A TALE OF THREE CITIES: NEW YORK, L.A. AND SAN FRANCISCO IN OCTOBER OF ‘62 (48 page)

Dark helped New York win two pennants and
the 1954 World Series before being traded to St. Louis. He later
played for the Cubs, Phillies and Braves. Whenever a new man joined
teams Alvin played for, Dark would take him out to dinner, which
was "something as a player that only one other man in baseball did
to my knowledge," said ex-teammate Lee Walls, who played for the
Dodgers in 1962.

In 14 years he had more than 2,000 hits and
batted .289. In late 1960 Milwaukee traded him to San Francisco for
shortstop Andre Rogers, and he took over as their manager in
1961.

"I never thought I'd say this about
anybody," Willie Mays told writer Charles Einstein a few years
later, "but I actually think more of 'Cap' than I did
of Leo. You know what he did when they made him manager? He sent me
a letter, telling me how glad he was we were going to be back
together again. How can you not want to play for a guy like
that?"

Dark's hiring both fell in line with but
deviated from owner Horace Stoneham's normal methods. On the one
hand, the Stoneham family had hired former Giants players in the
past; Bill Terry, Mel Ott and Bill Rigney. They liked loyalty and
tradition. There was a feeling that to be a Giant was something
bigger than to be a Phillie or a Red. But Stoneham also liked
hail-fellow-well-met types who he could share a cocktail and
camaraderie with. Leo Durocher had not played for the Giants, but
was certainly not averse to drinking. So was the Irishman Tom
Sheehan.

"Normally, Horace insists that his managers
drink with him," recalled Bill Veeck. "It goes with the job. When
he drinks, everybody drinks. Especially if he is paying their
salaries."

Dark, 39, did not drink. He was loyal to
Stoneham and would perform his job 100 percent, but he would not
drink. Stoneham understood and did not press the subject. Dark's
coaching staff, hired in 1961, came straight out of the great 1951
pennant winners: Larry Jansen (40), Whitey Lockman (34) and Wes
Westrum (38). The coaches as well as Dark were all active players
in 1960.

"He had a lot faith in our judgment," said
Jansen. "Wes was a solid defensive catcher and a great guy. Lockman
really knew how to deal with people, and I guess Alvin thought I
knew enough about pitching to help him."

"I know what each of us can do," Dark told
the media. "When I assign them their work at Spring Training, I can
relax. I know the job is getting done because they know what I want
done. And they do it."

Dark's temper was difficult for him to
control in those days. "We were playing the Phillies and lost three
straight games by one run," Dark recalled. "We had our
opportunities, but couldn't score. After one of those ballgames I
heard some guys at the other end of the clubhouse laughing. What
they were laughing about, I don't know. It was probably something I
should have found out before I got so mad. But it hit me all at
once. How could anybody laugh in a situation like this?"

Dark picked up a stool and threw it with
full force against a door. His finger had lodged into the chair and
he lost the tip of his little finger. On another occasion Dark
turned over the food trays in Houston, ruining one of Willie
McCovey's cherished suits. Willie Mac was a clothes horse. Dark
provided the first baseman with a check the next day to pay for a
new outfit.

Dark had not been away from the playing
field long enough to gain the proper perspective for managing. He
wanted his players to play as he had, and was upset at the "new
breed" of athlete that was just starting to emerge in the 1960s. It
was not just a matter of race, although the game was rapidly
changing its "complexion"; but the modern player was different,
less intense, more worldly.

Great managers and coaches
have always been identified as those who could change with the
times. That was the key to John Wooden's success at UCLA, and Bear
Bryant's at Alabama. Dark was old school.
San Francisco Chronicle
columnist
Charles McCabe said that Dark's attitude was a "very dangerous
thing," that the manager felt that he needed to "win every game
himself."

Dark stood in the dugout "like Washington
crossing the Delaware," one writer quipped. He did not have time
for jokes or tobacco-jawing, saying that he had seen too many
managers let the games pass them by. He had no use for individual
achievements, even though his team had some of the greatest
individual stars in baseball. It was a challenge for him.

Dark immediately noticed at his first Spring
Training that the team was divided between whites, blacks and
Latinos. He had equipment manager Eddie Logan mix the cubicles so
that blacks would be next to whites, Latinos next to blacks, and
the like. "It went over like a lead balloon," Dark admitted.

Dark also had a sign posted in the clubhouse
that read: "Speak English, You're in America." Dark had a meeting
of the Latinos and said the others complained that they jabbered in
Spanish. There were worries that they were telling jokes or
hatching plots behind teammates' backs. But Cepeda called Dark's
complaints "an insult to our language," and the Latinos kept
talking in their native tongue.

Felipe Alou understood what Dark was trying
to do, which was to assimilate these players into the culture,
their new country, and with their teammates, but said it was
forced. "Can you imagine talking to your own brothers in a foreign
language?" he said, and he should know; brothers Matteo and Jesus
were all in the Giants' organization. Besides, many of the Latinos
spoke poor English, so it was hard for them.

Dark, however, was not rigid. When he
imposed an edict that did not work, he realized it and stopped the
practice, as he did with the cubicle-assignments and the "only
English" rules.

"My intentions were good but the results
were bad, so I stopped it," he said.

Unlike Walt Alston, Dark was not a "by the
book" manager, said pitcher Billy O'Dell. He thought out every move
and had reasons for them. He liked using defensive replacements and
went to his bullpen early by the standards of the day. He juggled
his batting order, tried to apply defensive strategy based on his
interpretation of the shifting Candlestick winds, and warmed up
relievers just to bluff opponents.

"Alvin overmanaged, but even he admitted
that," said Charles Einstein. The writers called him the "mad
scientist." He had fake pick-off plays and other gadget
maneuvers.

"I don’t think I ever managed thinking some
move was the 'safe' thing to do," said Dark. He said he wanted to
"have some fun. But you only have fun when you win."

Dark was competitive at everything; gin
rummy (which he was taught by Leo Durocher, a master) and golf. He
beat his players on the greens and used that to extract a
psychological advantage.

Dark could play "little ball" even with the
slugging Giants, and had a grading system that awarded points to
players whose obvious statistics were not comparable to a Mays,
McCovey or Cepeda. If a player moved a runner along 30 or 40 times
in a season, Dark had kept a record of it and the players were able
to use that in contract negotiations.

When Dark told the writers
that third baseman Jim Davenport's plus/minus record was excellent,
but that Orlando Cepeda's was "terribly minus," he asked that it
not be printed in the headlines. The papers ran it anyway.
Look
magazine printed
Cepeda's so-called "minus-40" rating, and the sensitive first
baseman sued for
defamation of
character
. He lost.

In March of 1962, the conflict between
Cepeda and Dark took a turn for the worse when, after a brilliant
1961 campaign, Orlando held out of Spring Training for $60,000.

Dark's biggest concern entering Spring
Training was the age of his pitching staff. Sam Jones and Billy
Loes, both effective pitchers in the 1950s, had nothing left. Dark
was relying on 32-year old Don Larsen and 35-year old Billy Pierce.
Larsen was a hard drinker whose lifestyle made him a decade older.
Pierce had been an outstanding pitcher with the Chicago White Sox,
but in the Cactus League he was terrible. His spring ERA hovered
around 16.00. He gave up a plethora of home runs.

Billy O'Dell held out and Jack Sanford was
an unknown quantity; maybe excellent, maybe a bust. Stu Miller was
the bullpen ace. A host of untested young pitchers included Jim
Duffalo, Bob Bolin and Gaylord Perry. 23-year old Mike McCormick
offered huge potential but was always seemingly troubled with arm
injuries. Juan Marichal was worried sick about his girlfriend,
Alma. Dominican dictator Rafael Trujillo had been assassinated, and
violent extremists threatened to throw a bomb through the window of
her families' home.

Marichal requested a leave so he could go to
the Dominican Republican, marry Alma, and bring her to America.
Dark never hesitated.

"He was terribly unhappy and needed to get
that gal up here," recalled Dark.

Marichal was deeply grateful and wanted to
do something for Dark. He asked Willie Mays for advice.

"Win," said Mays.

Dark certainly could count on Mays to
provide veteran leadership, hustle and his usual brilliance. Ed
Bailey was a veteran catcher. Tom Haller was a youngster. 32-year
old Harvey Kuenn could still hit. Jose Pagan would provide good
defense. Jim Davenport was solid at third base. Chuck "Iron Hands"
Hiller was the second baseman. Dark decided to make him a project
in Spring Training; to improve him defensively.

"That showed me that Dark
could be a teacher, and he made Hiller into a second baseman,"
said
San Francisco Examiner
sportswriter Harry Jupiter.

First base was a festering controversy,
albeit an embarrassment of riches: Orlando Cepeda and Willie
McCovey. After Cepeda finally signed, Dark needed to find a place
for Willie Mac. Left field was the only solution, but his outfield
was also full: Kuenn, the Alou brothers, and of course Mays in
center.

Team trainer Frank "Doc" Bowman posted a
sign on the clubhouse wall in Phoenix: "Work hard this year - and
eat corn on the cob all winter." It did not make a lot of sense but
its meaning was clear. They had potential, and if they made the
most of it a championship was theirs for the taking.

Felipe Alou, 27, averaged .274 in four
previous seasons. When he was out with a sore elbow, the club lost
six of eight. When he returned they won eight straight. In June
Alou was hitting .345, one point from the National League lead. "I
just am hitting better through the middle than I ever did," he
said. "I have no worry about whether I hit .170 or .300. I have
great confidence since Al Dark play me regular. Don't worry. I just
swing."

Batting fifth instead of first as in 1961, the
six-foot, 195-pounder said "This year I like where I am batting. I
am too big for a lead-off man. I cannot try to get walks. I am a
swinger, not a waiter."

Alou embarked on consecutive-game hitting streaks of
11, 10, nine, and eight games in 1962. He was also very mature; a
solid influence on moody fellow Latinos Cepeda and Marichal; as
well as a pathfinder for younger brothers Matty and Jesus.

"Felipe was a very classy person, and a good team
ballplayer," said Billy Pierce. "He led a great life and carried
himself well. He would try to work with the guys. If some of the
Latin fellows got a little excited, he would be the man to calm
them down. I don't know if Felipe would ever swear about
anything."

Felipe carried his Bible with him at all times,
which helped him form a bond with Dark. But he spoke up to writers
and was no "shrinking violet," according to writer David Plaut.
When Dark kicked over the food table, Alou picked the food off the
floor and ate it while staring at Dark. The message was clear: food
was a gift from God. Born into poverty, Alou never wasted it.

Alou was born in the fishing village of Haina,
Dominican Republic in 1935, the eldest of four sons. His father,
Rojas, was a blacksmith and, like Jesus of Nazareth, a carpenter.
He made hand-carved bats for his sons, who practiced by hitting
lemons.

In high school Felipe was a track star, but played
baseball in the summer leagues. At 16 he worked in a concrete mix
facility and became a legend when he
wrestled sharks with his
bare hands!
His grades were excellent and he attended the
University of Santo Domingo to study medicine. He played on the
baseball team, coached by a Giants "bird dog" named Horacio
Martinez. Alou's father lost his job and Felipe quit school to
support his family. He signed a $200 bonus for the Giants and went
to Lake Charles, Louisiana of the Evangeline League.

He was barred by his color and sent to Cocoa Beach,
where he led the Florida State League at .308. He impressed the
Americans by learning English and in 1958 made it to San Francisco.
In 1961 he became a starter, but pitchers could get him out on the
outside corner.

He arrived at Spring Training in 1962 and closed up
his stance. It paid off immediately. He hit .500 in the Cactus
League and stayed hot in regular season play, was moved from
lead-off to fifth, and displayed power. Alou went on a 12-game
tear. His homer in Cincinnati shattered the letters on an
advertisement atop the Crosley Field scoreboard.

He killed the Dodgers in an April series, prompting
a Dodger fan to send a telegram to San Francisco: "Roses are red,
violets are blue . . .we'll give our team for Felipe Alou."

He continued hitting well in the first half and made
the All-Star Game. He had nine straight hits at one point.

For all of Alou's on-field exploits, however, his
greatest contribution might have been when he saved Juan Marichal
from drowning off the coast of Haina.