Tuesday, August 23, 2011

The Heroes and Their Goat

by Dennis Pajot

As with most legends, the truth is hard to track down, and there are varying stories. Thus I present what I know of the "Borchert Field Goat". Of course, when this took place the baseball park at 8th and Chambers was still known as Athletic Park.

The Milwaukee Journal of September 14, 1913, gave the goat's story an origin. At the start of that season, on an off-day, pitcher Ralph Cutting (right) and outfielder Larry Chappell went out and found someone who was looking to get rid of a goat. The two found such a person and bought a goat to bring to the ballpark as a mascot.

According to the newspaper the next day was a Sunday with Columbus in town, and "Mr. Goat" made its first appearance at Athletic Park. The Journal tells us: "Cutting was doing the pitching that day and was going along like a house afire until the ninth inning when with two strikes on Mr. Jones, one of the Senators, he sent one right across the dish and Jones gave it a healthy lout that sent it over the left field wall for a homer and Cutting was forced to suffer a defeat".

My research on the 1913 Brewers shows this game was played on Sunday, May 25. The only off days in Milwaukee previous to this game were May 13 and 14, then May 20 and 21, due to rain outs. Immediately prior to the May 25 game the Brewers played a doubleheader against the Indianapolis Hoosiers on Thursday, May 22, and single games against the Columbus Senators on May 23 and 24. Thus the goat was probably bought by Cutting and Chappell on Tuesday, May 20 or Wednesday, May 21.

The Sunday 2 to 1 loss almost cost "Mr. Goat" his life. The Journal reported
That night an indignation meeting was held and "Sluggie" Walter [a tavern keeper near the ball park] and a number of players wanted to go to the yard and give the goat the proper treatment that a jinx is supposed to get, but some one told them to lay off. The goat came near seeing some of his brothers in the other world so he settled down to be a real mascot and he has been ever since.
In the goat's defense the home run might have been a little tainted. Bill Jones' home run was hit over the fence in the left field corner. James Murray, no doubt the least favorite umpire for Milwaukee fans in the American Association, called it fair and fans attempted to mob the arbiter. Manager Harry "Pep" Clark kept the fans back until Murray got under the stands and out of harm's way. The fans still wanted a piece of the umpire and a squad of police was called to break up the crowd. Manning Vaughan, the Milwaukee Sentinel beat writer, thought Jones' hit a fair ball, but said "it was so close that Murray could have called it either way without hurting his conscience any, presuming, of course, that he has one, which we doubt."

Ralph Cutting later told the Journal: "It's an educated goat. Look at him follow the ground keeper around and help him to take up the bases. That goat knows what they are for, and he is getting so that he knows when Cutting makes a hit, but then that does not keep him worrying much."

The goat roaming in the outfield did cause problems here and there. During a Wisconsin-Illinois League game in June, Cutting's mascot furnished the fans with amusement when several of the Milwaukee Mollys' and Oshkosh Indians' players had a hard time trying to chase the goat off the field. They did not succeed until the eighth inning, when he took up his stand near the top of the centerfield bleachers.

On July 14, 1913, Larry Chappell was traded to the Chicago White Sox. Tongue in cheek (perhaps) the Journal claimed it did not know if Larry sold his interest in the goat. But as he was not hitting well in the American League, he probably wished he had the goat with him.

The Brewers were in contention all year and finished the season with a four game stand in Louisville. Thirty or so fans took a special train to Louisville, even taking the mascot goat with them. A split of the series was enough to give the Brewers their first American Association championship.

The pennant-winning 1913 Milwaukee Brewers

Close-up: pitcher Joe Hovlik and the Brewers' "educated" mascot

Although I have not begun my research on the 1914 season, I can say the goat was still at the ballpark. The following description of a game between the local Schlitz and Traffic Club teams at Athletic Park in July gives us some humor on the mascot situation:
In the last half of the fourth inning, Jensch, pitcher for the Schlitz team, decried what he termed "a goat-like angel," trotting along the roof of the grandstand, perfectly silhouetted against a clear sky. He says he intended to throw an inshoot but the sudden appearance of the Cutting goat jarred him so that he cannot tell what he threw.

At any rate the ball fouled and bounced against the screen in front of the aforesaid Cutting goat, which uttered a loud, belligerent "Ba-Ha-ha-ha." This was followed by a vicious attempt on the part of the goat to butt a hole in the wire screen.

"Get the goat!" was the cry which found hearty response from the spectators, and a general stampede was made for the stairs leading to the roof, and the poor goat was dragged down by the horns.

Billy was put into the grandstand where he was content to consume paper bags, pasteboard boxes and other delectables [sic] left about by the unappreciative.

His next stunt was to saunter across the field and once more change the course of Mr. Dietrich's enthusiasm. [Nick Dietrich was a very vocal fan, apparently well known to Borchert Field baseball fans.] Mr. Dietrich grabbed a bat and, followed by pitcher, catcher and umpire, started after the poor goat and drove him far into center field.

When in the last inning the Traffics put in a sub-pitcher Bill was seen entertaining the left fielder, who had opened the door leading through the back fence and stood with his glove ready for any emergency.
The goat stayed at Athletic Park throughout the 1914 season. On October 3, 1914, the Sentinel wrote of an exhibition game between the Brewers and Detroit Tigers, "while (Detroit manager Hughie) Jennings was busy tearing grass, some fan in the stand yelled for him to leave some of it for Cutting's goat".

The Brewers took the pennant again in 1914, finishing with a record of 98-68. After the end of the season, Ralph Cutting retired to tend to his business affairs. As for the Borchert Field Goat, we don't know. He drops out of the newspapers, and may have retired as well. If so, he earned it; two pennants in two years as the Brewers' mascot and assistant groundskeeper.


Editor's Note: Dennis has continued to research the Brewers' grass-chewing mascot, and has learned that "Mr. Goat" was actually a Ms., and she had a name: Fatima.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Thumbs Up!

Early in the 1936 season, the Brewers' two-man catching battery suffered consecutive thumb injuries, knocking them both out of action at once.
Thumbs Up! Brewer Cripples Watch Victory
The sore thumb squad (left to right), George Detore, Sal Hernandez and Bill Brenzel, watched the Brewers' 11-inning victory Monday from the dugout. Detore was hit by Pitcher McGee of Columbus. Brenzel was nicked by a foul tip off one of Pressnell's knucklers. Hernandez has a felon (infected fingertip).
George Detore was the Brews' primary catcher, with Bill Brenzel as his backup. Brenzel was the victim of "Tot" Pressnell's "dipsy-doo" knuckleball. The third injured player, Salvadore Ramos Hernandez, was a utility infielder who hailed from Cuba, where he had been a medical student.

Former Green Bay Packer Red Smith, who had a cup of coffee with the New York (Baseball) Giants in 1927, was brought in to fill the gap.

(T)wo new Brewers who joined the club Monday, Red Smith, catcher (left) and Henry (Dutch) Ulrichm pitcher. Smith, former line coach under Doc Spears at Wisconsin, came from Madison of the State league. Ulrich, a free agent, was with Portland of the Pacific Coast league last season.
Smith got off to a very rough start in Milwaukee; the cellar-dwelling St. Paul Saints stole thirteen bases off him during his first game behind the plate. The Brewers realized that Smith, who celebrated his 38th birthday in a Brewer uniform, wasn't more than a stopgap, and secured the services of George Dickey (younger brother of longtime Yankee and Hall of Famer Bill) on loan from the Red Sox. Smith has a unique position in Wisconsin sport; he had played for the Green Bay Packers in 1927 and 1929 and was a long-time assistant coach under Curly Lambeau before joining the state's most prominent baseball club.

Brenzel was back in action by May 21st, and the Red Sox recalled Dickey on May 25th, after an injury knocked future Hall of Fame catcher Rick Ferrell out of the lineup. Detore returned the first week in June.

The day Brenzel returned to the lineup, the Milwaukee Journal had this to say about Red:
It is possible that the Brewers ought to keep Smith around (after the regular catchers return). Not only has he been the club's good luck charm but he is the first dependable pinch hitter the club has had in years. He tops the individual hitters with .526.
It appears that the Brewers were Journal readers. Although Smith was dropped from the Brewer roster following the June 4th game, he remained a part of the organization. Owner Henry Bendinger sent him to manage the Brewers' farm club at Fieldale, Virginia. Red would remain an important figure in Brewer history right up until the franchise's final days.

This incident proved to be just a bump in the road, as the Brewers went on to win the 1936 Association pennant.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

New Brewer Faces for 1943

This gorgeous full-page photo essay, previewing the 1943 Brewers on the eve of their home opener, was published in the Milwaukee Journal on Sunday, May 2.

This was during the period when wartime travel restrictions forced the Brewers to move Spring Training to Waukesha, so Journal photographer Harris W. Nowell didn't have to travel very far to capture the new Brews in action.

New Brewer Faces

You'll hardly know your Milwaukee Brewers when they open their home season in the American association Wednesday against the Minneapolis Millers. Only four members of last year's second place club are back: Outfielders Bill Norman and Frank Secory, Third Baseman Grey Clarke and Utility Infielder Johnny Hudson. This page presents some of the new faces in Manager Charley Grimm's line-up, a line-up that the experts say is good enough to finish near the top.
1943 was Bill Veeck's second season in charge of the Brews. He had already overhauled the team's uniforms, and following his first full off-season Sport Shirt Bill had made many changes to the team itself.

Let's take a closer look at the individual photos and captions (click any one for larger view):

Grimm leans against the batter's cage as pitcher Verne Godfredsen, up from Winnipeg in the Northern League, serves one up to Tony York, shortstop from Shreveport in the Texas League, in batting practice.
These two men would have very different experiences in 1943. Ten days after Nowell snapped this photo, Vernon Godfredsen was optioned to the Portsmouth (Virginia) Cubs in the Piedmont League, having developed a "sore arm". Charlie Grimm blamed his injury on the cold Waukesha weather, which had forced the Brewers to curtail some of their Spring Training sessions. Tony York stayed with the Brewers all season, and was successful enough in Milwaukee to be sold to the other Cubs, those of Chicago, who moved him to their Pacific Coast farm club in Los Angeles.

The uniforms worn on that day in Waukesha are the classic solid-piping, block "M" uniforms introduced in 1939. The large gap between two-digit numbers actually works on the catcher's back, allowing room right down the middle for his chest protector strap.

Back in 1937, Hank Helf did some catching for the Brewers. Now he's back again from the Nashville team in the Southern Association.
As the Journal notes, Henry "Hank" Helf had been the Brewers' backup catcher six years earlier. While a third-stringer in Cleveland, he took part in a notable publicity stunt, catching balls thrown off the 52-story Terminal Tower to set a world record. The balls were tossed down to Helf from 708 feet up by the Tribe's rookie third baseman Ken Keltner, a Milwaukee native and former Brewer.

Helf's return to Milwaukee in 1943 was marred by an injury in July. After hitting .260 in 1943, Helf was drafted by the St. Louis Browns, but Hank ended up the navy instead.

The home run kings are together. Bill Norman was association champ last year. With him on the Brewers are Outfielder Ted Norbert (left). Pacific coast king while with Portland last year, and First Baseman Mervin Connors, Texas league champion in 1942 with Fort Worth.
Bill Norman, mentioned but not pictured, was one of the four returning Brewers from the 1942 team. He hit 24 homers in that season, good enough for the AA title. To put minor league slugging of the era in context, his fellow league home run champions Ted Norbert's 28 and Mervin "Merv" Connors's 27 were good enough for their respective league titles.

In 1943, Norbert took the Brewers' home run crown with 25, and Bill Norman finished in second with 18. Merv Connors hit only 4, tied for eighth among Milwaukee sluggers.

Connors is an interesting case. After the season, the Brewers filed a complaint against him for misrepresenting his draft status when he came north from Fort Worth. Baseball commissioner Kennesaw Mountain Landis, who had previously voided the Brewers' contract with eventual New York Yankees star Tommy Henrich, stepped in and ruled that Connors was a free agent.

Royalty in the Brewers — Prince Henry Kauhane Oana of Hawaii is a pitcher converted from an outfielder. The change was made last season and he won 16 and lost five hurling for Fort Worth in the Texas league.
Prince Henry Oana wasn't actually royalty, although he was native Hawai'ian on his father's side. Royal blood wasn't the only good story cooked up by his clubs' publicity departments; he was supposedly discovered by Ty Cobb on a barnstorming trip in Japan.

Oana struggled on the mound in his single year in Milwaukee. He finished 1943 with a 3-5 recird and an ERA of 4.08. When it was his turn to step into the batter's box, he swung the bat like an outfielder. In his 20 games in 1942, the Prince hit .412.

He was only in Milwaukee for a single season, but it was a tumultuous one. The Fort Worth Cats tried to recall him, claiming that a reclassified draft status gave them the right to take Oana back. Judge Bramham, minor league commissioner, ruled that the Brewers had to return Oana's contract to the Texas League club. Veeck protested, and appealed to a higher court. Judge Landis ruled for the Brewers (for once). Oana was ordered to report back to Milwaukee but refused. Veeck tracked him down by phone, convinced him to finish the year in Milwaukee, and sold his Hawai'ian prince to the Buffalo Bisons as soon as the season was over.

Don Johnson's father was a major leaguer and the new Brewer second baseman hopes to get there, too. He was with Tulsa in the Texas League last year. He lives at Laguna Beach, Calif., and is a shipyard worker in the off season.
As we've seen, being with the Brewers was good exposure to major league scouts, and Don "Pep" Johnson would soon follow in his father's footsteps. In September of '43, the Cubs bought him from the Brewers. He spent six good seasons on the North Side.

If the draft gets too tough, Manager Grimm is ready to step into most any position. Grimm was a great first baseman in his playing days. He's a pitcher now, having worked three shutout innings in a recent practice game for a perfect record on the mound. Here he manages to hoist a pop fly. The umpire, by the way, is Roly Poly Red Smith, Brewer coach.
Nice to see "Jolly Cholly" Grimm running out that popup. Good form.

Of the four returning Brewers mentioned, Johnny Hudson was the first to go, being sold to the Jersey City Giants just eleven days after this photo essay was printed. Third baseman Grey Clarke was sold to the White Sox in September, although they allowed Bill Veeck to keep him in Milwaukee through the end of the American Association playoffs. Frank Secory played another year in Milwaukee, but moved up to the Cubs in August of 1944, after three seasons in a Brewer uniform. Bill Norman stayed at Borchert Field longer than the others before being sold to the International League's Toronto Maple Leafs in June of 1945. He took over the managerial reins the following season, and spent the next twelve seasons as a skipper, including two with the Detroit Tigers (1958-59).

As for the 1943 Milwaukee Brewers, it appears that the "experts" were correct. They finished the season 90-61, five games ahead of second-place Indianapolis and bringing the American Association pennant (Veeck's first) to Milwaukee.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Otto Borchert

by Dennis Pajot

Otto Borchert was born in Milwaukee on August 12, 1874. His father, Frederick Borchert, born in Mecklenburg, Germany, was an owner of the F. Borchert & Sons Brewery (which would become the Jung & Borchert Brewery and later be bought out by the Pabst Brewing Company). Otto's mother was the former Barbara Neubauer, of Milwaukee. The family lived at 269 8th Street [North 8th Street between West Kilbourn and State Streets] at the time.

Otto's early education was at the German-English Academy, and then he continued his schooling in the Humboldt Public School at 4th and Galena. His first step as an entrepreneur was as a peanut seller at Milwaukee's baseball park at 11th and Wright Street. The 12-year old lad sold his product in the stands, to the pleasure of the park's concessionaire, who found "more liquid refreshments was required to drown the thirst inspired by the Borchert peanuts." [A report after his death stated he was a bat boy for the team when Clark Griffith was the manager. Griffith played in Milwaukee from July 1888 through the 1890 season, but never managed the team—which ironically played at the newly built Athletic Park at 8th and Chambers.]

At the age of 14 Otto left school and joined the employ of Benjamin Young, a wholesale saddler and hardware distributor on North Water Street, signing a contract for $2 a week for the first year and $5 a week for the second. The young Borchert did well in this business. So well, as a matter of fact, that half way through his second year he was offered $7.50 a week from another firm. Otto later told the story: "I was all set to jump my contract and take the big money, but my father made me stick it out and the advice he game me then has helped me plenty in my dealings with ball players. When a young fellow nowadays tried to run out on a contract, I always tell him about the Goll & Frank offer and how I stuck to my job in spite of the fact that I was losing money."

Borchert did work for Goll & Frank (located at North Water and East Buffafo) for two years, and then three years with the Wisconsin Milling Company. The young Borchert then obtained a job with the Wisconsin Telephone Co. After a brief time as an office boy he was elevated to a bill clerk, then became a lineman. However, his true calling was found when he became a solicitor for the company "and went galloping about the countryside installing plants." It was said he was responsible for putting more "new fangled contrivances" in rural homes than any other salesman.

His record was so imposing that he was hired by Julius Andrae & Sons, a local electronic supply business on Milwaukee's West Water Street [today's Plankinton Avenue] to travel the Midwest. His starting salary was $50 a month—which was soon raised to $75. Otto soon set up a headquarters in Waterloo, Iowa, and over the next 20 years was the Andrae Company's star salesman. However, he never made over $200 a month.

While selling supplies for Andrae & Sons Borchert began taking options on electric light properties, then selling them at "profits equal to peanuts at $100 a bag." After his death a story was told how he picked up a 30-day option on the Waterloo Gas Engine, with no money down. Although at first he had a hard time selling the plant, he finally did sell it to the Deere Plow Company for a reported $2,500,000. Borchert's commission was $250,000 and he received an additional $50,000 from the Deere Company. [A photocopy of a check in the collections of the Milwaukee County Historical Society shows Borchert sold the Waterloo Company on March 14, 1921, for $2,100,000.] Borchert also claimed he sold the Dubuque Light & Traction Company for $3,000,000, the MacGregor Light & Power Company for $360,000, and the Sumner Light & Power Company for $60,000. Borchert did retain the position of vice president of the Peoples Power Company of Westgate, Iowa, into the 1920s.

Already in the 1890s Borchert was prominent enough to be found in the Milwaukee newspaper society columns. On December 24, 1899, Otto Borchert married Miss Idabel Ruby Wilmot, a teacher of stenography and commercial methods. The Borcherts would have one daughter, Florence Mila.

Borchert was something of an athlete in his youth. In 1894 the 19-year old Otto was found catching for the Wisconsin Telephone Company baseball team. He reportedly ran hurdles with exceptional speed, and it was said "he played one of the meanest games of pool in this section of the country." Otto also said he found interest in playing rummy and poker.

Otto Borchert was also involved as a boxing impresario, calling it his second favorite sport, behind baseball. Along with Frank Mulkern he owned controlling interest in the Cream City Athletic Club since 1919, conducting boxing shows at the Auditorium. Mulkern, who was called "one of the shrewdest promoters who ever arranged ring brawls in Milwaukee" by the Milwaukee Journal's Sam Levy, said "Otto was the smartest fellow I ever dealt with." In 1919 Borchert and Mulkern were instrumental in bringing Jimmy Wilde, the world flyweight champion from Wales known as "The Mighty Atom," to Milwaukee. As a promotion Borchert asked all scribes and ringside seat patrons to appear in dinner coats. Even though the Borchert/Mulkern team produced several five figure gates, Borchert said the Athletic Club never made enough money compared to what it cost to run it. Thomas Andrews bought Borchert's interest in the Cream City Athletic Club after his death.

In January 1920 Borchert was involved in the purchase of the Milwaukee Brewers of the American Association from Clarence Rowland and Hugh Brennan for $100,000. At the time it was reported the syndicate that bought the club was headed by Joseph O'Brien, former president of the American Association and at the time secretary of the New York Giants National League club. It was later reported Borchert owned 2/7s of the stock of the club, William H. Park [former owner of the Milwaukee Daily News and Evening Wisconsin] owned another 2/7s and William Kinsella [vice president of the Worden Allen Company] owned the remaining 3/7s.

Otto Borchert was named president of the club. However, the first two years were "no bed of roses" for Otto as the head of the club. Some of his policies on running the club did not meet with the favor of certain minority stockholders, causing constant bickering. It was reported Borchert had made an honest effort to put a winning team on the field in this first two years, but he had been "hampered by internal dissension and grandstand managers." Field manager Jack Egan sided with some of the stockholders not in Borchert's camp, and it cost him his job. The Brewers' records in 1920 and 1921 were 78 and 88, followed by 81 and 86. Borchert put the question to his patrons as to how they felt about a manager for the 1922 season. A vote favored re-hiring Harry Clark, who had managed the Brewers from 1913 to 1916, winning American Association pennants in those first two years. Borchert, living in a city "where majority ruled, did as he was bid and signed Clark". Clark would manage the Brewers for the next four years with lackluster results:
        Wins  Losses  Position
1922 85 83 5th
1923 75 91 5th
1924 83 83 4th
1925 74 94 7th
Harry "Pep" Clark (left) with Borchert

The 1926 team was managed by Jack Lelivelt, finishing in third place with a 93 and 71 record.

In November 1921 Borchert bought out William Parks share of the Brewers. In January 1922 Borchert bought out William Kinsella, and a number of smaller investors who had picked up stock. This move ended the internal feud that had continued within the club ownership. By 1926 Borchert owned the entire ball club and the park the club played in, Athletic Park at 8th and Chambers.

Borchert was rather flamboyant in appearance. He was usually seen walking about swinging a handsome cane, "which seem[ed] to become as famous as Charlie Chaplin's moustache," a derby, spats, diamonds glittering in a horseshoe tiepin, and smoking a cigar—with "ashes spread generously over his vest." While some writers called attention to his silk underwear and other sartorial niceties, he did not call them a habit. As a matter of fact, it appears he loved to buy new clothes, but not always wear them. In one interview with a Milwaukee Journal reporter the Brewer owner was wearing a tweed suit "that could have had the pressing iron without suffering and upon his head was a distinctly disreputable slouch hat." Borchert explained to the reporter: "Look at me. I have just bought six new suits from the best tailor in town and here I am with this on. I have also just bought six new hats—or was it seven—and give a look at this old thing. I am like a fireman. I get dressed in a hurry." Otto also loved the spotlight being a baseball owner put on him—most of all the photographers. It was said he was possibly the most photographed man in the American sport world at the time—doubtful as this could be, when we see how many pictures of Babe Ruth are around. Hung in his office were scores of pictures of himself, all autographed with "Otto Borchert, Pres."

Borchert was a life member of the Athletic Club and of the Midland Club of Chicago, as well as a member of the Elks Club, Eagles Club and the Y.M.C.A. He was also a 32nd degree Mason and belonged to the Association of Commerce.

Borchert had a reputation for being frugal. Some of this he brought upon himself. He once told a Milwaukee Journal reporter: "I can write a check of any size in a poker game, without stopping to think, but good Lord, how I hate to pass out a $10 bill." Borchert was indeed wealthy, his estate valued at $242,589.15 after his death. He owned a home in Milwaukee at 590 Hi-Mount Blvd. and a "palatial summer place" on Lake Nagawicka.

Otto did not know much about running a baseball club when he purchased the club, but had the good sense to hire Louis Nahin, who had worked for earlier Brewer owners, to run the business affairs of the club. In his first year the club netted a $46,000 profit. For the next seven years the Brewers averaged better than $100,000 a year in profit.

As owner of the Brewers, Borchert never attained great popularity with the fans. On Sundays and holidays, when the park was generally jammed, Borchert would walk from the right field scoreboard, where he would sun himself before games, to the infield. The crowd jeered, but Otto flashed his broadest smile, waved his walking stick and enjoyed every step as he walked to the stands. "What do I care if the fans boo me," he said philosophically. "It's their privilege. They've paid to get into my park."

Borchert's way of signing players was interesting. A few years after his death a report in the Milwaukee Journal explained how he went about contract negotiations. A week or two before the close of the season he would have the contracts ready for his players. He would tell the player "I've called you in to praise you for your great work this year. As a reward I'm going to give you a present. Take this check. It'll come in handy during the winter months. Next year if the club has a good season and we make a lot of dough, I'll remember you." A check for $200, $300 or even $500 was a lot of money in those days, and most players signed within five minutes.

But the real side of Borchert was mostly hidden from the public. Upon his death, Brewer business manager Louis M. Nahin said: "His greatest deeds, however, have never been made public. He refused to have the nice things he did revealed. It was not at all uncommon to have many persons call on him during the day and appeal for financial help, and in his own way he always lent a helping hand. 'Keep this secret—I don't want the press or anyone to know about this', he would say".

A story by Sam Levy in the Milwaukee Journal years after Borchert's death illustrated this. "The public never got to know Otto. He was gruff and growled at players when they asked for raises. I was in his office one day when the late Nat Stone of the Boston Store, who headed a committee, asked for funds for a worthy cause. 'Put me down for $5,000,' Borchert told Stone, 'but no publicity must be given.' Then he turned to this reporter and said: 'Remember, that goes for you, too—no publicity on my contribution.' 'Why?' I asked. 'Let the public know of what you've done. You receive enough bad publicity.' 'Never mind, I can take it.' countered Otto. 'And look--don't say a thing.'"

The Milwaukee Journal, on the day after his death, summed it up best:
Otto Borchert was a rough fellow, hard-boiled on the outside. But inside beat a heart warm with sympathy. Only his friends knew of his sterling qualities. "My father once told me, " he said, "Otto, if you can make five friends in your lifetime you will have done well." He not only made five, but 100—true, loyal friends, friends in all that the name implies. They will miss Otto, his keen wit, his sparkling repartee, his caprices, his loyalty. For Otto Borchert was a true friend. He was strong in his convictions, too strong possibly at times, but he had the courage of those convictions, and was willing to battle for them. A more diplomatic policy might have been better, but he drew a line and always tried to stay on it, regardless of what the general public did or thought. But the general public did not know the real Borchert, the fellow who would yell about a dime and in the next breath write a $1,000 check for some worthy charity or some friend in need. He seldom talked of those good deeds, but always made a noise about some minor expenditure that didn't amount to anything. This gave the public a false impression of Otto, poor Otto, who had befriended scores of down and outers, who went on dozens of worthless notes and always had a liberal purse for charity.
All through his ownership of the Brewers Borchert had a soft spot for children. It was told how hundreds of kids would follow him to Athletic Park, asking if he would let them in. He would shake his head, but finally grab some youngster and say: "Well, come on in, but this is the last time." Of course, the children knew better and the show would be repeated the next day.

As the owner of the Brewer baseball club Borchert was many times called lucky. In some ways he was, for example, in the seven years of his ownership it was reported he never had a Sunday game rained out—at home or on the road.

The papers reported he also had "The Borchert Luck" when it came to getting large amounts of cash for players. However, one would have to believe more than just plain luck went into many of his transactions. It was claimed he bought Fred Schulte for $1,500 and sold him to the St. Louis Browns for $75,000 to 100,000 in cash and ball players. Other sales included Jim Cooney to the St. Louis Cardinals for $22,000; Denny Gearin—whom Borchert bought for $750—sold to the Giants for $10,000; Glenn Myatt to Cleveland for $50,000; Oscar Mellilo to the St. Louis Browns for $26,000. The story told by Milwaukee Journal writer Sam Levy is a favorite. One day [around 1921] a lad with a tattered cap walked into his office and asked for [business manager Louis M.] Nahin. "I want to sign with the Brewers," said the visitor. Just then Borchert entered, listened and went into his private office. When the youngster left, he called to Nahin. "Who was that punk?" asked Otto. "Heretoafter when they come into my office, have them take off their caps." "That kid," prophesied Nahin, "will bring you a fortune in a year or two." "Who said so?" "Wait and see," suggested Nahin. In December 1923 the punk, Al Simmons, was sold to the Philadelphia Athletics for $40,000 and three players, plus a fourth player in May of the following year. In 1953 Al Simmons was inducted into baseball's Hall of Fame.

Borchert was one of the leaders in the American Association and well liked by his fellow owners. Later American Association President Thomas Hickey described Borchert's baseball personality:
"Those who did not know Otto called him selfish, but they did not know the true Otto. He was one of the strongest characters in the American Association and took the lead in all his business dealings. He had an excellent business head. In our councils he was always looking out for the interests of the league rather than his own club."
It was also Hickey who probably paid the Brewer owner the greatest compliment:
"His heart and soul were wrapped up in his favorite sport—baseball. He was more than an owner—a fan. I have yet to find another club president who would attend the games of his club and root like the fellow who pays his admission at the gate."
A little known footnote to Borchert Park at 8th and Chambers, is that a year or so before Borchert's death he had a chance to trade Athletic Park to the city for Garfield Park, at 3rd and Chambers [now Clinton Rose Park]. Borchert said: "Garfield Park would be an ideal site for a new ball park, but I'll not undertake such a venture because I'm afraid I won't live too long."

On the evening of April 27,1927—the day before the Brewers home opener—while finishing up an address to a large crowd at the Elks Club in downtown Milwaukee, which was also being broadcast on radio—Otto Borchert suffered a massive heart attack and fell back into his chair. After staggering to his feet he was taken into an anteroom, where he died five minutes later. His final words were fitting to the man: "I always made it a point to be loyal to my employers, and—give them the best I had".

Otto Borchert was buried in Milwaukee's Valhalla Cemetery.

The ball club was now run by Borchert's widow, with the help of Milwaukee lawyer (and former Boston Red Sox owner) Henry J. Killilea and Brewers business manager Louis Nahin. Killilea purchased the club from Mrs. Borchert in January 1928 for $280,000, reported to be the largest amount ever paid for a club in the American Association. (Mrs. Borchert kept control of the ballpark, purchasing it from Timm Realty for $90,000). Upon purchasing the club, Killilea changed the name of Athletic Park to Borchert Field in honor of Otto Borchert.

Friday, July 29, 2011

A Costly Error

Milwaukee baseball fans opened their paper on the morning of May 2, 1948 to find this review of a notable play from the previous day's game. The Brewers, to quote the Journal, got "drubbed" 10-1 by the first-place Indianapolis Indians.

Here's where it went wrong for the Brews on that sunny Saturday afternoon, preserved in newsprint:
MISS TWIN KILLING — The Brewers missed a chance to pull out of a hole in the seventh inning in their game with Indinapolis yesterday at Borchert Field. The bases were loaded when Cully Rikard hit a roller to "Ike" Ozark at first. The latter threw to Cacther (sic) Paul Burris in an effort to cut off Jack Cassini at the plate, but his toss was high and bounced out of Burris' glove, allowing Cassini to score. Rikard is shown running to first, Frank Kalin heading into second and Ted Beard about to round third. The Tribe finished with five runs in the inning.

Sentinel Photo by Frank Stanfield
Roadmap photos like this were the Sportscenter highlights of their era:

One bad toss to home can blow an entire game. Had Ozark not floated the ball to Burris, the Brewers could have turned two, and maybe Lefty Pyle would have gotten out of the inning.

Also interesting to Milwaukee baseball fans is a glimpse of future Brave Johnny Logan covering second.

Logan played five seasons with the Brews, 1948 through 1952 (spending part of each of those last two with the parent Boston Braves). He would finish his career with thirteen seasons in the National League and a World Championship ring on his finger.

On that day in May of 1948, however, Logan was a rookie just two weeks past his twenty-first birthday, trying to work his way up the farm system ladder, and probably considered himself lucky not to have been actually involved in this particular error.

Friday, July 22, 2011

Hudson-Bell at the Orchard

by Pete Ehrmann

Even baseball has its shady past (How 'bout them Black Sox!), but probably no sport has a history more replete with baleful underworld forces pulling strings behind the scenes and fixing results to suit their own crooked ends than professional boxing.

Gangsters and fixed fights are staples of ring lore and literature, and according to one expert on the subject on a very hot August night 64 years ago the corruption splattered the ring at Borchert Field.

On August 4, 1947, Cincinnati welterweight Tommy Bell, the Number One-ranked contender in the 147-pound division, stepped between the ropes in the orchard an 8-1 favorite to step back out of them 10 rounds or less later with his second victory in 11 months over Milwaukee's Cecil Hudson.

Cecil Hudson's leaping left jab was in Tommy Bell's face most of the 10 rounds in their boxing match at Borchert field Monday night. The picture shows Hudson (right) executing his specialty. This time, though, Bell got home a left jab, too. Both of Hudson's feet left the mat when he threw this punch.
—Journal Staff
When they'd met on September 27, 1946 at the Milwaukee Auditorium, Bell was awarded a razor-thin decision.

"The sooner the two can be rematched, the better," urged R.G. Lynch, sports editor of the Milwaukee Journal after what he called "the most savage 10-round battle" seen locally in years. "Bell had the punching power and in the end that was the difference. He caught up with Hudson in the 9th round and only a chunk of bone and gristle like Cecil could have stood up under such a beating. Hudson, however, had piled up such a lead that Bell's big round did no more than pull him up even, and when the bell sounded to start the last round they still had to settle it. The winner of the round would win the fight. Hudson seemed to know it and put up a grand finish, but Bell had the range and outpunched him."

Tommy Bell

Bell's very next fight was for the vacant welterweight championship of the world. In New York City's Madison Square Garden on December 20, he knocked down Sugar Ray Robinson in the third round, but at the end of 15 rounds the referee and two judges awarded their decision and the first of six world titles that Robinson, considered by most experts the greatest boxer ever, would win in his 24-year career.

Although he dropped the decision to Bell at the Auditorium (and in his next bout, on November 1, was stopped by Robinson in five rounds in Detroit), 1946 was a better than average year for Hudson. In his eighth year as a professional boxer, the native of San Jose, California had won 10 (including a decision on May 6 over Bell in New York City), lost five, and gained a new hometown. Hudson relocated to Milwaukee after beating local favorites Charley Parham and Jimmy Sherrer in Auditorium bouts.

Cecil Hudson

At the end of '46, both the Milwaukee Journal and Milwaukee Sentinel declared Hudson the city's "Fighter of the Year."

In his first fight of 1947, on March 14, Tommy Bell lost a unanimous 10-round decision to a boxer who would eventually become world's middleweight champion, a member of the International Boxing Hall of Fame, and the subject of what is arguably the best boxing movie ever turned out by Hollywood. Losing to "Raging Bull" Jake LaMotta, then the top-ranked fighter in the 160-pound division, didn't affect Bell's standing as a welterweight, and after two subsequent victories in the 147-pound class Bell went into the rubber match against Hudson at Borchert Field as the overwhelming favorite.

"(Bell) has the equipment to beat Hudson," wrote Sentinel boxing savant Ray Grody — "a short, but dynamite loaded right, a fine boxing style featured by a jolting left jab, and more than a touch of ring wisdom."

Bell had withstood the bombs of Jake LaMotta for 10 rounds, and according to Grody he had no worries on that score from Hudson, "a pushing, jabbing 'cutie' who can make the best look bad," but no KO puncher.

What's more, after winning his first four fights in 1947, an out-of-shape Hudson had taken a pasting in his last bout, losing a 10-round decision to Eddie O'Neil at the Auditorium on July 1.

On the eve of the fight at the orchard, Bell told Ray Grody that he was "determined to murder that guy Hudson this time."

"I'm ready to start fast right away and level for a knockout," Bell continued. "I now he's a cutie (and) I've been told he's in very good shape. But I have too much at stake to blow this fight."

It was the first boxing card at Borchert Field in two years, and 3,850 fans braved the fiercest heat wave in seven years (99 degrees at 3 p.m.) to attend. "The combination of heat and lights over the ring (made) it a great night for the bugs," wrote Lloyd Larson n the Sentinel the next day. "The little 'flyers' swarm(ed) all over the place."

Hudson did plenty of swarming himself, boxing as if he and not Bell was the top-ranked welterweight in the world. After 10 rounds, the decision for Hudson was unanimous.

"Bell was willing but not able," wrote R.G. Lynch in the Journal. "He threw plenty of punches in the early rounds but missed time and again. Finally, tired and discouraged, he decided it was too hot to chase butterflies and in the 5th, 6th and 7th rounds Hudson salted the victory away. Tommy found new life near the end and gave Hudson a thumping in the 10th round, but it was too late."

According to Lynch, Bell "seemed acutely aware of the fact that he looked very bad." Twice after the final bell when Hudson tried to shake his hand, Bell refused. In his next day column about the fight in the Sentinel, Lloyd Larson wrote: "…One can't help but wonder what caused Bell's poor showing. Surely he has a lot at stake in every bout if he still hopes to get another shot at Robinson… He won't get it by looking like a chump against any top-notcher, welterweight or middleweight."

(Bell probably couldn't get out of town fast enough. Along with everything else, two days before the fight when he and three friends went to hit golf balls at a driving range on N. 100th St. and W. Blue Mound Rd. in Wauwatosa, owner William Beveridge refused to let them. "I told them that I had no objection to them personally as Negroes," Beveridge told a reporter, "but that if I permitted them to use the range it would ruin my business.")

On September 3, Cecil Hudson pulled an even bigger rabbit out of a hat. At Comiskey Park in Chicago, he scored what was called "the greatest upset boxing has had in several years" by winning a 10-round decision over Jake LaMotta.

"His jolting left jab kept LaMotta off balance most of the time, and when the harassed New York Italian tore loose with desperate rallies in the 5th and 9th rounds, Hudson was ready with two-fisted punching in which he more than held his own," reported the Journal. "The agile Hudson again was the little man who wasn't there."

His successive upset victories over the Number One welterweight and middleweight challengers, respectively, were rewarded when it was announced that Hudson would fight Sugar Ray Robinson for the welterweight championship at Madison Square Garden on December 19.

But then in the September 25 edition of the New York Mirror, columnist Dan Parker, the country's most relentless and influential crusader against corruption in pro boxing, lobbed a grenade at the proposed title fight and the explosion was felt back in Milwaukee. Parker wrote that Hudson was an unsuitable challenger for Robinson's title and said Hudson been maneuvered into that position "principally because he is owned by Frankie Carbo, one of the sinister backstage figures in the boxing racket."

"The sudden resurrection of Hudson as a welterweight contender," wrote Parker, "traces back to two bouts which have all the earmarks of Carbo specials. In Milwaukee, when Cecil was an 8-1 underdog he won a decision over Tommy Bell, and in Chicago, where he was a 3-1 short-ender, he scored the season's biggest upset by beating Jake LaMotta."

Dan Parker

What Parker called a "Carbo special" meant the fix was in, that Hudson was a guaranteed winner before he even laid a glove on Bell and LaMotta.

The gutsy columnist was smack on target on two points: Frankie Carbo owned Hudson's contract, and he was as sinister as mobsters came in boxing or any other racket.

When it came to manipulating, fixing, extorting and otherwise throwing his weight around in boxing, Carbo's best days were still ahead; but in 1947 the man who would become known and feared as "Mister Gray" and the "underworld czar of boxing" already had a lengthy and fearsome criminal record.

Frankie Carbo, "the underworld czar of boxing"

A graduate of the infamous organized crime outfit known as "Murder, Inc.," Carbo committed his first homicide in 1928. "It is hard to know how many murders Carbo committed," wrote Jim Brady in his 2007 book Boxing Confidential: Power, Corruption and the Richest Prize in Sport, "but some said he was one of the 'top torpedoes' of the time. He was arrested a total of 17 times, five of them for murder."

Carbo muscled into the fight game in 1933, and by 1946 an FBI report noted that he was "said to manipulate odds by causing desired results in fights, and to cash in heavily on fixed fights."

By 1950, pro boxing would be Carbo's personal chessboard. From behind the scenes he controlled most of the eight world championships, determined what fighters fought for them, and usually had a stake in both corners. He and his henchmen ruled boxing by threat, violence and pay-off (the takers included some respected boxing writers), and it finally ended in 1959 when Carbo went to jail for a deuce after being convicted in New York of managing boxers without a license. Tried again in 1962 for separate misdeeds in boxing, he was sentenced to 25 years by Judge George Boldt, who said: "Never in his life has (Carbo) been associated with any useful activity. He has been a menace to humanity and a hardened and degenerate criminal."

So, was Dan Parker right in labeling the Cecil Hudson-Tommy Bell fight at Borchert Field and the subsequent Hudson-Jake LaMotta bout as phonies?

At the time, Milwaukee Journal sports editor R.G. Lynch doubted it. In his "I May Be Wrong" column printed the same day as Parker's bombshell in the New York Mirror, Lynch defended Hudson as a "tough, tricky fighter who might beat any man," and said, "it is not reasonable to believe that even Carbo would induce (Bell and LaMotta), or their managers, to lose deliberately and risk their title chances, their reputations and their careers — and all the potential earnings involved."

Lynch also scoffed when reports of another fix swirled in the New York press after LaMotta's four-round TKO defeat by Billy Fox at Madison Square Garden on November 14, 1947, in LaMotta's first fight after losing to Hudson.

"What is the matter with all of those big brains in New York?" Lynch wrote on November 18, referring to the skeptical Big Apple newshounds. "Don't they realize that if it had been a fix LaMotta would have taken the count on one punch without creating all of this fuss? And without taking a bad beating? But he did not."

Thirteen years later, though, LaMotta confessed to a U.S. Senate subcommittee investigating corruption in boxing that he had in fact taken a dive against Fox because the Carbo-led mob said it was the only way he would ever get to fight for the middleweight title. And in a 1962 magazine article titled "Honest Fighters Finish Last," LaMotta wrote that he had also "carried" Cecil Hudson in their 1947 bout on orders of the mob, but hadn't expected to lose the decision.

In the article, LaMotta said: "I was a thief. I threw a fight. I did two terms in jail and I'm lucky I wasn't a murderer. But those rats who ran boxing made me look like Little Lord Fauntleroy."

Jake finally became middleweight champion in 1949.

An ailing Frankie Carbo was released from prison in 1976 on "humanitarian" grounds, and died later that year.

Cecil Hudson's career did an abrupt 180 after the Bell fight at Borchert. Not only did he not fight Sugar Ray Robinson for the welterweight title in December of 1947 (thanks, at least in part, by the uproar ignited by Dan Parker), but he won only one of his next 13 bouts.

Tommy Bell did better than that, but he never got another title fight.

No official charges were ever brought against anyone connected with the Bell-Hudson match in the orchard, and the result stands in the record books as a win for Hudson.

But with underworld czar and infamous fight-fixer Frankie Carbo in his corner, it's more likely than not that among the bugs having a high old time there on August 4, 1947 were the slimy ones that infested boxing then.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Mantle in Milwaukee - 60 Years Ago

by Paul Heinz

Sixty years ago this July 16, on a warm, foggy evening, a small crowd of 3400 came to watch the Brewers host the Kansas City Blues, both teams tied for second place in the American Association league. Fans that night couldn’t have known they were about to witness a glimpse of future hall-of-fame greatness. It happened to be the first minor league appearance that season for a 19 year-old from Oklahoma who’d been wearing pinstripes just days before.

Mickey Mantle had struggled for the previous month as a New York Yankee, his average sinking to .260, and it was decided that he should regain his swing in Kansas City. When Yankee manager Casey Stengel told Mantle privately of the decision, Mantle cried.

Days later in Milwaukee, the fog was so thick, Mantle quipped, "I may need a mask out there tonight."

That evening, the switch-hitter batted lefthanded and went 1 for 4, his only hit a bunt single to the first-base side. Those in attendance got to witness Mantle at his blazing best: among the fastest to ever play the game (it's been said that Mantle ran from home to first in 3.1 seconds when batting from the left side).

The following evening, after word had spread that Mantle was in Milwaukee (both the Sentinel and the Journal had highlighted Mantle's appearance), the crowd swelled to over 10,000, and Mantle went 0-4. In fact, he played so poorly for the next couple of weeks, he considered quitting baseball altogether. Luckily for baseball, he didn’t. And luckily for the Brewers, by the time they faced the Blues again, Mantle was already back up in the majors, having hit .361 with 11 home runs and 50 RBIs during his six week stint in the minors. He was never to return.

And as fate would have it, he was just a month away from an injury that would rob him of his full potential.

That October, during game 2 of the '51 World Series against the Giants (who'd made it there after Bobby Thompson's "Shot Heard 'Round the World") Mantle caught his spikes in a drain in right field while trying to avoid a collision with Joe DiMaggio, on a ball hit by another celebrated rookie, Willie Mays. It was an amazing convergence of three of the game's best, a linkage of the past with the future. The play would also link Mantle's past with his future; he blew out his knee, and would never run the base paths again without pain.

Although Mantle's injury may have kept him from realizing his full potential, it didn't keep him from achieving greatness: he would go on to win three MVP awards and seven World Series titles.

As for Milwaukee, the Brewers and Borchert field gave way to the Braves and County Stadium in 1953, but Mantle would return to The Cream City again in 1955 as a Yankee All-Star, almost four years to the day of his appearance at Borchert Field. Mantle wasted no time getting the American League on the board, hitting a three run home-run in the first inning. In his next game in Milwaukee, he hit yet another home run, this time in game 3 of the ‘57 World Series, a 12-3 whooping for the Yankees over the Braves.

For those in attendance that fall day at County Stadium, perhaps a handful could remember seeing Mantle six years earlier, when he was a struggling ballplayer with lightning speed and limitless potential. A potential, it would appear, that was now fully realized.

1951 Kansas City Blues (Mickey Mantle is 2nd row, 3rd from right)



Paul Heinz is a musician and writer who's completed seven CDs of original songs, mostly in the rock/pop vein, and he's putting the finishing touches on pop CD for teenage singer, Maddy Meyer. He writes a weekly blog, his essays have aired on 89.7 WUWM in Milwaukee, he won the 2006 James Jones Short Story award, and he's on the hunt for an agent to represent one of his two completed novels. All of his music and essays can be found at www.paulheinz.com. Paul is currently playing keyboards for the fabulous rock and soul band, The Chi-Town Showstoppers. Go to www.chi-townshowstoppers.com for more information.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

The 1904 Milwaukee Brewers

Our Brews were looking pretty sharp in the 1904 season:

Milwaukee Public Library

Rex Hamann and Bob Koehler, in their excellent book The American Association Milwaukee Brewers, identify the players this way:
The 1904 Milwaukee Brewers. Under the leadership of Wisconsin-born Joe "Pongo Joe" Cantillon, the Brewers finished in third place with a record of 89-63 in 1904. From left to right: Team Captain Germany Schaeffer (ss), Cliff Curtis (p), Jack Slattery (c), Quarte Bateman (p/1b), Lou Manske (p), Tom "Sugar Boy" Dougherty (p/of), Elmer "Spitball" Stricklett (p), Art Pennell (of), Kid Speer (of) and Harry "Pep" Clark (3b). Team mascot "Little Hans" is seated.
Pongo Joe led the Brewers to a second-place finish in 1906, and was hired away from Athletic Park to run the Washington Nationals.

I love these jerseys, with the elegant arched "Milwaukee" script.

White jerseys with a blue wordmark and collar. Through a couple shades and three teams in as many leagues, blue has been Milwaukee's baseball color since at least the beginning of the 20th Century.

It's my understanding that these uniforms were worn in 1903 and 1904. The Brewers wore block letters in their first year, and moved back to them in 1905. Shame, this would have been a gorgeous and iconic look for the Brewers to establish during their years in the Cream City.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

By George (Blaeholder)!


This handsome fellow, looking for all the world like a silent movie star, is George Blaeholder.

Blaeholder, a right-handed hurler, came up with the St. Louis Browns organization, and played most of his major league career in Sportsman's Park before finishing with brief stays with the Philadelphia Athletics and Cleveland Indians. Along the way, he pitched well for some very bad teams, resulting in a single winning season in his eleven big-league seasons.

He is generally credited with inventing the slider, or at least popularizing it. A 1936 Baseball Magazine article had this to say about his singular "fast ball" delivery:
Blaeholder's strong point is his fast ball. He generally throws this with a side-arm motion which gives the ball a curious sweep to one side as it crosses the plate. Disconcerted batters have christened it the "slide ball." Evidently this deceptive sweep is due to some peculiarity in holding and throwing the ball. But Blaeholder takes no special credit.

"It's just my natural style," he says ...
It was from Cleveland that the Brewers acquired him in December of 1936. He came to the Brews as a veteran presence in the starting rotation. The Brewers were coming off an Association pennant.

Blaeholder pitched for the Brewers for six years, beginning in the starting lineup and moving into a relief role. Those six years saw some very mediocre Brewer teams take the field at the Orchard.

Blaeholder took his share of the lumps for that mediocrity. On September 20, 1940, the Milwaukee Journal reported an unusual interaction between George and the Brewer brass:
One of the finest fellows ever to wear an "M" on a baseball uniform is George Blaeholder, the California sphinx. When George called at the Brewer office a few days ago for his final pay check of the year, he apologized for "my poor record." Big George is just a modest old-timer. He owers nobody an apology for his fine work this year.

Every manager and every rival player in the league will tell you that Blaeholder with a top flight club would have breezed to 18 or 20 victories. With the stumbling Brewers he won 10 and lost 10. Several of his defeats were by one run margins. Better clubs would have avoided such reverses.

"Let George do it" has been on old Brewer battle cry. In the four or five years he has pitched for Milwaukee, we have heard the silent Californian explode just once. On the second eastern trip this year, after errors had whipped him 3-2, he barged into the clubhouse and growled

"If you fellows would bear down just a little more, an old man like myself would win occasionally."
Alas, it was not to be. After six years in Milwaukee, with no return to the majors in store, Blaeholder retired to his home in California. Sadly for Old George, that was the spring of 1943, the year the Brewers finally put together a run and brought the flag back to the Cream City. His Brewer career was bookended by the pennants he couldn't win.

Four years later, at the age of 43, George Blaeholder died after what was described as "a lingering illness." Today he is most known for his slider.

I love the depth of field in this photograph; his eyes and cap stand out, with the soft folds of his white flannel falling away into the background. Team photos rarely exhibit this level of artistry, opting instead for the mugshot approach.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Al's Pep Talk

Readers of the Milwaukee Journal opened their paper on the evening of Tuesday, March 15, 1938 to find this wonderful photo dispatch from the Brews' spring training site:

Pep Talk by Manager Sothoron Opens Brewer Training Season

MANAGER ALLAN SOTHORON gathers the pitchers and catchers who have assembled at the Brewer training camp at Hot Springs, Ark., about him for a little pep talk in this first picture of the 1938 model Milwaukee baseball team.
This is a rare look at the back of the players' jerseys. Most of our best looks are posed team photos, leaving the numbers largely unseen.

They're a nice, clear block, but the spacing looks a little odd. Look at all that extra flannel between the two-digit numbers, especially the "1" and "9".