Inquirer Anniversary: Baseball's Mack at dawn of the '40s

To mark the 180th anniversary of its founding, The Inquirer is reprinting an article from its archives every Monday for 18 weeks. Today's offering, the 12th in our series, was published Dec. 20, 1939, and describes an interview with baseball legend Connie Mack, who managed the Philadelphia A's from 1901 to 1950.

The setting sun, a copper seal upon another year and another decade in that long and abundant life, slipped behind familiar housetops as we concluded another call on Connie Mack.

It has become, even for us, a well-worn trail to the Shibe Park Tower, this yearly visit before his birthday, but if it was by now routine we liked that, too. For each December contributes a new fascination, a fresh outlook and a bit of twelfth-month inspiration for us who gather at Connie's feet.

And now the grand Old Gentleman didn't fail us.

He did not fail because, somehow, he seemed to sense this was something special, and not simply because on Saturday he's 77. Rather, as he talked of many things - his beloved baseball, the world of sport, the times in general, the coming years and his unflagging faith in human kind - Mr. Mack seemed aware of a passing era.

For this was the end of the 1930s, the dawn of a new bracket of years.

Listening there as he recalled forgotten seasons, the dim 1880's, when C. Mack was just a name in a box score, the cheerful 90's, the formative years from 1900 to 1910, and the exciting decade of World War I, there seemed to pass across Connie's desk a cavalcade, a magic procession of half a century and more.

Gradually our eyes became aware of immediate objects and we saw amid the many trophies, a cut-out of Al Simmons, the ivory elephants and countless keepsakes one collects in such a lifetime, a small, unobtrusive volume on his desk. It was William West Tomlinson's "Time Out to Live," and we wondered how it found its way there.

But there were more important things to note, for Connie was assaying the last 10 years.

"Things are going to be a lot better in the 1940's," he was saying, "and I don't confine myself to baseball in that. I see a change in the younger fellows today, a good change. They are more determined, more ambitious. They're out to win, if not here then somewhere else, but they don't give up so soon as a few years back.

"I don't know what happened to that generation; maybe the hard times had them down. You know - going out from school and finding no place to work, waiting, wondering, worrying, that hurts a boy.

"But they've made up their minds now. I see it in spring training, in the rookies on the big league fields. They come into this game, saying, 'Well, if Bob Johns, Joe DiMaggio and Jimmy Foxx can do it, so can I.' And the same spirit is awakening in other fields, your profession included."

Yes, we had to agree, competition was increasing and Mr. Mack had expressed it rather well.

"I need only mention a few who have buckled down to illustrate - our Frank Hayes, Sam Chapman and Dick Siebert; on other clubs boys like Keller and Gordon of New York, Bob Feller, young Doerr of Boston and that Ted Williams who hit all those runs in.

"Yes, the young fellow today is out to make himself a place; he's not like those who couldn't or didn't find a job open and let discouragement bog them down. I like that. It means better things. Nobody, you see, is going to drag you into a job - not the way the world is today."

Then, turning again to his favorite game, the founder surveyed the sweet and bitter of his Athletics as circumscribed in the period of 1929-1939.

Had the ensuing plunge left a scar on his memories?

"I've never expected much more than we got, from these later teams," he said simply. "No, they haven't disappointed me a lot. Only now are we really getting ready."

For if the 1920's were the golden harvest for baseball generally, their windup season and the early 30's became that for Mack. His first pennant, after 15 years of hopeless struggle.

"Once I was on the verge of giving up," he told me. "It was the summer of 1920, just after the White Sox lost those stars in the big scandal. We had only a fair team but on our first trip, coming out of St. Louis we had won three in four and I thought against the riddled Sox we might get out of last place.

"But we lost four straight games in that series and as we started out of Chicago I was so blue I was tempted to look for the nearest dock. Then I said, 'Here, no more of that. Cut it out.' And I did. I've never let it get me down since."

Then, at last, the big reward - three pennants, two world championships, the glory that was Cochrane, Foxx, Simmons, Grove, Earnshaw, and the rest.

And what of the Sober Thirties in general?

"Well, the outstanding development in my opinion," Connie confided, "is the arrival of night baseball in the majors. Night ball is the coming thing whether others admit it or not; I venture to predict that within the next three years all 16 clubs will be playing it. After all, more people can go at night than by day, and except for week-ends, I think baseball, as always, must give the fans what they want.

"On the field there never has been, nor ever may be again, a team like the New York Yankees. I think we should take occasion here to salute Joe McCarthy, a splendid manager who brought out our greatest teams. Never in the American League had a team won four straight pennants; never in baseball four World's Championships in a row.

"There, unquestionably, is the high accomplishment of the 1930's - and I say that in tribute while also predicting someone will topple those Yanks before the 1940's are far along."

The spread of the farm system, which had taken root the previous decade, was also among important developments, Connie said, adding that when such a conservative as himself had to start one was final proof.

"We can't win otherwise," he confessed; "we can't longer develop those young players on a small club because we can't find men - to put it bluntly - who are willing to lose money in our behalf. By this I simply mean the major club sooner or later will own one AA, one A, one B and several Class D clubs, no longer depend on others to shoulder these minor league risks."

Radio, barging into the ball parks and 'casting to the four points of the compass its thrills, is not yet 100 percent established with Mr. Mack, who thinks it may help the trailers but is no aid to contending teams.

And that, we concluded, summed the 30's. Closed them out with 10 more years for Connie Mack who, in case you're wondering, is hale, hearty and eager as usual to be on with his chores, the laborious but intriguing building of a winner. He won't even miss a training game if he can help it, and while his doctor may have misgivings, Connie says he's sure he won't have "another down."

Which, when you're passing 77, is the bravest prediction of them all.