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5.0 out of 5 stars
Cobb on Wagner: In the Footsteps of "The Glory of Their Times", June 29, 2006
This review is from: Honus Wagner: On His Life & Baseball (Hardcover)
A member of the board of the Ty Cobb Museum in Royston, Georgia, and a "distant Georgia cousin" of the other early 20th Century player widely thought of at the time as being the game's greatest player, William R. "Ron" Cobb has just edited an invaluable work on the teller of tall tales and possessor of a career 150 OPS+... Honus Wagner. "Honus Wagner On His Life & Baseball" is the Flying Dutchman in his own words... as originally published as a newspaper serial in the Los Angeles Times from December 13, 1923 to January 23, 1924. In effect an oral history originally written and published less than seven years after Wagner retired, it gives us a first-person insight into the great Pirate star, an insight that has generally been missing from history, due to Wagner's own reticence while he was playing, and his tendency to gild the lily in his later years. This then, is Wagner on Wagner, at a time when he was most likely to give us a straight story.
Although the 1920s were the heyday of the ghostwritten column, Cobb states strongly his opinion that the serial's words are Wagner's own. "I based this [opinion] on the overall tone and use of folksy and `down to earth' words and phrases," he explains. "The tone and flow sounds much like the spoken word, which indicates to me that a professional writer likely did not write this - at least not on his own. At the worst, I feel that Wagner might have dictated this and let an editor transcribe in into printable text. Even in this case, the text would be Wagner's story in `his own words.'"
And what a story it is. An historical bonanza, not just about the National League's greatest player, and some of his contemporaries, but also about the game as it was played during the first 50 or so years of his life. In 40 installments Wagner tells of everything from his early, minor league years in baseball, to his extensive thoughts on the skills and strategies of the early 20th Century game, to his admiration for Barney Dreyfuss, to the "good old days," to his thoughts on some of the greats he played with and against. And, of course, like practically every other old timer, he picks his All-Star teams. As with every oral history, Wagner's story is colored by his prejudices, especially when he talks about how the game had changed from when he broke in until 1924, but that hardly makes him unique among baseball storytellers. Indeed, much of Wagner's copy reads like it could well have come out of "The Glory of Their Times," except this is a total of 185 pages (with some marvelous photos) all from one exceptional player.
To cherry pick just a few of Honus' more interesting stories... Fred Lieb told the sad tale of the Philadelphia National League club sending a sore-armed pitcher named Con Lucid to scout the Paterson, New Jersey club in 1897, specifically to scout shortstop Honus Wagner. According to Lieb, Lucid thought the big Honus was too clumsy, and recommended they sign Kid Elberfeld instead, thus blowing the Phillies' chance to have a Wagner/Lajoie double play combination. A good story, but, according to Wagner, not exactly true. Honus' version is even better... no less a figure than Phillies' manager George Stallings was scouting him, and it was Stallings who was unimpressed. Seems as if Wagner was playing the outfield that day, and threw a couple of balls into the stands behind the plate. "I wouldn't give that big bum his carfare from here to Philadelphia," is how Honus quotes Stallings' reply to Patterson's Ed Barrow asking what the Phillies would give for Wagner.
Wagner's contract was sold later in 1897 to Louisville, enabling Honus to be present when the one and only Rube Waddell broke into the majors. In an installment entitled "The Bug Enters Baseball - at 2 a.m.," Wagner tells how Waddell insisted on meeting his new manager, Fred Clarke, when he arrived at the Colonels' hotel in Washington at 2 a.m. He pestered the night man enough to find out Clarke's room number, and proceeded to wake up the manager, who then suggested that Waddell needed to meet the rest of the team. The Rube went around to everyone else's room, pounding on doors and waking the entire team, with one exception. Waddell came back to Clarke's room at 4 a.m., not because the rest of the team wanted to lynch him (a possibility) but because the guy in room 128 wouldn't get up, and the Rube thought something was wrong. What was wrong was that William Hoy was in 128, and since he was deaf, he couldn't hear Waddell pounding on the door. (Actually, Waddell expert Dan O'Brien says that this story IS fiction.)
Although there is a tendency to think that Wagner could hit any pitcher who ever lived, he tells of one hurler, Jack Taylor, who gave him more trouble than any other. So much trouble, that Wagner once turned around and batted left-handed against the right-handed Taylor. Although Wagner says he "swung like a woman" he also punched the ball over the first base bag for a double. Other anecdotes include the time Jack Murray of the Giants made a game-saving catch by a flash of lightning, a bit on the game (and the box score) that clinched the 1901 pennant, Bill Klem tossing Clarke from a game for saying he was "a model umpire," and much more.
Wagner's anecdotes, both about himself and other players, are enlightening and amusing. No, he doesn't tell all, like exactly what he was up to in his 1908 holdout, but this is still a find that also includes a vast amount of what was called in those days "inside baseball." That is, how to play the game. Seems as if Honus coached baseball at Carnegie Tech (now Carnegie Mellon University) after he retired, and he still had all of his old class notes around. Presenting a much different side than his standard, somewhat shallow though pleasant public persona, Wagner shares considerable insight, as he had done with his players, on everything from how to play shortstop to defensive signals to nine very specific points on the hit and run. This was no dumb jock and storyteller, but a deep thinker about the intricacies of the game.
While Wagner's story is rightfully deserving of kudos, so is Cobb's work to bring it forth. A SABR member, a Deadball Era expert, and a graduate of Georgia Tech (he really should be called "Dr. Cobb," since he has a doctorate in Engineering), Cobb is no rookie at enlightening the reading public on stars of that era. He has previously published two autobiographical works on The Georgia Peach, "Busting `Em" and "Memoirs of Twenty Years in Baseball." When asked about the nature of his relation to old Tyrus, he says, "I was raised in Atlanta with the family story that we were related to the `great one.' But, no one ever told me exactly how. Some in my family believe we descend from the half brother of Ty Cobb's great grandfather in North Carolina."
When Ron changed his historical focus from Tyrus to Honus, he undertook a big project, having to re-type the manuscript from 80 year-old printed microfilm images of the Los Angeles Times. As anyone who has ever done microfilm research knows, 80 year-old images are not the easiest medium to work with. The image that comes from this is of Cobb hunched over a microfilm reader, trying to decipher smudged and almost illegible newsprint from the Roaring Twenties - a feat that only an historian of Cobb's knowledge could accomplish with success. As hard to read as the old Times were, Cobb had to use his own, independent understanding on the context to make sense out of some of the more obtuse parts.
Ron Cobb's hard work should not go unrewarded. In a very real sense, "Honus Wagner On His Life & Baseball" is as valuable and entertaining to the baseball historian, and the average baseball fan, as "The Glory of Their Times."
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