Umpiring in the Early Days

Legendary umpire Bill Klem. Image credits: Smithsonian Mag

Imagine you were a major league umpire in the first decade of the twentieth century. Most of the time you were the ONLY umpire in the game.

You stood behind home plate and called the balls and strikes. But you also had to call a baserunner safe or out at any base, two of them in the case of a double play.

And if the bases were loaded and the ball was hit back to the pitcher, maybe you’d have to call the play at the plate and one at first base for a possible double play.

There were no foul poles, so you had to decide if a fly ball into the grandstand or bleachers was fair or foul. If a ball was hit over the roof and hooking, whether it was fair or foul depended on where it was last seen by the umpire.

In the glare of the afternoon sun that was sometimes hard to discern and subject to debate, often heated. Even after foul poles were installed, a ball hit close on either side was debatable but unreviewable.

There were no instant replays, no appeals. Just arguments – plenty of them. And ejections. Plenty of them, too.

In early World Series there were four umpires: HP, 1B, and two in the outfield, where part of the field would often be roped off to allow overflow crowds to stand. Not until 1911 was there a rule requiring two umpires, 

Two-Man Crews

Two-man crews became required in 1911 and remained standard for most games until 1932. One was behind home plate. The other, at first base, moved about in the infield depending on where there were baserunners.

With a man on first, the ump would move nearer second base and would have to cover both second and first on a double-play grounder, or second and third on a double.

There was no way he could keep a close eye on whether every runner was touching every base. Small wonder there were still many disputes. 

Bill Klem and John McGraw

With only eight teams in each league, there were games being played in at most four cities in the league on any given day. So teams saw the same umps pretty often. In 1910, for example, National League umpire Bill Klem was behind the plate in 46 Giants games, at home and on the road.

It was no secret that Klem and Giants manager John McGaw did not like each other, Their many confrontations may have contributed to Klem’s highest ejection total of 36 that year, 10 percent of his total of 363 ejections in 36 years, most of them between 1905 and 1920.

McGraw remains the career leader among managers, having been thrown out of 124 games In 31 years. His peak was 11 in each of three years. The decline in arguments coincided with the increased number of umpires; McGraw was ejected only once or twice a year from 1917 to 1933.

In 1910, National League umpire Bill Klem was behind the plate in 46 Giants games. Image credits: The Sports Archives Blog

The last time Bill Klem and John McGraw saw each other was at the first All-Star Game in 1933. McGraw, now retired, was the honorary NL manager. Klem was the home plate umpire. 

Dick Bartell was the NL starting shortstop. He recalled the scene:

McGraw didn’t have much to say to the players. He sat down at one end of the bench, dressed in a brown suit and white straw hat. But he had plenty to say to the umpires, starting with Bill Klem.

There were a few close plays at first base that Klem called against the Nationals. McGraw was calling Klem everything he could think of, and that was plenty. It was his farewell appearance on the bench. Klem never looked toward the dugout. 

After the top of the fifth inning, the umpires changed positions. Klem came over to our dugout. The guys on the bench thought: here we go. McGraw’s a goner. But Klem never said a word. He sat down, put on his gear to go behind the plate, ignoring McGraw.

In more modern times, Orioles’ manager Earl Weaver was thrown out 97 times in 17 years, leading the league nine times. 

Ejection Triggers

Players were ejected for uttering some magic words. For Klem, it was calling him Catfish. There were lines drawn: throwing a cap on the ground was a no-no. Kicking dirt on the ump’s shoes drew a thumb. Swearing was tolerated, but nothing personal: if you preceded the cuss words with “You’re a . . .” you were sure to be gone. Any physical contact with an umpire was an automatic ticket to the clubhouse and a fine.

Riding from the bench, especially over ball and strike calls, might draw a thumb, sometimes a bench-clearing one.

A catcher could comment to the home plate umpire behind him as long as he didn’t turn to face the ump.

Sometimes a manager, with a lot of bobbing and weaving and arm-waving would be doing it more to fire up his team or the fans than to argue a call.

Disputed safe or out calls on the bases often spurred a manager to join the discussion in order to keep a player from being sent to the showers. 

Umpires in the early to mid-20th century were often former players who wanted to stay in the game. With so few teams in a league and so few umpires, they also became familiar, sometimes on easy terms, with each other. During lulls in the action, it was not uncommon for an ump on the bases to chat with a nearby fielder or coach. 

Tom Ferrick

Tom Ferrick pitched for five American League teams 1941-1952. Bill McGowan was an AL umpire 1925-1954.

Joe DiMaggio told me that Bill McGowan was the greatest umpire in the American League. But McGowan talked a lot to players. He made sure he wouldn’t get any jockeying.

In 1948 I was with Washington. We had a rookie second baseman, Al Kozar. Early in the season McGowan is umpiring at first base. The first time Kozar goes out to second, before the inning starts, McGowan walks behind him.

When Al comes in after the half inning, he says, “What’s the matter with that man out there?”

Somebody says, “Why?”

Al says, “He told me if I open my mouth he’d run me right out of the game. I hadn’t even said a word.”

This was McGowan’s way of breaking in a rookie.

Umpire Bill McGowan. Image credits: OOPT Developments

Ray Scarborough’s pitching in Griffith Stadium one day. McGowan’s behind the plate. Ray had a great curve ball and was known to be irascible, with a short fuse. He and McGowan are not agreeing on any of the calls. By the third inning, McGowan’s about had it. 

He takes his ball and strike indicator and throws it out toward the mound. Ray walks in and picks up the indicator and puts it in his pocket. McGowan won’t go out to get it. He kept saying, “Bring that indicator in.” And Ray is saying, “Come out and get it.” He pitched the rest of the game with the indicator in his pocket.

Red Jones was an umpire 1944-1949. He was a very jovial guy, had a heavy southern accent, but he wasn’t a very good umpire. One day Washington is playing in Detroit and the Senators’ bench is giving Red a bad time behind the plate.

He thinks it’s Ray Scarborough leading it. This goes on for three or four innings. Finally Red had enough. He walked over to the dugout and said, “Scarborough, you’re outa here.”

The funny thing is, Scarborough wasn’t even in the dugout. He was in the bullpen out in center field. So one of the pitchers got on the phone and called the bullpen and said, “Ray, you’ve just been thrown out of the ball game.”

Ray came out of the bullpen and walked the 400 feet to the dugout with Jones watching him. When Ray got to the dugout, Red admitted, “I think I got the wrong man.”

Tom Gorman, a National League umpire 1951-1977, used humor instead of being confrontational. Charlie Fox was managing the San Francisco Giants. He and I and Gorman all came from the Bronx.

Fox’s mother, an old Irish lady, lived in the neighborhood by herself in an apartment complex. Gorman had met her many times. This day Tom’s umpiring a Giants game behind the plate.

Fox is not satisfied with the way Tom is umpiring and he comes out and is giving Tom a bad time, using foul language. Tom says, “Now, Charlie, if you don’t cut it out, I’m going to tell your mother.” That ended the argument.

Mickey Vernon

Mickey Vernon was an AL first baseman for almost 20 years:

When I first came up in 1939 I was playing first base and Bill McGowan is working the base and there was a close play at first and I turned and said to him, “How can you call this guy safe?” He said, “Because I’m just the greatest umpire there is.”

When you go to a ballgame or watch on TV, how much attention do you pay to the umpires?

Probably not much.

And that’s the way they like it. They prefer to blend into the action unobtrusively, making whatever calls come their way,

Mickey Vernon remembers Bill McGowan working the base when he first came up in 1939. Image credits: OOPT Developmenets

If they draw any attention, it’s usually because they’ve made a decision that players and fans on one side or the other disagree with and are letting the ump know it.

Today if there are close calls, the umps can call time and view a replay of the action, or managers can call for a review by somebody in a league office watching the game on several TVs showing different angles.

It’s all a lot different from the days when a lone umpire stood behind home plate and had to make every call on the field.