Retrospectives on Washington's Griffith Stadium recite a familiar list of
highlights. It was Walter Johnson's home park, some World Series and All-Star
games were played there, U.S. presidents threw out the first ball on opening
day, and Mickey Mantle once hit a very long homerun there. The typical
summary concludes with the last major league game at Griffith. It was
September 21, 1961, and the Minnesota Twins beat the expansion Senators
before a crowd of only 1,498. A poorly attended Washington loss has made
the short list of a great stadium's legacy.
In an era when historic stadiums bite the dust only after a long fight and an orgy
of commemoration, one cringes at how casually Washington let Griffith Stadium
go. Forty years later, many who were there are no longer here, and the game
haunts some old Washington fans. We should have gone—hung on to that
program, the ticket stub, and the satisfaction of having been there. Now, the
newspaper microfilm reader—the poor man's time machine—is as close as
we can get to that seat we wish we had. Let's check it out.
Washington's 1961 season wound down with a groan. After a surprisingly
strong start, the "New Senators" lost 10, 7, 14, then another 10 consecutive
games, as they plunged to the newly created depth of tenth place. By
September 21, the Reds and Yankees were announcing World Series ticket
plans, the national spotlight was on Roger Maris' homerun tally, and the
Minnesota Twins were in town for the final home game of the season. The
novelty of Old Nats/New Nats match ups had worn off, as had any hope that
Washington might finish ahead of the old team. Even the Twins' lowly 63 and 87
record mocked that of their replacements, who stood at 56 and 95, 46-1/2
games out of first.
The game figured to be a tough sell, but how could the final game at Griffith
Stadium draw the smallest crowd of the year? Hurricane Esther was dissipating
at sea, so weather was not a factor. Maybe it was the times. Stadiums like
Griffith were not yet rare or classic. They were just old. And in a period marked
by the advent of jet travel, space exploration, and color television, old ballparks
were not to be revered, but replaced. Even the New York Mets—playing in
the more celebrated stadium of a more celebrated predecessor—drew only
1,752 to the last game at the Polo Grounds in 1963. In 1961 Washington fans
had little appetite for celebrating the rundown stadium that their new team was
renting from the infamous owner of their old team.
As if the deck were not stacked enough, the final game was played on a
Thursday afternoon. Excuses for not attending could include work, being held
captive in a third grade classroom, or even lack of awareness. The game was
expected to be the Griffith finale, but it was not certain, as the Senators and D.
C. Armory Board had not agreed to a lease at the new D.C. Stadium. And with
negotiations at a critical point, Senators president Pete Quesada was making
much of his team's option to rent Griffith Stadium for another season—or even
buy it from the Griffith family. The Senators had until the end of September to
decide.
Given the circumstances, the Senators would not promote or even acknowledge
the September 21 game as the milestone it was. Quesada told the Washington
Evening Star that the club had wanted to stage an Auld Lang Syne Night,
Wednesday "to sort of commemorate" the ballpark, but feared it would look
deceptive if they returned to Griffith the following year. The decision was moot,
as the last scheduled night game was rained out, and never made up. Thursday
morning, the Washington Post had Quesada quoting only "fifty-fifty" odds that
the Senators would open at D.C. Stadium the following April. It was a
transparent ploy, but it denied a great stadium even a half-hearted send off.
With no official commemoration, and no such thing as "Fan Appreciation Day,"
there was nothing special about Thursday's pre-game routine—except
everything. There was the last batting practice, the last grooming of the infield, a
final set of white lines, and the final starting lineups. And one last time, the
Senators took the field at Griffith Stadium. Nothing worth missing that two
o'clock meeting for. And while the team paid no tribute to the historic home of
Washington baseball, reports describe the choir at Elder Michaux's Church of
God—the stadium's long-time neighbor across Georgia Avenue—marking the
occasion with a rendition of Auld Lang Syne.
Newspaper accounts of the game are scant. Shirley Povich of the Washington
Post described it as "less than epic," and the Post's Bob Addie called it a
"loosely played slugfest." And if the teams played like they had a plane to catch,
they did, as they were scheduled to play each other in Minnesota the next
afternoon.
Bennie Daniels took the mound for Washington against Minnesota's Jack
Kralick. The Senators scored in the second, when Gene Green singled and
hustled to third on a Chuck Hinton single. Hinton attempted to steal second, and
Twin Cities accounts have him called out until Zoilo Versalles dropped the
throw from catcher Earl Battey. Hinton was safe on the error, and Green
scored to give Washington a 1-0 lead.
In the Twins' fifth, Daniels walked Bill Tuttle and Versalles, then Lenny Green
singled to drive in Tuttle—with Versalles advancing to third and Green to
second on the throw home. Harmon Killebrew then broke out of a slump with
his first hit in nine games—a 390 foot single off the wall in left center field that
drove in Versalles and Green, and put the Twins up 3-1. In the Twins' sixth,
Daniels gave up a single to Battey, who advanced to third on Bob Allison's
double. Jim Kaat went in to run for Battey, who was suffering from a bad cold.
When Tuttle walked to load the bases, Washington manager Mickey Vernon
brought in Marty Kutyna to relieve Daniels. Versalles promptly singled in
Allison and Kaat to extend the Twins' lead to 5-1.
The Nats went to work in the bottom of the sixth. Gene Green opened with a
single, and Don Lee replaced Kralick, who had developed a blister on a
pitching finger. Lee walked Willie Tasby, then Ken Retzer singled to right to
score Green. And when the ball got by right fielder Allison for an error, Tasby
became the last Senator to score at Griffith. Twins 5, Nats 3.
In the top of the seventh, Killebrew hit a shot that would have been a homerun
almost anywhere—but not at Griffith. Characterizing it as the last defiant act of
a "proud old structure," Shirley Povich noted that the best Griffith Stadium
would yield to Killebrew was a triple off its distant center field wall. Only when
Joe Altobelli doubled to left could Killebrew come home with the final run ever
scored at Griffith. Minnesota was up 6-3, and there is no mention of anything
else until Danny O'Connell grounded out to end the game, and enter the books
as the last big league batter at Griffith Stadium.
Shirley Povich remarked that the attendance of 1,498 "smacked more of a
mark-down sale than a baseball crowd." So we imagine a small gathering filing
out after the game, and hope at least a few stopped and turned for a long, last
look before heading down the ramp. One who took a last look was former
Senators player, coach and clown Nick Altrock, who claimed to have been
present for the first game played at the stadium, and was there for the last.
According to Povich, the 85-year-old Altrock watched the game from "his
customary corner of the Washington dugout." And in 1961, it was a statement
of sorts for an old Nat to sit with the New Nats, rather than with the Griffith
club that still seemed out of place in the visitors dugout. After the game, Altrock
posed for photographers near the Clark Griffith memorial, as he bid farewell to
the stadium.
Two days later, the Senators and the Armory Board agreed to terms for the
lease at D.C. Stadium. Quesada gushed over the new facility, and the fate of
Griffith Stadium was sealed. But it was not a time to mourn. Washington fans
always traveled a tough road, but we pulled out of Griffith Stadium with a team,
a future, and the luxury of looking ahead.
Griffith Stadium's Not So Grand Finale
September 02, 2002, baseballindc.com
By Ken Hodges
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