History That Doesn't Suck - 165: America’s Favorite Pastime: Baseball, the Negro Leagues, and the Great Bambino

Episode Date: September 23, 2024

"As I hit the ball, every muscle in my system, every sense I had, told me that I had never hit a better one . . . I didn't have to look. But I did. That ball . . . hit . . . exactly the spot I had pointed to." This is the story of the most American sport: baseball.  Americans have been playing ball for a good long while now—even General Washington enjoyed an occasional game of catch—but baseball as we know it only emerged around the 1850s. That’s also about the time when people started forming leagues: the National League, the American League, the Federal League, yada yada, you get the picture. There are quite a few, and they’re mostly the same, except for the Negro League, headed by Andrew “Rube” Foster (pitcher and president extraordinaire). Professional baseball remains segregated until Jackie Robinson breaks the color line in the late 1940s. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves!  Baseball evolves from its colonial beginnings to become an entertainment staple by the early twentieth century. In the 1920s, the good name of the game has just been sullied by the 1919 World Series scandal, but baseball’s popularity hasn’t taken a serious hit. This era boasts a panoply of players, and people can’t seem to stay away from the stands. You see, George Herman "Babe" Ruth has just been traded to the New York Yankees, and he’s always playing to win. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. HTDS is part of the Airwave Media Network.  Interested in advertising on the History That Doesn't Suck? Email us at [e-mail] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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BDC. Financing. Advising. Know-how. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and as in the classroom, my goal here is to make rigorously researched history come to life as your storyteller. Each episode is the result of laborious research with no agenda other than making the past come to life as you learn. If you'd like to help support this work, receive ad-free episodes,

bonus content, and other exclusive perks, I invite you to join the HTDS membership program. Sign up for a seven-day free trial today at htdspodcast.com slash membership, or click the link in the episode notes. It's a bright, sunny Wednesday afternoon, October 1st, 1919, and we're at Cincinnati, Ohio's Redland Field. Caps and fedoras protect what looks like an endless sea of heads in the grandstands, particularly those in the upper-tier nosebleeds. Honestly, it seems every seat is filled, and ticket sales bear that out. There are 30,511 spectators here. The calls of treat-carding vendors ascending and descending the bleacher stairs compete against

the excited cheers of local Cincinnati Reds fans and the equally animated jeers of visiting Chicago White Sox fans. Until it's the other way around, of course. It all depends on the play and subsequent call made by the Blue. Sorry, my baseball slang is coming out. The subsequent call made by the umpire. Perhaps the crowd is a little over animated, but to be fair, who wouldn't be? This is game one of the 1919 World Series. It's now the bottom of the first inning, and the White Sox are taking the field. They had a disappointing first half of the inning, failing to put any runs on the scoreboard. But not to fear, White Sox fans. Eddie Seacott is pitching. The 35-year-old Michigander, with a gap between his front teeth, is a true master of the mound, one whose spin-resistant

knuckler and even more devastating shine are second to none. Eddie's first opponent, the Reds' handsome, left-handed hitting second baseman, Maury Rath, steps up to the plate. And here comes the pitch. Oh, it splits the platter. That's a strike, folks. Eddie again winds up. Here comes the pitch. Oh, he throws three feet inside the plate,

nailing Maury square in the back. That's gotta hurt, but Maury is a tough one, shaking it off as he walks to first base. Thanks to Shoeless Joe Jackson's grounder and the Reds making an error, the White Sox get a run in the second inning. The one-to-one tie holds through the third, but then Eddie Seacott simply falls apart in the fourth.

The Reds get six hits off him and score five runs. How could this master pitcher be so off? The New York Herald declares the inning Seacott's Waterloo. The Reds ultimately win 9-1. The next day, the Reds win Game 2 with a score of 4-2. The following day, the White Sox win Game 3, but then get shut out in Games 4 and 5. Chicago rallies to win Games 6 and 7, but when the Reds win Game 8, that's it. With five wins, they've won this best-of-nine series.

Incredible. The White Sox were so heavily favored to win. How can this be? Rumors and speculation spread. Did some of the Chicago players throw the game? Was the game fixed? White Sox owner Charles Comiskey became so suspicious after game two that he hired private detectives to investigate and offered a $10,000 reward to anyone who could provide evidence. Alas, no takers. But the whispers continue into the next year, 1920, and as other rumors of a fixed Chicago Cubs and Philadelphia Nationals game fly that summer, a grand jury is convened in Cook County, Illinois, to investigate. Well, it doesn't take long for that investigation to spill into Chicago's other

pro ball team and its questionable World Series. It's now September 28, 1920. We're in Judge McDonald's room at the Chicago Courthouse. Beyond the judge, those gathered here include a grand jury, White Sox owner Charles Kaminsky's lawyer, Alfred Austrian, an assistant state attorney, and some White Sox players, pitchers Eddie Seacott and outfielder Shoeless Joe Jackson, at the very least. Today, the grand jury will decide if these two players and six of their 1919 World Series teammates, should be prosecuted with conspiracy to commit an illegal act. If that happens and they are found guilty, all eight ballplayers could face up to five years in prison.

It's a terrifying prospect, and Eddie Seacott is ready to talk for immunity. The pitcher sobs as he chokes out. This is terrible for my family, my poor kids. Oh, why did I do it? I've lived a terrible year in the last 12 months. The assistant state attorney encourages the distraught pitcher's testimony. Never mind now, Eddie. Just come along and tell the jury and tell what was done. The pitcher does. He's followed by Shoeless Joe. The two tell of a promised $100,000 collective payday for the conspiring ballplayers,

all arranged by the gamblers' quote-unquote agents, infielders Chick Gandel, Fred McMullen, and Swede Risberg. At their hotel, Eddie found $10,000 under his pillow before game one, while Shoeless Joe, though less interested, found five grand lying on his bed. The grand jury's decision is all too easy. The indictment moves forward against the eight ball players, and eventually, they and 10 gamblers are charged with conspiracy. All sorts of legal footwork ensues over the next year as the immunity agreements disappear and charges are dropped, only for another round of conspiracy charges to result in a later trial. Finally, the legal woes come to their end on August 2nd, 1921, as the jury incredibly finds

all the charged ballplayers and two gamblers not guilty. But even though Eddie, Shoeless Joe, and the other six indicted White Sox players won't go to jail, for many of them, the punishment imposed by Commissioner of Baseball, Judge Kennesaw Mountain Landis, is much worse. He bans them from ever playing in the major leagues again. And to these ballplayers, a life without baseball is every bit a life sentence. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. The 1919 World Series ranks among the most infamous legendary moments in American sports history. And I say legend quite intentionally because there are so many things that we'll just never know for sure. For instance, was the king of New York's Jewish

mob, Arnold the Brain Rothstein, behind all of it? Was Eddie Seacott's wild pitch that nailed Maury Rath in the back early in game one a signal to the gambler ring, to Arnold Rothstein even, that the fix was on? And was shoeless Joe Jackson, who never attended a meeting with the gambler ring, to Arnold Rothstein even, that the fix was on? And was shoeless Joe Jackson, who never attended a meeting with the gamblers only to find money in his room, truly guilty? Or was he innocent and his lifelong ban from Major League Baseball and ongoing ban from Baseball's Hall of Fame unjustified? While many baseball fans have strong opinions on all of these points, we'll never have perfect answers. Only legends. And if you haven't guessed from that opening, today's tale is that of America's legendary favorite pastime, baseball. While the sport

has dipped a touch in popularity in the 21st century, baseball itself is an integral piece of the nation's historical fabric, and we can hardly blow through the 1920s without taking a swing at it. We'll start our tale with the American colonies themselves, with stories of colonials playing age-old bat and ball games. But we'll quickly move to baseball's first legend in the mid-19th century, its alleged creation by future Civil War general Abner Doubleday. We'll then charge into the development of ball clubs and leagues, including the two leagues that will become Major League Baseball, the National and American Leagues, and also hear briefly about some of the early sports' most popular players,

like Honus Wagner, Cy Young, and Ty Cobb. And as we round third to slide into the early 20th century, we'll learn about Jim Crow segregation's impact on the sport and the rise of the Negro Leagues. We'll get a brief taste of their fast, hard play and attend a 1920s Wichita-Monrovians game against the most unlikely of opponents. I won't spoil it, but we're going. I got us some bleach receipts, which is all the Monrovian Stadium has to offer. Finally, we'll meet the most famous ballplayer of all time, the Sultan of Swat, the great Bambino, George Herman the Babe Ruth. We'll get his early background, including the curse that his departure from Boston

allegedly cast on the ball club. As a Red Sox fan, I would be remiss to admit it. And of course, his golden age shot calling career with the New York Yankees. So, ready to divide legend from history in this most American of American sports? Excellent. Now let's head back to the colonial era and play ball. So, what is the origin of baseball? That's a good question. Almost as good as asking who's on first.

Though I'll leave it to Abbott and Costello to answer that one. But in referencing their iconic sketch, I trust you take my point. The origins of baseball are convoluted and arguably go back thousands of years. There's even an Egyptian hieroglyphic that depicts a bat and ball game. As for the United States specifically, the first baseball-esque games show up in early colonial America. Barely a year after the Mayflower dropped anchor near Cape Cod, newly established Plymouth Colony's Governor William Bradford

stumbles upon a game of stoolball taking place on Christmas Day, 1621. As a good Puritan, the governor doesn't believe the Bible sanctions Christmas celebrations and puts a stop to this tomfoolery. Nonetheless, this anecdote from the governor's later book, Of Plymouth Plantation, tells us at least two things. One, New England has long loved bat and ball games. Two, despite being a New Englander, it sounds like Governor Bradford would not be a Red Sox fan. Speaking of disapproving famous colonials, although founding father, Dr. Benjamin Rush,

loves playing ball as a kid, the serious-minded Declaration of Independence signer later laments how much time he, quote-unquote, wasted on the sport. I have been ashamed, likewise, in recollecting how much time I wasted when a boy in playing cat and fives. Odd name, I know, but at this time, the game is called all sorts of things. Old cat, one old cat, barn ball, rounders, town, base, and base space ball. But you know who doesn't regret playing a little ball?

Continental General George Washington. According to a 1779 recollection of French legation secretary, François Comte de Barbé-Maboire, the general sometimes throws and catches a ball for hot hours with his aides-de-camp. Oh, how I wish the count named names. I love picturing George playing catch with Alexander Hamilton. It takes their whole father-son dynamic to the next level. Anyhow, George definitely fills some wartime downtime with a little ball, setting an example that countless future American servicemen will follow in the Civil War,

World War I, World War II, and other conflicts will follow in the Civil War, World War I, World War II, and other conflicts. Speaking of the Civil War, let's meet that future mustachioed general, Abner Doubleday, as he supposedly invents baseball. It's a myth to be sure, but one so very central to America's baseball identity. Oh, and the man who claims Abner invented the sport is also named, you guessed it, Abner. So we'll be using their last names when referring to the two men. And with that caveat, let's head out to the field. It's an unspecified day, sometime in 1839, 1840, or even 41.

We're in Cooperstown, New York,ork at finney farm on the western shore of at sago lake where a late teens or early 20s and i assume not yet mustachioed abner double day is hanging about with pupils from the local at sago academy and green select school among the younger kids is a child named abner graves and, and although he's left out, the child watches keenly as Doubleday explains to the older boys how to play a new game he's calling baseball. Doubleday positions 11 players around four bases, loosely in the shape of a diamond. Four are outfielders.

Three stand adjacent to bases, as Graves will later recall, where the runner could rest free of being put out by keeping his foot on the flat stone. A pitcher waits in a six-foot ring between two of the cornerstones. A catcher is perched behind home base, and two infielders can be found in the gaps between first and second base and second and third base. Throwing from below the hip, the pitcher lobs a rubber-centered ball, overwhelmed with yarn and covered with leather or buckskin, toward the batman, who, in turn, winds up and smacks the ball into the field. Given its rubber center, the ball ricochets off the bat quite quickly, causing a wonderful high fly.

A fielder scoops up the ball once it's fallen to the ground and throws it at the runner. The ball nails him, getting the boy out. It's a little like the future game of kickball in that sense. But, as Graves will later recall, if the runner can, quote, make it to home base without being hit by the ball, he tallies, close quote. That is, he scores. Written up more than half a century later and published in a newspaper in 1905, Abner Graves' story is soon disproven.

And to be clear, we have no record of Abner Doubleday ever claiming to invent baseball. Yet, Abner Graves' claims about Abner Doubleday ever claiming to invent baseball. Yet, Abner Graves' claims about Abner Doubleday leave their mark. Most future Americans will think of baseball as a 19th century innovation, and the future National Baseball Hall of Fame will be located in Cooperstown. Yet, to dig deeper into the legend, this farm setting for baseball's alleged origin makes great sense. A game played on a wide open field, a game whose innings give no heed to the clock that, in this pre-industrial lifestyle, doesn't rule the day? Baseball screams agricultural America. Regardless of its exact evolution, it's easy to see how the game caught on in the 19th century. Another commonly touted originator of America's favorite pastime is the bearded Alexander J. Cartwright, credited with a game held on June 19, 1846. But alas, while Alex plays an important

role in New York's Knickerbocker Baseball Club, and while the Knickerbocker's set of rules for the game are historic, historians have disproved the idea that he invented baseball too. But whatever we make of these myths, things get far more concrete fast as we enter the second half of the 19th century. In early 1857, the National Association of Baseball Players is founded. This is the first governing body for the still rather amateur sport, and that same year, the association sets its own rules for all participating ball clubs. So sorry, Knickerbockers, your short-lived rule-making reign is over. By the late 1860s, the association is trying to manage over 100 ball clubs. It also draws the first color line in baseball in 1867,

but I'll save those details for our story of the Negro Leagues a little later. The association doesn't last long, though. It strikes out in 1870. The National Association of Professional Baseball Players rises in its stead in 1871, but it too has a short shelf life. Fairly disorganized, unable to enforce rules, and still amateur in nature. It fails in 1875. As indicated by these quickly passing associations, baseball of the 1870s is very much evolving. It's a different game from the one you and I will later know, more closely resembling what will become fast-pitch softball. But among the bigger differences, one of my personal favorites is that, after a hit, the ball can bounce once before being caught and it's still counted as an out. And for all of you out there who played some ball growing up, imagine being in the field without a glove.

Because that's how these guys play. Yeah, I'd want to let it bounce once too. And if you're a pitcher, you're throwing about 70 or 80 full games per season, so good luck with that shoulder and elbow. But yet another league forms in 1876, and there's nothing amateur about it, and it will have staying power. This is the National League of Professional Baseball Clubs, better known as the National League, or even the NL. Led in part by a future baseball business exec named Albert Spalding, the National League boasts talented teams in several major cities. Boston, Chicago, New York, Philadelphia, St. Louis, Indianapolis, and more. But notably,

Philly and New York are kicked out at the end of the first season for refusing to travel west to play. A tough call, but the move proves that the National League is legit. It will enforce rules. The following decade, the 1880s, can be categorized as a time of experimentation for the sport. The pitcher's quote-unquote box is moved back to 50 feet from home plate. The number of balls in a walk is lowered to four, and pitchers begin to throw overhand. The decade also sees many professional teams use the offseason to barnstorm, that is, tour the U.S. with players and owners looking to make an extra buck. Meanwhile, the American Association joins the National League as the second professional organization in 1882. The American Association only lasts until 1891, but while it

exists, its champion team and the National League's champion team face each other in a few World Championships. Yeah, an early, albeit not yet standardized, version of the World Series. Oh, and the teams are rowdy. Michael King Kelly is the rowdiest and most talented of these players. In fact, might the handsome, mustachioed Irish-American have inspired Ernest Lawrence Thayer's proud, plate-pounding, defiant, and sadly struck-out protagonist in his 1888 poem, Casey at the Bat? I can't answer that, but many say that Mudville's mighty Casey is, in fact, King Kelly. The 1890s are a whole different ballgame, so to speak. According to preeminent baseball historian Bill James, if, quote, the tactics of the 80s were aggressive, the tactics

of the 90s were violent. The game of the 80s was crude. The game of the 90s was criminal. The baseball of the 80s had ugly elements. The game of the 90s was just ugly. Close quote. And to make matters worse, the leagues are having trouble limiting their players' drinking. Reportedly, some are playing while drunk. By the turn of the century, Byron Bancroft Bann Johnson appreciates that fans aren't amused by the National League's violence. In 1901, he responds to that by creating a league that's cleaner, the American League. Seeing fans go to the American League, the National League begins to tidy up too. New York Giants manager John McGraw and Philadelphia Athletics manager Connie Mack are particularly helpful, as both demand that their ball players act like gentlemen. By the way, these two professional leagues, the National and American

Leagues, are the very same that you and I will later know as Major League Baseball. And with most turn-of-the-century players using gloves to reduce injuries, well, this is starting to look more like our modern idea of baseball. In fact, it's become so civilized that in 1908, Jack Norworth and Albert von Tilzer, both Tin Pan Alley musicians, a place you might recall from episode 163, write a song about a woman who insists her boyfriend take her to ball games, not to shows. You likely know the tune. It's called Take Me Out to the Ball Game. Speaking of modernizing, on April 12, 1909, the first modern ballpark opens.

Philadelphia's Scheib Park. I believe a wise man once said, If you build it, they will come. Oh, do they. Over 30,000 people attend opening day and the Sporting Life reports that the park, quote, has inaugurated a new era into baseball, close quote. And as fans come to these new swanky wooden parks to watch this now respected sport, some players are leaving a mark that will endure for generations. Here are a few in

particular we really need to note. The 6'200 pound, bow-legged Honus Wagner, or the Flying Dutchman. He makes his debut in 1897 and will go on to play 21 seasons in the majors, becoming the first 20th century player to get 3,000 hits and retiring with many, though later broken, records. The handsome Pennsylvania-born pitcher, Christy Mathewson. He'll win 373 career games and boast a fastball, a curve, and a reverse curve that he calls a fadeaway, the 21st century equivalent of a screwball. Walter the Big Train Johnson, whose sidearm fastball might be the best the game has ever seen. The Ohioan Cy Young, for whom the award for best MLB pitcher will later be named. Cy holds the all-time record for most wins at 511, and on May 5th, 1904, he throws the first perfect game in baseball history.

And of course, Shoeless Joe Jackson, whom I mentioned in this episode's opening. The gifted outfielder and batter makes his debut in 1908. He's considered one of the greats. If not for the 1919 World Series scandal, he would undoubtedly be in the Baseball Hall of Fame. The blonde-haired, fair-skinned, square-jawed, handsome Thai Cobb becomes the leader in most categories of the sport, and many of his records stand for decades. But thanks to his hot temper, Ty's also known as the most unpopular popular man in baseball.

And you know, it just so happens we have tickets to see his Detroit Tigers take on the New York Yankees. Sorry, New York Highlanders, as the team is currently called. Let's see if Ty can keep his cool. It's May 15th, 1912. We're at the 16,000-seat Hilltop Park Stadium on Broadway between 165th and 168th Streets in New York City. It's game four of the series between the Detroit Tigers and the New

York Highlanders, and an alpaca coat-wearing fan by the name of Claude Lucker is sitting in the grandstand just down the baseline from the Tigers' dugout. Claude is yelling all sorts of insults at Ty Cobb and his Detroit teammates, stuff the newspapers don't even want to reprint. He's been doing so since game one. Fed up with the situation, Ty walks over to the Highlanders' dugout. He warns Highlanders' manager, Harry Wolverton, there's going to be trouble if this fellow isn't stopped.

Clearly, Harry doesn't see much of an issue. He shrugs it off. It's now the top of the fourth inning. As Ty jogs out of the dugout and submarine- highlanders pitcher jack warhawk steps up to the mound to warm up claude hollers something intended to be particularly nasty in this jim crow segregated era he implies that ty is the product of an affair between his mother and a black man and thus mixed race. Claude hollers out, oh go on and play ball you half coon. Sitting down on the bench steaming, Ty's teammates tell him that he's a gutless no-good if he doesn't stand up to Claude. And that's all the prompting the notoriously aggressive and temperamental

player needs. Grabbing a bat, he darts out of the dugout and vaults over the fence, separating players from fans. According to Claude's later statement, Ty punches him in the face, jumps on him, kicks him, and spikes and boots him behind the ear. As for Ty's version, well, he can't quite say. As he later recalls, The next thing I remember, they were pulling me off him. I do know I didn't just slap him around. Amid vigorous applause, the embattled Cichafielder is then escorted from the diamond.

Don't worry. Rough as that sounds, no one is hurt too badly. Besides, there's no crying in baseball. The Tigers eke out a win, 8-6, but American League president Ban Johnson, who was at the game, takes action against Ty, suspending him for unsportsmanlike conduct. Ty's teammates won't have it. They sign an agreement refusing to play in solidarity, stating that, quote, If the players cannot have protection, we must protect ourselves, close quote. The result is that, on May 18th, the Detroit Tigers field semi-pro and amateur players The players cannot have protection. We must protect ourselves. Close quote. The result is that, on May 18th, the Detroit Tigers field semi-pro and amateur players in a game to avoid a $5,000 forfeit fee. It's one of the most absurd games in Major League history.

And the Major Leagues continue to evolve. In 1914, a new experimental professional league, the Federal League, comes into play. It folds the following year, in part because they don't have enough fans buying tickets to keep the teams going, but the briefly existing Federal League does cause salaries to go through the roof. And then, according to historian Lawrence Ritter, quote, in 1920, the game changed dramatically. It suddenly switched from strategy to power, from brains to brawn. The change was due to one man and one man only. His name was Babe Ruth. Close quote. But before we can get to the great Bambino, as he'll soon come to be known, we need to meet some other ballplayers. Ones who aren't about to let Jim Crow's segregating ways keep them from playing

America's great pastime. They will play ball. And much of that is thanks to a man named Andrew Rude Foster. How can you be sure you're making the right decision when choosing a university? The smart approach is to look at the facts, like the fact that York U graduates have a 90% employer satisfaction rate. That's because across its three GTA campuses,

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Remember to follow all traffic signals. Be careful along our tracks and only make left turns where it's safe to do so. Be alert, be aware, and stay safe. A husky, handsome black Texan, Andrew Rube Foster is a gifted turn-of-the-century pitcher destined to become the father of black baseball. But before we meet Rube and watch him create the centralized, professional Negro National League in 1920, let's get a little background on how the great American pastimes major leagues became segregated in the first place. Remember the National Association of Baseball Players, or just the Association, as it was known, that existed from 1857 to 1870? Yes, the first governing body of baseball. Well, in the aftermath of the Civil War, the Association isn't spared in the reunified but fragile nation's fight over the meaning of the end of slavery and the status of Black Americans.

In 1867, as Jim Crow-segregating Black codes spread across the South and the federal government continued to pursue its reconstruction policies, a talented Philadelphia ball club composed mostly of Black intellectuals, known as the Pythians, applied to join the association. When the association's 237 delegates met in Philadelphia for the association's annual convention that December, they not only said no, they decided that, allegedly to avoid politics, the association should stand, quote, against the admission of any club which may be composed of one or more colored persons, close quote. This was baseball's first color line. Of course, the association collapsed only three years later, taking its official color line with it. As such, there were black professional baseball

players in the mostly white leagues during the years that followed. In 1884, mustachioed Moses Fleetwood Walker became the first black major leaguer when the team he played on, the Toledo Blue Stockings, turned pro in the only a decade long lasting American Association. But not everyone was welcoming of the black catcher and before a league game in Richmond, Toledo manager Charlie Morton received a letter warning him, quote, not to put up Walker the evenings that you play in Richmond, as we could mention the names of 75 determined men who have sworn to mob Walker if he comes on the ground in a suit. We hope you will listen to our words of warning. Close quote. More black players follow Moses into the big leagues. They include pitcher and second baseman Bud Fowler, pitcher George Stovey, and second baseman and power hitter Frank Grant.

By 1887, between 8 and 20 black athletes were playing predominantly white baseball. But it's a bit hard to determine official numbers. Saul White entered in that very year as a 19-year-old second baseman. He would later write a seminal work on the early Negro League and its players. By 1888, however, it became clear that, even though black athletes still played in the white organized leagues, segregating Jim Crow laws and even informal practices were beginning to force them out. Interestingly, or perhaps ironically, it was about this same time in the late 19th century that baseball teams began to spring up outside the U.S. By 1891, Cuba had 75 integrated clubs.

And so, many Black U.S. teams began to travel to play outside the country. By the early 1900s, Black teams and leagues were springing up across the country. According to Saul White's 1907 History of Colored Baseball, the U.S. had at least 18 professional Black teams by 1908. But they weren't centralized like the professional, national, and American leagues. In December 1910, a black national league attempted to form, but no dice. It fell apart before organizing a single game. However, as the decade passed, and as black Southerners headed north by the hundreds of

thousands amid the Great Migration that we heard about in the last episode, northern cities picked up more talent for black baseball clubs. And as this happened, Andrew Rube Foster wanted to see these clubs organize and reach the next level. Yes, we've now caught up with Rube in 1920, and this dominant pitcher, whose skills on the mound are only matched by his genius for managing a team, wants to try his hand at managing a whole league. In these Jim Crow times, Rube's written a series of columns in the Chicago Defender advocating for a professional black baseball league that will, quote, create a profession that would equal the earning capacity of any other profession, keep colored baseball from the control of whites, and do something concrete for the loyalty of the race.

Close quote. It's February 13th, 1920. We're at the five-story Brick Paseo YMCA building in Kansas City, Missouri, where the Chicago American Giants owner, Rube Foster, has called a meeting with other Midwestern black baseball team owners. They include Tenny Blunt of the Detroit Stars, Lorenzo Cobb of the St. Louis Giants, Joe Green of the Chicago Giants, C.I. Taylor of the Indianapolis ABCs, J.L. Wilkinson of the Kansas City Monarchs, and maybe John Matthews of the Dayton Marcos. Sources conflict on him being here or not. The president of the Cuban Stars isn't able to be here in person,

but he's all in favor of the conversation that's about to happen. Today, these men are discussing the creation of a new and unified league for black ballplayers. But perhaps discuss isn't the right word, because Rube isn't here just to talk. To everyone's surprise, he pulls out an official charter and articles of incorporation all ready to go. Okay then. We don't have a record of what Rube's pitch is to the group, but it's likely that he says something similar to his December 27, 1919 article in The Defender. Each club will be allowed to retain their players,

but cement a partnership in working for the organized good for baseball. The outcome will be the East will be the same as the National League, the West as the American League. The winner of the majority of games in the East to meet the Western winners in a real world championship. This will pave the way for such a champion team eventually to play the winner among whites. This is more than possible.

Only in uniform strength is there permanent success. But whatever Rube says that particular day, it works. The Negro National League is formed, and within the next 24 hours, the league's teams pony up, paying a $500 deposit and pledging to forge their own paths in baseball history. They adopt as their slogan, we are the ship, all else the sea. And as for Rube Foster? Well, the teams unanimously elect him as the NNL's first president.

This new Negro League faces logistical problems, particularly finding places to play since few teams actually own their own ballparks. The league soon finds a workable, if imperfect, answer in renting ballparks from white teams. The Negro League teams schedule games on days when the white squad is on the road. But despite the scheduling challenges, attendance is strong right out the gate. In 1920, crowds of 8,000 to 10,000 are quite common in booming Chicago, Kansas City, and Indianapolis for a Sunday morning matchup. In fact, the league becomes a community fixture. Churches sometimes push forward Sunday services so congregants can

go to the game, still dressed in their Sunday best, of course. And the talent in the league is excellent. In fact, William Bill James Yancey, a Negro League shortstop, will later say that, quote, On certain days, our Negro National, or Negro American League clubs, could have been major leaguers. If we could have selected the best of the colored leagues and gone into the major leagues, I. If we could have selected the best of the colored leagues and gone into the major leagues, I'd say we could have won the championship. We could have selected maybe five clubs out of all the colored teams that would have held their own in the big

leagues. Meanwhile, black baseball only continues to grow. On December 16, 1923, another league, the Eastern Colored League, forms. Unlike the Negro National League, it doesn't have a president. Rather, six commissioners, one from each of the league's teams, form a governing board. But even with the NNL and the ECL both in full swing, scheduling continues to prove a real struggle. And this leads to some, shall we say, interesting matchups. Some of these, well, you have to see it to believe it. I'll show you what I mean.

Come on, I got us tickets to a Wichita Monrovians game that will certainly be one for the books. It's June 21st, 1925. We're at the Wichita Monrovians' all-wooden-built stadium, located on an island, a sandbar really, located in a stretch of the Arkansas River as it passes through Wichita, Kansas. Yes, it's a rare situation. A Negro team that has its own ballpark, and today is unique too.

As the fans make their way in, filling the 5,000 seat stadium, officials carefully search the spectators bags and pockets. According to the Wichita Beacon's later coverage, security is checking for quote, strangle bolts, razors, horse whips and other violent implements of argument. Close quote. This isn't a usual practice but then again this isn't a usual practice, but then again, this isn't a usual game. Today, the all-black ballplayers of the Monrovians are playing the semi-pro ball club Clan No. 6, as in the Ku Klux Klan. And crazy as that sounds, both teams' fans are all about it. In no time at all, the game gets underway.

WW Irish Garrity and Dan Dwyer are umping, and were specifically selected because they're white and Catholic. If that sounds strange, let me remind you that, as we learned in episode 152, this renewed 20th century Klan's hate list includes Catholics. In fact, the clash between the Klan and Catholic students from Notre Dame that I told you about in that episode was just last year. All that to say, the thinking is that, as two white Catholics clearly not attached to either group, Irish and Dan are the most neutral umpires one could get for this matchup. And by the way, all the batting is happening with bats, not crosses. Yeah, that's a special rule specifically made for this game. Anyone who walks up attempting to bat with a cross will be thrown out.

No exceptions. The game opens with a pitcher's duel. That is, little scoring and excellent pitching, which gives way to far more runs in the later innings. Sadly, those are about all the details we have for the game, but the fans enjoy it, and the fact that we don't have a violent story tells us that things must have stayed peaceful. The Monrovians beat the clan 10-8. Undoubtedly, these black ball players must be ecstatic. As for the clan number six, I have to imagine there were some dour faces the

next time they met at their local clavern. I like to think that perhaps a little soul-searching happened, perhaps some questioning about racial narratives and hatreds, but again, no records. The Negro Leagues thrive through the late 1920s, and the majority of their players, whose names will go down in history, debut during this time. Like the 6-foot, 3-inch, right-handed pitching ace, Leroy Satchel Page, who's known for his arsenal of pitches with names such as the jump ball, b-ball, screwball, wobbly ball, whipsy-dipsy-doo, a hurry-up ball, a nothing ball, and a bat dodger. Satchel's hesitation pitch, in which he'll begin

his windup but then pause for a second, is notorious for screwing with the batter's timing and causing a lot of whiffs. Satchel played for many teams in the Negro Leagues before becoming the oldest player to make his Major League debut in 1948. Many Hall of Famers, like Ted Williams, Joe DiMaggio, Dizzy Dean, and Buck Leonard, will later call Satchel one of, if not the, hardest pitchers to hit off of. But regardless of the immense talent pool, both the Negro National League and the Eastern Colored League are not entirely structurally sound. The ECL's governing board isn't as effective as hoped because they can't really hold any of the teams accountable to play their scheduled games. Meanwhile, the NNL suffers when Rube Foster becomes incapacitated by mental illness in 1926. He has to step back from the league.

The NNL manages to survive another half a decade, but between losing Rube and the Great Depression's impact, the league folds in 1932. The next year, however, Gus Greenlee picks up the ball, founding the second Negro National League, which will endure until 1948. One year after Jackie Robinson breaks Major League Baseball's colored line by joining the National League's Brooklyn Dodgers. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Jackie Robinson's tale is still two decades from now. So, for the moment, we'll leave the thriving Negro Leagues in their 1920s heyday as we barnstorm back over to the National and American Leagues to meet the most famous ballplayer of all time. I'm, of course, referring to the Sultan of Swat, the great Bambino, Babe Ruth.

Was the Sphinx 10,000 years old? Were there serial killers in ancient Greece and Rome? What were the lives of transgender, intersex, and non-binary people like in the ancient world? We're Jen. And Jenny. From Ancient History Fangirl. We tell you true stories and tall tales of the ancient world. Sometimes we do it tipsy. Sometimes we have amazing guests on our show. Historians like Barry Strauss, podcasters

like Liv Albert, Mike Duncan, and authors like Joanne Harris and Ben Aronovich. We take you to the top of Hadrian's Wall to watch the Roman Empire fall at the end of the world. We walk the catacombs beneath the temple of the Feathered Serpent under Teotihuacan. We walk the sacred spirals of the Nazca Lines in search of ancient secrets. And we explore mythology from ancient cultures around the world. Come find us at ancienthistoryfangirl.com

or wherever you get your podcasts. Want to learn how you can make smarter decisions with your money? Well, I've got the podcast for you. I'm Sean Piles, and I host NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast. On our show, we help listeners like you make the most of your finances. I sit down with NerdWallet's team of nerds, personal finance experts in credit cards, banking, investing, and more. We answer your real-world money questions and break down the latest personal finance news. The Nerds will give you the clarity you need by cutting through the clutter and misinformation in today's world of personal finance. We don't promote get-rich-quick schemes or hype unrealistic side hustles.

Instead, we offer practical knowledge that you can apply in your everyday life. You'll learn about strategies to help you build your wealth, invest wisely, shop for financial products, and plan for major life events. And you'll walk away with the confidence you need to ensure that your money is always working as hard as you are. So turn to the Nerds to answer your real-world money questions and get insights that can help you make the smartest financial decisions for your life. Listen to NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. So, we've arrived at the tale of the one and only Babe Ruth. Let's start with some pre-1920s, which is to say, some pre-Yankees, background. On February 6th, 1895, George Herman Ruth Jr. was born in Baltimore, Maryland.

With his parents working to support the family, the unsupervised George, as he'd say, was a bad kid, which led his parents to send him to St. Mary's Industrial School for Boys. While at school, brother Matthias became little George's role model and first coach, teaching the broad-faced kid to hit, field, and pitch. Come February 1914, 19-year-old George was already so good that minor league Baltimore Orioles owner, Jack Dunn, signed him after watching the team play for less than an hour. Orioles players referred to the kid as Jack's newest babe. And whether said in English or using the Italian equivalent, Bambino, the nickname stuck. Later that same year, the American League's Boston Red Sox picked up the now towering Husky ballplayer. Babe was

certainly good enough for the majors already, but due to a loaded roster, the young pitcher was optioned to the Sox minor league team, the Providence Grays, for a season. It was a good year for the great Bambino. The young pitcher helped the team finish first place in the international league and found love in the arms of Helen Woodford. The young couple married that October.

Playing with the Sox in full force in 1915, the now major league pitcher immediately boasted an impressive 18-8 win-loss record and an ERA of 2.44. For all you non-baseball fans out there, ERA means earned run average, or how many runs are scored on a pitcher based on the number of innings pitched. And Babe's 2.44 is phenomenal. For some 21st century perspective, the best starting pitcher in Major League Baseball in 2023, Blake Snell, will have an ERA of 2.25. And with that perspective, let me note that Babe achieved an even lower ERA

in his subsequent seasons with the Red Sox, sometimes below 2. But even more exciting and valuable than his pitching is Babe Ruth's swing. See, the last two decades, about 1900 to 1920, have been known as the dead ball era, a time when runs are low and hits are weak. While the ball itself and certain pitches later made a, factor into this. Another cause for the dead ball era was batting technique. Shoeless Joe Jackson stood out with his more powerful swing in this time, and Babe modeled his own swing after the great but later shamed Chicagoan. As Babe himself put it, I copied Jackson's style because I thought he was the greatest hitter I had ever seen,

the greatest natural hitter I ever saw. He's the guy who made me a hitter. By 1919, Babe, or the Sultan of Swat, or the King of Hitting to over-explain the nickname, was a regular in Boston's lineup. He inaugurated a hitting revolution with a season record 29 home runs. And yet, on December 26th, 1919, the Red Sox made the fateful decision to sell this all-star hitter to the New York Yankees for $100,000.

Now, to grasp the mythical significance of the sale of Babe Ruth, you need to understand that, at this point, the Red Sox were five-time champions of the thus far 15 official World Series. Three of those were won with Babe Ruth, specifically 1915, 1916, and 1918. But after selling the Sultan of Swat to their sworn enemies, the New York Yankees, the Red Sox enter a dark, dark time. A time of mourning, anguish, biblical gnashing of teeth suffering, and worse solid, unanswerable taunts from Yankees fans as Boston fails to win another World Series in the entire 20th century. A mere coincidence? Maybe to a scientific observer, but to the more superstitious fan, the perfidy, the sin of selling Babe Ruth,

an act as vile as stealing Jobu's rum, led the baseball gods to smite Boston with 86 years of wandering in the wilderness without winning another World Series until 2004. And we call this bleak time the curse of the Great Bambino. And with that, we've returned to our decade, to the 1920s, and the start of Babe Ruth's glorious career as a New York Yankee. In 1923, the Yankees moved to a new stadium in the Bronx, or the house that Ruth built, as Yankee Stadium will affectionately be known.

Because who doesn't want to see the Sultan of Swat swing that bat? He's driving new fans to the game. But as his star rises, the famous ballplayer has a few vices that come to the fore. Babe drinks heavily, eats unhealthily, gambles his salary, and likes to go out on the town quite a bit. The great Bambino's behavior catches up with him in 1925 when he collapses and has to get an intestinal abscess removed. His marriage sees rough times. Babe and Helen legally separate until her tragic death in a house fire in 1929, after which he'll marry actress Claire Hodgson. And his relationship with Yankees management is even rockier.

Back in 1922, Colonel Till Huston, one of the Yankees' owners, said to Babe, We are tying up a lot of money in you, Babe, far more than any player ever has received, and we feel you should give us something in return, not only hitting home runs, but in your conduct. We know you've often been drinking and whoring all hours of the night and paying no attention to training rules. As we are giving you a quarter of a million for the next five years, we want you to act with more responsibility. You can drink beer and enjoy cards and be in your room by 11 o'clock, the same as the other players. It still gives you a lot of time to have a good time. Babe's response becomes one of his most famous lines. Colonel, I'll promise to go easier on drinking and get to bed early.

But not for you, $50,000 or $250,000 will I give up women. They're too much fun. But despite his personal indiscretions and struggles, the great Bambino continues to put on show after show for his fans. He's an integral part of what some baseball aficionados and historians think is one of the greatest teams to ever play, the late 1920s New York Yankees. That said, Babe's most famous game comes in the following decade, on an October night in 1932. It's October 1st, 1932. From the grandstands to the bleacher seats perched atop scaffolding on the neighboring avenues of Waveland and Sheffield and temporarily

in front of the right field wall, 49,986 baseball fans are settling into their seats, getting ready to watch the Chicago Cubs battle it out against the New York Yankees at Chicago's Wrigley Field. Along the third base side of the field, Matt Miller-Candle and Harold Warp are setting up their 16mm film cameras. Meanwhile, the voices of vendors hollering about peanuts and crackerjacks somehow cut through the chatter. It's a sold-out packed night as it should be. This is game three of the World Series. It's now the top of the fifth inning. The score is tied four to four. The right-handed pitcher Charlie Root aka Chinsky for throwing pitches inside near the batter's chin, is stretching out on the mound while Babe Ruth is getting ready to bat. And it's tense. Cubs fans and players alike are yelling out trash talk, all aimed at the Yankees superstar.

But it doesn't faze the great Bambino. As Babe saunters up to the plate, cameramen Matt and Harold have their cameras going. Chinsky nods at the catcher raises his arms above his head and hurls a pitch across the plate before the umpire can call the pitch babe interrupts strike one the batter points at the cubs dugout perhaps letting them know he hears their jeering the next pitch is a ball then chinsky throws one that bounces in the dirt and past the catcher. Through all of it, the Chicago crowd and team alike persist in their taunts. As they do, the 6'2", 215-pound left-handed Sultan of Swat simply smiles at his foe. He then raises his

right hand out toward the flagpole in center field. He then stares at Chinsky as the pitcher throws. It's a second fastball and a second strike. The count is now two balls and two strikes. Babe repeats his hand motion, gesturing out toward center field once again. Chinsky takes a deep breath, raises his hands above his head, and releases a curveball.

The ball floats to the plate, beginning to break low and out of the strike zone. But before it can hit the catcher's glove, the great Bambino loads, steps toward the mound, and swings. The ball ricochets off his bat, soaring through the air, over the heads of the fielders and over the heads of the fans, in the stands, over the flagpole to which he appeared to have pointed, and lands in the deepest part of Wrigley's center field. It's a home run.

As Babe will later recall, I swung from the ground with everything I had, and as I hit the ball, every muscle in my system, every sense I had, told me that I had never hit a better one, that as long as I lived, nothing would ever feel as good as this. I didn't have to look, but I did. That ball just hit exactly the spot I had pointed to. As he trots around third base, Babe motions for the Cubs players to sit down.

He's just one-upped them. There's nothing more they can do. After all, there's no trash talk more powerful than performance that translates to that one beautiful word, scoreboard. Did he? Did he really do it? Did Babe Ruth do the impossible? Did he call his shot? Or was it just a gesture? Oh, I'll let others debate that, but selfishly, I want to believe he did it. It's just beautiful. I mean, how can you not be romantic about baseball?

Babe Ruth emerged as a superstar at a time when baseball desperately needed an idol. The sport was suffering from the shame of the White Sox 1919 World Series scandal, soon dubbed the Black Sox scandal, which we heard about in this episode's opening. It was also just coming out of the dead ball era when the Sultan of Swat went to the Yankees. Babe helped inaugurate a new golden age of baseball that would last several decades. But of course, he didn't do it single-handedly. While we might not be able to hear all of their stories, some of these incredibly talented ball players from the era include Lou Gehrig. He played 2,130 consecutive games as the New York

Yankees' first baseman and was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1939, the same year as his untimely retirement from baseball because of a diagnosis of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or ALS, also known after the ballplayer as Lou Gehrig's disease. Second baseman, Rogers Hornsby. He led the National League in batting average seven times and was referred to by manager John McGraw as, quote, a better hitter than Babe Ruth, close quote. Grover Cleveland, Pete Alexander,

a pitcher known for his movement and ability to vary speed that frustrated even the great Bambino. And Babe remembered their battles fondly, writing that, just to see old Pete out there on the mound with that cocky little undersized cap And Babe remembered their battles fondly, writing that, There are so many more players who deserve to be mentioned. But unfortunately, it's the bottom of the ninth, and we've got two outs. And while I appreciate Catcher Yogi Berra's wisdom in saying, it ain't over till it's over, well, no extra innings for us today.

Let's wrap it up. Baseball is, as I hope you've realized today, closely intertwined with our nation's social, political, and economic fabric. The sport, or at least its predecessors, has been with us since the colonial era. It reflects our once predominantly farming past. It bears the scars of Jim Crow. In short, baseball has lived and thrived through the nation's greatest and lowest historical events. In that regard, baseball, even when its popularity ebbs and flows, is the quintessential American sport and pastime. As American baseball pioneer and businessman Albert Spalding wrote in 1911,

to enter upon a deliberate argument to prove that baseball is our national game, that it has all the attributes of American origin, American character, and unbounded public favor in America seems a work of supererogation. It is to undertake the elucidation of a patent fact, the sober demonstration of an axiom. It is like a solemn declaration that 2 plus 2 equals 4. Close quote. Perhaps it's because baseball is so enmeshed in American identity

that Americans cling to baseball's legends the same way that we cling to overtly national identity-forming legends. Case in point, historians can debunk the legend of Abner Doubleday inventing baseball all day long, but it's not going to disappear any more than the legend of George Washington and the cherry tree. And frankly, baseball has a veritable canon of legendary figures that Americans look to for inspiration. From those we met today, like the forward-thinking Rube Foster and the extravagant, roaring 20s hitting pioneer Babe Ruth, to others we'll meet in later episodes, the women of World War II's All-American Girls Professional Baseball League, Jackie Robinson, and still more.

The sport is made up of larger-than-life personalities that have inspired Americans to see the best in themselves, ranging from grit to moral courage and more. I suppose inspiration is where legends come in. As a Hollywood version of the great Bambino once told a PF Flyers-wearing kid, there's heroes and there's legends. Heroes get remembered, but legends never die. Follow your heart, kid, and you'll never go wrong. Ah, but heroes and legends can be born from sports that aren't baseball. Next time,

we'll hear the tale of some other professional sports that early 20th century Americans loved. I hope you're ready to step into the ring, onto the gridiron, and onto the court. History That Doesn't Suck is created and hosted by me, Greg Jackson. Episode research and written by Boston Red Sox fan Greg Jackson and Philadelphia Phillies fan Riley Neubauer. Which is fine, because it's not the Yankees. Production by Airship. Sound design by Molly

Bach. Theme music composed by Greg Jackson. Arrangement and additional composition by Lindsey Graham of Airship. For a bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode, visit HTVSPodcast.com. Thank you. Matthew Mitchell, Matthew Simmons, Melanie Jan, Nick Kaffrel, Noah Hoff, Owen Sedlak, Paul Goeringer, Randy Guffrey, Reese Humphries-Wadsworth, Rick Brown, Sarah Trawick, Samuel Lagasa, Sharon Theisen, Sean Baines, Steve Williams, Creepy Girl, Tisha Black, and Zach Jackson. From the creators of the popular science show

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