The Christy Walsh memoir, continued
This series began at: https://goo.gl/V8EYft and continues from https://goo.gl/EDKZqk.
I shall never forget the expression on Babe Ruth’s face when I handed him a check for $1,000 at the Polo Grounds, on the opening day of the 1921 season. Was he all smiles? According to the agreement, I was not obligated to remit for 90 days, but here was a fellow who had been skinned so many times by strangers that I felt the way to win his confidence was to pay in advance. The plan worked and our mutual confidence has lasted throughout many years. However, to this day, he doesn’t know that I had to borrow $1,000 from a bank at six per cent.
In many respects, 1921 was Ruth’s most spectacular single season, because his super-exploits of later years were more or less expected. I was fortunate to start with him in that particular year and all went well until his arm became infected in the first October battle against the Giants. Through my enthusiasm and lack of experience, I stubbed my toe, that week, with the late Harry Stevens. He was the man who organized the greatest hot dog and soda pop concession in the world. His franchise includes the exclusive right to sell score cards and when I distributed complimentary cards, as a publicity stunt, to the 500 World’s Series writers in the press box of 1921, I violated his rights. A subordinate was just giving me the grand rush when the elder Stevens, always kindly and considerate, came to my rescue and explained that I was trespassing. Spotting me as a greenhorn, trying to get on the map, he generously called five of his own vendors and had them distribute my illustrated score cards to all the writers, as I had originally planned.
Each Contract Carried “Extra Week” Clause — for the World’s Series
By the time the next baseball opener rolled around, I was a ripe old syndicate veteran, with 12 months’ experience under my belt. In the interval, George Herman Ruth had aroused the wrath of Judge Landis by accompanying two of his Yankee teammates on a barnstorm jaunt, contrary to the baseball law of the day. The judge suspended Ruth and for a long time everything was topsy-turvy. When the Home Run King was finally reinstated, not being in good physical condition, he encountered a series of batting slumps, battled with several bleacher critics and had a run-in with Bill Dinneen, a grand old umpire.
The customer-editors stayed right with us, despite Babe’s frequent trips to the doghouse and not a newspaper cancelled his feature.
I had learned one sales trick in my first season and in 1922 signed the papers for 26 weeks, plus World’s Series coverage, all on a single contract. This obviated the necessity of a special selling campaign in September and in view of Babe’s disappointing season, assured us of World’s Series business that may otherwise have stayed away. Babe finished the series with a headache and a batting average of .118, but I got a break in signing John J. McGraw and establishing a friendship and business association that lasted to his dying day. For 11 seasons and as many World’s Series, I controlled John McGraw’s name and literary output, but we never had a written contract. He frequently assured me that his name was my property for literary purposes as long as I wanted it. And, as in the case of Ruth, Gehrig, Rockne, Warner, Hornsby, Zuppke, Haughton, Cochrane, Dean and many other stars — I never guaranteed John McGraw a dollar! We have all been partners, in fact, and their co-operation, plus my energy, netted many thousands of dollars for all concerned, on a straight percentage basis. In a few cases, Ty Cobb, for example, where there were unusual circumstances, I made contracts on percentage, with a minimum amount guaranteed. Ty’s life story was a prize, sought by many bidders and he was entitled to a definite financial assurance.
I propositioned McGraw, just before his second series against the Yankees. He had refused in 1921. I had only spoken to him once or twice and could hardly call him “Pal.” I wanted the prestige of his name and told him what I thought could be accomplished. His only comment was that in a previous World’s Series, a syndicate had paid him a certain amount and he would like to do as well. Our McGraw sales beat his previous mark by nearly $5,000 and that captured his confidence and earned me the rights to “My 30 Years in Baseball,” the best thing of its kind ever written. Several magazines had sought this alluring baseball biography, but I insisted that McGraw owed first allegiance to the newspapers and he agreed.
“My 30 Years in Baseball” by McGraw, Made Syndicate
Speaking of allegiances, I will not attempt to recite the endless incidents of loyalty in the life of McGraw. The professional newspaper writers know them by the score and can tell them better than the author of this review. But an incident in my own experience bears repeating. Before the 1922 World’s Series, McGraw made this stipulation: “I’ll go with you on one condition — my man must write the copy!” His man turned out to be the late Sam Crane, then dean of baseball writers. We got through the series without complaint, but when the first few chapters of McGraw’s biography were submitted, old Sam’s style apparently was not satisfactory to the prospective buyers — an alliance of many newspapers. I was in a tough spot and debated the best way to break the news to McGraw. I respected him highly and called him “Mr. Mack” through all the years. “Mr. Mack, I know you are very loyal to your friends, but suppose you own brother was playing shortstop for the Giants and made errors every day — you’d get a new shortstop, wouldn’t you?” That led me to the embarrassing situation, regarding his favorite, Sam Crane.
McGraw showed his characteristic loyalty by paying Crane the full amount as originally stipulated, out of his own pocket, and then the peerless Bozeman Bulger came into the picture. The Bulger-McGraw combination became stronger each season and lasted for ten profitable years. McGraw’s life story ran in nearly 100 newspapers in the early winter weeks of 1923, just about the time he became the acknowledged Master Mind of baseball. In the wake of this successful serial, it was no trick to sign the majority of the same papers for the following season and McGraw’s articles became a by-word of the sport page for many years.
Babe Ruth’s name and rising fame helped me get into the syndicate business, but my bank account was in deep red, at the end of the first year and it was the sale of John McGraw’s life story that kept the syndicate going. The North American Newspaper Alliance bought McGraw’s biography for its entire membership and that wholesale cash payment put the syndicate on a paying basis for the first time.
From Ghost at $1,000 a Year to $100,000 Scenario Writer
In 1923, Babe Ruth came back with a bang and was voted “the most valuable player” in the American League. October found the Yanks and Giants at it again and by this time Miller Huggins had a ball park of his own, nicknamed by the writers “The House That Ruth Built.” Fortunately for me, Huggins joined the syndicate fold, because this was a Yankees year and the Giants lost the big series to Huggins. Cincinnati made a strong bid for the pennant, projecting the name of genial Pat Moran into the headlines, so I brought the late manager of the Reds to New York, where he covered the World’s Series along with Ruth, McGraw, Huggins and Altrock — old Nick, the lovable Washington comedian, by this time, forcing himself as an added starter on all World’s Series programs.
From that time forward, articles by Ruth, McGraw and Altrock became standard features throughout the baseball seasons for many years. McGraw’s “My 30 Years in Baseball” was followed by a screamingly funny parody, “My 90 Years in Baseball,” done by Gene Fowler, then on the New York American. That’s how the Fowler-Altrock comedy duet was born. I paid Gene the Ghost less than $1,000 the first season of 26 weeks and he said he was glad to get it. In 1936, ex-ghost Fowler collected over $100,000 in 36 weeks, for writing “Nancy Steele Is Missing” and several other scenario clean-ups.
When he became managing editor of the New York American, Fowler was an accomplished artist on the accordion. He had a private office, where his accordion solos afforded pleasure to his friends. On this occasion, I recognized the strains of “Goodbye Forever,” and according to Gene, his telephone, with receiver off the hook, was connected with San Simeon, Cal. One cannot believe all the statements of a wag like Fowler, but at any rate, he resigned from the American that night. Which meant a new ghost for Nick Altrock. The inimitable Bugs Baer accepted the nomination and then the fun began.
Unlike other baseball stars whose ghosts were in the press box, there always was mystery and conjecture behind the copy of Nick Altrock. But now it can be told. Neal O’Hara, long noted for his typographical laughs, followed Baer on the clown assignment and was doing the ghosting, when Altrock wrote his syndicate farewell.
The Mystery of the Altrock Copy for June 16, 1926
Neil’s supply of ghostly giggles were endless, topical and refreshing, but more than that, he proved to be the most dependable and efficient of all the syndicate’s collaborators, running neck and neck with Clem McCarthy. O’Hara was never late with his copy in his life. But Bugs was different. The Baer-Altrock compositions were so loaded with hilarious wisecracks that on several occasions, old Nick nearly died laughing at his own copy. But acquiring said copy required the services of a special courier whose sole job was to camp at the door of the Baer apartment, then located over the tavern of the late Bill La Hiff.
Baer can sleep longer, later and louder than any ghost-writer that ever lived. Despite this achievement, only on one occasion did his Altrock copy fail to arrive. The boy whose instructions were to sit at the door until the first signs of awakening in the Baer abode and then ring the bell loud and long, fell asleep from exhaustive waiting. Eventually, Bugs emerged of his own accord, copy in hand, but only half awake and not seeing the sleeping sentinel, both rolled headway down the stairway. The ghost went back to bed, the sentinel went to the receiving hospital and the Altrock copy for June 16, 1926, hasn’t reached the syndicate yet.
By knocking off the Giants in 1923, his third attempt, Miller Huggins was now on top of the baseball world and the story of his baseball life, highly interesting, though not spectacular, featured the sport pages during the early months of 1924. Such a thing as a contract was never mentioned between us and he had no fancy notions regarding financial returns. “I know you can’t sell my stuff like you can McGraw’s,” Hug remarked with characteristic modesty. And I couldn’t! But what Miller Huggins lacked in color, showmanship and crowd appeal, he made up in intellect and education. He had no exaggerated idea of his own importance and only once did I see him make a play for prestige.
Used Trick to Get McGraw to Pose Before Yankee Bench
As a matter of sentimental custom, I obtained a syndicated photograph of our Worlds Series group from 1921 to 1936. It has required finesse at times to assemble five or six temperamental gents sometimes unfriendly, without running into trouble. The first two years, the picture was taken in front of the Giant dugout and the Yankee manager willingly crossed the field, to pose with the group. In 1923, he said, “How about getting McGraw to come over here, for a change?” I explained to the Giant boss that the sunlight was better on the other side and without the slightest protest, he came to the Yankee bench and posed.
The World’s Series of 1924 found two celebrated names joining the syndicate parade — Walter Johnson and Ty Cobb. After 18 sensational years with a club that spend most of its time in the second division, Walter Johnson was going to pitch in his first series game and against the New York Giants. This was a plum any syndicate man would give his eye to get. The Senators closed at Boston, and I boarded the train at New Haven. It was late at night, so my conference with the great speedball pitcher took place in the Pullman washroom. Walter asked for no guarantee, but applying the old formula of installing confidence in new associates, I handed him a check for $1,000, as advance payment for his World’s Series writings. We did $7,000 for him in the seven games and followed that with the story of his career, which brought another $10,000 during January and February, 1925.
Washington defeated the Giants and in 1925 they went against Pittsburgh, so Johnson continued with the syndicate a second year. Long before Walter was a World’s Series probability, I had been trailing Ty Cobb for his life story and the 1924 series found Tyrus in the press box, reporting the games. The highlight of that series, to me, never reached the sport page. For many seasons, Cobb and Ruth had been friendly enemies, to say the least. Fistic conflict had frequently been avoided on the field, when umpires and teammates interfered, as baseball’s two great rival stars trotted past each other in the outfield inning after inning.
The Ty Cobb Life Story Was One of Two with the Same Title
All my life I have derived a great kick out of bringing so-called adversaries together and without asking Babe or Ty in advance, I managed to get them to the ball park at Washington, in the same taxicab. And during every game, they sat together in the press box and exchanged cigars and a few friendly digs, although I am confident they never sat together, before or since. But nothing happened, and I feel certain by this time, both look back and get a laugh out of my awkward, but well intentioned maneuvering.
Cobb finally agreed to do his life story and it was turned out by the old master, Bozeman Bulger, but due to another so-called Ty Cobb life story, by another syndicate, we postponed publication of our serial to the following year. This was fortunate, because two baseball biographies, Cobb and Johnson, released simultaneously, would have been too much for the same syndicate.
McGraw repeatedly designated Hans Wagner, veteran Pirate shortstop, as the greatest player of all time. That statement is loaded with controversial dynamite, but McGraw never wavered. Old Honus came into the syndicate picture in 1925, when Pittsburgh clashed with the Senators, and the papers bought his stories eagerly. Recalling the rivalry of the Georgia Peach and the Flying Dutchman, in the series 16 years before, I urged Cobb to come to Pittsburgh to help get some advance publicity for his autobiography.
Eventually, Tyrus proved to be an appreciative and excellent co-operator, but I never had a harder customer to persuade. He finally came to Pittsburgh for one game, the desired publicity was obtained and he departed.
Bill McKechnie, then Pittsburgh’s manager, completed the syndicate group for 1925, which included Ruth, McGraw, Altrock, Wagner, Cobb and Johnson. Pittsburgh came through again in 1927 and Donie Bush, then in charge, joined the syndicate staff. McKechnie and Bush, along with Connie Mack, were the most superstitious of the managers. Each virtually accepted my World’s Series proposal, but none of the three would enter into a formal agreement until his pennant was captured, beyond a mathematical doubt. Once the pennant-winning ice was broken, superstition disappeared. In subsequent years, I had no difficulty obtaining World’s Series promises from McKechnie, Bush and Mack many weeks before the season ended.
Rogers Hornsby came into his own in 1926, as manager of the St. Louis Cardinals, in the World’s Series that stopped the Yankees and found Grover Alexander in the twilight of his career, mowing down Tony Lazzeri in a dramatic pinch at Yankee Stadium. Hornsby became the only new star on the syndicate staff and the newspapers responded readily to his name and fame and his articles brought a handsome revenue. I have heard some players say Hornsby is a hard task-master and some people consider him difficult to handle, but I have no complaint, as the Rajah performed all our agreements with a smile.
Series finale next: https://goo.gl/EXRNHp
Adios to Ghosts, Part 4 was originally published in Our Game on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.