[The_Myth]

March 10-12, 1952

My first order of business is to set the spring owners meetings, an opportunity for me to get to know the 16 leaders in a closer environment. I schedule three days in Phoenix, Arizona, a tactical move despite there being more teams headquartered this spring in Florida. I appreciate now-Browns owner Bill Veeck’s decision to move his former Indians’ training to the west because of the racist behavior some of his players endured in Florida. On a smaller note, this sets the tone for my hope for westward expansion. I want the other owners to get used to making these kinds of flights.

The owners, on the whole, aren’t happy with my decision. But while I’m here to work with them, I’m not here to make nice with them. My goal is to improve baseball and not relations with the richest men in the sport.

After an introductory dinner at a prime steakhouse with cocktails and wine, I tell the owners I’ll be meeting with each individually before a larger group discourse session on the final day. I set the schedule and the fat cats set their tee times.

St. Louis Browns - Bill Veeck
1951: 52-102

I schedule Veeck first because I like his maverick style. He believes in baseball as entertainment as much as it is a great sporting challenge. He’s the one who put the ivy in Wrigley Field. He put his Indians on radio back in ‘46. He brought in Larry Doby and challenged backwards segregationists. And he dresses like he’s off to the cabana club.

Now he’s majority owner of the Browns, who are plain miserable (52-102 last season) and attract a paltry number of fans. Last year he signed a three-foot, seven-inch 26-year-old named Eddie Gaedel strictly for publicity. It didn’t help the team, as it drew 5,854 fans per game last season at Sportsman’s Park, capacity 34,000. Nevertheless, Veeck wants to stay in St. Louis, and he’d rather the much more popular Cardinals leave town.

I disagree, though I enjoy Veeck’s creativity and innovation. I tell him I’d like him to explore moving the Browns to another city, and I can help with finding a partner who has more cash. He’s skeptical (he likes to do things himself), but he’ll engage. Still, he wants to stay in St. Louis for the time being.

“Three years Mack, three years in St. Louie and I’ll drive those damned Cardinals out of town. Just give me three.”

“I’ll give you two, Bill. Find me three options within the next three months, and I’ll give you two years to right the ship on the Mississippi. If I’m not satisfied with the progress, we’ll set you up with a fine new home where you can have the whole run of things. I believe in you as the future of this wild game. Trust me.”

“I trust nobody.” He takes a drag from his cigarette, then lifts up his pant leg to put out the butt on his wooden leg. “But I’ll play the game with you. You’re new and funny.”

Cleveland Indians - Ellis Ryan
1951: 93-61

Ryan is a local guy, born in Cleveland and making his bread in insurance. He and a group bought the team from Veeck in late 1949, and has since prioritized beating the Yankees through spending. It seems he wants his local nine to win championships, though he doesn’t meddle in affairs, instead letting baseball men run the show.

“I’m happy just knowing my Indians are playing winning baseball,” Ryan tells me. To be sure, Cleveland has been a good team since 1947, winning a title in ‘48. “I’ve secured rights so that my club will stay in the city for 24 years at minimum, and I even bought out the Indianapolis farm team to increase our stability regionally. I see that regionalism is the way we’re headed; we’re committed to that.”

Ryan is a logical, thoughtful man, but he’s also quietly hellbent on controlling the Rust Belt and creating new fans through radio and television exposure (for example, the Indians just secured a double-A affiliate in Dallas, Texas, a major market). He alludes to having a larger profile than the Chicago White Sox on multiple occasions. There’s a secret darkness about his work.

But as of now, he has no pressing issues - only to ensure his brand grows, it seems.

Chicago White Sox - Grace Comiskey
1951: 81-73

The widow of previous owner J. Louis Comiskey, Grace is savvy and sharp, and the only woman running a franchise in baseball. She wrestled control of the club from the bank in 1940 to keep it in the family, but success hasn’t come with her tenure, with just three winning seasons since that year.

Good news is last year was one of those seasons, as the South Siders finished 81-73. Comiskey tells me she’s happy about the club’s success and attributes it to her baseball folks, but that she’s most proud of the legacy that has been built in Chicago.

“I maintain we are the epitome of class baseball in Chicago,” she says. Hard to argue with that considering the Cubs’ fortunes in years past, but is it anything to truly be proud of?

Anyway, attendance at Comiskey Park increased to 1.4 million total last season, and while the club doesn’t spend that much, there’s reason to be excited about this group. But I don’t get a read on the Comiskeys yet. They seem to be happy with being the Comiskeys. We’ll see.

Detroit Tigers - Walter Briggs Jr.
1951: 73-81

Entrepreneur Walter Briggs had been an owner of the Tigers for more than 30 years before passing away two months ago. His son Walter Jr., or “Spike,” is now running the show.

But there’s uncertainty here. The club was passed into a trust once the elder Briggs died, and the younger Briggs has been informed that there could be a battle ahead, as “prudent man rule” may restrict further investment into the club because of its fragility as part of an estate. Despite that, Briggs Jr. is contemplating organizing a syndicate to buy the Tigers outright.

Amid all this, the club itself performed poorly in 1951, winning just 73 games. It’s the first time Detroit has been on the low side of .500 since 1942.

Summing this up, Briggs Jr. will probably be busy with this control issue. Detroit is a healthy market even with poor fortune on the field, so the Tigers are of low concern here. That said, I don’t want funny business, and if things get stinky, I’ll be ready to help steer things in new directions.

Washington Senators - Clark Griffith
1951: 62-92

The 82-year-old Griffith is synonymous with Washington baseball, for better or worse. He’s well respected by the other owners, and maybe because the other owners know the Senators aren’t ever much of a threat. His team hasn’t won a pennant since 1933, and since 1946 failure has been heavy.

The big issue: Griffith spends little. Very little. He doesn’t have much money to play with, renting out his stadium and giving precedence to the football team in town over his own baseball club. More of a problem: He’s stubborn, wanting control of the club to himself. You can see where this is going.

“I hold true that we’re in fine shape,” he tells me. “The tippest of shape.”

He also loathes the Yankees.

But the writing is on the wall. I tell Griffith that I have to see true improvement in the product, or else the end of Washington baseball is sadly too close to the present.

“Unless you’re Ted Roosevelt, I say you are of scumful sort,” he says.

Try me, Clark.

Boston Red Sox: Thomas Yawkey
1951: 87-67

A bigger personality than most, and certainly involved in his team’s affairs, Yawkey tries to command the conversation. I let him, because more than anything, I’m taking mental notes.

Yawkey comes across as kind-hearted and passionate. He clearly loves his Sox and wants more than anything to win. He has Ted Williams, arguably the top player in the game right now, plus players in their peak like Bobby Doerr, Vern Stephens and Johnny Pesky. But there’s a wrench with Williams: The star was called to serve on active duty in the conflict happening over in Korea. Chances are he’ll have to spend most of the season out there in Pacific.

So Yawkey is upset about the potential of not having Williams around. I tell him he should do what he’s always vowed to do: Spend on talent.

“That’s what I always do,” he laughs. He’s a jolly man.

I’ve heard some whispers that Yawkey and the Sox aren’t very friendly to black players, and further, black people in general. That seems like the opposite of all the complimentary things the owners tell me about Yawkey. I know that if he was close-minded, then opening up that mind might actually prove his team successful in the short- and long-term.

I have no proof myself right now, but I’m interested in following the club’s progress.

Philadelphia Athletics: Roy Mack
1951: 70-84

Onto this impending disaster. Roy Mack is a fool, and it’s clear from his gait before even taking a seat. He and brother Earle run the team now that their father Connie is nearing 90 and essentially out of commission. They drove their brother Connie Jr. out of the club in 1950, but by doing so they have to pay about $150,000 in mortgage payments to Connecticut General Life Insurance Company.

And they couldn’t run the place worse. They spend nothing, have that ballpark Shibe Park in shambles (not to mention the place is the collateral in the mortgage), and run a lackluster farm system. There ain’t much they can do to save American League baseball in Philadelphia.

“Look, we have it all under control,” says Roy. “We just need to make those payments and we’re in the clear.”

I tell Roy I want nothing more than to turn the A’s around. “Philadelphia deserves two healthy franchises,” I say. “It’s a rabid sports town, and we’re all better off with those two clubs.”

He agrees, but I tell him he has work to do. He and Earle need to give me within four months a 10-step plan to fix the Athletics by 1955.

Then Earle stumbles into the room.

“Mr. Burlingame, sir, I just want you to know that my brother and I will do anything to turn it around, ya see?”

“Hey Earle!” Roy screams. “I told you to butt out of this one! I have it covered you lamb rack!”

These guys are buffoons. I’m worried.

New York Yankees: Del Webb
1951: 98-56 | American League Champions | World Series Champions

Well, here’s the big chief in the American League, owner of the World Series champions, and he’s a guy I have to keep track of. Webb is a mousy looking guy who doesn’t say much, but when he does, it carries loud and clear.

He’s the guy who got my predecessor, Happy Chandler, taken out. Apparently Chandler wanted to investigate Webb’s not-so-clean dealings. I’m not a fan of that stuff, either, but I need to pick my battles early. Right now, it’s about listening.

“I think we’re in good standing,” says Webb. “I don’t see any reason to believe you’d be a problem for us in the American League, do you?”

What a heel. He and co-owner Dan Topping run the Yankees like the buttoned-up stars they’re meant to be. To him, when the Yanks are doing well, the league is doing well, and nothing better screw that up. He tells me that the “bumbling idiots” in Philadelphia couldn’t run a puppet show, let alone a ballclub, and finding a new location for the Athletics should be priority. Also, he would love to see the Browns leave St. Louis, though “that’s Bill’s thing. I just hope he has sense to fix it.”

“I’m not in the business for problems,” I tell him, “only solutions. I want a strong league that grows bigger and better. I want good folks and a reputation that precedes itself. We’ll be working on the issues you’ve raised.”

He shakes my hand. “I wish you held these meetings in Florida. I could’ve set you up in the swankiest place. I know people, you know.”

“There will be more meetings, Mr. Webb.”

“They say that. … Steak dinner. Next time.”