Today, I share two tales related to players whose long baseball careers overlapped for two seasons while playing for the St. Louis Cardinals. Fiery and dependable catcher Ivey Wingo wore a Cardinals uniform from 1911 through 1914 before the organization traded him to the Cincinnati Reds on April 8, 1915, for fellow backstop Miguel “Mike” Gonzalez. Stalwart hurler William “Bill” Doak arrived in St. Louis in 1913 after one uninspiring outing with the Reds one year earlier. Doak remained with the Cardinals until 1924, when the Brooklyn Robins acquired him on June 14. Bill’s best campaign with St. Louis occurred in 1914, when he posted a 19-6 record, supported by a National League leading 1.72 ERA.
Doak hailed from the Pittsburgh neighborhood of Knoxville. Bill will be one of the subjects for a book project I have started, tentatively titled, “Western Pennsylvania Deadballers: Diamond Home Cooking,” which I am currently engaged in the research phase. Besides possessing talent as a good major league pitcher, Doak also teamed up with the Rawlings Sporting Goods Company in St. Louis to develop a groundbreaking baseball glove that the company sold for many years. My story related to Bill on this Tuesday happened during the 1924 season, once he joined Brooklyn.
Although Doak had pitched in blistering sweltering summer weather at Sportsman’s Park as a Cardinals team member for many years, he preferred to work on the hill on cooler afternoons. At times, his frail build could not withstand the rigors of a steamy, humid day. Since Brooklyn remained engaged in a tight pennant race with the New York Giants in 1924, Bill happily grabbed the baseball when Robins manager Wilbert Robinson called upon him to pitch at a critical time. The thermometer on the field registered a reading of 105 degrees as Doak labored through the sweltering heat.
The contest between these two squads proved a nerve-wracking struggle. Ultimately, Brooklyn prevailed in this tight, two-and-a-half-hour game, as Bill battled gallantly and defeated his former team. Although only with the Robins for a brief time, Doak’s teammates had already grown to appreciate his comedic outlook and funny statements. After the contest ended, Bill, sweaty and tired, half walked, and half staggered into the clubhouse. Then, imitating a boxer, Doak threw out his fist in a roundhouse swing, hit himself in the chest, and let loose with a primal outburst to commemorate the moment.
“Doak, you great, big, strong beast!” dramatically exclaimed the hurler.
This elicited a burst of laughter from his diamond comrades. That joy quickly ceased, as Bill Doak tumbled to the floor, completely exhausted. Initial worry subsided when teammates realized that Doak suffered no other issue than fatigue due to the oppressive afternoon. Today’s second story involves catcher Ivey Wingo, after his major league career reached its end, except for one at-bat when he worked as a coach on Cincinnati’s staff in 1929. In 1927, Ivey managed the American Association’s Columbus Senators and appeared behind the dish for the club in 19 games.
Tempers and frayed nerves reached a fever pitch in the American Association in 1927. Early in the campaign, umpire George Magerkurth and the Milwaukee Brewers’ Ivy Griffin became involved in a tussle. Magerkurth, who became a National League arbitrator in 1929, soundly thrashed Griffin during their fight. A few days later, this contentious mood continued to permeate. During a contest, Ivey Wingo became involved in a dispute with Francis Connolly, veteran American Association umpire and brother of longtime American League arbiter Thomas “Tommy” Connolly.
One thing led to another as this heated encounter between manager and umpire reached a boiling point. Connolly finally told Wingo that he no longer permitted his obnoxious presence on the diamond. When Ivey dallied walking off the field, Francis bellowed out the standard, “get out of here” to help speed the manager along on his merry way. Before exiting the premises, Wingo wheeled around and fired off one final, parting shot.
“All right, Connolly, but don’t forget – my room number is 502!” exclaimed Wingo.
My research did not unearth whether Francis Connolly took Ivey Wingo up on his offer. I’m guessing that Wingo also did not utter something, such as, “Wingo, you great, big, strong beast,” for effect.
