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Chapter 3

BROADWAY AND A MOOSE

Even though the Indians were struggling, there were a few bright spots to ease some of the fans’ anxiety. Lyn Lary got off to a hot start, batting near .400, though, as already noted, the veteran shortstop had some difficulty fielding his position. Lary also stole a few bases, reminding fans he still had the good speed and baserunning ability that most of his teammates lacked. To date, the Indians front office had to be pleased with at least part of the big trade with the St. Louis Browns.

Lynford Lary was born in Armona, California, on January 28, 1906. He played all three big sports in high school in Visalia, earning a reputation as one of the premier athletes in the state. After graduation he decided to attend college at the University of California. Just before he officially enrolled, he got an offer to play semipro ball. Lary had little money to pay for a college education, making it an easy decision to forget higher learning and go for the cash instead. Soon the Oakland Oaks ball club in the Pacific Coast League offered a contract for the 1925 season. Lary jumped at the chance to make some decent money and began to concentrate all his efforts on becoming a professional ballplayer.

After several seasons at Oakland, Lary became one of the most sought-after prospects in the league. In 1928 he batted .314, getting the rapt attention of the New York Yankees. The Major League club wanted Lary and second baseman Jimmie Reese as a package deal. The two represented the slickest fielding combination in the entire PCL. Both players eagerly signed deals, then traveled cross-country to report for 1929 spring training. The Yankees turned heads by paying Oakland an outrageous sum of $125,000 to acquire the great double-play combination. Years later, the Yankee front office ranked this deal as one of the poorest transactions they had ever made in the history of the organization.

Lary impressed his new teammates from the start, eventually beating out Leo Durocher and grabbing a spot in the starting lineup, which included the marquee names of Ruth, Gehrig, and Bill Dickey. Jimmie Reese, on the other hand, would flame out quickly, setting up Lary as the lone survivor of the six-figure transaction. In his first season, the shortstop played in eighty games and batted a reasonably good .309. The following year Durocher was gone, traded to the Cincinnati Reds. In 1930 Lary hit for a lower average but played in 117 games and scored 93 runs. He really hit his stride in 1931, belting 10 home runs and knocking in 107 along with 100 runs scored. The Yankees now had at least something to show for the $125,000 spent.

While living in New York City, Lary gravitated toward the high-society nightlife. He saw every new movie and attended all sorts of trendy Broadway plays. He began to dress like a movie mogul, often being seen wearing the latest fashion of flannel trousers, brightly colored silk shirts, and navy blazers with coordinated handkerchiefs in the breast pocket. In addition, he smoked a pipe, looking every part the Hollywood director. One day Babe Ruth walked into the Yankees locker room and noticed Lyn wearing one of his classic outfits. The Babe smiled and said, “Hi, Broadway!” The nickname stuck immediately and followed Lary the rest of his playing career.

Though Lary had a great season in 1931, another milestone was just around the corner. While watching a new feature film, he indirectly met his wife-to-be, the beautiful Mary Lawlor. The two did not have a conversation because Mary was on the screen, the lead actress of the popular comedy being shown. Lary viewed the movie several times, convinced he had found his one true love. Via a great stroke of luck, Miss Lawlor would soon leave Hollywood for an extended run on the Broadway stage. Lary wrangled tickets to the play and, through a mutual friend, David Marks, got a quick introduction. The encounter did not go well, as Mary paid little attention to the smitten Lary. Undeterred, he thought he could impress her by dropping off complimentary box seat tickets to the next Yankee game. The day came and Lary kept peering into the stands, hoping to catch a glimpse of the classy star. Much to his disappointment, the actress never arrived. He discovered later that Mary knew nothing about baseball and had no interest in seeing a game.

Broadway Lyn did not give up the quest, persuading his Marks to set him up with Mary for an evening of dinner and dancing. This time the two celebrities really hit it off, dancing to the popular song “Lucky in Love,” and soon were an item. After a brief courtship they were married on July 14 in New York City, with Babe Ruth serving as the best man. With no time for a honeymoon, the young couple cruised around town in a huge eight-cylinder automobile with Lary’s name plate on the side door.

Ballplayers around the American League took notice that Lary had landed a genuine Hollywood star. Though many of the guys dated beautiful women, Broadway Lyn had outdone them all. He would lead the Major Leagues until Joe DiMaggio wed the spectacular Marilyn Monroe more than twenty years later.

Certainly 1931 was a great year for Lary, yet an incident on the ballfield would mark him for the rest of his time in New York. In late April the Yankees were in Washington to play the Senators. In the top of the first inning, Lary reached base with a clean single. There were two out when first baseman Lou Gehrig smashed a tremendous drive to deep center field, heading straight for the bleachers. Lary sped past second while the ball cleared the center-field wall, hit the concrete, then bounced back onto the field. He raced to third and rounded the bag, looking back to see the Washington outfielder holding the ball in his glove. Despite the Senators standing at their positions without moving, Lary wrongly assumed the ball had been caught and headed for the Yankees bench without touching home plate. The Yankee dugout, watching the flight of Gehrig’s monstrous home run, failed to notice Lary had stopped before crossing home. The Iron Horse rounded third and touched home, only to be called out by the umpire for passing Lary on the baseline. The ruling gave Lou a triple, but no runs were credited to New York thanks to Lary’s remarkable lapse. Of course the Senators won the game by two runs.

Dan Daniel, the fine New York sportswriter, later mused that Lary had some issues in his head. He wrote, “Lary had a blind spot in his mentality. Sometimes under pressure he’d hold the ball too long and suddenly haul off with a wild heave.”

The Yankee shortstop could not offer a valid reason for pulling up halfway down the baseline and jogging to the dugout. Later he did say he thought the ball had been caught, but it was still difficult to understand his not touching home plate just to be sure. If he had turned around, he might have noticed Gehrig still running about thirty feet behind him. The most amazing thing about the incident came to light at season’s end. Gehrig and Ruth tied for the lead in round trippers with forty-six. If Lyn had continued home that day in Washington, Gehrig would have won the crown outright with forty-seven.

In 1934 the Yankees were no longer thrilled with their shortstop, and sent Lary to the Boston Red Sox. Over the next few years he had stops in Washington and St. Louis before arriving in Cleveland for the 1937 season. Manager O’Neill soon learned that his new ballplayer still had a strong hankering for the nightlife. Lary did not drink excessively or get into trouble, but saw no reason not to stay out late at the clubs and socialize until the dawn. This behavior lasted all through his time with the Indians. In spite of the late hours, Lary continued to lead Cleveland in hitting for a good portion of the season. He seemed to be undergoing a rejuvenation with the Indians.

As the season entered June, Cleveland had a record of 19–14, actually not a bad total when your number one and number two pitchers are out of the lineup. Johnny Allen made a slow recovery from the appendicitis attack, pitching only two innings of relief on May 11. He waited nine more days before starting against Chicago. He had tremendous support from his teammates, who bashed twenty-one hits and scored sixteen runs, but Allen retired in the third inning, too fatigued to go any further.

At the end of May Allen regained his old form, pitching a complete-game victory at home against Chicago. Also in his old form was a classic temper tantrum directed at home plate umpire Johnny Quinn. Throughout the game Allen was haphazardly tossing the rosin bag all around the pitching mound. Quinn spoke to him about it, then walked to the mound for a confrontation. Allen waited a moment, stared at the ump, and fired the ball right into Quinn’s chest protector. The baseball caromed all the way to the first base dugout. Maybe Quinn was too startled, but, to the shock of everyone at League Park, he did not toss the demented pitcher from the game.

Once again Allen enjoyed outstanding support in the 15–3 win over the White Sox. Hal Trosky homered, Earl Averill hit a three-run shot, and newcomer Moose Solters slammed a bases-loaded home run far over the right-center-field wall. The game was a coming-out party for Solters, who had four hits in five trips and five RBIs to lead the offense. The Cleveland front office let out a sigh of relief over Solters’s huge performance. Alva Bradley and Cy Slapnicka had taken some intense heat from the fans for swapping hometown hero Joe Vosmik for Solters. They expected some big hitting from Moose to justify trading their All-Star left fielder. It would take more than one big day at the plate to silence the critics, but the grand slam gave them a boost in the right direction.

Moose Solters was born in Pittsburgh on March 22, 1908. His family came from Hungary and settled in Pennsylvania, where his father found work in the coal mines. As a young boy, Moose spent a great deal of time shagging batting practice fly balls for the Pittsburgh Pirates. When old enough, he joined his father and two brothers laboring in the dangerous mines. Education was not in the picture, though Solters did attend Fifth Avenue High School for a year, where he was able to play football as a hard-running halfback.

Out of school while still of high school age, he played Sunday baseball for the Colonial Mine #4 club in the Frick River League. Moose was a big boy now, nearly six feet tall and weighing over two hundred pounds. He had black hair and brown eyes to go with a big grin whenever he spotted a friendly face. Not the stereotypical “Moose,” he was able to run quite well while showing lots of agility in the outfield. He was once timed at 3.6 seconds running from home plate to first.

In a short while, Moose became one of the top players in the Frick League, swatting tremendous home runs wherever he played. In the spring of 1927, a telegram arrived at the Solters home, addressed to J. Solters of the Colonial Mine team, offering a tryout with Fairmont, West Virginia, of the Mid-Atlantic League. Moose thought about it, then urged his older brother Frank, a fair ballplayer himself, to report instead. As a loyal brother and dedicated to his family, Solters wanted Frank to get a shot at the minor leagues. Moose believed his own time would come soon, so why not let his brother get an opportunity first?

Frank reported to Fairmont and homered his first time up. He then fanned three straight times, and the manager became suspicious. This did not look like the scourge of the Frick River League, and Frank reluctantly admitted the same. He soon packed his bags and went home to Pittsburgh, thanking his younger brother for the chance. Moose, satisfied his brother had gotten the tryout, quickly traveled to Fairmont for his professional debut. The early results were far from overwhelming. Solters had an awkward batting stance, sometimes swinging while he was off-balance. His first season he hit only .271, not quite terrorizing the pitchers of the Mid-Atlantic. He remained at Fairmont for the next two seasons, slowly raising his average to a respectable .294. In the fall and winter months Moose did some hard labor, driving and unloading a delivery truck and working odd jobs in a grocery store and bakery.

For the next three seasons he became a baseball nomad, playing for Shreveport in the Texas League, then Albany and Binghamton in the New York–Pennsylvania League, and finally the Baltimore Orioles of the International League. Moose played there for a meager salary of $150 a month. The team had low expectations of their new outfielder, starting him off as an occasional bench player. An injury got him into the regular lineup and Moose went on a tear, boosting his average to a splendid .363. He also managed to score 123 runs, catching the interest of the Boston Red Sox.

Moose eagerly signed a contract to play for Boston in the 1934 season. After a good showing in spring training, he appeared in the opening day lineup, playing right field and batting sixth. He remained a starter, delivering timely base hits and driving in his share of runs. On May 23, the Red Sox faced the Indians, with Mel Harder doing the pitching. The Cleveland ace threw one of his sharp-breaking curveballs, which bore in on Moose and struck him in the hand. Umpire Charley Donnelly claimed the ball hit the bat, not allowing Solters a free trip to first. Within moments the hand began to swell, forcing Moose out of the game. Later he went for an X-ray, which revealed the hand was indeed broken. The injury sidelined him for almost a month.

With the hand not healing well, Moose had difficulty swinging the bat for the remainder of the season. Still, he batted .299 for the year, an acceptable total for a first-year player. He had shown more than enough ability to receive a contract for the 1935 season. Moose got off to a slow start in his second campaign, batting less than .250. After only twenty-four games, the Red Sox shipped him to St. Louis for second baseman Oscar Melillo. The change in scenery proved to be a great move for Solters. He finished the year with 18 home runs and 112 RBIs. In a game against the Detroit Tigers, Moose showed awesome power, crushing three straight home runs off Elden Auker. In his next trip up he lined a pitch deep toward the right-field wall. Pete Fox raced back and made a leaping catch to keep Solters from at least extra bases. Even with Fox’s circus catch, Moose still had a tremendous day, gaining notoriety as one of the American League’s better power hitters.

Living in St. Louis, Moose had the opportunity to pal around with Joe Medwick, his counterpart with the Cardinals. Solters would proudly tell anybody listening that the two of them were the only Hungarian American ballplayers in Major League Baseball. Whenever they met, one would yell, “Hey Polack!” The other would yell back “How ya’ doin Hunkie?” Then both would sit down, have some laughs, and catch up on the latest gossip.

In 1936 Solters played to an even higher level, knocking in 134 runs, good for fifth in the American League. Manager Rogers Hornsby worked with Moose to get him to set his feet in the back of the batter’s box. The new stance allowed him to see the ball just a fraction longer. The results were positive, allowing Solters to make better contact and become a real threat. Cleveland took notice, starting talks with the Browns front office to acquire Moose. It would take a six-player deal, but Cleveland got their man for the 1937 season.

With Johnny Allen seemingly healthy again and Moose Solters asserting himself, the only Cleveland player still unable to contribute was Bob Feller. He had seen an army of doctors, yet his elbow still badly ached whenever he tried to throw. The first week of June, Cy Slapnicka announced Feller was leaving town to visit friends in Milwaukee and get some additional rest. Stuart Bell, the sportswriter for the Cleveland Press, did not buy any part of the story. Bell had been around the block more than a few times and knew when something other than the truth was being peddled. Investigating the flimsy tale, he discovered that Feller had an appointment with a specialist in arm injuries. The physician had invented a machine that could take one’s arm and massage it for an extended period. Though the treatment was experimental, Slapnicka had run out of ideas on how to fix the most valuable arm on the Indians pitching staff.

Cleveland reporters were constantly badgering the general manager on why Feller’s arm issues were taking so long. Frustrated, he tried to arrange the Milwaukee trip without arousing suspicion. But after Stuart Bell foiled his secret plans, all the Cleveland papers had stories about exactly what the Indians were up to and why Feller had to leave the city.

On first glimpse, the Milwaukee trip seemed to be a success. Feller had several mechanical treatments that significantly reduced his constant elbow pain. Back in town, the moment came to test his throwing arm under game conditions. Feller returned to League Park and started throwing off the pitching mound. Within minutes the same discomfort returned. Slapnicka had few choices remaining before declaring Feller on the shelf for the rest of the year. The only possible solution was to see the bonesetting doctor Lefty Weisman had earlier recommended. Ironically, his office was just a home run’s distance from League Park. Feller took the short walk and had Dr. A. L. Austin do a thorough examination. After some manipulation, the physician believed the ulna bone, connecting to the elbow, had been dislocated. He firmly grabbed Feller’s wrist with one hand, then popped the elbow hard with the other. Feller felt a tremendous pain, then nothing. The arm appeared to be fine.

The doctor reassured Feller he could start throwing whenever he felt ready. By today’s standards he would have rested for weeks; however, the Indians’ fortunes were reaching a critical point. The front office, worried about dwindling gate receipts, wanted Feller starting as soon as possible. A day later he resumed throwing, this time curveballs and all. Two days went by and the arm had miraculously responded. Feller announced to the papers he had the green light to pitch full-time.

The euphoria over Feller’s return was only momentary, as bad news came from Boston. On June 20 Johnny Allen complained of severe stomach pains. A local doctor examined him and determined his appendix was moments away from bursting. Allen was taken to Palmer Memorial Hospital, holding ice bags on his tender stomach. A hospital surgeon performed the surgery, and Allen came through without any complications, yet he would likely be on the shelf for a month if not more. The starting rotation would not be at full strength until August.

Steve O’Neill chose to start Feller on July 4 at Municipal Stadium. Alva Bradley had committed to play a series of games at the new facility, the most since he had taken the team back to League Park after the 1933 season. Bradley had incurred the wrath of the city of Cleveland by exercising an out clause in his lease. He claimed the ball club had lost money playing at the 80,000-seat stadium and thus elected to move out of downtown and relocate to ancient but comfortable League Park. Now, four years later, Bradley had a notion that a playing a select number of games at the lakefront might attract some bigger crowds.

The Yankees were always a terrific draw, and holiday games usually brought exceptional numbers. In addition, Cleveland was bringing back the highly popular Great Lakes Exposition for a second summer. This large venue had state-of-the-art attractions, restaurants, and exhibits and happened to be located next to Municipal Stadium, along the edge of Lake Erie. Alva Bradley expected a large group of out-of-town visitors to stop by the Expo, then take in a ball game.

The return of Bob Feller drew a total of 35,000 eager fans to the stadium—an excellent crowd, yet nowhere close to a record. Jo-Jo White led off for the Tigers by drawing a walk. Feller then ignited the crowd by striking out Bill Rogell, Charlie Gehringer, and the always dangerous Hank Greenberg. During the flurry of strikes, White stole second and third, but could not advance any further. The Indians scored in the bottom half of the inning when Roy Hughes singled, went to third on Earl Averill’s base hit, then scored on Hal Trosky’s sacrifice fly.

Feller cruised along until the top of the fourth. He had been throwing mostly fastballs with a few curves mixed in to keep the Tigers off balance. Greenberg led off the top of the inning with a walk. Goose Goslin hit a grounder to Lyn Lary, who kicked the ball around for an error. Rudy York then laid down a perfect bunt, just inside the third-base line. Feller picked up the ball and heard catcher Frankie Pytlak yell, “First base!” At the same time, Detroit third-base coach Del Baker yelled even louder, “Third, third!” Feller turned and threw a strike to third base. Unfortunately, no Indian stood near the bag, and the ball rolled all the way into the left-field corner. By the time Moose Solters recovered the baseball, Greenberg had scored while Gehringer reached third and York second.

Probably somewhat rattled, Feller grooved a fastball to right fielder Pete Fox, who lined a base hit for two more runs. The Indians now trailed 3–1. At this point the young pitcher bore down, retiring the side without any further destruction. Manager O’Neill, despite hearing a chorus of boos, told Feller he was finished for the day. It had been only four innings, still Feller showed the form of the kid who had dazzled the American League at the end of the 1936 season. He had allowed only one hit while striking out four. The three runs were unearned, though Feller himself was responsible for the throwing error that allowed Greenberg to score. Considering he had not started a game in over two months, the results were more than positive. Nevertheless, Cleveland lost 3–2.

After the game O’Neill told reporters, “I thought the kid had done enough work for a beginning and I didn’t want him to press too hard to make up for what happened in that fourth inning.” Feller announced his arm had come through just fine. He now believed he could take his regular turn in the rotation. Good news all around.

The next day Cleveland traveled to St. Louis for a doubleheader. As usual, the lowly Browns were completely out of the running, already twenty games below the break-even mark. Either buoyed by Feller’s return or frustrated by their own .500 record, the Indians pummeled St. Louis, 14–4 in the first game and even worse in the nightcap, 15–4. Slugger Hal Trosky was the hero of game one, detonating three home runs along with seven RBIs. The lineup produced a total of seventeen hits, manhandling former teammate Oral Hildebrand for eleven tallies before he left the game. After a brief rest, the Indians recorded twenty-one hits in game two, including home runs by Moose Solters and Roy Weatherly. Even though they were far behind the Yankees in the pennant chase, Cleveland had a potent crew of hitters who could explode at any time. Averill, Trosky, Bruce Campbell, Lyn Lary, and Solters were capable of destroying American League pitchers, yet they were prone to episodes of poor play, exasperating the front office.

On July 18 the high-flying Yankees were in Cleveland for a Sunday game at Municipal Stadium. Once again, Alva Bradley proved he was a shrewd operator, betting the matchup of Bob Feller versus Joe DiMaggio and Lou Gehrig would draw a monstrous crowd. When the game began, there were 59,884 raring-to-go fans eager to see what a healthy Feller could do.

The 1937 season had thus far yielded a 10 percent increase in attendance over the previous year. Few people were willing to say the Great Depression had already peaked, but Major League owners were starting to note a positive trend. Bradley had the best of both worlds, scheduling his potential big dates at the mammoth Cleveland Municipal Stadium while drawing fair-to-middling numbers weekdays at League Park.

The New York Yankees were quite a drawing card at home or on the road. At any city they visited, an exceptional number of people would come out to watch the best team in either league. Cleveland fans had been packing League Park to see the Yankees for years. Babe Ruth had launched colossal home runs over the high right-field wall, and later Lou Gehrig joined Ruth in an awesome show of power not seen before. Ruth was gone, but Gehrig was still around, and Joe DiMaggio had created new interest in the Yankees with his superior all-around play. At age twenty-two, Joe D. had already begun to demonstrate his claim to be the next Yankee superstar.

On this day, eighteen-year-old Bob Feller took the mound to challenge the pennant-bound club from New York. Despite his young age, he already had impressive credentials in his brief career, including shattering the American League single-game strikeout record. The Cleveland sportswriters went all out in their game stories. Ed McAuley stated, “The dimple-chinned Bob Feller from the furrows of a farm in Iowa against the swarthy Joe DiMaggio from the humble home of a fisherman on the coast of San Francisco. Make or break hero or goat, the two outstanding youngsters of modern times.”

The atmosphere at the stadium was reminiscent of an opening day. A U.S. Army squadron went through a number of drills, followed by a Scottish fife-and-drum corps marching smartly about the field. A group of fans from Buffalo presented gifts to two former minor-league Bisons, Yankee manager Joe McCarthy and Cleveland’s Frankie Pytlak. A similar group arrived from Pittsburgh to honor their favorite son, Moose Solters. The Fellers made the long-distance trek from Iowa, their first opportunity of the year to see Bob on the mound. With all the pregame ceremonies, the game started nearly twenty minutes late.

Feller and Yankee starter Red Ruffing were impressive from the onset. Neither team scored until the visitor half of the third inning, when shortstop Frank Crosetti led off with a walk and moved to second on an infield ground out. Up to the plate came “Joltin’” Joe DiMaggio. Crosetti edged off second base, and on the pitch raced for third. DiMaggio sent a scorching ground ball at third baseman Sammy Hale. “Bad News” knocked the ball down, but before he could pick it up Crosetti came sliding hard into the third-base bag. His foot kicked the ball into foul territory, out of Hale’s reach and far enough for Crosetti to scramble to his feet and score the game’s first run.

The Indians tied the game in the seventh inning on singles by Trosky, Hale, and Pytlak. In the ninth the score remained 1–1. Feller had thrown well over a hundred pitches, yet still had plenty of steam on his fastballs. Leading off the ninth was Red Ruffing, already a two-time strikeout victim. A good-hitting pitcher, Ruffing caught up with a fastball and lined a base hit. Crosetti dropped a sacrifice bunt near the mound. Feller picked up the ball and threw wild to first, leaving runners on first and second with nobody out. He then walked third baseman Red Rolfe on four straight pitches.

As if somebody had written a clever script, Joe DiMaggio slowly walked to home plate. Bases loaded, nobody out, and the score tied. There were the two rising young stars at a do-or-die moment. The huge crowd roared when Feller eyed the plate, then threw two sizzling fastballs by Joe D. The next pitch was an off-speed curveball that got too much of the plate. Di Maggio swung and hammered the ball way back in left field. Moose Solters raced to the wall but watched helplessly as the drive landed well into the seats for a grand slam home run! Di Maggio had won the battle in spectacular style. Steve O’Neill trotted to the mound to ask his pitcher if he wanted out. Feller refused to leave the rubber, intent on finishing the game. The final score stayed at Yankees 5, Indians 1.

Feller’s last delivery to retire the side gave him an out-of-this-world pitch count of 171. He recorded seven strikeouts, eight walks (yes, that’s right), and one hit batter. Feller held the powerful Yankees in check for eight full innings, something that most pitchers in the American League could not do. Although his record for the season slipped to a surprising 0–4, Feller had served notice that the best was yet to come.

At the beginning of August the Indians were still a few games under .500. Steve O’Neill tried to tighten things up by banning poker games and posting an earlier curfew. The restrictions did not turn the club around, though one player in particular began to heat up. After resting for three weeks, Johnny Allen, fully recovered from his dangerous surgery, received the okay to pitch again. On August 14 he went seven innings in a 4–3 win over Chicago. The win boosted his record to five wins and no losses.

Five days later Allen won again, easily beating St. Louis 9–1. Six wins without a defeat was a nice record, but Allen was setting in motion a remarkable winning streak. No doubt making up for lost time, Allen refused be beaten, lifting his record to 8–0 at the end of the month. He began September by defeating the hopeless Browns, 15–3. Bruce Campbell and Moose Solters each drove in three runs to help Allen to win number nine without a blemish.

The streak rolled on through the month, with Allen topping the Red Sox, Senators, Tigers, and White Sox. His outstanding pitching woke up the ball club, lifting them above .500 and into the first division. On September 21, Allen beat the Senators in a complete-game victory, 6–3. Hal Trosky slammed a bases-loaded home run to seal the win. With two weeks left in the season, Allen was now a lofty 13–0.

The Indians were playing their best ball of the season. Bob Feller had hit his stride, while Mel Harder collected a number of wins. They had no chance to catch the Yankees, but the team proved they could play at a more than competitive level.

On September 26 Cleveland took a doubleheader from Detroit. Allen won his fourteenth without a loss, while Feller struck out ten in a trouble-free second-game victory. On the last day of the month, the two aces pitched the Indians to another doubleheader victory, this time over the White Sox. Allen faltered a bit, giving up an uncharacteristic four runs. Earlier in the season the team would have folded, but three RBIs each from Trosky and Solters led to a 6–4 win. Johnny Allen now had an unbelievable record of 15–0. He would likely get one more start in October against Detroit.

Feller had a terrific outing himself, holding Chicago to one run over nine innings. He had the fastball hopping, striking out eleven batters in the 4–1 victory. Fans all over Cleveland shook their heads and took a deep sigh at what might have been. Cleveland now had the two finest pitchers in the American League. It is not inconceivable to project that barring the injuries, Feller and Allen might have won quite a few more games between them. That conjecture puts the team squarely in the pennant race, just behind the Yankees. The outlook was bright for the 1938 season.

Allen had one more chance to get his sixteenth straight victory and tie the American League single season record held by greats “Smoky” Joe Wood, Walter Johnson, and the still-pitching Lefty Grove. Although the season was closing up for Detroit and Cleveland, 22,000 interested Tiger fans paid to see the game. Allen was paired up against Jake Wade, an erratic pitcher who could be really good or equally bad. In the bottom of the first inning, Pete Fox doubled with one out. Allen got the next hitter, bringing Hank Greenberg to bat. Entering the game, the big first baseman already had a spectacular year with an incredible 182 RBIs. Allen delivered and Greenberg hit a ground ball toward Sammy Hale. It appeared to be a routine play, but somehow Hale could not get his glove down, and the ball slowly rolled into left field. Fox scored with what proved to be the only run of the entire ball game. The up-and-down Wade stopped the Indians on one hit, depriving Johnny Allen of win number sixteen and an undefeated season.

Allen would lead all Major League starting pitchers with an unreal winning percentage of .938. In 173 innings of work, he allowed only four home runs and posted a career-best ERA of 2.55, good for third place in the American League. In two years of pitching for Cleveland, Allen had an impressive record of thirty-five wins and only eleven losses. One can only wonder what might have happened if he had not suffered the two attacks of appendicitis.

Throughout the victory streak, Allen kept his outbursts and combative personality under control. But after losing his final appearance of the season and a chance to tie the American League record, Allen reportedly let it all go. Franklin “Whitey” Lewis, at that time a writer for the Cleveland Press, later claimed that Allen went after Sammy Hale at least twice. Round one occurred in the visitors’ locker room, where the two had words and the fight was on. Several players and Manager O’Neill had to step in and separate the two. In the dining car on the train back to Cleveland, Allen supposedly had more choice words for Hale, initiating round two. Once again O’Neill had to get between the angry ballplayers and stay there until the train reached Cleveland. None of the other Cleveland reporters mentioned the incidents. Either it was a case of what happens in the locker room stays there, or the confrontation may have been exaggerated. In any event, it was an attention-grabbing story and something that fit right into Johnny Allen’s mode of behavior.

The Indians finished the year fourth in the standings, with eighty-three wins versus seventy-one losses. Their inspired play in September, featuring twenty-three wins and thirteen losses, enabled them to remain in the first division. The Yankees swept everybody away, winning 102 games while losing only 52. They would cruise through the World Series, needing only five games to put away their cross-town rival the New York Giants.

Alva Bradley and his group of shareholders had now completed ten seasons running the ball club. In all these years they were never a serious threat to win a pennant. Bradley had gone through three different managers in that time period, each with similar results. With the 1937 season concluded. he had to mull over the status of current manager Steve O’Neill.

In early October the Cleveland newspapers floated rumors that Bill McKechnie might be willing to manage the Indians. The veteran was highly regarded by most Major League owners and front office people. A former player, McKechnie had seventeen years of National League managing experience with Pittsburgh, St. Louis, and recently Boston. While Alva Bradley did not comment on the speculation, the will-he-or won’t-he grew until days later, when McKechnie signed on to pilot the Cincinnati Reds. Bradley then issued a statement saying that O’Neill was staying unless someone decidedly better came along.

On October 20, apparently Bradley did find someone he deemed worthier. He announced that O’Neill had been fired and Oscar Vitt, currently the manager of the Newark Bears, had accepted the job. O’Neill was generously offered a job in the Indians organization as a scout, but the deposed manager rightly asked for and received permission to look for other jobs. Bradley told the papers, “Changing managers is the most unpleasant feature of my job. It’s just one of those things that have to be done. The show must go on.”

The decision to replace O’Neill was a debatable one. It speaks of impatience by Bradley in his efforts to field a top-flight ball club. He seemed to overlook the fact that his two best pitchers had missed large portions of the season. That in itself ruined the Indians’ chances of finishing any higher in the standings. Certainly O’Neill had made some mistakes during the season. He gave his players a lot of leeway and expected them to respond accordingly. He kept an even temperament when the team struggled and Bradley wanted specific answers. Perhaps had he shouted a few more times or shown some frustration to Bradley, he might have kept his job.

Be that as it may, O’Neill had no control of Johnny Allen’s appendix issues or Bob Feller’s sore elbow. The two pitchers, counted on to lead the rotation, won only twenty-four games between them. The remaining staff of the All-Star Harder, Hudlin, Galehouse, and Whitehill went 44–45. Had some of those guys, particularly the last three, stepped up, a change in managers might not have taken place. Bradley did not follow his usual motto that “The owner hires the manager, the fans fire him.” In this instance he listened to nobody, informing the press the show must go on. Indeed it would, with Oscar Vitt running that show—or circus, depending on how one looked at it.