No Money, No Beer, No Pennants. Scott H. Longert

      Chapter 4

       TROUBLE AHEAD

      The new year in Cleveland was like most new years of the past: loads of snow and temperatures falling below twenty degrees, although it was plenty warm inside the offices at League Park. The office staff of the Cleveland Indians had much to do, including the mailing of the 1929 player contracts. Most would be returned with signatures on them, a few would not. Holdouts in baseball were quite common, dating back to the National League of the 1890s. Players knew they were in for a difficult fight with management if they refused to sign. The guys that held out had few alternatives. The reserve clause kept them property of their club year after year, so owners simply had to reserve rights to each player on their roster on a yearly basis. The owners held all the cards and the players had a simple choice: sign, or don’t play at all. Those who were in the superstar category—a Babe Ruth or a Rogers Hornsby—had some leverage to squeeze a few more dollars by holding out. The average Major Leaguer had little clout, with no agents or players union to assist them in negotiating. The great majority of disputes ended at the start of spring training, when an unhappy ballplayer would reluctantly sign and report to camp. Most had to play baseball to support their families and pay the mortgage. Other than Ty Cobb, who made a fortune in the stock market, there were few independently wealthy ballplayers.

      A good example of an unhappy player was Cleveland pitcher Joe Shaute. He sent back his 1929 contract despite getting a raise. A year earlier, Shaute had an incentive-based contract. Any wins he registered above thirteen meant an additional $400 for each victory. Shaute argued that, by the time he got win number thirteen, the Indians had thrown in the towel for the season. Roger Peckinpaugh was playing rookies and minor-leaguers to see who, if anybody, might provide more help next year. Shaute did not win any further games in 1928 and blamed the makeshift lineups as the reason. He had expected to win several more games and cash in on his incentives. He wanted the Indians to make up for the situation by raising him another thousand or two. That would not happen, and Shaute gave up the fight in early March and reported to spring training. He simply had no other action to pursue.

      Alva Bradley had developed a progressive approach in contract disputes. If a player refused to sign, Bradley would take the necessary time to study the previous year’s stats and contributions of the holdout. This meant both on the field and off. If the player was a good citizen and had made positive contributions at the ballpark, a raise would be offered. As part of this policy, the Cleveland owner made it utterly clear that there would be no more negotiating: the new contract was final. Billy Evans claimed that the majority of players who quickly signed their contract, indeed got a raise from Bradley. The owner was, in any case, decidedly more generous than his counterparts in the American League. As a result, the Cleveland players understood his policy and thought twice before staying home.

      In addition to handing out raises, the Cleveland front office had paid out a huge amount on new players. Gordon Cobbledick wrote in his column that the team had spent major dollars: “When Bradley and his associates took over the Cleveland club last winter he said he would spend money and he has spent plenty. A considerable estimate would place the Indians’ expenditures for new players in the past year at a quarter million dollars.” A chunk of that money went for Earl Averill and Dick Porter, but the team signed a total of twenty new ballplayers for the 1929 season. Cobbledick claimed his sources revealed that Cleveland had spent $20,000 for Jimmy Zinn, who was a gamble at best. The Johnny Miljus debacle of the previous season had cost $17,000. Prospects from college and minor-league rosters made up the remaining costs. If that was not enough, the Indians’ agreement with Terre Haute called for them to make up any of the farm club’s deficits, which in 1928 amounted to $14,000. By all accounts, Alva Bradley had truly made a serious commitment toward building a winning baseball team.

      In February, Billy Evans announced that his team would remain in New Orleans for the duration of spring training. After consulting with manager Peckinpaugh, it was decided the team would be in better shape by not doing any traveling until the regular season. The Indians had only six exhibition games scheduled, two each against Cincinnati, Brooklyn, and the New York Giants. A handful of games were also arranged with the New Orleans Pelicans. Any other contests would be intra-squad. Evans thought the train rides and traveling in general were tiring for his ballplayers and he wanted them at peak condition by the season opener on April 16. Some of the ball clubs trained out west in Arizona and California. The temperatures were great, but Evans believed the thousands of miles of travel negated the positive effects of ninety-degree weather. Sportswriters and fans alike were curious to see if Evans’s innovative theory would pan out in the campaign ahead.

      A day before the journey to New Orleans, Evans orchestrated another major deal. He sent third-string catcher Chick Autry—and cash—to the Chicago White Sox for left fielder August “Bibb” Falk. The trade surprised the baseball world, as Falk had been a star in Chicago since the 1920 season. He was a bona fide .300 hitter with a high of .352 in 1924. Falk was now part of a talented outfield that included Charlie Jamieson, Earl Averill, and Dick Porter. These players had a real chance to surpass the great Cleveland outfield of 1920 consisting of Tris Speaker, Elmer Smith, Joe Wood, and the now-veteran Jamieson.

      Bibb Falk was born in Austin, Texas, on July 5, 1899. As a young man he carried bats for several Texas minor-league clubs. In 1917 he enrolled in the University of Texas, where he played tackle on the football team and pitched and played outfield for the baseball squad. He was all–Southwest Conference in football and batted over .400 in baseball. The White Sox signed him in July 1920 and brought him directly to Chicago. He sat on the bench for two months but became the regular left fielder when Joe Jackson was suspended for his part in the Black Sox scandal. Falk soon developed into a .300 hitter for the Sox with banner seasons in 1924 and 1926. In the latter year he batted .345 with eight home runs and 108 RBIs. Falk had some bad moments in 1928 and started telling anybody who would listen that he wanted out of Chicago. Billy Evans had attempted to acquire Falk after the 1927 season, and a year later the White Sox were listening. Evans offered $20,000 and catcher Autry. Faced with a likely holdout, Chicago agreed to the trade, giving the Indians a terrific outfield. The Indians were no longer a bottom feeder in the American League.

      With an active off-season concluded, the Indians boarded a train on the Nickel Plate Railroad bound for New Orleans. For the first time in many seasons there was a degree of optimism among the players. Catcher Luke Sewell told reporters, “If I could choose from the sixteen clubs of both major leagues, I’d want to play with the Indians. They are going somewhere.” They were certainly headed to New Orleans, but Sewell believed his club had a chance to move up in the American League standings. It would be a monumental feat to pass the Yankees or the Athletics, but a higher place in the standings was possible.

      The early days in Louisiana were drenched with rain and Heinemann Park turned into a lagoon. The team stayed off the field and started in on calisthenics. One day, the boys got a heavy medicine ball and began heaving it at one another, and Luke Sewell fired the ball at the stomach of Joe Shaute. On impact, the oversized ball exploded, showering everybody with the stuffing. That ended the calisthenics for the afternoon.

      The new players in camp slowly got acquainted with their teammates. They were a diverse bunch from all parts of the United States. Ballplayers of the 1920s were more educated than their counterparts from previous eras. Each season, more and more players were coming from the college ranks instead of working their way up in the minor leagues. There were fewer stories of country boys who had never seen