1951 Yankee of the Past: Hugh Casey

HUGH CASEY - OF ANOTHER ERA
Cutlass Personality Cursed by Timing
"Hugh Casey's personality was shaped for the business end of a buccaneering cutlass and he was cursed by timing which hurled him swearing into the opaque, gray tones of the Twentieth Century. Spiritually, he belonged in the company of Robin Hood or the Black Prince's brawling bands, but destiny chose to match him with a society based upon capital gains and a fly-blown tenor leaking in through the radio. He should have pitched for the likes of John McGraw or George Stallings. Instead, he was forced to sweat with athletic young businessmen motivated almost entirely by the figures in their contracts.
For Hugh Casey was the old-fashioned ball player who chased red likker with Tabasco sauce, doused umpires with sprays of tobacco juice and played with a passion for his profession. There was little beauty in his character, but he was bleakly sincere- a man of raw courage and physical skills.
In the early hours of a Georgia morning, Hugh Casey pressed the muzzle of a shotgun against his throat and touched it off. So he tore loose from life in a fashion geared to his primitive nature- with the burly fury of a bull smashing into granite ramparts. For Hugh Casey was not geared to subtle poisons or the cobra hiss of an open gas jet. If it had to be, it had to be by reckless violence- in a blood-dewed room with a thunderclap battering against him.
But this was only tragic anticlimax, for the essential climax of tragedy came in Ebbets Field on the afternoon of October 5, 1941.
One of baseball's noblest relief pitchers, Hugh Casey could never quite cover the price of fame for which he spent so much in craft and solid bravery. But on that autumn-tasting afternoon in 1941, the ultimate laurel seemed plastered against the palm of his soiled right hand.
This was the fourth conflict of the World Series between New York and Brooklyn- Yankees leading, two games to one. With the Dodgers grasping at the short end of 3-2, the Bronx invaders had filled the fifth-inning bases with two out and Casey strode in from the bullpen for the third time. He walked with a rowdy swagger- uniform fouled by sweat and dust- a brown sneer stained upon his face.
Joe Gordon waited at the plate swinging a bludgeon which had already claimed five hits in eight times at bat. One had been a triple, another had cleared the wall and Joe had driven in two runs. Working with a cunning patience, Casey watched the batsman lift a meek fly into the hands of Jimmy Wasdell.
In the bottom of the fifth, Dixie Walker doubled and Pete Reiser hit an Atley Donald pitch across the scoreboard to drive the Dodgers out front, 4-3. With Casey insolently in the groove, that seemed quite sufficient. For in the next three innings, he faced only 11 men. Johnny Sturm singled with two out in the fifth and Joe DiMaggio marked the seventh with a topped roller which was shabby for an infield hit. The others didn't come close.
In the ninth, Sturm was smeared on a placid nudge and Casey threw out Red Rolfe. Came Tommy Henrich, the pro, and Casey pitched with meticulous care as the count ran out at 3-2. From the press box, we could see the muscles along the Casey jaw in a rigid curve of bronze as he studied the pattern before him.
The Yankees play it by the book and, in this instance, the book called for a fastball. But the men of New York were unaccustomed to a Casey who played it like a Mississippi River gambler riding his luck on an inside straight. Casey came up with a curve against a left-handed batter.
Rearing back in a stubby windup which was without artistry but rich in power, Casey blew a blur of white across the inside. As such things are done, it was exquisitely molded. The ball came up to brush a corner and Henrich, waiting for a speed pitch, cut hard. But at the instant of destiny, the spin of the projectile screamed a warning.
Desperately he sought to check the momentum of bat's end, but it was all too late as his wrists collapsed and the swing went on as the ball swerved past his straining hands. Strike three and the game was over. Casey had beaten the Yankees and the World Series had come level once more.
But catcher Mickey Owen reached lazily across instead of shifting. The pitch caromed from his leather and rolled to the screen while Henrich went sweeping down to first. There was no fear on Casey's face- only fury seething beneath the peak of his cap. He brushed caution from his path and set out to overpower the enemy.
DiMaggio bored a single into left. With two strikes and no balls reared against Charlie Keller, Casey came in burning fast and Keller angled off the wall for two bases. Bill Dickey walked and Gordon rifled a long blow over Wasdell's questing glove. Four runs and that was the end of it.
Or was the end of it until six years later when found himself in another World Series with the Yankees? Pitching with heart and arms blended into a weapon of sinister magnificence, he entered into combat with thirty-five batsmen- allowed five far-spaced hits and a single run. He won two games, but he won them in a losing cause and losing causes are forgotten rather quickly."

-Walter Stewart, condensed from the Memphis Commercial Appeal (Baseball Digest, September 1951)

1951 Yankee of the Past: Bucky Harris

"There's little doubt that Eddie Sawyer of the Philadelphia Phillies will justifiably grab most of the votes in any 'manager of the year' competition. But it's quite an honor being named top man in the American League and it seems to us Bucky Harris should rate the nod.
The sincere, hard-bitten pilot did a marvelous job breathing life and fire into a collection of second-division ball players. When Harris took over the Senators last spring, his many friends felt sorry for him. Clark Griffith had very few talented players on the roster. Most were so used to losing, they only went through the motions on the field.
Washington had finished eighth under the guidance of Joe Kuhel, in 1949, with only fifty victories against 104 defeats. You might say anything Harris did would be an improvement, but it's the extent of the improvement that stamps Bucky for consideration as top manager in the A.L. He jumped the Senators to fifth with seventeen more wins.
By tactful, yet firm, handling of his players; through smart trades and common sense handling of the games as they progressed, Harris changed the Senators from a joke into a scrappy team which gave everyone a fight. Bucky, a battler all his life, wouldn't stand for quitting. He developed a winning habit in men who'd never had it before.
Bucky took charge of lefty Mickey Harris and outfielder Sam Mele, Boston Red Sox castoffs who had shown little indication of being much aid to him. He made Harris a competent relief pitcher and built up Mele's confidence so firmly Sam became a near-.300 hitter.
Gene Bearden, who couldn't win for Cleveland in nearly two years, was obtained from the Indians and immediately became a regular and successful starter under Harris.
Harris made shrewd trades to help his ball club, too. Owner Griffith put the manager in charge of all personnel dealings, and Bucky made changes freely. His big deal was the June swap which principally sent pitcher Ray Scarborough and first baseman Ed Robinson to the Chicago White Sox in exchange for second sacker Cass Michaels and lefty Bob Kuzava.
Through the trade proved a standoff from the point of view of the players' performances in new uniforms, it sticks out as a good one for Washington, because Harris got young players for old ones.
Bucky has two more years to go on his present contract, and he's confident he'll be able to make a contender of the Senators in that time. He has a fine, young infield and three good young outfielders in Irv Noren, Gil Coan and Mele. But he needs catching strength and more mound help."

-Joe Trimble, condensed from the New York News (Baseball Digest, January 1951)

WHY YANKS FIRED BUCKY HARRIS
'Gate' Ready Before He Was Hired!
"To fully appreciate how deeply Bucky Harris' animosity toward the New York Yankees still festers, you need to sit with him for merely a few moments. This is the third season since General Manager George Weiss fired the field manager under whom the Yankees had won a pennant in 1947 and lost on the next to the last day in 1948, but Bucky takes you back long before that time to prove that he actually was fired before he was hired.
In the fashion of an actor waiting for his laugh, Harris allows the shock of the seeming contradiction to show and then the pleasant man, who is managing the Washington Senators, spins a tale that took place the day after the World Series ended in 1946.
'You'll remember I wasn't the manager then, but something like Larry MacPhail's ambassador. Later that fall I consented to take the club when MacPhail couldn't get anyone else he wanted. But this was at French Lick, Indiana. It was an organizational meeting.
'Every scout, manager and farm system man was there,' Harris said. 'MacPhail stood up and outlined each man's duties as they were to be from that point. MacPhail said I would be in charge of the Newark and Kansas City clubs. I didn't realize it then, but that was the moment I was done. Only one more moment needed to be added. The one when MacPhail left the Yankees.'
Tortuous and twisted as it seems, Harris' logic becomes clear when it is understood that Newark and Kansas City as Yankee farms were born and nurtured under Weiss. When MacPhail charged Bucky with what had been Weiss' responsibility, an uncementable cleavage was begun.
How much it grew beneath the surface Bucky was to learn the day after the famed battle of the Biltmore Hotel. This was the 1947 Yankee victory celebration, which was turned into a brawling mess when MacPhail canned Weiss, only to be cut loose himself the next day when Co-owners Dan Topping and Del Webb made George the supreme authority as general manager.
How supreme Harris knew as soon as he entered the swank Yankee suite high above New York's Fifth Avenue. Bucky walked to what had been his private office for two years but it was no longer his. There were others occupying it now, and Harris was told his desk and effects had been moved into a larger office occupied by stenographers and typists. Only they didn't remove the office help already there.
'I knew it then,' Bucky said. 'I was trying to win another pennant in 1948 and I didn't care what they thought when I insisted they bring up Bob Porterfield from Newark.'
Undoubtedly, Harris' insistence, which took the form of pointed statements to the press that with Porterfield in a Yankee suit the team could not miss, needled Weiss into the promotion of the talented but unfortunate pitcher who somehow has been unable to avoid injury and win.
Later that season when the rift between the front office and its field management became barroom conversation, Weiss flew into Detroit one day. The obvious reason for his quickie visit was to disprove that a breach existed between manager and general manager.
For all of his success, Weiss has never been a self-assured man. When you speak to him he gives the impression of wanting to back off, not certain of what he wants to say or how it should be said.
That was the way he appeared standing before Harris and the writers traveling with the Yankees that afternoon in a Detroit hotel when of the scribes asked, 'George, can we take your visit here today as a vote of confidence in Bucky as your manager?'
Weiss stammered and was about to make an answer that never will be known when Harris, himself, interrupted. 'The heck with that,' Bucky said. 'What's to be gained by bringing that up now?'
As New York writers, who are fond of him as a man, a manager and an information source visit Bucky, Harris recalls that question as though it had just been spoken.
'I've never forgiven myself for keeping Weiss from answering then. It was the only thing that was said that made any sense. In the time that has passed since that day, there's been only one other question in my mind. It's simply this:
'How would have Weiss have explained firing me, if we had won in 1948? He would have, you know, because I was done back in French Lick. What a dilly of an explanation that would have been.'"

-Milton Gross, condensed from the New York Post (Baseball Digest, August 1951)

"Bucky became manager of the Senators for the third time in 1950.
His playing days began in 1916 and lasted through 1931. He came into the majors with Washington at the end of the 1919 season. Given the job of managing the club in 1924, Bucky won the pennant during his first two seasons at the helm. He managed Detroit, 1929-34, and again led the Senators, 1935-42. He piloted the Phillies in 1943 and the Yankees, 1947-48."

-1951 Bowman, No. 275 (Bowman Gum, Inc.)

1950 Yankees of the Past Alumni Team

Former Yankees on 1950 Spring Training Rosters

MGR - Joe McCarthy (Boston Red Sox)

CH - Leo Durocher (New York Giants)

CH - Red Rolfe (Detroit Tigers)

CH - Eddie Sawyer (Philadelphia Phillies)

C - Aaron Robinson (Detroit Tigers)

C - Buddy Rosar (Boston Red Sox)

C - Clyde McCullough (Pittsburgh Pirates)

1B - Dick Kryhoski (Detroit Tigers)

2B - Joe Gordon (Cleveland Indians) 

2B - Gerry Priddy (Detroit Tigers)

3B - Hank Majeski (Chicago White Sox)

SS - Pete Suder (Philadelphia Athletics)

OF - Hank Sauer (Chicago Cubs)

OF - Charlie Keller (Detroit Tigers)

OF - Allie Clark (Cleveland Indians)

P - Ellis Kinder (Boston Red Sox)

P - Bill Wight (Chicago White Sox)

P - Randy Gumpert (Chicago White Sox)

P - Hank Borowy (Philadelphia Phillies)

RP - Gene Bearden (Cleveland Indians) 

1950 Yankee of the Past: Lou Gehrig of Columbia

"Lou Gehrig batted from a wide stance, spread-eagling the plate and taking a short strike. It wasn't as noticeable as it might have been in other players because of his tremendous bulk. Power, of course, was the great characteristic of his hitting, but he had all the attributes of great batsmen, the eyes to follow a curve ball, the judgment to pick out the right ball to hit, the ability to hit through a hole. He didn't have anything but power at first, of course, but all these came later, along with the ability to bunt when he had to do so.

To get the true worth of Gehrig's batting prowess it is preferable to take his runs batted in marks rather than any of his other figures. For instance, in 1931, when he set the A.L. record with 184 RBI's there were at least 47 times when he came to bat with no chance to drive in a run, except by a homer, since Babe Ruth, batting ahead of him, had hit a home run which meant there was nobody on base when Lou came to bat.

When you consider that Gehrig batted home no fewer than 1,991 runs in his time with the Yankees and that for ten of those seasons Ruth was hitting home runs to empty the bases ahead of him, you get some idea of the devastating power Lou packed in his bat. Since 1920, when records were first kept on this form of endeavor, Lou totaled more RBI's than anybody except Ruth himself.

Perhaps the first person to realize the raw power of Gehrig was Harry Kane, a high school coach of note who had Gehrig as his first baseman on the 1920 High School of Commerce team. Commerce won the Greater New York P.S.A.L. title and with it the right to a trip to Chicago to play Lane Technical High, the Chicago champions.

With the score tied at 8-8 and the bases filled with New York high school kids in the ninth, Gehrig hit one clean out of Wrigley Field. Probably the least surprised person in the park was Coach Kane. Harry had seen Lou bust'em before, and for farther distances, too. It was this blow, however, which first focused the national spotlight on Gehrig. Nobody could believe then, though, that a dozen years later Gehrig would be teamed up with Babe Ruth blasting home runs in that same ball park in a World Series.

Gehrig has been labeled a plodder. In many respects he was if plodding means thorough and painstaking application to the job at hand. Terribly green and awkward when he came up to the Yankees in 1923, Lou was an accomplished first baseman before his star had set.

When Gehrig started as a high school ball player, all he had was weight, power and willingness. He could hit a fast ball but he had to learn to hit the curve. And learn he did. Then he had to learn to field. That he learned, too, one phase at a time. One of his most exacting mentors was Wally Pipp, the man whose job he had taken with the Yankees. Pipp, one of baseball's finest characters, knew his career had run its course when he first saw the big kid from Columbia come up, yet Wally worked many hours with Lou teaching him the niceties of first basing.

Methodically, Gehrig set about mastering the art of first base. In high school and college he had pitched and played the outfield as well as first and he hadn't too much actual experience around the bag when the Yanks optioned him to Hartford in the Eastern League. One of the last faults Lou had to overcome to become a flawless first baseman was to curb himself on balls hit to his right. This last fault was indicative of Gehrig's character. He couldn't do enough work, so he repeatedly went so far to his right that he was fielding balls which properly belonged to the second baseman and there was no one to cover first after Lou had fielded the ball. It was a fault born of overeagerness.

Gehrig conquered this in characteristic fashion. Before each pitch, he mentally calculated how many steps he could go to his right for ground balls, taking into consideration the batter, the speed of his own pitcher, etc. He didn't work it out to a precise mathematical formula but it worked. As Pipp said of him, 'He didn't learn quickly but he learned thoroughly. He sweated each detail out and mastered it before he moved on to the next.'

In 1927, when what many consider the greatest of all baseball teams defeated the Pirates four straight in the World Series, Gehrig made some astonishing catches of foul flies in the first two games in Pittsburgh. Gehrig, in practice, had paced off the distance between the bag and the field boxes so he knew precisely how far he could go without running into the stands.

Pipp, Gehrig's predecessor, had a genuine fondness for Lou and even today Wally never tires of telling the story of how Gehrig took his job. He was bothered with a headache one day and asked Doc Woods, the trainer, to get him a couple of aspirin tablets.

Miller Huggins, the Yankee manager, overheard the request and told Wally to take the day off and he would start Gehrig at first base.

'Maybe you need a rest, Wally,' remarked Hug solicitously.

'A rest,' grins Wally when he tells the story now. 'What I got was a vacation! Gehrig went to first base and stayed there for fifteen years. The next time I played first base it was for Cincinnati in the National League, a year later!'

Gehrig's consecutive game record (2,130) actually began June 1, 1925, the day before he replaced Pipp when he had to pinch-hit for Pee Wee Wanninger, the Yankee shortstop of the moment. The Yankees never again played an American League game without Lou's name in the batting order until May 2, 1939, in Detroit when he told Joe McCarthy it would be better for himself and for the team if he were benched. He never played in another ball game and was dead twenty-five months later."

-Tom Meany, Baseball's Greatest Hitters (Baseball Digest, June 1950)