BABE RUTH AND THE ISSUE OF RACE

                                 By Bill Jenkinson                                    
(Updated: January 2025)

 

Having written a book about Babe Ruth in 2007, I receive many questions about The Bambino and his extraordinary life. One of the greatest areas of interest centers on how the Babe interacted with the African-American community. In this matter, modern fans perceive Ruth inaccurately in two ways. First, they believe that he did not compete against the best Black players of that era. Second, most think that he did not enjoy a positive relationship with the general African-American population. Both of those beliefs are untrue.

 

Admittedly, it is difficult for any Ruthian scholar to understand the exact evolution of Babe’s feelings about race. My personal judgment is that there was none. In keeping with his uncommonly natural persona, I believe that Ruth was simply “color blind” in the matter of race. In other words, I suspect that George Herman Ruth was born with literally no innate biases toward anyone. That’s just the way he was.

 

Babe was certainly exposed to racial prejudice. Remember that Ruth was born in a tough waterfront section of Baltimore, Maryland in 1895. That was just three decades after Abraham Lincoln had to travel secretly through the same city on his way to being inaugurated in Washington, D.C. Lincoln’s anti-slavery platform was considered too volatile to allow safe passage below the Mason Dixon line. We must assume, therefore, that young Ruth realized that some White folks just didn’t like Black people. However, it seems to have had no effect on his remarkably free spirit.

 

We have very little data on the matter for the first twenty-three years of Babe’s life. But, in 1918, when Ruth was rapidly rising to the top of the baseball world, there was an event which publicly showcased Babe’s racial equanimity for the first time. Prior to that year, Ruth had been “merely” a great pitcher for the Boston Red Sox. However, due to the shortage of Major League caliber players during World War One, Babe started playing in the field on days when he wasn’t pitching. The result was an American League lead-tying total of eleven home runs, which instantly set Ruth apart from all other players. Babe then led the Red Sox to the World Series championship, which concluded early because of the shortened schedule.

 

At that same time, the Cuban Stars from Havana were completing a successful tour of the United States. They had won thirty of thirty-two contests against mostly white semi-pro and Minor League teams. Owner George Weiss of the Eastern League’s New Haven Colonials arranged for them to come to Lighthouse Field in The Elm City on Sunday, September 14, 1918.  Weiss was familiar with Ruth, since he had lured Babe and the Red Sox into a Sunday “off day” appearance in New Haven on August 18. On that prior occasion, Ruth had smashed the stadium’s longest-ever home run with an epic blow over the woman’s bath house in distant right centerfield.

 

So, when Weiss realized that his team would be outclassed by the soon-to-arrive Cubans, he put in a call to Babe Ruth, who was resting in Boston after the just-ended World Series. The New Haven Register said this about Ruth’s status at that time, “He is truly the miracle player of baseball.” It added that Ruth was, “unquestionably the biggest baseball sensation of the year.” When Weiss extended the invitation for Ruth to return to New Haven to play the “ebony skinned” Cubans, Babe “jumped at the opportunity.” Predictably, the Stars whipped the Colonials handily, but Ruth provided the only bright light in the 5-1 defeat with a mammoth homer beyond the flagpole in left center field. I believe, however, that the day’s events transcended sports.

 

At that moment, Babe Ruth was in the process of supplanting Ty Cobb as the preeminent baseball player in America. When he unhesitatingly agreed to take the field against performers of African descent, he sent a powerful signal that could not be ignored.

 

As was usually the case in whatever he did, Ruth kept moving forward in the matter of race relations. Back in 1915, the New York Yankees had been purchased by the “two colonels.” They were Jacob Ruppert and Tillinghast L. Huston.  Ruppert was somewhat of a dilettante, having inherited a large brewery and using his wealth to arrange his honorary military rank. Huston, however, was a self-made man who had distinguished himself as an Army engineer during the Spanish American War. That odd pair had acquired Babe Ruth after the 1919 season by, essentially, buying him from the Red Sox. Babe, then, took the final step in becoming baseball’s unquestioned kingpin by walloping fifty-four homers in 1920. That was an astounding accomplishment for that era.

 

When the season ended, Ruth received hundreds of invitations to barnstorm anywhere he wanted. Of the approximately fifteen games that Babe selected, five were against so-called Negro League teams. Three of those contests were played in Philadelphia (October 4, 7, & 8) while the other two were contested in Buffalo (October 13 & 24). Ruth then sailed to Cuba, where he joined John McGraw’s Giants to play nine more contests versus a combination of Latino and Negro ballplayers. Again, the message was clear: if the sports’ most transcendent figure played without reservation against Black ballplayers, why shouldn’t everyone else?

 

However, at the same time, another powerful but opposing dynamic was taking shape. As a result of the “Black Sox Scandal” of 1919, Judge Kenesaw Landis was being wooed by MLB owners to take over as commissioner. He assumed office on January 12, 1921, and was provided with nearly dictatorial power. Landis was a complex man of contrasting traits, but even his staunchest admirers find it difficult to defend his record on race relations. Essentially, he did nothing for twenty-four years (he died on November 25, 1944) to advance the cause of integration in Major League Baseball. Accordingly, while Babe Ruth was knocking down the color barriers in autumn 1920, Landis was seemingly content to maintain them.

 

At that time, there was a rule in the books that prohibited World Series participants from engaging in post-season barnstorming activities. Since Babe Ruth and the Yankees had played in the Fall Classic in 1921, they were officially barred from further competition. So, when Ruth announced plans to engage in a prolonged tour at the conclusion of the Series, Landis forbad him to proceed.

 

Babe had heard the same thing from American League President Ban Johnson after the 1916 Series, when he and many of his Red Sox teammates briefly toured New England. The result had been a so-called slap on the wrist. The players were fined $100, and barred from wearing their World Series emblems. No big deal. Since the rule had never really been enforced, Babe assumed that Landis would handle the situation in like manner. However, part of Ruth’s 1921 barnstorming schedule included more games with Negro League teams. There was no way that Kenesaw Mountain Landis would abide that.

He decreed that Ruth would be severely punished if he barnstormed, and, when Babe tried to plead his case, Landis ignored him. Confident that any punishment would be comparable to his 1916 reprimand, Ruth embarked on his tour.

 

However, after just five games, Yankee co-owner T.L. Huston intercepted Ruth in Scranton, Pennsylvania, and convinced him that the Judge meant business. Babe cancelled the remainder of the schedule, and awaited his fate. When Landis suspended Ruth for the first five weeks of the 1922 season, the country was shocked. Even President Harding voiced his support for The Babe. Everyone knew that the punishment far exceeded the crime, but Landis was riding high and no one dared to oppose him.

 

American League owners were appalled by the subsequent loss of revenue caused by Ruth’s lengthy absence, and the ridiculous rule was soon rescinded. Predictably, Babe Ruth then played against the renowned Kansas City Monarchs (a Black team) on their home field at the conclusion of the 1922 season (October 22). He went 4 for 4 in a losing cause, and then resumed his tour in rural Kansas and Oklahoma. He didn’t seem to care that he had endangered himself by playing against Black ballplayers, then venturing into territory under the influence of the Ku Klux Klan.

 

It is important to recognize the premise of the last statement. Three years later, on November 11, 1925, eight-hundred-sixty-six members of the Monmouth County Ku Klux Klan marched (mostly in robes and masks) in the Armistice Day Parade in Red Bank, New Jersey. That was a seaside community in the Northeast! So, when Ruth thumbed his nose at the Klan in the rural Mid-West three years earlier, he had risked much. For the record, Black ballplayers later reported playing against The Babe in Red Bank.

 

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On September 12, 1923, Babe Ruth refereed a fight in West New York, New Jersey between lightweights Emil Morro (Black) and Larry Regan (White). At the end of the contest, according to the September 22 edition of The Chicago Defender, “Babe was covered with blood and a perfectly good white shirt had to be thrown into the ash can.” This happened at a time when many white Americans wouldn’t even drink from the same water fountain after an African-American had used the same facility.

 

Perhaps more importantly, despite being a close personal friend of heavyweight champ Jack Dempsey, Babe shared referee duties that night with the top-ranked contender, Harry Wills.  He happened to be Black. That was not a casual co-incidence. As early as 1920, Dempsey had been roundly criticized from many quarters for refusing to fight Wills. Ruth (an avid boxing fan) knew this, but still provided some measure of validation for Harry by stepping into the spotlight with him.

 

Two days later (September 14, 1923), the historic Jack Dempsey-Luis Firpo fight was staged at New York’s Polo Grounds. Predictably, Babe was seated at ringside, where Dempsey knocked out Firpo in a wild two-round battle. During the contest, Dempsey’s brother, Johnny, was seen throwing a punch at Ruth. Was that because Johnny Dempsey was angry at Babe for publicly appearing with his brother’s chief rival? Nobody knows for sure, but it is a fact that Jack Dempsey never fought Harry Wills.

 

One month later, on October 8, 1923 (two days before the World Series), Ruth was the guest of honor at a Harlem fund-raiser for the benefit of The Mother A.M.E. Zion Church. Other white celebrities had similarly committed to attend, but only Babe kept his word. He donated not only his time, but also contributed some autographed balls along with cash out of his pocket. For Babe Ruth, this was not an unusual display of unbiased charity. During his fall barnstorming tour after his celebrated 1927 season, the Bambino visited the Guardian Angel Home For Negroes in Kansas City on October 15. There is a delightful photo from that event showing a beaming Ruth holding a Black infant in his arms. In addition, he personally hosted fifty orphans from that institution during the exhibition game on that same date.

 

But that was Babe Ruth. He had a natural affinity for all people regardless of their social, financial, ethnic or religious background. Is that to say that he never did anything racially insensitive? Of course not. Babe was poorly educated, and, when he left St. Mary’s Industrial School in 1914, he was crude and vulgar. He referred to Italian-Americans as “Wops”, Irish-Americans as “Micks” and German-Americans (among whom he was included) as ‘Krauts.” Babe may have even used the “n-word;” there is no record either way. Keep in mind, however, that as a young man, he was often referred to as “nigger lips” because of his facial features. He was a product of his time and his environment. Yet, he was NEVER deliberately malicious or hurtful to anyone.

 

As he aged, Babe Ruth grew in wisdom and maturity, and established a remarkable record of tolerance and open-mindedness. He eventually toured Japan, China, the Philippines, Mexico and other foreign lands, where he was universally loved and admired. In every location, he reciprocated the affection. He was a man of the people…all the people.

 

At home, Babe Ruth never altered his positive approach to the African-American community. He played games against Negro League teams in 1926, 1927, 1928, 1929, and showed up again in Kansas City in 1931 to compete with the Monarchs. That contest under the lights was rained out, but Ruth was there and ready to go. A few months later, in December, when Babe was relaxing with friends on a hunting trip to Camp Bryan, North Carolina, he included Chef David Simpson in his group. Why is that significant? Mr. Simpson was a Black man who had cooked for Ruth in the past, but he was terminally ill at the time. Despite David’s inability to work, Babe invited him to join an intimate assemblage at his hunting lodge. Within two months, David Simpson died.

One year later, after his dramatic “Called Shot” home run helped the Yankees sweep the Chicago Cubs in the 1932 World Series, Babe and friend Bill “Bo Jangles” Robinson enjoyed a raucous celebration on the train ride back to New York. Robinson was not only one of the country’s best dancers, but a part-owner of the New York Black Yankees. Robinson had been Ruth’s invited guest for the trip to Chicago, and, at each stop returning home, Babe and Bill entertained the jubilant crowds with their joint antics.

 

Then, on August 14, 1933, Babe Ruth and the Yanks were in Pittsburgh for an exhibition contest with the National League Pirates. The first-ever Negro League All-Star game was scheduled for September 10 in Chicago, and the Pittsburgh Courier sent a reporter to the Hotel Schenley to interview Ruth. After lavishly praising the quality and showmanship of Negro League baseball, Babe offered a powerful endorsement about the forthcoming game. Ruth stated, “The game in Chicago should bring out a lot of white people who are anxious to see the kind of ball that colored performers play.”

 

By 1934, Babe was slowing down as an athlete, and arrived at Yankee Stadium on June 24 in a prolonged slump. Before the game, in the dugout, Ruth met again with his old buddy, Bill Robinson. Bo Jangles sprinkled “goofer dust” on the Bambino, who then smashed a second inning grand slam. Afterward, Babe and Bill got together in the Yankee clubhouse, and laughed about the effects of the magical elixir, which was just plain table salt. Is there anything more to this anecdote than good-natured humor? I think so.

 

One of Ruth’s teammates that day was Ben Chapman. He went on to manage the Philadelphia Phillies in 1947, and became infamous for his bitter and vitriolic treatment of Jackie Robinson. As far as anyone knows, Bill Robinson was the first Black man ever invited into the Yankee clubhouse. He did so as a guest of Babe Ruth, and we can only wonder what Ben Chapman was thinking at that pivotal moment.  My guess is that Chapman was personally outraged. But what could he do? Absolutely nothing. Why? Robinson was under the protective shield of the game’s most influential person, and Chapman could only spew hate behind gritted teeth. It should be further noted that Bill Robinson became an honorary pallbearer at Babe’s 1948 funeral at St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

 

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When that 1934 season concluded, a team of American League All-Stars toured the Orient to play a series of twenty-three games. They were led by the legendary Connie Mack, the most respected manager in the Major Leagues. However, Mack chose Babe Ruth to actually manage the team on the field, opting instead to function as the group’s titular CEO. Essentially, Ruth supervised that collection of large egos for two months.

 

How is this forthcoming tale about Ruth managing in Japan connected to the broader story of Babe Ruth and race? Please keep reading, and, then, make your own judgment.

 

Some so-called pundits have dismissed Babe’s managerial accomplishments during that tour because there was little on-field competition. The Americans won every game, but a few were hard-fought one-run contests. More to the point, oftentimes, there were extremely difficult circumstances, and, upon careful reflection, it must be wondered if anyone other than Babe Ruth could have led so effectively.

 

It started on October 18, 1934, before the All-Stars even boarded their boat to sail across the Pacific Ocean. They played a team of local semi-pros in Seattle to stay sharp, and, the next day, they took the field in the rain and mud in nearby Vancouver. Those adverse conditions occasioned some significant grumbling. However, Babe Ruth got dressed, and, while telling his buddies to quit whining, strode out onto the nearly unplayable field. The All-Stars followed him without further complaint, and completed a full, 9-inning intrasquad game before only 2,000 soaked attendees.

 

When the team arrived in Tokyo on November 3, they were raucously greeted by thousands upon thousands of worshipful fans. As long as they remained there, or in other big cities like Yokohama and Osaka, they were comfortable while staying in first class hotels. However, when traveling to some of the smaller towns in the north, such as Sendai and Hakodate, Connie Mack stayed behind as the players dealt with freezing temperatures and sleeping on floor mats instead of beds.

 

When Tigers’ star second-baseman, Charley Gehringer, returned to Detroit, his thoughts about the weather were published in the Detroit Free Press on January 15, 1935:

 

We were darn near frozen. We slept in our uniforms and overcoats in an effort to keep warm. And we didn’t go to bed until 4 o’clock in the morning because we couldn’t sleep until we were almost exhausted.

 

Similarly, when Washington Senators pitcher Earl Whitehill had returned to his home in Cedar Rapids, Iowa earlier that month, he was interviewed by his hometown newspaper. His account of the bothersome weather was reported by writer Tait Cummins of the Cedar Rapids Gazette on January 8, 1935:

 

In one town, torrential rainfall kept up all afternoon before a scheduled game. The players went to the park early, never expecting to play and found 10,000 fans huddled in the stands and bleachers under umbrellas, waiting for the game to begin. The team was to leave that night so, rather than disappoint the fans, the game went on.

 

Lou Gehrig and Rabit Warstler took their places on the diamond wearing hip boots. Water in places was ten inches deep and home plate had to be built up into an island. Frank ‘Lefty’ O’ Doul patrolled an outfield post under an umbrella minus socks and spikes. The rain came in chunks, but the teams played nine innings.

 

The aforementioned game was played in Kokura (southern Japan) on November 26. In it, Babe Ruth slugged a home run so far over the right field stands that the assembled Japanese fans were dumbfounded by the magnitude of the distance. It is a fact that Ruth played every inning of every game, and, at nearly forty years of age, physically outperformed all his much younger teammates. He was an absolute wonder in everything that he did during this entire tour.

 

Although it now seems somewhat melodramatic, it should also be mentioned that, despite the fact that most Japanese passionately welcomed the American ballplayers, especially Babe Ruth, there was a dark undercurrent from the extreme far-right. By 1934, some hardcore Nipponese nationalists were certain that Japan and the United States would soon be at war. They regarded this foreign incursion as sacrilegious. There were well-founded security concerns, and some analysts even feared the prospect of an assassination attempt against Ruth. Typical of the man, The Babe never flinched, nor took a backward step.

 

Other than The Babe, the biggest stars on that team were sluggers Lou Gehrig and Jimmie Foxx. Upon returning home, Jimmie was quoted about Ruth’s managerial skills in the Philadelphia Inquirer on January 8, 1935, “Babe Ruth ran the team as if it were a World Series. Anytime we went to bat we had to look to the bench to get the sign. He took his managing very seriously. It was O.K. with us.”

 

Those Big League standouts had also played exhibition games in Hawaii, Shanghai, and the Philippines. It had been so frigid for the game in China, that Ruth (and others) had worn six layers of clothing, including three sweaters! It was grueling stuff as the troupe often faced other such challenging logistics. Babe stood tall throughout the entire trip, never failing to exhibit outstanding leadership. Perhaps most relevant to this discussion, we can see that Babe Ruth interacted with three different oriental cultures, and both gave and received genuine affection everywhere he visited. The man never allowed racial differences to enter into his heart.

 

When Connie Mack arrived back in Portland, Oregon, he expanded on those insightful remarks from Jimmie Foxx about Babe’s role as manager. He gave a radio interview to host Rollie Truitt which was reported in The Philadelphia Inquirer on January 5, 1935:

 

I can truthfully say that Babe Ruth was the whole show on our trip to Japan. He was followed around wherever he went and I can’t understand how he was able to autograph as he did. You must know that Ruth was manager of the American League stars, and he handled his team excellently and kept the players in fine fettle all the time.

 

 

Then, upon coming home to Philadelphia, Connie went even further in his unabashed praise for Ruth. He addressed a group of Girard College students on January 24, 1935. Reporting the next day, the Philadelphia Bulletin quoted the venerable Mack:

 

Babe Ruth is a wonderful character and a real man. I thought I knew Babe after seeing him hit home runs for years against our team, but I was wrong. Ruth is more than a ball player. He is a man of character, a leader in his profession and a real he-man. That trip to Japan which was one of the things the doctor ordered, was doubly beneficial because of Ruth’s company.

 

From that same speech, the Philadelphia Inquirer provided these inspirational words:

 

I want to tell you he is one of the grandest characters and a monument to baseball. Babe’ spirit and fire kindled in him through baseball can not be extinguished. It was worth that trip alone just to know Ruth.

 

If the game’s most-admired manager uttered those glowing sentiments after watching Babe Ruth perform as team leader under difficult circumstances, why didn’t Ruth get the chance to manage again? Why indeed?

 

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When Ruth finally retired early in the 1935 season, he received countless offers to play exhibition games all over the country, including many in the New York area. With the exception of a police charity game in Minneapolis, he ignored them all until September 29. What was the location that Babe Ruth chose for his first post-retirement appearance? It was at Dyckman Oval in Harlem against the New York Cubans.

 

In anticipation of the event, The Amsterdam News (a so-called Black newspaper) referred to Ruth as “The Great Man himself.” The News further stated, “as his popularity knew neither race, creed or color, the ‘Oval’ should present the most animated scene.” That’s exactly what happened. Over 8,000 fans, mostly folks of color, crammed into the little ballpark, while hundreds of others gathered on nearby rooftops. While rooting for a Cuban victory, they greeted Babe with warmth and affection. Was Babe Ruth paid for his efforts? Yes. However, he received many comparable financial offers throughout that summer, but, for his own reasons, turned them down.

 

I also regard a 1937 event as interesting. When heavyweight champion Joe Louis was training in Pompton Lakes, New Jersey for his title defense against Tommy Farr, he invited Babe Ruth to visit as his special guest. Babe arrived on August 24, and was watching Louis box, when “The Brown Bomber” leaned over the ropes and said, “I’m going to hit one this time for you Babe.” Sparring partner Tiger Hairston soon landed on the floor as Babe acknowledged his admiration for Joe’s power. Soon after, The Chicago Defender (another Black newspaper) featured a photograph of the two great athletes during Louis’s official New York weigh-in. In that moment, Babe and Joe were smiling at each other as Ruth held the champ’s taped right hand in his own oversized paws.

 

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Although Babe Ruth enjoyed life in retirement, he also experienced some profound disillusionment. He had always expected to manage at the Big League level, but the job never materialized. Until his death in 1948, that was the single most painful experience of his amazing life. Why did it happen? Some refer to Yankee owner Jacob Ruppert’s alleged assertion that Babe couldn’t manage himself, so how could he expect to manage a Major League team? However, that bit of so-called history doesn’t hold up under scrutiny.

 

There are no known first-party accounts of Jacob ever making such a statement. If that quote had been attributed to Ruppert in 1925, when Ruth was both defiant and uncooperative, it might have had some credence. But Babe didn’t seriously consider managing until 1931, which was two years after his second marriage had mellowed him significantly. Colonel Jacob Ruppert certainly felt that Ruth had matured.

 

On October 19, 1933, when Ruth’s future was highly topical, Ruppert addressed this issue. In various newspapers around the country (Boston Globe, Chicago Tribune, etc.), the colonel was quoted by the Associated Press, “I think Ruth will make a splendid manager. He’s settled down and is very serious about his future. He’s talked about managing a team. I’d like to keep Ruth with the Yankees, but I’ll not interfere if he gets a chance to better himself.”

 

Writing for the New York Times a few days later (October 22, 1933), John Kieran spoke highly of Ruth’s qualifications, but offered reasons why someone else might disagree. Speaking rhetorically, Kieran wrote, “If he didn’t know how to take care of himself, how could he take care of a ball club?” The article continued with nothing but enthusiastic support for Ruth’s candidacy to manage. Is it possible that Kieran’s rhetorical question was later taken out of context and subsequently misrepresented? That, now, seems likely.

 

Also very telling was a little- known incident that had occurred back in the fall of 1920. After the conclusion of Ruth’s first season with the Yankees, he stopped in the Binghamton, New York area for a barnstorming game on October 22. Interviewed by the Binghamton Press, Ruth acknowledged that he had just been offered the job of player-manager by the Yankees. At age twenty-five, Babe was still a free spirit, and rejected the proposal. Colonels Ruppert and Huston had shared Yankee ownership until Ruppert had “bought out” Huston in 1923. It was likely Huston who orchestrated the recruitment of Ruth as potential manager.

 

For the record, when Colonel Huston unsuccessfully tried to purchase the Brooklyn Dodgers years later in 1934, he definitively stated that Babe Ruth would be his manager. Plus, several club owners expressed their support for Babe Ruth as a manager, and the Cincinnati Reds made overt efforts to sign him. So, what really happened? Why didn’t Babe Ruth ever get the chance to manage a Major League team?

 

We should recall that, during the 1930s, Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis was still the reigning czar of baseball. He knew that, if Babe Ruth became a Big League skipper, he would have advocated the inclusion of African-American players. Although I do not have absolute proof, I believe that the available data strongly indicates the likelihood that Landis’s influence kept Ruth from achieving his ambition to manage.

 

In fairness to Landis, there have been recent treatises by well-respected historians arguing that the “Judge” was not alone in perpetuating the segregation of Major League Baseball. To me, that theory is reasonable. It seems unlikely that African-Americans would not have been signed by MLB teams until 1945 without, at least, tacit support of the “gentlemen’s agreement” from many of the owners.

 

Yet, make no mistake, Judge Landis was the primary culprit. We know this because of the direct timeline from his death to the day that Jackie Robinson officially appeared in a Major League uniform. Landis died on November 25, 1944, and, within days, Brooklyn’s Branch Rickey assembled his scouts, instructing them to find the right African-American player to brake the “color barrier.”

 

They spent the entire 1945 season obeying their boss’s orders, and concluded their efforts by strongly recommending Jackie Robinson for the fateful job. Rickey soon signed Robinson to a contract, and, then, sent him to the Dodgers’ highest Minor League affiliate in Montreal for a season-long audition. Jackie passed every test, and, as we all know now, opened the MLB 1947 season as a member of the Brooklyn Dodgers. In retrospect, it is clear that this two-and-a-half year sequence was triggered by the passing of Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis.

 

So, was there a conspiracy to stop Babe Ruth from managing a Big League team? We may never know for sure. Yet, two months after Jacob Ruppert had vowed not to “interfere” with Babe’s managerial aspirations in October 1933, his (Ruppert’s) credibility was significantly compromised.

 

In the December 29, 1933 edition of the Cincinnati Enquirer, Reds’ general manager, Larry McPhail confirmed that an unnamed American League owner had unequivocally endorsed both Babe Ruth’s ability and availability to manage his Cincinnati team in 1934. That AL owner reportedly predicted that Ruth would be “a first-class manager.” Yet, the next day, the Associated Press wrote a contradictory statement, appearing in the New York Times:

 

The Reds, in their quest for a manager, tried to get Babe Ruth, but all they got was an emphatic “No!” from Colonel Ruppert of the Yankees, Larry MacPhail, general manager, disclosed today. He said an American League club owner told him Colonel Ruppert had agreed to give the Bambino his release if he could get a job as manager, and that Ruth had made known he would sign to manage a club for $35,000 a year.

 

Please recall that Larry MacPhail (the source of the AP story) eventually became the president of both the Brooklyn Dodgers and New York Yankees. He was not a frivolous fellow, and was regarded as a highly serious and reliable man. Accordingly, his public pronouncement about the 1933 Ruth/Ruppert incident should be evaluated in that context.

 

Despite vowing in October 1933 to support Babe Ruth’s ambition to manage a Major League team, when put to the test just two months later, Jacob Ruppert (a close ally of Commissioner Landis) used his power to stop the Reds from hiring him. So, what are we to believe? Did Commissioner Landis and some like-minded owners conspire to prevent Babe Ruth from fulfilling his fondest dream?

 

Before attempting a final answer to that vexing question, let’s take another look at Larry McPhail who, somehow, kept finding his way into Ruth’s managerial saga. By 1938, McPhail was running the Brooklyn Dodgers, and was aware of the franchise’s poor financial standing. Accordingly, on June 16, he met with Babe Ruth along with Dodger manager Burleigh Grimes and team captain Leo Durocher. McPhail wanted to discuss the prospects of hiring the aging Bambino as a first base coach for the remainder of the season.

 

Ruth wound up signing a coaching-contract for $15K with the understanding that he would also take batting practice before each game. Ruth was not promised the job of manager upon Grimes’ eventual departure, and many observers concluded that McPhail was merely trying to entice additional fans into the ballpark to watch Babe slug a few BP homers.

 

However, a few days later, McPhail had some interesting remarks printed in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle (June 20):

 

I want Ruth around because I think he can help the team. He was a star for 20 years, and I never heard anyone accuse him of making a dumb play on the field. He knows everything there is to know about playing the game and the kids on this club, respecting his reputation. are going to listen to him. And what more could anyone want from a coach?

 

Within a few weeks, The Babe was receiving mostly glowing reports about his role on the field and in the clubhouse. He was credited with fewer baserunners being thrown out at second base along with helping first baseman Dolph Camilli overcome his problems at the plate. It was Ruth who figured out that Camilli was experiencing vision problems when the centerfield seats were filled with white-shirted fans. At Ruths suggestion, McPhail erected a green backstop screen, and the grateful Dolph never forgot Babe’s role in helping him to continue his path to stardom. Sadly, however, this is where the story turns ugly.

 

At the end of that 1938 season, Burleigh Grimes resigned as manager, and Leo Durocher was hired to replace him. Although very disappointed, Babe Ruth took the news graciously. Durocher went on to enjoy a long and successful career as a manager, so, end of story, right? Not quite.

 

I interviewed Grimes in 1984, not long before his death. I did not intend to inquire about his interaction with Babe Ruth in 1938. I wanted to talk to him about Babe’s (and others’) batting power, but Burleigh quickly changed the subject to 1938. It became immediately apparent that Grimes had been harboring significant guilt for almost half a century over the handling of Ruth’s managerial aspirations.

 

Babe Ruth and Leo Durocher had squabbled back in 1929 over an incident in the Yankee locker room. Babe had some of his personal possessions stolen from his hotel room during a recent road trip, and he blamed Leo in front of their Yankee teammates. The two men never reconciled. As a result, Durocher hated Ruth, and felt deeply threatened when Babe joined the coaching staff in 1938. Durocher and Grimes were close friends, and both wanted Leo to take over upon Burleigh’s already anticipated resignation as manager. According to Grimes, therefore, both men plotted to malign Ruth’s coaching abilities to Larry McPhail. Burleigh denied actually lying to McPhail, but admitted that he had been complicit in the hurtful scheme.

 

This is not to say that Leo Durocher did not become a good manager. He certainly wasn’t racist since he famously helped a frightened Willie Mays overcome his rookie jitters in 1951 by showering him with fatherly support. It is to simply point out that Durocher and Grimes combined to add another barrier to Babe Ruth’s most cherished ambition. This mini-story may diverge from the primary narrative of this treatise, but it shouldn’t be ignored.

 

Returning to that central theme: if Commissioner Landis and some of his cronies were conspiring to thwart Babe Ruth aspirations to manage, the Grimes-Durocher conspiracy provided them with plenty of useful ammunition.

 

So, what does it all mean? What is my final thought on the Babe Ruth managerial issue?

Here it is: when the available data is carefully considered, I can think of only one conclusion that explains all the inconsistencies and contradictions. From 1932 through 1945, when Ruth was available to manage, there were 46 new managers hired in MLB. Despite being vastly experienced, demonstrably qualified, and immensely popular, Babe was not one of them. Maybe, there is no definitive proof of anything. However, the only explanation that makes any sense to me is that there was a cabal of influential conspirators who stopped him from getting the job. The motivation seems clear. They didn’t want The Babe to help integrate Major League Baseball.

 

 

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In a correlative issue, it is natural to ask: how was Babe Ruth regarded by the African-American men with whom he took the field?

 

In his definitive book on Negro League history, Turkey Stearnes and the Detroit Stars, author Richard Bak had this to say, “Babe Ruth, affable to a fault, was adored by Negro leaguers.” I personally interviewed many surviving Negro League veterans in the 1980s, and none of them had a bad word to say about Ruth. That is not to say that there weren’t some guys who didn’t like him. After all, Babe was just a man, and prone to misdeeds like all of us. However, I never encountered anyone who felt negatively about him. Among those with whom I spoke were: Cool Papa Bell, Buck Leonard, William Judy Johnson, Buck O’Neil, Newt Allen, Ray Dandridge, Monte Irvin, Double Duty Radcliffe, Willie Wells and Sam Streeter.

 

I had the privilege of becoming a personal friend of Judy Johnson. He lived near Wilmington, Delaware, which allowed me to visit him often from my home in suburban Philadelphia. I originally met him to discuss legendary slugger Josh Gibson, but, over time, Mr. Johnson offered many unsolicited remarks about his admiration and affection for Babe Ruth. He articulated his passion for the Bambino as both a player and a human being. On the matter of Ruth’s physical abilities, Johnson said, “We could never seem to get him out no matter what we did.” In fact, in the sixteen games for which we have documentation, Babe went 25 for 54 with eleven home runs.

 

That included an extraordinary performance on October 11, 1927 in Trenton, New Jersey, where Ruth blasted three consecutive tape measure home runs against the great Dick “Cannon Ball” Redding. It should be noted that Redding was past his prime by 1927, but Babe’s deeds that day were still exceptional. And, of course, there were those compelling encounters against the one and only Satchel Paige.

 

Ruth’s daughter, Julia Ruth Stevens, still remembers a game in Brooklyn, where Satch got the better of her “Daddy.” However, Negro League luminary Buck O’Neil recalled a different outcome in Chicago during the late-1930s. On that occasion, Babe pounded a monumental shot over the trees beyond the distant center field fence. Paige stared at him circling the bases, and, then, moved to home plate to shake Ruth’s hand. Sadly, we do not have exact dates for either event, but both sources are highly reliable.

 

More importantly, regarding Babe the man, the same Judy Johnson said, “He was quite a guy, always a lot of fun. All the guys really liked him.” In the matter of player relations, Johnson felt that Major Leaguers were divided into three separate groups. First, there were the hard cases, who would not take the field with Black performers under any circumstances. Next, you had the guys who really didn’t like African-Americans, but agreed to play the games in order to make a buck.

 

 Finally, there were the fellows like Ruth who genuinely enjoyed interacting with men of color, and displayed no inhibitions in showing it. Babe spontaneously exchanged jokes, handshakes and hugs with his Black brethren. Ruth wasn’t alone in this category. There were others: men like Jimmie Foxx, Dizzy Dean, and Bob Feller. But, there weren’t many. According to Johnson, Babe was the most personable of the entire lot. During an introspective moment not long before he passed in 1988, Mr. Johnson told me that Babe Ruth had been one of his few heroes.

 

Admittedly, it saddens me to learn that most contemporary African-Americans do not realize the friend they had in Babe Ruth. I encounter this unfortunate reality on a regular basis. At a local authors’ panel in 2007, I was seated with an erudite African-American gentleman, who had written a fascinating book about a Southern Black family during the Civil War. We exchanged stories about our work, and he acknowledged that he hadn’t previously understood the essence of Babe Ruth as a person. The next day, he re-contacted me to advise that he had continued the conversation at his neighborhood barber shop. The men there were equally surprised to learn the truth about the real Bambino.

 

Similarly, I was contacted by Baltimore Sun writer David Steele in 2008 for information about Ruth. As a young man in 1974, he was aware of the racial antipathy aimed at Henry Aaron as “Hammerin’ Hank” took aim on Babe’s career home run record. He naturally developed some resentment toward Ruth, which had carried over (at least in part) to that time. However, when I explained what I knew about Ruth, David wrote a complimentary article about the Babe in his newspaper. In my opinion, that took guts and integrity. It was an important step in overcoming this lingering misrepresentation, which unnecessarily and negatively impacts our cultural history.

 

Obviously, there are many questions about Babe Ruth that I can’t answer. However, there is one for which I feel confident in my response. How would Babe have handled that episode in 1974 when Henry Aaron was passing him on the all-time home run list? First, Ruth would have been furious with anyone invoking his name to denigrate Aaron in any way. Second, being an unusually natural and honest individual, I don’t think that he would have engaged in the standard disingenuous but politically correct practice of saying that he was happy. My guess is that Babe would have said, “Well, I can’t say that I’m happy about my record being broken. But, if somebody is going to do it, I’m glad that it is a swell fellow like Hank Aaron.” He would have supported Aaron’s efforts without reservation.

 

And here is the heart of the matter: if anybody had tried to harm Henry Aaron because he was breaking the Bambino’s record, he would have needed to fight his way past Babe Ruth to do it. On this, I have absolutely no doubt.

 

There is one reality that is beyond speculation. During his lifetime, Babe Ruth was revered by the African-American community as well as all other minority groups. When filming the life story of Lou Gehrig in Hollywood in the spring of 1942, Ruth almost died of double-pneumonia. The reaction from Black America was intense. In the Atlanta Daily World on April 12, 1942, columnist Lucius Jones wrote, “Black or white, our common hero was George Herman (Babe) Ruth. Every kid was ready to knock down the friend or foe who denied his personal claim to being Babe Ruth.”

 

Writing in the Pittsburgh Courier six days later, Wendell Smith said, “Thousands of sepia fans throughout the nation were pulling for his (Ruth’s) recovery. During the course of his unequaled career, the Great Bambino was lavish in his praise of Negro ball players. The Baltimore orphan…was never accused of wielding the bat of prejudice. He was, and still is, revered by fans of all creeds and colors.”

 

When The Babe passed six years later in 1948, the response from minority communities all over the world was extremely emotional. Not only did every African-American newspaper in America publish articles expressing profound grief and loss, there were comparable declarations from the Latino populations in Cuba, Mexico and The Philippines. For example, in Mexico City, The Excelsior stated, “All epochs have their heroes. Babe Ruth was the hero of modern generations. He has died, but he is still with us.”

 

What does it all mean? To me, when you add everything together, we see a life well lived. Despite his repressed early years, George Ruth developed a highly caring disposition. He genuinely loved children of all colors and creeds, and would do almost anything to aide a youngster in need. The depth and diversity of his charitable work now seems fictional in retrospect. In the matter of race relations, it is fair to categorize him as a pioneer of integration. He certainly helped set the stage for what Jackie Robinson so courageously accomplished in 1947.

 

In the overall context of his life, Babe Ruth accomplished much. He was born in a rough waterfront neighborhood in Nineteenth- Century Baltimore, and raised in a troubled home. Young Ruth was then placed in a reform school at age seven, and essentially remained there for twelve years. Despite those early handicaps, Babe Ruth became a true humanitarian, and was so much more than a great ballplayer.

 

Bill Jenkinson, Baseball Historian (2009, updated in 2016, 2024, and 2025)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                          BILL’S BOOKS:

 

 

2007-The Year Babe Ruth Hit 104 Home Runs

 

2010-Baseball’s Ultimate Power

        -This book was updated by Bill, and re-released in 2024.

 

 2014-BABE RUTH; Against All Odds, Baseball’s Mightiest Slugger

         -This is a co-called E-Book