1. sports
2. baseball

Baseball's Immortal Red Stockings
by LEE ALLEN
The origin of baseball as an amateur endeavor is shrouded in
doubt. It was, originally, a game for boys, and grew up without
printed rules or documentary evidence of any kind as to its earliest days.
But the origin of professional baseball is undisputed: The
first entirely professional team was supplied by the Cincinnati
Red Stockings of 1869, a club that played from Maine to California wherever opposition could be found. The Red Stockings
engaged in sixty-five games without once losing, traveled nearly
twelve thousand miles by rail and boat, appeared before more
than two hundred thousand spectators, and scored 2,395 runs to
575 for their opponents.
The importance of the Red Stockings to baseball history does
not lie in their extraordinary achievement on the field, impressive
though that was. Their contribution consisted of establishing the
fact that baseball could succeed on a professional basis. They drew
so much attention to the game that clubs began to spring up in
their wake as indiscriminately as dandelions. These clubs grew
so strong that by 1871 they were able to form baseball's first
major league, The National Association of Professional Baseball
Players, forerunner of the National League of which Cincinnati is
still a member.
The first baseball club of any kind was organized in Cincinnati
in 1860 by Matthew M. Yorston, a resident of the city. He made
by hand the baseballs that were used, and the team played
informally at various sites in the downtown area: at the foot of
Eighth Street, near the present location of the Crane & Breed
Manufacturing Company; at the Orphan Asylum lot on Elm
Street, where Music Hall now stands; on the old potter's field that
is now Lincoln Park; and eventually in the Millcreek bottoms,
where the Red Stockings were at home and where the Union
Terminal was later built.
As an amateur team, the Red Stockings were formed on July
23, 1866, at the law offices of Tilden, Sherman & Moulton, in the
old Selves Building, 17}^ West Third Street. The original members included some of the most prominent citizens of the city.
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Among them were Alfred T. Goshorn, Aaron B. Champion,
Henry Glassford, William Tilden, J. William Johnson, and
George B. Ellard. Baseball at the time supplied activity for
gentlemen at leisure, and among the Cincinnatians interested
enough in the sport to participate were Bellamy Storer, Drausin
Wulsin, Stanley Matthews, J. Wayne Neff, John R. McLean, and
Andrew Hickenlooper.
There was no thought of professionalism, at least until
August 1865, when William Henry (Harry) Wright, a native of
England and resident of New York, was brought to Cincinnati
at a salary of $1,200 a year to serve as bowler for the Union Cricket
Club, which had been in existence since 1856. Wright was more
interested in baseball, however, than cricket. In 1867 the Red
Stockings leased the Union Cricket Club's grounds, and many of
the cricket players became members of the baseball team, an
event that gave the comparatively new game greater emphasis.
Attendance increased rapidly at the baseball games, and
Wright became the leader of the movement to form a professional
team. This was the natural outgrowth of the desire for victory.
The lower classes supplied the best players, and these athletes
were principally interested in money, an attitude that is not
difficult to understand.
But the decision to turn professional was not received enthusiastically in all quarters. One of the early amateur players, George
A. Wiltsee, later in life explained the point of view. In 1916, in a
conversation with William A. Phelon, baseball writer for the
Cincinnati Times-Star, he said:
Professional ballplayers were under a social ban, and the
amateurs were not supposed to associate with them or even
recognize them off the field - the only conversation between
the two classes was on the diamond, and limited to subjects
of the game. When the great Eastern players who composed
the majority of the Reds were imported to Cincinnati, a
trick was resorted to - a trick which has been copied at many
a college and by many a semi-professional or alleged amateur
ball club in more modern days. All these professionals were
given jobs in the business houses of the team's backers jobs where they reported every morning, were visible to
callers or doubtful skeptics, and drew small salaries, although
few of them ever did a stroke of work. In this manner, the gap
between amateur and professional was bridged; the Reds
became, nominally, local businessmen who didn't have to play
RED STOCKINGS OF 1869
— From Harper's Weekly, July 3, 1869
Baseball's Immortal Red Stockings
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ball for a living and, slowly, month by month, the barrier
between 'gentlemen' and 'professionals' was broken down.
The team assembled as the Red Stockings of 1869 was as follows:
PLAYER
AGE
Harry Wright
Asa Brainard
Douglas Allison
Charles H. Gould
Charles J. Sweasy
Fred A. Waterman
George Wright
Andrew J. Leonard
Calvin A. McVey
Richard Hurley
"OCCUPATION"
Jeweler
Insurance
Marble cutter
Bookkeeper
Hatter
Insurance
Engraver
Hatter
Piano maker
None
35
25
22
21
21
23
22
23
20
20
POSITION
Center field
Pitcher
Catcher
First base
Second base
Third base
Shortstop
Left field
Right field
Substitute
SALA
$1,200
$1,100
$ 800
$ 800
$ 800
$1,000
$1,400
$ 800
$ 600
$ 600
It is interesting to observe that Gould was the only player
on the squad who was a native Cincinnatian. Leonard and Sweasy
were residents of Newark, New Jersey; George Wright, Waterman,
and Brainard came from New York City; Allison from Philadelphia, New Jersey, and McVey from Indianapolis, Indiana.
George Wright, a brother of Harry, was the first acquisition.
He was such a celebrated shortstop that small boys used to say,
"I'd rather be Wright (George) than President." The pitcher,
Brainard, was next obtained, and it was then believed imperative
to find a catcher who could hold him. Colonel John P. Joyce,
secretary of the club, and Alfred T. Goshorn went East to find one,
and stopped first at the Continental Hotel in Philadelphia.
Goshorn was not feeling well and remained in his room, but Joyce
went out for a walk. He ended up in the suburb of Manyunk, and
perched on a fence to watch a sandlot game. Doug Allison was
catching, and Joyce's first impression was that he was ungainly.
But at bat Allison suddenly began to move with grace and hit a
long home run to center field. After the game, Joyce introduced
himself to Allison and took him on a carriage back to the Continental. Telling Doug to wait, he rushed up to Goshorn's room and
said, "Goshorn, I've got him." They both went to the street, and
Allison was found sitting there in the carriage, a tanned and freckled country boy whose boots and clothes were covered with
brickyard clay. On his head was a twenty-five cent straw hat
with half the rim gone. Joyce and Goshorn bought him a suit,
made him get a haircut, and took him on the train back to
Cincinnati.
Baseball's Immortal Red Stockings
195
It seems singularly appropriate that this great, undefeated
team should have had as its president a man named Aaron Burt
Champion, a gentleman of real distinction and a man who
devoted his life to public service. Born at Columbus, Ohio, on
February 9, 1842, he attended Antioch College when the famed
educator, Horace Mann, was president of that institution. He
became an attorney and began to practice in Cincinnati in 1863.
In 1872 he was a delegate from the second Ohio district to the
national convention at Baltimore which nominated Horace
Greeley for the presidency. As attorney for the ThompsonHouston Electric Company, he was considered to be the most
knowledgeable man on electrical matters of any attorney in the
western country. He was also active as a trustee for Antioch and
president of the board of the House of Refuge.
It was during the presidency of Champion that the Red
Stockings adopted the uniform that became their trademark and
still survives. Baseball players originally wore cricket uniforms,
but at the suggestion of George Ellard an order was placed with
a Mrs. Bertha Bertram, who conducted a tailor shop on Elm
Street, near Elder, for short, white flannel trousers, white flannel
shirt, and the famed red stockings.
When the pitcher, Asa Brainard, came to Cincinnati, he
boarded at the home of a family named Truman, a once wealthy
clan whose male members had been associated with Truman &
Wilson, the firm that came to be known as Wilson, Hinkle &
Company; Van Antwerp, Bragg & Company; and eventually the
American Book Company. (This firm was engaged in publishing,
one of its publications being the McGuffey readers.) But somehow
the Trumans became impoverished and had to take in boarders,
one of whom was Brainard. Almost immediately after moving in
with the family, he became ill of smallpox. He was nursed back
to health by Mary Truman and her sister, Margaret. When Asa
recovered, he and Mary became married. Mary and Margaret
Truman, by this time enthusiastic followers of baseball, began
sewing red stockings to supplement those supplied by Bertha
Bertram.
The season of 1869 opened on April 17, with the Red Stockings defeating a picked nine of local players, 24 to 15. After
handily winning several other games, the team set out on its first
road trip, accompanied by Harry M. Millar, a writer on the old
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Commercial. The first sports writer to travel with a professional
baseball club, Millar also served the team as scorer; his scorebook
is preserved today in the Albert G. Spalding collection of baseball
literature in the New York Public Library.
The first stop was at Yellow Springs, where Antioch College
was defeated. The team then rolled on to Mansfield, Cleveland,
Buffalo, Rochester, Syracuse, Albany, Troy, Boston, New Haven,
and Brooklyn, routing the opposition in all those communities by
decisive scores. The first real test came in Brooklyn on June 15
when the Red Stockings struggled against the Mutuals of New
York and barely defeated them, 4 to 2, an unprecedented score
for that early day. There was an enormous amount of gambling
on that game, for the Mutuals had a formidable club. A crowd
of fully ten thousand persons filled the Union Grounds at Brooklyn, and hundreds of others looked on from housetops overlooking
the field. By this time the Reds had won seventeen games without
defeat, and it seemed that all New York wanted to see the streak
broken.
Meanwhile, in Cincinnati, a crowd of two thousand milled
around the Gibson House awaiting the telegraphed score. When
the news of the victory finally came through, red flares were set,
salutes fired, and cheers echoed through the streets. A wire was
dispatched to the team, as follows:
Cincinnati, 0. June 15, 1869
Cincinnati Baseball Club, Earle's Hotel, New York:
ON BEHALF OF THE CITIZENS OF CINCINNATI,
WE SEND YOU THIS GREETING. THE STREETS ARE
FULL OF PEOPLE, WHO GIVE CHEER AFTER CHEER
FOR THEIR PET CLUB. GO ON WITH THE NOBLE
WORK. OUR EXPECTATIONS HAVE BEEN MET.
ALL THE CITIZENS OF CINCINNATI,
PER S.S DAVIS
The noble work did continue. The Red Stockings won three
games in Philadelphia, one at Baltimore, two at Washington,
and one at Wheeling before returning home. In July more victories were earned in Washington, Rockford, Illinois, St. Louis,
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Baseball's Immortal Red Stockings
and Milwaukee. By this time the entire nation was watching to
see who would be the first to send Cincinnati to defeat.
The closest call came in late August in Troy, New York.
There the Reds met a team known as the Haymakers, owned by
a remarkably unique character named John Morrissey, who was,
among other things, a pugilist, gambler, and Congressman.
Morrissey placed a large bet on the Haymakers that day, some
saying the amount wagered was $60,000, a figure that may be
apocryphal. But whatever the truth of the matter, Morrissey
never had to pay off. With the score tied, 17 to 17, in the sixth
inning, Morrissey instructed his players to get into an argument
with the umpire and use this as a pretext to stop play. This was
done, and the game was ruled a tie. Under present rules the victory would be awarded the Red Stockings by forfeit. The Haymakers later offered a written apology for the incident, but in
the records the game remained a tie.
In September the team visited California, winning five games
in San Francisco from teams known as the Eagles and Pacifies.
The boys returned home in October, after stops in Nebraska,
Illinois, and Indiana, and brought the season to a close on November 5, defeating the Mutuals again, 17 to 8.
It was at a banquet following the season that Aaron B. Champion rose to his feet and said, "Someone asked me today whom I
would rather be, President Ulysses S. Grant or President Cham-
— From In Memoriam — Aaron B. Champion
AARON B. CHAMPION
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pion of the Cincinnati Baseball Club. I immediately answered him
that I would by far rather be the president of the baseball club."
Who were these men who called themselves Red Stockings,
and how did they fare in later life? It has been possible to trace
all of them except Richard Hurley, the substitute, who went to
live in Washington and disappeared in the stream of that city's
life. But here is what is known to have happened to the others:
Earry Wright - The manager of the Red Stockings, a kindly,
gentle man became famous as a field leader in the major leagues.
Patriarch of the professional game, he wore a beard and commanded the respect of his players in about the same way that Connie
Mack later did. Wright managed in Boston, Providence, and
Philadelphia from 1871 to 1893, then became the National
League's supervisor of umpires. He died of pneumonia at the
age of sixty at Atlantic City on October 3, 1895, and is buried at
West Laurel Hill Cemetery in Philadelphia.
George Wright - Harry's young brother was the best shortstop
in baseball in the 1870's. He retired as a player following the
season of 1882 and founded the sporting goods house, Wright &
Ditson, in Boston. That business prospered to such an extent
that he became a millionaire. He died on August 21, 1937, at
Boston at the age of ninety of heart trouble, and is buried in
Holyhood Cemetery, Brookline, Massachusetts.
Asa Brainard - The pitcher retired as an active player in 1874.
He deserted his wife and little son, Truman Brainard, in Cumminsville; when the boy died in January 1879, aged seven, the mother
entered the Widows' Home. In August 1882 Asa was reported
running an archery club at Port Richmond, Staten Island. After
being badly hurt in the back of the hand by an arrow, he drifted
to Denver, Colorado, where he operated a poolroom. He became
the first of the Red Stockings to die, breathing his last at Denver
on December 10, 1888.
Charles H. Gould - The only Cincinnatian on the team, he
managed the Red Stockings in the National League in 1876, the
first season that the circuit operated. He then became, successively, a clerk in the Cincinnati Police Department, a conductor on
Car 612 of the Fairmount Electric Street Car Line, and a pullman
conductor on the run to New Orleans. He eventually died at the
home of a son, Charles Fisk Gould, at Flushing, Long Island, April
10,1917. He was buried at Spring Grove. When Warren G. Giles,
Baseball s Immortal Red Stockings
199
then president of the Reds and now president of the National
League, learned in 1951 that Gould lay in an unmarked lot, he
had a suitable shaft of granite erected to his memory in a ceremony
witnessed by the entire Cincinnati team.
Doug Allison - Brainard's catcher remained in baseball through
1883, then became a federal employee in Washington, serving as
a post office clerk, and guard at the National Museum. He was a
talented crayon artist, and remained a lifelong baseball fan.
Letters that he wrote to August (Garry) Herrmann, president of
the Reds from 1902 to 1927, are now preserved at the National
Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum at Cooperstown, New York.
He died of heart disease in Washington on December 19, 1916.
Charles J. Sweasy - For years the fate of this player represented
a peculiar puzzle because two obituaries exist. One relates that he
died at Newark, New Jersey, on March 30, 1908; the second has
Fort Worth, Texas, on March 24, 1939. Internal evidence would
indicate that the Newark death is correct and that the Fort Worth
man was an impostor. It is known that after Sweasy retired as a
player in 1878 he went to Newark and became a street vendor,
peddling oysters. The Texas "Sweasy" was a pioneer brewer in
that state, founder of a liquor house, a Presbyterian, and an Elk.
He was survived by one sister, three nieces, and two nephews —
all of whom refused to answer questions by mail concerning the
identity of their deceased relative.
Andrew J. Leonard - Aside from the Wright brothers, Leonard
was perhaps the most accomplished player on the team. Born in
Ireland but a lifelong Bostonian, he played until 1882 and died at
the Eoston suburb of Roxbury, August 22, 1903.
Calvin A. McVey - This player, like Gould, became a manager
of the Reds in the National League, piloting the team during the
the season of 1879. He then moved to California, engaged in business in San Francisco, and was wiped out by the fire that followed
the esrthquake in 1906. The National League granted him a small
pension, and he died in the poorhouse at San Francisco, August
20, 1926.
Fred A. Waterman - Although Gould was the only native
Cincinnatian on the Red Stockings, Waterman became a resident
of the city after concluding his baseball career in 1875. He
joined the Cincinnati police force in 1880, after which he became
a private watchman at the old Fifth Street Garden in 1884.
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His subsequent decline, as traced through city directories, reads
like the progressive degeneration of Hurstwood in Theodore
Dreiser's "Sister Carrie." Waterman was at various times a
clerk, bartender, bricklayer, plasterer, and day laborer. A lifelong
bachelor who lived at 535 West Fourth Street, he died of tuberculosis at Cincinnati Hospital, December 16, 1899. Newspapers
recalled that he had been a member of the Red Stockings, and a
popular subscription of funds resulted in his being spared the
ignominy of a burial in the potter's field. His remains were placed
in Wesleyan Cemetery.
The Red Stockings took the field again in 1870, with all the
regular players returning, and started the year in the same spectacular fashion, continuing the string of victories. Early in the
year they visited the South, winning games by such one-sided
margins as 79 to 6, 94 to 7, and 100 to 2.
But defeat came eventually, and under heartbreaking circumstances. Cn the afternoon of June 14, 1870, before a crowd of
nine thousand at the Capitoline Grounds at Brooklyn, the Red
Stockings were defeated by the Atlantics, 8 to 7, in eleven innings.
The setback ended a string of triumphs that had reached 130
starting in 1868. After nine innings, the game between the Red
Stockings and Atlantics was tied, 5 to 5. The Atlantics wanted to
call the game a draw, but Harry Wright's boys insisted on playing
extra innings. When the Reds scored twice in the eleventh, it
appeared that victory would be theirs. But the Atlantics rallied
for three runs and the game. A key play occurred when an
exuberant Brooklyn spectator jumped on the back of Cal McVey
as he was in the act of fielding a fairly hit ball, thereby permitting
a run to score.
President Champion announced the sad news in a telegram to
Cincinnati:
NEW YORK, JUNE 14, 1870 - ATLANTICS 8; CINCINNATI 7. THE FINEST GAME EVER PLAYED.
OUR BOYS DID NOBLY, BUT FORTUNE WAS AGAINST THEM. ELEVEN INNINGS PLAYED.
THOUGH BEATEN, NOT DISGRACED.
AARON B. CHAMPION,
CINCINNATI BASEBALL CLUB
WONDER TEAM IN ACTION AGAINST ATLANTICS
— From Harper's Weekly, July 2, 1870
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Baseball fans are notoriously fickle, and their lack of support
of the team following that first defeat provided an early example
of the fact. Attendance at the games declined, the players became
restless, and five other defeats followed before the season was
over. Other teams were springing up now, and many of them made
generous financial offers to the Cincinnati players.
That the great team would break up was becoming apparent,
a feeling confirmed by a circular sent out by the new president,
A.P. Bonte, on November 21, 1870, and which read as follows:
Dear Sir: According to the custom, the Executive Board
reports to the members of the CINCINNATI BASEBALL
CLUB its determination in reference to the baseball season
of 1871. We have had communication with many of the leading baseball players throughout the country, as well as with
the various members of our former nine.
Upon the information thus obtained, we have arrived at
the conclusion that to employ a nine for the coming season, at
the enormous salaries now demanded by the professional
players, would plunge our club deeply into debt at the end of
the year.
The experience of the past two years has taught us that
a nine whose aggregate salaries exceed six or eight thousand
dollars can not, even with the strictest economy, be selfsustaining.
If we should employ a nine at the high salaries now asked,
the maximum sum above stated would be nearly doubled. The
large liabilities thus incurred would result in bankruptcy or
compel a heavy levy upon our members to make up a deficiency. We are also satisfied that payment of large salaries
causes jealousy, and leads to extravagance and dissipation on
the part of the players, which is injurious to them, and is also
destructive of that subordination and good feeling necessary
to the success of a nine.
Our members have year after year contributed liberally for
the liquidation of the expenses incurred in the employment of
players. We do not feel that we would be justified in calling
upon them again; and, therefore, for the reasons herein stated,
have resolved to hire no players for the coming season. We
believe that there will be a development of the amateur talent
of our club, such as has not been displayed since we employed
professionals, and that we will still enjoy the pleasure of
witnessing many exciting contests on our grounds. We take
this opportunity of stating that our club and grounds are
Baseball's Immortal Red Stockings
203
entirely free of debt; and, deeming it our first duty to see that
they remain so, we pursue the course indicated in this circular.
For the executive board,
A.P. Bonte, President
So died the Red Stockings, but their legend was already
secure. Their feat of playing an entire season without defeat was
unparalleled. More important, their action in bringing publicity
to the city and the game led to the formation of teams that made
possible a professional league of players. All nine of the Red
Stockings joined that league, the National Association of Professional Baseball Players, in 1871. Two of the team, George and
Harry Wright, are now members of the Hall of Fame at Cooperstown, a select gallery that includes only eighty-six of the ten
thousand men who have played in the major leagues.
The last chapter of the story of the Red Stockings took place
at Cincinnati on October 25, 1916, when the tokens and relics of
the historic team were sold at public auction. Included were a
group picture of the team, a faded uniform, three of the original
baseballs used in 1869, the cap of Asa Brainard, and a rubber
mouthpiece used by Allison, the catcher.
At the Stacey auction rooms on Gilbert Avenue, these sentimental relics were sold by the estate of Harry Ellard, who had
guarded them until his dying day. There were two principal
bidders: Garry Herrmann, who wanted the mementos for the office
of the Reds; and William C. Kennett, Jr., son of a man who served
the Reds as president in 1880. Such sentiment as Herrmann felt
could not compete with the bidding of Kennett, who purchased the
souvenirs. They were later destroyed in a fire at his home.
But one reminder of the glorious story escaped. The old clock
that ticked away the hours in the office of the club is now measuring time at the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum.
It was kept by the family of Aaron B. Champion and donated to
the Hall of Fame in 1960 by Robert Champion Rowe.
In a letter to the author of this article, Aaron Burt Champion
Rowe, a descendant of the president of the Red Stockings, recently
wrote:
In October of 1919 as my grandmother (Mrs. A. B. Champion) lay dying, she in some of her lucid moments hoped to
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hear of the Cincinnati Reds winning a World's Series. She
died just before the final game and she never knew of the
scandal that followed. But downstairs in the kitchen of that
house the old clock was ticking out those fateful moments.
When we moved in 1924, the clock was taken down. I am reminded of some lines in Longfellow's poem - "The Old Clock on
the Stairs."
'0 precious hours! 0 golden prime,
And affluence of love and time!' "
HOW A REPORTER ADJOURNED
THE CITY COUNCIL — 1861
The City Council met as usual last evening, and was called to
order after the members present had got through with their wonted
preliminary confabulation. Several papers of no value to any but
the owner were offered, and passed by the unanimous vote of the
respective individuals offering them. The representative of a timehonored constituency introduced a bill to paint a lamp-post in the
Eighteenth Ward, which caused the lightning bolts of eloquence and
the thunder gusts of oratory to electrify the hall in a manner undreamed of by Demosthenes and never attempted by Cicero. Probably the twilight of this glorious anniversary would have shed a
dim luster over one of the City Fathers, as in Websterian attitude he
demonstrated the impracticability of the project spoken of, while
his brethren in authority paid the silent homage of attention to his
words of wisdom, but for the announcement, privately circulated
by an ingenious local, that a dispatch had been received at the newspaper offices, containing the sad news of the defeat of the Federal
troops at Alexandria, and the contemplated march of Beauregard
into Washington immediately. The sympathetic nerves of the City
Fathers were stirred, and with unutterable anguish portrayed in each
countenance, a motion to adjourn was passed instanter. The official
dignitaries, after a vigorous feat of pedestrianism, reached the newspaper offices only to learn that they had been the subject of a mercantile transaction, commonly called a "sell."
Cincinnati Daily Gazette,
July 4, 1861.