A Ball Player's Career
by Adrian C. Anson · English · Gutenberg #19652 · 603,994 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: A Ball Player's Career
Author: Adrian C. Anson
Release date: October 28, 2006 [eBook #19652]
Most recently updated: January 1, 2021
Language: English
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A BALL PLAYER'S CAREER
Being the PERSONAL EXPERIENCES AND REMINISCENCES of ADRIAN C. ANSON
Late Manager and Captain of the Chicago Base Ball Club
1900
To My Father Henry Anson of Marshalltown, Iowa, to whose early training
and sound advice I owe my fame
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I.--MY BIRTHPLACE AND ANCESTRY.
II.--DAYS AT MARSHALLTOWN
III.--SOME FACTS ABOUT THE NATIONAL GAME
IV.--FURTHER FACTS AND FIGURES
V.--THE GAME AT MARSHALLTOWN
VI.--My EXPERIENCE AT ROCKFORD
VII.--WITH THE ATHLETICS OF PHILADELPHIA
VIII.--SOME MINOR DIVERSIONS
IX.--WE BALL PLAYERS Go ABROAD
X.--THE ARGONAUTS OF 1874
XI.--I WIN ONE PRIZE AND OTHERS FOLLOW
XII.--WITH THE NATIONAL LEAGUE
XIII.--FROM FOURTH PLACE TO THE CHAMPIONSHIP
XIV.--THE CHAMPIONS OF THE EARLY '80S
XV.--WE FALL DOWN AND RISE AGAIN
XVI.--BALL PLAYERS EACH AND EVERY ONE
XVII.--WHILE FORTUNE FROWNS AND SMILES
XVIII.--FROM CHICAGO TO DENVER
XIX.--FROM DENVER TO SAN FRANCISCO
XX.--TWO WEEKS IN CALIFORNIA
XXI.--WE VISIT THE HAWAIIAN ISLANDS
XXII.--FROM HONOLULU TO AUSTRALIA
XXIII.--WITH OUR FRIENDS IN THE ANTIPODES
XXIV.--BALL PLAYING AND SIGHT-SEEING IN AUSTRALIA
XXV.--AFLOAT ON THE INDIAN SEA
XXVI.--FROM CEYLON TO EGYPT
XXVII.--IN THE SHADOW OF THE PYRAMIDS
XXVIII.--THE BLUE SKIES OF ITALY
XXIX.--OUR VISIT TO LA BELLE FRANCE
XXX.--THROUGH ENGLAND, SCOTLAND AND IRELAND
XXXI.--"HOME, SWEET HOME"
XXXII.--THE REVOLT OF THE BROTHERHOOD
XXXIII.--MY LAST YEARS ON THE BALL FIELD
XXXIV.--IF THIS BE TREASON, MAKE THE MOST OF IT
XXXV.--HOW MY WINTERS WERE SPENT
XXXVI.--WITH THE KNIGHTS OF THE CUE
XXXVII.--NOT DEAD, BUT SLEEPING
XXXVIII.--L'ENVOI
CHAPTER I. MY BIRTHPLACE AND ANCESTRY.
The town of Marshalltown, the county seat of Marshall County, in the
great State of Iowa, is now a handsome and flourishing place of some
thirteen or fourteen thousand inhabitants. I have not had time recently
to take the census myself, and so I cannot be expected to certify
exactly as to how many men, women and children are contained within the
corporate limits.
At the time that I first appeared upon the scene, however, the town was
in a decidedly embryonic state, and outside of some half-dozen white
families that had squatted there it boasted of no inhabitants save
Indians of the Pottawattamie tribe, whose wigwams, or tepees, were
scattered here and there upon the prairie and along the banks of the
river that then, as now, was not navigable for anything much larger than
a flat-bottomed scow.
The first log cabin that was erected in Marshalltown was built by my
father, Henry Anson, who is still living, a hale and hearty old man,
whose only trouble seems to be, according to his own story, that he is
getting too fleshy, and that he finds it more difficult to get about
than he used to.
He and his father, Warren Anson, his grandfather, Jonathan Anson, and
his great-grandfather, Silas Anson, were all born in Dutchess County,
New York, and were direct descendants of one of two brothers, who came
to this country from England some time in the seventeenth century. They
traced their lineage back to William Anson, Esq., of Lincoln's Inn, an
eminent barrister in the reign of James I, who purchased the Mansion of
Shuzsborough, in the county of Stafford, and, even farther back, to Lord
Anson, a high Admiral of the English navy, who was one of the first of
that daring band of sailors who circumnavigated the globe and helped to
lay the foundation of England's present greatness.
I have said that we were direct descendants of one of two brothers. The
other of the original Ansons I am not so proud of, and for this reason:
He retained the family name until the Revolutionary war broke out, when
he sided with the King and became known as a Tory. Then, not wishing to
bear the same name as his, brother, who had espoused the cause of the
Colonists, he changed his name to Austin, and some of his descendants my
father has met on more than one occasion in his travels.
My mother's maiden name was Jeanette Rice, and she, like my father, was
of English descent, so you can see how little Swedish blood there is in
my veins, in spite of the nickname of "the Swede" that was often applied
to me during my ball-playing career, and which was, I fancy, given me
more because of my light hair and ruddy complexion than because of any
Swedish characteristics that I possessed.
Early in life my father emigrated from New York State into the wilds of
Michigan, and later, after he was married, and while he was but nineteen
years of age, and his wife two years his junior, he started out to find
a home in the West, traveling in one of the old-fashioned prairie
schooners drawn by horses and making his first stop of any account on
the banks of the Cedar River in Iowa. This was in the high-water days of
1851, and as the river overflowed its banks and the waters kept rising
higher and higher my father concluded that it was hardly a desirable
place near which to locate a home, and hitching up his team he saddled a
horse and swam the stream, going on to the westward. He finally
homesteaded a tract of land on the site of the present town of
Marshalltown, which he laid out, and to which he gave the name that it
now bears. This, for a time, was known as "Marshall," it being named
after the town of Marshall in Michigan, but when a post-office was
applied for it was discovered that there was already a post-office of
that same name in the State, and so the word "town" was added, and
Marshalltown it became, the names of Anson, Ansontown and Ansonville
having all been thought of and rejected. Had the name of "Ansonia"
occurred at that time to my father's mind, however, I do not think that
either Marshall or Marshalltown would have been its title on the map.
It was not so very long after the completion of my father's log cabin,
which stood on what is now Marshall-town's main street, that I, the
first white child that was born there, came into the world, the exact
date of my advent being April 17th, 1852. My brother Sturges Ransome,
who is two years my senior, was born at the old home in Michigan, and I
had still another brother Melville who died while I was yet a small boy,
so at the time of which I write there were three babies in the house,
all of them boys, and I the youngest and most troublesome of the lot.
The first real grief that came into my life was the death of my mother,
which occurred when I was but seven years old. I remember her now as a
large, fine-looking woman, who weighed something over two hundred
pounds, and she stood about five feet ten-and-a-half inches in height.
This is about all the recollection that I have of her.
If the statements made by my father and by other of our relatives are to
be relied upon, and I see no reason why they should not be, I was a
natural-born kicker from the very outset of my career, and of very
little account in the world, being bent upon making trouble for others.
I had no particularly bad traits that I am aware of, only that I was
possessed of an instinctive dislike both to study and work, and I
shirked them whenever opportunity offered.
I had a penchant, too, for getting into scrapes, and it was indeed a
happy time for my relatives when a whole day passed without my being up
to some mischief.
Some of my father's people had arrived on the scene before my mother's
death, and, attracting other settlers to the scene, Marshalltown, or
Marshall as it was then called, was making rapid strides in growth and
importance. The Pottawattomies, always friendly to the whites, were
particularly fond of my father and I often remember seeing both the
bucks and the squaws at our cabin, though I fancy that they were not so
fond of us boys as they might have been, for we used to tease and bother
them at every opportunity. Johnny Green was their chief, and Johnny, in
spite of his looks, was a pretty decent sort of a fellow, though he was
as fond of fire-water as any of them and as Iowa was not a prohibition
State in those early days he managed now and then to get hold of a
little. "The fights that he fought and the rows that he made" were as a
rule confined to his own people.
Speaking of the Indians, I remember one little occurrence in which I was
concerned during those early days that impressed itself upon my memory
in a very vivid fashion, and even now I am disposed to regard it as no
laughing matter, although my father entertains a contrary opinion, but
then my father was not in my position, and that, ofttimes, makes all the
difference in the world.
The Pottawattamies were to have a war dance at the little town of
Marietta, some six or seven miles up the river, and of course we boys
were determined to be on hand and take part in the festivities. There
were some twelve or fifteen of us in the party and we enjoyed the show
immensely, as was but natural. Had we all been content to look on and
then go home peacefully there would have been no trouble, but what boys
would act in such unboyish fashion? Not the boys of Marshalltown, at any
rate. It was just our luck to run up against two drunken Indians riding
on a single pony, and someone in the party, I don't know who, hit the
pony and started him, to bucking.
Angrier Indians were never seen. With a whoop and a yell that went
ringing across the prairies they started after us, and how we did leg
it! How far some of the others ran I have no means of knowing but I know
that I ran every foot of the way back to Marshalltown, nor did I stop
until I was safe, as I thought, in my father's house.
My troubles did not end there, however, for along in the darkest hours
of the night I started from sleep and saw those two Indians, one
standing at the head and one at the foot of the bed, and each of them
armed with a tomahawk. That they had come to kill me I was certain, and
that they would succeed in doing so seemed to me equally sure. I tried
to scream but I could not. I was as powerless as a baby. I finally
managed to move and as I did so I saw them vanish through the open
doorway and disappear in the darkness.
There was no sleep for me that night, as you may imagine. I fancied that
the entire Pottawattomie tribe had gathered about the house and that
they would never be content until they had both killed and scalped me. I
just lay there and shivered until the dawn came, and I do not think
there was a happier boy in the country than I when the morning finally
broke and I convinced myself by the evidence of my own eye-sight that
there was not so much as even a single Indian about.
As soon as it was possible I told my father about my two unwelcome
visitors, but the old man only laughed and declared that I had been
dreaming. It was just possible that I had, but I do not believe it. I
saw those two Indians as they stood at the head and foot of my bed just
as plainly as I ever saw a base-ball, and I have had my eye on the ball
a good many times since I first began to play the game. I saw both their
painted faces and the tomahawks that they held in their sinewy hands.
More than that, I heard them as well as saw them when they went out.
That is the reason why I insist that I was not dreaming. I deny the
allegation and defy the alligator!
There were two Indians in my room that night. What they were there for I
don't know, and at this late day I don't care, but they were there, and
I know it. I shall insist that they were there to my dying day, and they
were there!
CHAPTER II. BOYHOOD DAYS AND MEMORIES.
What's in a name? Not much, to be sure, in many of them, but in mine a
good deal, for I represent two Michigan towns and two Roman Emperors,
Adrian and Constantine. My father had evidently not outgrown his liking
for Michigan when I came into the world, and as he was familiar with
both Adrian and Constantine and had many friends in both places he
concluded to keep them fresh in his memory by naming me after them.
I don't think he gave much consideration to the noble old Romans at that
time. In fact, I am inclined to believe that he did not think of them at
all, but nevertheless Adrian Constantine I was christened, and it was as
Adrian Constantine Anson that my name was first entered upon the roll of
the little school at Marshalltown.
I was then in my "smart" years, and what I didn't know about books would
have filled a very large library, and I hadn't the slightest desire to
know any more. In my youthful mind book-knowledge cut but a small, a
very small, figure, and the school house itself was as bad if not worse
than the county jail.
The idea of my being cooped up between four walls when the sunbeams were
dancing among the leaves outside and the bees were humming among the
blossoms, seemed to me the acme of cruelty, and every day that I spent
bending over a desk represented to my mind just so many wasted hours and
opportunities. I longed through all the weary hours to be running out
barefoot on the prairies; to be playing soak-ball, bull pen or two old
cat, on one of the vacant lots, or else to be splashing about like a big
Newfoundland dog in the cool waters of Lynn Creek.
About that time my father had considerable business to attend to in
Chicago and was absent from home for days and weeks at a time. You know
the old adage, "When the cat's away," etc.? Well, mouse-like, that was
the time in which I played my hardest. I played hookey day after day,
and though I was often punished for doing so it had but little effect.
Run away from school I would, and run away from school I did until even
the old man became disgusted with the idea of trying to make a scholar
of me.
Sport of any kind, and particularly sport of an outdoor variety, had for
me more attractions than the best book that was ever published. The game
of base-ball was then in its infancy and while it was being played to
some extent to the eastward of us the craze had not as yet reached
Marshalltown. It arrived there later and it struck the town with both
feet, too, when it did come.
"Soak Ball" was at this time my favorite sport. It was a game in which
the batter was put out while running the bases by being hit with the
ball; hence the name. The ball used was a comparatively soft one, yet
hard enough to hurt when hurled by a powerful arm, as many of the
old-timers as well as myself can testify. It was a good exercise,
however, for arms, legs and eyes, and many of the ball players who
acquired fame in the early seventies can lay the fact that they did so
to the experience and training that this rough game gave to them.
So disgusted did my father finally become with the progress of my
education at Marshalltown that he determined upon sending me to the
State University at Iowa City. I was unable to pass the examination
there the first time that I tried it, but later I succeeded and the old
man fondly imagined that I was at last on the high road to wealth, at
least so far as book-knowledge would carry me.
But, alas, for his hopes in that direction! I was not a whit better as a
student at Iowa City than I had been at home. I was as wild as a mustang
and as tough as a pine knot, and the scrapes that I managed to get into
were too numerous to mention. The State University finally became too
small to hold me and the University of Notre Dame in Indiana, then noted
as being one of the strictest schools in the country, was selected as
being the proper place for "breaking me into harness," providing that
the said "breaking in" performance could be successfully accomplished
anywhere.
To Notre Dame I went and if I acquired any honors in the way of
scholarships during the brief time that I was there I have never heard
of them. Foot-ball, base-ball and fancy skating engrossed the most of my
attention, and in all of these branches of sport I attained at least a
college reputation. As a fancy skater I excelled, and there were few
boys of my age anywhere in the country that could beat me in that line.
The base-ball team that represented Notre Dame at that time was the
Juanitas, and of this organization I was a member, playing second base.
The bright particular star of this club was my brother Sturgis, who
played the center field position. Had he remained in the business he
would certainly have made his mark in the profession, but unfortunately
he strained his arm one day while playing and was obliged to quit the
diamond. He is now a successful business man in the old town and
properly thankful that a fate that then seemed most unkind kept him from
becoming a professional ball player.
Looking back over my youthful experiences I marvel that I have ever
lived to relate them, and that I did not receive at least a hundred
thrashings for every one that was given me. I know now that I fully
deserved all that I received, and more, too. My father was certainly in
those days a most patient man. I have recorded the fact elsewhere that I
was as averse to work as I was to study, and I had a way of avoiding it
at times that was peculiarly my own.
While I was still a boy in Marshalltown and before I had graduated (?)
from either the State University or the college of Notre Dame, my father
kept a hotel known as the Anson House. The old gentleman was at that
tune the possessor of a silver watch, and to own that watch was the
height of my ambition. Time and again I begged him to give it to me, but
he had turned a deaf ear to my importunities.
In the back yard of the hotel one day when I had been begging him for
the gift harder than usual, there stood a huge pile of wood that needed
splitting, and looking at this he remarked, that I could earn the watch
if I chose by doing the task. He was about to take a journey at the time
and I asked him if he really meant it. He replied that he did, and
started away.
I don't think he had any more idea of my doing the task than he had of
my flying. I had some ideas of my own on the subject, however, and he
was scarcely out of sight before I began to put them into execution. The
larder of the hotel was well stocked, and cookies and doughnuts were as
good a currency as gold and silver among boys of my acquaintance. This
being the case it dawned upon my mind that I could sublet the contract,
a plan than I was not long in putting into practice.
Many hands make quick work, and it was not long before I had a little
army of boys at work demolishing that wood pile. The chunks that were
too big and hard to split we placed on the bottom, then placed the split
wood over them. The task was accomplished long before the old
gentleman's return, and when on the night of his arrival I took him out
and showed him that such was the case he looked a bit astonished. He
handed over the watch, though, and for some days afterwards as I
strutted about town with it in my pocket I fancied it was as big as the
town clock and wondered that everybody that I met in my travels did not
stop to ask me the time of day.
It was some time afterwards that my father discovered that the job had
been shirked by me, and paid for with the cakes and cookies taken from
his own larder, but it was then too late to say anything and I guess, if
the truth were known, he chuckled to himself over the manner in which
lie had been outwitted.
The old gentleman seldom became very angry with me, no matter what sort
of a scrape I might have gotten into, and the only time that he really
gave me a good dressing down that I remember was when I had traded
during his absence from home his prize gun for a Llewellyn setter. When
he returned and found what I had done he was as mad as a hornet, but
quieted down after I had told him that he had better go hunting with her
before making so much fuss. This he did and was so pleased with the
dog's behavior that he forgave me for the trick that I had played him.
That the dog was worth more than the gun, the sequel proved.
A man by the name of Dwight who lived down in the bottoms had given his
boy instructions to kill a black-and-tan dog if he found it in the
vicinity of his sheep. The lad, who did not know one dog from another,
killed the setter and then the old gentleman boiled over again. He
demanded pay for the dog, which was refused. Then he sued, and a jury
awarded him damages to the amount of two hundred dollars, all of which
goes to prove that I was even then a pretty good judge of dogs, although
I had not been blessed with a bench show experience.
I may state right here that my father and I were more like a couple of
chums at school together than like father and son. We fished together,
shot together, played ball together, poker together and I regret to say
that we fought together. In the early days I got rather the worst of
these arguments, but later on I managed to hold my own and sometimes to
get even a shade the better of it.
The old gentleman was an athlete of no mean ability. He was a crack
shot, a good ball player and a man that could play a game of billiards
that in those days was regarded as something wonderful for an amateur.
My love of sport, therefore, came to me naturally. I inherited it, and
if I have excelled in any particular branch it is because of my father's
teachings. He was a square sport, and one that had no use for anything
that savored of crookedness. There was nothing whatever of the Puritan
in his makeup, and from my early youth he allowed me to participate in
any sort of game that took my fancy. He had no idea at that time of my
ever becoming a professional. Neither had I. There were but few
professional sports outside of the gamblers, and even these few led a
most precarious existence.
I was quite an expert at billiards long before I was ever heard of as a
ball player. There was a billiard table in the old Anson House and it
was upon that that I practiced when I was scarcely large enough to
handle a cue. It was rather a primitive piece of furniture, but it
answered the purpose for which it had been designed. It was one of the
old six pocket affairs, with a bass-wood bed instead of slate, and the
balls sometimes went wabbling over it very much the same fashion as eggs
would roll if pushed about on a kitchen table with a broomstick. In
spite of having to use such poor tools I soon became quite proficient at
the game and many a poor drummer was taken into camp by the long, gawky
country lad at Marshalltown, whose backers were always looking about for
a chance to make some easy money.
Next to base-ball, billiards was at that time my favorite sport and
there was not an hour in the day that I was not willing to leave
anything that I might be engaged upon to take a hand in either one of
these games.
When it came to weeding a garden or hoeing a field of corn I was not to
be relied upon, but at laying out a ball, ground I was a whole team. The
public square at Marshalltown, the land for which had been donated, by
my father, struck me as being an ideal place to play ball in. There were
too many trees growing there, however, to make it available for the
purpose. I had made up my mind to turn it into a ball ground in spite
of this, and shouldering an ax one fine morning I started in.
How long it took me to accomplish the purpose I had in view I have
forgotten, but I know that I succeeded finely in getting the timber all
out of the way. It was hard work, but you see the base-ball fever was on
me and that treeless park for many a long day after was a spot hat I
took great pride in.
At the present time it is shaded by stately elms, while, almost in the
center of its velvet lawn, flanked by cannon, stands a handsome stone
courthouse that is the pride of Marshall County.
Then it was ankle deep in meadow grass and surrounded by a low picket
fence over which the ball was often batted, both by members of the home
team and by their visitors from abroad.
Many a broken window in Main Street the Anson family were responsible
for in those days, but as all the owners of stores on that thoroughfare
in the immediate vicinity of the grounds were base-ball enthusiasts,
broken windows counted for but little so long as Marshalltown carried
off the honors.
CHAPTER III. SOME FACTS ABOUT THE NATIONAL GAME.
Just at what particular time the base-ball fever became epidemic in
Marshalltown it is difficult to say, for the reason that, unfortunately,
all of the records of the game there, together with the trophies
accumulated, were destroyed by a fire that swept the place in 1897, and
that also destroyed all of the files of the newspapers then published
there.
The fever had been raging in the East many years previous to that time,
however, and had gradually worked its way over the mountains and across
the broad prairies until the sport had obtained a foothold in every
little village and hamlet in the land. Before entering further on my
experience it may be well to give here and now a brief history of the
game and its origin.
When and where the game first made its appearance is a matter of great
uncertainty, but the general opinion of the historians seems to be that
by some mysterious process of evolution it developed from the boys' game
of more than a century ago, then known as "one old cat," in which there
was a pitcher, a catcher, and a batter. John M. Ward, a famous base-ball
player in his day, and now a prosperous lawyer in the city of Brooklyn,
and the late Professor Proctor, carried on a controversy through the
columns of the New York newspapers in 1888, the latter claiming that
base-ball was taken from the old English game of "rounders," while Ward
argued that base-ball was evolved from the boys' game, as above stated,
and was distinctly an American game, he plainly proving that it had no
connection whatever with "rounders."
The game of base-ball probably owed its name to the fact that bases were
used in making its runs, and were one of its prominent features.
There seems to be no doubt that the game was played in the United States
as early at least as the beginning of the present century, for Dr.
Oliver Wendell Holmes declared a few years ago that base-ball was one of
the sports of his college days, and the autocrat of the breakfast table
graduated at Harvard in 1829. Along in 1842 a number of gentlemen,
residents of New York City, were in the habit of playing the game as a
means of exercise on the vacant lot at the corner of Fourth Avenue and
Twenty-sixth Street, where Madison Square Garden now stands. In 1845
they formed themselves into a permanent organization known as the
Knickerbocker Club, and drew up the first code of playing rules of the
game, which were very simple as compared with the complex rules which
govern the game of the present time, and which are certainly changed in
such a way as to keep one busy in keeping track of them.
The grounds of this parent organization were soon transferred to the
Elysian Fields, at Hoboken, N. J., where the Knickerbockers played their
first match game on June 19th, 1846, their opponents not being an
organized club, but merely a party of gentlemen who played together
frequently, and styled themselves the New York Club. The New Yorks won
easily in four innings, the game in those days being won by the club
first making twenty-one runs on even innings. The Knickerbockers played
at Hoboken for many years, passing out of existence only in 1882. In
1853 the Olympic Club of Philadelphia was organized for the purpose of
playing town-ball, a game which had some slight resemblance to
base-ball. The Olympic Club, however, did not adopt the game of
base-ball until 1860, and consequently cannot claim priority over the
Knickerbockers, although it was one of the oldest ball-playing
organizations in existence, and was disbanded only a few years ago.
In New England a game of base-ball known by the distinctive title of
"The New England game" was in vogue about fifty years ago. It was played
with a small, light ball, which was thrown over-hand to the bat, and was
different from the "New York game" as practiced by the Knickerbockers,
Gotham, Eagle, and Empire Clubs of that city. The first regularly
organized club in Massachusetts playing the present style of base-ball
was the Olympic Club of Boston, which was established in 1854, and in
the following year participated in the first match game played in that
locality, its opponents being the Elm Tree team. The first match games
in Philadelphia, San Francisco and Washington were played in 1860. For
several years the Knickerbocker Club was alone in the field, but after a
while similar clubs began to organize, while in 1857 an association was
formed which the following year developed into the National Association.
The series of rules prepared by a committee of the principal clubs of
New York City governed all games prior to 1857, but on January 22d,
1857, a convention of clubs was held at which a new code of rules was
enacted. On March 10th, 1858, delegates from twenty-five clubs of New
York and Brooklyn met and organized the National Association of
Base-ball Players, which for thirteen successive seasons annually
revised the playing rules, and decided all disputes arising in base-ball.
The first series of contests for the championship took place during 1858
and 1859. At that time the Elysian Fields, Hoboken, N. J., were the
great center of base-ball playing, and here the Knickerbockers, Eagle,
Gotham and Empire Clubs of New York City ruled supreme.
A rival sprung up, however, in the Atlantic Club of Brooklyn, and its
success led to the arrangement of a series of games between selected
nines of the New York and Brooklyn Clubs in 1858. In these encounters
New York proved victorious, winning the first and third games by the
respective scores of 22 to 18, and 29 to 18, while Brooklyn won the
second contest by 29 to 8. In October, 1861, another contest took place
between the representative nines of New York and Brooklyn for the silver
ball presented by the New York Clipper, and Brooklyn easily won by a
score of 18 to 6. The Civil war materially affected the progress of the
game in 1861, '62 and '63 and but little base-ball was played, many
wielders of the bat having laid aside the ash to shoulder the musket.
The Atlantic and Eckford Clubs of Brooklyn were the chief contestants
for the championship in 1862, the Eckfords then wresting the
championship away from the Atlantics, and retaining it also during the
succeeding season, when they were credited with an unbroken succession
of victories. The champion nine of the Eckford Club in 1863 were
Sprague, pitcher; Beach, catcher; Roach, Wood and Duffy on the bases;
Devyr, shortstop; and Manolt, Swandell and Josh Snyder in the outfield.
The championship reverted back to the Atlantics in 1864, and they held
the nominal title until near the close of 1867, their chief competitors
being the Athletics of Philadelphia and the Mutuals of New York City.
The Athletics held the nominal championship longer than any other club,
and also claims the credit of not being defeated in any game played
during 1864 and 1865, the feat of going through two successive seasons
without a defeat being unprecedented at that time in base-ball history.
The Eckfords of Brooklyn, however, went through the season of 1863
without losing a game, and the Cincinnati Reds, under the management of
the late Harry Wright, accomplished a similar feat in 1869, the latter
at the time meeting all of the best teams in the country, both East and
West.
The Atlantic's champion nine in 1864 and 1865 were Pratt, pitcher;
Pearce, catcher; Stark, Crane and C. Smith, on the bases; Galvin,
shortstop; and Chapman, P. O'Brien and S. Smith in the outfield. Frank
Norton caught during the latter part of the season and Pearce played
shortstop.
The Athletics in 1866 played all of the strongest clubs in the country
and were only twice defeated, once by the Atlantics of Brooklyn, and
once by the Unions of Morrisania. The first game between the Atlantics
and Athletics for the championship took place October 1st, 1866, in
Philadelphia, the number of people present inside and outside the
inclosed grounds being estimated as high as 30,000, it being the largest
attendance known at the baseball game up to that time. Inside the
inclosure the crowd was immense, and packed so close there was no room
for the players to field. An attempt was made, however, to play the
game, but one inning was sufficient to show that it was impossible, and
after a vain attempt to clear the field both parties reluctantly
consented to a postponement.
The postponed game was played October 22d, in Philadelphia.
The price of tickets was placed at one dollar and upwards, and two
thousand people paid the "steep" price of admission, the highest ever
charged for mere admission to the grounds, while five or six thousand
more witnessed the game from the surrounding embankment. Rain and
darkness obliged the umpire to call the game at the end of the second
inning, the victory remaining with the Athletics, by the decisive totals
of 31 to 12. A dispute about the gate money prevented the playing of the
decisive game of the season.
The Unions of Morrisiana, by defeating the Atlantics in two out of three
games in the latter part of the season of 1867, became entitled to the
nominal championship, which during the next two seasons was shifted back
and forth between the leading clubs of New York and Brooklyn. The
Athletics in 1868, and the Cincinnatis in 1869, had, however, the best
records of their respective seasons, and were generally acknowledged as
the virtual champions.
The Athletics of Philadelphia in 1866 had McBride, pitcher; Dockney,
catcher; Berkenstock, Reach and Pike on the bases; Wilkins, shortstop;
and Sensenderfer, Fisler and Kleinfelder in the outfield. Their nine
presented few changes during the next two seasons, Dockney, Berkenstock
and Pike giving way to Radcliff, Cuthbert and Berry in 1867, and Schafer
taking Kleinfelder's place in 1868.
The Cincinnati nine in 1869 were Brainard, pitcher; Allison, catcher;
Gould, Sweasy and Waterman on the bases; George Wright, shortstop, and
Leonard, Harry Wright and McVey in the outfield.
In 1868 the late Frank Queen, proprietor and editor of the New York
Clipper, offered a series of prizes to be contested for by the leading
clubs of the country, a gold ball being offered for the champion club,
and a gold badge to the player in each position, from catcher to right
field, who had the best batting average. The official award gave the
majority of the prizes to the Athletic club. McBride, Radcliff, Fisler,
Reach and Sensenderfer, having excelled in their respective positions of
pitcher, catcher, first base, second base, and center field. Waterman,
Hatfield and Johnson, of the Cincinnatis, excelled in the positions of
third base, left field and right field, and George Wright of the Unions,
of Morrisiania as shortstop. The gold ball was also officially awarded
to the Athletics as the emblem of championship for the season of 1868.
The Atlantics of Brooklyn were virtually the champions of 1870, being
the first club to deprive the Cincinnati Reds of the prestige of
invincibility which had marked their career during the preceding season.
The inaugural contest between these clubs in 1870 took place June 14th
on the Capitoline grounds at Brooklyn, N. Y., the Atlantics then winning
by a score of 8 to 7 after an exciting struggle of eleven innings. The
return game was played September 2d, in Cincinnati, Ohio, and resulted
in a decisive victory for the Reds, by a score of 14 to 3.
This necessitated a third or decisive game, which was played in
Philadelphia October 6th, and this the Atlantics won by a score of 11 to
7.
The Atlantics in that year had Zettlein, pitcher; Ferguson, catcher;
Start, Pike and Smith on the bases; Pearce, shortstop, and Chapman, Hall
and McDonald on the outfield.
The newspapers throughout the country had by this time begun to pay
unusual attention to the game, and the craze was spreading like wildfire
all over the country, every little country town boasting of its nine,
and as these were for the greater part made up of home players, local
feeling ran high, and the doings of "our team" furnished the chief
subject of conversation at the corner grocery, and wherever else the
citizens were wont to congregate.
With the advent of the professional player the game in the larger towns
took on a new lease of life, but in the smaller places where they could
not afford the expense necessary to the keeping of a first-class team it
ceased to be the main attraction and interest was centered in the doings
of the teams of the larger places.
That the professional player improved the game itself goes without
saying as being a business with him instead of a pastime, and one upon
which his daily bread depended, he went into it with his whole soul,
developing its beauties in a way that was impossible to the amateur who
could only give to it the time that he could spare after the business
hours of the day.
This was the situation at the time that I first entered tile base-ball
arena, and, looking back, when I come to compare the games of those days
with the games of to-day and note the many changes that have taken
place, I cannot but marvel at the improvement made and at the interest
that the game has everywhere excited.
CHAPTER IV. FURTHER FACTS AND FIGURES.
The professional player of those early days and the professional player
of the present time were totally different personages. When
professionalism first crept into the ranks it was generally the custom
to import from abroad some player who had made a name for himself,
playing some certain position, and furnish him with a business situation
so that his services might be called for when needed, and so strong was
the local pride taken in the success of the team that business men were
not averse to furnishing such a man with a position when they were
informed that it would be for the good of the home organization.
Prior to the year 1868 the professional was, comparatively speaking, an
unknown quantity on the ball field, though it may be set down here as a
fact that on more than one occasion previous to that time "the laborer
had been found worthy of his hire," even in base-ball, though that
matter had been kept a secret as far as possible, even in the home
circle.
Up to the year mentioned the rules of the National Association had
prohibited the employment of any paid player in a club nine, but at that
time so strong had the rivalry become between the leading clubs of the
principal cities that the practice of compensating players had become
more honored in the breach than in the observance and the law was
practically a dead letter so far as these clubs were concerned.
The growth of the professional class of players, and the consequent
inequality in strength between these and the amateur players made a
distinction necessary and in 1871 the National Association split up, the
professional clubs forming an association of their own.
The first series of championship games under a regular official code of
rules was then established, and since then the contests for the
professional championship have been the events of each season's play.
The first convention of delegates from avowedly professional clubs was
held March 17th, 1871, in New York City, and a code of rules were then
adopted, the principal clause being the one suggested by the Athletic
Club of Philadelphia, to the effect that the championship should belong
to the club which won the greatest number of games in a series of five
with every other contesting club.
The professional Association thus organized consisted of the following
clubs: Athletics of Philadelphia, Boston, Chicago, Forest Citys of
Cleveland, Forest Citys of Rockford, Haymakers of Troy, Kekiongas of
Fort Wayne, Mutuals of New York' City, and Olympics of Washington. The
Eckford Club of Brooklyn entered the Association about the middle of the
season, but its games were not counted. The Kekiongas disbanded in July,
but their games were thrown out.
That season marked my advent on the diamond as a professional, I being a
member of the Forest Citys of Rockford; so it can readily be seen that I
was among the first of the men in America who made of base-ball playing
a business.
The additions to the Association in 1872 were the Atlantic and Eckford
of Brooklyn, Baltimore, National of Washington, and Mansfield of
Middletown, Conn., the last mentioned, however, disbanding before the
close of the championship season. The Forest Citys of Rockford did not
enter the arena that year, but I was "still in the ring," having
transferred my services to the Athletics of Philadelphia, where I
remained until the formation of the National League in 1876.
In 1875 the Athletics had a rival in the new Philadelphia club; the
Maryland of Baltimore and the Resolute of Elizabeth, N. J., also
entering the championship arena. The Forest City of Cleveland and the
Eckford of Brooklyn dropped out after 1872, and the two Washington clubs
were consolidated. The Chicago club, which had been broken up by the
great fire of 1871 and had been out of existence in 1872 and 1873, again
entered the Association in 1874, when Hartford was for the first time
represented by a professional club. The Washington, Resolute and the
Maryland Clubs were not members of the Association in that year.
Thirteen professional clubs competed for the championship in 1875, the
St. Louis team being the only one of the new entries that did not
disband before the season closed. This was the last season of the
Professional Association, it being superseded by the National League, an
organization which still exists, though it lacks the brains and power
that carried it on to success in, its earlier days, this being notably
the case in Chicago and New York, where the clubs representing these
cities have gone down the toboggan slide with lightning-like rapidity.
In this connection the names of the teams winning the Professional
Association championships, together with the players composing them are
given:
1871. Athletic, McBride, pitcher; Malone, catcher; Fisler, Reach and
Meyerle on the bases; Radcliffe, shortstop; Cuthbert, Senserderfer and
Heubel in the outfield, and Bechtel and Pratt, substitutes.
1872, Boston, Spalding, pitcher; McVey, catcher; Gould, Barnes and
Schafer on the bases; George Wright, shortstop; Leonard, Harry Wright
and Rogers, in the outfield; and Birdsall and Ryan, substitutes.
1873. Boston, Spalding, pitcher; Jas. White, catcher; Jas. O'Rourke,
Barnes and Schafer on the bases; George Wright, shortstop; Leonard,
Harry Wright and Manning in the outfield; and Birdsall and Sweasey,
substitutes. Addy took Manning's place in the latter part of the season.
1874. Boston, Spalding, pitcher; McVey, catcher; White, Barnes and
Schafer on the bases; George Wright, shortstop; Leonard, Hall and Jas.
O'Rourke in the outfield; and Harry Wright and Beal, substitutes.
1875. Boston, Spalding, pitcher; Jas. White, catcher; McVey, Barnes and
Schafer on the Bases; George Wright, shortstop; Leonard, Jas. O'Rourke
and Manning in the outfield, and Harry Wright and Beal, substitutes.
Heifert and Latham each played first base during part of the season.
It will thus be seen that the Boston Club held the championship in those
early days for four successive seasons, and playing against them as I
did I can bear witness to their strength and skill as ball players.
Many of the men, who like myself were among the first to enter the
professional ranks in those days, have achieved distinction in the
business world, the notables among them being A. G. Spalding, now head
of the largest sporting goods house in the world, with headquarters in
Chicago; George Wright, who is the head of a similar establishment at
Boston, and Al Reach, who is engaged in the same line of business at
Philadelphia, while others, not so successful, have managed to earn a
living outside of the arena, and others still, have crossed "the great
divide" leaving behind them little save a memory and a name.
In those early days of the game the rules required a straight arm
delivery, and the old-time pitchers found it a difficult matter to
obtain speed save by means of an underhand throw or jerk of the ball.
Creighton, of the Excelsiors of Brooklyn, however, with his unusually
swift pitching puzzled nearly all of the opposing teams as early as
1860. Sprague developed great speed, according to the early chroniclers
of the game, while with the Eckford Club of the same city in 1863, and
Tom Pratt and McBride of the Athletics were also among the first of the
old-time pitchers to attain speed in their delivery. About 1865, Martin
pitched a slow and deceptive drop ball, it being a style of delivery
peculiarly his own, and one I have never seen used by any one else,
though Cunningham of Louisville uses it to a certain extent.
The greatest change ever made in the National Game was the introduction
of what is known as curve pitching, followed as it was several seasons
afterwards by the removal of all restrictions on the method of
delivering the ball to the batter. Arthur, known under the sobriquet of
"Candy," Cummings of Brooklyn is generally conceded to have been the
first to introduce curve pitching, which he did about 1867 or 1868.
Mount, the pitcher of the Princeton College and Avery of Yale are
accredited with using the curve about 1875, but Mathews of the New York
Mutuals and Nolan of the Indianapolis team were among the first of the
professional pitchers, after Cummings, to become proficient in its use,
which was generally adopted in 1877, and to the skill acquired by both
of these men in handling of the ball I can testify by personal
experience, having had to face them, bat in hand, on more than one
occasion.
Many people, including prominent scientists, were for a long time loth
to believe that a ball could be curved in the air, but they were soon
satisfied by practical tests, publicly made, as to the truth of the
matter.
With the doing away with the restrictions that governed the methods of
the pitcher's delivery of the ball and the introduction of the curve the
running up of large scores in the game became an impossibility, and the
batsman was placed at a decided disadvantage.
Reading over the scores of some of those old-time games in the present
day one becomes lost in wonder when he thinks of the amount of
foot-racing, both around the bases and chasing the ball, that was
indulged in by those players of a past generation. Here are some sample
performances taken from a history of base-ball, compiled by Al Wright
of New York and published in the Clipper Annual of 1891, which go to
illustrate the point in question.
The largest number of runs ever made by a club in a game was by the
Niagara Club of Buffalo, N. Y., June 8th, 1869, when they defeated the
Columbias of that city by the remarkable score of 209 to 10, two of the
Niagaras scoring twenty-five runs each, and the least number of runs,
scored by any one batsman amounted to twenty. Fifty-eight runs were made
in the eighth inning and only three hours were occupied in amassing this
mammoth total. Just think of it! Such a performance as that in these
days would be a sheer impossibility, and that such is the case the
base-ball players should be devoutly thankful, and, mind you, this
performance was made by an amateur team and not by a team of
professionals.
One hundred runs and upward have been scored in a game no less than
twenty-five times, the Athletics of Philadelphia accomplishing this feat
nine times in 1865 and 1866, and altogether being credited with scores
of 162, 131, 119, 118, 114, 114, 110, 107, 106, 104, 101, and 101. On
October 20th, 1865, the Athletics defeated the Williamsport Club by 101
to 8 in the morning, and the Alerts of Danville, Pa., by 162 to 11 in
the afternoon. Al Reach in these two games alone scored thirty-four
runs.
It strikes me that the ball players of those days earned their salaries
even if they did not get them, no matter what other folks may think
about it.
In 1867, a game was played in which, the losers made 91 runs and the
winning club 123, of which 51 were made in the last inning. The Chicagos
defeated the Memphis team May 13th, 1870, by a score of 157 to 1, and
the Forest City Club of Cleveland four days later beat a local team 132
to 1, only five innings being played. The Forest Citys made in these
five innings no fewer than 101 safe hits, with a total of 180 bases,
this being an unequalled record. The Unions of Morrisiania were credited
with 100 safe hits in a nine-inning game in 1866.
The largest score on record by professional clubs was made by the
Atlantics of Brooklyn and the Athletics of Philadelphia July 5th, 1869,
when the former won by 51 to 48. Fifteen thousand people paid admission
to the Capitoline Grounds, Brooklyn, where the game was played, and the
Atlantics made six home runs and the Athletics three during its
progress. The greatest number of runs in an inning in a first-class game
was scored by the Atlantics of Brooklyn in a match with the New York
Mutuals, October 16th, 1861, when they scored 26 runs in their third
inning. George Wright umpired a game between amateur clubs in
Washington, D. C., in 1867, in which the winners made 68 runs in an
inning, the largest total ever made.
The most one-sided contest between first class clubs was that between
the Mutuals and Chicagos June 14th, 1874, when the former won by 38 to
1, the Chicagos making only two safe hits. The greatest number of home
runs in any one game was credited to the Athletics of Philadelphia,
September 30th, 1865, when they made twenty-five against the National
Club of Jersey City, Reach, Kleinfelder and Potter each having five home
runs to their credit on this occasion. The same club was credited with
nineteen home runs May 9th, 1866, while playing an amateur club at New
Castle, Delaware. Harry Wright, while playing with the Cincinnatis
against the Holt Club June 22d, 1867, at Newport, Ky., made seven home
runs, the largest number ever scored by any individual player in a game,
though "Lip" Pike followed closely, he making six home runs, five in
succession, for the Athletics against the Alerts, July 16th, 1866, in
Philadelphia.
These were, as a matter of course, exceptional performances, and ones
that would be impossible in these days of great speed and curve
pitching, but serve to show that there were ball players, and good ones,
even in those days when the National Game was as yet, comparatively
speaking, in its infancy, and the National League, of the formation and
progress of which I will speak later on as yet unheard of.
It must be remembered that, the greater number of these old-time games
were not played upon enclosed grounds and that the batter in many cases
had no fences to prevent him from lining them out, while the pitcher was
so hampered by rules and regulations as to give the batsman every
advantage, while now it is the pitcher that enjoys a wide latitude and
the batsman who is hampered.
It was a much easier matter to hit the old underhand delivery, with its
straight ball, and to send the pigskin screaming through the air and
over a low picket fence, than to hit the swift curved ball of to-day and
lift it over the high board fences that surround the professional
grounds, as any old-time player can testify.
CHAPTER V. THE GAME AT MARSHALLTOWN.
If my memory serves me rightly it was some time in the year 1866 that
the Marshalltown Base-Ball Club, of which my father was a prominent
member, sprung into existence, and among the men who made up the team at
that time were many who have since become prominent in the history not
only of Marshalltown but of Marshall County as well, among them being
Captain Shaw, Emmett Green, A. B. Cooper, S. R. Anson and the old
gentleman himself, it being owing to my father's exertions that
Marshalltown acquired the county seat, and he has since served the town
as both Mayor and Councilman and seen it grow from a single log cabin to
a prosperous city.
Prior to the organization of this team base-ball had been played there
in a desultory fashion for some time, but with its formation the fever
broke out in its most virulent form, and it was not many weeks before
the entire town had gone base-ball crazy, the fever seemingly attacking
everybody in the place save the baby in arms, which doubtless escaped
merely because of its extreme youth and lack of understanding.
In the absence of any records relating to those early days it is
impossible for me to say just who, the Marshalltown team beat and who it
did not, but I do know that long before I became a member of it and
while I was still playing with the second nine, which went by the name
of the "Stars," the team enjoyed a ball-playing reputation second to
none in the State and the doings of "our team" every week occupied a
conspicuous place in the columns of the local papers, the editors of
which might have been seen enjoying the sport and occupying a front seat
on the grass at every game, with note book in hand recording each and
every play in long-hand, for the score book which has since made matters
so easy for the game's chroniclers had not then been perfected and the
club's official scorer kept a record of the tallies made by means of
notches cut with his jack-knife in a stick provided for the occasion.
Prior to June, 1867, the Marshalltown team had acquired for itself a
reputation that extended throughout the length and breadth of the State,
and at Waterloo, where a tournament was given, they had beaten
everything that came against them. In a tournament given at Belle Plaine
in either that year or the next they put in an appearance to contest for
a silk flag given by the ladies of that town, but so great was the
respect that they inspired that the other visiting clubs refused to play
against them unless they were given the odds of six put-outs as against
the regular three. This was handicapping with a vengeance, but even at
these odds the Marshalltown aggregation was too much for its competitors
and the flag was brought home in triumph, where, as may be imagined, a
great reception awaited the players, the whole town turning out en masse
to do them honor.
There was nothing too good for the ball players of those days and they
were made much of wherever they chose to go. A card of invitation that
recently came into my possession and that illustrates this fact, reads
as follows:
Empire Base Ball Club.
Yourself and lady are cordially invited to attend a Social Party at
Lincoln Hall, on Thursday Evening, June 27, 1867, given under the
auspices of the Empire Base Ball Club of Waterloo, complimentary to
their guests, the Marshalltown B. B. C.
While this aggregation of home talent was busily engaged in acquiring
fame but not fortune let no one think for a moment that I was
overlooking my opportunities, even though I were only a member of the
second nine. On the contrary, I was practicing early and late, and if I
had any great ambition it was to play in the first nine, and with this
end in view I neglected even my meals in order that I might become
worthy of the honor.
My father was as enthusiastic over the game as I was myself and during
the long summer seasons the moment that we had swallowed our supper, or,
rather, bolted it, he and I would betake ourselves to the ball grounds,
where we would practice until the gathering darkness put a stop to our
playing.
My brother Sturgis, who was also a member of the team, was not so
enthusiastic over base-ball as were my father and myself, and he would
finish his supper in a leisurely fashion before following us to the
grounds. He was far above the average as a player, however, and excelled
both as a thrower and a batsman. I have seen him on more than one
occasion throw a ball a distance of from 125 to 130 yards, and in a game
that was played at Omaha, Neb., he is credited with making the longest
hit ever seen there, the old-timers declaring that he knocked the ball
out of sight, which must be true, because nobody was ever able to find
it.
It was some time after the tournaments at Belle Plaine and Waterloo
before I was promoted to the dignity of a first-niner, and then it was
due to the solicitation of my father, who declared that I played as good
ball as anybody in the team, even if I was "only a kid."
If ever there was a proud youngster I was one at that particular time,
and I think I justified the old gentleman's good opinion of me by
playing fairly good ball, at least many of my friends were good enough
to tell me so.
With my father playing third base, my brother playing center field and
myself playing second base the Anson family was pretty well represented
on that old Marshalltown nine, and as the team held the State
championship for several years the Anson trio must at least have done
their share of the playing.
It was while I was away at Notre Dame that misfortune came to
Marshalltown. The Des Moines Club challenged for the flag and the home
team accepted the defy. The Des Moines organization was then one of the
strongest in the State. The game was played at Marshalltown, and to the
horror and astonishment of the good people of that town, who had come to
look upon their club as invincible, Des Moines won, and when they went
back to the State capital they took the emblem of the championship with
them.
This emblem I determined the town should have back, and immediately upon
my return from the Indiana College I organized a nine and challenged for
the trophy. That team was made up as follows:
Kenny Williams, pitcher; Emmett Green, catcher; A. B. Cooper, A. C.
Anson and Henry Anson on the bases; Pete Hoskins, shortstop; Sam Sager,
Sturgis Anson and Milton Ellis in the outfield; A. J. Cooper,
substitute.
We had the best wishes of the town with us when we departed for Des
Moines and were accompanied by quite a delegation of the townspeople who
were prepared to wager to some extent on our success. The game was
played in the presence of a big crowd and when we came back to
Marshalltown the flag came with us and there it remained until, with the
other trophies that the club had accumulated, it went up in smoke.
The night of our return there was "a hot time in the old town," and had
there been any keys to the city I am pretty certain that we would have
been presented with them.
The fame of the Forest City Club of Rockford, one of the first
professional clubs to be organized in the West, had been blown across
the prairies until it reached Marshalltown, so when they came through
Iowa on an exhibition tour after the close of their regular season we
arranged for a game with them. They had been winning all along the line
by scores that mounted up all the way from 30 to 100 to 1, and while we
did not expect to beat them, yet we did expect to give them a better run
than they had yet had for their money since the close of the
professional season.
The announcement of the Rockford Club's visit naturally excited an
intense amount of interest all through that section of the country and
when the day set for the game arrived the town was crowded with visitors
from all parts of the State. Accompanying the Forest Citys was a large
delegation of Chicago sporting men, who had come prepared to wager their
money that the Marshalltown aggregation would be beaten by a score
varying all the way from 8 to 20 to 1, and they found a good many takers
among the townspeople who had seen us play and who had a lot of
confidence in our ability to hold the visitor's score down to a low
figure.
Upon the result of the game A. G. Spalding, who was the pitcher for the
Forest Citys, alleges that my father wagered a cow, but this the old
gentleman indignantly denies, and he further declares that not a single
wager of any sort was made by any member of the team.
Be this as it may, one thing is certain, and that is that the game was
witnessed by one of the largest crowds that had ever gathered around a
ball ground in Marshalltown, and we felt that we had every reason to
feel elated when at the end of the ninth inning the score stood at 18 to
3 in their favor.
So disgusted were the visitors and their followers over the showing that
we had made in spite of their best endeavors that they at once proceeded
to arrange another game for the next day, cancelling another date ahead
in order to do so.
Speaking of this second game my father says: "The rules of the game at
that time made the playing of a 'Ryan dead ball' compulsory, and this it
was the province of the home club to furnish, and this was the sort of a
ball that was played with the first day. To bat such a ball as this to
any great distance was impossible and our fielders were placed well in
for the second game, just as they had been in the first, but we soon
discovered that the balls were going far beyond us, and on noting their
positions when our turn to bat came we found their fielders placed much
further out than on the day before. My first impression was that the
great flights taken by the ball were due to the tremendous batting, but
later on I became convinced that there was something wrong with the
ball, and called for time to investigate the matter.
"On questioning our unsophisticated management I discovered that the
visitors had generously (?) offered to furnish the ball for the second
game, as we had furnished the ball for the first, and had been allowed
to do so. We later learned that they had skinned the liveliest kind of a
'Bounding Rock' and re-covered it with a 'Ryan Dead Ball' cover. This
enabled them to get ahead at the start, but after we had learned of the
deception we held them down so close that they won back but a very small
share of the money that they had lost on the game of the day before,
though they beat us by a score of 35 to 5.
"Let me say right here, too, that the visitors had their own umpire with
them, and he was allowed to umpire the game. He let Al Spalding do about
as he pleased, and pitch as many balls as he wished without calling
them, and once when I was at the bat and he could not induce me to hit
at the wild ones that he was sending in he fired a vicious one straight
in my direction, when, becoming irritated in my turn, I dropped the bat
and walked out in his direction with a view of administering a little
proper punishment to the frisky gentleman. He discovered what was
coming, however, and meekly crawled back, piteously begging pardon and
declaring it all a mistake. There was one result of the game, however,
which was that when the Rockford people were organizing a professional
nine they wrote to Marshalltown and tried to secure the whole Anson
family, and Adrian, who was still only a boy, was allowed to sign with
them, I retaining his older brother at home to aid me in my business."
I am inclined to think that the old gentleman is mistaken in the
substitution of a "Bounding Rock" for a "Ryan Dead Ball" in that game,
although I do remember that the stitching was different from anything
that we had ever seen before, and it may be that we were fooled as he
has stated. If so the trick was certainly a clever one.
That same fall Sager and Haskins were engaged by the Rockford team, and
I have always thought that it was due to the representations made by
them that I was engaged to play with the Forest Citys the following
season. I signed with them for a salary of sixty-six dollars a month,
which was then considered a fairly good salary for a ball player, and
especially one who was only eighteen years old and a green country lad
at that.
All that winter Sager and I practiced as best we could in the loft of my
father's barn and I worked as hard as I knew how in order to become
proficient in the ball-playing art.
Before saying farewell to Marshalltown and its ball players let me
relate a most ludicrous incident that took place there some time before
my departure. A feeling of most intense rivalry in the base-ball line
existed between Des Moines and Clinton, Iowa, and one time when the
former had a match on with the latter I received an offer of fifty
dollars from the Clinton team to go on there and play with them in a
single game.
Now fifty dollars at that time was more money than I had ever had at any
one time in my life, and so without consulting any one I determined to
accept the offer. I knew that I would be compelled to disguise myself in
order to escape recognition either by members of the Des Moines team or
by some of the spectators, and this I proceeded to do by dying my hair,
staining my skin, etc.
I did not think that my own father could recognize me, when I completed
my preparations and started to the depot to take the train for Des
Moines, but that was where I made a mistake. The old gentleman ran
against me on the platform, penetrated my disguise at once and asked me
where I was going. I told him, and then he remarked that I should do no
such thing, and he started me back home in a hurry. When he got there he
gave me a lecture, told me that such a proceeding on my part was not
honest and would ruin my reputation. In fact, he made me thoroughly
ashamed of myself. The team from Clinton had to get along without my
services, but I shall never forget what a time I had in getting the dye
out of my hair and the stain from my skin.
That fifty dollars that I didn't get bothered me, too, for a long time
afterwards. I am glad now, however, that the old gentleman prevented me
getting it. Dishonesty does not pay in base-ball any better than it does
in any other business, and that I learned the lesson early in life is a
part of my good fortune.
CHAPTER VI. MY EXPERIENCE AT ROCKFORD.
I can remember almost as well as if it were but yesterday my first
experience as a ball player at Rockford. It was early in the spring, and
so cold that a winter overcoat was comfortable. I had been there but a
day or two when I received orders from the management to report one
afternoon at the ball grounds for practice. It was a day better fitted
for telling stories around a blazing fire than for playing ball, but
orders were orders, and I obeyed them. I soon found that it was to test
my qualities as a batsman that I had been ordered to report. A bleak
March wind blew across the enclosure, and as I doffed my coat and took
my stand at the plate I shivered as though suffering from the ague. This
was partially from the effects of the cold and partially from the
effects of what actors call stage fright, and I do not mind saying right
now that the latter had more than the former to do with it. You must
remember that I was "a stranger in a strange land," a "kid" both as to
years and experience, with a knowledge that my future very largely
depended upon the showing that I might make.
Facing me was "Cherokee Fisher," one of the swiftest of the old-time
underhand pitchers, a man that I had heard a great deal about, but whom
I had never before seen, while watching my every move from the stand
were the directors of the team, conspicuous among them being Hiram
Waldo, whose judgment in base-ball matters was at that time second to no
man's in the West, and a man that I have always been proud to call my
friend.
I can remember now that I had spent some considerable time in selecting
a bat and that I was wondering in my own mind whether I should be able
to hit the ball or not. Finally Fisher began sending them in with all
the speed for which he was noted. I let a couple go by and then I
slammed one out in the right field, and with that first hit my
confidence came back to me. From that time on I batted Fisher
successfully, but the most of my hits were to the right field, owing to
the fact that I could not at that time successfully gauge his delivery,
which was much swifter than anything that I had ever been up against.
In after years a hit to right field was considered "the proper caper,"
and the man who could line a ball out in that direction at the proper
time was looked upon as a most successful batsman. It was to their
ability in that line of hitting that the Bostons for many years owed
their success in winning the championship, though it took some time for
their rivals in the base-ball arena to catch on to that fact.
After that time I was informed by Mr. Waldo that I was "all right," and
as you may imagine this assurance coming from his lips was a most
welcome one, as it meant at that time a great deal to me, a fact that,
young as I was, I thoroughly appreciated.
The make-up of the Rockford Club that season was as follows: Hastings,
catcher; Fisher, pitcher; Fulmer, shortstop; Mack, first base; Addy,
second base; Anson, third base; Ham, left fielder; Bird center fielder;
and Stires, right fielder; Mayer, substitute.
This was a fairly strong organization for those days, and especially so
when the fact is taken into consideration that Rockford was but a little
country town then and the smallest place in size of any in the country
that sup-ported a professional league team, and that the venture was
never a paying one is scarcely to be wondered at. To be sure, it was a
good base-ball town of its size, but it was not large enough to support
an expensive team, and for that reason it dropped out of the arena after
the season of 1871 was over, it being unable to hold its players at the
salaries that it could then afford to pay.
There were several changes in the make-up of the team before the season
was over, but the names of the players as I have given them were those
whose averages were turned in by the Official Scorer of the league at
the end of the season, they having all, with one exception, played in
twenty-five games, that exception being Fulmer, who participated in but
sixteen. I led the team that season both in batting and fielding, as is
shown by the following table, a table by the way that is hardly as
complete as the tables of these latter days:
Players. Games Avg base hits Avg put out Avg assisted
Anson, 3d b 25 1.64 2.27 3.66
Mack, 1st b 25 1.20 11. 0.44
Addy, 2d b 25 1.20 2.72 3.33
Fisher, p 25 1.20 1.16 1.88
Stires, r f 25 1.20 1.27 0.33
Hastings, c 25 1.12 3.33 0.83
Ham, l f 25 1.00 1.50 0.55
Bird, c f 25 1.00 1.66 0.11
Fulmer, s s 16 1.00 2.35 3.57
These averages, in my estimation, are hardly to be relied upon, as
changes in the personnel of the team were often made without due notice
being given, while the system of scoring was faulty and not near so
perfect as at the present writing. This was not the fault of their
compiler, however who was obliged to take the figures given him by the
club scorer, a man more or less incompetent, as the case might be.
Before the regular season began my time at Rockford was mostly spent in
practice, so that I was in fairly good shape when the day arrived for me
to make my professional debut on the diamond. My first game was played
on the home grounds the Rockford team having for its opponent the Forest
City Club of Cleveland, Ohio, a fairly strong organization and one that
that season finished fourth on the list for championship honors, the
Athletics of Philadelphia carrying off the prize.
I had looked forward to this game with fear and misgivings, and my
feelings were by no means improved when I was informed that owing to the
non-arrival of Scott Hastings, the regular catcher, I was expected to
fill that responsible position, one to which I was a comparative
stranger. There was nothing to do but to make the best of the situation,
however, and this I did, though I can truthfully say that for the first
five innings I was as nervous as a kitten.
We were beaten that day by a score of 12 to 4, and though I had a few
passed balls to my credit, yet on the whole I believe that, everything
considered, I played a fairly good game; at least I have been told so by
those who were in a better position to judge than I was.
With that first game my nervousness all passed away, and I settled down
to play a steady game, which I did all through the season. As I have
said, however, the Rockford team was not a strong one, and of the
thirty-two record games in which we engaged we won but thirteen, our
winning scores being as follows: May 17th, at Rockford, Rockford 15,
Olympics of Washington 12; May 23, at Fort Wayne, Rockford 17, Kekionga
13; June 5th, at Philadelphia, Rockford 11, Athletic 10; June 15th, at
Philadelphia, Rockford 10, Athletics 7; July 5th, at Rockford, Rockford
29, Chicago 14; July 31st, at Rockford, Rockford 18, Mutual 5; August
3d, at Rockford, Rockford 4, Kekionga 0 (forfeited); August 7th, at
Chicago, Rockford 16, Chicago 7; August 8th, at Chicago, Rockford 12,
Cleveland 5; September 1st, at Brooklyn, Rockford 39, Athletics 5;
September 2d, at Brooklyn, Rockford 14, Eckford 9; September 5th, at
Troy, Rockford 15, Haymakers 5; September 16th, at Cleveland, Rockford
19, Cleveland 12.
In the final revision many of these games were thrown out for one reason
and another, so that in the official guides for that year the Rockford
Club is credited with only six games won and is given the last position
in the championship race, several of the games with the Athletics being
among those declared forfeited.
I learned more of the world that season with the Rockfords than I had
ever known before. Prior to that time my travels had been confined to
the trips away to school and to some of the towns adjacent to
Marshalltown, and outside of these I knew but little. With the Rockford
team, however, I traveled all over the East and West and learned more
regarding the country I lived in and its wonderful resources than I
could have learned by going to school for the half of a lifetime. The
Rockford management treated the players in those days very nicely. We
traveled in sleeping cars and not in the ordinary day coaches as did
many of the players, and though we were obliged to sleep two in a berth
we did not look upon this as an especial hardship as would the players
of these latter days, many of whom are inclined to grumble because they
cannot have the use of a private stateroom on their travels.
I made acquaintances, too, in all parts of the country that were
invaluable to me in after days, and though I had not finished sowing my
wild oats I think the folly of it all had begun to dawn on my mind as I
saw player after player disappear from the arena, the majority of them
being men who had given promise of being shining lights in the base-ball
world.
Of the men who played with me at Rockford but few remained in the
profession, and these but for a season or two, after which they drifted
into other lines of business. Bob Addy, who was one of the best of the
lot, was a good, hard hustling player, a good base runner and a hard
hitter. He was as honest as the day is long and the last that I heard of
him he was living out in Oregon, where he was engaged in running a tin
shop. He was an odd sort of a genius and quit the game because he
thought he could do better at something else.
"Cherokee" Fisher was originally a Philadelphian, but after the
disbandment of the Rockford Club he came to Chicago, securing a place in
the Fire Department, where he still runs with the machine. He was a good
man in his day and ranked high as a pitcher.
Charles Fulmer was a fair average player. He, too, drifted out of the
game in the early '70s, and the last that I knew of him he was a member
of the Board of Aldermen in the Quaker City.
Scott Hastings, the regular catcher, was a fair all-around player, but
by no means a wonder. After he left Rockford he went to Chicago, where
he was employed for a time in a wholesale clothing house. He is now, or
was at last accounts, in San Francisco and reported as being worth a
comfortable sum of money.
The other members of the old team I have lost sight of and whether they
are living or dead I cannot say. They were a good-hearted, jovial set of
fellows, as a rule, and my association with them was most pleasant, as
was also my relations with the Rockford management, who could not have
treated me better had I been a native son, and to whom I am indebted for
much both in the way of good advice and encouraging words; and let me
say right here that nothing does so much good to a young player as a few
words of approbation spoken in the right way and at the right time. It
braces him up, gives him needed confidence in himself, and goes a long
way further toward making him a first-class player than does continual
fault-finding.
It had been an understood thing, at least so far as the old gentleman
was concerned, when he gave his consent to my playing with Rockford for
a season, that I should at the end of it return home and resume my
studies, but fate ordained otherwise. Several times during the season I
was approached by members of the Athletic Club management with offers to
play as a member of their team the next season, that of 1872, and they
finally offered me the sum of $1,250 per annum for my services. This was
much better than I was doing at Rockford, and vet I was reluctant to
leave the little Illinois town, where I had made my professional debut,
and where I had hosts of friends.
When the end of the season came and the Rockford people offered to again
sign me et the same old figures I told them frankly of the Philadelphia
offer, but at the same time offered to again sign with Rockford,
providing that they would raise my salary to $100 per month. The club
had not made its expenses and they were not even certain that they would
place a professional team in the arena during the next season. This they
told me and also that they could not afford to pay the sum I asked for
my services, and so without consulting the folks at Marshalltown I
appended my name to a Philadelphia contract, and late in the fall bade
good-by to Rockford and its ball players, turning my face towards the
City of Brotherly Love, where I played ball with the Athletics until the
formation of the National League in 1876, and it was not until five
years had elapsed that I revisited my old home in Marshalltown, taking a
bride with me.
CHAPTER VII. WITH THE ATHLETICS OF PHILADELPHIA.
The winter of 1871 and 1872 I spent in Philadelphia, where I put in my
time practicing in the gymnasium, playing billiards and taking in the
sights of a great city.
The whirligig of time had in the meantime made a good many changes in
the membership of the Professional League, for in spite of the fact that
1871 had been the most prosperous year in the history of base-ball, up
to that time, many clubs had fallen by the wayside, their places in the
ranks being taken by new-comers, and that several of these were unable
to weather the storms of 1872 because of a lack of financial support is
now a matter of history.
Conspicuous among the absentees when the season opened was the Chicago
Club, which had been broken up by the great fire that swept over the
Queen of the Inland Seas in October of 1871, and not then reorganized;
the Forest City of Rockford, the Kekiongas of Fort Wayne, and several
others.
At the opening of the regular playing season the League numbered eleven
members, as follows: Boston, of Boston, Mass.; Baltimore, of Baltimore,
Md.; Mutuals, of New York; Athletics, of Philadelphia; Troy, of Troy, N.
Y.; Atlantic, of Brooklyn; Cleveland, of Cleveland, Ohio; Mansfield, of
Mansfield, Ohio; Eckford, of Brooklyn; and Olympic and National, both of
Washington, D. C. Of these eleven clubs but six finished the season, the
others falling out, either because of bad management or a lack of
financial support, these six being the Athletic, Baltimore, Boston,
Mutual, Atlantic and Eckford teams. The first four of these were
regularly salaried clubs, while the two last were co-operative concerns.
The make-up of the Athletics that season was as follows: Malone,
catcher; McBride, pitcher; Mack, first base; Fisler, second base; Anson,
third base; McGeary, shortstop; Cuthbert, left field; Tracey, center
field; and Meyerle, right field. Outside of the Bostons this was the
strongest team that had yet appeared on the diamond. It was even
stronger than the team that represented the Hub in some respects, though
not equal to them as a whole, the latter excelling at team work, which
then, as now, proved one of the most important factors in winning a
championship.
That the Athletics were particularly strong at the bat is shown by the
fact that six of their players that season figure among the first eleven
on the batting list, the Bostons coming next with three, and the
Baltimore third.
In some of the games that we played that season the fielders had a merry
time of it and found at least plenty of exercise in chasing the ball. In
the first games that I played with the Athletics, our opponents being
the Baltimores, the fielders did not have 'a picnic by any means, the
score standing at 34 to 19 at the end of the game, and this in spite of
the fact that the ball used was a "dead one."
During the entire season and not counting exhibition games we played
forty-six games, of which we won thirty and lost sixteen, while the
Bostons, who carried off the championship, took part in fifty-nine
games, of which they won 38 and lost 11.
Figuring in twenty-eight championship games, I finished fourth on the
list of batsmen, with forty-seven base-hits to my credit, an average of
1.67 to the game, a performance that I was at that time very proud of
and that I am not ashamed of even at this late date.
The season of 1873 saw some changes in the make-up of the Athletics, the
nine that season being made up as follows: McGeary, catcher; McBride,
pitcher; Murnane, first base; Fisler, second base; Fulton, third base;
Anson, shortstop; Cuhbert, left field; Reach, center field; Fisler,
right field; and McMullen and Sensenderfer, substitutes.
This was, if anything, a stronger all-around team than the one of the
preceding year, and if it failed to make equally as good a showing it
was because the teams that were opposed to it were also of a better
calibre. The demand for good ball players had risen, and as is usual in
such cases the supply was equal to the demand, just as it would be today
under similar circumstances.
The opening of the championship season found nine clubs ready to compete
for the championship honors, viz.: The Athletics, Atlantics, Baltimore,
Boston, Mutual, Maryland, Philadelphia, Resolute and Washington, and
five of these beside the Athletics had particularly strong teams, the
Maryland, Resolute and Washington teams being the weaklings.
During the year the Athletics took part in fifty professional games, of
which they won twenty-seven and lost twenty-three, and in fourteen
exhibition games, of which they won twelve and lost two, being defeated
in the exhibition series twice by their home rivals, the Philadelphias,
which numbered among its players several who had helped to make the
Athletics famous in former years, among them being Malone and Mack.
Between these two nines there was the strongest kind of a rivalry, and
as both were popular with the home people great crowds turned out to see
the contests between them. One of these contests resulted in a thirteen
inning game, the score then standing at 5 to 4 in favor of the
Philadelphias, greatly to our disgust, and to the intense joy of our
rivals.
For the second time since the formation of the Players' League, Boston
carried off the championship honors, while we were compelled to content
ourselves with the third position, but I still stood forth on the
batting list, and that was some consolation, at least to me.
The opening of the season of 1874 again saw nine clubs ready to do
battle for the championship, but the Maryland and Resolute Clubs were
missing from the list and in their places were the re-organized Chicagos
and the Hartford aggregation, both of which presented strong teams and
teams that, properly managed, might have made much better showing in the
pennant race.
Still more changes had been made in the make-up of the Athletic team,
which in May of that year was composed of the following players: Clapp,
catcher; McBride, second base; Sutton, third base; McGeary, shortstop;
Gedney, left field; McMullen, center field; and Anson, right field.
From the way in which I was changed around from one position to another
in those days it can be readily surmised that I was looked upon as a
sort of a general-utility man, who could play in one position about as
well as in another, which in my humble judgment was a mistake, for in
base-ball as in all other trades and professions the old adage holds
true that a jack-of-all trades is master of none.
The year 1874 will ever be memorable in the history of the game by
reason of the fact that base-ball was then introduced to the notice of
our English cousins by a trip that was made to the "Tight Little Isle"
by the members of the Boston and Athletic Clubs, a trip of which I shall
have more to say later, and also by reason of the fact that the game
that season enjoyed a veritable boom, clubs of the professional,
semi-professional and amateur variety springing up in every direction.
The clubs going to make up the Professional League were admittedly
stronger than ever before, and to take the pennant from Boston was the
avowed ambition not only of the Athletics but of every team that was to
contest against the "Hub" aggregation. The effort was, however, as
futile as those of the two preceding years had been, and for the third
successive season the teams from the modern Athens carried off the
prize, not because they were the better ball players, but for the reason
that better discipline was preserved among them and they were better
managed in every way than were any of their opponents. For the second
time we were compelled to content ourselves with the third place in the
race, the second going to the Mutuals of New York, that being the first
time since the Professional League was organized that they had climbed
so high up the ladder. The Philadelphias fell from the second to the
fourth place and the Chicago "White Stockings," of whom great things had
been expected, finished on the fifth rung of the ladder.
Of the fifty-two record games that were counted as championship contests
and that were played by the Athletics, we won thirty-one and lost
twenty-one, while of the sixty games in which the Bostons figured they
won forty-three and lost but seventeen, a wonderful showing when the
playing strength of the clubs pitted against them is taken into
consideration.
Among the batsmen that season I stood eighth on the list, the lowest
position that I had occupied since I broke into the ranks of the
professional players.
When the season of 1875 opened I little realized that it was to be the
last year that I should wear an Athletic uniform, and yet such proved to
be the case. While playing with them my salary had been raised each
successive season, until I was now drawing $1,800 a year, and the limit
had not yet been reached, as I was to find out later, although at the
time I left Philadelphia for Chicago I would, for personal reasons that
will appear later, have preferred to remain with the Athletics at a
considerable less salary than I was afterward paid. This, too, was
destined to be the last year of the Professional League, the National
League taking its place, and as a result a general shifting about among
the players took place in 1876, many of the old-time ball tossers being
at that time lost in the shuffle.
The year 1875 saw no less than thirteen clubs enter the championship
arena, Philadelphia being represented by no less than three, while St.
Louis, a new-comer, furnished two aspirants for the honors, the full
list being as follows: Boston, Athletic, Hartford, St. Louis,
Philadelphia, Chicago, Mutual, New Haven, St. Louis Reds, Washington,
Centennial, Atlantic and Western, the latter organization representing
the far Western city of Keokuk.
The series consisted of ten games, six to be played as the legal quota,
and at the close of the season but seven of the thirteen original
championship seekers had fulfilled the conditions, three of the clubs
having been disbanded when the season was but about half over. Again and
for the fourth time the Boston aggregation carried off the honors, with
a record unsurpassed up to that time, as out of seventy-nine games
played they won seventy-one and lost but eight, while the Athletics, who
finished in the second place, played seventy-three games in all, losing
twenty and winning fifty-three.
That three of the clubs that started in the race should have dropped out
as they did is not to be wondered at, and why one of them at least was
ever allowed to enter is a mystery. Looked at from a purely geographical
standpoint, the Keokuk Club, known as the Western, was doomed to failure
from the very start. It was too far away from the center of the base-ball
interests and the expense of reaching it too great to warrant the
Eastern clubs in making the trip, and the city itself was too small to
turn out a paying crowd, while the other two local clubs found the field
already too well covered and succumbed to local opposition.
Small scores in 1875 were the rule and not the exception. The sharp
fielding and the restrictions placed on the batter, which had grown
closer with each passing season, made the running up of such big scores
as marked the game in the early days impossible, while the many close
contests that took place added greatly to the popularity of what was now
fully recognized as distinctively the National Game of America.
It was not all smooth sailing for the promoters of the game, even at
this time. In the many poolrooms then existing throughout the country
and especially in the larger cities great sums of money were wagered on
the result of the various contests, and as a result "crookedness" on the
part of various players was being charged, and though these charges were
vigorously denied by those interested the denials carried but little
weight in view of the in-and-out performances of the teams in which they
were engaged.
There was a lack of discipline, too, among the players, and it was the
necessity for prompt action in stamping out the evils then existing that
caused the birth of the new National League and the death of the old
organization.
There are "crooks" in all professions, but I venture the assertion right
here that the "crooks" in base-ball have indeed been few and far
between. Once detected, they have been summarily dismissed from the
ranks, and with the brand of dishonesty stamped upon them they have been
forced to earn a living in some other way.
It has long been a maxim among the followers of racing that "a crooked
jockey" is always "broke," and this same saying holds good regarding the
crooked ball players. I might mention the names of several players who
were summarily dismissed from the league ranks because of crookedness
and who have since that time managed to eke out a miserable existence by
hanging about poolrooms and bucket-shops, but what good would it do?
They have learned their lesson and the lesson has indeed been a bitter
one.
It must be remembered, however, that the charges against these men were
proven. They were not dismissed because of idle hearsay, but because of
absolute and convincing proof. The breath of scandal has assailed more
than one ball player without any good and convincing reason, and will
doubtless do so again, just as it has assailed private reputations of
men in other walks of life. The breath of truth has blown these scandals
aside, however, and to-day the professional ball player stands as high
in the estimation of his fellow men, providing that he conducts himself
as a gentleman and not as a loafer, as does the professional man in
other walks of life.
CHAPTER VIII. SOME MINOR DIVERSIONS.
Philadelphia is a good city to live in, at least I found it so, and had
I had my own way I presume that I should still be a resident of the city
that William Penn founded instead of a citizen of Chicago, while had I
had my own way when I left Marshalltown to go into a world I knew but
little about I might never have lived in Philadelphia at all. At that
time I was more than anxious to come to Chicago and did my best to
secure a position with the Chicago Club, of which Tom Foley, the veteran
billiard-room keeper, was then the manager. As he has since informed me,
he was looking at that time for ball players with a reputation, and not
for players who had a reputation yet to make, as was the case with me,
and so he turned my application down with the result that I began my
professional career in Rockford instead of in Chicago, as I had wished
to do. "It is an ill wind that blows nobody good," however, and for the
Providence that took me to Rockford and afterward to the "City of
Brotherly Love," I am at this late day truly thankful, however
displeased I may have been at that time.
I have often consoled myself since then with the reflection that had I
come to Chicago to start my career in 1871, that career might have come
to a sudden end right there and then, and all of my hopes for the future
might have gone up in smoke, for the big fire that blotted out the city
scattered the members of the Chicago Base Ball club far and wide and
left many of them stranded, for the me being at least, on the sands of
adversity.
Shakespeare has said, "There is a Providence that shapes our ends rough
hew them as we will," and it seems to me that the immortal Bard of Avon
must have had my case in mind when he wrote that line, for I can see but
little to complain about thus far in the treatment accorded me by
Providence, though I am willing to admit that there was some pretty
rough hewing to do before I was knocked into any shape at all.
When I began playing ball at Rockford I was just at that age when, in my
estimation, I knew a heap more than did the old man, and that idea had
not been entirely knocked out of my head when I arrived in Philadelphia.
The outdoor life that I had led when a youngster, the constant exercise
that I had indulged in, together with the self-evident truth that the
Lord had blessed me with a constitution that a young bull might envy,
had all conspired to make me a young giant in strength, and as a result
I was as full of animal spirits as is an unbroken thoroughbred colt, and
as impatient of restraint.
Good advice was, to a greater or less extent, thrown away upon me, and
if I had any trouble it rolled off from my broad shoulders as water from
a duck's back and left not a trace behind. In the language of the old
song, I was, "Good for any game at night, my boys," or day, either, for
that matter, and the pranks that I played and the scrapes that I got
into were, some of them, not of a very creditable nature, though they
were due more to exuberation than to any innate love of wrong-doing.
In any contest that required strength and skill I was always ready to
take a hand, and in these contests I was able to hold my own as a rule,
though now and then I got the worst of it, as was the case when I
entered the throwing match at the Union Grounds in Brooklyn in October,
1872. The entries were Hatfield and Boyd, of the Mutuals; George Wright
and Leonard, of the Bostons, and Fisler and myself, representing the
Athletics. The ball was thrown from a rope stretched between two stakes
driven into the ground one hundred and ten yards from the home-plate.
Each competitor was allowed three throws, and the rules governing the
contest required that the ball be dropped within two large bags placed
on a line with the home-plate and about sixty feet apart. Hatfield led
us all in each of his three trials, and on the last one he beat his own
record of 132 yards made at Cincinnati in 1868 by clearing 133 yards 1
foot and 7 1/2 inches. Leonard came next with 119 yards 1 foot 10
inches, Wright third with 117 yards 1 foot 1 inch, Boyd fourth with 115
yards 1 foot 7 inches, Fisler fifth with 112 yards 6 inches, while your
humble servant brought up the tail end of the procession with a throw of
110 yards and 6 inches, not a bad performance in itself, but lacking a
long ways of being good enough to get the money with.
Among the famous characters of which the Quaker City boasted in those
days was Prof. William McLean, or "Billy" McLean, as he was generally
called, an ex-prize fighter and a boxing teacher whose reputation for
skill with the padded mitts was second to no man's in the country. To
take boxing lessons from a professional who really knew something
touching the "noble art of self-defense," as the followers of ring
sports would say, was something that I had never had an opportunity of
doing before, and it is hardly to be wondered at that I availed myself
of the chance before I had been there a very long time.
I towered over McLean like a mountain over a mole hill, and I remember
well that the first time that I faced him I thought what an easy matter
it would be for me to knock his reputation into a cocked hat, and that
before a man could say "Jack Robinson." In a very few moments, however,
I had changed my opinion. I had fancied that I was a pretty good sort of
a man myself with or without the gloves, but long before the end of that
first lesson I had come to the conclusion that my education in that
line, as well as others, had been neglected, and that I still had
considerable to learn. McLean went around me very much as a cooper goes
around a barrel, hitting me wherever and whenever he pleased, and the
worst of the matter was that I could not hit him at all. It was not
until after he had convinced me just how little I knew that he began to
teach me, beginning with the rudiments of the art. I proved to be an apt
pupil and soon became quite proficient at the game, in fact so good was
I that I sometimes fancied that I could lick a whole army of wildcats,
this being especially the case when the beer was in and the wit was out,
for be it beer or wine, the effect is generally the same, a fact that I
had not yet learned, though it dawned on me long before I left
Philadelphia, and I quit it for good and all, to which fact I attribute
the success that I have since met with both in the sporting and the
business world.
It was in 1875 and during my last season with the Athletics, if I
remember rightly, that I became involved in a saloon row, that, to say
the least of it, was not to my credit, and that I have been ashamed of
ever since. We had been out to the grounds practicing until nearly
nightfall and on the way home we stepped into a German saloon on the
corner for the purpose of refreshing the inner man and washing the dust
out of our throats. In some way the conversation turned on the doings of
various fighters and I expressed myself pretty freely concerning their
merits and demerits, for having taken boxing lessons, I was naturally
anxious to set myself up as an authority on matters pugilistic.
Just as we were in the midst of the argument a fresh policeman happened
along and "chipped into the game" with the remark that if there was any
fighting to be done he would himself take a hand in it.
That was my chance. For what had I taken boxing lessons unless I could
at least do a policeman? "Come on!" I yelled and then I smashed him. He
was not the only policeman on the beat, however. There were others--in
fact, several of them, and they clubbed me good and plenty, finally
leading me away with the nippers on.
Arriving at the police station, and a pretty tough-looking object I was,
as you may imagine, I immediately sent for the President of the club,
who, as good luck would have it, was also a Police Commissioner. When he
put in an appearance he looked at me in astonishment and then asked me
what I had been doing.
I told him that I hadn't been doing anything, but that I had tried to do
the whole police force, and with very poor success. I was released on
honor that night and the next morning appeared before Alderman Buck, who
listened to both sides of the story, and then let me go, thinking by my
appearance, doubtless, that I had already been punished enough. After
court had adjourned we all adjourned on my motion to the nearest saloon,
where we had several rounds of drink and then--well, then I started in to
celebrate a victory that was, after all, a good deal more like a defeat.
While thus engaged I was unfortunate enough to run up against the young
lady that I had already determined to make Mrs. Anson, and not being in
the best of condition, she naturally enough did not like it, but as
Rudyard Kipling says--that is another story.
That experience ended the wild-oats business for me, however, and
although the crop that I had sown was, comparatively speaking, a small
one, yet it was more than sufficient for all my needs, and I now regret
at times that I was foolish enough to sow any at all.
The only other row that I ever had of any consequence took place on a
street car one day when I was going out to the ball grounds, a game
between the Athletics and Chicagos being scheduled for decision. The
most intense rivalry existed at that time between these two
organizations and the feeling among their partisans ran high. A
gentleman on the car--at least he was dressed like a gentleman--asked me
what I thought in regard to the relative strength of the two
organizations. At that time I had some $1,500 invested in club stock and
naturally my feelings leaned toward the club of which I was a member,
still I realized that they were pretty evenly matched, and I so stated.
He then remarked in sneering tones, "Oh, I don't know. I guess they play
to win or lose as will best suit their own pockets."
I informed him that if he meant to insinuate that either one of them
would throw a game, he was a liar.
He gave me the lie in return and then I smashed him, and I am not
ashamed to say that I would do it again under the same circumstances.
I have heard just such remarks as that made even in this late day,
remarks that are as unjust to the players as they are uncalled for by
the circumstances. Lots of men seem 'to forget that the element of luck
enters largely into base-ball just as it does into any other business,
and that things may happen during a contest that cannot be foreseen
either by the club management or by the field captain.
An unlucky stumble on the part of a base runner or a dancing sunbeam
that gets into a fielder's eyes at some critical time in the play may
cost a game; indeed, it has on more than one occasion, and yet to the
man who simply judges the game by the reports that may read in the
papers the thing has apparently a "fishy" look, for the reason that
neither the sunbeam nor the stumble receives mention.
If every sport and business man in this world were as crooked as some
folks would have us to believe, this would indeed be a poor world to
live in, and I for one would be perfectly willing to be out of it.
The real truth of the matter is that the crooks in any line are few and
far between. That being the case it's a pretty fair old sort of a world,
and I for one am glad that I am still in it, and very much in it at
that.
CHAPTER IX. WE BALL PLAYERS GO ABROAD.
The first trip that was ever made across the big pond by American ball
players and to which brief reference was made in an earlier chapter,
took place in the summer of 1874. London was, as a matter of course, our
first objective point, and I considered myself lucky indeed in being a
member of one of the organizations that was to attempt to teach our
English cousins the beauties of America's National Game.
The two clubs selected to make the trip were the Bostons, then
champions, and the Athletics, and the players who were to represent
them, together with their positions, are given below:
BOSTON POSITIONS ATHLETIC
Catcher John E. Clapp
A. G. Spalding Pitcher Jas. D. McBride
Jas. O'Rourke First base West D. Fisler
Ross C. Barnes Second base Jos. Battin
Harry Schafer Third base Ezra B. Sutton
Geo. Wright Shortstop M. E. McGeary
A.J. Leonard Left field Albert W. Gedney
Cal C. McVey Right field A. C. Anson
Harry Wright Center field Jas. F. McMullen
Geo. W. Hall Substitute Al J. Reach
Thos. H. Beals Substitute J. P. Sensenderfer
Sam Wright, Jr. Substitute Tim Murnane
James White of the Boston team declined to go at the last moment, his
place being taken by Kent of the Harvard College team while Al Reach was
kept from making the trip by business engagements. Alfred H. Wright of
the "New York Clipper" and Philadelphia "Sunday Mercury," and H. S.
Kempton of the "Boston Herald" both accompanied us and scored the
base-ball games that were played on the trip, while the first-named
officiated in the same capacity when the game was cricket. In addition
to these men, both clubs were accompanied by large parties of friends
who were anxious to see what sort of a reception would be accorded to us
by our British cousins, who had never yet witnessed a base-ball game,
their nearest approach to it having been to look on at a game of
"rounders."
The entire cabin of the steamship Ohio had been engaged for ourselves
and our friends, and on July 16th a great crowd assembled at the wharf
to see us off and to wish us God-speed on our journey. The trip across
was fortunately a pleasant one and as we were a jolly party the time
passed all too quickly, the seductive game of draw poker and other
amusements of a kindred sort helping us to forget that the old gentleman
with the scythe and hourglass was still busily engaged in making his
daily rounds.
It was my first sea voyage, and to say that I enjoyed it would be to
state but the simple truth. The element of poetry was left largely out
of my make-up and so I did not go into ecstasies over the foam-crested
waves as did several of the party, but I was as fond of watching for the
flying fish that now and then skimmed the waves and for the porpoises
that often put in an appearance as any of the rest of the party. If I
speculated at all as to the immensity of the rolling deep by which we
were surrounded, it was because I wished that I might be able to devise
some plan for bottling it up and sending it out West to the old
gentleman to be used for irrigating purposes. That such an amount of
water should have been, allowed to go to waste was to me a matter for
wonderment. I was looking at the practical side of the matter, and not
at the poetical.
July 27th we arrived at Liverpool and as the majority of us had grown
tired of the monotony of sea life we were glad enough once more to set
foot on solid land. With fourteen games of ball to be played and seven
games of cricket we had but little time to devote to sight-seeing,
though you may be sure that we utilized the days and nights that we had
off for that purpose.
There was considerable curiosity on the part of our British cousins to
see what the American Game was like and as a result we were greeted by
large crowds wherever we went. We were treated with the greatest
kindness both by press and public and words of praise for our skill both
at batting and fielding were to be heard on all sides. Exhibition games
between the two clubs were played at Liverpool, Manchester, London,
Sheffield and Dublin, the Boston Club winning eight games and the
Athletics six.
When it came to playing cricket we proved to be something of a surprise
party. In these games we played eighteen men against eleven and defeated
with ease such, crack, organizations as the Marylebone, Prince's, and
Surrey Clubs in London, the Sheffield Club at Sheffield; the Manchester
Club in Manchester and the All-Ireland Club in Dublin, while the game
with the Richmond Club was drawn on account of rain, we having the best
of it at that time. While I was, comparatively speaking, a novice in
this game, at which the Wrights were experts, they having enjoyed a
reputation as first-class cricketers in America for years, yet I managed
to make the highest score of all in our game with the All-Ireland
Eleven, and to hold my own fairly well in the other cricket games that
were played.
It is impossible for me to speak too highly of the treatment that was
accorded to us on this trip both in England and Ireland, where peer and
peasant both combined to make our visit a pleasant one. We were
entertained in royal style wherever we went and apparently there was
nothing too good for us. Lords and ladies were largely in evidence among
the spectators wherever we played and among our own countrymen residing
in the British metropolis we were the lions of the day.
The contrast between the crowds in attendance at our games there and
those that greeted us at home attracted my attention most forcibly. An
English crowd is at all times quiet and sedate as compared with a crowd
in our own country. They are slower to grasp a situation and to seize
upon the fine points of a play. This, so far as base-ball was concerned,
was only to be expected, the game being a strange one, but the same fact
was true when it came to their own National game, that of cricket. There
was an apparent listlessness, too, in their playing that would have
provoked a storm of cat-calls and other cries of derision from the
occupants of the bleaching boards at home.
It was our skill at fielding more than at batting that attracted the
attention of the Britishers and that brought out their applause. Our
work in that line was a revelation to them, and that it was the direct
cause of a great improvement afterwards in their own game there can be
no reason to doubt.
Between sight-seeing and base-ball and cricket playing the thirty days
allotted to our visit passed all too quickly and when the time came for
us to start on our homeward journey there was not one of the party but
what would gladly have remained for a longer period of time in "Merry
England," had such a thing been possible. It was a goodly company of
friends that assembled at the dock in Queenstown to wish us a pleasant
voyage on August 27th, which was just one month to a day from the date
of our arrival, and we were soon homeward bound on board of the
steamship Abbotsford. The voyage back was anything but a pleasant one
and more than half the party were down at one time and another from the
effects of seasickness. Old Neptune had evidently made up his mind to
show us both sides of his character and he shook us about on that return
voyage very much as though we were but small particles of shot in a
rattle-box.
We arrived at Philadelphia Sept. 9, where we were the recipients of a
most enthusiastic ovation, in which brass bands and a banquet played a
most important part, and after the buffeting about that we had received
from the waves of old ocean we were glad indeed that the voyage was
over.
The impression that base-ball made upon the lovers of sport in England
can be best illustrated by the following quotations taken from the
columns of the London Field, then, as now, one of the leading sporting
papers of that country:
"Base-ball is a scientific game, more difficult than many who are in the
habit of judging hastily from the outward semblance can possibly
imagine. It is in fact the cricket of the American continent,
considerably altered since its first origin, as has been cricket, by the
yearly recourse to the improvements necessitated by the experience of
each season. In the cricket field there is at times a wearisome monotony
that is entirely unknown to baseball. To watch it played is most
interesting, as the attention is concentrated but for a short time and
not allowed to succumb to undue pressure of prolonged suspense. The
broad principles of base-ball are not by any means difficult of
comprehension. The theory of the game is not unlike that of 'Rounders,'
in that bases have to be run; but the details are in every way
different.
"To play base-ball requires judgment, courage; presence of mind and the
possession of much the same qualities as at cricket. To see it played by
experts will astonish those who only know it by written descriptions,
for it is a fast game, full of change and excitement and not in the
least degree wearisome. To see the best players field even is a sight
that ought to do a cricketer's heart good; the agility, dash and
accuracy of tossing and catching possessed by the Americans being
wonderful."
This, coming at that time from a paper of the "Field's" high standing
was praise, indeed, but the fact remains that the game itself, in spite
of all the efforts made to introduce it, has never become popular in
England, for the reason perhaps that it possesses too many elements of
dash and danger and requires too much of an effort to play it.
Commenting after our return to this country upon this tour and its
results, Henry Chadwick, the oldest writer on base-ball in this country
and an acknowledged authority on the game, said:
"The visit of the American base-hall players to England and the success
they met there, not only in popularizing the American National Game but
in their matches at cricket with the leading Cricket Clubs of England,
did more for the best interests of base-ball than anything that has
occurred since the first tour through the country of the noted Excelsior
Club of Brooklyn in 1860. In the first place, the visit in question has
resulted in setting at rest forever the much debated question as to
whether we had a National Game or not, the English press with rare
unanimity candidly acknowledging that the 'new game of base-ball' is
unquestionably the American National Game. Secondly, the splendid
display of fielding exhibited by the American ball players has opened
the eyes of English cricketers to the important fact that in their
efforts to equalize the attack and defense in their national game of
cricket, in which they have looked only to certain modifications of the
rules governing bowling and batting, they have entirely ignored the
important element of the game, viz., fielding; and that this element is
so important is a fact that has been duly proved by the brilliant
success of the American base-ball players in cricket, a game in which
the majority of them were mere novices, and yet by their ability as
fielders in keeping down their adversaries' scores they fully
demonstrated that skill in fielding is as great an element of success in
cricketing as bowling and batting, if it be not greater, and also that
the principles of saving runs by sharp fielding is as sound as that of
making runs by skillful batting. But, moreover, they have shown by this
self-same fielding skill that the game of base-ball is a better school
for fielding than cricket, the peculiarity of the play in the former
game requiring a prompter return of the ball from the outfield, swifter
and more accurate throwing, and surer catching than the ordinary
practice of cricket would seem to need.
"Another result of the tour has been to show our English cousins the
great contrast between the character and habits of our American
base-ball professionals and those of the English professional cricketers,
taking them as a class. One of the London players warmly complimented
the American players on their fine physique as athletes and especially
commented on their abstemious habits in contrast, as the paper stated
'with our beer-drinking English professional cricketers.' In fact, the
visit of the baseball players has opened old John Bull's eyes to the
fact that we are not as neglectful of athletic sports as he thought we
were, for one thing, and in our American baseball representatives we
presented a corps of fielders the equal of which in brilliancy of play
England has never seen even among the most expert of her best trained
cricketers. So much for our National Game of base-ball as a school for
fielding in cricket. We sent these ball players out to show England how
we played ball, but with no idea of their being able to accomplish much
at cricket; but to our most agreeable surprise they defeated every club
that they played with at that game, and Bell's Life does the American
team the justice to say that an eleven could no doubt be selected from
the American ball players that would trouble some of the best of our
elevens to defeat.
"The telegrams from England in every instance referred to the games
played as between twenty-two Americans and eleven English, but when the
regular reports were secured by mail it was found that it was eighteen
against twelve, quite a difference as regards the odds against side. The
first dispatch also referred to the 'weak team presented against the
Americans,' but the score when received showed that the eighteen had
against them in the first match six of the crack team which came over
here in 1872, together with two professionals and four of the strongest
of the Marylebone Club. Englishmen did not dream that the base-ball
novices could make such a good showing in the game, and knowing nothing
of their ability as fielders they thought it would be an easy task to
defeat even double their own number, the defeat of the celebrated Surrey
and Prince's Club twelves in one inning, and of the strong teams of
Sheffield, Manchester and Dublin by large scores, opened their eyes to
their mistake, and very naturally they began to hold the game that could
yield such players in great respect.
"Worthy of praise as the success of our base-ball representatives in
England is, the fact of their admirable deportment and gentlemanly
conduct on and off the field, is one which commends itself even more to
the praise of our home people. That they were invited to so many high
places and held intercourse with so many of the best people fully shows
that their behavior was commendable in the extreme. Considering
therefore the brilliant success of the tour and the credit done the
American name by these base-ball representatives, it was proper that
their reception on their reappearance in our midst should be
commensurate with their high salaries, for in every respect did they do
credit to themselves and our American game of `base-ball.'"
CHAPTER X. THE ARGONAUTS OF 1874.
The players that made the first trip abroad in the interest of the
National Game may well be styled the Argonauts of Base-ball, and though
they brought back with them but little of the golden fleece, the trip
being financially a failure, their memory is one that should always be
kept green in the hearts of the game's lovers, if for no other reason
than because they were the first to show our British cousins what the
American athlete could do when it came both to inventing and playing a
game of his own.
That they failed to make the game a popular one abroad was no fault of
theirs, the fault lying, if anywhere, in the deep-rooted prejudice of
the English people against anything that savored of newness and
Americanism, and in the love that they had for their own national game
of cricket, a game that had been played by them for generations.
I doubt if a better body of men, with the exception of your humble
servant, who was too young at the game to have been taken into account,
could have been selected at that time to illustrate the beauties of the
National game in a foreign clime.
They were ball players, every one of them, and though new stars have
risen and set since then, the stars of thirty years ago still live in
the memory both of those who accompanied them on the trip and those who
but knew of them through the annals of the game as published in the
daily press and in the guide books.
Harry Wright, the captain of the Boston Reds, was even then the oldest
ball player among the Argonauts, he having played the game for twenty
years, being a member of the old Knickerbockers when many of his
companions had not as yet attained the dignity of their first pair of
pants. He was noted, too, as a cricketer of no mean ability, having
succeeded his father as the professional of the famous St. George Club
long before he was ever heard of in connection with the National Game.
As an exponent of the National Game he first became noted as the captain
of the celebrated Red Stocking Club of Cincinnati, a nine that went
through the season of 1869, playing games from Maine to California
without a single defeat. As captain and manager of a ball team Mr.
Wright had few equals, and no superiors, as his subsequent history in
connection with the Boston and Philadelphia Clubs will prove. He was a
believer in kind words and governed his players more by precept and
example than by any set of rules that he laid down for their guidance.
As a player at the time of this trip he was still in his prime and could
hold his own with any of the younger men in the outfit, while his
knowledge of the English game proved almost invaluable to us. Harry
Wright died in 1895, and when he passed away I lost a steadfast friend,
and the base-ball world a man that was an honor in every way to the
profession.
A.G. Spalding was at that time justly regarded as being one of the very
best pitchers in the profession, and from the time that he first
appeared in a Boston uniform until the time that he left the club and
cast his fortunes with the Chicagos he was a great favorite with both
press and public. As Harry Chadwick once wrote of him, "In judgment,
command of the ball, pluck, endurance, and nerve in his position he had
no superior." He could disguise a change of pace in such a manner as to
deceive the most expert batsman, while as a scientific hitter himself he
had few superiors. He had brains and used them, and this made him a
success not only as a ball player but as a business man. As a
manufacturer and dealer, Mr. Spalding has acquired a world-wide
reputation, and it is safe to say that none glory in his success more
than do his old associates on the ball field.
James O'Rourke, or "Jim," as we all called him, was a splendid ball
player and especially excelled in playing behind the bat and in the
outfield, which position he played for many years. A sure catch, an
active fielder, a good thrower, and a fine batsman, O'Rourke was always
to be relied upon. Born of Irish parentage, he hailed from the Nutmeg
State and was when I last heard of him in business at Bridgeport, Conn.,
and reported as doing well. He was a quiet, gentlemanly young fellow,
blessed with a goodly share of Irish wit, and a rich vocabulary of
jawbreaking words.
Ross Barnes, who held down the second bag, was one of the best ball
players that ever wore a shoe, and I would like to have nine men just
like him right now under my management. He was an all-around man, and I
do not know of a single man on the diamond at the present time that I
regard as his superior. He was a Rockford product, but after his ball
playing days were over he drifted to Chicago and was at the last time I
saw him circulating around on the open Board of Trade.
"Harry" Schafer was a good, all-around player, but I have seen men that
could play third base a good deal better than he could. Sometimes his
work was of a brilliant character, while at others it was but mediocre.
He was a native of Pennsylvania and his usually smiling face and
unfailing fund of good nature served to make him a general favorite
wherever he went.
George Wright, a brother of the lamented Harry, was another splendid
all-around ball player, and one that up to the time that he injured his
leg had no equal in his position, that of shortstop. He was one of the
swiftest and most accurate of throwers, and could pull down a ball that
would have gone over the head of almost any other man in the business,
bounding into the air for it like a rubber ball. As a cricketer he
ranked among the best in the country. Retiring from the ball field, he
became a dealer in sporting goods at Boston, Mass., where he still is,
and where he is reported to have "struck it rich."
Andrew J. Leonard, a product of the Emerald Isle, was brought up in New
Jersey, and excelled as an outfielder, being a splendid judge of high
balls, a sure catch, and a swift and accurate long-distance thrower. He
was a good batsman and a splendid base runner, and was nearly as good a
player on the infield as in the out. He is at present in Newark, N. J.,
where he is engaged in business and reported as fairly successful.
Cal C. McVey, the heavy-weight of the team, came like myself from the
broad prairies of Iowa, and was built about as I am, on good, broad
Western lines. He was a fairly good outfielder, but excelled either as a
catcher or baseman. He was conscientious and a hard worker, but his
strongest point was his batting, and as a wielder of the ash he had at
that time few superiors. He is somewhere in California at the present
writing, and has money enough in his pocket to pay for at least a
lodging and breakfast, and does not have to worry as to where his dinner
is to come from.
Young Kent, the Harvard College man, who took Jim White's place on the
trip, was a tall, rangy fellow and a good amateur ball player. He never
joined the professional ranks, but since his graduation has written
several books, and made himself quite a reputation in literary circles.
John E. Clapp, the regular catcher of the Athletics, was a cool, quiet,
plucky fellow, and one of the best catchers at that time the profession
could boast of. He hailed originally from New York, I believe, and while
in England surprised the cricketers by his fine catching, no ball being
too hot for him to handle. Unless I am greatly mistaken, he is now a
member of the Ithaca, N. Y., police force, and an honored member of the
blue-coat and brass-button brigade.
James Dickson McBride, who was better known the country over as "Dick"
McBride, was at that time the most experienced man in his position that
the country could boast of, he having been the regular pitcher of the
Athletics since 1860. He had speed in a marked degree, plenty of pluck
and endurance and a thorough command of the ball. He was a man of
brains, who always played to win, and to his hard work and general
knowledge of the fine points of the game the Athletics owed much of
their success. "Dick" was a good cricketer, too, that being his game
prior to his appearance on the diamond. He hailed from the Quaker City,
where he still resides, having a good position in the postoffice.
West D. Fisler was a fine, all-around ball player, remarkable for his
coolness and nerve. He was a very quiet sort of fellow and one of the
last men that you would pick out for a really great player. He could
play any position on the team, was thoroughly honest and always played
the best he knew how. He is still living in the neighborhood of
Philadelphia, and though not rich in this world's goods, has still
enough to live on.
Joe Batten was the youngest member of the Athletic team and at that time
quite a promising young player. He did not last long with the Athletics,
however, and after playing on one or two other league teams he dropped
out sight. He was a bricklayer by trade, and the last time I heard of
him he was in St. Louis working at his trade.
Ezra B. Sutton then ranked as one of the best third-base players in the
country. He was one of the most accurate throwers that I ever saw; a
splendid fielder and a good batter, though not a particularly heavy one.
When he finally quit the game he settled down in business at Rochester,
where he was still living the last I heard of him. A good man was
Sutton, and one that would compare very favorably with the best in his
line at the present day.
M. H. McGeary was a Pennsylvanian by birth, though not a Dutchman, as
his name goes to prove. He was not only an effective and active
shortstop but a good change catcher as well, being noted for his
handling of sharp fly tips while in the latter position. He was in
Philadelphia when last heard from, and doing fairly well.
Albert W. Gedney was the postoffice clerk of the New York State Senate
at the time of our trip, and was one of the best of left fielders, being
an excellent judge of high balls and a sure catch, especially in taking
balls on the run. He is now a prosperous mill owner near New York City
and does not have to worry as to where the next meal is coming from.
James McMullen, who played the center field, was an active and effective
man in that position. He was also a fairly good left-handed pitcher, and
a rattling good batsman, who excelled in fair-foul hitting. McMullen was
an all-around good fellow, and when he died in 1881 he left a host of
friends to mourn his loss.
J. P. Sensenderfer accompanied the club as, a substitute, as did Timothy
Murnane, and both were good, all-around ball players, and are both still
in the land of the living and doing more than well, Philadelphia being
the abiding place of the former, while the last named is the sporting
editor of the "Boston Globe."
I take particular pride in calling the attention of the public to the
fact that but one player of all those making the trip went wrong in the
after years, that one being George W. Hall, who accompanied the Bostons
as a substitute and who in company with A. H. Nichols, James H. Craver
and James A. Devlin was expelled by the Louisville Club in 1877 for
crooked playing, they having sold out to the gamblers.
That there should have been but one black sheep among so many, in my
estimation speaks well for the integrity of ball players as a class and
for the Argonauts of 1874 in particular.
That the great majority of these men have also made a success in other
lines of business since they retired from the profession is also an
argument in favor of teaching the young athletic sports. A successful
athlete must be the possessor of courage, pluck and good habits, and
these three attributes combined will make a successful business man no
matter what that particular line of business may be.
For the companions of that, my first trip across the Atlantic, who are
still in the land of the living I have still a warm place in my heart. I
have both slept and eaten with them, and if we have disagreed in some
particulars it was an honest disagreement. Whenever the information
comes to me that some one of them is doing particularly well, I am
honestly glad of it, and I have faith enough in human nature to believe
that they have the same feeling so far as I am concerned.
For the two that are dead I have naught but kind words and pleasant
memories. They were my friends while living, and dead I still cherish
their memory.
To me they are not dead, only sleeping.
CHAPTER XI. I WIN ONE PRIZE AND OTHERS FOLLOW.
If it is true, as some people allege, that marriage is a lottery, then
all I have to say regarding it is that I drew the capital prize and
consequently may well be regarded as a lucky man, for truer, fonder, and
more sensible wife than I have, or a happier home cannot be found even
though you search the wide world over. It was in Philadelphia that I
wooed and won her, and I was by no means the only contestant that was in
the field for her heart and hand. There were others, and one in
particular that was far better looking and much more of a lady's man
than myself, but when he found that I had a pull at the weights he
retired, though not without a struggle, and left me in undisputed
possession of the field.
Just why I happened to be the successful suitor is now, and always has
been, to me a mystery. I have asked Mrs. Anson to explain, but somehow I
can get very little satisfaction. I was by no means a model man in the
early days of my courtship, as my experiences detailed elsewhere go to
prove, but I was an honest and faithful wooer, as my wife can testify,
and that perhaps had as much to do with the successful termination of my
suit as anything. I had been used to having everything that I wanted
from my babyhood up, and after I had once made up my mind that I wanted
my wife, which I did very early in our acquaintance, I laid siege to her
heart with all the artifices that I could command.
I am sometimes inclined to believe that I fell in love with her, at
least part way, the very first time that I met her, else why should I
remember her so vividly?
Her name was Virginia M. Fiegal, and she was one of a family of two, and
the only daughter, her father being John Fiegal, a hotel and restaurant
man in the Quaker City.
The first time that I ever saw her was at a ball given by the National
Guards in Philadelphia, and though she was then but a fair-haired,
blue-eyed girl of some twelve or thirteen summers, and still in short
dresses, she attracted my attention. Just how she was dressed on that
occasion I could not tell you to save my life, nor do I think I could
have done so an hour after the ball was over, but for all that the
memory of her sweet face and girlish ways lingered with me long after
the strains of music had died away and the ball-room was given over to
the flitting shadows.
Some months, or weeks, perhaps, I have really forgotten which, drifted
by before I saw her again, and then it was at a club ball, and this time
I paid her considerable attention, in fact, I liked her better than any
girl that I had yet met and was not afraid to show it, although I could
not then muster up the necessary courage to go on boldly about my
wooing. In fact, I left a great deal to chance, and chance in this case
treated me very kindly.
Some time later, when the summer days were long, I met her again in
company with a Miss Cobb, later the wife of Johnnie McMullen, the
base-ball pitcher, at Fairmount Park, and that was the day of my
undoing. After a pleasant time I accompanied her home to luncheon at
her invitation, and that I had lost my heart long before the door of
her house was reached I am now certain.
Once inside the door I asked her rather abruptly if her father or mother
was at home, and I fancied she looked rather relieved when she found out
that the only reason that I had asked her was that I wanted to smoke a
cigar, and not to loot the house of its valuables.
Prior to that time I had circulated among the ladies but little, my
whole mind having been concentrated on base-ball and billiard playing,
and the particular fit of my coat or the fashion of my trousers caused
me but little concern. From that afternoon on, however, things were
different, and I am afraid that I spent more time before the mirror than
was really necessary. I also began to hunt up excuses of various kinds
for visiting the house of the Fiegals, and some of these were of the
flimsiest character. I fancied then that I was deceiving the entire
family, but I know now that I was deceiving only myself.
I was not the only ball player that laid siege to Miss Virginia's heart
in those days. There was another, the handsome and debonair Charlie
Snyder, who was a great favorite with the girls wherever he went. I
became jealous very early in the game of Charlie's attentions to the
young lady that I had determined upon making Mrs. Anson. It was rather
annoying to have him dropping in when I had planned to have her all to
myself for an evening, and still more annoying to find him snugly
ensconced in the parlor when I myself put in an appearance on the scene.
So unbearable did this become that I finally informed him that I would
stand no more trespassing on my stamping grounds, and advised him to
keep away. But to this he paid but little attention and it was not until
my sweetheart herself, at my request, gave him his conge that he
refrained from longer calling at the house. It was the old story of "two
is company, three is none," and I was greatly relieved when he abandoned
the field.
I was now the fair Virginia's steady company, and long before I came to
Chicago we understood each other so well that I ceased to worry about
any of the callers at her home and began to dream of the time when I
should have one of my own in which she should be the presiding genius of
the hearth-stone.
She was not in favor of my coming to Chicago, and had it been possible
for me to remain with honor in Philadelphia I should have done so, but
that being impossible I left for the great metropolis of the West,
promising to return for her providing her father would give his consent
to our marriage as soon as possible.
I think one of the first things almost that I did after arriving in
Chicago was to write the daddy of my sweetheart asking for her hand. I
had been a little afraid to do so when at close range, but the farther
away I went the bolder I became, for I knew that whatever his answer
might be I was certainly out of any personal danger.
The old gentleman's answer was, however, a favorable one, and so after
my first season's play in Chicago was over I returned to Philadelphia
and there was united to the woman of my choice, and I am frank to
confess that I was more nervous when I faced the minister on that
occasion that I ever was when, bat in hand, I stood before the swiftest
pitcher in the league.
The first little visitor that came to us was a baby girl that we called
Grace, who was born October 6, 1877. That seems a long time ago now. The
baby Grace has grown to womanhood's estate and is the happy wife of
Walter H. Clough, and the proud mother of Anson McNeal Clough, who was
born May 7, 1899, and who will be taught to call me "grandpa" as soon as
his baby lips can lisp the words.
Adrian Hulbert Anson was our next baby. He was born Sept. 4, 1882, and
died four days afterward, that being the first grief that we had known
since our marriage. Another daughter, Adele, crept into our hearts and
household April 24th, 1884, and is still with us.
Adrian C. Anson Jr. came into the world on September 4th, 1887, and died
on the eighteenth day of January following. He lived the longest of all
of my boys and his death was the cause of great grief both to his mother
and myself.
The storks brought me another daughter, my little Dorothy, on August
13th, 1889, and she, thank God, is still engaged in making sunshine for
us all.
John Henry Anson was born on May 3d, 1892, but four days later the angel
of Death again stopped at my threshold and when he departed he bore a
baby boy in his arms, whither I know not, but to a better world that
this I feel certain, and one to which his baby brothers had journeyed
before him.
Virginia Jeanette arrived November 22d, 1899, and has already learned to
kick at the umpire when her meals are not furnished as promptly as she
has reason to think they should be. She is a strong, healthy baby, and
bids fair to remain with us for some years to come.
Before returning again to the ball field, on which the greater portion
of my life has been spent, I wish to record the fact that all that I
have and all that I have earned in the way both of money and reputation
in later years I owe not to myself, but to Mrs. Anson. She has been to
me a helpmeet in the truest and best sense of the word, rejoicing with
me in the days of my success and sympathizing with me in the days of my
adversity.
It was owing to her good counsel that I braced up in the days when she
was my sweetheart, and it was to please her that I have staid braced up
ever since, and am consequently still strong in mind and limb and as
healthy a specimen of an athlete as you can find in a year's travel,
albeit a little too heavy to run the bases still and play the game of
ball that I used to play.
I have never found it necessary when I have lost $250 on a horse race or
a match of any kind to go home and inform Mrs. Anson that owing to my
bad judgment I had lost $2.50, but on the contrary I have made it a
point to tell her the truth at all times, so that she knows just as well
how I stand to-day as I do myself.
She and I are not only husband and wife in the truest sense of the word,
but we are boon companions as well, and I always enjoy myself better on
a trip when Mrs. Anson accompanies me that I do if I am alone.
I am as proud of my daughters as any man can well be and my only desire
is that they shall all be as good as their mother and make the husbands
of their choice as good and true wives.
At the present writing the only one of my birds that has left its parent
nest and started out to build a home of its own is in Baltimore, where
her husband, as fine a fellow as any man could wish to have for a
son-in-law, is at present engaged in superintending the putting up of an
office building contracted for the George H. Fuller Co., of Chicago, in
whose employ he is.
CHAPTER XII. WITH THE NATIONAL LEAGUE.
It was some time in the fall of 1875 and while the National League was
still in embryo that I first made the acquaintance of William A.
Hulbert, who afterwards became famous as the founder of that
organization and the man whose rugged honesty and clear-headed counsels
made of base-ball the National Game in the truest and broadest sense of
the word.
At that time Mr. Hulbert was the President of the Chicago Base-Ball
Club, and in company with A. G. Spalding he came to Philadelphia for the
purpose of getting my signature to a contract to play in the Western
metropolis.
It was the ambition of the Chicago management to get together a
championship team, and with that object in view they had already signed
the big-four who had helped so many times to win the pennant for Boston,
viz.: Cal McVey, first base; James White, catcher; Ross Barnes, second
base; and A. G. Spalding, pitcher, and the latter, who was to captain
the Chicago team, had suggested my engagement as third baseman. I
finally agreed to play with the team at a salary of $2,000, or $200 more
than I was then getting with the Athletics.
I well remember Mr. Hulbert's appearance at that time. He stood in the
neighborhood of six feet, and weighed close to 215 pounds. He had a
stern expression of countenance and impressed one right from the start
as being a self-reliant business man of great natural ability, and such
he turned out to be. He was good-hearted and of a convivial nature when
business hours were over, but as honest as the day was long, and would
tolerate nothing that savored of crookedness in any shape or form. As an
executive he had but few equals and no superiors. He was quick to grasp
a situation and when once he had made up his mind to do a thing it took
the very best sort of an argument to dissuade him.
During the winter of 1875-6 the National League sprang into being, the
Hon. Morgan G. Bulkeley of Hartford, who was afterwards elected Governor
of Connecticut, being its first President, he being succeeded by Mr.
Hulbert the following year. The clubs composing the league were as
follows: Athletics of Philadelphia, Bostons of Boston, Hartfords of
Hartford, Chicagos of Chicago, St. Louis of St. Louis, Louisville of
Louisville, Ky., Mutuals of New York, and Cincinnati of Cincinnati,
Ohio.
When I came to consult with the future Mrs. Anson in regard to my
proposed change of base she not unnaturally objected to my going so far
from home, for I had learned to regard Philadelphia as my home by that
time.
I naturally thought it would be an easy matter for me to get my release
from Chicago, and being naturally anxious to please her I made two trips
to Chicago that winter for the purpose, and finally did what no ball
player ever did before--offered $1,000 to be released from my promise.
It was no go, however, as both Messrs. Hulbert and Spalding had made up
their minds that I should play on their team, and both of them knew me
well enough to know that I would keep my word at all hazards, no matter
what my personal likes or dislikes in the matter might be.
The last few months of my stay in Philadelphia passed all too quickly,
and a short time before the opening of the regular season found me in
the Garden City ready to don a Chicago uniform and do the very best I
could to help win the pennant for the latest city of my adoption.
The constitution of the new league provided for an entrance fee of $100
per club, and also provided that no city of less than 75,000 inhabitants
could become a member. It also provided that each city should be
represented by one club only, this prohibiting the danger of local
opposition, such as the Professional Players' Association had suffered
from in Philadelphia, St. Louis and other cities. Other reforms were the
adoption of a player's contract, which enabled the clubs to keep their
players and prevented them from being hired away by rival organizations.
This was the first step toward the reserve rule that followed later. It
also provided for the expelling of players who were guilty of breaking
their contracts or of dishonesty, and such players were to be debarred
forever afterwards from playing on the league teams. Gambling and liquor
selling on club grounds were prohibited and players interested in a bet
on the result of games or purchasing a pool ticket were liable to
expulsion.
The make-up of the Chicago team in full for the National League's
initial season was as follows; A. G. Spalding, pitcher, captain and
manager; James White, catcher; A. C. Anson, third base; Ross Barnes,
second base; Cal A. McVey, first base; J. P. Peters, shortstop; J. W.
Glenn, left field; Paul A. Hines, center field; Robert Addy, right
field; and J. F. Cone, Oscar Bielaski, and F. H. Andrus, substitutes.
All through the season of 1876 the most intense rivalry existed between
the Chicago and Boston Clubs. The management of the latter organization,
smarting under the fact that the "big four" had been hired away from
them by the Western Metropolis, had gotten together as strong a team as
was possible under the circumstances, the list including Harry Wright,
manager; J. E. Borden ("Josephs"), T. H. Murnane, F. L. Beals, H. C.
Schafer, A. J. Leonard, J. H. O'Rourke, J. F. Manning, F. T. Whitney,
George Wright, John F. Morrill, Lewis Brown, T. McGinley, and W. R.
Parks.
Our strongest opponents, however, proved to be the Hartford Club, of
which Robert Ferguson was captain and manager, and which numbered among
its players Allison, Cummings, Bond, Mills, Burdock, Cary, York, Remsen,
Cassidy, Higham, and Harbidge.
As I have said before, it was anything to beat Chicago, so far as the
Bostons were concerned, but this feat they were unable to accomplish
until the very tail end of the season, and after we had beaten them in
nine straight games.
The first game that we played on the Boston grounds that season I
remember well, because of the enormous crowd that turned out to witness
the contest. The advent of the "Big Four" in a new uniform was of course
the attraction, and long before the hour set for calling the game had
arrived the people were wending their way in steady streams toward the
scene of action. Every kind of a conveyance that could be used was
pressed into service, from the lumbering stage coach that had been
retired from active service, to the coach-and-four of the millionaire.
Street cars were jammed to suffocation, and even seats in an express
wagon were sold at a premium.
It was Decoration Day, and therefore a holiday, and it seemed to me as
if all Boston had determined to be present on that occasion. By hundreds
and thousands they kept coming, and finally it was found necessary to
close the gates in order to keep room enough in the grounds to play the
game on. With the gates closed the crowd began to swarm over the fences,
and the special policemen employed there had their hands more than full
of trouble.
The "Big Four" were given a great ovation when they put in an
appearance, and of course the whole team shared in the honors that were
showered upon them. The game that followed was, as might have been
expected, played under difficulties, but thanks to the excellent
pitching of Spalding and the fine support given him by the entire team
we won by a score of 5 to 1, and the Hubbites were sorer than ever over
the "Big Four's" defection.
Our other victories over the Boston aggregation that season were as
follows: June 1st, at Boston, Chicago 9, Boston 3; June 3d, at the same
place, Chicago 8, Boston 4; July 11th, at Chicago, Chicago 18, Boston 7;
July 12th, at the same place, Chicago 11, Boston 3; and July 15th,
again, Chicago 15, Boston 0; September 15th, at Boston, Chicago 9,
Boston 3; September 16th, Chicago 7, Boston 2; and September 22d, at
Chicago, Chicago 12, Boston 10. September 23d we met Boston for the last
time during the season, and, anxious as we were to make our victories
over them ten straight, that being the number of games called for by the
schedule, we failed to do so, being beaten by a score of 10 to 9.
I think that Harry Wright was happier that day when O'Rourke crossed the
home plate and scored the winning run than he would have been had
somebody made him a present of a house and lot, so anxious was he to win
at least one game from Chicago during the season.
Both the Athletics and Mutuals failed to play out their scheduled games
in the West that fall, and as a result they were expelled at the annual
meeting of the League held in Cleveland the December following, leaving
but six clubs to contest for championship honors in 1877.
That first year of the League was not a success when viewed from a
financial standpoint, as not a single one of the clubs that composed it
made any money, even the Chicagos, who carried off the pennant, quitting
loser. The men who had organized it were by no means discouraged,
however, and that they finally reaped the reward of their pluck and
perseverance is now a matter of history.
In the fall I again signed with Chicago, as did Spalding, McVey, Barnes,
Peters, Andrus, and Glenn of the old team, while Jim White returned to
his first love, the Bostons. The new-corners on the team were Bradley,
who had pitched for the St. Louis Club the year before, and who was
accounted as being one of the best in the business, and H. W. Smith a
change catcher and outfielder.
This was a year of disaster as far as Chicago was concerned, and we
brought up the tail end of the pennant race, the whip going to Boston,
which won 31 games and lost 17, while Louisville stood second on the
list with 28 games won and 20 lost, to its credit, Hartford being third,
St. Louis fourth, and Chicago fifth, the Cincinnatis having failed to
weather the financial storm, being expelled from the League because of
non-payment of dues.
There would doubtless have been a different tale to tell in regard to
the championship of 1877 had it not been for the crookedness of some of
the Louisville players. The team on paper prior to the opening of the
season was justly regarded as one of the strongest that had ever been
gotten together, and going off with a rush in the early part of the year
its success seemed to be almost assured. By the middle of the season the
team had obtained so great a lead that the race seemed to be all over
but the shouting.
In those days poolrooms were a much greater evil than they are at the
present time, and the betting on baseball was hot and heavy. The
Louisville having such a lead were favorites at long odds. When the club
started on its last Eastern trip they had some twelve games to play, out
of which they had less than half to win in order to land the pennant. On
this trip enough games were thrown to give Boston the pennant, and when
the directors of the Louisville Club came to sift matters down they had
but little difficulty in finding out the guilty parties, who were A. C.
Nichols, William H. Craver, George Hall and James A. Devlin.
How much money this quartette netted by its crooked work is not known to
this day, but it has been proven that Devlin secured but a beggarly $100
as his share, as once the others had him in their power they could
compel him to do just whatever they pleased under threats of exposure.
These four players were promptly expelled for selling games by the
Louisville Club, whose action was later ratified by the League, and
though they made application time after time in later years to be
reinstated, their applications were denied and they passed out of sight
and out of hearing as far as the base-ball world was concerned.
They were all of them good ball players, better than the average, and
Devlin, a really great pitcher, undoubtedly had a brilliant future
before him. The inability to stand temptation, however, caused his
downfall and left him but little better than a wreck on the shores of
time.
The year, taken as a whole, has been generally set down as being the
darkest in the history of the League. As in the preceding year, all the
clubs lost money and the outlook seemed indeed a dark one.
The darkest hour comes just before the dawn, however, and the following
year saw a change for the better in base-ball prospects.
CHAPTER XIII. FROM FOURTH PLACE TO THE CHAMPIONSHIP.
The year 1878 saw but six clubs in the league race, there being the
Boston, Cincinnati, Providence, Chicago, Indianapolis and Milwaukee
clubs, and they finished in the order named, the Hub's representatives
winning by a margin of four games from their nearest competitor. The
early part of the year saw the Cincinnatis in the lead, with Chicago
well up toward the front, and it looked for a time as though the honors
of the season might be carried off by the Western clubs. The Cincinnati
Club went into the air during the summer, however, and surrendered the
first place to Boston, the latter team playing finely together, and
though it rallied strongly afterward it found itself unable to overtake
the leaders.
The Chicago team was not a strong one that season and minor ailments and
accidents made it still weaker than it would otherwise have been. A. G.
Spalding having retired from active ball playing, had gone into the
sporting goods business, and Robert Ferguson had been selected to take
his place as manager and captain of the team, which was made up as
follows:
Robert Ferguson, shortstop and captain; Anson, left field; Start, first
base; Cassidy, right field; Remsen, center field; Hankinson, third base;
McClellan, second base; Frank Larkin, pitcher; Harbidge, catcher;
Hallman and Reis, substitutes.
There were several weak spots in this team and it was not long before
the fact became evident. Ferguson himself, while a fair shortstop, was
by no means a top-notcher, and neither was he a really good manager, he
not having the necessary control over the men that he had under him.
Harbridge was not even a fair catcher; in fact, according to my
estimate, he was a poor one. He was a left-handed thrower and made
awkward work getting a ball to the bases.
Joe Start was a good ball player, indeed, a first-class man. He was
always to be depended upon, worked hard, was a sure catch, a good
fielder and a first-class wielder of the ash. He was known far and wide
as "Old Reliable" and his reputation was in every way above reproach,
both on and off the field.
McClellan, who played the second base, I first saw play at St. Paul in
1876. He was a nice fielder, but only a moderate batsman. Taking him all
around, however, he was better than the average, but not to be compared
with some of the men who afterwards played in that position.
Cassidy, the right fielder, was only an average player, and Hankinson,
who played third base and change pitcher, was never in the first class.
Larkin, who had pitched the year before for the Hartford Club, was a
rattling good man and a really first-class pitcher, who would have won
more games than he did had he met with the support that he should have
had.
Remsen was a fine fielder and a fast base-runner, but his weak point was
in hitting. He was a good thrower, too, though I beat him in a match at
Hartford by covering 127 yards and 4 inches, a performance that
surprised some people who had wagered their money on his success.
During the greater part of that year I was troubled with a frog felon on
my right hand that nearly incapacitated me from playing altogether. It
was absolute torture to me to catch, but I managed to worry along with
it in some sort of fashion, though unable to do myself justice, and for
that reason I stood lower on the list of averages than I might otherwise
have done.
A felon is a mighty unpleasant thing to have at the best, and a man
deserves some credit for playing ball at all that is afflicted in that
way.
When the season ended none of the clubs had made any money, but the game
was growing steadily in public favor, and it was evident to even the
most superficial observer that there was "a good time coming."
The following year, 1879, saw a great many changes both in League
memberships and in the personnel of its players. At the annual meeting
held in Cleveland December 4, 1878, the Indianapolis Club resigned its
membership and the circuit was filled by the admission of clubs from
Cleveland, Buffalo and Syracuse. The Milwaukee Club afterward failing to
come to time the Troy, N. Y., Club was taken in to fill the vacancy.
George Wright, one of the greatest players of the day, and the man to
whom Boston owed much of its success in winning the pennant, deserted
Boston for Providence, taking O'Rourke with him, and after the hardest
sort of a fight with Boston, Chicago and Buffalo he succeeded in winning
the pennant with that organization, he having the services of John M.
Ward and "Bobby" Matthews as pitchers, Lewis J. Brown as catcher; Joe
Start, M. H. McGeary and W. L. Hague on the bases; with "Tommy" Stark,
Paul Hines and James O'Rourke in the field. Emil Grace and John Farrell
replaced Brown and Hague toward the close of the season.
It was a great year of changes all around and the League teams taken as
a whole were stronger than they had ever been before.
Among the pitchers outside of these I have already mentioned were such
stars as McCormick, "Jimmy" Galyin, Bradley and Will White, all of whom
are famous as twirlers in base-ball history.
The Chicago team was that season the strongest that the "Windy City" had
yet put in the field. To succeed Ferguson, who had gone elsewhere, I was
selected as captain and manager, a position that I have always had
reason to believe came to me through the influence of Mr. Hulbert, and
that I retained for many a year, through both good and evil report,
finding it but a thankless job at best. The make-up of the team in full
was as follows: Larkin, pitcher; Flint, catcher; Anson, first base;
Quest, second base; Hankinson, pitcher and third base; Peters,
stortstop; Dalrymple, Gore, Remsen and George Schaffer in the field,
with Williamson alternating with Hankinson at third base.
Quest, Flint, Williamson and George Schaffer all came from the
Indianapolis team of the year before, and Dalrymple, who afterward became
a great favorite with Chicago "fans," from the Milwaukees.
Geo. C. Gore was a newcomer in the League ranks, he hailing from New
Bedford, but he soon made for himself a name, being a first-class
fielder and a batsman that was away above the average, as is shown by
his record made in after years.
It was my first season as a first baseman, though T had played the
position at odd times before, and that it suited me is shown by the fact
that I led the League with a fielding average of .974 and stood first
among the batsmen with .407, which was the largest percentage ever made
up to that time. Flint that season stood first in the list of catchers,
and Quest led the second basemen. It was some time during the close of
the season that an unfortunate accident happened to Larkin, and one that
caused his retirement from the diamond for some time afterward. A line
ball from my bat struck him on the head, and as a result, it was at
least so stated, he had to be sent to an asylum, where he remained for
some time, though I believe that he afterwards fully recovered from the
effects of the injury.
It was during this year also that the first reserve rule was adopted, it
being in the shape of a signed agreement by the terms of which each
League club was permitted to reserve five men for the following season,
an agreement that I have always looked upon as being one of the best
things that could have happened, for the reason that it enabled all of
the clubs interested to reserve at least the nucleus of a strong team as
a foundation upon which to build.
The season of 1880 I have always looked upon as a red letter one in my
history, and for good reasons, as that year the Chicago team under my
management brought the pennant to Chicago, and this in spite of the fact
that the teams it had to, encounter were made up of first-class material
in nearly every case.
The Chicago team of that season outclassed all of its competitors, it
being made up as follows: Corcoran and Goldsmith, pitchers; Flint,
catcher; Anson, first base; Quest, second base; Williamson, third base;
Burns, shortstop; Dalrymple, Gore and Kelly in the field, and L. T.
Beals, substitute.
Unlike the majority of the clubs the Chicago Club did not have to depend
upon the services of one first-class pitcher, but had two, both of whom
were "cracker-jacks," and were therefore able to play them on alternate
days instead of breaking them down or laming them by continued and
arduous services.
In catchers, too, the club was especially fortunate, as Flint, who
ranked as one of the best of his day, had an efficient ally in Mike
Kelly, who could fill the breach when necessary.
This was an especially strong team, too, at the bat, as is shown by the
records, Gore leading the League with an average of .365, with myself
second with .338, Dalrymple third with .332, Burns fifth with .309. In
fielding Williamson led the third basemen with an average of .893, while
the fewest hits of the year were made off Corcoran's pitching. Among the
first basemen I held second place with a percentage of .977. Sullivan of
the Worcester team being first with .982 to his credit.
The Chicago Club that year made a little money, but it was the only one
of the lot that did, the others losing, that is, some of them, more
because of bad management than for any other reason.
In consequence of an agreement in regard to the sale of liquors in club
grounds the Cincinnati Club that season forfeited its membership, and at
the annual meeting of the League held in New York December 8th, 1880,
the Detroit Club was elected to the vacant place.
The team that had represented Chicago in 1880 was good enough for me,
and also good enough for the club directors, and that we were able to
hold the players was a matter for self-congratulation.
The only new man on the list in 1881 was Andrew Pearcy, who took T. L.
Beal's place as substitute, and who cut but little figure, as he was
called upon to play but seldom.
That the Chicago Club again won the pennant in 1881 was due to two
reasons. First, its strength as a batting organization, and in this
respect it was undoubtedly the superior of all its rivals, and,
secondly, the superb team work, the entire team playing together as one
man and having but one object in view, and that the landing of the
championship. Record playing was entirely lost sight of by the members
of the club, and sacrifice hitting was indulged in whenever a point
could be made by so doing.
The race throughout the season for everything except the last place was
a close and exciting one, and up to the very last week the result was in
doubt, so close together were the four leaders.
When the season finally closed, however, we had 56 games won and 28
games lost to our credit, against 47 games won and 37 games lost by the
Providence Club, which finished in the second place.
Buffalo came third with 45 games won and 38 games lost, and Detroit
fourth with 41 games won and 43 lost; Troy being fifth, Boston sixth,
Cleveland seventh and Worcester eighth on the list.
In batting that season I again led the list with an average of .399 and
stood at the head of the first basemen with .975 to my credit.
When the season came to a close the majority of the League clubs had
made money and base-ball was more popular than ever with the public, who
had learned to look upon it as a square sport, and one over which the
gamblers had no control whatever.
The grounds occupied by the Chicago Club at that time were the most
accessible of any in the country, being situated on the lake front near
the foot of Randolph street, and within five minutes' walk from any part
of the business district. The only fault that could be found with them
were that they were too small, both for the crowds that thronged them
when an important game was being played, and because of the fact that
the fences interfered too often with the performance of the League's
star batsmen.
With such a team as the champions then boasted of what was the use of
making any changes? No use whatever, and so the season of 1882 found the
same old "White-Stocking" team in the field, the only new player that
had been signed being Hugh Nichols, who came from Rockford, and who was
signed as an outfielder.
There was no change either in the clubs that went to make up the League,
each and every one of which was bent on wresting the championship from
the Garden City, and with that object in view every other club in the
league had been strengthened as far as was possible.
The attempt was a vain one, however, although the race from the start to
the finish was a hot one, and one that kept the lovers of base-ball on
tenter hooks until the season was over, while the betting in the
poolrooms throughout the country was hot and heavy, and be it said right
here, to the credit of the ball players, there was not the slightest
suspicion or whisper of crookedness in connection with the games. The
rivalry was most intense, and as a result the crowds that greeted
the players everywhere were both large and enthusiastic, this
being especially the case on the home grounds, where, owing to our
long-continued success, we were naturally great favorites. The majority
of the clubs in the League that season made money and to all appearances
an era of prosperity, so far as the National Game was concerned, had
begun.
The close of the season again saw the Chicago Club in the lead, they
having won 55 games and lost 29, while Providence stood second on the
list with 52 games won and 32 games lost to its credit.
Buffalo stood third, Boston fourth, Cleveland fifth, Detroit sixth, Troy
seventh, while Worcester, as in the preceding year, brought up the tail
end of the procession.
Brouthers of the Buffalo Club headed the batting list with a percentage
of .369, while I came next with .367, and that I had had my eye on the
ball throughout the season is a fact that the opposing pitchers could
bear witness to.
Prior to the beginning of the season, the exact date being April 10,
1882, President Hulbert, the founder of the League, and one of the best
friends that I had ever had either inside or outside of the profession,
passed away, leaving a void in base-ball circles that was indeed hard to
fill. It has often been a matter of sincere regret, both to myself and
others, that he could not have lived to witness the fruition of all his
hopes. Arbitrary and severe though he may have been at times, yet the
fact remains that he was the best friend that the ball players had ever
had.
Appreciating the possibilities of the game as a moneymaker, when rightly
conducted, he bent his energy toward rescuing it from the hands of
gamblers, into which it seemed about to fall, and place it where it
belonged, at the head of all of American outdoor sports.
Many and many a time since than have I missed his cool-headed judgment,
his cheering words and his sound advice, and I have no hesitation in
saying to-day that to him the ball players owe even now a debt of
gratitude that can never be repaid.
CHAPTER XIV. THE CHAMPIONS OF THE EARLY EIGHTIES.
The team that brought the pennant back to Chicago in the early '80s was
a rattling good organization of ball players, as the "fans" who remember
them can testify, and while they were the cracks of that time, and
perhaps as strong a team as the League had seen up to that date, yet
they were not as strong either as a team or as individual ball players
as the team that represented Chicago several years afterward. The secret
of the club's success in those days lay in its team work, and in the
fact that a goodly portion of the time was spent in studying and
developing the fine points of the game, which long practice made them
fairly perfect in. There were one or two weak spots in its make-up, but
so well did it perform as a whole that these weak spots were quite apt
to be lost sight of when the time for summing up the result of the
season's play had arrived.
In its pitching department the team was particularly strong at that time
as compared with some other of the League clubs.
Larry Corcoran, upon whose skill great reliance was placed, was at that
time in the zenith of his glory as a twirler. He came, if my memory
serves me rightly, from somewhere in the neighborhood of Buffalo. He was
a very little fellow, with an unusual amount of speed, and the endurance
of an Indian pony. As a batter he was only fair, but as a fielder in his
position he was remarkable, being as quick as a cat and as plucky as
they made them.
A sort of an all-around sport was Larry, and a boxer of no mean ability.
I remember a set-to that he had one night in the old club house with
Hugh Nichols, in which he all but knocked Hughy out, greatly to that
gentleman's surprise, as he had fancied up to that time that he was
Corcoran's master in the art of self-defense.
After his release by the Chicago Club he drifted back East, where he
pitched for a time in some of the minor leagues. Later on he was given
another trial by the Chicagos, but his work proved unsatisfactory, he
having outlived the days of his usefulness in the pitching line. After
that he again went East, where he died several years ago.
Fred Goldsmith, the other pitcher, was a great big, over-grown,
good-natured boy, who was always just a-going to do things that he
never did. He, too, came from the East, and was, I believe, pitching
for the Tecumseh, Canada, Club when he signed with us.
He was the possessor of a great slow ball and was always cool and
good-natured. As a batsman he was only fair, and as a fielder decidedly
careless. When it came to backing up a player "Goldy" was never to be
relied upon, and after the play was over and he was asked why he had not
done so, he would reply: "Oh, I'd a-bin thar ef I'd bin needed." But in
spite of this the fact remains that he was rarely on hand when he was
needed, and many an overthrown ball found its way into the field that
would have been stopped had he been backing up the basemen in the way
that he should have done.
I remember seeing him in a game at Troy, N. Y., once when pitching for
Chicago, when he was a sight to behold. He was playing and the rain was
coming down in torrents while the grounds were deep in mud and water.
Hatless, without shoes and stockings and with his breeches roiled clear
up to his thigh, as if he were preparing to ford the Hudson river,
"Goldy" was working like a Trojan, and I am not over sure but that he
was one at that time.
His arm was gone when he left us, and if he played ball any afterward,
it was only in desultory fashion. He tended bar in different places for
a time, but finally settled down to the business of market gardening
near Detroit, where, from all that I can learn, he is making a good
living.
Frank S. Flint, "Old Silver," originally hailed from St. Louis, where he
first came into notice as the back stop of an amateur team.
He came to us direct from the Indianapolis Club, where he had been
engaged in catching the delivery of "the only Nolan," who was at that
time one of the most celebrated of the League pitchers. He was a fine
ballplayer, a good, hard worker, but a weak batter, batting being his
weakest point. He was generally reliable, and that in spite of the fact
that he was a hard drinker, the love of liquor being his besetting
weakness. A pluckier man never stood behind a bat, there never coming a
ball his way that was too hard for him to handle, or at least to attempt
to. In "Old Silver's" day the catcher's glove had not come into use, and
all of his work was done with hands that were unprotected. Those hands
of his were a sight to behold, and if there is a worse pair to-day in
the United States, or a pair that are as bad, I should certainly like to
have a look at them. His fingers were bent and twisted out of all shape
and looked more like the knotted and gnarled branches of a scrub oak
than anything else that I can think of.
Long before the gloves now used by catchers were invented I had a
buckskin mitt made at Spalding's that I thought would fill a long-felt
want, and this I finally persuaded "Old Silver" to try.
He tried it for about half of an inning, then threw it down, declaring
it was no good, and went on in the old way. After his playing days in
Chicago were over he went into the saloon business and died a short time
afterwards of consumption. His wife died in California a little time
after him with the same disease, which she had contracted while nursing
him. Prior to her departure from Chicago and when she had been informed
by a physician that her days were numbered, she sent for me, and after
telling me that she had "roasted" me in the papers all her life, begged
my forgiveness, saying that she had found out her mistake. This, of
course, was granted.
Mrs. Keene and my wife saw that she had every comfort, and Mr. Keene,
Mr. Spalding and myself furnished the money that took her to the Golden
State, where she lived but a short time after her arrival.
Joe Quest, who played the second base, was another player who came to us
from the Indianapolis team, but prior to that time he had been playing
around New Castle, Pa. Joe was a good, reliable, steady fellow, but a
weak batsman. He was a conscientious player, however, and one that could
always be depended upon to play the best ball that he was capable of.
His strongest point was trapping an infield fly, and in this particular
line he was something of a wonder.
Joe played on several teams after leaving Chicago, and with varying
success. Of late years he has been employed in the City Hall at Chicago,
where he holds a good position.
Ed Wiliamson was another player who came to us from Indianapolis, where
he had already made for himself quite a reputation. He, too, hailed
originally from some-where around New Castle, and was playing in
Pittsburg the first time that I ever saw him. My wife knew him long
before I knew him, however. He was then a member of an amateur club in
Philadelphia, for which she acted as a sort of treasurer, taking care of
the money that they raised to buy balls with, etc.
Ed was, in my opinion, the greatest all-around ballplayer the country
ever saw. He was better than an average batsman and one of the few that
knew how to wait for a ball and get the one that he wanted before
striking. He was a good third baseman, a good catcher and a man who
could pitch more than fairly well, too, when the necessity for his doing
so arose. Taking him all in all, I question if we shall ever see his
like on a ball field again. He was injured some years later while the
Chicago Club was making a trip around the world, and was never the same
fellow afterward. After his retirement from the diamond he ran a saloon
in company with Jimmy Woods, another ball-player, on Dearborn street,
Chicago, which was a popular resort for the lovers of sports. He died of
dropsy at Hot Springs, Arkansas, leaving a wife, but no children.
Williamson was one of the most popular of the many players that the
Chicago Club has had. A big, good-natured and good-hearted fellow, he
numbered his friends by the hundreds, and his early death was regretted
by all who knew him.
Thomas E. Burns was playing with the Albany, N. Y., Club, who were then
the champions of the New York State League when I signed him to play
with Chicago. He was a fair average batter, but was hardly fast enough
to be considered a really good shortstop.
He was a fair base-runner, using excellent judgment in that respect, and
a first-class slider, going into the bases head first when compelled to
make a slide for them, instead of feet first, like the majority of the
players of that day and generation; in fact, he was more of a diver than
a slider, and he generally managed to get there.
After his release by Chicago he went to Pittsburg, where I had secured
him a five-year contract as manager at a handsome salary, and where he
had some trouble that resulted in the club's breaking the agreement and
in the bringing of a lawsuit, which he won.
He then took charge of the Springfield, Mass., Club, a member of the New
England League, Springfield being not far from his old home at New
Britain. Two years ago he took my place as manager of the Chicago Club,
and that he has not made a success of it is due to certain causes that
will be explained later on.
Abner Dalrymple was brought into the Chicago fold from Milwaukee, where
he had been playing. He was only an ordinary fielder, and a fair base
runner, but excelled as a batsman. I have said that he was a fair
fielder, and in that respect perhaps I am rating him too high, as his
poor fielding cost us several games that in my estimation we should have
won. Dalrymple was a queer proposition, and for years a very steady
player. He was never known to spend a cent in those days, and was so
close that he would wait for somebody else to buy a newspaper and then
borrow it in order to see what was going on. Later on he broke loose,
however, and when he did he became one of the sportiest of sports,
blowing his money as if he had found it and setting a hot pace for his
followers.
He finally settled down again, however, and now holds a good railroad
position in the Northwest, where he is living with his family. His was
about the quickest case of "loosening up from extreme tightness" that I
have ever run across.
George F. Gore, who played the center field, came here from New Bedford,
Mass., being brought out by Mr. Hulbert, who was in charge of the club
at the time he came to us. He was an all-around ball player of the first
class, a hard hitter and a fine thrower and fielder, and had it not been
for his bad habits he might have still been playing ball to-day. Women
and wine brought about his downfall, however, and the last time that I
saw him in New York he was broken down, both in heart and pocket, and
willing to work at anything that would yield him the bare necessities of
life.
Mike Kelly, who afterwards became famous in baseball annals as the
$10,000 beauty, came to Chicago from Cincinnati, and soon became a
general favorite. He was a whole-souled, genial fellow, with a host of
friends, and but one enemy, that one being himself.
Time and time again I have heard him say that he would never be broke,
and he died at just the right time to prevent such a contretemps from
occurring. Money slipped through Mike's fingers as water slips through
the meshes of a fisherman's net, and he was as fond of whisky as any
representative of the Emerald Isle, but just the same he was a great
ball player and one that became greater than he then was before ceasing
to wear a Chicago uniform. He was as good a batter as anybody, and a
great thrower, both from the catcher's position and from the field, more
men being thrown out by him than by any other man that could be named.
He was a good fielder when not bowled up, but when he was he sometimes
failed to judge a fly ball correctly, though he would generally manage
to get pretty close in under it. In such cases he would remark with a
comical leer: "By Gad, I made it hit me gloves, anyhow."
After his return to Boston he played good ball for a time, but his bad
habits soon caused his downfall, just as they had caused the downfall of
many good players before him, for it may be set down as an axiom that
baseball and booze will not mix any better than will oil and water. The
last time that I ever saw him was at an Eastern hotel barroom, and
during the brief space of time that we conversed together he threw in
enough whisky to put an ordinary man under the table. After leaving
Boston the "only Mike" had charge of Al Johnson's team at Altoona, Pa.,
but whisky had become at this time his master, and he made a failure of
the managerial business. Not being able to control himself it is hardly
to be wondered at that he failed when it came to the business of
controlling others. He died some years ago in New Jersey, a victim to
fast living, and a warning to all ball players. Had he been possessed of
good habits instead of bad there is no telling to what heights Kelly
might have climbed, for a better fellow in some respects never wore a
base-ball uniform.
Tommy Beale was a nice, gentlemanly little chap, who had played at one
time with the Boston Club. He was never a howling success as a ball
player and after being released by Chicago he umpired for a while and
then drifted down to Florida, where he had an orange grove and was doing
well until, one night, "there came a frost, a killing frost," that not
only destroyed his orange grove but that burst him up in business as
well. Since that unfortunate event happened, I have lost sight of him,
and where he is now, or what he is doing, I know not.
Hugh Nichols was a little fellow who came from Rockford, Illinois. He
was never a star player, but was a fair and showy player, lacking in
stamina. He was only a fair batsman, and after his release by Chicago he
played for a time in some of the other League teams, principally
Cincinnati. He then managed the Rockford team in the Illinois State
League, after which he settled down as a billiard-room keeper, in which
business he is still engaged.
CHAPTER XV. WE FALL DOWN AND CLIMB AGAIN.
At the annual meeting of the League held in Providence R. I., December
6th, 1882, the Worcester and Troy Clubs resigned their membership,
neither of them being cities of sufficient size to support a team as
expensive as one good enough to have a chance for championship honors in
such company must of necessity be, and New York and Philadelphia were
elected to fill the vacancies. At the same time A. G. Mills was elected
to fill the vacancy in the League Presidency caused by the death of Mr.
Hulbert.
The League Circuit in 1883 again consisted of eight cities, while the
number of games necessary to constitute a series had been increased from
twelve to fourteen. The only change in the personnel of the Chicagos was
the substitution of Fred Pfeffer for Joe Quest at second base. The fight
between Chicago and Boston, Providence and Cleveland was veritably a
battle of the giants, and as a result excitement throughout the country
ran high and big crowds everywhere were the rule.
The Boston team, with M. Hines and Hackett as catchers, Buffington and
Whitney, pitchers; Morrill, first base; Burdock, second base; Sutton,
third base; Wise, shortstop; Horning, left field; Smith, center field;
Radford, right field; and Brown, substitute, proved to be a trifle the
strongest, they carrying off the pennant with a total of 63 games won
and 35 lost, while Chicago came next on the list with 59 games won and
39 lost. Providence, which stood third, won 58 games and lost 40, while
Cleveland, which came fourth, had 55 games won and 42 games lost to its
credit.
Buffalo, New York, Detroit and Philadelphia followed in the order named.
Brouthers of the Buffalo team again stood first on the list of batsmen
with a percentage of .371, while your humble servant had fallen down to
the twelfth place on the list, my percentage being .307.
The event of the season, or of the year perhaps, I should say, was the
adoption of a document then known as the tripartite agreement, now known
as the National Agreement, which was formulated by A. G. Mills, John B.
Day and A. H. Soden, representing the League; O. P. Caylor, William
Barnier and Lewis Simmons, representing the American Association, and
Elias Mather of the Grand Rapids, Michigan, Club, acting for the
Northwestern League.
This document, among other things, provided that no contract should be
made for the services of any player for a longer period than seven
months, beginning April 1st and terminating October 31st, and that no
contract for their services should be made prior to October 20th of the
year on which such services terminated.
It also provided that on the 10th day of October of each year the
Secretary of each Association should transmit to the Secretary of each
other Association a reserve list of players, not exceeding fourteen in
number, then under contract with each of its several club members, and
of such players reserved on any prior annual reserve list, who had
refused to contract with said club's members, and of all other eligible
players, and such players, together with all other thereafter to be
regularly contracted with by such club members, are and shall be
eligible to contract with any other club members of either association
party hereto.
The object of this was to prevent what was then at that time a growing
evil, the stealing of players by one club from another, and that it was
successful in that respect there can be no denying.
The reserve clause was not popular with many of the players, however,
and it was this that later on led to the Brotherhood revolt and a
general shaking up in base-ball circles.
Such had been the boom in base-ball in 1883, and so promising did the
outlook seem from a monetary standpoint for a similar boom in 1884 that
Henry V. Lucas, of St. Louis, evidently believing that there was
millions in it, organized and took hold of the short-lived Union
Association, the failure of which wrecked him in both purse and spirit.
This Association was organized at Pittsburg in September, 1883, and was
launched with a great flourish of trumpets, the cities agreed upon for
the circuit being Washington, St. Louis, Altoona, Pa., Boston,
Baltimore, Cincinnati, Philadelphia and Chicago.
Of the fifty League players, who, it had been given out, would break
their contracts and join them, not a baker's dozen showed up when the
time came. Only five of the original clubs played out their schedules,
these being the St. Louis, Cincinnati, Boston, Baltimore and Nationals
of Washington, they finishing in the order named, Boston and Baltimore
being tied for the third place.
The Union Association season opened on April 17th. Within six weeks of
that time the Altoona Club gave up the fight, being succeeded by Kansas
City. The Keystone Club of Philadelphia lasted until August, and was
then succeeded by the Wilmington, Del., Club, which had been persuaded
to desert the Eastern League by Mr. Lucas. In September they, too,
passed it up and Milwaukee took the vacant place, they lasting but a
short time.
The Chicago Union Association Club, a weak sister at the best, played
along to almost empty benches until August, when it gave up the fight
and transferred its team to Pittsburg, but that city refused to support
it and it finally gave up the ghost about the middle of September.
In the meantime the League, which had expelled the deserting players,
was having a most exciting and prosperous season, though the majority of
clubs had signed many more players than they had any use for, the object
being to keep them away from the Union Association. For the Chicago Club
that season no less than nineteen players were signed, some of whom were
seldom called upon to play.
The regulars, that is, the men who were depended upon to do the playing,
were Corcoran, Goldsmith and Clarkson, pitchers; Flint and Kelly,
catchers; Anson, first base; Pfeffer, second base; Williamson, third
base; Burns, shortstop; Dalrymple, Gore, Kelly and Sunday in the
outfield.
In some way or other we got started off with the wrong foot first, as
the horsemen would, say, and the end of May found us in the fifth place,
Boston and Providence being the leaders, and at the end of June we had
not improved our position.
From that time on the Providence Club played great ball, the wonderful
endurance of Pitcher Radbourne being one of the features of the season,
and though we rallied in September and October, winning every game that
we played in the last-named month, the best that we could do was to beat
New York for the fourth place, each club winning 62 games and losing 50.
The championship record showed 84 games won and 28 lost for the
Providence Club, 73 games won and 38 lost for Boston, and 64 games won
and 47 lost for Buffalo, while Philadelphia, Cleveland and Detroit
brought up the rear.
In the matter of averages James O'Rourke again led the list, with a
percentage of .350 to his credit.
The position that the club occupied at the close of that season was not
satisfactory to me, as I felt that it should have been better, but there
was no use crying over spilt milk, the only thing to do being to try it
again.
At the close of the season Corcoran, whose pitching days were about
over, was released, as was also Goldsmith, whose work had not been of
the first class, and Clarkson and McCormick, the latter having played
with the Cleveland team the year before, were relied upon to puzzle the
opposing batsmen, the other members of the team being Flint, Kelly,
Anson, Pfeffer, Williamson, Burns, Dalrymple, Gore and Sunday. O. P.
Beard, C. Marr, E. E. Sutcliffe and Joe Brown were all given a trial,
but released early in the season.
The St. Louis Club, of which Mr. Lucas was the President, was taken in
in order to fill the vacancy caused by the withdrawal of Cleveland, and
this act on the part of the League so incensed President Mills that he
resigned, the three offices of President, Secretary and Treasurer being
combined in Nicholas E. Young, who is still at the head of the League
affairs, with headquarters at the National Capital.
The records of 1885 show that there were really but two clubs in the
race from start to finish, these representing the rival clubs of New
York and Chicago, and as between them it was nip and tuck almost to the
last minute.
At the end of the month of May the New York team was in the lead, they
having won 17 out of the 21 games they had played that month, while
Chicago, which stood second, had only won 14 out of the 20 games that it
played. The month of June saw a change in the program, however, Chicago
winning 21 games out of the 23 played that month, while New York only
won 15 out of the 20 that it took part in.
During the month of July it looked like anybody's race as between the
two leaders, each winning 18 games, though Chicago sustained but six
defeats as against seven for the representatives of the Eastern
metropolis. In the succeeding month New York had a shade the better of
it, they winning 18 out of 21 games played, while Chicago won only 15
out of 19. In September it was again our turn, however, and we won 17
games out of 20, New York having to be content with 13 out of 19.
The last of September and the first of October saw the pennant
"cinched," so far as we were concerned. The New Yorks finished the
season with four games at Chicago and three of these they needed in
order to win the championship. They had already won nine out of the
twelve games that they had played with us during the season, and looked
upon the result here as a foregone conclusion. They reckoned without
their host, however, on this occasion, as we won three straight games
from them, the scores being 7 to 4, 2 to 1, and 8 to 3 respectively.
Our totals for the season showed 87 games won and 25 lost, as against 85
games won and 27 lost for the Giants. Philadelphia came third with 56
games won and 54 lost, while Providence occupied the fourth place with
53 games won and 57 lost. Boston, Detroit, Buffalo and St. Louis
finished as named.
There were a good many funny stories told about those closing games
between New York and Chicago. The admirers of the Giants came on to
witness the games in force, and so certain were they that their pets
would win that they wagered their money on the result in the most
reckless fashion.
Even the newspaper men who accompanied them on the trip caught the
contagion. P. J. Donohue, of the New York "World," since deceased, was
one of the most reckless of these. He could see nothing in the race but
New York, and no sooner had he struck the town than he began to hunt for
someone who would take the Chicago end of the deal.
About nine o'clock the night before the playing of the first game he
appeared in the "Inter Ocean" office and announced that he was looking
for somebody who thought Chicago could win, as he wished to wager $100
on the result. He was accommodated by the sporting editor of that paper.
The next night after the Giants had lost P. J. again appeared on the
scene and announced his readiness to double up on the result of the
second game. He was accommodated again, and again. New York was the
loser.
Still a third time did P. J. appear with an offer to double up the whole
thing on the result of the next game. This looked like a bad bet for the
local man, but local pride induced him to make the wager. For the third
time the Giants went down before the White Stockings, and that night P.
J. was missing, but a day or two afterwards he turned up quite
crestfallen, and had a draft on New York cashed in order that he might
get back home again.
Mr. Donohue was not the only man who went broke on the result, however.
There was not a man on the delegation that accompanied the Giants that
did not lose, and lose heavily on the games, which went a long ways
toward illustrating the glorious uncertainties of base-ball.
The season of 1886 saw another change in the National League circuit,
Buffalo and Providence dropping out of the fight. The vacant places were
taken by Kansas City and Washington. The Detroit Club, thanks to a deal
engineered by Fred Stearns, was greatly strengthened by securing the
quartette of players from the Buffalo Club known as the "Big Four,"
these being White, Rowe, Richardson and Brouthers, which made them a
most formidable candidate for championship honors, and which, indeed,
they might have won had it not been for the Philadelphia Club, of which
Harry Wright was the manager.
Commenting on the League season for that year Spalding's Official Guide
for 1887 says: "The past season of 1886 proved to be a very profitable
one to a majority of the eight League clubs, those of Chicago, New York,
Philadelphia, Boston and Detroit all finding it a successful season
financially, while Chicago profited by bearing off the honors of the
League championship for the sixth time during the eleven years'
existence of the National League.
"The clubs of St. Louis, Kansas City and Washington, however, failed to
realize expectations, all three being on the wrong side of the column in
profit and loss, As hitherto, good and bad management of the club teams
had a great deal to do with the results of the season's campaign,
financially and otherwise.
"A feature of the season's championship contest was the telling work
done by the Philadelphia Club. This club closed their first season in
the League as the tail end of the eight clubs which entered the list
that year, the eight including Cleveland, Providence and Buffalo. In
1884 Philadelphia closed the season as sixth. In 1885 they finished
third and in October of 1886 they held third place, but finally had to
close a close fourth, after giving Detroit and Chicago a terrible
shaking up. In fact, the championship games in Philadelphia, the latter
part of September and first week in October, were among the most
noteworthy of the season, for from the 22d of September to the close of
the season in October the club in games with Chicago, Detroit, St.
Louis, Kansas City and Washington won 13, lost 3 and had two draws.
"The struggle for the pennant after the May contest lay entirely between
the Chicago, Detroit, New York and Philadelphia Clubs, the other four
having no show from the very outset.
"A notable incident of the campaign was the fact that in the closing
month it lay entirely in the hands of the Philadelphia Club to decide
whether' the pennant was to go to Detroit or Chicago.
"When Chicago left Philadelphia for Boston the last of September all
Detroit was in a fever of excitement at the prospect of their club's
success. The only question of interest was, 'Would they go through
Philadelphia safely?' It was only when Harry Wright's pony League team
captured the Detroits twice out of four games, one being drawn, that
Chicago felt relief from anxiety as to the ultimate outcome of the
pennant race. It was a gallant struggle by Philadelphia, and it made the
close of the campaign season one of the most exciting on record.
"The League schedule had been raised that season from sixteen to eighteen
games, nine to be played on the grounds of each club, and of these only
twenty-four remained unplayed at the close of the season, fifteen of
which were drawn with the score a tie."
This was one of the hardest seasons that I had ever gone through, and
when it was over I felt that we were lucky, indeed, to have captured the
pennant for the third successive time.
The champion team of that year showed but little change in make-up from
that of the preceding year, Clarkson, McCormick and John Flynn being the
pitchers; Kelly, Flint and Moolie, catchers; Anson, first base; Pfeffer,
second base; Burns, third base; Williamson, shortstop; Dalrymple, left
field; Ryan and Gore, center field; and Sunday, right field.
It was a close race that season between, Mike Kelly and myself for the
batting honors of the League, and Michael beat me out by a narrow margin
at the finish, his percentage being .388 as against .371, while
Brouthers came third on the list with .370.
That was the last season that the championship pennant was
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