalers only got him one, and he was on the losing end for the second time in two days. The third time is a charm, and in this case it was hits allowed when old nemesis Dan Clohecy showed up in New Bedford with his Haverhill Hustlers, giving Bradley all the inspiration any pitcher ever needed: August 5, 1912: Athletic Park, New Bedford, Massachusetts. Jack Ness Again. Colt’s First Sacker Once More Hits Ball Over Fence. Haverhill Beaten 3–0—Hogg Pitches Fine Game. Allowing But Three Hits. As in Wednesday’s game, there was a man on base and two out with the score 0–0 when Jack Ness took a healthy swing and the ball soared over the fence. It was Brad Hogg who was on first when Jack got the hit that broke up the game, and so delighted was the ex-big league twirler that he gave Ness a ride on his back part of the way from third to the plate. The credit of keeping Haverhill scoreless is due to one Bradley Hogg, who formerly used to serve them up for the Boston Nationals. Brad was in fine form, and only three singles were registered off his delivery. Hogg was very stingy with his passes, and Lave was the only Crossman whose smile was so enchanting that Hogg came across with a free ticket to first base.—New Bedford Evening Standard

All this fun in an hour and thirty-five minutes. Fun that was apparently never going to end for Haverhill’s forty-four-year-

A Minor Influence 73 old manager-third baseman Lafayette “Lave” Cross, who, with two hits, was a living connection to baseball’s infancy. Having spent twenty-one years catching and playing the infield in the majors between 1887–1907 beginning with Louisville in the old American Association, he was already a three-year veteran when a rookie pitcher named Cy Young walked onto his first majorleague diamond.19 Bradley walked onto the diamond in Worcester on Ladies’ Day a few days later in time to hear umpire Charlie Lanigan take the megaphone and request that ladies remove their hats in an attempt to improve the vision of the paying customers seated behind them.20 Then, the Evening Standard noted, “in spite of a few that were hard of hearing” Bradley gave them an eyeful, allowing six scattered hits on the way to a 6–1 win, adding two hits and a base on balls in the process. Another vintage ballplayer Bradley ran into during the game was forty-fouryear-old future Hall of Famer Jesse “Crab” Burkett, another player-manager, who came in to pinch-hit in the ninth for Worcester and struck out. After playing sixteen years in the majors between 1890 and 1905, he was still hanging around the ballpark and occasionally putting them over the fence, giving lessons on how to play a game to boys young enough to be his sons. No pension, no health insurance, no guarantees but old age. Nothing except for his record of three .400 seasons at the major-league plate, and even that Burkett would eventually have to share with Ty Cobb and Rogers Hornsby,21 ending his days as the New York Giants’ paid shadow of an alcoholic pitcher named Phil Douglas. A 5–1 win over his old Haverhill teammates as he stuck it in owner Dan Clohecy’s ear made for a nice homecoming, but Bradley would go on to finish the 1912 New England League season with a 9–10 record, in large part due to sixth-place New Bedford’s lack of hitting. As he continued to give up very few runs, some hitting by his teammates would have easily given him at least seven more wins. His control was excellent, and his curve was deadly. Proving this on almost a daily basis, during his last six games as a Whaler, four of them wins and two of them shutouts, he allowed a total of seven earned runs in fifty-five innings for an earned run average of 1.27. So, win-loss record aside, he could pitch. Exactly where he would do so in 1913 was the question, which would be answered by the minor-league draft. But the odds of staying in New England were slim, for people had been watching. People who not only spoke baseball, but spoke it with a southern accent.

4

1913 Look Away, Dixie Land

In November of 1912, the Western Union man was at Bradley’s door again with a telegram, notifying him of his draft by the Mobile club of the class A Southern Association for the 1913 season. Meaning he was moving up in the world by moving down. South. Mobile had paid a draft price of six hundred dollars to purchase his contract from New Bedford, and he was now a Sea Gull.1 Since New Bedford was a long way from Mobile, Bradley had an idea that he would be waiting a long time for any promised part of his purchase price. Bradley who? Bradley Who realized if he was ever going to get back to the major leagues, Mobile was at least a step up the ladder, which is why he packed his bags that April and kissed his redhead and caught the Southern Railway to south Alabama. Bradley was moving to a city on the move, a city that, like the rest of the country, was growing by leaps and bounds. After arriving on the nineteenth and checking into the recommended Bienville Hotel, he went to the Gulls’ eleven-thousand-seat League Park and met Mobile club president Ed Coulson, along with veteran manager Mike Finn and his enormous handlebar moustache. Finn had just signed on the dotted line as well, having come from Little Rock. As Bradley wrote his name on a Universal Player’s Contract for the 1913 Southern Association season calling for some $250 a month, he noticed the Reserve Clause was still there. Something that hadn’t existed before was the Internal Revenue Man, who would eventually take a grand total of $12.50 out of his paychecks over the season: 1 percent of any money he earned up to twenty thousand dollars, according to the 18th Amendment, which had been passed on February 12.

74

Look Away, Dixie Land 75

The Southern Association A class A minor league made up of entrants from major cities throughout the South, the Southern Association was one of five leagues making up the second echelon of minor-league baseball in the century’s second decade. The primary exposure to the game for most people in the South prior to the advent of radio and television, south of the Mason-Dixon Line the minors were major-league, with the Southern Association being the most major minor league of all. The eight teams making up the league in 1913 were the Atlanta Crackers, Birmingham Barons, Chattanooga Lookouts, Nashville Vols, New Orleans Pelicans, Memphis Turtles, Montgomery Rebels, and Mobile Gulls. Heroes in their own hometowns, these teams were heavily supported by their local newspapers and businesses, many of which had financial interests in them both public and private. People have to get to the ballpark, right? And isn’t it handy that the ballpark is located at the end of a particular streetcar line leading nowhere else? This little trick of geographical foresight wasn’t just a southern phenomenon, as transit company owners in cities such as New York, Boston, and Philadelphia operated in similar fashion, greasing their way with political and financial influence.2 Most league games started late in the afternoon, around three o’clock, like they did up North, getting teams out of the heat of the day while allowing people to get off work and kids to get out of school in time to get to the ballpark. The umpires kept the games moving too, for when it got dark in the illumination-free ballparks of the time, it got dark. This meant not only were the games fast, averaging around an hour and a half, but what was on the field stayed on the field for nine innings and everyone got home in time for supper. Those three o’clock starts had already given Bradley firsthand knowledge of one of the hazardous side effects of playing games in the late afternoon during the dead ball era: a phenomenon referred to by the players as “twilight blindness,” when balls would virtually disappear on the way to the plate. With the lone ball in use continually stained and discolored with tobacco juice and dirt throughout a game, in eighth-inning shadows it was virtually impossible to see, much less hit. The fact that anyone could hit one at all was a testament both to the eyesight and the courage of the players, whose only protection was a cloth cap. A number of famous ballplayers with amazing vision had gotten their start in the Southern Association twilight, including future Hall of Famers Tris Speaker and Casey Stengel and the infamous Joe Jackson who couldn’t read

76 Spitting on Diamonds or write but could definitely see and hit, winning the batting title in 1910 with a .354 average.3 Bradley’s 1912 Boston teammate Otto Hess had led the league in 1910 and 1911, winning forty-eight games over the two seasons and proving that the pitching in the Southern Association was major-league quality as well.4 Forty-four of the league’s pitchers in 1913 eventually pitched in the major leagues—a full 90 percent—meaning that batters had major-league problems every time they went to the plate. One problem Mobile was trying to rectify when they signed Bradley was the loss of Al Demaree, who had been called up by the New York Giants at the end of 1912 and never returned, spending the next nine years pitching in the majors. Owner of numberless baseball uniform number five, along with the customary thirty-dollar charge against his salary, took his place. Bradley dressed out in Mobile’s clubhouse, which unlike many in the New England League featured showers; another benefit of class A ball. He then picked up his glove and went out on the field to meet and greet all fourteen of his new teammates. With fifteen-player team rosters that occasionally included as many as five pitchers, baseball in the Southern Association was a business first, last, and always. Every man on the roster earned his keep or wasn’t kept, including pitchers playing positions in the field on days they weren’t on the mound. As a result, Bradley became Mobile’s occasional right fielder, second baseman, and pinch-hitter, and, like the rest of the team, on days he wasn’t scheduled to play, occasional ticket taker. Mobile wasn’t any tighter with a dollar than any other team in the league in making their players earn their money, for the league capped team salaries at $3,200 per month for every fifteen-man roster. Averaging $220 per month per man, with certain players (exceptional pitchers and hitters) getting $25 to $50 a month more, this was standard operating procedure. In Bradley’s case, it involved about $50 a month more than he had been making in the New England League, or about $1,250 for the five-month Southern Association season, the equivalent of $22,625 today.5 Anything extra would depend on performance resulting in bigger and better attendance at the ballpark at the corner of Ann and Tennessee Streets, one incentive that is unheard of today. With the addition of Bradley to the Gulls’ roster, Mobile was set for the season. Like most minor-league clubs of the era, the Gulls were loaded with talented players either on their way up or down: eleven of the fifteen were former or future major leaguers. Pitcher Tiller “Pug” Cavet was back after a decent year with the Gulls in 1912, and would move on to Detroit with Ty Cobb’s Tigers in 1914, while pitchers Charles “Heinie” Berger and LaRue Kirby already had a total of five

Look Away, Dixie Land 77 years in the majors between them. Kirby had come from Traverse City in the Michigan State League where his 18–3 record and .857 winning percentage led all minor-league pitchers in 1912.6 When his arm finally gave out due to overwork, Kirby would return to the majors as an outfielder with the St. Louis Federals in 1914. Pitcher “Blonde Bill” Robertson had been acquired from Indianapolis in the off-season, and was expected to bring something to the party besides his hair color. Charles “Heinie” Berger was the kind of pitcher that doesn’t exist in the minors today, a former major leaguer with a winning record and an earned run average below 3.00. But in 1912, being out of the majors didn’t mean being out of baseball, and Berger would continue pitching from minor-league mounds for years. Catcher Charley “Boss” Schmidt was another former major leaguer whose nickname was well earned. An off-season professional boxer, the two-hundredpound Arkansas native had been around and would go around with anybody, including the volatile Ty Cobb, whom Schmidt teamed with during his six years and three World Series in Detroit between 1906 and 1911. The antisocial Cobb found out the hard way that Schmidt could handle himself as well as pitchers when the “Boss” took him apart one afternoon in front of his cheering teammates.7 Outfielder Dave Robertson shared a last name with pitcher “Blonde Bill,” but his batting average would separate him for those without scorecards, as he would lead the Gulls in hitting with a .335 average. He had already had a taste of the big time in New York in 1912, and would return to the Yankees in 1914 and play nine years of major-league ball, leading the American League in home runs twice (1916 and 1917) with twelve.8 Stumpy 5'9", 195-pound outfielder George “Hack” Miller was a dangerous hitter for three years with the Gulls before moving to Brooklyn in 1916, spending six years in the big time before retiring with a big-time batting average of .322.9 At 6'3" and 215, center fielder William “Baby Doll” Jacobson was nobody’s baby either, and would end up proving it with the St. Louis Browns, where he would play most of his eleven-year major-league career and retire with a .311 batting average.10 Among the others, Charlie Starr, the Gulls’ second baseman and captain, had played three years of major-league ball before finding himself overlooking Mobile Bay, while 5'8", 154-pound shortstop Milt Stock and first baseman Gene Paulette were an excellent tandem. The diminutive, quick-fielding Stock had come from Buffalo in the International League via John McGraw and would eventually play fourteen years of major-league ball, some of it with and against Bradley. Paulette had already played with the New York Highlanders

78 Spitting on Diamonds in 1911 and would return to the majors with the Cardinals in 1916. He would end up making a far bigger name for himself in 1920, after a confrontation with new baseball commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis. But this was 1913, and together with assorted rookies and the occasional itinerant tryout, these were the Mobile Gulls. How high they could fly would depend on every man every day of the season, which, as far as Gulls’ management was concerned, began with exhibition games against any and all comers, for the team had to pay its way. Bradley began paying his on April 6 when the Atlanta Constitution commented, “Hogg’s pitching was a feature” in a 4–3 win over the Class AA Toledo Mud Hens. Eight days later, after the parade and the band and the cheering and the speeches at League Park, in front of 6,101 fans and league president Kavanaugh, the newest Gull was the feature on opening day as well: April 14, 1913: League Park, Mobile, Alabama. Gulls 5, Turtles 2. Paulette’s hitting defeated Memphis in the opening game of the Southern Association season on the local grounds. The score was 5 to 2. Paulet hit a home run with Jacobson on base in the second and singled in the sixth, driving two more runs across the plate. Hogg was a puzzle to Memphis batters with men on bases. Stock’s fielding featured.—Atlanta Constitution

Gulls first baseman Gene Paulette got everything right except the spelling of his name as his hitting and Bradley’s pitching won the day. If there was a puzzle, Memphis never solved it, for Bradley only gave up three hits and two bases on balls all afternoon, earning his first win for Mobile in his first start on the first day of the season. One other thing Bradley gave up that went unnoticed was the “e” on the end of his name, for it disappeared from the newspapers, never to return. Bradley’s past made a reappearance three days later when former Boston teammate Rube Kroh walked out to the pitcher’s mound in Mobile wearing a Memphis uniform. Coming to bat in the ninth as a pinch-hitter, Bradley coaxed a walk out of Kroh and eventually scored the winning run in a 6–5 Gulls victory, the perfect homecoming gift. Almost from the start it was a two-team race between Atlanta and Mobile. Pitching was holding up on all sides, and Mobile’s infield, led by the determined Milt Stock at short, was suffocating batters on a daily basis. But one of the primary reasons Mobile was hot out of the box was a winning streak that started on opening day. Occupied in right field between pitching starts, its owner extended it in a big way on the nineteenth against the New Orleans Pelicans who had just flown into town, beating them 15–3. Other than giv-

Look Away, Dixie Land 79 ing up a surprise home run to former Washington outfielder Ben Spencer, Bradley kept the Pelicans grounded most of the afternoon, earning win number two in a row. Besides beating New Orleans with his pitching, Bradley also beat hell out of them with his bat, going four for four for the day with a stolen base thrown in for good measure. After the game, New Orleans manager Charlie Frank, no stranger to tricks of the baseball trade himself, decided to stop something before it started and protested to the league office about “the illegal condition of the Mobile pitcher’s box.”11 According to him, it was starting to look suspiciously like a pitcher’s mound. Rather than the flat, consistent surface considered normal at the time, Frank contended to reporters that “Mobile’s pitcher’s box was irregular because it is higher than the rest of the infield and strange pitchers are therefore at a disadvantage.” Mobile officials declared his contention preposterous. No doubt the league office would have to send a surveyor and a shovel to prove one or the other wrong, but if it was a mound it couldn’t have been much of one if nobody could agree on whether or not it existed. After Bradley beat Montgomery 11–2 for his third straight win, Mobile was in second place when manager Mike Finn decided to extend his fifteen minutes of fame by telling reporters that “Mobile is the best club in the whole circuit. With pitchers Hogg of New Bedford, Blonde Bill Robertson from the Indianapolis team, and holdovers Charles “Heinie” Berger, William Campbell and Tiller “Pug” Cavet going like major leaguers on the slab I am going to try and win out for the flag this season if possible and the directors of the Mobile Baseball association are behind me in this effort.”12 A little early, some would say, to count your pennants. However, by the first of May, Mike Finn was as good as his word and the Gulls had taken over first place, with Bradley leading the way: May 1, 1913: League Park, Mobile, Alabama. Gulls 2, Billikens 1. Mobile won a strenuous twelve-inning pitching battle this afternoon from Montgomery, score 2 to 1. Dave Robertson broke up the game with a drive over the right field fence with one out in the twelfth, sending Clark home from second. Hogg registered his fifth straight victory of the season and pitched remarkable ball in the pinches, striking out ten batsmen, the majority of them with runners in scoring position. Twice Montgomery had the bases full with one out, but Hogg each time struck out Tarleton and Donahue.—Atlanta Constitution

A difference in the rules of the game before 1920 is evident in the sentence “Robertson broke up the game with a drive over the right field fence with one out in the twelfth, sending Clark home from second.” Once Danny Clark crossed the plate from second as a result of the home run, the game was over.

80 Spitting on Diamonds Robertson only got credit for a double, as that was where Clark had been when the ball went downtown. This rule cost Robertson a home run, a run batted in, and a run scored, and wouldn’t be changed until 1920. In beating former St. Louis Browns’ pitcher Elmer Brown, ten strikeouts and three bases on balls in twelve innings proved Bradley was on a roll. Getting himself out of trouble he got himself into showed he’d learned how to pitch. The Gulls were on a roll as well, matching Bradley’s streak with one of their own, and by the seventh of May had won seven games in seven days. In front of a noisy home crowd on the sixth they put on a clinic with Atlanta as the patient, Bradley winning his sixth in a row, and people around the league were starting to take notice. Few noticed when Congress passed the Radio Call Letters legislation three days later, but from that day on every sound coming out of the radical new invention called “radio” would be identifiable, and people would know who to blame for anything and everything they heard.13 A week went by before Bradley got to hear more cheering, beating Nashville 9–3 for his seventh win without a loss as he became the toast of Mobile. Then Birmingham came to town and Mr. William Aloyisius Foxen burned him. A three-year major-league veteran, Bill Foxen had been throwing a ball professionally for over a decade, and he matched Bradley pitch for pitch, strikeout for strikeout, and walk for walk. This left it up to the hitters to win or lose the game. Leaving fifteen men on base, Mobile did just that, losing 4–2 and giving Bradley his first loss of the year. The bad taste in Mike Finn’s mouth after the loss was explainable to the Atlanta Constitution, which reported that the Mobile manager had “chewed about $10 worth of tobacco during the game.”14 He could have improved that taste with a popular new confection being sold in tobacco stores that spring called “Life Savers.” Life savers or no, there was a bad taste in thousands of mouths on May 19 when California’s state legislature passed the Alien Land Law, prohibiting Asians from owning property or signing leases for more than three years.15 This meant Chinese laborers could help build America’s railroads, but they wouldn’t be able to stick around and watch the trains go by until the Supreme Court ruled the law unconstitutional in 1951. In Atlanta, Bradley found nothing improved the taste of defeat like victory, so he went back on that particular diet: May 24, 1913: Ponce de Leon Park, Atlanta, Georgia. Ex-Mercer Twirler Blanks Crackers in Second Contest, Final Game of Series Today.

Look Away, Dixie Land 81 Bradley Hogg, former Mercer University twirler, pinned it on the Crackers Friday afternoon 6 to 0, evening the series. Hogg was in invincible form allowing but six widely scattered bingles, and smearing the locals with whitewash. He was simply unbeatable. The big fellow had everything—speed, control, nice breaks and a good change of pace. By way of passing, Hogg has added some five inches to his stature since we last saw him and a good 40 pounds to his avoirdupois. But it seems to agree with him. In fact, he is the ideal build for a hurler. The Gulls showed considerable improvement in their playing over what they showed on Thursday, but Hogg was the difference.—Atlanta Constitution

Bradley was making a big impression in the Southern Association in more ways than one if this article is to be believed. A forty-pound weight gain is bound to do that, but gaining five inches in height in less than a month says something about the writer’s powers of observation. Proving he was human, Bradley bombed four days later in Chattanooga, lasting a grand total of one and one-third innings when he couldn’t locate the plate. When the Gulls came back and won the game, all he got for his trouble was sweaty. Meanwhile, a woman on Coney Island prevented a bomb from going off with fancy footwork: June 9, 1913: Coney Island, New York. Woman Stamps Out A Bomb. Over on the east side, bomb outrages have come to be taken more or less as a matter of course. But at Coney Island bombs are still a novelty. When Mrs. Giuseppe Parmentola of Gravesend Avenue found one sputtering in the rear of her husband’s grocery store at 5 o’clock yesterday morning she screamed so loudly she threw the neighborhood into a panic. With great presence of mind she jumped up and down on the fuse until it was extinguished. The Italians of the neighborhood summoned Patrolman Richard Owens and he put the missile into a pail of water and carried it to the Coney Island Police Station, where it was found to contain a glass preserve jar filled with high explosives, broken glass and nails, all wound around with picture wire. A hole in the screw top of the jar admitted the oil-soaked fuse.—New York Times

Fireworks on Coney Island would have to wait a few weeks. In the meantime, Atlanta, Chattanooga, and Montgomery proceeded to bomb each other, resulting in the Crackers’ slide into fourth place. Surprisingly, Mobile was still looking down on everybody in spite of Bradley’s sudden inconsistency. Proving it was consistent, he won and lost and won and lost again, before being banished to right field for a week.

82 Spitting on Diamonds Others were being banished for longer than that in the oddly named Empire State League, when the South Georgia circuit’s president fired umpire Ed McLaughlin for being drunk on the job.16 Calling balls and strikes two at a time apparently went against the grain of the purists. Bradley probably could have used a drink after he lost to the Lookouts in Chattanooga, his teammates leaving their bats at home in a 3–0 shutout. Things didn’t get any better when the Gulls dropped a series to Atlanta, led by aptly named third baseman “Wallop” Smith and his league-leading .336 batting average. Bradley’s sole contribution came in the ninth as a pinch-hitter when his run-scoring single ruined Paul Musser’s shutout. At least Musser got the win, which was more than he ever did in the majors, going 0–2 in twelve games. Before the game, Atlanta players were jawing at any and all who would listen when former major-league pitcher James “King” Brady began calling over to the Mobile bench at Mike Finn. Repeatedly yelling “By Tunder” in reference to Finn’s Scandinavian heritage and infuriating Finn, according to the Constitution, “He went over and told the Atlanta pitcher he was ‘a young bum’ and walked on out the gate.”17 But the nickname stuck, and “By Tunder” was called that by fans all over the league for the rest of the year. On June 26, Bradley was playing right field in a 3–1 win over Nashville when he came up against a twenty-year-old pitcher from Aurora, Missouri, named Claude “Lefty” Williams. When he slapped a single over the third baseman’s head to start the winning rally, in spite of Lefty’s ability it wouldn’t be the last time he was a loser. One of the pitching stars of the century’s second decade, his biggest loss would come in 1919 while wearing a White Sox uniform and throwing the World Series. July Fourth was a big day in Birmingham, and thousands of people in their Sunday best packed flag-draped Rickwood Park for another big series against the Gulls. As a brass band blasted away and old soldiers searched for their seats, Bradley warmed up on the sidelines while applause greeted the band’s rendition of a crowd favorite named “Dixie.” More applause followed as right fielder Bobby Messinger led the fireworks for the Barons with a four-for-four celebration that included a stolen base as gravy, leading Birmingham to a 3–1 win. This was in spite of a triple play in the first inning by Milt Stock and Al O’Dell, who both threw in errors to counterbalance the fielding rarity, proving that good, bad, or otherwise, Birmingham had Bradley’s number. Still in first despite the loss, the Gulls boarded the night train for Nashville. If they had been observant, they could have been munching on a new product that had just arrived in stores called “Oreos.” Cookie-free, they arrived at rancid Sulphur Dell Park on the ninth, where Bradley made his first

Look Away, Dixie Land 83 and only professional appearance as an infielder when he replaced the injured Charlie Starr at second base. Facing future White Sox conspirator Lefty Williams for the second time in his life, Bradley singled again in a 3–2 loss. Continuing their magical mystery southern tour, the Gulls took the train for Atlanta and what the Constitution billed as the biggest series of the season for the streaking third-place Crackers. Winners of eight straight, Atlanta promptly lost the first game to Pug Cavet 6–2. As a result, Ponce de Leon Park was packed to the rafters on Friday when Bradley went to the mound at 3:45 carrying a bucket: July 11, 1913: Ponce de Leon Park, Atlanta, Georgia. Hogg Smears On Whitewash While Mates Hammer Brady; Some Sensational Fielding. The Former Mercer Pitcher by the name of Hogg is certainly a jinx to the Crackers. He just toyed with their heavy artillery Friday. Bradley Hogg, the former Mercer university twirler, accomplished Friday what only one other twirler in the Southern League has been able to do this season—shut out the Crackers. But Hogg has something on this other pitcher, who is Beck of Nashville. He has shut out the Crackers twice, by identical scores—6 to 0— and on the local grounds too. The other was on the Gulls last trip here. Three measly little raps were all the Crackers were able to get off the delivery of the former Baptist college twirler. The big fellow worked a careful game throughout, and he was accorded great support. The Gulls played like champions behind him. A continuance of the kind of form showed Friday and they’ll never be pulled from the lead. Milton Stock, the little Mobile shortstop, was the fielding star of the day. He had four great assists. In each instance, he cut off a hit from an Atlanta bat. Hogg should thank his midget for the shutout.—Atlanta Constitution

Just because it was Ladies’ Day in Atlanta didn’t mean the crowd was any quieter; it just meant it screamed in a higher octave as they watched the Second Taking of Atlanta. One of the highest octaves belonged to a certain redhead, who thoroughly enjoyed the conflagration. Bradley had a way of personally preventing Atlanta from winning, and he proved it again on Sunday in front of a noisy house in Mobile when he beat the Crackers 2–1 in spite of publicized invective by Atlanta catcher Joe Dunn: “Dunn was arrested for cursing behind the plate and despite pleas of the local players was taken from the lot by police under orders of Police Chief Crenshaw.”18 After the game, Crackers manager Bill Smith told Constitution reporter

84 Spitting on Diamonds G. J. Flournoy that “Dunn, in arguing a hit ball with umpire Wright, remarked ‘I know G—D— well it was a foul’ but Umpire Wright did not put him out of the game for this.” The arresting officer said the complainant was Assisting Prosecuting Attorney Tisdale Tourart, who said he heard Dunn curse. Dunn was allowed to come to the city, dress, and appear at headquarters to post bond on the charge of disorderly conduct.19 Mike Finn sent Bradley against Atlanta again, this time on two days’ rest, in search of an elusive doubleheader win, and he came within two outs and one Harry Welchonce of pulling it off. Then the Cracker center fielder put an end to Bradley’s jinx over the Georgians by putting an unbroken breaking ball over the right field fence with one out to win the game, 4–2. Oddly enough, no umpires showed up, so Heinie Berger of the Gulls and the Crackers’ Carl Thompson did the honors. When the Gulls read the morning papers, they saw they were on top by five games before taking a doubleheader from second-place Montgomery, Bradley adding an easy 6–1 win. Not all of them were easy, for when he finally faced Nashville’s Lefty Williams from the pitcher’s mound on the twenty-second, the Great Conspirator left him face down on a muddy field in a 6–2 loss. Pitching nearly every other day at this point in the season due to injuries and sore arms on most of the staff, Bradley’s successful relief effort against New Orleans, followed by another 4–2 win over Nashville, had Mobile driving toward the finish line in tattered style. As related in the Atlanta Constitution sports column “Whiffs” on the twentysixth, the Gulls were Fighting Gamely. The Gulls will deserve a world of credit if they cap the bunting in the face of their present setback. They only have three twirlers that they can work. Cavet is out for the season with a bad eye and Robertson has such a sore arm that he may not be able to pitch any more this year. Can Hogg, Berger and Campbell carry the burden?

For the time being, the answer was “yes,” as the Gulls proceeded to take a four-game series from Birmingham, Bradley winning a pitcher’s duel 7–2 that ended when Dave Robertson put one over the fence with two on. Someone else was fighting gamely that day as well in an attempt to exercise his franchise in America: August 25, 1913: Passaic, New Jersey. Chinaman Seeks To Vote. Charles Foy, a Chinaman, who recently achieved his majority, has reg-

Look Away, Dixie Land 85 istered as a Republican for the preferential primaries. Whether he will be allowed to vote is a question. City Clerk John J. Slater of Passaic looked into the law and said today that he could find no objection which applied to Foy. The Chinaman was born in San Francisco and was educated in Western schools. He spoke English well and has been in Passaic three years.—New York Times

Trying to save his franchise with the loss of 40 percent of his starting rotation due to injury, Mike Finn pulled Dave Robertson out of center field and shoved him onto the mound every fourth day, playing him in the outfield the other three days and relying on his heavy bat. On August 28, the Gulls finished with Birmingham literally and figuratively, with a 6–1 win behind Bradley, a four-game sweep, and a seven-and-ahalf game lead. With a week to go it was all over but the shouting. Apparently hard of hearing, Atlanta swept three games from Birmingham, three out of four from Montgomery, four and a tie from Memphis, and three out of four from New Orleans going into the final week. A week that suddenly found the Gulls desperately trying to stay aloft. When the Crackers won two from New Orleans on Labor Day while the Gulls lost two to Chattanooga, Mobile’s season came down to the final two games against the last-place Pelicans. In front of a packed house in Mobile’s League Park that included fans hanging from the rafters and brass bands going at it for all they were worth, the first game was Bradley’s to win or lose. Then with the season hanging in the balance and the crowd roaring on every pitch, the hero of the hour proved he was a money player by winning his eighteenth game of the season, 4–3, and the bands played on—a short tune, as it turned out, for the 1913 Southern Association season had come down to its last nine innings. The largest crowd of the year overflowed League Park that Sunday as the Gulls went after the Pelicans with the pennant on the line, sending Billy Campbell to the mound followed by Pug Cavet in a desperate attempt to prevent New Orleans pitcher Finis Wilson from living up to his name. As the crowd watched in horror, Wilson did just that, holding Mobile hitless until the sixth, his four-hit performance resulting in a crushing 5–2 Pelicans win that dropped the Gulls into second place. One-half game, four percentage points, and one entire season from the pennant. It was something Mike Finn had to be used to, for it was the fifth time since 1901 that his team had finished second. For Mobile, it was a maddening two in a row.

86 Spitting on Diamonds When the news came over the telegraph, Atlanta went wild. According to the jubilant Constitution, “Fans streamed into the streets and crowds congregated at all the soda founts in the city and discussed the situation. Several players intended leaving Atlanta on the 5 o’clock train but about three hundred fans gathered and gave them an ovation, while Manager Smith finally persuaded the players to stay over for a benefit and field day held on Wednesday.”20 Atlanta’s manager, directors, and players were all swamped with congratulatory telegrams, the first one arriving from Mobile: September 7, 1913: Mobile, Alabama. President and Directors of the Atlanta Baseball Association: On behalf of the Mobile Baseball Association, I extend congratulations for winning the pennant. You have a great team of game ball players, and after the great fight made, deserved success. E. Coulson, President, Mobile Baseball Association. —Atlanta Constitution

Atlanta fans were swept up in the moment, telegraphing New Orleans manager Charley Frank they were collecting a purse for hard-hitting outfielder Tim Hendryx and pitcher Finis Wilson as a reward for beating Mobile. Frank telegraphed back to Constitution sports editor Dick Jemison, “You can send purse for Hendryx and Wilson to me at New Orleans, but I think each and every player on club deserves equal recognition. The boys played grand ball against all odds, and ‘By Tunder’ was laid away sorrowfully.”21 In his column that day, Jemison wrote, “Twenty-seven dollars and five cents was raised as a starter. The sporting editor of the Constitution has this fund, and to any and all fans who wish to do so, the invitation is issued to contribute to this ‘worthy cause.’ The fund will continue open until tonight. Let’s make the fund a good one. These two boys are deserving of appreciation from every Atlanta fan. Bring in your mite today and let’s make the purse at least three figures.”22 If the Pelicans were waiting on this purse to fund their off-season, lean times were ahead, for even at a 15–1 ratio, the value at press time of $27.05 only equals $481 today.23 Split among all fifteen players like Charley Frank suggested would have given each player $1.80 worth of appreciation. Bradley’s appreciation for his season’s work of 18–10–1, winning percentage of .643, and earned run average of 3.10 was the offer of another contract for 1914 along with a small raise. The seventh-best pitcher in the league and second-best in Mobile, Bradley was a dangerous man to face by the end of 1913 with his arsenal of spitballs, curves, fastballs, and changeups. His record spoke for itself, and could only get better.

Look Away, Dixie Land 87 Where, exactly, remained to be seen. A hint came on October 3 from Boston, when the Braves exercised their option on his services, telegraphing Bradley and the Gulls they expected him to report to Macon, Georgia, in March for spring training. In the meantime, in addition to the company of a certain Ms. Brown, there was a little fame and adulation to enjoy back in Buena Vista.

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Bradley leaves town on a rail. This 1917 photograph shows Bradley all dressed up prior to boarding a Pullman car for another of the interminable road trips that were part of the Coast League experience. Ballplayers, like most men of the era, dressed up when they went out in public. Except they dressed better. The man smoking the cigarette in the background is pitcher Pete Standridge, and the shadow on the ground is from the redheaded photographer’s hat, not her head. Photograph courtesy of Miriam Hogg.

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Freezing in Los Angeles. In another early season splash in the Los Angeles Examiner, Bradley is shown warming up in his Angels’ road-gray pinstripes in the cold of a Los Angeles spring while retouched to the point that he looks like he is wearing makeup. According to the paper Bradley was a notorious late starter, which wasn’t always true. He only put himself in a hole three out of the nine years he pitched professionally, and was able to climb out of it twice, once in spectacular fashion during this same 1917 season, finishing with a 27–13 record, the best in the Pacific Coast League.

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Bradley’s thirteenth win makes International News. Appearing in tasteful road-gray pin stripes following his thirteenth win in a row for the Angels that made him the toast of the coast, Bradley’s International News Service photograph and caption in the Los Angeles Examiner on October 22, 1917, gave him his biggest splash ever.

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Bradley Hogg, card-carrying ballplayer. Produced at the beginning of the 1917 season, the fans ate up Bradley’s baseball card all over the Coast League. Or at least the boxes of “Zeenut” candy in which it was packaged. The chocolate-covered, marshmallow-coated nuts were a product of the Collins-McCormick candy company of San Francisco, and were primarily sold at ballparks. While children collected them, adults used them in various gambling games. All Zeenut cards produced between 1913 and 1938 included a half-inch coupon at the bottom that could be redeemed for prizes, and cards with the coupon attached are rare. Today the value of Bradley’s Zeenut baseball card (Series #62–7) in excellent condition is around forty dollars. To his relatives, it’s priceless. Collection of Clyde Hogg. Version with coupon notated by Agnes Hogg, courtesy of Miriam Hogg.

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This one’s for you. Illustrating one of the perils of playing baseball in the deadball era, this cartoon from the Los Angeles Times shows Frank Chance returning thrown bottles to their original owners, with interest.

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Throwing the ball around. This photograph was taken on April 23, 1918, in Brooklyn’s Ebbets Field by noted baseball photographer Charles Conlon. Dressed in his road gray uniform with a plug of Bull Durham in his cheek, Bradley strikes the perfect pitcher’s pose while warming up, prior to his first start against the Dodgers as a Phillie. Courtesy of National Baseball Hall of Fame Library, Cooperstown, New York.

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Chicago, finally Bradley’s kind of town. Shown standing in the visitors’ dugout at Weeghman Park on a winning day in 1918, Bradley takes in the game from ground level. Chicago Daily News negatives collection, DN-0003451, courtesy of the Chicago Historical Society.

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It wasn’t funny. In spite of appearing in a cartoon, Bradley’s appearance in this May 2, 1918, effort by Edgar Wolfe signified his arrival as a force in Philadelphia pitching. Wolfe, a Philadelphia Inquirer sportswriter-cartoonist operating under the nom-de-plume “Jim Nasium,” contributed to the enlightenment of baseball fans throughout Philadelphia with his insightfully penned editorial meanderings. Bradley’s work in relief during a 6–0 loss to the Giants earned him a spot in Wolfe’s cartoon, for Bradley’s performance wasn’t fiction, based on five shutout innings of three-hit ball with a double thrown in for good measure.

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Size does matter. Ask any ballplayer who ever played in Philadelphia’s Baker Bowl, which, according to this 1916 Philadelphia Inquirer cartoon, was about half the size of a pack of cigarettes. With a right field fence that was death to pitchers and a center field fence that was death to hitters, the overall dimensions could kill an earned run average overnight. The fact Bradley had the control to compile a 2.53 E.R.A. in 1918 without the benefit of a homefield advantage or hitting support shows how good a pitcher he really was.

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Bradley gives Cincinnati nothing. In Mr. Nasium’s 1918 Philadelphia Inquirer cartoon, Bradley is shown throwing impossibilities, which caused the cartoonist to title the drawing “It Can’t Be Done.” What he was referring to was hitting or scoring, for Bradley’s 5–0 shutout over Christy Mathewson’s Reds on June 4 was a jewel. The commentary from the participants in the affair is noteworthy.

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“Take Barney Google, F’rinstance.” Nothing like a refreshing day at the ballpark, especially if you’re more refreshed than anybody else. And according to cartoonist Billy DeBeck, Barney Google was one refreshed baseball fan. Cartoon characters regularly went to ball games, for they were part of everyday life, and Barney was part of everyday American life for more than fifty years. Making its debut in July, 1919, in the San Francisco Herald-Examiner, the twenty-nine-year-old DeBeck’s cartoon strip was an instant hit. This strip appeared in the Philadelphia Inquirer.

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Fly me to the moon. Or Barcelona. Even though reality was decades away, by the time Bradley reported to the Phillies in 1919 men had already flown the Atlantic twice, and the possibility of flying to Italy for a spaghetti dinner was firmly seated on people’s plates. This Philadelphia Inquirer editorial cartoon takes it to its logical extreme, considering the aircraft available at the time, but within twenty years the subject of the cartoon would be the subject of dinner conversation in Barcelona and thousands of other faraway places.

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Cravath is a hit in Philadelphia. And in the rest of the National League cities as well, as Philadelphia Inquirer sportswriter-editorial cartoonist Charles Bell made clear, for the Phillies’ manager–right fielder would lead the league in 1919 with a .341 batting average and twelve home runs. This was the third year in a row Cravath would lead the league in homers, having hit twelve in 1917 and eight in 1918. This kind of hitting would come to an abrupt end when the dead ball came alive in 1920, for twenty-four-year-old Babe Ruth, still pitching for the Boston Red Sox when he wasn’t playing in the outfield, would hit a record twenty-nine and change the game forever.

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The white man’s burden. According to Charles Bell of the Philadelphia Inquirer, the collapsing 1919 Phillies that were inherited by Gavvy Cravath on July 7 were the burden of a lifetime. Letting Philadelphia fans know what Cravath was up against, Bell put former Phils manager Pat Moran, then with the eventual world champion 1919 Reds, on the winning side of the fence with a little commentary of his own.

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Irish gets his Irish up. In 1919, Phillies’ outfielder Irish Meusel was doing his damnedest in his second major-league season, in the field and at the plate, earning himself the feature in Charles Bell’s latest Philadelphia Inquirer editorial missive. Meusel’s .305 as a cleanup hitter was excellent, but the fact he only had fifty-nine runs batted in for the season showed how few of his teammates were on base waiting for his expertise. Batting over .300 wasn’t an anomaly, for Irish would go on to play eleven years of major-league ball with the Phillies and Giants, and retire with a career average of .309. His brother Bob would also play eleven years in the majors, primarily in the New York Yankees’ outfield next to Babe Ruth, and would retire with a .308 average, so you could say hitting and longevity ran in the Meusel family.

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Bradley Hogg, attorney at law. In his early forties, Bradley is shown in this photograph exuding the success a man of his stature has achieved in small-town Americus, Georgia. The prematurely gray hair, no longer premature, finally works. Photograph courtesy of Amelia Halley.

5

1914 The Ball of Wax

Christmas 1913 came and went, and the only thing certain in Bradley’s life was that Santa made another appearance in South Georgia. While another season in Mobile seemed to be in the cards, at least one hand would be dealt ninety miles up the road in Macon, where Bradley was to report for Boston’s spring training the fifth of March. After his success in Mobile, the Braves wanted another look. At least he wouldn’t have to spend another thirty dollars for a uniform. The same time Bradley’s train was arriving in Macon, another arrival made bigger news in New York when the steamship Lusitania docked, carrying a cargo of poseurs, moguls, and dilettantes that millions would eventually get to see with piano accompaniment: March 5, 1914: New York City. Busy Day For “Movies.” Baseball Party Trip Up Bay Followed By Film Men. Moving pictures of the home-coming tourists were taken yesterday morning, starting at Quarantine, where the Lusitania was held for inspection, and continuing until all the players had departed from the Cunard Pier. The Pathe’ Freres Company chartered a special boat to film the event. At the Cunard Pier all sorts of “movies” were taken of the tourists in groups. Manager John McGraw was kept bust posing for the cameras and Mike Donlin was also allowed to show how happy he was to be back near Broadway. Charlie Comiskey, Jimmy Callahan, Germany Schaefer and other notables of the long tour also received considerable attention.—New York Times

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The Ball of Wax 105 The White Sox’ Charlie Comiskey and John McGraw of the Giants had put together this collaborative world tour to introduce baseball to the unwashed. Playing in Japan, the Philippines, Ceylon, Egypt, and Europe, the trip was a bust baseball-wise but a good time was had by all, as Bradley’s former teammate and vaudeville performer Mike Donlin gladly demonstrated by tapdancing on the deck of the Lusitania for the Pathé cameras. The cameras made news themselves just by being on the scene, for newsreels themselves were new.1 These same cameras wouldn’t be on the scene ten months later, however, when the ship in the newsreels would make bigger news running into a German torpedo off the coast of Ireland. Among the 1,198 dead would be 125 Americans, adding impetus to the United States’ eventual entry into World War I. In Macon, second-year Boston manager George Stallings was only concerned with the resurrection of the long-moribund Braves. Replacing Johnny Kling, the first hire by new owner James Gaffney was an incredible paradox of courtly southern manners and unbelievable profanity. Paradoxically, it must have worked, for under Stallings’s guidance essentially the same team from 1912 had pushed out of the National League cellar and into the heady atmosphere of fifth place. And the “Miracle Man” wasn’t finished. While long shots such as Bradley were being paid nothing beyond room and board as they tried to earn a major-league contract worth some three hundred dollars a month, an astonishing fashion note in silver and gold was documented in black and white in the newspaper: March 5, 1914: St. Petersburg, Russia. Gold And Silver Wigs. The most brilliant ball of the St. Petersburg Winter Season, given by Countess Shouvaloff in her palace on the Fontana Quay was remarkable for the daring headdress of ladies of High Russian Society. Princess Orloff, wife of the Czar’s aide de camp, wore a wig of burnished gold, from which stood out a great plume of golden feathers fixed with emerald and pearl pins. Princess Gortchakoff wore a magenta wig with a high diadem of gold and silver leaves. Her robe of vivid red and orange velvet was bordered with silver fox, while Mme. Isvolsky had a wig of silver hair.—New York Times

Excesses of this nature by those in power in a society living on potatoes would lead to the fall of the czar, a revolution, and the redistribution of that gold and silver three years later. By late March, Stallings was only concerned with an excess of pitching, for the Braves seemed well armed. Lefty Tyler’s career year in 1913 was a great

106 Spitting on Diamonds foundation, as he’d led the National League with twenty-eight complete games. Stallings was also right in thinking Dick “Baldy” Rudolph was on the verge of a career year of his own. The surprise would be “Seattle Bill” James, who after compiling a 6–10 year in 1913 would contribute twenty-six wins before the postseason.2 In addition to dour Hub Perdue, these were the men Bradley had to beat out in order to wear a Braves uniform in 1914, and it wasn’t going to be easy. As far as position players, with few exceptions beyond shortstop Rabbit Maranville and newly acquired Cubs second baseman Johnny Evers, there was a lot of room for improvement. After meeting with Stallings and getting the lay of the land, it was old home week when Bradley immediately ran into some familiar faces from 1912. Hell-raising Maranville was the first and loudest to greet him, along with catcher Hank Gowdy and pitcher Lefty Tyler, who were busy working up a sweat. Hub Perdue was as happy as always, meaning he was all business, and was working off to the side. Looking around, Bradley figured he had a shot, but it turned out to be a misfire after two weeks, for Stallings was a quick study. Calling Bradley into his office on the twenty-first, Stallings introduced him to Briscoe “Bris” Lord, former outfielder for Connie Mack’s world champion Philadelphia Athletics and new manager of the Mobile Gulls. Replacing Mike Finn, Lord was in Macon with club president Ed Coulson looking for some ballplayers, and Stallings had a couple. One was named Bradley Hogg. Bluntly laying it out, Stallings told Bradley he still needed work and that Mobile was the place to get it, so he was releasing him to the Gulls for 1914. The 1915 season would take care of itself. If Bradley was agreeable, he could join both men on the one o’clock train to Mobile. Knowing his options were slim and none, after telling Stallings “I regret leaving the Boston club as I’ve made a bunch of friends,”3 Bradley shook hands and packed his bags. Telephoning Agnes with the news he’d still be eating grits for breakfast, he met Lord and Coulson at the train station and talked baseball for the next ten hours. The only thing Bradley knew for sure was that as hard as it was being sent back to Mobile, it was even harder being in last place, which is where he’d been every time he’d been with Boston. Since it would take a miracle to make a pennant contender out of the Braves, he’d take Mobile and another run at the 1914 Southern Association pennant. Checking into the Bienville hotel, Bradley reported to League Park and signed a Gulls contract for 1914, then dressed out in his Mobile uniform, simultaneously saving his second thirty dollars of the spring. The uniform collection was coming in handy. Going onto the field, he saw changes had been made that went far beyond

The Ball of Wax 107 manager Mike Finn, for through sales, trades, and drafts, 70 percent of the team was new. Catcher Charlie Schmidt was still holding down the plate and greeted him warmly, as did outfielder LaRue Kirby, back for his first full season with the Gulls. Slugging Hack Miller still roamed the outfield along with Danny Clark, who would make up for his lack of hitting with an astonishing lack of errors in 1914: two. Al O’Dell still held down third, while substitute catcher Larry Brown was the final holdover from the runner-up Gulls of 1913. The infield was going to be completely new, as the Gulls’ management frantically raised operating capital by selling third baseman Milt Stock to the New York Giants, Gene Paulette to Nashville, and Charlie Starr to Chattanooga. Bris Lord, Bradley’s new manager and right fielder with the curious name of “The Human Eyeball,”4 had played eight years with Connie Mack’s Athletics. Moving into the dual role of player-manager with Mobile after a final year in the majors playing with Boston in 1913, this was his first season making out lineup cards. Among the men whose names would come out of the end of his pencil were outfielder and fellow Georgian William “Mary” Calhoun, whom Bradley had met in the Braves’ camp in Macon. Bought on Stallings’s recommendation, it had to be interesting to hear Calhoun’s nickname come out of Lord’s mouth when he yelled across the ball field, and even more interesting to hear the six-foot, 180-pound infielder explain away the feminine tendencies it suggested. If nothing else, Calhoun knew how to fight, for with that nickname he’d undoubtedly been in more than one. Hubbard “Hub” Northen was another outfielder new to Mobile and the Southern Association but familiar to Bradley, for he’d faced and beaten him before in the majors when Northen was with Brooklyn in 1912. Hub had already played three years in the majors, constantly having his name misspelled “Northern” in the newspaper box scores as proof. After Heinie Berger was turned into cash in a deal with Nashville, following the other deductions Mobile’s entire pitching staff with the exception of Bradley and occasional fill-in LaRue Kirby was new, but every one of them would pitch in the major leagues before they were done. Leo “Lefty” Townsend would wear a Cubs uniform in 1920 and ’21, while Burt “Speed” Keeley had already pitched two years with the Washington Senators before becoming a confirmed but effective minor-league pitcher.5 Tall, skinny Jim Gudger had been bought from New Orleans, along with his collection of spectacularly colorful hats, and would turn out to be the surprise of the season and win nineteen games. Having made their moves prior to the season, by April 1914 the only change the Gulls were concerned with involved ownership of the Southern

108 Spitting on Diamonds Association pennant, and since most of the teams in the league had rearmed, the race promised to be tighter than it had in years. Living up to its billing, New Orleans and Atlanta got out of the gate first, with Birmingham and Mobile hot on their heels. Memphis and Montgomery were the only teams out of it early, but Bradley would find even those two could cause trouble on a good day. On May 1, Bradley went up against future Hall of Famer Burleigh Grimes of Birmingham in a battle of spitballs, Bradley getting the best of “ol stubblebeard” 5–2, future plaque and all, while throwing in a double for good measure. Not letting the loss take his eye off the prize, Grimes would move up to the majors in 1916 with Pittsburgh and throw his spitball around the National League for the next nineteen years before finally retiring with 270 wins, the last legal spitballer in the major leagues.6 While the 1914 season would turn out to be a bear for many, in Mobile the bear wasn’t fictional, for Bradley owned a fur coat he had to feed and was proud to show it off regardless of the season. Given to him at the end of the 1913 season by a group of fans and friends at his alma mater, “Mercer” was a bear cub more widely traveled than most. Raised from a fuzzball, he was completely tame and accustomed to living and being around humans. During baseball season, Bradley would give him to his brother Willis to take care of, and he would ride around town in the passenger seat of Willis’s Model T Ford. Every afternoon they would stop at the local drugstore for a Coke at the soda fountain in Ellaville, causing a stampede on more than one occasion among customers unfamiliar with a bear’s affinity for Asa Candler’s product.7 Mercer also had an affinity for baseball, so several weeks into the season Willis packed up and drove him to Mobile to take in a few games, which is how the bear in the picture got to be in the picture in the first place. It’s unknown whether Willis had to buy Mercer a seat or whether bears got in free, but they both got to see some hairy baseball on May 10 when Bradley’s nine innings of six-hit shutout ball against Memphis went down the drain on outfielder Danny Clark’s dropped fly ball. Making it truly a bear of a day, this let in the Turtles’ only run in an excruciating 1–0 loss. This error also ruined Bradley’s initial experiment with his new shine ball, which a familiar face swung at and missed all afternoon: former Brooklyn outfielder Dolly Stark. The first major-league batter Bradley ever hit with a pitch, Stark got to relive the 1911 experience that day in another uniform. By the fourteenth, Mobile was in sixth place, playing .464 baseball, and people were starting to wonder what kind of birds the Gulls really were. Several thousand fans wearing skirts and hats decided to find out for themselves when they responded to the “Baseball To-Day” ad in the Mobile Register featuring a free band concert and free admission for the ladies. Women had proved to be not only knowledgeable fans but also a civilizing factor at the

The Ball of Wax 109 ballpark, reducing swearing, drinking, and fighting among the men in attendance. Luckily, a prolonged fight with Bradley’s shine ball turned into an almost hitless affair: May 16, 1914: League Park, Mobile, Alabama. Hogg Pitches In Form—Gibson Gets a Home Run. Mobile beat Nashville to-day, score 2 to 1, thereby evening up the series, each club winning two games. Hogg pitched brilliant ball throughout, and although Renfer, too, pitched well he allowed bunched hits in two innings. Gibson’s home run over the right field fence in the second counted Nashville’s only run.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

The way Bradley’s wax was working on the fourth-place Vols, former major leaguer Ed Renfer didn’t stand a chance. That same day, three ballplayers cashed in on their fame by appearing in the Times-Picayune in an ad for Patterson’s Tuxedo Tobacco. While extolling its satisfying, relaxing mild coolness, amazingly Athletics’ first baseman “Stuffy” McInnis stated it didn’t affect his wind. Considering McInnis didn’t have to run anywhere playing first, it probably didn’t. Mobile began its first serious run against the Crackers on the eighteenth with Leo Townsend and Jim Gudger both winning and taking the Gulls into fifth place. Bradley pitched in three days later against visiting second-place Chattanooga, beating them 4–2 in spite of the efforts of Lookout shortstop Mike Balenti, “who didn’t look like an Indian” in 1914 any more than he had in 1911. Bradley was looking like a hitter, though, when the Southern Association batting statistics were released at the end of May, showing his .315 average ranking fifteenth in the league. With his bat and arm in top working order by the end of the Chattanooga series, the Gulls had moved into third place and were ready to take on the Crackers in Atlanta. Or so Bradley thought, until they scored three runs off him in the first inning and never looked back, eventually scoring thirteen runs by hitting anything and everything he threw. Bouncing back a week later, he threw a winning five-hitter against seventhplace Memphis, and followed it with another win over Chattanooga, making the Lookouts dance to his tune. At the same time, two teachers in puritan Louisiana tripped over their feet on the dance floor: June 6, 1914: Edgard, Louisiana. Teachers Dismissed. At a meeting to-day of the school board two teachers who had violated the rules laid down by the board not to permit a certain style of

110 Spitting on Diamonds dancing at the entertainments given by the different school clubs were dismissed summarily from the teaching force of the parish. —New Orleans Times-Picayune

Boarding a train for New Orleans and a series with the second-place Pelicans, the Gulls arrived late Sunday afternoon in time to take in the sights. In addition to the large number of men and women promenading along the lakefront, the city had set up refreshment stands along with a bandstand for concerts and free movies, which meant the price was definitely right for Bradley and other traveling film fans. While people in rented skiffs skimmed the lake in the twilight, the band played on and the movies rolled, to the crowd’s delight.8 When the Pelicans rolled over Bradley for five runs in the seventh the following day, the cheering continued, seven tight innings of work going up in smoke in front of a thousand wildly enthusiastic schoolchildren, guests of a management with foresight. New Orleans’ owner Julius Heinemann was turning out to be one of the most progressive of Southern Association owners, and was looking to build a Pelican fan base through the radical means of marketing. Meanwhile, crossing the Mississippi by rail was going to require radical changes as well, like teaching the engineer to swim: June 10, 1914: St. Louis, Missouri. Half of Mississippi River Bridge Sold. Real Estate Man Buys It For Taxes. The eastern half of the Merchant’s bridge, one of the great railway structures spanning the Mississippi River here, was sold for taxes to-day for $11,082. It was bought by Percy P. Lusk, an Edwardsville, Ill. real estate man. The half of the bridge was sold because the subsidiary of the St. Louis Terminal Railroad Association, which owned the bridge, refused to pay back taxes.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

A loss and a win and a loss and a win proved history—and Bradley—repeats itself, for when he was good he was very very good, but when he was bad he was 16–0, twenty hits, six bases on balls, and two stolen bases. All of which belonged to last-place Montgomery. As bad a day as that was, it didn’t compare to the one Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary had four days later in Sarajevo, when nineteenyear-old Serbian anarchist Gavrilo Princip ran up to his carriage and shot him dead. The killing would be the first of millions, for it would touch off the European tinderbox starting World War I.

The Ball of Wax 111 With their hopes of a pennant seemingly going up in flames as well, Mobile was running in place when Chattanooga, New Orleans, and Birmingham simultaneously went into a tailspin. After the crashes and Bradley’s shutout of the Lookouts, Bris Lord’s surprised flock of Gulls found themselves alone in first in Chattanooga, overlooking the rest of the league. All the signs were there: Bradley was on a roll. After a win over the Vols in front of seven thousand fans in Nashville’s rancid Sulphur Dell Bottom left him with a four-game winning streak, he was starting to do the impossible: smell the roses in Tennessee. Sulphur Dell was one of the oldest ballparks in the South, baseball having been played in this malodorous location next to the city dump since the 1860s. The tiny wooden grandstand with an incredibly short right field fence went by the name of “the dump” because of the strong stench that no doubt hampered hot dog sales. Ground rules were difficult to explain, as outfielders wore a path to a twenty-five-foot ledge along the outfield fence as they chased deep fly balls.9 Close proximity to the Cumberland River guaranteed soggy, less-than-perfect field conditions every day of the year, which Bradley’s spitter only made worse. Bradley won again when he met his favorite redhead at the train station in Mobile, for Agnes had come for a visit and a game. Bradley was up for both occasions, batting 1.000: July 17, 1914: Athletic Park, Mobile, Alabama. Hogg’s Hurling Too Much For Crackers; Gulls Win. Former College Twirler Holds Locals to Five Hits; Northen Knocks Ball Over Right Field Fence With Two On Bases. Bradley Hogg pitched a brilliant game here this afternoon and the Gulls shut out the Crackers in the opening game of the series, 4 to 0. A fair-sized crowd witnessed the first battle between the teams, who are battling for the leadership of the league.—Atlanta Journal

Going up against former Brooklyn pitcher Eddie Dent in earning his sixth straight win, Bradley held the Crackers to five hits with the partisan crowd loudly behind every strike. Agnes was obviously and noisily into the game, for the newspaper noted her presence: July 18, 1914: Mobile, Alabama. The Real Reason. While Hogg is always effective against the Crackers, his great work yesterday was probably due to the fact that somebody was lamping Bradley from the stands, somebody that he didn’t want to think he wasn’t a real pitcher. On the former trip of the Gulls to Atlanta, after working his

112 Spitting on Diamonds turn in the box, he visited Macon. SHE was present. If she can inspire you to such noble efforts, why not team up, Brad, old scout, and have her along all the time as mascot.—Mobile Register

“Lamping” was the term for Agnes batting her eyes at Bradley every chance she got, and it must have been one really bright light to make the paper. A light from above was also shining the next day in Montgomery, when religious fundamentalists sent the sheriff to a baseball game instead of to church: July 19, 1914: Montgomery, Alabama. Sheriff To Act. Sheriff Hood to-night announced that he had been requested to be ready to serve warrants against the Chattanooga and Montgomery ball players tomorrow afternoon at the ball park, for alleged violation of the Sunday baseball law. He was told the warrants would be sworn and the scheduled Southern League game prevented in order to make a test cast. It is understood that after the arrests are made and bonds are provided the teams will continue with the game.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

While legal in cities such as Mobile, New Orleans, Chicago, Cincinnati, and St. Louis by 1914, Sunday baseball was a sore subject throughout the United States for years. Illegal even in New York until 1919, many people were adamant about Sunday not being a day to enjoy yourself unless it was in a place with a pipe organ. Pipe organs at ballparks? While the wheels of justice were grinding away in Montgomery, Bradley got to spit for the home folks, winning for the seventh straight time as he shut down Memphis on three hits, 5–1, facing only twenty-nine men. He was getting good at this baseball thing. And even when he was bad, he was good, winning 9-7 over Chattanooga for his eighth in a row when he was sharp as a dull tack. Six days later, there was a month for the scrapbook: August 1, 1914: Athletic Park, Mobile, Alabama. Hogg Wins Ninth Straight. Mobile and Nashville divided a doubleheader today, scores 3 to 0 and 2 to 1. Hogg pitched his ninth consecutive victory when he won the first game.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

Not much of a write-up, but a 3–0, two-hit shutout was a nice way to put an exclamation point on his unbeaten month of July. Definitely earning his money, Bradley’s streak brought his league-leading record to 17–7 with two ties in twenty-six complete games, for a winning percentage of .708.

The Ball of Wax 113 Gulls outfielder LaRue Kirby was earning his money as well, leading the league in hitting with a phenomenal .604. Former Giant Harry “Moose” McCormick of Chattanooga was hot on his heels with a .596, as the top ten batters in the league were all hitting over .400. Ironically, Gulls manager–right fielder Bris Lord’s .417 only earned him ninth place on the list.10 Beginning to believe their press clippings, Mobile was brought back to earth when the Gulls’ nemesis, Birmingham, came to town and popped everyone’s balloon. Twice. Bradley’s 3–0 defeat brought him back to reality with a bang. Three days later, the Gulls fluttered into New Orleans with first place on the line. After losing the first game, they dropped off their precarious perch into second with a resounding thud and a cloud of feathers, looking up at the Southern League’s newest feathered powerhouse, the Pelicans. And with the pennant up for grabs between Mobile, New Orleans, and Birmingham during the last month of the season, every game would be a step up or down the championship ladder. Bradley took four steps down the up staircase when he proceeded to pitch terrific baseball over the next two weeks but lost all five games while giving up a total of five runs. With no hitting support, he knew his earned run average of 1.00 wasn’t good enough. He was going to have to be perfect in an imperfect world. With perfection out of his reach, Birmingham took over first, New Orleans dropped into second, and the Gulls found themselves stuck in third, unable to fly at all. On the twenty-sixth, Athletic Park was packed when the Crackers came to town and Bradley put on a show. Unfortunately, his left fielder wasn’t watching at the end: August 26, 1914: Athletic Park, Mobile, Alabama. Divide Double Bill. Williams Beats Gulls and Gudger the Crackers. Mobile and Atlanta divided a double-header to-day, the visitors winning the first, 1 to 0, and Mobile the second, 5 to 4. Hogg clearly outpitched Williams in the first, but Hudnall’s error in dropping a fly ball gave Atlanta the only run of the game.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

At this point in the season, Bradley’s one-run losses could make a necklace. With Mobile’s staff shredded with wear and the team’s bats in cold storage, desperate times called for desperate measures. As proof, Jim Gudger pitched a two-hit shutout in the first game of a doubleheader against Nashville on the thirtieth, then got knocked out of the box in the fourth inning of the second game when Bris Lord had him try and do it again.

114 Spitting on Diamonds Bradley tried his best against Chattanooga the next day, but an error and two misplayed fly balls in the ninth meant both he and the Gulls came up short again, by what was becoming the popular, one-run margin. On the fifth, Bradley went up against Nashville and the home plate umpire and came up empty, taking Bris Lord to the showers with him in the fifth inning of a 2–0 loss. Two days later, Mobile dropped two to the Crackers as the pitching collapsed, Bradley, Tetrick, and Townsend giving up thirty-six hits for the day as the Gulls dropped into fourth. The shadows of 1914 were dissolving into night when Bradley finally broke into the win column again at Chattanooga’s Andrews Field, shutting out the Lookouts 1–0 on the thirteenth. Lasting only five innings after being hit on the hand by a line drive and leaving the game with a 1–0 lead, he gave way to “Speed” Keeley, who pitched four shutout innings himself while putting an end to Bradley’s losing streak. It was too little, too late, for Birmingham beat New Orleans the same day, taking the 1914 Southern Association pennant with a week left on the schedule. With three games left in the season, all Mobile could do was play out the string. Tightening the knot, the Gulls went into Red Elm Park in Memphis and promptly swept the Turtles in a doubleheader, moving into third. But on the last day of the season, Bradley and the Gulls didn’t waste any time on the National Pastime: September 15, 1914: Red Elm Park, Memphis, Tennessee. Gulls Finish Season In Second Place. Win Final Game with Turtles, 1–0—Hogg Pitches In Great Form. Mobile defeated Memphis, 1 to 0, in the final game of the season here today. The game was played in fifty-eight minutes. Hogg held Memphis to three hits, while Mobile pounded Howard Merritt freely. —New Orleans Times-Picayune

Imagine going to the trouble of going to the ballpark, buying a ticket, a beer, and a sandwich, finding your seat and finally getting settled, only to have the game over in less time than it took you to get to the park in the first place. Nine innings. Fifty-eight minutes. Ironically, when it was done, the Gulls were right back where they started. In second place. Again. Not a pennant, but not bad in the scheme of things. And good enough to lose Mobile a manager, as Bris Lord quickly accepted an offer from Memphis to manage for 1915. This meant Bradley would be breaking in his third man-

The Ball of Wax 115 ager in three years the following season, only this time he knew him, for the Gulls officially made the Boss the boss, signing Charley Schmidt to a contract for 1915 when they got back to Mobile.11 Schmidt definitely knew what to do behind the plate, for he caught the last fifty-three games of the season without an error while batting .285. What he would do from the manager’s perspective remained to be seen. What Bradley would be doing during the off-season had already been decided. During the last weeks of the pennant race, he had been approached by Birmingham manager Carleton Molesworth with a proposition to join the club after the season for a barnstorming tour through Cuba. Games had already been scheduled with some of the best teams on the island, including La Paz and the legendary Almendares team, conquerors of the New York Giants and Detroit Tigers in similar tours in past postseasons.12 The proposition was interesting and the money was good so Bradley agreed, having something in mind for the profits: he had proposed to Agnes, and was getting married in the spring. Meeting most of the Barons and several other Southern League players Molesworth had added to the roster, two days after the season ended the boys boarded a ship for Cuba. The island was in the throes of welcoming more than barnstorming ballplayers, however, as new president Mario Menocal’s arrangements with J. P. Morgan and the National City Bank of New York had resulted in the arrival of electricity, telephones, and automobiles, all hinged on an economy built on a mountain of sugar.13 With baseball built on a mountain of talent, Cuban teams had a well-earned reputation for being some of the most competitive anywhere, especially after opening its integrated leagues to foreign players in 1907. As a result, many of the best black American players made their way south to compete with the best on a daily basis. And in the American off-season, that included some of the best teams from the majors and minors, all of which happened to be white. As a result, after several days of playing tourist in front of packed houses filled with vocal, demonstrative, and highly partisan fans from both Cuba and the States, many of the southerners faced black players on the ball field for the first time in their lives. The series went off without a hitch. Well, maybe one. An incident the Birmingham News referred to the following spring featured the international social graces of Bradley Hogg and his Georgia upbringing: ‘Speaking about Bradley Hogg, the Mobile twirler who is accredited with being about the best in the Southern League,’ wrote J. E. Sullivan of the Havana Post, ‘Hogg was with the Barons on their Island tour but didn’t

116 Spitting on Diamonds shine with any particular brilliancy. He, as everyone doubtlessly knows, is from Georgia, a graduate of Mercer University, and a lawyer by profession. And, incidentally, he is imbued with all the radical prejudice of a native Cracker where social equality with the negro is concerned. ‘The Barons had games scheduled with the Almendares and La Paz teams, two of the best in Cuba, and some of the players on these teams were negroes. In fact, Mendez is considered one of the best pitchers in the world, and his color only keeps him out of the big American leagues. ‘So when Colonel Hogg made his debut in the Pearl of the Antilles, he found himself pitching against a dusky twirler and pitching to dusky batters. ‘The American colony was well represented at the first game, and as Hogg stepped into the box an American fan yelled, “Look at that Georgy Cracker pitching to them niggers.” ‘Hogg, so to speak, went up in the air, and didn’t come down until the Cuban series was over. ‘Oh, yes, he pitched fine ball, but instead of pitching to the batter he pitched at the batter. Those Cubans grew to be expert dodgers, and after the first three games Hogg seldom swatted them.’14

Twenty-seven-year-old Almendares pitcher Jose Mendez was only 5'10" and 150 pounds, but had already taken the measure of Ty Cobb and the Detroit Tigers in 1908 and beaten the legendary Christy Mathewson and the Giants in 1911 by the time Bradley ran into him. After watching him split the series with Mathewson, John McGraw commented he would be willing to pay fifty thousand dollars for him if he could play him, while Cincinnati baseball writer W. A. Phelon opined, “What a sensation Mendez would be if it was not for his color. That, alas, is a handicap he cannot outgrow.”15 Bradley was lucky he didn’t lose more than a few ball games with his performance, for John McGraw had run into some intense Almendares fans who went after him with knives.16 The knife-wielders must have missed his pitching demonstrations, for Bradley eventually left Cuba with extra cash in his pocket and his aberrant southern honor upheld, returning to south Georgia and the round-robin preceding every wedding since the institution was invented. This was also an off-season with a guaranteed ending, for Mobile had signed his spitter, curve, and paraffin ball for another run at the Southern Association pennant in 1915. With a final record of 19–14–2 earned over 285 innings, the equivalent of thirty-one complete games, along with an earned run average of 3.10, he was expecting better things. Especially if Mobile could find outfielders that could hold onto the ball and people that could hit it. For there were about ten one-run games he’d lost, and he wanted them back with interest.

6

1915 The Southern Star

1915 got off to a ringing good start, for Mr. Bell and Mr. Watson were at it again, only this time the inventor sent Watson to San Francisco to pick up the phone, where he received the first transcontinental phone call on January 25.1 Congress answered the call as well, deciding the sky was the limit and appropriating three hundred thousand dollars to fund military aviation.2 There was another ring in Buena Vista, along with a suitcase full of souvenirs, cigars, and money when Bradley arrived from Cuba, ready to make a major-league commitment. On the third of March, the ring belonged to Agnes as she officially became a baseball wife, complete with a spring training honeymoon that made the papers: March 11, 1915: Mobile, Alabama. Hogg and Bride Arrive. Pitcher Hogg, accompanied by his bride of a week arrived in the city on Wednesday afternoon from Buena Vista, Ga., and are at the Bienville Hotel, where they were given an ovation by their friends on Wednesday night.—Mobile Register

Agnes’s introduction to the baseball world was a festive if sweaty one, as her new husband had to go to his sixty-foot, six-inch office every morning. She soon settled into the routine of hotel living, sightseeing, and becoming a familiar sight at the ballpark. And with her flaming red hair, big hats, and upto-date scorecards, the good-looking Mrs. Hogg was hard to miss. There wasn’t much of Mobile she missed either, for it was her first chance to explore one of the oldest cities in the country. Old, narrow streets led up from the wharves and into an erratic maze of linguistic frenzy, as French, Spanish, and English street names revealed the city’s multicultural past. Neighborhoods featuring old homes with lace ironwork, balconies, and gardens straight

117

118 Spitting on Diamonds out of Seville contrasted with others of French parentage, complete with rosecovered walls and green shutters. Accented by fountains and featuring more than seventeen miles of flower-lined landscaping, the city was on display every day.3 The fact that there was a little ballpark at the corner of Ann and Tennessee Streets just made it better, and a place Agnes was glad to be. Reporting to League Park, the new bridegroom found nothing had changed: more rookies, veterans, and holdouts, along with his ninth new manager in his sixth year of professional ball. Knowing Charley Schmidt made things easier, while Schmidt found managing made things harder. Right off the bat there were holdouts that had to be dealt with or dealt away, like outfielder Hub Northen, who’d had a good year in the field in 1914 but disappeared at the plate. A raise? Batting .238, Northen was lucky to be employed. Hardhitting third baseman Al O’Dell wanted more money as well, and had the batting average to warrant it. Lefthander Leo Townsend thought seventeen wins deserved more money too, and was staying away until somebody found some. What Schmidt found was two more pitchers, signing “Tex” Covington of Kansas City along with Jim Cunningham, a semi-pro from Newport, Arkansas. Spitballer Jim Gudger was as moist as ever, while rookie Ed Holmquist had joined the arms race in search of his first uniform. Slugging Hack Miller was still in the outfield, Clay Perry was still holding down third, while Mary Calhoun, a practicing holdout, was still catching hell for his name and high throws at first. Utility infielders Bob Baumgardner and Norbert Neiderkorn, along with second baseman Walt Powell, were unknown factors looking for a home. While the newcomers were trying to perform plays correctly, one of the earliest examples of political correctness made the papers: March 12, 1915: Boston, Massachusetts. Plantation Songs Vulgar Says Boston. Boston public school authorities decided some time ago that “My Old Kentucky Home,” “Massa’s In de Cold Cold Ground” and other familiar old plantation songs were “vulgar” and therefore should not be allowed to appear in the song books used in schools. In order that some of the best of these American folk songs not be entirely lost to the cultured Boston people, a New York Sun poet has suggested the following Bostonian version: MASSA’S IN DE COLD, COLD GROUND. Around the tracts of rich pastureland is resounding in bell-like manner The colored person’s sorrowful expression of a lyric

The Southern Star 119 set to musical accompaniment While the member of the Avis family known as the American thrush is expressing itself in song Felicitous as the diurnal circle is extensive in that place ancient employer is reposing Reposing in the frigid, frigid earth.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

On the eleventh, the Gulls got their faces rubbed in the frigid, frigid earth in front of a big crowd as they played host to the Detroit Tigers in an exhibition game and lost 6–0. Ty Cobb made his first appearance of the year a memorable one when the Georgia Peach put one over the fence while Bradley watched from the bench.4 Preventing home runs was part of the advice girls in Chicago were getting the same day from columnist Annie Laurie: March 25, 1915: Chicago, Illinois. Advice To Girls Dear Annie Laurie: A young man calls on me every Wednesday and Friday evenings and sometimes comes home from church with me Sunday nights. He always seems to want to hold my hand. Should I allow him to do that? He has never kissed me or put his arm around me because he knows I do not approve of such actions.—MISS PRIM I am glad that you preserve your dignity and do not allow even a regular caller to take any liberties with you. As to holding your hand, if he has told you that he cares for you, it is quite permissible for him to show this affection by some caress. If he has never done this, then be gracious and gentle, but keep yourself and your hands out of his reach.—ANNIE LAURIE, Chicago Daily Evening News

Mobile pitchers could have used some advice, specifically how to keep their balls out of the reach of opposing batters as the Gulls proceeded to lose to any and all comers in exhibitions. After Bradley dropped a 6–3 contest to the Cincinnati Reds, Charley Schmidt realized the hitting he thought he had he didn’t. A perceptive Times-Picayune reporter commented on the quality of the teams in the league, stating that in addition to Mobile’s problems with the bat, Birmingham was in trouble due to a poor infield: “Think of the Wambsganzes, Pezolds and other mediocre infielders the Barons had to use last year because of the lack of good material.”5 Defying mediocrity, Larry Pezold would play a year for Cleveland, while Bill Wambsganss would also defy the label by playing in the major leagues for thirteen years, primarily with Cleveland, and enter the record books in 1920 with the only unassisted triple play in World Series history.6

120 Spitting on Diamonds Other managers in the league had different problems, and one of them put his cards on the table: April 2, 1915: New Orleans, Louisiana. Ban On Card Playing. No Games Among Ball Players After Season Opens. No Card playing for the ball players after April 13. This was the edict pronounced today by manager Johnny Dobbs of the Pelicans, and the “boss” declared that the rule must be obeyed. Card playing and ball playing cannot go together. “You fellows get all you want of that ten-cent limit stuff within the next two weeks” said Johnnie, “Play your heads off now if you like, for when the season starts the stuff’s off.” —New Orleans Times-Picayune

Three-year Mobile third baseman Al O’Dell was off too, and on his way to San Antonio following his unsuccessful holdout. Rather than give one of their best hitters a raise, Schmidt sold him outright, along with his batting average. Spring training in the Southern Association wasn’t all work, however, as the Gulls found when they arrived in Bogalusa, Louisiana, to play an exhibition game against the local boys. At times it included the Royal Treatment. In Bogalusa, this involved a committee of local fans entertaining them at the Pine Tree Inn, an automobile trip around the town, and a visit to the monstrous sawmill plant of the Great Southern Lumber Company, which was in full operation. Then they were entertained at the local Y.M.C.A.7 How red can a carpet get? By the middle of April, flannel was the fabric on Charley Schmidt’s mind as he decided who was going to wear Mobile uniforms for 1915. He had also decided who was going to pitch on opening day. As the Gulls and their wives and girlfriends boarded the train for Atlanta, Schmidt succumbed to the spirit of the season and went out on a limb: April 12, 1915: Mobile, Alabama. We’re Ready, Says Gull Leader, and Are Anxious for the Gong to Hit; Bradley Hogg Works In Opener. “We’re ready,” says Charley Schmidt, who makes his debut today as manager after many years of faithful service as a mere player, in discussing the opening game scheduled today with the Atlanta Crackers. “The fellows are all in fine condition and anxious for the gong to hit. We’ll be in there every day fighting ‘em and I’m confident we have a club capable of sticking around in the race during the entire season.” —Mobile Register

The Southern Star 121 The Register reporter added, “The Gulls are as fit as hard practice could possibly make them. It was definitely announced by Manager Schmidt Monday night that Bradley Hogg would pitch the opening game for the Gulls. The big twirler is in excellent condition, and with good support will likely begin the season with a victory. Manager Schmidt will handle his delivery, while Hiett, a pitcher from Fort Worth in the Texas League will pitch for the Crackers.” Arriving in Atlanta amidst great fanfare for the opening day festivities at Ponce de Leon Park, the Gulls found the grandstands packed as civic-minded businesses such as Coca-Cola had given their employees a paid half-holiday. Ladies’ clubs sold tickets in the streets, filling the park with thousands of noisy fans as the city competed with the other league cities in a pseudoaltruistic marketing ploy called the “attendance trophy.”8 Awarded the club with the best opening-day attendance, take a wild guess who really took home the silver. After the mayor threw out the first ball, it was the Crackers, 4–1, when Bradley gave up ten hits and hit two batters during a desperate search for home plate. Following the game, an exhausted flock of Gulls boarded the train for Birmingham and yet another opening day, which turned out better as Jim Gudger came through in the pinches, beating the Barons 6–4 in front of 11,362 screaming fans. The overflow crowd had fans standing deep in the outfield behind the players, forcing ground rules limiting hits to a maximum of two bases. Fly balls got into the crowd several times, and police had to break up fights over the unaccustomed souvenirs as more than one fan took home a shiner instead of a baseball. Lefty Townsend finally signed his contract and got in on the fun the following day, taking a beating in less than two innings on the way to a 7–5 loss. The crowd was considerably smaller, even though boxing was on the program when Mobile took the third game of the series, 8–5. Arguing got Hub Northen thrown out of the game in the fifth, and when the Barons’ first base coach accused Mary Calhoun of dropping a throw that the umpire missed and threw a knockout punch to back up his opinion, it nearly caused a riot. Both men were arrested by the police and had to appear in court the following morning on the charge of “participating in an affray.”9 Birmingham was charged with a loss after the following day’s affray, with Bradley sending the bill: April 17, 1915: Rickwood Field, Birmingham, Alabama. Gulls 4, Barons 3. Bradley Hogg Is Backed by Good Fielding. Bunched hits in the third and fifth innings enabled Mobile to defeat

122 Spitting on Diamonds Birmingham this afternoon by the score of 4 to 3. Both pitchers were hit hard, but Hogg kept them well scattered. Sensational fielding in the ninth inning by Mobile cut short a batting rally on the part of Birmingham.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

Pitching about as well as he had in Atlanta, the only difference was the result. But a win is a win, and the first one of the year is just that. Finally arriving in Mobile for their own opening-day parade, the Gulls, all wearing freshly washed uniforms, rode in open carriages and waved at the crowd while a brass band blasted its way through the city’s streets. Manager Charley Schmidt rode in the lead carriage with a group of newspaper reporters who were along for yet another free ride. While the band provided a free concert at the ballpark, there was the customary presentation to the Gulls’ manager of the obligatory five-foot-tall floral horseshoe for good luck by the Knights of Columbus, who neglected to tell him what to do with it. Collaring Atlanta 5–1, the Gulls began a maddening trend of winning and losing and winning and losing that was getting them nowhere fast. Meanwhile, in an attempt to get Harvard athletics off the dime, motion picture cameras appeared on the ball field for the first time: April 18, 1915: Cambridge, Massachusetts. Athletes in “Movies.” Percy D. Houghton, the Harvard University football coach, is responsible for the introduction of the moving picture camera into the training quarters of the Harvard athletes, in the hopes of instilling a little enthusiasm and inspiring athletes to better efforts. With a moving picture camera trained on them, the boys perform right up to championship form. However, as soon as the camera disappears, there is a noticeable falling off of “pep” on the part of the practicing athletes. “Doc” Sexton, the Harvard baseball coach, recently had a scheme where he would get the maximum of efficiency out of his players by having a dummy motion picture operator training his camera at his squad during their most important games.—New York Times

After a loss to the archrival New Orleans Pelicans and former White Sox pitcher Clarence “Pop-Boy” Smith, Charlie Schmidt was starting to sweat when he was off the field as well as when he was on it, for either every opposing pitcher was Cy Young or his team couldn’t hit. Someone who didn’t have to work on his hitting that spring was catcher Eddie Ainsmith of the Washington Senators, which was lucky, for he would be a little late reporting:

The Southern Star 123 April 22, 1915: Washington, D.C. Put Ainsmith To Work. Eddie Ainsmith, premier catcher of the Washington American league baseball team, was sentenced to thirty days in the work house without option to a fine in police court today after conviction of an assault upon a streetcar motorman. Joe Engel, a pitcher, was fined $50 for participating in the assault.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

The same day Mr. Ainsmith began working pro bono for the city of Washington, Bradley went up against New Orleans in Heinemann Park and put in his shortest day in three years, leaving the game in the first inning behind 8–0 before his opponent, Ed Hovlik, ever threw a ball. In what turned out to be a real team losing effort, according to the Times-Picayune, “The Mobile fielders seemed to be in the same balloon with the pitchers, and with neither of the departments working at all the game resembled a travesty of the national sport rather than a championship affair.” A warning of far greater potential loss had appeared a few days earlier in the travel pages of the New York newspapers that few read, much less heeded: April 22, 1915: New York City. NOTICE! Travelers intending to embark on the Atlantic voyage are reminded that a State of War exists between Germany and her allies and Great Britain and her allies; that the zone of war includes the waters adjacent to the British Isles; that in accordance with formal notice given by the Imperial German Government, vessels flying the flag of Great Britain, or any of her allies, are liable to destruction in those waters and that travelers sailing in the war zone on ships of Great Britain or her allies do so at their own risk. Imperial German Embassy, Washington, D.C. —New York Times

An unaccustomed day off allowed players to take in local vaudeville shows and other delights of New Orleans, and along with some of his teammates, Bradley got to try his hand at the local sport of frog-gigging. Four days later, Mobile ended up on the end of the trident, losing the entire four-game series to the Pelicans, beginning a free-fall that continued in Atlanta as the Gulls lost four more, their eight-game losing streak resulting in sole possession of seventh place in the eight-team league standings. Breaking their losing streak against the Barons didn’t change much, and a horrendous team batting average of .221 showed why. A league-leading nineteen errors in fifteen games didn’t help either. Hoping a really wet baseball would help turn the tide, Bradley opened the

124 Spitting on Diamonds month of May with a small flood, taking Birmingham spitballer Burleigh Grimes to the cleaners again, 5–2. With Bradley off the mound, the Gulls returned to their losing ways and dropped the next three games while doing a fine impersonation of dead men in uniform. This was prophetic when the Groetsch-Leitz funeral home in New Orleans ran an ad guaranteed to get anyone’s attention: May 5, 1915: New Orleans, Louisiana. Groetsch-Leitz Co. Undertakers and Embalmers. Established 1885. Lady Embalmer. Phones: Jackson 72 and 73. James M. Fallo, Manager. —New Orleans Times-Picayune

Exactly what difference a lady embalmer would make to someone unaware of her presence is unclear, but somebody was in a hurry to find out: May 6, 1915: New Orleans, Louisiana. Emil Dieth Dies At His Home. Police announced that Mr. Emile Dieth of New Orleans died at his home today as the result of an accidental gunshot wound to the temple.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

On a death watch of his own, Bradley had a front-row seat in right field several days later as the Gulls lost another one to New Orleans, but the following day he had a closer view of the action, beating the Pelicans 12–1 on a three-hitter. An omen of things to come occurred in the sweaty dressing room after the game, when Charley Schmidt announced in an oblique way that the club needed money more than players by trading pitcher Jim Gudger back to first-place New Orleans for second baseman Carl Flick and cash. Since the Pelicans needed another good pitcher in their run for the pennant, a satchel of money closed the deal, and less than a month into the season the Gulls’ remaining pennant hopes left with New Orleans on the evening train. The next day, however, something bigger than Jim Gudger’s trade occurred off the Irish coast: May 8, 1915: London, England. Fourteen Hundred Persons Perish When Lusitania Is Sunk by German Submarine. Although nothing definite was to be learned in London tonight, it is generally believed that at least 1,400 men, women and children went down with the Lusitania.

The Southern Star 125 The German submarine that dealt the blow to the liner released torpedoes without warning as the passengers were at lunch. The vessel sank within half an hour, some report as little as twenty minutes. So intense was the feeling created in New York by the send up of the Lusitania that Germans were attacked in the streets and boys selling German papers were robbed of their bundles and the papers torn to shreds.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

When Kapitanlieutnant Walther Schweiger of the U-20 sent a lone torpedo into the side of the Lusitania,10 he guaranteed the end of the war for Germany. The shock waves would be felt in the White House, eventually resulting in the United States’ entry into World War I, making it one of the biggest explosions in history. Two days later in a game with New Orleans, rain came to Bradley’s rescue when he exploded after being called for a balk in the third inning. After losing his temper, his concentration, a run, and the lead on two walks and a wild pitch, a downpour cooled him off and washed a potential loss off the books. The next day, the Mobile Register opined, “Bradley Hogg better learn to keep his temper, for without it he isn’t much of a pitcher.”11 In spite of giving up only one run, Bradley lost another 1–0 game, this time to Nashville, as he experienced a little déjà vu by hitting Vols’ shortstop Dolly Stark for the third time in his career. On the fourteenth, a combination of ineffective pitching by Covington, Jim Cunningham, and newly acquired Pat Harkins allowed the Little Rock Travelers to trade places with the Gulls, pushing them into the Southern Association cellar for the first time in four years. Not liking the view, Mobile went after the Travelers with a vengeance, taking the next day’s doubleheader with Bradley having three easy innings before being relieved with an 11–0 lead. Since he’d had a light day, Charley Schmidt sent him out again the following day against first-place Chattanooga and he picked up where he left off: May 16, 1915: League Park, Mobile, Alabama. Lookouts Beaten By Mobile Gulls. Mobile hit Wagner and Marshall hard and had no trouble defeating Chattanooga in the first game of the series, 7 to 0. Hogg pitched fine ball throughout, giving up four scattered hits. Hogg and McGill featured at bat, each hitting safely three times.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

Four hits over twelve innings and a combined four for five at the plate in the two games said Bradley was hot. Then, four days later, Dame Fortune looked away when Bradley slid into second:

126 Spitting on Diamonds May 20, 1915: League Park, Mobile, Alabama. Miller’s Homer Wins Game. Hogg Starts Game, But Is Injured Sliding—Covington Finishes Game. Miller’s home run with the bases full in the third inning scored enough runs for Mobile to defeat Memphis in the opening game of the series today, 6 to 1. Hogg was injured sliding into second, and was replaced by Covington who pitched fine ball.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

Not only did the third-inning slide cost him the win, it cost him his place in the rotation for the next three weeks. Losing their best pitcher for any length of time was one more problem Mobile didn’t need, for with only a quarter of the schedule played, they’d already lost most of their fans and the league had taken notice. The writing and results of six weeks of losing baseball were on the wall and in the paper: May 25, 1915: Birmingham, Alabama. Mobile Must Guarantee To Stay In League In 1916. It was learned on high authority here tonight that officials of the Mobile, Ala. club of the Southern Association must either guarantee to return their membership in the association in 1916 or surrender their franchise at a special meeting of the directors of the association which will be held here tomorrow morning. Following a conference between President Baugh and officials of the Mobile club, it was stated that poor attendance this season has made it impossible for the club to finish the season without the league’s financial assistance. This assistance will be given provided the Mobile directors guarantee to retain their franchise next year.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

That this crisis was occurring only six weeks into the season put stark emphasis on attendance as the cash cow of minor-league baseball in 1915. Like all other minor leagues, the Southern Association lived and died without seats in the seats. Meanwhile, one ballpark was filling up with ease as the Willys-Overland automobile company in Toledo emptied the factory to let everyone go watch a private major-league baseball game: May 25, 1915: Toledo, Ohio. Giants and Tigers Will Play Special Game for Overland Employees June 21. The New York Giants and the Detroit Tigers will journey to Toledo June 21 to give 11,000 employees of the Willys-Overland Company their annual baseball festival. At his personal expense, John N. Willys, president of the Overland Company, will bring the two big league teams together for the first time in baseball history. Managers McGraw and

The Southern Star 127 Jennings have both promised that their teams will take the field with their full playing strength, and that Overland fans will see the two famous teams at their best. This is the second year that Mr. Willys has arranged for two major league teams to play in Toledo during the regular season.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

The idea of renting two major-league teams for a day during the season is amazing, but no more amazing than the fact major-league teams could be rented. But, since all proceeds from the rentals went to the team owners, for them it was just another profitable day at the office. It was a profitable year in the movie business too, as Bradley and Agnes joined millions of Americans celebrating Birth of a Nation that summer when D. W. Griffith’s epic became the first motion picture to sweep the country. Technically brilliant, the racist Civil War epic told from the Southern perspective not only inflamed emotions but also contained dozens of firsts witnessed by motion picture audiences. Among these was the first use of an original musical score, the first use of full-screen close-ups, the first use of night photography, and the first use of traveling or “panning” shots. The insertion of the first frames of color film at the end was just icing on the cake, and a hint of things to come.12 One of these hints occurred after Louis B. Mayer of Haverhill, Massachusetts, paid $50,000 for the exclusive New England distribution rights to the movie and made $500,000. Taking today’s equivalent of $8,755,000 along with his profits from the sale of his chain of area theaters, Mayer moved to Los Angeles and eventually founded Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in 1924.13 Proving the sky was the limit on June 1, MIT awarded the first bachelor’s degree in aeronautical engineering to a class of one.14 However, Robert Goddard was already 100 degrees ahead of the curve in Worcester, Massachusetts, by proving the validity of rocket propulsion.15 For some unfortunates, however, the cost of living had already skyrocketed: June 6, 1915: New York City. Astor Baby Costs $30,000 Per Year, Says His Mother. Sum of $20,000 Not Near Enough to Keep the Youngster in Clothes. John Jacob Astor, now in his third year, the posthumous child of John Jacob Astor who perished on the Titanic, has been living at the rate of $30,000 a year, according to an accounting filed with the surrogate today by his mother, Mrs. Madeleine Pierce Astor, who is his guardian. Mrs. Astor asserts she spent $23,609 of her own money in addition to his maintenance. Chief items in the accounting are one-third of the taxes

128 Spitting on Diamonds on the Astor’s Fifth Avenue home, the taxes being $30,000 a year, $8,000 for professional services of physicians, lawyers and others, and $5,000 for clothing, supplies and toys. Mrs. Astor stated that the income on the trust provided by Mr. Astor is $140,000 a year, and it was Col. Astor’s wish that his son be amply provided for.—New York Times

The $30,000 three-year-old John Jacob Astor was having a hard time living on, according to his mother, is the equivalent of $532,500 in today’s dollars.16 The $5,000 clothing allowance is equal to $88,750, so it’s understandable his mother felt he was being deprived, especially when the average income of an American worker in 1915 was $1,269 and a first-class stamp cost two cents. Of course, if they really wanted to save a few dollars, the Astors could have traveled to New Orleans and had dinner at the Comus Buffet on St. Charles Street, where roast pork with string beans and a salad was thirty cents, and stuffed crab with potato salad was only a quarter. After three weeks of crabbing around on a bum leg, Bradley was finally back in a league-financed Mobile uniform on June 15 for a series against Birmingham, taking the Barons’ measure 6–3 as Agnes led the sparse crowd in cheers from the wives’ box. Six days later, Bradley took the air out of New Orleans with a 5–0 shutout for his third win in a row since returning from injury, and beating the Crackers four days after that 2–1 in a tight pitcher’s duel proved he was on a roll. Things were looking up. Then down. Then up. Then down. The roller-coaster ride continued. Whether it would be a tight game or an explosion, at this point nobody knew what Bradley was going to do until you gave him the ball. In Little Rock, he gave a lot, sixteen hits and nine runs to be exact, in a sloppy 9–7 loss to the cellar-dwellers. On the other hand, he could give very little, beating second-place Memphis 2–1 on three hits in front of a loud and partisan crowd. In other words, when he was hot . . . Meanwhile, movies were a hit in rural Louisiana as they brought schoolchildren into the twentieth century in a Model T Ford: July 29, 1915: Slidell, Louisiana. Has Traveling Road Show. Professor E.S. Richardson of Louisiana State University will give moving picture exhibitions and lectures in several rural public schools. He gets the electric light from an attachment on his automobile which makes it possible to give a moving picture show in the country. As a novelty and a valuable educational feature, this auto-motor-picture show is something out of the ordinary.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

The Southern Star 129 The Memphis Chicks, formerly known as the Turtles and operating in the first year of their name change, took Bradley to the cleaners three days later, 6–3, with the error-filled assistance of Carl Flick, Clay Perry, and Charley Schmidt. With a little more than six weeks to play, all the Gulls were playing for was next year’s paycheck. However, arriving in Atlanta, Bradley returned to form and at the end of the day there was the usual result and the usual score: August 12, 1915: Ponce de Leon Park, Atlanta, Georgia. Gulls 6, Crackers 0. Hogg Scores Shutout, Teammates Bunching Hits to Win. Mobile easily defeated Atlanta here today, the visitors bunching 11 hits with three errors for six runs, while Hogg held the local batsmen scoreless.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

Giving up only four hits, Bradley was on the money from the start. The Crackers’ Scott Perry was a pretty good pitcher in his own right, and would eventually win twenty games for Connie Mack’s Athletics in 1918, but on this day eleven Gull hits said otherwise. Meanwhile, in New Orleans, players were having their say about umpires: August 16, 1915: New Orleans, Louisiana. New Orleans Players Make Serious Charges against Umpire Chesnutt. Charges of “conduct unbecoming an official of the Southern League while on the field of duty,” additional charges of “personal insults and reviling of players” and a specific statement that Umpire Scott Chesnutt had declared to several New Orleans players that “he would get the club when it went on the road” were made against Chesnutt after yesterday’s game by members of the local club. Pitchers Buck Weaver and Jim Bagby and outfielder Larry Pezold made statements to the above effect and stated that Chesnutt had repeatedly called them unprintable names during the games, at which time they were in no position to resent them.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

Having this kind of argument with an umpire in 1915 usually meant a continuance under the stands after the game, with more than words thrown around. This also meant an umpire had to be as quick with his fists as he was with his decisions to survive. Trying to survive a mild losing streak in Nashville, the Gulls drew lots for the batting order in hopes of turning things around, but it didn’t do a lot as Mobile lost, 8–7. The next day, competitive as ever while batting ninth, Bradley broke the streak, beating the Vols 6–0 with profane umpire Scott Chesnutt

130 Spitting on Diamonds calling balls and strikes. Meaning, obviously, the league hadn’t taken away his facemask. Meanwhile, New Orleans owner Julius Heinemann cast his vote on the future and gave Louisiana women an afternoon alternative to the kitchen: August 28, 1915: New Orleans, Louisiana. Special Suffrage Day at Heiney Park. Saturday, August 28, is to be Women’s Suffrage Day at Heinemann Park. President Heinemann was in no wise slow in agreeing to the proposal made to him by the leaders of the Orleans parish branch of the Women’s Suffrage party, to put on a special attraction through which the cause might benefit to some extent. It is understood that a good part of the proceeds of the game will go to further the cause.—New Orleans Times-Picayune

After Clarence “Pop-Boy” Smith beat Bradley and the Gulls 6–5 in the first game of a doubleheader in New Orleans, the bottom fell out and everybody but the umpire got to try out for the pitching staff in an eventual 22–4 loss. The Times-Picayune reported Gulls’ rookie Ed Holmquist started the game against former St. Louis Browns pitcher Mack Allison and his widely advertised “Kentucky mud-ball,” and things got “worse, worser and worsest.”17 The highlight of the Pelicans’ eight-run first inning was a home run by Red Bluhm that earned him a box of cigars, a box of candy, and a bottle of whiskey. Payback came the next day when Bradley de-feathered the Pelicans 5–4 on one day’s rest, giving him a 19–10 record, the best in the Southern Association. Among his competitors, Birmingham’s Burleigh Grimes was eleventh at 15–11. Bradley was a star at twenty-six and proved it on the fifteenth when he won his twentieth, beating Chattanooga and Mr. Raleigh Leonidas Aitchison, formerly of Brooklyn, 4–2, while adding a double in a two-for-three day at the plate. Three days later in Nashville, Bradley accomplished the difficult feat of getting his name in the papers without being in the game as the TimesPicayune reported, “Hogg was put out of the park by Umpire Williams because of alleged profanity on the visitor’s bench.”18 Chicago Cubs president Bill Thompson had been roaming various ballparks in the Southern Association checking out players, and one of them was the now officially profane Bradley Hogg. As a result, on the night of September 18, Mobile got a wire announcing Bradley’s draft for the remainder of the 1915 major-league season, requesting his presence at the Cubs’ West Side Grounds as soon as possible.

The Southern Star 131 Telephoning Agnes with the news, Bradley told her he would have to go straight to Chicago after his last game in Memphis, and for her to pack up and meet him in Buena Vista after the season was over. The next day, with the telegram in his pocket, Bradley pitched four innings of stellar relief, earning another save as Mobile beat Nashville. Going up against Memphis in his last game in a Mobile uniform, an 11–6 loss showed he’d already left for Chicago, leaving behind a final record of 22–12, second-best in the Southern Association. It was a record earned in spite of missing three weeks of the season— and at least seven starts—due to injury. Now he looked forward to a couple of turns at the brass ring on the majorleague stage. After dinner and handshakes all around, the newest Cub boarded the train north. Arriving the following day, Bradley found he was entering a city with much cleaner women, thanks to Judge Lockwood Honore: September 18, 1915: Chicago, Illinois. Wins Right to Bathe in Park Natatorium. Mrs. Cecelia Blanche Quinn is going to be permitted to don her bathing suit and enjoy the waters of the natatorium in Independence Park unmolested, according to a ruling by Judge Lockwood Honore in the Circuit Court this morning. Judge Honore directed that an order be brought in Saturday morning enjoining the Irving Park district commissioner from interfering with Mrs. Quinn’s use of the swimming pool. —Chicago Herald

Suing for the right to swim in a public pool seems ridiculous today, but in 1915 it was one more breaststroke in a long march toward equality of the sexes. Arriving at Union Station, Bradley took a taxi to the sixteen-thousand-seat ballpark at the corner of Lincoln and Polk Streets called West Side Grounds. Built in 1893, it was home to the Chicago Cubs and by 1915 was the North Side’s only connection to faded glory.19 In a state of flux, the Cubs were being run by William Hale Thompson for new majority owner Charles P. Taft. The talent former owner Charles W. Murphy had assembled that won 525 games, four pennants, and two World Series between 1906 and 1910 had faded, and bringing in future Hall of Fame catcher Roger Bresnahan as manager hadn’t changed the Cubs’ recent second-division fortunes on the diamond. This meant Bradley was walking into another mess he had nothing to do with creating when he walked into the last-place Cubs’ offices the morning of September 22. Signing the usual probationary contract good for forty-five days and a

132 Spitting on Diamonds maximum 25 percent pay increase over his Gulls salary, for a raise of some $2.25 a day, or a major-league $32 in today’s dollars, with a stroke of a pen Bradley had gone from owning a bear cub to being one. After the ink dried, he was introduced to the biggest bear in the woods, his new manager and catcher, thirty-six-year-old Roger Bresnahan, the “Duke of Tralee.”20 The 5'9", 200-pound Bresnahan had been Christy Mathewson’s catcher during the Giants’ early glory years under John McGraw, as well as the inventor of catcher’s shin guards in 1907. Manager of the St. Louis Cardinals between 1909 and 1912, he’d been sold to the Cubs in 1913 and had been sharing the catcher’s job with Irishman Jimmy Archer ever since. An outspoken and aggressive player in the mold of McGraw, by 1915 Bresnahan had been in the major leagues for seventeen years. Taking over as Cubs manager at the end of the 1914 season, this was his first—and as it would turn out only—season as the North Side leader. But by the third week of September, all he was concerned with was finding more pitching for his toothless carnivores, and Bradley’s success down South had put him next in line for a look. After being issued the eighth numberless uniform in his ever-expanding collection, along with the accompanying thirty-dollar charge, Bradley noticed the Cubs had saved money on their home caps by going logo-free. Hoping it didn’t take a Chicago accent to identify Cubs players, he dressed and went out onto the field, where Bresnahan introduced him around. Most impressive of his new teammates and the one Cubs pitcher not threatened by the appearance of a southern hotshot was Jim “Hippo” Vaughn. At 6'4", 215, Vaughn had been the Cubs’ premier pitcher for the past two seasons, and would average twenty wins a year between 1914 and 1920. That September, he was at the top of his game and would finish 20–12.21 Sitting in the dugout out of the late-season sun was another Georgian, “Shufflin’ Phil” Douglas from Cedartown, a renowned spitballer and equally renowned drunk. In spite of his state of semi-permanent liquidity, Douglas would pitch in the majors for nine years and record ninety-four wins, not all of which he would remember. Another spitballer, twenty-nine-year-old Jimmy Lavender from Barnesville, Georgia, was in the middle of a six-year majorleague career and had primarily been used as a reliever at a time when relievers weren’t considered a premium commodity. In that role he would end 1915 with the third-highest number of saves in the National League: four.22 Among those Bradley definitely posed a challenge to were Pete Standridge, at the end of what would prove to be his only major-league season, and George Washington “Zip” Zabel, in his third and final year in the majors.23 Luckily, Bradley made friends easily, for they would all get to know each other a lot better in the months ahead.

The Southern Star 133 Veteran Cubs who had seen pitchers come and go for years included Frank “Wildfire” Schulte, a player who enjoyed racing so much that he shared his nickname with his favorite horse,24 and the intense and irritable fashion plate Heinie Zimmerman, an inveterate gambler who held down third base. According to the papers, Zimmerman was so fastidious, “he changed his shirt collar every day.”25 One thing that wasn’t mentioned was that Zimmerman was considered a first-class son-of-a-bitch by teammates and opponents alike. Outfielder Fred “Cy” Williams, along with Schulte and heavy-hitting first baseman Vic Saier, would rank second, third, and fourth in the National League in home runs in 1915, with thirteen, twelve, and eleven respectively,26 proving nearly a century ago that slugging is only part of a winning formula. With seven-year veteran Jimmy Archer of Dublin, Ireland, on the receiving end, Bradley spent an hour demonstrating his curve, spitter, and fastball to Mr. Bresnahan. After Roger saw Bradley could handle himself in “fast company,” he called him over and gave him the good news and the bad: his first shot would come the next day, but it would come against the league-leading Philadelphia Phillies. Not many pitchers had beaten the Phils during their first pennant-winning season, so Bradley knew what he was up against. Under manager Pat Moran, the Phillies were on the verge of clinching the flag with a commanding sevengame lead over second-place Boston and a ten-game lead over third-place Brooklyn. However, with the rest of the league divided by only five games, everybody was fighting over fourth place, the last position in the first division. What made this important to the players was the fact that, at the time, fourth place meant a small slice of the World Series’ financial pie. It was hoped Bradley would be able to supply a knife and fork. When Bresnahan finished with him, he introduced Bradley to legendary future Hall of Fame sportswriter Charles Dryden of the Chicago Tribune and Bill Bailey of the Chicago Herald-American, who along with writers from other papers had been watching the workout from the first row of the grandstands and wanted to ask a few questions. Like the who, what, when, where, and whys of the Cubs’ newest addition. Dryden got what he wanted for the morning edition, overlooking one small detail: Bradley’s name. The error appeared in the next day’s paper: J. Bradley Hogg, attorney at law.27 Proving writers were either consistent or copied each other’s notes, both Bill Bailey of the Chicago Herald and Jack Ryder of the Cincinnati Enquirer made the same mistake.

134 Spitting on Diamonds However, bigger mistakes came to light that same day in Wisconsin and made bigger headlines, for sex is always bigger news than any rookie from Mobile: September 24, 1915: Kenosha, Wisconsin. Men Flee Kenosha as Girl Exposes “High Life.” A half-dozen well-known citizens of Kenosha, Wisconsin have left the city because of stories told the police by Mrs. Mae Molter Bull. Only twenty but plump and attractive, Mrs. Bull was under arrest. The concerned citizens implicated in her stories included a wealthy Kenosha political leader who feared the same fate. Mrs. Bull told of “wild gay auto parties involving many citizens” which revealed Kenosha to be a “modern Babylon” and many of its citizens as less than eminently respectable. The police had issued warrants for many of these notables who were seen leaving town with all speed.—Chicago Herald-American

Compared to that, Chicago on September 25 dawned sunny, cold, and scandal-free. As the grandstand began to slowly populate, Bradley looked around and remembered the biggest difference between the majors and the minors: the stage was bigger for every performance. As vendors ran up and down the aisles hawking pie, cheese, cigars, fried onions, peanuts, hot dogs, and pop, sportswriter Charles Dryden complained to one and all that a sandwich with “translucent” ham cost five cents.28 He was probably hinting it would have been far more palatable if it had been free, as most things involving the care and feeding of a sportswriting contingent usually were. In fact, a writer permanently assigned to a ball club by his newspaper had all his expenses covered by the team while on the road, including room, board, travel, and incidentals, guaranteeing biased and favorable coverage on a daily basis. Making things complete, Chicago American writer Bill Bailey opened his column with what had become the traditional initial inaccuracy: September 25, 1915: Chicago, Illinois. Cubs’ Recruit Opposes Phils. Manager Bresnahan will rely upon a recruit twirler to pull his team from last place in the National League pennant scrap. J. Bradley Hogg is the name of this individual, obtained from the Mobile club of the Southern Association and was accounted one of the best twirlers in that organization. With the Cubs and the Giants tied for last place and with the New Yorkers scheduled to play the Cardinals, it is absolutely essential that Hogg come through with a win if he would pull his new team out of the mire.—Chicago American

The Southern Star 135 Bradley’s reintroduction to the National League began when umpire Hank O’Day picked up his megaphone and announced the lineups, letting him know, ironically enough, that former 1913 Mobile teammate Milt Stock would be the first batter he faced. Future Hall of Fame shortstop Dave Bancroft would follow him, along with former Cub and fan favorite George “Dode” Paskert and slugging right fielder Clifford “Gavvy” Cravath, whose twentyfour home runs led the National League. Fred Luderus, the talented and taciturn Phils’ first baseman, followed him, with George “Possum” Whitted, another true long-ball threat, batting sixth. Bert Niehoff and 5’6” catcher Ed Burns were at the bottom of the order, just ahead of veteran pitcher Al Demaree. The same Al Demaree Bradley had been signed to replace in Mobile in 1913. After completing his warmup pitches, Bradley paused while Stock wandered up to the plate. Then, as Dryden noted, “The major leagues held no fear for J. Bradley Hogg, as he proceeded to throw a beauty curve across the plate to start the game.”29 He got Stock out on a liner to third and Bancroft on a slow roller to short, but when Paskert singled there went his perfect game. When Cravath popped up to end the inning, the chilly, sparse crowd applauded as Bradley walked to the dugout. With one out in the bottom of the first, after a walk and a double by Wildfire Schulte scored one run, Schulte took third on a bad throw home. Then Heinie Zimmerman, or “The Great Zim” as he liked to refer to himself, singled past Bancroft at short, scoring Schulte and giving Bradley a 2–0 lead that he held through the third. Meanwhile, future Sporting News cartoonist Al Demaree was putting on a show of his own, shutting down the Cubs in order. Going through the Phillies the second time, Bradley gave up a run and it was 2–1 Chicago. In the bottom of the third, with Zimmerman on third and another Chicago run in the offing, the Phils’ catcher faked a throw to second, then turned and nailed Zim, who was standing off the base, and the groan of the crowd was audible. More than one person wondered exactly how much The Great Zim had bet on the game anyway. The fun began and ended for Bradley in the fourth when Milt Stock treated him to an inside-the-park home run with Demaree on first, giving Philadelphia the lead. With the score 4–2 Philadelphia, after four innings, five hits, four runs, and one home run, Bresnahan sent in Hippo Vaughn and Bradley’s Chicago debut was done. Vaughn held off the Phils for the next four innings until the Cubs tied the game in the eighth, giving Bradley a no-decision. Throwing caution to the wind, Bresnahan sent in his third pitcher of the day to finish the game, and Jimmy Lavender took the Phils into the eleventh before losing, 5–4.

136 Spitting on Diamonds Three days later in the last home series of the season, in the second of back-to-back doubleheaders, the Cincinnati Reds provided the opposition and the opportunity for Bradley to make one good showing. After two successive wins with six games to go, the Cubs were only a game behind fourthplace Pittsburgh, with fifth-place St. Louis and Cincinnati only one-half game farther back, so fourth place and the first division was anybody’s for the taking. Just like Mexico. Which, due to the murderous forays by Pancho Villa and his sixty-five hundred bandits, was fast becoming number one on the travel itinerary of the U.S. Army: September 28, 1915: Brownsville, Texas. U.S. Masses Men, May Invade Mexico. Unless the situation on the Texas border in the Brownsville district clears within a few hours, Colonel Blackston, commanding American troops in that section, will urge that American forces be ordered to go into Mexico and exterminate the bandit bands now operating there. Blackston reported that 6,500 bandits, organized into a military organization, have massed at Progress Ferry. Artillery has been rushed to the American side of the river. At the first shot from the Mexican side the American artillery will be opened up on the bandits.—Chicago American

All the action wasn’t in south Texas that day, for twenty-five thousand women in New York brought out their heavy artillery as well and marched down Fifth Avenue in search of the vote.30 At the same time, after posing as Mercury on the 1916 United States dime, sculptor’s model Audrey Munson set feminism back on its heels with the inspired move of taking off her clothes in the movie Inspiration, revealing a popular pathway to celluloid success that would be followed by thousands of aspiring actresses for the next ninety years.31 On September 28 the thousand fans that had come to witness the season’s last doubleheader in Chicago were all fully dressed, however, for it was cold. As Charles Dryden commented in his Tribune column, “The cold kept the bugs away.” In 1915, this was not a happy occurrence as far as management was concerned, for in the terminology of the times “bugs” were fans. While George Pearce finished up for “Shufflin’ Phil” Douglas in the first game over the cooperative Reds, Bradley began warming up. On the receiving end was his manager, Roger Bresnahan, who wanted a close-up look at what he had. “He donned his mask,” according to the Tribune, giving Bradley the best catcher he would ever have. Hall of Fame catchers are few and far between.

The Southern Star 137 When the oldest team in professional baseball walked out onto the field for the second game, Bradley found himself going up against a charter member of the original National League.32 Founded in 1869, the Reds, after years of mediocrity, were bought in 1901 by a group of politicians who installed August “Garry” Hermann, former head of the Water Works Commission, as president. Hermann would remain in charge of the club for the next twentyfive years, at the same time chairing baseball’s ruling body, the National Commission. On the downside, by the end of 1915 under manager Buck Herzog, the Reds wouldn’t even match their average fifth-place finish. When umpire William “Lord” Byron picked up the microphone and announced the lineups, Bradley was surprised to find that he was going up against twenty-year-old Pete Schneider, the Reds’ starter in the previous day’s game. Since he had been treated roughly by the Cubs then, Herzog was sending him right back to take another shot. Bradley got to shoot first. Getting the famous Heinie Groh and his bottle-shaped bat out on a grounder and giving up a double to outfielder Johnny Beall, Bradley got out of the first inning scoreless. Then the fun began. Fun like Bradley had never seen in the Southern Association or anywhere else. Outfielder Red Murray, the Cubs’ leadoff batter, beat out an infield hit and went to second on a wild pitch. With the scoreboard showing a 3–2 count, Pete Schneider put a ball outside and umpire Al Orth yelled “ball four” and rookie shortstop Eddie Mulligan started toward first. Reds’ shortstop-manager Buck Herzog went nuts, running across the diamond and screaming at the top of his lungs that Orth was wrong, the scoreboard was wrong, there were three balls not four, and that among other personal deficiencies, Orth had forgotten how to count. Orth couldn’t be sure Herzog wasn’t right, having lost count of the pitches, so an appeal was made to the official scorer. Unfortunately, the official scorer had been appealing for a hot dog at the lunch counter and hadn’t seen the events unfold. Nobody had kept an accurate count of balls and strikes. As Jack Ryder of the Cincinnati Enquirer wrote, “There was a long argument and Orth was all at sea, but finally allowed Mulligan to walk although he did not know himself whether four balls had been pitched or not.”33 Herzog kept “kicking” over the situation so much that Orth finally threw him out of the game, then pulled out his stopwatch to declare a forfeit unless he left the field. What made everything perfect was Wildfire Schulte stepping up to the plate and putting Schneider’s first pitch after the argument over the fence for a 3–0 lead. This really infuriated Herzog, who could be heard yelling from under the grandstand.

138 Spitting on Diamonds Ignoring the noise, Cubs’ first baseman Vic Saier duplicated the feat two batters later for a 4–0 lead and Schneider and company were done. As Cincinnati Enquirer writer Jack Ryder opined, “that clinched the victory, for our boys can’t hit ‘em that far.”34 They tried, but the best the Reds could do was scatter three singles the rest of the day against Bradley’s spitter, resulting in continuous zeroes on the outfield scoreboard. Ryder also commented, “If Pete could have got by the first round he would have made quite a game to his credit. Opposed to him was Hogg, a big right-hand recruit from Mobile. How this bird would have got by if he had a close game is not known, but the four run lead gave him all the confidence and the Reds could not hit him successfully. They got three men as far as first base, and there they perished.”35 And that they did, Bradley sailing through the rest of the game on the way to a 5–0 shutout, his first Cubs win, and fourth place in the National League. It was the thirteenth consecutive first-division finish by the Cubs since 1902. After the game, Ryder lamented, “Hogg is said to be the best pitcher in the Southern League this year. He won a big majority of his games for Mobile, and was recommended to the Reds some time ago, but was passed up. He had a lot of stuff on the ball to-day. He is a big, husky right-hander, and may turn out to be a find.”36 Passing on Bradley might have cost the Reds a win, but won Bradley accolades, Bresnahan telling him after the game that he thought he could make the Cubs’ rotation in 1916 and to look forward to a telegram over the winter. On October 3, with the Cubs’ seven-for-nine run cementing fourth place and with his future wearing a Chicago uniform, Bradley shook hands, packed his bags, and took the night train to Georgia. Back in Fast Company. A 23–12 record in 1915 will do that for a man. As a result, in early November, the Chicago papers announced renewal of Bradley’s membership in the National League: November 9, 1915: San Francisco, California. Players Drafted by Major Leagues. Secretary Farrell of the National Association today announced the list of drafts by major league clubs as follows: By Brooklyn: Reilly from New Orleans, $1,500; Barth from Seattle, $1,200; Prieste from Syracuse, $1,200; Colwell from Vancouver, $1,200. By Boston: Blackburn from Indianapolis, $2,500. By Pittsburgh: Madden from Galveston, $1,200; Blackwell from Lexington, $500. By St. Louis: Hiller from Durham, N.C., $500. By Chicago: Mulligan from Davenport, Ia., $1,200; Wallace from

The Southern Star 139 Birmingham, Ala., $1,500; Allison from Memphis, Tenn.. $1,500; Hogg from Mobile, Ala., $1,500; Wright from Virginia, Minn., $750. By New York: Farrell from Portland, Me., $1,200; Sharman from Portsmouth, O., $500; Baker from Little Rock, Ark., $1,500; Koecher from Toronto, Ont., $2,500.—Chicago Daily News

Bradley’s draft price in 1915 is comparable to $26,625 today.37 With his experience, ability, and record over the previous three years, it was considerably below his market value, as Mobile only realized $1,500 for their best pitcher. Although some teams were better than others at spotting potential majorleague players, drafting them was and still is a hit-or-miss proposition involving luck, timing, and ability. As proof, only three of the seventeen drafted players listed ever played at least one full major-league season: Bradley Hogg, Earl Blackburn, and Eddie Mulligan. Bradley’s major-league membership card came by telegram in the middle of November, stating he had been drafted by the Chicago Cubs of the National League for 1916, and was to report to spring training in Tampa, Florida, on March 8. He didn’t know the confidential draft bulletin indicated that the Philadelphia Athletics had also drafted him, meaning Connie Mack had either gotten his picks in late or was on the outs with Garry Hermann, for the National League chairman awarded Bradley to Chicago. As a result, Bradley told Agnes she needed a new winter coat. Agnes told Bradley she needed to go buy some baby clothes. The little redhead that would wear them made her debut as a late Christmas present. While everyone was attempting to master baby talk in Buena Vista, the costly baseball war of 1914–1915 was winding down in Chicago.38 When the Federal League was formed in 1913 as a third major league, it began by siphoning off as many “names” as possible through the radical means of offering players more money. Not being a member of “Organized Baseball” or under the controlling restrictions of the two major leagues, the Feds ignored existing contracts and threw money and long-term contracts around like confetti. Successfully signing a few stars, the new league’s monetary moves forced every team in every league to do something they had resisted for years: pay their players what they were worth. In 1913, twenty of the best players in the National and American Leagues earned an average of $3,817, the equivalent of $69,126 today. By 1915, thanks to the Federal League rocking baseball’s financial boat, these same players averaged $7,327, or $132,692 today, a 92 percent salary increase. Some of the biggest beneficiaries were Bradley’s former teammate, Braves’ shortstop Rabbit

140 Spitting on Diamonds Maranville, who went from $1,880 in 1913 to $6,000 in 1915, and Brooklyn’s Jake Daubert, who went from $5,000 to $9,000, along with a five-year contract.39 Since money definitely talks, two hundred ballplayers of various abilities had signed with the Federal League between 1914 and 1915, including one of Bradley’s 1914 Mobile teammates, outfielder LaRue Kirby. While Bradley was in Chicago for his trial with the Cubs, he had noted the simultaneous action of the Chicago Feds in the courts, the newspapers, and on the ball field, for the league had plenty of lawyers and publicity. What they were about to run out of was time, as a result of a financial squeeze applied by Organized Baseball and their own largesse. A stalled legal challenge in the federal courts to the older leagues and their monopoly and the reserve clause didn’t help matters, especially since Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis had kept the suit bottled up in the courts for two years as a favor to National and American League club owners, resulting in the Federal League’s collapse.40 In the one move that would affect Bradley almost immediately, the final settlement between the moguls allowed owners of two of the dissolving league’s teams to purchase two existing major-league teams: the St. Louis Browns and the Chicago Cubs. By allowing the Cubs to be bought by lunchroom-chain owner Charles Weeghman, the Cubs were guaranteed several things: new management, a new manager, a new team, and a new ballpark. The first thing Weeghman did after his purchase was announce the Cubs would abandon West Side Grounds and move to his shiny, year-old ballpark on the North Side that had been modestly named Weeghman Park. The former home of his Federal League champion Chicago Whales, it lives on today as the Federal League’s only existing memorial: Wrigley Field. Learning about all this in the papers, Roger Bresnahan exploded. Having signed an ironclad three-year contract with the Cubs worth ten thousand dollars a year during the Federal League war that had two years still to run, he wanted his money. And Bresnahan wasn’t going to let Weeghman replace him with former Chicago Federal League manager Joe Tinker without a fight. The same would go for a few other people under contract as well. One of them was the newest Cub of all, Bradley Hogg.

7

1916 On the Wings of Angels

There was big news squeezing out of an orange grove in California to start the year: January 6, 1916: Los Angeles, California. Chance Leader of Los Angeles. Frank Chance, former manager of the Chicago National baseball team, will manage the Los Angeles Pacific Coast League team this year, it was announced by John F. Powers, president of the club. In taking the position of manager, Chance will purchase about one-third of the club. —Chicago Tribune

If Bradley happened to notice it in the Americus, Georgia, Times Recorder, he would have seen the future. Others would have seen it too, for by purchasing the Cubs, new owner Charles Weeghman not only ended up with the contracts of all the players from his defunct Federal League Chicago Whales but also all the Cubs’ contracts for 1916 as well, complete with unexpired expiration dates. He intended to honor as few as possible. With the Chicago Herald reporting “a staggering payroll of $150,000 as the combined teams now stand,”1 and with many of the fifty-three players under contract unknown to both men, new Cubs manager Joe Tinker announced on January 10 that he’d already selected his team, which would be made up of the best of the Cubs and Whales and nobody else. The operative word at Clark and Addison Streets was sell. Money was at the forefront of baseball in other parts of the country as well, beginning with the Pacific Coast League:

141

142 Spitting on Diamonds February 1, 1916: San Francisco, California. No Increase On Coast. Directors of the Pacific Coast Baseball League in special session here today voted down a proposition to increase team salary limits from $4,500 to $5,000 a month. The increase was proposed by the Los Angeles and Vernon clubs.—Chicago Daily Evening American

With an eighteen-man roster, a salary cap of $4,500 per month for a sevenmonth season meant an average Coast League salary of some $250 per player, or $4,112 in today’s dollars.2 Some made more, some less, but that was the class AA average. This meant the baseball wars’ first peacetime casualties were the players themselves, which was why Bradley would find himself with one foot in three different leagues over the following six weeks. In Chicago, new Cubs manager Joe Tinker began his housecleaning by sending former Whales’ third baseman Heinie Fritz to Syracuse, then turned the spotlight on himself: February 17, 1916: Chicago, Illinois. Tinker Releases Fritz, Then Goes On Stage. Infielder Heinie Fritz, one of Tinker’s handy men on the 1915 Whales, has been sent to the minors. Heinie will spend the coming summer in Syracuse of the New York State League. After setting the spring training schedule, Manager Tinker donned his footlight outfit and opened a three-days’ engagement at the Empress Theater, Sixty-third and Halsted streets. Next week he will make his debut in the loop, playing at McVicker’s.—Chicago Herald

By going on the vaudeville stage, Tinker was doing what many other majorleague stars had done to capitalize on their fame. Usually performing amateurish baseball “skits” or answering questions from the audience for upwards of one thousand dollars a week, these appearances drew well while giving fans a chance to see their heroes up close. A few, like the infamous Mike Donlin and pitcher Rube Marquard, were actually quite good song-and-dance men, and made considerably more money on the vaudeville stage than they did on the baseball diamond. In fact, Donlin and his wife, actress Mabel Hite, were the hit of Broadway in 1908.3 Tinker surprised everyone by becoming a stage favorite as well, the New York Telegraph reporting he was “a refreshing change from most athletic champions who took to the stage, good-looking and bore himself like a gentleman, and was neither clumsy nor obstreperous.” The Chicago Evening Journal reported his skit “A Great Catch” was “a clever little piece that deserved the applause it got.”4

On the Wings of Angels 143 When Variety gave him favorable reviews in 1913, Tinker was so impressed with himself and the money, he decided to give up baseball and take up a full-time career tripping the light fantastic. Changing his mind once spring training rolled around, he remained an on-again, off-again vaudevillian for years. Between performances at the Empress theater, Tinker continued tinkering with his bulging roster. Optioning pitcher Pete Standridge and catcher Bobby Wallace to the Pacific Coast League Los Angeles Angels, he then sold Pete Knisely and Bradley Hogg to Memphis in the Southern Association on February 17, causing himself a lot of grief in the process. For, unlike most players, Bradley didn’t need to call a lawyer when he saw a breach of contract. Refusing to take his demotion lying down, Bradley knew that by signing a Cubs contract in 1915 he was officially on the club roster. And according to the rules of Organized Baseball, before Chicago could sell him to anybody they had to waive him, giving everyone in the majors a shot at signing him at an agreed-upon waiver price. Trying to skirt the rules, Tinker had run into someone who knew them. That somebody immediately telegrammed a protest to Garry Hermann of the National Commission in Cincinnati and laid out his case: waivers or no sale. Notifying new Memphis manager Dolly Stark of his refusal to report or play for the offered salary, Bradley waited for Hermann’s decision, which wasn’t a long time coming. Considering Hermann had skirted the same rule in the past and would do so again as president of the Cincinnati Reds, his ruling was correct, if surprising, and headlined in the Atlanta Constitution: February 24, 1916: Atlanta, Georgia. Tinker Tries To Hog Hogg; Chicks Goat. Former Gull Hurler May Be Lost to Memphis by the Failure of Cub Leader to Ask For Waivers. It may be that our esteemed friends in Memphis have smacked their lips before the gentlemanly chef sent in the fat little pig with the apple in its mouth as it were. Here’s the situation: Memphis has purchased the playing prowess of Bradley Hogg, and it has likewise acquired the services of Pete Knisely from the Chicago Cubs. The sale has been transacted all right. The question is whether or not Sir Joseph Tinker, manager-captain of the Cubs, has a right to make the sale. According to advice from the wind-swept city on the shores of Lake Michigan, Joe neglected to ask for waivers on the former Mobile hurler and the erstwhile Baron slugger before he turned them over to Dolly Stark down in Memphis. Tinker, it is said, in his brief career with the

144 Spitting on Diamonds Federals, forgot all he knew about the rules and regulations of Organized Ball, the necessity of obtaining waivers on a major league ball player before sending him to the minors being one of those rules and regulations. Both Hogg and Knisely were members of the Chicago National League Club, a member of Organized Ball, when they were figuratively shipped south. According to those rules and regulations, each club in the National and American Leagues has to waive before a player can be properly turned over to the minor organization. It is said that several major league outfits not only desire the opportunity to waive, but they will refuse to waive when given that opportunity. In the first place, Bradley Hogg’s record is enough to cause any major league club to look on him with lustful eyes. Hogg has always been a winning pitcher since he horned into organized baseball. In the second place, he takes as good care of himself as any man in the ranks of baseball athletes. In the third place, he is a mighty dangerous hitter, despite the fact that he gains most of his renown as a pitcher. Last year he had a most remarkable season. He was with Mobile, a club never out of the second division—a club that finished a sorry seventh. Then, too, for more than a month of the playing season Hogg was on the shelf on account of sickness. In spite of all these things, the big hurler went out and won 22 games for his so-called ball club and lost but a round dozen, which is more or less a Herculean pitching feat in these days and times. It is thought Knisely may also be wanted in some obscure corner of the big tent. Wherefore the Memphis club was premature in its excitement about Hogg joining them, there are some Southern League organizations that are not weeping.—Atlanta Constitution

Garry Hermann knew there was no getting around the obvious, and voided Bradley’s sale to Memphis, ordering Chicago to either waive him or send him a contract. As a result, Bradley received a contract from Chicago in the mail along with a terse note from Charlie Weeghman to sign it and return it and report to Tampa for spring training on March 8. With the trade behind him and the newspaper article in his scrapbook, Bradley had won the battle. But the war? If Joe Tinker had anything to say about it, it would be a short one. What Tinker was overlooking was Bradley’s considerable ability, which the spitball made even more considerable. Proof of its effectiveness was in the papers five days later: February 29, 1916: New York City. Spit Ball Only New Thing In Baseball, Says Anson. Captain Adrian C. Anson, the daddy of all sluggers, and still spry of

On the Wings of Angels 145 foot in his late fifties, was in New York for a brief visit. When asked “Don’t you think there has been a big improvement in the game?” the Captain stated, “Where? The rules are practically the same, the bases, ball and bats are the same. The gloves they wear today make fielding even easier. The only new thing in baseball that I know of is the spitball.” “Do you think you could hit the spitball if it was pitched to you now?” the Captain was asked. “No, I don’t,” he admitted. “A few years ago, when Jack Chesbro was in his prime with the spitter, Clarke Griffith bet me a hat that Jack could strike me out. The argument arose over my disbelief in the spitball. I really did think it was a lot of newspaper talk then. Well, we went out and tried it and he struck me out.—Chicago Herald-American

That must have been some spitball exhibition, even if there were only three people there, for all three are in the Hall of Fame. And the Cap Anson who struck out got there by hitting everything in sight during more than twenty years in the major leagues, retiring with a career .329 batting average. In the meantime, Weeghman was in a very public war of his own with former manager Roger Bresnahan. That pesky sticking point of the two remaining years on his contract kept coming up in the papers, for Bradley’s former manager wanted his money if he was going to be replaced and Weeghman didn’t want to give it to him: February 29, 1916: Chicago, Illinois. Duke’s Demands Displease Boss. Weeghman Can’t See His Terms; Threatens To Make Roger Work. Much Talk. No Action. Roger Bresnahan, ex-manager, is still a member of the Cubs, and unless he compromises with Owner Weeghman, he will continue to be on the roster of the North Side club for the next two years. Weeghman asserts Bresnahan will have to appear at the North Side park every morning during the playing season and work out before he will be entitled to his $10,000 salary, and unless he shows an inclination to act as a regular on the North Side staff he will be suspended without pay. Bresnahan’s argument is that he can force the new Cub owners to either make him manager of the team for the next two years his contract is in effect or pay him off now by handing over $20,000, his salary during this time. Weeghman refuses to do this, asserting that he has two years in which to settle, and in the meantime will force Roger to report every day and call for his salary on the 1st and 15th of every month. He has offered Bresnahan $10,000 to settle.—Chicago Daily Herald

Weeghman was proving oblivious to the requirement of honoring contracts, but eventually the deadlock was broken on March 5 when he paid

146 Spitting on Diamonds Bresnahan ten thousand dollars,5 which the Chicago Herald signaled with the headline “Roger Settles For 10,000 Bones.” As predicted, Roger used the money as part payment for Cleveland’s American Association franchise, simultaneously becoming part of baseball’s ruling class. It was an expensive settlement in more ways than one, for it cost Bradley his prime Cub connection. Other illegalities were in the forefront that spring as well: March 4, 1916: New York City. National League Ballfields Must Be Legal. Tener Orders Owners To Have Engineers Survey League Ball Diamonds. For the first time in its history, the National League will have its playing fields surveyed by competent engineers and the correctness of the measurements certified to the president of the League. There has always been some doubt, owing to former imperfect rules and diagrams, as to the proper dimensions of pitcher’s plates and batsman’s boxes on some of the National League infields, and on one diamond at least it was discovered that the pitcher’s box had been installed too close to the plate. —New York Times

After thirty-nine years in business, the National League was finally going to level the playing field. While surveyors were measuring the mounds, the Chicago Daily Herald was waxing poetic about the Cubs’ future under Joe Tinker in 1916, exclaiming first place was only a matter of going through the motions, stating, “The biggest problem Manager Tinker has to face this spring is the selection of his hurlers. He has a flock of them under contract and Joe showed mighty keen judgment in turning the job over to the veteran Mordecai Brown. It will be up to the Three Fingered Wonder to pick the hurlers.”6 In the present, it was time to strike up the band in Tampa, for the circus was coming to town. As proof, the Chicago Herald reported, “Hotel officials and a citizens committee have been busy shooing regular boarders at the Tampa Bay Hotel out on the sidewalk the last few days to make room for the team.”7 While the evicted were picking up their belongings off the sidewalk, the Cubs’ train rattled south, where news of their arrival had hundreds of people crowding the station in Columbus, Georgia. On the brief stopover, the Herald also reported, “Three-Finger” Brown made the most of the opportunity to record the occasion for posterity by “not only posing as a trainman, but moving for the moving picture men.”8 Obviously, entertainment was in short supply down South in 1916, for the Herald also stated, “This is the first time a baseball special has invaded Florida,

On the Wings of Angels 147 and had the trip from Jacksonville been made in the daylight, the chances are the rural districts would have taken the day off to see the train go by.”9 As it turned out, the Cubs’ arrival was almost overshadowed by a Cub departure: March 7, 1916: Tampa, Florida. Ax Falls. Douglas Falls Via Booze Route. Tinker Detects Odor and Suspends Player Promptly. Cigarets are Banned. Likewise Liquor and Dice and Late Hours are Under the Ban. The Cubs were given their first workout for the pennant chase this afternoon. There were twenty-four in uniform, but among these was not “Shuffling Phil” Douglas. Phil, who had preceded the main troop, had found congenial company and some moonshine stuff. As soon as Manager Tinker came on the windward side of the tacking Carolinian he detected an odor which is strictly taboo in well-regulated training camps. So, are you at it again?” was the manager’s greeting. “Honest, Joe, I haven’t had a drop in three months. That garlic which you get in some of these Spanish dumps certainly sticks to a fellow” was the response of the weary twirler. Well, there’s no better way to get rid of it than outside” was Tinker’s dictum, as he scratched his name off the hotel register. Phil vamoosed and has not been seen. President Weeghman put his O.K. on the indefinite suspension of the erring twirler. During the spring training sessions, players will be at the park at 10AM and 2:30 in the afternoon. Wakeup is at 7:30 and lights are out at midnight. There will be no cigaret smoking or dice or liquor, and only the veterans will have rooms near the fire escapes.—Chicago Herald

Phil Douglas was a major-league drunk, and everybody knew it. His spitball had saved him from baseball obscurity more than once, and would again, but in the spring of 1916 what it got him was a one-year residence in dry, Double A St. Paul, Minnesota. Tinker’s rules regarding not smoking and drinking were to be expected, but the value of veterans over rookies was never made clearer than in the statement “only the veterans will have rooms by the fire escapes.” When he arrived on the morning of the eighth, Bradley had an inside room. After checking into the hotel, Bradley finally met Mr. Tinker, who was cordial enough considering the circumstances, for management memories make elephants seem absent-minded. When he reported to the ball field, while the Federal League holdovers were strangers, Bradley immediately recognized

148 Spitting on Diamonds most of the Cubs from 1915. Soon everybody had one thing in common: sweat. Zip Zabel showed up the following morning along with Wildfire Schulte, and both were fined one hundred dollars for their late arrival. When Zabel told Tinker he was going to pharmacy school in the off-season and the professors wouldn’t let him take early final exams, Tinker lifted the fine. Schulte got his lifted too, even when his excuse was the inability to read a calendar. Going against his earlier pronouncement that “every player will get a chance to show what he could do,”10 pitchers had barely begun to warm up the following morning when Tinker took Zip Zabel aside and told him he had been optioned to the Los Angeles Angels of the Pacific Coast League. One day in camp. No sweat. Gone. In spite of his ability, which was considerable as he demonstrated the previous June 17, pitching eighteen and a third superb innings of relief in a nineteen-inning win over the Dodgers, the longest relief appearance ever.11 His mistake was not doing it in front of Joe Tinker. However, Zabel was not alone. Travel reservations were being made for others as well: March 11, 1916: Tampa. Florida. Cubs Pitching Problem Working Out for Tinker. Joe Must Cut Squad to Eight Men; Hogg and Wright Candidates for Release. The pitching problem is gradually solving itself for Manager Tinker. Cutting down the staff from 14 to 8 looked like a big puzzle a week ago, but the failure of Phil Douglas to observe training camp rules when he reported made it easy to cut him. The failure of Zabel to report on time put him bad, resulting in his release after two days. Bradley Hogg has been a candidate for the discard ever since last fall, and Bob Wright also will be one of the men let go because of lack of big league experience.—Chicago Herald

“A candidate for the discard ever since last fall”? That little gem had to come from Joe Tinker, who didn’t even know Bradley existed until January. But, by challenging Tinker’s illegal sale of his contract in February, Bradley was out before he was in. Out was the choice after he had been in a grand total of two spring games. His demise was preordained, but if he made it difficult, the Cubs had a timehonored “under the table” method of solving the problem: telegraph every club in the majors and announce you were putting a “difficult” player through waivers “to teach them a lesson” and would appreciate everyone passing on him so he could be sent to the minors. Since every team did this, they would

On the Wings of Angels 149 all cooperate in the career-threatening collusion, where a player would find himself on sixteen blacklists instead of just one. With fifteen telegrams already sent, Tinker called Bradley into his office and told him the facts of life: he might not want to go to Memphis, but he definitely wasn’t going to Chicago. He might be going to California, however, for new manager Frank Chance of the Pacific Coast League Los Angeles Angels had made an offer for his contract. Better league, higher classification, more money, better climate, better everything. Waivers? Tinker told him what had already been put in place and what the results would be if he pushed it again. Nothing would be in writing except his release. It was as good a deal as he was going to get from the Cubs, take-it-orleave-it-baseball at its finest: March 15, 1916: Tampa, Florida. Notes of the Cubs. The skids are being greased under our well-fed athlete, Pitcher Hogg. He will go to Los Angeles tomorrow to work under Frank Chance. This deal was arranged to soothe the feelings of the Angels for their inability to sign up Catcher Wallace, who was turned over to the coast club by the Cubs management last fall. Wallace failed to report.—Chicago Herald

Bobby Wallace was apparently afraid of trains or California cooking, neither of which bothered Bradley after a grand total of eight days in the Cubs’ camp: March 16, 1916: Tampa, Florida. Hogg Leaves For Coast. The boys bade farewell tonight to Bradley Hogg, the tall, silver-haired pitcher who has been in our midst up to now. He was sold this morning to Frank Chance’s Los Angeles team and departs for that distant state. He should arrive two days after George Zabel. The boys in camp are wondering who else will be handed their transportation to the Pacific League. —Chicago Herald

Calling Agnes with the news she wouldn’t be needing a winter coat after all, Bradley faced an immediate dilemma: did he take his wife and threemonth-old daughter on a five-day cross-country train trip, did he leave them to come later by themselves, or did he leave them in Georgia with her parents for the entire seven-month Coast League season? Pitching the train trip as the best solution and winning the decision easily, Bradley picked up Agnes and Mary and their bathing suits in Americus, then

150 Spitting on Diamonds they all boarded the train for the 1,958-mile trip to California. In 1916, this was the equivalent of traveling to the other side of the moon. Wandering the Pullman sleeping car, dining car, and club car with the occasionally crying Mary for five days and nights, they got to see the underbelly of a changing America at fifty miles an hour. At the end of the line was another beginning, complete with orange trees, beaches, movie stars, and the Pacific Coast League.

Pacific Coast League Considered by many to be a third major league, the Pacific Coast League was one of three class AA leagues in the United States at the time, and, along with the International League and the American Association, was the class of minor-league baseball. Formed in 1903, the Coast League considered itself equal to the National and American Leagues, often referring to them as the Eastern Leagues. Operating independently and refusing to be subject to a major-league draft, teams in the PCL developed and sold their players to whoever they wanted when the time—and price—was right. Being immune to the draft, Coast League clubs built and kept good teams together for as long as they wanted, guaranteeing multiple championships such as five by Portland between 1910 and 1914 and three by Vernon between 1918 and 1920.12 The league was in business to provide high-quality baseball, and succeeded for decades before the major leagues’ western invasion in the late 1950s. In 1916, the six-team league was made up of the Los Angeles Angels and their suburban Los Angeles counterpart, the Vernon Tigers, along with the San Francisco Seals, Oakland Oaks, Portland Beavers, and Salt Lake City Bees. Drawing enthusiastic crowds throughout a seven-month season of more than two hundred games and profiting from excellent year-round weather, the PCL played from the middle of April through the end of October. The league was a magnet for former major-league players who still had majorleague ability; teams paid salaries equal to or higher than many of their major-league brethren. This guaranteed quality baseball on nearly a yearround basis, with a partial list of Hall of Famers who played or managed in the league over the years reflecting the quality of play fans saw every day: Rogers Hornsby, Mel Ott, Casey Stengel, Dave Bancroft, Joe DiMaggio, Satchel Paige, Mickey Cochrane, Paul Waner, Brooks Robinson, and Ted Williams.13 After all was said and done, many players simply preferred it to the major leagues. Angels’ outfielder Harry Wolter was one that made his preference public:

On the Wings of Angels 151 April 1, 1916: Los Angeles, California. Wolter Would Rather Remain in the Minors. Harry Wolter, with the Red Sox and later with the New York Americans several years, and now with Los Angeles has refused several offers to return to the major leagues. Wolter has a laundry business in Santa Clara, California, and that may be the reason he spurns the big league, but then too, it may be he has had enough of major league ball.—Los Angeles Times

One facet of Coast League ball that Bradley would become very familiar with was seeing most of the coast from the window of a moving train. Because of the distances between many cities in the league, the routine was to play a seven-game series each week in a different city. Traveling on Mondays, teams would play a game a day the following five days, with a doubleheader on Sundays. Which is a lot of baseball for everybody, without a lot of time off for anybody. This also meant the Coast League required pitchers who could last. Pitcher Jim Whelan of San Francisco set the standard, starting between fifty and sixty games a year between 1901 and 1905, while Rube Vickers of Seattle pitched a record sixty-four games in 1906, compiling a 39–20 record while striking out 409. Numbers of games were only matched by numbers of innings, such as San Francisco Seals pitcher Cack Henley’s 1–0 winning performance over Jimmy Wiggs of Oakland in 1909, the game taking twentyfour innings and both pitchers going the distance in three and a half hours.14 After a fourth-place finish in 1915, the Los Angeles Angels were planning to go the distance as well, for after a seven-year drought they wanted a pennant of their own. As proof, former Cubs manager Frank Chance had been lured out of his orange grove in Glendora, and Bradley Hogg was on the Southern Pacific to California. After five days and nights on the train, Bradley had seen more of America than he thought existed. Having pointed out every cow, tree, and waving rural resident between Georgia and California to keep Mary interested and quiet, they were pointedly tired of pointing and wanted to see an orange. Pulling into Los Angeles’ Union Station at noon on Saturday, Bradley checked into a nearby hotel and deposited the two most important women in his life, then went to the ballpark to talk a little business. Catching a taxi to fifteenthousand-seat Washington Park, Bradley got his first close-up look at California. While Los Angeles is thought to be a fairly new city because of the movie industry, he saw that really wasn’t true. In reality the city is almost as old as the United States, founded the year the American Revolution ended and more than fifty years before Chicago opened for business.15 As Bradley

152 Spitting on Diamonds shielded his eyes from the unfamiliar whiteness of the California sun, he could see the signs of sprawling growth on virtually every block. People and cars were everywhere, and like Los Angeles, they were going places. Which was reassuring, for he had been invited to join the parade. Arriving at the Angels’ offices, he met club president John Powers, an enthusiastic little man with big ambitions that fit right in with the time and place. After agreeing on a salary and signing a contract for 1916, Powers wrote Bradley a check for his expenses and made some housing suggestions. Telling him to leave Agnes and Mary where they were for the time being, after issuing him a uniform and a train ticket, he pointed south where the Angels were practicing takeoffs and landings in front of Frank Chance. While Bradley had been shadowboxing with the Cubs, Chance and the rest of the Angels were ninety miles south of Los Angeles in the little town of Elsinore. Home to sulfur baths and mineral deposits that gave the nearby lake and everything in it a peculiar taste and smell, it was also the site of brand-new Ararat Park, which the city had built in a successful effort to attract a springtime ball club. Of course, grass on the ball field wasn’t yet part of the equation, but the lack of diversions outside of a lone movie theater suited Chance just fine. Ironically, the only problem was noise, as millions of tree frogs gave nightly concerts that took a lot of getting used to. That same day in Oakland, Emil “Irish” Meusel, a twenty-two-year-old minor-league outfielder of local renown, was getting used to the idea of a future behind a grocery counter: March 9, 1916: Oakland, California. Grocery Store Good Enough For Meusel. “Irish” Meusel has decided he is through with baseball forever. Instead of reporting to the Birmingham Southern League team this season, he will set out for Detroit and tackle a job in a grocery store. Meusel has had quite an exciting time lately trying to decide what to do and the grocery store won first honors.—Los Angeles Times

Irish Meusel would eventually turn in his apron and return to baseball, joining the Angels in 1917 before making the majors and eventually playing in two World Series, but considering that clerking was even an option, what does this say about the pay scales of grocery stores in Detroit? Back in Elsinore, Chance made a grocery-related announcement that any player who hadn’t signed a contract should stay away, for “He wasn’t going to feed them while they made up their mind.” Pitcher Jack Ryan had already done a major-league job on his hometown kitchen and weighed 235 pounds. A rubber shirt was the prize, as he began sweating off good times past.

On the Wings of Angels 153 Elsinore was definitely the place to do it, as the Los Angeles Times’s Harry Williams commented, “The system here is to fry an athlete on the unprotected ball field and then poach him for a couple of hours in hot mineral water.”16 The next day’s train steamed into Elsinore loaded with Angels and those who wanted to earn their wings, including former Cub pitcher Pete Standridge and second baseman Howard “Polly” McLarry who had literally come back from the dead, taking time off from his regular vocation as an undertaker. A Cub in 1915, the light-hitting infielder was another gift to the Angels from the impatient Joe Tinker. In light of the threatened war with Mexico, everyone on the train remarked how unnerving it was to see a large contingent of Mexicans standing near the roadway at different points in their trip. Finding most were railroad workers and seeing many were bathing in the river, a reporter noted, “The ballplayers were pleasantly surprised to find that Mexicans bathed occasionally.”17 On the thirteenth, when the news reached Elsinore that the Angels had bought the contracts of former Cubs pitchers Zip Zabel and Bradley Hogg, reporter Harry Williams noted, “It is the first time in club history a player by the name of Hogg has ever been signed.” Beginning a season-long series of inaccuracies and porcine metaphors, Williams went to work: “His work was so powerful for the Memphis club of the Southern Association as to induce the Chicago Cubs to secure him last fall. Hogg would have been retained had not the declaration of peace in the baseball world placed an unusually large number of efficient ball players on the market. Hogg is in no sense a shoat or a busher. Not only is he experienced, but is said to weigh close to 200 pounds on the hoof. However, he will probably weigh considerably less than that after he has practiced in the bright sunlight here for a few days. They have special facilities in Elsinore for reducing the fat out of large pitchers. In fact the conditions here are so ideal that even the native hogs lose weight.”18 Williams was getting paid to write this. By the time the train emptied, thirty-two players had filled the Lakeview Hotel, including seventeen pitchers. With the roster set at a total of eighteen players for the season after the first month, many friendships would be brief. However, hijinks galore began that night when roommates Harl Maggert and Jack Ryan went to get into bed and found a horned toad had beaten them to it. Unlike today’s athletes who rarely share a room, these men shared a bed. In between days of running and sweating, throwing, hiking, infield practice, and shagging hundreds of fly balls, the team was beginning to come alive. While pitchers were sweating every pitch and Pete Standridge perfected his forkball, Zip Zabel arrived in camp, the Times noting, “Not only is he a tall and rangy cuss, but he is in possession of a new “gas ball” which

154 Spitting on Diamonds leaves batters unconscious for five hours.”19 Another slow news day. One item of note was team secretary “Boots” Weber canceling an exhibition game against a team in San Diego due to the necessary six-hour round trip on the train, passing up a $250 guarantee. Harry Williams remarked, “This shows how little the Angels care for money.”20 One piece of good news was the imminent arrival of veteran outfielder Harry Wolter, who had finished with his spring coaching job at Stanford, a position he would hold for twenty-five years, eventually leading the American baseball team—the only entrant, as it turned out—to the 1936 Olympics in Berlin.21 For several days, Elsinore was under water as the heavens poured, catchers refusing to work with pitchers in a proffered garage due to poor light and dangerous prospects. The prospects improved when Bradley’s train rolled into town on the twenty-fifth, preceded by a bright and shining light: March 25, 1916: Elsinore, California. Hogg Appears in Angel Camp. Between the large outburst of sunshine here and the arrival of Mr. Bradley Hogg, the developments of the day left nothing to be desired. It would be customary to say Mr. Hogg brought the sunshine into camp with him, but it beat Mr. Hogg by six hours. What we believed to be the rising sun might simply have been the reflection of Mr. Hogg entering Elsinore from the East. Mr. Hogg arrived on the noon train, which landed him here in ample time to root around in the bountiful luncheon prepared in honor of his arrival before reporting to the park for practice. Mr. Hogg is a gentleman of polish and culture. His home is in Americus, Georgia, and he has been working in Tampa, Florida with the Chicago Cubs and indulging in training camp fare. This is not his first time in the majors. He formerly was with the Boston Nationals.—Los Angeles Times

Checking in, Bradley got to meet another in a long line of living legends when Frank Chance walked up and introduced himself. A confirmed winner, “The Peerless Leader” had three National League pennants and two World Series championships to his credit by the time John Powers’ fifteen-thousanddollar signing bonus and part ownership of the club had coaxed him out of his orange grove. Retiring after leaving New York in 1914, the rest had been good for him, for Chance had been beaned three dozen times while in the majors and had constant headaches as a souvenir. Since Bradley had been traveling and had missed a lot of work, Chance told him to finish getting in shape and he’d gradually work him into the

On the Wings of Angels 155 lineup, for there were innings to be pitched and a pennant to be won, and he intended Los Angeles to win it. Sent out to the ball field to work up a sweat and begin showing what he could do, Bradley began working with any catcher available over the next few days. As Chance watched his spitter begin to dance, he saw that John Powers’ money had been well spent. With so little time and real competition in Elsinore to work the men into shape, Chance figured to carry about a dozen pitchers for the first month of the season to see what everybody could do under fire. With right-handers Jack Ryan, Zip Zabel, Pete Standridge, and Bradley Hogg holding an edge over the others in experience and ability, Chance figured with the addition of lefthander Lynn Scoggins they were his best bet for the long PCL season, even though an additional five or six men would get short early trials. As it turned out, all but one of the 1916 Angels’ staff would be former major leaguers, even though Lynn Scoggins had one of the briefest majorleague careers on record, beginning and ending on September 16, 1913, in Comiskey Park in Chicago. After giving up a walk to the only batter he faced, not only was the rookie White Sox pitcher pulled but the man he walked later scored, giving Scoggins the loss and a permanent ticket to the minors.22 While half the Angels including the manager were new to Los Angeles or to Coast League ball, past or future major leaguers made up three-quarters of the roster. With former major leaguers George “Rube” Ellis, Harl Maggert, and Harry Wolter, the outfield was set, and with Phil “Beef” Koerner at first and Polly McLarry at second, half the infield was also in good hands. “Swede” Bassler and Walter Boles would share the work behind the plate, leaving the problems of short and third unresolved and in unproductive flux for months. Otherwise, Frank Chance thought the Angels were ready to fly. During the following days, Chance revealed a new direction in the brand of baseball he expected the Angels to play in 1916, one that would be familiar with fans nearly a century later: rather than worrying the other team to death with bunts, steals, and “inside baseball,” Chance figured he had the bats to make a wide-open game work. As a result, he wouldn’t be sending runners at the drop of a hat. This meant the sacrifice, stolen base, and hitand-run were going to be less of a feature, for Chance figured a constantly drawn-in infield cost him more runs than it saved him in the early innings. The Angels were going to rely on good pitching and hitting to take it all.23 “Inside baseball” was on the outs. Arriving at the Santa Fe Station in Los Angeles after working on dirt for the entire spring, the Angels were looking forward to a final week’s work in Washington Park on real grass while sharing the ballpark with Los Angeles’ other home team, the Vernon Tigers. John Powers kept the front gate locked in the meantime, telling Times writer Harry Williams, “Seeing and knowing

156 Spitting on Diamonds too much about the teams beforehand is bad and bad for the gate and takes the edge off the baseball appetite. Beginning opening day, people can have all they want at 50 cents in the shade and 35 cents in the sun.” This is today’s equivalent to $8.15 for grandstand seats and $5.75 for the bleachers, with box seats being an extra $8.15.24 The Vernon Tigers, co-hosts of Washington Park, had joined the league in 1909. Owner Ed Maier originally located the team in the Los Angeles suburb of Venice because of its legal liquor sales, but had moved the team to equally wet Vernon and eventually into park-sharing due to lack of interest in its namesake.25 On days when one team was on the road, the other would use the park, cutting costs for both. And there was always the ballpark in Vernon to fall back on if necessary. The city of Vernon itself was no stranger to sports, having been a founding member of the short-lived Southern California Roller Polo League in 1906. It was also the site of enormously popular prizefights as well as the Grand Prix auto race in 1915, run through the streets of the city and won by Frank Chance’s drinking buddy Barney Oldfield, in front of seventy-five thousand fans.26 For the last week of spring training, both the Angels and Tigers split use of the field, giving Bradley and Agnes time to go apartment hunting in the afternoons. Finding a deal on a Ford Model T touring car, the city was theirs for the looking, and then as it is now, there was a lot to see. In a city of houses with gleaming white stucco and tended gardens overshadowed with tall palms, gigantic Moorish mansions disguised as Swiss chalets and covered with Moorish minarets stood as tributes to the adage that money can’t overcome bad taste. The redundancy of Tudor mansions with bizarre Byzantine arches standing next door proved nothing was too much.27 Home to the new and enormously popular motion picture business, movie companies had originally located in Los Angeles because of the continuous sunshine, building roofless stages to take full advantage of the light. By the time Bradley arrived, Southern California was in the midst of a decade that saw radical changes in the business of making movies and making money. While cameras displayed fades, dissolves, double-exposures, and close-ups on the screen, the business of Hollywood was moving from twenty-minute shorts into a multimillion-dollar industry, literally before America’s eyes. However, while the movie business was changing the face of the city, the developing suburb of Hollywood was determined to guard against the evil influence of the modern world by building a new city based on Christian values. This was believed possible by prohibiting whorehouses and theater people. Further additions to the list of undesirables were in evidence throughout the area when Bradley and Agnes went apartment hunting, for signs reading “No Jews, Actors or Dogs Allowed” were common. The signs meant what they

On the Wings of Angels 157 said, as actresses Lillian and Dorothy Gish found out in 1912 when they first moved to Los Angeles. Even though they were Philadelphia Main Line bluebloods and already famous from their roles on the Broadway stage, they found it almost impossible to rent or buy a place to live.28 Luckily, the signs didn’t mention baseball players, for the newest Angels in the band found a neat little bungalow for some forty dollars a month that put them close to everything. On sightseeing trips, Bradley and Agnes would occasionally stop by the Alexandria Hotel, famous for its five o’clock cocktail hour and “casting sessions,” which were fun to observe at the very least. The “trust me” business usually is. Besides offering cocktails, free baked ham, and hot rolls, the allocation of movie parts in new productions occurred every afternoon, making the Alexandria a magnet for every unemployed actor in the city.29 Besides, Agnes got to show off her new Theda Bara–inspired haircut, her first California souvenir. By the time opening day rolled around on April 4, some seventeen thousand fans had crammed into Washington Park at fifty cents apiece, plus another fifty cents for seats in the grandstand, to watch the Angels and Tigers go at it for real. After issuing new uniforms all around along with the customary thirtydollar chit, the Angels and Tigers were the highlight of a combined openingday parade through town, led by the chief of police and the obligatory boisterous brass band. The parade included a line of big touring cars furnished by automaker Hugh Chalmers carrying players and notables, along with a series of floats carrying the famous, near-famous, and just good-looking. Vernon’s float featured an agitated live tiger, while the Angels’ float had a huge baseball sliced open like an apple, revealing a small girl dressed as an angel seated between the halves.30 A grinning Frank Chance waved to the cheering crowd as he rode along in a big Mercedes-Benz owned and driven by his friend Barney Oldfield. When the parade pulled into Washington Park and made a turn around the field, a sea of applause rose from the enthusiastic crowd that included vaudeville orator DeWolfe Hopper of “Casey at the Bat” fame. While both teams marched past the grandstand single file preceded by an enormous American flag, movie cameras cranked away for all they were worth and the newsreels had their lead story in the can. Bradley was surprised when his former 1912 Boston teammate Otto Hess walked out to the mound for Vernon. When the Angels knocked the thirtynine-year-old pitcher out of the box early, the only Seraph ever in trouble was Frank Chance, who was thrown out of the game in the seventh for arguing a call, much to the crowd’s delight. It was obvious that the good guys wore white when the Angels, behind Jack Ryan, took the game and the day 5–2. Outfielder Harl Maggert started off fast, going six-for-nine as the Angels

158 Spitting on Diamonds won their first two games; then the Tigers won the next two and the lack of a competitive spring training began to make itself obvious throughout the league. Proof of this was in the erratic pitching and sloppy infield play that became the order of the days. On April 11, after an interminable twenty-seven-hour train ride on the Southern Pacific’s Overland Limited, the Angels arrived in beautiful downtown Salt Lake City, immediately running into high altitude, cold weather, heavy hitting, and a close outfield fence before finally winning 14–10. The Times also reported, “The only heaver out of the eight who acted like a real pitcher during the afternoon was Hogg.” Giving up one run over the last three innings, Bradley also earned his first save in an Angels uniform when Los Angeles came alive and scored three in the seventh. On the train home, Chance told Bradley that he would be starting for the first time in the upcoming series with the San Francisco Seals, then made it official by telling Harry Williams. He made it public knowledge with Bradley’s first “splash” in the Los Angeles papers: April 17, 1916: Los Angeles, California. Chance Looks for High-Powered Work from Hurler Hogg. Peerless Leader Will Start Former Cub Pitcher in Game This Week. Manager Frank Chance of the Angels predicts great things of Bradley Hogg, the pitcher secured from the Chicago Cubs. Hogg is rounding into shape and will be ready to take his regular turn in the near future. Hogg hurled in Salt Lake and showed class. The Peerless Leader stated on his arrival that he would start Hogg in a game this week.—Los Angeles Times

Three days later Agnes and Mary spent the afternoon at Washington Park joyously watching Daddy club a bunch of Seals 5–1, the Times writing, “With Hogg bringing home the bacon, the Angels enjoyed a very prosperous afternoon. He proved to be a very smooth article on this, his first public appearance in Los Angeles, and has a sidearm ball that is a whiz.”31 This was Bradley’s first win in an Angels’ uniform, and it was also the first time anyone ever mentioned a sidearm delivery. A side-arm spitball would be a horrific thing to face, if it was true, but whatever it was it must have worked for it kept the Seals guessing all day long. Those left hitless included San Francisco outfielder Francesco Stephano Pezzulo, known in baseball circles as “Ping” Bodie,32 who was on a two-year hiatus from his nine-year majorleague career. Not having to hit his own pitching, Bradley was two-for-four for the day. All in all, it was a good day to be an Angel, and as talk was going around the league about raising the salary cap, things looked like they might get even

On the Wings of Angels 159 better. Since many of the teams in the league were already over the cap with under-the-table signing bonuses and performance bonuses, it made sense to establish a realistic number teams might honor. The operative word here is “might.” The existing $4,500 limit had been established by the owners in 1915 during the threat of war with Mexico and its potential effect on attendance.33 The $250 average monthly player salary was the result of “tenuous times” according to Coast League management, who used the war threat to drive salaries down in spite of reality. However, with the threat ended by the spring of 1916 and the U.S. Army off chasing Pancho Villa’s bandits in earnest, every club was on the financial upswing as Frank Chance’s presence on the field in every city guaranteed a sellout. In spite of this, owners felt setting a higher salary cap meant continual haggling over money, because players would know more money was actually available. Keeping the cap low and ignoring it when convenient gave the owners an edge they didn’t want to give up, and since a club’s best pitchers and hitters already made an additional fifty to one hundred dollars a month, the best players didn’t care. Especially since the three hundred dollars or so Bradley took home every month in 1916 was the equivalent of five thousand dollars today,34 or more than thirty-five thousand dollars over a seven-month season, which bought a lot of nickel collars, fifteen-cent lunches, and baby clothes. While the owners were arguing over the almighty dollar, the six-team Coast League season was in full swing as every team began to make a name for itself in upper- or lower-case letters. Los Angeles fans found the Angels in contention for the first time in years, while Vernon, the Angels’ closest competitor in miles and ability, was starting to look like the team to beat. Portland and Oakland were a couple of pitchers away from contending, while San Francisco and Salt Lake had lost enough talent to the major leagues to keep the pennant off their flagpoles. Things could change overnight though, and they did after Zip Zabel’s shutout pitching and Chance’s screaming diatribes from the “coacher’s box” at third resulted in a 1–0 win over visiting San Francisco. The following day, Pete Standridge and Bradley went up against the Methuselah brothers in a doubleheader, and age beat beauty twice, the Times stating, “Joe Corbett and Spider Baum creaked through in two victories.”35 The Times wasn’t far off, for Joe Corbett, a native San Franciscan, was fortyone years old. He broke into the major leagues in 1895 with Washington, and had spent 1896–1897 with John McGraw and the “Old Orioles” in Baltimore.36 A stint with the Cardinals in 1904 had put him in the unique perspective of viewing baseball from a major-league pitcher’s mound in two different centuries.

160 Spitting on Diamonds Bradley’s opponent, curveball specialist Charles “Spider” Baum, had been around the Pacific Coast League since the beginning of time. A career minor leaguer, and a good one, Baum pitched for every team in the league before he was done, winning twenty or more games a year eight times on his way to amassing a fifteen-year career record of 325 wins.37 Baum’s collection of one of the 325 highlighted Bradley’s first appearance on the losing side of an Angels’ box score. A series of dumb plays and miscues leading to losses resulted in the Angels’ fall into third during the following week, causing Chance more baseballrelated headaches. In an effort to improve the odds, he pulled out all the stops: April 29, 1916: Washington Park, Los Angeles, California. Angels Bust Losing Jinx. Erasmus Pinckney Johnson, the blackest and homeliest bat boy in these entire United States, was on the job. Chance’s men won their first game in a week, 8 to 4. Erasmus may have had something to do with it, and yet to an unbiased observer who doesn’t have much faith in charms, it appeared the Angels simply outplayed the Oaks clear off their feet in the first two rounds and they never recovered. Chance’s men drove Boyd to the trenches before the end of the third round, spotted Dixie Hogg to five runs, and sewed up the game as tight as a sack of gold dust. Nothing was left undone to win the game. Early in the morning, Chance gave orders to Doc Finley to go out and buy, kidnap, steal or hire the blackest bat boy this side of darkest Africa. Finley scoured the city, and Erasmus Pinckney Johnson was the result. Erasmus, from the top of his kinky head to his shuffling no. 10’s answered the specifications in every particular. Erasmus is as brunette as the ace of spades. He is so dark that you need a lantern to see him distinctly on the brightest day. Practically everything he touched became charged with base hits. Yes, Ma Johnson’s long-legged boy made good.—Los Angeles Times

Today, the blatant racism in the coverage of the new bat boy is astonishing, but in 1916 people didn’t think anything of it. Mr. Johnson was just the latest in a long line of human “good luck charms” used by baseball teams in the first decades of the twentieth century to “ward off evil,” and in the all-white world of 1916 baseball, he filled the bill. On May 1, Coast League statistics showed Bradley in a tie with Jack Ryan as the Angels’ top pitcher with identical 3–1 records, although his two saves were ignored in the scoring of the era. Bradley and Lynn Scoggins also led the league in fielding with perfect records, while Bradley’s batting average was a major-league .294.

On the Wings of Angels 161 In first place again after winning the Oakland series, the Angels took the train for Portland for a series with the last-place Beavers. Bradley’s future looked brighter than ever in overcast, damp Vaughn Street Park when he got his fourth win on the fifth, 4–3, over former Phillies pitcher Johnny Lush. Simultaneously, Harry Williams commented on the brightening future of baseball players after they left the diamond: May 7, 1916: Los Angeles, California. Retiring From Baseball Popular With Athletes. Numerous ex-Players Can Be Seen Around Town Writing Insurance Policies, Filling Teeth, Raising Chickens and Dispensing Liver Pills—Derelict Idea Has Passed Entirely Out of Game. Retiring from baseball is getting to be quite a fad with the athletes. Most of these shedding the spangles are taking up some profitable employment or entering business on their own hook. Unlike many of the players from a generation ago, the average ball player of today does not become a derelict when he passes from the game. Instead he becomes a useful citizen and pays taxes and street assessments and things.—Los Angeles Times

In a time before pensions and guaranteed contracts, players were right in looking out for themselves, for no one else was going to do it. Back in first place and facing Vernon in the second series between in-town rivals, the Angels’ first shutout loss in the first game was followed by the second in the second, dropping them into second place behind the Tigers. Former Cincinnati Reds pitcher George “Chief” Johnson, a Winnebago Indian from Nebraska who also went by the nickname “Murphy,”38 did the damage, along with a hot young infielder rapidly making a name for himself, Charles “Swede” Risberg. On his way to becoming the best second baseman in the league, Risberg would go on to make an even bigger name for himself in Chicago between 1917 and 1920 with his superb defensive play and participation in the scheme to throw the 1919 World Series. Several days later, Bradley spent a profitable hour and thirty-eight minutes with the Oakland Oaks and walked off with a 6–1 win. Afterwards, the Times’ Harry Williams interviewed Frank Chance about the current state of the Angels, and Frank told him, “They’ve hit their stride. Weak pitching has been the trouble all along, but that went in the last two weeks. Ryan finally came through, and Zabel and Hogg are looking the way they ought to look.” Williams also stated, “Chance was so anxious to show fans the improved Bradley Hogg and George Washington Zabel that he will start them against Portland today.”39

162 Spitting on Diamonds Meanwhile, giving a Los Angeles resident a start, a burglar became the victim of the famed “Murphy Bed” defense: June 1, 1916: Los Angeles, California. Shuts Up Her Burglar Friend In Folding Bed. Much excitement was caused at the Palmcrest apartments yesterday evening when Mrs. D. Voeverman, who occupies an apartment on the second floor, surprised a burglar in the act of cleaning out her rooms. Hurriedly shoving him into and shutting him inside a folding bed and into the wall, she screamingly telephoned the police.—Los Angeles Times

While the burglar was in bed with Murphy, Harry Williams was worrying about Zip Zabel’s new wife performing in the kitchen: “Zabel was an allaround athlete in college, an all-Kansas fullback and an all-Kansas basketball center, and because of this training he might be able to survive his new wife’s new and untried biscuits and not lose his effectiveness in the box.”40 Commenting on the recent ineffectiveness of the Angels pitchers, Williams stated, “Nine-tenths of the games lost to date have been lost through poor pitching and at short.”41 Intimating changes were in the wind and proving they were overdue, five Angels pitchers promptly gave it up in a 14–10 loss to the Beavers on the fourth that went on Bradley’s scorecard in relief, Williams commenting, “Pitchers were held cheap, being quoted at $2.23 on the hoof, and no less than ten pitchers of one kind or another partook in the pastime. Even though Oscar Horstmann was the only hurler to show anything, he was succeeded by Hogg, and men have been hung for less things than the Beavers did to this lumpy gentleman. Hogg was slaughtered for five runs in the eighth, changing the complexion of the pastime to a gory red, and the loss was his.” Several days later, Frank Chance took a chance on himself as a pinchhitter against Salt Lake’s Paul Fittery in the tenth inning, winning the game with a single off Mr. Fittery’s leg and proving once again if you want something done right, do it yourself. Surprisingly, after the first sixty games of the season, Los Angeles’ inconsistency had been matched by most of the teams in the league. In third place playing .550 ball, the Angels were just four games behind first-place Vernon. After giving Salt Lake hitting lessons, the Angels found themselves back in second, looking down on third-place San Francisco with red, white, and blue on the agenda at Washington Park. With the war in Europe entering its third year and the chances of the United States’ eventual involvement growing by the day, the Angels and Seals agreed to a joint patriotic display after an unusual 10:30 a.m. game on the

On the Wings of Angels 163 fourteenth in celebration of “Preparedness Day.” With the occasion billed as “The largest and most patriotic display of the year in the city,” both teams would be precision-marching in full baseball uniform in the parade, representing, according to John Powers, “some of the real sinew of this nation.”42 In preparation for the occasion, Bradley and the rest of the Angels spent the morning practicing close-order drill, for this was one time no one wanted to be out of step with the times. The vision of ballplayers drilling with bats under Sergeant Frank Chance’s direction is astounding, if only vaguely patriotic. Flags all around. While the Angels were double-timing around the ball field, across town Vernon manager Hamilton Patterson’s wallet was at half mast after he was fined fifty dollars and suspended indefinitely by league president Allan Baum for profane language at the ballpark in front of complaining patrons, proving free speech had a price.43 Continual gambling in ballparks had its price too, which could be exorbitant depending on where you sat: June 15, 1916: Braves Field, Boston, Massachusetts. Man Who Attacked Bookmaker Jailed. Police today arrested Fred Willis, aged 41, and charged him with assault and battery with a loaded revolver on Ed Mack, local bookmaker who was shot at Braves Field. Mack refused for a while to tell the police the name of the man who attacked him, stating that he would take care of the matter himself when he was able.—Los Angeles Times

However, in Los Angeles, Frank Chance didn’t need firearms to get pitchers to do his bidding: June 16, 1916: Los Angeles, California. Chance Works Nifty Scheme. Discovers New Way to Instill Control in Pitchers: “Mental Telepathy” May Have Place in Baseball. Frank Chance seems to have found a new way to instill control in pitchers. His system is to inject it through the head. Where the head is right it seems the arm will take care of itself. In reality, it is what is known as mental telepathy, or the influence of a manager’s mind over a pitcher’s arm, restoring faith in his ability.—Los Angeles Times

In reality, Frank was engaging in psychology rather than mental telepathy, but obviously neither Harry Williams nor his editor knew the difference. Another two-thousand-mile road trip reared its head on June 20 when the Angels and winged entourage boarded the train for a twenty-one-day tour of

164 Spitting on Diamonds the circuit, beginning with a twelve-inning stop in Oakland that took Zip Zabel, Bradley, and Jack Ryan all afternoon to finish. In a day and time devoid of relief pitchers, this was two too many, for it took men out of the rotation and left the Angels a half-game out of first. Meanwhile, the U.S. Navy was definitely in first place, decades before a naval career became an adventure instead of a job, with its first recruiting commercial: June 27, 1916: Washington, D.C. Movies to Boost Navy Recruiting. A proposal by five moving picture weekly news services to boost recruiting for the Navy through pictures showing the American naval ships at Vera Cruz was accepted today by Secretary Daniels. —Los Angeles Times

Ironically, in light of today’s constant barrage of stories about the plight of the national game, when Harry Williams waxed poetic on the subject two days later it was still old news: June 29, 1916: Los Angeles, California. What’s Wrong With Baseball? Actual Attendance Figures are on the Decline. Autos and Movies Bust into the Gate Receipts. Baseball as a drawing card is on the decline. We are inclined to attribute it to golf, the movies and the automobile. The “hero” stuff is on the decline, and players are not idolized as formerly. Baseball entered its greatest period of prosperity in 1906. This continued with unprecedented crowds and interest until the flood tide was reached between 1910 and 1912. The decline in baseball patronage may be attributable mainly to the festive and ubiquitous auto. It has affected some cities more than others, especially in Los Angeles. Now for the price of a gallon of gasoline, instead of going to a ball game it is the beach or the mountains for his n hisn.—Los Angeles Times

The Angels could have used a boat in Portland according to Harry Williams, for after nearly a week of rainouts, movies, and card games, only two games ended up being played “after land was discovered,” while “Frank Chance took with him a total of $167 of Portland’s money, which wasn’t enough to pay the hotel bill.”44 Perhaps it was enough to cover the train fare to Salt Lake City, where giving up eight runs in the first four innings wasn’t enough to beat Lynn

On the Wings of Angels 165 Scoggins. After Bradley gave up two more on two hits in three at-bats in onethird of an inning, they both sat back and watched from the bench as Los Angeles came back behind Jack Ryan and beat the Bees by the ridiculous score of 21–11, proving class AA ball is not always classy. After a week by the lake, the Angels arrived home in the morning groggy from rocking across the West in their Pullman, then immediately had to get dressed and play the streaking Vernon Tigers, winners of eight straight. They also had company, for the league’s directors had descended on Los Angeles to discuss Vernon owner Ed Maier’s spending policies. The clubs in the northern part of the circuit had charged Maier with constantly being over the player salary limit, and they were going to do something about it by expelling him from the board, and, if possible, from the game.45 The possibility of raising that limit to five thousand dollars per month per team was brushed aside, as if a five-hundred-dollar team-wide increase was ridiculous. With a twenty-five dollar raise every month for every player, it would mean an average salary of three hundred dollars a month, and how could owners make money that way? Luckily the players didn’t know Florenz Ziegfeld paid his New York chorus girls three hundred dollars a month in 1916,46 and they couldn’t hit a curveball. Commenting on the problem, San Francisco owner Hen Berry stated, “Ball players stick pretty close together and know about each other’s business, and I know that Art Fromme, Whaling, Daley, Mitchell and others have phony contracts with the Vernon club. They are getting more money than their contracts call for so that the club can officially stay under the $4,500 salary limit. We were forced to cut our higher-priced players and other clubs did the same. Now when the players learn that the Tigers are still drawing big salaries, it naturally causes them to be disgruntled.”47 Naturally. While Ed Maier was losing in the board room, his ball club was losing on the field, Jack Ryan taking the opportunity to unveil his new spitball in game three against the vastly overpaid Mr. Fromme. In winning 3–0, the Angels scored the first runs in thirty-three innings off the former New York Giant. When Zip Zabel lost a tight 2–1 game to Chief Johnson, not only was the game article headlined “Fat Chief Johnson Waddles to the Rescue” but also Johnson was sensitively described as “an enormous lump of manhood” while being given a backhanded compliment, “The Chief was extremely active for a fat man.” The newly married Zip Zabel’s pitching also proved to Harry Williams that “He is slowly but surely recovering from the terrible results of having become a slave to home cooking.”48 Makes you wonder if Zabel and his wife had made the mistake of inviting Harry home to dinner. Regardless, a couple of days later, Bradley had Oakland for lunch:

166 Spitting on Diamonds July 21, 1916: Washington Park, Los Angeles, California. Hogg Rounds Into Shape. Lets Oaks Down With Three Measley Hits. After thinking it over for some time, Bradley W. Hogg yesterday made up his mind to win a ball game. The result was satisfactory to all concerned, Los Angeles winning 3 to 1. Mr. Hogg, who was reared on the burning sands of Tennessee, had been sticking around for several months waiting for some real hot weather, which would enable him to attain his maximum efficiency. Hogg is like a steam boiler. It takes just so much heat to give him the desired amount of steam. When it gets too hot and he threatens to explode, he goes out and lets off some steam by pitching a ball game. Baseball acts as a safety valve for him. Had he not entered the game, he would have blown up long ago, leaving nothing but his explosion to remember him by. He is famous as a hot-weather pitcher, but had it been three degrees hotter, he would have undoubtedly pitched a no-hit game. This rounding into form of Hogg will add a lot of weight to the Los Angeles pitching staff and make the club’s chances look much fatter. On with the slaughter.—Los Angeles Times

How Harry Williams could get Bradley’s name and place of origin wrong after nearly four months of writing about him is beyond understanding. And who set fire to the hills of Tennessee? To improve on what was already improving, John Powers purchased Ventura, California, native Charley “Sea Lion” Hall from the Cardinals on the twenty-fifth in return for Oscar Horstmann’s contract in 1917. More good pitching is never enough, and Hall was good, but after eight major-league seasons the thirty-one-year-old had found the vermilion of St. Louis unrewarding.49 Leaving the seventh-place ineptitude of the Cardinals behind, both the trade and Hall’s homecoming were big news. Chance also picked up shortstop Bobby Davis from Oakland in a trade for Johnny Butler, and Davis had several good games before wrenching his knee sliding. Not leaving it up to Doc Finlay, Harry Williams reported, “Chance took Davis to a specialist. It developed that the injury is not irreparable. The doctor went to work with a powerful rubber bandage. This strengthened the ailing member, and gave Bobby a lot of renewed confidence, not only in his leg, but in himself generally.”50 With arthroscopic surgery unknown in 1916, a giant rubber band stretched the boundaries of sports medicine. On the twenty-sixth, Charlie Comiskey set in motion a purchase he would long remember when he exercised his four-thousand-dollar option on Vernon second baseman Swede Risberg, ignoring rumors started by the Tigers intimating, “Risberg didn’t know enough yet for the majors and couldn’t hit hard

On the Wings of Angels 167 enough to hold down a regular job” in a fruitless attempt to keep him on the Vernon roster.51 Two days later, Oscar Horstmann took one on the chin in Salt Lake, and Bradley went in for two innings of mopping up. What made this particular relief appearance notable was the first appearance of a lit coal-oil stove next to Bradley in the dugout. Chance had the brilliant idea of heating up Bradley before his appearances, and, as he pitched two perfect innings, it seemed to work perfectly: July 28, 1916: Washington Park, Los Angeles, California. Heat Hogg. The plan of heating Hogg up by having him sit on a coal-oil stove before going into the box worked to perfection. Under this system it will be possible to send him into the box rare, medium or well done. In case he is pitching against a tail-end club he will be served soft-boiled. Against the middle division clubs he will be fried only on one side, while before sending him in against the heavy contenders he will he turned over and nicely browned.” By thus manipulating the manner in which he is cooked it is believed that he can win a majority of his games despite the weather. The only thing against the plan is the high cost of coal oil. Another feasible scheme would be to have an expert Mexican come out to the park and barbecue Hogg before each game.—Los Angeles Times

Working up a good sweat before he went in rather than after he’d loaded the bases was a good idea that would be repeated, as the coal-oil stove became Bradley’s closest game-day companion. Meanwhile, every day at the beach in Los Angeles wasn’t a day at the beach, in spite of the brochures: July 30, 1916: Seal Beach, California. Seal Beach Hold-Up. This city’s first holdup occurred yesterday when George Fend and his family of Ontario were stopped by a daring highwayman on Long Beach Boulevard. Dashing alongside the touring car in which Mr. Fend and his family were riding, a masked motorcycle bandit thrust a revolver of large caliber into the face of the driver and ordered him to stop, which he did. Ordering the passengers to file out of the machine and stand alongside the road in the manner of an old-time stage holdup, coolly and apparently in no hurry the bandit went through all their pockets. Ignoring all jewelry, he gathered $15 for his trouble.—Los Angeles Times

168 Spitting on Diamonds Since that $15 was the equivalent of $224 today, that was an expensive day at the beach.52 Without a revolver, all Bradley got for his trouble was tired after a lateinning relief effort against Salt Lake City, giving up six hits and one run in four innings. The reason was simple, according to Harry Williams: “Forgetting to bring the coal oil stove with them, Hogg went into the game without being fricasseed.” On the way out of town, Williams sarcastically commented, “Chance tried to sell Hogg to the Houser packing company, but couldn’t make a deal.”53 When outfielder Harl Maggert won a safety razor for being the first Angel to score in a win over Vernon, it emphasized the arrival of modern marketing on the ball field in force. Awarding products or services for athletic achievement had become the norm, the Times commenting, “Prizes are now being awarded for everything. A player can hardly make a move without being awarded a hat, a box of cigars, or two different kinds of razors.”54 The bandwagon was filling up, for on the same day Maggert won his razor, the Nickley candy company announced it was rewarding theft with a five-dollar box of candy, which would go to the Angel with the most stolen bases during a series. Since that would be the equivalent of an eighty-dollar box of candy today, any player eating his prize would soon be out of the running for any further awards. Oddly, the occasional showers of pocket change an exceptional play might garner from enthusiastic fans weren’t mentioned, but with a dime being worth $1.50 today, players scooped them up. Trying to scoop up a pennant, the next Angel win over Vernon resulted in a near riot. With Los Angeles leading by two in the ninth behind Zip Zabel, Vernon made a run at it and had men on second and third with two out when Swede Risberg slapped a slow grounder to short. Out by a good ten feet to end the game, Risberg ran over Beef Koerner at first anyway, and got a ball in the back for his trouble. When Risberg approached Koerner saying it wasn’t intentional, Beef wasn’t buying and punched him. Both teams charged onto the field, bringing their bats and tempers with them, and were joined by Frank Chance, a dozen policemen, and five hundred agitated fans who swarmed around the players. The police finally separated the men and a riot was averted, the Angels keeping the 4–2 win and Risberg keeping the shiner. Fashion made the sports page later in the week when Portland arrived in Vernon sans clothes. Finding their uniforms and equipment had been mistakenly shipped to San Francisco, not only were the Beavers going to have to play an unscheduled doubleheader, they were going to have to play it naked. Not wanting to see this, Vernon loaned the Beavers their road uniforms, which made the fans’ day. Without sliding pads and with pants too short,

On the Wings of Angels 169 shirts too long, and shoes everything but right, Portland was a sight. When outfielder Billy Southworth appeared on the coaching lines in his socks due to ill-fitting shoes, the fans hooted. But when the day was done, Portland had taken not only Vernon’s clothes but also both games and were rolling, which was something also familiar to Californians: August 12, 1916: Artesia, California. Marijuana Raid. Constable J.F. Freeman and his deputies made a raid into Little Mexico Saturday near this city and got possession of a large quantity of marijuana. Raphael Borago was arrested. He pleaded guilty in Judge Rockwell’s court and was sent to the county jail for ninety days.—Los Angeles Times

Drugs in California? Visionary. If Bradley had been visionary, a look in the papers that same day would have revealed the opportunity of a lifetime: oceanfront property in a new development called Santa Monica was selling for $450 an acre. Going for their third win in a row over Portland, Chance sent Bradley in to relieve Zip Zabel in the third, after Zabel zapped a muscle in his side giving up the tying run. Luckily, both Bradley and the coal-oil stove were red-hot in the late afternoon: August 19, 1916: Washington Park, Los Angeles, California. Angels Take Four Straight. Bradley Hogg Proves to be in Great Shape. Has McCredie’s Beavers at His Mercy To End. The showing of Bradley W. Hogg, who relieved Zabel, was an event of considerable significance, and really more important than the game itself. Hogg seemed to be right for the first time this year, and did not yield a hit until the ninth when he eased up and was touched for two singles. He mowed down the Beavers on strikes in seven and one-third rounds. Half the time he had the brawny visitors ducking away from his curve ball which broke harmlessly over the pan. Willie crabbed so much when Hogg fanned him the second time in the sixth that umpire Red Held sent him to the clubhouse for his own good. Hogg went in good and warm yesterday, having sat on the coal oil stove for forty-five minutes before entering the bull pen. Had this system not worked, Chance would have invited Hogg to seat himself on a five gallon can of gasoline and touched a match to it.—Los Angeles Times

As of this day, coal oil was permanently entered as baseball equipment on the Angels’ ledger.

170 Spitting on Diamonds On August 22, with the pennant in the balance, every team in the league began their last swing through the circuit. The Angels’ five-game lead over Vernon was losable in less than a week and they knew it, so the Seraphs were tight as a drum when they boarded the train for Oakland, the first stop on a two-week tour. When Jack Ryan exploded in the fifth inning and the lastplace Oaks took the opening game 5–3, the pressure cooked the Angels, who promptly lost four out of five. The Angels’ lead evaporated to thirteen percentage points. After Oscar Horstmann stopped the bleeding with a 3–0 shutout in the opener of the series’ last-day doubleheader, the loud and partisan crowd filling Oak Park settled back for the second game full of hot dogs and beer. As vendors dressed in white uniforms circled among the patrons, brass bands tootled away while the gamblers in the right field stands provided background music with their bets on every pitch and situation. As it turned out, the Angels’ winning proposition was named Hogg, for Bradley shut out the Oaks on five hits, 3–0. Arriving in Portland, the Angels found the Beavers no more hospitable than the Oaks as they took the first two games of the series. Jack Ryan stopped the skid, and the Angels flew 5–4 the following day behind Zip Zabel and Charley Hall, but the Beavers’ Billy Southworth was the big winner when fans showered him with eleven dollars’ worth of change after a three-run home run, the equivalent today of finding $165 on the ground.55 One of the few highlights of the series was Bradley’s tenth win of the season, a lopsided 13–4 affair in which outfielder Harl Maggert was “given the exile sign in the seventh inning for directing words not in Webster’s lexicon at Umpire Guthrie about the merits of a third strike.”56 The merits of Pete Standridge’s pitching were being questioned as well when two consecutive losses resulted in the Angels’ slide into second. Even worse, Oscar Horstmann was proving human, for the league had figured him out and were starting to bury him under an avalanche of hits. Meanwhile, in the burying place of millions, the race had come down to the wire: September 4, 1916: Verdun Salient, Western Front, France. Baseball at Verdun. The American Ambulance Field Section No. 8, under Austin Mason of Boston, claims the baseball championship of the Verdun salient, having defeated the other three ambulance sections of this sector and also the Norton and Hartjes ambulance units. French and American flyers often fly above the grounds watching the game, but once in a while a German hovers over the diamond and must

On the Wings of Angels 171 be driven away before he drops bombs and ruins the field. The games are played within range of the Crown Prince’s big guns, but seldom does a big shell bursting in the vicinity stop a contest.—Los Angeles Times

While ambulance drivers were knocking the crepes out of the ball in France, Angels’ groundskeeper Ed Schallmo found a crowd wanting to join him in an empty ballpark. After he hooked up his horse-drawn lawnmower, climbed aboard, and proceeded to cut Washington Park’s grass, which was not normally news as such, a crowd outside the park heard the clanking and rattling inside and began lining up in front of the box office for a ball game.57 This was in spite of a posted notice stating otherwise, proving for some, hearing is believing. With the Angels stepping on their own feet, Vernon pushed into the league lead for the first time in more than a month. That same day, league statistics were released showing Jack Ryan still leading the league with his 21–9 record, while Pete Standridge’s 12–8 was good enough for third and Bradley’s 10–7 was good for fourth. Lynn Scoggin’s 9–7, Horstmann’s 12–12, and Zabel’s 10–10 put them in the middle of the pack, while Charley Hall’s 3–4 brought up the rear. Showing the value of a veteran, Jack Ryan’s twenty-one wins alone put the staff record at 77–57, twenty wins over .500. Unfortunately, Ryan was starting to show the wear and tear of pitching 267 innings, and Chance wasn’t going to take a chance. He needed help. To rectify the situation, he convinced John Powers to work out a deal with St. Louis Browns’ manager Fielder Jones for the contract of Otis Crandall. He knew the New York Giant had been loaned to Oakland, and had been pitching indifferently for them, but thought he would do better with a better club. Finally, winning was on the Angels’ program during a do-or-die series with Vernon. Taking the first two games and first place back in the bargain, after Oscar Horstmann lost the third game to begin the third day’s doubleheader, Bradley got off the stove on California Admittance Day and out of Harry Williams’s pen came jingoism at its finest: September 10, 1916: Washington Park, Los Angeles, California. Double Header Is Divided Up. Tigers Win Fluky Game in the Morning. Hogg Unhittable in Afternoon. In honor of California having been admitted into the Union, two ball games were played yesterday. If dear old Cal was in Mexico, as it came close to being, two bull fights instead of two ball games would have been staged at Washington Park. Thanks to the refining influence of civilization, nobody in this country needs to do anything more dangerous than throw the bull.

172 Spitting on Diamonds Several hundred puff-eyed bugs witnessed the quaint morning game in which Vernon won 1 to 0. On the other hand, eight thousand pair of bright eyes are estimated to have watched the afternoon doing which resulted in a 2 to 0 decision for Bradley Hogg. When Chance’s men spotted Hogg to two runs in the first round it was all over save the formality of playing the legal number of innings. Sitting on the coal oil stove before the game and between innings made Hogg entirely too hot for the Tigers. There have been lower-hit games pitched here, but none more sensational. Hogg allowed three hits, two of which were infield.—Los Angeles Times

The Los Angeles Examiner also commented on his performance, stating, “Hogg pitched the prettiest game seen here this year, and it was the smoothness and consummate ease of the performance that impressed the patrons.”58 One of the players who didn’t think much of Bradley’s pitching was Swede Risberg, who was unscrewed at the socket, going hitless in four at bats for the day. That same day in Chicago, one of Risberg’s future teammates ended up with zero as well: September 14, 1916: Chicago, Illinois. Buck Weaver a Bankrupt. George D. (Buck) Weaver, third baseman of the Chicago American League baseball team, filed a petition in bankruptcy today in the Federal Court, seeking relief from creditors of a billiard ball enterprise, which he started two years ago on the South Side and which recently closed. His liabilities were listed as $1,002.86 and his assets as nothing. —Los Angeles Times

Either Weaver’s $4,000 White Sox salary didn’t go as far as he thought it would, or Weaver wasn’t a very good pool player, for the $1,002.86 he owed in 1916 was equal to $16,497 today.59 While Weaver was in court, John Powers was in the telegraph office, trying to convince Pittsburgh second baseman Jimmy Viox that the Coast League was a ballplayer’s paradise. Unbelievably, according to the Times, paradise lost when Viox told Pirates’ president Barney Dreyfuss, “California was too far away and he wouldn’t go that far from home, and that he would quit the game and hike back to the farm.”60 One might hope he had good shoes, for it was 253 miles back to Lockland, Ohio, for a view of the world that would forever be blocked by the back end of a mule. On the twentieth, the big news in Los Angeles was spitballer Doc Crandall’s arrival at Washington Park, completing John Powers’s deal with the

On the Wings of Angels 173 St. Louis Browns. Scooped off Oakland’s roster, one of the most popular players in the circuit was being fitted for Angels’ wings. When Jack Ryan got the best of fellow spitballer Spider Baum of San Francisco the next day, Bradley saw age beat age and beauty had nothing to do with it. According to the Times’s overly descriptive Harry Williams, “It is said a man is no older than he feels, and by the same token a spitball pitcher is no older than his gills. When a spitballer’s gills dry up he is gone. Yesterday, Ryan and Baum were spouting off at the face like a couple of whales. Inning after inning the saliva bubbled out of their gills like the fountain of youth. Either of these two splendid pitching antiques can beat half the youngsters doing business in this league.”61 With the addition of Otis Crandall, the Angels found themselves with three spitballers, which meant a lot of off days for every batter in the league if the three were on. If they were off, there was hope, which Crandall provided when he lost 6–1 to the Seals in his first Angelic start. This on-again, offagain performance routine had to stop if Los Angeles was going to take the flag, and with Agnes and Mary waving from the grandstand, Bradley did his best to start something while wearing his smoking flannels: September 21, 1916: Washington Park, Los Angeles, California. Angels Take Another Game. Bradley Hogg is Tight in the Pinches. The only warm things at Washington Park yesterday were the game, the hot dogs, and Jacinto Calvo, the torrid Cuban. The game was just naturally warm, Los Angeles winning it, 4 to 2. The hot dogs were kept warm by use of a portable field kitchen and Jacinto de Calvo by drinking Tabasco sauce out of a bottle. This made him such a warm number that umpire Bill Guthrie canned him in the seventh, claiming Calvo was riding him from the bench. By resorting to five gallons of coal oil, Bradley W. Hogg was kept alive for nine innings. Although he was swatted severely in spots, only in the seventh were the Seals able to raise their score above the zero mark, and a little more hustling by our matchless outfielders probably would have prevented these runs.”—Los Angeles Times

After taking the series from San Francisco, the Angels and Seals were tied at the top of the league standings with ninety-nine wins. Bradley unwrapped his new “pop ball” and ran up number one hundred against visiting Salt Lake, treating fans to an afternoon of pop-ups unlike any anyone had seen in years. Finding exactly how small the baseball world really was the next morning, Bradley read with more than passing interest that Vernon had signed a new catcher named Charlie “Boss” Schmidt, formerly of Detroit and Mobile.

174 Spitting on Diamonds On the last day of September, after taking the first of six games of the seven-game series with the Bees, Bradley went out to face them again in the series finale and dropped the ball. Overnight, rain had drowned the field and the groundskeeper had to burn five gallons of gasoline to dry out the pitcher’s mound and around the bases. As it was still raining and muddy, the Times opined that “Hogg was picked to pitch as it was figured that he would be right at home in the mud. Mud seemed to be his natural environment for eight innings, but by the ninth the landscape had dried some and Hogg cracked along with the drying mud.”62 Taking a series from San Francisco that included a 7–1 win by Bradley, described sensitively by Harry Williams as “the porcine member of our staff,” the game also featured a triple play by Polly McLarry, Beef Koerner, Bobby Davis, and Walter Boles in the seventh. The feat was made public when baseball barker “Foghorn” Murphy continued his traditional ride up and down Market Street on horseback, announcing the game through a megaphone.63 What he didn’t announce was Bradley’s constant changing of clothes during the game, which the Times remarked upon at length with slight exaggeration: “Much valuable time was consumed by Bradley W. Hogg changing clothes. Hogg reached first every time up, once on a walk and twice on forceouts. Every time he reached first the game would be delayed until somebody rushed out with a sweater and put it on him. Then the side would be retired and he would peel the sweater off and go back to work. The game officially lasted an hour and fifty-five minutes, but deducting the time taken out by Hogg continuously changing his clothes, the actual play only consumed one hour and fifteen minutes. The next time Hogg pitches, Chance intends to hire a stable hand with a horse blanket, and that way save time.”64 Taking the ferry to Oakland, the Angels made their last Northern California appearance of the year a profitable one, sweeping four games. Bradley was the winner the second day when practice made perfect, McLarry, Koerner, Davis, and Boles repeating their triple play as the Angels won going away. The competition was going away as well, for the Angels’ lead over secondplace Vernon had grown to four and a half games and it was only a matter of time before it was time for a celebration. Luckily, the pennant-clincher didn’t occur a few days later against Portland, as no one would have been able to see it, the elements pitching in to cover Jack Ryan’s performance with an enormous fog bank that swallowed Washington Park. This had to make pitching, hitting, and fielding a lot of fun as Ryan won 4–3 in relief of Charley Hall. When Polly McLarry put one in the bleachers that resulted in the winning difference, the Times stated, “The fan that caught the ball, being an honest man, returned it to its rightful owner otherwise the game would have been played at a loss of a dollar and a quarter.”65

On the Wings of Angels 175 After Doc Crandall beat Portland’s Win Noyes 15–2 in a spitball contest, Noyes complained to one and all that “The Angels had sabotaged his spitter by putting alum in the water bucket.”66 This might have been true, for it was frequently done to overcome spitballers, and when Noyes puckered up after a drink he found he couldn’t spit and the Angels took full advantage of the dry spell. Needing one more win for the pennant, with Chance loudly urging them on from the coaches’ box, the deal was done on the twenty-second in front of a huge Sunday crowd as Los Angeles won its first pennant in seven years. Then after the raucous band concert and the cheering and celebrations had died down, Bradley lit the coal-oil stove for the final time in 1916: October 23, 1916: Washington Park, Los Angeles, California. Angels Win Coast League Pennant. Second Game Ends in Tie Score. Darkness Stops Game in Eleventh. Greetings! Likewise salutations on this Monday morning, which, while a trifle cloudy is anything but blue. Los Angeles whipped Portland in the morning 1–0 behind George Washington Zabel to clinch the Coast League Pennant, while in the afternoon the teams battled each other for eleven innings to a 4 to 4 draw. Hogg was the victim of circumstance, one of which was himself. In the third a single by Williams, an error by Bradley and a fielder’s choice that proved the wrong guess filled the bases with none down. A pop up, a sacrifice fly and a home run counted for four runs. Darkness made it impossible to settle the grudge. —Los Angeles Times

Wiping his sister’s lipstick off his face, Bradley took off his wings and his first season as an Angel was history, his final record standing at 16–9. John Powers also announced that a celebratory team victory banquet would be held at the Los Angeles Athletic Club on the upcoming Saturday, and Harry Williams couldn’t wait, referring to it as a “food carnival.”67 Dressed to the nines, Agnes and Bradley and the band of Angels showed up at the Athletic Club at the appointed hour and helped the season go out in style. A wealthy man, John Powers did things up right with the best of everything, including food, drink, and orchestra. Along with effusive congratulatory speeches by anyone who had anything to say, one of the little touches was an engraved banquet program for everyone in attendance. Passing it around, starting with Lynn Scoggins and Zip Zabel, Bradley joined the rest of the team in the unfamiliar pose of autograph seekers, and once finished, Agnes put it away for safekeeping. Eighty-five years later it would turn up in her scrapbook, valued at some thirty-five hundred dollars, for it contained the signatures of more than a dozen major-league players, including Bradley

176 Spitting on Diamonds Hogg, Charley Hall, Jack Ryan, Harry Wolter, Zip Zabel, and Pete Standridge.68 And one Mr. Frank L. Chance. The next day, Bradley, Agnes, and Mary boarded the Southern Pacific and began a five-day trip to Georgia that would end the season with a bang or twenty. For during the second night, as the train clattered across the rails along the Texas-Mexico border, the conductor came through the cars extinguishing the lights, loudly directing the passengers to get onto the floor. Now. Pancho Villa’s bandits were shooting at passing trains.69 And to the sound of celebratory gunfire, the 1916 season came to an explosive close.

8

1917

On the Right Hand of Chance Arriving in Buena Vista after first frost, Bradley found one drawback to playing in the Coast League was that the season seemed to go on forever. As a reminder, shortly after Christmas he got a present from John Powers in the form of a contract for 1917, along with a note to report to Los Angeles in late February for spring training. This meant he barely had time to get red clay on his shoes before he had to shine them up and take a train to the coast, and that two-year-old Mary would be learning to talk with a California accent. Like, for sure. While Bradley was getting out his shoe polish, one man not bothering to learn English at all arrived in New York and took a job as editor of the socialist newspaper Novy Mir, or “New World.” Ironically, Leon Trotsky would only spend ten weeks in the United States, just long enough to raise millions of dollars from sympathetic American capitalists to fund a communist revolution.1 That winter, management of the Western League was talking about a revolution of its own: February 1, 1917: Los Angeles, California. Ball Players To Ride To Park In Uniforms. Western League to Cut Out Clubhouses for Visiting Teams and Force the Outsiders to Ride Through the Streets in Baseball Togs—Too Much Friendliness on the Diamond These Days. The Western League is getting back to principles. It has decided to abolish clubhouses at the grounds for visiting players. They will be compelled to don their uniforms at their hotel and make the trip to the ballyard in a gasoline-propelled bus. There is a dual object in view. One is to discourage that brand of friendliness between players which occupancy of adjoining clubhouses

177

178 Spitting on Diamonds sometimes promotes. Another is to job the flagging interest of the fans by having the players pass along the street in their unies. According to Frank Isbell, one of the magnates, “Some of the most cherished memories of our youth cluster around the adventures where we joined with other kids in heaving rocks at the horse-drawn bus laden with visiting ball players. Those were the days of genuine rivalry in baseball.—Los Angeles Times

The Times noted the plan probably wouldn’t work in the big leagues, as they usually stayed in hotels that wouldn’t let the players pass through the lobby in uniform. However, Times writer Harry Williams was all for getting rid of the “pink tea sessions” between players of rival teams before games, stating that “Coast League managers would do the game a good turn and give it an additional dash of red blood by compelling the athletes to cut out these social calls and smart-set stuff once they have entered the arena.”2 Frank Chance was not concerned with reliving the past, only preparing for the future as he came and went between his Glendora “orange ranch” and Washington Park. While oranges can improve on their own, Chance knew ball teams don’t share the same ability and he was in the market for some new ballplayers. As a result, Before Bradley had even packed his bags for the coast, Chance kicked off February with a bang, trading second baseman Polly McLarry, third baseman Jim Galloway, and five hundred dollars cash to Vernon for first baseman “Gloomy Gus” Gleichman and his better glove. When he sent Beef Koerner and his better bat to San Francisco for Bradley’s former Southern Association opponent, lefthander Curly Brown, everybody was going to need a scorecard to keep track of the changes. Some changes in the entertainment business, however, had already proven a failure: February 2, 1917: Los Angeles, California. Movies Reverting to Old Standard Prices. Following a period of great expenditures in the motion picture industry that was ambitiously intended to place the screen on the $2 scale of theatrical prices, conditions are forcing a retrenchment. The huge outlays of money have not been justified by returns in the moving picture theaters. With the presentation of Griffith’s “Birth of a Nation,” the entire business went spectacle mad. That this is the work of genius and not of an unlimited amount of money was not considered. Theaters reported to the producers that the public demanded wholesome plays of ordinary five-reel length at popular prices, 5, 10, 20 and 30 cents.—Los Angeles Times

On the Right Hand of Chance 179 In the real world, the war in Europe threatened to involve the United States more every day. When President Wilson broke off relations with Germany on February 3 as a result of the Kaiser’s resumption of unrestricted submarine warfare, that same day the American liner Housatonic was sunk by a torpedo thirty miles off the coast of England, underscoring his signature.3 Underscoring the ironies of war and technical advancement, fifty-three years earlier the first ship ever sunk by a submarine was also named the Housatonic, the Union sloop becoming the victim of the Confederate submarine H. L. Hunley on February 17, 1864, outside Charleston harbor.4 In baseball’s insular world, threats of war were leading to roster reductions in every league, and the possibility the sport would be abolished during wartime was on everyone’s mind. College sports would definitely be victimized by a military draft, but no one really knew what was going to happen or when at the professional level, and because of this rumors flew and were printed daily. Changes in the Angels’ band continued on an almost daily basis as well, Chance trading infielder Art Butler to Louisville for Red Killefer. The thirtythree-year-old outfielder with seven major-league seasons under his belt would turn out to be one of the year’s best acquisitions. But while Chance was spending John Powers’ money, Coast League moguls were trying not to, as their annual preseason meeting in Salt Lake City was all about the salary cap. Dodging the question of actually raising it, after the meetings had ended the owners announced that the forty-five-hundreddollar monthly salary limit had not been raised but that “Managers would not be held to strict accountability.”5 Since Ed Darmody had bought the Vernon Tigers after the season from the profligate Ed Maier, the problem of Vernon exceeding the salary cap again wasn’t mentioned and magnates let sleeping dogs lie. When opportunity knocked one last time for Harry Wolter, he was wide awake, signing for one more year in the majors with the Chicago Cubs, leaving a hole in the Angels’ outfield that Chance immediately filled with Killefer. The previous spring’s competitive void was also filled when the papers announced three professional teams would be holding spring training in and around Los Angeles. In addition to the Angels and Vernon Tigers, the Chicago Cubs under new manager Fred Mitchell were making their first foray to Pasadena, so Elsinore fell off the baseball map. At the same time, another first occurred in Pittsburgh, when operating on the ball field made a man a doctor: February 7, 1917: Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Johnny Evers Given Degree. Johnny Evers, scrappy captain of the Boston Braves, now is Professor

180 Spitting on Diamonds John J. Evers of cultured Boston. At the second annual banquet of the Pittsburgh chapter of the American Institute of Banking, Dr. F. W. Hinnitt, president of Washington and Jefferson College, conferred the degree of Doctor of Philosophy upon the Boston player.—Los Angeles Times

While Dr. Evers was stepping to the tune of higher education, people across America were beginning to move to the first jazz record in history, “Dixie Fast Step,” recorded by the all-white Dixieland Jazz Band and released on February 9, becoming a mainstay on every Victrola.6 With Curly Brown of San Francisco replacing Oscar Horstmann on the Angels’ roster, Bradley was finding more of his past was becoming part of his future. And more of his future was becoming part of his present when Chance obtained Emil “Irish” Meusel from the Cubs, completing the Angels’ depleted outfield. However, one thing Chance also knew was that trades within the league often brought problems along with the players, as hostility from former fans was a real and present danger. Chance had experienced this when he was managing the Cubs in 1906 and traded five men for the Dodgers’ Jimmy Sheckard, which turned out to be a one-sided deal in Chance’s direction. Dodger fans never let up on either of them, and eventually he had to get police protection whenever the Cubs went to Brooklyn, following a pop bottle barrage from fans in the right field bleachers. Even though Chance returned them with interest, the riot was only put down when a battalion of police cleared the stands.7 In the middle of February, Bradley, Agnes, and Mary kept a sharp eye out for bandits as their train neared the Mexican border on its way west toward the City of Angels. Luckily, Pancho Villa had been chased into Mexico by General “Black Jack” Pershing and the U.S. Army, and gunfire wasn’t a distraction from the cows, rural residents, or cactus on display for 1,958 miles. Arriving in Los Angeles, instead of renting an apartment this time around, Bradley checked everyone into a good hotel for a reasonable fifty dollars a month, the equivalent of seven hundred dollars in today’s dollars,8 giving them a two-room suite with two meals a day and access to the ballpark via the Red Car trolleys. It made sense, for many of the Angels lived in or near their hotel and a social life was guaranteed. After reporting to Washington Park and signing his contract, Chance told Bradley about the changes being made to prevent the pennant changing hands, which would result in a lot of new faces competing for places on the springtime ball field. Busily noting that fact in his daily Times column, Harry Williams stated, “Very few of the old Angels have any wings worth mentioning. Boles, Bassler, Hogg, and Maggert can still move around without crutches, but many are feeling the effects of the shakeup.”9

On the Right Hand of Chance 181 Center fielder Harl Maggert was still around, and Chance figured Irish Meusel and Red Killefer completed the outfield. Catching was still in the good hands of Johnny Bassler and Walter Boles, and along with Bradley, pitchers Otis Crandall, Charley Hall, and Jack Ryan had also returned to the firmament. The infield was something else entirely, with new players at first, second, third, and short. How much else remained to be seen. As it turned out, Bradley was going to be seen throughout the league on a daily basis in 1917, thanks to the Collins-McCarthy Candy Company of San Francisco, who sent their photographer to Washington Park to take his picture for their line of “Zeenut” baseball cards. And after six years, Bradley was finally a card-carrying ballplayer. At the same time, after only a year with the White Sox, Bradley’s former 1912 New Bedford teammate Jack Ness decided to turn in his glove for a time card as Charlie Comiskey’s chronic cheapness cost him a first baseman: February 28, 1917: Chicago, Illinois. Jack Ness Quits Sox To Take Job As A Mechanic. Jack Ness, former first baseman of the Chicago White Sox, announced his retirement from big-league baseball. This player, who shattered Ty Cobb’s record for consecutive hitting, says he is through with the game so far as the big circuits are concerned. He will enter the employ of a Chicago concern at once, with the object of becoming a skilled mechanic. Ness was a holdout for more money than was offered him in recent negotiations. He refused to stand for a cut in salary. The slice in Ness’ pay envelope was $500. He wanted the same stipend he received last year, which was $3,000. The former Pacific Coaster says it is purely a business move on his part, and as much as he dislikes leaving the Sox he must prepare for the future. “There is more money for me in the end in business than in baseball if I should sign the latest contract offered me,” said Ness, “I can pull down $100 a month playing semi-pro ball in Chicago. That, added to my salary, will give me about the same as that offered me to play for the Sox in 1917.”—Los Angeles Times

Ness wasn’t kidding, leaving organized ball forever over five hundred dollars and leaving Comiskey in the hunt for another first baseman. Ironically, his replacement would cost the White Sox owner far more than five hundred dollars, for Chick Gandil’s price included a thrown 1919 World Series and nearly losing his ball club. Money wasn’t a problem for most Coast Leaguers at this point, for John Powers and the rest of the owners were willing to pay to play. On the morning

182 Spitting on Diamonds of February 27, Angel veterans and hopefuls gathered at the ball field for a little loosening up. This made news, such as it was, the Times noting, “Bradley W. Hogg showed up in all the glory of last season’s uniform, and is trained down to reasonable proportions. Now that Hogg is thoroughly acclimated, it probably will not be necessary to warm him up by artificial means, so anyone wanting a good second-hand coal oil stove may be able to strike up a bargain at Washington Park.”10 One of the newcomers Harry Williams mentioned was catcher Pete LaPan, who “has been catching for the bughouse team at Patton. However, he was an employee, not an inmate, and guarantees there is nothing wrong with his head.”11 Patton, which Williams so sensitively referred to, was the California state insane asylum. With three ball clubs roaming Southern California in search of games and gate receipts, springtime competition wasn’t a problem as the Angels, Tigers, and Cubs played themselves into shape. However, since they weren’t getting paid to play during spring training, the first game between the Angels and Cubs included a bribe to the winner, tickets to see the hit play A Pair of Queens at the Morosco Theater.12 Ballplayers weren’t the only ones getting in shape, the Times reporting, “C. E. Acheson, the expert announcer, started training yesterday. After everybody had left the park he got out in the middle of the diamond and aimed his megaphone at the empty stands, yelled through it for an hour and listened to the echo. The echo convinced him that his pipes are in good working order.”13 Losing the game and the night on the town that went with it, the Angels got off to a rocky start in Pasadena, playing in front of what was sarcastically referred to by Harry Williams as “a crowd of millionaires.”14 Regardless, Bradley got a million dollars’ worth of publicity with a coal-oil inspired splash in the paper, complete with picture and weather report: March 1, 1917: Los Angeles, California. Hogg To Do Little Work Until Weather Is Warm. If the Pacific Coast League opened July 4, Bradley Hogg, twirler for the Angels, would start right off leading the other pitchers in the circuit and never be headed.—Los Angeles Times

Obviously four months too early, going up against the Cubs in relief of fellow spitballer Doc Crandall, Bradley promptly gave up three runs in the second spring training game of the season. The Times noted, “Bradley W. Hogg did the last three laps in the box. Bradley formerly played with the Cubs and could not find it in his heart to deal harshly with his former mates, many of whom are struggling to hold their jobs in the face of superior numbers.”15

On the Right Hand of Chance 183 While Bradley was losing the game, infielder Art Butler was losing his livelihood, Chance telling him to go cut his own deal after his trade to Louisville fell through. Then he told Harry Williams, “Butler asked $3,700 to play here, which means he didn’t care much to play here.”16 While Butler was looking for work, American League president Ban Johnson decided ballplayers should march to a different tune, and was willing to pay the piper: March 6, 1917: Chicago, Illinois. Ballplayers As Soldiers. Baseball clubs of the American League now receiving military instruction in the southern training camps are to compete for drilling honors, Capt. Franklin R. Kenney, commander of recruiting in the Central Department of the Army announced today. Capt. Kenney said that President Ban Johnson of the American League, originator of the military training plan for ballplayers, has offered a $500 prize to the best-drilled team in the league and a prize of $100 to the drill sergeant who instructed them.—Los Angeles Times

The vision of baseball players doing close-order drill with bats instead of rifles during spring training is remarkable, but as it turned out, they were only getting a thirty-day head start. Continuing their daily exercise against the Cubs after a day of rain, Chance announced, “He would probably start Hogg, especially if the field was sloppy.”17 But, Williams noted, “The 7–5 loss proved Hoggs didn’t like the mud any better than anybody else. Hogg waddled through the fourth safely, but he was slaughtered in the fifth. Chance is having the usual trouble getting Hogg warmed up. The coal-oil stove used last year has been found wholly inadequate during the recent cold snap, the Peerless Leader thinking of having a fireless cooker built about the size of a pork barrel, placing Hogg inside it, and allowing him to bake until April 3. If Hogg is found to be well done by that time, Chance will stuff him with potatoes, garnish him with parsley and serve him up in the box as a special attraction for the opening game.”18 If Bradley needed to diet after that write-up, a dinner given by John Powers at Zobellen’s restaurant the following Saturday didn’t help matters, especially when Powers offered the prize of a silver scoop shovel to the man who could eat the most steaks. That man turned out to be Chance’s drinking buddy Barney Oldfield, who definitely knew his way to a finish line. The next day, Chance got a surprise when Pete Standridge appeared out of the blue, Cubs’ release in hand, and signed on the dotted line. Standridge

184 Spitting on Diamonds also had chilling news of Zip Zabel, who’d been sold to Toronto in the International League and would be pitching in the frozen North for future Hall of Famer Larry Lajoie. The very thought gave Bradley the shivers. On March 14, Chance sent shivers throughout the camp when he handed out suspensions to several players “for not accepting the Angels’ terms,” demonstrating what it was like to do business in a one-sided business. Obviously still in a bad mood, when Chance ran into umpire Red Held holding forth on the field, he ran him out of the park, yelling, “Beat it. It seems like you gum things up enough in the regular season without sticking around in the spring.”19 Others were in a warlike mood as well, as rumors flew in the face of reason in the Times: “Baseball magnates, who are feeding large numbers of athletes during spring training, were visibly alarmed by reports that spies smuggled dynamite into the Philadelphia Navy Yard by concealing it in potatoes.”20 Simultaneously, war economics hit every baseball fan in the mouth when Angels’ concessionaire Casey Castleman announced he was raising the price of hot dogs from a nickel to a dime due to shortages and price increases across the board. There was a sudden increase in the cost of living in another part of the world as well, and the price would be an empire: March 17, 1918: Petrograd, Russia. Halt Emperor’s Train, Compel His Abdication. The abdication of Czar Nicholas of Russia was signed at the town of Pskoff, where the train on which he was traveling towards Petrograd was halted. The emissaries from the executive committee of the Duma advised him not to send any troops from the front to Petrograd, since all the troops were going over to the revolutionists.—Los Angeles Times

On March 22, the United States was the first to recognize the provisional government of Russia and give legitimacy to the communist coup, a decision that would eventually take more than seventy years and a really cold war to rectify.21 Shortly after the czar and his family were arrested by the revolutionists, movie executive Lewis J. Selznick sent him an amazing telegram: “When I was a poor boy in Kiev, some of your policemen were not kind to me or my people. I came to America and prospered. Now hear with regret you are out of a job there. Feel no ill will what your policemen did, so if you will come to New York can give you fine position acting in pictures. Salary no object. Reply my expense. Regards you and your family.”22 Unfortunately for the czar and his family, there was still one final act to play in Russia before they could leave, and it was a killer.

On the Right Hand of Chance 185 Harry Williams referred to the Coast League’s interminable 210-game season in the same way, calling it “the nearest thing to perpetual motion in baseball” in his league overview April first.23 Anointing the Angels, Vernon Tigers, and San Francisco Seals as the teams to beat, he also noted the league was not for beginners, for a “four-busher” rule had been put into effect for 1917 that allowed only four rookies per squad. On the morning of April 3, the opening-day experience began when the Angels lined up inside Washington Park for a Times photograph. When the shutter moved, posterity had a picture, and Bradley would forever be on the right hand of Chance. Immediately afterwards, the Angels and their opening-day opponent, the Oakland Oaks, joined a raucous parade preceded by three brass bands and dozens of packed cars and floats. Returning to the packed ballpark, the teams lined up on either side of a gigantic American flag and marched with it around the edge of the grounds, while the combined bands played patriotic airs and fireworks exploded overhead, accompanied by the applause of sixteen thousand enthusiastic fans. Cheering the loudest was Bradley’s personal rooting section of two, Agnes and Mary, all dressed up for the occasion. After all the commotion, Jack Ryan’s 5–1 win over the Oaks was almost anticlimactic. Especially after the biggest explosion ever heard resounded across America two days later: April 6, 1917: Washington, D.C. War! Both Branches of Congress Have Now Declared for State of War. The resolution declaring that a state of war exists between the United States and Germany already passed by the Senate, passed the House shortly after 3 o’clock this morning by a vote of 373 to 50. It formally accepts the state of belligerency forced by German aggressions and authorizes and directs the President to employ the military and naval forces and all resources of the nation to bring war against Germany to a successful termination.—Los Angeles Times

The outbreak of war meant the end of college athletics, most schools immediately pulling the plug for the duration. Professional baseball at every level was in limbo, uncertain as to what they should, could, or would be allowed to do. If teams made the wrong decision, it was going to cost everybody money, so they waited and the games played on. Pete Standridge came through in his first outing with a 4–3 win over the Oaks, Johnny Bassler tripling to win the game, and the Angels were off to a flying start. Curly Brown threw in a 5–4 win the following day, while Bradley worked on the sidelines. Stocking up on coal oil, he waited and worked and waited and worked.

186 Spitting on Diamonds Meanwhile, President Grover Cleveland’s niece was all worked up and ready to fly: April 16, 1917: Cleveland, Ohio. Anna Cleveland Anxious To Fly. Actress Offers To Enlist In Aviation Corps. Anna Cleveland, an actress now at the Orpheum, has formally tendered her services to the government as an aviatrice. Miss Cleveland is an excellent flyer and believes that in this emergency, every woman should do her “bit.” As she can navigate an aeroplane with anyone, she thinks she could be of service, especially as aviators are scarce in army service. Miss Cleveland is a niece of the late president Grover Cleveland and daughter of Senator Cleveland of Iowa, and was the first woman to use a Wright biplane in the air. She plans to use all her pull to have her request put through.—Los Angeles Times

When the last game of an up-and-down series with the Bees in Salt Lake was called because of snow, Bradley’s name had yet to be called except by the Times’ Harry Williams during a 1–0 win by Charley Hall over the Vernon Tigers. As tight pitches were the order of the day, several disputed calls by the umpires resulted in tempers flaring, as “The Los Angeles outfield bristled up behind Hall, who bristled some himself. Hogg bristled some on the bench and there was nothing doing.”24 Jack Ryan’s name was in the paper the following day when he beat the Tigers 4–3, using his newest invention, the “coffee ball.” According to the Times, “He chewed coffee beans all afternoon, and applied the refined product to the ball with his mouth, but the results were not satisfactory. Something seemed to be lacking. Possibly it was sugar and cream, or maybe Ryan didn’t grind the coffee sufficiently before serving.”25 Or, as things turned out, maybe he forgot the whiskey. Bradley finally joined the circus when he relieved Charley Hall during a 4–1 loss to Vernon, shutting the Tigers down for the final four innings with no-hit ball. A good start to a finish, which was proving more than Pete Standridge and Curly Brown could supply, as their early season disasters put the Angels in last place by the end of the month. On the positive side, coal-oil stocks took a jump a few days later when Bradley made his first start of the year: April 29, 1917: Washington Park, Los Angeles, California. Angels And Bees Divide Up First Doubleheader. Weather a Trifle Too Cold for Hogg to Warm up in the Opener, Pete Standridge is Patriotic and Victorious in Second Game Staged.

On the Right Hand of Chance 187 After having lost the eye-opener 3 to 2, the Angels grew stronger toward evening and won the chaser 8 to 1. Hogg, while effective, was not always so at the right time. Bradley is said to be the only Hogg ever passed up by J. Ogden Armour. Armour looked him over down in Tampa a year ago and decided to ship him west on the hoof. But the great pork prince saw Hogg in the spring when he was not at his best. Bradley, like a watermelon, is best about July 4, and like the persimmon, is not bad in the fall. He pitched good ball at that for this season of the year, and he can’t be blamed that Rube Evans of Salt Lake only allowed four hits. A double header being quite the novelty this early in the season, quite a bunch of bugs were out to look at it. It being a Saturday, the ladies were compelled to dig up.—Los Angeles Times

Many of the bugs in attendance wore dresses, emphasizing Washington Park was the place to be in 1917, for the Angels were the team of the hour. Bradley’s first start was finished in about the same amount of time, a lack of offensive punch not helping matters as the Seraphs dragged their wings through the mud of a game played in a light rain. Rain checks? A discount on the dinner check was better, and something Bradley and Agnes had begun taking advantage of since he had become a known factor in Los Angeles. Since sportsmen and show people were always good draws at Mike Lyman’s Grill on Hill Street,26 Angelic ballplayers routinely got a cut on the price. By the third of May, an 11–14 record had the Angels looking up from fifth place, a half-game out of sharing the cellar with Portland. That same day it began snowing in Vernon’s outfield when the Tigers signed twenty-nine-year-old Fred Snodgrass to a contract. The former New York Giant with the nickname “Snow” had gone into business during the offseason in his hometown of nearby Ventura with a major-league résumé showing three World Series in seven years under John McGraw. Perpetrator of the famous “Snodgrass Muff” in the 1912 World Series that cost the Giants the pennant, the Tigers figured he had gotten that out of his system so he was back where he started. In San Francisco, the Angels rallied behind Pete Standridge to beat the Seals, but rumors of Frank Chance’s imminent demise from the manager’s job made bigger front-page news. Chance refuted it, but admitted, “The play of the Angels since the beginning of the year had disgusted him.”27 Meanwhile, canine performers at Washington Park made the news: May 17, 1917: Washington Park, Los Angeles, California. Hot Dogs Jump. Hot dog sandwiches doubled in price overnight at Washington Park

188 Spitting on Diamonds and now cost two nickels or a dime laid down in the palm of a hand. The war is responsible. The hot dogs of war have been turned loose and are hitting the fans in the pocketbook. It is feared hot dogs at 10 cents are beyond the reach of many, and it is feared that hundreds will starve to death in the bleachers during the next few weeks. The hot dog sign was removed from the fence because it was in line with the batters, as it hurt their eyes to look at the raise in prices. —Los Angeles Times

Airborne dogs were one thing, but the presence of a new “good luck goat” proved luck was expensive. Given to Frank Chance by Kelly Powers, team mascot and son of the Angels’ owner, the Times noted, “Between innings it ate two finger mitts and chewed the handle off the bat with which Johnny Bassler had been leading the league.”28 Bradley didn’t help the Angels get any closer to the league lead when he walked the bases full against Vernon on the twentieth, then gave up a basesclearing triple on the way to a 5–2 loss, leaving him winless for the season. Four days later, fourth-place Portland rolled into town and Bradley got the first start of the series along with his fourth loss when he threw the game away in the ninth trying to catch a runner stealing third, hitting him in the backside, and the ball and the game ending up in left field. There was unexpected light at the end of the tunnel when Bradley pitched a little relief on the twenty-seventh and picked up his first win of the year, proving once again timing is everything. Going up against San Francisco a few days later, it was Bradley’s turn in the barrel, Harry Williams commenting, “Bradley W. Hogg, who is a late starter, made the mistake of starting in the first inning, which is too early. Once started he made the mistake of staying until the second inning, which was too late. Yesterday he was off his stride until he walked to the bench. Not until then did he really look good. After being hamstrung by the Seals, Mr. Hogg repaired to the grandstand and found consolation in the bosom of his family, which was occupying a box. He passed the remainder of the afternoon juggling a flaxen-haired child on his lap. His every act was that of a kind and loving father, and as he didn’t muff the child the hours passed pleasantly for all concerned.”29 Sarcastic commentary such as this was consistent in newspaper baseball coverage until well after World War II, as writers often wrote their versions of a game with considerable editorializing and second-guessing. Since editors didn’t consider interviewing ballplayers or managers after a game essential to a story, writers rarely bothered going into the clubhouse; they just waxed poetic in their own self-important little world.

On the Right Hand of Chance 189 The Angels’ world suddenly got smaller when Chance released star firstbase project Gus Gleichman, who suddenly couldn’t hit or field, then waived infielder Bobby Vaughn, picking up first baseman Jack Fournier from the Chicago White Sox in the bargain. The six-foot, twenty-five-year-old Fournier had already spent six years in the majors before the Sox sold him to Los Angeles, and would return in 1918 with the Yankees, ultimately playing fifteen years before he retired with a definitely major-league batting average of .313.30 Batting left and throwing right, Fournier was an anomaly, but as a daring, no-holds-barred ballplayer he would fit right in, and Chance knew it. On June 2, a win over San Francisco behind Doc Crandall was highlighted by women indulging in the new fad of bringing their dogs to the ballpark on Fridays, meaning “dog days” are nothing new. The Times commented, “Hereafter, except on Saturdays, Sundays and holidays, dogs will be admitted free, the same as ladies. However, they must be accompanied by an older person.”31 The newspaper neglected to mention exactly who had to be accompanied. While that decision was being made, .500 ball put the Angels right in the middle of the Coast League standings, half a game out of third. Bradley was sent out to face league-leading San Francisco again and promptly stepped on a Spider: June 3, 1917: Washington Park, Los Angeles, California. Famous Relic Badly Marred. Constant practice in knocking the spots off the Seals has made the Angels very proficient. Their most recent exploit was a 7 to 4 victory over the leaders behind Bradley Hogg. Having no respect for age or reputation, the Angels batted ancient Spider Baum around the lot. Bradley W. Hogg pitched sterling ball except in the seventh, when somebody seems to have changed the ball on him. For a time it looked as if the Seals might slaughter Hogg and hang him up by the heels, as is the custom in our best abattoirs. On second thought, he raised strong objections to this, and retired the visitors after three runs had counted.—Los Angeles Times

In spite of the win and the verbiage, Frank Chance had come to the decision that the best way to improve Angels pitching was through addition and subtraction, telling Harry Williams, “I have sent out a number of wires in an effort to land a young heaver. I am not looking for a busher, but a strong young heaver who can win, and who has a future. When I land him, one of the present staff must go. There is no use carrying veterans unless they can win.”32 Bradley was being mentioned as one of the discards.

190 Spitting on Diamonds That Chance might be leaving as well was left unsaid, but after a year and a half, the unending grind of Coast League ball along with the residual effects of three dozen beanballs were getting to him. He began taking days off on a regular basis, and while he spent more and more time on his ranch in Glendale, Red Killefer began operating as manager pro tem. Managing suddenly became less of a job when the Coast League directors, citing “war stringencies” attributed to the federal government’s newly installed “war tax,” decided to cut every team’s roster down to sixteen men, while reducing salaries across the board.33 The tax on each baseball ticket and Pullman train ticket, among other things, affected the cost of doing business, and the quickest way a club could save money was by cutting overhead. Overhead in this case meant two players along with their salaries, regardless of any written contract. Since the American Association had patriotically led the way by cutting their rosters to fourteen, there was a precedent: reductions were good for the war effort. Roster and threatened salary reductions resulted in each Coast League team carrying a lot of angry ballplayers, including eight position players and one utility man, along with five or six pitchers. This meant that every man played virtually every day, players better not get hurt, and pitchers didn’t sit on off-days, pinch-hitting, pinch-running, or playing in the outfield when they weren’t relieving. It meant every man earned every bit of his reduced salary. Player reductions from another quarter became fact on June 6 when the federal government instituted Draft Registration Day. Every American male between the ages of eighteen and forty-five had to sign up for possible conscription into the armed forces and the chance of changing jobs and uniforms overnight. At the ripe old age of twenty-eight, Bradley found being married and having a daughter still made him eligible for army cooking, but his status put him far down the list of possible draftees. As patriotic as the next man in a jingoistic age, Bradley was still in no hurry to volunteer, for as far as he was concerned, his family took precedence over the Kaiser. And unless Uncle Sam came calling, Bradley’s war would remain on the ball field, not in the trenches. While their unsettled financial and military situations weighed on them, the Angels took out their frustration by bombing Oakland, Bradley being the benefactor in an 8–1 runaway that pushed Los Angeles into third on his third straight win. Regardless, officially, the Angels didn’t seem to be able to win for losing: June 11, 1917: San Francisco, California. Coast Ballplayers To Have Salaries Sliced. Players in the Coast League must stand a cut in salaries beginning

On the Right Hand of Chance 191 June 16, or seek employment elsewhere. This move was decided upon at a meeting of the league directors here last week, but it seems it was a state secret and no one was to know about it. It is proposed to cut the pay of the boys about 25 per cent, but it will be up to each club owner to handle his own situation. Any player who refuses to stand for a cut can demand his release. Baseball is pretty sick out here as well as in all other parts of the country, and the club owners are going to have their troubles keeping their parks open, even if the players stand a cut in pay. The war has taken the public’s mind off baseball and as a further handicap the weather has been bad.—Los Angeles Times

Interesting perspective, if nothing else, saying a player could demand his release if he didn’t want to take a pay cut. Legally, not living up to a signed contract voided the deal, with the season’s money due the player in one lump sum. But that was not how contractual thinking went in 1917, at least in the boardrooms of baseball owners. The news was obviously received with a less than enthusiastic response, for the Angels promptly went out and dropped a doubleheader to Oakland and fell back into fourth. For a week or so there was unrest throughout the league, and a players’ strike was a real possibility. The fact that a strike would derail the upcoming 1916 championship pennant-raising festivities at Washington Park was noted, the Times siding with the owners, commenting, “The club owners say they can’t stand the strain of meeting their present payrolls, and if local conditions are any criterion of those throughout the league there is ground for their contention. Attendance has been off, and this would be one time when the owners and players should get together. Their interests are mutual in the present crisis, and both must make some sacrifice. Otherwise, baseball on the coast may go fluey. True, there is a demand for ablebodied men in the Army, but Uncle Sam doesn’t pay $250 a month, or anything like it.”34 That was the inalienable option. But crowds don’t cheer an army until it comes home, and not everyone comes home with it. In the end, the strike came to nothing, as players realized they had the same number of options they usually did when it came to dealing with club ownership. On June 20, the Times announced good news for a change, writing, “The rarest of sports, ‘unfurling the pennant,’ will be engaged in at Washington Park tomorrow afternoon. As a prelude to the Angel-Tiger game, the flag emblematic of the Coast League championship won by Los Angeles last season will be raised.” All in all, the constrictions of war could have been worse, as the good citizens of Minnesota woke up and found anti-war dissension and fun in general had been outlawed, all in the name of “public safety”:

192 Spitting on Diamonds June 16, 1917: Minneapolis, Minnesota. Army Takes Firm Grip; Anti-War Talk Stopped. Forty-three Minneapolis saloonkeepers awoke June 6th to find they were out of business. Their dramshops, in which I.W.W. and Socialist anti-war and anti-draft plots are alleged to have been hatched, had been closed as a war measure. Owners of a number of moving picture theaters and poolrooms also received notice to put padlocks on their front doors and keep them locked. Under orders from the newly organized Minnesota Public Safety Commission, women are also forbidden to enter any saloon under heavy penalty and the sale of intoxicants to women under any circumstances is prohibited. While warrants for shirkers have been issued, all cabarets are also ordered closed, hundreds of waiters, musicians and others finding themselves thrown out of employment. Dancing is also prohibited any place intoxicants are sold.—Los Angeles Times

Exactly how keeping a beer out of a woman’s hands while outlawing dancing, shooting pool, and going to the movies was going to help the war effort is anybody’s guess, but the Minnesota Public Safety Commission was out to do its part. Apparently by allowing everyone, including citizenry with leftist, socialist, anti-war, or union leanings to do less. Publicly documenting the previous season’s sweat on the twenty-first, the Angels met the Vernon Tigers on “championship day” at Washington Park. Prior to the game, a big ceremony was held complete with florid speeches by the mayor and sheriff, with a huge brass band blasting away patriotically at every opportunity. Fireworks made an unaccustomed daylight impression over Los Angeles, as soldiers from the home guard drilled before an appreciative crowd. Packages of small flags were fired into the sky and exploded, scattering thousands of small, striped emblems over the grandstand, while other explosions contained flags of the allies so every country got into the aerial act. When the pennant was attached to the flagpole and started its way up to the top, a “bomb” containing an enormous American flag was shot high into the air, unfolding overhead under the force of the explosion while the crowd cheered wildly.35 When Jack Ryan beat the Tigers 3–2, the day was complete, except for one last bomb: Frank Chance announced he would be withdrawing from active participation in the Angels ball club, and Red Killefer would be taking his place. On the twenty-third, Vernon took Doc Crandall to the woodshed 9–2, in a game featuring the West Coast debut of former Federal League knuckleballer “Rube” Marion, whose erratic mainstay was rarely seen out west. As Harry Williams noted, “The ball is wafted up to the plate with the knuckles, and in

On the Right Hand of Chance 193 floating along it looks as big as a casaba but it isn’t, and after the batter has missed it anchors itself in the catcher’s mitt.” As if Coast League batters didn’t have enough problems. The next day, in winning his fourth in a row, Bradley went up against thirty-four-year-old former Yankee pitcher Jack Quinn, known to his parents in Pennsylvania as John Quinn Picus, and found himself in a hot pitcher’s duel that the Angels finally won in the ninth on Jack Fournier’s brazen theft of home. For Quinn, there would be other days, sixteen more years of them in fact, as Jack would go back to the majors in 1918 with Cleveland, eventually retiring in 1933 with 247 wins at the ripe old age of fifty, having spent twenty-three years in the major leagues.36 After a successful day on the field, Bradley and Agnes would occasionally join Doc Crandall, Red Killefer, and their wives and several other players for a night on the town, often stopping at landmarks like the Brown Derby restaurant and the one-of-a-kind Beverly Hills Hotel. Built in 1912 by the Rodeo Land and Cattle Company, the landmark pink hotel featured caged monkeys, parrots, and movie stars. Already a mainstay for film luminaries such as Gloria Swanson, Douglas Fairbanks, and Mary Pickford, since celebrity spotting was as big a sport then as it is now, that was the place to go. Eighty-six years later, it’s still pink, still famous, and still star-studded.37 And monkeys still perform nightly in the Polo Lounge. Ironically, while the star of the 1917 hit “Poor Little Rich Girl” was a regular visitor to the hotel, poor little Ms. Pickford was still living at the Hollywood Studio Club, a “home away from home” for young ladies of moderate income who worked in the motion picture industry. A change in Bradley’s victory total occurred a few days later before a full house at Recreation Park in San Francisco, when he beat the league-leading Seals 7–4 for his fifth straight win. The best hitting of the day, however, occurred in the hotel lobby after the game when sour feelings between Angels trainer Scotty Finlay and Harl Maggert erupted into a brawl. Amidst broken chairs and upturned palms, Finlay got the better of the Angels’ outfielder, but was so beaten up himself he couldn’t get out of bed the next morning, while Maggert was so banged up he couldn’t play. Chance was mad as hell, fining Maggert fifty dollars and considering giving Finlay his walking papers.38 Back home for a month, the fourth-place Angels had a chance to take stock of where they were and why, and how they were going to get better. Then they went out and got well against the cellar-dwelling Oakland Oaks. Powers was convinced that better pitching was the answer, and was still in the hunt for improvement. Bradley demonstrated once and for all he wasn’t the problem, relieving Jack Ryan in the seventh and winning his sixth in a row 8–7 in front of a noisy home crowd. The perks of being an athlete were also demonstrated that afternoon when

194 Spitting on Diamonds the Times commented, “Chance states Harl Maggert is to remain with the club. He is a good ball player. A guy who can almost throw a 200-pound man out of a hotel window can certainly throw runners out at the plate.”39 In addition to Harl Maggert’s shiner on display in right field, one of the highlights of the following day occurred before the game when everybody watched the results of a fake “conscription drawing” and Harry Williams drew a picture with his typewriter: “Several ball players imagined for a couple of hours that they were soldiers. Kenworthy, Standridge, Fournier, Land, and Arlett drew the lucky numbers, which had they been genuine would have made them participants in the greatest drama of all time. The athletes staged a military drill before the game, and it was a drill calculated to make the enemy sit up and forget to shoot.”40 The “Arlett” marching around the ball field with a bat on his shoulder was eighteen-year-old Vernon rookie Russell “Buzz” Arlett, a genuine Coast League phenom. Arlett pitched 1,746 innings over the next five years before his arm gave out, including 427 innings in 1920, then switched to the outfield. His 29–17 record would make him the best pitcher in the league in 1920, but his .341 lifetime batting average and 432 home runs made him the best minor-league switch-hitter in history, a record that still stands today. A perfect example of baseball working against a player’s best interests, during Arlett’s prime the majors weren’t willing to meet his club owner’s price. As a result, he spent his most productive years in the Coast League, finally making the Philadelphia Phillies roster in 1931 at the age of thirty-two, where he batted .313 in his one and only major-league season.41 Working in his own best interests, Bradley got a start two days later against Arlett and company, having his cake and eating it too by winning his seventh in a row, 7–6, then helping devour a thirty-pound fruit cake that had been bought at a Red Cross auction prior to the game by John Powers’s wife and presented to the team. Fruitcake or no fruitcake, Christmas had already arrived for Angels’ pitchers as every man on the squad suddenly found his batting eye, pushing Los Angeles into a solid third and climbing. Jack Fournier’s .354, Johnny Bassler’s .353, Bill Kenworthy’s .327, Irish Meusel’s .300, and Red Killefer’s .297 were five reasons the Angels were suddenly a team to fear. Good pitching was another, for Bradley’s shine ball demonstration against Salt Lake City pushed the Angels past the Bees and into second place: July 12, 1917: Washington Park, Los Angeles, California. Seraphs Hook Second Place. Bradley Hogg Baffles Salt Lake Heroes. The Angels yesterday blasted their way into second place with a 7 to 1

On the Right Hand of Chance 195 victory over the Bees. Bradley W. Hogg overpowered the enemy with his new “sock ball.” The ball is prepared by rubbing it on the calf of the leg. Repeated rubbings give it a polish, and this tends to dazzle the batter. Approaching the plate it looks like the rising sun. Hogg would first expectorate on the ball and then rub it off. This was more sanitary than leaving the spit on. Between loading and unloading his mouth and wetting and drying the pill, Hogg passed a full afternoon. When Ryan came to the plate in the sixth and struck out, he insisted on examining the sphere. In this inquest over the pill, no evidence of an incriminating nature was discovered. Umpire Phyle was inclined to commend Hogg for his relentless wiping as it helps keep the game clean. —Los Angeles Times

In an era when virtually anything was legal if you could get it over the plate, this was much ado about nothing. What the Bees didn’t care for was Bradley’s six-hit pitching putting a sock in their attack, while his two-for-four day at the plate added insult to injury on his way to his eighth win in a row. One of the six hits Bradley gave up was to Salt Lake third baseman Morrie Rath, who would earn his place in baseball history in 1919 as a member of the Cincinnati Reds when he was hit by White Sox pitcher Eddie Cicotte’s first pitch in game one of the World Series, signaling gamblers that the fix was in.42 Corruption on the dance floor, however, was out: July 15, 1917: San Francisco, California. Guard Morals of Soldiers. Steps Taken by the Committee Named by Governor. Immediate steps for the moral protection of military camps and reservations for soldiers and sailors are to be taken by the committee recently appointed by Gov. William D. Stephens. Among the first announcements by the committee was the abolishment of the five-cent dance.—Los Angeles Times

Big Brother was alive and well in committee form as moralists ran wild across America in 1917, wearing the cloak of patriotism and justifying their anal view of society by the frequent use of the term “war emergency.” Indicating the changes in society over the last century, when Salt Lake City’s win over Jack Ryan and the Angels that same day was commemorated with the headline “Bees Get Gay In The Seventh And Win Game,”43 not an eyebrow was raised. When Bradley won his ninth in a row the following day, the Times commented, “Yesterday, he changed his delivery and introduced his ‘bloomer

196 Spitting on Diamonds ball.’ This is prepared by rubbing the sphere up and down on the right side of the pants until it gets hot. He then hurls the smoking missile at the batter who frequently misses it. Hogg then spits on the ball to cool it off so that he can warm it up again.”44 A shine ball by any other name is a shine ball. The Angels suddenly needed pitchers who could throw shine balls or anything else across the plate, for only Bradley and Doc Crandall were doing the job they were hired for. With that in mind, John Powers finally convinced the Cubs to sell him Tom Seaton for the stretch run. Unfortunately, Seaton brought with him more than ability on the downside—he brought inherent dishonesty. His purchase would prove costly, leading to corruption and thrown games on the West Coast until his eventual banishment from the game three years later.45 Four days later, millions of jobs few looked forward to filling suddenly became available to every man in America between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five: July 20, 1917: Washington, D.C. Tomorrow May Find You In United States Army. Drawing of Numbers in Washington Expected to Last Twelve Hours. Plans for the draft drawing that will be held tomorrow to fix the order of liability for nearly ten million registered men throughout the country are ready, with 10,293 numbers being drawn one at a time. The numbers will be publicly announced for telegraphing to the newspapers over the country as fast as they are drawn. It will require at least ten and a half hours.—Los Angeles Times

While the country was waiting to see if their number was up, the Angels found San Francisco had theirs twice on the twenty-second when the Seals took both ends of a doubleheader, stopping Bradley’s winning streak at nine. It could have been worse, however, as eleven major leaguers found out the same day: July 22, 1917: Chicago, Illinois. Big Leaguers To Be Called. Following is a list of the big league ballplayers caught early in the draft and expected to be called in the first army: Buck Weaver, third baseman, Chicago White Sox; Joe Jenkins, catcher, Chicago White Sox; Joe Evans, third baseman, Cleveland American League; Leslie Mann, outfielder, Chicago Cubs; Ray Schalk, catcher, Chicago White Sox; Dave Davenport, pitcher, St. Louis Browns; Claude Hendrix, pitcher, Chicago Cubs; Mike Prendergast, pitcher, Chicago Cubs; Max Flack, outfielder, Chicago Cubs;

On the Right Hand of Chance 197 Rowdy Elliott, catcher, Chicago Cubs; Charley Deal, third baseman, Chicago Cubs.—Los Angeles Times

If the three White Sox who were drafted thought Comiskey was cheap, after their first fifteen-dollar monthly paycheck from Uncle Sam,46 the Old Roman would look downright magnanimous. And with six sudden openings on the North Side, the Cubs might as well have changed their flannel for khaki, for it was the color of the hour. Tom Seaton was not turning out to be the man of the hour, as his first Angels start against Portland featured a “short and violent debut.”47 Beaning rookie shortstop Charlie Hollocher and adding four more walks, he left the game in the third trailing 1–0 in an eventual 7–1 loss. During the game, Portland manager Walter “Judge” McCredie’s superstitious side became public when someone tore up a newspaper and scattered it on top of the Beavers’ dugout. As a result, McCredie refused to go on with the game until a cop had been called and the paper removed. Harry Williams noted, “Having learned that Mac shies at a mere scrap of paper, the fans are planning to give him a shower this afternoon. It will be the first confetti carnival of the season.”48 Fun at the old ballpark. Hot times were another thing, especially in a time of wooden ballparks. When a cigarette butt resulted in an en masse hotfoot in the Washington Park grandstands, the resulting commotion pushed Bradley’s 7–2 win over Portland to an afterthought, Harry Williams writing, “The game featured three conflagrations, one started by the Angels, one started by a criminally careless smoker who dropped a lighted cigarette through a crack in the floor which ignited a box of papers under the grandstand, and one by a gent entertaining a party of ladies and smoking a celluloid pipe that exploded, scattering fire and sparks throughout the party.”49 The fire may have been out in Washington Park, but the flames of labor unrest were growing hotter throughout the country. As proof, an organizer of the Industrial Workers of the World found himself on the wrong side of a rope in Montana: August 2, 1917: Butte, Montana. Agitator Lynched. I.W.W. is Hanged in Butte. Vigilantes Make Example of One Who Called Our Soldiers “Scabs.” National Guardsmen are pouring into this city tonight in anticipation of disturbances which may arise from the lynching of Frank Little, I.W.W. leader, early this morning. Feeling among the members of the radical

198 Spitting on Diamonds labor organization is running high and is expressed in bitter language wherever they gather. The whole city is awaiting developments. Fear is there may be street rioting, such as accompanied the labor troubles here three years ago.—Los Angeles Times

A union founded on socialist ideals in 1905, the Industrial Workers of the World and its eventual one hundred thousand members were known as “Wobblies.” In a time of few workers’ rights or benefits and extremely unsafe working conditions, the IWW pressed for such radical ideas as an eight-hour workday, a forty-hour week, and free speech for its members, and was constantly in the news for its “unpatriotic” agitation and violence against the moneyed class during the war.50 By August, the moneyed class of the Coast League announced that the red was gone from their balance sheets and attendance had risen. Stating the league would definitely finish the season, there was no mention of restoring reduced salaries to their original size. On the road again, a 10–3 win over Salt Lake by Tom Seaton had one player celebrating early, as John Powers ran across Jack Ryan drunk on the bench and rewarded him with an indefinite suspension. Ryan later confided to trainer Scotty Finlay that “he was off the stuff for keeps” as he disposed of his stock of liquor, and Finlay told Harry Williams, “Jack is in dead earnest this time, and he intends to come back and stay back.”51 As has been the case with talented professional ballplayers from the beginning of time, Williams also noted, “Despite his numerous lapses, the fans expressed hope that he will be given another chance, especially as the Angels seem to be up against it for pitchers. When last seen, Ryan was departing from the ball yard with his suitcase last evening. President Powers will announce whether he is ‘through with Ryan for all time’ when he returns this afternoon from San Francisco.”52 He did, and he was. The Angels lost more than Jack Ryan, Bradley contributing two losses as the Angels dropped six of seven in Oakland and promptly fell into third. Bouncing around the middle of the league standings due to an outbreak of bad baseball, the Angels were still only five games behind first-place San Francisco. Climbing higher would he harder than they imagined, for the second-place Salt Lake Bees buzzed into Washington Park and Bradley’s feet got in the way of his head while the headline writer sent everyone in search of a dictionary: August 22, 1917: Washington Park, Los Angeles, California. Terpsichore Proves Fatal. Hogg’s Fox-Trot too Much Like a Balk.

On the Right Hand of Chance 199 Bradley W. Hogg’s hoofs went awry in the eighth with the result that Los Angeles started the last third of the season backwards by losing a ball game to Salt Lake, 5 to 4. Umpire Ed Finney claimed that Bradley made a balk with his foot and this balk developed into the fatal run a moment later when Johnny Bassler dropped the ball at the plate and Ryan scored the winning run. After the game Bradley lined Finney up against the stand and told him some things that he has heard a lot of times before. He sought to make his remarks sink in by shoving Finney gently in the stomach. That was unnecessary. Whatever may be said of Ed’s heart, his stomach is in the right place.—Los Angeles Times

Pokes in the stomach aside, Bradley’s thirteenth loss of 1917 would prove a milestone, for it would be the last loss he would ever have in an Angels’ uniform. Meanwhile, licorice stocks were taking a poke as one of baseball’s more colorful aspects was outlawed: August 25, 1917: Chicago, Illinois. Ban Johnson After Licorice Ball. Pitchers in the American League found guilty of using the “licorice” ball or otherwise discoloring it will automatically suspended for five days, President Johnson said today. Warning was issued to umpires and managers to enforce the rule against discoloration of the ball. —Los Angeles Times

Ironically, all Johnson was trying to do was enforce a rule that had been on the books since 1908. Along with gambling by players and in the ballpark, ball discoloration was just another example of baseball ignoring the elephant in the living room. On September 3 the Angels split a doubleheader with San Francisco, Bradley’s 13–3 win bringing his record to a dead-even 13–13, including a nine-game winning streak that matched the longest of his career, back in 1915. They continued their northern California tour with another doubleheader win over Oakland when Bradley took the Oaks to the woodshed, and he did it again three days later at the same time the great-grandfather of the X-games made its appearance in Los Angeles: September 7, 1917: Los Angeles, California. Canoe Football May Become Major Sport. There is to be a game of canoe football played at Venice next Sunday afternoon by two ten-girl teams, representing Venice and Los Angeles. The game is to be played on the lagoon. There are to be five canoes to

200 Spitting on Diamonds each team, two maidens to a canoe. The game is divided into two fifteen minute halves, with a five-minute intermission. The match is to start at 1:30 pm.—Los Angeles Times

By September, Pete Standridge’s pitching had become a serious problem, for his arm had obviously given out. At the same time, Tom Seaton had turned out to be a fifty-fifty proposition. Only Doc Crandall and Bradley were keeping the Angels aloft, both of them throwing everything they had at everyone in sight to stay in the race. A race that stopped dead in its tracks when thousands of union members went on strike and all hell broke loose in northern California: September 18, 1917: San Francisco, California. Thirty Thousand Men In Bay City Strike. Law and Order Committee Co-operating with Police—Mayor Terrified by Lawlessness. Prompt action by the police has succeeded today in partially restraining the lawlessness of crowds of thousands of strikers who throng the streets and fill the saloons of San Francisco and the bay cities. There are now 10,000 ironworkers on strike in San Francisco and Oakland, with longshoremen joining them tomorrow. The unions will not recede from their demand for a flat increase in salary of 50 per cent. When the government contracts are referred to, the strikers respond “The government can go to hell.” United States Marines are guarding the shipyards and 115 automobiles filled with police are patrolling the danger zones inside the city. Within three hours of the strike’s beginning, violence and pillaging had begun and thirty riot calls had been received by police.—Los Angeles Times

Simultaneous multiple-union strikes were becoming more frequent throughout the country in spite of the war, as the union movement began sweeping the nation. Violence and intimidation was the order of the day, often requiring military force to overcome. Rattling down the coast in their Pullman cars toward Los Angeles, the Angels’ only glimpse of the rioting was at night at fifty miles an hour, so the upheaval left little impression. However, Los Angeles was bracing for a repeat performance at the docks, and the fire department was on full alert, ready to use their two new Amoskeag and Nott pump and boiler steam engines.53 Whoever was in charge was obviously unclear of the concept of speed in fighting fires at sea, for instead of installing the engines on fireboats they were horse-drawn from the station and loaded onto a firefighting barge following an alarm, then towed to fires. On fire himself, Bradley went to the mound on the twenty-first in Wash-

On the Right Hand of Chance 201 ington Park to face Vernon ace Art Fromme and the coal-oil stove went into storage, the Times reporting, “Hogg set the pace in fall pitching styles by holding the Tigers to two hits in the 2–1 win. Bradley got so hot last July that he hasn’t yet cooled off, and he continues a warm number without resorting to the coal oil stove which was presented to him by admiring friends a year ago last spring.” Two days later, Bradley and Agnes were part of a sold-out Washington Park that watched a war effort fund-raising exhibition game between teams led by evangelist and former major-league outfielder Billy Sunday and actor Douglas Fairbanks. Billed as “the leading men of pulpitland and filmland” by the Times, and featuring stars such as Charlie Chaplin and Ben Turpin, the day got off to a big start with a parade and an auction of a baseball autographed by President Woodrow Wilson that raised several hundred dollars.54 However, the single funniest thing of the day was watching cross-eyed actor Ben Turpin circle under a fly ball in the outfield. Afterwards, the Angels raised themselves closer to first by winning both games of a doubleheader with Vernon behind Doc Crandall and Curly Brown. The following day, Bradley went up against Vernon’s Rube Marion in a contest to see which would be harder to hit: the knuckleball or the spitter. As the Times commented, “Hogg was greasy and hard to hit in the 1–0 win, while Marion had his knuckles so well-oiled that the Angels were only able to land on them four times. It took Vernon second baseman Bobby Vaughn’s kneecap to turn the scales, getting this joint in front of a grounder in the sixth, deflecting the ball to left field and the only run of the game spilled across.”55 The quality of baseball equipment made the news as well, Williams writing, “Umpire Red Held had to get away from his chest protector, which had sprung a leak early in the morning game. Time and again he inflated it with his mouth only to have it become limp like a punctured tire. During these times, he would look like a bald-headed Highlander playing a bagpipe solo.”56 This was dead-ball baseball at its finest, an error leading to the only run for Bradley’s sixth win in a row. His seventh came five days later, when he proved he could handle an off-track after all, beating San Francisco 2–1 in the rain. How hot was Bradley? Giving up a grand total of one earned run over his previous three games resulted in a .030 earned run average over that span, and a compliment from manager Red Killefer: “Hogg is one pitcher that knows just what to do. He knows when he is ready to pitch, and has set down every club in the league twice. He put the Seals under his heels twice in one week, and I expect him to accomplish that feat once during this series.”57 With the Angels only one and a half games behind San Francisco, it was

202 Spitting on Diamonds anybody’s pennant. Anybody named Seals or Angels, for everyone else was fighting over third. Giving it their best shot, Los Angeles had gone 21–8 in their last four series against Oakland, Portland, Vernon, and San Francisco, with Bradley’s seven-game winning streak accounting for one-third of the wins.58 What the Angels needed was someone other than Doc Crandall to help pick up the slack. Crandall was having a terrific year himself, but he couldn’t do it all by himself any more than Bradley could. Shutting out Oakland 4–0 for his eighth win in a row, Bradley’s machinations before every pitch had Oaks’ manager Del Howard howling, according to Harry Williams, for “In the midst of every crisis, Hogg would spit on the ball and then wipe it extensively. First he would wipe it on his sock, then on his pants, and thirdly and lastly on the bosom of his blouse. Having in this manner prepared the ball for immediate delivery to the batter, he would do so and retire the same. Hogg is getting to be one of our most de luxe wipers. Howard accused him of using Sapolio on the ball so as to make it shine. Del barked from the bench until Bill Guthrie bounced him.”59 The “Sapolio” Bradley was accused of smearing on the ball was a popular brand of soap, and if Bradley used it, it must have worked, for he cleaned up. This was good, for Pete Standridge and Tom Seaton combined to blow another one to Oakland, resulting in a rain of pop bottles and epithets aimed at umpire Red Held but hitting the Oaks’ catcher. Finally righting themselves and taking six of seven from Oakland including Bradley’s ninth straight, the Times wrote, “Bradley W. Hogg pitched like a first cousin of Eddie Cicotte,” putting him in pretty good company, for Cicotte would go 28–12 for the White Sox in 1917 and lead the American League in wins.60 After the game, the Angels’ 104–85 record put them three wins behind San Francisco, still one and one half games out of first. Beginning their last road trip of the year, the Angels boarded the train for the interminable trip to Salt Lake City, knowing that winning the pennant was a simple proposition: don’t lose. When the Bees stung, the Angels ended up treading water in the Great Salt Lake in spite of Bradley’s tenth straight win. Elevating theft to an art form, Los Angeles ran Bees’ pitcher Bill Evans to death, stealing four off the former Pirate while keeping up a steady drum roll of hits that included two doubles by Irish Meusel. Twenty-two-game winner Rube Evans was the loser that day, and was one of three excellent Salt Lake pitchers Bradley owned in 1917, along with former Detroit ace Jean Dubuc (22–16) and former St. Louis Browns hurler Tiny Leverenz (22–18). The final game in Salt Lake was more typical of baseball at this altitude, being described in the Los Angeles Examiner as “A game that takes the blue ribbon for voluminous stupendousness” when the Angels won 16–15.61 The

On the Right Hand of Chance 203 “wild-eyed ball playing” described in the Deseret News meant it was typical Utah baseball, altitude playing havoc with earned-run averages as both pitching staffs combined to give up thirty-six hits, even though Bradley again found himself at the right place at the right time in relief in picking up his eleventh straight win. At the end of the day and the series, the Angels were still one and one half games behind the Seals with two weeks to go in the season. Unfortunately, one person lost more than a ball game that day in Vincennes, France, when forty-one-year-old Margarethe Zelle was tied to a post in the St. Lazare prison yard and shot. And the woman the world knew as Mata Hari would spy no more.62 Outfielder Irish Meusel figured he was done as well, after Red Killefer chewed him out for missing a special morning practice. Following his tonguelashing and additional heat from his teammates for missing a fly ball hit by his brother Bob that resulted in a loss to Vernon, an embarrassed Meusel turned in his uniform. Irish knew he had been drafted by the Philadelphia Phillies for 1918, and was ready to leave for Pennsylvania five months early. The next day, following apologies all around, Harry Williams reported, “Irish rejoined the colors after having sulked in his tent for twenty-four hours, admitting, ‘I made a dam phool out of myself.’ ”63 This little episode also showed the difference in managing styles between Red Killefer and Frank Chance. When Chance managed the Cubs and had trouble with Heinie Zimmerman, Chance took him into the clubhouse and beat hell out of him. The strain of the race was apparent to everybody, and the whole team was as tight as a drum. Only a half-game out of first thanks to Salt Lake’s consecutive wins over San Francisco, John Powers added to the pressure by promising the team a $1,000 bonus if they won the pennant. That’s about $66 per man, or about $913 today, meaning the price of success had gone up. With no World Series or playoff shares to look forward to, the prospect of unexpected cash plus a pennant did the trick, and also did in former Giant Art Fromme: October 18, 1917: Washington Park, Los Angeles, California. Seraphs Beat Tigers; Climb Towards Flag. Inspired by the flicker of 1000 silver dollars beckoning to them out of the future, the Angels defeated Vernon 7 to 1 and are now one game nearer San Francisco and are less than one-half game behind the leaders. Pensive Pitching. Bradley W. Hogg pitched in his usual pensive and painstaking manner, holding the Tigers to three widely-separated hits. His control was

204 Spitting on Diamonds perfect, and his conduct above reproach. Vernon’s one run was due to faulty support. The Angels were so far ahead at the time that there wasn’t any danger of the $1000 escaping through a leak. This was Hogg’s twelfth consecutive victory and stamps him as an artist as well as a man with an appreciation of the full value of money.—Los Angeles Times

After the game, Killefer stated to Ross Miller of the Los Angeles Examiner his belief that “If any club ever gets more than five hits off Bradley Hogg from now on until the close of the season they will be having a field day.” When the Angels and Seals both won on the twenty-first, the race only got tighter because of the dwindling number of games. The next day, Los Angeles had two chances to move up and took them both, Bradley doing some of the taking with a 2–1 win over Vernon that was his second three-hit game of the week and his thirteenth consecutive victory. Williams commented in the Times that “Bradley is certainly a wizard, with the accent on the wiz.”64 The Los Angeles Examiner also quoted Killefer as saying, “The way Brad is tossing the pellet nowadays is great. Any time he throws his $3.50 glove into the diamond he has a contest won. The opposition generally passes.”65 In addition to his thirteenth consecutive win, Bradley also made a big-time “splash” when the story of his streak and the biggest picture the papers ever printed of him ran in the Los Angeles Examiner. The unusual capitalization is by the Examiner typesetter: October 22, 1917: Los Angeles, California. “13 In A Row” International Picture of Bradley Hogg, Who Has Won Thirteen Straight Games for the Angels. The Los Angeles Club is Less Than One Game Behind the Seals, and This, the Final Week of Play in the Pacific Coast League, Should See a Whirlwind Finish for the Pennant. Hogg Probably Will Pitch Two of the Games Against Portland.—Los Angeles Examiner

If Bradley found himself with a swelled head following all this publicity, thanks to hat maker Ed Knox he had something to cover it with: October 23, 1917: Los Angeles, California. Bradley Hogg Again Wins Ed Knox Hat. Bradley Hogg, Angels hurler, won the Ed Knox hat during the TigerAngel series last week by allowing no earned runs in eighteen innings of ball. By his wonderful hurling, Hogg won his fourth straight hat in as many weeks. It is reported that Ed Knox is considering turning over half-interest in his store to Hogg and calling it square.—Los Angeles Examiner

On the Right Hand of Chance 205 With four percentage points separating the Seals and Angels in the standings, the two-hundred-game season was down to the point at which every batter and every inning mattered. When Doc Crandall beat Portland in the first game of the season’s final series, the Angels were less than one-half game out and on a roll. With that in mind, Harry Williams remarked, “Bradley Hogg, who has won thirteen straight games, will pitch Thursday and Sunday. He has been pitching the best ball shown in the Coast League this season, and if he can keep up the present pace the home boys will have a splendid chance.”66 The next day, when the Oaks obligingly beat the Seals, the Angels rolled into first for the first time since April 8 on Bradley’s fourteenth straight win, a 3–1 gem over Portland that had the Times commenting, “Bradley W. Hogg has been so instrumental in pitching the Angels into first place there is some talk in case they win the pennant of asking the government to make a special issue of a thousand new dollars bearing the inscription “In Hogg We Trust.”67 The biggest news, however, was at the end of the article and caught everybody by surprise: “We regret to announce that at the close of the season Mr. Hogg will lay aside the shine ball, discard his paraffin pants and enter the overcrowded profession of Law. He will practice in Georgia.” The Los Angeles Examiner made it official: October 26, 1917: Los Angeles, California. Bradley Hogg to Retire From Game at End of Season. Bradley Hogg, rated as one of the best pitchers in the Pacific Coast League and who captured 22 out of the last 26 games he pitched, is planning to quit baseball at the end of the year. Hogg is an attorney by profession and he has had several attractive offers from his home in Georgia. He expects to accept one of the offers. Hogg showed up well for the Angels last year, but it was not until the Coast League was six weeks under way that Hogg started pitching his best brand of baseball. He developed the “shine” ball and since then has been a hard man to beat.—Los Angeles Examiner

After seven years, Bradley was at the top of his game, and it was time to move up the ladder to the major leagues or out of baseball. Using the viability of his law practice as a negotiating chip, he was forcing John Powers to sell him to a major-league club to get anything out of him in 1918. With a record of 26–13 at this point with a game to go, there was nothing left for him to prove out West. If the Angels could hold on for three more days, the second pennant in two years would underscore his decision. They just couldn’t lose one game out of the remaining four.

206 Spitting on Diamonds They didn’t. They lost two. That left the Angels in the position of having to take both games of the season’s doubleheader finale and hope Oakland did them a favor. Doing Portland no favors, Red Killefer sent his most reliable pitcher to the mound in the first game and found winning didn’t prevent losing: October 29, 1917: Maier Park, Vernon, California. Angels’ Victories Fail To Land Them Flag. Los Angeles made a strong finish beating Portland 13–3 and 5–1, and to that extent triumphed in the hour of defeat. The real fight for the pennant flickered out in the morning when San Francisco settled our hash by beating Oakland. This left nothing but the obsequies for the afternoon. Hoping that San Francisco would lose up North, Killefer sent Hogg, his best bet, to the mound. The great barrister was invincible except in the first and the ninth, rolling up his fifteenth consecutive victory, then retired to practice law. In the afternoon, Bill Kenworthy pitched for the Angels and turned in an unbroken record of one win. Something like 6,000 fans were out to watch the proceedings, but while San Francisco won the pennant, Portland dragged two $40 suits out of the race while all Los Angeles gets is a bunch of crepe. —Los Angeles Times

An interesting little sidelight is the last paragraph by Harry Williams, stating “Portland dragged two $40 suits out of the race.” This meant Portland was playing for more than a paycheck the last week of the season, each man on the team was playing for a new suit for every game they beat Los Angeles. The Beavers did it twice, which was more than enough to seal the deal, and with each suit being the equivalent of some $550 today, it made Portland the best-dressed losers in the league. Who was buying the Beavers suits? Seals. “Good fellowship games,” as the players referred to them, were a common practice at the time, providing players on out-of-contention clubs extra incentive to play hard against the contender’s main competition. Paid out of the contender’s own pockets and never an out-and-out cash bribe, clothing was the common currency in these situations, which occurred frequently in both the minor and major leagues. In the end, in spite of managerial and personnel changes, interruptions, and the uncertainties of war, 1917 had been a very good year for Los Angeles. With the team virtually rebuilt at midseason, the Angels had played .600 ball from that point on under Red Killefer, making up an eleven-game

On the Right Hand of Chance 207 deficit only to fall short on the last day of the season. A familiar if not particularly enjoyable event as far as Bradley was concerned, for it was the second time in his career this had happened. Harry Williams’s sarcastic comment in his Times column Baseball Notes said it all: “Jack Ryan was the biggest single factor in deciding the pennant.”68 Losing a twenty-nine-game winner like Ryan had been in 1916 definitely didn’t help, for had he added his customary winning record to Bradley’s twenty-seven wins and Otis Crandall’s twenty-six, the Angels would have run away with the flag. As it was, his replacement, Tom Seaton, went 8–8. All in all, the last dozen games he’d pitched had been the best of Bradley’s career. Giving up a total of fifteen runs in ninety-one innings, his earned run average for that span was a phenomenal 0.16. As it was, his final record of 27–13, ERA of 2.23, and winning percentage of .675 led all pitchers in the Pacific Coast League, and made him the toast of the coast.69 Unfortunately for John Powers and the Angels, it was a coast he and Agnes and Mary had decided to leave for the red clay hills of Georgia, for it was time to settle down and begin winning in another, smaller field. One located inside the county courthouse in Americus, Georgia. At least that’s what he told John Powers a few days after the season ended. Whether or not it would turn out to be true depended on what Powers did in the off-season, an off-season that began with one final newspaper headline as the Southern Pacific disappeared over the horizon heading east: November 3, 1917: Los Angeles, California. Bradley Hogg Leaves For Georgia. Bradley Hogg left yesterday for his home in Americus, Georgia. Maybe he’ll return next spring and maybe he won’t. He had a long talk with Prexy Powers of the Angels yesterday, and it is understood the Seraphs have promised to make it worth his while to stay in baseball another year, at least, even if the legal profession looks attractive. A pitcher who “can’t lose” is worth having, and Powers intends to have Hogg if such a thing is possible.—Los Angeles Examiner

A lot can change in four months. Which “can’t lose” proposition Bradley would accept remained up in the air.

9

1918 Spitting on Diamonds

Christmas got off to a bad start when an Inupiat Eskimo staggered into the small Alaskan village of Wales, dying two days later of a mysterious sickness that would come to be called the Great Flu Epidemic of 1918. Within a week, hundreds were dead, piled up like cordwood in the schools and public buildings as the town lay helpless. There were so many orphans that the acting superintendent of the village called all recent widows and widowers to the town hall, had them select a mate, then married them en masse. Then, collecting their share of orphaned children, instant families began anew as the epidemic spread inland.1 Some eight thousand miles away in Georgia, Bradley, Agnes, and Mary celebrated Christmas with the future still up in the air. In Los Angeles, the holiday season was not a happy one for Angels’ owner John Powers, as the Grinch had been working overtime: star outfielder Irish Meusel had been bought by the Philadelphia Phillies and his star pitcher wouldn’t sign a contract. With the Coast League’s salary cap and the uncertainty of war dictating his financial options, Powers had been unable to talk Bradley into coming back for another year of Coast League ball. In order to gain from his loss, he was reluctantly shopping the best pitcher in the league. With Bradley’s twentyseven Coast League wins and nine- and fifteen-game winning streaks at the head of his résumé, Powers got immediate interest. Who offered him the most, ironically, was tight-fisted Bill Baker of the Philadelphia Phillies, who needed a replacement for a pitcher he was about to lose: Grover Cleveland Alexander. “Pete” Alexander had been setting the house afire in Philadelphia for four years while leading the National League in wins, and wanted to be paid for it. Even though his two thousand dollars a month put him among the highest-

208

Spitting on Diamonds 209 paid pitchers in the league, Alexander thought his record of 30 wins, 338 innings, 34 complete games, 8 shutouts, and the league’s second-best earned run average of 1.83 in 1917 was worth more.2 He told Baker he’d accepted the last of his lowball offers, and if Baker didn’t pay up he could go to hell and take his ball club with him. That did it. Baker told him a twelve-thousand-dollar salary was plenty, and he wasn’t going to budge. Besides, even if Alexander had led the league in wins for four straight years, his win total had dropped from 1916, when he won thirty-three games.3 When John Powers offered the perfect, cost-effective alternative to the impasse in Bradley Hogg, Baker jumped at it. And for cash and players to fill some holes in California, in early February the deal was done: February 10, 1918: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Hogg for Fittery and Cooper. Bradley Hogg, formerly with the Los Angeles Angels, was traded to the Philadelphia Nationals today for Fittery and Cooper. Hogg will report to St. Petersburg, Florida in March for spring training.—Atlanta Constitution

Bradley read about the deal before he got the telegram from Baker announcing the trade, but since he was still Angels’ property, his agreement wasn’t needed in the transaction. When he received his Philadelphia Uniform Player’s Contract in the mail, he saw major-league baseball wasn’t going to make him rich: $100 a week, $400 a month, and $2,400 for the season. The equivalent of $28,250 today, it still was an improvement over the Coast League, and he only had to work six months to earn it. Not seven.4 It was about the same money a good attorney could make if he played ball in 1918. On or off the field. Ironically, even before the Coast League’s 1917 “war stringencies” salary cuts, it was a raise and not out of line for a rookie pitcher in the major leagues, which Baker considered Bradley to be in spite of his twenty majorleague appearances since 1911. The money was certainly not out of line for Baker, who’d paid future Hall of Fame pitcher Albert “Chief” Bender $104 a week in 1917. Definitely on the downside of his career, Bender went 8–2 in twenty games with an earned run average of 1.67.5 Paul Fittery, one of the two men involved in Bradley’s deal with the Phillies, had put up a 29–19 record in the Coast League with Salt Lake City in 1916, but never made his mark in the City of Brotherly Love. In spite of

210 Spitting on Diamonds getting only two starts in seventeen game appearances in 1917, his 1–1 record, high number of walks versus strikeouts, and 4.53 E.R.A. made him expendable in the eyes of Phillies’ ownership.6 Light-hitting veteran outfielder Claude Cooper was an afterthought, having already spent five years in the majors when the Phillies threw him into the deal as a replacement for Irish Meusel. Baker figured he was not only getting rid of two marginal players but also picking up an excellent replacement for the difficult Alexander, whom, along with his catcher “Reindeer Bill” Killefer, he immediately traded to the Chicago Cubs for cash, players, and peace of mind. In making an example of the recalcitrant future Hall of Famer, Baker also made one of the worst trades in baseball history, for Alexander would go on to win another 125 games for the Cubs over the next eight years on his way to a tie for the third-best record in the history of the game. But Baker did save ninety-six hundred dollars. In Los Angeles, Angels fans found out about Bradley’s sale in Matt Gallagher’s Examiner column: “Bradley Hogg, the leading pitcher of the Pacific Coast League during the 1917 season who won 24 out of the last 26 games he pitched, has been sold to the Philadelphia Nationals. Hogg will report to manager Pat Moran at the Phillies Florida training camp. If he shows up well, Moran will try Alexander’s shoes on the grey-haired twirler.”7 Alexander’s shoes. The biggest shoes any pitcher ever tried on. “If he shows up” was the operative part of the sentence, whether Gallagher knew it or not, for Bradley and Agnes had to talk that over. Was Bradley done or not? While that discussion was taking place in Georgia, the Phillies were falling back on a raft of unproven players and manager Pat Moran’s much-vaunted “system” as a result of Bill Baker’s roster machinations. Commenting on the Phils’ prospects in 1918, the New York Times stated, “Even if Alexander doesn’t pitch a game for the Phillies, there still remains a good staff in Quaker town. Chief Bender did some funny things with the baseball last summer, and may be able to repeat. In addition to the Chief, Moran has Baumgartner, Buckles, Mayer, Oeschger, Davis, Prendergast and Woodward. Davis, in Moran’s expectations, will become a real big leaguer.”8 With Alexander gone, the Phillies had to fill the biggest hole in baseball. No pitcher on the roster in February was going to do it, for ghosts seldom win ball games. Jimmy Lavender retired, Fittery was sold to the Angels, Chief Bender went to work in a shipyard, Eppa Rixey joined the army, and neither Stan Baumgartner nor Jess Buckles would make the team. Several others wouldn’t make it beyond the first month, or to the end of the season. Alexander’s trade and Bradley’s purchase by the Phillies caused a lot of

Spitting on Diamonds 211 conversation around the Hogg household, for facts had to be faced: he’d talked about starting a law practice for several years, but still wanted to play baseball. He’d been ready for the majors since 1915 and he knew it. Here was the chance to finally be a starter for a major-league club that wanted him, needed him, and had traded for him. No more clubhouse politics or franchises in flux or desperation like the Cubs and Braves—these were the Phillies, a team that had won the National League pennant in 1915, and finished second in 1916 and 1917. Hell, they were contenders. Something Bradley thought he’d like to experience at least once in the major leagues. Agnes wasn’t going to win this argument, and probably didn’t want to. Yet. Besides, it was exciting, for she’d never been north or seen Philadelphia, and with the memory of Georgia’s summer heat spurring her on, she began packing to meet Bradley in Philadelphia after spring training. There they would find one of the oldest franchises in major-league baseball.

The Philadelphia Phillies Organized in 1883 by Al Reach, former major-league outfielder and founder of the Reach Sporting Goods Company, and his partner Colonel John Rogers, a real Philadelphia lawyer and politician, the team experienced years of indifferent play, losing seasons, and absent fans that led to its purchase by a syndicate of owners in 1904. It wasn’t until the appearance of rookie pitching phenomenon Grover Cleveland Alexander in 1911, along with his stillrecord first-year twenty-eight wins, that the Phillies began making first-division noises. The noise attracted yet another buyer, former New York police commissioner William F. Baker, who purchased the team in 1913. With a nucleus of good hitting from outfielder “Gavvy” Cravath, first baseman Fred Luderus, and outfielder “Possum” Whitted, the Phils climbed to second, and finally, under new manager and former catcher Pat Moran, won their first National League pennant in 1915.9 Moran had spent fourteen years in the majors with Boston, Chicago, and Philadelphia, and his experience and drive kept the Phillies in contention during both 1916 and 1917. In March of 1918 they were looking for more of the same, although without Alexander. They hoped that players such as Bradley and Irish Meusel would do the trick. Spring training on the west coast of Florida would tell the tale. At the same time, a medical horror story began being told the morning of

212 Spitting on Diamonds March 11, when the first soldier appeared in the camp hospital at Fort Riley, Kansas, with the flu. By noon there were a hundred more, and by the end of the week five hundred men filled every bed and hallway,10 respecting neither age nor rank. The epidemic was becoming epidemic, and would eventually kill six hundred thousand Americans before it ran its course. In Philadelphia, Bill Baker was only concerned with the epidemic of demands on his checkbook, for he obviously hadn’t made his point by trading Alexander. Seven players were holdouts, including outfielders Cy Williams and Possum Whitted, third baseman Milt Stock, and righthander Chief Bender.11 The Crow Indian pitcher from Minnesota had been a mainstay in Philadelphia baseball for fourteen years, the first dozen with Connie Mack’s Athletics, and after a year in the Federal League with Baltimore he had moved over to the Phillies for 1916 and 1917. Refusing to negotiate, Baker traded Bert Niehoff, his regular second baseman for three years, to the Cardinals. Outfielder Mike Fitzgerald was hardly operating from a position of strength when he held out, having just been drafted from the minor leagues, but for some reason Baker came around and signed him for $229.15 every two weeks, or $2,750 for the season. Possum Whitted didn’t fare so well, eventually settling for the same $375 every two weeks he’d been paid in 1917. The fact he held out at all put him on Baker’s blacklist. Light-hitting catcher William “Pickles” Dilhoefer had come to the Phils in the Alexander trade with Chicago and wanted his due. Baker figured he was due $166.60 every two weeks and told him to take it or leave it. For the time being, Dilhoefer took it.12 When Bradley’s train rolled into St. Petersburg, Florida, on March 20, after checking into the team hotel he immediately ran into a familiar face, former Mobile teammate and Phillies’ third baseman Milt Stock. After being called up at the end of 1913 by the Giants and playing a year for John McGraw, he’d had the good fortune to be traded to the Phils and appeared in the 1915 World Series. Stock told Bradley he was having contract problems and didn’t expect to sign for the money offered, and that center fielder Cy Williams, who had also come to the Phils in the Alexander trade, had decided to quit the game rather than play for what Baker was offering. Stock’s bank account felt a slight jolt a few days later after a meeting with Moran when $250 was added to his yearly salary, bringing it to $4,250.13 This also gained him the permanent animus of Bill Baker, who would trade the financially troublesome infielder within a year. Bradley himself was enthusiastically welcomed by Baker and Moran, especially since he’d already agreed to $400 a month, or $2,400 for the season. While he’d been earning about $2,250 in Los Angeles, it had taken him seven months to earn it. It also meant he would be earning more and work-

Spitting on Diamonds 213 ing less while playing in the major leagues. Bradley must have also shown he wanted the job more than he should have, for his contract was for $100 less than the Phillies paid Paul Fittery, the man he replaced.14 When Bradley picked up a pen and signed his name to a Phillies contract, he also agreed to yet another thirty-dollar charge for new uniforms, complete with burgundy “P.” By 1918, this uniform charge was being phased out by many teams, but since the Phillies weren’t on the cutting edge financially, why start here? Less was apparently going to be the name of the Phillies’ game in 1918, for Baker’s maneuvers had resulted in a team that was new, angry, or gone. All the signs of a long season were there, especially when viewed from the pitchers’ mound. Regardless of the length of the season, it would come up short, for majorleague owners were running scared. Scared of the War Department drafting their players or shutting the game down entirely, they made an altruistic announcement to short-cut inevitability, stating the 1918 season would be shortened considerably due to the war. With the season ending on September 1, each team would average 125 games instead of the usual 154, with the Phillies, as it turned out, eventually playing 123, the least of all.15 In preparation for these 123 games, Pat Moran ran his charges through a series of intrasquad and exhibition games with the few major-league clubs training in Florida at the time, including the Braves in Miami and the Athletics and Pirates in Jacksonville. This meant a lot of railroad miles were part of the equation, keeping the men tired on a daily basis. During one of these exhibitions in Jacksonville, Bradley’s niece Elizabeth Hogg watched him pitch, and said he could easily be spotted on the field because of his prematurely white hair.16 Obviously, his spitter didn’t make the impression on her that it did on batters. Additional daylight, however, would make an impression on every American as Congress passed daylight savings time legislation that spring.17 Now the last two innings of every doubleheader’s second game would be visible. On the twenty-first, the core of the Phillies’ attack arrived when outfielder Gavvy Cravath, first baseman Fred Luderus, and future Hall of Fame shortstop Dave Bancroft showed up in camp ready to go. Cravath and Luderus were the Phils’ genuine power threats, having gone one-two in the National League home run race in 1913 with nineteen and eighteen home runs respectively. For his efforts, Cravath would earn $4,000 in 1918, while Luderus would pull down $3,500. Bancroft, who many considered the best shortstop in the National League, would earn $4,250.18 The thirty-eight-year-old Cravath had been playing baseball professionally virtually all his life, and had been in the majors since 1908. The prickly

214 Spitting on Diamonds “Cactus” had spent the previous six years leading the National League in hitting and was the league home run king, averaging just over fifteen a season in an era of dead balls. Setting the National League record for home runs in 1915 with twenty-four, the stocky right fielder would lead the league again in 1918 with eight.19 First baseman Fred Luderus had been around since 1910, and had given Bradley a personal power demonstration in 1915 during Bradley’s first start for the Cubs when he put one of his curves over the wall in Chicago’s West Side Grounds. An excellent fielder, Luderus was also hard to stop when he got on base, successfully stealing nearly 90 percent of the time. Successful the first twenty-five times he tried, after a short lull he stole another twenty-five straight, making him as good a professional thief as there was in the game.20 Others Bradley met on the springtime ball field included 5’9” shortstop Dave “Beauty” Bancroft, who earned his nickname both for his looks and his fielding, eventually playing sixteen years in the majors and batting over .300 five times on his way to Cooperstown. Like most dead ball–era batters, he was a slap hitter, with a total of 320 doubles and 591 runs batted in by the time he was done.21 One new face in the outfield wasn’t, however, for it belonged to former Angel Irish Meusel. His .310 major-league batting average would show he could hit as well as field, in spite of a chronically sore throwing arm. Along with Cravath, Meusel was a good fit to the new puzzle that was the Phillies’ outfield, if not a very expensive one, even though he was making $350 more than Bradley.22 Replacing future Hall of Fame second baseman Johnny Evers wasn’t going to be as hard as it sounded, for Evers had been on his last legs by the end of 1917, and the job was up for grabs. However, being half as good as Evers meant you got half a job, as the unfortunate 5’9” Harry Pearce found out when he ended up sharing the bag with the even smaller 5’8”, 140–pound Mark “Patsy” McGaffigan and his even smaller batting average. Perfect examples of Baker’s shortsightedness, when combined with catcher Bert Adams’.176, the Phillies would be weak up the middle and at the plate, with veteran backup catcher Ed Burns’ .207 batting average adding little to the mix.23 Adams had replaced “Reindeer Bill” Killefer, who had gone to the Cubs in the Alexander trade. Ironically, had Killefer hung around, Bradley would have had an instant connection in Philadelphia, for Bill was Angels’ manager Red Killefer’s brother. As far as pitching was concerned, in addition to Bradley, 5’9” righthander Mike Prendergast was one of Pat Moran’s better options. Obtained from the Cubs in the Alexander trade, he had gone 9–17 over the previous two years in Chicago and would eventually win thirteen games in 1918 for Philadelphia. Tough, six-foot righthander Joe Oeschger had won fifteen for the

Spitting on Diamonds 215 Phils in 1917, and was expected to improve. Bradley also recognized tall righthander Milt “Mule” Watson from the Georgia metropolis of Flovilla, for he had run up against him in the minors. Watson had come from the Cardinals, where he had won ten games in 1917. Another Georgian, veteran Erskine Mayer of Atlanta, was beginning his seventh year with the Phillies having contributed sixty-nine wins during the previous six.24 A nervous group of hopefuls and long-shots looking for a chance would get it, because their price was right. However, pitchers Alex Main, “Dixie” Davis, and Frank Woodward would barely get their uniforms sweaty before they were history, and Native American pitcher Ben Tincup with his Southern Association perfect game would soon disappear as well.25 When the Phils boarded the train north, the rotation consisted of Bradley Hogg, Mike Prendergast, Joe Oeschger, Erskine Mayer, and Mule Watson, but the virtual reconstruction of the team was causing Pat Moran to earn his nickname “Whiskeyface” on a nightly basis. He could see the future through his amber glass, and it wasn’t pretty in Philadelphia. Working their way northwards by playing exhibition games against anybody who could lift a bat in order to pay for spring training, the Phillies arrived at Philadelphia’s Terminal Station tired and overworked, but as ready to play as they were ever going to be. Two of the newest arrivals found their new home was age personified, for at 236, the city of Philadelphia was older than the state Bradley and Agnes were originally from. Founded in 1692, it was nearly 100 years old before the United States became a country,26 and by 1918, due to the expansion of war industry, was in an industrial boom. Many of its population of nearly two million lived in neighborhoods of row houses, close-knit rows of twenty-six two-story houses built as a unit, with a character unlike any other in the country. Connected by the world’s original commuter cars, eighty-six trolley routes competed for passengers over a six-hundred-mile grid of tracks leading everywhere. However, the arrival of the automobile brought with it something Bradley and Agnes had never seen before, even in Los Angeles: phenomenal traffic jams. As a result, with more than 120,000 cars and trucks and hundreds of streetcars fighting for space, travel could be—and often was—an adventure.27 It was an adventure Agnes wanted to experience, for she found shopping and city living on a scale unlike any she had ever known. Home to worldfamous department stores such as Wanamaker’s and Gimbel’s, along with glittering new vaudeville houses, hotels, theaters, and restaurants, the downtown district had a life and energy that was contagious. Caught up in the excitement, Bradley checked his family into a hotel for a taste of downtown living for the 1918 season. Once that was done, Agnes and Mary began checking out the surroundings.28

216 Spitting on Diamonds The surroundings that interested Bradley the most were across from the Reading Railroad’s North Broad Street Station, the same railroad millions would be invited to “take a ride on” beginning in 1935 in an innovative new game called Monopoly.29 Across from the station was the home of the Philadelphia National League Base Ball Club, a ballpark modestly named after its owner, Bill Baker.

The Baker Bowl Grandiose when it was built in 1895, the Baker Bowl was a typical ballpark of its time: a bandbox with wooden seats and a covered grandstand, crammed into an undersized and unforgiving piece of urban real estate. Compared to some of the newer ballparks in 1918, after twenty-three years of hard use the grand in grandiose was gone and it matched its lower-class, industrial neighborhood. Even the corporate sheep had to work for their dinner, functioning as lawnmowers until 1920. Bradley had been inside the Baker Bowl in 1911 when he pitched for Boston, and even then it was no great shakes. Sometimes referred to as the “hump” due to an outfield built on elevated ground above a railroad tunnel, the field and its playing dimensions were, to say the least, erratic. More of a rectangle than a square, Bradley and most right-handed pitchers found it a nightmare when pitching to left-handed batters, for the right field fence was only 281 feet from home plate. Mistakes were never seen again, as children chased the results down Broad Street. Left field, that was another story: 432 feet to the corner with 408 to dead center made long outs of home runs.30 Bradley realized, after looking around, that if he was going to succeed here he was going to have to pitch to lefthanded batters defensively beginning opening day, or start using his left arm. While the words “opening day” were music to the ears of every baseball fan in Philadelphia, the hottest pianos to play it on were owned by the Lester Piano Company: April 15, 1918: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Pianos Burn on Truck. Four Player Pianos Destroyed When Engine Backfires. Four player pianos were destroyed by fire on a motor truck at 52nd and Rodman Streets today. The truck, which belonged to the Lester Piano Company, was running south on 52nd Street when the engine backfired and the truck burst into flames. The truck and the pianos were wrecked before the fire engines

Spitting on Diamonds 217 arrived. The damage was estimated at $3,500.—Philadelphia Evening Inquirer

While the vision of burning player pianos being jolted into action on the back of a truck is fascinating, it also was the most expensive show in town. The $3,500 in damage is equivalent to $42,000 today.31 With the last plaintive notes still ringing in the air, opening day on April 16 was accompanied by the usual crowds, colorful bunting, speeches, blasting brass bands, flags, and excitement. Agnes and Mary were in the wives’ box wearing their best hats, watching along with Bradley as Erskine Mayer went the distance in a 5–2 win over the Braves. Thus seduced by expectations, the Phillies’ season began unfolding. Even Ben Tincup’s ungluing against Boston the following day didn’t sour the fans. A win over the Braves in the third game of the series behind Mike Prendergast featured Irish Meusel’s first major-league home run, and two more wins behind Erskine Mayer and Joe Oeschger had the fans screaming for more as the Phils took the seasons’ first doubleheader against the Dodgers. Brooklyn’s losing pitcher that day was another familiar face, as Bradley recognized former Southern Association spitball adversary Burleigh Grimes warming up, and gave him the normal amount of noise that five hundred frozen fans added to enthusiastically when he crashed and burned. The next day, another crash in France interested everyone with a relative in the air corps, for the most famous pilot in history had made his last landing: April 22, 1918: Sailly-le-Sec, France. Richthofen Killed; Last Honors By His Foes. A large number of British fighting men and Aviation officers as well as Americans stationed at an airdrome nearby attended the burial yesterday of Captain Baron von Richthofen, who was laid away in the graveyard of a little hamlet near Sailly-le-Sec where he was shot down in aerial combat on Sunday. Von Richthofen was killed while flying low in pursuit of a British machine when another British airplane dove on him from above, at the same time gunfire from the ground came into action. At this point, his machine turned on its nose downward and crashed into the ground. —New York Times

The death of the most famous German ace of the war, or of any war for that matter, was big news, for the Red Baron had eighty kills to his credit the day he died. Since the average Allied pilot’s lifespan in April of 1918 was less than three weeks,32 a lot of people on both sides of the Atlantic breathed easier.

218 Spitting on Diamonds On Tuesday, April 23, it was Bradley’s turn in the barrel, and as he warmed up on the sidelines the megaphone man took a deep breath and began announcing the lineups, the crowd laughing and commenting on any and everything they heard. Scorecards, beer, and soda pop were being hawked left and right, while the smack of the ball as the players threw it around added to the anticipation. The season was only nine days old, but the Phillies were in second place, only one game behind John McGraw’s New York Giants. When the Phillies took the field to loud applause and cheering, some of the loudest came from the wives’ box where Agnes and Mary were dressed for the occasion, scorecards at the ready. After the newest Phillie made his final warmup throws to catcher Ed Burns, Bradley watched as the batter he’d wanted to face for seven long years stepped into the box. Shortstop Ivy Olsen took the first pitch for a strike. April 23, 1918: Baker Bowl, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Phillies’ Batting Beats Brooklyn, 7–2. Bradley Hogg, Pitching First Game For Moranmen, Comes Through With Victory. It was the hitting of three worthy athletes, Captain Fred Luderus, Milt Stock and Davey Bancroft, coupled with some regular big-league pitching by Bradley Hogg, new Phil hurler, that “cleaned up” the Dodgers in the third consecutive game of the series by a score of 7 to 2. Bradley Hogg, the white-haired hurler secured by the Phils from Los Angeles for Fittery and Cooper, pitched his first ball game for us and filled us to overflowing with confidence that he will make a winning pitcher for Pat Moran. “Brad” pitched a careful, wise sort of ball game, and he didn’t issue a single base on balls.—Philadelphia Evening News

This was Bradley’s first write-up in the Philadelphia papers, and sportswriter-cartoonist Edgar Wolfe, working under the nom de plume “Jim Nasium,”33 got his name right from the start, which was a nice change. Except for the hit rookie Roy Schmandt slammed against the Bull Durham sign on the outfield wall, putting himself on second and fifty dollars in his pocket, no Brooklyn batter got hold of Bradley’s spitter with any regularity. When catcher “Moonie” Miller singled to drive in Schmandt, Bradley made him pay, beaning him on his next plate appearance. Welcome to Philadelphia. At the end of one hour and forty-five minutes, the box score showed Bradley giving up seven hits, no walks, and two runs over nine innings, while adding a single in the Phillies’ win. The best part of the box score as far as he was concerned was the name of the winning pitcher. The article also included an odd but incorrect reference to anyone not

Spitting on Diamonds 219 from Philadelphia, when Bradley’s pitching was described as being done “with a fine Italian hand,” obviously because of his last name. Since one of the largest concentrations of Italians in Philadelphia was located north of Vine and 13th streets in an area known as “Hogg Alley,”34 the writer assumed Bradley was Italian. In reality, the only thing Bradley had in common with the residents of the area was his name and an appreciation of spaghetti. Bradley also had something in common with a horse in the first race at Lexington that same afternoon, and had he put a little money on “Bradley’s Choice” he would have walked away a double winner.35 Taking the train to Boston, the Phillies began their first road series by taking two of the first three games from the Braves, and Bradley finally got to stick it in Boston manager George Stallings’s ear: April 27, 1918: Braves Field, Boston, Massachusetts. Braves Again Bow To Moran’s Quakers. Hogg’s Great Pitching and the Phil’s Work in the Field and With the Stick Responsible for Boston’s Fall. The Phillies made some real hay out in the Braves’ pasture this afternoon, winning another well-played ball game from Stallings 4 to 0. Pat Moran picked Hogg for the flinging, and the choice was a happy one for Hogg pitched high-grade ball. He had one momentary upset midway through the game, but a good one-hand stab for a double play saved his confidence, and then he went through to the finish in fine style. Eddie Burns did a fine job backstopping for Hogg, who, the boys say, was even better than he was against Brooklyn.—Philadelphia Evening News

Adding the two wins in two starts for Philadelphia to his fifteen in a row for Los Angeles meant it had been a long time since Bradley had lost a ball game. The odds of that streak continuing went up, however, for the Phillies immediately dropped their next six to the Giants and Dodgers and fell seven off the pace. On May 2, Bradley went in against the Giants and relieved Alex Main in the bottom of the fourth with two outs, already behind 6–0. Shutting down the New Yorkers the rest of the way while throwing in a double off the center field wall and striking out five, his day’s work got him included in Mr. Nasium’s daily baseball cartoon, which showed him thinking, “If they’d a’ only started me, I’d a’ showed these guys!!”36 A thought no doubt echoed by Agnes and Mary. Mr. Nasium also commented in his Inquirer game summary, “Bradley Hogg looked better than any pitcher we used against the Giants. After shutting out the side on three straight pitches he devoted the balance of the afternoon to giving the best exhibition of hurling that any Phil pitcher has displayed against the New Yorkers.”37

220 Spitting on Diamonds This was the first time Bradley faced future Hall of Fame outfielder Ross Youngs, who would grow old waiting for a pitch he could hit that day, going 0 for spit. Other than Bradley’s relief effort, the lone highlight of the three losses was Ty Pickup’s entire major-league career passing in front of everyone’s eyes when he got his one and only hit in his one and only major-league at-bat on the thirtieth. Apparently batting 1.000 wasn’t good enough, for after the game Mr. Pickup was gone.38 One man batting 1.000 with the listening public, however, was Israel Balin of Mobilev, Russia, a former singing waiter in New York’s Chinatown. Featured in the musical Yip, Yap, Yaphank, his hit song “Oh, How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning” echoed the feelings of every man in uniform. Replacing his first songwriting attempt, which he thought was too somber for a comedy review, Irving Berlin put aside “God Bless America” until 1938.39 Dropping three in a row to the Dodgers in Ebbets Field, the Phillies’ reward was a trip across town to the Polo Grounds to meet one of the toughest teams in the league on its biggest stage: John McGraw’s New York Giants, winners of twelve of their first thirteen games and seven in a row over Philadelphia. Bradley’s winning streak was on the line when he walked out to the mound in front of twenty times the number of people that lived in his hometown of Buena Vista. Less than two hours later, it was history as the New Yorkers showed him the facts of second-division life and poor fielding support in a 7–3 loss. As the Times reported, “Defensively, the Phils were as porous as a mustard plaster. The Giants did not have to work hard to win. They just let the Phils throw the ball around until they made scoring easy.”40 Six runs, six hits, and six errors in six innings showed this loss was a real team effort. Making things even worse, if possible, shortstop Dave Bancroft had one of the worst days of his career, pitching in three errors by himself. Losing to Jesse “Nubby” Barnes was no surprise, for Barnes would lead the National League in wins the following year, but getting twelve hits off him without scoring meant bad timing, bad clutch hitting, and another Phillies loss, the first of Bradley’s Philadelphia career. A perfect example of baseball on the edge occurred the next day when Charley Moran’s late call at the plate against Irish Meusel cost the Phillies a chance to tie the score in the ninth. Immediately, all hell broke loose, with Milt Stock, Eddie Burns, and Dave Bancroft rushing out of the dugout and charging the ump, roughing him up and causing him to square off, put up his fists, and begin swinging. Stock threw a punch and immediately a mob of about a thousand fans swarmed the field, gathering around the fight until both managers shoved their way through the crowd and stood in front of the

Spitting on Diamonds 221 umpire, daring anyone else to make a move. Bottles, rocks, and someone’s cane came flying through the air as the managers escorted the umpire to his dressing room, the Times noting, “Whoever threw the perfectly good cane didn’t get it back.”41 The Phillies also kept the 3–2 loss. Beginning their first “western” swing through the circuit, the Phils arrived in St. Louis the owners of a nine-game losing streak and in fifth place, receiving some unexpected sibling compassion when the first game ended in a 3–3 tie. Two rainouts left one game to tell the tale, with Bradley and Gavvy Cravath the storytellers. In a duel between spitballers, Bradley took the measure of “Spittin’ Bill” Doak, 5–4, with Cravath’s hitting spelling the difference. When Bradley struck out future Hall of Famer Rogers Hornsby in the bottom of the ninth, the blues went out the window in St. Louis. Enjoying a close-up view of midwestern backyards on the train ride to Chicago, the postcard was complete when the Phil’s omnibus pulled up outside Weeghman Park. For Bradley and many of the Phillies, this was their first look at the Cubs’ new playpen. Built in late 1913 for the Federal League Chicago Whales, by the spring of 1918, sans ivy and a second deck, the ballpark known today as Wrigley Field was the home of the second-place Chicago Cubs. A team that expected easy pickings from the boys from Pennsylvania. When the Phillies surprised everyone with wins behind Mike Prendergast and Erskine Mayer, the fans and writers were all over the North Siders. The Cubs finally woke up in front of five thousand partisans and took a 2–0 win from Alex Main, with some thousand female fans screaming on their reducedprice “war tax ticket.” Some of them might have been screaming because of their new, ill-fitting brassieres, which the young and daring had begun wearing instead of corsets.42 Invented by socialite Mary Phelps Jacob in 1913, brassieres became patriotically fashionable during the war when the U.S. War Industries Board urged women to stop buying corsets due to their metal content, thereby saving some twenty-eight thousand tons of metal and changing women’s underwear forever. Meanwhile, spitballer Phil Douglas was changing back into a Cubs uniform after yet another bout of “appendicitis.” Euphemisms for an alcoholic binge, “appendicitis,” “stomach trouble,” and “the flu” were excuses sportswriters used to cover everyday human frailties such as drunkenness or the clap. Douglas had a lot of appendicitis. Former Cubs center fielder and salary holdout Cy Williams had come to Chicago from his home in Wisconsin to see how badly Philadelphia needed him. After a discussion with Pat Moran in the morning and several telegrams back and forth to Bill Baker, Williams agreed to play for four thousand dollars

222 Spitting on Diamonds in addition to a thousand-dollar signing bonus, meaning either Moran was really persuasive or the Phillies’ 11–13 record spoke for itself. As a result, the 1916 National League home run leader would roam the Baker Bowl outfield for the next thirteen years and lead the league in home runs three more times before he was done, contributing 222 of them in a Philadelphia uniform.43 After Joe Oeschger crashed and burned in a 7–1 loss on Saturday, fourteen thousand fans filled Weeghman Park the following day for the rubber game of the series. While the festive crowd listened to a pregame concert by a navy band featuring interspersed recruiting harangues by uniformed orators, Bradley warmed up for his first start in Chicago since his shutout of the Reds in 1915. His opposition, former Braves teammate Lefty Tyler, was on his way to a career year, but Philadelphia’s dumb base running spelled the difference. The Chicago Daily Evening News commented, “George Tyler and Bradley Hogg were the hurlers of the day, and as far as they were concerned it was an even fight, each yielding six blows and giving three bases on balls. Tyler got much the better support in the 2–0 win, while the Phils spoiled a couple of their chances to do business because of base-running errors.”44 Forgetting something as rudimentary as how to run the bases, the Phils sent their fans a loud and clear message: this would be a long season. Five days later the Provost Marshal General of the United States delivered a message that threatened to end it completely: May 24, 1918: Washington, D.C. Work or Fight, Warning To All On Draft Rolls. Sweeping Order Aimed at Idlers and Those in Nonuseful Pursuits. Includes Waiters, Servants, Store Clerks, Elevator Men, Those With No Occupation. May Be Blow To Baseball. Idlers, unemployed and those of draft age not engaged in essential or useful employment will be rounded up for military service unless they apply themselves at once in some sort of labor that dovetails into the Administration’s plan for winning the war. All such youths of draft age will have to serve in the Army or work in the general good. The new order is aimed at idle men of draft age hanging around poolrooms and racetracks, against men of draft age affiliated with the I.W.W. movement, men serving food or drinks in hotels, elevator operators, doormen, footman, ushers and persons connected with games, sports and entertainment. The order is similar to the Maryland Anti-Loafing Law. —New York Times

The last paragraph of the story was the headline as far as ball club owners were concerned, and while they were publicly supportive, behind-the-scenes

Spitting on Diamonds 223 contacts were made with the Wilson administration to see what could be done to postpone drafting their players until after the season. After losing three straight to the Pirates, Pat Moran was ready to give the army all the players they wanted, especially after arriving in Cincinnati for a series with Christy Mathewson’s Reds and dropping the first two games, falling into sixth place. Sloppy outfield play hadn’t helped, but the arrival of Cy Williams on the twenty-third brought immediate improvement in the field and at the plate. This also allowed Possum Whitted to see his immediate future, which involved changing uniforms and joining the army. After Bradley stopped the Phils’ six-game losing streak in Cincinnati with the help of Dave Bancroft’s triple play, he added three more victims to his list of strikeouts, getting legend Heinie Groh and his famous “bottle bat” with its .320 average,45 future Hall of Fame outfielder Eddie Roush, and gambling first baseman Hal Chase, who struck out three straight times. Since “Prince Hal” committed no errors, he probably hadn’t bet on the game. Returning to Philadelphia on the heels of winning the series finale, the Phillies ran into every team’s nightmare in the Baker Bowl, the New York Giants. Surprising themselves as well as New York, the Phillies split the first two games of the series before McGraw sent 6’3” lefthander Slim Sallee out to face Bradley and things got tight. Giving up five hits while striking out three and walking none, Bradley deserved better. Seven men left on base by the Phillies didn’t help, but in the dead ball era, giving up two runs could get you beat and did, 2–1. The Phillies lost more than a ball game that day when catcher Pickles Dilhoefer figured since he wasn’t getting much pay or much playing time, he might as well get it over with and joined the army. Four days later, Agnes and Mary were back in the Baker Bowl along with the Cincinnati Reds to watch Daddy get another shot at Mr. Mathewson’s men in the second game of a doubleheader. Mule Watson’s pitching in the first game was described classically in the Philadelphia Record comment, “Watson didn’t have anything and couldn’t get it over.”46 After the second game, Robert Maxwell, sports editor of the Philadelphia Evening Public Ledger, did Mr. Nasium one better and wrote a scrapbook keeper: June 4, 1918: Baker Bowl, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Hogg’s Hurling Brings Joy To Philly Fandom And Woe To C. Matty. Bradley’s Control Feature of Afternoon. After the fans had seen captain Fred Luderus drop a thrown ball and the game in one fell swoop in the first phase of the battle, the faithful

224 Spitting on Diamonds patrons theoretically placed Bradley Hogg on their shoulders and bore him home to a cold and late but satisfying chow. The most encouraging thing about Hogg’s hurling was his control. He passed only one man in the nine rounds, and seemed to be able to shoot slants through at the most exasperating angles, cutting the corners of the plate, putting them high or low as the occasion demanded and working better as the game progressed. Every one in the ballyard with the exception of the spectator who gave up his seat at the request of Bill Klem, was highly pleased at the turn of affairs in the second game, which showed Pat has a pitcher who is going to be reliable and effective. When a hurler goes through a game allowing but a quintet of hits, no two in the same inning, he is in the game and deserves all the credit that he can squeeze out of the bleachers. It is pitching such as Hogg exhibited yesterday that puts heart into the club and into the followers of the game.—Philadelphia Evening Public Ledger

As good a write-up as this was, it would have been nice if Maxwell had bothered to include the 5–0 score, but maybe he was blinded by the brilliance of Bradley’s shine ball. This was a good day at the office, for Bradley went one-for-three at the plate while pitching his third major-league shutout, ironically by the same score over the same team he had beaten as a Cub in 1915. Facing the inimitable Hal Chase for the second time in eight days, he struck him out twice. The flawless fielding of the Phillies was documented by Jim Nasium in the Record, as he stiltedly stated, “Brad’s good right arm was faultlessly supported by his associates in the enterprise.” He also added, “This Hogg person hasn’t pitched even one bad inning of baseball since he became a member in good standing of this Philadelphia ball club. Right now, and ever since the season opened, he is the most dependable pitcher Pat Moran has in his stable.”47 Umpire Bill Klem’s reaction was just as dependable when there was harassment from the paying customers. Having an umpire stop the game and have the police throw somebody out of the ballpark was a noisy but not uncommon occurrence in 1918, for fans were close, loud, and critical of every call an umpire made. And when the future Hall of Fame arbiter was criticized by anyone, the chances are they were wrong, for Klem was as good as they got. Since criticism had its consequences, the spectator’s mouth got him the hook: “What the rooter said to arouse the ire of Mr. Klem was not audible on the upper deck, but it must have been something fierce, for Bill was very insistent that the bug be chased.”48 Looking to improve the Phillies’ erratic play in the field, Moran sat down with Bill Baker and tried to figure out how to improve a lot by paying a little.

Spitting on Diamonds 225 Buy, sell, or trade, something had to be done, for here came the suddenly firstplace Cubs. Two shutouts later, there they went, Mike Prendergast and Bradley holding the bag. As Charles Dryden of the Chicago Tribune reported, “Moran sent J. Bradley Hogg to the slab to oppose our de luxe southpaw Lefty Tyler, but J. Bradley didn’t even have as good luck as he did in Chicago recently, when the Cubs beat him and his mates got no runs for him. Outside of the first and eighth innings, however, J. Bradley was a worthy opponent for Mr. Tyler.”49 What had to be frustrating to Bradley and the rest of the Phillies’ pitchers was the lack of run support. For as good as Lefty Tyler was, his former teammate was no Cy Young. Bradley knew Cy Young. Bradley also knew if things didn’t change, he’d better get ready to pitch a lot of perfect games. Whatever Moran said in the clubhouse after the game must have been instructive, for the Phillies finally found a use for their bats in a four-and-ahalf-hour ball game five days later against St. Louis, the longest game played in Philadelphia since a twenty-inning affair in 1905. What began as a batting contest ended as a pitcher’s duel, finally called by darkness after eighteen innings, an 8–8 tie.50 With thirty-four hits between them, either team could have won but didn’t, which had to hurt after Bradley’s ten and one-third innings of one-run, sixstrikeout relief, especially when he threw in a double the Phils couldn’t capitalize on. Proof his spitter was dancing is in the box score, for Bradley struck out Rogers Hornsby twice. When umpire Ernie Quigley looked at his watch prior to calling the game, he made a timely fashion statement by looking at his wrist instead of in his pocket, for wristwatches, originally referred to as “bracelet watches,” had become all the rage.51 The next day’s newspaper headline was the most important of the year to Bradley and the rest of baseball, reading, “Organized Ball Safe This Year.” When General Enoch Crowder, U.S. provost marshall general, announced, “He would not take any of the players in organized baseball this year under the work or fight rule,”52 every owner breathed a deep sigh of relief. The decision meant the major leagues would be able to complete the abbreviated season, only losing players who were drafted. With the cloud lifted, Bradley went up against Pittsburgh’s eventual nineteen-game winner Wilbur Cooper in the Baker Bowl and fans saw dead-ball baseball at its finest: Milt Stock’s double in the first inning was the Phillies’ only hit of the day but still won the game, an error and a wild pitch bringing him home and sending Bradley home the 1–0 winner with his fourth shutout of the season.

226 Spitting on Diamonds One run is all it takes if you pitch shutout ball, which you usually had to do to beat Mr. Cooper, who would eventually retire with 216 wins. Keeping future Hall of Famers Bill McKechnie and Max Carey off the bases helped, especially since Carey was always a threat, leading the National League in steals for ten of his twenty major-league seasons on his way to Cooperstown.53 On June 22, while going up against Braves’ spitballer Dana Fillingim, Bradley watched Patsy McGaffigan’s error at second with two outs in the first inning lead to a two-run deficit after the next batter put one over the Baker Bowl’s short right field wall. As the Times stated, “This started Hogg on the downward path.” A path leading to eight runs in four and two-thirds innings and an eventual 8–4 loss. Ironically, Bradley and Dana Fillingim had traveled a long way to match spitballs, having grown up in south Georgia less than twenty miles apart. The losing continued after the game when Pat Moran decided he had seen enough, calling the error-prone McGaffigan into his office and handing him his release. Moran wasn’t finished, for several days later he called pitcher Erskine Mayer in and told him he had been traded to the Pirates for pitcher Elmer Jacobs, and handed him his traveling money. On July 2, another new man put on a Phillies’ uniform when Ed Hemingway joined the club, taking McGaffigan’s place at second. With ten majorleague games under his belt during the previous two seasons with the Browns and Giants, Hemingway was another earn-as-you-learn proposition. The following day in Boston, the Braves’ planned fireworks demonstration was a dud when Bradley threw water on the fire: July 3, 1918: Braves Field, Boston, Massachusetts. Hogg Hands Eggs To Former Pals. Hogg Steady in Pinches. Phil’s Pitcher Allows Braves Three Hits While Henchmen Get to Rudolph in Fourth Round—Score 5–0. Bradley Hogg, erstwhile member of the Braves, pitched gilt-edged ball against the Stallings tribesmen this afternoon in the first game of a threeround series. The Braves made only three singles against Bradley’s offerings, while, in the fourth inning, a four-round merry-go-round netted the Morans a 4–0 lead. At the end of the next inning it was 5–0 and this was the final. Boston’s best boxman, Dick Rudolph, was the fellow put out of the way for the present series. Today’s victory puts the Quakers into third place and gives them the edge over the Braves this year. Hogg’s fine work today made the going easy for Pat Moran’s players, as after the third he simply breezed.—Philadelphia Inquirer

In earning the fifth shutout of his career and the third of 1918, Bradley wasn’t taking the measure of any slouch in beating former World Series spit-

Spitting on Diamonds 227 ball hero Dick “Baldy” Rudolph. Rudolph would win 106 games over a sixyear period with the Braves, including 26 in their world championship year of 1914.54 Another positive note for the Phillies was the error-free debut of Ed Hemingway at second, meaning Patsy McGaffigan wouldn’t be missed. Male ushers wouldn’t be missed in Chicago either, as the Cubs’ Charley Weeghman broke with tradition twice by hiring ushers who were not only female, but honest: July 6, 1918: Weeghman Park, Chicago, Illinois. Cub’s Big Crowd Easily Handled By Usherettes. Twenty-five usherettes handled the crowds at the Cubs-Giants baseball game as smoothly and rapidly as their trousered predecessors ever did. One reason for the lack of confusion in seating yesterday’s crowd was attributed by a club official to the fact that the young women did not copy their male predecessor’s system of accepting tips for slipping seventy-five cent patrons into dollar seats and then rounding up extra chairs to put in the boxes for the rightful owners of the tickets. —Chicago Tribune

Two days later, the value of a child’s game to the army made news on the home front: July 8, 1918: Omaha, Nebraska. Baseball as War Training. “Baseball and football have made Americans apt at the war game,” General Pershing says. “The avidity with which American soldiers are entering into the activities of war on the battle line is astonishing to European armies. In the matter of grenade and bomb throwing, the Americans become proficient in but a few days’ drill. I attribute this to the American games of football and baseball.”—New York Times

Coming out on the short end of the Reds series, the Phillies arrived in Chicago seventeen and a half games out of first and in a free-fall when they walked into Weeghman Park. Greeted by a noisy crowd and a phalanx of female ushers, they immediately dropped the first game of the series before the air turned liquid. Coming back for a doubleheader in the mud, Bradley and a bowlegged first baseman combined to ruin the Cubs’ day, 7–5, beating Hippo Vaughn with four runs in the ninth when Cubs’ first baseman Rollie “Bunions” Zeider let two balls roll between his legs. At that point, according to Tribune columnist Charles Dryden, “Mr. B. Hog [sic], attorney at law, was the winner.”55 A winner, it turned out, over the best pitcher in the National League in 1918.

228 Spitting on Diamonds When the Cubs blew the second game in almost the same way inside a fog bank that blew in off the lake, Zeider was a double goat that the fans booed unmercifully. Chicago made it up to their fans the following day by giving them nearly three games for the price of one, beating the Phils 2–1 in twentyone innings as Lefty Tyler and Mule Watson went the distance. Continuing their interminable road trip with a stop at Forbes Field in Pittsburgh, the Phils spit, then sent Bradley out in search of a win against former Phil Erskine Mayer. The search was in vain, as Pirate outfielder Max Carey’s single in the bottom of the ninth did him in. At the same time, public health officials were trying to prevent influenza from doing in Philadelphia, instructing people to start wearing cotton masks, for the epidemic was spreading like wildfire. Rolling into Philadelphia, Bradley barely had time to say hello to Agnes and Mary before he had to leave for the Baker Bowl, figuring on an easy day at the office since he wasn’t scheduled to pitch. When Mule Watson couldn’t handle prosperity in the form of a six-run lead over the Cubs and gave back five in the third, Bradley stopped being a spectator and the girls got to watch him earn dinner, pitching shutout ball the rest of the way. As the Philadelphia Inquirer verified, “The Cubs were practically never dangerous in the first encounter after Bradley Hogg made his appearance on the scene.” When the Phillies added four runs off Dixie Carter and Dixie Walker, Dixie Hogg found himself a 10–5 winner, for Mule had only pitched two and one-third innings. Bradley’s three-for-three day at the plate was just icing on the batting average. Charles Dryden of the Tribune put the game into perspective from Chicago’s point of view when he referred to it as “a crop of cheese.”56 Between games, the quality of crowd control provided by three policemen was demonstrated when hundreds of fans in the bleachers made a rush across the field and climbed into the shade of the grandstand. After the game, Pat Moran announced that pitcher Alex Main had taken his 2–2 record into a job at a nearby shipyard, or as the Inquirer referred to it, “joined the paint and putty league,” and that reliever Dixie Davis had been called up by his National Guard unit. Suddenly the Phillies were two pitchers short in reality and in the box scores. The major-league season was threatening to come up even shorter, as Secretary of War Newton Baker caused an uproar in baseball circles by declaring the sport an “unnecessary activity during wartime.”57 In spite of earlier pronouncements, he wanted the season over and done with and every eligible player in the army. Much ado about not much, for the number of draft-eligible players in the major leagues was actually fewer than three hundred men, hardly enough for two platoons of infantry.

Spitting on Diamonds 229 Bradley was in a warlike mood when Mathewson’s Cincinnati Reds walked through the gates of the Baker Bowl five days later, and facing a familiar Red face resulted in familiar results. Pete Schneider was one twenty-game winner Bradley owned, lock, stock, and barrel, beating him again 5–4 in eleven innings for his eighth win and pushing the Phillies back into fourth place. As the Philadelphia Record commented, “Hogg was the star of the day, as our most popular pitcher not only got credit for the victory, but started the victorious doings in the second overtime inning with a clean single to right, after having scored one of our earlier runs. In gaining his victory, Hogg struck out the league’s leading batsman, Heinie Groh, twice.”58 Not only did Bradley own Heinie Groh, he also had an investment in future Hall of Famer Eddie Roush, who went hitless in four tries. Two days later, American League president Ban Johnson’s prediction of a mid-August end to the season proved wrong, but as it turned out one year later, the papers could have chosen a better headline for the announcement: August 3, 1918: Cleveland, Ohio. Johnson Backs Down, And Big Series Fixed. The major league baseball schedule will be played out until September 2 without any readjustment, and a world’s series starting September 3 or 4, it was decided at today’s special league meeting between club owners.—Philadelphia Record

The sad, slow music continued for Philadelphia as they lost five of six to St. Louis, falling nineteen games off the pace as Bradley pitched in with a 7–1 loss during what the papers referred to as a “run spree doubleheader.” The only good thing about the loss as far as Bradley was concerned was watching Rogers Hornsby go hitless in three at bats against his spitter. The only thing better as far as the fans were concerned was watching Hornsby pay twice for crowding the plate in the afternoon game, when Oeschger and Fortune both nailed him with fastballs. When the Phillies lost the first game of a series with Pittsburgh to former Philadelphia pitcher Erskine Mayer, loud commentary from the grandstands was directed at Pat Moran about trading Mayer in the first place. Moran’s tirade in the clubhouse after the game must have done some good, for the next day the Phils woke up and sank the third-place Pirates twice, Bradley pitching in with an easy 8–2 decision. This game marked a watershed in the season, as the Phillies finally collapsed, losing twelve of their next fourteen games during one of the worst road trips anyone could remember. Bradley’s tough 2–1 loss to Larry Cheney and the Dodgers on the thirteenth was only highlighted when “One man

230 Spitting on Diamonds captured a home run ball, but was himself captured by the police trying to escape with it.”59 Unable to stop the downward spiral or the lack of hitting, the Phils split with the Cardinals then lost three straight to the Reds, Hornsby and Roush finally catching up to Bradley’s spitter. Pulling into Pittsburgh for the last stop on their rolling horror show, Moran told everyone it was time to win a few games if they wanted to remain employed. Having made his point, the Phils swept a doubleheader. Demonstrating that timing thing again, by giving up one hit and one run over the final two innings in relief of Mike Prendergast, Bradley earned his one and only save of 1918. Suddenly breathing the heady air of sixth place again after taking three of four from the Pirates, the Phils staggered into the Baker Bowl for the season’s last six games, beginning with a four-game series against Bradley’s favorite team, the Boston Braves. Agnes and Mary got dressed and went to the office with him, for he was pitching his last game of the year in the second game of the doubleheader. The games were, surprisingly, played in front of a pretty good crowd. What amazed Bradley the most was running into former Angels pitcher Doc Crandall in a Braves uniform, back for one last shot at the big time. Since he and Bradley weren’t scheduled to start until the second game, they chatted with Agnes and Mary, who at three was old enough to carry on her own conversation, thank you. Crandall would return to the Coast League after the season and pitch nine more years, for Bradley’s thirteenth win helped punch Crandall’s ticket home. Gavvy Cravath helped too, punching one of Crandall’s fastballs over the wall in right for a home run, while Bradley’s participation in three double plays guaranteed the train ride as the fat lady was in full voice. Being able to sing didn’t guarantee you a ride to the top, however, as the tenor of the New York Metropolitan Opera’s pronouncement made clear: August 31, 1918: New York City. No $15 Tenors Wanted. The Metropolitan Opera Company yesterday issued a statement denying that it hired chorus singers from Italy for $15 a week, as alleged in the case of Aurelio Bodoni, a young tenor fresh from Italy. Metropolitan secretary W. J. Gerard stated: “This rumor grows out of the fact that the Metropolitan always pays members of the chorus for rehearsals. They rehearse seven or eight weeks before the season begins, about fifteen hours a week, and for this, Bodoni, like the rest, will get his $15 weekly from now until the regular salary begins on opening night.” We don’t have and don’t want any $15 tenors in our organization. —New York Times

Spitting on Diamonds 231 The last day of the season gave Bradley one final chance to be a hero in front of the home crowd when the Brooklyn Dodgers stopped by for one final doubleheader. With the Phillies trailing the Dodgers by half a game, the two games would decide fifth place. On a beautiful fall day, the Philadelphia Record wrote: “Major league baseball was buried with all the honors of war at the Phillies’ ball yard yesterday afternoon, with a band supplying patriotic airs between innings and a flock of airplanes holding up the first game for about three minutes while they floated overhead southwestward directly across the field.”60 Passing Brooklyn into fifth on the heels of a 5–2 win behind Elmer Jacobs, the crowd knew what was on the line during the season’s last nine innings. Joe Oeschger went at the Dodgers with a will, but was trailing 5–2 in the bottom of the ninth when the Phils began to rally. At that point, Moran sent Bradley in to pinch-hit. As the crowd roared, Bradley “whaled a ball to center,”61 which Dave Bancroft followed with a long double against the right field wall. When Bradley crossed the plate, it would turn out to be the Phillies’ last run of the year, for Cy Williams’s high pop-up ended the game, and the day and the season were done. Sixth place in the National League was all Philadelphia’s. After the game, when Bradley and the rest of the players looked at their paychecks, they found they’d lost again, as Baker and the rest of the majorleague owners took advantage of the “war situation” and refused to honor their contracts for the rest of the season. Scrupulously honoring the required ten day’s notice of release in their contracts without honoring the contract itself, Baker gave each player an extra two days’ pay as a season-ending “bonus” instead, saving himself more than $208,000 in Year 2003 dollars.62 Of course, being released made every player in the major leagues a free agent, but since club owners had entered into an unwritten agreement not to tamper with each other’s players, the players weren’t free after all. They were just out five weeks’ pay. A few determined players took their owners to court to get the rest of their salaries, with mixed results. Brooklyn first baseman Jake Daubert was in the last year of a five-year, $9,000 contract, and claimed $2,150 owed him as the balance of his 1918 salary. He finally settled out of court for most of the money and all the antagonism of Dodgers owner Charlie Ebbets, who traded him to Cincinnati. It could have been worse: Washington outfielder Burt Shotton sued his club for $1,400 and owner Clark Griffith waived him out of the league for his trouble.63 As far as Bradley was concerned, ending the season on the second of September cost him $573.34 of his contracted $2,400 salary, or $6,748 today.64 The season’s final chapter was written a few days later when Baker handed Pat Moran his walking papers, and he became the latest victim of

232 Spitting on Diamonds poor management and baseball on the cheap. Moran’s National League pennant in 1915 and two successive second-place finishes didn’t matter. What have you done for me lately? All in all, playing major-league ball for the Phillies had been a challenging, occasionally exhilarating, and often frustrating experience, but proved that Bradley matched up with most of the men in the league. His overall statistics proved it, in spite of his 13–13 record, for he was the best righthander on the Phillies’ staff. His 2.53 earned run average said what he lacked—hitting support—which didn’t make him unique in Philadelphia. With the ninth-best record in the league, Bradley also ranked tenth in strikeouts with eighty-one, tied for ninth in shutouts with four, tenth in innings pitched, eighth in hits allowed, and tenth in bases on balls.65 His real value to the Phillies would surface seventy-five years later in Total Baseball, when pitching statistics were combined with hitting and fielding ability to measure a pitcher’s overall contributions. According to their calculations, in 1918, the fifth-best pitcher in the National League was Bradley Hogg.66 Even with the Phillies finishing sixth, Bradley’s year was a high note to go out on. After discussing it with Agnes on the train home, he put his decision in writing in a letter to Bill Baker, announcing his voluntary retirement to enter the world of law. For the courts of Georgia were playing fields in their own right, not only of skill but of the mind, and Bradley had a mind to give them a shot. Six weeks later, while arranging his law books in his new office in Americus, the news came that the last shot had been fired in Europe and an armistice was in place, so both Bradley and the rest of the world would have a new beginning. And somebody other than an umpire would be the judge.

1919

10

In the Eye of the Storm In Late November, the Phillies put Bradley on their reserve list for 1919, listing him as “voluntarily retired,” just in case. For the next six months, practice made perfect as Americus’ most famous barrister began competing in front of juries instead of fans. Looking to become more competitive as well, the Phillies’ Bill Baker hired former Athletics and Dodgers pitcher Jack Coombs to take over the foundering Phillies for 1919. Long a fan favorite in Philadelphia before joining the Dodgers, “Colby Jack” had been a mainstay on Connie Mack’s pitching staff for years, making huge contributions to the Athletics’ two successive world championships in 1910 and 1911.1 Baker was hoping some of that success would rub off on the Phillies. Thirty-five years old when he put on a Phillies uniform in the spring of 1919, Coombs was young for a nonplaying manager but knew the game inside and out. What he didn’t know was the Phillies, or that when he signed his name to an eight-thousand-dollar contract it would be nowhere near enough.2 Coombs’s education began in Charlotte, North Carolina, that spring, where, in addition to occasionally wearing cotton masks during exhibition games to ward off the flu, the Phillies quickly demonstrated they didn’t have much beyond their core veterans, and that their sixth-place finish in 1918 had not been an aberration. As a result, Coombs stocked up on bodies for the outfield to give the starters an occasional rest from chasing balls. Some of the Phils were good ballplayers, but there just weren’t enough of them, and many of the good ones were slowing down. Thirty-eight-year-old Gavvy Cravath still held down right field, along with Cy Williams in center and Irish Meusel in left, and reliable Fred Luderus was still a reliable target for shortstop Dave Bancroft. Unfortunately, the rest of the infield would prove unreliable at best, as light-hitting Bert Adams would have to fight for his

233

234 Spitting on Diamonds catcher’s job on a daily basis. Neither Leo Callahan nor Doug Baird, acquired from the Cardinals in an off-season trade for the unhappy Milt Stock, would prove to be an infield answer. As it turned out, Phillies’ pitching would make Jack Coombs old before his time. Joe Oeschger, Mike Prendergast, Elmer Jacobs, and Mule Watson were still around, and Gene Packard had been acquired in the Milt Stock trade, but future Hall of Famer Eppa Rixey was still stuck in the army and Bradley Hogg had retired. Chief Bender arrived in camp, took one look at the figures on his contract, and decided he’d had enough. Retiring with 212 wins rather than accept another twenty-five-hundred-dollar salary, he moved on to manage Richmond in the Virginia League.3 This meant a lot of arms in Charlotte were looking for a home in Philadelphia. After a month of trying out every one of them, Coombs took the Phillies back to Philadelphia with little more than misgivings. Almost immediately, Coombs began shedding some of them when he sent Jimmy Faircloth back to the minors after watching him pitch two innings, and put up or shut up became the order of the day. After losing to the Giants at the Polo Grounds on opening day, which was no surprise, the Phils surprised everyone by taking the next two games behind Joe Oeschger and Mule Watson, the latter on a fine 4–3 piece of work watched by thirty-two thousand people in the first game ever legally played on Sunday in New York. The occasion was so unusual that the Inquirer commented: “The fact that the game was staged on a Sunday afternoon gave many who were unaccustomed to going to big league ball parks an opportunity to witness a big league baseball game for the first time. This was disclosed by the fact that there was considerable confusion in finding the proper seats and many that poured into the park were heard to ask the meaning of the rain checks attached to their tickets.”4 Falling back to earth after their conquest of New York, the Phils lost to the Dodgers on their own opening day in the Baker Bowl behind sore-armed Mike Prendergast. However, a win the following day was followed by a 9–9 tie when Joe Oeschger and spitballer Burleigh Grimes hooked up in a memorable pitcher’s duel that lasted twenty innings, both men going the distance. Dumping outfielder Frank Wallace after a week, Coombs got Bill Baker to buy utility infielder Ed Sicking from the Giants off the waiver wire to fill in for Dave Bancroft, who was out of the lineup for a month with a chipped bone in his ankle from sliding. Then he leaned hard on Baker to get him some pitching help. Theoretically doing that, Baker took John McGraw up on his offer and swapped Joe Oeschger to the Giants for marginal righthander “Columbia George” Smith and cash, which didn’t solve the problem but greened the bottom line.

In the Eye of the Storm 235 There was still no way Coombs could get the arms he had around a majorleague season, regardless of its length, and he let Baker know it. Reluctantly agreeing, the Phillies’ owner sent a telegram to a particular law office in Americus, Georgia, and a salary of $3,150 that included a $750 raise did the trick.5 Especially since the raise was more than the average American’s yearly salary in 1919. The most money Bradley would ever make in professional baseball, the $3,150 was equivalent to $32,224 today,6 and with his law practice still in the obstetrics ward, he couldn’t turn it down. He put his legal briefs on hold and Agnes started packing: May 4, 1919: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Phillies Secure Two More Players. Bradley Hogg Accepts Terms, while infielder Eddie Sicking is Purchased. Bradley Hogg, who was the best winning pitcher the Phils had last year, has accepted terms and will join the team here next Friday when they return to open their first series with the Boston Braves. The return of Hogg will be of vast aid to Coomb’s tottering array of boxmen. Hogg last year turned in 13 victories against 13 defeats and proved to be Pat Moran’s pitching ace. He pitched some remarkably good games for the Phils, and if he can duplicate this year, the pitching staff will have some punch to it. Hogg refused to join the club this year, claiming that he wanted to devote all his time to his law practice in Alabama. The Phils, however, finally landed him after offering him a most tempting contract.—Philadelphia Inquirer

With Bradley’s arrival on May 9 and Eppa Rixey’s army discharge imminent, things were suddenly looking up in Philadelphia, and the Inquirer waxed poetic, stating that “With pitching, Coombs may upset the league.” Sportswriter T. V. Ziekursch rationalized this, saying, “With the arrival of Rixey, the long, lean lefthander of the Phils’ hurling corps, the entire campaign laid out by Jack Coombs is to undergo a change. The overwhelming need of some real pitching also made the Phils go after Bradley Hogg, about as reliable a spitball pitcher as there is in the game today. They were successful in getting him to forsake the courts for the diamond, and Bradley bought a ticket to Philadelphia where he will try to look graceful in a sweater that looks like a one-piece Eskimo bathing suit while trying to get into condition to work regularly.”7 Ziekursch was right about future Hall of Famer Eppa Rixey, for he was one of the best lefthanders in the game, ranking alongside Chicago’s Hippo Vaughn, Boston’s Lefty Tyler, and the Red Sox’ twenty-four-year-old Babe Ruth in effectiveness. When the Inquirer stated, “For every day sort of right-hand

236 Spitting on Diamonds hurling there is Elmer Jacobs, and with Rixey, Hogg and Jacobs as the mainstays in the box and as that trio will perform most of the work, there will be comparatively little for the others to do.”8 As it turned out, they were getting a little ahead of themselves. Arriving in Philadelphia out of shape and overweight thanks to Agnes’s improving culinary skills, after signing a contract and collecting forty-two dollars in travel expenses from business manager Al Shettaline,9 Bradley immediately went to work. Having missed spring training, his version would be short and sweaty, for his first start would be in twenty days against George Stallings’s Braves. However, as hard as it was to get into shape, at least it wasn’t dangerous. Bradley could have worked in Pennsylvania industry: May 3, 1919: 184,844 Workmen Injured In Pennsylvania. Casualties among industrial workers of Pennsylvania during 1918 indicate 184,844 workers were injured, 42,936 less than in 1917. Philadelphia stands second behind Allegheny County, with 22,793 casualties and 342 fatalities.—Philadelphia Inquirer

With high-risk jobs in steel and shipbuilding industries pitching in more than their share of injuries and fatalities, this works out to 15,403 injuries per month, or 550 per day, statewide. That’s 55 an hour over a ten-hour day, or about an injury a minute for the entire year, which, amazingly, was a casualty rate in decline. While Bradley was sweating the law and Agnes’s biscuits out of his system in the Baker Bowl, the Phillies were in Brooklyn for a short series with the Dodgers, where Jack Coombs found himself an appreciated man. Having won forty-three games during his time with Brooklyn, Coombs came out of the dugout to a standing ovation and was called to home plate. There Dodgers owner Charles Ebbets made a short speech stating Coombs was “a credit to the game,” then wished him well in his new position as a “friendly enemy” and presented him with a silver tea set on behalf of the club.10 When the Dodgers players presented him with a hunting rifle, Mike Prendergast had to be glad it didn’t come with ammunition when he gave up a seven-run lead after two innings in an 11–9 loss. The end of another major-league career began that same day when twentyfour-year-old outfielder George Halas made his debut across town in a Yankee uniform.11 Twelve days later, after batting .091, the Yankees took it back, and the hero of the 1919 Rose Bowl went on to another team in another league in another sport, founding what would become the National Football League in 1920.

In the Eye of the Storm 237 On Monday, when lefthander Eppa Rixey showed up in his army uniform and signed the biggest contract on the Phillies payroll of $8,250,12 bigger things seemed to be right around the corner. Especially after Gavvy Cravath’s slugging led to a sweep of the visiting Cubs and Pete Alexander, who’d also just returned from the army. After the Cubs left town, the Phils suddenly found themselves in fourth place, only four games out of first, and owners of a five-game winning streak. The Inquirer column “An Old Sport’s Musings” hinted at the possibilities: “If Eppa Rixey is as good as he was before he went into the army he will look pretty good. However, there is no telling what these fellows returning from overseas are going to do in baseball. Alexander hasn’t yet won a game for the Cubs, and he was rated the best pitcher in the National League. That trip abroad and the experience the fellows went through seems to have changed them a lot. It may be a long time before the boys return to normal, therefore too much must not be expected of big Eppa.”13 The Old Sport was right, for as it turned out, it would take Rixey two years to get back to a winning record on his way to Cooperstown, and a year before Alexander would join him on the same road. New Cincinnati manager Pat Moran was back in the Baker Bowl with his league-leading Reds, and was treated to an appreciative “Pat Moran Day” at the ballpark that included the ever-present floral horseshoes and cigars and two wins out of the three-game series. When Moran waved good-bye, the Phils were back at .500, treading water. Hoping to dry out after nineteen days of running and sweating and throwing to anybody who could catch a ball, the day arrived for Bradley to begin earning his money. Agnes and Mary weren’t there, as it occurred 270 miles up the road in Boston, and it was just as well for the Braves had his number, 4–1. In losing his first game of the year, Bradley actually had a fairly good day. While he gave up seven hits, including one to former Olympian Jim Thorpe in their first meeting, they were all singles, and he added two of his own. But having both his third baseman and catcher asleep at the wheel on consecutive bunts had to drive him nuts, while consecutive errors by Cravath in right and George Pearce at short just iced Boston’s cake. The lack of hitting by the Phillies said some things never change. After losing three of four games in Boston to the cellar-dwellers, the Phillies found themselves in sixth place with a poem in their honor on the sports page: June 1, 1919: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Listen To Our Plea. Oh bring back the old, old days of Bender, Coombs and Plank,

238 Spitting on Diamonds Of Alexander, Seaton, and those birds of that old rank. Bring us back some pitching like we had in days of yore, When though they got a couple on we knew they couldn’t score. We’re tired of all these pitchers who just stand out there and throw, And who couldn’t win a game without a dozen runs or so. We’ll trade the grandstand for some guy, a wise old pitching bird, Who can make ’em pop up a puny fly with a runner there on third. We give a hoot what “stuff” he’s got, spitters, curves or speed, The City Hall is his if he can hold a two-run lead. You can dig him from the graveyard or buy him from the “sticks” Just so he won’t lose ball games by a score of 10 to 6. —Jim Nasium, Philadelphia Inquirer

Swinging by Ebbets Field for a Sunday game with the Dodgers as the rhyme repeated in their heads, the Phillies not only found Eppa Rixey waiting for them, they found themselves in a memorable eighteen-inning slugfest in front of twenty thousand roaring fans. Mule Watson earned the win by pitching ten innings of relief of “Columbia George” Smith, and Jeff Pfeffer was the loser going the distance. Bradley’s teammate at Boston in 1911, Pfeffer had gone thirteen innings in a loss to the Cardinals several days earlier, giving him thirty-one innings pitched and two losses in his last two games. And one very tired arm. In an uncanny prediction of things to come, the Record also editorialized on the changing face of the game: “It is the long and hard hits of a ball game that attract attention. There is more interest shown in the batting average of a player than there is in his fielding, for every major league player is expected to be a good fielder. It is the players that step up to the plate and knock the cover off the ball who receive the most attention and whose names are mentioned most frequently in the baseball chatter.”14 Chatter most often spelled R-u-t-h. In a doubleheader loss to the Giants at the Polo Grounds, the Phils proved Edgar Wolfe’s doggerel right on the money when they lost both games by giving up early leads, Bradley doing some of the giving in a 9–7 loss when he couldn’t hold a six-run margin. Three walks, seven extra bases due to errors, aggressive base running, wild pitches, and sacrifice flies resulted in five runs on a total of three Giants hits. Dead-ball baseball at its finest, as practiced by the master, John McGraw. Catcher Forrest “Hick” Cady was a loser as well, as his one-for-seven day proved he wasn’t the answer behind or at the plate. After the game, Coombs wired Baker to sign veteran catcher J. J. “Nig” Clarke to a contract, for somebody had to be able to hit the ball and catch it too. Recently discharged from the army, Clarke was signed, sealed, and delivered for twenty-four hundred dollars.15

In the Eye of the Storm 239 After the debacle at the Polo Grounds, Coombs realized Bradley wasn’t near ready for starting assignments, and didn’t give him one for the next two weeks, letting him work on the side and sending him in occasionally in relief in an extended paid spring training. During the final game of the series with the Giants, New York manager John McGraw spent the afternoon in the grandstands in a loud and protracted argument with Phils’ owner Bill Baker. While Bradley and everyone in earshot watched, the Inquirer commented, “McGraw got into a heated controversy with President Baker over the ownership of shortstop Eddie Sicking and the argument grew so vociferous that it attracted the attention of nearby fans and writers. Baker said Sicking is the property of the Philadelphia ball club in accordance with the rules of Organized Baseball and that he intends to hold onto the player regardless of what McGraw and his associates in the New York ball club do.”16 What got McGraw going was Eddie Sicking’s apparent quick development into a pretty good infielder, as he had been filling in well for the injured Dave Bancroft. As Giants’ shortstop Art Fletcher was obviously slowing down, McGraw realized he had made a mistake in waiving Sicking and was trying to bully Baker into giving him back. After the game, the stubborn McGraw refused to give up, loudly carrying the argument into the lobby of the Ansonia Hotel in Manhattan where the Phillies were staying, but Baker held his ground and his shortstop. Holding his ground was something Bradley couldn’t do in St. Louis in relief of George Smith a few days later, as the Cardinals scored twice in the bottom of the ninth to take the game 6–5. This left Bradley with the loss and a record for 1919 of 0 for the season. A sweep by the Cards was the beginning of a nightmare, for the losing streak would continue for thirteen games, the Phils being swept by the Cubs and Pirates, not winning another game until June 21. Bradley’s contribution to the streak was brief and disastrous as he lasted only three innings in Pittsburgh on the fourteenth in an 8–1 loss to former teammate Erskine Mayer. The highlight of the game from the Pirates’ perspective was Casey Stengel’s seventh-inning home run, which was a production in itself, according to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette: “Casey Stengel, the funny fellow of the right field pasture, pulled nearly all the rooters out of their seats in the seventh inning by cracking a home run over the head of lanky Cy Williams to the flagpole. Casey put a comedy-drama finish on the exciting play by taking a Charlie Chaplin fall after he hit the plate. When Casey came to a stop after his circus roll he gave an imitation of how Jack Dempsey will appear if Jess Willard lands a solid punch on the Fourth.”17 Luckily for Casey he didn’t come to bat the rest of the game, for a ball would have been placed in his ear by the Phils in response to his Chaplinesque performance.

240 Spitting on Diamonds The next morning, all of Philadelphia awoke to find two men had begun a world-class performance of their own: June 15, 1919: St. Johns, Newfoundland. British Plane Off In Second Attempt To Cross Atlantic. Alcock and Brown, in Vickers Vimy, Hope for Success in Non-Stop Flight. Leave St. Johns, N.F. for Irish Coast and Plunge Into Fog Bank. Great Britain’s second attempt to span the Atlantic in a non-stop flight began here at 4:13 o’clock this afternoon, Greenwich time, 12:13 Phila. Time, when Captain John Alcock, pilot, and Lieutenant Arthur WhittenBrown, navigator, “hopped off” in a Vickers Vimy bombing airplane to the Irish coast. Loaded to her capacity with fuel, the powerful little plane narrowly escaped disaster as she struggled for altitude, barely missing houses, trees and hills which rose in her path. Climbing over the bay, she passed the signal station overlooking the harbor at an altitude of 1,000 feet and was off on her great adventure.—Philadelphia Inquirer

After sixteen hours and twenty-seven minutes, Alcock and Brown’s great adventure became a very profitable one when they landed nose-first in a Clifden, Ireland, peat bog, becoming the first men to fly the Atlantic. This feat won them the London Daily Mail prize of ten thousand pounds sterling, today’s equivalent of $511,500. An excited little boy profited from the flight as well, for as he ran toward the plane after it landed, John Alcock threw him a souvenir from the cockpit of the plane and exclaimed, “Have an orange from America!”18 While the boy was peeling his souvenir, the dark clouds over the pitching mound in Philadelphia finally drifted into the clubhouse. Beginning a late spring cleaning, Baker released Mule Watson and sore-armed Mike Prendergast, along with infielder Bert Yeabsley, who’d only had a chance to prove himself as a pinch-runner. With the revolving door in full spin, Baker signed hotshot Notre Dame pitcher Pat Murray for a trial, neglecting to announce the names of any other replacements for there weren’t any. On June 21, Gene Packard finally stopped the bleeding in Cincinnati, 5–4, helped by three home runs. The first, by Gavvy Cravath, was floridly described in the Inquirer: “The daddy of them all landed with all the power in his huge shoulders upon a fast one and the sorely harried pellet actually scorched the atmosphere as it screamed to right center. Far past and over the heads of Neale and Roush it sped, hitting the ground just before it reached the center field end of the bleachers, took one bounce, and was gone forever while the ancient Cactus promenaded around and solemnly tapped the echoing rubber.”

In the Eye of the Storm 241 Notice the ball bounced over the wall. Today, that’s a ground-rule double. Arriving back in Philadelphia after the worst road trip in modern memory, even after losing fourteen of fifteen games the Phillies still found themselves ahead of the visiting Boston Braves. Then they lost three of four to Stallings’s sorry bunch and fell into the cellar. Bradley opened the door to the league basement with a 9–4 loss in the final game, but according to the Inquirer, he had some help: “The Phils lost due to some putrid baseball, and gave some 3,500 splendid reasons why they lost thirteen in a row during the Western jaunt. Bradley Hogg was anything but an enigma to the struggling Braves, and his support in the second frame, when a half-dozen so-called Braves scampered over the pan, took the snap out of the combat.”19 Another team effort. Bradley took a little snap out of Jim Thorpe too, after the Braves’ left fielder slapped a double in his first at-bat. The next time he came to the plate Bradley let him know who owned it by beaning him. Things were going to hell in a hurry when a sweep by the Dodgers left the Phils not only dead last in the league but also without a starting center fielder after Cy Williams broke his wrist sliding after a ball. When the Braves hammered Eppa Rixey on July 1, apparently no one was safe. When they repeated the deed the following day, it was highlighted in one of the most descriptive headlines ever written: July 3, 1919: Braves Field, Boston, Massachusetts. Phillies Get Ahead, Then Hogg Explodes. Strain of Sixth-Inning Rally Too Much for Bradley, Who Gets Wild. Then Braves Clean Up. Score Six Runs in Sixth and Seventh and Place Game in Refrigerator. Hugh McQuillen, one of Stallings’ youngsters, went against Bradley Hogg of the Phillies this afternoon, for the second game of the series and captured it, 7 to 4, largely because the Braves hit the ball when it meant runs, while the visitors couldn’t connect at the opportune moment. McQuillen, however, didn’t have any special advantage over Hogg, being touched for nine hits against 10 for Hogg.—Philadelphia Record

Poor pitching and a total lack of clutch hitting is a losing combination. Unfortunately, exploding Hoggs were becoming par for the 1919 course. Dropping four in a row to the Giants in the Baker Bowl that included a fruitless eight-stolen-base exhibition in one inning by the Phillies that led nowhere, and another frustrating ten-inning loss by Bradley due to poor fielding, his efforts drew positive comments in the Inquirer for the first time that season: “Bradley Hogg displayed the best pitching he has uncovered since he

242 Spitting on Diamonds consented to leave Americus, Ga. flat on its back this summer, and had he been accorded the support he had a right to expect from his associates in the enterprise he would have won by the score of 2–1 inside the nine-inning limit.”20 In spite of the effort, when the Phils met the Cubs in the Baker Bowl on July 8 and promptly lost 5–4, Bill Baker had seen enough. Another twelvegame losing streak meant somebody was going to pay. The next morning’s headline said who: July 8, 1919: Baker Bowl, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. John Coombs Retires As Manager And Cravath Is New Leader of Phillies. Former Great Player Discouraged Over Miserable Showing of His Team. “Gavvy” Takes Charge and Declares He Is Going to Add Several New Faces to His Ball Club. Clifford C. “Gavvy” Cravath became manager of the Philadelphia ball team yesterday morning. Jack Coombs either resigned or was discharged. Coombs declares he was fired and President Baker of the club says that Coombs resigned. Be that as it may, Coombs is no longer a member of the club and last evening he said he would leave today for West Kennebunkport, Me. The change in management is due to the remarkably poor showing of the team, which yesterday lost its twelfth straight game and piled up twenty-six defeats in the last thirty games.—Philadelphia Record

When Coombs was handed a note summoning him to Baker’s office after the game, he knew something was in the wind. Baker stated the obvious: the loss of twenty-six of the previous thirty games and the seemingly permanent cellar position of the Phils dictated a managerial change; then he handed Colby Jack the last $333.33 check he would ever receive as a major-league manager. And, since Coombs’s contract wasn’t guaranteed, as few were, his firing had just cost him $4,431.14.21 Since there’s no mention of further payments to Coombs in the Philadelphia payroll ledger, it’s a fair assumption none were made. As Coombs walked across the field to meet with his former players, Baker held a hastily called meeting with reporters and stated that Jack Coombs had “retired” as manager of the Phillies, telling the Inquirer, “I thought it was time to do something. There must be something wrong. Any team should make a better record than have the Phillies for the last month. Almost any team can be expected to win a game once in a while, but it doesn’t seem Coombs’ team can do anything but lose. He felt the same way and he resigned. I at once accepted the resignation and have appointed Cravath manager and he has accepted a contract at double his present salary.”22 When Cravath’s paycheck

In the Eye of the Storm 243 ballooned overnight to eight thousand dollars, everyone ignored the fact that the promotion from within had saved Baker four thousand dollars as the raise was half what he’d paid Coombs to manage, while Cravath would be doing two jobs as player-manager. The news of Coombs’s “resignation” spread like wildfire, and when it hit the clubhouse the simmering anger and frustration of the awful season exploded into a violent “celebration,” if the choice of adjectives in the Inquirer is to be believed. After completely wrecking the clubhouse, most of the players trooped across the street to a local saloon where they dug in for the duration and en masse began to tie one on. And with no one in charge, the party went on all night, a party Bradley was only part of, eventually leaving to tell Agnes the news and let her know the precarious nature of the job: in the nine years he had been in professional baseball, Cravath would be his seventeenth manager. While Baker and Cravath were discussing the future, Coombs was discussing the past with reporters, stating, “I have been fired as manager. Baker fired me and I am through. I am accused of letting the team get away from me, but Mr. Baker refused to get me the players I wanted, and I had to get along for a long time with a crippled team. I am going away now and forget baseball for the remainder of the year.”23 Coombs would eventually return to baseball as a manager in 1929, but at a far less volatile level, successfully managing Duke University’s baseball team for the next twenty-three years. After all was said and done, Baker was right about one thing: Coombs had let the team “get away from him.” The former player had been a players’ manager, when what they needed was a son of a bitch. What they got was a “Cactus.” Cliff Cravath’s other nickname was a testament to the prickly nature of the sixteen-year veteran of the baseball wars, a man who had seen, heard, and done most everything except manage. When Baker remarked, “Cravath is a pretty smart fellow and I am putting it up to him to find out what is wrong and correct it,”24 Gavvy knew what he had to do. Win. Cravath was also smart enough to be impatient with fools, demonstrating it from day one. Walking into the clubhouse the next morning, he found the “celebration” in progress, with many of the players still drunk, red-eyed, and shaky from the night’s bacchanal. Amazingly, Jack Coombs was still there, like a gawker at a bad accident. The first thing Cravath did was state he was in charge, then locked up the liquor. This infuriated some of the celebrants, but he made it stick. Weeding out the worst, he was able to put together a team for that day’s game against the Cubs, then ran the rest out of the clubhouse. Some of the banished players immediately climbed into the bleachers,

244 Spitting on Diamonds and, as the Inquirer reported, “a carnival ensued.”25 Joining a mob of disenchanted fans and the deposed Coombs, players began to loudly berate the state of baseball in general and Philadelphia in particular. Hick Cady, Gene Packard, and Frank Woodward led the jeering section with loud, coarse references to the managerial situation and the ineptitude of Baker’s ownership, causing the Phillies’ owner enormous embarrassment until Cravath went over to the stands and ran them out of the park. Meanwhile, Coombs had left the bleachers and gone back into the Phillies’ clubhouse to pack his things when he ran into an ironic tableau: Grover Cleveland Alexander, now with the visiting Cubs, stretched out on the trainer’s table sleeping off a drunk of his own. Tiptoeing around him, Coombs packed up and quietly left the future Hall of Famer to his demons. When he shut the door, the Jack Coombs era in Philadelphia was over. The losing wasn’t, however, for the Cubs got the best of George Smith and his shaky teammates 5–4 that afternoon for the Phils’ thirteenth loss in a row. Talking with reporters after the game, Cravath said, “Mr. Baker has promised his support. We both realize that it is an almost impossible task to take a broken-down machine hitting on two cylinders, and make it catch up to an up-to-date model that is running on high. But we are going to do something. For one thing, there will be some new faces on the team, and any player that does not get out there and play ball will have to get out.”26 Others would be leaving because of their actions in the bleachers, rather than on the field. The following day, prior to the game, according to the Inquirer, Baker took his measure of the insubordinate, beginning with catcher Hick Cady. Fining him one hundred dollars, Baker told him, “You are about to go on a long journey” and then handed him his release.27 Gene Packard found the cost of his bleacher oration to be two hundred dollars and a nickname, for from that day on in Philadelphia he would be known as “the Great Orator.” Frank Woodward came out one hundred dollars poorer as well, and the team got the message about who was in charge regardless who wore the manager’s hat. Frank would find the total cost of his dissension in the near future, as Baker was on the telephone to several other National League clubs that very afternoon. Ironically, between games of the Cubs doubleheader, the players had planned to present a silver loving cup to their former manager at home plate in appreciation for his efforts, but Coombs had already left, so the cup went in the mail. Exactly when anyone had time to buy a loving cup is uncertain, unless someone planned ahead and had one in stock. That afternoon, the Phillies finally woke up behind Eppa Rixey and stopped “Shufflin Phil” Douglas in his tracks, 5–4 in eleven innings. It wasn’t easy, for the Phils were still massively hung over and played like it. When er-

In the Eye of the Storm 245 rors led to a two-run lead in the eighth that would take Rixey three more innings to overcome, the Inquirer commented, “He was so peeved at the sloppy efforts of his associates that he chucked his glove clear from the pitcher’s rubber into the player’s bench.”28 Moving laterally, Baker announced the purchase of third baseman Russell “Lena” Blackburne off the waiver wire from Boston, and error-prone Doug Baird’s days were numbered. In the last year of an eight-year major-league career, Blackburne was a decent fielder but no threat at the plate, so the Phillies had upgraded only marginally, if at all. Ironically, Blackburne’s biggest contribution to the game occurred off the field after he retired. Discovering an especially smooth mud on the banks of the Delaware River adjoining his New Jersey farm, he thought it would be perfect for rubbing the shine off new baseballs prior to games. He was right, forming a company in 1921 still run by his descendants, providing the mud to every team and every league in the country.29 While Blackburne was changing his uniform, Cravath was casting his net far and wide, picking up Braves’ catcher Walt Tragesser off waivers and eventually sending Frank Woodward, Elmer Jacobs, and Doug Baird to the Cardinals for third baseman Gene Paulette and bespectacled pitcher Lee Meadows. In the $4,115 Paulette, the Phils ended up with a much better player than Baird, while hard-throwing Lee Meadows had already won fifty-two games in four and a half years.30 He also had a well-deserved reputation for owning the inside of the plate, and the fact that he was the only pitcher in the major leagues who wore glasses just made him more unnerving to batters. Meadows was also stubborn, having made it to the majors against majorleague odds as John McGraw, Connie Mack, and Detroit’s Hughie Jennings wouldn’t even give him a tryout. Pitchers that wore glasses, according to the trio, “weren’t major league.” It took Meadows’s friend Possum Whitted, who was playing in the Cardinals’ outfield at the time, to convince manager Miller Huggins to give him a shot in 1915, and he immediately proved his worth by shutting out the Phillies and Pete Alexander in the first start of his career.31 Why the Cardinals would take two lesser pitchers and a mediocre infielder for a good pitcher like Meadows and an excellent third baseman like Paulette is simple: money. Branch Rickey’s Cardinals always needed more of it, and when Baker included cash in the deal it was done and Meadows was reunited with his friend Possum Whitted. Unfortunately, the game came undone several days later in the Baker Bowl when Bradley threw an inside pitch to an inside hitter, and Max Flack of the Cubs put it over the wall onto Broad Street for a 6–3 win, ruining what up until then had been a pretty good day. Having given up one hit through five innings along with no walks, his one mistake cost him the ball game.

246 Spitting on Diamonds In a portent of things to come, Lena Blackburne’s debut at third was forgettable, and proved appearances can be deceiving when the Inquirer commented, “The Palmyra pepper pod contributed a lot of chattering and added an appearance of vibrant activity to the infield.”32 The writer neglected to mention Blackburne’s two errors and his 0 for 4 day at the plate, which meant other than noise little had changed. Cravath demonstrated a change in managing styles, though, when he had Gene Packard warm up immediately after the home run, sending him in to relieve Bradley after he had given up a total of four hits, earning his sixth loss in a row. It only got worse when the Reds came to town and immediately nailed Eppa Rixey to the wall, but Gene Packard’s win over fiery Cuban Dolf Luque the next day knocked the Reds out of first. When Lee Meadows beat the visiting Cardinals the next day 2–1, the success brought six thousand people to the Baker Bowl for a doubleheader in spite of the threat of rain. Over the next three hours, Bradley would prove to be a far bigger threat than Mother Nature: July 19, 1919: Baker Bowl, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Phils Take Twin Bill From Cards. The opening game yesterday was only completed through the two managers agreeing to waive the league rule that in the event of interruption by rain, play must be resumed within thirty minutes or the game shall be called. As the game had not gone the legal limit of five innings when it was stopped by a heavy downpour, both managers agreed to continue. Rickey probably agreed because at the time of interruption his team held a one-run lead and his pitcher, Bill Doak, had been looking a lot better than our pitcher, Bradley Hogg. Cravath was just willing to take a chance, only trailing by one run. The subsequent events proved the advantage of being ready to take a chance even with the odds against you, because the water-soaked Phils fell upon Bill Doak in the fourth period of play and hammered him off the premises with a bundle of base hits that drove in a cluster of six runs, while the moisture that had fallen appeared to make Hogg better, and he shut ’em totally out of the run column during the final periods of play. —Philadelphia Record

After the 6–1 win, Bradley had to be the happiest man in Philadelphia, not only winning his first game of the year but also adding a hit and a run batted in against “Spittin’ Bill” Doak. And after taking the rain-shortened six-inning second game behind Eppa Rixey, something remarkable was on display in Philadelphia: a three-game winning streak. A streak that would remain intact

In the Eye of the Storm 247 for the next three days as the heavens opened up and dumped all the water in Pennsylvania inside the Baker Bowl. During the three days, it was old home week for Bradley and Gene Paulette, who had been teammates on the 1913 Mobile Gulls. While reliving their days in the Southern Association over dinner, Bradley never saw Gene’s dark side, which wouldn’t become public until after the 1920 season. That’s when Paulette’s habit of accepting gratuities in the form of “loans” from St. Louis gamblers Carl Zork and Elmer Farrar for “not performing at his best during certain games” would catch up with him, gaining him the permanent animus of commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis along with lifetime banishment from the sport.33 When the rain finally stopped, the winning continued with Lee Meadows beating the visiting Pirates for his second win as a Phillie, but it stopped the following day when Rixey lost a pitcher’s duel on two hits, when one fell into the center field lake, preventing Gene Paulette from making the catch. Or did it? Rixey would lose more than a few games with the Phillies and the Reds on his way to Cooperstown, usually due to lack of support in the field or at the plate, but with his control he was what pitcher/outfielder Rube Bressler referred to as a “manipulator.” Teammates and roommates in Cincinnati between 1921 and 1927, Bressler stated that Rixey would deliberately get behind hitters so he could throw them the changeup. Rixey told him, “I’ve been doing this for fifteen years. When they’re batting with the count two balls and no strikes or three and one, they’re always looking for the fast ball. And they never get it. They get a change of pace every time and they’re always just as surprised to see it as they were the last time.” Surprise. Major leaguers are not all doctoral candidates. The Pirates finally sailed out of town and the Dodgers sailed in, losing the first game to that “well-known orator” Gene Packard, then with Agnes and Mary back in the grandstand Bradley fell on his face in his shortest and worst outing of the year. Pitching to just three Dodgers in the first inning, Bradley gave up a walk, a single and a home run over the right field wall, the Inquirer commenting, “Brad wasn’t with us long enough to get acquainted with the fact he was in a ball game.”34 On their first western swing since Cravath took over the club, the Phillies took two from the Cards and two from the Cubs that included a fifteeninning win over Pete Alexander who struck out fifteen but still lost, 2–1 to George Smith. In the second game, after umpire William “Lord” Byron made a close call that cost the Cubs’ memorably named pitcher Abraham Lincoln “Sweetbreads” Bailey the game, everyone had to dodge—the Inquirer reported, “The crowd took exception to the verdict and hundreds of pop bottles and cushions were hurled onto the field.”35

248 Spitting on Diamonds Crowds were taking exception to entire leagues as well that summer, as Bradley read with more than casual interest: August 2, 1919: Portland, Maine. N.E. League Disbands. Upon receiving word that the Haverhill club of the New England Baseball League had disbanded after playing a doubleheader at Fitchburg today, President John A. Donnelly announced that the season ended with the playing of today’s games. The league opened its season on April 10 with six clubs, but about a month ago the Lowell and Lawrence teams dropped out. Haverhill’s collapse left but three clubs and Mr. Donnelly said “It was deemed best to bring the season to a close.”—New York Times

The war had played havoc with the minor leagues, and this was the latest example of people staying away and leagues going away, Haverhill owner Dan Clohecy striking out for the last time. Taking two from Chicago, the Phillies boarded the overnight train for Pittsburgh and found the tracks washed out near Ft. Wayne, Indiana. The train had to back up to the switch and make the roundabout trip through Cleveland, arriving in Pittsburgh at three in the afternoon. Grabbing sandwiches at the station, the team rushed to Forbes Field by taxi, then had to wait an hour in the clubhouse for their uniforms and equipment to arrive. With only ten minutes’ batting practice in front of an impatient crowd, when umpire Bill Klem called out “play ball” the Phils did, knocking Pirates’ pitcher Babe Adams out of the box and winning 2–0 behind Lee Meadows, who won his sixth straight since putting on a Phillies uniform. After taking both games from Pittsburgh, the Phillies rolled into Cincinnati in the heady air of sixth place, riding a four-game winning streak. Pat Moran’s league leaders brought them back to earth, popping their balloon four times. Afterwards, Cravath called Pittsburgh in search of some hot air and talent and found both: August 10, 1919: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Phils Trade Whitted For Casey Stengel. Manager Cravath of the Phillies yesterday traded outfielder George Whitted to the Pittsburgh club for Casey Stengel, also an outfielder. It was a straight swap. The announcement was made in Cincinnati where the Phillies are playing. Stengel has been in bad in Pittsburgh for some time. Up until recently he has been playing great ball and it is believed he will add batting strength to the Phillies.

In the Eye of the Storm 249 Stengel will join the Phillies tomorrow or Tuesday and Whitted will join the Pirates on the same day.—Philadelphia Inquirer

Half of this trade wasn’t going to happen, at least in 1919. While Possum Whitted would report to Pittsburgh and be born again at the plate, batting .389 for the rest of the season, Stengel refused to report when Baker wouldn’t pay him more than the fifty-five hundred dollars he had been earning in Pittsburgh and went home to Kansas City. After carrying him on their roster for five days, when Stengel hadn’t reported by the fourteenth, Baker cancelled his $152.77 check.36 Being financially obstinate was what caused Stengel to “be in bad” in Pittsburgh in the first place, leading to his trade. Batting .293 at the time of the trade,37 Stengel took his obstinacy and batting average with him to Kansas City, the only leverage he had in dealing with ownership. As it turned out, Baker wasn’t the only owner in Philadelphia at the bargaining table: August 11, 1919: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Athletics Manager Acquires Rights to Atlanta Club Players. Manager Connie Mack of the Philadelphia Americans announced tonight that he had purchased the right to the entire playing personnel of the Atlanta club of the Southern Association. He already has picked nine of the players to report to him at the close of the Southern Association season.—New York Times

It might have been easier to move the Athletics to Atlanta. After little more than a month, Cravath had found managing every bit the pain he thought it would be, and more. With little hitting or pitching, the Phils’ season began collapsing around him as Notre Dame pitching phenomenon Pat Murray didn’t phenomenate and veterans began hanging it up. Making his last great oration, Gene Packard told Cravath he was done for the year and had seen enough of Philadelphia to last him a lifetime, quitting to take a job at an Ohio steel mill. To fill the holes, an infuriated Baker signed aging Braves spitballer Larry Cheney off waivers for $150 a week, and proved money was no object by signing lefthander Mike Cantwell the day he was discharged from the Marines for $93.75 a week as well.38 Phillies baseball in 1919 was proving to be a series of forgettable moments, one of which occurred in late August while leading the Cubs 3–2 behind Eppa Rixey. When Cubs’ third baseman Charley Deal’s long shot to center landed in Cy Williams’s glove and bounced out as he slammed into the wall,

250 Spitting on Diamonds hitting a rock and rolling into the clubhouse, everyone thought it was only an unlucky double. Even though Williams reached in and picked up the ball, holding Deal at second, a protest by Cubs’ manager Fred Mitchell resulted in the umpire ruling it a home run. Since Fred Merkle had been standing on second at the time Deal hit his “clubhouse ball,” the two runs provided the difference in the 4–3 Phillies loss. It was that kind of year. Someone else couldn’t win for losing either, when the damages from Henry Ford’s lawsuit against the Chicago Tribune didn’t quite cover his legal bills: August 15, 1919: Mt. Clemens, Michigan. Ford Gets 6 Cents Damages In Libel Suit Against Paper. The jury in the $1,000,000 libel suit brought by Henry Ford against the Chicago Daily Tribune for calling him an anarchist tonight awarded the plaintiff six cents damages. “Does the award of six cents about express the feelings of the jury as to the case?” a reporter asked jury foreman Orvy Hulett. “It just about does. That expresses our judgment.”—Philadelphia Inquirer

The next day, Eppa Rixey used the first inning of a doubleheader with Pittsburgh as a warmup, leaving after giving up three runs in the eventual 10–1 loss, then went back out and pitched a complete-game 4–0 shutout in the second game for a split on the day. In the first game, neither Bradley nor Pat Murray’s relief pitching amounted to much, but what made the game significant was the Cincinnati Enquirer mentioning pitch counts for the first time in Bradley’s career: “Sallee pitched only forty-six balls in the last seven innings, after pitching forty-one in the first two rounds. But for his slight outbreak of wildness in the second round he would have had a great record in this respect. He outshone the Quaker hurlers, who pitched 147 balls. Meadows hurled thirty-three in the first inning. Hogg pitched 103 in the next six rounds, and Murray pitched eleven in the last inning.”39 Since the game was already lost by the time Bradley appeared, all he got was a tired arm. After weeks of a less-than-stellar supporting role, Bradley finally got the call from Gavvy Cravath and went out to face the Chicago Cubs on August 21. This was his first start in twenty-three games, and had a familiar finish when he was the losing pitcher in spite of an eight-strikeout day. During the Cubs series, Phils fans got to see the future when Chicago manager Fred Mitchell had his shortstop and second baseman shift between second and first every time Cy Williams came to bat, the three-player wall effectively shutting the slugger down in a prelude to the shift Ted Williams would face decades later.

In the Eye of the Storm 251 On the twenty-third, Pat Moran’s league-leading Reds were the drawing card for a full house that witnessed a doubleheader sweep by Cincinnati in their rush for the pennant, along with a full cash drawer. In spite of the Baker Bowl’s capacity of 19,500, safety wasn’t allowed to come between fans and the bottom line, as the Inquirer made clear: We have Phillies’ Business Manager Shettaline’s solemn statement in the effect that yesterday’s paid attendance was 22,000. This exceeds the paid attendance on any day of the world’s series games at the Phil’s ball yard in the pennant year of 1915 by 1,700, the highest paid attendance then being 20,300. A lot of these birds yesterday weren’t seated. After every seat in both the grandstand and bleachers held as many as could jam into them all the way out to the fences at both wings and at the roof of the clubhouse, they began to stack up five or six deep in the back of the seats. Then, when the crush got heavy there, they began to climb onto the iron girders under the roof of the upper pavilion, until every girder held as many as could hang or perch themselves on it, after which others scaled the ladder that leads through the trap-door to the roof of the grandstand, and all through the games they sat and stewed on the hot iron roof and nabbed all the foul balls that came their way. The wonder of it is that the old stand didn’t crack under the strain.40

The strain of counting the cash must have been considerable, as the more than twenty-two thousand fans had to jump-start the Phils’ bottom line. With some thirty thousand dollars realized from admissions, scorecards, and concessions, even after dividing the take with the Reds’ Garry Herrman, Bill Baker’s checkbook saw an infusion equal to two hundred thousand dollars today.41 When John McGraw’s second-place Giants rolled into the Baker Bowl for their last Philadelphia appearance of the year on the twenty-seventh, the fans also got to see an excellent demonstration of why the Phillies were in last place. Second baseman Gene Paulette had three errors all by himself, and when Lena Blackburne, Walt Tragesser, and Lee Meadows literally kicked in three more, Meadow’s 7–2 loss was well deserved and the nine-game losing streak was well preserved. Nobody asked Paulette how many of his errors were on purpose. That was a subject for another time. The following day, the Giants were still in a hot duel with Pat Moran’s Reds for the pennant when Bradley went out to face them and threw up a spitball roadblock: August 28, 1919: Baker Bowl, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Giants Decisively Trounced By Phils.

252 Spitting on Diamonds Winters and Dubuc Batted Hard, While Hogg Toys With New Yorkers— Score 14–2. The Giants made their farewell appearance of the season in this city this afternoon, and sustained the worst defeat they have been forced to accept this season. By bunching three of their six hits off Bradley Hogg in the second inning, the New Yorkers prevented a shutout. In the other frames, McGraw’s men gave the veteran little trouble, so little in fact that only one of the visitors reached first base in the eight other innings. Hogg Also Hits Well. The stickwork of the home team was well distributed. Every member of the Phillies got at least one hit, and most of them got two. Hogg led the onslaught on the New York pitchers by nicking each of them for a double, besides drawing a pass from Winters. After the Giants tied the score in the second, the Phils began to pull away in the fourth. Bancroft walked and advanced on Paulette’s infield out. Adams scored Paulette with a single to right and Hogg chased his battery partner home with a double to centre.—New York Times

Besides being the only win Bradley would ever record against the Giants, it was also the first time he faced twenty-year-old rookie infielder Frankie Frisch, the future Hall of Famer going a slightly-less-than-fabulous 0-for-4 for the day. Signed directly out of Fordham by John McGraw, in spite of his ineffective use of a bat that day, the Inquirer perceptively noted his performance in the field with the comment, “Frank Frisch, the Fordham College boy with the Giants, looks to be the best young player to come into the big leagues in the past two years.”42 Traveling to New York for a Labor Day series with the Dodgers in Ebbets Field, Cravath told Bradley it was his to win or lose. Going up against former Braves teammate Jeff Pfeffer and ten thousand fans, Bradley liked the first option better, beating the New Yorkers 6–4 and pushing the Phillies into a tie for seventh place with St. Louis, the Inquirer headline reading “Banny’s Bat Helps Hogg Bag Robins.”43 Bradley’s two-for-four day at the plate helped the bagging process. Bradley also realized if he was going to celebrate the win with a beer he’d better hurry, for Congress passed the Prohibition Act the next day and it would go into effect on January 1. Another reason to celebrate occurred in Boston at the end of the week when Bradley’s spitter danced its farewell performance against the Braves and “woulda, coulda, shoulda” comments didn’t matter: September 6, 1919: Braves Field, Boston, Massachusetts. Hogg Should Have Had A Shut Out.

In the Eye of the Storm 253 Bradley Pitched Good Ball Against The Braves and Phillies Win Final Game of Series 4–1. Bradley Hogg, former Brave, and pitching a really great ball game against the Tribe which enlisted Dickey Rudolph for the final clash of the season with the Phillies, brought “Gavvy” Cravath’s club through for a fast finish of the season’s engagements today. In winning 4–1, the Phils hit Rudolph harder than he has been hit in a long time, reaping an 11-hit harvest in eight innings, while Hogg held the Braves to seven, and should have had a white wash score to his credit. Hogg was master of his game from start to finish, and although the Braves twice bunched singles, Bradley settled down to stop proceedings short in two instances, and should have gotten the “break” on the other. During the game Boston had only three men reach second base, and the Braves’ one run, made with two outs in the fifth, was a gift due to Meusel’s bad arm. The Phillies got started in the third inning in which Hogg started with a left field double, and made the round on Callahan’s bunt and Adam’s fly out to Powell. It was a field day for Luderus with his two triples and a single, and Hogg emphasized his fine work in the box by producing a double and two singles with his war club.—Philadelphia Inquirer

Beating spitballers Dick Rudolph and Dana Fillingim was a great swan song in Boston, and Bradley enjoyed the day tremendously. To punctuate the day, when major-league hitting statistics were released showing Gavvy Cravath’s .340 leading the National League, listed fourteenth was a pitcher named Hogg, whose .300 was only .002 behind Rogers Hornsby.44 Back in Ebbets Field for a final series with the Dodgers, when Eppa Rixey’s six innings of work left the Phillies on the short end of a 2–0 score, Bradley’s three innings of no-hit Hall of Fame relief became only a footnote. Continuing their season-ending road trip, in splitting a series with the eventual world champion Reds, Bradley’s lack of hitting support cost him as the Phils dropped the getaway game 2–0 while simultaneously dropping into last place. In honor of the game and the season, Inquirer sportswriter/cartoonist Edgar Wolfe had been poetically active again, and the publisher actually printed it:45 One morning I picked up the paper To see who the pennant would cop And I saw, bless my eyes, to my wonderful surprise, That the Phils and the A’s were on top. First I thought I was dreaming

254 Spitting on Diamonds Of the days of our baseball renown Then I looked again and I saw the truth then— The paper was upside down.

Visiting the Pirates at Forbes Field in Pittsburgh, the Phils immediately dropped the first two games and then watched as Mike Cantwell could, winning the only major-league game of his career 6–5.46 The thirteenth proved unlucky for Bradley: dumb base running killed two rallies, with his teammates getting picked off twice and throwing in a fielding error for good measure in the 4–1 loss. However, when Bradley opened the paper the next morning, he noticed somebody in Philadelphia was moving up in the standings. The latest National League hitting statistics listed him sixth at .313.47 Wandering the western desert, the Phils staggered into Chicago and immediately dropped three of four before rolling into St. Louis for one last goodbye. Pitching in front of a nearly empty ballpark, the Cardinals were glad to see him leave: September 19, 1919: Robison Field, St. Louis, Missouri. Hogg Stops Cards, Phils Stop Losing. Bradley Flashes Bit of 1918 Form and Cravathmen Win 3–1 Argument. The Phillies hopped off their losing streak against the Cardinals today, finishing in front 3–1, a pretty tussle between two down and out teams. It was a game that would have been a credit to a World’s Series. Wonderful fielding in the outfield, especially in the outfield by Cy Williams, pitching by Bradley Hogg that counted five hits, with only one after the third, timely hitting by Dave Bancroft, which altogether made the Phillies resemble nothing but a tailend aggregation. The Cardinals had one chance in the second when they bunched three successive hits on Hogg, but after he rubbed something on the ball and shot it up to Adams, seven Cardinals were fooled on strikes. With a margin of two, the Phillies saw Hogg pitching a la Chief Bender and did not worry about increasing their run total.—Philadelphia Inquirer

This would turn out to be Bradley’s swan song in the win column for 1919, one highlighted by a farewell kiss from Rogers Hornsby and written up in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch: “The lone run off Hogg came in the second inning when Rogers Hornsby, first up, rapped one into the left field bleachers for a home run. It was the first time this trick has been performed since the stands at Cardinal Field were moved back.”48 This was also the first and only home run Bradley ever gave up to Hornsby during his career. Cardinals manager Branch Rickey added to the entertainment by explod-

In the Eye of the Storm 255 ing in frustration after Bradley shut down his batters one after another, screaming at umpire Ernie Quigley that “Hogg was using an illegal delivery.” After looking the ball over, Quigley didn’t agree, although the argument did amuse the four hundred fans scattered throughout the stands. If the Phillies had looked up while riding the rails back to Philadelphia, they might have seen the future as an airliner with fourteen passengers was on its way to Washington. Arriving after a four-hour, eighteen-minute flight from New York at an airspeed of fifty-two miles an hour, one of the passengers declared they had ridden “easier than a Pullman car.”49 There were no in-flight movies. Returning to the Baker Bowl for “Fred Luderus Day,” neither the occasion nor the friendly confines seemed to help as the Phils dropped both ends of a doubleheader to the visiting Dodgers, with Bradley and Lee Meadows sharing the loser’s mantle. The only highlight occurred between the games with a rare appearance by National League president John Heydler, who presented Luderus with a gold watch, while Phils’ president Bill Baker presented him with a diamond stickpin for his record-setting iron-man performance at first base in 525 consecutive games. In the write-up of the occasion, the Inquirer sensitively noted, “Both men bared their heads in the autumn breezes and stood at home plate where they exposed two large, round, glaring bald spots that glistened in the sunlight and cast blinding reflections full into the eyes of the occupants of the press box.”50 Considering the Phillies funded reporter’s expenses on a daily basis on the road during the season, it’s likely that Baker had something to say to Mr. Wolfe and his editor the following day about this little commentary. Something they couldn’t print. Finishing the season on a definite down note, the Phils began a three-game series in the Polo Grounds with the second-place Giants under the temporary management of Christy Mathewson, as John McGraw was so disgusted with his team’s late-season collapse that he had left the premises. His welltrained fans were still in attendance, for Bradley encountered a truly unruly fan base that matched McGraw’s disposition: “Hurling pop bottles and epithets against the opposing players and interfering with their fielding whenever possible, demonstrating by their behavior a tipoff to their community, New York has its Polo Grounds at one end and Wall Street at the other, and nowhere between the two will you find much of the milk of human kindness for a loser.”51 On a cold, windy day, Bradley did his best to improve Giants fans’ dispositions in the last start of his career, losing to Art Nehf and the New Yorkers 7–1, the Times commenting, “Hogg used to be something of an accomplished

256 Spitting on Diamonds pitcher, but he tossed the ball yesterday as if he realized that it was the next to the last day of the season and it didn’t make any difference whether he was beaten. It didn’t.”52 When Irish Meusel and Dave Bancroft guaranteed the result by going a combined 0-for-twelve for the day, Bradley’s finale was finis. With the shadows of time and place surrounding him during his last at-bat, he gave New York something to remember him by as he slapped a single to finish the season with a .283 batting average.53 After all was said and done, with his 5–12 record on the season only marginally worse than Eppa Rixey’s 6–12, both pitchers proved the value of a spring training head start—and some hitting—in spades. And just for old times’ sake, the Inquirer misspelled his name one last time in their headline, referring to him as “Bradly.”54 That same afternoon, there was a huge celebration in Cincinnati as the Reds captured their first National League pennant since 1869 and began looking forward to meeting the Chicago White Sox in the most famous World Series ever played. The following day, the Phils and Giants went at it two final times with the same result, the only highlight being the season’s shortest game when New York beat Lee Meadows in fifty-one minutes in the finale, establishing a record for brevity on the diamond for a legitimate nine-inning game. Boarding the train for Philadelphia that evening, Bradley knew he was done. He couldn’t—and wouldn’t—go through another season like 1919, and he also knew Bill Baker wouldn’t spend the money necessary to make the Phillies into a contender, even if their attendance had doubled to 240,424.55 The figure was still the second-lowest in the National League behind Boston, but unknown to Bradley, after Baker’s payroll and expenses he still walked away with today’s equivalent of more than two million dollars. And with the quality of the Phils’ late-season pickups, he obviously wanted to keep it. Bradley wasn’t making enough to ease the pain of a cellar residence, and with his erratic 5–12 performance couldn’t expect a raise if he returned. And from personal experience, last place was the pits. The crowds, the competition, and the life had grown old, and he figured he could meet or beat his salary in the courts of Georgia. Since he’d also arranged to represent the Alliance Insurance Company of Philadelphia back in Americus,56 the extra dollars would help between legal showdowns. He’d done what he’d wanted to, and more, and seen more of the country than most knew existed while he did it. The men, the game, the life, and the times he would never forget. And the applause of the crowd would remain with him forever.

In the Eye of the Storm 257 But after 343 professional games over nine years in fourteen states and thirty cities, it was time. Comfortable with his decision, after one last long look around the Baker Bowl, Bradley packed his uniform, glove, and shoes, turned out the light, and walked out the major-league door.

1920—1935

Epilogue

One Last Ride on the Merry-Go-Round Over the winter, while working to build his law practice and selling insurance, Bradley kept up with the baseball news. When he read the following article, he knew his days were numbered, he just didn’t know how few remained on the calendar: February 8, 1920: Chicago, Illinois. Declare Doom of Freak Pitching. Baseball Moguls Reach Decision in Chicago—Discussion Preceding Convention. The advance guard of baseball magnates, who are to convene here this week in probably the biggest baseball meeting of all time had an informal session today at which it was made quite certain that all freak deliveries by pitchers are to be wiped out of the pastime forever. The whole discussion was devoted to the freak deliveries and the best means of abolishing them. There was no doubt in the mind of President Heydler of the Nationals that the spitball, the shine ball, the emery ball, the licorice ball and all other freaks will have to go. “It is only a matter of working out a rule that can stamp such things out,” Heydler said. “Regarding the spitball, I think we shall give the old-time throwers who are recognized as spitball throwers a certain period of time to develop something to take the place of this delivery. He might be granted a year, or possibly only two months or so. Every club would have to register with the league the names of their recognized spitball pitchers. No others would be granted that extra time. No newcomer of this year would be permitted to throw the spitter.”—New York Times

Convening the next day at the Congress Hotel on South Michigan Avenue in Chicago, club owners didn’t waste time. Betting on the come, some things

258

Epilogue 259 had to go, and after a short discussion the rules committee ruled and hit Bradley right where he lived: February 9, 1920: The Congress Hotel, Chicago, Illinois. Spit Ball Goes After This Year. Major League Will Abolish Much Criticized Delivery With Start of Next Season. Clubs May Use Two Moist Pitchers Providing They Are Named Before Start. The only development today—the first of several advertised as the most important in baseball’s history—developed nothing hotter than a few alterations to the playing code. The two rules committees of the majors gathered in informal session and put all freak pitching, such as spitballs, shine balls, licorice balls, emery balls, mud balls and a few others, out of business after this season. During the upcoming season each club will be permitted to carry two spitball twirlers, whose names must be placed on file at league headquarters prior to the opening day of the season. The spitball is to remain in the good graces of the umpires until the season of 1920 is wiped off the calendar. This special dispensation was granted so that the fellows who have buttered their bread by employing the spitter will be able to develop a new stock in trade during the coming year. Even this exception has a string attached. Only two spitball pitchers will be allowed on the same club. No recruit can use a spitter, this rule applying to veterans only.—Philadelphia Inquirer

Since the spitball was Bradley’s prime pitch, and other specialties in his arsenal included the now illegal shine ball, he knew major-league baseball was talking to him: change your ways or be gone. So he left: February 17, 1920: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Hogg Quits Baseball. Big Hurler Notifies Phils He Will Devote His Time to Law Practice. Gavvy Cravath and the Phils lost one of their veteran pitchers yesterday. A letter postmarked Americus, Ga. reached club headquarters yesterday and when the contents were read it revealed the fact that Bradley Hogg, the only spit baller on the club, has tendered his resignation. Hogg is not kicking over money matters. He is simply tired of baseball and intends to stick to his law practice in Americus, Ga. Hogg was the best the Phils had in 1918, but last season he did not join the club until June and being in poor condition was a weak link in the erratic hurling department of the club. Manager Cravath says he is not worried over the loss of Hogg. —Philadelphia Inquirer

260 Spitting on Diamonds Gavvy Cravath may have been dismissive of Bradley’s departure, but others in Philadelphia felt differently and said so in black and white when Cliff Wheatley’s Evening Bulletin column stated, Flivvers have turned to gondolas in the City of Brotherly Love; tears from the eyes of stricken fans run to small rivulets through the shaded thoroughfares of Philadelphia; hopes of diamond fanatics have changed to grim despair; sport pages have lost their glitter; and the morticians have taken charge of the Phillies’ blasted remains; all because Bradley Hogg, of Americus, Ga. has decided to leave the pitcher’s mound. According to information from Philadelphia, Gavvy Cravath, Philly pilot, in announcing Hogg’s retirement, declared that the righthander asserted the abolition of the spitball would leave him one more season of effectiveness, and he wasn’t favorably impressed with sacrificing a portion of his law practice for a final season’s fling in the majors. Hogg is the first of the pitchers to leave as a result of the ban on the spitter, but he probably won’t be the last.1

A few days later, the Mobile Register noted Bradley’s retirement, stating, “Men like Bradley Hogg help baseball. He is a gentleman, conducting himself as one on and off the field, and is well-liked in Mobile, where he pitched star ball for several seasons before going to the majors.”2 With this final entry, Agnes closed Bradley’s baseball scrapbook. Ignoring the motion, the Phillies kept him in reserve and on their “voluntarily retired” list through the end of 1924, when he was thirty-five, just in case. Others found themselves out of baseball long before that, and when Bradley read about two players being blacklisted due to fixing games, he wasn’t surprised, any more than he was when he read the Inquirer story stating, “It is the policy of the magnates to suppress scandal and in these two cases they want to avoid publicity. By dropping these players out of the game without setting forth the details the baseball governors believe that their action will serve as a warning to other big leaguers who have been under suspicion for some time.”3 The 1919 World Series had only been over four months, but the fuse of scandal had already been lit. Banishing Hal Chase and Heinie Zimmerman wasn’t going to put it out. When the story surrounding the fixing of the 1919 Series broke, names would be named and retribution would be swift and permanent, for baseball was about to enter the modern world. The list of the suspected, proven, and unforgiven would get longer, for

Epilogue 261 new baseball commissioner Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis’s initial “permanent ineligibility list” would include the Cubs’ Lee Magee in 1920, the Phillies’ Gene Paulette, the Giants’ Benny Kauff, the Cubs’ Claude Hendrix, and the St. Louis Browns’ Joe Gedeon in 1921, followed by the infamous Chicago White Sox Eight consisting of Eddie Cicotte, Happy Felsch, Chick Gandil, Joe Jackson, Swede Risberg, Fred McMullin, Lefty Williams, and Buck Weaver. Shufflin’ Phil Douglas would follow them out the door in 1922.4 Ironically, Bradley had played with or against nine of the initial sixteen banned players during his career, including Paulette, Risberg, Williams, Hendrix, Kauff, Chase, and Zimmerman, and in the end had one thing in common with them all: like his spitball, they were banished from the game. At the top of his game in south Georgia, however, practice made perfect over the following years as Bradley’s law career flourished, along with his insurance business. Mary was in school, Agnes had given him two sons to help fill their big Victorian house, the opportunities were endless, and all was right with the world. In late May 1923, one of those opportunities came knocking on his door. A new semi-pro South Georgia League was being formed, and people in Americus were looking into organizing a team and becoming a member, along with teams in the nearby towns of Albany, Arlington, Bainbridge, Blakely, and Dawson. Was he interested in becoming involved? By June 9, the town’s movers and shakers had raised one thousand dollars. Pushing the idea, the Americus Times-Recorder commented, “We do not say no town is progressive unless it has a baseball team, but it does say that the most progressive towns have baseball.”5 Two days later, eleven hundred dollars had been raised to provide Americus with a “fast amateur baseball team,”6 and one of the members of the organizing committee found himself manager: Bradley Hogg. In spite of interpreting the law and selling insurance as well as taking care of his family of five, the lure of the diamond won out. Sending out semi-pro contracts to players in the area that included former college players, borderline professionals, and willing amateurs, overnight Americus found itself with a ball team. Whether or not it would be any good was the question from the first. It wasn’t. After two weeks of mostly losing during the team’s shake-out cruise through the league, in front of three hundred fans on June 28 came another memorable day in Bradley’s baseball career: His last appearance in a box score. Giving up a run in relief on a wild pitch, Bradley was finished before he

262 Spitting on Diamonds started and knew it, waving in his right fielder to finish the game and walking off a pitcher’s mound for the last time in his life. Realizing it was time to get back to business, on July 2, with Americus dead-last in the league with a 3–6–1 record, Bradley resigned as manager and walked away forever from a life of diamonds, just as salvation walked into town. Salvation in the form of an itinerant ballplayer named “Shoeless” Joe Jackson. After discussing the matter of Jackson’s banishment from professional baseball, along with the fact that the South Georgia League was not part of “Organized Ball,” the town fathers agreed to hire Jackson and his team of itinerant players.7 Thus, instantly reborn behind Shoeless Joe’s bat and guidance, Americus took over the race and easily won the 1923 South Georgia League championship. Once more: timing is everything. Proof of this occurred ten years later on a hot summer day when Bradley stopped by the town well in the center of Americus, and under the sprawling trees took a drink using the common dipper. This turned out to be the most expensive drink he ever had. Contracting tuberculosis as a result of his inopportune thirst, Bradley’s law practice was the first casualty. Agnes was the second as she nursed him at home for a year in a desperate race with time, contracting the disease and eventually spending a year in the Georgia state sanitarium before she recovered. During that year, Mary and the two boys had to be farmed out to relatives as Bradley spent the tortured, final months of his life with his brother Clyde. A life whose end was highlighted by Bradley’s final appearance in a newspaper headline: April 5, 1935: Ellaville, Georgia. Hogg Funeral Services Held. Funeral services for Bradley Hogg who died at his home in Marion County Tuesday morning at 7:00 o’clock were held Wednesday morning at 10 o’clock at the graveside in the Tazewell cemetery and were attended by a large number of sorrowing friends and relatives. Mr. Hogg died after a prolonged illness from lung trouble. He was 47 years of age and a native of Marion County. By profession he was a lawyer and engaged in lucrative practice in Americus before his health failed. He was prominently connected with the Central Baptist Church during his residence in Americus, holding many offices of trust and honor. —Americus Times-Recorder

There was no mention of his ever throwing a professional baseball. Maybe this says something about America and its sports heroes at the

Epilogue 263 time, and the pedestal they occupied during their careers. Unlike today, when every move and nuance of professional athletes is dissected ad nauseam in the media, when you left the spotlight in the 1920s they literally unscrewed the bulb. Bradley’s ball-field accomplishments faded over the years as he settled into the role of lawyer and father, becoming part of the foundation tapestry of small-town America. He raised his family, loved his wife, and took care of business, living the early twentieth century version of the American dream. Then, unfortunately, he got thirsty. Time passes. And as a result, more than eighty years after he threw his last major-league pitch, what is left of Bradley’s life and career is minimal, outside of several great grandchildren, a scrapbook, and a granite headstone in Hawkinsville, Georgia. Like thousands of ballplayers over the years, he’s become part of a ghostly entourage that haunts the flanneled edges of baseball history, yet is rarely mentioned. Part of a minuscule segment of a changing America that performed on a major-league stage, these men brought color, texture, and life to the remarkable times in which they lived, and, along with the game they played, were truly a microcosm of an evolving world. And for that, they should be remembered. Sixty-two years after his death, the phone rings and my son Ben asks, “Dad, are we related to a Bradley Hogg of Buena Vista, Georgia?” I told him Bradley was my grandfather’s younger brother, making him my great-uncle and my son’s great-great uncle in the process. When he said Bradley had played baseball, I told him I knew he’d played something called “town ball” back in the twenties. “Not town ball, Dad. Major-league ball.” And as it turned out, so he did.

264 Spitting on Diamonds

The Ultimate Irony Pitcher Bradley Hogg went 13–13 with an earned-run average of 2.53 with the sixth-place Philadelphia Phillies in 1918. This earned him a nonguaranteed contract for $3,150 in 1919. In today’s dollars, this was worth $32,265. Pitcher Al Leiter went 13–13 with an earned-run average of 3.48 with the last-place New York Mets in 2002. This earned him a new, guaranteed twoyear contract worth $9 million a season. In Year 1918 dollars, this would have been worth $879,765 per year. Timing truly is everything.

265

Games 18 8 10 20 35 38 35 2 43 51 29 22 311 34

Won 10 0 1 9 18 19 22 1 16 27 13 5 141 16

Lost 3 4 1 10 10 14 12 0 9 13 13 12 98 11

Saves 0 1 1 0 0 0 0 0 2 0 0 0 5 .05

Ties 0 0 0 0 1 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 3

IP 117 25.2 31 171 276 285 246 13 231.2 335.1 228 150.1 2110 234

WP .769 .000 .500 .474 .643 .576 .647 1.000 .640 .675 .500 .294 .592 .592

ERA ** 6.66 6.97 ** ** ** ** 2.08 2.65 2.23 2.53 4.43

Underlines indicate incomplete totals due to unavailable figures. Explanation of chart statistics: (Year) season; (Team) team; (Games) games participated in, including relief efforts; (Won) games won; (Lost) games lost; (Saves) games saved; (T) Ties, (IP) innings pitched; (WP) winning percentage; (ERA) earned run average (when available).

Year Team 1911 Haverhill (NE) 1911 Boston (N) 1912 Boston (N) 1912 New Bedford (NE) 1913 Mobile (SA) 1914 Mobile (SA) 1915 Mobile (SA) 1915 Chicago (N) 1916 Los Angeles (PCL) 1917 Los Angeles (PCL) 1918 Philadelphia (N) 1919 Philadelphia (N) Totals: Season Average:

Pitching Statistics:

Appendix I

Bradley Hogg Career Statistics

266 Appendixes Hitting and Fielding Ability Statistics show Bradley was a decent hitter, and good for a pitcher: Minor-league batting average: .247 Major-league batting average: .241 Highest major-league batting average (late in a season): .313 (1919 Philadelphia Phillies) Highest major-league batting average (season): .283 (1919 Philadelphia Phillies) Bradley could also field his position: 1911: (18 games) .974 (1 error) (major league: 8 games, 1 error, .909) 1912: (20 games) .940 (4 errors) (major league: 10 games, no errors, 1.000) 1913: (32 games) .991 (1 error) 1914: (42 games) .988 (1 error) 1915: (41 games) .975 (2 errors) (major league: 2 games, no errors, 1.000) 1916: (42 games) .973 (2 errors) 1917: (51 games) .949 (5 errors) 1918 (29 games) .988 (1 error) 1919 (22 games) 1.000 (no errors) Bradley’s average minor-league fielding percentage: .970, or 2 errors per season, or one error every 15 games. Bradley ranked fourth in fielding percentage among pitching regulars in the New England League in 1911 and 1912, first in the Southern Association in 1913, third in 1914 (by one percentage point), and second in 1915 again by one percentage point). In the 1916 Pacific Coast League, with seven pitchers fielding 1.000, Bradley ranked 11th out of 41. The 1917 season, his best pitching year, was also his worst fielding year, five errors ranking him 19th out of 41 pitchers in the PCL. In 71 majorleague games he only committed 2 errors for a .986 average. Bradley appeared in 343 games during his professional career, 311 as a pitcher, winning 59 percent of the time. He pitched at least 172 complete games, threw 16 shutouts and one no-hitter, a 1912 11–0 win over leagueleading Brockton in the New England League, the only no-hitter in the league that year. His 2,110 total innings pitched is the equivalent of 234 complete games, an average of 26 complete games a year for nine years, the equivalent of 422 games in the modern, five-inning-per-start year of 2004, or 47 starts per year. Bradley also appeared in 25 games as a pinch-hitter, at least one as a pinchrunner, at least five as a right fielder and one as a second baseman.

Appendixes 267 Ironically, he never played first base as a professional, his original position at Mercer in 1911, after he became a full-time pitcher. —Spalding’s Official Base Ball Record (1912, 1913, 1914, 1915, 1916, 1917, 1918 eds.) Total Baseball (4th ed.) 1994

Appendix II Rosters, 1911–1919

1911 Haverhill Hustlers (New England League) Batting average listed first, then player and position. Pitchers and records in italics. Players with major-league experience before or after 1911 listed in bold. The unusually large number of players on a usually small roster is due to constant tryouts of prospects, sales, and trades. .323 .314 .307 .304 .289 .285 .284 .280 .265 .261 .248 .244 .240 .235 .232 .230 .228 .227 .210 .196 .186

Frank Courtney (rf) Ralph Christopher (2–8) Bill Luby (of) Ed McGamwell (1b) Herman Young (ss) Harvey Grubb (3b) Harry “Chub” Aubrey (ss) Bradley Hogg (10–3) Garry Wilson (3b) ——— O’Donnell ——— “Chief” Williams (of) Bill Moore (of) K.C. “Doc” Milliman (c) ——— Hagan Jimmy Barrett (of) George Hollis (of) Ed Merrill (3b/of) Bob Ganley (of) Thomas P. Parle (2b) Cy Perkins (c) Ed “Big Jeff” Pfeffer (2b)*

268

Appendixes 269 .185 .172 .149 .100 .066

George “Heavy” Wheeler Len Swormstedt (16–12) Howard Wakefield (c) W. E. McIntyre (9–14) Bernie Duffy (10–11) Ed “Jumbo” Barry (3–8) Henry Gero (1–10) Ginger Reynolds —Spalding’s Official Base Ball Record (1912 ed.) Notes: After a short trial as a pitcher with the St. Louis Browns at the beginning of 1911, “Big Ed” Pfeffer played second base for Haverhill, returning to the major leagues with Brooklyn in 1913 as a pitcher. His brother Francis, also called “Big Ed,” was in the last year of his major-league pitching career with Boston in 1911, and would be Bradley’s teammate that fall. Fifty-two percent (15 of 29) of the players on Haverhill’s 1911 roster played in the major leagues during their career, emphasizing the quality of play in the minors during the dead ball era, as well as the lack of education or ability to do anything else.

1911 Boston Rustlers (National League) Batting average listed first, then player and position. Pitchers and records in italics. .347 .315 .291 .289 .286 .250 .240 .228 .224 .206 .203

George “Hickory” Jackson (lf) Mike “Turkey Mike” Donlin (cf) Al Bridwell (ss) Henry “Hank” Gowdy (1b) Roy “Doc” Miller (rf) William “Scotty” Ingerton (2b) Harry Spratt (cf) Bill “Bedford Bill” Rariden (c) Johnny “Noisy” Kling (c) Ed McDonald (2b) Al “Deerfoot” Kaiser (lf) Ed “Big Ed” Donnelly (3–2, 2.45 E.R.A., 5 games) Denton True “Cy” Young (4–5, 3.21, 11 games) Fuller Thompson (0–0, 3.86, 4.2 ip) Charles “Buster” or “Yank” Brown (8–18, 4.29, 42 games)

270 Appendixes Cliff Curtis (1–8, 4.44, 12 games) Frances X. “Big Ed” Pfeffer (7–5, 4.73, 26 games) Al Mattern (4–15, 4.97, 33 games) Herbert “Hub” or “The Gallatin Squash” Perdue (6–10, 4.98, 24 games) George “Lefty” Tyler (7–10, 5.06, 28 games) Henry “Hank” Griffin (0–6, 5.23, 15 games) Sam Frock (0–1, 5.63, 4 games) William “Jiggs” Parson (0–1, 6.48, 7 games) Orville “Orlie” Weaver (3–12, 6.47, 27 games) Bradley Hogg (0–3, 1 save, 6.66, 8 games, 25 ip) Bill “Rebel” McTigue (0–5, 7.05, 14 games) Patrick “Patsy” Flaherty (0–2, 7.07, 4 games, 14 ip) George “Cecil” Ferguson (1–3, 9.75, 6 games, 24 ip) William “Billy” Burke (0–1, 18.90, 3 1/3 ip) —Total Baseball (4th ed.) 1994 Notes: Only two pitchers on the 1911 Boston roster had winning records— Big Ed Donnelley, 3–2, and “Big Jeff” Pfeffer, 7–5—and Pfeffer was the only regular. Most of the pitchers were either in their first or last years of majorleague ball, meaning they were either green or over the hill. At forty-four years of age, Cy Young had the second-best earned run average on the team, and was one of only three pitchers out of eighteen with an ERA under 4.00.

1912 Boston Braves (National League) Batting average listed first, then player and position. Pitchers and records in italics. .344 .325 .320 .317 .296 .289 .262 .259 .234 .223 .122

Bill Sweeney (2b) John “Silent John” Titus (rf) Judson “Jay” Kirke (of/3b) Johnny “Noisy” Kling (c/mgr) Vincent “Vin” Campbell (cf) Ben Hauser (1b) George Jackson (lf) Ed McDonald (3b) Roy “Doc” Miller Bill “Bedford Bill” Rariden (c) Frank “Blackie” O’Rourke (ss) George “Lefty” Tyler (12–22, 4.18 E.R.A.)

Appendixes 271 Otto Hess (12–17, 3.76) Hub “The Gallatin Squash” Perdue (13–16, 4.98) Walter “Hickory” Dickson (3–19, 3.86) Ed “Big Ed” Donnelly (5–10, 4.35) Charles “Buster” or “Yank” Brown (4–15, 4.01) Bradley Hogg (1–1, 1 save, 6.97, 30.2 innings pitched) James “Hank” or “Pepper” Griffin (0–0, 27) James “Rebel” McTigue (2–0, 5.45, 43.2) Bill “King” Brady (0–0, 27.00, 2.2) Al Mattern (0–1, 7.11, 6.1) Steve White (0–0, 6.00, 6) Floyd “Rube” Kroh (0–0, 2.84, 6.1) —Total Baseball (4th ed.), 1994 Notes: Twenty-four players were carried on the 1912 Boston roster at one time or another during the season, including thirteen pitchers in a desperate attempt to find consistency on the mound. Emphasizing the futility, only one pitcher had a winning record (Bill McTigue, 2–0), and he was a late-season call-up. However, the Braves’ team batting average (minus pitchers) was only .273, two points higher than 1911, contributing to the team’s back-to-back last-place finishes in the National League.

1912 New Bedford Whalers (New England League) Batting average listed first, then players and position. Pitchers and records in italics. Players with major-league experience before or after 1912 listed in bold. .295 .291 .286 .283 .282 .279 .267 .265 .262 .252 .243 .242

Jack Ness (1b) A. Linderbeck (rf) Tom Griffith (16–13) Walter “Rabbit” Maranville (ss) (Hall of Fame) Garry Wilson (of) ——— O’Connell (of) Chester Sweatt (of) Bradley Hogg (9–10) Paul Howard (5–7) Walter Morris (ss/of) Frank Connaugton (2b/manager) Joseph “Pat” Kilhullen (c)

272 Appendixes .240 Charles “Tex” Pruiett (18–10) .226 Art Rufiange (c) .222 George Spires (3b) .219 Thomas Devine (c) .169 ——— Delaney .113 Len Swormstedt (12–19) —Spalding’s Official Base Ball Record (1913 ed.) Notes: The 1912 New Bedford Whalers finished sixth in the eight-team New England League. Carrying eighteen men on their roster (including five pitchers) allowed pitchers to concentrate on pitching without having to play a position in the field on their off-days. Forty-four percent of the New Bedford roster (eight players) played majorleague ball at one time or another during their careers.

1913 Mobile Gulls (Southern Association) Batting average listed first, then player and position. Pitchers and records in italics. Players with major-league experience before or after 1913 listed in bold.

.335 .288 .281 .279 .278 .274 .269 .252 .244 .239 .235 .235 .229 .218 .179 .161

Mike Finn (manager) Dave Robertson (cf) Paul Sentell (ss/2b/3b) Milt Stock (ss) Charlie “Boss” Schmidt (c) Tiller “Pug” Cavet (23–12) Billy Campbell (16–15) (p/of) Gene Paulette (ss/3b) Charlie Starr (2b) William “Baby Doll” Jacobson (of) Bradley Hogg (18–10) George “Hack” Miller (rf) Danny Clark (lf) Al O’Dell (3b) Charles “Heinie” Berger (12–11) Larry Brown (c) William “Blonde Bill” Robertson (12–7) LaRue Kirby (1–1) (p/of) Jack Corbett (utility) William T. McGill (of)

Appendixes 273 ——— Moloney ——— Kelly* —Spalding’s Official Base Ball Record (1914 ed.) Notes: The 1913 Mobile Gulls carried sixteen roster players, including five pitchers. The last five players listed were given trials, and each batted in fewer than ten games. Twelve out of the sixteen players on the roster played in the major leagues before or after 1913 (75 percent), so this was a very talented minor-league ball club. *Pitcher Kelly could have been a major leaguer eventually as well, depending on who he was. Five different Kellys pitched in the majors during the dead ball era before or after 1913.

1914 Mobile Gulls (Southern Association) Batting average listed first, then player and position. Pitchers and records in italics. Players with major-league experience before or after 1914 listed in bold. .317 .312 .287 .265 .257 .256 .252 .247 .245 .244 .238 .238 .234 .219 .190 .172

LaRue Kirby (0–3) (p/of) Briscoe “Bris” Lord (of/manager) Charles “Boss” Schmidt (c) Lawrence “Hack” Miller (of) William “Mary” Calhoun (1b) Leonard Dobard (ss) Clay Perry (3b) Danny Clark (of) Bradley Hogg (19–14) Al O’Dell (3b) Hubbard “Hub” Northen (of) Jim Gudger (19–13, from New Orleans) Larry Brown (c) Gilbert Hudnall Bert “Speed” Keeley (15–9) Leo Townsend (17–12) Charles Fritz (0–4) ——— Tetrick (0–2) ——— Williams (0–2) The last three players listed (all pitchers) batted in fewer than ten games each. —Spalding’s Official Base Ball Record (1915 ed.)

274 Appendixes Notes: Nineteen players were on the Mobile roster at one time or another this season, with twelve of them (64 percent) playing in the major leagues before or after 1914. Carrying five pitchers gave Mobile the luxury of giving the rotation a chance to rest between starts, not always having to play positions in the field on their off-days.

1915 Mobile Gulls (Southern Association) Batting average listed first, then player and position. Pitchers and records in italics. Players with major-league experience before or after 1915 listed in bold. .343 .326 .281 .273 .264 .262 .256 .255 .236 .233 .231 .225 .212 .209 .197 .189 .185 .167 .062

———McDowell George “Hack” Miller (of) George Cunningham (p) Charles “Boss” Schmidt (c/manager) Leonard Dobard (ss) Herbert “Hub” Northen (of) Edgar Cowan (ss) Clay Perry (2b) Norbert Neiderkorn Walt Powell (lf) William “Mary” Calhoun (1b) ———Holmquist (11–14) Bradley Hogg (22–12) R. H. Baumgardner (of) Leo “Lefty” Townsend (12–10) Bill “Tex” Covington (11–19) Pat “Lefty” Harkins (3–4) Jim Gudger (10–11) Benn Karr (9–14) Ed Poole (1–2) ——— Matley (3b) (college player given a tryout at third on April 30) Carl Flick (2b) (acquired in trade with New Orleans for pitcher Jim Gudger) —Spalding’s Official Base Ball Record (1916 ed.) Notes: Twenty-two players were on the Mobile roster at one time or another in 1915, including eight pitchers, doubling the staff from 1914. This included forty-one-year-old Ed Poole, who was given a three-game trial, and Lefty Harkins, who pitched for Mobile for about one month. Even with 59 percent

Appendixes 275 of their roster playing in the major leagues before or after 1915, and with virtually the same roster as 1914 except for the pitching staff, the Gulls found themselves in a rebuilding year. In spite of being out of the rotation for three weeks due to injury, Bradley found himself having another excellent year on yet another bad ball club.

1915 Chicago Cubs (National League) Batting average listed first, then player and position. Pitchers and records in italics. .287 .265 .264 .257 .253 .249 .243 .219 .204

Bob Fisher (ss) Henry “Heinie” Zimmerman (2b/3b) Victor “Vic” Saier (1b) Fred “Cy” Williams (cf) Wilbur “Lefty” Goode (rf) Frank “Wildfire” Schulte (lf) Jimmy Archer (c) Art “Dugan” Phelan (3b) Roger “The Duke of Tralee” Bresnahan (c/manager) (Hall of Fame) James “Hippo” Vaughn (20–12, 2.87 E.R.A.) Jimmy Lavender (10–16, 2.58) George “Filbert” Pearce (13–9, 3.32) Albert “Bert” Humphries (8–13, 2.31) George “Zip” Zabel (7–10, 3.20) Larry Cheney (8–9, 3.56) Peter “Pete” Standridge (4–1, 3.61) Karl “Rebel” Adams (1–9, 4.71) Bradley Hogg (1–0, 2.08) —Total Baseball (4h ed.) 1994 Notes: The 1915 Cubs ran lean, carrying only nine position players including future Hall of Fame catcher/manager Roger Bresnahan. This meant most players rarely had a day off during the season.

1916 Los Angeles Angels (Pacific Coast League) Batting average listed first, then player and position. Pitchers and records listed in italic. Players with major-league experience before or after 1916 listed in bold.

276 Appendixes .304 John Bassler (c) .296 Harry Wolter (of) .293 Howard “Polly” McLarry (2b) .287 Walter Boles (c) .286 Frank Chance, (1b/manager) (Hall of Fame) .283 George “Zip” Zabel (17–13) .281 Joe “Ham” Schulte (ss, utility infielder) .276 Phil “Beef” Koerner (1b, asst. manager) .274 Harl “Schockle” Maggert (rf) .265 Bobby Davis (ss) .257 Otis “Doc” Crandall (11–17) (Part year with San Francisco) .254 George “Rube” Ellis (of) .242 Ted Easterly (c) .240 Frank Murphy (of) .234 Jack “Gulfport” Ryan (29–10) .224 Bob “Red” Fisher (of, ss) .220 Johnny “Sugar” Kane (of, ss) .217 Bradley “Dixie” Hogg (16–10) * .200 Charles “Sea Lion” Hall (6–6) ,186 Oscar Horstmann (11–14) .185 Pete Standridge (20–10) .184 Art Butler (ss) .184 Charles “Lefty” Jackson (of) .184 Lynn “Lefty” Scoggins (11–8) —Spalding’s Official Base Ball Record (1917 ed.) Notes: Of the twenty-four players on the Los Angeles Angels roster, nineteen of them (79 percent) had major-league experience before or after 1916. The length of the Pacific Coast League season is reflected in the Angels carrying three full-time catchers, for no two could handle 210 games. * “Dixie” is the first and only nickname known to be hung on Bradley during his career, if only by sportswriters. It didn’t stick. Other more porcine and less flattering nicknames were probably attempted, but Bradley was big enough to guarantee they didn’t stick either.

1917 Los Angeles Angels (Pacific Coast League) Batting average listed first, then player and position. Pitchers and records in italics. Players with major-league experience before or after 1917 listed in bold.

Appendixes 277 Frank Chance, manager (first half of season) (Hall of Fame) .311 Emil “Irish” Meusel (of) .305 Jack Fournier (1b) .302 William “Duke” or “Iron Duke” Kenworthy (2b) .295 Wade “Red” Killefer (of, manager second half of season) .284 John Bassler (c) .273 George “Rube” Ellis (of) .273 Bobby Vaughn (2b) .266 Walter Boles (c) .261 Jack Schulte (ss/2b) .256 Harl “Schockle” Maggert (rf) .251 Zebulon “Zeb” Terry (ss) .235 Peter LaPan (c) .232 Pete Standridge (10–13) .231 Bradley “Dixie” Hogg (27–13) .224 Tom Seaton (8–8) .215 Charley “Sea Lion” Hall (14–19) .213 Bobby Davis (ss) .205 Otis “Doc” Crandall (26–15) .196 Frank A. Groehling (3b) .185 Jack “Gulfport” Ryan (12–11) .153 Charles “Curly” Brown (18–13) —Spalding’s Official Base Ball Record (1918 ed.) Notes: Pacific Coast League rosters for 1917 numbered between fifteen and eighteen men, including playing managers such as outfielder Red Killefer. Of the twenty-one players on the roster at one time or another during the season, eighteen of them (85 percent) played in the major leagues before or after 1917. There were eleven new Angels on the 1917 roster compared to 1916, some notable ones being outfielder Irish Meusel, first baseman Jack Fournier, and outfielder/manager Red Killefer. Between them, they played thirty-three years of major-league baseball before they were done. The fact that there are seven pitchers on the Angels staff is deceptive. Jack Ryan was released during the season for drunkenness, and was replaced by Tom Seaton, obtained from the Chicago Cubs.

278 Appendixes

1918 Philadelphia Phillies (National League) Batting average listed first, then player and position. Pitchers and records in italics. Pat Moran (manager) .293 Mike Fitzgerald (of) .288 Fred Luderus (1b) .279 Emil “Irish” Meusel (lf) .276 Fred “Cy” Williams (cf) .274 Milt Stock (ss) .254 Dave “Beauty” Bancroft (ss) (Hall of Fame) .244 Harry Pearce (2b) .244 George “Possum” Whitted (of) .232 Clifford “Gavvy” or “Cactus” Cravath (rf) .228 Bradley Hogg (13–13, 1 save, 2.53 ERA) .216 Erskine Mayer (7–4, 3.12) .207 Ed Burns (c) .203 Mark “Patsy” McGaffigan (2b) .176 Bert Adams (c) .158 Elmer Jacobs (9–5, 1 save, 2.41) .083 Joe Oeschger (6–18, 3 saves, 3.03) .082 Mike Prendergast (13–14, 1 save, 2.89) .075 Milt “Mule” Watson (5–7, 3.43) Partial-year pitchers: .333 Frank Woodward (0–0, 2 games, 6 innnings pitched, 6.00) .200 Gary Fortune (0–2, 5 games, 30.2 innings pitched, 8.13) .125 Ben Tincup (0–1, 8 games, 16.2 innings pitched, 7.56) .091 Alex Main (2–2, 8 games, 35 innings pitched, 4.63) .000 Frank “Dixie” Davis (0–2, 17 games, 47 innings pitched, 3.06) —Total Baseball (4th ed.) 1994 Notes: The 1918 Phillies carried ten position players on their roster (with an extra utility outfielder and an extra catcher), plus six pitchers for a total of sixteen regulars, not including tryouts and late-season call-ups (primarily pitchers). Note that most of the regular pitchers hit no better than pitchers do today. The Phillies’ team earned run average of 3.15 was the highest in the National League for 1918, and in collaboration with anemic team hitting earned them sixth place. Surprisingly, shortstop Dave Bancroft committed a team-high sixty-four errors during the season, about one every two games, on his way to the Hall of Fame.

Appendixes 279

1919 Philadelphia Phillies (National League) Batting average first, then player and position. Pitchers and records are in italics. There were only eight players on the enormous thirty-six-man 1919 Phillies roster for the entire season: .341 Clifford “Gavvy” or “Cactus” Cravath (of/manager, second half of season) .305 Emil “Irish” Meusel (lf) .293 Fred “Cy” Williams (cf) .278 Fred Luderus (1b) .272 Dave “Beauty” Bancroft (ss) (Hall of Fame) .233 John “Bert” Adams (c) .230 Leo Callahan (of) .180 Harry Pearce (2b) In addition to the replacement of manager Jack Coombs on July 7 by Gavvy Cravath, additional players were signed for partial-season contracts or given trials and released: .270 DeWitt “Bevo” Wiley DeBourveau (of) (bought from minors) .259 Gene Paulette (3b/of) (acquired in trade with St. Louis Cardinals for p Frank Woodward) .252 Doug Baird (2b) (sold to St. Louis Cardinals) .250 Fred “Doc” or “Jesse” Wallace (2b) (sent to minors after two games) .249 George “Possum” Whitted (of) (traded to Pittsburgh for of Casey Stengel) .242 J.J. “Nig” Clarke (c) (purchased from minors, signed out of the Army) .237 Walt Tragesser (c) (claimed off waivers from Boston Braves) .216 Ed Sicking (2b/ss) (claimed off waivers from New York Giants) .214 Forrest “Hick” Cady (c) (released) .199 Lena “Slats” Blackburne (3b) (claimed off waivers from Boston Braves) .000 L.A. “Lou” Raymond (2b) (sent to minors after one game as pinchrunner) .000 Robert “Bert” Yeabsley (if) (sent to minors) Additional pitchers (partial-season trials, trades or released): .118 Lee Meadows (8–10, 2.33 ERA) .133 George “Columbia George” Smith (5–11, 3.22)

280 Appendixes .178 Elmer Jacobs (6–10, 3.85) .149 Eppa Rixey (6–12, 3.97) (Hall of Fame) .137 Gene Packard (6–8, 4.15) .283 Bradley Hogg (5–12, 4.43) .207 Frank Woodward (6–9, 17 games, 4.74) .095 Larry Cheney (2–5, 9 games, 57.1 innings pitched, 4.55) .095 Milt “Mule” Watson (2–4, 8 games, 47 innings pitched, 5.17) .222 Mike Cantwell (1–3, 5 games, 27.1 innings pitched, 5.60) .000 Joe Oeschger (0–1, 5 games, 38 innings pitched, 5.92) .400 Leon “Red” Ames (0–2, 3 games, 16 innings pitched, 6.19) .000 Pat Murray (0–2, 8 games, 34.1 innings pitched, 6.29) .333 Mike Prendergast (0–1, 5 games, 15 innings pitched, 8.40) .000 Jimmy “Rags” Faircloth (0–0, 2 games, 2 innings pitched, 9.00) .000 Philip “Lefty” Weinert (0–0, 1 game, 4 innings pitched, 18.00) —Total Baseball (4th ed.) 1994 Notes: Due to the overall collapse of the Philadelphia pitching staff in 1919 as well as injuries and ineffectiveness of most position players, both managers—Jack Coombs and Gavvy Cravath—tried out virtually everyone that walked into the Baker Bowl. In spite of leading the National League in hitting with a .341 batting average for 1919, Cravath ended up using rookies and washed-up pitchers in 40 of the Phillies’ 138 games that season (33 percent). The fact they contributed 5 wins to the season’s total of 47 is amazing. What is not so amazing is the result of no pitching, hitting, or fielding: a well-deserved last place in the National League.

Appendix III Major League Contracts

Baseball contracts in the dead ball era were incredibly one-sided documents, written with ball-club interests in the forefront and adhered to completely by club owners only when it was in their best interests. The first document Bradley and every other player had to sign before playing major-league baseball was a Probationary Players’ Contract, which was good for forty-five days. In addition to calling for a maximum 25 percent increase over any minor-league salary, it was the document that officially made a player a major-league club’s property as long as he was needed, for it put in force the despised Reserve Clause. Included in every major-league contract, an example of this clause from pitcher George Mogridge’s 1918 contract with the New York Yankees stipulated, “The club owner employs the player for the season of 1918, beginning May 7, and agrees to pay him a salary of $437.49 per month, and an additional sum at the rate of $145.49 per month, said additional sum being in consideration of the option herein reserved by the club owner for the renewal of this contract: said additional sum to be paid whether the option is exercised or not, making the total compensation to the player at the rate of $583.33 per month.”1 When a player signed a major-league contract containing this clause, he ended up giving the club owner unending options on his services, meaning no contract actually ever expired, regardless of its expiration date. The Probationary Contract was long enough to give a ball club an idea of what a player could do, and at the end of the forty-five-day period, he was either signed to a regular players’ contract, sold to a minor-league club, or released. But, being the club’s property gave players no option as to what they did with him other than to quit the game entirely. The Probationary Players’ Contract stipulated bi-weekly pay periods

281

282 Appendixes (which were guaranteed) and paychecks (and amounts, largely decided upon by club owners) that weren’t. Players also had to promise to abide by certain unstipulated rules that could result in fines if they weren’t followed. However, in one example, unlike all clubs, Cincinnati showed their concern for a player’s health and welfare by guaranteeing medical care for up to fifteen days from any injury suffered while playing baseball for the Reds. At that point, the club could either release him at their discretion without any further obligation, including paychecks, while holding him in reserve until his recovery. If he became ill or was accidentally injured outside the sphere of playing professional baseball, no medical care would be provided and the club could deduct every day he was out of the lineup from his paycheck.2 As an aside, players from the lower minors must have found it amazing to get even two weeks’ medical care in case of injury while playing ball, for many clubs at those levels would just release an injured player on the spot. There was no money for medical care, and none was provided. During the dead ball era, ball clubs also made a practice of charging players for their uniforms, deducting thirty dollars for one home and one away uniform from their first check, and the Reds were no exception. These uniforms, at fifteen dollars per, were the equivalent of $250 uniforms today, and were expensive—if not well-made—in an era when good suits were selling at Saks in New York City for eight dollars. However, bowing to the inevitable, Cincinnati, as well as many other clubs, began taking the thirty dollars as a refundable deposit by 1917 if the uniforms were returned in good condition. The Philadelphia Phillies, on the other hand, were charging players for their uniforms as late as 1919.3 The contracts did stipulate the ball club would provide the customary room, board, and traveling expenses while on the road, which usually (not in all cases) involved Pullman cars. Depending on the club, spring training was stipulated as a thirty- or fortyfive-day period which the player was required to attend, and would not involve the club paying for his services beyond room and board. This was in spite of the numerous exhibition games played by all major-league clubs in the spring to recoup expenses, at which admission was charged. Cincinnati was also less generous than some clubs, for they stipulated if a player was released while the team was on the road, he would be provided a train ticket back to Cincinnati, rather than his hometown.4 That ticket would be on the player. Not all clubs were this tight. Teams often also stipulated in their contracts the activities players were not allowed to participate in during the off-season without written permission; thus a game called “indoor” baseball as well as basketball and football were forbidden diversions to Cincinnati players as the club protected its “property” even after the paychecks stopped.5

Appendixes 283 Every ball club in the majors also reserved the right—and included it in every contract—to release any player with ten days’ written notice, thereby canceling all the club’s obligations, and meaning that every contract, regardless of length or amount, was basically a day-to-day proposition every day of a player’s career. A regular Major League Player’s Contract, on the other hand, was slightly more inclusive of the player’s rights, and in certain areas more demanding, depending on the club. The Yankees, for example, stated if a player was injured in any manner whatsoever out of the line of duty and not be able to perform, he would be terminated at once.6 However, the Yankees’ contract also hinted at the first-class operation it was going to become by stating that if a player was injured while playing baseball for the club, his salary would be continued for the length of his contract, instead of the normal two weeks’ recuperation most clubs allowed before termination.7 The contracts Bradley signed with Boston, Chicago, and Philadelphia during his career contained all these whereases and wherefores, along with others, which he eventually became used to, if not enamored with, for baseball was definitely a one-sided business during the dead ball era.

Appendix IV The Value of a Dollar

The value of a U.S. dollar in the years 1911–1920 is shown below. Compared with what a dollar buys today, a dollar in the dead ball era went a lot further. For a while. Then, inflation and war caused the dollar to lose 54 percent of its purchasing power between 1916 and 1920. Thus, in spite of the numerous raises he received during his career, Bradley was bringing home about the same spending power in 1919 that he brought home in 1911. 1911: $18.58 1912: $18.10 1913: $17.80 1914: $17.65 1915: $17.51 1916: $16.29 1917: $13.84 1918: $11.77 1919: $10.23 1920: $ 8.83 eh.net, “How Much Is That Worth Today?” U.S. dollar conversion Web site.

284

Appendix V 1918–1919 Philadelphia Phillies Payroll Ledger

To the uninitiated, a payroll ledger is just pages and columns of numbers. However, if you look behind the ciphers, the story of financial dealings in professional baseball is revealed in stark detail. The Philadelphia Phillies payroll ledger from 1918–1919 reveals a one-sided business of dollars and cents, where the club owners kept the dollars. They also kept a stranglehold on the players, beginning with incredibly one-sided contracts. The thirty-two Philadelphia Phillies contracts issued in 1918 were drawn up for a normal six-month, 154-game season of twelve bi-weekly paychecks, regardless of when players were signed and how long the season actually lasted. Unlike today, signing for a certain amount didn’t guarantee a player got it, as releases, injuries, trades, and retirement all took their toll. Regardless of the legality of the contract’s written word, ball clubs were sticklers on honoring them in total only when it was in their best interests. As the ledger shows, when the 1918 season was shortened by some six weeks, unless a contract was guaranteed—and few were—the actual amount paid was considerably less than initially agreed upon. Also, something not seen in ball-club ledgers today, but quite common in baseball’s early years, were cash advances to players in amounts as low as ten dollars to tide them over to the next paycheck. This meant many players were living paycheck to paycheck. During 1919, fifteen, twenty-five, and thirtydollar advances were given to three Phillies—Forrest Cady, Elmer Jacobs, and Cy Williams. Larger cash advances were made to Mule Watson ($185) and Harry Pearce ($100). Clubs also occasionally loaned players money, interest-free, such as the two-hundred-dollar loan made to Emil “Irish” Meusel, but these loans were completely paid off out of the last paycheck, if not sooner, whether or not the

285

286 Appendixes player budgeted for the deduction. In Meusel’s case, his last paycheck was $125 smaller as a result of his loan. Wives would occasionally travel with the team on road trips, and when they did the club would charge for any expenses involved, such as train tickets, hotels, and meals, then deduct the amount from the player’s next paycheck. One example occurred on August 15, 1918, when pitcher Gene Packard’s wife accompanied the team to St. Louis and went on to visit her family in Kansas City. According to the ledger, the club deducted $38.95 for the cost of taking “Mrs. P.” along to St. Louis and the continuing train ticket to Kansas City. This was the equivalent of $398 in today’s dollars, or about what round-trip airfare would cost her today. Apparently in this case, the Phillies fed her en route, for there was no charge indicated for lunch or dinner. Something else rarely seen today outside of contractual stipulations were bonuses for exceptional play. In baseball’s early years, occasional twenty-five and fifty-dollar bonuses were not uncommon, and even Philadelphia owner Bill Baker awarded them when warranted, as the fifty-dollar bonus to second baseman Harry Pearce on July 15, 1918, shows. Equal to $588.50 in today’s dollars, you can bet Pearce was glad to get it. The approval of that bonus is initialed “W.F.B.” in the ledger, meaning business manager Al Shettaline couldn’t write a check without Baker watching the ink dry. Fines could be just as arbitrary, and could involve money and suspension without pay, unlike today when players are suspended and still paid. However, when a player was suspended by the league for fighting, cursing, or abusing umpires, the club usually paid the fine, for clubs wanted “aggressive” players. On the other hand, if a player was fined by the club, the player paid it regardless of the reason. Mule Watson’s fine of a week’s pay ($81.62) in 1919 was taken out of his final check before he was released, as was Gene Packard’s $200, Forrest Cady’s $100, and Frank Woodward’s $100, fines which were levied to make a point. And with the $200 fine equal to $2,046 today and the $100 fine equal to $1,023, it was a point well made: there is a God, and he’s in the front office. God giveth and God taketh away, as rookie Bevo LeBourveau found the last week of the 1919 season, when he had to ask for a thirty-five-dollar advance after a twenty-five-dollar fine was deducted from his final paycheck. Bill Baker knew LeBourveau would be back in the spring, so he loaned him the money. One other thing that remained constant in Philadelphia in 1919 was the thirty-dollar charge the club made for a set of home and away uniforms, and which every player had to pay unless they made other arrangements. That thirty dollars was equal to $306.90 today, or $153.45 per shirt, pants, socks, and cap. Shoes and glove, like today, were the players’ responsibility. One of the few rules in a player’s favor shows up on the ledger as well, for

Appendixes 287 players were guaranteed a static salary if they were traded or sold during the season. If they got a raise out of the deal from their new club, good for them, but that was rare. Casey Stengel’s refusal to report to the Phillies in August 1919 after his trade from Pittsburgh is an example of the only alternative a player had in salary negotiations: quit. After perusing the Phillies’ payroll ledger for 1918–1919, it would be interesting to see the Phillies’ primary ledger for the same year, for it’s estimated that even with their last-place finish of 1919, Bill Baker still took home about $200,000 after everything was said and done, an amount equal to $2,046,000 today.1 And he never had to work up a sweat.

Philadelphia Phillies National League Base Ball Club Payroll, 1918 The average 1918 Philadelphia Phillies players’ contracted salary was $2,637, equivalent to $31,037 in today’s dollars. Actual salaries paid (minus manager) averaged $1,227.63, equivalent to $14,449.20 in 2003 dollars, due to trades, trials, releases, and the shortened 1918 season. Player

Contract amount

Actually paid

Contract equivalent in 2003

Pat Moran (manager) George Whitted a Elmer Jacobs b Milt Stock Dave Bancroft c Cliff Cravath Fred Williams Ed Burns Fred Luderus Erskine Mayer Mike Prendergast John B. Adams John Fitzgerald Emil Meusel Frank Davis Mike McGaffigan Bradley Hogg Miles Main William Dilhoefer Ben Tincup

$9,000 $4,500 $4,250 $4,250 $4,200 $4,000 $4,000 $4,000 $3,500 $3,500 $3,000 $2,800 $2,750 $2,750 $2,500 $2,500 $2,400 $2,200 $2,000 $2,000

$6,820 $ 915.86 $1,508.08 $3,204.66 $3,395 $3,014.41 $3,014.41 $2,303.31 $2,633.82 $1,136.64 $2,253.33 $2,101.07 $2,062.99 $2,062.99 $1,428.31 $ 803.32 $1,796.60 $1,178.31 $ 469.98 $ 469.98

$105,930 $ 52,965 $ 50,022.50 $ 50,022.50 $ 49,434 $ 47,080 $ 47,080 $ 47,080 $ 41,195 $ 41,195 $ 35,310 $ 32,956 $ 32,367.50 $ 32,367.50 $ 29,425 $ 29,425 $ 28,248 $ 25,894 $ 23,540 $ 23,540

288 Appendixes Mike Watson Gary Fortune William Devine Ed Hemingway Harry Pearce d Frank Woodward Cy Pickup e

$1,800 $1,650 $1,650 $1,560 $1,500 $1,200 $ 750

$1,340 $ 263.33 $ 263.33 $ 430.10 $1,268.33 $ 116.62 $ 32.50

$ 21,186 $ 19,420 $ 19,420 $ 18,361 $ 17,655 $ 14,124 $ 8,827.50

Notes: (a) George Whitted joined the army immediately after receiving his June 1 paycheck. (b) Elmer Jacobs was obtained in a June 15 trade for Erskine Mayer. This is the remainder of his 1919 contracted salary with the Pittsburgh Pirates, minus the shortened season deductions. (c) Dave Bancroft is in the Hall of Fame. (d) Bonuses were not uncommon for exceptional play. This total includes a fifty-dollar bonus awarded on July 15. (e) Cy Pickup only lasted one week, and the $32.50 he received for his work was the gross amount, for the net amount for his entire major-league career was $2.50 after the $30 uniform deduction.

Philadelphia Phillies National League Base Ball Club Payroll, 1919 The average 1919 Philadelphia Phillies player’s salary was $3,418, equivalent to $34,969 in today’s dollars. Actual salaries paid (minus nonplaying manager Jack Coombs) averaged $1,832, equivalent to $18,746 in year 2003 dollars, due to the extraordinarily large number of purchases, trades, sales, tryouts, and releases during the season. Player

Contract amount

Actually paid

Contract equivalent in 2003

Eppa Rixey a Cliff Cravath b Jack Coombs c Larry Cheney d Leon Ames e Dave Bancroft f George Whitted Charles Stengel g Eugene Paulette h Fred Williams i Fred Luderus j James Faircloth k Emil Meusel l

$8,250 $8,014.20 $8,000 $6,600 $5,940 $5,925.37 $5,761.91 $5,494.23 $4,113.20 $3,798.57 $3,650.57 $3,600 $3,509

$5,220 $5,700 $3,568.86 $ 570 $ 510 $5,895.37 $3,916.04 $ -0$1,691.04 $3,768.57 $3,620.57 $ 80 $3,479

$84,397 $81,985.27 $81,840 $67,051.80 $60,766 $60,616.53 $58,944.34 $56,205.97 $42,078.04 $38,859.37 $37,339.50 $36,828 $35,897.07

Appendixes 289 Eugene Packard m John B. Adams n Bradley Hogg o Joe Oeschger p Mike Prendergast q Lee Meadows r Doug Baird DeWitt LeBourveau s Forrest Cady t Elmer Jacobs u Lou Raymond v Milt Watson w Ed Sicking x Leo Callahan y Harry Pearce J. J. Clarke z George Smith aa Russell Blackburne bb Walt Tragesser cc Mike Cantwell dd Bert Yeabsley ee Frank Woodward ff Pat Murray gg Robert Yeabsley hh Fred Weinert ii

$3,425 $3,292.76 $3,150 $3,142 $3,135 $3,000 $3,000 $3,000 $3,000 $2,750 $2,700 $2,600 $2,400 $2,400 $2,400 $2,400 $2,400 $2,400 $2,400 $2,250 $2,100 $1,800 $1,800 $1,750 $1,200

$2,406 $3,262.76 $3,183.33 $ 811.72 $1,264.26 $1,476.94 $1,603.33 $ 220 $1,286.70 $1,353.33 $ 60 $ 783.26 $1,916.63 $2,400 $2,200 $1,800 $1,931.80 $1,079.98 $1,000 $ 487 $ 262.50 $ 850 $1,350 $ 262.50 $ 100

$35,307 $33,684.93 $32,224.50 $32,142.66 $32,071.05 $30,690 $30,690 $30,690 $30,690 $28,132.50 $27,621 $27,000 $24,552 $24,552 $24,552 $24,552 $24,552 $24,552 $24,552 $23,018 $21,483 $18,414 $18,414 $17,902.50 $12,276

Notes: (a) Future Hall of Fame pitcher Eppa Rixey was signed by the Phillies upon his army discharge at midseason. (b) Gavvy Cravath’s salary doubled when he replaced Jack Coombs as Phillies manager in July. (c) Jack Coombs’ managerial contract was obviously not guaranteed, as he had received less than half his contracted salary upon his termination and no further payments were made to him. (d) Larry Cheney was signed off waivers September 1, and the amount paid him by the Phillies was the remainder of his Boston contract. (e) Leon Ames was signed off waivers September 1, and the amount paid by the Phillies was the remainder of his St. Louis contract. (f) Future Hall of Famer Dave Bancroft had a guaranteed salary and received it all, minus the thirty-dollar uniform charge. (g) Charles “Casey” Stengel refused to report to the Phillies at the end of the first week in August after his trade by Pittsburgh in a salary dispute, wanting a raise over the Pittsburgh salary listed. The single Phillies check written Stengel for $152.61 for a week was canceled when he refused to report. (h) Gene Paulette came to the Phillies in a trade with St. Louis, and this is the remainder of his salary contracted for

290 Appendixes with the Cardinals. (i) Cy Williams had a guaranteed salary for 1919, and was paid in full minus the thirty-dollar uniform charge. (j) Fred Luderus also had a guaranteed salary for 1919, and was paid in full minus the thirty-dollar uniform charge. (k) James Faircloth was released June 16 after one week in the major leagues regardless of his contract, and was paid a total of eighty dollars for his time. (l) Emil Meusel was another with a guaranteed 1919 Phils salary, and was paid in full minus the thirty-dollar uniform charge. (m) Gene Packard was released on August 15. (n) Bert Adams also had a guaranteed contract, and was paid in full minus the thirty-dollar uniform charge. (o) Bradley Hogg had a guaranteed contract for 1919, and was paid in full (including travel expenses and no deduction for uniforms) even though he missed over a month of the season in the spring, joining the Phils on May 4. The money he was paid obviously made up for his reduced 1918 salary due to the shortened 1918 season. (p) Joe Oeschger was traded to the New York Giants on May 22 for George Smith. This was the salary paid him by the Phillies while in a Philadelphia uniform. (q) Mike Prendergast was released on June 16. (r) Lee Meadows was acquired from the Cardinals in a trade for pitcher Frank Woodward on July 9; this was the salary he earned while in Philadelphia. (s) DeWitt Wiley LeBourveau, a late-season addition from the minors, only played the final two weeks of the season. (t) Forrest Cady was released following the managerial change July 9. (u) Elmer Jacobs was traded to the St. Louis Cardinals for Gene Paulette on July 15, and this was the money paid while in a Philadelphia uniform. (v) Lou Raymond was released after one week. (w) Milt Watson was released June 16. (x) Ed Sicking was signed off waivers from the New York Giants on April 30. His contractual salary was maintained by the Phillies. (y) Leo Callahan had a guaranteed salary, and received it all, with no deduction for uniforms. (z) “Nig” Clarke was signed June 2 after his discharge from the army. (aa) George Smith was obtained from the New York Giants in a trade for Joe Oeschger on May 22. This was his Giants’ salary, which the Phils were required to maintain. (bb) Russell Blackburne was obtained off waivers from the Boston Braves July 1. (cc) Walt Tragesser was obtained off waivers from the Boston Braves, and this is the remainder of his Boston salary which the Phillies were required to maintain. (dd) Mike Cantwell was purchased from the minors August 25. The money paid him was based on a years’ contract. (ee) Frank Woodward was traded to the St. Louis Cardinals on July 9 for pitcher Lee Meadows. The money paid him was for his time in a Philadelphia uniform. (ff) Pat Murray was signed out of Notre Dame on June 16, and this money paid was based on his yearly salary. (gg) Fred Weinert was a late season call-up from the minors. His salary was fifty dollars for a seven-day week ($511.50 in today’s dollars). —National Baseball Hall of Fame Library

Appendix VI Legal Major League Spitball Pitchers: 1920

After major-league baseball outlawed the spitball on February 9, 1920, major-league teams were allowed a maximum of two established spitball pitchers for the 1920 season. As it turned out, only seventeen were designated as official spitballers, and they are listed below. If Bradley had pitched for Philadelphia in 1920 instead of retiring, he would have been on the list. Pitchers, in bold, faced Bradley at least once during his career:

National League: Bill Doak, St. Louis Cardinals (d) Phil Douglas, New York Giants (d, e) Dana Fillingim, Boston Braves (d) Ray Fisher, Cincinnati Reds Marv Goodwin, St. Louis Cardinals Burleigh Grimes, Brooklyn Dodgers (a) Clarence Mitchell, Brooklyn Dodgers (d) Dick Rudolph, Boston Braves (d)

American League Doc Ayers, Detroit Tigers Ray Caldwell, Cleveland Indians Stan Covaleski, Cleveland Indians Urban Faber, Chicago White Sox Dutch Leonard, Detroit Tigers Jack Quinn, New York Yankees (c) Allen Russell, Boston Red Sox Urban Shocker, St. Louis Browns

291

292 Appendixes Allen Sotheron, St. Louis Browns (b) —Total Baseball (4th ed.) 1994 (a) Pitched against Bradley in the Southern Association (1914, 1915) (b) Pitched against Bradley in the Pacific Coast League (1916) (c) Pitched against Bradley in the Pacific Coast League (1917) (d) Pitched against Bradley in the National League (1918–1919) (e) Pitched against Bradley in the National League (1918–1919), teammates, Chicago (1915) Notes: Bradley faced Boston’s Dick Rudolph and the Giants’ “Shufflin Phil” Douglas regularly over the years in the major leagues and never lost, and only lost to the Cardinals’ “Spittin’ Bill” Doak once in his career. Even though Bradley only faced the Yankees’ Jack Quinn and Dodgers’ future Hall of Famer Burleigh Grimes in the minor leagues, he never lost to them either.

Appendix VII Hall of Fame Competition

Bradley Hogg played with, for, or against twenty-seven Hall of Fame ballplayers, and under the critical gaze of two Hall of Fame umpires and eleven Hall of Fame writers, during his nine-year professional career. Although Bradley faced or teamed with many of these players more than once, these are the players, managers, and umpires he encountered, and when he first encountered them:

1911 Denton True “Cy” Young, pitcher, Boston Rustlers, National League (teammate) Zack “Buck” Wheat, outfielder, Brooklyn Dodgers, National League Walter “Rabbit” Maranville, shortstop, New Bedford Whalers, New England League (later teammate, New Bedford, New England League, 1912) Christy “Big Six” Mathewson, pitcher, New York Giants, National League John McGraw, manager, New York Giants, National League

1912 Frank “Peerless Leader” Chance, manager, Chicago Cubs, National League (later Bradley’s manager with the Los Angeles Angels of the Pacific Coast League) Johnny “Crab” Evers, second baseman, Chicago Cubs, National League Joe Tinker, shortstop, Chicago Cubs, National League Honus “Dutchman” Wagner, shortstop, Pittsburgh Pirates, National League William “Wee Willie” Keeler, manager (one day), Brooklyn Dodgers, National League Max “Scoops” Carey, outfielder, Pittsburgh Pirates, National League

293

294 Appendixes Jesse “Crab” Burkett, manager, pinch-hitter, Worcester Boosters, New England League Richard “Rube” Marquard, pitcher, New York Giants, National League Fred Clarke, outfielder/manager, Pittsburgh Pirates, National League John Montgomery Ward, outfielder, later president, Boston Braves (1912)

1913 Burleigh “Ol Stubblebeard” Grimes, pitcher, Birmingham Barons, Southern Association

1915 Roger “The Duke of Tralee” Bresnahan, catcher/manager, Chicago Cubs, National League Dave “Beauty” Bancroft, shortstop, Philadelphia Phillies, National League

1916 Morecai “Three-finger” Brown, pitcher/pitching coach, Chicago Cubs, National League

1918 Rogers “Rajah” Hornsby, second base, St. Louis Cardinals, National League Charles “Casey” Stengel, outfielder, Pittsburgh Pirates, National League Edd Roush, outfielder, Cincinnati Reds, National League Ross Youngs, outfielder, New York Giants, National League Bill “Deacon” McKechnie, third base, Pittsburgh Pirates, National League Wilbert “Uncle Robbie” Robinson, manager, Brooklyn Dodgers, National League

1919 Frank “The Fordham Flash” Frisch, second baseman, New York Giants, National League Eppa “Jeptha” Rixey, pitcher, Philadelphia Phillies, National League

Umpires Bill Klem (National League, 1911) Billy Evans (National League, 1912)

Appendixes 295 Hall of Fame writers who covered Bradley’s games: J. G. Taylor Spinks (St. Louis) Damon Runyon (New York) Grantland Rice (New York) Ring Lardner (New York) Heywood Broun (New York) Charles Dryden (Chicago) Hugh Fullerton (Chicago) James Isaminger (Philadelphia) J. Roy Stockton (St. Louis) Warren Brown (San Francisco, New York) Frank Graham (New York) —Total Baseball (4th ed.) 1994.

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Notes

One of the most difficult things imaginable is to not imagine what a dead man said. And in writing this book, I ran across that difficulty more than once. Writing a book about a man who’s been dead for sixty-nine years and left little behind other than newspaper records of his life and accomplishments is something most people never consider. Especially since everyone Bradley Hogg knew or was related to, as well as everyone he ever played with, for, or against is also dead, making personal insight from contemporaries impossible. There are his well-publicized successes and failures, however, and they form a colorfully detailed basis for this book. Since this book is one of nonfiction, everything in it is true. That is what nonfiction is. Not fiction. So the lack of conversation and social intercourse between Bradley Hogg and his contemporaries should be taken into consideration. The fact that he did what he did while playing with, for, or against twenty-seven Hall of Famers over a nine-year professional baseball career is just that. Fact. The mark that Bradley left on baseball across America between 1911 and 1919 is also true. This book is proof. As Casey Stengel once said, “You can look it up.” He was there.

Preface 1. John Thorn and Peter Palmer, eds., with Michael Gershman, Total Baseball IV, 1618.

Introduction 1. Rena S. Cobb, A History of Marion County, Georgia, 49, 103.

Chapter One. 1909–1911: Warming Up 1. movies2.nytimes.com, Lawrence Stallings biography. 2. Robert W. Wilder, Gridiron Glory Days: Football at Mercer 1892–1942, 19. 3. William T. Knox and Ralph L. Meeks, The Mercerian, November 1910, 41. 4. Ibid., December 1910, 43.

297

298 Notes 5. Ibid., 113. 6. Macon Telegraph, November 18, 1910. 7. Ibid., May 11, 1911.

Chapter Two. 1911: At the Foot of the Master 1. census.gov, U.S. Government census bureau Web site. 2. eh.net, “How Much Is That Worth Today?” U.S. dollar conversion Web site. 3. Harold Seymour, Baseball: The Golden Age, 71. 4. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 5. Fall River Daily Evening News, June 20, 1911. 6. Fall River Daily Globe, June 20, 1911. 7. Ibid. 8. Troy Soos, Before the Curse: The Glory Days of New England Baseball, 1858–1918, 64. 9. members.mva.net, Haverhill, Massachusetts Web site. 10. Ibid. 11. Ibid. 12. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1889. 13. Jonathan Fraser Light, The Cultural Encyclopedia of Baseball, 680. 14. Haverhill Evening Gazette, July 15, 1911. 15. Haverhill Evening Gazette, July 17, 1911. 16. Ibid. 17. Ibid., July 19, 1911. 18. Ibid. 19. Ibid., July 22, 1911. 20. Ibid., July 24, 1911. 21. Ibid., July 26, 1911. 22. Ibid. 23. Ibid., July 31, 1911. 24. Ibid., August 5, 1911. 25. Ibid. 26. Lynn Evening Item, August 5, 1911. 27. Lynn Daily Evening Item, August 5, 1911. 28. Ibid. 29. Ibid., August 8, 1911. 30. Philadelphia Inquirer, September 10, 1915. 31. Reed Browning, Cy Young: A Baseball Life, 191. 32. Lynn Daily Evening Item, August 24, 1911. 33. Ibid. 34. Haverhill Evening Gazette, August 24, 1911. 35. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 36. Record of the National Commission, #784, August 24, 1911, National Baseball Hall of Fame Library. 37. Ibid. 38. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 26. 39. Ibid., 35. 40. Lawrence Ritter, The Glory of Their Times, 129–30. 41. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1712, 1702. 42. New York Times, September 12, 1911. 43. Record of the National Commission, #784, September 6, 1911, National Baseball Hall of Fame Library.

Notes 299 44. Lynn Daily Evening Item, August 24, 1911. 45. New York Times, September 13, 1911. 46. baseballlibrary.com, baseball history Web site. 47. New York Times, October 2, 1911. 48. Ibid., October 7, 1911. 49. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1547. 50. Ibid., 1618.

Chapter Three. 1912: A Minor Influence 1. Soos, Before the Curse, 143. 2. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 573–76. 3. Christy Mathewson, Pitching in a Pinch or Baseball from the Inside, 217. 4. New York Times, April 14, 1912. 5. Ibid., April 19, 1912. 6. Ibid., April 22, 1912. 7. Ibid., May 31, 1912. 8. Ibid., June 20, 1912. 9. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1618. 10. ci.newbedford.ma.us, New Bedford, Massachusetts, Web site. 11. New Bedford Evening Standard, June 28, 1912. 12. Sporting News, July 3, 1912. 13. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1784. 14. John B. Foster, ed., Spalding’s Official Base Ball Record, 1913 edition, 143. 15. New Bedford Evening Standard, June 28, 1912. 16. Ibid. 17. Ibid., July 13, 1912. 18. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1617. 19. Ibid., 812. 20. New Bedford Evening Standard, August 8, 1912. 21. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 755.

Chapter Four. 1913: Look Away, Dixie Land 1. Bradley Hogg Career Transaction Cards, October 10, 1912, National Baseball Hall of Fame Library. 2. Steven A. Reiss, Touching Base, 56, 57. 3. Bill O’Neal, The Southern League: Baseball in Dixie, 1885–1994, 29. 4. Ibid., 29. 5. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 6. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1440, 1022, 544. 7. Al Stump, Cobb, 144. 8. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1229. 9. Ibid., 1122. 10. Ibid., 990. 11. Atlanta Constitution, April 21, 1913. 12. Ibid., April 27, 1913. 13. earlyradiohistory.us, radio history Web site. 14. Atlanta Constitution, May 19, 1913. 15. santacruzpl.org/history, History of the California Alien Land Law Web site.

300 Notes 16. Atlanta Constitution, June 15, 1913. 17. Ibid., July 3, 1913. 18. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1903, 1904. 19. Atlanta Constitution, July 28, 1913. 20. Ibid., September 7, 1913. 21. Ibid. 22. Ibid. 23. “How Much Is That Worth Today?”

Chapter Five. 1914: The Ball of Wax 1. multied.com, newsreel history Web site. 2. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1878, 1634. 3. Atlanta Constitution, March 26, 1914. 4. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1062. 5. Ibid., 1874, 1648. 6. Ibid., 1585. 7. Interview with Miriam Hogg, February 2003. 8. New Orleans Times-Picayune, June 8, 1914. 9. O’Neal, The Southern League, 93. 10. New Orleans Times-Picayune, August 2, 1914. 11. Ibid., September 15, 1914. 12. Charles C. Alexander, John McGraw, 158–61. 13. angelfire.com, Cuban history Web site. 14. Birmingham News, Spring 1915 (undated clipping). Bradley Hogg file, National Baseball Hall of Fame Library. 15. Alexander, McGraw, 159–60. 16. Ibid., 160.

Chapter Six. 1915: The Southern Star 1. inventors.about.com, Alexander Graham Bell historical timeline Web site. 2. din-timelines.com, historical timeline for 1915. 3. Works Project Administration Writer’s Program, State of Alabama, comps., Alabama, American Guide Series, 204. 4. New Orleans Times-Picayune, March 26, 1915. 5. Ibid., March 29, 1915. 6. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1363. 7. New Orleans Times-Picayune, April 5, 1915. 8. Reiss, Touching Base, 21. 9. New Orleans Times-Picayune, April 17, 1915. 10. lusitania.net, history of the Lusitania sinking Web site. 11. Mobile Register, May 10, 1915. 12. filmsite.org, movie history. Birth of a Nation Web site. 13. new-brunswick.net, New Brunswick, Canada, Web site. History of Louis B. Mayer. 14. wpi.edu, Worcester Polytechnic Institute Web site. History of Robert H. Goddard. 15. Ibid. 16. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 17. New Orleans Times-Picayune, September 6, 1915. 18. Ibid., September 18, 1915.

Notes 301 19. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 73–74. 20. Ibid., 739. 21. Ibid., 1883. 22. Ibid., 1528–29, 1673. 23. Ibid., 1918. 24. baseballlibrary.com, baseball history Web site. 25. Chicago Herald, September 23, 1915. 26. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1383, 1260, 1247. 27. Chicago Herald, September 25, 1915. 28. Seymour, Baseball: The Golden Age, 69. 29. Chicago Tribune, September 24, 1915. 30. New York Times, September 28, 1915. 31. remnantsofadream.com, Audrey Munson Web site. 32. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 26. 33. Cincinnati Enquirer, September 28, 1915. 34. Ibid. 35. Ibid. 36. Ibid. 37. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 38. Seymour, Baseball: The Golden Age, 199–208. 39. Ibid., 206. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 40. Seymour, Baseball: The Golden Age, 212.

Chapter Seven. 1916: On the Wings of Angels 1. Chicago Herald, January 12, 1916. 2. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 3. Seymour, Baseball: The Golden Age, 118–19. 4. Ibid., 118. 5. Chicago Herald, March 5, 1916. 6. Chicago Tribune, March 4, 1916. 7. Chicago Herald, March 7, 1916. 8. Ibid. 9. Ibid. 10. Ibid., February 16, 1916. 11. baseballlibrary.com, baseball history Web site. 12. Bill O’Neal, The Pacific Coast League, 1903–1988, 318–20. 13. Ibid., 341–42. 14. Ibid., 16. 15. Works Project Administration Writer’s Program, Southern California, comps., Los Angeles. A Guide to the City and Its Environs, 3. 16. Los Angeles Times, March 13, 1916. 17. Ibid. 18. Ibid. 19. Ibid., March 19, 1916. 20. Ibid. 21. baseballhalloffame.org, Inside Pitch, on-line magazine, August 2002, National Baseball Hall of Fame Library, Harry Wolter article. 22. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1824. 23. Los Angeles Times, March 25, 1916. 24. Ibid., April 2, 1916; “How Much Is That Worth Today?”

302 Notes 25. sportshollywood.com, history of Vernon, California, sports Web site. 26. naid.sppsr.ucla.edu, history of Venice, California, sports Web site. 27. Los Angeles. A Guide to the City, 7, 8. 28. Zelda Cini and Bob Crane with Peter H. Brown, Hollywood, Land and Legend, 18, 20. 29. Ibid., 160. 30. Los Angeles Times, April 3, 1916. 31. Ibid., April 20, 1916. 32. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 725. 33. Los Angeles Times, April 19, 1916. 34. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 35. Los Angeles Times, April 24, 1916. 36. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1502. 37. O’Neal, The Pacific Coast League, 30. 38. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1638. 39. Los Angeles Times, May 30, 1916. 40. Ibid., June 2, 1916. 41. Ibid. 42. Ibid., June 9, 1916. 43. Ibid., June 14, 1916. 44. Ibid., July 3, 1916. 45. Ibid., July 11, 14, 1916. 46. kclibrary.nhmccd.edu, Kingwood College library Web site, Florenz Ziegfeld salaries. 47. Los Angeles Times, July 11, 1916. 48. Ibid., July 16, 1916. 49. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1593. 50. Los Angeles Times, July 25, 1916. 51. Ibid., July 26, 1916. 52. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 53. Los Angeles Times, July 30, 1916. 54. Ibid., August 1, 1916. 55. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 56. Los Angeles Times, September 2, 1916. 57. Ibid., September 6, 1916. 58. Los Angeles Examiner, September 10, 1916. 59. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 60. Los Angeles Times, September 19, 1916. 61. Ibid., September 21, 1916. 62. Ibid., September 30, 1916. 63. Ibid., October 7, 1916. 64. O’Neal, The Pacific Coast League, 274. 65. Los Angeles Times, October 19, 1916. 66. Ibid., October 20, 1916. 67. Ibid., October 25, 1916. 68. Bradley Hogg scrapbook, courtesy Miriam Hogg. 69. Interview, Maude M. Hogg, 1970.

Chapter Eight. 1917: On the Right Hand of Chance 1. fair-trade-usa.com, Megamemex cooperative international history project Web site. 2. Los Angeles Times, February 1, 1917.

Notes 303 3. richtofen.com, Germany’s High Seas Fleet in the World War, Chapter 14b. Web site. 4. history.navy.mil, military history Web site. 5. Los Angeles Times, February 5, 1917. 6. mediahistory.umn.edu, 1917 history timeline Web site. 7. Los Angeles Times, February 9, 1917. 8. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 9. Los Angeles Times, February 13, 1917. 10. Ibid., February 27, 1917. 11. Ibid. 12. Ibid., February 28, 1917. 13. Ibid., March 1, 1917. 14. Ibid., March 2, 1917. 15. Ibid., March 4, 1917. 16. Ibid. 17. Ibid., March 10, 1917. 18. Ibid., March 12, 1917. 19. Ibid., March 14, 1917. 20. Ibid., March 15, 1917. 21. humanitas-international.org, history timeline Web site. 22. anecdotage.com, historical facts and anecdotes Web site. 23. Los Angeles Times, April 1, 1917. 24. Ibid., April 20, 1917. 25. Ibid., April 22, 1917. 26. Los Angeles. A Guide to the City, xxvii. 27. Los Angeles Times, May 4, 1917. 28. Ibid., May 18, 1917. 29. Ibid., June 1, 1917. 30. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 885. 31. Los Angeles Times, June 2, 1917. 32. Ibid., June 6, 1917. 33. Ibid., June 7, 1917. 34. Ibid., June 13, 1917. 35. Ibid., June 21, 1917. 36. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1786. 37. Cini et al., Hollywood, Land and Legend, 89. 38. Los Angeles Times, July 2, 1917. 39. Ibid., July 6, 1917. 40. Ibid. 41. O’Neal, The Pacific Coast League, 37–38. 42. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 311. 43. Los Angeles Times, July 15, 1917. 44. Ibid., July 16, 1917. 45. O’Neal, The Pacific Coast League, 36. 46. U.S. Army Quartermaster Corps, Form #404, August 1, 1916. 47. Los Angeles Times, July 28, 1917. 48. Ibid. 49. Ibid., July 30, 1917. 50. reuther.wayne.edu, Wayne State University Web site. Walter Reuther labor history. 51. Los Angeles Times, August 5, 1917. 52. Ibid., August 10, 1917. 53. lafire.com, history of Los Angeles Fire Department/fire boats Web site.

304 Notes 54. Los Angeles Times, September 24, 1917. 55. Ibid. 56. Ibid. 57. Ibid., September 25, 1917. 58. Ibid., October 1, 1917. 59. Ibid., October 4, 1917. 60. Ibid., October 8, 1917; Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1489. 61. Deseret News, Salt Lake City, Utah, October 15, 1917. 62. crimelibrary.com Terrorists and spies Web site. 63. Los Angeles Times, October 18, 1917. 64. Ibid., October 22, 1917. 65. Los Angeles Examiner, October 22, 1917. 66. Los Angeles Times, October 25, 1917. 67. Ibid., October 26, 1917. 68. Ibid., October 28, 1917. 69. Foster, ed., Spalding’s Official Base Ball Guide, 1918 edition, 105.

Chapter Nine: 1918: Spitting on Diamonds 1. arcticcircle.uconn.edu, University of Connecticut Web site. Alaska history. 2. Philadelphia National League Base Ball Club Payroll Ledger, 1917 season, National Baseball Hall of Fame Library; Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1415. 3. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1415. 4. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1918 season; “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 5. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1917 season; Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1438. 6. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1554. 7. Bradley Hogg scrapbook. Courtesy Miriam Hogg. 8. New York Times, March 13, 1918. 9. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 48, 49. 10. pbs.org, Public Broadcasting Corporation Web site. History of the 1918 influenza epidemic Web site. 11. Philadelphia Inquirer, March 13, 1918. 12. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger. 1917, 1918 seasons. 13. Ibid., 1918 season. 14. Ibid. 15. Ibid., 1917 season. 16. Seymour, Baseball: The Golden Age, 247. 17. Interview, Miriam Hogg. 18. wsjclassroomedition.com, Wall Street Journal Web site, history of daylight savings time; Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 808, 1064; Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1918 season. 19. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 808. 20. Ibid., 1064. 21. Ibid., 695. 22. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1918 season. 23. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 756. 24. Ibid., 1783, 1754, 1893, 1704. 25. Ibid., 1872. 26. Barra Foundation, Philadelphia, a 300 Year Story, 53. 27. Frederick M. Miller, Morris J. Vogel, and Allen F. Davis, Still Philadelphia, a Photographic History, 1890–1940, 55, 171, 175.

Notes 305 28. Ibid., 197, 198. 29. adena.com, history of the Parker Brothers game “Monopoly” Web site. 30. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 97, 98. 31. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 32. buzzle.com, history of the human experience Web site. 33. world.std.com, SABR Web site. History of sports cartoonist “Jim Nasium.” 34. Miller et al., Still Philadelphia, 102. 35. New York Times, April 23, 1918. 36. Philadelphia Record, May 2, 1918. 37. Ibid. 38. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1194. 39. kcmetro.edu, Kansas City Community Colleges Web site. History of Irving Berlin. 40. New York Times, May 7, 1918. 41. Ibid., May 8, 1918. 42. inventors.about.com, History of the Brassiere Web site. 43. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1918 season; Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1383, 1384. 44. Chicago Daily Evening News, May 19, 1918. 45. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 927. 46. Philadelphia Record, June 4, 1918. 47. Ibid. 48. Ibid. 49. Chicago Tribune, June 8, 1918. 50. Philadelphia Record, June 14, 1918. 51. si.edu, Smithsonian Institution Web site. History of wristwatches. 52. New York Times, June 14, 1918. 53. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1501, 767, 768. 54. Ibid., 1089. 55. Chicago Tribune, July 15, 1918. 56. Philadelphia Inquirer, July 25, 1918; Chicago Tribune, July 25, 1918. 57. New York Times, July 25, 1918. 58. Philadelphia Record, July 19, 1918. 59. Ibid., August 13, 1918. 60. Ibid., September 2, 1918. 61. Ibid. 62. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1918 season; “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 63. Seymour, Baseball: The Golden Age, 253. 64. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1918 season; “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 65. baseball-reference.com, baseball statistical Web site. 66. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 2080.

Chapter Ten. 1919: In the Eye of the Storm 1. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1500, 1501. 2. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1919 season. 3. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1917 season; baseballhalloffame.org, baseball history Web site. Chief Bender article. 4. Philadelphia Inquirer, May 5, 1919. 5. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1919 season. 6. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 7. Philadelphia Inquirer, May 9, 1919.

306 Notes 8. Ibid. 9. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1919 season. 10. Philadelphia Inquirer, May 7, 1919. 11. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 934. 12. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1919 season. 13. Philadelphia Inquirer, May 24, 1919. 14. Philadelphia Record, June 1, 1919. 15. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1919 season. 16. Philadelphia Inquirer, June 4, 1919. 17. Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, June 15, 1919. 18. “How Much Is That Worth Today?”; Peter McMillan, Terry Gwynn-Jones, and John La Noue, The Greatest Flight, 41. 19. Philadelphia Inquirer, June 26, 1919. 20. Ibid., July 8, 1919. 21. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1919 season. 22. Philadelphia Inquirer, July 9, 1919. 23. Ibid. 24. Ibid. 25. Ibid. 26. Ibid. 27. Ibid., July 10, 1919. 28. Ibid. 29. baseballlibrary.com, baseball history Web site. 30. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1919 season; Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1718. 31. Philadelphia Inquirer, June 29, 1919. 32. Ibid., July 12, 1919. 33. Seymour, Baseball: The Golden Age, 372–73. 34. Philadelphia Inquirer, July 26, 1919. 35. Ibid., August 3, 1919. 36. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1380; Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1919 season. 37. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1303. 38. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1919 season. 39. Cincinnati Enquirer, August 10, 1919. 40. Philadelphia Inquirer, August 24, 1919. 41. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” 42. Philadelphia Inquirer, August 29, 1919. 43. Ibid., September 2, 1919. 44. Ibid., September 7, 1919. 45. Ibid., September 10, 1919. 46. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1478. 47. New York Times, September 14, 1919. 48. St. Louis Post-Dispatch, September 19, 1919. 49. New York Times, September 19, 1919. 50. Philadelphia Inquirer, September 24, 1919. 51. Ibid., September 28, 1919. 52. New York Times, September 28, 1919. 53. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 1618. 54. Philadelphia Inquirer, September 28, 1919. 55. Thorn et al., eds., Total Baseball IV, 106. 56. Americus Times-Recorder, April 1923.

Notes 307 Epilogue: 1920–1935: One Last Ride on the Merry-Go-Round 1. Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, February 17, 1920. 2. Mobile Register, February 20, 1920. 3. Philadelphia Inquirer, February 20, 1920. 4. 1919blacksox.com, baseball history Web site. 5. John Bell, Shoeless Summer, 5. 6. Americus Times-Recorder, June 11, 1923. 7. Bell, Shoeless Summer, 25.

Appendix III. Major League contracts 1. New York Yankees player’s contract, 1918. National Baseball Hall of Fame Library. 2. Cincinnati Reds player’s contract, 1914. National Baseball Hall of Fame Library. 3. Philadelphia Payroll Ledger, 1919 season. 4. Cincinnati Reds player’s contract, 1914. National Baseball Hall of Fame Library. 5. Cincinnati Reds player’s contract, 1914. National Baseball Hall of Fame Library. 6. New York Yankees player’s contract, 1918. National Baseball Hall of Fame Library. 7. New York Yankees player’s contract, 1918. National Baseball Hall of Fame Library.

Appendix V. 1918–1919 Philadelphia Phillies Payroll Ledger 1. “How Much Is That Worth Today?”

Bibliography

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312 Bibliography Ritter, Lawrence. The Glory of Their Times. New York: Morrow, 1966. Seymour, Harold. Baseball: The Golden Age. New York: Oxford University Press, 1971. Soos, Troy. Before the Curse: The Glory Days of New England Baseball, 1858– 1918. Hyannis, Mass.: Parnassus Imprints, 1997. Stump, Al. Cobb. Chapel Hill, N.C.: Algonquin Books, 1994. Sullivan, Neil J. The Minors. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1990. Thorn, John, and Peter Palmer, ed., with Michael Gershman. Total Baseball IV. New York: Viking Books, 1995. Thomas, Henry W. Walter Johnson. Baseball’s Big Train. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1995. Thornley, Stew. Land of the Giants. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2000. ———. Rates of Monthly Pay of Enlisted Men. Form #904. U.S. Army Quartermaster Corps. Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1916. Wilder, Robert E. Gridiron Glory Days: Football at Mercer 1892–1941. Macon, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1982. Works Project Administration Writer’s Program, State of Alabama, comps. Alabama. American Guide Series. New York: Hastings House, 1935. Works Project Administration Writer’s Program, Southern California, comps. Los Angeles. A Guide to the City and Its Environs. New York: Hastings House, 1935.

Web Sites adena.com. History of Parker Brothers’ game “Monopoly.” anecdotage.com. Historical facts and anecdotes. angelfire.com. History of Cuba (under President Menocal). arcticcircle.uconn.edu. History of 1918 flu epidemic. Alaska history. baseballalmanac.com. Baseball history. General information. baseballencyclopedia.com. Baseball history. General information. baseballhalloffame.org. Baseball history and reference. baseballlibrary.com. Baseball history. General information. baseball-reference.com. Baseball statistics. 1919blacksox.com. Baseball history. buzzle.com. History of the human experience. census.gov. U.S. population figures. ci.newbedford.ma.us. New Bedford, Massachusetts. History of New Bedford. crimelibrary.com. Terrorists and spies. din-timelines.com. Historical timeline. earlyradiohistory.us. Radio history.

Bibliography 313 eh.net. “How Much Is That Worth Today?” U.S. dollar conversion figures. fair-trade-usa.com. Megamemex cooperative international history project. filmsite.org. Birth of a Nation film history. history.navy.mil. Naval military history. humanitas-international.org. History timeline. inventors.about.com. History site. History of telephone, brassiere. kclibrary.nhmccd.edu. Kingwood College. Florenz Ziegfeld history. kcmetro.edu. Kansas City Metropolitan Community Colleges. Biography of Irving Berlin. lafire.com. History of the Los Angeles Fire Department/fireboats. loc.gov. Library of Congress. Photographic files, general information. losangelesalmanac.com. History of Los Angeles, California. lusitania.net. History of the Lusitania. mediahistory.umn.edu. 1917 history timeline. members.mva.net/galaca/where.html. Haverhill, Massachusetts. History of Haverhill. multied.com. Newsreel history. movies2.nytimes.com. New York Times. Biography of Lawrence Stallings. naid.sppsr.ucla.edu. UCLA. History of Venice, California. new-brunswick.net. New Brunswick, Canada. Biography of Louis B. Mayer. pbs.org. History of 1918 flu epidemic. remnantsofadream.com. Audrey Munson historical site. reuther.wayne.edu. Wayne State University. Walter Reuther history. richtofen.com. History of World War I. santacruzpl.org. History of the California Alien Land Law. si.edu. Smithsonian Institution. History of wristwatches. sportshollywood.com. Sports Hollywood. History of Vernon Tigers, Los Angeles sports. wpi.edu. Worcester Polytechnic Institute. Biography of Robert H. Goddard. world.std.com. Society for American Baseball Research site featuring sportswriter/cartoonist Edgar Wolfe. wsjclassroomedition.com. History of daylight savings time.

Other Sources Chicago Cubs Baseball Club, Chicago, Illinois. Media Information Department. Game results, rosters. Ms. Amelia Halley, Macon, Georgia. Personal information, photographs. Mrs. Miriam Hogg, Winter Haven, Florida. Bradley Hogg baseball scrapbook, personal information and material, photographs. Shepherd’s Pro Sports, Akron, Ohio. Vintage uniforms, logo information.

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Acknowledgments

This project started out as a matter of curiosity, once I had stumbled across the actual existence of a late ball-playing uncle I had never known. After more than five years of research, telephone calls, e-mails, letters, locating and copying microfilm, organization, writing and rewriting, thanks to the vision and insight of Beverly Jarrett, editor-in-chief of the University of Missouri Press, it has become a book. She understood what I was trying to do and allowed me to do it. This has resulted in a baseball book unlike other baseball books, for it folds into the story a changing America visible today only in faded photographs, and adds life and texture to the times. The number of people across the United States that willingly helped me solve the mystery of a long-dead and long-forgotten relative’s life is still amazing. The list is impressive and begins with archivists Bill Francis and Judie Mayer of the National Baseball Hall of Fame Museum in Cooperstown, who sent me the original files and photographs that got the ball rolling and kept up their assistance for years. Then there was the delightful Arlette Copeland, special collections assistant with Mercer University’s Jack Tarver Library. Her enthusiastic help was invaluable and ongoing. While I received assistance from dozens of libraries and librarians across the country, several deserve particular acclaim for their interest, research, and assistance, which resulted in marvelous additions to Bradley’s story and to the times of an evolving America. These include Patsy Roberts at the Haverhill, Massachusetts, Public Library, Judith Wells at the Lynn, Massachusetts, Public Library, Joan Barney at the City of New Bedford, Massachusetts, Public Library, Patricia Redfearn at the Fall River, Massachusetts, Public Library, Kathleen Leles DiGiovanni at the Oakland, California, Public Library, and Lois Archuleta at the Salt Lake City, Utah, Public Library.

315

316 Acknowledgments The Bradley Hogg Distinguished Service Medal and Free Lunch is awarded Helen Stiles of the National Baseball Hall of Fame Library for her months of digging through old boxes filled with dust, moths, and memories to locate the long-lost Philadelphia Phillies Base Ball Club payroll ledger. Containing Bradley’s salary along with the salaries of many of his contemporaries, it gave remarkable insights into the financial dealings of a major-league ball club during the dead ball era. Unfortunately, her forays into myriad boxes containing the papers of Cincinnati Reds president Garry Hermann during his time as head of the National Commission have been less successful. Only when she locates a particular piece of correspondence between Bradley and Hermann protesting Bradley’s illegal sale to Memphis by the Chicago Cubs in 1916 will the fact that this book has been published become known to her, the medal awarded and the menu proffered. As an aside, one of the more ironic discoveries made while researching this book is that the degree of assistance and enthusiasm for doing their job seems to be totally opposite the size of the library, proving once again that the best things come in small packages. I also appreciate Bradley’s daughter-in-law Miriam Hogg loaning a previously unknown relative Bradley’s baseball scrapbook after a half-hour’s telephone conversation. Trust is a marvelous thing. John Bell, author of Shoeless Summer, an intriguing look at an unknown time in south Georgia in 1923 when Shoeless Joe Jackson and Bradley passed in the night, was kind enough to share his research involving that glimpse of history as well. Then there was Kathrin Richter, who was patient beyond belief as she taught me the ins and outs of the computer world so I could actually do the book. Her instructional e-mails in the middle of the night made my day more than once. My son Ben also is owed a large debt of gratitude for his patience, and coping with what at times must have seemed to be an unending project by his obsessed father. And finally, my sister Celia Loudermilk provided invaluable support and occasional small infusions of cash to complete sections of the book and enable me to finish the project. Without her help, whether she knows it or not, this book would not have been written.

Index

Acheson, C. E., 182 Adams, Bert, 214, 233, 252–54 Adams, Charles “Babe,” 38, 248 Ainsmith, Eddie, 122–23 Aitchison, Raleigh Leonidas, 130 Alabama, University of, 4, 7 Albany, Georgia: South Georgia League, 261 Alcock, John, 240 Alcoholism in baseball. See Alexander, Grover Cleveland; Douglas, Phil Alexander, Grover Cleveland “Pete”: vs. Cy Young, 36–37; salary dispute with Philadelphia, 208–9; return from army, 237; alcoholism, 244; mentioned, 210, 211–12, 214, 238, 247 Alien Land Law, 80. See also Racism Allison, Mack, 130 Almendares Cuban baseball team, 116 American Ambulance Field Section 8, 170 American Association, 146, 190 American League, 143, 183, 202 American Tobacco Company, 22 Americus, Georgia, 207, 235, 261; team in South Georgia League, 261–62; Bradley Hogg funeral, 262; mentioned, 154, 233, 259, 260 Anson, Adrian C. “Cap,” 144 Arlington, Georgia: South Georgia League, 261 Arizona statehood, 59 Arlette, Russell “Buzz,” 194 Armour, Ogden J., 187

Ashland, Oregon, 35 Astor, John Jacob, 127–28. See also Cost of living Astor, Madeleine Pierce, Mrs., 127–28 Athletic practice sessions, filming of, 122 Athletic Park, Fall River, Massachusetts, 14, 18, 21, 72, 112 Atlanta Crackers, 75, 83–84, 85, 113; opening day, 1915: 120–21; mentioned, 80, 85, 108–9, 128–29 Auburn University, 4, 5, 7 Automobiles: in Buena Vista, 2; in Los Angeles, 156; in Philadelphia, 213. See also Transportation Automobile racing, 156 Bagby, Jim, 129 Bailey, Abraham Lincoln “Sweetbreads,” 247 Bailey, Bill, 133–34. See also Sportswriters Bainbridge, Georgia: South Georgia League, 261 Baird, Doug, 234, 245 Baker Bowl, Philadelphia: description, 216; attendance, 251; mentioned, 1, 222–23, 228–30, 234, 236–37, 241–42, 245–47, 255, 257 Baker, Newton, U.S. secretary of war, 228 Baker, William F.: salary dispute, Grover Cleveland Alexander, 208–10; purchase of Philadelphia Phillies, 211; salary negotiations, 212–13, 221–22; 224, dishonoring contracts, 231–32; hiring of

317

318 Index Jack Coombs, 233; signing Bradley Hogg, 235; Ed Sicking controversy, 239; mentioned, 224, 234, 238 Balenti, Mike, 27. See also Baseball: racism in Bancroft, Dave “Beauty”: 1918 salary, 213, 214; triple play, 223; injured, 234–39; mentioned, 135, 150, 218, 220, 231, 233, 252, 254, 256 Barger, Cy, 35 Barnes, Jesse “Nubby,” 220 Barnesville, Georgia, 3 Barnstorming baseball teams, 115 Baseball: trick deliveries (spitball, shine ball, mud ball, emery ball, cut ball, paraffin ball), viii, 19, 20, 116, 130, 173, 205; college, 6; dead ball era, 10; rosters, major league, 10, 11, 153, 190; contracts, major league, 11, 132, 207, 235; relief pitching, 11; salaries, major league, 11, 12, 132, 139–40, 141; reserve clause, 12, 16; payrolls, major league, 12, 141; exhibition games, 13–15, 61, 62, 182–82, 213, 215; minor leagues, 15–17; option, 16–17; draft, major league, 16; draft, minor league, 16, 74; uniform charges, 18, 19, 32, 59, 69, 76, 106, 132, 213; pitching quality, minor leagues, 19, 76, 107, 155; salaries, minor league, 19, 23, 74, 76, 141–42, 159, 165, 179, 190–91; “inside baseball,” 20; rosters, minor league, 23, 76, 152, 155, 190; ticket prices, 23, 156; racism in, 24, 27, 115–16, 160; “covering up” players, 29; National Commission, 30–32, 37, 61, 62, 143–44; “throwing” games, Bradley accused of, 30–31; mascots, 39; spring training: Boston, 1912, 59–61, 62, 87, 120–21; Chicago, 1916, 146–49; Los Angeles, 1916, 152–55; Los Angeles, 1917, 212–15; Philadelphia, 1918, 212–15; 1919, 233–34; contracts, minor league, 68, 74, 86, 159; payrolls, minor league, 76, 142; opening day celebrations, Mobile, 1913, 78; Mobile, 1915, 121–22; Los Angeles, 1916, 157; Los Angeles, 1917, 185; Philadelphia, 1918, 217; “World Tour of 1913,” 104–5; marketing and promotion, 109, 168, 189; Sunday baseball, 112, 234; color barrier, 115; Bradley Hogg drafted

by Chicago, 130, 138–39; Federal League war of 1914–15, 139; waivers, 143–44; retirement of players, 161; gambling in, 163, 247; effect of war on baseball, 170, 179, 184, 190, 194, 222, 228; Jack Ness dispute, 181, 209, 212–13, 221–22, 233; economics, 187–88; knuckleball, 192–93; shortened 1918 major league season, 213; dishonored contracts, 231; rules changes, 258–59; banning trick deliveries, 258–59 Bassler, Johnny “Swede,” 155, 180, 181, 185, 188, 194 Baum, Allan, 163 Baum, Charles “Spider,” 160, 189; mentioned, 159, 173 Baumgardner, Bob, 118 Baumgartner, Stan, 210 Beall, Johnny, 137 Beckwith, Jack, 26. See also Sportswriters Bell, Alexander Graham, 18 Bender, Albert “Chief,” 27, 209, 210, 212, 234, 237, 254. See also Baseball: racism in Berger, Charles “Heinie,” 76, 77, 79, 84, 107 Berry, Hen, 165 Birmingham Barons, 80, 82, 108, 115, 119, 121–22, 128 Birth of a Nation, 127, 178. See also Racism Blackburn, Earl, 139 Blackburne, Russell “Lena,” 245, 246, 251 Blakely, Georgia: South Georgia League, 261 “Bloomer ball,” 195–96. See also Baseball: trick deliveries Bluhm, Harvey “Red,” 130 Bodie, Ping, 158 Bodoni, Aurelio, 230 Boles, Walter, 155, 174, 180, 181 Borago, Raphael, 169 Boston (American League), 6, 28, 29, 69, 151, 235 Boston (National League): Rustlers, 10, 13, 14, 21; signing of Cy Young, 28–29, 30, 32–33, 34; Red Stockings, 32; Doves, 32; Heps, 32, 34; Bradley Hogg pitches for, 35–40, 64–66, 67, 69; Braves, 59–62; Beaneaters, 69; spring training, 1912, 105–6, 119, 226–27, 230, Bradley Hogg vs. Jim

Index 319 Thorpe, 241, 252–53; mentioned, 8, 9, 76, 87, 107, 139, 154, 157, 179, 211, 213, 217, 235–38 Brady, James “King,” 82 Braves Field, 163, 226, 241, 252 Brennan, Bill, 66. See also Umpires Bresnahan, Roger “The Duke of Tralee,” 131–32; Bradley’s catcher vs. Cincinnati Reds, 136–38; contract dispute with Charles Weeghman, 140, 145–46; mentioned, 133–34 Bressler, Raymond “Rube,” 247 Bridwell, Al, 34 Brockton Shoemakers, 17, 69–70 Brooklyn: Atlantics, 33; Bridegrooms, 33; Superbas, 33, 66; Dodgers, 34–35, 219, 231, 247; mentioned, 27, 60, 77, 111, 133, 138, 148, 217, 220, 229, 233–34, 247 Brown, Agnes, 8; “lamping,” 111–12; marriage to Bradley Hogg, 117, 139, 156, 176, 180, 193, 210–11, 215, 230, 236, 260–62; mentioned; 11, 59, 106, 127, 131, 149, 152, 171, 185, 208, 217–18, 228, 237, 243 Brown, Charles “Buster,” 36, 40, 60, 64 Brown, Charles “Curly,” 178, 180, 185–86 Brown, Elmer, 80 Brown, Larry, 107 Brown, Mordecai Centennial “Three–Finger,” 13, 146 Brush, John, 36 Buckles, Jess, 210 Buena Vista, Georgia, 1–2, 18, 117, 220; mentioned, 11, 87, 139, 177, 263 Bull, Mae Molter, Mrs., 134 Burkett, Jesse “Crab,” 73 Burns, Ed, 135, 214, 218, 219, 220 Butler, Art, 179, 183 Byron, William “Lord,” 137, 247. See also Umpires Cady, Forrest “Hick,” 238, 244 Calhoun, William “Mary,” 107, 118, 121 Callahan, Jimmy, 104 Callahan, Leo, 234, 253 Calvo, Jacinto de, 173 Campbell, William, 79, 84, 85 Candler, Asa, 108 Cantwell, Mike, 249, 254 Carey, Max, 226, 228 Carter, Paul “Dixie,” 228

“Casey at the Bat,” 157 Castleman, Casey, 184 Cavet, Tiller “Pug,” 76, 79, 83–84, 85 Cedartown, Georgia, 112 Central Baptist Church, Americus, Georgia, 262 Central City Park, Macon, Georgia, 8 Chalmers, Hugh, 157 Chance, Frank “The Peerless Leader,” 65; buys percentage of Los Angeles Angels, 141, 151–52, 154–55, 157, 158, 160–62, 164, 166, 168, 171, 174, 178–80, 183–85, 189–90; resigns as Los Angeles manager, 192, 193–94, managerial style, 203; mentioned, 60, 149, 152, 156, 159, 163, 172, 175, 181, 188 Charleston Harbor, South Carolina, 179 Charlotte, North Carolina, 233–34. See also Baseball: spring training Chase, Hal “Prince Hal,” 223, 224, 260. See also Baseball: gambling, throwing games Chattanooga Lookouts, 109, 111; Sunday baseball in, 112, 125, 130; mentioned, 75, 81, 82, 107, 113, 114 Cheating: in baseball, 30, 31 Chesbro, Jack, 19, 145 Chesnutt, Scott, 129–30. See also Umpires Cheney, Larry, 229, 249 Chicago Cubs, 64–66, 130, Bradley Hogg on, 131–37; 1915 major league draft, 138–39; purchased by Charles Weeghman, 141; Bradley Hogg waiver dispute, 143–44, 146–49; spring training, 1916, 152–55, 196–97, 221, 225, 227–28, 237, 244–45, 247, 249–50; mentioned, 31, 60, 151, 152–55, 182–83, 210–12, 214, 239, 242–43, 248, 254, 261 Chicago Whales (Federal League), 140, 141, 143–44, 221 Chicago White Sox, 27, 82–83, 161, 172; Comiskey-Ness salary dispute, 181; mentioned, 19, 60, 65, 122, 155, 189, 195, 196–97, 202 Cicotte, Eddie, 195, 202, 261 Cincinnati Reds, 136–38, 143, 195, 223, 229, 237, 248, 251, 253 Clark, Danny, 79–80, 107, 108 Clarke, J. J. “Nig,” 238 Cleveland, Anna, 186

320 Index Cleveland, Grover, U.S. president, 186 Cleveland, Ohio, 186 Cleveland Indians, 6, 28, 60, 193, 196 Clifden, Ireland, 240. See also Alcock, John Clohecy, Dan, 18, 20, 29; accuses Bradley Hogg of throwing game, 30–32, 37, 248; mentioned, 21, 67, 72, 73, 238. See also Haverhill Hustlers Coal-oil stove, 167, 169, 183 Cobb, Ty, 6, 12, 73, 76, 77, 118 Cochrane, Mickey, 150 Cohan, George M., 64 Columbus, Georgia, 146 Collins-McCormick Candy Company, 181 Comiskey, Charles, 27, 104–5, 166, 181, 197. See also Baseball: racism in Connaughton, Frank, 69, 71, 72 Conscription, military, 190, 194, 196 Contracts. See Baseball: contracts, minor league; contracts, major league Coombs, Jack “Colby Jack,” 233–35, 236, Phillies’ firing of, 242–44; mentioned, 6, 237, 238, 239 Cooper, Claude, 209, 210, 218 Cooper, Wilbur, 225, 236 Corbett, Joe, 159 Cost of living, 11, 127–28, 157, 159, 180, 187–88 Coulson, Ed, 74, 86, 106 Covington, Bill “Tex,” 118, 125, 126 Crandall, Otis “Doc,” 172–73, 196, 207, 230; mentioned, 171, 175, 181, 182, 189, 192, 193, 200 Cravath, Clifford “Gavvy,” 135, 213–14, 240, hired as Phillies’ manager, 242–44, 259–60; mentioned, 211, 221, 230, 233, 237, 245–53 Cross, Lafayette “Lave,” 73 Crowder, Enoch, U.S. provost marshal general, 225 Cuban baseball, 115 Cuban major league baseball players, 27. See also Baseball: racism in Cunningham, Jim, 118, 125

Davis, Frank “Dixie,” 210, 215, 228 Demaree, Al, 76, 135 Deal, Charley, 197, 249, 250 Deith, Emile, 124 Dell, W. G., 61 Dempsey, Jack, 229 Dent, Eddie, 111 Detroit Tigers, 14, 60, 76, 77, 115, 126, 173, 202 Devine, Tommy, 14, 29 Dickson, Walter “Hickory,” 60, 66 Dilhoefer, William “Pickles,” 211, 223 DiMaggio, Joe, 150 Draft, military, 190, 196–97 Dryden, Charles, 133, 134, 125, 225, 227; mentioned, 136, 228. See also Sportswriters Dreyfuss, Barney, 172 Doak, Bill “Spittin’ Bill,” 221, 246 Dobbs, Johnny, 120 Donlin, Mike “Turkey Mike,” 34, 37, 104–5, 142; mentioned, 60 Douglas, Phil “Shufflin’ Phil,” 132; drunkenness, 147, 221, 261; mentioned, 73, 136, 244 Dowd, Tom, 25–26 Dubuc, Jean, 202, 252 Duke University, 243 Duffy, Frank, 25, 26. See also Umpires Duma, 184 Dunn, Joe, 83–84

Dahlen, Bill, 66 Daniels, Josephus, U.S. secretary of the navy, 164 Darmody, Ed, 179 Daubert, Jake, 139, 231 Davenport, Dave, 196 Davis, Bobby, 166, 174

Fall River Breinies, 13–15, 17, 21 Fairbanks, Douglas, 193, 201 Faircloth, Jimmy “Rags,” 234 Farrar, Elmer, 247. See also Baseball: throwing games Farrell, John, 30–32, 62, 138. See also Baseball: National Commission

Ebbets, Charles, 33, 66, 231, 236 Ebbets Field, Brooklyn, 34, 220, 238, 252, 253 Elsinore, California, 152, 154, 179 Elliott, Harold “Rowdy,” 196 Empire State League, 82 Engel, Joe, 123 Equality of sexes, 131. See also Quinn, Cecelia Blanche, Mrs. Evans, “Rube,” 187, 202 Evans, Joe, 196 Evers, Johnny “Crab,” 106, 179–80, 214

Index 321 Faust, Charles Victor “Victory,” 39, 64 Federal League, 139–40, 147, 182, 212 Felsch, Oscar “Happy,” 261 Female ushers, 227 Fend, George, 167 Flu epidemic of 1918, 208, 211–12, 233 Forbes Field, Pittsburgh, 228 Ford, John, 4 Fortune, Gary, 229 Fritz, Harry “Heinie,” 142 Fort Riley, Kansas, 211 Foy, Charles, 84–85. See also Racism Gaffney, James, 59 Gallagher, Matt, 210. See also Sportswriters Galloway, Jim, 178 Gandil, Arnold “Chick,” 181, 261 Gedeon, Joe, 261 Georgia Military Academy, 7 Georgia, University of, 4, 5 Georgia Tech, 4, 7 Gerard, W. J. 230 Gish, Dorothy, 157 Gish, Lillian, 157 Gleichman, Gus “Gloomy Gus,” 175, 189 Glendora, California, 151, 178 Goddard, Robert, 127 “Good Fellowship Games,” 206 “Good luck goat,” 188 Grant, Charlie, 27. See also Baseball: racism Griffith, Clark, spitball exhibition, 145, 231 Griffith, D. W., 127, 178 Griffin, Hank “Pepper,” 34, 37 Grimes, Burleigh “Ol’ Stubblebeard,” 108, 124, 130, 217, 234 Groh, Henry “Heinie,” 137, 223, 229 Gudger, Jim, 107, 109, 113, 118, 121, 124 Guthrie, Bill, 173. See also Baseball: umpires Halas, George, 236 Hall, Charlie “Sea Lion,” 166, 170, 171, 174, 176, 181, 186 Hanlon, Ned, 33. See also Brooklyn Superbas Harkins, Pat, 125 Hawkinsville, Georgia, 263 Heinemann, Julius, 110, 130

Heisman, John, 5 Hemingway, Ernest, 4 Hendrix, Claude, 196 Hendryx, Tim, 86 Henley, Weldon “Cack,” 151 Hermann, August “Garry,” 30–32, 37, 61–62, 137, 143–44, 251 Herzog, Charles “Buck,” 137 Hess, Otto, 60, 76, 157 Heydler, John, 255, 258 Hinnitt, F. W., Dr., 180 Hite, Mabel, 142 Hoff, Chester “Red,” 72 Hoffman, Arthur “Circus Solly,” 65 Hogg, Carter Bradley: childhood, 1–3; college, 4–9; contracts, major league, 11, 132, 207, 235; National Commission, dealings with, 30–32, 37, 143–44; contracts, minor league, 68, 74, 86, 159; Cuba, barnstorming tour, 115–16; baseball, retirement from, 259–61; manager, minor league, 261–62; terminal illness, 262; game highlights, minor league, (1911) Haverhill vs. Fall River, 21–22, 29; vs. Lawrence, 28–29; vs. Lowell, 23, 24, 29–30; vs. Lynn, 22, 26; vs. New Bedford, 23–24, 27, 29; (1912) New Bedford vs. Brockton, 70–71; vs. Haverhill, 72–73; vs. Lowell, 71; vs. Worcester, 73; (1913) Mobile vs. Atlanta, 80–84; vs. Birmingham, 80, 82, 84–85; vs. Chattanooga, 81–82; vs. Memphis, 78; vs. Montgomery, 79, 83–84; vs. Nashville, 80, 82–84; New Orleans, 78, 84; (1914) Mobile vs. Atlanta, 109, 111, 113; vs. Birmingham, 113; vs. Chattanooga, 109, 112, 114; vs. Memphis, 108–9, 112, 114; vs. Nashville, 109, 111–12, 114; vs. New Orleans, 110, 128; vs. Montgomery, 110; (1915) Mobile vs. Atlanta, 121, 128–29; vs. Birmingham, 121, 123–24, 128; vs. Chattanooga, 125, 130; vs. Little Rock, 125, 128; vs. Nashville, 125, 129, 131; vs. New Orleans, 123–25, 130; (1916) Los Angeles vs. Portland, 162, 169–70, 175; vs. Salt Lake City, 158, 165, 168, 174; vs. San Francisco, 158–59, 172–74; vs. Oakland, 160–61, 165–66, 170; vs. Vernon, 170–71; (1917) Los

322 Index Angeles vs. Portland, 188, 197; vs. Salt Lake City, 186, 194, 198–99, 202–3; vs. San Francisco, 188–89, 193, 196, 199, 201; vs. Oakland, 190, 193, 198–99, 202; vs. Vernon, 186–88, 193–94, 200–201, 202, 204; game highlights, major league, (1911) Boston vs. Brooklyn, 34; vs. New York, 36–39, 67; vs. Philadelphia, 38–39; vs. St. Louis, 39; (1912) Boston vs. Brooklyn, 64, 66; vs. Chicago, 65–66; vs. Philadelphia, 63, 66; vs. Pittsburgh, 38, 66; (1915) Chicago vs. Philadelphia, 134–35; vs. Cincinnati, 136–38; (1918) Philadelphia vs. Boston, 219, 226; vs. Brooklyn, 218–19, 229; vs. Chicago, 222, 225, 227– 29; vs. Cincinnati, 223–24, 229; vs. New York, 219–20, 223; vs. Pittsburgh, 225, 228–30; vs. St. Louis, 221, 230; (1919) Philadelphia vs. Boston, 237, 241, 252; vs. Brooklyn, 247, 252, 255; vs. Chicago, 245–46, 250; vs. Cincinnati, 253; vs. New York, 238, 251–52, 255; vs. Pittsburgh, 239, 250, 254; game highlights, exhibition games, (1911) Boston vs. Fall River, 13–15; (1915) Mobile vs. Detroit, 118; vs. Cincinnati, 119; (1917) Los Angeles vs. Chicago, 182–83; (1918) Philadelphia vs. Philadelphia Athletics, 213; Game highlights, college, (1910) Mercer vs. Auburn, 7; vs. Chattanooga, 7; (1911) Mercer vs. Alabama, 7; vs. Clemson, 8 Hogg, Agnes. See Brown, Agnes Hogg, Ben, ix, 263 Hogg, Clyde, 262 Hogg, Elizabeth, 213 Hogg, James Hamilton, 1, 2 Hogg, Mary (wife of James Hogg), 1 Hogg, Mary (daughter of Bradley Hogg), 152, 158, 173, 176–77, 180, 185, 188, 208, 215, 217–18, 223, 228, 230, 237, 247, 261–62 Hogg, Nell, 3 Hogg, Willis, 2, 59, 108 Hollocher, Charlie, 197 Hollywood, California, 156 Holmquist, Ed, 118, 130 Honore, Lockwood, Judge, 131. See also Equality of sexes

Hopper, DeWolfe, 157 Hornsby, Roger “Rajah,” 229, 254; mentioned, 150, 221, 225, 230, 253 Horstmann, Oscar, 162, 166, 167, 170, 171, 180 Hot Springs, Arkansas, 59–61. See also Baseball: spring training Houghton, Percy D., 122 Hovlik, Eddie, 123 Howard, Del, 202 Howard, J. A., 70. See also Racism Huggins, Miller, 245 Imperial German Embassy, 123 Ingerton, Scotty, 14, 60 “Inside Baseball,” 20, 155 International League, 184 Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), 192, 197–98; mentioned, 222 Isbell, Frank, 178 Jackson, Joe “Shoeless Joe,” 70, 75, 261, 262 Jacksonville, Florida, 147, 213 Jacobs, Elmer, 226, 231, 234, 235–36, 245 Jacobson, William “Baby Doll,” 77 James, Bill “Seattle Bill,” 105 Jenkins, Joe, 196 Jemison, Dick, 86. See also Sportswriters Jennings, Hughie, 126–27, 245 Jensen, Willie, 14 “Jim Nasium,” 218, 219, 238, 253. See also Wolfe, Edgar; Sportswriter-cartoonists Johnson, Bancroft B. “Ban,” 31, 183, 199, 229. See also National Commission Johnson, Erasmus Pinckney, 160. See also Baseball: racism Johnson, George “Chief,” 161, 165 Jones, Fielder, 171 Kauff, Benny, 261 Keeler, William “Wee Willie,” 66 Keeley, Burt “Speed,” 107, 114 Kenosha, Wisconsin, 134 Kenworthy, Bill, 194, 206 Kilhullen, Jack, 69 Killefer, Wade “Red,” 179, 190, 192, 201, 202, 203, 204, 206 Killefer, Bill “Reindeer Bill,” 210, 214

Index 323 Kirby, LaRue, 76–77, 107, 113, 140 Kirke, Jay, 60 Klem, Bill, 224, 238. See also Umpires Kling, Johnny “Noisy,” 13, 38, 60–61, 65–67 Knetzer, Elmer “Baron,” 64 Knisely, Pete, 143 Knopf, Larry, 15 Knox, Ed, 205 Knuckleball, 192, 201 Koerner, Phil “Beef,” 155, 168, 174, 178 Kroh, Floyd “Rube,” 78 Lanigan, Charlie, 26, 73. See also Umpires Lajoie, Larry, 184 Lake, Fred, 30 LaPan, Pete, 182 LaPaz baseball team, Cuba, 115, 116 Landis, Kennesaw Mountain, Judge, 77, 140, 247, 261 Laurie, Annie, 119 Lavender, Jimmy, 132, 135, 210 Lawrence Pirates, 17, 248 League Park, Mobile, Alabama, 74, 79, 85, 106, 118 Leiter, Al, 264 Leverenz, Walt “Tiny,” 202 Little, Frank, 197 Little Rock Travelers, 125, 128 Liverpool, J. H., Dr., 27 Lockland, Ohio, 122 Lord, Bris “The Human Eyeball,” 106, 107, 113, 114 Los Angeles Angels, (1916) 148–49, 150–51, 153–56, opening day festivities, 157; train travel, 158; salary cap, 159, 161–70, win 1916 PCL pennant, 175; (1917) 179–82, 184; opening day festivities, 185, 186, 187, 188–206 Los Angeles, California, 141, 151–52, 156–57, 193, 199 Los Angeles Athletic Club, 175 Los Angeles Fire Department, 200 Louisville, American Association, 179, 183 Lowell Spinners, 17, 30, 33, 34, 71 Luderus, Fred, 213, 214, 218, 255; mentioned, 135, 211, 223, 233 Luque, Dolf, 246 Lush, Johnny, 161

Lynch, Tom, 31, 32, 37. See also National Commission Lynn Live Oaks, 22, 26 Macon, Georgia, 4, 8, 24, 104, 105, 112 Mack, Connie, 6, 106, 107, 139, 211, 233, 245, 249 Mack, Ed, 163 Magee, Lee, 261 Maggert, Harl “Shockle,” 156–57, 168, 170, 193–94; mentioned, 153, 155, 180, 181 Maier, Ed, 156, 165, 179 Main, Miles “Alex,” 215, 221, 228 Major League Draft. See Baseball: draft, major league Mann, Leslie, 196 Maranville, Walter “Rabbit,” 68, 69, 106, 139–40 Marijuana, use of, 109 Marion County, Georgia, 1 Marion, Donald “Rube,” 192, 201 Marlin, Texas, 60. See also Baseball: spring training Marquard, Richard “Rube,” 36, 37, 142 Mason, Austin, 170 Mathewson, Christy, “Big Six,” x, 6, 36, 60–61, 67, 116, 132, 155, 223, 229 Mayer, Erskine, 210, 215, 217, 221, 226, 228, 229, 239 Mayer, Louis B., 18, 127 Maxwell, Robert, 223. See also Sportswriters McCormick, Harry “Moose,” 113 McCredie, Walter “Judge,” 169, 197 McGaffigan, Mark “Patsy,” 214, 226, 227 McGamwell, Ed, 18, 21 McGinnity, Joe “Iron Man,” 36 McGraw, John “Little Napoleon”: “inside baseball,” 20; baseball, racism in, 27–28; Charles Victor Faust episode, 39; “Baseball World Tour,” 104–5; baseball in Cuba, 116; exhibition games during season, 126, 220, 223, 234, 239, 255; mentioned, 60, 77, 132, 159, 187, 212, 218, 245, 251, 252 McInnis, John “Stuffy,” 109 McKechnie, Bill “Deacon,” 226 McLarry, Howard “Polly,” 153, 155, 174, 178 McLaughlin, Ed “Silk,” 82. See also Umpires McMullin, Fred, 201

324 Index McQuillen, Hugh, 241 Meadows, Lee, 245, 246, 247, 248; first pitch count, 250, 251, 254; mentioned, 255 Memphis Chicks, 114, 129, 143; mentioned, 108, 109, 112, 128, 129, 149, 153 Memphis Turtles, 75, 85 Mendez, Jose, 116 Menocal, Mario, president, Cuba, 116 Mercer Bears, 5 Mercer University, 3, 4, 6, 7, 81, 116 Mercerian, The, xii Merkle, Fred, 250 Merritt, Howard, 114 Messinger, Bobby, 127 Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 127 Meusel, Emil “Irish,” 152, 203, 208, 214, 217; mentioned, 180, 194, 202, 211, 233, 256 Mexicans, 153. See also Racism Meyer, John Tortes “Chief,” 27. See also Baseball: racism in Miller, George “Hack,” 77, 107, 118, 126 Miller, Otto “Moonie,” 218 Miller, Ross, 204 Milliman, “Doc,” 21, 25 Minneapolis, Minnesota, 191–92 Minor leagues. See Baseball: minor leagues Minnesota Public Safety Commission, 191–92 Mitchell, Fred, 179, 250 Mobile, Alabama, 117–18 Mobile Gulls: Bradley Hogg drafted by in 1913, 74, 75–78, 80–85, 86, 87, 106–7, 108–9, 110–15, 116, 118–25; financial problems of, 126, 128–31; mentioned, 134, 135, 138, 143, 173, 212, 247 Molesworth, Carleton “Moley,” 115 Montgomery Rebels, 79, 110, 112; mentioned, 75, 81, 84, 85 Moran, Charlie, 220. See also Umpires Moran, Pat “Whiskeyface,” 210–12, Phillies’ spring training, 213–15, 221–22, 225–30, 231, 232, 237; mentioned, 133, 210, 211, 218, 219, 220, 223, 224, 235, 248, 251 Morgan, J. P., 115 Morris, Walter, 69 Movies: newsreels, 109; traveling motionpicture show, 128; business of, 178

“Mud ball,” 20. See also Baseball: trick deliveries Mt. Clemens, Michigan, 250 Mulligan, Eddie, 137, 139 Munson, Audrey, 136 Murphy, Charles W., 131 Murphy, “Foghorn,” 174 Murray, Pat, 240, 249, 250 Murray, John “Red,” 137 Musser, Paul, 82 National Commission, 30–31, 32, 37, 61–62, 143–44, 258–59, 261 National Football League, 236 National League, 1, 139–40, 146 Neale, Alfred “Greasy,” 240 Neiderkorn, Norbert, 118 Nehf, Art, 255 Ness, Jack, 69, 72, 181 New Bedford, Massachusetts, 68, 71 New Bedford Whalers, 17, 25–26, 67; trade Maranville for Hogg, 68, 70–71, 72, 74; mentioned, 73, 79, 181 New England League, 29, 67–68, 76, 248; mentioned, 15, 21, 69, 70 New Orleans Pelicans, 79, 85–86, 110, 120, 129; mentioned, 75, 107, 108, 111, 113, 114, 122, 128, 130 New Orleans, Louisiana, 109 New York Highlanders, 6, 69, 151 New York Giants, 36, 37, 38, 39–40, 63–64, 67, 116, 126–27, 219, 220–21; Sunday baseball in New York, 234, 238, 239, 251, 255; mentioned, 27, 28, 60, 73, 76, 107, 115, 134, 171, 212, 218, 223, 241, 261 New York Mets, 264 New York Yankees, 63–64, 236; mentioned, 72, 154, 189, 193 Nicholas II, Russia, Czar, 105, 184 Niehoff, Bert, 135, 212 No-hitter, 70 Northen, Hubbard “Hub,” 107, 111, 118, 121 Notre Dame, University of, 240, 249 Novy Mir, 177 Noyes, Win, 175 Oakland, California, 200 Oakland Oaks, 160, 165–66, 185, 206; mentioned, 150, 159, 161, 164, 171, 173, 190, 191, 193, 198, 199, 203

Index 325 Oaks Park, Oakland, California, 170 O’Day, Hank, 135. See also Umpires O’Dell, Al, 82, 107, 118, 120 Oeschger, Joe, 214, 215, 234; mentioned, 210, 217, 222, 229, 231 Oldfield, Barney, 156, 157, 183 Olsen, Ivy, 218 Olympic Games, 1936, Berlin, 154 Omaha, Nebraska, 227 Omnibus, 14, 15, 221. See also Transportation Opening Day celebrations. See Baseball: opening day celebrations Option, 16–17 Orth, Al, 137. See also Umpires Ott, Mel, 150 Overall, Orval, 13 Pacific Coast League, 149, 150–51; season length, 185; mentioned, 141, 142, 148 Packard, Gene, 234, 240, 244, 246, 247, 249 Paige, Satchel, 150 Palmero, Emilio Antonio, 28. See also Baseball: racism in; Cuban baseball Parmentola, Guiseppe, Mrs., 81 Pasadena, California, 179, 182 Paskert, George “Dode,” 135 Passaic, New Jersey, 85 Pathé Freres film company, 104–5 Patterson, Hamilton “Ham,” 163 Patton State Hospital, Patton, California, 182 Paulette, Gene, 77–78, 245; throwing games, 247, 252, 261; mentioned, 107, 252 Pearce, George, 136, 237 Pearce, Harry, 224 Perdue, Herbert “The Gallatin Squash,” 36, 37, 60 Perry, Clay, 118 Perry, Scott, 129 Pershing, John J. “Black Jack,” U.S. Army general, 180, 227 Pezold, Larry, 119, 129 Pfeffer, Francis X. “Big Jeff,” 40 Pfeffer, Edward “Big Jeff,” 238, 252 Phelon, W. A., 116 Phi Delta Theta fraternity, 4 Philadelphia Athletics, 106, 139, 212, 213, 249, 253

Philadelphia, 215–16; “Hogg Alley,” 219; mentioned, 211, 212, 228 Philadelphia Phillies, 36, 38, 63, 133, 134–35, 194; (1918) 208–11, 212–15, 216, 217, 218, 219–30, 231, 232; (1919) 233–34, 235–36, 237–41, 242–43, 244, 245–57, 259–60; Bradley Hogg retires, 261 Pickup, Ty, 220 Picus, John Quinn, 193. See also Quinn, Jack Pitch count, 150 Pitching quality. See Baseball: minor league, pitching quality Pittsburgh, 179 Pittsburgh Pirates: Bradley Hogg vs. Honus Wagner, 66, 228, 229, 230, 248, 249; mentioned, 60, 136, 213, 223, 239, 247, 250 Plank, Eddie, 6, 237 Political correctness, 118 Polo Grounds, New York City, 36, 38–39, 220, 234, 238, 239, 255 Ponce de Leon Park, Atlanta, Georgia, 83 Portland Beavers, 161, 164, 168–69, 171; spitball contest, 175, 188, “good fellowship games,” 206; mentioned, 150, 159, 187, 197, 202, 204 Powell, Walt, 118 Powers, John, 152, 154, 155–56, 171, 172–73; Angels’ victory banquet, 175, 196, performance bonuses, 203, 205, 207; Bradley Hogg sold to Philadelphia, 208–9; mentioned, 163, 166, 177, 179, 181, 193 Powers, Kelly, 188 Prendergast, Mike, 210, 215, 217, 221, 225, 230, 234, 236, 240 “Preparedness Day,” 163 Prohibition Act, 252 Pruitt, Charles “Tex,” 69 Quigley, Ernie, 254. See also Umpires Quinn, Cecelia Blanche, Mrs., 131. See also Equality of sexes Quinn, Jack, 193. See also Picus, John Quinn Racism, 70–71, 80, 84–85, 153, 156. See also Baseball: racism in Radio Call Letters legislation, 80 Rariden, Bill, 38, 61

326 Index Rath, Morrie, 195 Reach, Al, 211 Red Cross, 194 Red Elm Park, Memphis, Tennessee, 114 Relief pitching. See Baseball: relief pitching Renfer, Ed, 109 Reserve Clause, 12, 16 Reserve list, 233 Reulbach, Ed “Big Ed,” 13 Richmond, Virginia League, 234 Richtofen, Manfred von, Baron, 217 Rickey, Branch, 245, 254 Rickwood Park, Birmingham, Alabama, 82 Risberg, Charles “Swede,” 161, 166–67, 168, 172, 261 Rixey, Eppa, 237, 241, 244–45, 247, 249–50; Bradley Hogg pitches in relief of, 253, 256; mentioned, 210, 234, 235, 236, 246, 247 Robertson, Bill “Blonde Bill,” 77 Robertson, Dave, 77, 79–80, 84, 85 Robinson, Brooks, 150 Robison Field, St. Louis, Missouri, 254 Rochester University, 5 Rogers, John, Colonel, 211 Rorty, Ed, 28. See also Umpires Roster sizes. See Baseball: roster sizes, major league; roster sizes, minor league Roush, Eddie, 223, 229, 230, 240 Rudolph, Dick “Baldy,” 106, 226–27, 253 Russell, Hepburn, 12, 28, 32, 33, 59 Ruth, George Herman “Babe,” 12, 235, 238 Ryan, Jack, 152–53, 160, 161, 165, 171; “coffee ball,” 186; drunkenness, 198; 207; mentioned, 155, 157, 164, 170, 174, 176, 181, 192, 193 Ryder, Jack, 133, 137–38. See also Sportswriters Safety, industrial, Pennsylvania, 236 Saier, Vic, 133, 138 Sallee, Harry “Slim,” 223, 250 Salaries. See Baseball Salary cap, Pacific Coast League, 159, 165, 179 Salt Lake City Bees, 158, 164–65, 168, 186–87, 194–95, 198–99, 202, 209; mentioned, 150, 162, 167, 173, 174 Sandine, Kate, Mrs., 62. See also Women’s suffrage

San Francisco, California, 22 San Francisco Seals, 158, 159, 173, 174, 188, 193, 201–2, 204, 205; mentioned, 150, 151, 162, 189, 198, 199, 203, 206 Santa Monica, California, 169 Scott, Blanche Stuart, 67. See also Transportation Schaefer, Herman “Germany,” 104 Schalk, Ray, 196 Schallmo, Ed, 171 Schmandt, Ray, 218 Schmidt, Charles “Boss,” 77, 115, 118, 120–21, 122, 124; mentioned, 107, 119, 125, 173 Schneider, Pete, 137–38, 229 Schotton, Burt, 231 Schulte, Frank “Wildfire,” 65, 133, 135, 137, 148 Scoggins, Lynn, 155, 160, 171, 175 Seal Beach, Los Angeles, California, 167 Seaton, Tom, 196, 197, 198, 200, 202, 238 Selznick, Lewis J., 184 Sexton, “Doc,” 122 Sheckard, Jimmy, 65, 180 Shettaline, Al, 236, 251 Shine ball. See Baseball: trick deliveries Sicking, Ed, 234, 235, 239 Smith, Bill, 83 Smith, Clarence “Pop-Boy,” 122, 130 Smith, George “Columbia George,” 234, 238, 239, 244, 247 Smith, James, 68 Smith, “Wallop,” 82 Snodgrass, Fred “Snow,” 187 South End Grounds, Boston, 12, 32 South Georgia League, 261, 262 Southern Association, 74–75; pitching quality, 76; financial problems, 126, 143–44, 249; mentioned, 60, 78, 138, 153, 215 Southern California Roller Polo League, 156 Southern Pacific Railroad, 151, 155, 158, 206 Spalding, Al, 65 Spalding Park, Lowell, Massachusetts, 71 Speaker, Tris, 75 Spencer, Ben, 79 Spitball, ix, 7, 19, 144–45; banning of, 256. See also Baseball: trick deliveries

Index 327 Sportswriters: Bailey, Bill, 133, 134; Dryden, Charles, 133; Gallagher, Matt, 240; Jemison, Dick, 86; Miller, Ross, 204, Ryder, Jack, 133, 137–38; Wheatley, Cliff, 260; Williams, Harry, 153; Ziekursch, T. V., 235 Sportswriter-cartoonists: Jack Beckwith, 26; Edgar Wolfe, 218–19, 237–38, 253–54 Sportswriting, 71, 115–16, 153, 165, 174, 188 Spring training. See Baseball: spring training St. Louis Browns, 72, 77, 140; mentioned, 30, 80, 171, 196, 202, 226 St. Louis Cardinals, 38, 166, 21, 225, 229, 239, 245, 246, 254–55; mentioned, 61, 132, 134, 136, 159, 212, 230, 238, 247, 252 St. Louis Terriers (Federal League), 77 St. Paul, Minnesota, 147 St. Petersburg, Florida, 209, 212 Stallings, George “Miracle Man,” 7, 105–6, 219; mentioned, 4, 107, 236, 241 Stallings, Lawrence, 4 Standridge, Pete, 170, 171, 183; mentioned, 132, 143, 153, 155, 176, 186, 187, 194, 200, 202 Starr, Charlie, 77, 82, 107 Stark, Monroe “Dolly,” 108, 125, 143 Steinbrenner, George, 23 Stengel, Charles “Casey,” ix, x, 75, 150, 239, 248–49 Stephens, William D., 195 Stock, Milt, 77, 78, 82, 83, 135, 212, 220; mentioned, 107, 218, 225, 234 “Stomach trouble,” 66, 221 Streetcars, 75. See also Transportation Stroud, C. C., Dr., 5 Sullivan, J. E., 115 Sulphur Dell Park, Nashville, Tennessee, 82, 111 Swanson, Gloria, 193 Swormstedt, Len, 69 Sunday, Billy, 201 Taft, Charles P., majority owner, Chicago Cubs 1915, 131 Taft, William Howard, U.S. president, 13 Tamenund, Chief, 59 Tammany Hall, 59 Tampa, Florida, 144, Chicago 1916 spring

training 146–47; mentioned, 144, 148, 149 Tazewell, Georgia, 1, 262 Temple Cup, 36 Tener, John K., 146 Tenney, Fred, 12, 13, 33, 37, 38, 39, 60 Theda Bara, 157 Thompson, Carl, 84 Thompson, William Hale, 130, 131 Thorpe, Jim, 237, 241 Tincup, Ben “Millionaire Indian,” 215, 217 Tinker, Joe, 140, 142; illegal waiver move by, 143–44, 146, 147; sale of Bradley Hogg to Los Angeles, 148–49; mentioned, 65, 153 Toledo Mud Hens, 78 Toronto, Canada, 184 Tourart, Tisdale, 84 Townsend, Leo “Lefty,” 107, 109, 118, 121 Tragesser, Walt, 245, 251 Transatlantic flight, 240. See also Transportation Transportation: streetcars, 75, 215; omnibus, 13, 15, 221; automobile, 2, 156, 164, 215; ship, 63, 64, 104, 124–25; aircraft, 35, 67, 240, 255; streetcars, 75, 215; train, 150–51, 157–80, 205–6, 248 Traverse City, Michigan, Michigan State League, 77 “Twilight blindness,” 75 Turpin, Ben, 210 Tyler, George “Lefty,” 65–66, 105–6, 222, 225; mentioned, 39, 60, 228, 235 Umpires: Brennan, Bill, 66; Byron, William “Lord,” 137, 247; Chesnutt, Scott, 129–30; Duffy, Frank, 25, 26; Finney, Ed, 199; Guthrie, Bill, 170, 173, 202; Held, “Red,” 169, 184, 201, 202; Johnstone, James, 37; Klem, Bill “Catfish,” 224, 238; Lanigan, Charlie, 26, 73; McLaughlin, Ed “Silk,” 82; Moran, Charlie, 220; O’Day, Hank, 135, Orth, Al, 137; Owens, Clarence “Brick,” 66; Phyle, Umpire, 195; Quigley, Earnest, 254–55; Rorty, Umpire, 28; Stafford, John, 27; Williams, Umpire, 130 U.S. Army, 136, 159, 180, 183, 191–92, 195, 227

328 Index U.S. Congress, 185 U.S. Marines, 200 U.S. Navy, 164 Uniform Player’s Contract, 209 Usherettes, 227 Vaudeville, players on stage, 34, 142–43 Vaughn, Bobby, 189, 201 Vaughn, Jim “Hippo,” 132, 135, 227, 235 Vaughn Street Park, Portland, Oregon, 161 Vedrines, Pierre, 35 Venice, California, 156, 199 Ventura, California, 187 Vernon, California, 156 Vernon Tigers, 150, 156, opening day festivities, 1916, 157, 158, 159, 161, 165, 166–67, 168, 171, 172, 178, 179; Championship Day, 192, 200–201, 202, 203–4; mentioned, 142, 162, 165, 173, 174, 182, 186, 188, 191 Vickers, Harry “Rube,” 151 Vickers “Vimy” bomber, 240 Victrola, 180 Villa, Pancho, 136, 159, 176, 180 Vioxx, Jimmy, 172 Virginia League, 234 Voeverman, D., Mrs., 162 Voss, John “Laughing John,” 8 Wagner, Honus “Dutchman,” x, 66 Walker, Roy “Dixie,” 228 Wallace, Bobby, 143, 149 Wallace, Frank, 234 Walsh, Ed “Big Ed,” 19 Wambsganss, Bill, 119 Waner, Paul, 150 War with Mexico, potential of, 153, 159 War Industries Board, 221 Ward, John Montgomery, 59, 66 Washington, D.C., 185, 196 Washington Park, Brooklyn, New York, 66 Washington Park, Los Angeles, California, 155–56; opening day festivities, 157, 171–72, 173, 175; megaphone announcer practices, 182, 187, 191; Championship Day celebration, 192; flammable ballparks, 197, 198–99, movie star exhibition game, 201; mentioned, 151, 158, 162, 178, 181, 186, 194

Washington and Jefferson College, 180 Washington Senators, 107, 122–23, 231 Watson, Milt “Mule,” 215, 223, 228, 234, 238, 240 Wayne, John, 4 Weaver, “Buck” (New Orleans Pelicans ballplayer, 1915), 129 Weaver, George “Buck,” 172, 196, 261 Weber, Charles “Boots,” 154 Weeghman, Charles, 140, 141, 144 Weeghman Park, Chicago, Illinois, 140, 145, 221, 222, 227 West Side Grounds, Chicago, Illinois, 64, 130–32, 140. See also Wrigley Field Western League, 177 Wheat, Zack, 34 Wheatley, Cliff, 260. See also Sportswriters Whelan, Jim, 151 Whitehouse, Gilbert, 67 Whitted, George “Possum,” 135, 211, 212, 223, 245, 248–49 Whitten-Brown, Arthur, 240 Wiggs, Jimmy, 151 Willard, Jess, 239 Williams, Claude “Lefty,” 82, 83, 84, 261 Williams, Fred “Cy,” home run hitter, 133, 221–22, 223, 249–50; mentioned, 212, 231, 233, 239, 241, 254 Williams, Harry, 153, 154, 155–56, 158; racism in baseball, 159, 161–64; insensitivity of era, 165; sports medicine in 1916, 166, 168; jingoism, 171, 174–75, 177–78, 183, 185, 188, 189, 194; superstitious players, 197, 198, 203, 204, “In Hogg We Trust,” 205; “good fellowship games,” 206, 207; mentioned, 180, 182 Williams, Ted, 150, 250 Willis, Fred, 163 Willys, John N., 126–27 Wilson, Finis, 85, 86 Wilson, John “Chief,” 66 Wilson, Woodrow, U.S. president, 179, 201 Winters, Jesse “Buck,” 252 Wolfe, Edgar, 219, 238, 253. See also Sportswriter-cartoonists Woodward, Frank, 210, 215, 244, 245 Wolter, Harry, 150–51, 154, 155, 176, 179 Women’s suffrage, 62, 130, 136 Worcester Boosters, 17, 73

Index 329 “Work or Fight” order, 222 World Series, 1912, 187 World Series, 1915, 212 World Series, 1919, 181, 195, 260 World War I, 163, 185, 192, 200, 213, 222 Wright, Bob, 148 Wright biplane, 186 Wrigley Field, Chicago, Illinois, 221 Yeabsley, Bert, 240 Yokohama, “Chief,” 27. See also Baseball: racism in Young, Denton True “Cy,” ix, 6, 28, 33,

34, 36–37, 38, 66, 73; mentioned, 60, 61, 122, 225 Zabel, George Washington “Zip,” 148, 161, 162, 165, 169, 184; mentioned, 132, 149, 153, 155, 159, 164, 170, 175, 176 Zeenut baseball cards, 181 Zeider, Rollie “Bunions,” 227–28 Zeigfeld, Florenz, 165 Ziekursch, T. V. See also Sportswriters Zimmerman, Henry “Heinie,” 31, 65, 133, 135, 203, 260 Zork, Carl, 147