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Chapter 3

THE VOTE IS YES

The conclusion of the 1928 season and the winter months ahead were critical for Bradley and Evans. The stadium bond issue was coming up in the November election, while Evans had a blank checkbook to find some extra talented ballplayers. The outfield was a prime concern as well as the need for pitching and infield help. The men in charge, including Roger Peckinpaugh, shared their ideas to improve the club. They took a hard look at the current roster to cull the weak ones from the herd.

First to come under scrutiny were the long-term veterans. Joe Sewell had lost a step in the field, but his bat was as lethal as ever. He batted .323 with 190 hits, including forty doubles. In 588 plate appearances, the shortstop fanned only nine times. His ability to get the bat on the ball was simply way off the charts. Brother Luke caught 122 games while batting a respectable .270. He shamed the Sewell family, though, by fanning a grand total of twenty-seven times. Left fielder Charlie Jamieson managed to hit .307, which kept him in the starting lineup for the ninth consecutive year.

On September 17 the Indians placed George Burns on waivers. Initially, Burns was on board with the decision. He was thirty-five years old and had been in the Major Leagues for fifteen years. Burns wanted to manage in the minor leagues and play some first base as well. He hoped none of the ball clubs would put in a claim, allowing him to find a place where he could manage. As a ten-year veteran, Burns was entitled to become a free agent if nobody claimed him on waivers. In spite of this, the New York Yankees unexpectedly claimed Burns, ruining his plans for the immediate future. Why they would need a backup to a young Lou Gehrig is hard to understand. Burns was quite angry with the decision, venting his frustration to the Cleveland papers. He told reporters, “I wouldn’t say the Cleveland club handed me a raw deal. I suppose it is good business for the club to get $7,500, but it is a hard blow to me and smashed my plans for grabbing a good berth with a minor league club.” Despite all the years of good service in the American League, Burns had no recourse but to report to New York. He played in just four games and was not eligible to receive any World Series money. Of course, the Yankees won another crown, beating St. Louis four games to none.

One of the strangest actions taken by the Indians occurred during the season on September 9. Manager Peckinpaugh announced that pitcher George Uhle was suspended for the remainder of the year. The explanation given was that Uhle was out of condition and not in shape to play baseball. There had to be more to the situation, as Uhle had already appeared in thirty-one games, starting in twenty-eight of them. How could a ballplayer not be in condition after playing for five months? There was no question that Uhle was having a poor season, with twelve wins and seventeen losses, but a suspension? A few months later the mystery was revealed. At the winter meetings, Billy Evans sent Uhle to the Detroit Tigers in exchange for shortstop Jackie Tavener and pitcher Ken Holloway. Evans revealed that the suspension was due to Uhle being a bad influence on several of the young players. For that reason, the former ace of the Indians pitching staff was banished from the club. Ironically, Uhle would return to Cleveland in 1936 and, at the age of thirty-eight, make a few token appearances for then-manager and old friend Steve O’Neill.

While the Cleveland front office tinkered with the roster, the city prepared to launch the campaign for the new stadium. On Friday, October 19, an executive committee was announced to lead the important battle. The chairman was Charles Otis, one of the most well-connected men in Cleveland and possibly the entire United States. Charles was born on July 9, 1868, to one of the wealthiest families in northeast Ohio. Otis’s grandfather William came to Cleveland in the 1830s and immediately started a shipping enterprise linking Cleveland to New York City via the Erie Canal. He became one of the original men to invest in the fledging railroad business and later was a pioneer in the iron industry. Charles’s father was a well-known local businessman who founded Otis Steel in the latter part of the nineteenth century. In the 1870s the elder Otis served one term as mayor of Cleveland.

Young Charles enjoyed a life of exceptional privilege, attending the best schools and frolicking in Europe with his closest pals. In the 1880s his brother owned a cattle ranch in Colorado where Charles rode horses and carried a six-gun in his belt. After attending Yale, Otis started his own steel business in Cleveland. He used his status as a member of the elite to solicit all the business he could handle. When he grew tired of the steel industry he hired more executives and left the business to others while he bought a seat on the New York Stock Exchange. In 1899 he founded the Otis & Hough Company, one of the initial brokerage houses in Cleveland. As might be expected, he had well-off clients with rolls of cash to invest. Soon after, he formed the Cleveland Stock Exchange, where he was elected its first president. Six years later it was time to explore new opportunities. In 1905 he bought the Cleveland News. Charles had great fun writing editorials and trying to boost the paper’s circulation. He is credited with hiring a young Grantland Rice for his sports department. Rice went on to become one of the most respected sportswriters in all of America.

Charles Otis could boast of friendships with John D. Rockefeller, comedian Will Rogers, and his distant cousin Amelia Earhart. He knew many United States presidents, from fishing trips with Grover Cleveland to card games with Warren G. Harding. He debated with Teddy Roosevelt on whether the Cleveland News would support TR’s Bull Moose Party. When America entered World War I, Charles was appointed to the War Industries Board, where he worked closely with future president Herbert Hoover. Regardless of being active in Washington, he found the spare time to sell a huge amount of war bonds in Cleveland.

In late 1919, when Prohibition was about to come into effect, Charles and close friend John Sherwin, the banker and future stockholder of the Indians, went on a buying spree. They spent the enormous amount of $30,000 on cases of Old Crow bourbon, whiskey, gin, and champagne. Trucks were hired to load the cases and deliver them to Sherwin’s lavish home in Cleveland Heights. Whenever the rich folks threw a high-powered party, Charles was there with all the booze needed. If you wanted something of importance done, there was only one man in Cleveland to call.

Otis and his committee got on the job without delay. To assist, he had the leaders from the Rotary Club, Cleveland School Board, Cleveland Athletic Club, and John Carroll University. They sent 125,000 envelopes promoting the bond issue to the voters of Cleveland. Stadium badges in the amount of fifty thousand were distributed all around the city. Posters by the thousands were printed to be displayed in store windows and downtown offices. A total of thirty thousand letters were sent to organizations that might have a potential need to use the stadium.

The committee assured voters that the Cleveland baseball club favored a lease that would be in effect for the duration of the bonds. They estimated the baseball lease revenue would take care of 50 percent of the bond interest the city would eventually have to pay out. A diverse list of other possible events at the stadium included boxing, football, soccer, track, carnivals, opera, and community Christmas celebrations. Mentioned specifically was the possibility of bringing the college football powerhouses to the proposed stadium, including Navy, Notre Dame, and a small school in Columbus named Ohio State.

Charles Otis and his committee knew exactly how to reach the voters. Banners were put up at local high school and college football games. Slides were created to be shown before movies at the downtown theaters. An army of speakers hit the ground running to plead their case at every possible club available. The campaign could not advertise on radio, nor could they attach signs to the many streetcars gliding up and down the east and west side avenues. Both means were prohibited at the time.

In spite of this, on November 1 they did manage to get Billy Evans and William Hopkins on WHK Radio. This was an informational discussion that would enlighten voters on the pros and cons of building a new stadium. With these two speakers, there were probably quite a few more pros than cons.

The committee had the support of the three major Cleveland newspapers. Though Charles Otis had long since sold the Cleveland News, he still had influence there. The Plain Dealer published editorials appealing to the voters to mark an X next to the “yes” box. Sam Otis (not a relative), the Plain Dealer sports editor, strongly endorsed the bond issue, writing, “We want a touchdown, we want a touchdown IN A STADIUM ON THE LAKEFRONT! Cleveland must have the stadium. It means more to sports here than any other project launched.”

Stuart Bell, the sports editor for the Cleveland Press, had a different angle as to why voters should support the stadium initiative. He wrote, “One argument we haven’t seen put forth in behalf of the proposed stadium on the lakefront is that it would be the first perfect baseball stadium in the history of the game.” Bell asserted that this would be the lone baseball park that would not be crammed onto an inadequate piece of land. There would be no short fences or sun fields, no entrance or exit problems, and parking spaces for everyone. Bell added, “There will be plenty of room on the lakefront. The stadium can be symmetrical and mechanically perfect as far as the outfield barriers are concerned. Best of all there would be no short fences to assist the manufacture of cheap home runs.”

The campaign for the new stadium did have its share of detractors. Several members of the Citizens League expressed stout opposition to the plan. They submitted a minority report that claimed revenues generated by the facility would not be ample enough to cover the costs. They questioned the estimated revenues of $250,000 and where they would come from. The gentlemen acknowledged that about $125,000 was expected from the Indians lease, but where was the remainder going to be produced? John Gourley, the Cleveland recreation commissioner, had sharp words for the dissenters, replying that “There are powerful influences favoring the stadium that are in a position to guarantee the appearances of great sporting events other than baseball.” When pressed for names, Gourley refused to comment.

On Friday, November 2, the Cleveland Baseball Commission held its annual banquet at the Statler Hotel. In the audience were 190 amateur ballplayers to accept awards and wolf down a gourmet dinner. City Manager Hopkins delivered a brief speech on the merits of a new stadium. He was followed by Max Rosenblum, the commissioner of amateur baseball and a longtime booster of Cleveland sports. Rosenblum urged all in attendance to get behind the stadium issue. Attending on behalf of the Indians were Alva Bradley, Billy Evans, and Roger Peckinpaugh. They sat at a special table and did their best to talk up the project.

The Cleveland Umpires Association held a special meeting at city hall to marshal the forces of the amateur ballplayers and coaches. It was their goal to assign at least one person to canvas every precinct and voting booth the day of the election. Not everybody was twenty-one, but the younger guys could hold signs and encourage voters.

The day before the election, twenty-five hundred people lined up attempting to register to vote. There was a presidential vote to be held the next day, but the last-minute registrants were likely more interested in the stadium issue than in who would be running the country. Estimates were that 250,000 people would cast their ballots in the city. There were no predictions made, but most of the big names of Cleveland publicly urged a yes vote.

At 8:30 a.m., November 6, the polls were opened. In the general election nearly two hundred thousand people cast their votes. In less than four hours, half of the voting was completed. Results were tabulated and the bond issue passed by a comfortable margin, with 55 percent voting yes, 45 percent no. It was quite a vindication for William Hopkins. He had worked tirelessly to get the project on the ballot. Now he could celebrate with all the people who had devoted their time and energy to make the new stadium a reality. Cleveland was getting a world-class stadium; all it needed was a baseball team that could fill the seats. It was now up to Bradley and Evans to make that happen.

The next few weeks saw the Cleveland general manager and his scouts pick their targets for the 1929 team. By the middle of November they had zeroed in on two of the best outfielders obtainable: Dick Porter and Earl Averill.

Dick Porter was born in Princess Anne, Maryland, on December 30, 1901. A left-handed hitter with some pop in his bat, he played his collegiate ball at St. John’s College in Annapolis. His outstanding play there got the attention of Jack Dunn, the owner-manager of the Baltimore Orioles. Without much hesitation, Porter signed a contract to play for Dunn’s ball club.

At that time the Orioles were a member of the International League and not affiliated with any Major League teams. As a result, Dunn held onto his best players without any real pressure from the big-league teams. As long as he was doing swell with the gate receipts, his players stayed where they were. Dunn had a knack, though, for signing and developing future Major League ballplayers, including Babe Ruth, Ernie Shore, Max Bishop, Robert “Lefty” Grove, and George Earnshaw. The only problem with Dunn was his reluctance to sell his stars, even when they were ready to move up to the American or National League. To placate the frustrated players, Dunn reportedly paid them well above the minor-league standards. It was said he paid them nine o’clock salaries in a two o’clock town.

Porter had to wait eight long seasons before he got his chance to leave the Orioles. The Cubs and then the Yankees tried several times to pry him away but to no avail. It was not until Jack Dunn passed away in October 1928 that Porter became obtainable. Charles Knapp, the new Orioles president, had no qualms about selling players. As a consequence, Billy Evans swooped and bought Porter for $30,000 plus two players, the total value of the deal coming to $40,000. Before he died, Jack Dunn had told reporters that Porter was worth considerably more. Dunn remarked, “Porter is worth $65,000 of anybody’s money. He can bat like a demon, field finely and is fast. He can improve any club.”

The twenty-eight-year-old Porter had an incredible career at Baltimore. In 1927 he led the league with a .376 batting average, 225 hits, twenty-five home runs, and 153 RBIs. The next year he played almost as well, batting .350 with 216 hits and sixteen triples. Evans would say later that Porter had been ready for the majors at least three or four years before. He would join the Indians right in the middle of his peak years.

One of the great things about the left-handed-hitting Porter was his unique batting style. He could not stand still in the batter’s box, moving and fidgeting until the ball was delivered, with very quick wrist and arm movements similar to cracking a whip. Over the years he’d had a number of nicknames, including Wiggledy, Twitchy, and Wiggles. During an exhibition game between New York and Baltimore, Yankees manager Miller Huggins had tried to get Porter to change his style and relax at the plate. The experiment proved a failure as “Twitchy” started to roll up the strikeouts. He soon reverted back to fidgeting and the strikeouts diminished.

Not only did the Indians pay out the $30,000 for Porter, they had to award him a decent salary. At Baltimore he was collecting $5,000 a year. Evans would have to up the ante to get Porter to sign his new contract. In addition to his baseball salary, Porter had a sausage manufacturing business he ran in the off-season. He was not a starving ballplayer by any means.

While the Cleveland faithful were buzzing about their new outfielder, Billy Evans was on a train to California. His mission was to have a conference with Charlie Graham, the president of the San Francisco Seals. There were two star ballplayers on the Seals that had caught Evans’s eye. Number one was Smead Jolley, a power-hitting left fielder who batted .404 during the 1928 season. Due to the favorable weather, the Pacific Coast League played a considerably longer season than the Major Leagues, and in 191 games Jolley had pounded out forty-five home runs. The other player, Earl Averill, was not as prolific but did bat .359 with 33 home runs and 270 hits. Evans had some trouble deciding which man was a better prospect, but a letter from former Indians pitcher Walter “Duster” Mails had urged the team to pick Averill. Mails had been one of the stars of the 1920 World Champion team. He pitched tremendously in game six, beating the Brooklyn Robins 1–0. The next day Cleveland won it all. Mails did not last long in the big leagues, but knew talent when he saw it. In the letter he told the club Averill was a fantastic hitter, especially when he had two strikes on him.

Evans took the letter quite seriously. Manager Peckinpaugh reminded him that the Indians would soon be in a new stadium with a mammoth outfield. Jolley was at best an average outfielder. Earl Averill was fast and could cover a lot of ground. When Evans arrived on the West Coast he came to a decision to go after the better fielder. Averill was his man.

Just three days after the acquisition of Dick Porter, the announcement came over the newswires that Earl Averill was purchased by Cleveland for $40,000 and two players. As in the Porter deal, the two players to be named later were worth $5,000 each. If San Francisco was not keen on the players chosen, the Indians would pay an additional $10,000 instead. That made the total value of the two separate deals a whopping $90,000. Newspapers all around the country had a field day writing about the money shelled out by Cleveland. There was no doubt that Alva Bradley and his partners were playing for keeps.

Earl Averill came from the small town of Snohomish, Washington, in the northwestern part of the state. He was born on May 21, 1902. His father died when Earl was only eighteen months old. The Averill family, mother and sons, all went to work to scrape out a living. As a young boy, Earl would play baseball in a converted potato patch. The neighborhood boys had pulled out the stumps, cleared the rocks, and there was a perfect diamond to play on. They fashioned baseballs from old shoes and played until the makeshift balls fell apart. Snohomish did not have any organized baseball for Earl to get involved with. As a freshman in high school he attempted to make the team, but a problem with his throwing arm kept him on the sidelines. Soon Earl would quit high school and go to work on road crews, hauling lumber, and anything else he could find to earn a few bucks. All the physical labor helped him develop a large set of shoulders and strong arms that would come in handy in the near future.

A few years later, the owner of the local pool hall determined that the town should have a baseball club. Averill got a chance to play and immediately earned a reputation as a tremendous hitter and outfielder. The Snohomish Bearcats did not pay their players, but the pool hall owner passed the hat after games. He kept most of the money for himself, but Earl usually pocketed a small share when the hat was full. There is a story that one day Averill belted an important game-winning home run. Before he left the field the excited spectators presented him with a total of fifty dollars in coin. No doubt, the men in the stands had a few bets out on the winning team.

In the early days of the twentieth century, few baseball scouts found their way to Snohomish. The scouting business was fairly unorganized and likely to be hit-and-miss. If you played baseball in places like Bellingham, Everett, and the surrounding area, chances were you were likely to stay there. Team officials and managers relied on tips from fans, former players, and sportswriters to augment any scouts they may have had on the payroll. The likelihood of a team in Chicago, Boston, or New York discovering a prospect hundreds or thousands of miles away was slim.

Earl Averill found himself in a difficult situation. No matter how well he played for the Snohomish Bearcats, he had little chance of being noticed. The local folks realized Earl had a rare talent that might just enable him to earn a living playing professional baseball. In the early 1920s they took up a collection and gave Earl enough traveling money to get him on a train to Seattle. Once there, he would report to the ball club for a tryout. The Snohomish fans believed it would be just a matter of time for Earl to be in Major Leagues.

To everyone’s shock and anger, the Seattle manager deemed that the new kid was another small-town boy and sent him packing. Averill was just about average height and weighed somewhere between 150 and 160 pounds. The Seattle boss took a quick glance and believed Earl did not have the look of a ballplayer. Several years later he would kick himself for the hasty decision. Averill hopped on a train back to Snohomish, wondering if he would ever get his chance.

Even though the Seattle trip went poorly, Averill was not the type to throw in the towel. In 1924 he saved a few dollars and loaded his ancient Oldsmobile for a trip south to San Francisco. He brought his glove, bats, and uniform in hopes of getting another tryout, this time with the San Francisco Seals. Regardless of his skills, Earl did not have any formal training in the art of baseball. He knew little of fundamentals, which the Seals coaches noticed right away. They did recognize his skill at driving a baseball and his cannon of a throwing arm. He was not ready for the Pacific Coast League, but he was signed to a contract and sent to the Bellingham club for the summer. Back in a familiar setting, he played well, learning how to throw to the right base and hit the cutoff man. For his efforts he received fifteen dollars per game.

The next year, the Seals retained their rights to Earl, transferring him to a club in Montana. He blossomed there, hitting .430 for the season. San Francisco had Lloyd Waner, the younger brother of Paul, playing center field. Waner did not hit well there, which led the Seals to seek another outfielder to replace him. In 1926 it would be Earl Averill.

The fans back in Snohomish had to be ecstatic that one of their own was a step away from the big leagues. Earl became one of the best all-around players on the West Coast. The Seals had a superb outfield with Averill, Smead Jolley, and Roy Johnson. Before long the trio began attracting scouts by the dozens. Billy Evans did not hesitate, and the Indians finally got a center fielder the likes of which they had not seen since Tris Speaker.

While those in the Cleveland front office were congratulating themselves, a slight problem developed. Averill informed the Seals he wanted a piece of the action: part of the sale price. Some ballplayers who were sold for a considerable amount of money took a hard stand with management. A number of them believed they were responsible for the sale in the first place and should be cut in on the deal. The ones who had been around a while knew to ask for a clause in their contract that guaranteed part of the sale price. This was done in the event the player was sold to a Major League team. Ultimately, most of the players had almost no leverage with the owners on anything and a situation like this was one of the few chances to cash in.

Averill made it absolutely clear to the Seals he was not reporting to Cleveland until he got his share. One point in his favor was that the Seals had originally signed him without having to pay another club. Averill came to them as a free agent and real bargain. On the Seals’ side was the contract, which did not have any language spelling out that they would have to pay Earl extra if he landed with the big leagues.

The uncomfortable situation prompted action from Billy Evans. Once again he boarded a train for the demanding cross-country trip to San Francisco. Upon arrival he met with both parties and found a way to end the crisis. With the Seals now out of the picture, Evans went over some spring training details with his new player. He needed to order bats for Averill and rolled his eyes when Earl told him he only used a forty-four-ounce bat. The heaviest bat in the American League was owned by Babe Ruth and that weighed forty ounces. Evans tried to explain that a lot of the pitchers in the majors threw fairly hard and a forty-four-ounce bat would not cut it. Averill would not be moved. He told his boss that, if anybody could throw the ball by him, maybe he would consider a lighter one. Averill did not lack confidence in his ability, a trait that would carry him a long way.

In the first week of December, Evans and Peckinpaugh traveled to Toronto for the minor-league winter meetings. It was a time to catch up with old friends and maybe buy a player or two. Evans did not waste a moment in purchasing thirty-four-year-old pitcher Jimmy Zinn from Kansas City. The Indians wanted to add an experienced pitcher to the staff to complement such youngsters as Willis Hudlin and, possibly, minor-league hurler Wes Ferrell. Zinn had won forty-eight games the previous two seasons and did have some big-league experience with Pittsburgh and Brooklyn.

With the business completed, Evans and Peckinpaugh spent time chatting with old friends, including Tris Speaker, Steve O’Neill, and former Cleveland Spider Jesse Burkett. Speaker was present as the new manager of the International League’s Newark Bears, while O’Neill was set to manage the same league’s Toronto Maple Leafs. They swapped humorous stories about their playing days and incidents that had happened on the diamond. The best story told was about Joe Cantillon, the former umpire and manager. One day Cantillon brought two friends with him to Comiskey Park in Chicago. When they reached the ticket taker Cantillon said, “These are two friends of mine. I’d like you to pass ’em in.” The ticket man yelled upstairs to Charles Comiskey, “How about passing a couple of friends of Mr. Cantillon?” The reply came down for everybody to hear: “It’s a lie! No umpire has got two friends!”

Attending the Toronto meeting were the Cleveland scouts, Cy Slapnicka, Bill Rapp, and former Naps Bill Bradley and Charlie Hickman. Bradley was an excellent third baseman, while Hickman was a good-hitting slow runner nicknamed “Piano Legs.” These four gentlemen were responsible for covering the entire United States. Despite their enormous territories, each scout would find some first-rate prospects in the coming years.

The Cleveland club either owned or had working agreements with four minor-league franchises. They owned outright the Frederick, Maryland, team of the Blue Ridge League. This was Class D ball, where the most inexperienced recruits would go. They had working agreements with Terre Haute and Decatur of the Three-I League, which was Class B, and with the New Orleans club in Class AA, or one step from the majors. With these four clubs, the Indians could shuttle players back and forth and keep close watch throughout the season.

Once the Toronto gathering ended, the Indians contingent moved on to Chicago for the American League meetings. Alva Bradley was already there, waiting for his top men to arrive. Here in the Windy City was where any possible major trades might occur. Dozens of names were thrown about, but nothing eye-opening took place. The Indians announced the George Uhle trade to Detroit, and that was the big moment for them. The team owners did reach an agreement to start the regular season on April 16, a week later than the previous year, and set a date of September 29 to finish the campaign. The late start was agreed upon due to the poor weather in early April. A week’s delay might not help much, but the owners hoped there might be a few days of sunshine rather than Midwest snow flurries: a few degrees up the thermometer would likely bring out more fans. The owners rarely failed to find ways to improve the take at the gate.

While the Indians continued to improve their club, news came that Western Reserve University had invited Yale to play a football game in the new Cleveland stadium. Ground had not been broken yet, but the proposed game was to be played in 1930. The local college was rumored to be negotiating a home-and-away series with the mighty Ohio State Buckeyes. Ambitious college grads in the area were contacting their former schools to schedule games at the new stadium. Among the colleges being courted were Syracuse, Nebraska, and Cornell. City Manager Hopkins was elated at the news. He had visions of 80,000 fans packing his new facility, not to mention the downtown hotels and restaurants. His stadium plan might just be exactly what his city needed.

Near the end of December, Hopkins announced some details about the new facility He wanted a study done to preserve the harmony of the lakefront. He had no intention of the stadium being built at a crazy angle that might detract from the buildings and pedestrian mall that extended north from Public Square. He contracted with Osborne Engineering Company, the builders of League Park, to provide the city with exact dimensions of the stadium. Once those were completed, the city engineer could determine the amount of excavating needed for the foundation. All those involved believed it would take one to two years to complete the project. Soon the bonds would be put up for sale, funds accumulated, and the digging would commence. The probability of any last-minute roadblocks to delay the project seemed remote at best. It seemed that 1929 would be a good year for the city of Cleveland.