Eight Men Out: The Black Sox and the 1919 World Series (21 page)

Comiskey was reassured. He promised to keep in close contact with the State's Attorney.

Of necessity, his next move was a secret one: he hired a Chicago private detective named John Hunter.

Hunter was given a list of seven ballplayers whom he was to investigate, the purpose being to discover if any had come into a substantial sum of money. The seven men were accurately listed: Cicotte, Gandil, Jackson, Risberg, Felsch, Williams, and McMullin.

By this time, the World Series accounts had been processed. Twenty-one checks of $3,154.27 each, the losers' shares, were ready to be mailed. But Comiskey withheld eight of them pending "further investigations." This, he felt, would later be considered an effective maneuver, showing how diligently he was pursuing the matter. It could also serve as a tactic to frighten the ballplayers, a show of his own defiance, as it were. Perhaps it would work to inhibit their 1920 salary demands….

Several weeks later, the detective reported his findings: Only Gandil's finances indicated a change in file:///C|/Palm%20Stuff/Eliot,%20Asinof%20-%20Eig...tml]/Eight%20Men%20Out%20by%20Eliot%20Asinof.html2/17/2004 11:47:46 AM

status. He had purchased a new car, a new house, and a sizable quantity of diamonds. Comiskey locked the report in his files. Meanwhile, Cicotte and Weaver began complaining about not receiving their World Series checks. By this time (it was already mid-November) the fix talk had dwindled. It was clear that the matter would soon be forgotten. Comiskey, after discussing it with Austrian, concluded that the danger period had passed. He could proceed with his management of White Sox affairs as if nothing unseemly had occurred. The checks were mailed to the eight ballplayers with a brief apology for their tardiness.

Meanwhile, there was a strange pile-up of civil cases in the Southside courts of Chicago: failure to pay alimony, failure to pay bills, inability to meet mortgages, etc. The magistrates were baffled by it. Then, gradually, a similarity of excuses made this phenomenon understandable: all the defendants claimed they had lost their shirts betting on the White Sox.

Whatever lingering concern there was over Comiskey's pursuit of the troublesome 1919 World Series, the American League found itself forgetting it as a result of another typical Ban Johnson-type battle. The trigger for this round was the case of pitcher Carl Mays, a neurotic young star, whom the Boston Red Sox had sold to the New York Yankees. Ban Johnson had issued a dictum invalidating the sale, later declaring that all games Mays appeared in were forfeit.

The case was battled in the courts throughout the fall of 1919. At the annual business meeting of the League in December, this controversy so dominated all discussion that the only action taken was a vote to cut back to the old 154-game schedule.

As a result, no attention was paid to the troublesome questions surrounding the 1919 World Series.

When Hugh Fullerton returned from his fishing trip in late fall to discover that no action had been taken on this really vital matter, immediately his anger was stirred. He watched the owners snarling across cities at each other, and foresaw the doom of major-league baseball. If he was being melodramatic, it was righteously so. His love for the game permitted no whitewashing. He insisted on a cleanup. With a sense of outrage, he began a series of articles to jolt the executive world of baseball into action. He would expose, finally, what every decent baseball writer knew, but never had the courage to write. He would break down the hypocritical wall of silence behind which baseball pretended to be holy. He would quote gamblers he had spoken with, recount experiences that indicated dirty work, and above all, name names, lots of names.

When he had finished, he took the material to his editor in Chicago. To his dismay, he was told it was too hot to publish. No newspaper was prepared to tackle anything like this, out of fear of the libel laws.

Fullerton, undaunted, took the articles to New York where the New York
Evening World
agreed to print them, providing he watered them down considerably. Fullerton fought them, eventually arrived at a compromise. The articles were hot enough even without his direct accusations and the omission of a number of names.

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On December 15, in the midst of the National Baseball Commission meetings, the New York
World
exploded Fullerton's bomb: "Is Big League Baseball Being Run for Gamblers, with Ballplayers in the Deal?" The World Series, he suggested, was tampered with to enrich the gambling clique in many American cities. Actually, he did not state that the Series had been fixed. To avoid libel, his articles merely challenged the evasiveness of the National Commission in the face of some glaring suspicions:

"Professional baseball has reached a crisis. The Major Leagues, both owners and players, are on trial.

Charges of crookedness amongst owners, accusations of cheating, of tampering with each other's teams, of attempting to syndicate and control ballplayers are bandied about openly. Charges that ballplayers are bribed and games are sold out are made without attempts at refutations by men who have made their fortunes in baseball.

"The National League met and adjourned without even mentioning the subject. The American League, besmirched with scandal, wrangled, fought, and blackguarded each other, then separated without an effort to clear the good name of the sport. They keep silent hoping it will all blow over.

"The time has come for open talk!"

The owners, as usual, thought otherwise. Fullerton's blast, prominently exposed on page one, was nothing more than an irritant. If it finally forced them into making a few statements, it did not lead to action. Harry Frazee of Boston told the press that he agreed with Fullerton: Sure, gamblers were a menace. Something should be done. Another club owner seriously suggested that an appeal be made to the gamblers' patriotism. After all, they were Americans, too. And since this was the national pastime, could they not be asked to respect it? Comiskey, annoyed by the stir Fullerton had created, came through with another denial: "Concerning numerous rumors of dishonesty amongst Chicago players, I am very happy to state that we have discovered nothing to indicate any member of my team double-crossing me or the public last Fall…."

Meanwhile, Manager Pat Moran of the Championship Cincinnati Reds was interviewed at the National League meeting. "I don't take any stock in all this talk about gamblers getting to ballplayers. I watched the White Sox as closely as anyone in the orchard, and if any of them was pulling, they can have the credit for fooling me. Whoever it was, he showed himself a great actor!" Despite his denials, he let another cat out of the bag: "Some piker-gambler tried to get one of my pitchers oiled up with hooch a couple of days before the Series, but I found it out and stopped it."

This last irked Fullerton. He wanted to know exactly who tried to get Moran's pitcher drunk. Why didn't Moran pursue it? Why wasn't there an investigation?

Fullerton's anger ran in direct proportion to the National Commission's indifference. He demanded action. He went further and specified what kind of action. Kenesaw Mountain Landis, a Federal judge in the District of Illinois, should be made arbiter of a special investigation. All suspected ballplayers should be forced to reveal what they knew. If Fullerton was not permitted to name players, he did not hesitate to mention a number of gamblers. He started with Sleepy Bill Burns and Abe Attell, then went down a list file:///C|/Palm%20Stuff/Eliot,%20Asinof%20-%20Eig...tml]/Eight%20Men%20Out%20by%20Eliot%20Asinof.html2/17/2004 11:47:46 AM

that included Monte Tennes, Joe Pesch, Carl Zork, Ben and Lou Levi of St. Louis. Nor did he leave out the illustrious Arnold Rothstein of New York.

The owners winced at such a challenge. Though baseball fans all over the country got stirred up, the National Commission remained dormant. Comiskey responded with another statement, again claiming that the rumors were hogwash, inspired by gamblers who were bitter about losing. Angrily he defied anyone to prove corruption, repeating his $10,000 (sic) offer for any direct evidence. (The $20,000 offer of October 15 had suddenly, inexplicably, been cut in half.) And again, Fullerton blasted back. "I have no proof that any players are guilty. But one thing is certain: gamblers have stated they have put over this thing, and that they have solicited capital from others on the ground that they could control players.

This took place during the season and the Chicago White Sox are not the only team involved. This alone calls for investigation!" Fullerton ridiculed Comiskey's naïveté: "The stories that these rumors are all from disgruntled gamblers who had lost on the Series are not true, because I heard them
before
a single game was played!"

About this time, an interview with catcher Ray Schalk appeared in a small Chicago newspaper. Schalk purportedly had spoken with guarded anger, claiming he knew for a fact that seven White Sox players would not be around for the coming season. He did not elaborate. Apparently he had refused to discuss the matter further.

But the statement, such as it was, seemed pregnant with significance. It was picked up by the wire services and reported all over the country. If the members of the National Commission read it, they gave no indication of concern. The Commission's meetings broke up for the Christmas holidays without any discussion of the gambling-corruption problems. In answer to queries, Garry Herrmann stated his position: "The matter rests with Comiskey, who is responsible for the conduct of his players. All investigations into this matter have failed. Why start another investigation of moth-eaten rumors?"

Hugh Fullerton's articles did not result in any action, but they at least kicked up plenty of comment. The
Baseball Magazine,
a national monthly dedicated to bringing news and stories of baseball personalities to its millions of fans, became Fullerton's fierce attacker. The concept that baseball could be corrupt was absolutely alien to the magazine. To fix the World Series was so preposterous as to be almost laughable.

Fullerton, therefore, became the enemy. Throughout the winter of 1919-1920, as the rumors persisted, this widely read and respected magazine poured constant abuse on Fullerton's reputation, charged him with devious, dishonest motives, impugned his patriotism, distorted his emphasis, and ridiculed: A dopester whose first name was HughSaid the White Sox would win five to two.But the Reds with a rushPut the dope on the crushNow the dopester still bellows "bugh-hugh!"

Baseball's famous weekly organ,
The Sporting News,
published in St. Louis by Taylor Spink, also rejected the rumors of corruption. In December, their targets were more general than a certain solitary newspaperman: "Because a lot of dirty, long-nosed, thick-lipped, and strong-smelling gamblers butted into the World Series—an American event, by the way—and some of said gentlemen got crossed, stories file:///C|/Palm%20Stuff/Eliot,%20Asinof%20-%20Eig...tml]/Eight%20Men%20Out%20by%20Eliot%20Asinof.html2/17/2004 11:47:46 AM

were peddled that there was something wrong with the way the games were played. Some of the Chicago players laid down for a price, said the scandal mongers…. Comiskey has met that by offering $10,000 for any sort of clue that will bear out such a charge. He might as well have offered a million…."

Gradually,
The Sporting News
modified that scurrilous opinion. One of its oldest writers, John B.

Sheriden, could indicate his fears, for he had heard more gambling talk at the 1919 Series than he'd heard in over thirty years. He was told by "a conservative and honest gambler" (as distinct from a "dirty, long-nosed, thick-lipped" type): "A man whose betting limit is $100 suddenly bets me $5,000 against $4,000 on Cincinnati! He didn't even ask me for odds. He merely said, 'How much money will you take?'"

Another writer, Joe Vila, had this to say in
The Sporting News
: "Almost anytime you can run into a wise fish on Broadway who will tell you things that make you wonder why there has been no action."

The Sporting News
also reported on a novel remedy: perhaps the best way to clean up baseball was to get the ballplayers themselves to do it. They should inform on each other. The National Commission should give medals to those heroic players who exposed the betrayers. After all, it was argued, a player should be the first to root out this evil. "You wouldn't sit down to a poker game with a card player who cheated, would you?"

In New York City, Arnold Rothstein noted the lack of action with a sense of relief. It reaffirmed his sense of order, all these big millionaires running the baseball world like a squawling bunch of idiot kids.

He felt he could walk all over them. They were just like politicians; they would end up working for him.

He could rob them all blind, then they spent their time and money making sure it was kept a secret.

There was no limit to the riches that could be won in a world run in this manner.

Rothstein soon forgot about the World Series. He had important business to get ahead with. Prohibition was taking over, and millions of Americans would want whisky….

The year 1920 opened with a blockbuster: on January 5, the New York Yankees announced the purchase of George Herman "Babe" Ruth from Boston for the staggering sum of $125,000. Ruth, not yet twenty-five years old, was an outstanding American League pitcher (90 wins, 39 defeats) plus a record World Series shutout string of 29 consecutive innings. But Colonel Jacob Ruppert was not buying a pitcher. In 1919, Ruth had hit 29 home runs, breaking all records.

From California, where he was wintering, the Babe further shattered precedent by demanding a piece of the sale price. His rebellious attitude, formerly a thorn in Boston owner Harry Frazee's side, forced Ruppert to protect his investment. He kept Ruth happy with a raise to $20,000 a year.

On January 9, Charles Comiskey read the following dispatch in the New York
Times
: San Francisco—