Free Baseball by George Vecsey Page A

but Joe Jackson, the great hitter, illiterate and vulnerable, was paid only $6,000 a year. Many players also felt Comiskey failedto honor bonus agreements, leading to a gnawing sense they were being exploited. In the definitive book on the scandal,
Eight Men Out
, published in 1963, Eliot Asinof blames Comiskey for the players' willingness to be corrupted, and so does John Sayles's brooding movie of the same name, which came out a quarter of a century later.
    Late in the 1919 season, as the White Sox prepared to play the Reds in the World Series, various characters buzzed around the Sox, trying to find somebody to corrupt. They found their man in Chick Gandil, a skillful first baseman who had turned thirty-two and was looking to make one big score before his career ran out.
    Like many clubs, even the most successful, the White Sox were split into factions based on education, temperament, and region. Seeking teammates who would go along, Gandil studiously avoided Collins, the captain and second baseman, and Schalk, the peppery little catcher.
    Gandil ultimately contacted seven other players. Buck Weaver, the third baseman, apparently sat in on the first meeting but never participated or discussed the plot. However, Gandil gained at least tacit approval from Eddie Cicotte and Williams, the two best pitchers, as well as Oscar (Happy) Felsch, the center fielder, Fred Mc-Mullin, a reserve infielder, Swede Risberg, the shortstop, and Joe Jackson, the right fielder, one of the great hitters of his time or any other time.
    The gamblers, as dysfunctional as the eight White Sox players, could produce only $10,000 before the start of the Series. Gandil invested it all in Cicotte, a veteran pitcher with a family, a mortgage, and a grudge against Comiskey.
    As the best-of-nine Series opened in Cincinnati, there was a new player in this crooked game, as dominant in his world as Joe Jackson was in his. Arnold Rothstein from New York was less of a gambler than a believer in sure things. He did not want to confirm his bet until he had a sign that the fix was in, so he told his intermediaries that Cicotte should hit the first batter with a pitch, as a sign of good faith. Keeping track in New York, Rothstein watched the Teletype clatter that Cicotte had hit Morrie Rath with the first pitch, andonly then did Rothstein lay down $100,000 on the Reds. Cicotte paid off, lasting only three innings in a 9–1 loss. Other players in on the plot began demanding their share of the money, but Williams came through with one wild inning in a 4–2 loss, putting the White Sox behind, two games to none.
    Many fans and bettors, stunned to see the favored White Sox falling behind so decisively, traded rumors of a blatant dump. Comiskey, knowing the high talent level of his players, sensed something was wrong and late one night shared his concerns with Heydler, the president of the rival league. Comiskey would not have this conversation with Johnson, the president of his own league, because the two of them despised each other. Heydler relayed Comiskey's concerns to Johnson, whose reaction was: “That is the whelp of a beaten cur.”
    Inevitably, the seven active participants became resentful when the next installment of payoffs did not come through. Most of them reverted to trying hard on every play, which made it easier for Dickie Kerr, a small rookie pitcher, to win the third game for Chicago. Cicotte and Williams made sure the White Sox lost the fourth and fifth games at home and the Series reverted to Cincinnati, where Kerr won again. Cicotte, perhaps sensing this plot would all come crashing down on him, pitched his best in the seventh game and won. But when the Series returned to Chicago for the eighth game, Williams was warned by a menacing stranger that his family would be harmed if he did not cooperate. The Reds scored four runs in the first inning, and soon Cincinnati became the champion. Arnold Rothstein made a bundle, mostly by not betting on