Eight Men Out: The Black Sox and the 1919 World Series (25 page)

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Johnson returned Comiskey's fury: "This is not a time for quibbling and side issues. The integrity of professional baseball is on trial. I am amazed that the newspapers should give ear and voice to the vaporings of a man whose vindictiveness toward the President of the American League [himself] has been so long and so thoroughly known." To prove his dedication to clean baseball, Johnson got on a train for New York City; there he would find the gambler Arnold Rothstein and get the true story of the scandal.

There were other reports that the noted showman and song writer, George M. Cohan, had been somehow involved. At his office, 227 West 44th Street, off Times Square, Cohan told reporters: "I don't know anything about the World Series, so it would be foolish of the Grand Jury to call me." When asked if he lost $30,000 on the White Sox, he replied: "The only thing I have to say is that I have never lost any money on baseball."

On September 24, a Cleveland recruit, Walter "Duster" Mails, shut out the White Sox 2-0 on three feeble hits, keeping the Indians 1-1/2 games in first place. In New York, Babe Ruth blasted his fiftieth and fifty-first home runs, propelling fans into a wild hysteria.

In Chicago's Criminal Courts Building, the Grand Jury quietly heard New York Giant pitcher, John

"Rube" Benton. He told how "Buck" Herzog of the Cubs and Hal Chase had offered him $800 last September to throw a game to the Cubs. He had indignantly refused the bribe, then won the game. The report had reached the ears of John McGraw, but there had been no investigation, and the matter had been dropped. Following that, Benton insisted that he knew nothing about any other frame-up in baseball.

Buck Herzog, called from a road trip to testify, completely denied the allegation, attributing the story to an old grudge, dating back to 1915 when he was playing-manager over Benton with the Cincinnati Reds.

The door opened a little, however, when Charles Weeghman, former owner of the Cubs, came to testify.

He had spent part of his 1919 summer up at Saratoga, New York, a sporting playground of the rich where the new war-millionaires played the horses by day and the roulette table by night. Arnold Rothstein's luxurious "The Brook" was a meeting place of the most illustrious. Weeghman told how he had met his "old friend" Monte Tennes, from Chicago there. Tennes was the notorious Chicago gambler who, on Attell's advice, had bet heavily on Cincinnati. "He told me the Series had been fixed. This was in August, mind you. Seven White Sox players had agreed to lay down. He mentioned their names and said the tip was straight. But he didn't want it because he liked baseball and didn't want to go in on such a crooked deal. I understand that in spite of the tip, he bet thirty grand on the Sox!" Then, incredibly, Weeghman told the Grand Jury that he didn't remember whether or not he'd told this story to National League President, John Heydler. He found it so preposterous that he could hardly credit it. The matter, he apologized, must have slipped out of his mind.

The Assistant State's Attorney did not press him. If there was any significance in a baseball club owner being an "old friend" of a leading Chicago gambler, no attention was paid to it. The next move belonged file:///C|/Palm%20Stuff/Eliot,%20Asinof%20-%20Eig...tml]/Eight%20Men%20Out%20by%20Eliot%20Asinof.html2/17/2004 11:47:46 AM

with Monte Tennes himself. If Weeghman had been naïve and garrulous, Tennes was cynical and secretive. The code of professional gamblers permitted no exposures, no testimony, no admissions. He spoke the evasive language of gobbledygook. "I know nothing of fixed games. I never told Charley Weeghman about any fixed games. I believe he must have misunderstood. Of course we talked baseball.

One would have to talk baseball with Charley. I told him I intended betting on the White Sox. I bet on them. I lost my bet. And I made no cry of fraud."

George M. Cohan, meanwhile, apparently changed his tune. He responded to the Grand Jury call and testified that he, too, had heard some reports. It was also true, he added, that he had taken advantage of them and bet against the White Sox in those first two games. But, he insisted, that was all he knew.

From New York came an AP report on Ban Johnson. "I found the man Arnold Rothstein and after a long talk with him, I felt convinced he wasn't in any plot to fix the Series. He did admit to me that he'd heard of the fixing, but in spite of that, declared he had wagered on the White Sox…." The white knight of the American League had stormed the bloody bastions only to end up in bed with the enemy. But Johnson was undaunted. He kept on gathering information….

The testimony continued in this endless, inconclusive vein. It appeared that the Grand Jury was becoming something of a hearing room for vituperative baseball men who exposed only their personal grudges. The public grew disgusted. Further complaints were noised about concerning the manner in which the investigations were taking place. It was rumored that Replogle would be replaced for his failure to expose anything, that the whole thing was just another whitewashing of a potential baseball scandal. Somewhat less than candid, National League President, John Heydler, kept the whitewash nice and clean: "Every championship game in the National League in 1919 and 1920 was played completely on its merits," he told the papers. "I challenge any of these muckrakers, either inside or outside the ranks of professional baseball, to prove otherwise!"

Muckraker Harry Brigham, Foreman of the Grand Jury, snapped back to reporters: "Chicago, Cincinnati, and St. Louis gamblers have been bleeding and corrupting ballplayers. We are going to the limit in these inquiries, and I am shocked at the rottenness so far revealed!"

Whatever rottenness was revealed by the parade of witnesses, no indictments seemed in the offing. The hand of the law remained gentle. Nor were there any real exposures made to the public. Newspapers reported what was handed to them. Reporters kept long vigils outside the jury room, flashing pictures of the comings and goings of the vast range of baseball personalities, pumping them with questions, but only getting innocuous answers. They protested the secrecy. Why was everything going on behind closed doors? The investigation had not begun in this fashion. Chief Justice MacDonald had pledged open hearings. Newspapermen, who felt they had done much to bring about the whole investigation, resented Replogle and his pious statements about legal traditions and Grand Jury secrecy. Would Replogle be replaced over this very question?

Then, on Thursday afternoon, September 24, the cat finally stuck his neck out of the bag. New York file:///C|/Palm%20Stuff/Eliot,%20Asinof%20-%20Eig...tml]/Eight%20Men%20Out%20by%20Eliot%20Asinof.html2/17/2004 11:47:46 AM

Giant pitcher Rube Benton returned to testify, admitting the fact that he knew more than he had indicated on his previous visit. Replogle refreshed his memory with affidavits from two ballplayers of the Boston Braves, Arthur Wilson and Norman Boeckel, stating that Benton had revealed to them that Hal Chase had tipped him off about the White Sox losing the first and second games of the Series, and the entire World Series as well, and that Benton had won $3,800 on the tip.

Benton, though denying his own betting, was prepared to admit his knowledge of the fix. He told how he was in the room of another Giant pitcher, Jean Dubuc, at the Hotel Ansonia, a week or so before the Series. A telegram arrived from Bill Burns advising Dubuc that the White Sox would lose the Series.

Benton also knew that Hal Chase had received several such telegrams from Burns. Chase, he declared, had won over $40,000 on Cincinnati! Benton described a meeting with a man named Hahn, a betting commissioner in Cincinnati, who had told him that several White Sox had been in on the fix, that they had gotten $100,000 from a Pittsburgh gambling syndicate. He recalled the names of Gandil, Felsch, Williams, and Cicotte. He had heard that there was "a gambling clique in Pittsburgh of professional bookmakers who advance money to major league ballplayers to bet on games they play in…." Benton suggested that the Grand Jury would do better to call in Cicotte to tell them about all this. Cicotte would know what it was all about….

The Grand Jury was impressed. They felt they were on the brink of important revelations. They voted to extend their sessions indefinitely—then adjourned until Tuesday morning.

Eddie Cicotte, along with the others, heard of Benton's testimony a few hours after he had given it.

Everything that leaked out of the Grand Jury room was beginning to make news. Big news. What started out as nothing, another legal palaver of liars and lawyers, was suddenly turning into a monster.

Cicotte's uneasiness was compounded by the presence of a tall stranger, always hanging around. Cicotte would see him at his hotel, then again around the ball park. He was there with a smile, an offer of a cigarette, and finally a few innocent questions. In time, Cicotte learned the truth: the man was a detective, working for the American League—or, more accurately, Ban Johnson. He told Cicotte how much he already knew about him—and he knew everything.

A fatalism had settled in Cicotte. Now it turned to a sense of imminent doom. The fun had gone from playing ball. Gone was that wonderful stirring excitement of walking out to the mound for a clean new game. Gone was the sense of power when he blended his delicate skills to sneak a kunckle ball by a big swinger. He no longer walked to the mound in keyed-up suspense, nor felt any challenge. He pitched with the residue of his talent and whatever day-to-day fabrication of spirit he could generate. Mostly from the day he had sewed that $10,000 into the lining of his jacket he had felt like a tired, dirty, punch-drunk fighter.

Over the long 1920 season, the seven ballplayers had not talked about the fix. They hung around file:///C|/Palm%20Stuff/Eliot,%20Asinof%20-%20Eig...tml]/Eight%20Men%20Out%20by%20Eliot%20Asinof.html2/17/2004 11:47:46 AM

together, the same tight clique, but the 1919 World Series was never mentioned. In silence, they hoped that the memories would somehow disappear. Cicotte knew it wouldn't work. This was most apparent with this detective hanging over him.

On the morning of September 25, Cicotte read a statement that Ray Schalk was going to testify when the Grand Jury reconvened on Tuesday. "It's up to the ballplayers to protect the sport," Schalk had said. "If they're gonna drag me into this mess, I'm going before the Grand Jury and tell all I know. I'll mention the names of the men on my own team!"

On that afternoon, Lefty Williams pitched his twenty-second victory of the season, taking Cleveland 5-1.

Joe Jackson homered, pushing his batting average up to a phenomenal .387.

The Grand Jury received an anonymous letter saying that Williams's wife had been in a Chicago poolroom last year, on the morning of the second World Series game, placing large bets against the White Sox.

Charles Comiskey watched his team climb back to 1/2 game behind the Indians. Still raging at Johnson, he defiantly declared that if the White Sox won the 1920 pennant, he would use every member of his ball club in the Series, whatever the suspicions against them.

But the truth was, it had gone beyond a question of suspicions. The whole mess was about to explode. It was, as Replogle told him, "purely a matter of time."

The real question at this point was just how much time? In the view of the tight pennant race and the clear-cut possibility (even probability) of another White Sox victory, perhaps it would be desirable to delay the Grand Jury investigations for a few days? It was a question worth asking.

Judge MacDonald summoned Replogle and Comiskey to answer it.

Comiskey and Alfred Austrian discussed it first, privately. The problem had frightening ramifications.

Comiskey wanted that pennant. He thrived on pennants. His pride was once again at stake. This was the meat of his life. The fans of Chicago had topped all previous attendance figures, demanding another pennant.

But Austrian didn't see it that way. The dangers, here, were all too obvious. If Comiskey won the flag, then what? Would the Grand Jury again postpone any exposure until after the World Series? And if the whole scandal should explode before—or even after—the Series, then how would it look? If before, could the World Series be played?

With a decimated Chicago ball club? The bull-like figure of Ban Johnson loomed over them. The answer became glaringly apparent: the risks of delay were simply too great. The problem could no longer be related to the pennant race: it went beyond it. The entire structure of professional baseball was going to file:///C|/Palm%20Stuff/Eliot,%20Asinof%20-%20Eig...tml]/Eight%20Men%20Out%20by%20Eliot%20Asinof.html2/17/2004 11:47:46 AM

take a solid thumping. Comiskey had to keep his hands as clean as possible. There must be no pettiness or compromise attached to the reputation of the Old Roman.

Leading sportswriter for the Philadelphia
North American
, Jimmy Isaminger, knew of Billy Maharg for some years back. He had seen him box, a tough, burly middleweight who could take a lot of punishment.

Maharg had fought around Philadelphia, but never showed very much, never got very far. He was a likable boy with a broad, open, friendly face. It was always easy to make him laugh. When Maharg fought, Philadelphia boxing fans always seemed to root for him.

Isaminger had another picture of Billy Maharg—also as a baseball player. In fact, Isaminger had reason to believe his real name was not Maharg at all. It was George Frederick Graham—or Maharg spelled backward, if you will. "Peaches" Graham, the ballplayer, had been a catcher in the big leagues for about ten years, ending in 1912. He had caught his last season with the Phillies, a year in which he became friends with a young pitcher named Grover Cleveland Alexander.

This peculiar switch of names did not disturb the newspaperman. There was nothing particularly mysterious about a dual athlete maintaining separate identities for whatever reason. Maharg—or Graham

—had simply never been important enough to merit any investigation. Until now, Isaminger thought. He had heard Maharg's name in connection with the World Series fix. What was Maharg doing these days?