Motor City Champs

by Scott Ferkovich

  The Big Three of Rowe, Bridges, and Auker combined for 58 wins, while Crowder stabilized the back end of the rotation with 16. The Tigers tossed more complete games (87) than any other team in the majors, while also topping both circuits in shutouts (16). Among American League clubs, only the Yankees gave up fewer hits or allowed fewer runs.

  Meanwhile, the Chicago Cubs, Joe Louis’s pick to go to the World Series against Detroit, had been unstoppable. Their winning streak reached 18 games thanks to Larry French’s blanking of the Pirates on September 22. That was the final game of the year at Wrigley Field; the Cubs headed south to close out the schedule with five games in St. Louis. The Cardinals trailed Chicago by three games.

  The Cubs drew first blood as Lon Warneke tossed a two-hit shutout, his 20th win of 1935. Big right-hander Bill Lee outpitched Dizzy Dean, 6–2, in the first game of a doubleheader two days later, the Cubs’ 20th victory in a row. That clinched a National League pennant that had seemed a mere pipe dream back in midsummer. Chicago ran the streak to 21 in the second game, coming back from a 3–0 deficit in the seventh inning to tie it, scoring two in the ninth, and hanging on for a 5–3 win, their 100th of the year. The next day, facing another three-run hole in the ninth, they tied it up to send the game to extra innings. But St. Louis put a stop to the Cubs’ improbable run when Ducky Medwick blasted a two-run, walk-off home run in the 11th frame. Chicago lost again on the final day of the regular season, but marched to the World Series with what looked to be unstoppable momentum.

  Chicago’s was a potent lineup, having scored the most runs in the National League (847), while posting the highest OPS (.761). Manager Charlie Grimm’s squad proved the old maxim that baseball is a young man’s game; no team in the National League possessed as much youth. Its brightest star was 25-year-old second baseman Billy Herman. A shrewd, hard-nosed player, he typified the aggressive style of the Cubs. “The only thing we had on our minds was to win,” he said years later. “And if you didn’t play hard, you wouldn’t have a friend on the club and you wouldn’t be there long.”11 Herman had the best year of his career, pacing the major leagues in hits (227) and doubles (57). His 6.9 WAR was the highest on the Cubs. He and his keystone partner, 27-year-old Billy Jurges, led the senior circuit in assists, putouts, double plays, and fielding percentage at their respective positions. Jurges had made headlines back in 1932 after an incident involving an admiring Cubs fan (and scorned lover) named Violet Valli (born Violet Popovich). Meeting him in his room at the Hotel Carlos in Chicago, Valli pulled a 25-caliber pistol on Jurges. A scuffle ensued. The gun fired three times, hitting Jurges in the finger and ribs, and Valli in the arm.12 No one was seriously injured. Jurges admitted to reporters that he knew the 21-year-old Valli (described in the press as a “cabaret girl”) only slightly and chose not to press charges.13 With the incident behind him, he continued to develop into one of the finest fielding shortstops in baseball.

  The Cubs’ corner infield spots were manned by Stan Hack and Phil Cavarretta. The 25-year-old Hack, a California native, hit .311 with a .406 on-base percentage. Known as “Smilin’ Stan,” he was a Wrigley Field favorite. One player of the era observed that Hack had “more friends than Leo Durocher has enemies.”14 Hack had also supplanted Pittsburgh’s Pie Traynor as the league’s premier glove man at the hot corner. The scrappy Cavarretta, of Sicilian descent, had grown up less than three miles from Wrigley Field. At 18, he had taken over as the regular first sacker three days into the 1935 season and never stopped hustling, leading the team with 12 triples.

  Twenty-three-year-old, switch-hitting left fielder Augie Galan led the league in runs scored (133) and stolen bases (22), while banging out 203 hits with 87 walks. He always maintained that were it not for baseball, he would have taken over his father’s laundry business in his home town of Berkeley, California. An excellent fly chaser and a prototypical leadoff man, he formed an excellent hit-and-run combination with Herman, who batted second. In centerfield was Frank Demaree, another Californian, who hit .325 in only his second full season. Chuck Klein, the longtime Philadelphia Phillies slugger, had been acquired in a trade prior to the 1934 season. Hobbled by injuries, and without the benefit of Baker Bowl’s cozy components, he had not been the same player the past two years. Nevertheless, he still managed 21 home runs and hit .293 while roaming right field.

  The Cubs’ most recognizable star was Gabby Hartnett, who, despite his 34 years and nearly 1,500 games caught, remained a force at bat. A Chicago institution, he drove in a team-high 91 runs with a .344/.404/.545 slash line in 1935, earning him Most Valuable Player honors in the National League. He also drew praise for his handling of a pitching staff that surrendered the fewest runs in the NL (596). The biggest studs were 20-game winners Lon Warneke and Bill Lee, who possessed one of the better late-breaking curveballs in the league. Larry French, Tex Carleton, Roy Henshaw, and Charlie Root all posted double-digit win totals. At 36, Root was the grizzled guru of the staff. A former flamethrowing ace for the Cubs, he had re-invented himself as a soft-tossing knuckleballer. After an arduous off-season of rowing, Root arrived in camp in 1935 noticeably more svelte. He enjoyed a renaissance on the mound, winning 15 games as a spot starter. Root, of course, is best remembered for having served up Babe Ruth’s “called shot” in the 1932 World Series. Despite Chicago’s youth, they were not lacking in experience. Many of the Cubs’ kids had cut their teeth in that October classic in 1932, which the Yankees swept in four games. The bench had a couple of battle-tested veterans in infielder Woody English and fly chaser Freddie Lindstrom. Like the Tigers, the North Side franchise had a world championship drought of its own. Since defeating Detroit in consecutive World Series in 1907 and 1908, the Cubs had returned to the big dance in 1910, 1918, 1929, and 1932, losing every time.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “The most obscene language I ever had to take from anybody”

  On September 29, President Roosevelt and 10,000 curious onlookers endured 100-degree temperatures to be on hand for the dedication ceremony of the Boulder Dam. Built at a cost of nearly $49 million (not to mention over 100 lives), the massive, concrete arch–gravity dam in the Black Canyon of the Colorado River was the latest testament to engineering’s conquest of nature. In a speech broadcast over radio, Roosevelt opened by saying, “This morning I came, I saw, and I was conquered, as everyone would be who sees for the first time this great feat of mankind.”1 What Roosevelt did not do, however, was to mention the name of Herbert Hoover. In 1931, Secretary of the Interior Ray Lyman had tried to name the dam after Hoover, the Republican president at the time. With the economy in free-fall, however, it was a move greeted with scorn among Democrats. With Roosevelt’s new Democratic administration now in power, the name became Boulder Dam, and Hoover was left off the dedication’s guest list.2

  Two days later, Charlie Grimm’s men got their first look at Navin Field during the lone workout for both teams. The Tigers went through their usual practice drills, but as soon as they made their way off the diamond for the Cubs to take over, the skies opened up and a deluge commenced. Some took this as a bad omen, but Chicago, an unflappable squad, simply ducked back into the visitors’ dugout and mugged for the shutterbugs, while the grounds crew frantically covered the field with canvas.

  The squall soon let up, and the Cubs trotted onto the field. To a man, they were amazed at left field’s new, pocket-sized dimensions. Frank Navin’s massive temporary bleachers encroached nearly 15 yards into the greensward. The corner in left, at just over 300 feet from home plate, seemed close enough to spit at. It was an inviting target, even with the makeshift 20-foot screen, “the top half of which is only frail chicken coop wire,” wrote the Chicago Tribune’s Irving Vaughan.3 In batting practice, Jurges and Herman launched shots into the makeshift stands, while Hartnett slammed several that rattled against the screen.

  The experts were predicting a competitive series. Most agreed it would last either five or six games. A poll of 57 Associated Press baseball scribes fou
nd 30 favored Chicago, while a majority of members of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America leaned toward Detroit. Unlike in 1934, the Tigers were now deemed the more experienced team, if only slightly. The Cleveland Plain-Dealer’s Ed Bang put it thus: “There will be no tendency toward the jitters that handicapped Mickey Cochrane’s crew last fall.” The Sporting News’ E. G. Brands crunched the numbers and calculated that “the Tigers should be a 25 percent better World’s Series team than last year.” Dan Daniel of the New York World-Telegram wrote, “Greenberg will give the Tigers a big edge in the Series.” His associate Tom Meany added: “Rowe is mature and will not be rattled as he was last fall.” E. Lansing Ray of the St. Louis Globe-Democrat echoed that sentiment: “Give me the cool and collected boys—the veterans—the Tigers.” John Lardner of the North American Newspaper Alliance prophesied possible divine influence: “I doubt if anything but a miracle of inspiration … can win for the Cubs.” Detroit was simply due, in the opinion of Joe Williams, sports editor of the New York World-Telegram: “The town has never won a World Series. This can’t go on forever.”4

  Chicago, on the other hand, was “an up-and-coming team” in the eyes of the Cincinnati Times-Star’s Frank Grayson. “It took a lot of poise,” pointed out Ed Zeltner of the New York Daily Mirror, “to win the league pennant and this bunch doesn’t figure to blow up just because it’s a World’s Series and they are young.” The Cubs, thought Damon Kerby of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, “were hotter than the well-known firecracker.” According to Maurice Shevlin, sports editor of the St. Louis Post-Democrat, the Cubs possessed a “brilliant array of hurlers.” The Philadelphia Record’s Art West concurred: “The Cubs are geared to a high competitive pitch.” The International News Service’s John C. Hoffman was at a loss when it came to the Chicago entry: “For the life of me I don’t see how any team can beat the Cubs.” From his desk at the New York Herald-Tribune, Arthur Patterson cut through the prattle and spoke straight: “Detroit is good but Chicago is better.”5

  The usual baseball swells rolled into Navin Field for Game One on October 2. Babe Ruth was perched in the press box, “dressed in a rhapsody of brown with a white carnation in his coat lapel, and a big, fat cigar in his face.”6 The Babe drew a crowd wherever he went. Getting out of the elevator at his hotel earlier that morning, so many autograph hounds waylaid him that he was forced to duck back behind the closing doors. Figuring the coast was clear a few minutes later, he sneaked out a back entrance, but not before stopping to grab a fistful of cigars from the smoke shop. Also spotted in the stands at Navin Field were Brooklyn Dodgers boss-man Casey Stengel and Cardinals skipper Frankie Frisch. The Fordham Flash took one look at the chummy left-field fence and quipped that Ducky Medwick would get sick if he could see it again. Cincinnati Reds manager Charlie Dressen boasted to anyone within earshot that the Tigers would finish no better than third in the senior circuit. Commissioner Landis, in his customary box seat, took a few moments before the game to announce that any fan interfering with a ball in play would be ejected posthaste. He made no mention, however, of littering left field.

  All the eyes of the Motor City were focused on the game, and indeed all the ears as well: Frank Cody, superintendent of Detroit schools, instructed all principals to let their charges listen to the first two games on radio. The teams went with a pair of aces in the opener, Rowe for Detroit and Warneke for the Cubs, both of them sons of Arkansas. As expected, a taut pitchers’ duel ensued.

  Leadoff hitter Augie Galan took Rowe’s first pitch of the game for a strike and fouled off the next offering. He then shot the ball a bit to the left of second base. Rogell tried to gobble it up, but it deflected off his glove and into center field. Galan rounded first and kept on going toward second. Neither Rogell nor Gehringer covered, and Galan made it to the bag standing up. It was ruled a double.

  Chicago Cubs manager Charlie Grimm (left) and Mickey Cochrane before the start of the 1935 World Series (courtesy Ernie Harwell Sports Collection, Detroit Public Library).

  Rowe got two quick strikes on the next batter, Billy Herman, who hit a dribbler down the third base line. Rowe fielded it, but his throw to first hit Herman in the back, allowing Galan to score. It all brought back memories of the first inning of the 1934 Series, when the Tigers’ infield had failed to make the routine plays. Herman advanced to second on a sacrifice, scored on Hartnett’s line single, and, just like that, the Cubs had a 2–0 advantage before the Navin Field faithful had settled into their seats.

  Rowe and Warneke then proceeded to exchange goose eggs. With two down in the second, Pete Fox banged a double off the left-field screen for the Tigers’ first hit. Rogell hit a fly to Galan, who initially misjudged the ball before making a fine leaping stab to save a run and end the frame. Detroit looked like it might get to Warneke in the fourth. After one out, Greenberg and Goslin both walked, and the fans started to make some noise. Shortstop Jurges made a charging pickup on a slow roller off the bat of Fox, and while his throw was wide of first, Cavarretta made a nice reach for out number two. With runners on second and third, Rogell hit a grounder to Cavarretta to end the mild threat.

  Rowe doubled with one out in the fifth but was stranded. Frank Demaree’s ninth-inning home run over the makeshift screen in left gave the Cubs some unnecessary insurance. Warneke made amends for his disappointing performance in the 1932 Series, completely dominating the Tigers’ bats in a four-hit blanking. Maybe it was the 14 hours of sleep he had gotten the night before. Either way, he was now 9–0 as a starter dating back to August 15. Cochrane, Gehringer, Greenberg, and Goslin, Detroit’s 2–3–4–5 hitters, went a combined 0-for-13, and were the main culprits in a popgun attack. Navin Field, the scene of such brouhaha in Game Seven of the 1934 Series, was conspicuously quiet once the tenor of the afternoon had been set. Never before had 47,391 fans acted so politely.

  Light snow fell in downtown Detroit in the early hours of October 3. Despite the sun that was out in full force for the start of Game Two, wintry winds swept through Navin Field. Game time temperatures were around 40 degrees in the shade. Wrote John C. Manning in the Detroit Times, “They came out today in fur coats and blankets and heavy ulsters and winter gloves and scarves and even a few bed quilts. They came in the face of weather conditions that would have daunted Admiral Byrd.”7

  The Tigers’ greeting of Charlie Root was equally cold. The ageless right-hander was one of Chicago’s best pitchers in the second half of the season, going 12–3 with a 2.54 earned run average, including a strong September in which he won four games, lost none, and posted a 1.054 WHIP. Root’s sweeping delivery, however, was no mystery to Detroit.

  Jo-Jo White led off the bottom of the first with a dying quail to left, good for a single. Cochrane drilled a double down the right-field line, scoring White without a throw. Gehringer then swatted a long, high drive toward the corner in right as the crowd of 47,742 rose from their seats in hysteria. At the last second, a strong crosswind carried the ball foul before it was lost to view, landing somewhere on Trumbull Avenue. The throng begrudgingly sat back down. Given new life, Root tried to sneak a fast one past Gehringer, who punched it back through the box and into center field. Cochrane scored to put Detroit up by a deuce.

  That brought Greenberg to the plate. He had ended the season on a down note: Homerless since September 17, he had failed to drive in a run in his last eight games, and yesterday’s hitless affair made it nine. Before the Series, a reporter asked about his recent struggles. “That was just one of those things that occur in the life of every ballplayer,” Greenberg pointed out. “A half a hundred guys have told me to do this or do that in order to get out of the slump. But I am not going to take their advice, even though I know it was well meant. If I go up there and try to remember what Joe Potatoes or Sam Zilch told me to do, I’ll begin to press.”8

  Once in the batter’s box, Greenberg took a few practice cuts against the soft-tossing Root. Although the Tigers’ first baseman had driven in seven runs and hit .321 in
the Series against St. Louis the year before, some critics complained that he had failed to deliver in the clutch. Well, here was a clutch moment, even if it was only the first inning. It was important to pad a lead early against Root, before he settled in. Offered a hanging knuckler, Greenberg drove a blast that Bud Shaver of the Detroit Times called “a whistling home run … which rode the teeth of a northwest gale to land in the left field bleachers.”9 It gave the Tigers a four-run lead and marked the end of the afternoon for Root.

  Reliever Roy Henshaw held Detroit at bay for the next couple of innings, but the wheels came off for Chicago in the bottom of the fourth following two quick outs. A hit batsman, a single, two walks, and a wild pitch plated the Tigers’ fifth run, and brought up Gehringer with the bases loaded. His line-drive single to center drove in two, and Henshaw was promptly shown the shower.

  Bridges, meanwhile, was cruising. Chicago could not manage a hit until Hartnett’s base knock with two down in the fourth inning. In the fifth, a one-out single by Jurges scored Cavarretta, who had reached on the first of Greenberg’s two errors that inning. With the score still 7–1 in the top of the seventh, Herman came to bat for Chicago with two out and runners on second and third. His single through the left side scored both, and he advanced to second on Goslin’s throw home. But before any further damage, Bridges induced Freddie Lindstrom to pop out to Greenberg.