Brash Courtney Holds Modern Record For Times At Battle
"Clinton Dawson Courtney, baseball's belligerent, brash and bespectacled backstop, first came to the attention of White Sox General Manager Frank Lane in 1950. This was on a day when the cocky catcher's chatter and spirit spurred Rogers Hornsby's Beaumont club of the Texas League to an exhibition victory over the Sox. Following the game Lane told Hornsby:
'That Courtney's an old-time tobacco-chew type of player, like Nellie Fox and Burrhead Fain. There aren't enough of 'em left in the majors. Too bad the little son-of-a-gun wears glasses.'
With a snort, Hornsby predicted: 'Glasses or not, Courtney'll fight his way to the big leagues.'
Hornsby's prophecy hit the bullseye. Clint actually DID fight his way to the majors, throwing punches and insults as readily as baseballs. In 1951 Courtney was in spring training with the Yankees, having since become his sworn enemies, and volunteering critical appraisals on the ability of some the world champions' pitching standouts.
One season and several fights later found Clint wearing a St. Louis Browns uniform, promoting more interesting fistic contests than anything ever presented by the International Boxing Club, and gaining designation as the American League's rookie of the year.
But the finest endorsement ever given the ex-cotton picker came last winter, when the foxy Lane baited a trading hook and snared Courtney- spectacles and all- from Baltimore's Orioles.
White Sox Field Manager Marty Marion, who was exposed to Courtney with the Browns, prefers to think of him as 'the Toy Bulldog,' a tag Clint traces to Dizzy Dean.
When Lane first attempted to make 1955 salary negotiations, Courtney's response was a reminder that the Sox should know that they were dickering with a prize catcher instead of a bench jockey.
But it was Bill Veeck, the former St. Louis Browns' owner, who encountered the diamond's leading financial shark at his best. After that excellent rookie season, Courtney set a $12,000 price tag on his 1953 services. He offered a logical explanation.
'When you got it, you got it,' observed Courtney. 'I got it.'
Veeck obliged by mailing the scrapper a contract for $11,000. Courtney's reply read:
'Dear Veeck: I changed my mind. I want $14,000, not $12,000. Clint.'
The letter illustrates the steady rise of the battler who joined the Yankee organization in 1947 for an $850 bonus, $250 of it in cash and $600 of it contingent on an impressive showing. Courtney lost no time in making the impressive showing.
The Yankees sent him to Beaumont, where he caught four games before being shipped to Bisbee of the Arizona-Texas League. At Bisbee, Courtney participated in 114 games and one spectacular brawl. Courtney, of course, paid no more attention to the fracas than to a haircut, but it had a keen influence on the baseball careers of two players with Phoenix, the team Bisbee was engaging when the fireworks exploded.
Courtney went into second base with spikes high, butchering the hand of Phoenix's playing manager. The manager took aim at Courtney's jaw. This proved a mistake. The manager suffered a fractured hand that ended his playing days.
Phoenix put a young pepperpot named Billy Martin on second base. He was so proficient he subsequently moved to the Yankees, where he was to figure in a pair of Courtney's finest rough-and-tumbles.
One came in midseason of 1952, when a punchfest between Courtney and Martin saw an umpire knocked down and Clint slapped with a $100 fine and a three-day suspension. Observers report that trouble began to brew when Clint's spikes caught Martin, causing the Yankee to drop the ball. Later in the game, Clint again barrelled down the basepaths. This time Billy was waiting and planted the ball forcefully between Clint's eyes. Fists flew.
Courtney obtained a rematch with the Yankees. It cost Courtney $250, and Billy Hunter, his Brownie teammate, $150. Yankees assessed fines for enthusiastic participation in the Donnybrook were: Martin, $150; Allie Reynolds, $100, and Gil McDougald, $100.
Tempers first flared in the top of the tenth inning when McDougald, an old Beaumont buddy, charged home as Courtney blocked the plate. They collided. Courtney took one direction, his shatterproof spectacles another, and the ball a third, while McDougald scored what became the winning run.
Clint led off in the Browns' last time at bat and slammed the ball to the right-field fence. Going into second base, he trampled Phil Rizzuto. This was the signal for the Yankees to swarm out en masse. An army of Browns flocked to meet the challenge. Fans showered the field with bottles, and play was suspended for 17 minutes.
Two months later Clint defended his title as baseball's number one cyclone by brawling with the Tigers. This cost him $100.
Opposing players are not the only ones to suffer Courtney's fury. The brown-eyed, squat catcher (he's five-eight and weighs 180) has turned on teammates. One drew a shower of punches because he kibitzed Clint in a card game. Two teammates became embroiled at separate times because Clint estimated they were not showing the proper spirit during a game.
The scrapping Irish catcher was born on St. Patrick's eve, 1927, in Hall Summit, Louisiana, the son of a tenant farmer. Cotton picking, not baseball, was the first trade the youngster learned.
Work in the Arkansas oil fields followed. Later, during World War II, he became a welder in a Texas ship yard. Along the route, Courtney had developed into a proficient ball player.
A call to the Army in 1945 caused no delay to Clint's baseball development since he promptly was assigned to catch for a Service team. The Yankees were waiting to greet Courtney with a contract when he left the Army in 1947.
The stays at Beaumont and Bisbee were followed by employment with Augusta of the Sally League and Norfolk of the Piedmont League in 1948. The 1949 campaign found him opening with Manchester in the New England League and winding up in Norfolk, where his .349 Manchester average was whittled to .243.
The return to Beaumont came in 1950, and Clint quickly earned the admiration of Hornsby. It was Hornsby's recommendation that sent Clint to camp with the Yankees the following spring.
Unfortunately for Clint, the Yankees also had veteran Yogi Berra in camp, and when their Kansas City farm club needed a catcher it wasn't Berra who was dispatched.
After the season, the Yankees traded Courtney to the Browns, where Veeck had taken charge as owner and Hornsby had been signed as manager. Also on hand, as player-coach, was Marty Marion, who succeeded Hornsby as manager following a player insurrection. One of Marion's first remembrances of Courtney centers on an attempt to coach the rookie catcher.
'I still think my way is better,' said Courtney after Marion had given his demonstration.
'That was a sample of Courtney's self-confidence,' recalls Marty, who inherited the Sox manager's mantle last season. 'He wants to be the game's best catcher.'
Well, Courtney is not baseball's best catcher. He's probably not even baseball's meanest man. But you have to go along with the appraisal that he's its most determined one!"
-David Condon, Chicago Tribune (Baseball Digest, June 1955)
"The scrappy little catcher was traded to the White Sox during the off-season between 1954 and 1955. Clint was with the Baltimore Orioles in 1954 and appeared in 122 games for them. He batted .270 and had 107 hits for a total of 143 bases. These included 18 doubles, three triples and five homers. He had 37 runs batted in and scored 25.
Clint began in baseball in 1947. He worked up through the Yankee chain and first came to the majors with them at the end of the 1951 season for one game. He was traded to the St. Louis Browns for 1952. Clint hit .286 in 119 games that year."
-1955 Bowman No. 34
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