None of the changes helped. Detroit’s bats were stymied in a 3–2 loss the following afternoon, ruining an excellent complete-game effort by Firpo Marberry. Goslin and Greenberg combined for one hit in seven at-bats. The White Sox, who had gone a woeful 5–17 against the Tigers in 1934, escaped the Motor City with an impressive series win. After the game, the Tigers optioned Dixie Howell to Birmingham of the Southern Association.
The hitting doldrums continued when the Indians rode into town. In a further attempt to shake things up, Cochrane shuffled Goslin from left field to right and put spring sensation Chet Morgan in left and batting eighth. Fox, meanwhile, was back on the bench. Elden Auker and newcomer Joe Sullivan pitched well in the first game on April 20, but Detroit could not deliver with men on base, falling in 14 innings, 2–1. There was no respite for the weary the following afternoon, a 13-inning affair that the Tigers won, 3–2, with Rowe throwing seven frames of relief for his first win. Willis Hudlin three-hit Detroit in the final game, a 5–0 loss; once again, the Tigers had struggled against a team they had dominated in 1934. Walter Johnson was not quick to draw any conclusions about Detroit, however. “You can’t keep a gang like that down,” he conceded.19
Arriving in the Windy City for a three-game set beginning April 23, Detroit looked to General Crowder to pull rank on the White Sox in the Comiskey Park opener. Instead, Chicago stripped the General of his medals, knocking him around for nine hits, three walks, and six runs in five innings. With Gehringer at cleanup the next day, the Tigers were limited to three hits. Trying to ignite the offense, Cochrane inserted himself fourth in the lineup for the finale. But Rowe, battling a cold, pitched poorly in a 9–8 loss as Chicago swept the series. Al Simmons, on the other hand, the man Tigers fans had salivated over in the off-season, went a combined 4-for-11 with a home run and five RBI. Expressing what was on everyone’s mind, H. G. Salsinger wrote, “It is still very early in the season. If [the Tigers] suddenly started hitting everything would become different and the team is bound to begin hitting, sooner or later. The only danger is that it may start hitting too late.”20
It was much of the same in Cleveland, where Detroit lost to the first-place Tribe, 11–3. Vociferous fans at League Park had not forgotten the springtime spat between Cochrane and Walter Johnson. The Tigers’ manager was the recipient of cacophonous queries of “Who are the Indians, Mickey?” Detroit suffered a 9–2 pasting on April 27, its sixth loss in a row. For the Indians, it was their fifth consecutive win. Detroit occupied the cellar in the American League, seven games behind the Tribe, with a record of two wins and nine losses. Cleveland was playing great baseball; five of their first eight wins were by one run or less.
The city of Detroit was in a near panic. In factories and cafés, streetcars and Cadillacs, the talk of the town was its ailing baseball team. The champs looked like chumps, unable to hit their way out of a paper bag. Cochrane was batting .200, Goslin .255, Rogell .225, and Greenberg .250 with no home runs. The pitching wasn’t much better: Bridges boasted a 7.79 earned run average, with Rowe not far behind at 7.32. It was early, to be sure, but this was not how anybody had envisioned things. The entire organization, from Frank Navin down, had wanted to get off to a good start to show the world that 1934 was no fluke. The players, as a result, were straining under the weight of expectations. “Our hitters aren’t hitting, and our fielders aren’t fielding, and our pitchers aren’t pitching,” lamented Navin.21 But he insisted that his team would come around.
Relief came from an unlikely source in Joe Sullivan. The rookie who had starred with the Hollywood Stars took the mound against the Indians on April 28. He wasn’t flashy, but gutted it out the entire nine innings for his first big league victory. He pitched with the poise and confidence of a seasoned veteran. In another good sign, Greenberg banged out his first home run of the season, along with a double, as he was back in the cleanup position.
Sullivan’s effort was something of a moral victory. Other pitchers threw faster and boasted better curves, but Sullivan had a knuckleball that he was able to harness extraordinarily well. He did not lack for confidence, as the Detroit News was quick to point out. “No pitcher ever got anywhere without it and regardless of what Sullivan lacks, here and there (and mechanically he lacks considerable) he does have the one big thing and that’s what made Dizzy Dean a leading pitcher and that is what made Schoolboy Rowe the sensation of the American League last year. Joe’s fine confidence carried him through yesterday’s game.”22 The Associated Press proclaimed that Sullivan was “a mystery to the Tribesmen.”23 It was the Tigers’ best-played game to date, with timely hitting and inspired fielding. Cochrane loved working behind the plate when Sullivan was on the mound because the kid could throw to a spot all day long. The catcher would hold up his glove, and Sullivan would throw it in there. Control, however, had not always been Sullivan’s strong point.
He came from a family of itinerant farmers. His parents had tried scratching out a living first in Illinois, then in Twin Falls, Idaho, before finally gaining traction in Tracyton, Washington. His dad found work in the Bremerton Navy Shipyards. Sullivan began throwing the knuckleball in high school, where he first got the nickname “Tiger.” His catcher, however, wasn’t good at handling the unpredictable pitch and discouraged Sullivan from using it. After graduating, Sullivan played semipro ball in Bremerton, but it wasn’t until he participated in a 16-team tournament that he caught the attention of Bill Essick, the Yankees’ longtime scout covering the Pacific Coast League. Essick liked Sullivan’s self-assurance on the mound and inked him to a contract posthaste.
He was assigned to the PCL’s Hollywood Stars late in the 1930 season, but never got in a game. Finally his manager, Ossie Vitt, told him that he was being sent to the Tucson Cowboys of the Class D Arizona State League. But the team went bankrupt soon after his arrival, and he spent the winter wondering what a guy had to do to make a living at this game.
He stuck around Tucson and wound up signing with its new team, the Missions, which played in the recently rechristened Arizona-Texas League. With the Missions, Sullivan won 23 games as a raw-boned 20-year-old, drawing the attention of the Tigers, who swooped in and signed him before season’s end. They sent him to Beaumont in 1932, which already had an abundance of starting pitchers, including Schoolboy Rowe and Luke Hamlin. Sullivan struggled with his control for the next two seasons, averaging over five walks per nine innings. Bob Coleman, his manager and a former big-league catcher, worked hard with Sullivan to overcome his wildness. His windup was altered, eliminating any superfluous movements in an attempt to simplify things. It was an ongoing process, however, and when Tigers management gave him a cursory look at spring training in 1934, they judged him still too wild. He was farmed out to the Hollywood Stars for more seasoning.
Sullivan blossomed, despite pitching in hitter-friendly Wrigley Field in Los Angeles. He won 25 games that summer, but, most importantly, he lowered his base on balls rate to just over four per nine innings. The Tigers took note. Now, less than three weeks into the 1935 season, the unflappable Sullivan’s newfound control augured well.
Chapter Twelve
Hammerin’ Hank Sets the Pace
Early-season baseball, before the temperature rises, can be a low-scoring business. The reasons for this are varied, and new theories are constantly cropping up. Balls do not carry as much in the cooler, dry air. That home run in August might only be a long fly ball in April. Heat and humidity produce sweat on a pitcher’s palms; with dryer hands in the spring, gripping the baseball is slightly easier, which could improve control (but it is a fine line; too cold and too dry, and the ball feels “hard” and more difficult to grip). Hitting in chilly weather poses its own set of challenges. Cold bats are less flexible, and this could deaden any ball they hit. There is also an element of pain: Get sawed off with an inside fastball in 40-degree cold and you won’t forget the sting in your hands anytime soon. Many batters are still getting their timing down and do not fully find their groove un
til the warmer weather sets in. The Tigers’ bats started slowly in 1935, but as the calendar turned to May, they began to heat up.
In St. Louis, Bridges and Crowder were back in fine form, as was the hitting, and Detroit took a pair from the Browns by a combined score of 29–3. Fewer than 900 hardy souls bothered to show up to Sportsman’s Park for the two contests. Gee Walker was red hot: In four games since returning to action, he had gone 9-for-18 to raise his average to .519. He had also been blunder-free on the bases.
Showers wiped out the final two games of the series, and the deluge endured in Detroit, keeping the Tigers idle until May 4. That made for a well-rested staff, and Cochrane could have gone with any of his starters in a game against Boston. He bypassed Rowe and Bridges and gave the ball to the kid Sullivan, which raised some eyebrows. The lefty went the distance in a 5–2 victory, issuing only one base on balls. Walker got two more hits, as did Gehringer, who was now hitting .359. Sullivan was in trouble only once all afternoon. In the fifth inning, he hit Babe Dahlgren in the leg, loading the bases with one out and the Tigers nurturing a 2–0 lead. He then walked Wes Ferrell, forcing in a run. Many rookies could have cracked under the strain, but Sullivan kept his poise. He got Max Bishop to pop up to first and retired Billy Werber on a fly to Walker in left. “That boy knows how to pitch,” Cochrane iterated after the game. “He has all the poise of a veteran and he seems to finally be the answer to our hope for a reliable starting southpaw.”1
Tommy Bridges toyed with the lowly Athletics in a 5–3 win on May 7 at Navin Field, making it five in a row for Detroit. But the following afternoon saw one of those gut-wrenching games that give managers gray hairs. Schoolboy Rowe, wild all day long, was behind in the count with seemingly every batter. With Detroit nursing a 6–2 advantage with two on and two down in the top of the eighth, Bob Johnson tagged Rowe for a homer, his second of the game. Schoolboy struck out Jimmie Foxx to end the inning, but the implosion continued in the ninth. Leadoff man Pinky Higgins fanned, but two singles and a throwing error put runners on second and third. Cochrane headed out to the mound; Rowe’s day was through. In came Auker, who struck out the first batter he faced, but then gave up a single that put the Athletics on top. Detroit gave it one last gasp, loading the bases in the ninth. But there was no joy in Tigertown: Greenberg whiffed to end the affair, and the fans tore up their scorecards in disgust. Rowe’s inexplicable funk was fodder for alarmists. Charged with all seven runs, his earned run average now stood at a putrid 7.39.
The Tigers closed out their home stand by winning three of five against Washington and New York. Sullivan once again stood sturdy against the Nats, walking only two in a complete-game, 8–4 victory on May 10. The most encouraging performance, however, was put in by Rowe three days later. Schoolboy threw a four-hitter, walking one and striking out five, besting the Yankees’ Lefty Gomez in a 3–0 win. Rowe, wrote H. G. Salsinger, “for the first time this season, fully reached his 1934 form.”2 Walker hit his first home run of the season and was batting .451. Gehringer, at .349, was the only other regular hitting over .300. Sullivan suffered a tough loss on May 15, as Red Ruffing shut out the Tigers at Navin Field. It was the final game before Cochrane’s men embarked on a 12-game, four-city eastern swing.
Despite some encouraging signs, the Tigers’ offense lacked the punch of 1934. After 22 games, the team was hitting .261, with a woeful .371 slugging percentage. They were inspiring fear in nobody. Because of several postponements, the pitching staff had suffered from irregular work. With ten wins and 12 losses, it had become clear to the Tigers that repeating as American League champions was going to be a challenge. Before the Tigers and Yankees left town, Cochrane was a guest of honor at the Detroit Yacht Club. Lou Gehrig also got an invite, along with former Tigers outfielder Davy Jones. At the podium, Cochrane promised the 600-odd attendees that his club would be right up there come September.
Washington Senators owner Clark Griffith, in fact, had already written off Detroit. When the Tigers arrived in the nation’s capital for a series beginning May 16, a reporter asked Griffith which teams he thought would be the contenders in the junior circuit moving forward. The Old Fox had won 237 games in his 20-year pitching career, and managed four different teams, before purchasing the Senators back in 1920. Griffith should have known to let sleeping Tigers lie. The teams to beat, he predicted, were the Indians, the Red Sox, and his own Senators squad (which was not exactly tearing up the league at 11–11). Detroit? They were done, he declared. Washington manager Bucky Harris concurred that his former charges lacked a certain zip. “The beating the Deans gave the Tigers last fall took something out of [them],” he appraised. No doubt notified of the disparagement, Detroit’s batters swung inspired, putting up 37 runs as the Tigers took three of four in convincing fashion. Bridges, Crowder, and Sullivan all contributed solid starts, but Rowe took a step back, giving up seven earned runs in less than four innings of work to take the loss in game two. The Tigers were now 13–13, the first time they had reached the .500 mark in a month.
A turning point in the young season, however, came in the third game at Griffith Stadium, when center fielder and leadoff man Jo-Jo White was given the day off. White had excelled in the role in 1934, not just for his .316 batting average, but because he had walked 69 times, giving him an on-base percentage of .419. He was drawing more than a walk per game so far in 1935, with an on-base percentage of .366. Nevertheless, all Cochrane saw was White’s anemic batting average of .196. He decided White needed some rest.
Taking White’s place in center field was Pete Fox. Following his fine season the year before, Fox had played in only nine games so far in 1935, with two hits in 18 at-bats. He had not been in the starting lineup in three weeks. But batting leadoff against the Senators on May 18, he had a run-scoring single, and the next day he collected four hits, including a triple, with two RBI and two runs scored. Cochrane liked what he saw, and Fox remained in the lineup. In a further shake-up a few days later, he was shifted over to right field, which allowed Goslin to return to his favorite spot in left, while Walker continued to man center.
The Tigers departed Washington perhaps a notch or two higher in the estimation of Griffith and Harris. At Shibe Park, a three-run 11th inning powered Detroit to an 8–6 win over Connie Mack’s Athletics on May 20. The City of Brotherly Love awoke the next day to a steady rain, and at nine o’clock Mack gave notice that he was cancelling that day’s game, which was the home team’s prerogative. Three hours later the clouds broke and the sun burst forth, while the Tigers twiddled their thumbs back at the hotel. Cochrane complained to the league, contending that Mack called the contest in order to necessitate a doubleheader at some point in the future (apparently the Athletics could draw a bigger crowd for a twin bill than they could by playing two games in two days). Skies were clearer on getaway day; Fox led off the game by hammering a home run, and Auker went the distance for his first win of the year, 4–1.
Left to right: Goose Goslin, Jo-Jo White, and Pete Fox roamed the outfield for the Tigers (courtesy Ernie Harwell Sports Collection, Detroit Public Library).
The Tigers then took two out of three at Fenway Park, including a sparkling performance by Rowe. Following the awful 2–9 start, Detroit had won 15 of 20, leapfrogging to fourth place, three games behind Chicago. Pete Fox, meanwhile, continued his hot hitting. In seven games since being pressed into everyday duty, he had seven RBI, seven runs scored, seven extra-base hits, and an OPS of 1.348.
Fox, a 26-year-old native of Evansville, Indiana, had made a steady progression through the baseball ranks. Back in 1930, while toiling in a furniture factory by day and playing industrial-league ball on the weekends, Ervin Fox signed with the Tigers for $250 a month. That was a king’s ransom compared to the $18 he brought home from the factory every week. He could pitch nearly as well as he could hit, but it was Bob Coleman, his first manager with the Class B Evansville Hubs in 1930, who made it clear that his ticket to the big leagues was written on his bat. Coleman, howe
ver, believed Fox was under too much pressure playing in his home town; after only seven games and a .222 average, Fox was sent to the Wheeling Stogies in the Middle Atlantic League. He could fly on the basepaths, stealing 27 bags that season while legging out 15 triples and batting .339.
After another .300 season at Evansville in 1931, he teamed with future Tigers Greenberg and Rowe to lead the Beaumont Exporters to a first-place finish. It was at Beaumont that Fox first picked up the nickname “Peter Rabbit” due to his speed, but soon his teammates just called him Pete. He led the Texas League with a .357 average, scored 103 runs, stole 30 bases, and hit 19 home runs, even though he missed most of August due to bone chips in his ankle. The Tigers needed outfield help heading into the 1933 season, so Fox was brought to spring training. Manager Harris, after watching the youngster gracefully glide after a fly ball, declared, “That Fox looks like an answer to my prayer.”3
With his average hovering below .250 for much of the early summer of 1933, Fox appeared overmatched as a rookie. But he caught fire in July, hitting .409 for the month. His second half of the season included 98 base knocks, 53 runs scored, and a .315 average, to finish at .288. Two sets of statistics show how closely he was tied to the team’s fortunes that year: In the 60 Tigers victories he played in, he hit .312; in 67 losses, he averaged only .262. Fox indeed was an answer to Harris’s prayers, and now to Cochrane’s as well.
Back on May 21, Henry Ford answered the prayers of many autoworkers when he restored the $6-a-day minimum wage. It was a return to the pay level of 1929, before the stock market crash, and benefitted 126,000 factory employees, including 81,000 in Detroit. That was not the only welcome news. In the last year, nearly 11,000 additional workers had found employment on the city’s assembly lines. Before a week had passed, however, the Supreme Court ruled that the National Recovery Administration, a key component of Roosevelt’s New Deal, was unconstitutional. Among the goals of the NRA was the establishment of minimum wages and maximum hours, but the high court unanimously held that the agency gave the President far too much power to dictate rules and codes, and that several provisions went too far in regulations affecting intrastate commerce. In response, industries across the nation announced that the ruling would in no way affect wage scales and working conditions. Labor, however, was uncertain how long things would remain status quo.
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