Category Archives: Hall of Fame
Bill Veeck’s “Night to end all nights”
Those who work in baseball for a living are fond of saying that without the fans there wouldn’t be a game. Rarely, however, do the fans get their due. One owner, Hall of Famer Bill Veeck, did his best to pay tribute to the fans and put them center stage. The maverick owner of the Cleveland Indians, known for his zany ballpark promotions and progressive attitude, staged one of his most celebrated and fan-friendly events nearly 60 years ago, as his team battled for the pennant.
The following letter to the editor appeared in the September 9, 1948, edition of the Cleveland Press, under the headline “A Night to End All Nights.”
“Now they want a “Bill Veeck Night.” It’s a good idea, but here’s another suggestion. Let’s have a “Joe Earley Night.” I pay my rent and my landlord spends it on things that keep business stimulated. I keep the gas station attendant in business by buying gas regularly. I keep the milkman in clover by buying milk. He uses trucks and tires and as a result big industry is kept going. The paper boy delivers the paper, wears out a pair of shoes occasionally and the shoemaker wins. My wife keeps a grocer and a butcher (don’t we all) in business and the department stores as well. A lot of people depend on me (and you) so let us all get together, and send in your contributions for that new car for “Good Old Joe Earley Night.” – Joe Earley, 1380 Westlake Ave.
A diehard Tribe rooter and a veteran of World War II, 26-year old Earley was inspired by the Indians tribute to their third baseman during “Ken Keltner Night.” Within days of his letter to the editor, Earley, a night watchman at an automobile plant, was inundated with mail and phone calls, and reportedly, even some cash contributions. Earley announced that he would donate the money to the Cancer Fund, feeling the joke had run its course.”If it’s a good laugh for everybody, it’s a good thing,” his wife quipped.
But the Earley’s had not counted on the promotional genius of Bill Veeck.
Springing into action, the Cleveland owner deemed that September 28 would be “Good Old Joe Earley Night,” what Veeck trumpeted as a tribute to the average fan. It was to be Veeck’s way of acknowledging the importance of the everyday fan, the fan who struggled to make ends meet, but found a way to attend games and support the home team. It would be a night that the Earleys, and everyone in attendance, would never forget.
It was the last home night game of the season, and the Indians were one game ahead of both the Red Sox and Yankees, with five games to play. The entire evening had an electric atmosphere, and with Veeck’s magic touches, the crowd of 60,405 was not disappointed.
As thousands of fans streamed into the ballpark on the shore of Lake Erie, they were greeted by team officials offering gifts. Veeck had hired a plane, equipped with air-conditioning, to fly in 20,000 orchids from the Hawaiian islands. The first 20,000 female fans to enter Municipal Stadium received an orchid.
Shortly after the crowd settled into their seats, Veeck emerged on the field, grabbed a microphone from its stand behind home plate, and while the puzzled White Sox dugout looked on, gave out prizes to random fans. Veeck handed out four “squirming” white rabbits (apparently for luck in the pennant race) to a surprised female fan, an old horse (one scribe wrote, “The animal appeared to be ready for the glue factory”), and three stepladders to one man.
Finally, Joe Earley, looking like a Hollywood leading man in his best suit, was escorted onto the diamond with his wife. The ultimate tribute to the average fan was underway.
Veeck built the crowd into a frenzy as he spoke of Earley’s letter and the inspiration for the special night. He announced that the Indians were rewarding Earley with a brand-new house, built in “early American architecture.” With a wave of Veeck’s hand, a truck rolled in from the outfield with a dilapidated outhouse on the back. The crowd roared.
The Master Showman then told Earley that he was being given a car, and a rickety Model T rolled out onto the diamond. The ancient car was filled with young female models. More gifts followed, some of them whimsical, including livestock (chickens, goats and pigs among them), and some of them generous – a truck filled with appliances donated by Cleveland business owners, and most delightful for Mr. Earley, a brand new convertible. Veeck gave the Earley’s luggage, books, and clothes. Joe, with a wide grin on his face, also received a lifetime pass entitling him to entry to any American League ballpark. The “average fan” had received his night. “All in all,” The Sporting News reported, “it was a great night for John Q. Cleveland.”
If the pre-game festivities satisfied the elbow-to-elbow fans, the game filled them with even more glee. Leadoff man Dale Mitchell homered for the Indians in the first, and pitcher Gene Bearden coasted to an 11-0 rout. To the delight of Veeck and his faithful, the Red Sox and Yankees both lost, and the Indians pushed their lead to two games.
Over the final week of the season, Boston rallied to catch Cleveland, and the two teams ended the regular season in a dead-heat, each with 96 victories.
Traveling to Fenway Park to meet the Red Sox in a special one-game playoff, Bearden came through again, defeating Boston for the Tribe’s first pennant in 28 years.
Back in Ohio, thousands of fans filled the streets of Cleveland to celebrate. It’s likely that the subject of one of Bill Veeck’s zaniest promotions, “Good Old Joe Earley,” was among them.
Chick Hafey’s batting rampage of 1931
When Charles “Chick” Hafey first caught Branch Rickey’s eye in the spring of 1923, it was a case of mistaken identity. Hafey was in the Cardinal camp as a right-handed pitcher, but Rickey saw him in the batting cage, and after he sped down the first base line later that day, the St. Louis manager was certain he had the makings of an outfielder. As he was about so man other players, Rickey was right about Hafey.In the early 1920s, the Cardinals, under the leadership of general manager Rickey, were just beginning their expansive farm system, the first in the major leagues. Hafey was the first star of that system, and by 1925 he was in the Cardinal outfield, hitting .302. Over the next six seasons with St. Louis, Hafey fell below the .300 mark just once.
A soft spoken, shy man, Hafey batted in the middle of the lineup, replacing the traded Rogers Hornsby after the ‘26 season as the Cards big slugger. During that 1926 season Hafey was hit by pitched balls on four occasions. He continually complained of headaches and sinus trouble throughout the season. Dr. Robert Hyland advised him to wear glasses, and Hafey became the first star to wear them on a regular basis. In fact, he owned three different pairs because his eyesight varied so much. In addition, over the next few seasons Hafey had numerous operations to address his chronic sinus problems. Rickey and John McGraw both went on record that had Hafey not been plagued with his health problems, he may have been the game’s best right-handed hitter. As it turned out – Chick was still very good.
In 1931, the Cardinals won their second straight NL pennant, and Hafey enjoyed his finest season. But it didn’t started out that way. Chick began the season in a contract holdout, finally signing just prior to the start of the season. But Rickey demanded that Hafey prove that he was fit to play. Since Hafey had missed spring training, this meant he was kept on the bench for the first few weeks of the season. Later his chronic sinus problems flared up and through June 4th he had batted just 65 times.
The early summer months were not kind to Chick, on July 16th his batting average was .281, well below the league norm for an outfielder. At that same point Chuck Klein was leading the league at .359, and Bill Terry was hitting .348. Over the next four months Hafey enjoyed one of the hottest streaks in baseball history.
By August 6th Hafey had crept up to .316, still 27 points behind Chuck Klein and 21 behind Terry. On September 3rd he was still 20 points behind the leader – know Terry – with Klein and teammate Jim Bottomley in his way as well. There was less than a month left in the season.
The following week, Hafey batted just .273, but actually gained on the new leader, the Phillies Klein, who led him by 18 points. From the 11th to the 17th, Hafey enjoyed six multiple hit games, four of them in back-to-back doubleheaders. That left the four NL hitters in a remarkable race for the title. On the morning of September 18th, Terry was at .3424, Bottomley at .3418, Klein .3415, and Hafey .340.
A doubleheader on the 19th dropped Klein behind as he went 1-for-8. On the same day Terry went 1-for-5 and Bottomley suffered a hitless day in five official trips to the plate. Hafey went 3-for-3, and led the league for the first time, at .347. The next two days he went 5-for-7, but Terry went 8-for-11, keeping him right behind Hafey.
“If anyone can stop Hafey, it’s Terry,” Rickey admitted, “But Charles is a magnificent hitter [and] in his top form.” The next few days Klein was the only one to play, going 0-for-4 on the 24th, essentially eliminating himself. The defending champ Terry took a few days off, while Hafey went 2-for-5 on the 26th and Bottomley got back in it with a 3-for-4 performance. Through the September 26th, Hafey stood at .3506, Sunny Jim was .3449, and Terry was resting at .3492, both just slightly behind Hafey.
The final day of the regular season was meaningless in the standings, the Cards having clinched the title weeks prior. Hafey and Bottomley played the full doubleheader against Klein’s Phillies. Klein went a harmless 0-for-8, finishing at .337, good for fourth in the league.
Hafey went 0-for-4 in the opener while Terry went 1-for-4 in his final game. Sunny Jim banged out two hits in four trips, moving him to within a point of Hafey who now trailed Memphis Bill by a single point. The three future Hall of Famer players were two points apart.
A few hits by either of the Cardinals in the finale of their twinbill would snatch a second straight batting title away from the Giant first baseman. And that’s what they did. Hafey laced two hits and Bottomley did the same. But it was Hafey, with a single in his last trip, who won the crown. His final average was .3489, Terry came in second at .3486, and Bottomley, robbed of a hit his third time up – finished third at .3482. Hafey, who was hitting just .283 through his first 45 games, hit .385 over the last 77 games to win the batting title.
A classic batting race – the closest among three players ever – was over. The most unlikely fellow had won it – Chick Hafey – the holdout with bad eyes, a bum arm, and a front office that didn’t really want to pay him.
Frick made huge impact on game of baseball
Few Hall of Famers forged as diverse a career in baseball as Ford Christopher Frick, who was instrumental in the establishment of the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown.
“I’ve always been a lucky guy,” Frick said in his Hall of Fame induction speech in 1970. “I’ve always been at the right place at the right time.”
The first of many fortuitous moments for Frick was his move to New York to take a job as a sportswriter for the American, one of William Randolph Hearst’s newspapers, in the 1920s. In that position, Frick struck up a friendship with Babe Ruth, a relationship that lasted the rest of Babe’s life.
While in New York, in addition to his duties with the newspaper, Frick was a pioneer in sports radio. He was one of the first to provide daily sports reports, and his connections in the game gave him inside information that other members of the media were envious of. In 1934, Frick was appointed public relations director for the National League, a role in which he continued to solidify the relationship between baseball and radio. Later that same year he ascended to the vacant position of president of the league.
In the 1930s, he worked with other baseball officials and the Clark family in Cooperstown to help establish the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum. Frick was instrumental in cementing ties between Major League Baseball and the Museum in the small upstate New York village.
“This institution [will] serve as an example of fair play and American values for all who love this great game,” Frick wrote in a letter to commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis explaining the need for a Museum to honor the National Pastime.
Frick was president of the National League for 17 seasons and was in that position at a critical juncture in the history of the major leagues. Frick’s greatest contribution came in 1947, when a few players, most notably members of the St. Louis Cardinals, balked at the arrival of Jackie Robinson to break the color barrier. Frick quickly promised to banish anyone who did anything to thwart efforts to integrate baseball.
“The National League will go down the line with Robinson,” Frick sternly warned, “and I don’t care if it wrecks the league for five years.”
Robinson enjoyed a phenomenal rookie season and paved the way for African Americans to enter the game. Through his staunch support of Robinson, Frick was again in the right place at the right time.
One of the most respected men in the game, Frick was elected commissioner of baseball in 1951. Under his reign, the major leagues moved to the west coast, underwent expansion, and transitioned into the era of television. One of his most highly publicized rulings came in 1961, when he ordered that Roger Maris would have to hit 61 homers in 154 games to eclipse Babe Ruth’s record. Though he never actually demanded an asterisk in the record books (Frick called for two records – one in the old 154-game season and one in the new 162-game schedule), the “asterisk” became a controversial incident. Critics argued that Frick was protecting the legacy of his old friend Ruth. Regardless, Frick emerged unscathed and continued to lead baseball through an era of change and growth.
In 1968, after serving two terms as commissioner, Frick retired after nearly five decades in the game. Two years later he was elected to the Hall of Fame, the institution he had done so much to create and foster. In retirement he continued to journey to Cooperstown nearly every year for induction ceremonies. Upon his death in 1978, the Hall of Fame established the Ford C. Frick Award to be presented annually for outstanding contributions to baseball broadcasting.
Though his plaque in Cooperstown may not be as recognizable to visitors as those of other baseball legends, Ford C. Frick was an instrumental figure in the history of the game who found himself in the right place at the right time on several occasions.
Baseball’s Heavenly Twins
Today, Hugh Duffy is largely remembered for his amazing 1894 season, in which he hit .438, a mark that remains a major league record. But he was also a manager, executive, coach, and team owner, who was under contract in baseball for an incredible 68 years of his life.
Duffy was born in Cranston, Rhode Island, on November 26, 1866. After two seasons in minor leagues, he was scouted by Cap Anson, who signed Duffy to play for his Chicago White Stockings in the National League in 1888. It was the first of four major leagues that Duffy would play in, and he hit .300 in each of them.
At just over five-feet, seven-inches tall, Duffy was a small player who carried a heavy wallop in his bat. He had broad shoulders and powerful arms, and his range in the outfield was extraordinary. He was known as a sharp dresser, and he earned the attention of admiring female fans with his classic good looks.
In 1890, Duffy was one of many stars who jumped to the upstart Players’ League, where he played under Charles Comiskey. After a season with Boston in the American Association in 1891, when he batted .341 with 83 stolen bases, Duffy was lured back to the National League by Frank Selee of the Boston Beaneaters.
With Boston, “Sir Hugh” enjoyed his best seasons, and gained tremendous popularity with fans after he was teamed with fellow outfielder Tommy McCarthy, also a product of the northeast. Duffy in center field and McCarthy in right (and later left) were dubbed “The Heavenly Twins” by adoring Boston bleacherites. The duo played four seasons together, helping the Beaneaters to two pennants.
In 1894, Duffy hit .438 with 236 hits in 124 games, 160 runs scored, 50 doubles, and 18 home runs, many of the inside-the-park variety. Duffy remained in center field for Boston through the 1900 season, before jumping to the upstart American League, where he played a major role in establishing the circuit as a rival to the N.L. As a conduit to players, Duffy helped convince several N.L. stars to bolt for the A.L., and he helped choose the location of Huntington Avenue Grounds, where the Boston Americans played. By 1906, Duffy’s long career as player was over, but he stayed in the game as a minor league team owner, and managing the Phillies, White Sox, and Red Sox in three stints from 1904 to 1922.
Later in the 1920s, Duffy coached the baseball team at Harvard University, while also scouting for the Red Sox, keeping his ties to Boston strong. While under contract with the Red Sox, Duffy tutored a young Ted Williams in the 1930s, saying of Williams, “He’s the greatest hitter it has been my pleasure to look at, and don’t forget, I’ve been looking at Hugh Duffy in the shaving mirror for many a year.”
Duffy was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1945, and died on October 19, 1954, in Boston. For his career, Duffy hit .330 in 1,722 games, with 2,307 hits, 1,545 runs scored, and 103 home runs.
Tommy McCarthy didn’t earn a chance as an everyday player until he was nearly 25 years old, but when he did, he delighted crowds with his stellar outfield play and fine baserunning. One newspaper account called McCarthy “the most clever and scientific man in base ball.”
McCarthy was born in the heart of the southern Irish district of Boston, on July 24, 1863, the son of a liquor dealer. As a boy he played baseball with several teams in the city before earning the attention of Tim Murnane, the manager of Boston’s Union Association club. Murnane signed the speedy right-handed hitter in 1884, and McCarthy played 53 games for the Reds. After the Union Association folded, McCarthy latched on with the Boston entry in the National League for a brief stop in 1885, before spending parts of the next two campaigns with the Quakers of Philadelphia.
With the Quakers, and later the St. Louis Browns (managed by Charles Comiskey) of the American Association, McCarthy perfected a play that inspired the infield fly rule and tag rules that we know today. Playing the outfield, McCarthy would run under a pop fly and juggle the ball as he ran into the infield, never firmly securing the ball, confusing runners and enabling McCarthy to perform a triple play, at least on one occasion. McCarthy, or “Little Mac” as he was known, also perfected the trap play, where he allowed a ball to short hop in front of him, subsequently firing the ball to the infield for a force play or a double play. John McGraw recalled a game in the 1890s, when McCarthy caught his Baltimore Orioles teammate Wilbert Robinson with the play twice in one contest. “The first time, Robbie was caught when McCarthy let the ball drop. Later, not to be fooled, Robby ran for third assuming McCarthy would pull the same stunt, but he didn’t, catching the ball to double Robbie off second base. Those of us on the bench were rolling with laughter, but Robbie was sore as he could get.”
After four seasons with the Browns, where he batted a career-high .350 in 1890, McCarthy re-joined the Boston Beaneaters in 1892. In his first two seasons, McCarthy helped the club to the National League pennant, hitting .346 in 1893, with 107 runs scored. At various times he played either right or left field, flanking his friend Hugh Duffy. The duo were popular with the fans in Boston’s South End Grounds bleachers, earning the nickname “The Heavenly Twins.” When stationed in left field, McCarthy would put on trick plays, including one in which the shortstop pretended to lose the ball in the sun, and McCarthy would creep from his position in shallow left and scoop the ball up at his shoe tops. The runners, thinking the ball was going to drop in, would be tagged off base. In another favorite ploy, McCarthy would pretend that a base hit had eluded his glove and start after it like it was rolling beyond him. Once the runners started to advance, Tommy would fire the ball, which he’d hid in his glove, getting the out. Playing shallow much of the time, on more than one occasion, he was the middle pivot on a double play in the infield.
After the 1895 campaign, “The Heavenly Twins” were separated, when McCarthy was sent to Brooklyn. After a final year with the Bridegrooms, McCarthy retired, having socked away much of the money he’d earned as a ballplayer. He and Duffy opened a bowling alley and saloon in Boston called “Duffy and McCarthy,” which Tommy ran for several years. McCarthy also coached at Dartmouth, Holy Cross, and Boston College, and later served as a scout for the Cincinnati Reds, Boston Braves, and Boston Red Sox.
McCarthy died at the age of 57 in 1922. He batted .294 with 1,485 hits and 1,050 runs scored in 1,258 games during his 13-year career. He also swiped more than 500 bases, with a career-high of 109 in 1888. McCarthy joined his outfield partner Duffy in the Hall of Fame in 1946.
