fifteen years treating damaged ballplayers. He recommended a visit to a bonesetter practicing several blocks from League Park. Cy Slapnicka quickly discounted the suggestion, preferring to take the advice of experienced doctors. His lack of faith in Weisman proved to be a major error in judgment.
On Monday, May 10, Feller left Cleveland on a chartered airplane bound for Des Moines, Iowa. He was returning home to Van Meter to rest his arm and attend his high school graduation. He was taken aback by all the local folks waiting to greet him and asking pointed questions about his pitching arm. Feller thought he could go home and escape all the attention; however, any plans to rest quietly and study for finals were quickly foiled. He spent any time he could find cramming for final exams, which took place Thursday. The subjects tested were physics, literature, American history, and psychology. Feller passed with ease, scoring two seventy-nines, a seventy-four, and a seventy. Not bad at all when you consider he had left school over two months ago, yet still retained a good portion of what he had learned over the winter.
The much-anticipated graduation took place on Friday evening. The high school auditorium had just four hundred seats available, usually more than enough for any occasion. It proved to be totally insufficient, as approximately eight hundred curious people jammed inside the tiny hall. Among the crowd was an army of newspaper reporters and radio men with microphones. WMAL radio, all the way from Washington, DC, set up their equipment for a live broadcast to be aired nationally. The parents and relatives of the twenty graduates were shocked by the ruckus around them. This kind of attention was usually reserved for the president of the United States.
Feller arrived at the auditorium wearing a new dark gray suit with a red rose pinned to his lapel. He could not help but note the large contingent of reporters and radio announcers just below the stage. As class president, he addressed the audience in a low voice, speaking rapidly. He said, “When I was playing baseball in high school, little did I realize that I would be playing big league baseball today.” He reached for his diploma, nearly dropped it, then scrambled back to his seat. The other graduates, clearly nervous in front of all the reporters and microphones, stumbled through their orations and songs. With the motto “The higher we rise, the better the view,” Bob Feller’s high school days were officially over.
A few days later Feller left Van Meter to meet up with the Indians on their eastern road trip. Besides his much-publicized injury, there was a list of mounting issues facing the ball club. On May 1, Johnny Allen complained of severe pain in his abdomen. The Indians rushed him to a St. Louis hospital, where doctors diagnosed Allen with a flare-up of appendicitis, but were certain he could avoid any immediate surgery. Manager O’Neill had begun the season with Allen as his ace and Feller a likely candidate for number two. In just a few weeks the only healthy pitchers were veterans Mel Harder and Earl Whitehill. Denny Galehouse, still learning the ropes, would be pressed into immediate service.
Three days after Allen went down, the Indians faced the Washington Senators. Mel Harder pitched a decent game, going six and two-third innings while allowing five runs, three earned. His teammates played little defense, committing four errors, including one by each of the infielders. Roy Weatherly added to the sloppy play, heaving a throw from center field to the wrong base, which allowed runners to advance into scoring position. A frustrated Steve O’Neill severely chewed out Weatherly when he came back to the dugout.
Reliever Joe Heving replaced Harder and held the Senators in check for the next three and a third innings, leaving with the score deadlocked at 5–5. Newly acquired Carl Fischer took the mound for the top of the eleventh, promptly walking Ben Chapman. Buddy Lewis singled, then Joe Kuhel sacrificed the runners to second and third. After a strikeout of Jon Stone, Steve O’Neill had now seen enough of Fischer, and motioned for Whitlow Wyatt to enter the game. The situation worsened as Wyatt gave up a base on balls to Al Simmons. The fans at League Park squirmed in their seats when Ben Chapman inched down the third-base line. Wyatt began his delivery as if there was nobody on base. All three runners took off, with Chapman sliding effortlessly home ahead of the pitch. Incredibly, a rare triple steal had just been executed against the hapless Indians. Three straight base hits followed, forcing O’Neill to go to the bullpen once more. Long-time veteran Willis Hudlin entered the game, serving up a single and a double before finally retiring the Senators.
Seven big runs had just crossed the plate against three miserable Indian relievers. The frustrated crowd let go with a steady chorus of jeers while the home team, heads bowed low, trotted off the field. The Senators won by a lopsided score of 12–5. Tomorrow’s newspapers were sure to be filled with some extra-colorful reporting.
Those fans who picked up a copy of the Cleveland News were aghast to read Ed McAuley’s headline feature. It was an open letter addressed to Manager Steve O’Neill, titled “Get Mad Steve and Stay Mad!” McAuley had gone over the edge in a massive critique of the Indians manager. The sports editor accused O’Neill of being easy on his players, allowing them too much freedom on and off the field. He warned that if this type of lax authority continued, a change in managers just might occur. McAuley wrote, “I don’t want the public or anyone else to fire you Steve, and that’s why I’m taking the liberty of speaking frankly.”
The revealing open letter cited numerous examples of Indians ballplayers making foolish mistakes on the base paths. Later in the piece McAuley briefly tried to tone down his ire by adding, “I am not trying to second-guess. You’ve made some mistakes Steve. You haven’t played the percentages like you did last season.” McAuley gave further space to the lax attitude the players seemed to be carrying with them. He noted a recent road trip where, after some tough losses, the Indians were enjoying themselves on the train home, wolfing down steaks and playing poker without a care. Apparently McAuley believed O’Neill should have stepped in and ripped the players for having a good time.
McAuley heaped more criticism on the manager, dredging up the 12–5 loss to Washington and all the gaffes perpetrated by the bungling infielders and pitcher Wyatt. Though in some ways the sports editor was trying to be a cheerleader, the open letter, taken as a whole, was a hatchet job of epic proportions.
Fans were quick to respond. Letters poured into the Cleveland News offices defending O’Neill. One fan wrote, “I was astounded and shocked to read in the big type in the News last night Mr. McAuley’s gratuitous and hypocritical advice to manager Steve O’Neill. If the Indians could have a one month moratorium on Mr. McAuley and the other press box experts, then the ball team might have a reasonable chance to show what it has.”
Another fan explained the season had barely started. It was not the time to be calling for the manager’s head. The letter asked how O’Neill could be responsible for the Yankees having much better players. Or how he could stop his pitchers from falling asleep on the mound? The fan ended by adapting Alva Bradley’s now-famous line, “The owner hires the manager, but the fans fire him.” The letter concluded, “The fans fire the manager, maybe the fans can fire you too.”
Steve O’Neill had just begun his second full year of managing the Cleveland Indians, after assuming the job in August of 1935 when Walter Johnson was fired. He had spent seventeen years in the American League as a top-flight catcher, playing the great majority of his career with Cleveland. In the 1920 championship season, he caught an incredible 149 games while batting over .300. In his long stint in the Majors, O’Neill gained a reputation as one of the toughest catchers in all of baseball. He blocked home plate with a ferocity rarely seen. Opposing managers screamed at the umpires when he shifted his body into the baseline even before he had the baseball. Runners dashed home and collided with the broad-shouldered catcher, who rarely dropped a throw. Ed McAuley had really gone out on a limb in questioning the toughness of Steve O’Neill.
Just a few days after the article and fans’ response, the Indians entertained the Yankees at League Park. The arrival of Gehrig and company and the initial Ladies Day of the season boosted the Friday crowd to over 15,000. The women marched to the ballpark two hours early with boxed lunches and decks of playing cards
