Tinker To Evers To Chance To The US District Court of Georgia

These are the saddest of possible words:
“Tinker to Evers to Chance.”
Trio of bear cubs, and fleeter than birds,
Tinker and Evers and Chance.
Ruthlessly pricking our gonfalon bubble,
Making a Giant hit into a double –
Words that are heavy with nothing but trouble:
“Tinker to Evers to Chance.”

How one is remembered is largely up to the whims of history; some are forgotten entirely, others are molded time and again until they become caricatures of themselves, hardly resembling human beings. Still others meander through history, popping up in strange places that give us pause, reminding us of the deep interconnectedness of humanity. Though the Chicago Cubs have had a bounty of individuals fitting the first two categories, the subject of this piece is three men soundly in the third.

The Cubs enjoyed monumental success in the early 1900s, winning two World Series victories and four National League pennants. At the heart of these victories were Joe Tinker, Johnny Evers, and Frank Chance, the club’s shortstop, second baseman, and first baseman, respectively. Though they were the most feared double play combination in the league and contributed with the bat, as well, their legacy comes not from their feats on the diamond, but their appearance in Franklin Pierce Adams’ 1910 poem, “Baseball’s Sad Lexicon.”

Frequently called “Tinker to Evers to Chance,” the poem reached great heights, becoming a staple amongst early baseball fans. But its existence is somewhat accidental. Adams, a weekly columnist for the New York Evening Mail, explains the inspiration for the poem thusly: “I wrote that piece because I wanted to get out to the game, and the foreman of the composing room at the Mail said I needed eight lines to fill. And the next day (an editor) said that no matter what else I ever wrote, I would be known as the guy that wrote those eight lines. And they weren’t much good, at that.”¹

The throwaway poem quickly became a hit amongst baseball fans, who recited it at Cubs games when the team traveled throughout the country. In 1913, it was the subject of another poem written for The Day Book, a Chicago ad-free newspaper targeting the things important to 95% of the population.² By 1915, the trio were already labeled “forgotten,” out of baseball and existing solely in the poem. Indeed, all references to the three included some play on the poem. In 1919, the New York Tribune published a pastiche titled “Resurrection’:

Do you remember the slogan about
Tinker to Evers to Chance?
Do you remember those killings, old scout,
Tinker to Evers to Chance?
Thirteen swift summers have sped since that rhyme
Made a bard famous and up to this time
No one plays ball like that trio sublime
Tinker to Evers to Chance³

The three continued to be remembered in poetry form well into the 1920s, but they, and the poem, faded from history throughout the ‘30s.

It was not until the Veterans Committee came under scrutiny in the 1940s for being too selective and repeatedly denying every candidate entry to the Hall of Fame that the poem resurfaced. As the Committee narrowed its scope to players from the 1900s-1910s, the poem resurfaced in an effort to get the trio elected. Perhaps spearheaded by the legendary writer Grantland Rice, the campaign efforts spread across America. Though different publications pushed harder for one of the trio over the others, they all came back to the poem, ultimately regarding the three as a packaged deal.⁴

Their election has been the subject of occasional debate with most finding them the weakest members of the Hall, based on their low batting averages, slugging percentages, and overrated defensive play.⁵ Most cite the poem as the reason for the trio’s induction to the Hall, arguing it characterizes the trio as far more adept ballplayers than was actually the case.

What these critics fail to note, though, is that what Tinker, Evers, and Chance lack in skill, they make up for in versatility. Since the reintroduction of the poem in the ’40s, the trio has served as an example of teamwork in many fields, from the hard sciences to the social sciences, becoming rather a Jack of all trades. But the most striking appearance of three white men who died long before the Civil Rights era was in a 1961 Georgia courtroom.

In 1960, Hamilton Holmes and Charlayne Hunter sued the University of Georgia’s registrar, Walter N. Danner, for refusing their admittance on the basis of them being African-American. Judge William Bootle, noted for his dedication to desegregation while serving as Chief Judge on the US District Court of Georgia, oversaw this case. On January 6th, one month after the trial began, he ruled in favor of the students, stating: “although there is no written policy or rule excluding Negroes…there is a tacit policy to that effect….The plaintiffs would already have been admitted had it not been for their race and color.”⁶ He ordered the University of Georgia to immediately admit the plaintiffs.

Three days later, on the basis of fair play, Bootle stayed his decision, granting the University time to appeal. The Students’ lawyers petitioned Judge Elbert P. Tuttle, member of the United States Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit, to overturn the stay. Tuttle immediately did just so, reaffirming Bootle’s findings that these students “had daily been denied their rights on the basis of their race and color.” Therefore, “the quickest disposition that can be made of this case, so far as granting these plaintiffs the right to an education in a state institution—as the trial court has clearly found they are entitled to—is the best solution not only for them but for all others concerned.”⁷

The university then appealed to Justice Hugo Black of the US Supreme Court, hoping the former KKK member would rule in their favor. Black, however, turned the case over to the full Court, which declined to hear it, thereby upholding Bootle’s initial ruling. Upon starting class on January 11th, the students were met with riots. Deciding it “best for their safety,” the university suspended the pair. The next day Judge Bootle overturned the suspension, finally enabling Holmes and Hunter to attend classes. Though the two faced significant harassment and discrimination, they both graduated from the university and have since achieved much success as a physician and journalist, respectively.⁸   

After receiving the final verdict, Vernon Jordan, one of the students’ lawyers, shouted in jubilation, “From Bootle to Tuttle to Black and back!” The phrase was then immortalized by cartoonist Clifford Baldowski’s picture run on January 11th in the Atlanta Constitution, in which he depicts the trio of judges–clad in robes and baseball uniforms– triumphantly turning a double play against a man labeled “school appeals.”

Though the trio are seldom remembered as individuals, the names “Tinkers, Evers, and Chance” have become synonymous with this landmark Civil Rights victory. A series of highly improbable events—a throwaway poem becoming famous, the Cubs being successful, a Civil Rights lawyer in the euphoria of victory instantly thinking of the poem–combining to immortalize three baseball players dead before 1950 is a shining example of the place baseball occupies in the minds of Americans. Tinker to Evers to Chance to Bootle to Tuttle to Black is not so much of a leap after all.

¹ http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2010-07-05/news/ct-tinker-cubs-story_1_gonfalon-bubble-cubs-fan-poem
² The Day Book, January 4, 1913.
³ New York Tribune, August 10, 1919.
⁴ Examples can be found in Big Piney Examiner, February 1, 1945; Ogden Standard-Examiner, May 12, 1946; and The Times Record, January 23, 1946.
⁵ Paul D. Staudohar, “Tinker to Evers to Chance: Poetry in Motion,” Nine vol. 14, 1 (2005): 114-129.
⁶ Robert A. Pratt, “We Shall Not Be Moved: The Desegregation of the University of Georgia,” 82.
⁷ Pratt, 83.
⁸ http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A36822-2005Jan25.html