KofC Baseball: Second Base
Over There, Over There
The 1917 season was set to open on April 11. The prior year, roughly 6.5 million fans attended at least one game, with an average of 5,215 per game. Those numbers fall short when compared to today, but the national pastime was aimed only to continue growing and further entrenching itself in the American consciousness
However, days before opening day, the U.S. government declared war on the Central Powers due to “repeated acts of war against the people of the United States of America” by the German Empire.
More than 4 million citizens would eventually serve in the American Expeditionary Forces (AEF), and more than 200 of those consisted of major league personnel such as Branch Rickey, Ty Cobb, George Sisler, Grover Cleveland Alexander and Knights of Columbus members Urban “Red” Faber and Harry Heilmann. At least eight players lost their lives in service to the war effort. Some, like Hall of Fame pitcher Christy Mathewson, died shortly after the war due to exposure from poisonous gas.
Everybody Welcome, Everything Free
The Knights of Columbus Committee on War Activities mobilized to assist in war relief efforts, funding recreational centers, called huts, for soldiers at home and abroad. The huts provided temporal and spiritual needs known for their slogan “Everybody Welcome, Everything Free.”
As part of the operations, the Order sent hundreds of clergy and K of C secretaries, endearingly referred to as “Caseys” due to their uniforms affixed with a “KC” insignia, to assist with the morale of Allied troops. However, there was one creature comfort and reminder of home regularly requested by chaplains, Caseys and soldiers: baseball.
As one K of C chaplain wrote to the Order — dated May 15, 1918 — “I should like to get a little baseball material, were it possible — baseball gloves, indoor balls, bats, etc. I don’t know whether you can secure these in Paris or not.” The Knights of Columbus obliged many requests similar to this one, sending thousands of balls and enough baseball equipment.
The Trojan
The Knights soon “realized the necessity of sending a man to France who had played the game and knew how to teach it,” read a comment in The New York Times, Aug. 28, 1919. “That man was Johnny Evers.”
Evers was in the twilight of his major league career by the time the United States entered the war. The man from Troy, N.Y., had made a name for himself as a defensive prowess and reliable hitter for the Chicago Cubs and Boston “Miracle” Braves, helping the clubs win titles in 1907, 1908 and 1914. Yet, by the 1918 season he was a man without a team.
As he searched for a team, the member of Troy Council 176 asked the Order to send him overseas as an athletic director, to which the Order accepted.
The future Hall of Famer arrived in Paris, Sept. 15, 1918, and quickly got to work, visiting hospitals where most of the patients wanted to talk about home and baseball. When Evers wasn’t visiting wounded troops, he arranged and umpired games between units. He even taught the game to French soldiers, including General Paul Vidal. As Evers later wrote for Baseball Magazine in March 1919: “I shall never have any other experiences as interesting as my work in France when I undertook to teach the poilus (unshaven) how to play baseball.”
Evers even journeyed to the frontlines as part of his duties. In one Columbiad article from November 1918, “Evers Under Fire,” the former Cubs second baseman distributed “welcome cigarettes” to troops “during all the time he was so engaged” and avoiding German gunfire.
Other Caseys at the Bat
A number of other major leaguers and Knights volunteered to serve as Caseys overseas headlined by “Scranton” Bill Coughlin of the Detroit Tigers and Jack Hendricks, manager of the St. Louis Cardinals. Hall of Famer Hughie Jennings was slated to serve as a Casey, but the war ended before he shipped off.
After the war, other ball players continued as Caseys to assist the remaining American troops in France and occupied Germany. The group included Tommy Dowd; Jack “Shad” Barry, Pete Noonan and Bill Friel, as well as American League umpire Jack Kerin.
According to Jim Leeke’s Columbia article “Caseys at the Bat,” Dowd reached Europe Jan. 11, 1919, becoming director of baseball for the Army of Occupation. Meanwhile, Barry arrived after a year in charge of K of C athletics at Camp Kearny, Calif. He and other Caseys supported the Inter-Allied Games in Paris the summer of 1919. Meanwhile, Noonan reportedly developed a strong ball team in Esch, Luxembourg.
Five Thousand Games a Day
Much like in the American Civil War, baseball proved to be a popular distraction from the horrors of war. According to a 1919 Columbiad blurb, nearly five thousand games of baseball were played daily with “outfits supplied them by the Knights.” It continued stating, “Knights of Columbus secretaries report that baseball is played by the doughboys from morning till night at every camp, and they are encouraged to play by their officers, who find that the sport takes their minds off the subject of coming home — at least temporarily.”
The Knights of Columbus provided thousands of baseballs, bats, uniforms and other athletic equipment that cost at least $50,000 — or more than $1 million today — throughout World War I. Even after the war’s conclusion, the Order sent baseball supplies to soldiers stationed around the world including in Haiti and Panama.
The game began to take a foothold, albeit a small step, for the first time outside of North America due to the popularity of Evers and other Caseys. However, as baseball made headways in Europe, the national pastime nearly died in America.
The Old Roman
In 1901, Charles A. Comiskey, or “The Old Roman” as he was later called, built an American League (AL) team in his hometown of Chicago and named them the White Sox. That same year, the White Sox won the AL pennant and did so again in 1906, during which his club defeated the Chicago Cubs 4-2 in the World Series.
By 1910, Comiskey invested $750,000 to construct Comiskey Park — the home of the White Sox for the next 80 years. Additionally, he had a reputation of being a compassionate owner toward his team’s fans, handing out 75,000 grandstand tickets to schoolboys each season. He was once quoted, saying, “Those bleacherites made this big new plant possible. …The fellow who can pay only twenty-five cents to see a ball game always will be just as welcome at Comiskey Park as the box seat holder.” According to a 1916 Columbiad, Comiskey was also a member of the Knights of Columbus.
While Comiskey presented himself as a benevolent team owner to the public, his players saw him as a tightfisted, cheap owner — so cheap in fact that he refused to pay for the team’s uniforms to be cleaned. In 1918, the players referred to themselves as the “Black Sox” after wearing their dirty uniforms in protest, according to Baseball: An Illustrated History. Despite the limited pay, the White Sox were a competitive team, even winning the 1917 World Series. But their next World Series appearance in 1919 against the Cincinnati Reds would be more costly.
The 1919 World Series
The White Sox entered the World Series with an 88-52 record, the second-best in the majors, behind the Reds; however, the team was seen as the favorites to win, behind the pitching of Eddie Cicotte and Lefty Williams and the bats of Buck Weaver and “Shoeless” Joe Jackson. Even at the time, rumors swirled that a fix was in — that players were taking bribes from gamblers to throw games in exchange for a percentage of the winnings.
Allegedly, eight players of Comiskey’s White Sox took bribes from crime boss Arnold Rothstein to throw games including Cicotte, Williams, Weaver and Jackson — although Jackson had a tremendous series, with 12 hits, 6 RBIs and 5 runs, the most of any player on the team. Even Weaver had a decent series. The other conspirators were Arnold Gandil, Oscar Felsch, Fred McMullin and Charles Risberg.
John “Shano” Collins
John “Shano” Collins didn’t have a remarkable series. He scored twice and batted .250, with four hits in 16 at-bats. But Collins had his suspicions that a fix was in. As he told the Cleveland Plain Dealer, “Some of them not only didn’t try, but really acted as though they didn’t want to win.” (Sept. 29, 1920). He later stated in the Boston Post, “We fought a losing battle all this year. We had a fine team and we seldom were defeated by any wide margin. We had the strength to stay up there to win if everything had been right, and yet at the critical moment something would always happen.”
When the first indictments came down against the eight players in March 1921, Collins was denoted as the wronged party in the scandal. The indictment said the “Black Sox” conspired “knowingly, willfully, corruptly, feloniously, wickedly, fraudulently and wrongfully” to cheat Collins of $1,784 for throwing the 1919 World Series.
Collins’ accusation was one of the factors that led to The People of Illinois v Edward Cicotte, et al — the Black Sox trial.
Not a Ballgame, But a Con game
The “Black Sox Scandal” rocked American culture. In the summation for the prosecution during the Black Sox trial, state attorney George Gorman put it bluntly: “The public ‘went to see a ballgame.’ But all they saw was a con game!”
Faber and Murphy, like Collins, also spoke out against the eight “Black Sox” players accused of throwing games. Faber complained the fix extended well into the 1920 season, stating the eight were in gamblers’ pockets “all through the 1920 season, too, throwing ball games right up to the last week of the pennant.” Murphy once said, “We knew something was wrong for a long time, but we felt we had to keep silent because we were fighting for a pennant. We went along and gritted our teeth and played ball. It was tough.”
However, rumors swirled that there were Knights of Columbus members who were one of the eight players. In response, Columbia magazine printed several rebuttals squashing those accusations. The Order further distanced themselves from the unfounded rumors with a blurb titled “No Black Sox Here,” calling the misinformation a “canard.”
Eight Men Out
The trial began in July and ended in August 1921. After all the testimonies, the jury deliberated for nearly three hours and, with one ballot, acquitted the eight players. However, Judge Landis permanently banned them from the game the next day. The harsh ruling helped salvage the game’s image.
With his reputation hurt by the scandal, Comiskey, for his part, did pay “Clean Sox” players the “difference between the winning and losing players’ share” as if they had won the World Series. Comiskey continued as team owner until his death on Oct. 26, 1931. He was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1939 as an executive; but the franchise would have an 88-year World Series drought until they won in 2005.
While Comiskey’s tight purse strings motivated “Black Sox” players to collude with gamblers, Collins’ motivation to act on suspicion helped, in part, lead to a cleansing of the game and aired its corruptible underbelly, that ultimately saved the reputation of the national pastime.
But no man is greater credited to saving and growing baseball more than Knight of Columbus, Babe Ruth.
The Great Bambino
The Sultan of Swat. The King of Crash. The Colossus of Clout. George Herman “Babe” Ruth transcended the confines of the baseball diamond, instead becoming an American and worldwide icon.
His large, pudgy face and wild smile was plastered on countless newspapers, magazines, advertisements and movie screens. And no one in baseball has been more written about and dissected ever since he stepped off the mound and into the batter’s box.
He was also a Knight of Columbus — one of the more notable members in the Order’s storied history that includes U.S. President John F. Kennedy, NFL coach Vince Lombardi, and heavyweight boxing champion Floyd Patterson. See more in the book The Knights of Columbus: An Illustrated History.
As Henry Farrell suggested in his 1922 Columbia article “On the Three-Sacked Arena,” “As long as baseball lasts the name of Babe Ruth will be held up as one of the greatest players of all players.” It should be noted, Ruth walloped 59 home runs in the 1921 season, a record he would eclipse several years later with 60 in 1927.
An Incorrigible Kid
Before the Babe wowed baseball fans and ushered in a new era of the game, he was born with the name George Herman Ruth on Feb. 6, 1895, in Baltimore, Md.
Ruth believed he had a rotten start in life. The conditions of his upbringing were harsh. “Looking back to my youth, I honestly don’t think I knew the difference between right and wrong,” he wrote in Guideposts. “I spent much of my early boyhood living over my father’s saloon, in Baltimore — and when I wasn’t living over it, I was in it, soaking up the atmosphere. I hardly knew my parents.”
He was a delinquent — roaming the streets, skipping school and drinking alcohol at a young age. At the age of 7, Ruth was admitted as “incorrigible” to the St. Mary’s Industrial School for Boys, a reformatory and orphanage run by the Xaverian Brothers. His father and mother could no longer discipline their son.
“It was a reform school — and that’s all there is to it,” Ruth stated in 1926. “But it wasn’t a place boys were sent for punishment. They were sent there for training. The brothers did everything in their power to bring out all the good there was in a boy and give him a chance.”
Brother Matthias
Ruth resented most authority figures during his youth. But the one figure he admired for his athleticism and religious piety was Brother Matthias, a 6-foot-6-inch, 250-pound man, who worked at St. Mary’s Industrial School.
Brother Matthias introduced Ruth to baseball and trained him in the game, recognizing a natural talent in the boy. Ruth recalled in Guideposts, “He used to back me in a corner of the big yard at St. Mary’s and bunt a ball to me by the hour, correcting the mistakes I made with my hands and feet.”
The Hall of Famer added: “Thanks to Brother Matthias, I was able to leave St. Mary’s in 1914 and begin my professional career with the famous Baltimore Orioles.”
At the same time, Brother Matthias’ faith also left a lasting impression on Ruth, who recalled, “He could have been successful at anything he wanted to in life — and he chose the Church.”
Babe Ruth Day, 1919
Toward the beginning of his career, Ruth joined Pere Marquette Council 271 in South Boston while playing for the Red Sox in 1919. And though he struggled to practice his faith in the decades that followed, Ruth often collaborated with the Knights of Columbus in charity events and barnstorming tours in the offseason.
The Knights of Columbus recognized the Babe’s talent and his popularity from early on his membership in the Order, sponsoring “Babe Ruth Day” on Sept. 20, 1919, at Fenway Park in his honor. Although the Bostonians didn’t realize it, the day would be the final time Ruth played a home game at Fenway Park in a Red Sox uniform, sparking the “Curse of the Bambino” — a World Series drought that lasted until 2004.
According to the Boston Daily Globe, the council met on Sept. 9 to “perfect arrangements” for the occasion making “every effort” to get “every member interested in the testimonial to the king of sluggers.”
That year, Ruth was on his way to becoming the king of sluggers. By late September, he was on pace to tie the single-season home-run record, which then was 27, held by Chicago White Stockings’ Ned Williamson since 1884.
In game one of a double-header, Ruth started as pitcher as he did 15 times that season. But during the game, he gave up three runs for a 3-3 tie going into the 9th inning. But when he approached the plate as a hitter in the bottom of the 9th, with the game on the line, Ruth did what he did best that season: he hit a home run.
It was a solo, walk-off blast — the first of his career — and tied the single-season home-run record.
The role of the Knights in the game culminated during a ceremony in-between game one and two, when Pere Marquette Council’s Grand Knight Arthur Leary presented Ruth and his wife with $600 worth in U.S. Treasury savings certificates.
The presentation, and “Babe Ruth Day,” is one of the earliest examples of the Order honoring Ruth. There was more to come — several of which occurred in 1921.
“It Would Soon be Rebuilt”
In 1921, Cardinal James Gibbons of Baltimore called on the Order to restore St. Mary’s Industrial School, which had been destroyed by a fire. The Knights recognized that the home of Babe Ruth, and its restoration, as one of “national importance,” according to Columbiad. As part of a fundraising campaign, the Order published blurbs in Columbiad — prior to its transition to Columbia — referring to Ruth’s statistics. For example: “Babe Ruth’s Batting Average. How many will equal it in dollars? 385.”
The Order also conceived of a fundraising gimmick for the Supreme Convention in San Francisco, since Ruth wouldn’t be able to attend due to a scheduling conflict (he would be “puncturing the right-field fence at the Polo Grounds,” according to Columbiad). The Babe would “hit” a ball — “specifically constructed, to contain in its center the brief speech, written in Ruth’s handwriting” — from St. Mary’s grounds that then would be relayed across the country by more than 150,000 men and boys to carry out the “longest hit in creation.”
However, it is not noted in Columbiad or Columbia whether the gimmick ever occurred, but Ruth, for his part, took the St. Mary’s band to major league ballparks to raise money.
Bustin’ Babe Goes Barnstorming
Ruth’s most consistent collaboration with his brother Knights came after the major league season ended, conducting barnstorming tours across the United States and even into Canada.
At the time, no major league teams existed past the Mississippi River. If baseball fans couldn’t get to St. Louis, Chicago or farther east to see a game, the best option was to hope the Bambino came to town. With the help of local K of C councils and his agent Christy Walsh (who was also a Knight), Ruth did just that.
When Ruth arrived in town, local council officers were often on hand to greet him and, one some occasions, presented him with K of C-branded flower wreaths. And a steady lineup of Knights of Columbus luncheons and dinners helped keep the “Colossus of Clout” colossal.
K of C councils would sponsor exhibition games Ruth played in — for his team the “Bustin’ Babes” — as charitable opportunities. For instance, Knights underwrote a game in Los Angeles on Oct. 27, 1924, raising money for their charitable fund. On Oct. 22, 1927, an exhibition game in Stockton, Calif, benefited a K of C Christmas charity fund, which didn’t start until 3:30 p.m. as “will permit all youngsters who wish to see the game to reach the ball park after school.”
Tour of Japan
In 1934, Ruth was the front-and-center of a team of AL stars, managed by Connie Mack (a Knight of Columbus), for a 12-city, 22-game tour in Japan.
Although baseball had been introduced to the country in the 1870s and other tours were previously held, this tour was different simply because of Ruth’s presence. Hundreds of thousands of people lined the streets and filed into ballparks to watch him play.
For one outing, media mogul Matsutarō Shōriki constructed a team of Japanese all-stars that fared decently against Ruth and the AL team. This event convinced Shōriki to keep the team together and establish Japan’s first professional team — the Great Tokyo, which later became the Yomiuri Tokyo Giants. By 1936, the first Japanese professional league formed. This solidification of Japan as a hotbed for baseball is rooted as an effect of this notable tour.
Ruth would retire a year after the tour in 1935 with otherworldly career statistics — 714 home runs; a WAR (wins above replacement) of 183.1 which is the best all-time; and records in slugging percentage and OPS (on-base and slugging percentage). Farrell’s words from that 1922 Columbia article proved prophetic. Even today, Ruth is regarded as not only one of, but the greatest ballplayer of all time.
“I Made a Full Confession”
Ruth received a devastating diagnosis of nasopharyngeal cancer in 1946. In December of that year, he was in the hospital about to undergo an operation when his friend Paul Carey asked him, “Don’t you think you ought to put your house in order?”
Ruth knew what his friend meant. As he recalled, “For the first time, I realized that death might strike me out. I nodded, and Paul got up, called in a chaplain, and I made a full confession.”
Afterward, Ruth experienced a “comforting feeling to be free from fear and worries,” adding, “I now could simply turn them over to God.” Right before the surgery, his second wife, Claire Hodgson — whom Ruth married after Helen Woodford’s death — gave him a letter from a boy in Jersey City, which read:
Dear Babe. Everybody in the seventh-grade class is pulling and praying for you. I am enclosing a medal which if you wear will make you better. Your pal — Mike Quinlan. P.S. I know this will be your 61st homer. You’ll hit it.
Ruth pinned the Miraculous Medal, also known as the Medal of Our Lady of Grace, on his pajamas before the surgery and vowed to wear it until his death.
Commitment to the faith and the Church’s teachings were struggles for Ruth throughout his life before making that full confession. However, the religious education he received as a boy allowed him to realize that in all of us is a “solid little chapel.”
“It may get dusty from neglect, but the time will come when the door will be opened with much relief,” he wrote in Guideposts.
The Babe eventually died from cancer on Aug. 16, 1948, nearly two years after the surgery. As the baseball world grieved for their fallen hero, Henry Turner wrote a poem in memoriam titled “The 61st Homer.” Ruth, he wrote, “said his Prayers and went to sleep.”
Ruth’s return to the faith gives us all hope that God never abandons us, even if at times we may abandon him. As the Bambino affirmed at the end of his life, “God was Boss” through it all.
The Iron Horse & Wally Pipp
More so than any other sport, baseball has a mythology, constructed from legends and other folk tales that have ingratiated themselves into the American public consciousness. Some legends have a modicum of truth, others not so much, but one legend continues to serve as a reminder to ballplayers that tomorrow is never guaranteed: did Wally Pipp, a Knight of Columbus, lose his position at first base to Lou Gehrig due to a headache?
According to legend, Pipp had a headache and approached a trainer for two aspirins. Manager Miller Huggins saw the scene and reportedly said, “Wally, take the day off. We’ll try that kid Gehrig at first today and get you back in there tomorrow.”
Pipp sat out and watched Gehrig get three hits in five attempts. This start was the beginning of Gehrig’s record-setting 2,130 consecutive games streak. For Pipp, it was the end of his time with the Yankees. The next season, Pipp was sent to the Cincinnati Reds and from 1926 to 1928, he played decently, but nowhere near the numbers his replacement was generating.
The former star reportedly that he “took the two most expensive aspirin in history.” The New York Times later claimed that Pipp’s headache was due to being beaned by pitcher Charlie Caldwell during a batting practice. However, that event took place on July 2, a month after Gehrig replaced Pipp. Whatever the case, the fact is Pipp’s sitting out is still a forewarning to players that your position is never guaranteed.
The Dog Mascot
Jack Graney would become the first major league player to transition from the ballfield to the radio broadcasting booth, a feat he was recently recognized for when the National Baseball Hall of Fame posthumously awarded him the 2022 Ford C. Frick Award. He played primarily for the Cleveland Naps and Indians between 1908-1922 with decent statistics, and was the very first batter Babe Ruth faced as a pitcher July 11, 1914. Graney bested Ruth by notching a single.
The future inductee of the Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame was also a member of the Knights of Columbus.
Yet, one of the more endearing aspects of Graney’s career was due to his partnership with the four-legged, bull terrier, Larry. In 1912, Naps trainer Doc White brought the dog to spring training and the team immediately adopted him as their official mascot. That season, Graney injured his shoulder and spent the rest of the season on the bench, bonding with Larry even so far as taking the dog home to teach him tricks that would eventually entertain the crowds.
According to mlb.com, Larry would track down foul balls, leap-frog over players and even steal straw hats from fans. In one famous incident, after being sent home to St. Thomas, Ontario for a rest, the dog — by himself — traveled from St. Thomas and took an overnight lake steamer to Port Stanley, got on a streetcar and made his way to Graney’s parent’s home.
Larry was beloved by all the teams; but unfortunately, on July 17, Larry became lost in Cleveland for two days and, in that time, contracted distemper. Sadly, Graney’s canine friend had to be put down. Cleveland has never had another dog mascot since.
KOFC AND BASEBALL: AN AMERICAN STORY
Join us in this four-part series about the unique, untold Catholic American story of how the Knights of Columbus as an organization and individual Knights - including some of baseball's mightiest heroes - stepped up to the plate to produce many memorable moments and shape America's pastime for the better.