Hall of Fame manager Connie Mack, who knew something about the World Series, claimed the 1929 Fall Classic was the “greatest he ever saw.” Such superlatives are usually reserved for series that go the full seven games especially those blessed with a memorable finale. The 1929 series, however, only went five games, just one more than the minimum, hardly, at least on the surface, the stuff baseball legends are made of. But when the Chicago Daily News collected and published baseball oral histories during World War II, five participants chose a game from the Athletics-Cubs series. Over the next few weeks, we’re going to look at four of those eyewitness accounts, three of which probably haven’t been published since they appeared in the Chicago newspaper over 80 years ago.
Considering the quality of the competing teams, the 1929 series had plenty of potential for memorable baseball. Making their first appearance in over a decade were Joe McCarthy’s Chicago Cubs. In winning the National League pennant by 10 games, the Cubs had a team batting average of over .300. Leading the way was the outfield of Riggs Stephenson, Hack Wilson and Ki-Ki Cuyler, all of whom hit over .345. None of the three, however, had the highest batting average on the team, much less the National League. That honor went to Rogers Hornsby who hit .380, third highest in the league. Chicago’s pitching staff was headed up by Pat Malone, (22-10), followed closely by Charlie Root (19-6) and Guy Bush (18-7). Led by future Hall of Fame manager McCarthy, the Cubs were a worthy representative of the senior circuit.
The 1929 Chicago Cubs
Chicago was without question the best National League team in 1929. Some consider Connie Mack’s Philadelphia Athletics worthy of an even higher honor. In a 1996 Sports Illustrated article, entitled “The Team that Time Forgot,” William Nack speculated that the Athletics, not the 1927 Yankees, were greatest team of all time. There was no argument about which team was better in 1929. Even though eight Yankee players were Cooperstown bound, the Athletics not only won the pennant, they finished a hard to fathom 18 games ahead of a Yankee team with Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig.
With Al Simmons, Mickey Cochrane and Jimmy Fox in the lineup along with Lefty Grove on the mound, Philadelphia didn’t lack for future Hall of Famers. As the first game of the Series at Chicago’s Wrigley Field approached, it seemed Connie Mack’s only decision was whether to start Grove or the Athletics other ace, George Earnshaw. That decision is the subject of our first 1929 World Series memory, that of Connie Mack himself.
The 1929 Philadelphia Athletics
Mack’s story has two parts, how he chose Howard Ehmke to start the first game and Ehmke’s performance itself. The accuracy of the first part has been questioned by baseball historians and it’s certainly possible Mack engaged in some revisionist history to tell a better story. What’s beyond question is that Ehmke was a surprise choice and no wonder. The veteran pitcher was at the end of a 15-year major league career of almost exactly .500 pitching, ultimately finishing with 166 wins and 164 losses. In 1929, he had a solid 7-2 record, but his need for long periods of rest between appearances made him of questionable value in a short series. The press certainly wasn’t impressed with Ehmke. H. I. Phillips dubbed him an “aged pitcher with a name like a typographical error.” Such, however, is the stuff that legends are made of.
Connie Mack
I’ve been fortunate enough to have seen some great baseball in my days. It is wonderful to remember pitchers like Matty and Walsh and Waddell and Johnson and Dean and Grove for more than 50 years. But to me the most thrilling World Series ever played was between the Cubs and the Athletics in 1929 and I’ll never forget the performance of Howard Ehmke. You see, Howard and I sort of put a fast one over on everybody and an old man likes to enjoy a chuckle at the expense of a younger generation. Only the two of us knew, two weeks ahead of time, that he was going to pitch the opening game, October 8.
Hall of Fame Manager - Connie Mack - Philadelphia Inquirer
We were leaving on the final western trip of the regular season when I called Howard up to my office in Philadelphia. We had the pennant pretty well in hand by then and so did the Cubs, so we could make plans. Ehmke came in and sat down and I watched him for a few minutes while we just chatted and finally I said: “Howard, there comes a time in everybody’s life when he has to make a change. It looks like you and I finally must part.”
Well, he didn’t say a word for the longest time, it seemed, just twiddled his hat and then he looked right at me and said “All right, Mr. Mack, if that’s the way it has to be. You’ve been fine to me and I haven’t been much help to you this year. Lucky you haven’t needed me. But I’ve been up a long time and I’ve always had the ambition to pitch in a World Series . . . anywhere, even for only an inning. Honestly, I believe there’s one more good game left in this arm . . ." and he held it up to me like a prize fighter showing his muscle.
I couldn’t help smiling. Howard of course, had no way of knowing what I thought of him. Really he was one of the most artistic pitchers of all time. He was bothered with a sore arm most of his major league career, but he had a great head on him and studied hitters. He might have been a fine pitcher. So I asked him: “You mean you think you could work a World Series game?” He told me: “Yes, Mr. Mack. I feel it.” Then I explained what I had in mind. “So do I,” I said. “I only wanted to see how you felt about it. Now you stay home this trip. The Cubs are coming in. Sit up in the stands and watch them. Make your own notes on how they hit. You’re pitching the first game, but don’t tell anybody. I don’t want it known.”
Howard Ehmke
After he’d gone I sat thinking about Howard. Maybe he never realized how close he came to not pitching at all. If he hadn’t talked the way he did . . . if he’d said for instance: “I realize I’m all through . . . my arm is gone” and accepted what he thought was dismissal, I wouldn’t have worked him even though I had no intention of letting him go anyway.
Finally the big day came in Wrigley Field. Funny part of it was that none of my players not even the newspapermen, bothered to ask me who’d start. They all took it for granted it would be Grove or maybe Earnshaw. Since then people have asked me why I didn’t start Grove, but that’s a secret. I can’t tell, but there was a reason. Anyway we were in the clubhouse before the game and somebody asked Grove if he was working and I heard him say: “The old man didn’t say nothin’ to me.” Mose probably figured it was Earnshaw. When we got outside, they all threw the ball around. Ehmke must have had a sudden doubt that his dream was coming true because he came up to me on the bench and whispered. “Is it still me, Mr. Mack?” I said. “It’s still you . . .” and he was smiling as he walked away.
Chicago Tribune - October 8, 1929
Voices were muttering down the dugout. Phrases like “the old man must be nuts” and “Hell, the guy’s only finished two games all year” trailed off for fear that I’d hear ‘em. But I heard. I’ve often wondered what they’d thought of me if we’d been beaten with Grove and Earnshaw and Walberg on the bench. Bob Quinn, who was president of the Red Sox then, was in a box behind our dugout and he said he almost swooned when he saw Ehmke peel off his coat. I supposed the fans and you gentlemen of the press thought old Connie was in his dotage at last. But I was certain about Howard, although if he’d had any trouble early I would have had Grove in the bull pen. We didn’t want to lose.
Chicago Tribune - October 9, 1929
It was beautiful to watch. I don’t suppose these old eyes ever strained themselves over any game as much as that one. Ehmke was smart. He was just fast enough to be sneaky, just slow enough to get hitters like Wilson and Hornsby and Cuyler, who like to take their cuts, off stride. If you recall, he pitched off his right hip, real close to his shirt. He kept the ball hidden until just before he let it go. The Cubs never got a good look at it and, when they did, it was coming out of those shirts in the old bleachers. Charley Root was fast himself and by the end of the sixth inning neither team had scored. Then Jimmy Foxx hit over Wilson’s head into the stands, and we led 1-0.
Ehmke's deceptive pitching motion - Chicago Tribune - October 9, 1929
Jimmy touched home plate and came back to the bench and Ehmke said: “Thanks, Jim” and I knew he’d made up his mind maybe that’s all the runs he’d get and it would have to do. Only in the third had Howard been in a jam when McMillan singled and English doubled with one out and Hornsby and Wilson were up. Some of my players looked at me as if to say: “Better get somebody warmed up . . . here’s where Ehmke goes,” but he stood there calm and unhurried and struck out the last two men on seven pitches. You could tell the crowd had caught the melodrama of what was going on; I don’t believe I ever felt as happy in my life as when he fanned Hornsby and Wilson. Very few pitchers would have done as well in such a tense situation. He justified my faith in him right there.
In the seventh, after Foxx’s hit, Cuyler and Stephenson each singled and Grimm sacrificed. Joe McCarthy decided on pinch hitters. He had Cliff Heathcote hit for Zach Taylor and Simmons took care of a short fly for the second out. Then Gabby Hartnett batted for Root and I was tempted to have Howard put him on and take a chance on the next man, but I said to myself.
Drawing by Gene Mack - Boston Globe - October 9, 1929 - In 1947, Mack created a legendary series of drawings of major league ball parks for the Sporting News
“No. This is his game. He asked for it and I gave it to him.”
He struck out Hartnett and we got two runs in the ninth on fumbles by English. I relaxed a little then, but we weren’t quite out of the woods. The Cubs got the tying runs on base in the ninth, with two out and Charlie Tolson up to pinch-hit.
If Ehmke fanned him, he’d break the strikeout record for world series play set by Ed Walsh against the Cubs in 1906 when he fanned 12. Howard had already struck out Hornsby, Wilson, Cuyler and Root twice each. It happened. Tolson went down swinging too, for Howard’s 13th strikeout and the battle was over. He has lived on that game ever since. So have I.
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