Now that my book
is wrapped up and on the book shelves, I returned to a series I've been working on for a few years:
Bluegrass Baseball. Kentucky is my adapted home and I wanted to do a
baseball tribute to the wonderful place that has welcomed this journeyman artist with open arms. While there aren't dozens of
Hall of Famers that hailed from Kentucky, there are quite a few
interesting characters that played a significant part in the history of
our National Pastime. Over the past couple of years I've featured a few
of them: Happy Chandler, Fred Toney, Casey Stengel, Mickey Stubblefield, Pee Wee Reese, Humpty Badel and Bob Bowman. As anyone who's followed my blog over the years knows, I'm particularly drawn to the history of the Negro Leagues in Baltimore, especially the Elite Giants. One of the early stories and illustrations I posted was of the Elites' second baseman Sammy T. Hughes. All but forgotten today, Hughes was considered by most Negro League players and writers as the best second baseman blackball produced. When I lived in Charm City back in the late 80's and 90's, every old fan I interviewed spoke of the Elites' "Sammy T". Hughes was also a native of Kentucky so when I began planning my Bluegrass Baseball book I knew Sammy T. needed a full page illustration.
The only problem with the Baseball Hall of Fame is that Sammy T.
Hughes ain’t in it.
During the 1930’s and 40’s Hughes was the best
second baseman in blackball. According to Cum Posey, owner of the Homestead Grays, Sammy T. was the best second sacker he'd ever seen. This from a guy whose involvement with Negro League baseball stretched back to the 1910's.
Born in Louisville, Kentucky in 1910, Hughes started out
as a first baseman with his hometown semi-pro Louisville White Sox in
1929 and two years later the team turned pro and joined the Negro
National League. 1932 saw Hughes join the Washington Pilots where he
switched to second base. When that franchise folded later that year
he joined the Nashville Elite Giants.
Owned by black businessman Tom
Wilson, the Elite Giants started out in Nashville but were destined to
keep changing home base as they searched for a city with an
appreciative fan base. Hughes
was a true rarity for the time, a franchise player back when contracts
meant nothing and jumping from one club to another was just another part
of the game. Hughes was the Elites’ man at second through
their moves from Nashville to Columbus to Washington, D.C. and finally
in 1938, Baltimore, Maryland.
In Charm City the Elite
Giants found a town with thousands of fans hungry for a black team. The great black
newspaper, The Afro-American, was based in Baltimore and provided good
coverage of the Elites during their tenure in the city. The team
thrived in the environment and the fans were rewarded in 1939 when they
won the Negro National League Championship in a 4-team playoff between
the Homestead Grays, Philadelphia Stars, Newark Eagles and Elite Giants.
Over 6'-3" and close to 200lbs, Sammy
T. Hughes was described by his contemporaries as a superior base runner, line drive hitter and artful bunter. At second he possessed the dexterity of a ballerina equipped with a rifle for an arm. On top of all that, Sammy T. played the game smart and he was a leader on the field. Fans acknowledged his
skill and Hughes was voted to the annual East-West All-Star game five times in
his career, more than any other second baseman. Usually batting second in the lineup, he consistently batted
over .300 and executed the hit-and-run play like he invented it. From 1935 to 1942 Sammy T. was like an automatic double machine, either leading the league or finishing in the top five for two base hits each year. In exhibition games against Major Leaguers Hughes hit the white pitching at a .350 clip.
An event that never actually happened provides the best proof that Sammy T. was one of the best ball players produced by the Negro Leagues: In 1942 the Communist newspaper
“The Peoples Voice” arranged a tryout with the Pittsburgh Pirates for three Negro Leaguers. Of all the untapped blackball talent it was Hughes along with Roy Campanella and pitcher Dave Barnhill who were chosen for the historic tryout. All three men showed up in Pittsburgh but Pirates owner William Benswanger backed out at the last minute. The aborted tryout received much press coverage at the time and sports writers both black and white
figured Hughes to be a can’t-miss candidate to break the color line. This high appraisal of Sammy T. wasn't just due to his statistics: like Jackie Robinson, Hughes was evaluated for the way he conducted himself off the field. Sammy T.'s decade of loyalty to the Elite Giants spoke to his dedication towards his team and his clean-living made him stand out from many ball players regardless of color. New York Black
Yankees player Dick Seay had this to say of Hughes: “a nice fellow. He
wasn’t one of those guys that was drinking and all. He’d stay in the
hotel and go get his girl and visit her.”
Unfortunately we never got to see what Sammy T. could do in the major leagues. World War II interrupted Hughes' career and he served three years in the Pacific. After his discharge from the Army he returned to Baltimore, but only after holding out for a bigger pay check. Although he hit only .277, Sammy T. rendered an even greater
service by acting as mentor the Elites’ young second baseman Junior
Gilliam. The veteran's unselfish tutoring made Gilliam into an All-Star second baseman for the Brooklyn and Los Angeles Dodgers. With Gilliam firmly in place as his replacement, Hughes
settled down in Los Angeles and worked for Hughes Aircraft and Pillsbury, passing
away in 1981.
Every time the Hall of Fame convenes one of their Negro League committees, Sammy T. Hughes' name makes the conversation but he's always pushed aside by players of lesser talent who played for more well-known teams or had more friends among the powers-that-be. Someday the Elites' second baseman may get the recognition he deserves, but until then Cooperstown will not complete until Sammy T. gets in there.
Those
who have met me in person know I'm not the kind of guy to toot my own
horn. In fact, much to my detriment, I'm lousy about promoting myself.
That's why it's hard for me to ask this, but this is something that
needs to be done: if you bought a copy of The League of Outsider
Baseball, can you please take the time to write a review of it on Amazon, Barnes and Noble or Good Reads?
It would mean a lot to me and most importantly give future publishers
an idea of what the book reading public thinks of my work. Almost all of
the existing reader's reviews have been flattering, but every once in a
while some crackpot writes a clunker - like the creep on Good Reads
that said I should have had someone who knows English write the copy
(that was a surprise as Simon & Schuster's editing process is
quite impressive and very rigorous). I for one often look at the reviews
on those sites before I spend my money on a book. Reviews aren't the
only thing I rely on in my purchasing process but it's certainly a
factor, and that's why I'm asking you to please take the time to write
your thoughts about my work.
Since my book came out in May I've been lucky enough to have been a guest on over 60 radio shows across the country (you can listen to a selection HERE). At first I was uncomfortable, but after I had a few under my belt I became very at ease with live radio. I even looked forward to each interview as a challenge, not knowing what questions a host would throw at me. I think I had a much easier time than the usual author because with the exception of but one interviewer, I could tell the hosts had actually read my book. Many times the host would tell me before the interview or during a commercial break that they do not always get the chance to or necessarily want to read the books they get in, but the League of Outsider Baseball was an exception. A few of the radio station engineers even told me that the guys in the office were fighting over who got to keep the book! I can't tell you how proud that made me feel inside.
Although the range of questions thrown at me were wildly different (heck, there are 240 pages of stories to choose from!) there were two that always seemed to pop up. The first, and most difficult, was "Who's your favorite player in the book?" That's a tough one as it changes all the time. One day I might like the Frankie Zak story because it was personal to me, while another day I would say the Farmer Dean story because no one ever wrote about him before me. It would have been easier for me to answer a trigonometry question instead of who's my favorite!
The other question that came up often is "How did you find the players in the book?" That one was easier to answer, though there is no single answer. If you've read this blog for some time, you already know that sometimes I find mentions of a player in a book about a better known player - like Ford Meadows. This was the guy who was deemed a better prospect than a young Babe Ruth in 1913 Baltimore. He was briefly mentioned in a Ruth biography and I wanted to know who that guy was - so I did. Or another way I find ideas is like what happened with the Lou Gehrig story in the book. I remember hearing that a young Gehrig played under an assumed name for a town team in New Jersey when he was a student at Columbia. This is briefly touched on in a few Gehrig books but with no details given. I dug and dug and found a guy in Morristown, New Jersey who was also researching this forgotten part of Gehrig's life. He was kind enough to share what he found and I built upon that to the point where I tracked down not only box scores from his time in Morristown but also a team photograph that had once hung in a tavern that had long since closed. The third way I find stories is simply by accident. Sometimes I just stumble upon an interesting newspaper article when researching something entirely separate. That's how I came upon Farmer Dean when I was researching the 1935 Tokyo Giants American Tour. When I do come across those hidden gems I print them out or make notes and put them in a bulging manila folder which I usually take with me on business trips or on airplanes to pass the time. It was on my recent trip to Los Angeles to accept the 2015 Salin Award that I re-discovered the star of today's post: Red Solomon.
In the summer of 1929 the woeful Chicago Cubs suddenly emerged as a National League contender. In the decade since their drubbing in the 1918 World Series by Babe Ruth and the Red Sox, the Cubs had foundered. Chewing gum magnate William Wrigley purchased the team in 1926 and began making positive changes to the club. Backed by Wrigley's deep pockets, Cubs president William Veeck, Sr. began to assemble a team of proven veterans and promising cast-offs. By spring training 1929, the Cubs had a solid roster and was poised to wrestle the pennant from the defending Pittsburgh Pirates. That year's edition of Northsiders fielded a squad of sluggers that rivaled the Yankees Murderer's Row: Hack Wilson, Rogers Hornsby, Kiki Kuyler... all future Hall of Famers. Their pitching staff was among the best in both leagues with Pat Malone leading the NL with 22 victories and Charlie Root and Guy Bush winning 19 and 18 games respectively. And like the Yankees' Murderer's Row, the Cubs also led the league in characters. Pat Malone and Hack Wilson were the life of a seemingly never-ending party of gin-joints, speakeasies and road houses. Their manager Joe McCarthy, a journeyman infielder who never made the big leagues, defied his many detractors and led the Cubbies to 98 wins. In that last summer before the Great Depression descended on the nation, the 1929 Cubs were the last gasp of the Roarin' 20's fun and excess.
Despite all the newspaper and press coverage lavished on the Cubbies that summer, very few moving images exist of the team. One of the rare reels that remain was shot by Movietone News at the Polo Grounds on August 18th. Among the shots of Hack Wilson and Kiki Cuyler and the fellas limbering up before the game is a segment featuring the team's wonder manager Joe McCarthy and a short freckle-faced kid. McCarthy smiles uneasily, obviously still not used to all the attention foisted upon him as leader of the best team in the National league. The freckle-faced kid on the other hand, pounds his glove and looks totally natural in his grey pinstriped uniform with "NY KAWANIS" written across the chest. Remarkably, it's a "talkie", the latest in moving picture technology at the time. After a few false starts McCarthy puts his hand on the boy's shoulder and says "Folks, I want you to meet Red Solomon, the Jewish boy with the Irish face". McCarthy goes on to say that the kid is the youngest ballplayer to sign a major league contract and he'll be 13 years-old next month.
And finally there's a great shot of little Red standing with a group of six Chicago Cubs. Each man has on a dirty road uniform and a scowl on his face - including little Red. Afterwards Red plays catch with a few of his "future teammates", the older men yelling back and forth telling the kid to take it easy as he's too young to have a sore arm. Then the film reel runs out and the Cubs and Red are gone.
Turns out Samuel Solomon - called "Red" for his flaming red hair - was well known around New York City. Red's Kiwanis Club sponsored team played in a city-wide sandlot league run by the impressively-named Captain George H. Maines, former president of the Michigan-Ontario League. The organization Maines put together wasn't just some suburban Little League - the loop boasted over 1,000 teams with more than 15,000 boys - of which Red Solomon stood out as the very best. At the age of 12 Red not only was the team's star third baseman but he also managed the team. The newspaper articles I found seem to all have a line in them about how Red Solomon's timely hitting or robust defense saved or won the game. The 1928 Bronx Kiwanis club finished with a 20-1 record and capped off the season by winning the city-wide sandlot championship.
So Red Solomon was already fairly known to New Yorkers when the announcement came that he was signed by the Chicago Cubs. Back in 1915 the New York Giants had signed 15 year-old Waite Hoyt, but the 75 pound freckle-faced redhead made Hoyt look like he was a grizzled veteran. After Solomon put his signature on a contract, Cubs manager Joe McCarthy told the assembled writers "I consider young Solomon the best natural baseball player for his size I have ever seen".
After news of the historic signing made the newspapers and newsreels, Red worked out with the Cubs whenever they played in New York, Brooklyn and Philadelphia. Wearing a pint-sized Cubs uniform, Red took batting tips from the great Rogers Hornsby and roomed on the road with outfielder Kiki Cuyler. He was quoted time and again proclaiming himself "the luckiest boy in the whole world". The Cubs put their young prospect on a strict regimen designed to turn him into a future star. Before he signed his Cubs contract, Red told sportswriters that his typical breakfast consisted of a doughnut and cup of coffee. Now the Chicago trainers had the boy eating fresh fruit each morning.
Realizing that being a big league ball player did not stop after a game, Red was paired with Miss Betty Van Alan who would teach him the proper etiquette expected of a major leaguer. A newspaper printed a list of commandments that Red was to live by under his most unique apprenticeship, of which some are quite obvious:
• Bathe after every baseball game
• Don't smoke or drink
• Brush your teeth
while some are quite quaint:
• Help another boy every day
• Don't ever be late for an appointment
• Study your baseball rules
and others are, well, sort of bizarre:
• Don't butter a whole slice of bread
• Don't drink milk with meat
• Don't cut a salad with a knife
• Don't wash your food down with water
• Don't cut more than one piece of meat at a time
While many news stories portrayed the Red Solomon signing as a feel-good human interest piece, others did not see it so positive. Cubs skipper Joe McCarthy said later that he received many angry letters from mothers berating him for allowing a 13 year-old to play on the same field as grown men. The concerned moms warned of the dangers a screaming liner would do to the 75 pound third baseman. Some sports writers warned of how difficult adult 20 year-old rookies found the pressures and expectations of trying to make good in the big leagues - how would a 13 year-old boy be able to cope with all that?
The Cubs took the National League pennant by 10 1/2 games and prepared to meet the Philadelphia Athletics in the World Series. The '29 A's were perhaps the greatest team ever assembled in the history of the Major Leagues, but Red for one was not worried. In the build up to the Series he was often quoted in the papers as predicting a quick finish to the Philadelphians. Red's optimistic outlook and earnest appeal led to him being picked up as a featured correspondent for United Press International wire service.
Unfortunately Red's optimism didn't last long. The Athletics completely dismantled the Cubs in 5 games. Red's articles are at first fun to read, written from the perspective of a 13 year-old fan and featuring peppy little "interviews" with the Cubs players. But after each heart-breaking loss Red struggles more and more to stay optimistic. Game 4 saw Chicago's 8-0 lead evaporate in an A's 10 run 7th inning and in the fifth and final game Philadelphia rallied for a 3 run ninth to bet the Cubs 3-2. The humiliating loss was a devastating surprise. Perhaps the first line of Red's final dispatch best sums up the Cubs fans' frustration and dismay:
"What's the use of writing a story now? It's all over."
The Cubs slinked back to Chicago and Red returned to school in the Bronx. Although he says in his final dispatch that he would be back with Cubs for the 1930 campaign he never did. Like most people already knew, the Cubs signing of little Red was nothing more than a publicity stunt. Capt. Maines, the guy who ran the league Red played in, had drummed up the whole scheme to publicize his organization. Most likely the Captain approached and had been turned down by the local Yankees, Giants and Dodgers before the Cubs took the bait. Bill Veeck, Sr. obviously possessed some of the huckster mentality his more well-known son turned into an art form when he ran the Browns, Indians and White Sox.
Red continued to play superb sandlot ball, first with his Kiwanis club and then with the Bronx Incas. Solomon's name could be found in the New York sports pages throughout the summer of 1932 and 33 when he starred for a team assembled by the New York Yankees. When Red tried to join another amateur league he was temporarily banned because he failed to secure a waiver from his former club - sandlot ball in 1930's New York sure wasn't like today's Little League - these guys were serious!
Finally in the summer of 1933 Red was old enough to be invited to try out for the Brooklyn Dodgers. On the very morning of the tryout Red was practicing with the Incas at Cretona Park when a runner crashed into him as he covered third base. When the dust settled Red lay in a heap, his left leg suffering a double compound break. Solomon was rushed to Morrisania Hospital where doctors told the newspapers his baseball career was through. Fortunately though, Red had friends in places a normal teen didn't. Joe McCarthy, Cubs skipper back in '29, was now managing the New York Yankees right there in the Bronx. When the Yanks heard of Red's dire prognosis the team sent their own doctors to work on the boy and by the end of September Red was expected to make a full recovery. In the meantime, to help Red's family pay for all the hospital bills a benefit baseball game was held at the Polo Grounds when the Giants were out of town. While he was laid up in the hospital Joe McCarthy came calling with a ball signed to him by Rogers Hornsby, his old teammate from 1929 and now manager of the Browns. Red's old bunk mate Kiki Cuyler dropped by when the Cubbies were playing the Giants and fellow Bronx native Hank Greenberg made an appearance. Red may not have been on a big league roster but he sure had friends of major league quality!
Despite all the rosy predictions, the injury did hamper Red's game. He went south with the Chicago White Sox for spring training in 1934 but failed to make the team. A wire story from the Jewish Telegraphy Service the following spring had Red going to spring training with the New York Giants, but again he didn't make the cut. For the rest of the decade Red Solomon played the game he loved. You can find him playing with semi-pro teams like the Murray Hills and the Paterson Silk Stockings, both of which featured former major leaguers and college stars.
I tried as best as I could to find out what became of Red. I re-read Roberts Ehrgott's great book on the 1920's and 30's Cubs "Mr. Wrigley's Ballclub" looking for Solomon but he's not mentioned. Nor was he included in SABR's comprehensive study of the '29 Cubs "Winning on the Northside". Even the handful of books about Bill Veeck, Jr. fail to bring up his dad's signing of the 13 year-old third baseman. This is perhaps the biggest oversight as I can't help but hypothesize that Veeck Sr's 1929 stunt influenced Veeck Jr's 1951 Eddie Gaedel signing and all his subsequent big league hijinx.
Regardless, after 1940 Red disappears from newspapers and into the unpublicized normal lived most of us lead. My best guess is Red's the Samuel Solomon who passed away in 1991 aged 75, but I'm not positive. If it is, I wonder how Red looked back across all those decades to the summer of 1929 when he was the luckiest boy in the world...
Those
who have met me in person know I'm not the kind of guy to toot my own
horn. In fact, much to my detriment, I'm lousy about promoting myself.
That's why it's hard for me to ask this, but this is something that
needs to be done: if you bought a copy of The League of Outsider
Baseball, can you please take the time to write a review of it on Amazon, Barnes and Noble or Good Reads?
It would mean a lot to me and most importantly give future publishers
an idea of what the book reading public thinks of my work. Almost all of
the existing reader's reviews have been flattering, but every once in a
while some crackpot writes a clunker - like the creep on Good Reads
that said I should have had someone who knows English write the copy
(that was a surprise as Simon & Schuster's editing process is
quite impressive and very rigorous). I for one often look at the reviews
on those sites before I spend my money on a book. Reviews aren't the
only thing I rely on in my purchasing process but it's certainly a
factor, and that's why I'm asking you to please take the time to write
your thoughts about my work.
I know I haven't been posting stories as often as I used to - it's been a busy summer. I've been fortunate to have been invited to several book signings around the country and on top of all that I was awarded the 2015 Tony Salin Award from the Baseball Reliquary in July. The Salin Award is presented to individuals in recognition of their part in the preservation of baseball history. As far as I know there's no higher recognition a baseball historian, writer or artist can receive than the Salin Award, and I am extremely humbled and proud of this achievement. I'll post a picture of the award and a bit more about the 2015 ceremony in the near future, so stay tuned.
One more thing before I introduce this week's story. Those who have met me in person know I'm not the kind of guy to toot my own horn. In fact, much to my detriment, I'm lousy about promoting myself. That's why it's hard for me to ask this, but this is something that needs to be done: if you bought a copy of The League of Outsider Baseball, can you please take the time to write a review of it on Amazon, Barnes and Noble or Good Reads? It would mean a lot to me and most importantly give future publishers an idea of what the book reading public thinks of my work. Almost all of the existing reader's reviews have been flattering, but every once in a while some crackpot writes a clunker - like the creep on Good Reads that said I should have had someone who knows English write the copy (that was a surprise as Simon & Schuster's editing process is quite impressive and very rigorous). I for one often look at the reviews on those sites before I spend my money on a book. Reviews aren't the only thing I rely on in my purchasing process but it's certainly a factor, and that's why I'm asking you to please take the time to write your thoughts about my work.
When
I first started this blog a little over five years ago, I started
receiving many requests for players to be profiled on here and given The
Infinite Baseball Card Set "treatment." Out of all the emails I began
to notice that it was not one particular player that was asked for the
most, but rather a whole ethnic group: Jewish ballplayers. I did cards
and stories on here of Sandy Koufax and Moe Berg, but I began slowly researching different players of the Jewish faith,
trying to find characters who would fit in with the kind of tales I
like to write - guys with interesting stories who may not be known to
the casual fan of baseball history. Jake Atz was one of those guys,
and in fact he appears on page 3 of the Premier Issue of "21: The Illustrated Journal of Outsider Baseball." (although it's a different illustration).
Since the Cincinnati Red Stockings first stepped foot on a ball field back in 1869, professional baseball has produced more great legends than any other sport in history. From Ty Cobb's sharpened spikes to Babe Ruth's called shot to Steve Bartman being the sole cause of the Cubs playoff collapse, baseball's great legends, whether true or false, are what made the game so enduring over the decades. And as many tales and legends are attributed to Major League Baseball, the minor leagues have produced an infinitely greater number.
Take the story of Jake Zimmerman. It's the turn of the century and Zimmerman was a young Jewish kid from Washington, D.C. trying to get his foot firmly placed on the bottom rung of the professional baseball ladder. The story goes that Jake's teammates lined up alphabetically to receive their pay each week. Finances in the low minors at the turn of the century was precarious to say the least, and from time to time by the time Jake got to the front of the line, the team treasurer had run out of funds. Refusing to let a mere surname get in the way of his financial stability, Jake Zimmerman became Jake Atz. Problem solved and an enduring baseball legend is born.
There's only one problem - well, two actually: Jake never changed his name because he never had to - nor was he a Jew.
Jacob Henry Atz was born in Washington, D.C. in 1879. His father's people were German Lutherans and his mother's side of the family was Irish. Sometime, somewhere very early in his baseball career Jake was taken for being a Jew. He didn't think it necessary to do anything to correct the notion so today he's always on the list of Jewish Major Leaguers. I also fell victim to the great story surrounding Jake Atz and included him in my little book on Jewish ballplayers back in 2011, further perpetuating the myth. It wasn't until recently that modern researchers dug up Jake's ancestral records and found not only his religious background incorrect but the birth name often listed for him - John Jacob Zimmerman - was wrong. So after one hundred years the two things that made Jake Atz such a great baseball character were proven to be myths. Still, even when you brush away the legend, Jake Atz was still a pretty remarkable ball player.
Atz got his professional start with the Raleigh Senators in 1901. After making his mark his contract was soon sold to the New Orleans Pelicans. Although the Pelicans played in the Southern Association, a higher minor league than Raleigh, a trip to the deep south meant terrible humidity, rowdy fans and rampant disease epidemics - it was not uncommon for a player to contract malaria while playing in the Southern Association. Like many players of his era, Jake refused to go. New Orleans’ manager trekked up north to meet with Atz in person. When told he would be making $125 a month, Jake responded that for that sum he’d play in Alaska!
Managing to avoid malaria, dehydration and riotous spectators, Atz finished up the year in New Orleans and batted .275 for the Pelicans. The next year the Washington Senators called him up for a look-see. In front of his hometown fans, Atz got into three games but managed only 1 hit in 10 at bats. The Senators sent Jake back down south where he played for New Orleans and then Memphis. Jake then went out to the West Coast where he played for Los Angeles and Portland, all the while hitting around .250.
In 1908 he was back in New Orleans hitting .312 when the big leagues came calling again. The Chicago White Sox brought Atz up as a reserve infielder and the next year he was their starting 2nd baseman. He was an average-skilled infielder but his major league career ended prematurely in part because of an injury to his hip suffered when he deliberately leaned into a Walter Johnson pitch in order to get on base. Released to the Providence Grays in 1910 he took over as manager during the second half of the next season. Although the team finished last in the Eastern League, Jake had found his calling. He was a natural manager.
Atz bumped around the low minors again making the most out of his waning playing days until he landed a berth as player/manager of the Fort Worth Panthers. His early years as manager didn’t go so smoothly and the hard-headed Atz quit the team in a huff after the owner second-guessed his decision to leave a struggling pitcher in the game instead of going to his bullpen. Atz’s popularity was such that the next year the owner was forced out by the minority stock holders and their first move was to bring Jake back as manager. Extremely popular with both fans and players, the colorful Atz drove the Panthers to the Texas League pennant every year from 1919 to 1925. The Panthers became a dynasty due to the owners, W.K. Stripling and Paul LaGrave who paid top dollar for the best players they could find. So well paid were their men that some even turned down promotions to higher leagues because they would make much less than what the Panthers paid them. Besides, “Jake Atz’s Cats” as they were dubbed, were winners. His 109 wins in 1922 and again in 1924 set a Texas League record that still stands. The Panthers also played in the inaugural Dixie Series that pitted the champs of the Texas League against the winners of the Southern Association. Even though the Southern League had a higher minor league classification than the Texas League, Atz’s Cats won the series every year between 1920 and 1925 except 1922. He left Ft. Worth after the 1929 season and managed various other teams, mostly in the Texas League until finally retiring after the 1941 season.
All told, Jake Atz managed in the minors for 22 years. His lifetime record of 1,972 wins places him 12th among the most wins by a minor league manager. The last team he helmed was the 1941 Winston-Salem Twins whose shortstop that year was a young Jewish kid from New York named Mickey Rutner who would go on to become the inspiration for the fictional character “Mike Kutner” in Eliot Asinof’s literary baseball classic, “Man On Spikes”.
Jake Atz died of cancer in his adopted hometown of New Orleans in 1945. The next year the Texas League introduced the “Jake Atz Trophy”, still awarded at the end of each season to the league champions. So, even with the myths dusted off Ol' Jake Atz's story, he still managed to make quite a mark on the game he loved...
