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Baseball's Cover-up of the NOTES FROM THE SHADOWS OF COOPERSTOWN #493 JUNE 15, 2009 I didn’t go far to find the title for this, the fifth and final in my series of Notes on my research last month in Chicago. What started with #489 — not counting #425-426 — ends here, but not really. As I said last time, the documents at the Chicago History Museum have chicagoed my understanding of more than a few facets of the B-Sox story. So I suspect that I’ll dip into my Chicago notes from time to time in future issues, just as I’ve done with my Milwaukee notes from 2003 and 2006. In fact, if you’ve been reading closely, I’ve found myself in those Milwaukee notes a lot, in order to either put the Chicago information in better context, or to make better sense of it. Up top in this issue, I’m inserting an item that came to me by surprise, but it’s definitely related, because the CHM now holds the papers of Eliot Asinof, too. So any time we can take a peek at them, it’s a sneak preview of what you’ll see if you visit the CHM, whenever the papers are made accessible. Then we will take an excursion into two large clearings on the newest branch of the B-Sox trail. In the first, we will look at the highlights of the 1921 trial testimony by Cicotte, Jackson, Williams and Judge McDonald. Who cares? you may say, the real highlights must have been in the newspapers. But they were not, these transcripts record testimony and cross-questioning (and squabbling by lawyers, which I’ve omitted) which took place away from the jury and courtroom, in a private session with Judge Hugo Friend. So there are many genuinely new bits of info, which is not the same as having the truth, even though this testimony was made under oath. Experts disagree, unfortunately, and so do many witnesses at trials. And maybe both versions fail to tell us what really happened, because neither the prosecution nor the defense is that interested in history; they are both trying to win. OK, “clearing” is definitely the wrong word for the last item in this issue. Thicket, maybe. A machete will come in handy on this part of the trail. Handwriting on the Wall is really breaking new ground, because we get to look behind the scenes at the notes from Commy’s lawyers, mostly as they plan for that 1924 trial, or watch it unfold. But it’s not a clear or unobstructed view, and where you see question marks attached to words (like? this?), I am unsure of the word itself. Fortunately, some of that cloud will someday lift, when the transcripts and other documents from the Milwaukee trial become as accessible as the CHM docs. Thanks to those grand jury statements from 1920, which pop up in 1921 and again in 1923 and 1924, there is a lot of confessing in these special issues of Notes. And I confess that I’ve been anxious to get all five issues posted, to clear the way to a few other projects before I leave the shadows of Cooperstown for the shadows of Denali, on June 24. There just might be one more issue of Notes before I go, but if there is, it will not be from my Chicago research. Without further intro – MORE SNEAK PREVIEWS I’ve written here recently about Eliot Asinof and some of the writers who influenced Eight Men Out, James T. Farrell and Nelson Algren. Another author, Jeff Kisseloff, has a connection with Asinof, and he recently joined SABR and the B-Sox Committee. And he mentioned to me, his web site eliotasinof.com — where he has posted some of the material that shaped 8MO, a small portion of what we will all be able to see someday at the Chicago History Museum. Interview with Happy Felsch. No audio tape, no transcript, just three 5 x 8 pages written in a stenographer’s notebook. Here are some snippets: Felsch. mistrust of reporters. Hates them. Company men. Always on the take. Salaries [supported?] by owners, they play the owners game, Wants to think of himself as a victim. For the context of this interview, see Bleeding Between the Lines, and we wonder if it was the Chivas Regal talking in that last line. We also have to wonder if Felsch’s dislike of reporters was cemented into place by the Reutlinger interview he gave on September 29, 1920. I’ve written a lot about that; here is a snippet from Notes #420, and you can go to 420 and read the rest if you want: Reutlinger said Felsch kicked him down the stairs, twice, when he approached him for a story. Then he decided to deceive Happy, telling him that Jackson had told the grand jury that Felsch had received $25,000. Felsch called Jackson a dirty rat, and took Reutlinger into his parlor. Felsch then opened up, and admitted being one of the Sox who profited from the Fix in October 1919, even if he never had a chance to earn the money. It was as good as a confession before the grand jury. More on this in Notes #490. To me, there is something else striking in these notes — Happy Felsch says nothing about getting a raise for 1920 that included “hush money” (see last issue). To me, that makes it more likely that the statements he made for and at the 1924 trial were coached, and less likely an account of what Harry Grabiner actually said when he signed up Felsch. And the letter he wrote, demanding more, explains the references to such a letter in Austrian’s notes (if the team had the letter, it worked against Felsch). Interview with Red Faber. Again, just four pages, in what looks like the same notebook. Felsch at least was on the inside of the Fix, though not at the center; Faber said he didn’t know the series was fixed until he heard the rumors while on a hunting trip after the season. That suggests to me that Faber was either not present when Gleason confronted the team in the Sox clubhouse, no later than before Game Two; or else he was still covering for Gleason, when Asinof spoke with him 40+ years later. So Faber’s knowledge seems as useful as that of a player on a different team. Unable to pitch in the 1919 Series, Red Faber was still on the eligible, active roster (but not used); did he suit up daily that October? Maybe The Sporting News or some other paper of the day can tell us. Faber judged Gandil to be capable of organizing the fix and “walking off with the dough”; Risberg “threatened to kill anyone who talked, and he was the wild type who might!” Was Faber recalling that he (and the “clean Sox”) all felt threatened, too? Was Risberg just punctuating something the manager said, when he suggested that they all let what he said in the locker room, stay there? Faber recalled Eddie Cicotte as a “pleasant, funny man,” who “must have been temporarily nuts to go in on a thing like this,” and perhaps he was; it is fun to imagine Judge Landis listening to a plea of “temporary insanity”! Red was suspicious of some games lost in the 1920 season, too, but gives no examples. “[The] ballplayers never spoke of the fix. Saddened, embarrassed, depressed by it. Shameful. Hard to think of it — “ Faber holds out the chance that the banished Sox may have played to win: “What seems likely is that the players agreed to toss, then did as well as they could w/in [within] the limits of defeat.” Faber had a curious recollection about the end of the cover-up. That is, the days Cicotte and Jackson and Williams went to the grand jury. “Jackson, Williams were told by detectives to talk & then they’d get off! Detectives pressured them — “ No accounts I’ve read suggest that anyone pressured them (or Cicotte) to talk, although all three expected something in return for their grand jury testimony, as we’ll see later. What I was most hoping to see in Asinof’s notes from either Felsch or Faber, was the source of Jackson’s “begging to be benched” before the series. Since neither appear to be the source, my best guess is that Asinof read The Sporting News article that appeared after the 1961 TV show Witness was aired on CBS; Asinof must have read Scoop Carter’s piece in TSN, he had been listed as “Writer” for the program. I’m told that a script by Asinof is among the items in the CHM collection. Letter to/fm Edd Roush. On December 31, 1962, Eliot Asinof wrote to the Reds CF in 1919, “Mr. Ed [it’s Edd] Roush,” saying that he’s “completing a book about the 1919 World Series.” 8MO was released in ‘63, so Asinof was likely putting on the finishing touches. He asks Roush if he recalls his salary. Roush replies, using the same letter that Asinof sent — Eliot did that to me a few times, too, a paper-saving habit — giving his salary (he said $10,000 – and that’s now in 8MO). But Roush adds this: “Anything you want to know about [the] 1919 Series and I can help you I will be glad to do so.” How do we know Asinof never followed up on Edd’s offer? Well, if he had, Jimmy Widmeyer, Roush’s “deep throat” source for early (if not guilty) knowledge about the Fix, would be a household name today. That is, if Roush used his name — he mentioned Widmeyer, who had connections with both newspapers and gamblers, in several interviews he gave over the years, sometimes mentioning Jimmy, sometimes not. I met Susan Dellinger, Edd Roush’s granddaughter, after the SABR convention panel on the 1919 Series in Cincinnati, in 2004. Susan broke the news about Jimmy W. in her article, “A Shadow in the Night … The Graying of the White,” in Baseball in the Buckeye State, a publication for that convention. I was able to cite that in Burying the Black Sox, but (alas), her 2006 book Red Legs and Black Sox was released just a bit too late to make my bibliography. I’ve recommended it countless times since, and do so again, for more on Edd Roush and the Cincy side of the Fix. The Hall of Fame slugger called the players involved “partially victims of their times,” who have “suffered enough without having the memory of their accomplishments further tarnished.” Greenberg looks at Asinof’s experience (chronicled in Bleeding) and says that’s one reason he left baseball. The final line suggests that Asinof was looking for letters of support, which might help him in the lawsuit in progress. Again, I’m told there is lots more related to that lawsuit (CBS wanted the rights to 8MO) in the CHM collection; see Notes #484 for more “sneak previews” of the Asinof papers. THE 1921 B-SOX TRIAL TRANSCRIPTS One of the first things everyone learns in B-Sox 101, is that there are no transcripts from the 1921 trial. They were, Eliot Asinof was told when he went searching in 1961, all long gone. We have some transcripts from the 1920 grand jury, and a fairly complete record of the 1924 Jackson vs White Sox trial. But when it comes to the actual “Black Sox trial,” we have had to rely on the accounts which appeared in the newspapers, some of which look like transcripts, because they are in Q & A format. So the news that the CHM documents contained actual transcripts from the 1921 trial was big news indeed — at least for those who had taken B-Sox 101. For me, these born-again documents raise hope that more may someday surface. As I’ve written here before, the transcripts we can now read are numbered pages 510 to 697. Last issue, I wrote about two pages that were somehow separated from the rest (676-677), but are in the CHMD (Chicago History Museum documents). As we read them, we need to keep in mind that these pages were removed from (and thus spared the fate of the rest) the trial records, and ended up in the office of Alfred S. Austrian, Comiskey’s lawyer. They therefore had a significance for the White Sox, and I think the easiest explanation is that they were as important to the Sox as the transcripts of the players’ grand jury statements, and were likely used the same way — as ammunition that might head off future lawsuits. In fact, at issue in the 1921 transcripts, is whether or not the grand jury statements will be admissible at the 1921 trial. To determine that, Judge Hugo Friend permitted the three players to testify separately, and away from the jury; they would have their own lawyers present, and be cross-questioned by the prosecuting attorneys. The 1920 grand jury judge, Charles McDonald, also testified. Judge Friend ruled that the GJ statements were admissible, but Cicotte’s statement could only be used against Cicotte; and so on. That made for a lot of redacting. In the 1921 transcripts, the GJ statements themselves have been placed “off limits.” The players may talk only about the circumstances in which they told their 1920 stories. Both sides object frequently when the testimony ranges near or outside the boundaries set by Friend. Below are my notes, made on perhaps the third or fourth reading of the transcripts. Yes, I had copies made, because I think they will be handy reference tools in our future research. I’ll let you decide how important this “new find” really is. Eddie Cicotte. There are many versions about just how Eddie Cicotte wound up in Austrian’s office, on his way to making history at the grand jury. Cicotte said, in 1921, that he was called (phoned) and then taken to the office by Sox secretary (GM) Harry Grabiner. This is a good place to remind all that we are reading prepared testimony, coached by that Dream Team of defense lawyers. What they said, is not necessarily the truth. And the fact that the players were all acquitted by the 1921 trial jury in the end, does not make their words any more reliable. In Austrian’s office when Eddie arrived was Comiskey, Austrian, and Kid Gleason. After a few minutes, State’s Atty. Hartley Replogle arrived, and he stayed an hour. Cicotte said he then went with Replogle and Austrian to Judge McDonald’s office, and spent about fifteen minutes with the judge. (Eddie mentions no long wait before seeing Austrian, no “Tell it to the grand jury” from an upset team owner.) After Eddie talked to McDonald, the judge was not happy, he wanted and expected more on the gamblers. Cicotte said that he did not cry that day, but may have had tears in his eyes. He said he was promised immunity, by Austrian, and Replogle [emphasis mine]; further, there would be no prison time, and no fine. Joe Jackson. Jackson said that he was asked by Gleason to go to see Austrian on September 28 — at 6 AM? That’s what he said; he was told to see the team lawyer at 1:15 or 1:30 PM, and that’s what he did. When he met with Austrian, he was informed of his suspension (Cicotte had given up eight names, including his own and Jackson’s, that morning), and his imminent indictment. Back in Notes #425, I wrote this about pages 561-564: As he sat with Austrian and Gleason, he was asked if he knew that he was indicted, or was about to be. “I said, No, I didn’t know it, though I knew there were some scandal.” Gleason then takes an envelope from his pocket, gives it to Jackson and says “I am going to get out of here,” and leaves. The envelope contains — Austrian reads it to him — his suspension from the Sox and his final paycheck. Austrian tells Jackson that he needs a lawyer “damn bad” and Jackson starts to leave, to find himself a lawyer. But Austrian says, “‘Just sit down there a minute,’ and he walked between me and the door.” Then Austrian calls McDonald. Jackson has nothing to tell him. He wants a lawyer, he wants Austrian to find him one, he says he would pay for a lawyer. Austrian seems to want Jackson to stay put, until he knows what Jackson will say, what he has to say. Jackson (and it seems he refers to Austrian, not McDonald): “Well, I told him I would tell him what little I had heard about it.” The pages I have run out there — cliffhanger! Well, as we all know, Jackson never did get his own lawyer. He trusted Austrian, who returned the favor by making sure Jackson would sign away his immunity. Most people interpret that as a sign Austrian was working harder that day for Comiskey and the franchise, than for the players; a lawyer working for Cicotte and Jackson would have been “damn sure” (as Jackson might put it) that their clients received something in exchange for their testimony, which, after all, was voluntary. In defense of Austrian and Replogle, they might argue that signing a waiver of immunity was something that might work in their favor — they were not making any deal, they had clear consciences. Back to 1921. Jackson recalled that he was told by Austrian that he’d be given “the same conditions as Cicotte.” That is, he would not be tossed in jail. Eddie was free, wasn’t he? Jackson then went to the courthouse with Austrian, where they met with Replogle for 15-20 minutes. Jackson said that he saw McDonald for “probably five minutes” before going to the GJ — significant, I think, because of McDonald’s recollections of what was said in those few minutes, which was so at odds with what Jackson said minutes later in the grand jury room, without McD present. “He [McDonald] didn’t like the story.” Again, the judge was looking for the names of gamblers, and for more than Cicotte had given up; Jackson, it seemed, knew less. Jackson said that Austrian had told him that the GJ “didn’t care nothing about getting no ballplayers, the gamblers was the ones they wanted to trample under their feet.” Jackson had no recollection of the “Swede is a hard guy” story. He had asked for a bailiff to help him get safely away from the courthouse, he said, because Buck Herzog had been stabbed by a crazed fan a day or two before; Judge McDonald assigned two bailiffs to Jackson, and he got drunk with them after he testified. No mention of having some booze before, to relax him or loosen his tongue. Again, in 1921, Jackson had likely been rehearsed, and his story polished. Lefty Williams. Lefty said that he was called on the morning of September 29 by Joe Jackson. (Jackson, hung over, was supposed to meet again with McDonald, but was running late and only made it as far as Austrian, where he had ASA call the judge. Jackson gave McD his address, and did not meet with him again.) Actually, Jackson’s phone call was answered by Lefty’s wife, and when Lyria put her husband on the line, Austrian was on the other end. Lefty said that Austrian promised him immunity, in exchange for what he knew about the fix. Interestingly, Lefty Williams had already called a lawyer, Jerome Crowley, who was on his way to Williams’ apartment. In another fifteen minutes, he’d be there. Timing is everything. Austrian told Williams, “You don’t want any lawyers.” Lefty trusted Austrian, following the lead of Cicotte and Jackson. He was soon in Austrian’s office, and convinced by Austrian that if he cooperated, there would be no prison, no fines. The three players had all placed their fate in the hands of Austrian, Replogle, and Judge McDonald. Cicotte had nearly backed out, nearly not testified. Once he did, “the dam burst,” and the two players that followed Eddie also trusted Cicotte, who surely would not “spill the beans” and get nothing in return. Judge Charles A. McDonald. Batting cleanup in this 1921 sideshow, McDonald’s version was, as expected, at some variance with that of the players. McDonald’s is familiar to us, because it is the one which was widely reported in the newspapers, the one which became history. But the transcripts add some details. Cicotte wanted to testify to the grand jury without his teammates or the press knowing. It appears that Eddie was indeed smuggled into the courthouse and the grand jury room without notice. But although he was taken out the back door, he was spotted by a reporter, and that was the end of that cover-up. Had he not been spotted, his appearance not been page one news all over the country — would the suspensions still have followed? Would Jackson and Williams have followed? We’ll never know. McDonald (as well as Replogle and Austrian later) denied any promises of immunity to the players. In fact, he denied making any deals at all, which is why Cicotte balked and almost left the courthouse without making the GJ stop. McDonald testified that he was in the grand jury room for Cicotte’s testimony, but not for Jackson, and not for Williams. McDonald confirmed Cicotte’s story about hitting the first batter on purpose, then pitching to win the rest of the series. Regarding Jackson, McDonald recalled that the outfielder told him that “he could have played harder.” McDonald never heard Jackson say he played the whole series to win, because he skipped Joe’s GJ appearance. Timing is everything. Would it have mattered if McDonald was present in the GJ? Would Jackson have changed the judge’s understanding? Well, we might at least have a more coherent, less confusing account from Jackson, if McDonald had been present, asking questions or clarifying what Jackson said. We’ll never know. I am summarizing above, nearly 190 pages of transcripts, boiling them down to just a few pages. It would be wrong to take my summary as anything but my own reading of the pages. In fact, now that I’m on record with my own account, it is just as easy to ask Is Carney’s interpretation correct or biased? as it is to wonder which version of things is closer to reality, the three players’ or McDonald’s? If we can parse and debate and discuss ad infinitum (or maybe ad nauseam) Joe Jackson’s 1920 grand jury statement — and we do — the 1921 transcripts are similar fuel for the Hot Stove. I suspect that once these transcripts “get around” — maybe on the internet — we will see a lot of folks sympathizing with the players, whose side, I think, most fans instinctively take. As I’ve written before, Judge McDonald, Austrian and Replogle all had agendas. But so did the players, and the fact that their stories about getting promised much, then being indicted, may be only as believable as the possibility that they were all very well coached for this court appearance. So in the end, we are all put in the jury box. We listen (read), then talk amongst ourselves, and only much later, make up our own minds. THE HANDWRITING ON THE WALL The idiom is from the Old Testament (Daniel 5:1-31), and refers to a warning of coming doom and misfortune — if someone fails to see the handwriting on the wall, they are in trouble. In the Bible story, the royal magicians of the Babylonian king cannot decipher the message delivered by the disembodied fingers, but Daniel is called upon and correctly interprets the words. We have now come to the final part of my reporting on the CHM documents, the many handwritten notes. I am not saying that these writings suggest any coming doom, but I am certain that they require the services of a guy like Daniel. But his job was easier — if the words on his wall had been scribbled by Austrian or Hudnall, the story might have had a different ending. And so we unroyal readers, without any magic to assist, will have to team up to first agree on what the heck is he saying; and only then can we wrestle with these pages, as we can with the transcripts mentioned above, arguing what does he mean? By now, I’m pretty good at deciphering Austrian and, I think, Hudnall. But I’m no “Tyrrell,” the handwriting expert hired by Comiskey’s legal team for the 1924 trial. So my notes that follow must be read with much caution. Many pages are not in any sequence and are also untitled, for example, one which begins, “World Series Oct - 3 -1919.” It appears to be Austrian’s recap of his own involvement, jotted down for his own purposes, not for testimony. The most curious line might be the second, “Comiskey — World series saw me” — if that’s what it says. I’m pretty sure in his actual testimony, Austrian denied having any early knowledge of the fix. Another note halfway down the page is also curious. He links the phrase, “After 1st game - saw Heydler” with “Sept 1918 - Cubs, Boston American [World] Series - (War time) - ” Why is the reference to the (possibly fixed) WS of 1918 sandwiched between Commy’s going to Heydler, and the visit by O’Neil & Gleason to Redmon & Pesch (“$5500 — come clean”)? Another tidbit, off by itself: “1919 & 1920 — Investigate Bank accts” — a reference to Hunter’s detectives, employed for the Sox by Austrian. Another page has a listing of the dates of all the Series games, including the rainout on Sunday, October 5. Beneath the list are notes about Jackson: “Said before GJ he was at the Lexington Hotel / Said [in] dep[osition] it was Lexington Hotel or Warner. Says [?] certain names [?] Why? Because he knew it could be [?] he was registered at Lex Sept 30th and there until 6th.” After the last game, the writer has “(That night)” — so we see him wrestling here with the discrepancy between what Jackson said in 1920, and when he was deposed for the 1924 trial. Then there’s a page that sure looks like ASA’s writing, but what is he doing, trying to think like his 1924 opponent, Cannon? At top he lists Judge McDonald, Comiskey, Grabiner, Austrian — so maybe these jotting are Hudnall’s? — and after each, “perjury.” Below that, a second list, Felsch, Jackson, Mrs Jackson, and after each, “truth.” And below that, the question, “Didn’t GJ want to indict Comiskey?” Daniel, help! MANY of the handwritten notes appear to be jotted down as the Milwaukee trial plodded along, in January and February 1924. Some have numbers in the left margins, which refer to transcripts, and thank goodness we have multiple copies of those transcripts, although none are very handy yet. At least we do not have to strain our eyes trying to make sense of the notes. One set of notes are made while Jackson is on the stand. Austrian (or maybe Hudnall) occasionally jots “Impeachment” where he sees or thinks he sees inconsistencies between the 1920 and 1924 stories told by Jackson. He underlines things he will want to review later, or perhaps refer to in cross-questioning. My view is that these notes are interesting, but because we have so much documentation from the 1924 trial, they are less important than the legal record. Still, in the notes we get a look inside the mind of the lawyers making them. Example — as Jackson tells about his meeting with Grabiner in Savannah, which is the crux of the 1924 trial: (If G [Grabiner] had sought to induce J [Jackson] to sign contract where no danger of wife seeing it he wouldn’t have done to place 15 ft in front of door — glass in it — wife liable to look out any moment & actually appearing? the moment G got cont[ract] in pocket.) I’ve read the Milwaukee transcripts a couple times, so the notes are not as new to me as they will be to most. Sometimes they are humorous, I think. Q. You didn’t know that the $8000 in figures was in there when you signed it did you — except what Mr G told you? Jackson’s recollections of his meeting with Judge McDonald, by 1924, were quite vague. He didn’t recall talking to him at all about the 1919 Series, or whether McDonald asked him about it. Some of the handwritten pages refer to the war among the owners, or the war to oust Johnson, pick your own title. But I think most are from the Milwaukee trial. One, headlined “Real case of plaintiff [Jackson],” is of interest. It’s a simple list: 1. Rumors – Cannon, in my view, did a poor job of digging up and using the available newspaper articles. Of course, I’ve had nearly seven years and the internet, a slight advantage. The comment on Jackson’s letter is worthy of comment — I think that was a big plus for Jackson’s case, and considering that Comiskey said he wanted info (the $10,000 reward, the detectives, the meetings with Redmon and Pesch) — why ignore Jackson? The last line is also interesting. Ban Johnson — who really ticked Comiskey off in 1929 when he suggested in his memoirs (to newsmen) that he had stepped in and prevented the GJ indictment of Commy — did not show for the Milwaukee trial. His own lawyer had advised against it. Johnson was in a no-win situation. If he testified against Comiskey, he could be seen as vindictive, kicking a vulnerable Commy while he was on the ropes. And remember, Johnson was still AL President, and his employers, the AL owners, might not take kindly to the Prez piling on. The alternative was to speak up in Commy’s defense — and how believable would that be? Not to mention how painful! A page headlined “Cannon. (Opening Statement) is of interest; I’m not sure, but I don’t think the transcripts have the actual opening or closing statements, so we only have the newspaper summaries. Cannon stressed Jackson’s lack of schooling and simple life. He admitted that he took $5000. Cannon admitted that “Gandil, Cicotte, Williams” had dealing with gamblers. The story then varies from 1920. One or two days after the Series, Williams goes to Jackson’s room. “Joe, here’s something for you.” Williams and Gandil and Cicotte had all told the gamblers that Jackson had been fixed, etc. (The term “fixed” had a couple uses back then. You could “fix” a game result, or a player.) The notes on Cannon’s opening statement continue: “Jackson takes the envelope and goes to the window of Comiskey’s office. — See Grabiner. Opp[ortunity] of examining him. Important news, no mood? to talk with, ball players, etc.” Cannon will make much of the offer Jackson made to come to Chicago from Savannah. He will make much of the White Sox salaries. And of Jackson being tricked into signing a contract without the ten days clause. And Cannon will prove (so the notes go) that Comiskey knew during the world series that “6 or 7 men were implicated. Did everything possible to keep it quiet.” Then the notes have a little more space between their lines (they are all on unlined paper, by the way). Cannon has Jackson being called before Austrian, and told he was going to be indicted “in about 15 minutes.” Cannon will talk about what Grabiner knows and what Comiskey knows. Jackson “Never knew until Williams gave me money.” (That was obviously a break from 1920.) Cannon will skip ahead to the 1921 trial. “Billy Maharg. didn’t mention Jackson. Bill Burns. oil bus Tex.” He’ll recall Fullerton’s December 1919 urgings: “Comiskey never interviewed Burns.” The notes from Cannon’s partner (in this trial) Shaw follow, and it looks to me that they are from the closing. One of Shaw’s main points, I think: “Taxes credulity of honest people why J[ackson] didn’t say anything about 10 day clause.” Cannon and Shaw had hit hard on the message that the removal of that clause was a very big deal to Jackson, something he had insisted upon, and he would not have signed a contract with the clause in it. They would paint a picture that the Sox had covered-up what they knew for nearly a year. Ban Johnson making things so hot couldn’t get away with it any longer. Shaw reads that GJ testimony this way: Jackson was offered $20,000 and said “No” and said again after the 4th game that he wanted nothing to do with it. (Notice that the admission of the GJ statement into the trial has changed things; at the outset, Cannon had Jackson learning of the fix after the Series.) He notes that Judge McDonald only recalled that Jackson “did not do his best” — not that he threw any games [words & emphasis mine]. He alludes to another line of reasoning, “No gambler would pick simple minded? Joe Jackson — Felsch.” The theory here was that Jackson was perhaps too “dumb” to trust with the secret of the Fix, an argument that has survived in various forms to today. “Connection Again after World Series” [emphasis not mine]. Shaw is moving toward his climax: Was Jackson himself in the conspiracy? “No.” Yet he was “ultimately was stamped? before the world as a crook.” Shaw bends things a bit with this: “Williams said no money paid to Jackson until after series,” and you can tell that the note-taker has caught the lie. “Hell of a lot of nerve” — Jackson’s reaction. “Isnt? it? funny.” I’m going to stop there — you get the idea. The Sox lawyers are jotting down what they hear, and what they want to attack in their own summations. I believe we have here two set of notes from a different lawyers, covering much of the ground above, from Shaw’s finale. As I said, long ago now, it seems, these papers in Chicago, but especially these handwritten notes, remind me of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Sure, we could assemble a team of experts to pore over them and line them all up and make as much sense as possible out of them. But is it worth that effort, when we have the 1924 trial material? I don’t think so. And so, future visitors to the Chicago History Museum, you will do well not to get bogged down in these cursive mazes of notes. Better to make copies and puzzle them out at home. — Next Issue » Powered by: WordPress • Template by: Sean Lahman |