Cochrane led off the home half of the seventh by drawing a walk off right-hander Fabian Kowalik. Gehringer hit an easy grounder to second that looked like a sure double play. Herman scooped the ball up and tossed it to shortstop Jurges, who was upended on Cochrane’s hard slide. The Tigers’ skipper was ruled out, but his aggressive play prevented the twin killing. After Greenberg was hit by a pitch, Goslin lifted a lazy fly to Augie Galan in left for out number two (although it would have ended the frame had the double play been executed). The next batter was Fox, whose hard liner caromed off the pitcher’s torso and into right field. Gehringer raced all the way home from second for the Tigers’ eighth run, and when Greenberg noticed right fielder Frank Demaree’s nonchalant toss back in to Herman at second, he made a dash for the plate. But Herman took the throw and made a strong peg to the catcher Hartnett. The ball and the sliding Greenberg arrived at the same time; umpire Ernie Quigley thrust his thumb into the air. Greenberg was out, and the inning was over. As the slugger rose slowly to his feet, he held his left wrist awkwardly. It hurt from the slide, but he remained in the game.
The 8–3 score held up, with Bridges pitching a complete-game six-hitter. He walked four and struck out two. “[He] pitched a swell ball game today,” Cochrane beamed after the game, sitting in the wire cage that served as his clubhouse office. “He had plenty of stuff and good control and was never in danger. I was glad to see those base hits in the first inning. It’s about time we started getting ’em. Isn’t it? We’ve started hitting—now watch us go.”10
Meanwhile the pain in Greenberg’s left wrist got worse, and it started swelling badly. As soon as the game ended, he was taken to the hospital for x-rays. Dr. William E. Keane, the Tigers’ team doctor, revealed that the tendons on the back of Greenberg’s wrist had been injured in his hard slide into Hartnett. Despite the victory, a dark cloud hung over the Tigers’ players. Would their big slugger be able to play in Game Three?
The answer to that question was not immediately apparent. X-rays revealed a left wrist sprain, and the initial diagnosis was that Greenberg would not have to miss any playing time. But the swelling continued, and the pain grew intolerable. Greenberg spent the entire train ride to Chicago that evening soaking his hand in hot water and alternately plunging it into a bucket of ice. By the morning of Game Three, the wrist “had swollen to twice its size,” according to Greenberg.11 Putting on a baseball glove was out of the question. He would not play that day. As to the rest of the Series … well, he would rather not think about that yet.
Cochrane’s options were limited. Before the game, Schoolboy Rowe begged his manager to put him in at first base. It was an enticing proposition. Rowe, an excellent athlete, could certainly hit, and, at 6'4" and 210 pounds, he made a sizable target as a first sacker. Nevertheless, he was totally unfamiliar with the position, and the risk of injury was too great. The last thing Cochrane needed was another star in the sick bay. “Stick around anyway,” the manager told Rowe, “I may use you.”12 His words would prove prophetic.
A marginally better alternative would have been for Cochrane himself to play first base and put the reliable Hayworth behind the plate. But, like Rowe, Cochrane did not know a first baseman’s glove from an oven mitt. With a surplus of outfielders, he could always go with White, Goslin, Fox, or Gee Walker at first, but they also were devoid of any experience there.
Finally, Frank Navin stepped in and gave the order for Cochrane to shift Marv Owen from third to first. Owen at least had the benefit of having played 27 games at the position back in his rookie season in 1931. Navin’s subsequent directive was to put little-used Flea Clifton at third base. In 43 games in 1935, only his second full season in the majors, the 26-year-old Clifton had hit a decidedly weak .255. He possessed virtually no extra-base power. Despite his slight frame (or perhaps because of it), he possessed a certain tenacity and feistiness on the bases that made him a feared runner. He backed down to no one: If there was a brawl on the field, Flea Clifton could likely be found in the middle of the pile. This was no surprise, since he had long modeled his playing style after Ty Cobb, his boyhood hero.
The bleak childhood of Herman Earl Clifton was straight out of a Charles Dickens novel. Born in Cincinnati’s hardscrabble West End, he remembered little of his father, killed in the Argonne Offensive in World War I while Herman was still a boy. At age 15, his mother was murdered by a drunken acquaintance of his stepfather’s, strangled with Herman’s own school necktie, no less. He never got along with his stepfather, who finally had enough of the lad and kicked him out of the house into the snow. Making his way to Kentucky, Clifton was left to fend for himself. Homeless and alone, living behind a garage, he huddled close to a potbellied stove and survived on the charity of locals. Often, the choice was to steal or starve.
Through all the hardship, he continued in school, where he was a strong student who loved to read. One book in particular caught his attention: A biography of Ty Cobb. Clifton himself loved to play baseball. To the impressionable youngster, “The Georgia Peach” became a hero to emulate, at least on the field, and Clifton dreamed of one day playing for the Tigers. Despite being a product of the streets, Clifton was determined to stay out of trouble and make something of his life. He starred on the Cincinnati sandlots and semipro leagues and was offered a contract by the St. Louis Cardinals. In the end, he signed with the Tigers for less money. He became a favorite of Greenberg’s when the two first played in the minors together at Raleigh, North Carolina, in 1930. “He was a tough little guy,” Greenberg recalled years later. Now, while the slugger licked his wounds, Flea Clifton found himself starting a World Series game.
Whatever had ailed the Cubs in Game Two, they hoped some home cooking would prove to be a cure in Game Three. Setting the tone for the day, owner Philip K. Wrigley had the 1935 National League championship banner hoisted up the flagpole in center field. This was a radical break with tradition: Pennant-winning teams had always reserved such ceremony for the following season. It was a frigid day, but Chicago Mayor Edward J. Kelly raised eyebrows by eschewing a topcoat as he sat in his box seat.
An energetic crowd of over 45,000 yelled and screamed itself hoarse from the very first pitch, a strike to Jo-Jo White from 25-year-old, sophomore right-hander Bill Lee. White swung and missed on a full count, but the ball got away from Hartnett, who had to retrieve it and throw to first to register the putout. Cubs fans roared their approval, an exclamation point to let everyone know they were at Wrigley Field now. The members of the press, over 400 strong, took note.
The Cubs put Elden Auker to the test almost immediately, with runners on first and second and one out in the bottom of the first inning. But a nifty 6–4–3 double play temporarily quieted the crowd. In the second, Billy Rogell banged the first hit for Detroit, a single with one out. He advanced to third on a groundout, but Clifton hit a high chopper that the 6'3" Lee leaped up to snare in his glove. The Cubs’ pitcher tossed to Cavarretta at first to end the threat.
Leading off the Cubs’ second was the right-handed-hitting Frank Demaree, who quickly got behind 0–2. Auker made a good pitch tailing away, but Demaree, who had hit only two home runs all season in 385 at-bats, reached out and caught the ball on the end of his bat, dunking his second round-tripper of the Series into the right-field bleachers. Before the frame was over, Chicago tacked on an unearned run set up by Clifton’s fielding miscue.
The Tigers threatened again in the third. After two quick outs, Cochrane drew a walk and advanced to second on a Gehringer single. Goslin made a bid for an extra-base hit with a screaming drive to left, but Galan sprinted back at full speed, leaped, and made a fine snare at the base of the bleachers.
Auker’s sinker had the Cubs constantly hitting the ball into the ground. In the fifth inning, he walked leadoff man Billy Jurges, who eventually scored on Augie Galan’s seeing-eye single. Chicago had a chance for more with runners at the corners and only one out, but Auker got Lindstrom to ground into an easy 4–6–3 double play
.
The Tigers finally got to Lee in the sixth on Pete Fox’s RBI triple. With one out and Rogell at the plate, Fox began taking a sizeable lead off third base. On Lee’s second pitch, catcher Hartnett rifled a throw down to Stan Hack. Fox dived back to the third-base bag, but Hack quickly put the tag down, and umpire Ernie Quigley yelled an emphatic “out!” Fox, for his part, accepted the verdict without any gripe, but third-base coach Del Baker got in Quigley’s face to state his objections. Quigley didn’t waste any time in giving Baker the boot. With the rally deflated, Rogell struck out as the folks at Wrigley Field thundered approval.
The Cubs had their own issues with the umpiring in the bottom half of the frame. Cavarretta, on first with two down, was thrown out attempting to steal. Manager Charlie Grimm, coaching at third, disagreed with the decision by second-base umpire George Moriarty. Grimm charged up to Moriarty, followed by five or six other bear cubs, to vent his dissatisfaction. Grimm may have figured that Moriarty harbored a bias for the Tigers. The ump, after all, had been a third baseman for Detroit from 1909 to 1915, and managed the club in 1927 and 1928. Either way, Moriarty took exception to something in Grimm’s tone and ordered that he vacate the premises without further ado.
Lee had handcuffed the Tigers most of the day, but his armor began to crack in the eighth inning. Jo Jo White led off with a walk. One out later, Gehringer’s sinking drive to right got past Demaree for a double, with White holding at third. Next, Goslin’s hard-hit liner caromed off first base and over Cavarretta for a single. White and Gehringer both scampered home to tie the game, and Lee was done for the day.
The Tigers rudely greeted reliever Lon Warneke. Fox singled to left, with Goslin stopping at second. On a 2–2 count, Rogell shot one into center field; Goslin scored to break the tie, and the aggressive Fox streaked over to third. Rogell tried to steal second, but Hartnett’s strong throw drove him back to first base. A rundown ensued, which the Cubs executed poorly; although Rogell eventually was tagged out, Fox saw an opportunity and bolted home with another run to make it 5–3, Detroit.
To start the eighth, Schoolboy Rowe replaced Chief Hogsett, who had relieved Auker an inning earlier. The Cubs’ bench jockeys, meanwhile, kept up a steady stream of invective against umpire Moriarty. For his part, Moriarty did not hold back from cursing and ranting at Grimm’s men. Having finally had his fill, the umpire strode over to the Chicago dugout and tossed Woody English and Tuck Stainback, a couple of reserves who apparently were making the most noise. English, the captain of the team, had played in only 34 games and hit .202 during the regular season. It was a long time since 1930, when he batted .335 with 100 walks, 214 hits, and 152 runs scored. Now, at age 29, his fine career was on a steady downward arc. He would have been better off keeping his mouth shut on this day; his unavailability later proved to be crucial.
Rowe set Chicago down in order. For the first out in the ninth, he got Cavarretta on a long fly that drove White to the wall. But three straight singles, two of them the pinch-hit variety by Chuck Klein and Ken O’Dea, cut the deficit to 5–4 and put runners at the corners. Rowe was fooling nobody, but Cochrane stayed with him. Jo-Jo White tracked down Galan’s deep drive in center, but Klein jogged home with the tying run. Herman grounded out to Clifton to send the game into extras, but the damage had been done.
Goslin gave the Tigers a chance to take the lead with a two-out double in the tenth. Fox, however, managed only a weak pop fly to first. The Cubs threatened in the home half when Lindstrom drove Rowe’s first pitch for a double. Grimm ordered Hartnett to bunt, a curious move on the surface given Hartnett’s .344 average in 1935 with 91 RBI. But the man known as “Old Tomato Face” was also one of the best bunters in the National League. Hartnett did his job in this case, laying down a perfect sacrifice that advanced Lindstrom to third. Two easy groundouts by Demaree and Cavarretta, however, saved Rowe from the gallows and opened Grimm up to second-guessing for his small-ball strategy.
The Cubs finally coughed up the game in the 11th inning. Facing Larry French, Rogell started things off by hitting an easy grounder to shortstop, a ball that the sure-handed Jurges normally ate up. Jurges, however, was no longer in the game, having been pinch-hit for by Chuck Klein back in the ninth inning. With reserve shortstop Woody English ejected by Moriarty, manager Grimm had been forced to shuffle third baseman Hack over to short, a position he had never played in his life. Rogell’s ground ball went right under the glove of Hack. It went as a hit, but the official scorer easily could have called it an error.
Chicago caught a break when Owen’s bad bunt forced Rogell at second. That brought up Flea Clifton, who hit a garden-variety groundball to third. Had Hack still been playing there, the outcome may have been different. Center fielder Lindstrom, however, had replaced Hack at the hot corner. Lindstrom, a former third baseman back in his Giants days, had not played the position regularly in half a decade, and not at all since 1932. Understandably rusty, he fumbled Clifton’s grounder and could not make a throw anywhere. That made it two key fielding blunders in the inning by two men playing unfamiliar positions. The Tigers had something going, with runners on first and second and only one out.
Rowe was due up, and Cochrane let him hit, figuring he was as good as anybody else on the Tigers’ bench was. Schoolboy did not reward his manager’s faith, however, as he whiffed on three pitches. Jo-Joe White bailed him out, slashing a single to center that drove in Owen and sent Clifton to third. White took second on the throw home. It was 6–5 Tigers, and Cochrane stood at the plate with the chance to drive in some insurance runs. All he mustered was a foul pop-up to the catcher.
It did not matter, as Rowe made short work of the Cubs in the bottom of the 11th, finishing things off with a strikeout of pinch-hitter Walt Stephenson. The Tigers, refusing to be intimidated by the electric atmosphere at Wrigley Field, had gutted out an impressive win in two hours and 27 minutes. “Eleven wild, thrilling, spectacular, even boisterous, umpire-baiting innings,” wrote the Chicago Tribune’s Irving Vaughan.13 Cochrane called it the toughest World Series game he had ever played in.
Charlie Grimm gave the Tigers credit, but also insisted that “in all my baseball I never have heard an umpire abuse members of a ball team with the language Moriarty used … to Herman, to Jurges, to English, and to me, and then to the entire bench.” Grimm claimed he was “showered with not only profane but the most obscene language I ever had to take from anybody.” Even National League president Ford Frick, who had a ringside seat to the sparring, acknowledged that Moriarty had used “blasphemous language.”14 Commissioner Landis promised a thorough investigation. Second-guessing is as old as sports itself, but the Cubs walked off the field convinced that, were it not for the quick trigger of Moriarty in ejecting Woody English, the outcome of the game might have been very different indeed.
Chapter Sixteen
“This mad, delirious city”
The following morning, Landis summoned Grimm, English, Stainback, and the four men in blue who were working the Series. In the sober atmosphere of the commissioner’s office at 333 North Michigan Avenue, each party stated its case. Later, Landis told reporters he would withhold any decision about the matter until after the Series.
As Game Four got under way, a chorus of boos rang down from the Wrigley Field stands as Moriarty was announced as the first-base umpire. Police officers stationed themselves on the rooftops along Waveland and Sheffield Avenues, in order to prevent freeloading fans from claiming those swell vantage points. Greenberg worked out with the Tigers beforehand, but it was obvious that he had trouble gripping a bat and could not play. Rowe was scheduled to start, but that was no longer an option, given his four innings of relief work the day before. The same was true of Larry French, who had pitched two frames. Cochrane, however, wasted no time deciding who his starter would be. He chose the experienced General Crowder; in fact, he notified him of his decision soon after the conclusion of Game Three. This allowed Crowder to retire early that night and get 11 hours of s
leep.
Grimm went with Tex Carleton, the righty from Comanche who won 11 games in 1935, his first since coming to the Windy City via St. Louis. The previous year, he had pitched with little distinction in the World Series against the Tigers, adding an element of intrigue to the matchup. Of late, he had been the forgotten man of the Chicago staff, making only one appearance during the 21-game winning streak, and that only because no other hurler was available.
Detroit had him on the ropes in the second inning with the bases loaded and nobody out. But Owen popped up, and Flea Clifton, in the lineup again in Greenberg’s absence, lined into a double play to foil the rally. Carleton settled down to turn in a fine performance, but Crowder was just a bit better. The old veteran, salvaged from the scrap heap the year before, gave up only a leadoff home run to Hartnett in the second. The next inning, Detroit put runners at the corners with one out for Charlie Gehringer. The Mechanical Man drove a pitch toward right-center that a sprinting Freddie Lindstrom got a glove on, but the ball slipped out of his grip for an RBI two-bagger. Lindstrom badly jammed his thumb in the attempt but stayed in the game.
That is how things stood until the sixth inning, when Detroit took advantage of a pair of fielding flubs. With two outs, Flea Clifton poked a long, high fly to left. Galan, one of the league’s premier fly chasers, dashed to the wall with his back to the plate. At the last moment, he turned, reached up to make the catch … and the ball promptly popped out of his glove. Instead of being the third out, the speedy Clifton made it easily into second.
Great teams take advantage of the opposition’s mistakes, especially when given additional outs in an inning. Crowder, the next batter, hit one softly to Jurges at short, who reached down nonchalantly for the ball … and it wasn’t there. It skittered under his glove for an error, and Clifton flew home with the second Tigers run.
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