1917, Johnson offered to shut down baseball to support the war effort, but the public protested, and one week later President Woodrow Wilson put out assurances that he wanted baseball to continue. Johnson was accused of being a calamity howler, and the
Chicago Daily News
said, “All the leader of the American League has done for a year is take a pessimistic view of the situation and has done almost everything possible to create the idea that the sport is gasping its last.” 15 Within months, newspapers would be reporting that the sport was, in fact, gasping its last.
Johnson knew that running baseball during the war was a losing proposition. He pressed authorities to define baseball’s status, and when he was ignored he came up with a plan on his own. In late November, he made public a suggestion that each team be allowed to exempt 18 players from the draft, 288 players total, making everyone else fair game for the military—the logic being that, if the government wanted baseball to keep going, then leaving 288 men out of the war was a small sacrifice in the context of an army that would eventually top 3.6 million fighting soldiers. But Johnson’s suggestion was a disaster. General Enoch Crowder, who, as provost marshal, was in charge of running the selective-service draft, was outraged. “That must be a pipe dream,” he said. “There is nothing in the regulations to warrant making exceptional rulings for men liable to service who make baseball their means of livelihood. It is absurd.” 16 John Tener agreed. “I would not go an inch toward Washington to ask President Wilson or the Secretary of War for special favors for baseball,” Tener said. “I think it most unpatriotic to suggest that baseball should even appear to shirk a duty at this time, when so many parents are giving their sons and when other business interests are giving their best men to the service.” 17
Throughout 1917, baseball did its best to dodge the “slacker” label by, among other things, inviting elaborate pregame military demonstrations, such as this one given at Weeghman Park on Opening Day. (N ATIONAL B ASEBALL H ALL OF F AME L IBRARY , C OOPERSTOWN , N.Y.)
Exasperated, Johnson issued a 10-paragraph statement. He had offered to shut down the game, but Wilson and the public disapproved. He floated the 18-player exemption but was slammed for it. Most magnates seemed resigned to simply pressing forward with a stiff upper lip, even with their best players subject to the draft. That was a sure failure. Johnson simply wanted the government to say where thegame stood. Not only would this inform players and magnates how to proceed, but it would let the public know that supporting baseball during the war was acceptable. Without word from the government, there were no good options. “Such conditions will arise in 1918 and must result in endless confusion in the great baseball family,” Johnson wrote in his statement. “The matter of maintaining a contest of keen interest that would appeal to the public seems impossible of accomplishment. We ask for nothing but an interest that represents millions of dollars seeks wholesome advice on the subject.” 18
Alas, it would be eight months—well into the season—before the government was prepared to give baseball its wholesome advice. By then it would be too late.
The press disapproved of the methods employed by Weeghman and Frazee, but the results were undeniable—the Red Sox and Cubs were well prepared for 1918 and were instant pennant contenders. Start with the Cubs. There was no Hornsby, but they had assembled base-ball’s best pitching staff. Alexander and lefty Hippo Vaughn made a fearsome front two. Lefty Tyler and Claude Hendrix added lefty-righty depth, and Phil Douglas would bolster the slabmen when he recuperated from an appendectomy.
Offense was lacking. The infield was young. In the outfield the Cubs had only slap hitters. Center fielder Dode Paskert hit eight home runs in 1916,
Chicago Daily News
said, “All the leader of the American League has done for a year is take a pessimistic view of the situation and has done almost everything possible to create the idea that the sport is gasping its last.” 15 Within months, newspapers would be reporting that the sport was, in fact, gasping its last.
Johnson knew that running baseball during the war was a losing proposition. He pressed authorities to define baseball’s status, and when he was ignored he came up with a plan on his own. In late November, he made public a suggestion that each team be allowed to exempt 18 players from the draft, 288 players total, making everyone else fair game for the military—the logic being that, if the government wanted baseball to keep going, then leaving 288 men out of the war was a small sacrifice in the context of an army that would eventually top 3.6 million fighting soldiers. But Johnson’s suggestion was a disaster. General Enoch Crowder, who, as provost marshal, was in charge of running the selective-service draft, was outraged. “That must be a pipe dream,” he said. “There is nothing in the regulations to warrant making exceptional rulings for men liable to service who make baseball their means of livelihood. It is absurd.” 16 John Tener agreed. “I would not go an inch toward Washington to ask President Wilson or the Secretary of War for special favors for baseball,” Tener said. “I think it most unpatriotic to suggest that baseball should even appear to shirk a duty at this time, when so many parents are giving their sons and when other business interests are giving their best men to the service.” 17
Throughout 1917, baseball did its best to dodge the “slacker” label by, among other things, inviting elaborate pregame military demonstrations, such as this one given at Weeghman Park on Opening Day. (N ATIONAL B ASEBALL H ALL OF F AME L IBRARY , C OOPERSTOWN , N.Y.)
Exasperated, Johnson issued a 10-paragraph statement. He had offered to shut down the game, but Wilson and the public disapproved. He floated the 18-player exemption but was slammed for it. Most magnates seemed resigned to simply pressing forward with a stiff upper lip, even with their best players subject to the draft. That was a sure failure. Johnson simply wanted the government to say where thegame stood. Not only would this inform players and magnates how to proceed, but it would let the public know that supporting baseball during the war was acceptable. Without word from the government, there were no good options. “Such conditions will arise in 1918 and must result in endless confusion in the great baseball family,” Johnson wrote in his statement. “The matter of maintaining a contest of keen interest that would appeal to the public seems impossible of accomplishment. We ask for nothing but an interest that represents millions of dollars seeks wholesome advice on the subject.” 18
Alas, it would be eight months—well into the season—before the government was prepared to give baseball its wholesome advice. By then it would be too late.
The press disapproved of the methods employed by Weeghman and Frazee, but the results were undeniable—the Red Sox and Cubs were well prepared for 1918 and were instant pennant contenders. Start with the Cubs. There was no Hornsby, but they had assembled base-ball’s best pitching staff. Alexander and lefty Hippo Vaughn made a fearsome front two. Lefty Tyler and Claude Hendrix added lefty-righty depth, and Phil Douglas would bolster the slabmen when he recuperated from an appendectomy.
Offense was lacking. The infield was young. In the outfield the Cubs had only slap hitters. Center fielder Dode Paskert hit eight home runs in 1916,
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