White Stocking Stuffers (#385)

There was so much more I wanted to get into this issue, but I just ran out of time and space. Look for one more issue in ’06.

A NOTE FROM JIM ELFERS

Last issue, I reviewed Jim’s book, The Tour to End All Tours, and received this note, which I pass along with Jim’s OK.

As always, a great issue of “Notes.” I want to thank you for the wonderful review you gave my book. It must have been fun for you to read my book while on a tour of your own! If I ever hit the lottery I’m going to recruit some players and recreate the tour. Of course I don’t think major league players would even be allowed to participate in a tour like Comiskey’s and McGraw’s today ‑‑ more’s the pity.

One of the things that did change for me while writing it was my opinion of Comiskey. Before I started my research I took Asinov’s profile of Commy as gospel. But I soon learned that Commy was a far more complex individual than the one Asinov paints. He was cheap but he was willing to risk considerable sums of money for things he believed in. If they were to do the tour today with, lets say, the Yankees and the Dodgers, I don’t think Steinbrenner would spring for first class cruise tickets for all the players and wives of his own team let alone BOTH!

Comiskey had his faults. He certainly had an inflated sense of himself. McGraw, for example, had lots of friends in the entertainment and other industries of the day but Muggsy never organized an equivalent to the Woodlands Bards Association. I do think that Comiskey saw himself as above the players upon which his very fortunes depended as evidenced by the Herculean efforts he went to, to keep from paying their 1920 salaries.

I wonder. if Comiskey wasn’t such a stick in the mud and if he would have formed close friendships with his players like McGraw did ‑‑ would the Black Sox Scandal have occurred at all? McGraw’s players, with precious few exceptions, were fiercely loyal to him but Comiskey never inspired great loyalty on the part of his players, with precious few exceptions. One can probably make a compelling case that Black Sox Scandal was as much about bad interpersonal skills, as it was about the lure of hard cold cash. I know that is part of the argument you make in your book. In a very real way Comiskey was a victim of his own hubris.

By the time I was finished with my book I was almost feeling sad for Comiskey. That’s ALMOST! He died with a million dollars in the bank but with a reputation in tatters. Had he been more of a regular Joe he could have died a hero with a shelf full of World Series trophies. But then that’s what tragedy is all about.

KNEELING-ON-DECK DEPT: EYEING COLLYER’S EYE

Among those on the B-Sox trail, recognition of Collyer’s Eye is a badge of some merit. Collyer’s Eye made its debut in Notes #278 , December 7, 2002, but that was not even in reference to the 1919 World Series. Robert Smith’s Baseball in the Afternoon had mentioned the Eye’s better-known (read: less covered-up ) role in baseball history, in a scandal several years after our favorite; the Eye was sued by the Cincinnati Reds for merely mentioning that several ballplayers had been approached by gamblers. The times, since October of ’19, had a’changed.

I really “discovered” Collyer’s Eye in September 2003, after being on the trail for over a year (see Notes #308 ). I had read of the Eye’s probe of the 1919 WS fix — the gambling magazine started digging in October 1919, about the same time that Baseball was trying to bury the evidence — in Lee Allen’s book, The American League Story — on page 94 of the 1962 hardcover edition. It was a fleeting reference; Allen wrote that Collyer’s Eye published the names of the Eight Men who were eventually Out, soon after the ’19 Series ended. He was wrong about that, the Eye believed Buck Weaver had played to win, but they did quote Ray Schalk, who believed (like Hugh Fullerton) that seven Sox players would not be back next spring.

In January 2004, SABR members were given a sneak preview of ProQuest , a dazzling and addictive internet research tool, which became a staple for my research, and for that of many others. (see Notes #319 for my first impressions, and see the item later in this issue, Farewell to ProQuest — its days are numbered, at least for SABR members.)

A digital search for Collyer’s Eye using PQ turned up “an ad for the paper in the Washington Post , November 21, 1920, which contained seven Eye headlines, all related to the 1919 Fix” (see #319 for more). At about the same time, actual volumes of Collyer’s Eye surfaced in a college library, south of Chicago.

Over the next year or so, I learned enough about Bert Collyer, his investigative journalist Frank Klein, and the Eye , that I was able to pull together a paper on Collyer to present at the SABR National Convention in Toronto in 2005 (Collyer was a Canadian).

Then the White Sox won the AL pennant and took their history, including 1919, into the World Series, and with an assist from Stefan Fatsis (of the Washington Post and NPR), Collyer’s Eye was back in the national news, probably for the first time since 1927, when that lawsuit filed by the Cincinnati Reds was finally settled. Fatsis had interviewed me, then (unlike most reporters who are content to visit the B-Sox trail for a few hours and then move on), he tried to look up Collyer’s Eye for himself.

This is old news now: the volumes that were uncovered (and I suspect the dust layer was quite thick) in January 2004, 1920-25, were missing from the University of Chicago, Urbana-Champaign. But they were returned soon after UIUC went public with that news. And even better, UIUC located the volumes from 1919 (and earlier, I believe), which had been mis-filed (and hence lost). The import of that discovery was that we were now able to read the full articles from Collyer’s Eye’s investigation.

And this is significant why? Because this is the hard evidence that starting right after the 1919 Series ended, it was possible to learn which players were involved, and the names of some of the fixers as well. I guess I’d compare the discovery of Collyer’s Eye to the discovery of The Watergate Tapes. When you are learning about cover-ups, you need to know what was being covered up; what was available to learn, if a probe was launched? Collyer’s Eye was known in the baseball world, even more well known to gamblers (including those who risked money on the stock market), and while we do not know if Comiskey or Ban Johnson or the other MLB magnates subscribed to the Eye , we can suspect that most of them had easy access.

About a dozen pages from the 1919 investigation were soon made available on the internet (and I Think they are still there), but once UIUC staff realized that they may have the only complete volumes of Collyer’s Eye on the planet (that’s my guess), they decided to send them out to be microfilmed. And to the best of my knowledge, that’s where they are today.

And now the title of this little retrospective piece makes sense. I’m hoping that early in 2007, UIUC will make Collyer’s Eye available for research, Ideally, via ILL — inter-library loan, so I can savor the Eye in the cozy research room of my local library … but more likely, I’ll need to travel to Chicago. That could be fun, too. I’ve never been to Wrigley.

What treasures or tidbits are in those long-buried volumes? The samples from UIUC whet my appetite. For example, in the December interview with Ray Schalk, Frank Klein reported that Schalk (like Fullerton) believed that seven Sox players would not be back for spring training. Unlike Fullerton, Schalk named the seven he thought were goners — the 8MO, except for Buck Weaver. “Schalk, who is employed by a local automobile firm, is not given to talking for publication, hence his statement carries considerably more weight.”

Klein then notes that Schalk confirmed not the famous October 10 prediction by Fullerton, but the “published reports of Charles Dryden of the Examiner and I. Sanborn of the Tribune.” Two more pieces of the puzzle that need to be tracked down, by anyone with access to the microfilm of those two Chicago papers; Fullerton’s “seven will not return” appeared in the Herald & Examiner , then Hughie left for a new job in NY City; it seems likely that Dryden knew what Fullerton knew, and carried on.

In the same page-one article, Klein writes that “Schalk, it will be remembered, is reported at having trounced both [Lefty] Williams and [Eddie] Cicotte following games in which it was claimed that both pitchers deliberately double-crossed Schalk’s signals.”

From Detroit the writer [Klein] received a report to the effect that Cicotte had told Harry Bradford that he was through with the game; incidentally claiming that Comiskey had promised the famous knuckle ball artist a bonus of $10,000 if he won thirty games. This Cicotte claims was never made good. If memory serves well it was immediately following the winning of his thirtieth game that Cicotte became more or less truculent, it also being reported that he had fallen off the “wagon” on the last eastern invasion. It was also claimed that he fell IN with certain “interests” who afterwards were accused of framing the world’s series and who, it is positively known, cleaned up a moderate fortune on the outcome.

Klein’s memory was not serving him well. Cicotte did not win thirty games. Klein puts this “news” in the present tense — Cicotte claims — so we assume he means 1919, when he won 29. Klein follows the paragraph above with another report from out of town — from Los Angeles Klein heard or read that Chick Gandil had purchased a new home [which was true, Commy’s detective, Hunter, had visited Chick there] and “intended embarking in the fruit-growing industry.” I don’t think that ever happened, Chick (to his wife’s dismay) just wanted to play ball, or manage.

Thus we have a reference to the legendary Cicotte Bonus, but it is second- or third-hand rumor (and who is Harry Bradford? A Detroit reporter, or that reporter’s source?) … placed in a context that also says Cicotte won thirty games.

The reference to Cicotte falling “off the wagon” is interesting. It is not the first hint we’ve seen that Eddie was a drinker, not uncommon then or now, but which became even trickier to put in print after Prohibition phased in. It makes me want to speculate that perhaps Commy offered Cicotte (and others) a bonus for staying sober till the pennant and Series was won, as well as a performance bonus. No bonus was written into Cicotte’s contract, so there would be no way to distinguish the bonuses. Again, this is speculation.

If Fullerton’s prediction had something to do with Comiskey’s offering of a $10,000 reward for hard evidence that the Fix was in — so he could follow-through on his punishment of the seven players who were rumored to be involved — it is also noteworthy that Commy’s reward is dangling in the background as Collyer’s Eye digs for the truth. At one point, the Eye prints that it is not interested in Commy’s $10,000 — it only wants to see justice done (baseball made safe for gambling again).

GOOGLE “Collyer’s Eye” today and about 95% of the hits will take you to Fall 2005, when the newspaper nobody knew existed, was discovered to be missing, then (in two days) found again. It is almost amusing for those of us who started searching for the Eye back in 2003, to see the publication make the quick transition from obscurity (“Why did the library even hang onto this thing?” was a common reaction from some librarians), to celebrity, and then to a kind of “super-stardom” that caused it to be preserved ASAP on microfilm.

FAREWELL TO PROQUEST

“Tinker to Evers to Chance” were, to Franklin Adams, “the saddest of possible words. But if Adams was a baseball researcher in this century, I do believe he would have penned a poem to memorialize ProQuest . The announcement this past year that PQ would no longer be available to SABR members, was arguably a collection of words far sadder than the old Cubs’ DP combo.

I became a fan of PQ immediately, and was fond of saying (or writing) that I would gladly pay $60 (SABR annual dues) just for access to this amazing tool. In recent years, I sensed that there was a community grown up within SABR, of those who had discovered it and not just inhaled but became mildly or totally hooked. Books and articles started to show how valuable PQ had become to researchers, their footnotes and bibliographies were dominated by references to the papers accessible via PQ.

At first, those papers were “only” the NY Times, LA Times and Washington Post . After just a few clicks of the mouse, you could do digital searches for just about anything that was ever printed in those publications. That’s correct. You could read about the Civil War … the sinking of the Titanic … about the events you just heard about on The History Channel … if you enjoyed a film like Seabiscuit , you could go back and read about those races, or check out how the papers covered Edward R. Murrow. And of course, you could look up Collyer’s Eye or Hugh Fullerton’s columns, or read the play-by-play of the B-Sox trial, or — well, you get the idea.

After I was well into my research, the Chicago Tribune was added to PQ , along with the Atlanta Constitution , and then the Boston Globe . There was a rumor that eventually, at least one major paper from every city with a major league team (1900-1950) would be included. It seemed too good to be true. Eventually a few more papers were added, including the Chicago Defender , which gave the black community’s perspective on things (like Jackie).

But somewhere along the way to Research Paradise, ProQuest (certainly not SABR) decided to change their marketing strategy, and no longer offer to organizations like SABR, their fantastic tool. Say it ain’t so , indeed. After December 31, 2006, PQ will not longer work for SABR members.

It’s not the end of research, but it will be a lot harder from then on. There will be other online research tools, and I suppose serious researchers will continue to find access to PQ , even if they have to camp out at the Library of Congress. (SABR is scrambling to find out what libraries have access; I think SABR realizes how many members have become hooked.)

The beauty of researching via digital searches, is that you find things you weren’t looking for, because you didn’t know they were out there. Notes past is full of examples. Yes, you can find these gems when you sift thru microfilm, too, but that process takes hours, or weeks; with PQ , the gems appear in seconds. And that is what will be missed.

PQ is not without its imperfections. If the reporter spelled Comiskey’s name wrong (-ski), that article will not be discovered, except by someone trying a lot of combinations. Its search engines do not catch everything, but they catch a lot.

And so, I bid a sad farewell to ProQuest . It added a layer of detail to my research, and I gladly acknowledged the tool, as well as those who searched with me for buried treasure. 2004-06 may be recalled as the Golden Age of baseball research, thanks to ProQuest , and until something better comes along, it will be sorely missed by me and by many.

News Item: Rod Nelson, following the fading of PQ from the vantage point of SABR HQ, sent me an article that suggests that ProQuest is selling its treasure trove to the Cambridge Information Group. “It ain’t over till it’s over.”

BLACK SOX DIE, BUT THEY DO NOT FADE AWAY

Chapin, Dwight. “Gandil: ‘I’ll Go to My Grave With a Clear Conscience,'” The Sporting News , September 6, 1969.

The article cited above prompted me to track down its author, whom I found was still reporting, for the SF Chronicle . Dwight Chapin recalled the article, but could not add much.

Since my book went to press, I found the article behind the article. The Sporting News , it seems, had reprinted some of a two-part article that Chapin had written for the Los Angeles Times ; it appeared August 13-14, 1969, and you can read the whole thing via ProQuest . (See what I mean about missing PQ ?)

It seems that Chapin had taken his cue more from Lawrence Ritter and his oral history The Glory of Their Times , than from Asinof’s 1963 book. Chapin noticed that there were at least eight ballplayers who left the sport with “no lasting glory. There was no pride. There was only regret and bitterness in their voices and sadness — incredible sadness — in their eyes.”

Chapin may have been a bit off base about that, because Joe Jackson, for one, appeared to have lived out his life with a clear conscience and with the respect of his friends, and with remarkably little bitterness — perhaps more at not being able to help a local Greenville, SC, team, than about the way he was treated in 1920-21.

But Dwight Chapin did get to look into the eyes of one the last two living “Black Sox” players, Chick Gandil. (He was unable to locate Swede Risberg.) And fifty years after the big idea of the Big Fix got hatched, Chapin met with the 82-year-old Chick.

Gandil repeatedly used the word “exonerated” — and asked “on what grounds baseball did this to us.” Landis had taken “more power than the courts” to blacklist the eight for all time.

Gandil told chapin, “I have taken an awful beating in this thing.” Eight Men Out had reinforced Chick’s role as ringleader. In 1969, Gandil denied that role.

Chapin contacted Ray Schalk, who really didn’t want to talk about the 1919 Series, but, now 76, Schalk did say he felt sorry for Weaver, Jackson, Felsch and Williams. Cicotte had recently passed away, but Chapin spoke with Eddie’s lawyer, Dan Cassidy. He and Cicotte had buried the case 48 years before, but Cassidy noted that in 1969, no Commissioner could just ban players without due process. “The players had no organization then. Now, they do. This sort of thing could not happen today.”

The second article in Chapin’s series has the headline, Gandil Continues to Claim His Innocence. “I never confessed, and five of the eight who were accused of throwing the Series didn’t.” Chapin brought up Gandil’s 1956 Sports Illustrated chat with Mel Durslag. There, Gandil had admitted knowledge of the conspiracy — but insisted that the games were never thrown. “My hits won two of the games … If I’d been hooked up with the gamblers, they wouldn’t have let me live after I got those base hits.”

Gandil’s story in 1969 is remarkably like that he told in 1920-21. Chick had played the 1919 season for $4,000 (taking a cut of $400 from his peak salary), but told Commy it was $6,000 in 1920, or forget about it. “Comiskey was an awful guy. But you know, there was something you had to admire about him.” That same ambivalence echoes things I’ve read that were attributed to Felsch, Weaver and Jackson; maybe all his players felt that way.

Gandil said that contrary to Asinof’s suggestion in Eight Men Out that he took $35,000 home after the fateful Series, “Nothing. I never got anything. I’ll tell you this, some of the damndest liars there ever were got up on that witness stand at the trial in Chicago, especially that gambler, Sleepy Bill Burns.” Gandil said that he wanted to sue Burns and others right after the trial, but his mother talked him out of it. She didn’t want the publicity. “But now, from now on, I’m gonna sue the hell out of all of them. I’m tired of just taking it after all these years … I’ve been talking to Melvin Belli, the lawyer, and he’s interested in my case, in helping to clear my name.”

Gandil lived another sixteen months. Whether he was ever deposed by Belli is not known; does that firm have any records? (A truly suspicious mind will ask, was it just a coincidence that Gandil died, so soon after threatening to take MLB to court? We don’t know, but it could be a neat movie plot.)

Chick Gandil, like the more sympathetic Buck Weaver, wrote to Judge Landis repeatedly, asking for reinstatement. “He never had the courtesy to answer me. I only wish I had kept copies of the letters.” If he did, would one of them be framed and on display in Cooperstown today? Maybe, if John Cusack had played Chick in the 1988 film. “Landis was the ‘Big I.’ What the hell gave him the authority to do what he did — bar us, take away our livelihood the way he did?”

As he did in 1927, Chick Gandil said “I know plenty I haven’t told.” But with most of the players dead, “what good would it do?” Gandil felt that he was made the goat because he was the only player not to return for the 1920 season. He said he just wanted more money, it was that simple. “I’m going to my grave with a clear conscience, you understand?”

LAST LICKS

Many SABR members, knowing our time with ProQuest is limited, have been spending spare hours (or making hours to spend) on projects we thought we could do any time we wanted. For example, I’ve downloaded Ring Lardner’s columns covering the 1925 World Serious (the last one the Pirates won, until 1960). And, I thank Mark Halfon for mining one more nugget, that addresses the question, Exactly how cheap was Comiskey? Well, in 1903 (the year the Pirates won their first NL flag — see how I mark time?) — and you can look this up in the Boston Globe , June 8 — Commy presented his players with new hats and a suit of clothes, just for winning two games against Cleveland. (I suspect that Commy had made and won a bet, but that’s just me.)

INTERVIEWS

It is no secret that I can talk about the B-Sox non-stop for … well, maybe forever. I usually warn people about that, if they bring up my book in casual conversation. You want the short answer? Since the book’s release, I’ve been interviewed countless times, and I never did keep count, although I can probably list the television appearances (four … or five). Some of these were live, some taped … some can be found on the internet. And some have been with students, who picked, or were assigned the topic of “the Black Sox scandal” and found me via Google or the Hall of Fame Library or SABR or my book. The students have covered almost every grade, from elementary school thru graduate school, with lots of HS & college kids. Sometimes the questions are brief, and occasionally someone wants me to write their thesis or term paper ( Sorry, Charlie. )

This issue is getting long, but maybe next time, in 386, I’ll post one I recently did (via e-mail) with a grade-schooler, whose questions were nicely designed. (Most radio interviews have been with folks familiar with my book, but occasionally I talk with someone who obviously hasn’t gotten past the cover.)

Another recent interview was with Joe Jackson biographer (well, that’s how she is known in B-Sox circles — she’s really a free-lance writer with no narrow focus, like us) Kelly Boyer Sagert. Her two-part interview can be found, I hope, at www.thewomblog.com/?p=240 Kelly wants me to encourage you all to leave your comments (your own web site is optional), and I’ll encourage you to do that, too — I’m still collecting reviews of Burying , and feel free to post yours at Amazon.com.

A WORD ABOUT THE FINAL ITEM

I wrote the piece below about a year ago, and if you read the fourth paragraph, it explains itself. I held off inserting the essay in NOTES because the article I was commenting on was, I thought, unpublished (that is, not posted on the internet). And it wasn’t, at least not where I expected it to be available, at David Fletcher’s ClearBuck.com web site, dedicated to clearing Buck Weaver’s name. But recently I learned that the article is posted, at www.imakenews.com/clearbuck/

I showed the piece below to David Fletcher as soon as I wrote it, asking for his comments, and suggesting that he might want to revise his article before posting it — for Buck’s sake. I did not get a reply, but I think I might have one by the next issue of NOTES .

All I will add is this. Only a few people on the planet have seen Collyer’s Eye , and fewer the Milwaukee trial material from 1924. These sources are not as easy to look up as, well, something in Burying the Black Sox or Seymour’s Baseball: The Golden Age . To me, that means that persons citing these obscure sources need to be extra-careful with them, offer the context for citations, and do their best to share their interpretations with those few others familiar with the material. (I will feel MUCH better when The Eye and the Milwaukee material is made accessible to the general public.) Nuf ced.

CLEARING BUCK WEAVER, OR MUDDYING HIS CASE? [December 2005]

The White Sox victory in the Series last October was a time of immense joy for fans of that team. It was a time to celebrate, and I’m sure that the closest experience in my lifetime was 1960, when the Pittsburgh Pirates ended a drought of over three decades with a Series win over no less a dynastic team than Casey Stengel’s Yankees. I can still reach back and feel the excitement.

Because each team that enters a World Series brings its entire history along, the Sox of 1906 and 1917 and 1919 and 1959 were in the news, too, however briefly. And it was natural for modern-day fans of Buck Weaver to appeal to Commissioner Selig (that still doesn’t sound right), to grant Buck a kind of amnesty, while everyone was feeling good about all things Sox.

In Notes #362 I shared my own response to the appeal made by Chicago Tribune writer Mike Downey. He tried to make Buck’s case by asking Selig to sympathize and grant Buck amnesty. I tried to convince Downey that sympathy was fine but I thought that painting the bigger picture for MLB would be more effective. I’m not certain my letter ever got to Mike Downey, so I cannot fault him for not replying. But I hope he does, someday soon.

This time I want to comment, very belatedly, on the November 9 “2005 World Series Special Edition Newsletter” (#12) — a “ClearBuck.com Update.” It was forwarded to me by a friend; I thought I’d also find it posted at the ClearBuck.com site, but I didn’t. (That web site is devoted to the cause of clearing Buck Weaver, something Buck was unable to do for himself, or others for him, when he was alive.)

Where to begin? How about with this, from Dr David J Fletcher’s introduction:

I have amassed the most definitive evidence that establishes without a doubt, Buck Weaver was “clean as a hound’s tooth,” as stated in an article published November 1, 1919 by Bert E. Collyer, and should be reinstated in baseball.

Here are a couple problems I have with that sentence. First, only a few people on the planet know who Bert Collyer was, and it might be accurate to add that most of those who know, learned of him just recently when some volumes of Collyer’s Eye were found to be missing from a college library near Chicago. The Eye is not exactly as reputable as the NY Times (used to be?) or the Washington Post or [insert your favorite paper or magazine here]. And it’s virtually impossible for anyone, including Bud Selig, to look it up. (I could ask how clean IS a hound’s tooth, anyway? — the dog in my household is not a model of oral hygiene — maybe the Eye was being tongue-in-cheek? But let’s give Buck the benefit of the doubt on this.)

Dr Fletcher still needs to explain why, eleven months later, Buck Weaver was dropped from the Eye’s list of those who were “clean as a hound’s tooth” — then, only Eddie Collins and Ray Schalk were deemed that clean. Probably it was just a space problem, but perhaps there is another explanation. To just pass over the October 2, 1920, report by the Eye seems biased.

Collyer’s Eye reporter Frank O. Klein latched onto the story of the Big Fix in October 1919 and wouldn’t let go. He reported weekly on his findings — including rumors and some guesswork. So to cite what he wrote on November 1 as his conclusive word makes about as much sense as taking the reports on Watergate, filed soon after the break-in, as all you need to know. Nixon and all the president’s men would have been deemed “clean as a hound’s tooth” at that time, but later on, not so much.

* * * * *

Dr Fletcher has prepared a legal brief for Mr Selig to consider. That’s the next item in the Special Newsletter. I’m not sure why these things are called briefs — to me, they seem to ramble on. Dr Fletcher patterned his brief after the one prepared by a real lawyer, Louis Hegeman, a document that did not succeed in convincing anyone about anything, near as I can tell. Before getting to the lengthy brief, Dr Fletcher lists the “additional research” that presumably will make this new version a winner. Here are some items on his list, my comments in italics:

* Collyer’s Eye , 1919-1921. All three years’ worth?

* The lost writings of Hugh Fullerton, “including his 1935 Sporting News ‘memoir’ and his never-published 1922 accounts of the 1919 World Series.” Well, the Sporting News has never been lost; and the 1922 articles have never been found, so it seems absurd to cite them in a legal brief — or anywhere else.

* Ban Johnson’s papers in Cooperstown. I’m familiar with these and I don’t think they are at all helpful for Buck.

* “JL Hunter’s (Hunter Secret Service) dispatch to Harry Grabiner on 5/11/20 regarding” Comiskey’s investigation. John R. Hunter (of Hunter’s Secret Services of Illinois) did file a report in May 1920 — in which he reported no information from Weaver. The most striking item in the report was the bill for expenses: $3,820.71.

* The material from the 1924 trial, Joe Jackson vs White Sox. I’m familiar with this, too, and the only statement from 1924 that can help Buck came from Lefty Williams, saying Weaver (and Jackson) played perfect baseball, something not in dispute.

* St Louis Police Library records regarding an arrest made in April 1921. How this fits in is beyond me. By then this was almost a cold case, and Landis had made up his mind.

I picked out six from a list of thirteen — to be brief .

Now let me pick out some problems from the brief itself.

* Dr Fletcher has the 1961 TV Witness program leading to the publication of Eight Men Out . Two words: good grief. I am pretty sure Eliot Asinof would prefer no association with that program.

* Dr Fletcher ultimately bashes Joe Jackson because his story overshadows Buck’s. Yet it is Buck Weaver whose stats in the 1919 World Series “clearly reflect his innocence.” As if stats were some kind of moral barometer? Please. “Numbers don’t lie,” Dr F adds later. Without noting Jackson’s stats at all. Which, of course, were superior to Weaver’s. So what?

* Fullerton’s post-Series article “Seven Shall Not Return” (mis-cited as October 12, but later as the 10th) hardly “galvanized public opinion and led to a media investigation of the alleged scandal.” It was fairly ignored. Fullerton’s print crusade in the New York Evening World in December also failed to start the avalanche of inquiry that Hughie hoped for. Schalk’s December 1919 “Seven Shall Not Return” is cited, too. But to be accurate, both Fullerton and Schalk were quoting Charles Comiskey. And that’s something.

* Fletcher’s chronology is more confusing than John Sayles’ when he telescopes events in the film version of 8MO .

* Possibly the least honest item in the brief is the omission of Weaver’s sitting in on planning meetings with the fixers. Weaver himself never denied this, but Fletcher seems to, preferring to believe that Buck (and all the Sox) were out on the field practicing, when the meetings were supposed to be taking place.

Now I happen to believe Buck tried hard in those meetings to call off the Fix, and he may have even succeeded. But the fact is that he was present when the Fix was planned. That fact hurts Buck’s cause, just like accepting $5,000 hurts Jackson’s. They are obstacles that need to be addressed, not ignored.

* Dr Fletcher cites Judge Hugo Friend’s personal papers for his view that the evidence against Weaver was so thin that the judge could not let a verdict against him stand. But that was in all the newspapers. What Fletcher omits is that Friend was ruling on a conspiracy charge, because tossing games was not illegal. And as it turned out, the jury declared all the players — not just Buck — not guilty. In a way, that was too bad, maybe Buck could have been tried separately on appeal.

* Fletcher states that the 1924 trial “established that Comiskey had engineered a cover-up that nearly worked. Comiskey had guilty knowledge and should have received the same punishment as Buck Weaver.” This is a terrific stretch of interpretation, since few writers who covered the trial played up Commy’s role. But isn’t Fletcher stating here that Buck had guilty knowledge and deserves punishment?

* “Rule 21 did not exist in baseball in 1919.” But there is no explanation of what that rule is or says.

* Fletcher cites Collyer’s Eye as if it is the inspired word of revelation, to “prove” that many other White Sox (Schalk and Kid Gleason and anyone in the locker room who saw Schalk attack Williams and/or Cicotte) had “guilty knowledge” — like Buck. But he fails to note that Buck got his from attending meetings, which strikes some (including Landis) as a little different.

* * * * *

The last section of the “2005 World Series Special Edition” has the headline Summary of the 1919 Collyer’s Eye Investigation . There are some genuinely interesting citations in this section, but by now there is a problem of credibility. Dr Fletcher has lost it, so researchers beware, repeating what you find here.

Did Eddie Collins take over the managerial reins from Kid Gleason during the 1919 Series? Frank O. Klein thought so, according to Fletcher, but why was this reported nowhere else, if it was true? Fascinating — but does it help Clear Buck?

The excerpts from the Eye that follow beg to be put into context. Tacking them on as if they collectively exonerate Weaver makes no sense. Was Frank Klein more “thorough and contemporaneous” than Hugh Fullerton? Perhaps the latter, but not more thorough in the long run. The excerpts from the 1919 Eye seem to me to neither “implicate Jackson’s deeper role” in the fix, nor to “absolutely clear Buck Weaver.”

That, I think, is Dr Fletcher’s wishful thinking. Another David was right: the philosopher Hume said that reason is the slave of passion. Dr Fletcher wants to Clear Buck so badly it hurts — and it shows. And it makes for awful journalism. The document Dr Fletcher has “amassed” is full of passion — but Buck Weaver deserves more than that. Once the homework is done and the facts are gathered, Buck’s case is not that hard to make. And there is no reason that making it should be so hard to take.