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The '48 Indians: One Last Hurrah
Against a backdrop of Bill Veeck hullabaloo, a team of aging stars, journeymen and young players on the way up blended to treat their fans to an unforgettable season.
By Hal Lebovitz, SPORT, June 1965
On a chilly October 12, 1948, a crowd estimated at more than 300,000 lined Cleveland's main drag, Euclid Avenue, and cheered wildly as a caravan of convertibles went by. Inside the convertibles were the Cleveland Indians, world champions of baseball; they had just taken part in the wildest, wackiest, most dramatic—and melodramatic—season in the history of the American League and, possibly, in the history of all baseball. This was a strange team, made up of a few stars, several youngsters, some old veterans and numerous castoffs. They had all blended together for one last hurrah, winning the pennant in an historic playoff game and then winning the World Series. The following September, with proper funeral ceremony, coffin, hearse and all, the pennant was buried in the outfield at Cleveland's ballpark. This was a one-year team, and an unforgettable team. Leading the cast of characters, literal characters, was the producer of this team of destiny: Bill Veeck, iconoclast. The picture of Veeck remains constant today: never a necktie, an open-necked sport shirt, sans overcoat, even in the coldest weather. Bill Veeck. Showboat, showman, carny man, con man, a man who admittedly will use chicanery and cajolery to reach his goal. A baseball man, who grew up as the son of a baseball man. And, above all, almost a genius. Bill Veeck stormed into Cleveland in June, 1946. He bought an inept ballclub that received little acknowledgement from the fans and, suddenly, he had the fans acknowledging the club. He had them coming in crowds to see the Indians. Almost every time they came, they saw different Indians. Veeck's gag line was: "We've got three teams—one here, one coming and one going." Finally, during the 1948 season, he had the team he wanted. It included:
JOE GORDON: The unofficial team captain ... obtained from the Yankees for Allie Reynolds prior to '47 season ... Loose, acrobatic second baseman ... generally easy-going disposition, but could rise in fury when riled ... once riled by a motorist, who cut in front of him, and punched the motorist ... obtained for immediate results, being near the end of his career ... responded in 1948 with 32 homers and 124 RBI, the best season of his life. GENE BEARDEN: A throw-in in the Gordon deal ... Yanks gave Indians pick of several minor-league pitchers, and Casey Stengel, Veeck's friend, who was then managing Oakland, recommended 27-year-old knuckleballer Bearden ... Cleveland kept him in '48 only because there was a desperate need for a left-hander, any left-hander ... became a one-year phenom winning 20 and losing 7 ... lowest ERA, 2.34, in the league and was voted Rookie of the Year ... faded just as fast and the theory is that when Stengel took over the Yanks in '49 he advised his hitters to "lay off the knuckler," it being too low to be called a strike ... the information spread throughout the league and Bearden was finished ... happy-go-lucky and strikingly good-looking, he became the favorite of the bobby-soxers. BOB FELLER: Came off Iowa farm in 1936 and became a strikeout pitcher supreme ... the best pitcher in all baseball most of his career and now a Hall of Famer ... was 20-11 in 1947 and was expected to be ace of the staff again in '48, but was not ... was 19-15 in '48. BOB LEMON: Had kicked around with Indians as an infielder and outfielder ... finally was tried as a pitcher July 31, 1946, and had 4-5 season ... followed with 11-5 year and zoomed to 20-14 in 1948 ... great sense of humor ... always tugged at his cap before each pitch and once Joe McCarthy, Red Sox manager, falsely accused him of having "something" on the cap that helped him doctor the ball. Umpire made him change cap. Next day Lemon walked across diamond wearing Red Sox owner Tom Yawkey's fedora. KEN KELTNER: Though only 31 in 1948, was near end of his career ... steady third baseman ... promised a $5,000 bonus by Veeck if he had good year in '47. Batted .257 and was surprised when Veeck called him into office and gave him the money. Many say bonus helped spur him to hit .297 in '48, with 31 homers and 119 RBI. JIM HEGAN: Developed in Cleveland farm system ... picture-book catcher ... extremely popular with fans and pitchers ... Boudreau called pitching signals from shortstop early in '48, but when he discovered Bill Dickey of Yanks was intercepting them during a New York batting spree he returned the duty to Hegan ... proof of Hegan's success: eight Cleveland pitchers finished with ERAs under 3.00. LARRY DOBY: Joined the Indians July 3, 1947 ... first Negro in American League ... had played second base for Newark Eagles in Negro League but was outfielder with Cleveland ... was 22 and highly sensitive ... subject to great pressure ... batted .156 first year and Indians planned to send him out for more seasoning, but had great spring in '48 and was kept as regular outfielder ... rose above the many obstacles to bat .301 with 14 homers, 66 RBI in '48. STEVE GROMEK: Former infielder converted to pitcher ... excellent control ... Injured in 1947 and had 3-5 record ... was 9-3 in '48 ... enjoyed hiding reporters' typewriters, but stopped when one writer retaliated by hiding his baseball shoes. DALE MITCHELL: As a rookie in '47, batted .316 ... batted .336 in '48 ... spray hitter ... fine speed ... left fielder ... hit safely in 21 straight games in '48. EDDIE ROBINSON: First baseman with good power ... batted .254 in '48, his second year in majors. THURMAN TUCKER: Obtained in trade with White Sox after '47 ... won center-field job, played there first 30 games, had finger broken by a pitch and sidelined full month ... started 53 games all season and team won 38 of these, a .719 average, nearly 100 points above season's average ... claim to fame: close resemblance to comic Joe E. Brown. HAL PECK: Veeck's personal good-luck charm ... had played outfield for Veeck in Milwaukee and Bill asked for him to be included in deal with Yanks that brought Gordon to Cleveland ... shot off toes in hunting accident ... arm operation handicapped his throwing ... batted .286, coming through with key pinch hits. HANK EDWARDS: Outfielder tabbed "hard luck Henry" because of repetition of injuries ... injured shoulder making fine, game-saving catch late in season and could not play in the World Series. DON BLACK: Had played with Athletics, never reaching his potential because of a drinking problem ... Veeck promised to take him in '46 and give him a chance if he'd join Alcoholics Anonymous ... He joined and pitched no-hitter in '47 ... spot pitcher in '48 ... never pitched again. JOHNNY BERARDINO: Now seen on TV as "Dr. Steve Hardy" in General Hospital ... Veeck gave St. Louis Browns $50,000 and a player for him to strengthen infield bench for '48 ... was a movie actor even then and one of Veeck's stunts was to have Johnny's face insured ... appeared in 66 games. ALLIE CLARK: Wanting more power for the outfield, Veeck gave Yanks Red Embree, a good pitcher, for him ... an ironworker in off-season ... could squeeze a beer can flat with one hand ... played 81 games and batted .310. WALT JUDNICH and BOB MUNCRIEF: Both obtained for '48 from the Browns for $25,000 and players ... Judnich was utility outfielder ... Muncrief was pitcher. JOE TIPTON: Second-string catcher, behind Hegan, which was like being on vacation. RUSS CHRISTOPHER: Had a heart condition and couldn't qualify for many jobs ... Veeck offered Athletics $25,000 for the tall, skinny, right-hander and Connie Mack didn't want to take the money because of Russ' poor health ... Russ desired to play, however, and insisted, "If I die, let me die pitching" ... Was used in relief, for an inning or a pitch at a time and became known as "one-pitch Christopher" ... was under doctor's supervision all season ... Never pitched again and died in 1954. BOB KENNEDY: Strong-armed outfielder obtained from the White Sox just before the '48 trade deadline ... was fiery leader. SAM ZOLDAK: Left-handed pitcher obtained from Browns at trade deadline for $100,000 ... would sit in a clubhouse and say to teammates: "They paid $100,000 for me. How much are you worth?" ... used as starter and reliefer ... had 9-6 record.
Get any group of Clevelanders together, age 30 or over, mention 1948 and the above names tumble out as the memories come flooding back. Virtually every Clevelander of walking age saw at least one game at the ballpark that hectic, historic year. And some Clevelanders not yet able to walk saw games, too. Among Veeck's many gimmicks was a baby service at Municipal Stadium. Bring the baby, drop him off, then watch the game. Game after game, fans jammed into the park to set attendance records. Incredibly the average crowd per home date was over 40,000. The final total—2,620,627—established an all-time high. Cleveland lived and died with the team. A victory made it a cheery town. Gloom followed a loss. In offices and homes radio sets were tuned up to catch every pitch. On residential streets, the play-by-play blared from every window. Ironically, before the season, the fans seemed ready to boycott the team. The anger began when the St. Louis Browns offered Veeck Vern Stephens, plus other players, for Boudreau. Veeck did not think Boudreau was an exceptional manager and he considered the deal. The story broke and the fans reacted with anger. Veeck, extremely popular until then, suddenly was about to commit an unpardonable crime. One newspaper published a "Boudreau Ballot" and fans overwhelmingly voted for his retention. Regardless, Bill was prepared to go through with the deal, firmly convinced it would strengthen the team. But the Browns withdrew the offer. Veeck then brilliantly turned the reversal to his advantage. He rushed back to Cleveland, hobbled from one street corner to another (one leg had been amputated the year before to prevent the spread of osteomyelitis caused by a war injury) to talk with the fans personally. "If you really want Lou, we'll keep him," was his theme.
Veeck soon discovered why the Browns had called off the deal. The Red Sox had made them a better offer. Boston got Stephens and pitcher Jack Kramer and became a top contender. As the season opened the Indians didn't figure as contenders for the pennant. The most optimistic Cleveland writers picked them no higher than third. Gambling odds against Cleveland winning were a 20-1 shot. The Yanks and Red Sox were 5-6 and the Tigers 8-1. A record opening day turnout of 73,163 saw Feller shut out the Browns on two hits. Lemon won the next one, beating the Tigers, 8-2, and Feller came back to beat them, 4-1. That was the beginning of six successive victories. The Indians then lost the next four. The hot team, one nobody had given a chance, was the Philadelphia Athletics. Feller lost his effectiveness and someone—anyone—was needed. Boudreau gave Bearden his first start on May 8 and Gene responded with a three-hit, 8-1 victory over Washington. Through the entire season it was a torrid four-team race. The A's refused to fall out until September when their veteran shortstop Eddie Joost was sidelined by injury. Feller's inconsistency until after the All-Star game kept the Indians from breaking far in front. They moved up and down until May 31 when they took over first place and stayed there until July 24. On that day they lost and fell to third, so tight was the race. They came back to hold the lead most of August, while Al Simmons, A's coach, was telling the world: "Don't worry about the Indians. They'll choke up. They always do." From rival dugouts came the choke-up sign—forefinger and thumb to throat—and when on Labor Day the Indians fell 4-1/2 games out of first, people around the league were saying, "We told you so." Even the fickle fans in Cleveland agreed it was all over. But the Indians kept trying. And everyone helped. Like groundskeeper Emil Bossard, who carefully custom built the diamond for every home game. Other teams did this, too, but Bossard was incomparable. The pick-and-shovel artist slanted the foul lines to favor the Indians. And because Keltner, Gordon and Boudreau were slow, Bossard made the infield soft and slow, giving them time to catch up to hard grounders. The Indians put rookie pitcher Ernie Groth in the scoreboard. Armed with powerful binoculars, Groth picked off the catcher's signs, more than 500 feet away. Seated at the base of the scoreboard, wearing white trousers, was Marshall Bossard, Emil's son. Groth would tell him what the pitch would be and Bossard would signal the bench. For a fastball Bossard sat motionless. For a curve he crossed his legs. The Cleveland batters knew which pitches were coming. There were many memorable moments through the season: There was the day Boudreau had used up so many players in an effort to beat the White Sox he ran out of catchers and had to put himself behind the plate the final two innings. There was the day Larry Doby camped under a fly, lost it in the sun and the ball hit him squarely on the top of his head, resulting in a loss to the A's. From then on, whenever the Indians visited Philadelphia, a loud-mouthed, imaginative A's fan sat behind the Tribe dugout wearing a steel helmet. Each time Doby came to the plate the fan would bang the helmet with a stick. There was the day Doby hit a home run against the loudspeakers above the wall in deep center in Griffith Stadium, said at the time to be the hardest ball ever hit there. The ball bounced back into the playing field and Larry, not realizing it was an automatic homer, raced around the bases and slid into the plate. There was the day Boudreau stole home on Red Sox catcher Matt Batts, who argued so violently with the umpire that he forgot Eddie Robinson was on first base. During the argument Robbie jogged to second, making Sox manager McCarthy so angry he came out of the dugout and kicked Batts squarely in the seat of the pants. There was Bob Lemon's no-hitter, June 30, in Detroit. In the fourth inning George Kell hit a line drive down the left-field line that was caught, miraculously, by Dale Mitchell. No one else came close to making a hit. Kell came up again with two outs in the ninth. Lemon's second pitch was so wide, Hegan merely waved at it. The catcher got a new ball from umpire Cal Hubbard and walked out to Bob. "Lem was white as a sheet," Hegan recalled later. "I said, ‘Let's get this guy out.' Lem didn't seem to hear me. I stood there until he finally muttered, ‘Okay.' Kell hit the next pitch straight back to Bob. He ran three-fourths of the way to first before he threw the ball and it wasn't until the umpire motioned ‘out' that he seemed to come out of shock." There was the first crowd above 80,000—82,681 to be exact—that overflowed the Stadium to see a doubleheader against the A's. They saw the Indians win two, taking the second on a pinch-hit by Veeck's boy, Peck. There was the doubleheader of August 8. Robinson hit three homers that day against the Yankees, but the fans walked out talking about a single. Boudreau had been badly injured a few days earlier and he was on the bench as the doubleheader began; only two points separated the Indians, A's and Yankees, the top three teams, and the Red Sox in fourth, 1-1/2 games out of first. In the seventh inning of the first game, Cleveland trailed, 6-4. With the bases loaded and two out, Thurman Tucker came to bat. The Yanks brought in their ace reliever, Joe Page. Time was called. A pinch-hitter was coming in for Cleveland. Whom would Lou put in? He put himself in. He walked with a limp to the plate and singled to tie the score. The Indians won both games. There was the night in Washington with the score tied 6-6 in the bottom of the tenth with one out; Ed Stewart of the Senators was on third base. Boudreau called time and sent Bob Kennedy in to play right field. The next hitter flied deep to right. Kennedy backed to the wall to get a running start, moved in toward the ball, caught it and rifled it home. Stewart was out at the plate and was so astonished by the throw he remained on the ground for a full minute after the inning was over. In the eleventh Kennedy singled home the winning run. There was the afternoon Lemon pitched eight scoreless innings against the White Sox, then lost in the ninth, 3-2. A writer approached Lemon in the clubhouse afterward and asked, "What did you throw?" The usually pleasant pitcher replied in unprintable terms and the next day Boudreau called the reporters together. "I don't want anything to happen to upset the team," Boudreau said. "I'd like to strike a bargain with you fellows. Would you agree not to come into the clubhouse after the games? I promise to meet you in my office, answer all questions and get any information you may want from the players." In a rare pact the Cleveland writers, as eager for a pennant as Boudreau, agreed to cooperate. There were Veeck's stunts: strolling bands, fireworks, orchids and nylons for the females. Something was going on at the Stadium every night and one rooter suggested facetiously in a letter: "Why not have a night for me, good old Joe Earley, just a fan?" Veeck proclaimed "Joe Earley Night," and gave old Joe a vanful of gifts, including assorted farm animals, from chickens to a swayback horse, plus numerous valuable household items. Not long afterward the customers held a night for Veeck, a unique honor for an owner.
The quote was published and attributed to an unnamed Cleveland player. Veeck quickly came to the defense of the fans, who were filling his park at record rates. Cheers soon drowned out the boos, but not for long. When Feller was named to the All-Star team (because of his reputation), Boudreau and Veeck met and decided Bob needed a rest. A vacation during the All-Star break, they decided, would revive him for the second half of the season. They called him in and asked him to withdraw from the All-Star Game. Bob reluctantly did. Immediately editorials criticized him for this "shameful" act. Bob said it was his idea, refusing to reveal he was following orders from his superiors. Now he really heard boos, tormenting ones, the instant he showed his face in any park. But he remained silent. And the rest cure worked. The second half of the season he was again a great pitcher. The boos subsided. There was the controversial signing of "ancient" Satchel Paige. Secretly, Veeck invited Paige to town, phoned Boudreau and said, "I've got a pitcher I want you to look over." Lou came down to the Stadium, blinked in disbelief when he saw Satch. "Leroy," as Veeck always called him, jogged a bit, said, "I'm ready." Lou caught him and batted against him. Remarkably, all but four of Paige's pitches were over the plate. "I'll take him," said Lou and Satch joined the club. "This time Veeck has gone too far," people said. The Sporting News blistered Bill for signing the "old man" as, the papers said, a publicity stunt, pure and simple. Veeck remained silent. In games, the tall, skinny right-hander would amble slowly to the mound. "Why hurry into trouble?" he would say. And, inevitably, he would easily handle the trouble. Further, Paige was a great gate attraction. He drew a sell-out crowd when he pitched in Chicago. Detroit drew a standing-room-only crowd when it was erroneously announced he was scheduled to pitch. On August 20, his start against the last-place White Sox attracted 78,382 to Cleveland's ballpark, largest night crowd in the history of baseball. Satch pitched a 1-0 three-hitter, "for the folks." Veeck added to the attraction by saying Paige "must be at least 50 or 60." Satch really was under 40 and offered to pay $500 to anyone who could prove he played ball before 1927. An enterprising fan went to Chattanooga to uncover a box score showing a "Satchell" had pitched in 1926. "That's me," admitted Paige, "I must have slept out a year." Veeck was forced to pay off for his pitcher. Further evidence revealed Satch was 16 that year, making him 38 in 1948, but Veeck scoffed at it and said, "Even his mama doesn't know how old he is." Satch, more inventive, added to the attraction, too. He told reporters he had a "be ball—because it be where I want it to be." Other pitches of his, he said, were "a whipsy-dipsy-do, a single curve, a double curve and a triple curve." Actually he had virtually no breaking pitch and was successful chiefly because of his amazing control. In warmups he would take the tobacco out of a cigarette butt, use the tiny paper for home plate, then throw strike after strike over it. Satch helped keep the team loose. He called Feller "Bob Rapid" and Hegan "Big Catch." He said the Indians' goal was to play in the "World Serious." Satch burped often, the result of a stomach condition he attributed to South American food. Once Hegan gave him the sign for a fastball. Satch leaned forward and stared at the signal. Then he stepped off the rubber. When he returned to position Hegan gave him the sign again. After another long look, Satch backed off once more. This time Hegan reluctantly gave the sign for a curve. Again Satch stared and stepped off. Hegan went to the mound and said, "C'mon Satch. I've called everything you've got." "I got gas, Big Catch," said Satch. He produced a giant belch. "Ah, I'm okay now." And he was. Satch's pitching motions and mannerisms drove umpires and batters to distraction. He'd wiggle his fingers and occasionally he'd employ his delayed delivery, the "hesitation pitch." Often the umpires would call balks. "They don't know the rules," Satch would say forgivingly. But Boudreau didn't always see Satch as humorously as his teammates did. Satch had no conception of time, or space or place. He would report in the afternoon for a night game, and vice versa. Once he failed to show up at Yankee Stadium. Fortunately the game was called because of rain. "I knew it was gonna happen," explained Satch. Boudreau fined him $50. He missed a train from New York to Boston and when the team arrived Satch was there waiting. "I took a bird," he said. Boudreau fined him again. Finally, Lou handed him a schedule and said, "I'm going to ask you for this every day, Satch. If you're ever without it, it'll be an automatic $100 fine." But even Lou often had to walk away quickly so his smile wouldn't show. Satch was fun and games and simply too good a pitcher. Even The Sporting News eventually admitted its editorial comment might have been premature. There was the day tragedy struck, September 13. Don Black was the Cleveland pitcher, and in the second inning he came to bat, swung, staggered, turned a small circle around umpire Bill Summers, muttered, "My God, Bill, what's happened?" and sagged to the ground, unconscious. The 31-year-old pitcher was rushed to Charity Hospital where examination revealed a hemorrhage on the brain. A blood vessel had snapped, causing blood to flood his skull. Don hovered between life and death for weeks. He survived, but his days as an active athlete were over. Veeck announced a Don Black Night to be held on a date the Indians were scheduled to play a day game against the league-leading Red Sox. Veeck said he wanted the largest possible crowd to turn out for Black's benefit and he asked Joe Cronin, the Red Sox general manager, for permission to play the game at night. Cronin was in no position to refuse, although his manager Joe McCarthy fretted. "You watch, we'll have to face Feller under the lights," said McCarthy. "I'd much rather play him in the day-time." Feller did pitch and, with 76,772 people looking on, he beat the Sox, 5-2, pulling the Indians into a first-place tie. The date was September 22 and the Indians, accused of choking up, had come back. Further, Veeck turned over the Indians' entire cut of the gate, $40,380, to the Black family. (Black died in 1959.) There was the unprecedented playoff game. Shortly after the Don Black Night, the Indians, Red Sox and Yanks were tied for first, with just seven games to go. The Indians moved to two games in front with three remaining. It was cut to one, with two left. On the final Saturday, Cleveland beat the Tigers to clinch a tie and the Red Sox knocked off the Yankees. Cleveland was one game in front of Boston. On Sunday, the last day of the season, Feller was named to pitch against the Tigers. A victory and the Indians were in. Suddenly Veeck didn't trust himself. If the Cleveland game were called for any reason he would have the pennant, there being no provision for rescheduling at that time. Veeck phoned Will Harridge, president of the American League. "Send somebody up here to take charge," he said. "I might be tempted to call the game if there's one cloud in the sky." Harridge sent Tommy Connolly, his umpire-in-chief. Sunday turned out to be a beautiful day—in Boston, not Cleveland. Hal Newhouser of the Tigers beat Cleveland, 7-1. The Red Sox beat the Yankees, 10-5. A playoff game for the pennant would be played in Boston the following afternoon. Boudreau called a squad meeting. "This is your game, men," he said. "I'd like to hear your suggestions about our pitcher for tomorrow." Joe Gordon stood up. "Lou, you've taken us this far," said Gordon. "We're with you all the way. You name the pitcher." Lemon had pitched Friday, Bearden Saturday and Feller had just finished working. "It'll be Bearden," said Boudreau. "But don't tell anybody. Let's keep the Red Sox guessing." On the overnight train ride to Boston, Keltner, taking a few extra beers to relax, had to be put to bed by his teammates. The unconcerned Bearden sat up late playing cards. The next day Boston's Fenway Park was jammed. "Who's going to pitch for the Indians?" people asked. The Red Sox sent several spies into the Tribe clubhouse for clues. Lemon and Feller both had rubdowns. Only one day's rest behind him, Bearden nonchalantly sat on the dugout steps. Finally, shortly before game-time, Bearden began to warm up. Meanwhile, the Sox starter proved a greater surprise. To this day manager McCarthy is being second guessed for his choice of Denny Galehouse. In truth, McCarthy had delegated his catcher Birdie Tebbetts to discover privately "who wants to pitch." Birdie found most of the regulars weren't about to volunteer. Galehouse was eager to work. Several weeks earlier he had shut out the Indians in a lengthy relief victory. Galehouse's willingness, coupled with his earlier success, won him the nomination. Amid thick tension, the Red Sox scored a run off Bearden in the first inning. Boudreau tied it up with a homer. After that Bearden settled down. In the fourth Boudreau singled, Gordon singled and Keltner hit a three-run homer. Boudreau hit a homer in the sixth and Cleveland won the pennant, 8-3. That night a victory celebration was held in the Kenmore Hotel. The pressure finally was off, and the liquid flowed. Keltner reminded Tipton of a card debt he hadn't paid. Tipton's reply prompted Kenny to throw a punch. Tipton ducked and the punch hit Lemon. But soon everybody became "the greatest guy in the world." An unforgettable scene was Zoldak, tears streaming down his face, bawling to Veeck: "Bill, I'm really not worth $100,000." Boudreau called for a minute of silent prayer for Don Black, still on the critical list in Charity Hospital and reminded the players to report to Braves Field the next day for a workout prior to the World Series opener. They showed up, most of them in no condition to practice.
In the fifth game Feller got his chance again, before 86,288 in Cleveland, but this time didn't have it, losing 11-5. The Indians won the series in Boston the next day. The pitching heroes of the World Series were Lemon (two victories), Bearden (one victory, a shutout, as a starter, and a great relief job) and Gromek (one victory). The hitting heroes were Doby (.318 and 11 total bases), Robinson (.300) and Boudreau (.273 and ten total bases). Kennedy hit .500 as a pinch-hitter and Tucker hit .333 as a pinch-hitter. The train ride home was wild. Veeck poured milk, water and champagne on everyone. Bottles of sparkling Burgundy were opened and aimed like guns. The entire dining car was a shambles and a worried conductor said, "You'll have to pay for this." "Send the bill," replied traveling secretary Spud Goldstein. The bill came to $3,000. When the players arrived at the Terminal they were greeted by a howling mob. Fortunately most of the players had topcoats to throw over their burgundy-stained clothes. Then the victory parade down Euclid Avenue began. Said rookie Al Rosen: "There can't be another baseball city like this anywhere." There wasn't. Not in 1948.
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