Posted on 9/23/2006, 1:49:06 AM by GaryL
Recent months have seen a flurry of books about the highly controversial 1919 World Series and the so-called “Black Sox.” The most notable are Red Legs and Black Sox by Dr. Susan Dellinger; and Burying the Black Sox by Gene Carney. Both are highly informative books that were a joy to read and have renewed my interest in “all things Black Sox.” I recently reread the Melvin Durslag Sporting News interview of Chick Gandil from 1956. Gandil was often cast as a ringleader of the plot to throw the 1919 World Series. Thirty seven years later, at age 69, he granted the interview “against the better judgment of my wife,” because, he said, there were things he wanted “on the record.”
Gandil seemed to be at peace with himself over his role in the scandal that had rocked baseball to its very foundation. This was baseball’s darkest hour, and he had been at the center of the raging storm. Aside from embarrassment and personal qualms, he had never suffered any hardship. Having worked for many years after his baseball career as a plumber, he noted that he and his wife “lived quietly away from the news.” Apparently there were a still few details that he wanted to get off his chest. What caught my attention in this fascinating interview was Gandil’s repeated insistence that the 1919 Series was not thrown, and that all games were played “on the level.” Gandil never tried to whitewash his involvement and made many striking admissions which had the effect of giving his claims a ring of truth. He confirmed that he was a ringleader; and he admitted that they “got what they deserved.” Regarding Judge Landis’ famous decision, he termed it “unjust,” but quickly added that he never resented it. “Even though the Series wasn’t thrown, we were guilty of a serious offense, and we knew it.” [Emphasis added] Was Chick Gandil telling the truth? At this stage of his life, when setting the record straight seemed to be his objective, why would he lie?
Has history given the Black Sox a “raw deal”? Certainly the eight conspirators – with varying degrees of guilt and involvement – made a devil’s bargain with gamblers to throw the 1919 Series. At least some of them accepted money. Gandil admitted this, saying they deserved the fate befell them. But he emphatically denied the games were thrown - an entirely different matter. Here are his words:
“Our losing to Cincinnati was an upset all right, but no more than Cleveland’s losing to the New York Giants by four straight in 1954. Mind you, I offer no defenses for the thing we conspired to do. It was inexcusable. But I maintain that our actual losing of the Series was pure baseball fortune. I never did get any part of Rothstein’s $10,000 and I don’t know who did...I give you my solemn word I don’t know to this day what happened to the cash.” [Emphasis added] These are strong words coming thirty seven years after the fact. Either Gandil is “lying through his teeth,” or history’s version of the 1919 World Series needs to be reexamined.
According to Gandil, gambler Sport Sullivan approached him and Cicotte with the idea of throwing the World Series in return for a large payoff. When Gandil protested the feasibility of such a plan, Sullivan replied, “Don’t be silly. It’s been pulled before and it can be again.” They struck a deal, which included “The Big Bankroll” Arnold Rothstein, to throw the series for $100,000. The money was to be divided up among Gandil, Cicotte, and six other players of their choosing. They decided on Jackson, Weaver, Risberg, Felsch, McMullin, and Williams. They chose the teammates “to cut in on the gravy” not because they loved them, but “let’s just say that we disliked them the least.” The eight players then greedily schemed to get even more money by making another deal with a completely different group of gamblers. Now it got interesting. “The heat was on” as the Series drew near. Rumors of a fix were rampant. There were threatening phone calls. Some started to panic. Sport Sullivan heard rumors that the deal was off and confronted Gandil, advising him, “I wouldn’t call it the best policy to double-cross Rothstein.”
Gandil continued: “I truthfully wanted to go to our manager Kid Gleason and tell him the whole story, but I knew it wouldn’t be that simple. I realized that things were too involved by now to try to explain. I guess some of the others must have felt the same way, because the next morning I was called to a meeting of the eight players. Everyone was upset and there was a lot of disagreement. But it was finally decided that there was too much suspicion now to throw the games without getting caught. We weighed the risk of public disgrace and going to jail against taking our chances with the gamblers by crossing them up and keeping the ten grand…Our only course was to try to win, and we were certain that we could.” [Emphases added]
Is this the truthful confession of a man approaching the twilight of his life, wanting to set the record straight? Is it the continuing distortions of a known liar and fixer, spinning yet another yarn? With a distance of eight decades, the issue can’t be resolved with certainty. The evidence supporting crooked play is threefold: the heavily favored White Sox actually lost the Series; the seven “suspicious plays” of Hugh Fullerton; and, most damaging of all, the grand jury statements of Cicotte, Jackson, and Williams, characterized as “confessions.”
The White Sox were heavily favored and losing certainly fanned the flames of suspicion. But the history of the World Series is replete with upsets: the weak White Sox of 1906 upset a great Cub team; and the “Miracle Braves” of 1914 upset the mighty Philadelphia A’s. In more recent times, the Mets, the Marlins, and the Diamondbacks – teams barely out of their expansion years – advanced to the World Series and won. The White Sox’ loss was not conclusive evidence of a thrown Series. And what about their opponents, the Reds? They were surely a great team, led by Hall-of-Famers Edd Roush and Heine Groh. They had deeper starting pitching, as Sox ace Red Faber was out. In a nine game series, depth of pitching was key. And while they had deeper hitting, the White Sox were riddled with dissention and factions.
And then there were the seven “suspicious plays.” Rumors of a fix filled the air as the Series approached. Once that perception settled in, it was easy to spot “suspicious plays,” as Hugh Fullerton did. But only seven for the entire Series? The most disputed occurred in the fourth Inning of Game Four, when Cicotte deflected a strong throw to the plate by Jackson, allowing an important run to score. But Gandil now claimed that he was yelling at Cicotte to cut off the throw. “Clean Sox” Eddie Collins vindicated Cicotte, saying the attempted cut-off was correct. Another of the “disputed” seven plays involved Shano Collins, who was never accused of anything. One involved Risberg “backing up on an infield single;” another had Williams going into a “streak of wildness” in the fourth inning of Game Two; two others were misplays by Cicotte. And that’s it! What World Series has never had a few miscues, errors, or streaks of wildness? None of these seven plays directly involved Chick Gandil, the so-called ring leader, or even Hap Felsch. Most objective historians clear Jackson and Weaver from crooked play. McMullin hardly played. So just who was doing all the Fixin’? When did they do it?
The grand jury “confessions” of Cicotte, Jackson, and Williams were the most damaging to the Black Sox. But in the same statements, all three denied throwing any games, a fact rarely reported. Comiskey lawyer Alfred Austrian “coached” them, possibly fooling them into “confessing” under the false pretense of “getting the gamblers.” In the 1921 trial, all three repudiated the grand jury statements. Others have examined the statements and come to similar conclusions. Author James Kirby stated “they admitted agreeing to the Fix with the gamblers and to accepting cash…but all three players also told the grand jury that they played the games to win.” Eliot Asinof had Austrian saying to Jackson, “To deny your involvement will prejudice the grand jury. Do you understand that?” and then added “Jackson wanted to stay out of trouble so he testified. He said he let up some. And then he said he played every game to win. In the newspapers the next day, no one reported the latter. Whatever Jackson said, it went down as a ‘confession’.” This focused the blame squarely on the players while shifting the spotlight away from Comiskey. But in the often-overlooked 1924 civil suit, Comiskey conceded that Jackson had played every game to win, and a jury voted 11-1 for Jackson (a ruling overturned by Judge Gregory).
Cicotte, like Gandil, admitted to guilt in the conspiracy - including taking money - but not to throwing the games. His remark “I did it for the wife and kiddies,” is almost as famous as “Say it ain’t so, Joe.” Cicotte admitted walking the first batter he faced, but then “I pitched that best I knew after that. I lost because I was hit, not because I was throwing the game.” Had he not gone to the grand jury to clear his heavy heart, many think that the cover-up would have held. Writer Victor Luhrs made the interesting point that Cicotte played the Series to win but was in a “bad mental shape as a result of his involvement with the gamblers. He was hardly fit to pitch the opener.” Isn’t that exactly what Chick Gandil said? Luhrs also believed that Cicotte lied in his grand jury statement, “giving a version of things that was prepared for the eyes and ears of the gamblers.” Buck Weaver always maintained that he played his best and never took any money. He knew of the plot, but his only guilt was that he didn’t turn in any of the others. He had “guilty knowledge.” Williams, Risberg, Felsch, and McMullin also made statements over the years indicating that they played the Series to win. The Reds players, including Roush, Groh, Greasy Neale, Dutch Ruether, Hod Eller, Slim Smallee, Aldolfo Luque, Jake Daubert, Larry Kopf, Ivy Wingo, and owner Garry Hermann thought the Series was played on the level. Roush was always skeptical that the Series was fixed and maintained the best team had won. Reds manager Pat Moran was also skeptical, “If they threw some of the games they must be consummate actors, and their place is on the stage, for nothing in their playing gave us the impression they weren’t doing their best….It is astonishing thing to me that [they] could get away with that sort of thing and us not know it.”
Official Scorer James C. Hamilton testified that he only saw one possible suspicious play in the entire Series (the afore-mentioned Cicotte deflection in Game Four). National League umpire Richard Natlin had “no suspicion whatever of any wrong-doing.” American League Umpire Billy Evans said, “Well, I guess I’m just a big dope. That Series looked all right to me.” Umpire Ernie Quigley “never saw a team try harder to win and they were beaten on the square by the superior strength of the Reds.” Quigley also mentioned two great plays by Roush and Morrie Rath: “But for these two plays the White Sox would have won at least two more games, which would have meant the Series for them.” [Emphasis added]. Even “Clean Sox” Ray Schalk said that “Jackson and Cicotte gave their best all the way,” and Eddie Collins claimed he was “never suspicious of their actions during the Series. Christy Mathewson, sitting with Hugh Fullerton through all eight games, concluded that it would be impossible to throw a World Series. Many of the writers reached the same conclusion, including Sporting News and Baseball Magazine reporters. W.A. Phelan wrote that “…if ever a Series was played upon the level, this was one,” adding that the Reds “simply outclassed the overconfident White Sox.” Henry P. Edwards concurred: “[the notion that] the Sox were guilty of intentional bad play is something that cannot be swallowed,” as did James O’Leary: “If anybody was ‘fixed’ give us his name and the evidence showing that he was fixed, and who fixed him.”
Could all these eye-witnesses have been fooled? These were not casual fans, but baseball lifers. Even if we accept Fullerton’s few “suspicious” plays, could these plays alone have resulted in a “thrown” Series? And what about the many outstanding plays made by Jackson, Weaver, and Felsch, and the clutch hits by Gandil? He won Game Six with an extra-inning hit, prolonging the Series for another day - hardly what you’d expect from someone trying to throw it. But for a few spectacular plays, most notably by the great center fielder Edd Roush, the entire series may have had a different result.
Is it possible that the Black Sox, while guilty of conspiring with gamblers and taking money, could have played all the games “on the level”? Why would Chick Gandil be lying at this stage of his life? No one can say for sure, but I think the idea that all the games were played to win remains a distinct possibility, worthy of further investigation. This is not to exonerate the Black Sox by any means, but merely an attempt to assess the proper level of guilt. Conspiring with gamblers is less of an offense than actually throwing games. The prevailing version whitewashed the baseball establishment, which had turned a blind eye to the gambling scandal eating away at the game. Many of the writers were Comiskey cronies – members of the famous Woodland Bards. They had a vested interest in minimizing the damage to his reputation. We need to know the truth.
The Black Sox were an extraordinary mix of arrogance, stupidity, naivety, and talent. Conspiring with gamblers to throw the World Series was a serious offense. The acceptance of money irreversibly tarnished their reputations, and made their future denials ring hollow. As with a tar baby, once they touched the gamblers, they could never break free. I contend it’s entirely plausible that, as the start of the Series approached, the thought of playing “crooked ball” was too much to handle. Some cracked under the strain, as Gandil implied. The entire episode was a blurred sequence of events where no one really knew what anyone else was doing. Conflicting stories were rampant. It’s time to reexamine the events of the 1919 World Series with “pursuit of the truth” the only goal. Let the chips fall where they may.
It's never too late to revisit history.
In fact, that's the best time to visit it for the first time.
When I saw John Sayles' movie "Eight Men Out", I noticed that a lot of the points you are making made sense.
Sullivan replied, "Don’t be silly. It's been pulled before and it can be again."So, which is it? Other teams were upset, so the 'Black Sox' really didn't throw the series? Sorry, I'll never buy that one.
I grew up in Chicago at a time (the '50s and '60s) when lots of folks remembered and talked about the 1919 Series. This is a very interesting analysis. If indeed the Clean Sox (Collins, Schalk, e.g.), the Reds, and the umps--all guys who would know better than anyone else if something looked fishy--all said the Eight were playing on the up-and-up, then the theory presented here seems plausible: The Eight did conspire with gamblers, but in the end they decided not to throw the games. The mental pressure, though, may have caused them to play not at their peak, and they just got beat by a Reds team playing better ball.
Unfortunately, we will never really know.
Well, the 2006 White Sox certainly appear to be throwing a few games in the last week or two, intentional or not.
Thanks for your interesting comments. I'm also from Chicago and a lifelong baseball fan.
This is the 50th anniversity of the Sporting News interview with Chick Gandil in which he makes the claims that I've highlighted in my essay, e.g., they conspired with the gamblers, they took dirty money, they deserved what they got (being banned from baseball); but they basically "chickened out" of actually throwing the games and played all games to win. By the way, in my research, I've discovered that all eight players have made this same claim at one time or another.
The Gandil article started me to rethnking the entire sordid episode, and my only point now is that the possiblity that all the games were played to win is worth investigating. That certainly appears to be the consensus of the contemporary observers (as I mention in the essay).
It's a fascinating article and if you or anyone else would like to see it, I can either post it here or get it to you one way or another.
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