Bad Boys, Bad Times. Scott H. Longert
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The next morning Hemsley received a message to see his bosses immediately. The end result of the less-than-friendly meeting was a substantial fine and suspension. Rollie estimated he racked up a whopping total of $20,000 in fines, almost certainly the most of any ballplayer of his era. The deductions in pay never had any effect. He simply moved on to the next episode.
Over the course of the 1937 season, Hornsby grew weary of trying to curb Rollie’s behavior. He let the other American League clubs know his catcher was on the trading block. Near the end of the season, the Tigers showed interest in completing a trade for Hemsley. The Browns happened to be in Detroit for a late September series. After one of the games, Rollie, totally drunk stumbled into the team hotel. He raised a ruckus in the lobby, bad enough for the Detroit front office to hear about it. That incident killed any chance of a trade happening.
Even with all of this history, Slapnicka remained intent on acquiring the biggest headache in all of baseball. Perhaps he thought new manager Oscar Vitt had the right stuff to tame Rollie and convert him into a model citizen. Possibly the general manager believed he could show the catcher a better way. The Indians still had Frankie Pytlak, a good backstop the front office would keep around for insurance. Be that as it may, the Cleveland Indians hadn’t the vaguest idea of what they were truly in for.
Chapter 5
VITT TAKES OVER
On February 19, 1938, Bob Feller arrived in Cleveland to sign his generous contract for the upcoming season. A gala event was planned, including a live radio broadcast from the remarkable new studios of WTAM. A huge investment from NBC Radio enabled construction of a modern building on Superior Avenue downtown to house the state-of-art-facilities. The radio executives from New York were on hand as the public got its first view of the broadcast area and related studios. Approximately 650 guests attended for an evening of cocktails, a swank dinner, and dancing. At 9:00 p.m. a live broadcast of music from New York swept through the new sound system. At the half hour the entertainment switched to a local dance band and several comics who were performing at the nearby Palace Theatre.
Then came the main event of the evening. Out to the podium walked WTAM sports reporter Tom Manning, decked out in a fancy tailcoat. Behind him were Alva Bradley and national celebrity Bob Feller. The invited guests toned down their conversations to watch the two men put their signatures on a contract for $17,500, a considerable deal for a player yet to win more than nine games in a season. Feller assured the crowd his arm was fine, he had actually grown a half inch, and was primed for a big season. The extraordinary program ended moments later with a live hookup to the BBC in London, bringing the unmistakable chimes of Big Ben direct from Westminster Palace. It was a truly a modern evening for all who attended, a chance to see and hear the best of Cleveland and the world.
Within days the Cleveland players would gather from all around the country and head south for New Orleans. This spring had some real significance in bringing in new ballplayers and a first-time Major League manager in Oscar Vitt. Much of the hype around Vitt’s hiring was positive, citing him as a man who could whip the Indians into shape and mold them into a pennant contender. Alva Bradley spoke highly of his new field boss, telling reporters, “I was deeply impressed by his personality. I believe he has the dynamic qualities a baseball leader needs.”
Baseball Magazine had similar plaudits for Vitt. The article read in part, “Oscar is well-equipped to handle any disorder or dissension that may crop out on his club. He was matured in the Detroit clubhouse during the seething days of Ty Cobb when the place was frequently a fiery furnace of discord.” The Cleveland players did not exactly conjure up visions of a fiery furnace, though in players like Johnny Allen and the freewheeling Rollie Hemsley loomed the potential for big trouble. Vitt had spent his entire managing career in the minor leagues. He had many years of dealing with willing young ballplayers struggling to make it the Majors. Now he had to prove his worth with a team of veterans in their late twenties or early thirties who had yet to win. Quite a challenging scenario to walk into.
Oscar Vitt was a native of San Francisco, California, where he was born on January 4, 1890. While just a youngster he developed great foot speed, enabling him to outrun the bigger boys intent on giving him a whipping. At times Oscar stood his ground, threw several punches, then raced away to safety. He played a lot of handball, not doing much on the baseball diamond until high school. He attended a technical school, where he studied architecture.
On April 18, 1906, when Vitt was sixteen years old, he and his family were sleeping at home when the one of the most powerful earthquakes ever recorded leveled much of the San Francisco area. An estimated 3,000 persons died. The Vitts were fortunate to experience only minor damage, as many of the nearby homes and those around the city were destroyed or needed major repair. The study of architecture turned out to be a huge financial windfall for young Vitt. He had recently taken several courses in bricklaying, roofs, and chimney repair.
Within hours he formed Vitt and Company, offering chimney repairs at eight dollars a job. He and a friend moved around the broken city, finding work in just about every neighborhood. In only one month Vitt and Company grossed a weighty $650. A promising career in home repair awaited, yet Oscar felt the strong pull of organized baseball. After several years of semipro ball, he landed a contract with the San Francisco Seals of the Pacific Coast League. Vitt failed to hit .300, but his fielding was above average and the foot speed helped him leg out infield hits and take the extra base.
In 1912 the Detroit Tigers acquired Vitt, giving him considerable time at third base. Manager Hughie Jennings loved Vitt’s style of play. Whether diving for ground balls, running out every ball in play, bunting, or stealing bases, he was a throwback to the nineteenth-century player who fought for every square inch. They called him scrappy, peppery, a happy warrior. Jennings, in his days as a National League Baltimore Oriole, had used that type of hustle and bench jockeying to great advantage. Vitt, even though a first-year player, fearlessly shouted at both his teammates and opponents throughout each game. Although standing no more than five foot eight and weighing about 150 pounds, he had no fear of any player in the American League. Even Ty Cobb caught some of Oscar’s venom.
At certain times Cobb could be overaggressive on the bases and get himself thrown out while streaking for an extra base. After one of those incidents, Vitt yelled to him, “For Christ’s sake why don’t you carry an anchor with you!” Everyone on the Tigers bench and in the grandstand knew Cobb would not let that remark go by. A moment later the “Georgia Peach” walked over to Vitt and sharply told him, “Hey listen busher, keep your trap shut if you know what’s good for you!” Before Vitt could answer, catcher Oscar Stanage stepped in between the two and stopped Cobb from doing any harm.
Eventually Cobb and Vitt reached an understanding, enough so that the Tigers outfielder looked out for the scrawny third baseman. The Tigers were playing the Yankees when Vitt attempted to score from second on a base hit. The throw from the outfield arrived in plenty of time for catcher Les Nunamaker to block the plate. Lesser men might have tried to slide and avoid contact with the six-foot-two, 190-pound catcher. Vitt never hesitated, lowering his head and crashing into Nunamaker at full speed. Fans shuddered as Vitt careened backwards and landed hard on his back. He was out in every sense of the word. It took a moment or two to gather himself, but when Vitt reached the Tiger bench, Cobb stopped by and said, “Kid, I’ll take care of that.”
Later in the series, Cobb was leading off second base when a Tiger base hit gave him the chance for revenge. He rounded third, picking up speed as he flew down the baseline.