" 'He Wanted Desperately To Stay' ? Apparently not! " Rated ***(**)

books:


	• The Last Good Season: Brooklyn, the Dodgers and Their Final Pennant Race Together Michael Shapiro Broadway, 2004 - 384 pages average customer review:based on 25 reviews view larger image
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highly recommended

Book Marred By Misleading Revisionism On O'Malley

The three stars I will give for what Shaprio tries to do in recreating the story of the last Brooklyn pennant drive. But this book deserves no more than that for its promotion of an appalling bit of revisionist history that tries to take the blame off Walter O'Malley for moving the Dodgers, and transferring it instead to Robert Moses. Neal Sullivan in "The Dodgers Move West" was the first to push this idea, but Shapiro takes it to new heights, declaring boldly that "Robert Moses is the bad guy in this story" for not in effect giving O'Malley what he wanted at an Atlantic Avenue site.

One could say that Shapiro's analysis is really the flip-side emotional argument against Moses, the same way so much of the old arguments against O'Malley from Brooklynites were rooted in emotion. And in Shapiro's case, the blunt facts are that on an emotional AND economic level, his attempt to paint Moses as the real villain has absolutely no validity.

On an emotional level, the argument fails because O'Malley was ultimately the one who had to make the final call, and it was O'Malley who failed to understand the depth of meaning the team had to a community that made it ethically dubious (though perfectly legal) to decide he, a man who had owned the team outright for only seven years, had the right to take a 67 year civic institution 3000 miles away for his own personal edification. If O'Malley suffered from a genuine financial hardship case (which he did not), then he should have sold the team. The argument that Shaprio makes "O'Malley had not spent all his time and energy and divested himself of all his holdings but his baseball team in order to take Robert Moses' on-the-cheap-deal in Flushing Meadows" is somehow designed to make us feel sorry for O'Malley in the sense that as a businessman he had no choice but to do what he did. That is simply nonsense.

Fortunately, Henry Fetter's "Taking On The Yankees" written after Shapiro's book, has offered some much needed post-revisionism to this story by offering the kind of full-blown economic analysis of O'Malley's Atlantic Avenue plan that one will not find in Shapiro's book. What Fetter points out, and what Shapiro neglects to do is note that O'Malley was only prepared to pay the city $1 million for the land he expected the city to condemn at Atlantic Avenue in order for him to build his stadium. The true value of the land, given the costs of relocation of a major meat market and a rail terminal though, would have been more on the order of $9 million, meaning in effect O'Malley wanted a sweetheart deal of a kind that would have represented civic extortion at its worse. Robert Moses offered a perfectly legitimate site in Flushing Meadow that would in time prove to be a profitable draw for the ex-Dodger fanbase who became Met fans, and which answered all the concerns over parking and transportation access that supposedly made Ebbets Field obsolete at this point (though Fetter's analysis notes that the complaints about Ebbets Field were almost identical to ones being sounded a decade later about Fenway Park in Boston, and Fenway as we know, still survives in a bad neighborhood and the same low capacity that Ebbets Field had). O'Malley rejected the offer because he wasn't going to get a big cash cow for himself, which he tried to paper over with the dubious argument that moving the Dodgers to Queens would be no different than moving to Los Angeles.

O'Malley might have been a man who loved his family, but as a sports owner, he was as ethically dishonest as Art Modell was to Cleveland Browns fans a generation later and as such, should not be given Hall of Fame recognition, ever. It's really a sad comment that because of the impact of Robert Caro's "The Power Broker", Robert Moses has become a convenient whipping boy for revisionist authors like Shapiro and Sullivan who believe in rehabilitating O'Malley no matter what. But while Moses was a man whose faults should be duly documented, he is totally blameless on the matter of why the Brooklyn Dodgers moved to Los Angeles.

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" 'He Wanted Desperately To Stay' ? Apparently not! " Rated ***(**)

THE LAST GOOD SEASON, by Michael Shapiro, earns itself a provisional rating of FIVE STARS in my mind, based primarily on the quality of the writing (which is uniformly excellent) and the depth of the research (which, within limits, is exhaustive). Yet the book deserves, like Roger Maris' "61*", to be only a qualified ***(**) success.

Much of that qualification comes from Shapiro's heavily touted and slanted thesis that Dodgers owner Walter O'Malley was not responsible for the Dodgers' departure from Brooklyn in 1957, after Robert Moses refused to build a replacement for the aging Ebbets Field.

Shapiro's grasp of the facts regarding Brooklyn is somewhat fuzzy. He says, "Jews went to Midwood [High School], poor blacks to Jefferson." Yet in the Dodger era, Brownsville was predominantly (70%) Jewish. It was not until later that Brownsville became a black neighborhood. Shapiro waxes rhapsodic about Midwood (his childhood home?) but slights the rest of Brooklyn. He admits that by the time he became aware of the Dodgers they were gone. Ironically enough, even while granting O'Malley absolution in absentia he makes and supports every argument as to why the man did not deserve it.

Shapiro blames, among other things, "white flight" for the Dodgers' relocation, but then argues that fans come in all colors. It's as if, in pardoning O'Malley, he is trying to convince us of something he really doesn't believe himself.

According to Shapiro, "Robert Moses is the bad guy in this story." This is an incredibly strong statement, particularly since Shapiro admits in many places that O'Malley was mendacious, that he was arrogant, that his plans for a new Buckminster Fuller-styled stadium seemed, at best, to be for public consumption only (O'Malley stole the scale model from the actual designer, Billy Kleinsasser, and used it without permission or recompense at public events), that he dealt with player and staff salaries in increments of hundreds and thousands of dollars not hundreds OF thousands of dollars (i.e., star pitcher Preacher Roe claims his highest Dodger salary was a paltry $28,000.00 in 1955), that he did not understand the "Little People" who were Dodger fans, that he once (as a youngster) traded a stack of Dodger baseball cards for one Giants' Christy Mathewson, that he fined employees who mentioned Branch Rickey's name in his presence, and, in short, that he was not really a fan of the team he owned.

Shapiro wants to paint horns on Robert Moses' head, and in some sense they do belong there, but not necessarily in the sense that Shapiro would prefer. Like the Master Builders of Ancient Egypt he had virtually unlimited power in his sphere. The ironically-named Moses was a man with a vision for New York, and he set about creating that vision of shining, rising buildings (such as Lincoln Center), vast bridges (the Throgs Neck, the Whitestone, The Triborough, and the frighteningly huge Verrazano are all his), and endless parkways (as a sampling, the Cross Island, the Belt, the Northern State, the Southern State, the Meadowbrook and the Wantagh) linking New York City and its expanding suburbs in a net of urban development. Yet this visionary had pathological flaws. Monomaniacal in his sphere, he had no compunction about unilaterally razing hundreds of city blocks, evicting tens of thousands, and altering the neighborhoods and neighborhood patterns of New York without a thought. Such changes brought other, unanticipated changes---the "through" expressways of The Bronx relegated it to a kind of backwater status accelerating its descent into slum conditions, and Moses' chopping up of neighborhoods in Brooklyn balkanized the Borough into a patchwork of disconnected rich and poor enclaves. Moses was more successful on sparsely-settled Long Island and in Westchester, where his road network created rather than changed demographic patterns.

When these two prima donnas met head-to-head, they treated each other with barely-concealed contempt. Although Moses was at first favorably disposed to a new stadium in downtown Brooklyn, this agreement soured within days. Without access to O'Malley's papers (which he was refused by the O'Malley family), the reason for this sudden souring is unknown, and ripe for speculation. Moses pressed, at first, for a new stadium in Bedford-Stuyvesant, a declining neighborhood; O'Malley refused. Moses promised him a new stadium in Flushing Meadow, Queens (the future Shea); again, O'Malley refused, declaring that the team was to remain in Brooklyn---he countered with an offer to build in Brooklyn, on the site of a ramshackle meat market. Moses refused to condemn the property (a first for him).

This bickering was never about questions of civic-mindedness, fan appreciation, nor humanitarianism. This was strictly a personal issue between the two men that affected millions of people.

While this was going on, the 1956 Dodgers struggled successfully through their World Champion season. Shapiro's snapshot of the team is far more detailed than his portrait of the politics, and is a joy to read. Shapiro is at his best as he describes the dynamic tensions that existed between the various Dodgers, the great negotiator of personalities, Pee Wee Reese, and their fanbase. It is clear that Ebbets Field was no longer a suitable home, at least without major modifications. Parking was very poor, a serious concern in the emerging era of the suburban commuter fan; the stadium itself needed to be revamped, the plumbing fixed, the seating rearranged. Still, Ebbets Field was only 45 years old, and was a solid structure, despite its flaws.

If O'Malley was indeed "desperate to stay in Brooklyn" as Shapiro posits, then why weren't his efforts directed toward staying? Why was he engaged in a stalemated battle of wills with Moses over a new stadium? Perhaps O'Malley simply wasn't "desperate" enough. Certainly, Yankee Stadium and Fenway Park still stand in less than desirable locations, but they draw dedicated fans nonetheless. Had O'Malley spent a part of his considerable fortune buying up some surrounding properties and building a parking complex, and then incrementally improved Ebbets Field with better seating and new amenities, the Dodger fanbase would have continued to travel to Flatbush.

O'Malley did not do this. He wanted land, and a lot of it, on the cheap---had Moses condemned the meat market, O'Malley would have bought the property for pennies on the dollar, a very attractive possibility to a man who squeezed a penny hard enough to put a permanent wave in Lincoln's beard. Los Angeles offered him that and he jumped, literally across a continent, to get it, taking his team about as far from Brooklyn as it was possible to go in his desperation to stay. Yet, if he'd REALLY wanted to stay, Flushing Meadow beckoned. And despite the fact that Flushing is not Brooklyn, the New York football Giants play in New Jersey's Meadowlands and still remain a New York team (the O'Malley-inspired move of the baseball Giants from Manhattan to San Francisco is another issue). In 1957, many of Brooklyn's fans were Long Island transplants, and more would be as time passed. Queens, while not the best of all possible worlds, would have been a convenient waypoint for fans from the old and new neighborhoods.

For that matter, had either O'Malley or Moses given a damn about Brooklyn, they would have cooperated in building a new stadium and reinvigorating Brooklyn. Neither cared to.

"Walter O'Malley was not a bad man. He was devoted to his wife and his children loved him," Shapiro points out. That's nice to know. But O'Malley was also an S.O.B. in business. The two are not mutually exclusive. "Only a sentimental man," Shapiro writes, "would have stayed." Maybe so. But the Dodgers and the Dodger fanbase needed a sentimental man, they needed a fellow fan, they needed a man who loved the team and who loved Brooklyn. What they had was Walter O'Malley, who saw the team merely as a moneymaking concern. O'Malley's actions speak for themselves, regardless of Shapiro's revisionism. And if O'Malley was "not unique" among team owners but merely "so obvious" about his profit motives, the blame is still his for eroding the spirit of The Game, and beginning the slide to where we are today in baseball with its overly mobile nonentity franchises, bloated payrolls, stars on steroids, cupidity and stupidity, and fan disinterest.

In the face of necessity, sentiment oft-times does not serve. But in circumstances of choice, such as faced by the Dodgers, sentiment can be a hedge against callousness.

What O'Malley (and Moses) failed to grasp is that a ball team is more than an agglomeration of men in uniform standing around in an open field. He (they) failed to grasp that a baseball game is more than just nine innings and a cold toting of runs, hits, and errors. It is a conversation at a water cooler, a friendly argument over lunch, an invitation to meet at the ballpark on Saturday afternoon for dogs and beer and a chance to see The Duke of Flatbush. It is a sense of neighborliness, a sense of pride, and was---still is---an important part of Brooklyn's special identity.

As Roger Kahn says in The Boys of Summer, "In the best of all possible worlds the Dodgers would be in Brooklyn and Los Angeles would have the Mets."

That's as it should have been.

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Very informative

I have long been interested in the old Brooklyn Dodgers, having read multiple books on the subject. This is among the best. First of all, it is an excellent read. There is plenty of baseball included in its pages, and the Dodgers teams of the 50s were always interesting. But I learned much more than I expected from this book about the politics that led to the team's move to California. It's too bad the franchise couldn't have remained in Brooklyn, but the reasons they left were different than I would have imagined. The book also paints the picture of a post-World War II New York that was rapidly changing. As a lover of baseball, history and baseball history, I thoroughly enjoyed this book.

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Completely Satisfying

This book probably doesn't get the sales or the attention it deserves, because the title and the cover make it look as if it's intended just for baseball junkies. But it's far more than that. In just 332 pages, Shapiro tells four stories:

1. The story of the National League pennant race in 1956.
2. The story of why the Dodgers (and therefore the Giants as well) decided to move to California in 1958.
3. The social, demographic, and economic changes that Brooklyn (and, by extension, much of urban America) experienced in the post-World War II era.
4. Thumbnail sketches of the personal lives of the core players in the Brooklyn Dodger lineup from 1947 through 1956.

None of these four themes is given short shrift. Furthermore, Shapiro has organized this book beautifully. He seems to have done a perfect job in choosing exactly where to break the narrative of the Dodgers' wins and losses, and insert a section about the changing character of a neighborhood in Brooklyn.

Not only that, but Shapiro's writing is superb. Here is his account of the last pitch of the last Dodger game of the regular season - a game they had to win in order to clinch the championship, with Dodger Don Bessent pitching to Pittsburgh's Hank Foiles:

*****
Don Bessent went into his windup. The last thing he thought before releasing the ball was, he later said, "Tight, keep it tight."

Hank Foiles swung. The next thing he heard was the thud of the ball in Roy Campanella's mitt.
*****

You don't have to be a baseball fan to enjoy this book. You just have to enjoy good writing and a wonderful story, wonderfully told.

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Amazingly Good

Wow. First let me say that I'm not a Brooklyn resident or a Dodger fan and picked this book up without knowing anything about it. The book turned out to be one of the best baseball books I've read in quite some time.

I was drawn into the book immediately. It is clear in the Prologue that Shapiro is a very good writer and that the book is as much about the fifties and Brooklyn as it is about a pennant race. The book is enjoyable on both fronts.

Shapiro does a great job of weaving a portrait of the changes going on in Brooklyn in the mid-fifties and giving younger readers a good idea of what it was like to grow up in that era. It is clear that Shapiro has done quite a bit of research and I think the reader really gets a good look into the personalities of the players and other characters in the story.

Any fan of baseball history will do himself a favor in buying this book. It truly deserves more acclaim than it has received.

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reviews: page 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

In the bestselling tradition of The Boys of Summer and Wait ‘Til Next Year, The Last Good Season is the poignant and dramatic story of the Brooklyn Dodgers’ last pennant and the forces that led to their heartbreaking departure to Los Angeles.

The 1956 Brooklyn Dodgers were one of baseball’s most storied teams, featuring such immortals as Jackie Robinson, Pee Wee Reese, Duke Snider, Gil Hodges, and Roy Campanella. The love between team and borough was equally storied, an iron bond of loyalty forged through years of adversity and sometimes legendary ineptitude. Coming off their first World Series triumph ever in 1955, against the hated Yankees, the Dodgers would defend their crown against the Milwaukee Braves and the Cincinnati Reds in a six-month neck-and-neck contest until the last day of the playoffs, one of the most thrilling pennant races in history.

But as The Last Good Season so richly relates, all was not well under the surface. The Dodgers were an aging team at the tail end of its greatness, and Brooklyn was a place caught up in rapid and profound urban change. From a cradle of white ethnicity, it was being transformed into a racial patchwork, including Puerto Ricans and blacks from the South who flocked to Ebbets Field to watch the Dodgers’ black stars. The institutions that defined the borough – the Brooklyn Eagle, the Brooklyn Navy Yard – had vanished, and only the Dodgers remained. And when their shrewd, dollar-squeezing owner, Walter O’Malley, began casting his eyes elsewhere in the absence of any viable plan to replace the aging Ebbets Field and any support from the all-powerful urban czar Robert Moses, the days of the Dodgers in Brooklyn were clearly numbered.

Michael Shapiro, a Brooklyn native, has interviewed many of the surviving participants and observers of the 1956 season, and undertaken immense archival research to bring its public and hidden drama to life. Like David Halberstam’s The Summer of ’49, The Last Good Season combines an exciting baseball story, a genuine sense of nostalgia, and hard-nosed reporting and social thinking to reveal, in a new light, a time and place we only thought we understood.

From the Hardcover edition.

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