Bad Boys, Bad Times. Scott H. Longert
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It took Hornsby another year to tire of Rollie’s bad conduct. Before the start of the 1933 season, Hemsley went to the Cincinnati Reds in a five-player trade. Chicago received slugger Babe Herman in exchange for four players from the Cubs. Rollie floundered in his new environment, batting a feeble .190 in forty-nine games. He only made it to August before the Reds released him, putting his career in jeopardy.
In an exceptionally strange set of circumstances, the St. Louis Browns claimed Rollie. Certainly they needed help anywhere they could find it; however, their new manager happened to be none other than Rogers Hornsby. Why the former Cubs boss believed Hemsley could be of any help is puzzling. He had seen the outrageous behavior, the black eyes, the cuts and bruises, yet still wanted Rollie to catch for him.
Before packing his things and reporting to St. Louis, Hemsley got into a scary automobile accident. He walked away from the crash, and when he caught up with the Browns, Hornsby penciled him into the lineup. But while dressing, his new teammates noticed the gruesome cuts and bruises covering his body. Several told Rollie to talk with Hornsby and sit out the game. He advised them all to shut up and mind their own business. He likely feared that if the manager found out, his days with the Browns might be over before they started. Rollie caught the game and finished the year with the club.
In the first half of 1934 Hemsley found a way to slow down the drinking and played great ball. The newspapers raved about his batting, his work behind the plate, and his clever handling of the pitching staff. The new Rollie lasted until midseason when the Browns finished a series in Chicago. Before leaving for Detroit, manager Hornsby notified the players they could take in the World’s Fair and catch a late train east. The players dressed quickly and ambled off to the fair. Rollie left the clubhouse with pal Frank Grube and headed in a completely different direction. The two partied until late in the evening. In due course they reached the train station several hours after their ride had left. The boys drank some more, then caught an early morning train bound for Detroit. Riding with them were renowned bandleader Ted Lewis and his entire orchestra. The musicians matched the ballplayers bottle for bottle. Upon arriving at the station, Hemsley and Grube dove into a cab. At this point they had been celebrating for well over twelve hours.
They rushed to the hotel, hoping to sober up a little then report to the ballpark. Both reached the revolving doors at the same time and pushed in the opposite directions. Neither man would yield, causing the mechanism supporting the doors to snap. Maintenance people were summoned to repair the whole thing while guests of the hotel stood by and had to wait to get in or out.
Hemsley and Grube raced to the park, arriving in time for practice. Manager Hornsby eyed both of them and called for the team to line up. He then asked each and every player if they enjoyed the World’s Fair. One by one the guys said yes, they had a great time. When Hornsby reached Grube he asked him the same question. Grube said he had fun there. Hornsby smiled and said, “You are fined $150.” Several players later he stood directly in front of Rollie. Asked the same query, Hemsley said he had a great time. This time Hornsby smiled and said, “You are fined $300.” The catcher frowned and blurted out, “Why is my fine $300?” Hornsby calmly replied, “Because you are more valuable to the club!”
All seemed well until late August, when Rollie got into a much-publicized bar fight. On a day off he rented a car and wound up in a tavern legendary for drawing rowdy sailors just off the boat. According to Hemsley, he was relaxing at the bar when one of the drunken sailors bumped into him. The two had words and within minutes were brawling inside, then on the streets outside of the bar. Several other sailors joined the fight, prompting a call to the local police, who arrived within minutes. As they were struggling to pull apart the severely drunken warriors, Rollie, according to the police, belted one of the cops square in the face, then tried to take his badge. The police subdued Hemsley and carted him off to jail. He was charged with drunk and disorderly conduct and driving without a license. The Browns gave him an immediate fine and suspension.
Rollie later claimed the charges were unjustified. He explained to reporters, “I was in a tavern when a sailor bumped up against me and I told him to watch his step. A row followed and I knocked the sailor cold. I did not resist the officer and he did not strike me, nor did I try to hit him.” Nobody bought Hemsley’s version of the incident, and the charges remained along with the fine and suspension.
The national newspapers began calling him “Rollicking Rollie” or “Jolly Rollie,” pegging him as a fun-loving guy who sometimes went too far. They, like much of the population, did not understand that Rollicking Rollie could not help himself. One drink would lead to two, then to seven or eight. He had a disease that no large fines or man-to-man talks would help. At times he went completely sober for several weeks, then something would set him off and the drinking would start all over again. His alcoholism did not allow him to have a beer or two and be on his way like most of his teammates. Rollie had a dangerous problem that went unabated for quite a long time.
Even during the off-season, Hemsley could not ease off on the alcohol. He bought a farm in Missouri, where he relocated his wife, Mildred, and young daughter, Joan. Rollie had some hunting dogs that he took deep into the wooded area on the farm. While searching for rabbits or squirrels, he always had a pint or two with him. He might go missing for several days until Mildred had to navigate the dense woods and bring him home.
Family members still relate a story about Rollie. Back in Syracuse, he liked to join his buddies for a jaunt down Route 124, where a string of popular taverns did business. One evening Rollie informed Mildred he would be borrowing the brand-new car he had just bought for her. Blanching at the thought of her husband careening down Route 124 and wrecking her car, she ran to the kitchen, grabbed a large knife, hustled to the car, and slashed the tires. A set of new tires was needed, but the car was saved from destruction.
With the bad events piling up, it would seem that Rollie’s career had reached a critical point. But in spite of all the riotous times and the all-night partying, Rollie somehow had an impressive season in 1934. Catching 123 games, he batted .309 with 133 hits and 7 triples. He did even better in 1935, earning a place on the All-Star team. He caught 141 games, a career high, while batting .290. He led the American League catchers in assists, while allowing only three passed balls the entire year. He accomplished this with many a black eye and impaired vision from the swelling. On one occasion he shuffled hungover into the ballpark with one eye completely closed and the other about half as bad. Manager Hornsby told Rollie that as punishment he would catch both ends of the doubleheader. Someway he managed to do the job without completely falling apart.
Although putting together several impressive seasons, Rollicking Rollie continued with his outrageous conduct. Regardless of this, he repeated as a 1936 All-Star. His on-field talent got the attention of several American League teams in addition to Cy Slapnicka. Talks were held with the Browns at the winter meetings, but nothing solid came to pass. In the meantime, Hemsley continued to solidify his reputation as the wildest man in baseball. According to Dan Daniels, a drunken Rollie boarded a Browns train to Washington with a basket of live frogs. He then entered the sleeping car and threw a frog into each player’s berth. On another occasion he patiently waited for his teammates to turn in for the night, then stole everyone’s shoes and hid them in another compartment.
In spring training of 1937, Rollie added to his long string of outlandish behavior. The Browns were traveling to Laredo, Texas, for an exhibition contest. After the game, the players had a train waiting to take them to San Antonio, where the team was staying. Few were surprised when Rollie vanished, missing the train ride back to camp. He had crossed the border into old Mexico to sample some of the famous local tequila.
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