In 1934, the double whammy of the Great Depression and an extreme drought inflamed by excessive heat spread misery throughout the United States. For some, the antics of pitcher Dizzy Dean provided an amusing diversion from the problems they were facing.
A 30-game winner for the 1934 Cardinals, Dean was an enthusiastic entertainer whose showmanship extended beyond his pitching.
Dean provided his ballpark audiences with comedy routines on the field. One of his most inventive came at the height of a heat wave.
Hell on earth
According to Dean’s biographer Robert Gregory in his book “Diz,” the Midwest in 1934 experienced a brutal summer. “There was no rain for weeks, the Mississippi River had become a stream, Missouri was facing the worst farm crisis in state history and St. Louis was having its highest temperatures since 1871,” Gregory wrote. “For 30 days, it was 100 degrees or hotter.”
On Sunday afternoon, June 24, 1934, the temperature soared to 102 degrees in St. Louis, but 15,000 spectators came out to Sportsman’s Park for a game between the league-leading Giants (39-22) and second-place Cardinals (36-23).
The Giants’ lineup featured future Hall of Famers Bill Terry, Mel Ott and Travis Jackson, ex-Cardinals George Watkins and Gus Mancuso and starting pitcher Freddie Fitzsimmons.
The Cardinals’ Gashouse Gang group included Frankie Frisch, Joe Medwick, Pepper Martin, Rip Collins, Leo Durocher and starting pitcher Tex Carleton.
Taking center stage, though, was Dizzy Dean.
Singing in the rain
Before the game began, Dean decided to thumb his nose at the weather conditions. He “painstakingly collected enough rubbish to build himself a bonfire in front of his dugout,” the New York Daily News reported. The material for the fire consisted of paper wrappers, sticks, old scorecards and other debris Dean found along the edge of the grandstand.
Dean “fanned his little fire, rubbing his knuckles, encouraging and soberly inspecting it from every angle to make sure the wigwam of sticks drew a good draft,” New York Daily News columnist Jimmy Powers noted. “When assured he had a respectable blaze, he procured two Cardinals blankets, garbed himself and coach Mike Gonzalez in their suffocating folds and then stomped the earth, slapping his mouth in a series of yipping Indian war cries.”
According to Robert Gregory, “He had them rolling in the aisles behind the dugout and then he cupped a hand to his ear. What was it? his expression seemed to ask. What was he hearing in the distance? Was it thunder? Was a storm coming? Yes, his nods were suggesting, rain was falling, lots of it, the drought was broken, and now his cap was off, his head was tilted up, his eyes were closed, he was smiling at being splashed by this imaginary summer shower. Now cool and wet enough, he pretended to open an umbrella and tiptoed beneath it to the dugout, vanishing to laughing cheers and whistles.”
The New York Daily News described Dean’s exit this way: “Before the irate umpires could vent their wrath, he withdrew, his hand on his hip, stalking off with the dignity of a Princess Pocahontas.”
Dean’s performance was the highlight for the hometown fans. In the game that followed, the Giants won, 9-7. Boxscore
On with the show
While taking care of business on the hill in 1934 _ Dean was 5-0 in May, 6-1 in June, 6-1 in July, 5-2 in August and 7-1 in September _ Dizzy continued with an array of masterful pantomime performances.
According to Jimmy Powers, Dean will “break an egg and fry an omelet on the sun-steeped dugout roof. In slow motion, he will take an imaginary shave, or serve and consume an entire meal, or shadow box a vicious brawl.”
As Time magazine observed, Dean’s unconventional behavior, “the result of shrewd self-aggrandizement,” is as famed as his pitching prowess.
The Cardinals won the 1934 pennant and advanced to the World Series against the Tigers. After Dean won Game 1 at Detroit, he and his brother, Paul, had breakfast the next morning with Henry Ford.
According to Dean’s biographer, “At Ford’s direction, a siren-blaring police escort hurried them to the park. Dizzy signed lots of autographs on the field, posed for every camera, and then, taking off an Indian blanket, sat down with the band behind home plate, borrowed a tuba, and puffed his way through ‘Wagon Wheels.’ To the musician whose horn he’d taken, Dizzy said, ‘Give me a week at this and I’ll have your job.’ “
After getting conked in the head by a throw from Detroit shortstop Billy Rogell while running the bases in Game 4, Dean reportedly said, “I saw a million stars, moons, dogs, cats, but I didn’t see no Tigers.”
Before Game 7 at Detroit, Dean approached Tigers slugger Hank Greenberg as they headed up a runway to the field. According to Robert Gregory, Dean said, “You boys are too tight. What you got to do is ‘unlax’ a little. But your troubles are going to be over in a couple of hours. Ol’ Diz is pitching.”
Dean pitched a shutout, securing the championship for the Cardinals.
What a great story! We’re lucky to have had a player, a pitcher like Dean in baseball. So much personality. I’m reminded of the opposite, of a rain delay at old County Stadium, Brewers/Orioles and catcher Rick Dempsey’s antics and some. Here’s the video that seems to be not in stereo sound, but you get the idea of Dempsey’s character, another gift to the game.
Thanks for the Rick Dempsey clip, Steve. I suspect Dizzy Dean would have liked Rick Dempsey. Tom Boswell of the Washington Post described Dempsey’s rain-delay routine as “baseball soliloquy in pantomime.”
According to the Society for American Baseball Research, “Whether he was entertaining during rain delays or fronting his lip-syncing four-man Orioles band on the field while Bob Seger’s ‘Old Time Rock and Roll’ blared from the Memorial Stadium public-address system, Dempsey endeared himself to the Baltimore faithful.”
“I was a blue-collar catcher,” Dempsey said in an Orioles history published in 2001; “down there in the trenches with the fans, fighting and scrapping just to break even. I intermingled with the fans. … I think they appreciated my approach to the game.”
According to the Society for American Baseball Research, after playing for the Brewers in 1991, Dempsey asked Brewers owner Bud Selig to consider him as a replacement for manager Tom Trebelhorn, who was fired. “I can manage this club,” Dempsey said to Selig. “I know what they need.” Selig instead hired Phil Garner.
Dempsey sounds like a great guy who gave us fans our money’s worth of entertainment. I didn’t know he had asked Selig to be a manager. Interesting. We don’t hear that very often, of a player directly asking a GM for the manager position. Garner went to manage the Brewers for a long time.
Thanks Mark. There’s no way today’s MLB ruling elite would let anyone get away with some of the stuff that Dizzy Dean did. I decided just to take a couple of minutes and look at his game logs and I’m glad that I did. Because to be honest, I had never really noticed to what extent that Dizzy Dean also came in as a relief pitcher. The 11 saves he picked up in 1936 established a Cardinals record which would not be eclipsed until 1948. Incredible.
Thanks for the info about those 11 saves for Dizzy Dean in 1936, a season when he also had 34 starts, 28 complete games and 24 wins. Oh, and how he could hit, too (not that MLB would let him do that today): 161 hits, eight home runs and 76 RBI for his career. His World Series batting average is .333 (5-for-15).
Dizzy knew how to work a crowd. I may have used the following 1934 World Series anecdote before from Dean biographer Robert Gregory, but it’s worth retelling:
“The Cardinals were staying at the Book-Cadillac Hotel, headquarters for the 1934 World Series in downtown Detroit, when Dean’s cab pulled up. A big crowd was forming near both entrances and loudspeakers were blaring a hot trombone version of ‘Hold That Tiger.’ He jumped out, waved, did a jig and pretended to lead the music. The applause was not much but Dizzy bowed anyway. Then somebody tossed him a stuffed toy tiger. He was twisting its tail and laughing as he and brother Paul went inside for a late breakfast with Will Rogers and Damon Runyon.”
And so as a too early heat wave spreads across the country….. Where are you when we need you Dizzy?
Good luck, and hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.
Reminds me of when Casey Stengel attended the 1966 All-Star Game at the brand-new Busch Memorial Stadium in downtown St. Louis. Game time temperature was 100 degrees and the thermometer reached a peak of 105 during the game. Asked his opinion of the new stadium, honorary coach Stengel famously replied, “Sure holds the heat well.” Stengel also added, “The heat took the press right out of my pants.”