No Money, No Beer, No Pennants. Scott H. Longert

train. On the Cleveland roster there was pitcher Walter Miller, a civil engineer, Bibb Falk, an expert in the stock market and active investor, and Luke Sewell, who had his undergraduate degree from the University of Alabama and was just one semester away from completing his master’s degree. Ken Holloway owned a ranch in the southwest. Willis Hudlin built ham radios for amateur operators around the country. The modern baseball player was beginning to emerge, a much different figure than the older generation of hard-drinking and hard-fighting men who shocked the crowds with their colorful language.

      The new method of training seemed to be working for the Indians. There were few injuries, and regular poundings of the New Orleans Pelicans. At the end of March they destroyed their minor-league club, 19–7. Carl Lind had two doubles and a triple. Wes Ferrell, the twenty-one-year-old pitcher, threw four innings of relief. He was unbelievably wild, walking eight batters. Even so, he managed to wiggle out of trouble, something noted by Roger Peckinpaugh. A later exhibition appearance against Cincinnati convinced Peck he had a new pitcher to add to the staff. In four innings of work, Wes gave up one run on two hits in a 7–6 loss. The other Indians pitchers were hit freely, but the Reds could not get to Ferrell.

      While the Indians were gearing up for a new season, a troubling event occurred in the United States. On March 25, the stock market took a deep plunge, which caused a panic among investors. For years, Wall Street had been sailing along with positive results. For most of the 1920s, investing in the stock market was almost a guarantee to make money. People who knew little about stocks and bonds put their money in the market. If you did not have the cash to invest, you could buy on margin, putting in a down payment of 10 to 20 percent of the stock’s value and owing the rest. The risk was that if the stock did not perform well and dipped below the value of the purchase price, the buyer was responsible for the entire amount. Despite the chance of a margin call, buyers ignored the peril and continued to purchase on credit. When the twenty-fifth rolled around and stocks fell, a considerable percentage of investors could not pay what they owed. To avoid a serious crisis, National City Bank in New York announced it was allocating $25 million in loans. This action stopped any further panic, but did not serve as a warning to people heavily over-financed. The thrill ride continued, even though it had hit a serious bump in the road.

      Spring training eventually turned into Opening Day, much to the delight of the eager Cleveland fans. League Park was again completely sold out. The oddsmakers in New York had the Indians listed as a 50-to-1 shot at the pennant, with 10-to-1 odds to finish in third place. As expected, the Yankees and Athletics were the favorites to claim the top spots. If you were an audacious gambler you might put money down on the Boston Red Sox, who came in at 1,000-to-1 odds to end up on top. Damon Runyon, in his syndicated column, offended the Cleveland fans by picking the Indians to finish seventh. Runyon was clearly not a first-class handicapper. He had the Philadelphia Athletics in fourth place while most writers had them fighting for the pennant. Stuart Bell of the Cleveland Press believed the locals would win eighty games. He based that on the new pitchers, who he figured on bringing another fifteen to twenty wins to the table.

      Billy Evans sat in his upstairs office, dreaming of the new stadium and the prospect of filling double or triple the number of the twenty-five thousand seats available at the current home grounds. A full house at League Park would net the club roughly $20,000, but a crowd of just forty to fifty thousand at the new site would bring the team $35,000 to $40,000. No wonder Evans had dollar signs floating around his brain.

      Alva Bradley took out a newspaper ad urging Clevelanders to support their team. The three-quarter-page ad spoke of all the changes his regime had made: “In all probability Never In The History Of Baseball has the personnel of a team been so changed from one year to another as the Cleveland Club of 1929. A dozen old faces eliminated and a dozen new ones added. Come out and help us put it out!” Bradley had really done his part. Now the focus shifted to Roger Peckinpaugh and how he would guide his team.

      WTAM Radio reached a deal with the Indians to broadcast all the weekday games, beginning with the opener. Tom Manning was back in the booth to do all the play-by-play. The station had found a sponsor for the entire season, the automobile dealership Reeke-Nash Motors. The advertising element was fast becoming a staple of radio broadcasts. Soon, Manning would have his hands full trying to squeeze in the numerous commercials.

      Radio listeners in Cleveland also had the choice of tuning in WHK, which was carrying Columbia Broadcasting’s national feed of the Yankees–Red Sox opener. As an added bonus there would be a cut-in to the Washington-Philadelphia game in the nation’s capital. Fans could hear the description of President Herbert Hoover throwing out the first pitch. Avid fans were taking the initial steps toward the concept of channel surfing.

      The weather for Cleveland’s Opening Day against Detroit was better suited for a football game, with gray skies and temperatures in the upper thirties. To protect against the wind and cold, the fans arrived wearing heavy coats (including fur in the more expensive seats) and carrying blankets. There were unconfirmed reports of flasks being passed around the stands. At game time there were nearly nine thousand empty chairs: many fans decided to stay home rather than freeze to death. The left-field bleachers were all but deserted. Those staying home missed a rousing contest between the Tigers and Indians.

      After the ceremonial first pitch and flowers for Peckinpaugh, the Indians jogged onto the field in crisp new uniforms. The jerseys had black piping and a black C on the chest. Each player had a ferocious-looking Indian on the left sleeve. The socks were black with narrow white stripes. Meanwhile, it wasn’t just the uniforms that had changed. The Indians lineup bore little resemblance to the one in the previous year’s opening game. Only Joe and Luke Sewell and Charlie Jamieson had started the previous season. Joe was now playing third base, as he could no longer cover the ground at shortstop. There were three new infielders and two more in the outfield.

      The Tigers opened the scoring against Joe Shaute with a run in the top of the first inning: Harry Rice singled and went to second on a walk to Charlie Gehringer, then a sacrifice fly and an infield out brought him home. The excitement really began in the bottom of the inning when Earl Averill came to bat. There were two outs when Averill walked to the plate for his first Major League appearance. Detroit pitcher Earl Whitehill threw two strikes past the highly touted rookie. The third pitch was over the plate and Averill smacked a rising line drive over the right-field wall. The Cleveland fans jumped out of their seats when the baseball cleared the high screen by six feet and landed far up Lexington Avenue. Averill trotted around the bases to thunderous applause. He would always remember this trip to the plate as his finest moment while playing for Cleveland. Detroit scored two more in the third inning: Harry Rice was on first when Charlie Gehringer blasted a home run. Cleveland came back with a run in the fourth on a single by Charlie Jamieson. The Tigers added another run in the sixth to go up 4–2.

      The score remained there until the eighth inning, when the Indians pushed across a single run. Willis Hudlin entered in relief and Detroit went out in the top of the ninth still holding a one-run lead. With three outs left, the home crowd began to make a significant amount of noise. Lew Fonseca drilled his third hit, a double off the right-field wall. Jamieson reached on a bunt single, Fonseca advancing to third. Luke Sewell drove a clutch base hit to center field, sending the game to extra innings. Neither team did anything until the bottom of the eleventh when Luke Sewell singled. Willis Hudlin flied to center. After a walk to reserve shortstop Ray Gardner, Carl Lind lined a double to deep left field, scoring Sewell with the game winner. Derby hats went flying through the stands as the fans celebrated a thrilling 5–4 win. This was not looking like a seventh-place ball club.

      That night, the Hotel Winton hosted a meet and greet with old-timers from the Spiders and Naps. The honored guests in the chic Rainbow Room included Cy Young and Chief Zimmer from the Spiders. Representing the Cleveland Naps were Bill Bradley, Elmer Flick, Terry Turner, and Earl Moore. Two of the Delahanty brothers, Frank and Jimmy, were on hand, along with Patrick “Paddy” Livingston from the old Athletics and the Naps. A full orchestra provided the dance music while fans mingled with the popular stars of the past. The much-admired Jack Lynch’s Rainbow Girls performed during the evening. It had been a great day in Cleveland with hopefully many more to come.

      The next day featured a matchup of the two recently traded pitchers, George Uhle and Ken