Damon Runyon

Chicago Examiner/January 14, 1913

“Muggsy,” in Chicago, Says Evers Will Make Good; Expects Yanks to Draw.

“The Chicago Cubs of 1913 will be stronger than the Chicago Cubs of 1912”— John J. McGraw, manager of the Giants. 

Now, you know that Mr. McGraw is appearing at the Palace this week and naturally is not averse to making remarks designed to please the residents of Chicago. But if you are acquainted with Mr. McGraw, you know that he doesn’t say things like that unless he believes them. Besides, this is his only week here, and probably his last week on the vaudeville stage this Winter. 

The manager of the National League champions elaborated a bit on the foregoing, though, as follows: 

“The Chicago club made a wise move in securing Bresnahan. Roger is not an old man. There is lots of good baseball left in him, and it’s a cinch he will play his head off for the Cubs. 

“Then John Evers should be better than he was last season. He was as good as he could be late in the campaign, but it is said his health was not of the best in the early months. Vic Saier, who started out last Spring comparatively green, improved wonderfully. He developed into a high-class first-baseman, and there’s every reason to believe that he will add polish with experience. Mike Mitchell is a great ball player and it is certain he will help Chicago.” 

Approves Bresnahan Move

Thus spake John J., with sincerity and conviction. He added that part of the wisdom displayed by Messrs. Murphy and Evers in landing Bresnahan had to do with the injury of Jimmy Archer’s knee. 

“If Archer’s leg should fail him,” he said, “Bresnahan would certainly come in come in handy. I know something about these bad knees from personal experience. One of them put an end to my career as a player.” 

Concerning the acquisition of Frank Chance by the Yankees, McGraw remarked: 

“That will help baseball in New York. The Yankees were going badly and the result was that people went out of town when we made our long trips despite their love for the game. They would have stayed to see the American League games if the Yankees had been stronger. 

Draws More Than Marquard

“Chance is a great manager, and just the sort of man Farrell needs. He ought to win back lots of patronage. Moreover, if the Yankees play on the Polo Grounds, they will be much better off. The Hilltop park is hard to get to, and the plant cannot accommodate the people. I believe we could get more money out of the sale of our boxes than they could from the sale of their entire grandstand.” 

McGraw has a chance to play one more week— in Brooklyn. But he intends to pass it up, for, he says, he has been neglecting his real business too long. His act lasts about twelve minutes, and he talks baseball just as he does off the stage. He confesses to faint-heartedness such as never troubled him on the diamond. 

He was informed by an official of the theater that he had outdrawn Rube Marquard’s act here by a couple of hundred dollars. 

“Why not?” he asked. “A freak ought to outdraw an actor. Rube’s an actor.” 

A theater party, followed by a supper at which McGraw was guest of honor, was attended by almost everybody of baseball importance in Chicago last night. 

“Cal” Back From Davenport

 Another vaudevillian, Frank Fogarty, blew into town for a week, and regretted that his engagement prevented his talking continually about the White Sox. Frank is probably the most ardent Sox bug in existence, with the possible exception of Bill Dorgan. 

Manager Jim Callahan returned from Davenport, where he “did” a week. He was called on by Pitcher Frank Lange, who came down from Wisconsin just to assure his boss that he was going to have a great season. 

At the office of President Murphy of the Cubs it was announced that Bresnahan, Charley Smith, Otis Clymer, Martin Berghammer and Grump Miller had signed. Grump was on hand to verify the report concerning himself. He is to be star end man at the Elks’ minstrels in Dixon next week, and is still looking for jokes. 

A few days ago we advertised in these columns that “King” Cole was prepared to manage any aspiring “white hope”— and not without result. 

“Where’s ‘King’ Cole?” demanded 240 pounds of masculine humanity, pushing itself through the door of the barber shop yesterday. 

“I’ll see if he’s in,” answered the “King,” edging toward a back room. 

“I’m Bert Hess, the heavyweight, and I want him for a manager,” said the huge party. 

And with this the “King” soothingly told him that pushing a razor and hurling a baseball formed the limit of his versatility. 

Luther McCarty’s Nemesis left disappointed.