In any case, all conjecture about the ball is just that. The ball’s history cannot be known for certain, but one thing can be deduced: there is no demonstrable connection between the ball and Major General Abner Doubleday. Even if Abner Graves did own or play with the ball, that fact does not prove that Abner Doubleday of Civil War fame played with the ball, much less that he invented modern baseball.
It had long been believed that Abner Doubleday never wrote about baseball or even mentioned it in any of his writings. For years researchers scoured Doubleday’s articles, correspondence, and other writings, but could not find any discussion of baseball to substantiate the claim that he had invented the sport. In 1989, however, a letter written by Doubleday in which the term baseball is used was brought to light by Mrs. William B. Thomas of Wayne, New Jersey, who was searching records of the National Archives for information on Moses Hunter, her husband’s great-great-grandfather, who had served in the I Company of the Twenty-fourth Colored Infantry under Colonel Doubleday.
Abner Doubleday served in the Union army at the battle at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, which commenced on July 1, 1863, and ended two days later, with heavy casualties on both sides. On the third day Doubleday ordered an attack on Confederate lines at nightfall. But General George Meade countermanded Doubleday’s order, which might have resulted in the capture of the main enemy force, including General Robert E. Lee himself, and ended the Civil War. A cloud hung over Doubleday’s name for a time after the war as military analysts suggested that it was his indecision that cost the Union a total victory. Although years later it became known that Doubleday had wanted to pursue battle, after the war Doubleday was returned to the rank of colonel and sent to Texas to command an African-American unit of soldiers. At the time this was considered an undesirable assignment, but Doubleday nevertheless took the demotion in stride, a true and loyal soldier above all.
In a letter dated June 17, 1871, from regimental headquarters at Fort McKavett, Doubleday requested funds from the U.S. Army adjutant general in Washington, D.C., to purchase portraits and statues that could inspire his troops, as well as items of recreation. Doubleday wrote:
I have the honor to apply for permission to purchase for the Regimental Library a few portraits of distinguished generals, Battle pictures, and some of Rogers groups of Statuary particularly those relative to the actions of the Colored population of the south.
This being a colored regiment ornaments of this kind seem very appropriate. I would also like to purchase baseball implements for the amusement of the men and a Magic Lantern for the same purpose. The fund is ample and I think these expenditures would add to the happiness of the men.
That Doubleday ordered baseball equipment for his troops does nothing to bolster the claim that he is the sport’s inventor, but the letter is of significance in that it is the only piece of extant writing in which the supposed inventor mentions the name of the sport with which he is associated.
Since its beginnings, baseball, arguably the ultimate, best-loved stick-and-ball game of all time, has come to mean many things for both fans and players. Played as an organized sport before the Civil War, baseball was proudly construed by Americans to be wholly American, a recreation devised, altered, guided, evolved, sparked, promoted, played, and passionately enjoyed on the shores of the New World, a lively diversion with an American historical tradition like Old Glory or ragtime or log-splitting.
As the twentieth century commenced—with the phonograph, telephone, automobile, and moving pictures already wondrous realities of everyday life; and radio, airplane, and television soon to become permanent fixtures in the tapestry of society—America had a glorious national pastime: baseball, the game that evoked the carefree spirit of summer, unbridled merriment, a sense of timelessness, idyllic charm, and oh, yes, an ethos of friendly competition.
The spirit of American nationalism at the end of the nineteenth century as brought out by the Spanish-American War set the climate for acceptance of the claim that an American had invented baseball. It was Abner Graves, a mining engineer who later murdered his wife, who made this claim, confusing Abner Doubleday the soldier with Abner Doubleday, the six-year-old boy in Cooperstown in 1839, when Graves alleged Doubleday invented the rules of baseball. The Mills Commission accepted Graves’s testimony, and the finding of a ball in 1934 that Abner Doubleday had purportedly played with at Cooperstown when he “invented” baseball substantiated the myth. The Mills Commission worked in an era when “invention” was the buzzword of the day, and every good idea had to have a progenitor. The Doubleday creation myth of baseball is a splendid tale that fills this bill, but it is, unfortunately, untrue.
The Doubleday creation myth was a patriotic construction that was convenient for its time and serves several other purposes as well. With its pastoral setting in Cooperstown, New York, and its war hero, Abner Doubleday, the myth fills Americans’ need for the genesis of their national pastime to have a bit of romance to it. It might even be argued, on a more philosophical level, that despite baseball having evolved over a long period, people are more emotionally satisfied with the notion of a single creator, even if it is a legend. Furthermore, the Doubleday creation myth has been beneficial for baseball and Cooperstown. Unlike the case with basketball, whose inventor and time of invention are known—James Naismith in 1891—the controversy over baseball’s origins and attempts to debunk the Doubleday myth over the years have given baseball an element of mystery that heightens awareness of the sport. Why go to all the trouble of digging out the truth when the myth serves so well? Indeed, the perpetuation of the Doubleday creation myth is in many ways undoubtedly healthy for baseball.
Still, debunking a myth does not, and should not necessarily, expunge the importance of a spurious relic, as the relic’s symbolism and what it means to people may sometimes be more important than its authenticity. Indeed, the world is full of artifacts that are not what they purport to be.
Learning the facts behind the baseball creation myth does nothing to diminish the symbolism of the Doubleday Ball. Like the romantic images conjured up by the sport, the Doubleday Ball, a quasi-validation of the Mills Commission’s conclusion, has become a symbol of the myth that Abner Doubleday created the sport, which is part of the tradition of baseball.
The Doubleday Ball is by tradition a vestige of the early days of baseball, fittingly shredded from use. Limned with the fingerprints of people who lived during baseball’s first days, it could have been a child’s toy, but it also just possibly could have been a ball that was gripped, tossed, and smacked by mid-nineteenth-century players in the game’s infancy. The Doubleday Ball handily fills the need for a crown jewel of the sport.
LOCATION: National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum, Cooperstown, New York.
Footnotes
*Abner Doubleday and Albert G. Spalding have also been referred to as “fathers” of modern baseball.
*Among the Maine’s casualties were members of its championship baseball team. Only one of the team’s members, an outfielder, was not killed in the blast.
*Researchers have never been able to review the correspondence received by the Mills Commission or other paperwork it had, as its records were destroyed in 1911 when the New York City building they were in caught on fire.
VENDOVI’S HEAD
DATE: 1842
WHAT IT IS: The skull of a nineteenth-century Fiji Islands cannibal chief wanted for masterminding the trapping of an American merchant crew that was subsequently eaten.
WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE: The skull has a mix of Melanesian and Polynesian characteristics and is of average size for its population group. The condition of the teeth shows that the person had good dental health when he was alive.
This is a story about a strange set of events that is reported to have happened in a remote part of the world a long time ago. It involves a group of people whose customs and practices may seem bizarre, if not repugnant, to us today, but it should be remembered that these people were the product
of their own unique civilization, and that as savage as they may appear, they could also demonstrate sensitivity and warmth. Although this story may be shocking, it is a real story about real people and an undeniable part of the heritage of humankind.
While en route to Kantavu from the island of Viti Levu in the Fiji Islands, Paddy Connel warned Captain Bachelor that while in Rewa he had heard that the natives coveted what they believed to be a valuable cargo aboard the American merchant brigantine Charles Doggett, and that the captain and his crew were in great danger from the treacherous contrivances of the natives. Connel, an Irish vagabond who years earlier had settled in the Fiji Islands and by his own account had married some one hundred women there and sired dozens of children, was acquainted with many of the islanders and should be privy, Bachelor assumed, to such conspiratorial activities. Captain Bachelor had hired him and some other men to help the Americans obtain bêche-de-mer, a kind of sea cucumber used in oriental trade, and for further assistance Bachelor had engaged on Viti Levu two chiefs, Vendovi and Vasu, for their help in collecting the marine animal.
Shortly after, the Doggett arrived at her destination, an island off the eastern tip of Kantavu, where there was a hut for processing the bêche-de-mer, and a local chief came aboard the visiting vessel as a token of security. This was a customary practice, but the next day the special visitor complained of illness and returned to the island. One day later, Vendovi, the Rewan chief whose assistance had been previously obtained, came on board the Doggett to importune Captain Bachelor to bring medicine to the ailing chief on the island. The captain was willing to comply with the request, but Paddy Connel, having observed that the chief’s manner when departing the vessel was a bit too cheerful for someone who was ailing, warned Captain Bachelor that stepping ashore was tantamount to a death sentence, as surely with his presence there the natives would carry out some egregious offense.
Captain Bachelor was faced with a difficult decision this day in August 1834. He had entered into an agreement with the natives to obtain their help in a matter of commerce, and he didn’t want to insult them or withhold medicine that could help the allegedly ailing chief, who had specifically requested the captain as the purveyor of his needed medication. On the other hand, could the chief’s illness and the request for the captain to bring medicine be part of an elaborate plot to murder him and his men already working on the island? Could the natives be so treacherous? What should he do?
Contemporary accounts of the Fijian natives’ customs and society provide a clearer understanding of the dilemma faced by Captain Bachelor and his crew. Let us draw on the reports of U.S. Navy Rear Admiral Charles Wilkes, who visited the Fiji Islands six years after this incident and wrote about it in his five-volume Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition During the Years 1838, 1839, 1840, 1841, 1842. Wilkes’s visit to Fiji was a stop on an expedition to chart oceans and lands and collect samples of plant and animal specimens, as well as objects belonging to the different cultures the voyagers encountered. In the summer of 1838, a small fleet left Virginia to commence the expedition, with Wilkes its commander.
According to Wilkes, the Fijians had volatile personalities; they could be jovial one minute and fly into “demon-like anger” the next. They were prone to stealing and lying, he asserted, the latter being such a respected accomplishment that they preferred to tell lies even when honesty would serve them better.
To gain a woman’s hand in marriage, Wilkes noted, the consent of her parents and brother was required, though if the mother and father refused, the woman could still marry if her brother consented. Sometimes marriages were arranged, and in the lower classes a wife could be exchanged for some object, the result being that she was regarded as the husband’s property. “The usual price is a whale’s tooth, or a musket,” wrote Wilkes, “and this once paid, the husband has the entire right to the person of the wife, whom he may even kill and eat if he feels so disposed.” Polygamy was a common practice, the number of wives a man might have limited only by his desire and means of subsistence.
Wilkes reported that when a husband died, it usually meant the end for his wife or wives too, for it was the practice for a woman to be slain at her husband’s funeral. She would either be strangled or buried alive, and if she resisted, her relatives would be eager to assist her in this ritual—not so much, Wilkes suggested, to bring her into spiritual union with her husband as to obtain her property and possessions. Unfortunately for the Fijian women, one man’s death could spell doom for more than one female. Here’s Wilkes on the fate of some women after the death of a king:
At the funeral of the late king, Ulivou, which was witnessed by Mr. Cargill, his five wives and a daughter were strangled. The principal wife delayed the ceremony, by taking leave of those around her; whereupon Tanoa, the present king, chid her. The victim was his own aunt, and he assisted in putting the rope around her neck, and strangling her, a service he is said to have rendered on a former occasion, to his own mother.
People who were born with a physical deformity or were chronically ill were commonly put to death, according to Wilkes, and those descending into a state of decrepitude invited their friends to end their lives. Even a physical injury where there was a complete recovery could have fatal repercussions if the family felt disgraced, as in the case of the boy who lost a leg to a shark, then was nursed back to good health by a white resident, only to be strangled because of his appearance.
Human sacrifice was a common custom of the Fijians, Wilkes reported:
The victims are usually taken from a distant tribe, and when not supplied by war or violence, they are at times obtained by negotiation. After being selected for this purpose, they are often kept for a time to be fattened. When about to be sacrificed, they are compelled to sit upon the ground, with their feet drawn under their thighs, and their arms placed close before them. In this posture they are bound so tightly that they cannot stir, or move a joint. They are placed in the usual oven, upon hot stones, and covered with leaves and earth, where they are roasted alive. When the body is cooked, it is taken from the oven, and the face painted black, as is done by the natives on festal occasions. It is then carried to the mbure, where it is offered to the gods, and is afterwards removed to be cut up and distributed, to be eaten by the people. Women are not allowed to enter the mbure, or to eat human flesh. … When a new mbure is built, a party goes out and seizes the first person they meet, whom they sacrifice to the gods. When a large canoe is launched, the first person, man or woman, whom they encounter, is laid hold of and carried home for a feast. When Tanoa launches a canoe, ten or more men are slaughtered on the deck, in order that it may be washed with human blood. Human sacrifices are also among the rites performed at the funerals of chiefs, when slaves are in some instances put to death. Their bodies are first placed in the grave, and upon them those of the chief and his wives are laid.
Unlike in some cannibalistic societies, where human flesh was eaten only as a part of a ritual, there was, said Wilkes, no such restriction among the Fijians. Here is Wilkes again, on the Fijians’ practice of cannibalism:
The eating of human flesh is not confined to cases of sacrifice for religious purposes, but is practised from habit and taste. The existence of cannibalism, independent of superstitious notions, has been doubted by many. There can be no question that, although it may have originated as a sacred rite, it is continued in the Feejee Group for the mere pleasure of eating human flesh as a food. Their fondness for it will be understood from the custom they have of sending portions of it to their friends at a distance, as an acceptable present, and the gift is eaten, even if decomposition have begun before it is received. So highly do they esteem this food, that the greatest praise they can bestow on a delicacy is to say that it is as tender as a dead man. Even their sacrifices are made more frequent, not merely to gratify feelings of revenge, but to indulge their taste for this horrid food.
… The cannibal propensity is not limited to enemies or persons of a dif
ferent tribe, but they will banquet on the flesh of their dearest friends, and it is even related, that in times of scarcity, families will make an exchange of children for this horrid purpose.
If the Fijian natives indeed had no reservations when it came to eating the bodies of their families, friends, and neighbors, obviously there would be no moral impediment to consuming those of strangers. Returning to Captain Bachelor’s dilemma, he weighed the decision of whether he should go ashore to administer medicine to the “sick” chief or stay aboard. He had received multiple warnings from Paddy Connel but perhaps wasn’t fully convinced of their accuracy. He may not have wanted to believe the natives would have no compunctions, if they thought they could be successful at it, about murdering the whole crew of a visiting ship for its cargo and a hearty meal.
This representation of cannibal chief Vendovi comes from a drawing by A.T. Agate that was engraved by J.W. Paradise. Vendovi's face is soft and expressive, in contrast to other illustrations that survive, which show Vendovi with a harsh, if not fierce, countenance.
As it turned out, Captain Bachelor heeded Paddy Connel’s warning and stayed aboard the Charles Doggett, but after foolishly dispatching men to the island a few days earlier, compounded his error by sending one of his officers to bring the medicine to the allegedly ill chief. Vendovi expressed disappointment at Bachelor’s decision but returned by boat to the island with the officer. Not long after their arrival, the bêche-de-mer hut was ablaze, and what was left of the crew on board the American brig, guessing what was taking place, gazed helplessly at the shore, then fired futile volleys from the ship’s carronades.
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