for the first year. He wanted Bradley and the other Indians owners to pay for the bulk of it with additional money coming from football games and world-class boxing events. Hopkins explained to the Cleveland Plain Dealer, “When we go to the people for a bond issue we want to be able to say this won’t cost you a cent. We want to know in advance that the income from the stadium will pay the carrying charges on the bonds.”
It is likely the opening of the Terminal Tower gave the city politicians plenty of optimism about a new project. If that massive structure could be built, why not a new stadium? Civic pride was taking hold in Cleveland. It stood to reason that the time was now to take on another large-scale project. Perhaps the momentum had indeed swung in the city manager’s favor.
Though public support seemed to be within reach, Hopkins had some major obstacles to overcome. The largest was the right-of-way the railroad companies enjoyed at the lakefront. At present, the rail people could build track on much of the land needed for the new stadium. He required their approval to set aside the area for construction. All things considered, it was an ambitious plan. Even if the bond issue passed and the railroad barons gave their okay, Hopkins still had other battles to fight. Most importantly, Alva Bradley needed to be on board for the lease agreement. Full support from the city council had to be achieved. If Hopkins was successful on all these counts, the voters in Cuyahoga County were still a big question mark. Was a new stadium really necessary? League Park had been doing fine for thirty-seven years. The park at 66th and Lexington had good views, was easy to get to, and brought in revenue to the businesses located in and around the field. For years, the neighborhood kids prowled Lexington Avenue in hopes of snagging baseballs that sailed over the towering right field wall. They would be out of luck if the Indians moved to the lakefront. City Manager Hopkins had let the genie out of the bottle. He needed to be exceedingly shrewd in getting his wishes granted.
On February 19, 1928, the Indians pitchers and coaches boarded their train for the trip to New Orleans. Everybody in the group was eager to once again play ball. No doubt they all were motivated to show their best stuff to the new management. The reporters and photographers for the city’s three daily newspapers were falling all over themselves to board the train and escape the frigid Cleveland winter. The sportswriters and the camera guys for the Plain Dealer, News, and Press had been going south with the team for many years. This was a chance to get some exclusive interviews and talk baseball in a relaxed setting. It had to be one of the great perks of the job.
Upon arrival the squad headed for the Hotel Roosevelt, one of the finest places to stay in New Orleans. Unfortunately, the boys had arrived at the conclusion of Mardi Gras and the celebrants were still in their suites sleeping off all the fun. Everybody gathered in the lobby, waiting for rooms to open up. Local reporters sat down with manager Peckinpaugh to see what he thought about the Indians’ chances for the season. Peck told the writers, “I’m not going to make any predictions because we can’t estimate our strength until Uhle and Levsen show whether they have come back. We are certainly stronger than we were last year if only because the team’s spirit is bound to be better.” Peck would go on to say the Yankees and Philadelphia were the class of the league with Washington right behind. Possibly Cleveland could move up to fourth place. The new manager was being conservative, but he knew the American League as well as anyone else if not better. He wanted fans to be hopeful but not expect a contending team right out of the gate.
A week later the infielders and outfielders arrived in camp. Full workouts were under way. There was the practice of leapfrog, where the players took turns jumping over one another across the field. The Indians had been doing this going back to 1916 when Lee Fohl was manager. It is difficult to determine the benefits of leapfrog, but the players seemed to really enjoy the drill. They ran a brisk lap around Heinemann Park and got in their share of calisthenics. Peck did not drive his players to exhaustion, but he made certain the entire squad got in a good day’s work. He even allowed them to play golf after the workouts.
Billy Evans had sent a large number of ballplayers to New Orleans to give his manager a chance to find some raw talent. There were three or four extra each of shortstops, catchers, and outfielders. One of the shortstops was a football and baseball All-Star from Syracuse University who impressed Peck immediately with some good fielding and timely hitting. His name was Jonah Goldman.
The new prospect was born in 1906 in New York City. He was by far the best athlete at Erasmus High School in Brooklyn, excelling at football, soccer, basketball, and track. With all the time devoted to sports, Goldman fell behind in his studies, causing him to spend a year at prep school. Many colleges were interested but Goldman decided to attend Syracuse University. There he immediately played halfback on the freshman football team and shortstop on the baseball squad. He quickly drew attention for spectacular long runs on the football field and belting doubles and triples on the diamond. The opponents were of high quality, including colleges like Michigan, Nebraska, Penn State, and Boston College. Some of the notice that went Goldman’s way had little to do with events on the playing field: he was a rare commodity, in being a multisport Jewish athlete.
Since the latter part of the nineteenth century, Major League Baseball had been one of the few places where immigrants had a chance to excel. Initially it was an opportunity for men who had arrived from Ireland and found little opportunity other than grueling manual labor. Those who had some athletic skill discovered that ballplayers could earn a living with a professional baseball club. Near the end of the nineteenth century there were McGraws, Delahantys, McGinnitys, and Kellys in the National League. Irish folks would pack the bleachers to see one of their own perform. Next came the German wave, with the great Honus Wagner, Hans Lobert, and Henry “Heinie” Groh. All had certain difficulties with lowbrow fans who loathed immigrants, but over time there came a general acceptance.
Jewish athletes entered baseball at a much slower pace. There were wealthy Jewish men who owned baseball teams, including Andrew Freedman of the New York Giants and Barney Dreyfuss of the Pittsburgh Pirates. Be that as it may, ballplayers were few and far between. Moe Berg entered the majors in the early 1920s. Buddy Myer became a star for the Washington Senators, but there is still debate today as to whether or not he was actually Jewish: apparently his father was, his mother not. Now Jonah Goldman began to make headlines in newspapers around the country, mostly due to his religion. Almost invariably, articles would mention he was a Jewish boy trying to make good with the Indians. If that was not enough to contend with, he had to beat out Joe Sewell for a job. The veteran from Alabama was not about to step aside for anybody.
Editors and columnists from around the country weighed in on the prospect of Jewish ballplayers in the big leagues. For years, manager John McGraw of the New York Giants had searched the New York City area, trying to find a talented Jewish player for his club. McGraw believed that if he could locate the right individual the Polo Grounds would be overflowing with Jewish fans. In 1928 the Giants brought second baseman Andy Cohen to training camp. McGraw hoped he had found the player that the vast Jewish population in the New York metro area would embrace. If Cohen made the Giants roster for the upcoming season, a large spike in attendance would surely take place. Some writers called it a fad, others commercialization.
A sports editor in Mississippi wrote a column on the subject, saying that there truly was a fad going on in baseball with this turn toward Jewish ballplayers. He referred to the Yankees signing Jimmy Reese, whose actual last name was Goldsmith, the Giants and Andy Cohen, and the Indians with Jonah Goldman, and noted the “ballyhoo” accompanying these players, mostly because of their religion. Some writers were hopeful that the fans around the country would be enlightened enough to boo or cheer based only on how the players performed. Most acknowledged that there were times when Jewish ballplayers were harassed out of the game, but the hope was that people in the late 1920s were more tolerant and would not hold a man’s religion against him.
Damon Runyon saw the lighter side of the issue. He wrote in a syndicated column that boisterous Irish fans could cheer the “Andrew” part of Andy Cohen while the Jewish fans could yell for the “Cohen” part. He suggested the name should be
