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Archive for the ‘Hitters’ Category

Ernie Banks swung and missed in bid for elected office

Posted in Hitters, Opponents on August 25, 2025| 9 Comments »

Whether trying to drive in a run against Bob Gibson or snare a Stan Musial line drive to stop a Cardinals rally, Ernie Banks often excelled on the baseball field. The rough-and-tumble arena of Chicago politics was quite a different matter.

In December 1962, a month before he turned 32, Banks said he would run as a Republican candidate in the election for 8th Ward alderman in Chicago. A two-time winner of the National League Most Valuable Player Award, the slugger said he planned to continue his playing career with the Cubs while serving as alderman.

Though popular in Chicago _ he was nicknamed Mr. Cub _ Banks soon learned that being liked didn’t necessarily translate into votes, even with fellow Republicans and certainly not against a Democrat-controlled organization run by machine boss Mayor Richard J. Daley.

Mean streets

Banks’ desire to run for local office may have stemmed from an incident that occurred at his Chicago home.

On July 1, 1962, a bullet was fired through a window of Banks’ house at 8159 Rhodes Avenue, the Chicago Tribune reported. Banks was on a road trip with the Cubs, but his pregnant wife, Eloyce, and 3-year-old twin sons were in the house, along with Eloyce’s aunt, Mary Jones. No one was injured.

Eloyce Banks said she heard two shots fired in a gangway and at the rear of her home about 1 a.m., shortly after she returned from attending a debutante cotillion for Jacqueline Barrow, daughter of boxer Joe Louis, at the iconic Palmer House hotel, the Associated Negro Press news service reported.

According to the Tribune, Eloyce and her aunt found the window of a breakfast nook had been pierced by a bullet. A .38 caliber slug was found on the floor.

Mrs. Banks told police six teens were gathered near the house, shouting abusive remarks, Associated Negro Press reported.

“Police said they believed the bullet fired into the Banks home was the outgrowth of general rowdiness rather than personal malice against the ballplayer or his family,” according to the Tribune.

Ernie Banks said to the newspaper, “This upsets me tremendously … There have been quite a few boys, and girls, too, hanging around the corners in our areas, making wisecracks, noise and so forth … It seems that in the summer they have parties and things, then gather on the street after the parties break up.”

Urban leader

Five months later, Banks announced his candidacy for the 8th Ward alderman seat. “There has been some trouble in our community,” Banks told the Chicago Defender. “It’s the kind that happens in any community, but I just think many people don’t pay attention to teenagers.”

Banks’ agent, Herman M. Peterson, said to the Tribune, “He wants to get into politics primarily so he can do everything in his power to help youth.”

An aide to U.S. Senator Everett Dirksen, an Illinois Republican, encouraged Banks to run, the Tribune reported. Banks told the Chicago Defender, “I said all right, providing it did not interfere with my baseball. It won’t.”

(Dirksen was Senate Minority Leader at the time Banks ran. Dirksen went on to have a crucial role in the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, working to craft a bipartisan compromise that secured votes to overcome a Senate filibuster.)

In Chicago, an alderman is the equivalent of what might be more commonly known elsewhere as a city council member. The 8th Ward was located in Chicago’s South Side and encompassed areas such as Calumet Heights, Chatham and South Shore. Banks resided in Chatham. So, too, at the time did gospel singer Mahalia Jackson and future sports commentator Michael Wilbon.

The 8th Ward alderman seat was held by a Democrat, James Condon. He’d been a Chicago police sergeant while attending night classes at DePaul, where he earned a law degree. As assistant state’s attorney for Cook County, Condon helped establish the nation’s first narcotics court, declaring in 1951 that “dope is as plentiful for kids on the South Side as lollipops,” the Tribune reported.

Before Condon, aldermen who served the 8th Ward included:

_ William Meyering, a U.S. military officer who had his right arm amputated after he was wounded in combat at Verdun, France, during World War I. Meyering received the Distinguished Service Cross for gallantry.

_ David L. Sutton, who received a blackmail note that said his 5-year-old son would be harmed unless the alderman placed $5,000 in a tomato can and left it, as instructed, in a vacant lot. Sutton gave the note to police detectives and his son was not abducted.

Rough stuff

Before announcing his candidacy, Banks didn’t seek the endorsement of the local Republican leadership. His entry into the race brought an unenthusiastic reaction from Michael J. Connelly, 8th Ward Republican committeeman, who indicated Banks’ busy baseball schedule would keep him from fulfilling an alderman’s responsibilities. Several other people were under consideration to be the endorsed Republican candidate, Connelly told the Tribune.

“Banks plans to buck the power of Michael J. Connelly … by running for alderman,” the Chicago Defender noted. “It is expected that Connelly will offer opposition to Banks’ move.”

Asked about Banks’ candidacy, Benjamin Lewis, Democratic alderman from the 24th Ward, told the Tribune, “He’s a minor leaguer as far as politics is concerned.”

(Two months later, a couple of days after he overwhelmingly was re-elected alderman of the 24th Ward, Lewis was found shot to death in his office. He was handcuffed and shot three times in the head with a .32 caliber automatic pistol. No suspect was arrested and the case remains unsolved.)

Banks did have the support of Cubs owner Philip K. Wrigley and the editorial board of the Tribune.

“I talked to the boss, Mr. Wrigley, and he told me it isn’t often one would get an opportunity like the one I have been offered,” Banks said to the Chicago Defender.

In an editorial, the Tribune described Banks as “a promising candidate” and “an intelligent public-spirited citizen” whose candidacy “will be good for the development of a real two-party system in Chicago.”

“There are many like him in the new and rapidly growing Negro middle class who would like to run for office and are not yet committed to the Democratic Party,” the Tribune editorial concluded. “Many of the younger college-trained Negroes would turn to the Republican Party if they were given some encouragement and chances for advancement.”

Last hurrah

The Republican Party, however, didn’t endorse Banks as its candidate for 8th Ward alderman. Its choice was Gerald Gibbons, who worked for a printing company and had served as president of the 8th Ward Young Republicans Club.

It was reported that one reason the Republicans didn’t back Banks was because he didn’t vote in the November 1962 general election.

Banks said he would stay in the race as an independent Republican candidate.

“Politics is a strange business,” Banks said to the Tribune. “They try to strike you out before you get a turn at bat. I am in this, with or without the support of the Republican 8th Ward organization. I intend to win.”

Banks campaigned primarily on a promise to promote youth activities in the ward and fight juvenile delinquency. He was critical of incumbent James Condon’s “lack of interest” in the welfare of youths, the Tribune reported.

Condon told voters that during his four years as alderman the 8th Ward got more than $2 million in new street lighting, traffic control signals and street repairs.

On election day, Feb. 26, 1963, Condon retained his 8th Ward seat, finishing first in a field of four with 9,296 votes. The Republican-endorsed candidate, Gerald Gibbons, totaled 4,264. Banks was third with 2,028 votes and an independent with no party affiliation, Coleman Holt, got 1,335.

In recalling the election 50 years later, in 2013, Banks told Bruce Levine of ESPN.com, “Mayor Daley was running the city. Someone asked the mayor where that baseball player was going to finish in the race for the 8th Ward. He said somewhere out in left field. That is where I finished.”

A Tribune columnist noted that, though Banks lost the election, he remained the unofficial mayor of Wrigley Field.

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Dizzy Dean was a Gashouse Gang slugger, too

Posted in Games, Hitters, Opponents, Pitchers on August 4, 2025| 8 Comments »

Pitching in relief just two days after making a start, Dizzy Dean got the win and a walkoff home run for the surging Cardinals.

Dean delivered four innings of hitless, scoreless relief and slugged a three-run homer in the bottom of the 10th inning, carrying the Cardinals to a 6-3 triumph over the Reds at St. Louis on Aug. 6, 1935.

The win was the Cardinals’ fifth in a row (they’d extend the streak to eight) during a torrid month when they swaggered into the thick of the National League pennant chase with Gashouse Gang bravado.

Rough and ready

The Depression Era Cardinals looked rough and played hard. In the book “Diz,” Dean biographer Robert Gregory described the Gashouse Gang during an August 1935 road trip: “With matching mud-caked shirts and socks, their pant legs stiffened by grime, they looked like sharecroppers after a day in the fields on their hands and knees.”

New York Sun columnist Frank Graham observed, “They don’t shave before a game and most of them chew tobacco. They have thick necks and knotty muscles, and they spit out of the sides of their mouths and then wipe the backs of their hands across their shirt fronts. They fight among themselves and use quaint and picturesque oaths. They are not afraid of anybody. They don’t make much money, and they work hard for it. They will risk arms, necks and legs _ their own or the other fellow’s _ to get it, but they also have a lot of fun playing baseball.”

Though the Cardinals had a good record (59-39), they were six games behind the front-running Giants (65-33) and two back of the Cubs (64-40) entering their Tuesday afternoon home match against the Reds. The game attracted 2,900 cash customers and 4,700 Knothole Gang youths admitted for free. “That’s a great big crowd for a weekday here,” the Cincinnati Enquirer noted.

With the score tied at 3-3 after six, Dean relieved, following starter Bill Walker (one inning, two runs) and Jesse Haines (five innings, one run).

Haines, 42, was hoping for his 200th career win that day, but the Cardinals failed to score after loading the bases with one out in the sixth, and Dean became the pitcher of record when he entered with the score knotted in the seventh. In his syndicated column, Dean, 25, said, “A few old-timers, what we calls veterans, is a good asset to any team. Look at Pop Haines, who is 42 and stopped the Reds dead yesterday. I hope I’m still pitching in the World Series when I am 42. That’ll give me 60,000 victories.”

Bloop and a blast

Dean, who went five innings in a start two days earlier against the Pirates, retired seven Reds in a row before issuing a walk to Jim Bottomley with one out in the ninth. Then he got Lew Riggs to ground into a double play.

After Dean retired the Reds in order in the 10th, Bill DeLancey was first up for the Cardinals in the bottom half of the inning. DeLancey’s long home run to center in the fourth had given St. Louis a 3-2 lead. This time, he lifted an ordinary fly to short right, but outfielder Ival Goodman couldn’t see the ball in the sun. Second baseman Alex Kampouris raced over to help “but the ball rolled off the ends of his fingers,” according to the Cincinnati Enquirer, and DeLancey was safe at second with a bloop double.

After Emmett Nelson, a rookie from South Dakota, gave an intentional walk to Charlie Gelbert, Leo Durocher executed a sacrifice bunt, moving the runners to second and third. Next up was Dean.

Dizzy swung at Nelson’s first pitch and socked it far up into the seats in left, giving the Cardinals a walkoff win. The Reds lost 10 of 11 games at St. Louis in 1935. “There is a hoodoo for our boys about this field,” the Enquirer noted. Boxscore

Since 1900, Dean and Ferdie Schupp are the only Cardinals pitchers to hit walkoff home runs, according to David Vincent of the Society for American Baseball Research. Schupp did it in the rarest of ways _ an inside-the-park home run _ on Aug. 28, 1919, against the Dodgers’ Leon Cadore for a 4-3 St. Louis victory. It would be Schupp’s only hit in 20 at-bats for the Cardinals that season. Boxscore

Who needs the DH?

Dean produced 21 RBI for the 1935 Cardinals. That rates as the single-season high for a Cardinals pitcher. He drove in those 21 runs on 30 hits. For the season, Dean went 30-for-128 (a .234 batting average), with two home runs and four doubles. During his Cardinals career, he had 74 RBI.

Bob Gibson produced 144 RBI as a Cardinal, including 20 in 1963. Gibson also had 19 RBI in both 1965 and 1970. Bob Forsch had 79 RBI as a Cardinal, with a season high of 12 in 1986.

The last good run producer among Cardinals pitchers was Adam Wainwright. He had 75 career RBI for St. Louis, including 18 in 2016.

The 1935 Cardinals went 22-7 in August and ended the month in first (77-46), a game ahead of the Giants (76-47). Dean was 6-1 in August.

Neither the Cardinals nor Giants, though, won the pennant. The Cubs, who went on a 21-game winning streak and were 23-3 for September, were National League champions at 100-54. The Cardinals (96-58) placed second.

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How Bill Howerton lassoed a role with Cardinals

Posted in Games, Hitters on July 9, 2025| 7 Comments »

While learning to be a California cowboy, 11-year-old Bill Howerton vaulted from a horse, landed awkwardly and injured an ankle. His left leg was never the same.

Howerton walked with a limp, earning the nickname Hopalong, but eventually developed into a baseball talent, reaching the big leagues with the Cardinals.

A left-handed batter with power, Howerton got the most starts in center field for the 1950 Cardinals, joining an outfield of future Hall of Famers Stan Musial and Enos Slaughter.

Home on the range

Howerton was born and raised in California’s Santa Barbara County. Though often listed as being from the town of Lompoc, Howerton was born in unincorporated Las Cruces, “a spot in the road that has subsequently disappeared” to make way for highway construction, according to the Lompoc Record.

A son of a ranch foreman, Howerton was riding herd in the saddle when he leaped off his horse to close a corral gate, injuring his left ankle. A bacterial or fungal infection set in and doctors informed the youth he had osteomyelitis, an inflammation of bone or bone marrow, The Pittsburgh Press reported.

Howerton underwent four operations. Doctors drilled into the ankle bone to scrape the marrow, according to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Howerton spent nine weeks in a hospital and used a wheelchair and crutches for two years, the Pittsburgh and St. Louis newspapers reported.

After he recovered, Howerton attended Santa Ynez Valley High School in Solvang, Calif. He played baseball and showed skill as a pitcher. At 16, his parents separated and Howerton helped his mother operate a gas station, according to the Post-Dispatch. He also worked in a brick factory as a press operator, maintaining the machinery that shapes and molds raw materials into bricks.

Baseball became Howerton’s passion. He joined a semipro team, the Lompoc Merchants, played shortstop and earned a partial scholarship to Saint Mary’s College of California. In 1941, he hit .600 and didn’t make an error for the college team, according to the Santa Barbara News-Press.

Accepting an offer from Red Sox scout Earl Sheely, Howerton was assigned to a farm club in Scranton, Pa.

Baseball and romance

In 1943, his first season at Scranton, Howerton was moved from infield to outfield because the stiffness in his ankle prevented him from shifting quickly enough to field grounders to his left, International News Service reported.

After a home game that year, Howerton, 21, was having a late-night snack at Tony Harding’s Diner on Lackawanna Avenue in downtown Scranton. The place was known for baking its hamburger buns extra large to accommodate the fat burgers. Murals on the wall behind the counter depicted classic Lackawanna Railroad passenger trains. According to the Scrantonian Tribune, night owls at the diner often “stayed for breakfast while waiting for the morning paper with the baseball scores and racing results.”

It was there that Howerton met Betty McConnell. They married that year, forming a lifelong bond.

His commitment to the Red Sox wasn’t nearly as strong. After three seasons in their farm system, Howerton quit because of poor pay, saying he earned more operating a bulldozer for his father-in-law’s construction business in Scranton, the Post-Dispatch reported.

When the Cardinals’ Columbus (Ohio) farm team offered him a pay hike to resume his baseball career, a trade with the Red Sox was arranged and Howerton, 24, became a member of the St. Louis system in July 1946.

Columbus manager Hal Anderson “went to work on Howerton’s batting,” Russ Needham of the Columbus Dispatch reported. “The way he held his bat gave (Howerton) a loop in his swing. He could hit the tar out of a low pitch or one (that was) belt-high, but the pitchers were giving him few of those. Instead they’d pitch him around the shoulders, which forced him to loop with the bat to get his swing level as he met the ball.”

After eliminating the loop and learning to lay off high pitches, Howerton put up big numbers for Columbus _ .299 batting average, 25 home runs, 114 RBI in 1948; .329 batting mark, 21 homers, 111 RBI in 1949. He also developed a reputation as a steady outfielder.

The 1949 Cardinals, battling the Dodgers for first place, figured Howerton could help in the pennant stretch. He was called up to the majors in September.

Howerton contributed to a key win against the Dodgers in the first game of a doubleheader on Sept. 21, 1949, at St. Louis. Scoreless in the bottom of the ninth, the Cardinals had runners on first and second, none out, when Howerton turned a bunt into a single, loading the bases. Joe Garagiola followed with a hit, giving the Cardinals a 1-0 win. Boxscore

Though the Dodgers won the second game, the split kept the Cardinals in first place, 1.5 games ahead of Brooklyn, with eight to play. In the end, the Dodgers played better, winning the pennant with a 97-57 record and finishing a game ahead of the Cardinals (96-58).

Opportunity knocks

Howerton, 28, began the 1950 season primarily as a Cardinals pinch-hitter. On May 1 at St. Louis, the Dodgers led, 2-1, when the Cardinals put runners on first and second, two outs, in the bottom of the ninth. Catcher Del Rice was due up, but manager Eddie Dyer wanted a left-handed batter to face knuckleball specialist Willie Ramsdell.

“Can you hit a knuckleball, kid?” Dyer asked Howerton.

Howerton replied, “I can hit anything.”

Dyer liked that answer. Though he had other left-handed batters available, such as Joe Garagiola, Solly Hemus and Harry Walker, Dyer sent Howerton to the plate. He drilled a single to right, scoring Enos Slaughter from second with the tying run and moving Red Schoendienst to third. Ramsdell uncorked a wild pitch to the next batter, enabling Schoendienst to scamper home with the winning run. Boxscore

Howerton’s timely hitting convinced Dyer to start him against right-handers. Though Howerton made starts at all three outfield positions, he primarily platooned with Chuck Diering in center.

“Even now, with his left ankle stiff and the left leg thinner in circumference than the right, Howerton runs with a hopalong limp,” Bob Broeg reported in The Sporting News. “Still, he’s among the faster Cardinals and, next to Musial, has the best long ball power among the Redbirds.”

Howerton hit .281 for the 1950 Cardinals, with 59 RBI in 313 at-bats. He totaled 20 doubles, eight triples and 10 home runs.

Keep on truckin’

Marty Marion replaced Eddie Dyer as Cardinals manager and figured Howerton for a bench role in 1951. On June 15, Pirates general manager Branch Rickey sent Wally Westlake and Cliff Chambers to the Cardinals for Howerton, Joe Garagiola, Howie Pollet, Ted Wilks and Dick Cole.

Howerton got to play center in a Pirates outfield with Ralph Kiner and Gus Bell. “Howerton is a complete outfielder,” Pirates manager Billy Meyer told The Pittsburgh Press. “He’s a corking hitter, a fine outfielder and owns an arm that commands respect.”

The next year, though, the Pirates wanted to make room in the outfield for a hometown prospect, 19-year-old Bobby Del Greco. Howerton was odd man out.

In May 1952, he was acquired by the Giants, who were seeking outfield depth after Willie Mays entered military service. “I’m glad to have him,” Giants manager Leo Durocher told the New York Daily News. “He does everything well and I know he can handle center field. He can run and throw and he’ll hit pretty good, too.”

About a month later, though, Howerton was back in the minors for good.

He had one more big season (32 home runs, 106 RBI for Oakland of the Pacific Coast League in 1953) before going into the trucking business.

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Going batty: How Ted Simmons home run turned into out

Posted in Games, Hitters, Opponents on July 2, 2025| 8 Comments »

Ted Simmons was feeling groovy during the summer of 1975. Long mane flowing, he swung free and easy from both sides of the plate, hitting for high average, driving in runs and making consistent contact.

Big-league baseball, though, wasn’t hip to the grooves Simmons made in his bats, even though the Cardinals catcher claimed the alterations were done to preserve the lumber, not enhance his hitting.

Simmons paid a price for not knowing the rules. Umpires nullified a home run he hit against the Padres, deeming he used an illegal bat.

Hot hitter

After hitting .271 over the first two months of the 1975 season, Simmons surged. He hit .370 for the month of June and did even better in July. When the Cardinals went to San Diego for a series against the Padres after the all-star break, Simmons was hitting .326 for the season, with a .400 on-base percentage and .511 slugging mark.

“Ted is just about a batting title away from being recognized as the best hitter in the league,” Cardinals pitcher John Curtis told the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. “He has received not nearly the recognition he deserves, and maybe a batting (title) is what will take care of that.”

During the first game of a Sunday doubleheader at San Diego, when Simmons contributed three hits, a walk and a RBI in the Cardinals’ 3-1 victory, Padres manager John McNamara noticed cuts in some of the baseballs. After Simmons flied out to end the third inning, the ball was brought to the Padres’ dugout. “We could see the lined scraped marks on the ball and we knew they had to have been made by something on the bat,” McNamara later told the Associated Press. Boxscore

That year, big-league baseball introduced a rule banning alteration of the hitting surface of the bat from the tip to within 18 inches of the handle bottom, according to the Associated Press.

Because he wasn’t certain Simmons had broken the rule, McNamara opted not to do anything during Game 1 of the doubleheader. Simmons sat out Game 2.

Bad bat

The next night, July 21, Simmons was back in the lineup at the cleanup spot, and McNamara was on alert. “I told the catcher (Bob Davis) to check out Simmons’ bat when he comes to the plate and see if it’s grooved,” McNamara said to the Associated Press.

In Simmons’ first plate appearance, he drew a walk. Davis informed McNamara the bat was grooved.

When Simmons batted again, leading off the fourth, he clouted a home run to left against Brent Strom. As Simmons rounded the bases, McNamara asked plate umpire Art Williams to check the bat for grooves. Williams did, determined the bat was modified against the rules and called Simmons out as he crossed the plate, nullifying the home run.

Umpire crew chief Ed Vargo confiscated the bat. “The rules say a bat can’t be tampered with 18 inches above the handle,” Vargo said to the Associated Press. “This one has grooves cut in it. It is clearly illegal.”

Noting he made no attempt to hide the bat, Simmons told the Post-Dispatch, “I was not aware of the new rule against grooving. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have grooved the bat.”

According to the Associated Press, Simmons said he used a knife to put grooves in the bat so that it wouldn’t fray. “What I did is actually what players have been doing for the past 50 or 60 years,” he said.

Simmons explained to the Post-Dispatch, “Grooving the bat doesn’t do anything to make the ball go farther or powerize it. The idea is to keep the bats from fraying. When the bats fray, you just throw them away (because) they’re no good anymore. Grooving protects the grains that are farthest from the center from breaking because of the vibration of the contact. Grooving just saves bats.”

Regarding McNamara’s decision to challenge the use of the bat after the home run, Simmons said the Padres manager “deserves credit for doing his homework,” the Post-Dispatch reported.

A notch above

After the ruling, Simmons took heat from the San Diego spectators. As he put it to the Post-Dispatch, “Unfortunately, the fans got uptight and I had to put up with the freaking.”

Swinging a smooth stick in his next plate appearance, Simmons smacked a double, silencing the detractors. His work behind the plate was impressive, too. Making his major-league debut, Harry Rasmussen (who later changed his name to Eric) followed the guidance of his catcher and pitched a shutout for the Cardinals. Boxscore

Though he stopped grooving his bats, Simmons didn’t stop hitting. The lumber may have frayed like shredded wheat from all the hard contact he made. For the month of July, Simmons hit .417 with an on-base percentage of .500 (43 hits and 17 walks in 120 plate appearances).

He hit .313 for August and .324 for September, finishing with a season batting mark of .332. Only Bill Madlock of the Cubs had a higher batting average (.354) in the league that season.

Simmons totaled 193 hits, 100 RBI and fanned a mere 35 times in 581 at-bats. He did that while catching more games (154) than anyone else in the league.

Three weeks after the incident in San Diego, Simmons lent one of his bats to Doug Rader during a Cardinals series at Houston. The Astros third baseman used it to belt a three-run homer against Al Hrabosky, but Simmons countered with a two-run shot and the Cardinals won, 5-4. Boxscore

Asked about Rader homering with a Simmons bat, the Cardinals catcher quipped to the Post-Dispatch, “Rader has done me enough favors by mishandling some of my bouncers to his backhand.”

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How Cardinals came calling on Walter Alston

Posted in Games, Hitters, Managers, Prospects on June 26, 2025| 10 Comments »

After he was graduated from Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, Walter Alston was ready to become a high school teacher. A knock on his door altered those plans.

Ninety years ago, in June 1935, Alston grabbed an opportunity to play professional baseball, signing a minor-league contract with the Cardinals.

The offer came from Frank Rickey, a Cardinals scout and brother of the club’s general manager, Branch Rickey. The day after Miami’s commencement ceremony, Alston was at home in tiny Darrtown, Ohio, when Frank Rickey surprised him with a rap on the door.

“Want to play pro baseball?” he asked.

In the book “Walter Alston: A Year at a Time,” Alston recalled to author Jack Tobin, “What a question to ask! I’d dreamed about that since I was old enough to throw that little rubber ball against the brick smokehouse out on our first farm.”

Alston went on to spend 10 seasons in the Cardinals’ system. He didn’t make it big as a player _ just one shaky appearance in a major-league game _ but it was the Cardinals who gave him the chance to manage in the minors.

That experience helped launch him into a long and successful career with the Dodgers that led to his election to the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Hard work and patience

Alston was born on a small farm just north of Cincinnati, in Venice, Ohio. (Renamed Ross Township.) His father was a tenant farmer and stonemason. The family moved from farm to farm, wherever work was available, in southwest Ohio.

When Alston was a boy, his parents bought him a black Shetland pony. He named her Night. Alston rode the pony bareback to grade school in Ohio villages such as Camden and Morning Sun.

The family fell into debt when Alston was in seventh grade and moved to the hamlet of Darrtown. Alston’s father found work in nearby Hamilton at a Ford auto plant, producing wheels and running boards for $4 a day.

Alston developed a passion for baseball. His father taught him to throw with velocity. “Put some smoke on the ball,” he’d say. The youngster did it so well he got nicknamed “Smokey” and pitched in high school.

In May 1930, near the completion of his freshman year at Miami, Alston, 18, married his childhood sweetheart, Lela. The Great Depression had devastated the economy and Alston couldn’t afford to stay in college. He and Lela moved in with her parents in Darrtown and he took work wherever he could find it, going from farm to farm to seek pay for day labor. The county gave him a job cutting roadside weeds with a scythe. “That paid a dollar a day and I was happy to have it,” Alston told author Jack Tobin.

Two years later, in the summer of 1932, Alston still was whacking weeds when a local Methodist minister, Rev. Ralph Jones, an education advocate, urged him to return to Miami and earn a degree. According to author Si Burick in the book “Alston and the Dodgers,” Jones said to Alston, “Smokey, you’ve got a good mind. You can be somebody if you go back to college.”

Jones gave Alston $50 to use toward his tuition. Alston re-enrolled at Miami for the 1932 fall semester. “We never could have saved $50 on my dollar a day cutting weeds,” Alston told Jack Tobin. “That $50 … got me back in and paid a good part of my tuition for that year.”

Alston majored in industrial arts and physical education. He also played varsity baseball and basketball. There were no athletic scholarships and money was scarce. In between classes and athletics, Alston worked jobs on campus.

“I took a job driving a laundry truck for 35 cents an hour and I got my lunch free every day in exchange for racking up billiard balls in a pool hall,” he told journalist Ed Fitzgerald. “Summers, the college gave me a job painting dormitories.”

Alston played sandlot baseball for various town teams, too. One of those, the Hamilton Baldwins, had Alston at shortstop and Weeb Ewbank, the future football coach of the Baltimore Colts and New York Jets, in center field.

Cardinals prospect

Alston was taking an exam near the end of his senior year in 1935 when he was told someone was waiting to see him. It was Harold Cook, school superintendent in New Madison, Ohio. Cook was recruiting teachers and offered Alston a salary of $1,350 to come to New Madison. Alston accepted.

A few days later, Frank Rickey showed up at the door. (The Alstons didn’t have a home telephone then.) Rickey had seen Alston play two games _ one at shortstop and one as a pitcher _ for Miami and was impressed. When Alston mentioned he’d made a commitment to teach in New Madison, Rickey explained the minor-league season would be finished by Labor Day, enabling him to return to Ohio for the school year.

Rickey offered no signing bonus. He told Alston, 23, he’d be paid $135 a month to play in the Cardinals’ system that summer. Alston signed on the spot.

The next day, Alston’s wife drove him to Richmond, Ind., where he boarded a bus for St. Louis. Upon arrival, Alston checked into the YMCA downtown. The next morning, he went to the Cardinals’ offices to find out where he was being assigned. The Cardinals told him to come back tomorrow. This went on for a week until, finally, Branch Rickey informed Alston he would play for the Greenwood (Mississippi) Chiefs of the East Dixie League.

Cardinals scout Eddie Dyer (who, years later, became St. Louis manager) drove Alston from St. Louis to Mississippi in a roadster. Player-manager Clay Hopper put Alston at third base and he hit .326 in 82 games.

Every fall and winter for the next 14 years, Alston taught high schoolers _ six years at New Madison and eight at Lewiston, Ohio _ in order to make ends meet after spending spring and summer in the minors. He taught industrial arts, general science and biology, and coached basketball before leaving in March for spring training.

The teaching experience later helped him as a manager. “Like students, ballplayers can’t all be treated the same,” Alston told Si Burick. “Some need encouragement. Some do better if left alone. Others need to be driven. You simply have to study each individual and get him to produce the best that’s in him.”

Darrtown remained Alston’s home. Los Angeles Times columnist Jim Murray described it as “the place where time forgot” and “where the 11 o’clock news is the barber.” Alston built a house at the corner of Apple and Cherry streets. It was the first brick house in Darrtown. “My dad laid all the bricks and mixed the mortar,” he told Sports Illustrated.

In the backyard tool shed, Alston put his industrial arts skills to good use, making most of the furniture for his house. “His bookshelves and chests and spice racks and desks are a wonder of patient, meticulous workmanship,” Sheldon Ocker of the Akron Beacon-Journal reported.

When he wasn’t woodworking, Alston enjoyed skeet shooting, riding his two Honda motorcycles and playing billiards.

After Alston became an established big-league manager, billiards legend Willie Mosconi was a guest at Alston’s Darrtown home, where Alston had a pool table. “I ran 47 balls, which is pretty good for me,” Alston told Gordon Verrell of the Long Beach Press-Telegram. “He shot, made six or seven and missed, and then I ran 10 or 12. I didn’t get another shot. He ran the next 154.”

Alston didn’t mind losing to a master such as Mosconi. Getting defeated by Cardinals pitcher Steve Carlton in 1969 was another matter. “He beat us 1-0 that night at the ballpark and, if that didn’t make me mad enough, he beat me later that night in a game of pool,” Alston told Gordon Verrell. Boxscore

Ready or not

For his second season in the Cardinals’ system in 1936, Alston was assigned to Huntington, W.Va. Player-manager Benny Borgmann taught him to play first base. The club’s shortstop was a skinny teenage rookie, Marty Marion.

For the second consecutive year, Alston hit .326. He also produced 35 home runs and 114 RBI. Scout Branch Rickey Jr., son of the Cardinals’ general manager, was impressed. On Rickey Jr.’s recommendation, Alston was called up to the Cardinals in September and instructed to join the team in Boston.

Alston packed a beat-up cardboard suitcase and took a train to New York City, where he was to make a connection to Boston. At Grand Central Station, he was gawking at the ceilings and the people when he bumped into a woman. “The suitcase hit the floor, broke open and scattered all my clothes and belongings across the floor,” he recalled to Jack Tobin. “There seemed to be hundreds and hundreds of people all racing in a different direction. I was on my hands and knees, trying to pick up my shirts and shorts … and to keep from being trampled.”

A Good Samaritan directed him to a luggage shop nearby. Alston spent most of the $20 he had on a new suitcase and boarded the train to Boston.

When he arrived at the Kenmore Hotel, the team was at the ballpark. The desk clerk told Alston he could go to the dining room and sign for anything he ordered. “One look at the menu convinced me I was in for a hard time,” Alston told Jack Tobin. “I had never heard of half the things and couldn’t pronounce most of the words … Finally I decided on some clams. I’d always heard Boston was famous for them. When they brought them out, I wasn’t sure just how you were supposed to eat them.”

During his month with the Cardinals, Alston pitched batting practice, took infield practice with other rookies and otherwise sat on the bench. A fellow Ohioan, pitcher Jesse Haines, 43, took a liking to Alston, 24, and showed him what to do and how to do it. “No matter what I asked, he knew the answer,” Alston said to Jack Tobin. “Most days he took me to and from the ballpark. He was my buddy.”

Put me in, coach

On the final day of the season, the Cardinals played at home in the rain against the Cubs. Plate umpire Ziggy Sears had a miserable time. Neither team cared for the way he called balls and strikes. Sears ejected Cardinals coach Buzzy Wares and Cubs manager Charlie Grimm for arguing with him.

As the Cardinals came off the field in the seventh, first baseman Johnny Mize made a remark while passing the umpire. Offended, Sears ejected Mize.

Because the Cardinals’ other established first baseman, Rip Collins, had been used as a pinch-hitter a couple of innings earlier, manager Frankie Frisch had to go with his only other first baseman, Alston.

When the Cubs batted against Dizzy Dean in the eighth, Alston was at first, making his big-league debut. Augie Galan led off with a single. Phil Cavarretta followed with a bunt. Third baseman Don Gutteridge fielded cleanly and made an accurate throw to Alston, but the first baseman bobbled the ball. Cavarretta reached safely on the error and Galan stopped at second.

Next up was Billy Herman. He bunted toward Alston. The rookie threw to third, but not in time to nab Galan, and the bases were loaded. All three runners eventually scored, giving the Cubs a 6-1 lead.

In the ninth, the Cardinals scored twice and had a runner on base, with two outs, when Alston batted for the first time. The pitcher was Lon Warneke, a three-time 20-game winner. Alston fouled off a pitch. He ripped another down the line in left but it, too, curved foul near the pole. Then he struck out, ending the game. Boxscore

The next day, the headline in the St. Louis Star-Times blared, “Walter Alston Makes Blunders That Eventually Beat Dizzy Dean, 6-3.”

Follow the leader

The Cardinals put Alston on their 40-man winter roster, but Johnny Mize still was on the team and the club acquired another first baseman, Dick Siebert, from the Cubs. Because of his teaching job, Alston couldn’t report to 1937 spring training until March 15. A couple of weeks later, he was back in the minors.

Alston had a few more good seasons in the Cardinals’ system, but knew he likely wouldn’t be returning to the big leagues. “I had enough power, but … I couldn’t hit the good pitching, just the mediocre pitching,” he told Sports Illustrated.

Branch Rickey asked Alston to become a player-manager in 1940 and he eagerly accepted. Alston managed Cardinals affiliates for three seasons (1940-42). Then Rickey moved to the Dodgers. Alston kept playing for Cardinals farm teams desperate to fill rosters depleted by World War II military service.

In 1944, Alston was released by the Cardinals. He returned to Darrtown, figuring to go fulltime into teaching. Then came another bang on the door. It was the son of the man who operated the Darrtown general store. The boy told Alston there was an urgent long-distance phone call for him at the store. Alston darted the two blocks, grabbed the receiver and heard the voice of Branch Rickey.

“First thing he did was give me a good going over for not having a phone and told me to get one,” Alston said to Jack Tobin. “Then he offered me the manager’s job at Trenton (N.J.) in the Interstate League.”

Alston managed for 10 seasons in the Dodgers’ system. In November 1953, he was chosen to replace Chuck Dressen as Dodgers manager. Working on one-year contracts, Alston managed the Dodgers for 23 years, leading them to seven National League pennants and four World Series titles. He was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1983.

As Jim Murray wrote, “He made his profession’s hall of fame not because he could hit or throw a curveball better than anyone else but because he excelled in the far more difficult area of human endeavor.”

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Why Cardinals preferred Rogers Hornsby to Branch Rickey

Posted in Executives, Games, Hitters, Managers on May 26, 2025| 9 Comments »

As Cardinals manager, Branch Rickey either was ahead of his time or hopelessly out of step with the times. Take your pick. Either way, Cardinals owner and president Sam Breadon decided Rickey no longer should be manager.

One hundred years ago, on May 30, 1925, Breadon changed managers, replacing Rickey with Rogers Hornsby. Rickey remained with the club in a front-office role.

The shakeup turned out to be good for the Cardinals. Player-manager Hornsby led them to their first National League pennant and World Series championship in 1926. Focused on baseball operations, vice president Rickey built the Cardinals into a perennial contender.

On shaky ground

After managing the St. Louis Browns (1913-15), Rickey joined the Cardinals and became their manager in 1919. In his first six years, he piloted the club to three winning seasons: 1921 (87-66), 1922 (85-69) and 1923 (79-74). Then the Cardinals took a big step backwards, finishing 65-89 in 1924 and drawing a mere 272,885 at its home games.

Knowing Breadon was considering a change, Rickey offered to resign during 1925 spring training but reconsidered, according to St. Louis Post-Dispatch columnist John Wray. “I look at this team I have put together and I can visualize it winning the flag,” Rickey told Breadon. “I have the stuff here and I want another chance. I think I deserve it because I assembled all this talent.”

Breadon wasn’t convinced. In his autobiography, “My War With Baseball,” Hornsby said Rickey sought his help with Breadon. “I went to Breadon and said that Rickey was the smartest man in baseball,” Hornsby recalled. “Breadon suggested I take the job as manager, but I wasn’t interested.”

Before spring training ended, Breadon formerly offered Hornsby the job, but he declined. “I recommended that Breadon keep Rickey,” Hornsby said in his autobiography. “I also told Breadon that if the Good Lord himself were to … manage this club, he couldn’t do any better. It was a lousy team.”

Decision time

The 1925 Cardinals won five of their first eight, then nosedived, losing seven in a row at home before mostly small crowds.

When the Cardinals were in Pittsburgh for a series with the Pirates, Breadon showed up. On Friday, May 29, Hornsby was having breakfast at the Hotel Schenley when traveling secretary Clarence Lloyd approached him and said Breadon wanted to meet. In his autobiography, Hornsby recalled that as he passed by the table of Rickey and coach Burt Shotton, Rickey said to him, “Breadon wants you to manage the team.”

Hornsby replied, “I don’t want to manage. He knows that.”

“Then will you ask Breadon to give me another chance?” Rickey said to Hornsby. “If he won’t, see if you can get him to let Shotton here be the manager.”

Hornsby said, “OK.”

(In addition to coaching, Shotton managed the Cardinals on Sundays, because Rickey promised his mother before signing his first professional contract that he would abstain from baseball activities on Sundays.)

Hornsby met in Breadon’s room and was offered the job. Hornsby said no.

According to the book “Branch Rickey: A Biography” by Murray Polner, Breadon barked back, “I won’t have any goddamned Sunday school teacher running my team. You’re going to run it.”

In his autobiography, Hornsby said he and Breadon had the following exchange:

Hornsby: “You mean, Rickey’s through?”

Breadon: “That’s exactly right _ as manager.”

Hornsby: “What about Shotton as manager?”

Breadon: “I don’t want any Rickey man either.”

It was agreed Hornsby should think over the proposal and inform Breadon of the decision the next day. “I went back down and told Rickey what Breadon had said,” Hornsby recalled in his autobiography. “Rickey didn’t cuss or anything, but he got pretty mad and said he would sell all his stock in the Cardinals.”

According to the Rickey biography, Rickey said to Hornsby, “Judas priest, the man (Breadon) is stabbing me in the back.”

At the ballpark that day, Hornsby slugged a two-run home run, but the Cardinals lost, dropping their record to 13-23. It turned out to be the last game Rickey would manage. Boxscore

Making the switch

According to his autobiography, Hornsby went to Breadon on Saturday, May 30, and told him “the only way I would be interested in becoming manager would be if I could buy Rickey’s stock … Then baseball could be my business for life.” Breadon assured him that would be arranged. The two agreed Hornsby would become player-manager, effective Sunday, May 31. “I expect him to put new fight into the Cardinals,” Breadon told the Associated Press.

In reporting on the managerial switch, James M. Gould of the St. Louis Star-Times wrote, “The pupil succeeds the master.”

Hornsby, 29, became the youngest manager in the National League. He was a few months older than player-manager Bucky Harris, 28, of the American League’s Washington Senators. Other player-managers in the majors in 1925 included Dave Bancroft of the Braves, Ty Cobb of the Tigers, Eddie Collins of the White Sox, George Sisler of the Browns and Tris Speaker of the Indians.

“I feel that with Rickey as vice president and business manager, and Hornsby as playing manager, we have one of the greatest combinations in baseball,” Breadon told the Post-Dispatch.

He also said to the Associated Press, “Rickey is a valuable man and we want to utilize his knowledge of baseball and his great judgment of players. He is a great organizer and a builder, and that is his sphere.”

Breadon’s words, though, didn’t appease Rickey, who resented being ousted as manager. According to Rickey’s biography, he described Breadon’s action as “clumsily brutal.”

According to author Murray Polner, Rickey felt betrayed and considered leaving the Cardinals to become athletic director at Northwestern University, but his wife Jane talked him out of it.

In his book “Mr. Rickey’s Redbirds,” author Mike Mitchell wrote that Rickey later said, “My fault as a manager … was due to my apparent zeal. I discussed the game every day … as if the game coming up was the game of the year.”

With Rickey out and Hornsby taking over effective May 31, coach Shotton was tasked with managing the Cardinals in the May 30 Saturday doubleheader at Pittsburgh, according to “Mr. Rickey’s Redbirds.” The Pirates won both, totaling eight triples in Game 2. Boxscore

Rickey’s reviews

Reaction to the managerial move mostly was favorable:

_ J. Roy Stockton, Post-Dispatch: “The Cardinals should do well under Hornsby. He will not overmanage the team. If there was any just criticism of Branch Rickey’s regime, it was that he burdened the team with too much management. He tried to pitch for the pitchers and to catch for the catchers … He lacked poise when directing his men … He decided on a plan of action and then … he hesitated, pondered over the danger and changed the plan.”

_ Tommy Holmes, Brooklyn Eagle: “Some attribute the failure of the team to Rickey’s attempt to mastermind the Cardinals. He wanted to do all the thinking that was to be done on the team … Branch exercised his managerial authority by requiring the batter to keep in constant touch with his wagging from the bench. A hitter up there with the bases full, to bust it and nothing else, had to strain his neck getting the signal on every ball pitched.”

_ Henry Farrell, United Press: “Rickey had a lot of trick ideas about handling of a ballclub that made some of the older athletes feel like they were being treated like children. He not only had blackboard talks on baseball but he extended his skull practice to include arithmetic and the grammar school arts and sciences.”

_ John B. Foster, Dayton Daily News: “The greatest weakness of (Rickey) was … his lack of playing instinct. He usually managed to change pitchers at the wrong time … Almost every manager in the National League figured upon his doing the wrong thing at the wrong time … Opposing managers figured they would get away with games if they forced Rickey to change pitchers.”

_ The Sporting News: “The elevation of Hornsby to the management was the most popular choice that could have been made for the fans.”

Different approach

Indeed, fans gave Hornsby a big reception when he was led to the plate by St. Louis mayor Victor Miller and presented with several floral pieces before the start of his managerial debut on Sunday, May 31. During the game, the Post-Dispatch noted “a new spirit exhibited by the players” and “a dash that had been missing for some time.” Hornsby contributed two hits, two walks, two runs scored and a RBI in a 5-2 Cardinals victory over the Reds. Boxscore

The next day, Hornsby started Jesse Haines against the Reds. In four starts for Rickey in 1925, Haines was yanked from the games and lost all four. In his first start for Hornsby, he pitched a complete game and won. Boxscore

A week later, Hornsby bought 1,167 shares of Rickey’s Cardinals stock at $43 a share, a total investment of $50,181, the St. Louis Globe-Democrat reported. As author Mike Mitchell noted, “Upset about being removed as manager, Rickey made an emotional and short-sighted decision.”

Meanwhile, Hornsby canceled the daily team meetings and daily morning workouts that had been the norm when Rickey managed. “You can’t drill for two hours and then get out in the afternoon with all your pep and play some more,” Hornsby explained to the Star-Times.

The Cardinals won 15 of their first 19 games with Hornsby as manager and finished at 77-76. Hornsby’s hitting helped, too. In 1925, he was named recipient of the National League Most Valuable Player Award and led the league in batting average, on-base percentage and slugging percentage for the sixth year in a row.

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