Chief Meyers on the Plight of the Native American, 1913
John W. McConaughy, the former sports editor of The St. Louis Post-Dispatch, was no longer writing about baseball regularly as the New York Giants prepared to face the Philadelphia Athletics in the 1913 World Series. McConaughy, who was the Washington correspondent for The New York Journal, was enlisted by the paper to write about some of the key figures of the series.
The result was, in the case of John “Chief” Meyers, a profile that went beyond a typical baseball story:
Chief Meyers
“Meyers is one of the coolest, shrewdest and quickest thinking catchers that ever came to the big leagues. He has both gray matter and gumption, and the one is useless without the other in baseball as elsewhere. He has a fund of general information that runs from national politics to the philosophy of Plato, and a delicately adjusted sense of humor, and these two combine to give him a good perspective of the national game.”
[…]
He is ready to fight any time for justice and fair play and he is so good-natured that he isn’t seriously annoyed when the fans perpetrate that bum war-whoop every time he comes to bat.
[…]
“One day in Cincinnati he asked the writer to go out to the art museum with him. We came upon a bronze—an Indian turning to shoot an arrow at his pursuers.
“’There’s the idea.’ He said, pointing to the warrior. ‘They never learned how to fight. They had nothing but the willingness. If Tecumseh had been as big a man as Napoleon he would have killed off the medicine men as his first official act, learned the white man’s style of warfare—and there would have been an Indian nation here today.
“’I don’t mean that the white man would not have been here, too. But with a few leaders—real big men—our fathers would have come to see that the white man’s type of civilization was the highest, just as the (Japanese) have done. We would have had great states and communities in the union, and we would have been useful, progressive citizens.
“’As it is the Indian is robbed by agents and shifted from reservation to reservation whenever anyone happens to want their land. Tribe after tribe is scattered, and in another hundred years my people will have gone the way of the Aztecs.’
“Still, there will always probably be a few fans who will think it bright to pull the war-whoop when the Chief comes to bat.”
Tom Lynch Cracks Down, 1910
In June of 1910, The Associated Press said that after a 5 to 4 New York Giants victory over the St. Louis Cardinals, umpires Jim Johnstone and August Moran “stood in front of the press box and made remarks about the baseball writers.”
National League President Thomas Lynch, who had announced his intention to “break this habit of having players call the arbitrators bad names” said in response:
“I also will not stand for umpires talking back to spectators or taking it upon themselves to criticize newspaper men.”
National League President Thomas Lynch
He fined Johnstone and Moran $25 and $15 respectively for the incident.
In that era of newspapermen as frustrated poets, George E. Phair, then of The Milwaukee Sentinel, was one of the most prolific, often including a poem in his articles. He dedicated the following verse to the National League President:
Old Thomas Lynch, who runs a league,
Would propagate urbanity;
In fact, Sir Thomas would intrigue
To curb the umps’ profanity.
He warns his umpires while within
The baseball scribes vicinity
To speak no words that reek of sin,
But emulate divinity.
He tells them not to harm the scribes,
Nor flout at their ability;
Nor pester them with jokes or jibes;
Nor laugh at their senility.
He plasters fines upon his umps
For showing their ferocity
And calling scribblers ‘mutts’ and ‘chumps’
With Teddy-like verbosity.
The veteran Sir Thomas is
Most generous and affable,
But we’re inclined to think that his
Solicitude is laughable.
The ump may blunder now and then
And break into profanity;
The scribbler jabs him with his pen
And drives him to urbanity.
Comiskey Tells a Tommy McCarthy Story, 1899
George Erskine Stackhouse, the baseball editor of the editor of The New York Tribune, spoke to Charles Comiskey in 1899 and found him in a “somewhat reminiscent mood.” Comiskey told a story Tommy McCarthy when the two were with the St. Louis Browns:
Tommy McCarthy
“I heard in Chicago the other day that tom is in Boston, as fat as a Tammany alderman, and making money out of a big bowling alley. (Hugh) Duffy owned an interest in it, but they say Tom bought him out. I had Tom with me in St. Louis. And say, St. Louis is the best town on earth for a winner. They used to distribute among the players every season watches and rings and studs and pins enough to stock a jewelry store. There was a diamond medal offered one year for the best base runner on the Browns.
“Tom McCarthy was quite a boy to steal bases, and after the medal was offered he wouldn’t run out his hits. If he made a two-bagger, he would stop at first, and if he slammed the ball for a triple, he would manage to bring up at second, so as to get a chance to steal a base. Of course, after a bit, I got on to him, and I had to warn him that if he didn’t stretch those hits I would have to lay him off altogether. That helped some, but he was always hanging back when he thought he could get away with it. I remember once that he had a chance to go down to second on a wild throw to first, and what does he do but toss his head and drop off his cap, so that he could stop and come back after it and stick at first. He won that medal.”
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