1958 And Now, From Coast to Coast

The Giants and Dodgers stagger the sports world by relocating to California, where growing metropolises greet them with record-breaking attendance figures...while millions back in New York City are numbed with betrayal.

Lacking a big-time ballpark in Los Angeles, the relocated Dodgers forged one out of oval-shaped Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum knowing that baseball-thirsty fans would fill it; they did, as proven by the 78,000 that showed up for the franchise’s first-ever home game in California.

The 1950s would ignite an era of baseball where the lonely loyalists became a dying breed. The teams they heartily supported, from the Boston Braves to the St. Louis Browns to the Philadelphia Athletics, had become impoverished cousins to big ticket attractions like the Red Sox, Cardinals and Phillies, unable to draw at the gate or win on the field. In the emerging postwar modern age, the weak links within these two-team markets knew that their days were numbered and thus staked out more promising and untried territories.

No one protested. No one cried. These relocations were considered correctional shifts within baseball’s geographic and economic landscape, and the few fans left behind, their hearts broken, nonetheless understood.

The mass contingent of fanatical Brooklyn Dodger followers never thought twice, let alone once, that their team could suddenly desert them in the same way. The Dodgers were a constant success both on the field and in the stands, winning the occasional pennant before crowds that always totaled over a million at season’s end, repeated figures only the New York Yankees could match.

But Dodger owner Walter O’Malley, an astute and crafty businessman, didn’t conceptualize the need of moving a baseball team as the difference between losing money and making money—but rather, the difference between making money and making more money.

The departures to California of the Dodgers and the New York Giants, two fabled franchises drenched in historic glory, stunned fans everywhere and cemented the reality that, no matter what Oliver Wendell Holmes said in 1922 when he gave the game its antitrust exemption, baseball was indeed a business.

O’Malley, a portly man consumed, according to sportswriter Roger Kahn, with “nonromantic intelligence,” had acquired full ownership of the Dodgers in 1950 after ousting partner Branch Rickey through power politics. Witnessing what a change of scenery and a new ballpark did for the Braves once they moved to Milwaukee, O’Malley grew increasingly restless at Ebbets Field—a facility well attended, but also one that was aging, lacked parking, and was increasingly surrounded by gangs and graffiti.

At first, O’Malley publicly wanted nothing more than a new Brooklyn ballparkO’Malley brought in famed architect Buckminster Fuller to design a stadium with a geodesic dome.—provided that the public paid for most of it. The then-novel idea of local government subsidizing professional sports didn’t go over too well with city reps, who at best were cool to the idea.

At the same time, O’Malley had gotten word that an official from the County of Los Angeles, Kenneth Hahn, was courting the Washington Senators to move west. O’Malley sneaked and snaked his way in front of Senator owner Calvin Griffith and convinced Hahn that the Dodgers could be L.A.’s if the right deal was struck. Hahn, unlike his counterparts in Brooklyn, was ready and eager to provide it.

O’Malley stepped up the pressure on Brooklyn while strengthening his options with Los Angeles. In 1956, he scheduled seven Dodger home games across the Hudson at Jersey City to subtly let local officials know he wasn’t bluffing. He did it again in 1957. Most telling of all, he made a deal to trade his baseball territorial rights in Fort Worth for those owned by Chicago Cub owner Phil Wrigley: Los Angeles, California.

With increasing speed, news of a possible move spread like a terminal cancer through loyal Brooklyn fans, who had the Dodgers practically absorbed into their lifeblood.

They gradually began to realize that they weren’t the only ones in town feeling the pain.

If O’Malley was finding the status quo at Brooklyn increasingly unacceptable, it was worse for the New York Giants. They had become second division wanderers since winning the 1954 World Series, and home attendance had shrunk to dead last in the National League—despite a popular megastar drawing card in Willie Mays. It hadn’t just grown dangerous outside the Polo Grounds, but inside as well—as underscored by a fan who was killed sitting in the second deck by a gunmanThe assailant, a teenager, said it was an accident. from atop a nearby housing project.

Giant owner Horace Stoneham wanted out as well. He pursued two options: To build a new ballpark, or share Yankee Stadium with the Yankees. Neither made progress. Stoneham decided to look west as well, but only to Minneapolis. By then O’Malley told him where he was headed, and Stoneham started romanticizing the thought of playing at San Francisco, where the Dodgers would have geographic company while preserving the tense Giant-Dodger rivalry for two West Coast cities that normally liked jabbing at one another.

In the summer of 1957, Stoneham officially announced the Giants’ departure from New York. Prodded by reporters to explain why he was abandoning 75 years of grand tradition, the normally taciturn Stoneham replied with stinging wit: “We’re sorry to disappoint the kids of New York, but we didn’t see many of their fathers at the Polo Grounds in recent years.”

O’Malley, well aware he had become Brooklyn’s Public Enemy Number One, never faced the media when it came his time to announce a move to California in October 1957. He left the dirty work to his spokesmen, who finally said it right out: The Dodgers were leaving Brooklyn.

Overnight, the great baseball triad of New York was stripped of two of its cornerstones. Gotham’s loss would be the Golden State’s gain, as major league baseball would no longer be envisioned as some faraway adventure for fans living on the West Coast.

Leaving behind a decaying, increasingly troubled section of New York, the Giants came west to San Francisco where an emerging and vibrant market enthusiastically welcomed them—as Willie Mays (left) and Hank Sauer discover at the team’s official introductory parade.

While new ballparks were being drawn up for the San Francisco Giants and the Los Angeles Dodgers, they would have to make do in temporary quarters to begin life along the Pacific in 1958. The Giants settled into Seals Stadium, a naked slab of concrete that barely sat 23,000. But it was often filled, as the Giants drew nearly 1.3 million fansOnly twice in 75 years did the New York Giants draw more in one season. in their first year at San Francisco. Buoyed by the new enthusiasm and a group of everyday rookies including Felipe Alou, Jim Davenport, Willie Kirkland and NL Rookie of the Year Orlando Cepeda, the Giants responded by finishing third in the NL after consecutive sixth-place results during their last two years at New York.

The Dodgers had a harder time adjusting to their new environs at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. Never mind that the voluminous stadium was made for more rectangular-shaped sports like football and track and field; O’Malley was seduced by the potential for big crowds with 90,000 available seats. Hitters struggled to get comfortable with the wacky field dimensions, including 440 feet to the right-center power alley and a mere 251 feet to left field—somewhat aided by a 42-foot mesh screen. Such distances rewarded right-handed hitters with pop fly homers, while the frustration on left-handed sluggers was best exemplified by Duke Snider, who after hitting at least 40 homers in each of his last five years at Brooklyn could only knock 15 out for Los Angeles in 1958.

From 1958-61, the easiest home run in baseball was undoubtedly the chip shot over the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum’s 42-foot left field screen, which ranged from 250 to 320 feet from home plate. Conversely, the hardest home run may have been trying to go right or straightaway to center in the same venue, as shown below.

Overall the Dodgers staggered, bouncing in and out of last place before finally finishing seventh. And although they attracted enough spectators to set a franchise record at 1.9 million, whatever intensity the crowds gave was absorbed into the laid-back, vast recesses of the Coliseum—in sharp contrast to the tight, boxed-in atmosphere back at Ebbets Field, where avid Brooklyn fans always seemed to be right on top of the players’ backs.

As the Dodgers and Giants settled westward, the majors in general endured through a blasé summer rerun with the two defending pennant winners, the Milwaukee Braves and the New York Yankees, repeating through non-existent pennant races.

The Braves prospered for the second straight season with league-leading numbers in batting average (.266) and earned run average (3.21). Hank Aaron’s individual numbers weren’t as eye-popping as the year before, yet by hitting .326 with 30 home runs and 98 runs batted in, no one was suggesting by any means that the 24-year-old Aaron had peaked. Warren Spahn breezed to a NL-high 22 wins against 11 losses; Lew Burdette, on the heels of his 1957 World Series brilliance, enjoyed his best regular season numbers in 1958 with a 20-10 record and a 2.91 ERA that was slightly lower than Spahn’s 3.07.

While the Dodgers and Giants pressed on in the Golden State, heartbroken fans back in Brooklyn and New York languished over how to spend the summer of 1958 without baseball. Perhaps no one felt the sting worse than the Dodgers’ most vocal supporter, Hilda Chester (above), whose booming voice and clanging cowbells could once be heard amid the large Ebbets Field crowds. With two heart attacks already on her medical resume, Chester managed to survive the Dodgers’ departure without a third cardiac arrest and moved on to rooting for the Yankees (unlike other Dodger and Giant fans, who refused to root for their occasional enemy), but she never gelled within the relatively laid-back, white collar element at behemoth Yankee Stadium.

With New York City now all to themselves, the Yankees didn’t expect—and didn’t get—an influx of refugees in the role of abandoned Dodger and Giant fans, given the animosity between the three teams. Attendance actually slipped at Yankee Stadium, a slight decrease to 1.42 million that could be attributed to the lack of a serious threat to the team’s hold on first place.

Led at the plate by Mickey Mantle—who paced the American League in home runs (42), runs (127) and walks (129)—and on the mound with league leaders Bob Turley (21 wins), Whitey Ford (2.01 ERA) and closer Ryne Duren (20 saves), the Yankees sailed to their ninth pennant in ten years with a mid-September clinch date. Ironically, it was only then that Yankee fans stopped yawning, with stories of a fight between Duren and coach Ralph Houk—and, more embarrassingly, the news of general manager George Weiss hiring private eyes to find out what Yankee players were up to in the New York nightlife. The sleuths lost the trail of hard partiers such as Mantle and Ford, but not relative choir boys Tony Kubek and Bobby Richardson—who were tracked to a YMCA, where they were discovered playing ping pong.

Milwaukee looked ready to provide a fitting end to the season’s malaise by shooting out to a 3-1 game lead in their World Series rematch with the Yankees. Their backs to the ropes, New York rebounded and fought back with the next two games to force, for the fourth straight year, a seventh game.

Brave starter Lew Burdette, attempting to reprise his role as Series hero, held the Yankees tied in Game Seven through seven innings at 2-2—but then fell victim to an eighth-inning New York rally where the Yankees scored four times after the first two batters were retired. Bob Turley, relieving for the second straight game three days after firing a five-hit shutout in Game Five, held the Braves in check the rest of the way after taking over for Yankee starter Don Larsen in the third inning.

The 6-2 win in the deciding game capped the spark The Yankees hit just .210—but outhomered Milwaukee, 10-3. the Yankees had given the Series and the baseball season, becoming the first team since the 1925 Pittsburgh Pirates to win the World Series after trailing three games to one. Manager Casey Stengel, celebrating what would be his last championship, toasted his team once more as the best in baseball, the best in New York.

Not that there was anyone in New York left to challenge.

1959 baseball historyForward to 1959: Reinventing Dodger After a lackluster California debut, the Los Angeles Dodgers victoriously adapt to their new surroundings.

1957 baseball historyBack to 1957: If Casey Had a Hammer Hank Aaron ascends to the superstar elite and gives Milwaukee its first World Series title.

1950s baseball historyThe 1950s Page: A Monopoly of Success Though described as a golden age for baseball, most major league teams find themselves struggling—unless you're in New York City, where the Yankees, Dodgers and Giants hog the World Series podium from 1950-56. But as the decade winds to a close, the euphoria of Big Apple baseball will rot overnight.

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They Were There: Jim Davenport
Jim DavenportJim Davenport recalls the fond memories of the Giants' early years in San Francisco—and a miserable experience managing that same team in 1985.

1958 Standings

National League
Milwaukee Braves
Pittsburgh Pirates
San Francisco Giants
Cincinnati Redlegs
Chicago Cubs
St. Louis Cardinals
Los Angeles Dodgers
Philadelphia Phillies
American League
New York Yankees
Chicago White Sox
Boston Red Sox
Cleveland Indians
Detroit Tigers
Baltimore Orioles
Kansas City Athletics
Washington Senators

1958 Postseason Results
World Series New York (AL) defeated Milwaukee (NL), 4-3.

It Happened in 1958

Missing Campy
The Dodgers play their first year at Los Angeles without eight-time all-star catcher Roy Campanella, whose career ends tragically in late January when his rental car skids off an icy Long Island road and into a telephone pole—resulting in a spinal injury that will confine him to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. The 36-year-old Campanella was a three-time winner of the National League’s Most Valuable Player award.

Why Fight for One Base…
The Milwaukee Braves are caught stealing eight times all year—an all-time major league low. They do succeed in 26 other stolen base attempts, not a large figure from a team that depends more on power over speed.

…When You Can Easily Swing for Four?
To underscore further why the Braves seldom bother to steal, sluggers Hank Aaron, Eddie Mathews and Wes Covington homer on three consecutive pitches during a May 31 contest at Pittsburgh against Pirate pitcher Ron Kline. Milwaukee wins, 8-3.

Power Grab
Vic Power of the Cleveland Indians steals home twice during a ten-inning, 10-9 win over the Detroit Tigers on August 14. Power’s second swipe of home is the game-winner; he steals only one other base all season long. Accomplished numerous times during the deadball era, no player other than Power has twice stolen home in a game since 1927.

A Gift for Gus
On the final day of the regular season in New York, Baltimore Oriole catcher Gus Triandos steals second base in what be his only stolen base attempt of his 13-year career. No other player in major league history has played more games than Triandos’ 1,206 and not been caught stealing. The Yankees concede Triandos’ ninth-inning steal—not even bothering to throw him out—as they’re comfortably ahead, 6-2. A future change in scoring rules will deny statistical credit for such a stolen base gimme.

Milestones on the Field—And at the Bank
Stan Musial becomes the first National Leaguer to earn a $100,000 salary, and thanks the St. Louis Cardinals for it by hammering out his 3,000th career hit. His pinch-hit double on May 13, during the Cardinals’ 5-3 win over the Cubs at Chicago, makes him the eighth player in history—and the first since Paul Waner, sixteen years earlier—to reach the 3,000-hit plateau. At 37, Musial’s productivity is starting to ebb, batting .337 but with only 17 homers and 62 runs batted in. Opposing pitchers still respect The Man enough that he leads the NL with 26 intentional walks.

Billy Don’t You Lose That Perfecto
Billy Pierce of the Chicago White Sox is one out away from throwing the first perfect game in a regular season contest in 36 years—but has it spoiled by Washington pinch-hitter Ed Fitz Gerald, who doubles. Pierce retires the next batter and beats the Senators, 3-0 on June 27.

Hoyt’s So Good
Hoyt Wilhelm, less than a month after being picked up on waivers, throws a no-hitter for the Orioles against the Yankees on September 20. It’s the first-ever win for the 36-year-old knuckleballer as a starter following eight previous starts and 361 relief appearances over seven major league seasons.

Beware of Flying Bats Thrown by Angry Superstars
Ted Williams, less than a month after turning 40, is having a dismal year by his standards—he’s batting .312—and, after striking out against Washington on September 21 at Boston, lets loose by throwing his bat in disgust. Seventy-five feet later, the bat strikes the forehead of a 60-year-old woman in the stands who just happens to be the housekeeper for Red Sox general manager Joe Cronin. As she’s sent to the hospital (where she’ll be released within a day), Williams is lustily booed when he returns to the outfield. But the jeers turn to cheers over the next week, as Williams closes out the season on a tear, batting .650 with four doubles, four homers and ten RBIs to raise his batting average by 16 points to win his seventh—and last—American League batting title at .328, beating out teammate Pete Runnels’ .322 mark.

Meadowlark or Lemon?
Bob Gibson, taking a break from the Cardinals’ farm system, performs a one-year tour of duty with basketball’s Harlem Globetrotters. He will wind up as a rookie pitcher in St. Louis the following year, initiating a Hall of Fame career.

Black Fall
It’s a rough offseason for longtime baseball enthusiasts reading the obituary page. Mel Ott, Tris Speaker, Nap Lajoie, Mort Cooper and Howard Ehmke all pass away in the months following the 1958 season. The death of Ott, then the NL’s all-time home run leader, is especially disturbing; he is killed by a drunk driver in New Orleans at the age of 49.

The Slugger is a Pitcher
Rocky Colavito of the Cleveland Indians tries his luck at pitching, hurling the last three innings of a 3-2 loss against Detroit on August 11. He allows no runs or hits, strikes out one and walks three. Ten years later he will make his second career relief appearance and record a win while throwing for the Yankees.

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