Billy Rogell, the man who had just driven in the winning run in the Tigers’ most improbable performance of the season, was enjoying a career year. A .261 lifetime hitter coming into 1934, Rogell’s average now stood at .306. He already had 68 RBI, after totaling only 57 in 1933. The scrappy, sure-handed shortstop was the Tigers’ only switch-hitter. He had developed his strength while driving a horse-drawn milk truck as a teenager in Chicago’s Rosedale neighborhood. Rogell loved the delivery job; not only was it steady coin, it allowed him plenty of fresh air and sunshine as well. He figured he could stay in shape by lugging milk bottles around all day. On top of that, he could drink as much of the product as he wanted.
Billy Rogell was the shortstop on Detroit’s vaunted “Battalion of Death” infield (courtesy National Baseball Hall of Fame, Cooperstown, New York).
Given that history, Rogell’s nickname could have been “The Milk Truck.” Instead, it was “The Fire Chief.” The Yankees’ Red Ruffing gave it to him when both were teammates on the Red Sox. The two were fast friends, having discovered one day that their fathers had also been chummy with each other in Berlin before coming to America. A year or so after joining the Red Sox in 1925, Rogell visited Ruffing at his home in Nokomis, Illinois. The town had a volunteer fire company, of which Ruffing was a member. Since Rogell would be hanging around for a couple of weeks with not much to do, he decided to join the outfit, more or less on a lark. A few days later, a fierce house fire broke out while the two pals were relaxing at the station. The alarm sounded, the company scrambled into its gear, and the truck sped clanging down the street to the scene of the action. Upon arrival, Rogell appraised the dire state of affairs and immediately went into action. With the deftness of a seasoned pro, he uncoiled the hose and snaked up a ladder to the roof of the building, accompanied by a resourceful Boy Scout. Ruffing and the rest of the company lost sight of Rogell (and the Scout) in the churning smoke. When the roof collapsed, Ruffing feared that he had lost his friend for good. Once the fire was contained, however, Ruffing and a couple of companions entered the house to find Rogell safe at the bottom of a pile of rubble, along with the Boy Scout. The pair were dazed, but none the worse for wear. It was a tale that Ruffing loved to tell (and no doubt embellish). From that day on, he affectionately referred to Rogell as The Fire Chief, and the nickname stuck.
In the finale of the Yankees series, the Tigers prevailed, 8–3. Schoolboy Rowe, on only two days’ rest, pitched six strong innings for his seventh win in a row. Goslin hit his tenth home run. A Free Press writer dramatically observed that the last out of the crucial series “resulted in pandemonium, no less, and hats sailed through the air, grandstand cushions struck innocent bystanders and a great roar, greater than the swelling tumult during the progress of the game, resounded in the four winds from Trumbull and Michigan Aves.”16
Leading up to the four-game showdown, the Yankees had been dismissive of Detroit; Washington posed the bigger threat, they maintained. The upstart Tigers had proven their mettle, however, and the Bronx Bombers shuffled out of town with considerably less swagger. Cochrane’s team now sat alone atop the American League by a full length and a half. “Yes, m’lads,” wrote the chagrined Daniel, “it will be a race and a hummer. Even the Yankees admit that now!”17
It was also the passing of an era. Never again would Ruth appear in a game in Detroit. By the time the Yankees returned to Navin Field in late September, a broken-down Babe would be riding the pine, unable to perform because of injuries. Since his first home run at Michigan and Trumbull way back in 1916 when he was a pitcher for the Boston Red Sox, Ruth had walloped 60 round-trippers in Detroit. Now, in 1934, despite the ravages of time, the Bambino was still as big a draw as ever, especially with kids. Between innings during the series, swarms of children made their way down to the railing near the dugout, calling out for the Babe. Before heading to his position in left, Ruth would take a few moments for yet another round of autograph signing. He was an aging, benevolent god in cleats, ever distributing largesse to his adoring public.
Chapter Seven
Winning Streak
Joe Cronin’s Senators arrived for a three-game set beginning July 16. Detroit lost the opener, but took the next two behind fine pitching performances by Carl Fischer and Bridges, who won his 11th game. The reigning American League champions were now 12½ games back. With the Yankees dropping two of three in Cleveland, the Tigers bumped their lead to two and a half games.
Earlier in the season, many observers felt that the Tigers were not going to hang around for the long haul, that they would eventually fade away as the summer heated up. In years past, Detroit was always awed by teams like the Yankees and Senators. Writer Sam Greene maintained that they had had “an inferiority complex.”1 They had proven to be a group that no longer backed down from a challenge, however. They viewed themselves as equals with New York.
Perhaps no player on the Tigers symbolized that new spirit of confidence as much as Marv Owen did. At 28 years old, he was no longer a kid by baseball standards. He had arrived late on the scene, appearing in his first professional game only four years prior. Growing up in San Jose, California, he always had a knack for the game, and his parents encouraged him to pursue his dream of playing it for a living. At his mother’s insistence, he attended Santa Clara University, where he was the star of the baseball team. He also majored in Physical Education. “The only reason I took it was because it was the easiest class. I was just there to play ball.”2 Although Owen earned his degree, he admitted he was never a serious student.
Nevertheless, he had a naturally curious, observant mind. In subsequent years with the Tigers, sportswriter H. G. Salsinger wrote of him: “Marvin Owen has the professorial look. You would not take him for anything else. He is quiet and unassuming and he spends much of his time arguing theology and theosophy, biology and psychology.”3 He was innately shy and introverted, but found it easy to express himself with pen and paper. His family and friends could always anticipate long, descriptive letters from Owen while he was on the road with the Tigers. He was also something of a poet. Hardly the image one would expect of a man best remembered for nearly precipitating a brawl in the World Series.
That, however, would come later. Owen’s fine play as a collegian earned him feelers from Pacific Coast League teams. He inked a contract with the Seattle Rainiers, and in 1930, his first season, he was the team’s regular shortstop. Owen had excellent range and a strong arm, and could have played anywhere on the infield. He also had very large hands and liked to show off by holding seven baseballs in each of them. At Seattle, he hit an even .300, which caught the attention of the Tigers, who purchased him for $25,000. The following year he became their full-time shortstop and hit over .300 in the first month and a half. He quickly learned, however, that pitchers in the American League were a step above those of the PCL. By the middle of August, his average had sunk to .223, and the Tigers optioned him down to the International League’s Toronto Maple Leafs.
Owen could have crawled into a shell. Back when he was playing for Seattle, he used to look around at the rest of the players on the field, and he knew in his heart that he was better than they were. It was not arrogance, but simply a confidence that it was in his power to go as far as he wanted in the game. Once he began to struggle in the major leagues, however, his self-assuredness took a beating. In the end, the demotion to Toronto turned out to be the best thing that could have happened. Feasting on inferior pitching, he wound up batting .313. He split 1932 with the Maple Leafs and Newark Bears, hitting a combined .317 with 63 extra-base hits. His great season garnered him an MVP Award in the International League, and by the following year, he made it back to the majors.
Once again, however, Owen had a hard adjustment to big-league pitching. Sinus trouble plagued him in 1933, and although he played in 138 games, he lacked the offensive punch expected from a third baseman. Cochrane, speaking to the press in the spring of 1934, admitted to doubts that the tall, freckle-faced in
cumbent would still be a starter once the season got under way. The rookie manager sat down with Owen in Lakeland and gave him the straight dope: “With your natural equipment and great pair of hands, you ought to be the greatest third baseman living.”4
Owen took the words of encouragement from Cochrane and stepped up his game. He finished strong in the final few weeks in Florida and was banking on a good start in 1934. It didn’t happen. Following another hitless afternoon on May 4, Owen was floundering at .209 with only four extra-base hits. The next day, however, he collected three singles off Red Ruffing of the Yankees, and the hits kept on coming, day after day, week after week. In the three-game series against Washington in mid–July, Owen went 7-for-12, boosting his average to .346, his high-water mark of the season. Cochrane felt that he had even surpassed the Athletics’ 25-year-old All-Star third baseman, Pinky Higgins, considered one of the best young players at the position.
When not scooping up grounders at third base, the erudite Marv Owen “was also something of a poet” (courtesy Ernie Harwell Sports Collection, Detroit Public Library).
Owen and Higgins were on full display as Philadelphia journeyed to Navin Field for a weekend series beginning on July 20. The Bengals dropped a tough one in the opener, 5–4. Schoolboy Rowe was cruising along but gave Detroit a big scare in the fifth inning. Scoring from second on a single by Pete Fox, he accidentally stepped on a bat near home plate, twisting his ankle. He stayed in the game, but Cochrane removed him in the seventh inning with Detroit up, 4–2. The Athletics eventually tied it, and in the top of the eighth, Jimmie Foxx blasted a home run, his 29th of the season. That proved to be the game winner. In the words of Free Press writer Jack Carveth: “[Losing pitcher] Luke Hamlin knows today that it is indiscrete to throw a three-and-one ball down the middle of the plate to James Emory Foxx…. It was another ball game that the Tigers should have won but didn’t because of their own mistakes.”5
Elden Auker threw a complete game the next day, winning by a final of 4–1. In the fourth inning, with Detroit up 1–0 and nobody out, Philadelphia’s Eric McNair singled, advancing to second on Rabbit Warstler’s base knock. Charlie Berry followed with a screaming line drive to first; Greenberg snatched it for the out and stepped on the base before Warstler could slide back safely. He then fired down to Rogell, and the shortstop put the tag on McNair for a triple play.
The following afternoon, the heat wave that had been baking Detroiters finally eased, but only slightly. For the first time in nearly a month, the temperature failed to reach 90; the humidity, however, was still as drenching. The Tigers were shut out, 1–0, in the first game of a doubleheader. In the second contest, the Athletics teed off on starter Firpo Marberry for six runs in less than three innings. Cochrane called in Rowe from the bullpen. The Schoolboy pitched the rest of the game, giving up only two more runs. The Tigers’ bats, meanwhile, came alive, scoring 17 times, and Rowe notched his 12th win of the campaign, and eighth in a row. Greenberg homered, his 13th, and drove in four runs. The battle of third basemen, however, had proven to be a dud: Higgins hit .188 in the four games, while Owen managed only one hit in 13 at-bats.
Later that evening, stunning news emerged out of Chicago: Agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation had gunned down John Dillinger, public enemy number one, as he exited the Biograph Theatre on the city’s North Side. The former Indiana farm boy and ruthless gangster had been watching Manhattan Melodrama, a film about, ironically enough, New York gamblers and underworld shysters. Soon after the show ended, Dillinger walked jauntily out of the movie house in the company of two women (one of them an FBI informant). A team of special agents, led by Melvin H. Purvis of the Department of Justice, ambushed the armed criminal, who was gunned down trying to flee. Among the sharpshooters was Herman Hollis, formerly the head of the FBI’s Detroit office.
Tommy Bridges took the mound in stifling 104-degree heat on July 23 at Navin Field. In a 7–2 win against the Red Sox, he pitched out of jams seemingly all afternoon long, but went the distance for the 14th time while raising his record to 12 victories against only six defeats. Reported the Boston Globe, “Today was ‘Ladies’ Day’ and the girls turned out to cheer their heroes on. Charley Gehringer seems to be their favorite. Charley, you know, is a bachelor. Also a very eligible one.”6 The second baseman went 2-for-4 and was now hitting .390, second in the American League. Every Tiger in the lineup collected at least one hit. Afterward, a reporter buttonholed Sox skipper Bucky Harris and asked him what he felt of his former club’s pennant chances. “It will be a tough team to beat. The Tigers have the spirit and the drive and they carry the power.”7
The next day was even hotter in the city as the thermometer reached 105, the highest since the Detroit Weather Bureau began tracking temperatures 63 years earlier. The Tigers battered Red Sox starter Rube Walberg early and often, garnering a 6–3 win. Lefty Grove was Boston’s third pitcher of the afternoon. A major disappointment since coming over from the Athletics in the off-season, Grove gave up a hit in two innings of work, lowering his earned run average to 7.25. “Grove has at least two more seasons of good pitching left in him,” insisted Harris. “He’ll be pitching and winning his share of games for Boston in no time.”8
The Red Sox bounced back to take two in a row from Detroit. Coupled with two Yankees wins in St. Louis, Detroit had fallen into a tie with New York for first place. With the Tigers headed to Chicago for three games with the last-place White Sox, however, things were looking up.
On Saturday, July 28, Schoolboy Rowe locked horns with Sox right-hander Ted Lyons, a three-time 20-game winner. The 33-year-old Lyons went the distance, giving up 14 hits and 11 runs, but only three earned, as the Sox made four key errors. As for Rowe, he limited the Sox to one run on three hits in winning his 13th game. Sportswriter Irving Vaughan noted that, “Among the 3,500 in attendance was Rowe’s ‘girl’ from Dallas, Tex. Maybe that’s why the Schoolboy turned out an extra neat job of pitching.”9 The identity of the “girl” was not revealed to readers (at least not yet). The complete game marked Rowe’s ninth consecutive win; he even banged out three hits and drove in three runs, raising his average to .305. “Pitching with a strong wind behind his back, Rowe handcuffed the Sox throughout the game.”10
Schoolboy, however, saved his biggest hat trick for the opener of a doubleheader the following afternoon. This time, Comiskey Park’s gale-force wind was blowing out, which aided the offense. Sox catcher Ed Madjeski’s two-run homer in the eighth put his team up, 15–14. In a desperate attempt to save his bullpen, Cochrane called upon Rowe, who got the last two outs of the inning to escape further damage. In the top of the ninth, Marv Owen led off with a single. Rather than insert a pinch-hitter, Cochrane let Rowe bat. Schoolboy rewarded his manager’s faith when he “exploded a homer”11 into the left-field stands to give the Tigers a 16–15 advantage. In the bottom of the inning, Rowe set the Sox down in order, squeaking by for his 14th win and tenth consecutive. Said the Free Press, “The Tigers’ Schoolboy was the hottest pitcher in all of baseball. The remarkable feats of the Schoolhouse have contributed more than any other single factor to the surprising rise of the Tigers to the top of the heap.”12
When Detroiters woke up on Tuesday, July 31, their morning papers showed that the Tigers were a game in front of the Yankees. The Bengals had a record of 59–36. New York had the same number of losses, but two fewer wins. The Tigers had a twin bill at League Park that day against the third-place Indians. In the opener, Cleveland came from behind three times to eke out a 9–7 victory. But Bridges held the Tribe at bay in the second tilt, picking up his 13th win. New York’s twin killing against the Red Sox that same day, however, put the Yankees in a virtual tie with Detroit.
The victory by Bridges was the opening volley of a remarkable run. For the next two weeks, the Tigers did not lose a baseball game. On August 1 in Cleveland, Detroit was leading, 10–7, when the Indians loaded the bases with two down in the ninth inning. Unexpectedly called upon in relief, a half-d
ressed Schoolboy Rowe scrambled for a glove. Unable to find one, he borrowed Elden Auker’s. He then went out and fanned Hal Trosky and Odell Hale on six pitches, ballgame over. The next day, Cochrane handed the ball to Auker, who had compiled an earned run average of 7.01 in the month of July. The submariner blanked the Indians and Mel Harder, giving up only four hits in his best pitching effort of the season. On August 3, Rowe had a no-hitter going against the White Sox until Jimmie Dykes singled in the seventh. It was the only Chicago safety of the game, as Schoolboy notched his 11th consecutive decision.
The Washington Senators, meanwhile, buried in fifth place in the midst of a lost season, placed right-hander General Crowder on waivers. It looked like the end of the line for the 35-year-old. Crowder’s pitching shoulder boasted a tattoo, a relic from his wilder days in the army. Body art was not something that proper folks displayed publicly in the 1930s, and Crowder made it a point never to bare his shoulder. He was a former stud with the Browns and Senators, a three-time 20-game winner. But his shoulder, tattooed or not, had begun to betray him in 1934, as evidenced by a 4–10 record and 6.79 earned run average. The Tigers initially had no interest in Crowder, but several players on the team, knowing that you never can have enough pitching, approached Cochrane and Frank Navin, urging them to go after the battle-tested veteran. The Tigers’ owner liked the fact that Crowder had experienced a World Series with the Senators the year before. On August 4, the General became a member of the Tigers for the waiver price of $4,000. Wrote Jack Carveth of the Free Press, “Cochrane expects Crowder to turn in his share of victories for the Tigers before the sites for the World Series are determined. The Tigers’ pilot looks for Crowder to reach the form that made him one of the outstanding pitchers of 1932 and 1933.”13 Cochrane also pointed out: “He’ll win for us. He’s a smart pitcher with speed, a good curve and a deceptive change of pace. Got everything we need.”14
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