Читать книгу No Money, No Beer, No Pennants - Scott H. Longert - Страница 8

Chapter 1

CHANGE OF THE GUARD

Cleveland baseball in the 1920s turned out to be a brief stop in the penthouse followed by a quick trip to the ground floor. The 1920 Indians captured a pennant and went on to whip the Brooklyn Robins in a thrilling World Series. Owner James C. Dunn had built a championship team with the likes of Tris Speaker, Stan Coveleski, Jim Bagby, Elmer Smith, and Joe Wood. The World Series champs seemed poised to dominate the American League for at least the next few years.

In 1921 the club performed well enough but fell victim to the New York Yankees and their superstar in the making, Babe Ruth. For the season the twenty-six-year-old Ruth hit an inconceivable fifty-nine home runs and notched 170 RBIs. The entire Cleveland team hit fewer than forty homers. The Indians won ninety-four ball games, good only for second place. Speaker had a terrific year, though, batting .362 and leading the Major Leagues with fifty-two doubles.

Jim Dunn knew quite well that changes needed to be made to compete with the Yankees. In 1916, when he purchased the Cleveland franchise, Dunn overhauled the roster. A total housecleaning was not in order; nevertheless, some new talent had to be acquired. His initial move was a disaster. He traded first baseman George Burns and right fielder Elmer Smith to the Boston Red Sox for light-hitting first baseman John “Stuffy” McInnis. In 537 at bats, McInnis walloped a total of one home run and seventy-eight RBIs.

To go along with astoundingly bad trades, Dunn had serious issues with his health. A bout with the flu sidelined him for several weeks. The Cleveland owner was fifty-six, somewhat overweight, a cigar smoker, and a faithful visitor to the speakeasies in greater Cleveland. In May 1922 he became ill with heart problems, having to return to his home in Chicago for treatment. On June 9, 1922, Jim Dunn passed away in his sleep. His death was a terrible blow to the Cleveland franchise that had flourished under his leadership. The club was inherited by Edith Dunn, his widow. Her first decision was to install Ernest Barnard as team president, responsible for all operations. “Barny” had been with Cleveland for many years and was a competent executive. Then again, he lacked the flair and nose for talent that his former boss possessed. The Indians dropped to fourth place, barely staying above the .500 mark.

Despite the outstanding play of Speaker, the Indians continued to deteriorate. The 1924 season saw the ball club fall to sixth place with a record of sixty-seven wins and eighty-six losses. Attendance at League Park dropped off significantly: the Indians drew 481,905 fans, for an average of 6,425 per game. In 1923 attendance had equaled 558,856, or 7,165 each game. The difference between the two years was an alarming 76,951, a reduction of nearly 14 percent. The Yankees and Tigers drew over one million fans each, while Cleveland was near the bottom in attendance figures.

The steady profits racked up by Jim Dunn were beginning to erode. Mrs. Dunn, although a fan of the game, was reluctant to put more funds into the franchise. It remained for Ernest Bernard to bring the club back to a suitably profitable level. If that did not occur, the sale of the team seemed to be the other alternative. Surely Mrs. Dunn, a full-time resident of Chicago, had to be thinking in those terms.

The 1925 Indians failed on the field and at the box office. On the positive side, Tris Speaker just missed winning the batting title, losing to Harry Heilmann, while Joe Sewell hit .336 and knocked in ninety-eight runs. The pitching turned out to be abysmal, with George Uhle the leader at thirteen wins. Attendance continued to plummet, with only 419,005 for the season. The economy rolled along, jobs were plentiful, but Cleveland fans had given up on the ball club, spending their money on other diversions. The Cleveland front office knew the only thing keeping fans away from League Park was a below-average team.

They had reached a familiar juncture for Major League teams. The owner had circled the wagons, reluctant to put any additional money into the team. Without funds to spend, Barnard had nowhere to go to bring the Indians back into contention. Another issue arose when the possibility of Ban Johnson’s retirement began to gather steam. Johnson had been president of the American League since its inception in 1901. His combative personality had worn on the owners for a number of years. The smart money was on none other than Ernest Barnard to become his successor. If this was the case, Barnard would be obligated to sever his ties with the Cleveland organization. That scenario would leave Mrs. Dunn completely on her own to run the ball club. Barnard, being an honest and loyal executive, would not let that happen. Barring a miracle comeback, it became more apparent that the sale of the team was imminent.

As if ordained by the heavens, the dream nearly occurred. The 1926 edition of the Indians fought tooth and nail for the pennant. The Yankees, with Ruth, Gehrig, Tony Lazzeri, and the rest of the wrecking crew figured to run away with the pennant. Still, the Indians caught fire in midseason and made it interesting until the very end of September. In May they fell off the map, losing seventeen of twenty-nine games. Heading into June it looked like the season was over. Yet, the Indians were far from done. For the remainder of the year, they reeled off sixty-six wins against forty-four losses.

In mid-September the Yankees came to town to begin a six-game series at League Park. The Indians dropped the opener but then won four straight games to pull within two of the leaders. The final game drew an enthusiastic sellout crowd to League Park. The nearly 30,000 attending cheered like it was 1920. In spite of the home-field advantage, Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig blasted home runs for an easy Yankee victory. The Indians still had a chance for the pennant but dropped three out of four games to Philadelphia to end their most improbable run.

The unexpected pennant chase lifted attendance by more than 200,000 fans. The huge spike upwards gave the team operating money and perhaps funds to throw around for the acquisition of key players in the off-season. Unfortunately, events were about to be revealed that would cast a shadow over all the accomplishments of the past season. The Indians were about to suffer a national embarrassment of epic proportions.

Tris Speaker had been a fixture in the Indians lineup for eleven years. As player-manager he had led the franchise to many successful seasons. For the 1926 season Tris had batted .304 with seven home runs and eighty-six RBIs. That was subpar for Spoke, but for most players a quite acceptable campaign. When Speaker announced his retirement in early December 1926, the Cleveland fans were rightfully shocked. He was no longer a young man but still quite capable of playing good baseball. Tris told his fans he was entering the steel business to work with his good friend, Dave Jones. The business was great and Tris had the opportunity to make a lot of money. In spite of the reason given, both fans and sportswriters were not quite buying the explanation. Their suspicions were confirmed when Commissioner Landis announced an investigation into an alleged game-fixing incident involving Speaker, Ty Cobb, Joe Wood, and former Detroit pitcher Hubert “Dutch” Leonard. The game in question was played in 1919 near the end of the regular season. The Tigers had a chance to finish in third place and Leonard claimed the four players met before the game and agreed to let the Tigers win. According to Leonard, the accused players bet money on the outcome as well. The fact that Leonard waited seven years to bring this to Judge Landis is strange indeed. He did have a letter from Joe Wood that on the surface was rather incriminating. It read in part, “The only bet West [the Tigers clubhouse man] could get up was $600 against $420. . . . We won the $420. I gave West $30, leaving $390, or $130 for each of us.” This evidence was fairly solid, but made no mention of Speaker at all.

Judge Landis summoned Leonard to Chicago for testimony on the affair. For some unknown reason Leonard declined to appear. Without his testimony the allegations against Speaker were unproven. In January 1927 Landis dismissed the charges against Cobb and Speaker. They could resume their baseball careers, but not with Cleveland or Detroit.

When Speaker first announced his retirement, Mrs. Dunn and team president Barnard remained silent. On the first day of the new year, Mrs. Dunn released a statement to the newspapers. She mentioned that, back in November, Speaker had visited her in Chicago to tell his side of the story. According to Mrs. Dunn, Speaker expressed a great concern that the allegations against him would injure the Cleveland baseball club. For that reason alone, he decided to retire quietly. Mrs. Dunn telegraphed Henry Edwards at the Cleveland Plain Dealer to let the fans know she did not ask Spoke to resign. She said, “When I left Chicago on November 26th, I did not know whether Mr. Speaker would go through with his idea of retiring or would change his mind and fight for vindication. I am sure that he would have had the support of the Cleveland club in his efforts to vindicate himself.” Mrs. Dunn added, “Since Mr. Speaker was not asked to retire by the Cleveland club, I feel sure that he must have had what he considered very good personal reasons for taking such action.”

It is interesting to reflect on whether Mrs. Dunn was giving the company line to the press or was truly supportive of Speaker. She could not know how the proceedings in Chicago would turn out. A guilty verdict might do the franchise some irreparable damage, particularly with the stockholders. What about the player in question? Did he truly retire to save the Cleveland organization some real embarrassment or was he simply trying to save his own reputation? The assumption can be made that all this negative attention may have been too much for Jim Dunn’s widow to deal with. For many years she had had great faith in Speaker, in his ability both as a player and as leader of her team. The allegations no doubt shook her belief and may have led her to a pivotal decision. Within a year she would sell the team.

Besides the Speaker-Cobb investigation there were other matters being dealt with by the Cleveland front office. Ban Johnson’s lengthy reign as American League president was indeed about to come to an end. For various reasons at least half of the American League owners now wanted him out. Commissioner Landis had never seen eye to eye with Johnson and completely welcomed the uprising. The two men had had hard feelings ever since the Black Sox scandal of 1919. Johnson’s recent handling of Speaker and Cobb infuriated Landis to the point of no return. The judge had spent too many years presiding over cases of ballplayers gambling and fixing games. Just when he thought all that had passed, Johnson brought forth the 1926 allegations, forcing Landis to convene hearings again.

When the anti-Johnson owners were ready to make a change, Johnson became seriously ill, causing the militants to put him on indefinite leave. Rumors started circulating on who could possibly replace the only president the American League had ever had. Among the names floated was in fact Cleveland Indians president Ernest Barnard. The only thing holding him back was his commitment to Mrs. Dunn. But he could also presume that, for Mrs. Dunn, selling the team was the only prudent thing to do. She could bow out of the picture with a large return on her late husband’s investment. She would not have to go through the difficult process of hiring a new team president and support staff. It was reasonable to assume that Mrs. Dunn would not stand in the way of Barnard’s rise to power. The time to walk away had arrived.

In May 1927, a possible sale of the Cleveland Indians was reported throughout the country. The man stepping forward was, surprisingly, former player-manager and current Washington Senator Tris Speaker. It had been four months since he had been cleared of any wrongdoing by Commissioner Landis. Apparently, Tris felt it was time to step back into the spotlight once again. He revealed his plans at a fancy banquet dinner in Cleveland. He told curious reporters that, if necessary, he could raise $500,000 within twenty-four hours. Speaker’s partner would be his close friend Dave Jones, the president of Geometric Stamping. There might be a third party ready to invest, but the name was kept out of the story. Speaker believed Mrs. Dunn had no objections to selling him the team. Even if that was so, the majority of American League owners had to approve the transfer. He had more than a few hurdles to overcome.

A short time later an article appeared in the Plain Dealer claiming that Speaker’s syndicate included Alva Bradley, a local man with vast real estate holdings in the downtown area. Almost immediately, Bradley denied any intention to buy the Indians, stating that his other interests would prevent him from getting involved in purchasing the team. He told the newspaper, “Last night Speaker mentioned to me that Mrs. Dunn was willing to sell but he, Speaker, could not swing the deal alone. He did not ask me to go in with him and I did not volunteer.” There was not any fire yet, but the smoke was beginning to gather.

In less than a month another group surfaced via a secret conference in Cleveland. As is usually the case, local reporters quickly found out the details. Some very big names were mentioned in the proposed syndicate. Harry Frazee, the former owner of the Boston Red Sox, was supposedly involved. Phil Ball, the current president of the St. Louis Browns, had an interest in the group, along with Tom Walsh, the Indians vice president. Walsh had been a close friend of Jim Dunn and an original stockholder of the Cleveland team since 1916. Evidently, Walsh was acting under orders from Mrs. Dunn to find a suitable buyer for the team. The papers speculated that the deal would take place in July. Another story had Ed Barrow, the general manager of the New York Yankees, as an interested party. He led a syndicate of men ready to make Mrs. Dunn an offer the following day. There were denials from all the men involved, but the likelihood of a sale became greater every day.

Throughout the summer, interested parties waited for an announcement of a change in ownership. Speaker’s group appeared to have fizzled out, but the others seemed to still be in play. On September 8, word came through that Alva Bradley, contrary to earlier statements, was ready to buy the Indians. Sportswriter Henry Edwards, still digging up scoops for the Plain Dealer after twenty-seven years on the beat, was all over this story. His source was Chuck Bradley, the brother of Alva. Chuck told Edwards, “Alva has changed his mind. He has decided that in order to boost Cleveland, a Cleveland man should buy the ball club instead of having it owned by residents of other cities.” Edwards asked Bradley if he intended to be a partner but could only get a maybe in reply.

The Bradley brothers may have planned to boost Cleveland, but in reality they had numerous interests of their own to advance. Alva had a large block of real estate downtown that could be turned into restaurants, hotels, and new offices for the Cleveland team. The only thing missing was a new stadium to cash in on. Edwards mentioned that other individuals had been talking about a new lakefront stadium that could seat over eighty thousand fans. Perhaps the Bradley brothers would lead the charge to make the talk reality. It made sense that downtown businessmen would see the huge investment opportunity in a state-of-the-art facility just a few blocks away from their real estate. The time had come for Cleveland men to take back the team.

Mrs. Dunn continued to make things exciting by acknowledging the Bradleys’ interest as well as that of two other mysterious syndicates. She cautioned that no other names would be mentioned, but that she preferred to sell the club to Cleveland buyers. It did not hurt that the Indians were playing good-quality baseball in September and showed some faint promise for the future.

On September 15, news broke that Alva Bradley was in serious negotiations to buy the Cleveland Indians. A price had been agreed upon, but the one sticking point was that Bradley wanted to buy out all the shareholders. He told Edwards, “We will not buy a share unless we can buy every dollar’s worth. We want no minority stockholders.” When Bradley made the statement, he already had an agreement with the three original partners of Jim Dunn: Pat McCarthy, Richard Lane, and vice president Tom Walsh. With the trio on board, the remaining minority holders would likely give up their shares.

Bradley mentioned in his interview that he wanted to give Cleveland a representative ball club and a modern stadium to go with it. Fans had heard the whispers about a huge new downtown stadium for several years. This was the first time the rumor had some real weight to it. Bradley mentioned a seating capacity of seventy-five thousand, more than two-and-one-half times the size of old League Park. Fans had to be excited by the news, realizing they would have a sporting chance to get tickets on weekends and when the Yankees came to town. When Ruth, Gehrig, and company were playing at League Park, tickets were extremely hard to come by.

Edwards asked Bradley why he wanted to buy the team. In a revealing answer, Bradley replied, “We are not going into this because we are such great baseball fans and are eager to get mixed up in the national game. But we feel that a winning baseball team is a splendid asset to any city and we are for Cleveland first, last and all the time.” This was a novel approach for a prospective Major League owner. In 1901, Charlie Somers started the Cleveland franchise mainly because he loved baseball. Certainly, he saw the opportunity to earn a fortune, but his heart and soul belonged to the game. The late Jim Dunn had seen the Indians as a money-making proposition. He learned to orchestrate trades to his advantage and within five years brought home a world title. “Sunny” Jim had great affinity for his players and the fans, but managed the bottom line extremely well. So here, in Bradley, we have a new man, one who wanted to enhance the city by owning the team.

Just who in fact was Alva Bradley? He was a leap year baby, born in Cleveland on February 29, 1884. His father was Morris A. Bradley, one of the top men in the Great Lakes shipping industry. Alva’s paternal grandfather, Alva, Sr., was the first Bradley to sail the open seas. He began as an ordinary deckhand but showed enough skills to later become a captain. With his expert knowledge of ships he took on a partner and by the 1860s made a mark in the shipbuilding trade. Their warehouses were located in Vermillion, Ohio, where the partners concentrated on building the largest wooden ships in the Great Lakes region. The business later moved to Cleveland, where he added to his already large fleet. The Captain piloted many of those ships and never lost one during his time at sea.

After the Captain’s death, Morris Bradley shifted the family interests to real estate. He accumulated nearly ten million dollars’ worth of real estate, most of it in downtown Cleveland. Property was held in the Wholesale District, a series of buildings from Superior Avenue north to the lakefront. Other holdings were from West Ninth Street going southeast to Ontario Street and Public Square. In sum, the Bradleys owned much of the property over a three-block area in the heart of downtown. Just about everybody who did business off Public Square paid rent to the Bradley family.

Morris Bradley had a home at 1375 Euclid Avenue, right in the heart of Millionaire’s Row. This was an area of land that stretched from Public Square and extended east several miles. The richest folks in Cleveland built spectacular mansions on the available land. Among the residents were John D. Rockefeller, one of the wealthiest men in America, and Marcus Hanna, the political boss of Ohio and future United States senator. The Bradleys were right at home.

In the late 1890s Alva began attending University School, an elite private school east of Cleveland. He was a good student, often scoring As and Bs in his classes. He was quarterback of the football team while his younger brother Chuck played tackle. They had a tremendous team, with many of the players later starring at Case Tech, Yale, and Minnesota. In a game against Kiski Prep, a boy’s school in Pittsburgh, fists were flying from the opening kickoff. Chuck Bradley in particular was taking a pounding from the Kiski defensive tackle. Nobody had helmets or much padding in those days, which led to many a bloodletting. During a pileup at the line of scrimmage, Chuck suddenly rose to his feet and began throwing punches at the defensive tackle. He had to be restrained by the officials and dragged off the field. When asked what happened, Chuck would later say, “I didn’t care how much he hit me, but when he landed on Alva that was different. Anyone that picks a fight with Alva has got to fight me first!”

After graduation Alva enrolled at Cornell University, where he studied engineering. He drew up a series of designs for ornamental lights to be installed in front of all the Bradley properties. Morris Bradley politely reviewed the plans but thought them too flamboyant for the Bradley reputation. Alva still had a few things to learn.

While Morris presided over the family holdings, the younger Bradley spent his time learning all aspects of the family business. In his spare time he played golf and tennis and sailed the family yacht. For years, Alva kept a season pass and a private box at League Park. He usually gave the seats away to friends and his employees. One afternoon he decided to watch the Indians take on the Yankees. He entered the park and realized he had forgotten his box seat ticket. He checked his wallet and to his relief there was his season pass. He walked to the pass gate and showed his card, but the man at the gate had never seen Alva before and believed him to be an imposter. There was a stalemate at the turnstile. Bradley looked around and spotted another ticket taker whom he knew personally. The man came over and verified that there was no fraud, and Alva was allowed in to see the game. Later he would tell Baseball Magazine, “Guess I will have to keep the pass gate man on the roster. If he will try to keep out the president of the club I guess he may be depended upon to keep out those who really have no right to pass.”

Morris Bradley passed away in 1926, leaving Alva to run the Bradley empire. Overnight, Alva became chairman of the board of the Cleveland & Buffalo Transit Company, president of the United States Coal Company, and the sole head of Bradley Real Estate. As was the family custom, he became involved in civic affairs, serving on multiple boards of local charities. He had numerous friends, including, significantly, Ernest Barnard, the Indians executive. The connection here cannot be overstated. When Barnard attempted to sell the team for Mrs. Dunn, knowing her preference was to sell to a Cleveland man, the obvious choice was Alva Bradley.

In later years, Bradley enjoyed telling the story of how he bought the Cleveland team. In September 1927, Tom Walsh stopped by the Hotel Cleveland and met Alva and Chuck Bradley in the steam room. Barnard was also likely in the room, as was John Sherwin, a wealthy banker who wanted a piece of the team. While everybody dripped with sweat, a deal was put together. Bradley and partners to be named later would buy the Indians for a million dollars, double what Jim Dunn paid in 1916. All the stockholders in the Dunn group had to give up their shares before any documents were signed. Everybody shook hands, and unofficially, as Bradley would say, it was the only time a baseball team had been sold in a steam bath.

By October, almost all the stockholders had agreed in principle to sell their shares. Nevertheless, a select few dragged their feet. Despite the best of efforts, the sale of the team remained in limbo. Alva Bradley kept busy assembling a team of investors. John Sherwin, the president of Union Trust Bank, came officially on board, along with Percy Morgan, the owner of Morgan Lithograph. These men were giants of Cleveland, capable of pumping hundreds of thousands of dollars into the ownership group. They were sportsmen as well. John Sherwin raced horses as a member of the exclusive Gentleman’s Riding Club. Percy Morgan was a skilled golfer, often shooting in the low eighties. When he was not on the golf course Morgan produced billboard advertisements and movie posters for the local theaters. The new Cleveland ownership group represented some of the most prominent men in town, if not the most wealthy.

By early November the remaining stockholders from the Dunn era had been whittled down to one. The lone holdout was W. J. Garvey from Chicago. Mr. Garvey wanted double the price of the Bradley group offer. The men went back and forth with the obstinate Garvey, who refused to budge on his 156 shares. Ernest Barnard, now the president of the American League, kept in touch with the old stockholder, trying to dissuade him from blocking the sale. On November 15, 1927, Barnard telephoned Bradley to let him know the final roadblock had been removed: Garvey had agreed to part with his stock. The next day, newspapers from Seattle to Boston reported that the Cleveland Indians had been sold.

When the details of the sale were released it came as a surprise that Alva and Chuck Bradley only controlled 18 percent of the total stock. There was ample money in the Bradley fortune to purchase a considerably larger share of the club. For reasons not mentioned, the brothers chose to keep their investment a conservative one. Alva was the driving force behind the sale, yet he would be only a minority shareholder. Percy Morgan bought 20 percent of the stock while John Sherwin acquired 30. Other Clevelanders, including attorney Joseph Hostetler and former secretary of war Newton Baker, bought up the remaining shares in varied amounts. When officers were named, Alva Bradley became president and treasurer of the Cleveland baseball club. Percy Morgan would be the vice president. The new owners all agreed that Bradley was the decision maker and spokesperson for the group. The job of rebuilding the Cleveland Indians rested on his shoulders.

The Cleveland papers began to speculate on what the first moves of the Bradley regime would be. Within days, the Cleveland club began to hunt for a general manager, a relatively new position in baseball. This person would be responsible for acquiring and developing talent, player trades, and salary negotiations. The new hire had to be a baseball man, fully knowledgeable about the intricacies of the game. It seemed plausible that the new general manager would be an ex-ballplayer or manager. Surely, a reasonably intelligent man who had played the game most of his life had the qualifications. Or a manager, skilled at analyzing talent and keeping his players in line, might be ideal for the job. Yet, Alva Bradley went a different route for his choice. On November 29, he named umpire Billy Evans as the new general manager.

What were the credentials of Billy Evans that led to his hiring? Certainly, in his twenty-two years as an American League umpire he had seen every aspect of the game. Evans was born in Chicago on February 10, 1884. The family moved to Youngstown, Ohio, when Billy was a small child. He spent two years at Cornell University, where he played freshman baseball. The death of his father caused Evans to leave college and return to Youngstown. He took a job as a sportswriter for the Youngstown Vindicator, covering local baseball and other sports. It was there that fate intervened for young Mr. Evans. On a whim, he was asked to umpire a local baseball game. He was astounded to learn his pay was fifteen dollars for the game, which equaled his weekly salary at the Vindicator. Soon he was umpiring Class C baseball in addition to his reporter’s job. While working a game between local rivals Niles and Youngstown, Evans made a late strike-three call against a Niles hitter. The partisan crowd stormed the field, prepared to give the young umpire a complete thrashing. Evans kept his cool and managed to survive the game without a scratch. In the stands was former Cleveland Spider star Jimmy McAleer, who admired the young man for his courage. Now the manager of the St. Louis Browns, McAleer convinced American League president Ban Johnson to hire Evans. At age twenty-two, Billy Evans became the youngest umpire in the Major Leagues.

Evans became a trusted arbiter, rarely blowing his top. He withstood the heated tirades of American League managers, often using diplomacy to get his points across, but every once in a while there were exceptions to the rule. In September 1921, Evans challenged Ty Cobb to a fight after the conclusion of a ball game. Reports were varied, but Evans seemed to have gotten the worst of it, wearing bandages on his face for the next several days. There was nothing to be ashamed of. More than a few ballplayers had come up short in their efforts to teach the widely disliked Cobb a lesson.

Evans traded on his popularity as an umpire to write syndicated baseball columns throughout his career. The articles covered a wide variety of topics related to the baseball world. One of his readers was quite likely Alva Bradley, who apparently saw Evans as much more than an umpire and writer. Another factor in Bradley’s decision was that Evans had made Cleveland his home for the past twenty years. All the Indians stockholders were from Cleveland and Bradley wanted no outsiders associated with his club. That was the clinching argument as Billy Evans accepted the general manager position.

As the new man in the front office, Evans agreed with Bradley that current manager Jim McAllister had no chance of being rehired. Speculation centered on big names from the Major Leagues, including Eddie Collins of the Philadelphia Athletics, Bucky Harris of Washington, and Art Fletcher, manager of the New York Giants. Collins was near the end of a brilliant playing career, but had stated that he wanted to pilot a ball club when he retired. Harris was player-manager of the Senators, but he was not thrilled with the fans, who had been riding him for the past two seasons. They had somehow forgotten that Harris had brought home two pennants and a World Series win in 1924. Fletcher, the manager of the New York Giants, had not indicated he was looking to change jobs, but the Cleveland sportswriters believed he could be had for the right price. Bradley and Evans told the writers a new manager would be in place in time for the minor-league meetings scheduled for the first week of December. Cleveland fans were quite eager to see what kind of manager the new ownership had in mind. The process went on longer than expected. On December 11, the front office surprised a number of folks by hiring former Cleveland Naps shortstop Roger Peckinpaugh.

Once again, Alva Bradley was following the Cleveland-only rule. The Peckinpaugh family had once lived in Wooster, Ohio, just a short train ride south of the big city. There, on February 5, 1891, Roger was born. The family moved to Cleveland when Roger was a small boy, settling in the Hough neighborhood. By coincidence, League Park, the home of the 1890s Cleveland Spiders, was only a few blocks away. In the early 1900s the neighborhood was honored to have a certain gentleman from Philadelphia move in: Napoleon “Larry” Lajoie became a full-time resident.

Roger’s father John had played semipro baseball in the 1880s, eventually getting a tryout with the Cincinnati Reds. A shortstop by trade, the elder Peckinpaugh failed in his opportunity, causing him to leave the game behind and become a salesman. Roger attended East High School, where he played football, basketball, and baseball. A legend on the sandlots, “Peck,” as his friends now called him, was the best young shortstop in northeast Ohio. He joined the Collinwoods, a semipro team where he apparently accepted some cash for his services. Later, during Peck’s senior season, an anonymous letter surfaced, claiming he had been paid for play and was a professional. The East Senate League suspended Peck from further play.

After graduation Roger continued his dazzling play on the sandlots. The Cleveland Naps paid close attention, signing him to a contract in February 1910. Stories circulated that it was Lajoie himself who urged the Naps to acquire the nineteen-year-old infielder. The contract offered $125 a month, yet John Peckinpaugh still had deep misgivings about his son becoming a ballplayer. This may seem odd, that a former player would be strongly against his son pursuing a professional baseball career, but John Peckinpaugh enlightened his son that ballplayers were drunkards who did not want to work. Regardless of the stern warning, Roger signed the contract, joining the Naps for spring training in Alexandria, Louisiana. Henry Edwards recalled his first impression of the young shortstop, writing, “I never will forget how Roger did swat the ball that spring. There was a river back of the left field fence and Peck became a very expensive asset because of the baseballs he hit into the water.” Pitchers soon figured out that Peck had trouble hitting the curve, though, which stopped the baseballs from landing in the river. The Naps decided to send Roger to New Haven, Connecticut, where he worked on making contact with the breaking ball.

In August, the Naps brought Roger to Cleveland. He appeared in only fifteen games, but had to be thrilled to play next to the great Lajoie. They may have walked home together after ball games, stopping at Hough Bakery, where Lajoie enjoyed flirting with a young redheaded girl behind the counter. At any rate, Roger was now moving with the fast company.

The 1911 season found Peck in Portland, Oregon, playing in the Pacific Coast League. It must have been quite a jolt for him to depart Cleveland and travel all the way to the West Coast. There were few cowboys and Indians left on the way, but a trip of this magnitude was a lot to handle for a twenty-year-old.

Despite the odds against him, Roger blossomed in Portland. He hit a decent .258, stole thirty-five bases, and made all the plays at shortstop. The newspapers admired his ability, labeling him as an up-and-comer. The Naps were quite impressed with his progress, and for the 1912 season Cleveland would be his home. All he had to do was walk the few blocks from Hough Avenue to League Park. There would be no more trips to the minor leagues.

For most of the season Roger split time at the shortstop position with Ivy Olson. He still had problems with American League hurlers, batting a measly .212. Despite the problems with the bat, Roger had a good opportunity to be the regular Cleveland shortstop. Just when things appeared to be falling his way, though, a major obstacle blocked his path. His name was Ray Chapman. The new infielder had rocketed through the minor leagues, hitting and fielding like no other shortstop in the organization. He would take the job away from Peck, causing the Indians to trade the local boy to the New York Yankees.

Roger played nine seasons in New York. There he became the consummate shortstop. He had enough quickness to go deep in the hole and gun the ball to first base. Roger could dash behind second base, spear a ground ball, and fire across his body to get the runner. While batting he held his hands slightly apart and generally slashed the baseball to left field.

Near the end of the 1914 season, manager Frank Chance resigned. The Yankee ownership did not hesitate to make Peck the interim manager. It was only a handful of games, but valuable experience for a twenty-three-year-old. He showed a lot of maturity for a young man, which would later result in him becoming a Yankee captain. A few years later, Babe Ruth joined the Yankees and became fast friends with Peck. In fact, the two became close enough that Babe asked for a thousand-dollar loan. That was a considerable amount of money, but Roger wrote the check. To this day, Peckinpaugh family members assert that Babe eventually paid back the loan.

In 1921, the Yankees overtook the Indians to win the American League pennant. They lost the World Series to the New York Giants, but the Yankee dynasty was taking root. Stories remain that Ruth and several other players were feuding with manager Miller Huggins and insisting that Peck be named player-manager, but before the start of the 1922 season Peck was traded to the Boston Red Sox. The timing of the trade was quite curious, since Roger had an excellent previous season for the Yankees. He batted .288, hit seven home runs, and scored 128 runs, a career high. Newspapers mentioned a time during the season when manager Huggins was ill and Peck took over the team: almost immediately the Yankees went on a winning streak. This may have been a case of Peck becoming more popular than the manager and as a result being shipped off to the lowly Red Sox. Norman E. Brown, in his syndicated column for the Central Press Association, wrote, “The recent trading of Roger Peckinpaugh, Yankee shortstop and captain, to the Boston Red Sox is the most coldblooded deal ever put over in baseball. . . . As far as Peck is concerned it is the dirtiest piece of business ever put over in the big show.”

The trade brought Sam Jones and Leslie “Bullet Joe” Bush plus shortstop Everett Scott to the Yankees. The Red Sox got Peck, Harry “Rip” Collins, Bill Piercy, Jack Quinn, and $100,000. Harry Frazee, the Boston owner, always had a blatant need for cash to support his theatrical ventures. He was a ceaseless trade partner with the Yankees. It seemed whenever the Yankees had issues, Frazee was more than willing to help. In 1919 he recklessly sold Babe Ruth to New York for $100,000. Boston fans watched glumly while their owner undid his team, squandering his money on Broadway plays.

Less than a month later, Frazee sent Peck to the Washington Senators as part of a three-way deal with the Philadelphia Athletics. Frazee insisted that there was no cash in this trade. In spite of this, Joe Dugan, who went from Philadelphia to Boston, somehow wound up in New York during the 1922 season. The Yankees, with all the newly acquired talent, would win another pennant while the Boston Red Sox finished last with a ridiculous total of fifty-three wins. The word “collusion” comes to mind here.

In Washington, Peck played alongside Bucky Harris. The two would become one of the most formidable double-play combinations in the game. Roger played in two more World Series, bringing home a championship in 1924. In game two of that series, against the New York Giants, the score was tied going into the bottom of the ninth inning. With a runner on base, Roger laced a double to win the game. The Senators took the series four games to three. The winners’ share totaled a handsome $6,000 per man.

The Senators repeated in 1925, but lost the series to the Pittsburgh Pirates. A number of the games were played in poor field conditions, leaving the diamond a sea of mud. Roger had a fielding nightmare, charged with eight errors for the seven games. Despite the awful time at shortstop he was voted Most Valuable Player in the American League. He beat out players including Al Simmons, Harry Heilmann, and Mickey Cochrane. The vote was handled by the senior sportswriters in each American League city. The writers had a complicated point system where the maximum points a player could get was sixty-five. Peck totaled forty-five, just slightly ahead of Simmons.

In 1927, Peck was off to the Chicago White Sox, where aching knees reduced his playing time. When Billy Evans became the general manager of the Cleveland Indians he believed the veteran shortstop would be a strong candidate to lead his ball club. In December, Roger gladly accepted the job and the chance to come back to his old stomping grounds. There was much work to be done.