But Didn’t We Have Fun? (2008, Ivan R. Dee)

UPDATE: My new book has now been officially released and can be ordered from my publisher or from Amazon.com.  There were reviews in the Washington Post, Boston Globe, Providence Journal, and New York Times on Sunday, April 6 -- here are the links:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/04/03/AR2008040303320.html

http://www.boston.com/ae/books/articles/2008/04/06/baseball_before_steroids_arbitration_and_charter_jets/

http://www.projo.com/books/content/BOOK-BASEBALL_04-06-08_919FUOP_v6.aa6d41.html

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/06/books/review/Olney-t.html?em&ex=1207540800&en=c6b56656046dc823&ei=5087%0A

I appeared on NPR’s “All Things Considered” on March 21st; here is a link to the story and interview:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=88752540

There is a list of other upcoming events on this page; check back frequently for updates.  There have also been several other nice reviews:

Publishers Weekly had this to say: “an intriguing study for students of baseball history curious about how aspects of the game developed, such as the foul ball, sliding, balls and strikes, and the role of the umpire. As the game spread from its origins in New York and its popularity grew, Morris writes that two factors brought the pioneer era of amateur play to an end: the Civil War and the increasing seriousness of players who changed games from ceremonial pastime to cutthroat competitions. Morris has done vast research and quotes many of his sources at length.”

And Library Journal wrote: “In this title, which is sure to be popular, prolific baseball historian Morris engagingly describes the poorly appreciated early years of the game as it evolved to adopt a consistent set of rules.  The well-known but much-misunderstood contributions of the New York Knickerbocker Club are reviewed fully, together with fascinating depictions of the development of umpiring, professionalism, and sportsmanship.  A fine addition to all collections.”

Kirkus Review added, “Using first-person recollections, recorded statistics and newspaper clippings, Morris ... identifies the era as crucial to baseball’s emergence as the national sport.  Some facts about the early game -- each presented in assiduous detail -- will likely surprise modern enthusiasts: e.g., the procedures of the game before designated pitchers; players having to actually hit a player with the ball to record an out; and the traditional use of a single ball during the game, typically memorialized by shellacking and proudly displaying it.  While Morris considers the official founding, in 1845, of the Knickerbockers as the first important baseball club, he also puts baseball's far-flung evolution in context, jetting from town to town across the Eastern seaboard and the Midwest to illustrate how other locations began to adopt the game -- or resist it via strict laws that prohibited public ball playing.  The author also emphasizes the game’s origins as a courtly, gentlemanly pursuit, conveying the ethos of an era when the spirit of baseball was pure fun and social comity, not the profit-driven venture it is today.”

ABOUT THE BOOK

I’m very excited about my new book, But Didn’t We Have Fun?.  It tells the story of the first generation of ballplayers -- the men who saw baseball transformed from a boy’s game into a professional sport -- in an entirely new way.  In fact, what I’ve tried to do as much as possible is to give these pioneers the opportunity to tell their own story for the first time.  I’ve collected dozens of the previously unpublished or unavailable reminiscences of these earliest ballplayers and woven them together to bring those extraordinary years back to life.

Standing alone, these men’s recollections can be difficult to follow -- after all, they were addressing their contemporaries and did not have twenty-first-century readers in mind.  And even if they had, they could not possibly have anticipated how much the game they loved has changed and grown.  So while compiling But Didn’t We Have Fun? I had to be careful to put everything in context and to explain or leave out obscure references.  I also had to leave out a lot of names and dates and places that would simply have made the essential parts of their stories more difficult to follow.

What is left is, I think, an extraordinary story -- about how much work these men put in to make the baseballs and the playing fields that made the game possible, about how much belonging to a baseball club meant to them, about what they thought of the changing rules and the coming of professionalism, about the special moments on the diamond that stuck with them for the rest of their lives, and most of all of how they came to love baseball.  Best of all, it’s all true, or at least true in the way any person’s honest recollections are -- the details may get confused over time, but their essence becomes clearer.

It was a privilege for me to be able to help these men tell their tales.

SAMPLES

Here are samples from some of these extraordinary works.  As mentioned, when reprinted verbatim the context can be a bit hard to follow and I’ve tried to make things easier to follow in the book.  But I hope their power comes through loud and clear:

G. Smith Stanton of Great Neck, New York, writing in 1897 about his youth in Brooklyn: “On a short street in a neat home on the outskirts of this little railroad town lives one who was considered in his day one of the greatest and by some the greatest base ball player of his time. He is known in this place as Charles J. Smith, but back in the sixties as ‘Charley Smith,’ the third baseman of the Atlantic Club of Brooklyn. That club in its day held the championship of the United States, with the exception of one season when it was wrested from them by the Eckfords of Brooklyn, E. D. Virginia was the mother of presidents, Brooklyn of ball players ... There were battles royal in those days between the Atlantics and Excelsiors of Brooklyn, the Eckfords of Williamsburgh, the Mutuals of New York, the Morrisania Club and the [Athletics] of Philadelphia. The writer of this article was a member of the old Resolute Club of Brooklyn, E. D., and witnessed many of these games. He belonged to what was called ‘oul man Rogers and Sam Storer’s fish chowder nine.’ In those days the player’s bench was the grass, a short distance back of the umpire. The grand stand and bleachers were also the grass – standing room only. The crowd was kept back by ropes strung a certain distance from the foul lines. The umpire was chosen by the captains of the two nines from some neutral club just before the game. The rules of the present game may be an improvement on the old one, but it is questionable as regards the selection of umpires. Old Chadwick kept tab on the games. I well remember the deciding game when the Eckfords won the championship from the Atlantics. Each club had won a game, the deciding game was played on the Union grounds in Williamsburg, the grounds presided over by Mr. Cammeyer, the man with a hitch in his neck. All of Williamsburgh and half of Brooklyn were there. It was the first game I ever saw when the Atlantics were not ‘in it.’ Their defeat was solely due to Joe Sprague, the pitcher of the Eckfords. Joe had just returned from the army. He was the swiftest pitcher that ever wore a uniform. He pitched a ball as swift as it is thrown to-day. The result was that the Atlantics’ batsmen generally struck out. I remember the remark of Fred Massey to his fellow players after his striking out: ‘why, that ball was in Waddy Beach’s hand before I struck at it!’ Beach was forty feet behind the plate. There was a catcher for you. In Waddy Beach and Dicky Pearce the Eckfords and Atlantics had two as great catchers as ever stopped the pigskin. What gave great interest to the games in those days was the fact that the players lived in the towns of the clubs to which they belonged.
     “One of the amusing games I ever witnessed was between the Atlantics and Eckfords. Frank Pigeon [sic] was the Eckfords pitcher. Besides the other necessary clothes he had on a sweater and an undershirt. At the end of the third inning he removed the sweater. The Atlantics were getting on to his delivery and he tore off the sleeve of his pitching arm. Trying to put an extra twist on the ball he ripped the undershirt up the back. When the game ended Pigeon had only the wrist band of one sleeve left. Notwithstanding this sacrifice of dry goods the Atlantics won the day ....
     “Those were the days that tried pitchers’ bodies as well as their souls. A batsman was not obliged to strike at a ball until he got one to suit him. I once saw Hannigan of the Morrisanias pitch seventy balls to Andy Mills before Mills struck at one ...
     “The great national game is indebted to these old veterans in more ways than one. In the first place there was no salary; on the contrary, there was an initiation fee and all had to pay their dues and furnish their old uniforms, and pay their own traveling expenses. The consequence was the different businesses they followed were neglected, and, with few exceptions, they accumulated little of this world’s goods.
     “It is not an oversight nor loss of memory that I fail to mention other players of those days, nor other clubs that played the game, but space in your valued journal is limited. Gladly would I detail the game I saw in Philadelphia when that great combination of ball players, the Athletics, downed the champion Atlantics ...
     “Anyone who knew Charley Smith when he belonged to the Enterprise and Atlantic clubs would recognize him now. Of course, he looks older, but he has that same slight, muscular, athletic build that made him one of the great ball players of his day. In discussing with him recently reminiscences of the game, the celebrated tour of the Red Stockings of Cincinnati came up. It has appeared in some papers of late that on that tour the Red Stockings won every game they played. That exception took place on the Capitoline Grounds, Brooklyn, in the presence of half of Kings County. Mr. Smith and myself were both present, he playing third base for the victorious Atlantics and your humble servant one of the spectators.
     “On the field of Capitoline those victorious knights of the diamond, George and Harry Wright and Asa Brainard, met their Waterloo. Charley is still the unassuming gentleman he was on the ball field. Would there were more Smiths and less Tebeaus on the ball field to-day. He bears with ease his 56 years. His crooked fingers testify to many a hot grounder and difficult fly. I have seen tens of thousands cheering his running catches of what seemed impossible foul flys over third base and while at the bat his terrific grounders between the short stop and the bases. It was said of him that he never missed a ball nor struck out.
     “Loving cups are presented to and benefits given for the pioneers of other vocations, but I know of no more deserving ones than the few who are left of those old veterans, who back in the fifties sacrificed their business future, disfigured themselves for life, while contributing their skill to make popular the national game of America to-day, and if I was called upon to name ‘the noblest Roman of them all,’ it would be that gentlemanly, unassuming one who occasionally drops into my office, one who will not thank me for bringing him into prominence again, the great third baseman of the old Atlantic Club of Brooklyn – Charley Smith.”

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Bob Fisher of Fort Wayne, Indiana, in 1908: “It was in 1868, just after I had come to Fort Wayne from Elizabeth, New Jersey, where I attended school, and I was chock full of the game which was enthusing the sport-loving fans of the east. I felt lonesome without the game, and began to work up an interest among the young fellows who had the time for practice. One day Charley (Charles F. Taylor) and I were sitting on the north steps of the old court house. We discussed the proposition to organize a team, and before we left the spot finished the preliminaries. Soon the team was organized. It was the first in the state, as far as I have been able to find out. We played local ‘scrub’ teams and after a while the other towns caught the fever and we met them either in Fort Wayne or on their diamonds.
     “The Fort Wayne grounds at first were known as the Hamilton field, bounded by Barr, Calhoun, Wallace and Williams streets, and later we used the grounds in the Nebraska ‘peninsula’ south of Main street just as you cross the bridge. Both of these localities are now covered with buildings. We played teams from all the large towns of Indiana and Ohio during the first year or two of the club’s existence. The craze grew rapidly in those days.
     “At the beginning I think Mr. Taylor was president of the club, and I was its secretary and treasurer during the years of its existence... At that time, Sam Nerdlinger, who was a member of the firm of Sam, Pete & Max, who had recently come from Philadelphia, became interested in the team... I induced him to make the trip east with us.
     “We left Fort Wayne, full of enthusiasm for a series of contests with the teams of the east. It was a memorable trip. Everywhere they joshed us as small-town Hoosiers, and made fun of the name ‘Kekionga,’ but we stood the jokes all right and carried off enough honors to make us feel good. At that time, we had already visited Toledo, Cleveland, Cincinnati, Indianapolis, Logansport, Lafayette, Sidney, Ohio, and all of the smaller places, and had played on the home grounds with several of the big teams which came west; but this eastern trip was destined to make our reputation so secure that even today they are pulling us back into the game - in the newspapers.
     “The first place we struck was Pittsburg, where we were victorious. Easton, Pa., came next, and we beat them, too. Then we went to Troy. In Troy we had a decidedly sensational experience. We beat the proud Troy team all right, but they put up an awful howl, and were determined to beat us out of our victory. As treasurer of the team, I had to look after the finances, and I remember that I had a hard time getting hold of the $375 which represented our rightful share of the gate receipts. I ran to the train with the bag of coin and clambered aboard with the load, just as the train was pulling out, with a hooting mob at my heels. The other boys were aboard all right and we got out of town without any broken bones.
     “At Boston we got walloped. In New York, we played the famous Mutuals, and won the game 3 to 5. The team was determined to make us attempt the trick again, however, and we were urged to remain over for a contest the next day. We accepted, and they beat us. Then we played the Resolutes, at Elizabeth, New Jersey, my former home town, and were the victors.
     “According to a pre-arrangement I left the team in New York in charge of George J. E. Meyers, who came on from Fort Wayne to relieve me. The boys went from there to Philadelphia, Washington and Baltimore. I don't remember the record at those places, excepting that they were close games....
     “Here's something that isn't generally known: At that time it was not an uncommon thing for a team to make from 75 to 100 runs in the course of nine innings. In those days, we used what were called ‘lively’ balls - a baseball with a small rubber ball in the center. A batter could send one of them nearly a mile. Well, maybe you think it was a snap playing in the outfield in those good old days of the game. Well, when we were playing a game with the Forest City team at Cleveland, Ohio, we finished with a score of 2 to 0, in our favor. It was a good game, and the score was the talk of the whole country.”

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Yale University shortstop Clarence Deming, writing in 1902: “the youngsters of today should have seen it as it was in 1866 and 1867, when it reached its climacteric and a frenzy for the game swept the land. Each little village and hamlet boasted its nine, and in the larger towns of the eastern states the clubs were enumerated by the score.  It was on those rural fields in the heyday of baseball that the sport, if less refined, was more picturesque. ...
     “That the game was vocal goes without saying … Not far away from the truth was the country captain who described his team as ‘men who can’t bat much, or field much, but first-rate talkers.’ To dispute the umpire on every close decision was orthodox duty … and it made the rural ball game forensic as well as spectacular....
     “A dinner after the game, usually contributed by the friends of the home nine, was for a number of years conventional, and salved many wounds of temper in the actual play. This hospitality was possible when the matches of a season were few, but as game multiplied it was dropped on the ground of expense. Now and then the country teams played for a dinner as the stake of a match.”

Deming concluded by acknowledging that the early game can seem crude but added: “Yet may the laudator temporis acti claim for the elder sport certain vantages. It had speed, range; breeziness, and a horizon; it made fun while not lacking intensity; nine men played it, and the battery did not focalize the match game; on the larger scale of runs and fielding the better team more often won than in the sport of to-day, where the timely base hit or untimely error wins victory or loses it, and, paradoxically, has made the game more uncertain in proportion as it is more scientific; and the term ‘professional’ had not then entered the baseball vocabulary. Yet, were the virtues of the old days in baseball purely legendary, the gray-headed ball player would still love them. Again with memory’s eye he would mark the rough diamonds of the shaggy country land, the outgoings in the sunlight and the homecomings under the moon; hear the cheers for victory, and see the forms of the old players against so many of whom in college triennials the Great Umpire has set his final ‘out’ and marked his grim asterisk of death.”

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Sometimes these accounts can be a bit hard to follow and the word choices unfamiliar.  So in the book I try to make sure that things are always clear and generally don’t use long verbatim quotations.  But the sentiments in accounts like these are ones that I couldn’t express any better, which is why I tried my best to let these pioneers speak for themselves.