159. Larry MacPhail: The Formation of Hurricane Larry

I said it before, but I'll say it again: the greatest thing about writing and illustrating this blog has been all the friends I've made through it. While I started this out of my feeling of loss and loneliness after my Dad died, the many acquaintances I've made through this site have been an unexpected blessing. This week's story comes from one of those new acquaintances. Writing back and forth, he (name withheld by his request) asked me if I'd thought about doing a card of Larry MacPhail. While I never wanted to do cards of owners or executives, MacPhail would prove to be the obvious exception. I thought I'd like to concentrate on his early years in Columbus and Cincinnati, before the Dodgers and Yankees, but I didn't have any reference to start my research. A few weeks later a box arrived at my studio with a big book on MacPhail and some other photocopied material on his Columbus and Cincinnati period. It was all I needed to start writing about this underrated baseball savant - the only thing left was to figure out how to illustrate loud plaids in the Infinite Baseball Card style...

Since baseball became the National Pastime, there have been countless innovators that have moved the game forward: Branch Rickey with integration and the farm system, Dummy Hoy with universal hand signals for umpires, Roger Bresnahan's invention of catching equipment... but perhaps no man had more to do with the advancement of the game, and at the same time is more overlooked, than Larry MacPhail.

Columbus, Ohio 1931.

Larry MacPhail was busted out. After pouring his life's savings into developing a medical arts building that went under after the stock market crash, he was without a job and available. But that didn't worry Larry MacPhail: something would turn up, it always did. He lived his life on the edge, a brilliant mind coupled with a gambler's wit. He followed genius moves with stupid mistakes and each time rebounded to greater height. He was a banker's son from Michigan. Started out as a lawyer in Chicago, then the manager of a Nashville department store. Restless, he wrangled a commission in the army and went to France with an artillery regiment. Six months later he was wounded, promoted to captain and helped lead a daring and booze-fueled raid to capture the Kaiser who was hiding out in neutral Holland. Getting away with his life and one of the Kaiser's ashtrays, MacPhail returned to America and settled in Columbus, Ohio. That's where he was living when he went bust.

As smooth a networker as a Southern senator, MacPhail made friends easy and it wasn't long before some of them came through with his next opportunity. The minor league Columbus Senators were hemorrhaging money like a bottomless boat and hadn't been above 5th place in decades. Fans stayed away from their dumpy ballpark like it was festering with the plague and there was every reason to believe the team would either fold or move away. Local businessmen believed that this would be a tragedy. With the country slipping deeper and deeper into the depression, the Columbus business community believed that the population needed baseball as a diversion from the economic disaster around them and help restore their morale. But they needed a winning team. With Larry MacPhail out of a job, he was asked to see what he could do with the Senators.

Like everything in his life, MacPhail threw his entire weight behind re-forging the franchise into a success. Like a whirlwind of action, he was soon called "Hurricane Larry". Within weeks he'd convinced Branch Rickey to make the Columbus club part of the Cardinals farm system. MacPhail knew that doing so was the future of minor league baseball and the constant flow of players provided by being a part of the Cardinals organization would make his team competitive. The Senators became the Red Birds and soon a steady stream of fresh young talent were putting on Columbus uniforms. 

MacPhail slapped new paint on the beat up ballpark, dressed the ushers in colorful uniforms and started fun promotions to lure the fans to the park. At the end of the season the Red Birds were perched in 4th place - the highest in the standings that anyone could easily recall.

By the time the 1932 season started, MacPhail was named to the league's governing body and led the initiative to revamp the play-off system. He instituted a player-incentive program to ensure teams stayed competitive to the end of the season. It was all new and brilliant and by the following season other minor leagues had adapted it to survive the depression.

In June of 1932 he put his team in a brand new stadium which was opened up with unprecedented fanfare and even attracted the Commissioner of Baseball Kennisaw Mountain Landis. Not content with just a merely new stadium, MacPhail insisted lights be permanently installed atop the new ballpark. He began special days where he let unemployed fans see a game for free and started Red Birds fan clubs to get the local kids involved. The Red Birds finished second and actually drew in 100,000 more fans than the parent Cardinals did! It was pure genius and he made headlines from coast-to-coast, but, like every stage in his life, it would come crashing down.

The Red Birds jumped off to a spectacular start in 1933 and were tabbed as the league's favorite. MacPhail continued to make headlines but not always in a good way. Always a first-class boozer, MacPhail sometimes lost control during a binge, such as the time he accompanied the team on a road trip. After an all-night drinking session with the hotel manager ended with an argument, MacPhail made his team pack up and move lodgings right then and there. While some laughed it off, in St. Louis someone was watching.

While Branch Rickey found much to admire about Larry MacPhail, he also had much to despise. Rickey was a teetotaler; MacPhail, of course, drank to excess. The Cardinals president was a model of modesty, the Red Birds' president dressed in flashy clothes to match his personality. And worst of all, MacPhail was quickly out-shining Rickey in the baseball world. 

There were two things that ended MacPhail's reign in Columbus. The first was when Rickey saw how well-appointed MacPhail's office was in the new ballpark: walnut paneled walls and plush Oriental carpets. It was more extravagant than any of the major league owners and Rickey seethed with resentment when he thought of how much club money MacPhail had spent on his own regal comfort. When the Red Birds president tried to explain that the walnut panels were installed at a discount by a grateful contractor and that the rugs were obtained after a furniture store had a fire-sale, Rickey was too upset to listen. This brash display of immodesty coupled with the hard time MacPhail gave Rickey when he wanted to promote one of the Red Birds' players during the pennant race sealed the new president's fate. By mid-1933 MacPhail was unemployed. 

And, like every other time, he bounced back higher: 100 miles south of Columbus, a ball club was in trouble; a Big League ball club.

The Cincinnati Reds were a miserable club in 1933. Ever since the early 1920's, the team had dived deeper and deeper into the second division. The owner Sidney Weil lost all he had and turned the team over to a local bank. Now in last place with no where else to go, they needed a miracle. They sent for Hurricane Larry.

As he had in Columbus, MacPhail's first months in Cincinnati was a whirlwind of re-painting and re-thinking. He dressed the ushers in fancy garb, hired pretty girls to roam the stands selling cigarettes and cigars. Promotions abounded - ladies nights, kid's days - but still he needed a winning team. MacPhail took stock of his surroundings and set his sights on the richest man in town: Powell Crosley. The local businessman owned a radio and appliance manufacturing company and a brace of radio stations. He took risks, was an innovator in his field and loved his hometown. He was the perfect match for MacPhail. After bombarding the businessman for weeks with reasons he should buy the team, Crosley finally purchased the struggling Reds from the bank. Now MacPhail now had his bankroll.

He got rid of every malcontent and slacker in a Reds uniform. Good, bad, it didn't matter, to MacPhail they were all losers. When star outfielder Babe Herman complained he didn't receive a bonus for hustling that he had in his contract, MacPhail bad mouthed him to the press and kicked him off the team. When he found manager Bob O'Farrell more infatuated with a new golf club than with his team which was on a losing streak, MacPhail fired him then and there. Trades were announced on what seemed like a daily basis. To cut down on train travel, he occasionally put his boys on a pair of Ford Tri-Motors and flew them to far away cities. Using St. Louis as a model, the Reds created a sprawling farm system to harvest new ballplayers at a minimum cost. The sportswriters ate that stuff up, and to make sure they continued to do so, MacPhail built a well-stocked open bar lounge just for them.

Utilizing Crosley's pioneering radio empire, the Reds hired a Floridian announcer named Red Barber and began broadcasting every single game. Major league owners resisted broadcasting their games, fearing fans would just stay home instead of journeying to the ballpark. MacPhail knew they were wrong: the 50,000 watt station WLW could be heard from Texas to Manhattan and soon the broadcasts created a whole legions of Reds fans around the country. Then he allowed three other stations to carry the games as well - the more broadcasts the more Reds fans - and he charged each station two grand for the right to do so. MacPhail worked with the railroad companies for special excursion trains to bring all the new Reds fans created by the radio broadcasts to Cincinnati at a reduced rate.

And then he brought lights to the big leagues. Backed by Crosley's cash, MacPhail installed lights on the re-named Crosley Field. First, he had to convince the other National League owners who were vehemently against the lights. Through deals, arm twisting and flattery, MacPhail managed to have 7 night games for 1935, one with each National League team. It was a smash hit. The first game was linked by a remote link to the White House where President Roosevelt threw the switch lighting up Crosley Field. Every game was a sell-out and though wary, the other team owners agreed to continue the idea.

When Puerto Rico invited the Reds to spend spring training on the island, MacPhail flew the team down there and became the first major league team to visit that Caribbean territory. And through it all, the Reds started to rise. 8th place in 1934; 6th place in 1935 and then 4th place in 1936.

But then, like every stage in his life, it would come crashing down.

Always a boozer and prone to making a scene, MacPhail was on a collision course with Cincinnati's Midwestern values. As his grandson famously said about him:

 "My grandfather was bombastic, flamboyant, a genius when sober, brilliant when he had one drink and a raving lunatic when he had too many."

For a while everyone looked the other way, but by 1936 he had reached the level of "too many. When a drunken MacPhail slugged it out with a police sergeant in the elevator of the Netherland Plaza Hotel, Powell Crosley sent him packing.

It was an inglorious way to exit the big leagues, but to Hurricane Larry, it was the only way. And, like every other time, he bounced back higher: by 1938 he was running the Brooklyn Dodgers.

That's where I'm ending this story. Most fans of baseball history know how MacPhail assembled the great Dodgers teams of the 1940's and then the post-war Yankees dynasty of the late 40's and 50's. He was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1978. He started his own personal baseball dynasty as his kids and grand kids went on to great heights on the business end of the game. But, as far as an innovator, no one can ever match Larry MacPhail.

Thanks again to the baseball fan who sent me the book and photocopies without which this story could never have been done. It was a fun one to draw, Larry MacPhail was notorious for his loud and flashy clothes. Illustrating baseball uniforms gives me great artistic pleasure, but the chance to draw a sharp suit of clothes, well, that I really couldn't pass up!

SOURCES

• Warfield, Don, The Roaring Redhead (Diamond Communications, 1987)
• McKelvey, G. Richard, The MacPhails (McFarland & Company, 2000)
• Golenbock, Peter, Bums (Putnam, 1984)
• Grandson's quote on Larry MacPhail (Baltimore Sun, November 9, 2012)

127. Johnny Grodzicki: The Cardinals Next Big Thing

If you flip through an old St. Louis newspaper or an issue of The Sporting News in 1940 or 1941, the chances are pretty good you'll come across at least a mention of a ballplayer named Johnny Grodzicki. The Cardinals of the early 1940's were arguably the best franchise in the game due in no small part to their vast farm system. Spread throughout the country their vast network of affiliated clubs spewed forth a continuous stream of young arms that fed the mighty St. Louis war machine: Mort Cooper, Howie Pollet, Max Lanier, Johnny Beezley... all stars of their day. So with all this top-drawer talent on the big club why spend the ink on some kid with an unpronounceable name still in the minors?

Because Johnny Grodzicki was that damn good. In fact, he wasn't just damn good, he was a can't miss, full-fledged superstar. Grodzicki was, as they say, the "next big thing."

Growing up in the gritty industrial town of Nanticoke, Pennsylvania, all Johnny Grodzicki thought he had to look forward to was a life spent in one of the many factories that filled the sky above with gray smoke. He came from a big Polish family that resided in the Honey Pot section of town. His parents, Ignatz and Lottie, were recent immigrants and he had five brothers: Stanley, Chester, Casimer, Richard and Edward and two sisters: Jean and Alfreda. To supplement the meager paycheck he received from his job in a silk mill, Grodzicki started selling subscriptions to the Sporting News. Back then, everyone read the Sporting News, and helped by his genial personality, Grodzicki sold enough subscriptions to get himself a scholarship to the Ray Doan Baseball School in Hot Springs Arkansas. Doan's school attracted the best young ballplayers in the country and the 1935 faculty was chock-full of the games' top stars. As a pitcher, the strapping Pole was tutored by none other than Schoolboy Rowe, ace of the world champion Detroit Tigers and the immortal Dizzy Dean, at that time by far the best hurler in the game.

Under the watchful eyes of Rowe and Dean, Grodzicki learned how to properly hold a curve ball and all the other skills needed to become a professional. By the time the school had ended Johnny Grodzicki was signed by St. Louis (undoubtedly due to Dizzy Dean's recommendation) and thrown into the giant swimming pool that the Cardinals called their farm system.

Grodzicki surfaced with the New Iberia Cardinals in Louisiana's Evangeline League. The big righty threw hard but was wild and he ended his first season with a 16-12 mark. He showed great promise but needed work. If nothing else, Grodzicki impressed the Cardinals with his eagerness to learn. Hard work and determination brought him a promotion to Houston in 1937 and he tore up the Texas League with an 18-11 showing. However he was still prone to walks and topped the league with 174 passes. None-the-less the Cards had enough faith in him that they promoted him to their top farm club in Rochester. Under the watchful eye of manager Billy Southworth he dropped to 8-7 trying to get a hold of his control but by the end of the season he was undoubtedly the jewel of the St. Louis farm system.

Tragedy struck during the Red Wings' spring training when Grodzicki came down with influenza. The virus spread quickly and infection wracked his body. A stocky 6'-2" and 215lbs at the time of his illness, nine days later Grodzicki had lost 50lbs and was fading fast. Doctors weren't discussing whether or not he'd be able to play ball again but whether he was going to survive the infection. The Cardinals spared no expense to save their future star and after a battery of operations and round after round of serum injections, Grodzicki emerged from the hospital, weak but alive. He got into 25 games with the Red Wings that season and not surprisingly went 3-3. Trying to regain his strength and form on the mound, Grodzicki traveled south to Panama in that winter. In the four-team Panama League the big Pole came into his own and won 10 games for the Colon ball club and when the season ended, Grodzicki was tanned, bubbling over with confidence and ready for spring training. The bosses in St. Louis had been following his progress south of the border and now he had a guardian angel looking out for him - Billy Southworth, his manager in Rochester, was the new Cardinals manager. Southworth knew what the big fella was capable of and had him report straight to St. Petersburg, Florida. Johnny Grodzicki was spending the spring with the Cardinals.

It was a great spring training by any definition. On the mound the big phenom beat the hell out of the world champion Cincinnati Reds, Cleveland Indians and New York Yankees. The sportswriters couldn't find enough adjectives to describe the big Pole from Nanticoke and the Cardinal executives were spraining their brains thinking about all the pennants that lay ahead. By the time the team broke camp Grodzicki was on the train north to St. Louis. Though everyone agreed he still needed some fine tuning, for the time being he was a Cardinal.

On April 18, 1941 he faced the Chicago Cubs in the top of the 9th inning and retired all 3 batters he faced. Two days later he was brought in again in the ninth against the Cubs and retired the last two batters to end the game. After another two days rest Grodzicki was again brought in from the bullpen, this time as the fifth Cardinals pitcher against Pittsburgh with the score tied 7-7 in the 12th inning. The rookie walked three and gave up a run as the Pirates went ahead, but fortunately a double by Marty Marion and a hit by Enos Slaughter put the Cardinals on top in the bottom of the 12th. As the last pitcher standing, Johnny Grodzicki got his first major league win.

Exactly a week later Grodzicki was rushed in to relieve starter Bill McGee in the third against the Giants in New York. In six innings he gave up 1 earned run on 3 hits, whiffed 5 but walked 4. He also picked up his 2nd win as a Cardinal. Despite a pretty good beginning the front office decided it was best if their young phenom spent another year in the high minors honing his craft. With all their existing arms, the Cards could afford to wait another year before unleashing the big Pole on the National League.

Grodzicki was sent to the Columbus Red Birds. Columbus, along with Rochester, was the top rung of the Cardinal organizations farm system. The ball club he joined was stocked with future major league all-stars Harry Brecheen, Murry Dickson, Harry Walker and Preacher Roe. Grodzicki dominated the American Association that summer striking out 136 men in 199 innings and compiling a .792 winning percentage. Besides leading the league in winning percentage his ERA was the lowest and he was undoubtedly the best pitcher in the loop. His 19-5 record led the Red Birds to the Little World Series where they beat the Montreal Royals in 6 games, Grodzicki winning two of them.

The sky was the limit for the Pennsylvania Pole as he went home to Nanticoke for the winter. Come opening day 1942 there was nothing stopping him from joining the Cardinals for good.

Nothing except World War II.

After spending one last Christmas and New Years with his family, Johnny Grodzicki and his brothers went down to the local army recruiting station and enlisted. Because of his notoriety the big Pole was sent straight to Fort Knox, Kentucky and put to use on the ball field. At the time this practice wasn't uncommon. With the huge influx of volunteers the army could spare a few professional athletes and put them to use entertaining the troops. The Navy began a spirited competition with the Army trying to see who could field better teams and the publicity derived from the inter-service rivalry help build an esprit de corp amongst the new citizen-soldiers. Such was Grodzicki's fame that Bob Feller named him to his personal Army-Navy team that played against the American League All-Star team in Cleveland. Though Feller's team lost 5-0, the fact that this guy who appeared in just 5 major league games was selected to play with the best ballplayers in the game says something to the way his contemporaries thought of his talent.

With the war effort moving into full swing, Grodzicki transferred to the 17th Airborne Division and went overseas in the summer of '44. After slugging through the Battle of the Bulge, the 17th did their first combat jump in March 24, 1945 when they parachuted behind enemy lines into Westphania, Germany. After capturing strategic bridges spanning the Issel River they continued into the heart of the Third Reich. After 5 days of combat a German shell exploded next to him, killing three of his fellow paratroopers. Grodzicki was alive but chunks of scrap iron tore into his right side, smashing his hip and lower leg.

At a field hospital doctors discovered that the sciatic nerve was damaged and Grodzicki was told he'd probably never walk again. Surgeons removed the shrapnel and the pitcher began a long, hard regimen of rehabilitation and therapy. By the time Grodzicki returned home to Nanticoke he was on crutches and his right leg below the knee was shrivelled to half of it's former size.

Like his bout with influenza back in 1940, Grodzicki gave it his all in trying to regain his strength. Again, as in 1940, he went south to Panama where he worked out with the Colon ball club and when spring came around he was in the Cardinals camp. Newspapers trumpeted his return and he was held out as a shining example of courage and sacrifice.

But despite everything he and the Cardinals tried, Grodzicki's major league career and dreams were over. He stayed with the club throughout the '46 and '47 season but by the spring of 1948 it was obvious that Grodzicki had better start looking for another line of work. The Cardinals still thought highly of their former phenom and put him to work as a coach and manager in their farm system. In the winters he played and managed in Panama and eventually the Cardinals made him their roving pitching coach. He stayed with the organization until 1964 when he switched to the Mets for two years when he went over to the Detroit Tigers. In 1979 made the majors again, this time as the Tigers pitching coach. After over 40 years in organized ball, Grodzicki retired to Daytona Beach to spend time with his wife Anita and his stepson and stepdaughter. He passed away on May 2, 1998 at the age of 81.