The Original Curse Part 3

Les sighed. "No, Phil," he said, shaking his head.

"Then I haven't been taking nuximated iron," Phil said, his laugh picking up again.6 Douglas gave an elbow to Dode Paskert, who was sitting next to him, spitting tobacco onto his bat, rubbing the brown saliva into the handle, and talking with Rollie Zeider. Paskert half-heard Douglas's joke before turning his attention back to Zeider. Douglas gave an elbow to Dode Paskert, who was sitting next to him, spitting tobacco onto his bat, rubbing the brown saliva into the handle, and talking with Rollie Zeider. Paskert half-heard Douglas's joke before turning his attention back to Zeider.

"Suppose Baker orders ballplayers to go to work," Paskert said. "And suppose they don't shut it down. Suppose they try to go with players outside draft age. You see what I mean? All these young ones would be out. They'd be drafted. It'd just be me and you, Rollie! What do you think, Rollie? Can we win a pennant, me and you?"

Zeider shook his head. "They'll probably sign up half a team of teenaged Yannigans and half a team of grandpas like us," he said. "Keep it balanced."

"Makes it nice to be 36 years old; I will tell you that much," Paskert said.

With a pregnant wife and an awkward gait, Hippo Vaughn did not figure to be a prime target for the army. But he was a key in the Cubs' crucial May sweep of the Giants. (NATIONAL B BASEBALL H HALL OF F FAME L LIBRARY, COOPERSTOWN, N.Y.) "I think we'd have Vaughn too," Zeider said, nodding toward the edge of the gra.s.s, where Hippo Vaughn and Lefty Tyler were standing side by side, warming up their arms. "The army would never take him, not with a pregnant wife and that hippo gait of his." Zeider raised his voice to Vaughn. "Isn't that right, Hippo?"

Vaughn paused and looked in at Zeider. "I did not hear you, Rollie, but I am sure it was an insult," he said, shaking his head. "So, my response is, no, it is not not right." right."

Tyler watched Vaughn throw and then asked, "What are you going to do, Jim, when they shut us down in July?"

"Head on back to Texas, back to the farm," Vaughn answered. "I think I can be useful enough there. How about you? Are you joining up with the sammies?"

"No," Tyler said. "Back to the farm too. Uncle Sam would not take me anyway."

"Why not?"

Tyler paused, putting the ball into his glove. He opened his mouth and reached in with his thumb and forefinger. With only a slight tug, he pulled out a yellowed tooth and held it up for Vaughn. "Bad teeth," he said. Vaughn blanched. Tyler popped his tooth back into place and smiled.7 As the players bantered, fans kept piling in. The war was raging, the order that all men should work or fight was official, and baseball might soon be ruled a nonuseful occupation. But it was CubsGiants weekend, and Weeghman Park was packed.

With a solid early-season record and signs of a good club, the Cubs had been looking ahead to the series against the Giants (slated to start May 24 but delayed by rain) for two reasons. First, Cubs fans considered John McGraw's bunch the arch nemesis, going back to the thrilling 1908 pennant race. The Cubs won in part because of a controversial play in which Giants rookie Fred Merkle-now a veteran Cub-failed to run to second base on an otherwise game-winning hit. The other reason the Cubs bugs were worked up was that the series was a measuring stick. The Giants were champions. At 1911, the Cubs were good, but they trailed New York by four games, and if they wanted to prove they were champions.h.i.+p cla.s.s, this weekend offered the opportunity.

Just before the series started, though, everything changed. Now that America had plunged into the war, more soldiers were needed, and more men were needed to work jobs that supported the soldiers. On May 23, General Crowder made it a legal obligation, as of July 1, for men of draft age either to work in a useful industry or to be drafted immediately. Crowder noted the impetus behind the order: "One of the unanswerable criticisms of the draft has been that it takes men from the farms and from all useful employments and marches them past crowds of idlers and loafers away to the army," he said. "The remedy is ... to require that any man pleading exemption on any ground shall also show that he is contributing effectively to the industrial welfare of the nation."8 Idlers and loafers were, in most cases, easy to define. If a young man was hanging around a poolroom, he was obviously loafing and would have to answer for why he was not employed in a useful trade. Those who held jobs as bartenders or hotel doormen, too, would be collared and required to get essential work. But what about baseball players? Was theirs a useful industry? Baseball did not contribute directly to the war effort, and when Johnson made his plea for the exemption of 288 players, Crowder had laughed him down. Baseball had, however, helped raise money for the Red Cross and contributed to the purchase of Liberty Bonds. Fans attending games paid a war tax, which was useful. Besides, actors were granted exemption so that the population could continue to get much-needed diversion at theaters and in the movies. Shouldn't baseball players, too, be exempted because of the entertainment they provided?

Baker and Crowder had considered baseball before writing the order. Neither felt sure enough about the game to take a definitive stance on baseball's status-Baker was under the mistaken belief that most players were older than draft age-so they decided to wait until an appeal of an actual case could be made. Which put baseball and its players in a precarious position. From May 23 until Crowder's order would take effect on July 1, baseball would continue with no inkling as to whether the government approved or disapproved, no inkling of whether players were considered slackers, that most dread label in 1918 America. Whenever Crowder did rule on the subject, it was understood that there were three possible outcomes. Crowder could call the game nonessential, and owners could end the season abruptly. Or Crowder could call the game nonessential, baseball could lose all of its players of draft age, and owners could sign up teams of players outside draft age, younger than 21 and older than 31. Or Crowder could smile upon the sport, recognize its usefulness to a country at war, and exempt its players. There were signs that the government would rule in favor of baseball. Wilson had, in the summer of '17, expressed his support, and two days after the work-or-fight order was handed down, Wilson threw out the first pitch at a Senators game in Was.h.i.+ngton.

Still, the future was questionable. If all players of draft age were forced to find useful work, according to one estimate, 7080 percent of rosters would be gone. Frank J. Navin, president of the Tigers, said, "Such an order would cause us to close our park. The order would leave me [41-year-old Bill] Donovan as a pitcher, [35-year-old Oscar] Stanage behind the bat, [34-year-old Tubby] Spencer at first and [49-year-old manager Hughie] Jennings at short. How does that sound for a pennant winner?"9 But, for GiantsCubs weekend, work-or-fight was easily pushed aside. There were 14,000 on hand for the opening of the series on Sat.u.r.day, and it was a tense crowd as things got off to an iffy start for Lefty Tyler. Leadoff man Ross Youngs rapped a single, and Benny Kauff (who would be drafted in late June) drove a Tyler pitch deep to left for a double, scoring Youngs. George Burns followed with a single, and just like that, Tyler let up three hits and two runs to the first three men he faced. But he braced himself, getting two infield outs before striking out Walter Holke. In the bottom of the first inning, with Barnes taking the mound for the last time before he joined the army, Flack scored on a double by Mann. When Merkle crushed a Barnes fastball foul past third base, McGraw pulled out Barnes, sparing him the embarra.s.sment of getting knocked around in his final start. Al Demaree took the slab, and the Cubs built a 54 lead before Demaree was replaced by Floridian reliever Red Causey. Here's how the Tribune Tribune's James Crusinberry described Causey: "Mr. Cecil Algernon 'Red' Causey is six feet in height, ten and a half inches wide, has ambitions, is too young for the war, and too old to stay on the Everglades.... The Cubs didn't do much in the way of prowess after he entered the arena in search of fame."10 The Cubs had enough prowess to wind up with a 74 win, though. The Cubs had enough prowess to wind up with a 74 win, though.

Vaughn took the mound for the second game, on Sunday. Chicago was bustling in antic.i.p.ation. Tickets were sold out by 3:15, for a game that was to start at 4:00. The Cubs kept selling tickets, though-fans stood in the aisles, they packed under the stands and peeked out when they could, and ushers lined up fans along the outfield wall and behind the plate in foul ground, technically in the field of play, forcing the managers and umpires to agree on ground rules for b.a.l.l.s that struck fans. The rooftops and windows of the apartment buildings across Clark Street were packed.11 A throng of about 25,000 showed up, the biggest crowd the Cubs had ever drawn to Weeghman Park. They saw a mint performance from Vaughn, who allowed two hits and a run in the first, but shut the Giants down after that, giving up only two more hits and grabbing a 51 win. A throng of about 25,000 showed up, the biggest crowd the Cubs had ever drawn to Weeghman Park. They saw a mint performance from Vaughn, who allowed two hits and a run in the first, but shut the Giants down after that, giving up only two more hits and grabbing a 51 win.

The Sunday fans also heard the band play "The Star-Spangled Banner" in the seventh inning. The Chicago Herald Examiner Chicago Herald Examiner reported, "All hands, with the exception of one rash youth, stood up and saluted. He probably will stand up for a week with or without music. Indignant patriots grabbed the slacker, rushed him down the center of the aisle of the stand and into the street. Other patriots stepped into the aisle behind the procession and landed a series of swift kicks where they would do the most good." reported, "All hands, with the exception of one rash youth, stood up and saluted. He probably will stand up for a week with or without music. Indignant patriots grabbed the slacker, rushed him down the center of the aisle of the stand and into the street. Other patriots stepped into the aisle behind the procession and landed a series of swift kicks where they would do the most good."12 By the third game the Giants were deflated and frustrated-particularly ex-Cub Heinie Zimmerman, now New York's third baseman, who was alternately cheered and booed throughout the series. The Giants grabbed a quick lead, but the Cubs sc.r.a.ped back. As the Cubs were pulling even, Mann went hard into third base and Zimmerman gave him a forceful tag to the stomach. Mann grabbed Zimmerman's knees, pulling him to the ground. The two exchanged blows before being separated without ejections. But the Cubs kept up their a.s.sault, giving Claude Hendrix a 73 win. After the game, a ticked-off Zimmerman waited for Mann in street clothes on Addison Street. A group of fans watched eagerly. Alas, Zimmerman's pugilistic intentions were short-circuited by the fairer s.e.x. "Later Mann came out," Crusinberry reported, "but Mrs. Mann had been waiting for him and walked alongside of him, past Heinie and the expectant crowd. Strong arms weren't needed this time. Mrs. Mann marched her husband home, and Heinie grabbed a taxi and beat it."13 The Cubs had humiliated the NL champs. In three games they outscored the McGraws, 198, outhit them, 4024, outplayed them in the field, and showed far more cla.s.s on the mound. Mann's bout with Zimmerman might have been exactly what the Cubs needed. The Giants had a bullying reputation that reflected the disposition of McGraw, their hard-boiled manager. The Cubs would not be cowed. Later in the week, Bill Killefer got into a dustup after Cincinnati's Greasy Neale-future Hall of Fame football coach-delivered a sucker punch to Killefer's jaw, laying out the st.u.r.dy catcher in the middle of a game. An onrush of Cubs players came to their catcher's defense, and Neale was thrown out for the punch. Incensed Cubs fans threw gla.s.s soda bottles at Reds outfielder Rube Bressler, thinking he was Neale, and showing that these Cubs and their fans were not afraid of rough play.

Indeed, baseball was not a game for the meek in 1918, on the field or in the stands. Not until the 1923 season did baseball, tired of seeing umpires attacked with projectiles, ban gla.s.s bottles in parks. During the '18 season, after two women were injured by fans who threw seat cus.h.i.+ons during Cubs games, Charley Weeghman pushed Chicago's aldermen to make it a crime to throw bottles and other objects from the stands. He failed. The aldermen decided that "the enraged fan was within his rights in heaving a bottle at Catfish the umpire." One alderman, incredibly, argued, "Our ancestors fought and died for certain unalienable rights. Just now our boys are fighting in France for freedom and democracy. Why should not the baseball fan have freedom to innocently express his sentiment?"14 The Cubs were 2312 when they left the friendly, flying-bottle confines of Weeghman Park to set out on the road for a 23-day junket to the East on May 31. The train ride was miserable-it was hot, and war restrictions meant all 30 members of the Cubs traveling party were crammed into one car, which made even grabbing a seat a challenge. Teddy Roosevelt was on the train, with a car to himself. Several players stopped to visit the ex-president, who had been a loud critic of the administration's war effort. Roosevelt's disdain for Wilson and Baker was widely known (rooted in the fact that they hadn't allowed Roosevelt, 59 years old and not exactly in peak shape, to put together his own fighting division to take to France). When players asked what Roosevelt thought about the work-or-fight order and how it would affect ballplayers after July 1, they were probably expecting T.R. to deliver a scathing rebuke. They were disappointed. Roosevelt told them he had been too busy to think about baseball's situation.15 The Cubs swept the Braves and Phillies to start the trip, which boosted them to the top of the standings. They were greeted in Philadelphia by Bill Wrigley, who gave each player a first-place reward-$5 to spend on new clothes, which they gladly did the following day. "Haberdashers on Chestnut Street did some business," the Daily News Daily News reported. "The boys came back with new ties, hats, socks and s.h.i.+rts, which they sported on the Sabbath." reported. "The boys came back with new ties, hats, socks and s.h.i.+rts, which they sported on the Sabbath."16 To close the trip, the Cubs split the rematch with the Giants, won two of three from Brooklyn, and split with Pittsburgh. They went 135, returning to Chicago with a 3617 record and a tight grip on first place. To close the trip, the Cubs split the rematch with the Giants, won two of three from Brooklyn, and split with Pittsburgh. They went 135, returning to Chicago with a 3617 record and a tight grip on first place.

NINE.

Loyalty: The Texel Texel OFF T THE N NEW Y YORK C COAST, SUNDAY, JUNE 2, 1918 2, 1918.

It was just after 4:00 P.M P.M. by the watch of K. B. Lowry, the Brooklynite captain of the Texel Texel, a Dutch steams.h.i.+p that had been loaded up with 42,000 tons of sugar from the Caribbean. The sea was calm, the afternoon was warm, and Lowry had the boat about 60 miles from its destination, New York harbor. That's when he saw ripples radiate in the water, just yards from the Texel Texel's bow. The smooth surface of the ocean convulsed and split, and suddenly Lowry was looking at the ma.s.sive gray deck of a submarine. Without warning, the sub aimed its gun and fired a sh.e.l.l packed with shrapnel at the clumsy body of the Texel Texel. Panic set in among the crew. What was a submarine doing firing sh.e.l.ls on an unarmed sugar boat 60 miles off the New York coast What was a submarine doing firing sh.e.l.ls on an unarmed sugar boat 60 miles off the New York coast? The men took cover. One of the crew, Frank Ryan, scrambled back on deck to rescue the s.h.i.+p's mascot, a Maltese cat. Just in time. The sub's guns fired again, a rain of debris spraying the Texel Texel's deck. And then a third blast. Lowry pulled the Texel Texel to a stop. The U-boat's captain boarded, demanding to see the s.h.i.+p's papers. Looking them over, he said to Lowry, "We will give you time to get off. Then we shall sink your vessel." to a stop. The U-boat's captain boarded, demanding to see the s.h.i.+p's papers. Looking them over, he said to Lowry, "We will give you time to get off. Then we shall sink your vessel."1 The 36-man crew crammed into two lifeboats. The cat too. They began to row to sh.o.r.e, a two-day ordeal. Behind them, the U-boat blasted the Texel Texel, which tipped to its side and slowly eased into the water.

June 2 was a bad day for s.h.i.+ps in American waters. The Texel Texel was one of six s.h.i.+ps sunk off the East Coast that day. In the past, German submarines had occasionally slipped into U.S. waters to cause mischief and create a scare, but this was different. Between May 25 and May 28, four nonmilitary s.h.i.+ps had been mysteriously sunk, and the June 2 tally brought the total to 10 in a span of just eight days. This wave of U-boat marauding would end in mid-June, with s.h.i.+ps attacked from the waters of Ma.s.sachusetts down to Virginia, but in the wake of the sinking of the was one of six s.h.i.+ps sunk off the East Coast that day. In the past, German submarines had occasionally slipped into U.S. waters to cause mischief and create a scare, but this was different. Between May 25 and May 28, four nonmilitary s.h.i.+ps had been mysteriously sunk, and the June 2 tally brought the total to 10 in a span of just eight days. This wave of U-boat marauding would end in mid-June, with s.h.i.+ps attacked from the waters of Ma.s.sachusetts down to Virginia, but in the wake of the sinking of the Texel Texel and others, there was no way to tell what, exactly, was going on or when it would stop. It very much appeared that the United States was under German a.s.sault. Word spread that there were as many as five U-boats off the coast, and a mother s.h.i.+p, maybe even disguised under an American flag, supplying them. and others, there was no way to tell what, exactly, was going on or when it would stop. It very much appeared that the United States was under German a.s.sault. Word spread that there were as many as five U-boats off the coast, and a mother s.h.i.+p, maybe even disguised under an American flag, supplying them.2 It was easy to tie these rumors to another rumor, which held that a s.h.i.+pment of one million Mauser rifles and a billion cartridges had reached American sh.o.r.es and was hidden in storage in the United States, waiting for a German-American uprising. Both rumors had credibility. New York's deputy attorney general held hearings on the Mauser rifle s.h.i.+pment,3 and the U.S. Congress thought enough of the U-boat threat that it pa.s.sed a $16 million appropriation for balloon and seaplane stations to track enemy subs. In New York, fear spread that the submarine attacks could be a precursor to German air attacks. For the first time, the city established an air raid siren and required businesses on major thoroughfares-such as Broadway and Fifth Avenue-to dim their lights at night to make the streets harder to see from above. and the U.S. Congress thought enough of the U-boat threat that it pa.s.sed a $16 million appropriation for balloon and seaplane stations to track enemy subs. In New York, fear spread that the submarine attacks could be a precursor to German air attacks. For the first time, the city established an air raid siren and required businesses on major thoroughfares-such as Broadway and Fifth Avenue-to dim their lights at night to make the streets harder to see from above.4 The s.h.i.+p sinkings were not part of a German invasion. There was no air a.s.sault, and there were no Mauser rifles. The attacks of late May and early June were the work of just one very efficient sub, the U-151, which was sent to America to lay mines off the coast and, when it was finished, went on a three-week rampage that hit 20 s.h.i.+ps. But the heightened reaction to U-151 was revealing-rational Americans were afraid that the war "over there" would open a front over here. There was much to drive that fear. Americans had been spooked the previous year by the Zimmerman telegram, in which Germany recruited Mexico as an ally in war on America. German saboteurs and propagandists had been found to be working in the country (though not to the degree many claimed). After leaving his amba.s.sadors.h.i.+p in Germany in 1917, American statesman James Gerard became a great force for fear in the nation. His story was adapted into a movie, My Four Years My Four Years in Germany in Germany, and in a speech he gave all around the country Gerard said, "The foreign minister of Germany once said to me, 'Your country does not dare do anything against Germany, because we have in your country 500,000 German reservists who will rise in arms against your government if you dare make a move against Germany.'"

There were not 500,000 German reservists in the United States, but Gerard didn't let facts muddle a rousing speech. Gerard continued: "I told him that that might be so, but that we had 500,001 lamp posts in this country, and that that was where the reservists would be hanging the day after they tried to rise. If there are any German-Americans here who are so ungrateful for all the benefits they have received that they are still for the Kaiser, there is only one thing to do with them. And that is to hog-tie them, give them back the wooden shoes and rags they landed in and s.h.i.+p them back to the Fatherland."5 Gerard's speech was t.i.tled "Loyalty," and it was emblematic of the mood of the nation. Legitimate fear of German invasion became distorted into rabid hatred of all things German. This was driven in part by domestic propaganda efforts, which were so successful that overzealous Americans were inspired to acts ranging from silly to bone-chilling, under the guise of loyalty. Schools dropped German from the curriculum, the Bismarck School in Chicago was renamed "Funston School," sauerkraut was renamed "liberty cabbage," and even German measles were called "liberty measles." The statue of the writer Friedrich von Schiller in Chicago was painted yellow by vandals, and a statue of Goethe was put into storage for its own protection. One congressman from Michigan introduced a bill eliminating all American town names containing the word Berlin Berlin or or Germany Germany and replacing them with the word and replacing them with the word victory victory or or liberty liberty.6 Books by German writers were burned publicly, and recordings of Beethoven and Bach were smashed. Books by German writers were burned publicly, and recordings of Beethoven and Bach were smashed.

Some expressions of loyalty went further. In May, Wilson had pushed the Sedition Act through Congress, making it illegal to "willfully utter, print, write or publish any disloyal, profane, scurrilous, or abusive language" about the government. Criticism became a crime. Everywhere Americans squealed on fellow citizens for making disloyal comments. John Anderson, of Quincy, Ma.s.sachusetts, was riding on a train near Boston when he was overheard saying that the war in Europe was a family affair in which the United States should not be involved. Enraged fellow pa.s.sengers "were at the point of throwing [him] from the train."7 Instead, they turned him over to police at the next stop. When children trying to sell thrift stamps to Dr. Ruth Lighthall of Chicago were turned away, they told authorities that she said the war was one for capitalists. Lighthall confirmed that sentiment, added that she thought President Wilson a traitor-and she was sentenced to jail for 10 years for it. Instead, they turned him over to police at the next stop. When children trying to sell thrift stamps to Dr. Ruth Lighthall of Chicago were turned away, they told authorities that she said the war was one for capitalists. Lighthall confirmed that sentiment, added that she thought President Wilson a traitor-and she was sentenced to jail for 10 years for it.8 Millionaire Rose Pastor Stokes was sent to jail for 10 years after making an antiwar speech in Kansas City. Respected film producer Robert Goldstein had his movie Millionaire Rose Pastor Stokes was sent to jail for 10 years after making an antiwar speech in Kansas City. Respected film producer Robert Goldstein had his movie The Spirit of '76 The Spirit of '76 seized because it showed British soldiers committing war atrocities-which should be expected in a patriotic movie set in the American Revolution. But the British were American allies now. Goldstein was sentenced to 10 years in prison. seized because it showed British soldiers committing war atrocities-which should be expected in a patriotic movie set in the American Revolution. But the British were American allies now. Goldstein was sentenced to 10 years in prison.9 Before the war, German-Americans were one of the proudest, most a.s.similated ethnic groups in the nation, especially in Chicago. History professor Melvin Holli notes that, before the war, "No ethnic group was so numerous in Chicago or the nation or had made such rapid and solid economic progress, dominating and monopolizing in many cases the middle rungs of the occupational ladder."10 But the spasm of patriotism that accompanied the war erased that. German-Americans became targets. Early in the morning of April 5, Robert Prager, a 29-year-old unemployed baker, was lynched by a mob of 350 in Collinsville, Illinois. Prager allegedly made a "disloyal" comment while seeking work at a local mine. A growing mob menaced him throughout the day and evening, finally tracking down Prager after midnight. Originally, the plan was to tar and feather him, but with no tar or feathers handy at that hour, the mob hanged Prager instead. Five men brought to trial for the lynching were found not guilty after the jury deliberated for just 45 minutes. But the spasm of patriotism that accompanied the war erased that. German-Americans became targets. Early in the morning of April 5, Robert Prager, a 29-year-old unemployed baker, was lynched by a mob of 350 in Collinsville, Illinois. Prager allegedly made a "disloyal" comment while seeking work at a local mine. A growing mob menaced him throughout the day and evening, finally tracking down Prager after midnight. Originally, the plan was to tar and feather him, but with no tar or feathers handy at that hour, the mob hanged Prager instead. Five men brought to trial for the lynching were found not guilty after the jury deliberated for just 45 minutes.11 The incident was a national disgrace. But, then, hadn't Gerard promised the German foreign secretary that his countrymen would hang from American lampposts? The incident was a national disgrace. But, then, hadn't Gerard promised the German foreign secretary that his countrymen would hang from American lampposts?

In the midst of the U-151 raids, Red Sox first baseman d.i.c.k Hoblitzell-himself partly of German descent-finally left the team to join the army's Dental Corps as a lieutenant, to be trained at Fort Ogle-thorpe in Georgia. Attached to Fort Oglethorpe, Hoblitzell would have found an internment camp, one of three across the country that held Germans who had been living peacefully but were now held as enemy aliens. In that camp was another famous Bostonian, 58-year-old Dr. Karl Muck, the conductor of the Boston Symphony. Or ex-conductor. Muck had been arrested in late March on the charge of being German (though Muck had Swiss citizens.h.i.+p). Muck allegedly refused to lead "The Star-Spangled Banner" at a concert in Providence and had been criticized across the country for it-though witnesses confirmed that Muck did play it. But Muck was German, he was suspect, and he was sent to Fort Oglethorpe.

If Hoblitzell had listened carefully when he arrived in Georgia, he might have heard the sounds of Beethoven's Fifth coming from the jail. That's because Muck wasn't alone. Many of the nation's orchestras were stocked with Germans, and Muck found so many musicians among his fellow prisoners that he started a Fort Oglethorpe orchestra.12 The Red Sox started June in first place and headed on a long western trip, with stops in Detroit, Cleveland, Chicago, and St. Louis. The team Hoblitzell left was not in bad shape. Ruth was out of the infirmary, healthy again. Hobby was the captain, but he had been injured and slumped under the mental strain of his impending army service. Stuffy McInnis had been playing out of position at third base, and when Hoblitzell left he slid over to his natural first-base spot. Fred Thomas, Cla.s.s 1A and waiting for the call to war, took over at third. Hoblitzell's captaincy went to Harry Hooper, who was batting .330, was popular with teammates and fans, had a good relations.h.i.+p with Barrow, and was suited for the job. Hoblitzell had already yielded his spot in the lineup-cleanup hitter-to Ruth, and his departure cemented Ruth's place as the team's top run producer.

Ruth's stay in the infirmary did have a benefit. It forced Barrow to use one of the young pitchers he trusted so little-Sam Jones, who had gone just 02 in two big-league seasons. But without Ruth, Barrow was so desperate as to insert Jones on May 23, and Jones responded by allowing just one run in a complete-game loss to Cleveland. It was a good enough showing to warrant another start, and Jones beat Was.h.i.+ngton great Walter Johnson, 30, on May 29. This was quite a turn in Jones's young career. He had been so deep on the Boston bench that, when the team reported for spring training that March, few noticed Jones hadn't shown up. The Red Sox a.s.sumed Jones had been drafted by the army. He hadn't, and, according to The Sporting News The Sporting News, "The team was at Hot Springs when owner Harry Frazee received a message from Sam which expressed itself thusly: 'Forgotten me altogether? Not worth a contract of any sort? If I am through, let me in on it.'"13 Barrow's confidence in Jones grew, and for a short time the Red Sox had pitching depth, a rare commodity in 1918. On June 6, Jones took the mound at Cleveland. Seated in the press box was 51-year-old Cy Young, baseball's lifetime leader in pitching wins. As Young watched Jones, he lamented the lack of pitching around the league. When told the Senators resorted to giving some starts to Nick Altrock, their noodle-armed 41-year-old coach, Young "declared that if his arm were a little stronger, he would come back and try to pitch again himself."14 He probably could have. An inordinate number of pitchers were in the service of Uncle Sam. In his syndicated column, Reds manager Christy Mathewson wrote, "If the other big-league managers are having the same trouble I am, and I guess most of them are in the same boat, they must go to bed at night praying for some young hurler to rise up over night as a Moses to lead them out of their difficulty." He probably could have. An inordinate number of pitchers were in the service of Uncle Sam. In his syndicated column, Reds manager Christy Mathewson wrote, "If the other big-league managers are having the same trouble I am, and I guess most of them are in the same boat, they must go to bed at night praying for some young hurler to rise up over night as a Moses to lead them out of their difficulty."15 For Barrow and the Red Sox, that Moses was Sam Jones. In that game against Cleveland, Cy Young himself watched Jones hurl a five-hit shutout. For Barrow and the Red Sox, that Moses was Sam Jones. In that game against Cleveland, Cy Young himself watched Jones hurl a five-hit shutout.

The rise of Jones provided an opening for Ruth, who had become fond enough of hitting that he did not want to pitch anymore. After returning from the tonsil problem, he kept himself off the mound by complaining about arm injuries of dubious legitimacy. Even with Jones pitching well, the Red Sox slumped to a 35 start on their June trip-one of those wins was Dutch Leonard's no-hitter in Detroit-and the surprising Yankees moved into a tie for the top spot in the AL. That's when Boston rolled into Chicago's South Side for a four-game series against the defending champions, a series that should have been of the same magnitude as CubsGiants. But the White Sox were engulfed in turmoil. Jackson was gone to the s.h.i.+pyard, Byrd Lynn and Lefty Williams were preparing to follow, and Red Faber enlisted in the navy. It was an opportunity for the Red Sox. Joe Bush opened the series with his best performance of the year, yielding two hits in a 10 win. In the second game, Faber-making one last start-shut down Boston, 41. But Carl Mays and Leonard dominated the last two games with shutout wins, and over the four games Boston outscored Chicago, 154. The South Siders were booed by their home fans. It was so windy on the final day of the series that the 1917 AL pennant the White Sox had hung in the outfield ripped and had to be taken down for repairs. "The Red Sox are putting bigger holes in it than the wind did," the Globe Globe noted. noted.16 Boston split four games in St. Louis to wrap the trip 98, good enough to keep them slightly ahead of the Yankees. Leonard was a tough-luck loser, 21, on June 16, in what would be his last appearance for the Red Sox-he bolted from the trip early and suited up for the Fore River s.h.i.+pyard team. So much for pitching depth. And, perhaps, so much for Babe Ruth's brief career as a hitter. Ruth had pitched just one game since his silver nitrate incident. Leonard's departure, though, meant Ruth would head back to the mound. "No longer will [Ruth] be called upon to fill utility roles," the Boston American Boston American stated, "playing first base one day and the outfield the next." stated, "playing first base one day and the outfield the next."17 Well, maybe. Well, maybe.

For players, the work-or-fight order could be seen as a loyalty issue. The patriotic mania that surged through the nation made conditions such that adequately supporting the war was almost impossible, especially for public figures. Being behind the U.S. cause wasn't enough; buying Liberty Bonds wasn't enough; donating to the Red Cross wasn't enough. You had to be doing something to show not only that you supported the war but that you truly hated hated Germany. You had to burn something-effigies, books, anything. You had to deface statues. You had to kick a dachshund and contract liberty measles. You had to spy on your neighbors and scream in terror or throw someone off a train should you overhear a disloyal utterance. Germany. You had to burn something-effigies, books, anything. You had to deface statues. You had to kick a dachshund and contract liberty measles. You had to spy on your neighbors and scream in terror or throw someone off a train should you overhear a disloyal utterance.

Ballplayers weren't doing these kinds of things. They were just playing the game, which didn't seem very patriotic. Baseball's leaders floated the argument that players and magnates had made great investments in Liberty Bonds and that the war tax collected from fans at the gates helped fatten the nation's coffers. But that was a difficult sell. Though no ruling had been made on baseball's usefulness in the war effort, the sight of healthy young players frolicking on ball fields while American soldiers were being pressed to war and workers in other occupations were forced into war industries didn't sit well. Nor did the publicity that cropped up as more and more players took s.h.i.+pyard jobs.

Attendance began to flag-in part because the draft and work-orfight order had sapped the fan base, but also because the charge of baseball slackerism had begun to stick. Good teams and holidays (such as July 4) still were big draws, but in many cities enthusiasm for the game vanished. Over the course of the Red Sox's trip through the AL's western locales, some crowds were pitiful. One game in Detroit drew 2,500. A game in Cleveland drew 1,800. When Comiskey ordered Lynn and Williams out of his park after learning of their plans to join a s.h.i.+pyard team, the South Side fan base was so disgusted that only 1,000 turned up the next day to watch the champs.

Of all the pleasant surprises for the Cubs in early 1918, first baseman Fred Merkle-considered washed up by some before the season-was perhaps the most surprising. (NATIONAL B BASEBALL H HALL OF F FAME L LIBRARY, COOPERSTOWN, N.Y.) The Cubs experienced much the same thing in the National League. They were in first place and played great baseball throughout June, bolstering the pitching staff with the return of Phil Douglas-who tossed a three-hit shutout in his first outing-and getting exceptional performances from unexpected sources. Hendrix, who might have been b.u.mped from the rotation had Alexander not been drafted, went on a seven-game win streak, and the offense, from the sprightly Hollocher to the sagely Paskert, was unstoppable. The New York Times New York Times wrote, "How Manager Fred Mitch.e.l.l has enticed this collection of ancient and youthful players to play winning ball is something of a mystery. Such familiar relics as Rollie Zeider, Dode Paskert and Fred Merkle perform as if they had discovered some kind of tonic which laughs at the advancing years. This young Charley Hollocher ... is a whirlwind with his hands and feet. Charley Deal, who is no Spring chicken, manages to insert hits at the proper time and Claude Hendrix blooms forth into a better pitching commodity than he has been for half a dozen years." wrote, "How Manager Fred Mitch.e.l.l has enticed this collection of ancient and youthful players to play winning ball is something of a mystery. Such familiar relics as Rollie Zeider, Dode Paskert and Fred Merkle perform as if they had discovered some kind of tonic which laughs at the advancing years. This young Charley Hollocher ... is a whirlwind with his hands and feet. Charley Deal, who is no Spring chicken, manages to insert hits at the proper time and Claude Hendrix blooms forth into a better pitching commodity than he has been for half a dozen years."18 Still, fans weren't flocking to see the Cubs on the road. Even in New York, with first place on the line, crowds were modest. Over four games at the Polo Grounds, the Cubs and Giants attracted about 6,700 fans per game, which was not great but was big business relative to other teams. An article in the Boston American Boston American stated, "If the Giants and Cubs had not played to big crowds last week, it might have been time to admit that baseball had lost something of the glamour that once surrounded it.... Naturally, there are many things more interesting than the performance of talented teams, and war news is one of those things." stated, "If the Giants and Cubs had not played to big crowds last week, it might have been time to admit that baseball had lost something of the glamour that once surrounded it.... Naturally, there are many things more interesting than the performance of talented teams, and war news is one of those things."19 When the June 18 game in Brooklyn drew about 1,900, Crusinberry joked, "this means that business is picking up tremendously in Brooklyn." When the June 18 game in Brooklyn drew about 1,900, Crusinberry joked, "this means that business is picking up tremendously in Brooklyn."20 Business was about to decline all over, though. That's because, 10 days before work-or-fight was to become the law of the land, General Crowder decided to say a few more things about his fateful directive. Throughout June, hints from Was.h.i.+ngton suggested Crowder would recommend that the War Department allow baseball to finish its season and then impose the work-or-fight ruling on players. But on June 21, Crowder issued more detailed definitions on the productiveness of several occupations. Crowder's statement put the slacker label on "all persons engaged and occupied in games, sports and amus.e.m.e.nts, except actual performers in legitimate concerts, operas or theatrical performances." But he didn't specifically address professional baseball. Crowder left the game plowing uncertainly toward the all-important July 1 date, when his order would become law. The appeal process still would have to play itself out.

But Crowder's noncommittal statement cemented the opinion that baseball was s.h.i.+rking its duty, that players were not showing the requisite patriotic zeal of truly loyal Americans.

Across the country the public soured on the game. Many evening papers stopped printing sports extras that featured the day's final baseball scores. When the Cubs were in Cincinnati on June 27, the Tribune Tribune reported, "Only a few hundred fans were out and they were as silent as deafmutes." reported, "Only a few hundred fans were out and they were as silent as deafmutes."21 The sport pressed on through the final week of June, resigned to the reality that the deck would be reshuffled in the coming month and that, until the reshuffling was settled (and perhaps beyond then), many would look on ballplayers as slackers. For the Red Sox on the field, the rise of Jones was offset by the loss of Leonard, which added pressure on Barrow to return Ruth to pitching. Ruth didn't want to pitch, though. Besides, the loss of Hoblitzell meant Boston had no cleanup hitter, and with the way Ruth was slugging, there was no better cleanup hitter. Barrow needed two Ruths.

On June 28, Ruth knocked his 10th home run of the season, but, because he wouldn't pitch, Barrow was forced to use an overmatched journeyman as his starting pitcher-30-year-old Lore Bader, who had made just two previous big-league starts in his career. The Red Sox lost. Still, the following day, columnist Hugh Fullerton wrote that Ruth hit the ball harder than any player he'd ever seen. Fullerton, obviously badly misinformed, went on to praise Ruth's willingness to do whatever the team asked of him: "Ruth is one of the most likable fellows in the world, and he possesses one quality that makes him a great friend and a great ball player-loyalty. He is the most loyal man to his manager, to his team and to his fellow players in the world."22 But loyalty was a tricky thing in 1918, for citizens and for ballplayers. In the coming days, Ruth would prove that.

THE O ORIGINAL C CURSE: THE 1920 B 1920 BUNCH.

For the Cubs, Hendrix and Merkle were among the pleasant surprises who pushed the team to a fast start. But two-and-a-half years later, both would get their Cubs release amid suspicion that they were part of a group of players who partic.i.p.ated in a game-fixing plot that drew such attention that a grand jury was called in Cook County court. When that grand jury began digging into baseball gambling in Chicago, it brought the Black Sox scandal to light-and never fully probed the Cubs scandal.

On August 31, 1920, the Cubs were to play the Phillies. Just before that game, team president William Veeck Sr. received six telegrams and two phone calls from mysterious sources in Detroit, warning him of abnormal betting on the Phillies. The messages advised pulling that day's pitcher, Claude Hendrix. On orders from Veeck, manager Fred Mitch.e.l.l benched Hendrix, inserting Grover Cleveland Alexander in his place. Veeck offered Aleck a $500 bonus to win. Merkle, too, was mysteriously benched.

The Cubs still lost, thanks in large part to a late error by second baseman Buck Herzog. As details of the suspected plot became public in the following days, Hendrix, Merkle, Herzog, and relief pitcher Paul Carter were sent home and were expected to testify about the scandal-until the Black Sox discoveries got in the way. Thus the truth of the alleged August 31 fix is lost to history. But the grand jury's investigation did bring to light earlier accusations that Herzog and Hal Chase had offered $800 to pitcher Rube Benton to lose a game in 1919, an accusation that had been brought to NL president John Heydler in June and covered up. The Cubs released Herzog in the off-season.

Additionally, a letter from Kansas City sportswriter Otto Floto accused Hendrix (who, according to Harry Grabiner's diary, had been suspected of fixing games in 1919) of sending a telegram to Kansas City gambler Frog Thompson. The text of the telegram, according to Floto: "Bet $5,000 on opposition." The telegram itself was never produced, though, and both Hendrix and Thompson denied it. When Hendrix was released by the Cubs in February 1921, three weeks after Merkle, the Tribune Tribune wrote, "While no convincing evidence against Hendrix ever was presented in the investigation of crookedness in the game, his name was mentioned in an incident that started the big fireworks which culminated in the confessions of three White Sox players that the World's Series of 1919 was thrown.... President Veeck stated yesterday that Hendrix wasn't released because of any evidence against him, but was let out with the general idea of disposing of veteran material." wrote, "While no convincing evidence against Hendrix ever was presented in the investigation of crookedness in the game, his name was mentioned in an incident that started the big fireworks which culminated in the confessions of three White Sox players that the World's Series of 1919 was thrown.... President Veeck stated yesterday that Hendrix wasn't released because of any evidence against him, but was let out with the general idea of disposing of veteran material."23 Hendrix died young, at age 52, of tuberculosis. Hendrix died young, at age 52, of tuberculosis.

No charges were made against Merkle or Carter. Merkle later returned as a coach for the Yankees and even played eight games in his late 30s. He, of course, still bears the burden of his own curse-to be remembered solely for the one "bonehead" play that cost the Giants the 1908 pennant race, despite a solid record in 1,638 career games over 16 seasons. Hendrix, Herzog, and Carter never appeared in the majors again. Why the four were sent home from the Cubs was never explained.

Asked during the Black Sox investigation whether he believed the CubsPhillies game was fixed, NL president John Heydler said, "I am not in a humor to say any game is fixed or isn't fixed.... I've heard so much about crookedness in baseball in the last year that I wouldn't say anything any more, but I am in favor of running down to the end every rumor of crookedness from now on, and doing it openly and above board."24 Note that Heydler used the phrase "from now on." Inherent in those three words is the admission that it had not been baseball's custom to run down crookedness, openly and above board, before that.

TEN.

Strategy: Harry Hooper PHILADELPHIA, JULY 3, 1918 3, 1918.

The Strategy Board was what Arthur Duffey from the Boston Post Boston Post called them, called them,1 and they-that group of Red Sox players who would meet a few times each week to track the progress of the war in Europe-rather liked the moniker. They were seated in the dining room of the Aldine Hotel, a converted mansion on Chestnut Street. A stack of newspapers and evening extras sat on the table. Harry Hooper, in the center chair as usual, opened up maps from old newspapers on the table while two other Strategy Board members, George Whiteman and Wally Mayer, huddled around him. (Amos Strunk also was an avid Strategy Board member, but he lived in Philadelphia and was likely off with his wife.) Dinner was over. Their sleeves were rolled up, collars loosened. Cigars were pa.s.sed. Other Red Sox were locked in poker games and Quaker-town nightlife, but for the Strategy Board this was an opportunity to catch up on the activity of the armies overseas. and they-that group of Red Sox players who would meet a few times each week to track the progress of the war in Europe-rather liked the moniker. They were seated in the dining room of the Aldine Hotel, a converted mansion on Chestnut Street. A stack of newspapers and evening extras sat on the table. Harry Hooper, in the center chair as usual, opened up maps from old newspapers on the table while two other Strategy Board members, George Whiteman and Wally Mayer, huddled around him. (Amos Strunk also was an avid Strategy Board member, but he lived in Philadelphia and was likely off with his wife.) Dinner was over. Their sleeves were rolled up, collars loosened. Cigars were pa.s.sed. Other Red Sox were locked in poker games and Quaker-town nightlife, but for the Strategy Board this was an opportunity to catch up on the activity of the armies overseas.

"All right, men, what do we have?" Hooper said, opening the map of the front before him and testing the tip of his pen. "What's happening with our boys in France?" That's what these meetings were all about-tracking the movements of the American Expeditionary Force and the Allies all over the globe. Maybe it was because the members of the Strategy Board were older than the other Red Sox players, but they seemed to understand better just what was at stake in the war in Europe, and they understood that a pursuit like baseball was largely meaningless. So they'd meet, read the papers, mark maps, and give each other their recommendations on war strategy. Not that General Pers.h.i.+ng was listening. But playing baseball every day with a war on felt so futile. This was a way, however small, for the players on the Strategy Board to feel they were part of things, as if by simply studying and understanding the war they could somehow give themselves a stake in it.

"Here now," Whiteman said. "The Americans made an attack on German positions just outside of, er, Chat-tow Thee-rey. Vowks Village and Boys day la Roach were taken by Americans. Zow-wee. That's good news."

Whiteman pointed to the map in front of Hooper, locating Chateau Thierry. "It's Vaux Village," Hooper said, "and Bois de la Roche." Whiteman nodded. He was accustomed to being corrected during these meetings. French wasn't his strong suit.

"Right," Whiteman said. "Now move the line up a mile. The American line now should run from, uh, Boo-res-chess to Chat-tow Thee-rey." Hooper carefully put his pen to the villages. He drew with a steady hand, precisely.

Hooper shaded the territory the Americans had gained in the attack. "And this was? When?" Hooper asked.

"July 2," Whiteman said. Hooper noted the date.

"What does the paper say about it?" Hooper asked.

"Says it's the most important operation American troops have taken on so far. Planned for 10 days. Says Vowks is vital to the Germans holding Chat-tow Thee-rey. The sammies used big guns, high explosives, and gas. We wiped that village out!"2 "A big one, and we ought to remember it," Hooper said, putting a star next to the just-marked American advance. This was Harry in his element.

"They've got to drive the Huns away from Paris," Mayer said. "That's got to be the top priority, don't you think? It looks to be only 70 miles to Paris from there."

Hooper eyed the map. "More like 50 miles," he said. "And, you're right; it's got the Paris road running through." He tapped his pen along the Paris road. Hoop was eager to keep drawing. It came naturally to him. When he entered school in California, Hoop's teachers had recognized his knack for mathematics and talked his parents into putting Harry into a baccalaureate program.3 He'd been trained as an engineer at St. Mary's College, even got a job as a land surveyor, He'd been trained as an engineer at St. Mary's College, even got a job as a land surveyor,4 and though he gave it up for baseball, working with angles and movement and maps thrilled him. Engineering was strategy, defining what needed to be done and using math to determine the best way to do it. That was how Harry saw the world-angles to be measured, distances to be covered, problems to be solved. and though he gave it up for baseball, working with angles and movement and maps thrilled him. Engineering was strategy, defining what needed to be done and using math to determine the best way to do it. That was how Harry saw the world-angles to be measured, distances to be covered, problems to be solved.

Red Sox right fielder Harry Hooper proved himself adept at strategy off the field, but the 1918 season might have been the best on-field performance of his Hall of Fame career. (NATIONAL B BASEBALL H HALL OF F FAME L LIBRARY, COOPERSTOWN, N.Y.) Every day in right field, Hoop was challenged with decisions: what path to take to a fly ball, what was the best angle to throw to third base, where he should be positioned when an outside fastball was coming to a right-handed hitter. Every pitch was a miniature engineering problem. And he had become darned good at solving those problems. He was a fine leadoff hitter, but he was known to Sox bugs for two things: getting key hits and making big catches. Hoop was not one to boast. But he knew Boston had beat the Giants in the 1912 World Series because of his astonis.h.i.+ng catch of a Larry Doyle smash in the deciding game. What had Hughie Jennings said? "Hooper's judgment of the course of the ball was perfect, and he had to get away on the instant and exactly under the path that the ball was taking through the air,"5 as Harry remembered. He liked that. Jennings recognized that it wasn't athleticism that made a great catch. It was strategy. as Harry remembered. He liked that. Jennings recognized that it wasn't athleticism that made a great catch. It was strategy.

Hoop saw strategy everywhere. The flight of a baseball, the contours of land to be surveyed, the waltz of armies along maps of the front, even the way you approached a hand of bridge (few could beat Hooper at bridge). Plenty of players could play baseball. Hoop knew how to think think the game. This had been an important aspect of Hooper's place on another Strategy Board-the one that ran the Red Sox. Barrow was no field manager, so it was shortstop Everett Scott, coach Heinie Wagner, and Hooper who made the baseball decisions for the team. the game. This had been an important aspect of Hooper's place on another Strategy Board-the one that ran the Red Sox. Barrow was no field manager, so it was shortstop Everett Scott, coach Heinie Wagner, and Hooper who made the baseball decisions for the team.6 Hooper had been loudest in insisting that Babe Ruth play the field. Barrow gave in but had said, "Mark my word. The first time he gets in a slump, he will be down on his knees begging to pitch." Hooper had been loudest in insisting that Babe Ruth play the field. Barrow gave in but had said, "Mark my word. The first time he gets in a slump, he will be down on his knees begging to pitch."7 Actually, Ruth had been slumping, and his reaction was much worse than begging to pitch again. The previous afternoon had been a real bust for the Red Sox. They were in Was.h.i.+ngton. Ruth committed an error and struck out, twice, against Harry Harper. Ruth had been swinging wildly, eschewing the time-honored Red Sox approach, which called for taking the first strike and making the pitcher work. After the second strikeout, Barrow went after Ruth. Called him a b.u.m and worse. Ruth threatened to punch Barrow on the nose, and history suggested this was not an idle threat. Barrow was a puncher too. He fined Ruth $500 on the spot.8 Barrow was right, Hooper knew. Ruth was swinging like a gate up there. But Barrow was all iron fist-the players called him "Simon Legree" after the vicious plantation owner in Barrow was right, Hooper knew. Ruth was swinging like a gate up there. But Barrow was all iron fist-the players called him "Simon Legree" after the vicious plantation owner in Uncle Tom's Cabin Uncle Tom's Cabin.9 It had been obvious to Hooper that Ruth was getting fed up with being fought with all the time. It had been obvious to Hooper that Ruth was getting fed up with being fought with all the time.

So Ruth left. Took off his uniform. Did not get on the train to Philadelphia. Some of the reporters showed up with word that Ruth was in Baltimore and had signed up with the Chester s.h.i.+pyard team. Harry Frazee went nuts, said he would sue the s.h.i.+pyard. Barrow seethed.

Hooper saw the team was in trouble. Without Ruth, the Red Sox ran out a team of pikers against Connie Mack that afternoon, July 3, and showed no pep. The lineup was barely recognizable. Heinie Wagner at second. One of the new fellows, Jack Stansbury, in center. Two other bushers named Bluhm and Barbare, with the rag-armed Bader on the slab. It wasn't a big-league team. They made errors, they got just four hits, they lost, 60, and it was obvious that Barrow needed Babe more than Babe needed Barrow.

The Strategy Board was working on the movements of General Pers.h.i.+ng, but they really wanted word on the movements of Private Ruth. Especially Harry. He, however, was trying not to think about that just now. The war was more important, he told himself. "What else?" Hooper asked.

"Baker sent out word that there are a million American soldiers in Europe now," Mayer said, whistling. "That's some reserves. They're talking about a counterattack."

Harry sat back and looked at the map, envisioned the slow progress of Allied gains, imagined the angles and lines he'd draw as the front was pushed back toward the Hindenburg Line. Back and forth. Germany and the Allies. Ruth and Barrow. Offensives, fronts, angles, lines, maps, fly b.a.l.l.s. It was all the same. Harry nodded. "Yes," he said. "A counteroffensive-that would be a good strategy."

When the Red Sox went north from Was.h.i.+ngton to Philadelphia on the evening of July 2, Babe Ruth went south, to his father's house in Baltimore. He hadn't really wanted to quit, and though he did wire the s.h.i.+pyard team at Chester, he wanted to be with the Red Sox. But he'd lost patience with Barrow. Ruth contacted Wagner-who had served as Ruth's quasi-chaperone early in his career-and told him so. Wagner took a late train to Baltimore, talking the wayward star into rejoining the team in Philadelphia. Wagner and Ruth arrived at the Aldine after 2:00 A.M A.M. on July 4.10 The Red Sox had a doubleheader that day, and Ruth, happy to be back, showed up at s.h.i.+be Park in the morning. But Barrow continued the iron-fist act and refused to speak to him. He kept Ruth on the bench for the entire first game, letting the slugger stew through a long, 119 Red Sox victory. The Red Sox had a doubleheader that day, and Ruth, happy to be back, showed up at s.h.i.+be Park in the morning. But Barrow continued the iron-fist act and refused to speak to him. He kept Ruth on the bench for the entire first game, letting the slugger stew through a long, 119 Red Sox victory.

Deja vu. Ruth "didn't seem highly pleased at not being received with open arms" and again took off his uniform between games, again saying he was leaving.11 Hooper and some teammates talked Ruth back into the park before the second game and went to Barrow, persuading him to come to some kind of detente. Barrow put Ruth back in the lineup, in center field. From the Hooper and some teammates talked Ruth back into the park before the second game and went to Barrow, persuading him to come to some kind of detente. Barrow put Ruth back in the lineup, in center field. From the Globe Globe: "So far as is known, Ruth is resigned to his hard fate with the Boston Red Sox and Manager Barrow. It is not believed that he had any serious intention of jumping the team. His fellow players strongly resent his actions. They think he should remain loyal to the Sox."12 July 4 was the bottom for the Red Sox. Not only was the Ruth-Barrow situation tugging at the team, but Cleveland moved into first place. Boston lost third baseman Fred Thomas, who had been called to war two days earlier, and now the Red Sox were getting very thin very fast. Barrow had begun purchasing minor-leaguers to bolster his roster-utility man Jack Stansbury, outfielder Walter Barbare, pitcher Vince Molyneaux, pinch hitter Red Bluhm, Cuban infielder Eusebio Gonzalez (several teams signed Cubans, because they were not enemy aliens and not subject to the draft), infielder Frank Truesdale, and later infielder George Cochran and veteran pitcher Jean Dubuc. None helped. Thomas was no star at third base, but he was adequate, far better than any in Barrow's new crop. (Thomas was rejected by the army because of diabetes, but, afraid of being labeled a draft dodger,13 he enlisted in the navy, which did not require a physical exam.) he enlisted in the navy, which did not require a physical exam.) Nothing was going right. Pitcher Carl Mays was moved into Cla.s.s 1A and was harangued daily by agents of the s.h.i.+pyard league. Shortstop Everett Scott, it appeared, would not win his exemption appeal and would remain in Cla.s.s 1A too. Stuffy McInnis struggled and missed time after an "attack of boils."14 Barrow bought the rights of outfielder Hughey High-who had left the Yankees to join the s.h.i.+pyards-hoping to play High in left field and move Ruth back to the mound. High consented to join the Sox but failed to show up in Philadelphia. When contacted by Barrow, High said, "My wife won't let me." Even spousal duty was conspiring against the Red Sox. Barrow bought the rights of outfielder Hughey High-who had left the Yankees to join the s.h.i.+pyards-hoping to play High in left field and move Ruth back to the mound. High consented to join the Sox but failed to show up in Philadelphia. When contacted by Barrow, High said, "My wife won't let me." Even spousal duty was conspiring against the Red Sox.15 But the outlook brightened after July 4. Ruth, Barrow, and Frazee had a meeting, and Frazee agreed to give Ruth a bonus of $1,000 for pulling double duty on the mound and in the field. Ruth agreed to pitch when Barrow needed him-and Barrow wasted no time, calling on Ruth to pitch July 5. For the first time in over a month, Ruth was in the box, finis.h.i.+ng the forgettable trip by pitching the Red Sox to a 43 win. Back in Boston and facing second-place Cleveland, Ruth had the day off, but Barrow could not resist pinch-hitting him with two men on base and the Red Sox down, 42, in the sixth. Ruth smacked a triple and scored on an errant throw. That gave Boston a 54 win and put the Red Sox back in first place. Ruth solidified that lead on July 8, when he hit what would have been, under modern scoring rules, his 12th home run, into Fenway's right-field bleachers in the 10th inning of a scoreless game. Under old rules, the batter stopped when the winning run scored, even if the ball left the park. Because there was a man on first, Ruth's. .h.i.t counted only as a triple. But the Red Sox won, 10, part of a July string in which they won 15 out of 18. Ruth would stay stuck at 11 home runs.

Hooper, in his 10th season with the Red Sox, finished the year in a bit of a slump (he was batting over.320 on July 1 but hit.249 the rest of the way). Still, the 1918 season was his best all-around year. Hooper tutored Ruth, helped defuse the Barrow-Ruth situation, advised Barrow, and got comfortable as a team leader. For the first time in his career he was the best, most polished everyday player on his team. Hooper thrived. He hit .289, finis.h.i.+ng second in the AL in doubles and triples and third in walks and runs. And, he noted, "Barrow was technically the manager, but I ran the team on the field."16 A fact that surely made the Strategy Board proud.

Crowder's work-or-fight order went into effect as soon as July 1 arrived, but men of draft age had a 10-day grace period to secure essential work. On July 11 the grace period was up. That day the Cubs took the first half of a home doubleheader from the Braves, 43, and between games, as some fans made for the exits, an announcement went up by megaphone: no one would be allowed to leave the park without giving an account of their draft status. The gates were locked and manned by federal agents. If draft-eligible men were found not carrying their cards, they were taken to the nearby Town Hall police station and jammed into the squad room until they could adequately explain their circ.u.mstances. This was part of a "slacker sweep" around Chicago that day. Movie houses, theaters, railway stations, cabarets, and poolrooms were swept, and more than 5,000 suspected slackers were detained. Of those, 500 had been at the Cubs game.17 While there was rancor in the stands, there was anxiety on the field. The Cubs and Braves played the second game of their doubleheader (the Cubs won, 32, behind Phil Douglas), but players had to wonder what was to stop officials from asking them them to show they were not slackers. Ten days after work-or-fight became law, the question of baseball's usefulness remained unanswered. The notion that the fans who drove the game's pop