The SABR BioProject, which succinctly chronicles the lives of ballplayers throughout history, has released a few bios of players of interest to St. Louis baseball fans: Syl Johnson, John Tudor, Baby Doll Jacobson and Cal Eldred.
Johnson was a less-known member of the legendary Gas House Cardinal teams of the ’30s, but he is most notable for his work in baseball outside the lines in 1937:
That season Johnson began a campaign to create a pension plan for retired baseball players who had played for ten years. The 36-year-old veteran pointed to the major leagues’ pension plan for umpires. “Umpires are entitled to a pension after 15 years of service,” he pointed out to sportswriters. “Why shouldn’t a player receive the same reward? I’d like to see each ten-year man become eligible for a pension of $75 a month, with $5 for each additional year of service. There are not many players with that length of service in the majors.” Johnson tried to pitch his idea to Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis and the owners during the winter meetings of 1938, but his proposal fell on deaf ears. (Nine years later, in April 1947, Commissioner Happy Chandler and Yankees boss Larry MacPhail helped create a pension plan for retired players.)
Tudor is of course well-known, if not nearly as ubiquitous as Fox Sports Midwest’s Eldred, as a hero of the Cardinals’ pennant-winning clubs in the late ’80s. Writes Rory Costello:
Tudor’s game face was severe: lips compressed, eyes boring in. His intensity carried over off the field as well. “He was also combative, curt, and bluntly honest; when he considered a question stupid, he said so.”[4]His disappointment in losing Game Seven of the 1985 World Series is well remembered – he sliced his hand punching an electric fan in the clubhouse.
Yet to focus on this aspect of a complex personality is far too simplistic, as writers strove to recognize during Tudor’s career. “Even friends and acquaintances differ in their perspectives,” wrote Ross Newhan of the Los Angeles Times in 1988.[5] First, Tudor didn’t like to talk about himself – he was refreshingly free of ego. His acerbic wit could also be playful. He was intelligent, introspective, and demanding – of himself more than anyone. “I’m only concerned about doing my job,” he told Newhan. “I try to be as honest as I can, though that’s where I’ve gotten in trouble in the past.”
Jacobson was an underrated slugger with the Browns — lifetime wOBA of .373 — though not unappreciated in his day: He earned MVP votes in three straight years (1924-26). BioGrapher Bill Nowlin relates a turning point in the Cable, Il., native’s career:
Jacobson was 28 when he returned from the service, and he hit well over .300 for each of the next seven seasons, beginning with .323 in 1919 and – playing every game of the season – a career-high .355 in 1920 – driving in 122 runs, tied with teammate George Sisler, with the two of them second only to Babe Ruth’s 137 RBIs. In the offseason, he worked as a millwright in a tractor works. Jacobson was the center fielder for St. Louis throughout. He credited manager Jimmy Burke for helping turn his career around when, before the 1919 season, Burke called him aside. He asked Jacobson, “Say, you big stiff. Where’s your wife?” Jacobson said she was in Illinois. Burke said he thought she always stayed with him during the season, and Jacobson replied she did, when he was settled down for the summer. “Send for your wife today,” Burke told him. “You’re settled down for the summer.” He’d made the team and wasn’t going to be sent down again. He told reporter John B. Sheridan that he had started seeing the ball than he ever had before, now that he was relieved of the worry he’d always had. “After five years of trial and five years of failure I have made good at last. That’s all I know. Whatever improvement I have shown is due to Burke’s four words, ‘Send for your wife.’ When Burke made that crack, he made me a success where I had been one of the most pitiable failures in baseball.”
Though Bill Johnson doesn’t mention Eldred’s faith (a vital part of his life story; he has been involved in Baseball Chapel, an international ministry that offers encouragement to players through the gospel), he describes the career of the Cardinal righty who despite adversity went out on top. He relates the story of how Eldred came to St. Louis:
Frustrated but looking at life realistically, Cal spent the rest of 2001 and the entire 2002 baseball season doing everything but playing baseball. He spent the time with his family in Iowa, completely resting his damaged elbow. After a great deal of reflection and self-evaluation, he came to understand that his inner, competitive fire was not yet extinguished. Eighteen months after walking off the mound, he gingerly picked up, and tossed, a baseball again.
He expected pain, but it did not come. Encouraged, he gathered [wife] Christi and the family and headed to Arizona, where he could continue working out. Again he told Tiernan McKay, “At first I wasn’t sure about everything that was happening. Then I figured I had nothing to lose and everything to gain, so I went for it.” On November 6, 2002, he held a public workout for approximately twenty scouts, and threw well enough to convince the St Louis Cardinals to sign him as a free agent in the offseason.