As
Chicago prepared to celebrate the New Year in its usual boisterous
manner, Charley Weeghman and
associates were rushing to close on some property in rapidly developing Lakeview before National League officials could snap up part of it and thwart the Lunch Counter King’s big
ambitions. He dreamed of making the high
level independent Federal League into
a true third Major League, anchored
on his recently acquired franchise. To
do it he needed to erect a brand new state of the art ball park in a hurry to compete against the White Sox lavish
modern digs at Comiskey Park and the
Cubs rundown cracker box fire trap,
the West Side Grounds.
Before
the close of business that day, December
31, 1913, he was the principle owner of a vacant former Seminary conveniently located next to a
stop on the north side Elevated line
and the busy Clark Street Trolley.
Chicago Lutheran Theological Seminary located in then
bucolic Lakewood, a Township north
of the city, in erected handsome Victorian buildings on the site to house and
educate its devout young men safely away from the temptations of the big
city. But a real estate boom caused the Township to be absorbed the city in
1889, the year before the Seminary could open its doors.
The
El opened in 1900 and with it Lakeview exploded with new development. With it
came all of the sin and degradation the Lutherans hoped to avoid. By 1909, despite its relatively new
buildings, the Seminary was eager to sell and move to safer and a quieter
suburban location.
Weeghman
was not the first to recognize the potential for a baseball park at the
location. The operators of the minor
league American Association (AA)
were themselves eyeing the dream of becoming a major league that year. Charles
Havenor, owner of the league’s Milwaukee
Brewers, and the Cantillion brothers,
owners of the Minneapolis Millers knew
that the needed a premier location for a Chicago team, so they quickly bought
the Seminary property, hoping to turn it over rapidly the AA for a big
profit.
The
Seminary took the dough--$175,000 and relocated to Maywood. Unfortunately for
the new owners, the existing Major leagues successfully blocked the AA’s
admission and it looked for a while that they may have a white elephant on
their hands.
Enter
the Federal League, another minor
league that at first was just trying to elevate itself to the high level of the
AA. But with the AA damaged, Federal
League owners thought they could pull off what the AA had failed to do. Midway through the 1913 season, they decided
to make their move.
James A. Gilmore, a Chicago coal
baron with plenty of political clout and a kind of ruthless business savvy was
brought on a league president. He
recruited two men to take over the Chicago franchise then known as the Chiefs which played at the small DePaul University Baseball Grounds. Fish merchant William Walker brought cash and a willingness to be an essentially
silent partner. Weeghman, a flamboyant
promoter whose chain of lunch counters—sort of primitive fast food joints—was
revolutionizing the way office clerks and shop girls ate their quick lunches,
was the managing partner with big ideas.
He was also a baseball fan and knew something about the game.
By
early December he showed he was serious about making his new team big league by
signing a genuine star—Cincinnati Red
shortstop Johnny Tinker. Suddenly
there was a buzz and growing excitement in the Windy City for the team and league.
But
Weeghman knew that he could never be big league at DePaul. He planned to launch his new team in April
amid all of the considerable hoopla he was capable of generating, but he had to
open in a modern new stadium. And the
best piece of available real estate in the city for that was in the hands of
the disappointed AA team owners.
Negotiations
began at once, complicated by stirring opposition from the largely residential
neighborhood to a noisy ball park in their midst. Each party knew the other needed the deal. National League officials tried to buy an
adjacent coal yard to block the sale.
Fed president Gilmore’s political clout, however, trumped even the Cubs.
It came down to the wire, but Weeghman finally closed on the last day of the
year.
It
was not an outright sale. It was a 99
year lease, which meant a continuing revenue stream for the former owners and
their heirs. And as a sop to noisy
community opposition it came with a $70,000 cap on improvements to the
property, hardly enough to erect a small, wooden bleacher park. Weeghman never intended to limit himself to
that figure knowing that once he had occupancy, with Gilmore’s political
connections, and some generous donations to local politicians he could do
anything he wanted.
He
had to move fast, however. He secured
the services of architect Zachary Taylor
Davis, who had designed Comiskey
Park in 1910. His instructions were
to create a lavish new stadium modeled on the New York Giant’s Polo Grounds.
But there was not enough time—or cash—to erect that kind of edifice.
Instead
Davis delivered a sleek, innovative concrete and steel plan that called for a
single deck covered grandstand sweeping in a continuous arch from right field to near the left field
corner. A small press box perched on the roof behind home plate. Due to the
irregular shape of the lot—in the first years not all of the Seminary were
razed—there was only room for a tiny jury
box style bleacher in right
field. Seating capacity was a
disappointing 14,000, but Weeghman knew that with standing room and seats on
the field itself if necessary, double that figure could be accommodated.
Seminary
buildings at the corner of Addison
and Waveland were razed beginning on
February 23, 1914. But the main
building, Eliza Hall, was left
standing outside of what would be a very short left field fence. Ground breaking on construction of the new
field and grandstand was on March 4, only weeks in advance of the planned April
23 home opener.
General Contractor Blome-Sinek swarmed the
site with up to 500 men a day in a frenzied effort to open in time. Despite weather and a brief strike in early April, they completed
the job just in time.
Every
detail of the construction was avidly covered in the Chicago press, part of
Weeghman’s relentless public relations campaign. He shuttled reporters and photographer to the
site and bought them lunch and drinks.
Meanwhile
he also made headlines by salting the team with journeymen big leaguers and top
prospects from the American Association.
It was apparent that Weeghman would field a real major league quality
team.
When
it was ready, the field was irregular and angular with extremely short foul
lines. The distance from home plate to the right field brick fence along
Sheffield Avenue was around 300 feet and left field, hemmed in by Seminary
buildings ended at a wooden fence surmounted by a scoreboard not much deeper at the foul line. Left field was not much better, partly because
several old Seminary buildings stood between the wooden left field fence and
Waveland Avenue. The right and left field walls converged in a corner in deep
center field, nearly 450 feet from home plate.
Opening
day must have exceeded even Weeghman’s expectations. The team, redubbed for this season only as
the ChiFeds while a newspaper
contest was held to pick a new nickname
opened before double capacity against the Kansas
City Packers before a double capacity crowd standing room crowd. In fact some fans stood along in already
shallow foul territory and others were crowded on the field deep in that center
field niche. They were treated to a
spectacular show including 10 brass bands plus twenty pretty young members of
the Daughters of the Grand Army of the
Republic Relief Corps.
More
importantly, the ChiFeds trounced Kansas City 9-1 and went on to sweep the
opening series.
But
all was not perfect. The close fence
down the left field foul line invited an unusual number of home runs in an era
when the game as about speed and base running.
Alarmed, Weeghman ordered the front porch of the Seminary’s Eliza Hall
torn down so that the left field fence could be pushed out 25 feet.
Excited
Chicago fans, most of them former loyalists of the fading Cubs, whose once
dominant teams had slipped to third place in the two previous seasons and would
actually post a losing record that year for the first time since 1902, thronged
the new park as the team won a Federal League pennant.
Over
the next winter the team got a new and puzzling name courtesy of that newspaper
poll—the Chicago Whales. Weeghman also signed popular former Cubs
pitching legend Mordecai “Three Finger”
Brown who had been fired as player manager of the St. Louis Federal League team in 1914. Most importantly, he had Eliza Hall finally
torn down and erected the first real bleachers in its place behind the leftfield
wall. The scoreboard was moved to center
field.
Mayor William Hale “Big Bill” Thompson threw out the
first pitch of 1915 before another standing room only crowd. A highlight of the season was a July 29
benefit game for the families of victims of the SS Eastland sinking in
the Chicago River five days
earlier. Weegham reaped tons of good
press by donating the gate and concession profits from the game and the players
even took up a collection among themselves.
Weeghman also introduced special promotions like the first ever Ladies Days every Friday and the restaurateur’s
concessions peddled the best and tastiest food in baseball.
Fan
attention was riveted by a close and exciting Federal League pennant race that
year, too. The Whales won the league championship, finishing with 86 wins and
66 losses, percentage points ahead of the St.
Louis Terriers’s 87–67 record.
The
Whales were a huge success story.
Unfortunately the Federal League was not. Most of its teams were floundering. Over the winter Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis, later first Commissioner of Baseball, brokered a deal between the Federal,
American and National Leagues that dissolved the upstart. As the premier property of the Federal
League, a side deal was struck in which Weegham was bought out the Cubs for a
record $500,000.
He
merged the two teams, replacing weak Cubs with the stars of the Whales. The Cubs would abandon their old digs and
open the 1916 at Weeghman Park. Nobody mourned the old West Side Grounds,
except perhaps the neighborhood urchins who earned free passes by cleaning the
stands or could sneak through the porous fences.
Weeghman
staged another opening day extravaganza for his new Cubs in 1916 with the team
entering the park from a mile long parade behind brass bands to cheering
crowds. There were fireworks, a 21 gun
salute from Fort Sheridan soldiers,
and the presentation of a new live baby bear cub mascot. The team bested the Reds in the opener 7-6 in
11 nail-biting innings.
That
proved to be the highlight of the year on the field. Despite the influx of new talent, the Cubs were
still a second division team and remained there in 1917,
Then
things finally turned around. Behind and pitching star Grover
Cleveland Alexander, the Cubs clinched the National League Pennant. But Weegham Field did not host the World Series. The boss rented Comiskey Park because of
its larger seating capacity. That proved
to be a mistake. Many North Side fans did not make the trek
into the alien South Side and attendance
was weak as the Cub’s battled the Boston
Red Sox led by pitching phenom Babe Ruth.
The Cubs lost the Series 4 games to 2.
It
was Weeghman’s swan song in active management of the team. He had been selling minority interest in the
Cubs to others for some time to help raise capital. The largest of the minority owners was William Wrigley of the chewing gum fortune who ousted him from
day-to-day control.
At
the same time the foundation of Weeghman’s personal fortune, his chain of lunch
counters, was struggling as new competitors, including the Automat entered the completion and thirsty Prohibition era diners suddenly discovered a crying need to have a
beer with their lunch in the semi-secret booze-in-a-tea-cup joints that
flourished. By 1919 Wrigley completely bought
out Weegham and assumed the team presidency.
The
ball park was re-christened Cubs Park in 1920.
And although the Cubs fielded notably mediocre teams through most of the
decade, it remained a popular spot and fans filled the seats. Under Wrigley the park would be expanded and remolded
in 1922, ’25, and ’28. The latter
upgrade added a second deck to the previously expanded grandstands and raised
seating capacity to over 35,000, the largest in the majors. In 1925 the park
was renamed for the final time to Wrigley
Field.
The
rest, as they say, is history.