THE HOME OF BASEBALL HISTORY
I have been a baseball fan most of my life. When I was eight years old my father took me to St. Anthony’s Catholic Church on the South Side of Des Moines to sign up for Little League baseball. We stood in line for about a half hour before we realized we were in line for confession, and not for baseball. So, from the beginning, baseball has been somewhat a religious experience for me.
I played for seven years and while never very good, I have found memories. My proudest moment was hitting a home run to avoid losing by the ten-run rule. My mother, who was at the game, signed and dated the ball, and I still have the ball prominently displayed on a bookshelf. That was in 1973. Around that time my family took a trip to the Black Hills and as we drove, I sat in the back seat reading, “Baseball’s Hall of Fame,” by Robert Smith.
My father, as a Yankee fan, passed on his love of the game, and I, because of Roberto Clemente, became a lifelong Pirate’s fan. While reading Smith’s book I learned about some of the players on Pittsburgh’s first pennant winning team - Honus Wagner, Jack Chesbro, and Fred Clarke (whose sister lived in Des Moines) - to name a few.
Almost 50 years later, with the onset of pandemic, I became curious about the Pirates 1901 team. Mid-season they’d added a young outfielder by the name of Lefty Davis, and they released their longtime and popular shortstop, Bones Ely. I couldn’t find much information on either player.
So, I dug into historical archives to find answers. I learned that Lefty Davis, whose first name was Alfonso, had signed with Connie Mack of the Philadelphia Athletics. But while travelling East, he fell asleep on a train and when he ended up in Brooklyn, he signed with the Superbas instead. Early in the season, Davis struggled with Brooklyn, dropping easy fly balls due to nerves, and soon after he was released.
Barney Dreyfuss, Pittsburg’s owner and president signed Davis shortly after and with the Pirates, Davis shined both in the field and at the bat. Apparently, another Brooklyn outfielder, Tom McCreery, had done much to shake the young outfielder’s confidence.
As for Ely, Dreyfuss discovered that the shortstop was working as an agent for the American League who was planning to place a club in Pittsburgh. Ely was immediately released, and in need of a shortstop, Honus Wagner was moved from the outfield to short field against his wishes. The result, however, was that Pittsburgh was strengthened both at the bat and in the field, plus, Wagner would become one of the best shortstops in the history of the game.
These were just a few of the stories I found buried in dusty newspapers. There were other incidents of power struggles among owners, player raids, and scheming and wrangling by all. A third league, the National Association, threatened to become a rival to the National League, while the underfinanced American League hoped to expand to also become an equal to the old League. The players organized the Players’ Protective Association to fight for better treatment from the owners while rowdyism still disgusted the public. There were rule changes that are common now, but were controversial back then, and the battle for supremacy raged on. Each discovery fueled my passion to chronicle the pivotal era.
My objective is to tell forgotten or unknown stories that are of interest to baseball enthusiasts. I want to share accounts of forgotten heroes, unsung victories and heartbreaking defeats. These tales deserve a spotlight and a chance to resonate with modern fans who might not know the players’ names or be aware of their impact on the sport.
From the brawls over umpire calls to the contribution of stars like Cy Young, Honus Wagner and Napoleon Lajoie, I reveled in the drama. The American League’s rise, fueled by Ban Johnson’s shrewd decisions, mirrored the resilience of the game itself. Baseball became more than a sport - it embodied the American spirit.