Charles Willard Stage from the Encyclopedia of Cleveland History

Charles Willard State from the Encyclopedia of Cleveland History.

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STAGE, CHARLES WILLARD (26 Nov. 1868-17 May 1946) was a lawyer active in civic affairs and politics who became Cleveland’s first utilities director under the Home Rule charter.

Born in Painesville to Stephen and Sarah (Knight) S., Stage graduated from Painesville High School (1888). He received his A.B. from Western Reserve University (1892), the A.M. in 1893, and graduated in the first class of W.R.U.’s Law School (1895). Stage was captain of W.R.U.’s first football team, and was a National League umpire. He was admitted to the Ohio bar in 1895 and entered into private practice in Cleveland.

Stage served in the Ohio House of Representative, 1902-1903, and was Cuyahoga County Solicitor from 1903-1908. He was Secretary for the Municipal Traction Co., 1906-1908, and Secretary of the City Sinking Fund Committee, 1910-1912. Under Mayor NEWTON D. BAKER†, Stage was Public Safety Director, 1912-1914, and the City’s first Utilities Director, 1914-1916.

From 1916-1922 Stage was general counsel for the Van Sweringens. When Stage retired in 1938 he was vice president, director and general counsel for the Cleveland Union Terminal Co. and had been secretary and a director of the Cleveland Interurban Road Co., Cleveland Traction Terminals Co., Cleveland Terminal Co., Terminal Buildings Co., Terminal Hotels Co., Traction Stores Co. and Van Ess Co.

On 29 Aug. 1903 Stage married Dr. Miriam Gertrude Kerruish who died in the 1929 CLEVELAND CLINIC DISASTER. They had four children: Charles Jr., William, Miriam and Edward. Stage, an Episcopalian, was cremated.


The 1912 Constitutional Convention

Chapter V from Ohio’s Constitutions: An Historical Perspective by Barbara Terzian. Published by Ohio University Press

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V. THE 1912 CONSTITUTIONAL CONVENTION

 

Having rejected a proposed new constitution in 1874, Ohioans voted against holding a convention at all when the issue came up in 1891. By 1909, the agitation for social and political reform associated with Progressivism had reached such a peak that the general assembly submitted a referendum on holding a constitutional convention to the voters a year earlier than required. The Ohio State Board of Commerce (OSBC), hoping to reform taxation, was a major supporter of a convention. Other reform groups—organized labor, woman suffragists, prohibitionists, and political reformers—wanted a convention to achieve their own goals.148

 

For a decade, Progressives, led by Tom Johnson, the mayor of Cleveland, had been trying to open the political system. Johnson and other Progressives, such as Cincinnati clergyman Herbert Bigelow, were strong supporters of governmental reforms such as the initiative and referendum and municipal home rule. For years, Bigelow’s Direct Legislation League had been trying to persuade the legislature to put constitutional amendments effecting such reforms on the ballot. Frustrated by their failure, they decided to generate public support for a new constitutional convention. They viewed a constitutional convention as a means to incorporate their reforms into Ohio’s fundamental law, beyond the power of political party bosses to repeal or subvert.149

 

For many business people, the first priority was reform of the tax system. The Ohio constitution required a uniform system of taxation whereby all property, regardless of its nature, was taxed at the same rate.150

Modern economists and tax experts decried such an old-fashioned and inefficient system. The OSBC

had tried to pass amendments changing the tax system via referenda in 1903 and 1908.


Although garnering a majority of the votes cast on the specific issue, both times the amendments failed to

receive the absolute majority of all votes cast in the general election that was required to amend the constitution.151

 

Willing to negotiate with reform-oriented business people, organized labor formed an important element in the Progressive coalition pressing for constitutional reform. Having secured pro-labor legislation from the state legislature, they had been frustrated by court interpretations restricting its application or ruling it unconstitutional altogether. They wanted to establish clear constitutional authority for labor legislation and to restrict the courts’ power to inhibit it.

 

Allied with other Progressive reformers, Ohio women’s rights activists wanted to assure the passage of a woman suffrage amendment. The Ohio Woman Suffrage Association (OWSA), reorganized in 1885, had operated continuously ever since. By 1910 it had very strong ties with the national women’s rights organization, the National American Woman Suffrage Association. Harriet Taylor Upton, the leader of the state association, was also NAWSA’s treasurer and located its headquarters in the Warren County courthouse from 1903 to 1910.152  OWSA coordinated activities for major

suffrage campaigns, althousome other women’s organizations, such as the Woman’s Taxpayers League

and the College Equal Suffrage League, remained independent of it.153

 

Prohibitionists also linked their reform to Progressive notions of using the state to promote social well-being. Because most observers believed women to be more inclined toward prohibition than men, that particular reform was linked, at least in people’s minds, to the woman-suffrage movement. The leading state and national organization advocating prohibition was the Anti-Saloon League (ASL), founded by Ohioans in the 1880s. The ASL had been so successful in passing local-option laws that sixty-three of Ohio’s eighty-eight counties prohibited the sale of alcohol as of mid-1909. The alcohol industry had tried to counter the ASL with its own public relations campaign aimed at convincing people that regulated saloons rather than prohibition were the solution to alcohol-related problems. The Ohio Brewers Association developed a program of driving saloons connected with gambling and prostitution out of business. As part of the campaign, the association had supported legislation that defined the appropriate “character” of a person owning a saloon. By 1911, its campaign seemed to be yielding success; eighteen counties had reverted to “wet” status. The constitutional convention would provide Ohio’s liquor interests with an opportunity to build upon their success. The “drys,” in contrast, hoped to promote statewide prohibition.154

 

The proponents of the convention were helped significantly when the legislature decided to permit political parties to place the issue on the party ticket, so that a straight party vote meant a vote for the convention. With so many different reform groups supporting a convention and with both parties endorsing it, the proposal passed handily in the referendum 693,263 to 67,718, far surpassing the required majority of 466,132.155

 

Attention then turned to the election of delegates, scheduled to take place along with the municipal elections in the fall of 1911. Districting for representation at the convention would mirror the elections for the lower house of the general assembly. The election would be nonpartisan, although candidates could formally declare whether they supported submitting the liquor-license question to the voters.156

Political reformers formed the Ohio Progressive Constitutional League to advocate on behalf of candidates who would support the initiative, referendum, recall, and municipal home rule. In Cincinnati, representatives from businesses, clubs, trade associations, and trade unions joined to organize a slate of reform candidates. In Columbus, the Franklin County Progressive League sponsored a slate composed of representatives of farmers, business, and labor. In Cleveland, organized labor played a major role, throwing its support to the Cuyahoga branch of the Progressive Constitutional League rather than the business-oriented Municipal Association. In the less urban areas, some Granger-labor alliances formed; in other areas, local Progressive Constitutional leagues led the effort to elect pro-reform candidates.157 

 

The Ohio Woman Suffrage Association voted to petition the convention to submit a woman suffrage proposition

separately from the rest of the new

constitution. It formed a campaign committee, opened campaign headquarters in Toledo, conducted field work,

and tried to encourage the election of sympathetic delegates.158

 

With such an array of Progressive forces enlisted in the campaign to elect delegates, the resulting convention had a distinctively Progressive character. There were 119 delegates: fifty-nine from rural areas, thirty-two from towns, and twenty- eight from urban areas. Sixty-two of the delegates were affiliated with the Democratic Party, fifty-two were Republicans, three were Independents, and two were Socialists. According to historian Lloyd Sponholtz, the typical delegate was a white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant, college-educated professional from a small town. Once again, law and farming were the most common occupations among delegates, with a smaller number of laborers, bankers, and teachers. Most delegates could be identified as Republicans or Democrats, but, in a rebuke to political “bossism,” fewer than a third had previously held office.159 The Ohio Woman Suffrage

Association estimated that fifty-six of the 119 elected delegates supported submitting a woman- suffrage

amendment to the electorate.160

 

Progressive leader Herbert Bigelow was elected president of the convention on the eleventh ballot, receiving more support from Democrats than from Republicans, an indication that the former were more sympathetic to reform than the latter. The convention created twenty-five committees to which proposals and petitions were sent for consideration. The delegates adopted rules similar to those of the Ohio House of Representatives, except that debate occurred on the second rather than the third reading of a proposal and that the author of any proposal could force it to the floor if it languished in committee for more than two weeks. Those committees deemed most important received twenty-one members, each representing a congressional district. The delegates worked in committees on Mondays and Fridays; the full convention met during the rest of the week.161 Early in the

proceedings, the delegates decided to amend the Constitution of 1851 rather than to write a completely

new one—perhaps with the fiasco of 1873-1874 in mind.162

 

As one of the leading advocates of the initiative and referendum, Bigelow naturally created a committee that was strongly sympathetic to it. Robert Crosser, who had submitted a home rule bill in the legislature in 1911, chaired the committee that had charge of it. Bigelow also caucused with sixty Progressive delegates to assure a favorable response once a proposal came to the convention floor. This process produced a recommendation for what the sponsoring committee called direct and indirect initiatives for legislation and constitutional amendments, each with different technical requirements. An indirect initiative was a proposal that first went to the legislature for action; a direct initiative went straight to the voters. The committee proposal made it more difficult to initiate directly a law or an amendment than to initiate them indirectly. A petition for direct initiation of legislation had to contain a number of signatures of electors equaling eight percent of the votes cast for the office of governor in the preceding election. Direct initiation of a constitutional amendment required a number of signatures equaling twelve per cent of the votes cast in the preceding gubernatorial election. An indirect initiative for legislation or a constitutional amendment required only half as many signatures. In all cases, the signatures had to come from at least one half of the counties in the state. The committee also proposed a referendum process by which voters could challenge a law passed by the general assembly and have the electorate vote whether to approve or reject the law. Those petitions required a number of signatures equaling six percent of the votes cast in the preceding gubernatorial election.163

 

The debate in convention centered on the number of signatures required to initiate the process and on whether to eliminate direct initiatives and to permit only the indirect method. The debates manifested a concern that the initiative would be used to pass taxation measures. The final proposal permitted direct initiation of constitutional amendments only, and required a number of signatures equal to ten per cent of the votes cast in the previous gubernatorial election to place the amendment on the ballot.164

 

Indirect initiation of laws would require a number of signatures equaling only three percent of the number of

votes cast in the previous gubernatorial

election. If the general assembly rejected the proposal, amended it, or failed toact on it within four months,

its proponents could force a vote by the

electorate by filing a supplementary petition with a number of signatures equaling an additional three percent of

the votes cast at the previous

gubernatorial election.165 Electors could also force a referendum on an ordinary bill initiated and passed by the

general assembly by obtaining a

number of signatures equaling six percent of the votes cast in the previous election.166 All petitions had to

include signatures from at least one-half

of Ohio’s counties.167 The provision explicitly prohibited using the initiative process to secure either a single

tax or tax classification.168

 

Sponholtz’s roll-call analysis indicates that opposition to the initiative and referendum came from rural and small-town Republicans. Democrats uniformly supported the initiative and referendum, with the greatest support coming from urban Democrats. Unable to prevent the proposal of an amendment to institute the initiative and referendum, conservatives still achieved a number of their goals by restricting the initiative process to the indirect method for legislation and by securing the concession that it could not be used to institute the single-tax idea.169

 

Conservatives even more vigorously opposed the recall process, whereby voters could terminate an elected official’s term prior to its expiration. Some argued that the terms of office were short enough to make recall unnecessary. Others worried that it could threaten the independence of the judiciary unless judicial officers were excluded from its provisions. Although an advocate of the recall was able to persuade the committee to endorse and report the measure to the convention, the delegates tabled the matter indefinitely. Instead, they proposed a fairly weak amendment to the constitution that authorized the legislature to pass laws to remove any officer guilty of moral turpitude or other offenses. Hostility to the recall was evenly spread across the political parties. More Democrats than Republicans supported the proposal; even so, only a minority of Democrats supported the stronger version. Even urban Democrats—the strongest supporters of the initiative and referendum—split on the issue.170

 

Urban home rule also proved divisive. The 1851 Constitution required the legislature to provide for the organization of cities and the incorporation of villages. Another part of the constitution required that all laws be uniform.171 The supreme court had sustained legislation that had classified cities

according to population and then treated them differently on that basis. This approach resulted in a range of

types of city organization even for cities

with similar populations. For example, Cleveland had a strong mayor, while Cincinnati had a figurehead mayor
with a powerful city council and board

of administration. In a suit instigated by traditional political leaders to clip the wings of Progressive mayors—

especially Cleveland’s Tom Johnson—

the Ohio Supreme Court in 1902 had invalidated all city charters for violating the constitutional requirement of

uniformity of laws. The court then had

delayed execution of its order to give the boss-dominated legislature time to pass a new municipal code.

Progressives, who predominated in some

cities, especially Cleveland, now pushed hard for home rule to reverse their earlier defeat.172

 

The “liquor question” figured into the debates. “Drys” did not want home rule to be used by cities to overturn state laws permitting subdivisions to ban the sale of alcoholic beverages. They were able to pass a proviso that no municipal laws could conflict with the general laws of the state. Both Republicans and Democrats generally supported home rule; it was primarily the rural delegates who expressed concern over its effect on local option.173

 

In the end, the constitutional convention passed a proposal that allowed local governments to choose among three alternatives: (1) to operate under the general laws of the state; (2) to amend a current charter; or (3) to call a charter commission to change or revise a charter. The amendment also provided that a municipality could own its own public utilities, a proposition that passed over the strenuous opposition of the public utility companies. The state legislature retained some control over localities through the operation of general laws and through some financial oversight. The convention delegates further reformed the political system by giving the governor a veto and establishing rules to govern the appointments to the civil service.174

 

Reformers and labor leaders had criticized the state courts for overturning labor legislation and maintaining common-law doctrines that advantaged employers at the expense of workers. The main criticism of the judiciary from lawyers and judges, on the other hand, was that the circuit court system was not working. When the circuit court heard appeals from lower courts, the losing party received a trial de novo there. Critics opposed this “two trial, one review” system. Lawyers and judges also criticized the requirement that each circuit court sit in every county seat in its district twice a year. The largest circuit included sixteen counties, forcing its judges to spend a lot of time on the road, and some other circuits were not much better. Two delegates led the judicial reform efforts in the convention: Judge Hiram Peck, who chaired the Judiciary and Bill of Rights Committee, and former Judge William Worthington, who also served on it. Peck’s proposal became the majority report; Worthington’s became the minority report.175

 

Both Peck and Worthington agreed that there should be a “one trial, one review;” that the jurisdiction of circuit courts should be limited to appellate review; and that the jurisdiction of the supreme court should be limited to constitutional cases, cases of conflict among the circuits, and cases the court deemed to be of “great public interest.”176 But Peck and Worthington also disagreed on significant matters. Peck proposed that the supreme

court remain at six justices with a three-to-three vote affirming lower court rulings. Responding to criticism of the

court’s anti- Progressive activism,

Peck’s proposal required a unanimous supreme court vote to reverse a lower court decision or to declare a law

unconstitutional.

Worthington’s conservative alternative proposed expanding the court to seven judges by the addition of a chief justice, a position that previously had simply rotated among the six judges. Worthington’s proposal eschewed the obstacles that Peck’s put in the way of judicial review and gave the court direct jurisdiction over appeals of state administrative regulations. He included this last provision at the particular behest of the Railroad Commission, which had complained that its regulations routinely became embroiled in litigation. The Ohio State Bar Association endorsed Worthington’s more conservative proposal over Peck’s.177

 

The debates concentrated on whether to require a minimum number of justices to declare a law unconstitutional and on the “one trial, one review” system, with the most time spent on the latter. The delegates compromised, but nonetheless gave labor and other Progressive groups a big victory. They proposed adding a chief justice and provided a complex rule for determining the constitutionality of legislation. If a circuit court sustained the constitutionality of a law, it would require the votes of all but one of the supreme court judges to reverse the decision and find the law unconstitutional. If the circuit court overturned a law, a simple majority of the supreme court judges could either reverse or sustain the decision. The supreme court would continue to have original jurisdiction in writs of prohibition, procedendo, and habeas corpus, and would be able to bring cases up on appeal through writs of certiorari.178

 

Under the adopted proposal, the circuit courts would provide appellate review of lower court decisions, with a trial de novo only in chancery cases. The circuit court’s decision was final except in constitutional questions, felonies, cases of original jurisdiction, and cases certified to the supreme court. A circuit court could reverse on the weight of the evidence only with a unanimous decision; on any other basis, a simple majority would suffice. Conflicting decisions among the circuits would be certified to the supreme court.179

 

Tax reformers, beaten down by the opposition of rural delegates to the most important elements of their program, were less successful in securing changes they wanted. Ohio’s 1851 Constitution required that real and personal property be taxed at the same rate. The OSBC urged the convention to propose an amendment permitting classifications of subjects of taxation and requiring uniform taxation only within the classifications, exempting federal and state bonds from taxation entirely. The OSBC succeeded in having its proposal reported from committee, supported by urban delegates who were worried about revenues keeping up with urban growth. Rural delegates disagreed, and their minority report mandated a uniform rule of taxation, with public bonds included.180

The convention roundly defeated the majority report by a vote of ninety-seven to nineteen and adopted the minority report as the basis for discussion. Debate centered on the rural delegates’ desire to provide constitutional sanction for the existing law’s cap on taxation.181 Rural delegates also opposed giving the legislature the power to classify property for taxation at different rates. Urban delegates tried, but failed, to give the voters a choice between a uniform tax provision and one authorizing classification. The third area of debate centered on exempting municipal bonds. Municipal bonds had been taxed as personal property prior to 1905 when voters ratified a constitutional amendment exempting them. Rural delegates did not like the exemption and wanted the constitution to eliminate it.182

The delegates finally compromised to some extent. Taxation would be uniform, and state and municipal bonds would be subject to taxation. The legislature could choose either a uniform or graduated income tax. The proposed amendment permitted franchise and excise taxes; taxes on coal, gas, and other minerals; required a sinking fund to pay the principle and interest on any indebtedness; and forbade the state from incurring debts for internal improvements other than road construction. In an “attempt to salvage as much as possible by surrendering the principle of classification,” urban delegates persuaded the convention to drop the proposal for a constitutionally mandated limit on taxation. In its final form, the amendment “pleased no one.” The OSBC did not get classification; rural delegates did not get a tax limit; and urban delegates, still worried about revenue keeping up with growth, lamented the lack of municipal control over revenues.183

In addition to its success in restricting the supreme court’s power of judicial review, organized labor also obtained seven amendments embodying much of its constitutional reform program: a maximum eight-hour work day on public works; the abolition of prison contract labor; a “welfare of employees” amendment authorizing the legislature to pass laws regulating hours, wages, and safety and health conditions; damages for wrongful death; limits on contempt proceedings and injunctions; workers’ compensation; and mechanics’ liens. There was little resistance to any of the proposals except those abolishing prison contract labor and limiting court injunctions.184 Because domestic and farm labor were exempted, the “welfare of employees” amendment drew little opposition except from a few employer delegates.185 The final prison-labor proposal abolished the existing system but permitted prisoner-made products to be sold to the state and its political subdivisions, and encouraged convict road gangs.186

The proposal to limit court injunctions produced heated discussion. Organized labor particularly wanted an amendment that would bar courts from issuing injunctions in strike situations and also sought the right to a jury trial in the contempt proceedings that often followed when strike leaders violated the injunctions. The Committee on the Judiciary and Bill of Rights reported a proposal favorable to labor, but the delegates voted it down on the floor of the convention. Nonetheless, labor supporters were able to pass a proposal that an injunction could be issued only “to preserve physical property from injury or destruction.”187

 

Woman suffragists also had a good deal of success at the convention. Harriet Upton and other OWSA representatives successfully lobbied the president of the convention to appoint sympathetic members to the Suffrage Committee. When the convention met in Columbus in January 1912, suffrage organizers opened headquarters there.188 Suffragists registered as official convention lobbyists and worked to influence members of the Elective Franchise Committee, drafting a suffrage proposal for the committee’s consideration.189 The suffragists also testified, discussing the differences between men and women and insisting that men could not fairly represent women. Advocates argued that women were needed in politics to work for better roads and against impure food and high living costs.190

Other women organized to oppose the proposed amendment. They, too, testified before the Suffrage Committee and held a rally. The anti suffragist witnesses favored limiting suffrage to exclude working people and those of foreign birth. They argued that granting universal suffrage would permit undesirable women to vote. On February 14, 1912, the committee issued its report, rejecting the anti suffrage arguments and proposing an amendment to Ohio’s constitution that would remove the words “white male.” Newspapers nicknamed the committee report the “Con-Con’s valentine” to Ohio’s women.191

The male delegates speaking in favor of woman suffrage echoed the arguments the women had made in committee. They consistently argued that women were the equals of men and that the right to vote was a natural, inalienable right.192 Delegates who supported the initiative and referendum must, to be consistent, also support submission of the woman suffrage proposal.193 Some supporters urged support of woman suffrage to promote the chances of prohibition.194 Opponents argued vociferously that voting was not a right, but a privilege, which carried duties and responsibilities. It was unfair, they reasoned, to place this burden on women when a majority of them did not want it.195 Three times opponents of suffrage attempted to pass a proposal that would have required a preliminary referendum among Ohio women. Only if a majority of them voted in favor of suffrage would the amendment be presented to the male electorate for ratification. Each time the proponents of woman suffrage tabled the proposal.196

 

At the close of debate, the delegates voted in favor of the amendment by a margin of seventy-four to thirty-seven. They also voted seventy-six to thirty-four in favor of submitting the amendment to the electorate as a separate proposal.197 The convention subsequently decided to submit every proposed amendment as a separate item. The suffrage amendment appeared as the twenty-fourth of forty-two proposed amendments.198

 

After losing the vote on the amendment, opponents of woman suffrage turned to one last tactic that they hoped would defeat the amendment in the ratification election. They proposed an amendment that would remove only “white” rather than “white male” from the qualifications of electors, hoping to divert African American men from supporting the proposed universal-suffrage amendment by providing a male-only alternative.

 

Prohibitionists won support from a broad range of delegates, from Progressive reformers to rural conservatives. But the liquor industry had expended great energy in an effort to protect its interests, as well. Moreover, some urban Progressives and labor-oriented delegates worried that prohibition was aimed at their constituents. The liquor issue was couched in terms of licensing as opposed to no licensing because of the quirky language placed in Ohio’s constitution in 1851: “No license to traffic in intoxicating liquors shall be hereafter granted in this state; but the general assembly may, by law, provide against the evils resulting therefrom.”199 

Thus, the liquor industry wanted to authorize licensing, while the advocates of prohibition opposed it. The Liquor Traffic Committee considered a number of proposals, with prohibition at one extreme and licensing, the details of which would be left to the general assembly, at the other. The committee issued both a majority report and a minority report. The majority report, sponsored by the known “wet,” Judge Edmund King of Sandusky, called for licensing without constitutionally imposed restrictions, while at the same time permitting local option laws. The minority report, advocated by the “drys,” contained strict restrictions on licensing.

 

After two weeks of intensive debate, the delegates rejected both versions. It became clear that the “wets” would be unable to get a licensing amendment without restrictions; the debate now centered on “no licensing,” which maintained the status quo, versus permitting licensing with severe constitutional restrictions. Delegates debated such issues as the number of saloons per capita, the number of infractions that would result in license revocation, how much home rule cities would have, and what “good character” limitations would be placed on licensees. Finally, the delegates decided to give the voters the choice of no license or restricted license. The restrictions included licensing no more than one saloon per five hundred inhabitants, the requirement that a licensee be a citizen of the United States of good moral character holding no other liquor interests, and that he reside in the county where the license was issued or the adjacent county.200

 

The delegates decided to have the ratification ballots list each amendment separately, to be voted on separately with a majority of the votes cast on each amendment sufficient for its passage. The delegates also voted that the president should appoint a committee to prepare a pamphlet for distribution to the public with a short explanation of each amendment. The entire pamphlet was also to be published in newspapers—at least two in each county and of opposite political party affiliation—for five weeks preceding the election.201

 

The convention had proposed forty-two amendments to the state constitution. The Progressive delegates, led by Bigelow’s New Constitution League of Ohio, campaigned for passage. The Democratic state convention endorsed all of the amendments and organized labor pushed for ratification as well. Most of the urban newspapers, with the exception of a few conservative publications in Columbus and Cincinnati, gave the amendments favorable coverage.202 Formal opposition came from the Ohio State Board of Commerce, which had failed to achieve its tax reform

and opposed the initiative and labor

amendments. The OSBC distributed tens of thousands of pamphlets attacking the convention’s work and

urging

voters, “[W]hen in doubt, vote no.”203

 

A handful of the amendments generated the most controversy, among them the initiative and referendum, liquor licensing, woman suffrage, and some of the labor amendments. The woman suffrage amendment was extensively debated, in part because of the suffragists’ efforts to generate support and in part because of vigorous opposition by the OSBC and the liquor interests. Local and national suffragists considered Ohio a crucial test for the extension of woman suffrage. Five other states had woman suffrage referenda scheduled after Ohio’s election, and suffragists hoped a positive outcome in Ohio would create momentum in those states. The OWSA established campaign centers in Cleveland, Columbus, Cincinnati, Toledo, Akron, Springfield, Canton, Dayton, Warren, and Youngstown. They organized 103 suffrage societies in 78 counties. The OSBC and the liquor interests, on the other hand, viewed women voters as potential temperance voters, warning Ohio’s male voters that a vote for woman suffrage was a vote to make Ohio dry.204

 

On September 3, 1912, Ohio’s male voters went to the polls. Urban voters favored almost all of the amendments. Voters in the northern part of the state, where Progressive mayors had been encouraging reform for years, supported the amendments more than those in the southern part of the state. Voters in seven rural counties voted against all of the amendments, voters in nine additional rural counties voted against all but the temperance amendment, and the urban vote made a difference in the passage of nineteen amendments that would have otherwise failed. Only eight of the forty-two amendments failed to pass, and the vote in each of those was relatively close.205

 

Herbert Bigelow was delighted with the outcome. The initiative and referendum, the passage of which he had been working for more than a decade, would now be a part of Ohio’s constitution. For the most part, organized labor was pleased. All of its amendments, with the exception of the anti-strike injunction provision, had passed. Women suffragists, on the other hand, were disappointed. Despite receiving the most favorable votes of any of the forty-two amendments, and the most cast ever in favor of woman suffrage in the nation, the woman suffrage amendment was defeated by a vote of 336,875 to 249,420.206

 

149 For a discussion of Progressive reform efforts in the decades preceding the 1912 convention, see WARNER, supra note 148, at 3-311.

150 OHIO CONST. of 1851, art. XII, § 2.

151 The 1903 vote was 326,622 in favor to 43,563 opposed, but the question needed 438,602 votes (more than one-half of the 877,203 votes cast in the previous gubernatorial election) in order to pass. The vote in 1908 was 339,747 in favor to 95,867 opposed, but the measure did not receive the 561,500 votes (more than one-half of the 1,123,198 votes cast in the previous gubernatorial election) required for passage. 2 GALBREATH, supra note 84, at 96.

152 FLORENCE ALLEN & MARY WELLES, THE OHIO WOMAN SUFFRAGE MOVEMENT: “A CERTAIN UNALIENABLE RIGHT”: WHAT OHIO WOMEN DID TO SECURE IT 39-40 (1952).

153 Kathryn Mary Smith, The 1912 Constitutional Campaign and Women’s Suffrage in Columbus, Ohio 11-12 (1980) (unpublished master’s thesis, Ohio State University).

154 The state local-option law required a revote every three years. In 1911 the first round of these revotes occurred. Eighteen of the twenty-seven counties holding the elections reverted to “wet” status. Lloyd Sponholtz, The Politics of Temperance in Ohio, 1880-1912, 85 OHIO HIST. 5, 9, 15-18 (1976).

155 GALBREATH, supra note 84, at 94. 

156 Frey, supra note 148, at 3; Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 22. 

157 Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 23-36.

158 Smith, supra note 153, at 27-29.

159 PROCEEDINGS AND DEBATES OF THE CONSTITUTIONAL CONVENTION OF OHIO 1-2 (1912) [hereinafter DEBATES OF THE 1912 CONVENTION]; Frey, supra note 148, at 3-4; Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 6, 37-49.

160 Smith, supra note 153, at 28.

161 DEBATES OF THE 1912 CONVENTION, supra note 159, at 28-32; Frey, supra note 148, at

6-9, 13; Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 51-55.

162 DEBATES OF THE 1912 CONVENTION, supra note 159, at 116, 650-52.

163 id. at 672-74, 681-83, 687, 733, 921, 951, 942-45. See Frey, supra note 148, at 35-47; Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 143-51.

164 OHIO CONST. of 1851 (as amended), art. I, § 1a.

165 If the general assembly amended the original proposal, the proponents could force the original version onto the ballot by filing the supplementary petition. If both versions passed, the version receiving the highest affirmative vote became law. Id. art. II, § 1b.

166 Id. art. II, § 1c.

167Id. art. II, § 1g.

168 Id. art. II, § 1c. “A single tax” would tax the value of land to the exclusion of other property taxes. Some of the delegates at the convention, including Bigelow, were single taxers. They had been influenced by Henry George, a Nineteenth Century economist and philosopher, who started the single tax movement. In a best selling book, George theorized that taxing the full value of land would prevent a grossly unequal distribution of wealth and poverty. HENRY GEORGE, PROGRESS AND POVERTY (1879). Rural delegates at the convention strongly opposed the idea of a single tax system.

169 Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 143-51. 

170 Id. at 151-56. 

171 OHIO CONST. of 1851, art. II, § 26. 

172 Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 157-60. 

173 Id. at 156-69.

174 In 1903 Ohioans had given the governor a general veto power. The 1912 proposal gave him a line-item veto as well. Another proposed amendment limited the legislature, when called into special session by the governor, to consideration of only those issues specified in the governor’s call. WARNER, supra note 148, at 327. On the other hand, the 1912 convention reform reduced the margin needed to override a veto from two-thirds of the legislature to three-fifths of each house. 1 DEBATES OF THE 1912 CONVENTION, supra note 159, at 1496-97; Frey, supra note 148, at 59-60; Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 177-79. Civil Service reform passed with very little opposition. WARNER, supra note 148, at 326; 2 DEBATES OF THE 1912 CONVENTION, supra note 159, at 1380, 1793.

175 Frey, supra note 148, at 58; Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 190-92. 

176 Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 191.

177 Id. at 192-93; 1 DEBATES OF THE 1912 CONVENTION, supra note 159, at 1025-80. 

178 DEBATES OF THE 1912 CONVENTION, supra note 159, at 1833-34; Frey, supra note 148, at 58-59; Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 192-93.

179 Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 193-94. 

180 Frey, supra note 148, at 53; Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 84, 93-95. 

181 Frey, supra note 148, at 54; Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 95-97.

182 Frey, supra note 148, at 54-56; Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 96-97. 

183 Frey, supra note 148, at 57, 72; Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 99-101. 

184 Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 127-40. 

185 Id. at 132.

186 This may have been a concession on the part of organized labor to rural delegates. Id. at 131.

187 Frey, supra note 148, at 62; Sponholtz, supra note 148, at 133-38. There were labor supporters in all of the sectors, and urban delegates voted strongly as a bloc. Democrats supported labor fairly consistently. Republicans had problems with the injunction amendment, and there was a rural/urban split on it.

188 Smith, supra note 153, at 27-29. 

189 Id. at 30. 

190 [Columbus] CITIZEN, Feb. 9, 1912. 

191Id., Feb. 14 & 15, 1912.

192 DEBATES OF THE 1912 CONVENTION, supra note 159, at 600, 603, 612. 

193 id. at 602, 616, 623. 

194 id. at 612, 618. 

195 id. at 607.

196 id. at 626-29.

197 The third reading passed seventy-four to thirty-seven, and final passage came on May 31 with a vote of sixty-three to twenty-five.

198 The liquor interests had attempted to have the suffrage proposition set off with the liquor license provision and away from the other propositions, believing that this would aid in the defeat of the suffrage amendment, but the delegates at the Constitutional Convention supported the position advocated by the suffragists.

199 OHIO CONST. of 1851, art. XV, § 9; see also OHIO CONST. of 1851, sched., § 18.

200 This last requirement was intended to prevent a brewer or distiller from owning the saloon. Brewers owned an estimated seventy percent of the saloons in the United States. Frey, supra note 148, at 23-24; Sponholtz, supra note 154, at 20-24.

201 DEBATES OF THE 1912 CONVENTION, supra note 159, at 1923, 1981-84, 1998, 1999- 2011; WARNER, supra note 148, at 338.

202 WARNER, supra note 148, at 339. The Republican newspapers were the Columbus Dispatch and the Cincinnati Enquirer and Times-Star.

203 Id. at 340. 

204 Smith, supra note 153, at 43, 53.

205 The amendments that failed to pass included elimination of the word “white,” the use of voting machines, the anti-strike injunction, woman suffrage and a separate amendment permitting women to hold certain offices, a ban on capital punishment, bonds for “good roads,” and restrictions on billboard advertising. WARNER, supra note 148, at 342.

206 Id. at 341.

 

Rockefeller’s Legacy from the Plain Dealer

From the Plain Dealer December 25, 1994

ROCKEFELLER’S LEGACY JOHN D.’S RICHES HELPED BUILD CLEVELAND INDUSTRIALLY, EDUCATIONALLY, CHARITABLY AND RECREATIONALLY

Plain Dealer, The (Cleveland, OH) – Sunday, December 25, 1994

Author: JEFF HAGAN


Imagining a world that might have been, a world the same save one life, seems the stuff of fiction. 

 

Movie director Frank Capra brought this story to the screen in “It’s a Wonderful Life,” starring Jimmy Stewart. In this movie, the moral of Capra’s musings is that even the little guys of this world have an impact. Their lives change the world in ways we may not fully imagine. 

 

What if we imagine Cleveland without one life? What if that one life was one that made a broad mark on the city’s history? 

 

What if we imagine Cleveland without John D. Rockefeller? 

 

The legacy of Rockefeller in Cleveland is not easily defined. He was the richest man in America. He donated millions of dollars to causes and charity, yet how does one account for the refiners Rockefeller put out of business, or the pain and labor among those whose struggle created Rockefeller’s phenomenal wealth? Would those contributions have been necessary if his exploitation of the American economy – and its workers – had not been equally phenomenal? 

 

Regardless of the answers to these questions, one thing is certain: For better or worse, Cleveland would not be Cleveland if Rockefeller had not lived here for three decades. 

 

A native of New York state, Rockefeller came to Strongsville in 1853, boarded in Cleveland as a teen and graduated from Central High School. 

 

After attending business classes, he went to work for the commission house of Tuttle & Hewitt on Merwin St. in the Flats in 1855. It was his first and last employer. 

 

In 1859, Rockefeller entered a partnership with Maurice Clark, continuing in the wholesale business. The firm profited handsomely from its government contracts, particularly during the Civil War. With its good margins and good credit, and a new partner, Samuel Andrews, Rockefeller invested in the fledgling oil industry, eventually building a refinery where Kingsbury Run hits the Cuyahoga River and leaving the commission business altogether to devote himself to oil. 

 

After working with various partners, Rockefeller incorporated the Standard Oil Co. in 1870 with a group of men who would make their names and fortunes with his company. Rockefeller was its largest stockholder. 

 

John Grabowski, director of research at the Western Reserve Historical Society in Cleveland, conducts a slide show about the history of Cleveland. It contains two revealing slides, shown in succession. The first is a photo of a couple of dozen men gathered at Cliff House, a Rocky River resort. 

 

“This is a picture of the oil trade in Cleveland in the 1860s,” Grabowski says. The next slide is of John D. Rockefeller standing alone. 

 

“This,” Grabowski says, “is a picture of the oil trade in Cleveland in the 1870s.” 

 

That portrait depicts the entire U.S. oil industry by the 1890s. From early on in the oil business, Standard Oil tried to gain control over every aspect of the industry, attempting to sop up profits and force out competition. 

 

Of one group of recalcitrant independent producers Rockefeller once said, “A good sweating will be healthy for them.” 

 

To ship the refined oil more cheaply, Standard did everything from wresting low rates and rebates from the railroads to going into the barrel-making business. By 1872, Standard Oil controlled 21 of Cleveland’s 26 oil refineries; by 1882, Standard Oil controlled 90% of the nation’s refining capacity, and a few politicians as well. 

 

Rockefeller earned the ire of independent oil producers, whose prices he ruthlessly undercut until they capitulated, either selling out to him, consolidating with Standard Oil or going out of business. In 1872, The Plain Dealer reported on Rockefeller’s early cartel, the South Improvement Co. That report turned public opinion against Standard Oil. This was followed by an 1881 muckraking piece in the Atlantic Monthly called “The Story of a Great Monopoly.” 

 

Still, the company’s monopolistic practices continued until the federal government finally stepped in and, finding the company had violated antitrust laws, broke up the company in 1911. 

 

By then, John D. Rockefeller was already in semi-retirement, a state he reached at age 36. Rockefeller had moved his headquarters to New York in 1884, having outgrown the financial capacity of Cleveland, though he continued to summer at the family’s Forest Hill estate east of Cleveland until his wife died in 1915, after which he seldom visited. (Rockefeller last visited Cleveland in 1917.) He died in 1937 at age 97. He and his wife, Laura, are buried in Lake View Cemetery, where his 71-foot obelisk monument is among the most popular attractions for visitors. 

 

Rockefeller, a devout Baptist who remained pious even while his company was its most ruthless (perhaps adding to the public distaste for the man), never felt he had done anything immoral, and he even liked to say his riches came from heaven.The fact that the latter half of his life was devoted to giving away large portions of the money he made in the first half have led some to conclude he did have an eye toward better public relations. 

 

However, Rockefeller had created a strong pattern of giving long before his patterns of getting made him so very rich. He kept detailed ledgers in which he recorded his net worth and donations (along with just about every other expenditure he ever made). The ledgers reveal contributions made to a variety of organizations even when his paycheck was a pittance. Still, at least one minister called a Rockefeller contribution to his organization “tainted money” because of the capitalist’s sullied reputation. The check was nonetheless cashed by other officers of the church. 

 

If Rockefeller merely wanted good publicity, or even to be remembered well, he could have shown, as other philanthropists of his day did, a propensity to attach his name to the buildings, parks and institutions he helped make possible. Names connected with Rockefeller are still visible on a handful of landmarks in Cleveland and the other cities his generosity reached, but not nearly as many as there could be, and not as many as his contemporaries, like Andrew Carnegie, left behind. 

 

“This goes against the grain of a lot of 19th-century philanthropy,” says Darwin Stapleton, a former Case Western Reserve University professor who is now director of the Rockefeller Archive Center in North Tarrytown, N.Y. 

 

Rockefeller’s presence in Cleveland is still felt strongly today, if not always recognized. But it doesn’t take Frank Capra, who imagined the life of a town with one important person removed in his movie “It’s a Wonderful Life” to understand Rockefeller’s legacy in Cleveland. It just takes a little looking around town. 

 

The Rockefeller Buildings 

 

More than one Clevelander has remarked that if John D. Rockefeller hadn’t moved to New York, the world-famous Rockefeller Center would be located here in Cleveland. Maybe. But Rockefeller’s vast financial empire required the big banks of the big city, and when he built, he built according to scale. That’s why Cleveland’s Rockefeller Building, on Superior Ave. at W. 6th, stands 17 stories high. 

 

But it wasn’t always the Rockefeller Building. For a time, it was the Kirby Building. 

 

It was built by Rockefeller between 1903 and 1905 for a million dollars. Reluctantly, and after a lawsuit forced him to, he sold it to Josiah Kirby, a shady businessman who ran insurance and mortgage businesses in the building. Kirby changed the name of the building to his own and put the name in lights atop the structure, which is said to have angered Rockefeller. The name even stuck after Kirby sold the building, so Rockefeller had his son, John D. Rockefeller Jr., buy the building for nearly $3 million and rename it the Rockefeller Building. When he sold it later, part of the deal was that the name was to stay attached to the building forever. 

 

The Heights Rockefeller Building stands on the corner of Mayfield and Lee Rds. in Cleveland Heights, on the edge of the old Forest Hill estate. The charming brick structure was at one time the entry building to John Jr.’s real-estate development at Forest Hill. Junior had planned to develop his family’s former estate by building 600 homes for the burgeoning class of white-collar workers, but the economy collapsed and only 81 were built. These French Norman-style homes – simply called “Rockefellers” – can still be seen in the Forest Hill area, contrasting to the modern and less stately homes that surround them. 

 

“These were houses built for the ages,” says Grabowski. 

 

While there is wild speculation that Rockefeller stayed away from the early antecedents of Case Western Reserve University (Case School of Applied Science and Western Reserve University) because of a rivalry with the schools’ main patrons, the Mathers, Rockefeller did eventually grant large contributions to the Cleveland institution. His name can be found atop the school’s physics lab, one of the two buildings he financed on the campus to the tune of $200,000. (The other was demolished.) He also earlier gave $2,500 to help buy joint property for the two schools. All told, Western Reserve University received nearly $1.6 million from Rockefeller, his General Education Board and the Rockefeller Foundation by the time he died in 1937. 

 

The BP Building, owned by British Petroleum which bought Standard Oil of Ohio (Sohio), is a few steps away from the early Standard offices when John D. Rockefeller first incorporated on Euclid Ave. Rising 45 stories, it was completed in 1985. If Rockefeller had not been in Cleveland, certainly the BP Building would not. 

 

“That’s perhaps the ultimate legacy, right here on Public Square,” says Grabowski. 

 

Rockefeller’s legacy is felt elsewhere around the square. An early member and supporter of the Western Reserve Historical Society who was made a lifetime honorary vice president, Rockefeller supplied the organization with one-quarter of the $40,000 purchase price for the Society for Savings Building – the largest of the gifts given. The building still sits across the northeast quadrant of the square. Rockefeller also is reported to have chipped in $50 for the $4,500 statue of Moses Cleaveland. 

 

Another building that Rockefeller is in part responsible for is the Arcade, in which he was a major investor. The head of the company that built the Arcade in 1890 was Stephen V. Harkness, a Standard Oil partner of Rockefeller’s. 

 

The Rockefeller Parks 

 

The most widely known of the park land donated by Rockefeller is, of course, Rockefeller Park, the meandering green blur one passes while ignoring the 25 mph signs on Martin Luther King Jr. Dr. The city of Cleveland bought this section of land along Doan Brook to link Wade Park with the lakefront Gordon Park, and, at the celebration of the city’s centennial, it was announced Rockefeller was reimbursing the city the $300,000 it paid for the land. Rockefeller then gave $100,000 for a bridge to carry Superior Ave. over the Doan Brook valley, on the condition that more money be raised locally. One source, a book by Grace Goulder called “John D. Rockefeller: The Cleveland Years,” says the Rockefeller family also donated an additional 278-acre stretch near the Shaker Lakes to the city. 

 

John D. Rockefeller Jr. donated nearly a third of the family’s Forest Hill estate, which the family no longer used as a summer home, to create Forest Hill Park. It is set on rolling, wooded hills in East Cleveland and Cleveland Heights. 

 

All told, it is estimated in the family archive center that the Rockefellers gave gifts worth more than $865,000 in land or cash to buy and maintain parks. 

 

Rockefeller also donated land for private use. 

 

The Rockefeller Charities 

 

At the Rockefeller Archive Center, 56 million pages of documents deal with the family’s personal philanthropy. By the time Rockefeller died, he had given away $530 million, and by the time his son died, he had given $561 million away, through personal donations or to charities set up by the family. Some of these contributions came at important times to an institution, allowing it to buy a building or create an endowment at a key juncture. Though Rockefeller’s gifts touched 88 countries, many of his early contributions were of great benefit to Cleveland institutions and individuals. 

 

Beginning in the 1890s, Rockefeller had a staff sort through the requests and evaluate their worthiness, which sometimes turned off the spigot to a group. 

 

“He was looking for places that had a good structure in place for management,” says Kenneth Rose, assistant to the director of the Rockefeller Archive Center, who studied the exhaustive manner in which Rockefeller investigated a charity’s effectiveness. 

 

According to Darwin Stapleton, the center’s director, Rockefeller pioneered two kinds of philanthropy that took root in Cleveland and spread around the country: the general purpose foundation and the community foundation. After Rockefeller created the General Education Board in 1902 and the Rockefeller Foundation in 1913, he continued to be generous with his old hometown. “Cleveland is overrepresented in the giving of these two organizations up until about the ’50s,” says Stapleton. 

 

Rockefeller gave important early support to the Cleveland Home for Aged Colored People, which today exists as the Eliza Bryant Center on Wade Park Ave. He also helped to fund the Children’s Aid Society and served on its board of trustees. The organization eventually concentrated its efforts on a Detroit Ave. school and farm, which had been donated by Eliza Jennings. The society today provides services to emotionally disturbed children and their families at the same Detroit Ave. site. While Rockefeller was extremely generous to the YMCA and YWCA, donating large portions of construction costs for new buildings, these organizations would likely have gone on, owing to the broad base of support they enjoyed in the city. 

 

Rockefellergave matching funds to purchase a home on Prospect Ave. to create the Baptist Home of Northeast Ohio for aging and lonely Baptists, which was started by members of his Euclid Ave. Baptist Church. This eventually grew into the Judson Retirement Community, still operating today with Judson Manor and Judson Park, two East Side residential facilities. 

 

Alta House, named for Rockefeller’s daughter, began as a day nursery serving the Mayfield Rd. and Murray Hill neighborhoods, and is one of the city’s oldest settlement houses. Rockefeller built and expanded buildings, including a pool and gymnasium, and donated substantial sums to support operations, until 1922, when the family was relieved of its role by the Cleveland Community Fund, a forerunner of United Way. Alta House now operates youth programs and senior citizens services out of the former gymnasium building. 

 

Shiloh Baptist Church and Antioch Baptist Church, two important African-American congregations in the city, both received significant gifts from Rockefeller, including matching funds for new buildings. Although the structures he funded have since been torn down, his timely contributions may have helped, along with the congregations and African-American leaders, to keep these churches together. Similarly, Rockefeller made a challenge grant to the Western Reserve School of Medicine at which Stapleton calls a hinge point, taking it from a regional to a national medical school. 

 

John L. Severance, the son of one-time Standard Oil treasurer Louis Severance, and once a Standard employee himself, pledged $1 million to build Severance Hall on the condition that twice that amount be raised for a permanent endowment. John D. Rockefeller Jr. kicked in $250,000 for the fund. 

 

“The great gifts of our Hall [Severance] and the endowments that largely support the Cleveland Orchestra today were made possible by the Standard Oil fortunes … inherited by the Severances, the Blossoms and the Boltons,” said Adella Hughes, founder and manager of the Cleveland Orchestra in 1947. BP America, son of Standard Oil, has continued to support the orchestra, including funding national radio broadcasts and recordings for the world-class institution. Severance Hall, therefore, could be seen in part as yet another Rockefeller building in Cleveland. 

 

Rockefeller’s influence in the world of philanthropy sometimes takes on a more abstract character. For instance, Frederick Goff, Rockefeller’s attorney until 1908, and the man who represented him during the antitrust litigation, may have been influenced by Rockefeller’s example when he created the Cleveland Foundation in 1914. 

 

Rockefeller And Associates 

 

Rockefeller’s practice of gobbling up competitors and controlling all ends of an industry’s operations presaged modern corporate forms of consolidation and standardization, a legacy felt in other industries here in Cleveland and elsewhere. 

 

“Rockefeller in one sense monopolized the oil industry,” says John Grabowski. “In another sense, he rationalized it.” Most importantly, he did it here in Cleveland. 

 

“It was not the natural center of the petroleum industry,” says Stapleton. “He, by the sheer power of his vision, directed the petroleum industry’s product primarily to Cleveland.” 

 

The buildup of infrastructure and other businesses, everything from barrel-making to banking, was in part a result of such a large corporation maintaining a headquarters here, a point that could arguably apply to Standard Oil’s descendant, BP America. Among Rockefeller’s legacies then, says Stapleton, are “the drawing of capital to the city, the creation of jobs, the petroleum business, transportation, allied chemical business, manufacturers` products associated with petroleum,’ along with the budding telegraph industry. 

 

Stapleton adds it is no accident that Western Union came to Cleveland, where Rockefeller needed such instantaneous contact with markets and refiners in Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, New Jersey and New York. 

 

Rockefeller also pulled together teams of bright people who showed promise and made many of them very wealthy. These people have left their own formidable legacies to the city, forever wedded to that of Rockefeller. 

 

Samuel Andrews, an early partner, helped build the Brooks Military School, out of which eventually grew Hathaway Brown, and was a trustee to Adelbert College. Stephen Harkness provided important financial support to the forerunner of Standard Oil and joined when the company incorporated. Besides joining Rockefeller in contributing to the Central Friendly Inn (now just called the Friendly Inn), Harkness helped to bring Western Reserve University into Cleveland from Hudson. 

 

Another associate, Oliver H. Payne, made his money by consolidating his firm and joining Standard Oil. He, too, made large contributions to Western Reserve University, as well as St. Vincent Charity and Lakeside hospitals. John Huntington installed fireproof roofing for a Standard Oil building and was offered stock or cash for payment. He took the stock, became extremely wealthy, and left bequests including the John Huntington Benevolent Trust for charities and the funds to help found the Cleveland Museum of Art. His summer home in Bay Village was acquired by the Cleveland Metroparks and was named Huntington Reservation in his honor. 

 

Among those influenced by Rockefeller was Cyrus Eaton, a young boy who worked summers at Forest Hill and whose early business ventures Rockefeller supported. It was at his summer job that Eaton became friends with Dr. William Harper, president of the Rockefeller-founded University of Chicago, and his son, Sam. The Harpers had traveled to Baptist missions in Russia, and kindled Eaton’s interest in the nation, eventually bringing him to a leadership role in promoting good U.S.-Soviet relations during the Cold War, while Eaton was a major industrialist with Republic Steel. 

 

Eaton donated land to the forerunner of the Metroparks, was a founder and trustee of the Cleveland Museum of Natural History, helped to create Fenn College from the YMCA night school and was a benefactor of Case School of Applied Science. 

 

The presence of John D. Rockefeller can be felt in far-ranging areas, from his large role in making Cleveland a national center for industry to mentoring other budding industrialists, developing new forms of corporate organization and creating institutions that continue to serve cultural and material needs decades after they were founded. 

 

He may never have intended to make his presence felt so long after his death, but his was one life that the city of Cleveland can never imagine itself without.

Black Heritage Began in 1809: Cleveland Plain Dealer

Plain Dealer article from December 31, 1995

BLACK HERITAGE BEGAN IN 1809

Plain Dealer, The (Cleveland, OH) – Sunday, December 31, 1995

Author: SHARON BROUSSARD PLAIN DEALER REPORTER

 

If ever there was a golden age for the black community in Cleveland, it was in the 1850s. It was then that a tiny group of blacks, numbering 224 out of a population of about 17,000, lived fully integrated lives. 

 

They worked alongside white tradesmen, dined in restaurants, and mingled at lectures and musical recitals. They lived in neighborhoods among whites and sent their children to integrated schools. And at religious services – the most segregated hour of the week today – blacks worshiped with whites. 

 

“At that point, Cleveland was a frontier town, a small city which was rapidly growing,” said Kenneth Kusmer, a noted historian on blacks in Cleveland and a Temple University professor. 

 

“Cleveland was founded mostly by people from New England who were reformers. It was an anti-slavery center. As a result, blacks were considerably more accepted than in other cities.” 

 

But that acceptance was fleeting. By the turn of the century, segregation and discrimination was prevalent. Any semblance of equality began a long, slow fade. 

 

“There was a change in the national attitude toward black Americans,” Kusmer said. “The Civil War disappeared. The South became powerful again. The North took on a similar racial attitude of the South but not as intense. The discrimination was never legal, but always informal.” 

 

Throughout the century, blacks struggled to regain their hold on Cleveland jobs, neighborhoods, and politics. 

 

“As a historian, I see this [inequality] as a cumulative problem of the past. It has come back to haunt us.” Kusmer said. 

 

Early settlers 

 

The first black settler in Cleveland was George Peake, who arrived in 1809 with his wife and his two adult sons. At that time, the hamlet’s swampy surroundings were notable for mosquitos and malaria. If that wasn’t enough, Lorenzo Carter , Cleveland’s first permanent white settler kept a stranglehold on the Indian trade and employed “itinerant vagabonds,” who were menacing to prospective settlers. 

 

The Peake family was well off and bought 103 acres of land west of the early settlment, in an areas that is today Lakewood. Peake then created a hand-mill for grinding grain that was popular among the settlers. 

 

Other black families followed, many becoming as successful as their white counterparts. 

 

“The people who migrated early were able to start businesses and develop trades and have more economic opportunity. The blacks who came were able to succeed, not absolutely on the basis of equality, but they were able to succeed,” said Kusmer. 

 

While it is difficult to quantify the success the black pioneers enjoyed because of a lack of documents, historians cite John Brown and others. Brown was a barber who bought land that he later sold for $35,000, a sizeable sum in those days. John Malvin was an abolitionist and successful canal boat captain. 

 

Others note Alfred Greenbriar, who owned a stable, and Madison Tilley, an excavating contractor who employed up to 100 men. 

 

By 1850, a significant number of blacks had purchased property. 

 

“I was surprised at the ability of blacks to move into skilled work,” said Kusmer, who studied 19th-century census records. The records indicated equal opportunity employment “relatively speaking on par with Irish immigrants, not the native-born whites,” Kusmer said. 

 

Yet racism did exist. The Black Laws, a series of statewide codes in effect from 1804 to 1887, made Ohio, in general, less attractive to black settlement. According to the laws, a black who wanted to live in the state had to post a $500 bond as assurance against his becoming a pauper or a criminal and show a certificate of freedom. Blacks could not testify against whites, vote or run for office. 

 

Blacks could not marry whites and, according to the Black Laws, their children couldn’t go to public schools or enter any of “the institutions of this state, viz: a lunatic asylum, deaf and dumb asylum, not even the poor house,” wrote John Malvin in his autobiography, “North Into Freedom.” 

 

Despite these laws, white Clevelanders, who had become active in abolishing slavery, generally ignored the laws. But in southern Ohio, which was settled by white southerners, the Black Laws were strictly enforced. 

 

“It was much more ambiguous and complex in the Northern states,” Kusmer said. “You might have segregation without the laws or have discriminatory laws but not have them obeyed.” 

 

The very fact that these laws exsisted concerned Cleveland-area blacks. They agitated for the repeal of the Black Laws and abolitionist John Malvin organized a school in 1831 for black children who couldn’t attend public schools. He also waged a one-man battle against segregated pews in predominately white First Baptist Church. 

 

“To that I objected,” he wrote. “Stating that if I had to be colonized, I preferred to be colonized at Liberia, rather than the House of God.” He was so successful that until the turn of the century, blacks attended integrated churches. 

 

Other blacks became well known on the abolitionist lecture circuit. In fact, when Lucy Bagby, a fugitive slave, was ordered returned to her master in Virginia in accordance with the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850, security was tightened because black Clevelanders threatened to carry her off to safety. 

 

William Howard Day, an Oberlin College graduate who moved to Cleveland in the 1840s, was a printer and traveling anti-slavery lecturer. He secretly wrote the constitution for John Brown’s doomed republic of freed slaves. 

 

William Wells Brown, an ex-slave who escaped through the Underground Railroad and settled in Cleveland during the 1830s, was a historian, writer, and abolitionist lecturer, best known for writing “Clotel, or The President’s Daughter,” a novel about the alleged slave offspring of President Thomas Jefferson. 

 

Slowly, black Clevelanders won many of their important battles. The Black Laws stayed on the books until 1887, but Cuyahoga County abandoned a registry recording the $500 bonds and certificates of freedom in 1851. 

 

By the late 1840s, black children were allowed to attend white public schools and churches were so integrated that all-black churches grew very slowly, surviving on membership drawn from black Southern migrants who wanted down-home religion. 

 

Racism had not completely fled from northeast Ohio, however. In 1859, The Plain Dealer, which supported the Democrats then considered to be the party of the South, would declare: “This is a government of white men. Let them establish a government of colored men.” 

 

Still, those words were largely ignored. The Western Reserve was infected with abolitionist fever and Cleveland was one of the major stops on the Underground Railroad. 

 

When the Civil War began, blacks who were forbidden to join the white troops in Ohio went to Massachusetts to join the all-black 54th and 55th regiments. In 1863, Ohio accepted black recruits for the war. 

 

Blacks in Ohio gained the vote in 1870, and John Patterson Green was the first black elected justice of the peace three years later. 

 

But, in less than four decades, race relations in Cleveland would take a turn for the worse. 

 

Color line emerges 

 

In 1880, there were only 2,000 blacks living in Cleveland out of a population of 160,000. Four years later, Ohio passed a Civil Rights Law forbidding discrimination in public places and amended it 10 years later. 

 

The first black elected to City Council, Thomas Fleming, took office in 1909. 

 

Other black councilmen followed including three in 1929, who engineered plans to stop a segregated hospital. 

 

“In the 1920s, they flexed their political muscle,” said Kusmer. “When the city tried to institute a separate hospital, for example, it was defeated. They had political power in the City Council. …” 

 

By 1920, the number of black residents would boom to 72,000. While there were no “white only” or “colored” signs posted in Cleveland, and police didn’t arrest blacks for sitting at lunch counters, the barriers to full integration, as opaque as they appeared, were rock hard. 

 

Gradually, most blacks were barred from restaurants, segregated in theaters, and forced to live in the Central neighborhood of Cleveland, an area bounded by Euclid Ave. to the north, the railroad tracks to the south, east to E. 55 St., and west by Public Square. They were chased out of parks in white neighborhoods and not allowed in the YMCA or YWCA. Even more critically, blacks were hired for only the most menial jobs and kept out of apprenticeship programs and unions. Those who had the time and the money to sue did, but getting justice was too often like hitting the lottery – only the most naive would count on redress for every wrong. 

 

The climate in Cleveland for blacks changed because of a combination of factors including a growing disregard for the plight of the blacks, Supreme Court decisions that supported segregation, the rise of white supremacy in the South and the influence of racist theories promoted by scientists. These theories claimed blacks were inferior because of smaller brain size or childlike characteristics. 

 

“Cleveland had lost its earlier aura of equality in racial matters,” an attitude that was reflected throughout the nation, Kusmer said. 

 

“You had some white liberals like the Jelliffes [who founded Karamu] but for the most part, Cleveland slipped into the pattern of other northern cities.” 

 

The emerging color line was a blow to the black middle class. George A. Myers, a barber who was the black liaison for Marcus A. Hanna, a Republican boss, was told when he retired from his barbering franchise in 1930 that the hotel would replace the black barbers with white ones. 

 

“It broke his heart and he died soon after,” said Kusmer. “Blacks who thought they would be accepted, who played by the rules, who were middle class and conservative in politics, found out they weren’t accepted by many people.” 

 

Ironically, the public schools remained integrated for children and teachers, even assigning black teachers like Bertha Blue, who taught Italian immigrant children for more than 30 years in Little Italy. 

 

Between 1920 and 1940, the number of blacks in Cleveland had almost tripled from 34,451 to 84,504. Only the Great Depression acted as a brake to white flight to the suburbs, said Adrienne Lash Jones, history professor at Oberlin College and an expert on black history in Cleveland during the 20th century. Even today older blacks who grew up in the 1930s can recall playing street games and jumping rope with white friends in Central. 

 

But as soon as the Great Depression lifted, the ghettoization of Central continued. “What was happening was that they did live in close proximity. They did get along,” she observes. 

 

“But as soon as the whites could get out of there, they did.” 

 

Despite the discrimination in Cleveland, Southern blacks were lured here by a feeling that life would be better up North. Blacks doubled their numbers between 1930 and 1950 to 147,847 from 71,899. 

 

Their arrival spurred a bigger business community. The Central area became home to black-owned stores, gas stations, restaurants, doctors’ and lawyer’s offices, and funeral homes, which supported a growing black middle class. By the 1950s, there were black-owned savings and loans and insurance companies. 

 

There were some success stories too. Track star Jesse Owens started winning races at East Technical High School in 1933. He set world records in the Berlin Olympics in 1936. The great American writer Langston Hughes who would be a major part of the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s, wrote poetry as a student at Central High School. 

 

Yet there were few exceptional students. From the turn of the century, black Clevelanders struggled for better schools, housing and job opportunities. 

 

In the 1940s, a group of blacks took the city to court for its refusal to hire more than a token number of blacks in the booming wartime industries. Blacks weren’t hired in the plants until near the end of the war. 

 

The prosperity from World War II would change the look of the ghetto and the outlook of its residents. Veterans returning from a war where they had been asked to die for their country did not easily accept the second-class citizenship foisted upon them. 

 

“They were disappointed, frustrated and angry,” historian Jones said. That frustration would eventually lead to the election of the city’s first black mayor in 1967. 

 

Meanwhile, rising income would allow the black middle class, many anxious to rear their children in stable, safe neighborhoods, to leave the older, more deteriorated housing stock in the Central area. When they could, they pushed east beyond E. 55th St. and north beyond Euclid Ave. 

 

Unscrupulous real estate agents capitalized on whites’ fears of blacks and urged many whites to sell their homes so they could sell them at higher prices to black buyers. The neighborhoods of Glenville, Hough and Mount Pleasant saw a sharp increase of black residents. 

 

Whites, in turn, moved into eastern or western suburbs where home prices and mortgage loan practices kept blacks out. 

 

By the 1940s, the black business community had relocated from Central Ave. to Cedar Ave. near E. 105th St. 

 

“There were grocery stores. Art’s Seafood restaurant was on Cedar for many, many years,” Jones said. “There were good restaurants and white people would come to the “black and tan” clubs to listen to music. But blacks couldn’t go to the all-white clubs.” 

 

No matter how nice certain sections were, the stagnation and poverty of the ghetto never seemed to be far behind. Ironically, urban renewal in the older sections of Central pushed poor blacks into Hough and Glenville. 

 

Landlords profited by turning single-family homes into two-family homes and later into overcrowded shacks. City inspectors didn’t monitor the housing stock. Redlining by banks and insurance companies increased the blight, even in middle-class black havens like Glenville and Mount Pleasant. 

 

“As neighborhoods became predominately black, you see a decline in the ability to borrow money for home improvements. You could get money for a car or a refrigerator, but you couldn’t get a home improvement loan,” Jones said. 

 

Indeed, the Federal Housing Administration underwriting manual from the 1930s warned agents to be wary of writing mortgage or home improvement loans in areas where “inharmonious” racial groups existed because they might lower property values. Loans should ideally be given in communities with zoning regulations and restrictive covenants, according to the FHA rules. It was a standard that Central, Hough, Glenville and other areas could not meet. 

 

By the 1960s, black neighborhoods were bursting at the seams – about 251,000 blacks lived in Cleveland – most in deteriorating Central and nearby neighborhoods. Battles were not far behind. The first were waged against school segregation and the quality of education. 

 

The NAACP had complained about the quality of education for black children since the 1920s. Over time it worsened. Youngsters had to attend overcrowded schools in shifts. Central High School offered vocational classes and the children of southern migrants had to attend remedial schools. 

 

One demonstration against the building of schools designed to prevent integration led to the death of protester Bruce Klunder, a white minister, in 1964. 

 

Two years later, the Hough riots would break out, reportedly sparked by a white bartender accused of refusing to give a black man a drink. Four people were killed, 30 people injured. But the fuse was set long before, said Jones. 

 

“There were overcrowded conditions and lots of frustration,” she said. `We were in a downturn economically. People were having a hard time. Cleveland was very racist. People found all kinds of obstacles in employment. People came here to live better and they weren’t living better.’ 

 

The riot was also a sign of the times, she said. “It wasn’t just the blacks. There was a student rebellion and the women’s movement. It was a societal rebellion and disruption. If you see it in isolation, you miss the whole context.” Against this backdrop, Carl B. Stokes would be elected mayor in 1967, after losing in 1965. His brother, Louis Stokes was elected to Congress in 1968. Carl Stokes appealed to black voters and worked hard at getting the votes of whites, knowing they were wary of putting a black man in the mayor’s seat. 

 

“He was very charismatic, like a black John Kennedy,” Jones said. “He was a good person and he had the right beginnings. He was right up from the bootstraps. A street boy who made good.” 

 

In 1968, Glenville exploded in a shootout led by nationalist Fred “Ahmed” Evans. The exchange of gunfire left seven people dead, 15 wounded and led to looting and arson. Stokes’ reputation was tarnished among some voters when it was discovered that public money had gone to Evans’ nationalist group. 

 

He declined to run in 1971, but Stokes had entered the top ranks of city government and paved the way for other black powerbrokers. George Forbes became president of City Council in the 1973, and Mayor Michael R. White, the second black mayor, was elected in 1989. 

 

Back in neighborhoods like Glenville, Hough and Mount Pleasant, the ’70s and ’80s would be marked by an escalating flight to the suburbs by the black middle class. With housing discrimination outlawed, middle-class blacks headed to Cleveland Heights, Shaker Heights and other eastern suburbs. By the 1980s, one-fourth of all Cuyahoga blacks lived in the suburbs. The city’s default in the ’70s, visible deterioration and a controversial school desegregation plan spurred them on as it did other racial groups. 

 

“Anyone who could get out of Cleveland, both blacks and whites, did because of the schools. … The flight is related to the deterioration of the school system,” said Jones. She moved from Glenville to Shaker Heights in the 1960s because of the poor quality of schools. 

 

In some ways, the racist legacy of the beginning of the 20th century is a template for black and white Cleveland today. Most of the whites in Cleveland still live on the West Side and in the western suburbs. Most of the blacks live on the East Side and in the eastern suburbs, some of which have a higher percentage of black residents than does Cleveland. 

 

Roughly half of Cleveland’s 492,000 population is black and a great deal of it is poor, according to the Census Bureau. About 42 percent of Clevelanders live below the poverty line, that number soars to half of the black population and 56 percent of Cleveland’s adult black males do not have a job, according to the U.S. Census. 

 

Urban poverty researchers Claudia J. Coulton and Julian Chow note that poor people in Cleveland have become more concentrated in certain neighborhoods, and these high-poverty neighborhoods are spreading to the edges of the city. “If this trend were to continue,” the researchers write, “nearly three-quarters of the city of Cleveland [census] tracts would reach high-poverty status before the year 2000.” 

 

In addition, Cleveland is one of 10 American cities where the poor and the affluent are to a great degree spatially isolated from everyone else, Coulton and her colleagues found. “Cleveland and nine other cities have this most extreme pattern of the poor being concentrated in the central cities in particular neighborhoods and the affluent being concentrated at the outskirts,” said Coulton, co-director of the Mandel School of Applied Social Sciences at Case Western Reserve University. 

 

The result of this extreme isolation is that the poor and unemployed have little contact with the middle and upper classes, whose values are predominant in society. Likewise, the affluent have little contact with the poor, so they have no firsthand knowledge of the hardship facing them and thus, would be less inclined to help them, researchers say. 

 

Still, life in Hough, Glenville and Central is not all bleak. Redevelopment has brought new, and in some cases upscale, homes and shops in the area during the last five years. Lured by generous tax benefits, some of the middle class have moved back. 

 

“The development of political leadership is a bright spot,” said Jones. “The opportunities are available if you are determined. Of course, you have to become well-trained in schools and that’s a problem. Yet, there are blacks in positions they didn’t hold in the 1960s. And with the development of the communty college, there are a significant number of black people who are able to take advantage of higher education opportunity. The White administration has changed the way the city looks.” 

 

But she still worries about the future of blacks in Cleveland. “The question of race is still important,” she said. “We can look at the progress, but we should not delude ourselves that the underlying issues of poverty – the lack of bank loans, the high rates of unemployment for black youths – are solved.”

Billy Stage

From the Society of Baseball Research

The link is here

Billy Stage

by Peter Morris

Who was the fastest man ever to step on a major league diamond?  This question would surely provoke a heated debate among diehard baseball fans, with many names surfacing.  It is a safe assumption that Billy Stage’s name would not come up, yet he is almost certainly the only man to hold world records in two sprint events at the time of his major league debut.  Billy who?  Don’t bother checking the baseball encyclopedias for his name because Billy Stage, only a few months after equaling the world record in the hundred-yard dash, became a National League umpire.

Charles Willard “Billy” Stage was born in Painesville, Ohio, on November 26, 1868, the second of three sons of Stephen K. Stage, a butcher, and the former Sarah Knight.  His parents gave little thought to their boys attending college, but Billy developed a passion for learning and soon had his heart set on receiving a higher education. Even when his parents voiced active opposition to his plan, he insisted that he would work his way through college. (Cleveland Plain Dealer, May 2, 1894) That steadfast determination would become his distinguishing trait throughout his life.

So in 1888 Billy enrolled at Cleveland’s Western Reserve University, which had recently been renamed Adelbert College of Western Reserve. In addition to all of the time he devoted to his studies and to earning enough money to pay for tuition, he also found time to play varsity baseball and to serve as captain of the school’s first varsity football team.

It was at track and field, however, where he truly excelled. On May 28, 1890, Adelbert hosted a field day during which Billy Stage put on an astonishing performance. He was the winner in seven different events: the standing high and broad jumps, the fifty-yard backward dash, the hop, skip and jump, the half-mile run, and the 100- and 220-yard dashes. And in each of them except the novelty backward race, Stage posted the best performance turned in by an Ohio collegian that year. (Cleveland Leader, May 30, 1890)

What particularly captured attention was that he was clocked in ten-and-one-fifth (10.2) seconds in the 100-yard dash. The time raised both eyebrows and questions about its accuracy, since, as the Cleveland Plain Dealer noted, “If the time and distance were correct, it was a remarkable performance and only two-fifths of a second slower than the professional record.” (Cleveland Plain Dealer, May 29, 1890) But the Cleveland Leader defended its veracity, maintaining that the 10.2 second time “was that of the slow watch and there is no doubt of its correctness.” (Cleveland Leader, May 29, 1890)

His excited schoolmates began besieging the eastern track authorities of the Amateur Athletic Union (A.A.U.) with telegrams trying to enter him in that week’s intercollegiate championships. But their efforts were in vain. The response of the New York Times dripped with condescension: “Mr. Stage, who is well known to several men in this city, is a very promising amateur runner, having competed in a number of races in and near Cleveland and shown good times. It is doubtful, however, if his run Wednesday was timed accurately. He has run many times under eleven seconds with scarcely any training, and had only been training two weeks for Wednesday’s race. An Adelbert student will not be able to compete in the games to-morrow, that college not being a member of the Intercollegiate Association of Amateur Athletes.” (New York Times, May 30, 1890) So Stage did not compete in the meet, at which the 100-yard dash was won in the same time that he had recorded at the Adelbert College field day. (Cleveland Leader, June 1, 1890)

When Billy Stage’s parents became convinced that their son intended to earn his degree with or without their support, they finally came around and began to help him out financially. He earned his undergraduate degree in 1892 and then enrolled in the university’s brand new law school. That October he competed at the A.A.U. championships and did well enough to be hailed as “the Cleveland phenomenon.” (Brooklyn Eagle, October 2, 1892)

By this time, it was clear that he outclassed his fellow Ohio collegians. When he arrived at the annual meet of the Ohio Intercollegiate Association for Athletics the following spring, the host Buchtel College (now the University of Akron) protested his participation and finally cancelled the meet on the grounds that he was “not an Adelbert man but a Western Reserve University man.” Most observers, however, saw this as a transparent excuse for the hosts’ realization that their representatives were no match for Stage. (Cleveland Leader, June 2, 1893)

To stave off any controversy, Stage joined the recently formed Cleveland Athletic Club, a decision that also enabled him to compete against the country’s top amateur runners. But it would prove far more a case of Stage putting the young club and the city of Cleveland on the track and field map than the other way around.

In September of 1893 he experienced a breakthrough that finally forced the Easterners to take notice. At the A.A.U.’s Central Association championships at Cleveland’s Athletic Field on September 2, he entered the hundred-yard dash against a strong field. The runners were tightly bunched for most of the race until a tall, curly-haired runner surged out of the pack. Billy Stage “broke the tape, or the Germantown-yarn to be more accurate” a full three yards ahead his nearest rival as “a large delegation of Adelbert students, who were present to see him run, could not repress their feelings and gave vent to a prodigious yell that aroused the jealousy of the announcer.” (Cleveland Leader, September 3, 1893)

Their jubilation increased when the time was announced: nine-and-four-fifths (9.8) seconds, which equaled the world record! Newspaper accounts were confused about the identity of the record-holder. Some credited Harry Jewett of Detroit, with the Plain Dealer even stating that Jewett set the mark “on the same track [as Stage] and under conditions far more favorable.” (Cleveland Plain Dealer, September 3, 1893) But others correctly stated that it had been set by John Owen Jr. of Detroit and matched by W. T. Macpherson of New Zealand. 

There was far less doubt about Stage’s eye-popping time. All five official timers caught him at 9.8, while unofficial timers had him even faster. (Cleveland Leader, September 3, 1893; Cleveland Plain Dealer, September 3, 1893; Massillon Independent, September 28, 1893; Washington Post, September 4, 1893; Outing, October 1893 (23,1), A3)

Nor was his day’s work over. He captured the event’s 220-yard dash in a blazing twenty-two-and-three-fifth (22.6) seconds and the quarter mile in fifty-two-and-one-fifth (52.2) seconds. He won both races so comfortably that the Plain Dealer claimed that he finished the 220 “in a jog” and was running even more easily at the end of the quarter mile, while the Leader boasted that he “slowed perceptibly in the last ten yards” of the 220 and “simply jogged home” in the quarter mile. The three victories were, in the words of the Plain Dealer, “enough glory for Stage and he did not enter any more contests.” (Cleveland Leader, September 3, 1893; Cleveland Plain Dealer, September 3, 1893; Outing, October 1893 (23, 1), A3)

Stage’s triumphs also brought acclaim to the Cleveland Athletic Club and the entire city of Cleveland. Stage “carried the colors of the club to glory in the first open field day in which any of its members ever were entered,” crowed the Leader. “It is seldom that a new club begins by winning three of the most important events on the track in one afternoon.” (Cleveland Leader, September 3, 1893)

His next appearance was at an A.A.U. handicap meet in Chicago on the fourteenth, where he finally had the opportunity to go head-to-head with some of the Eastern stars and “prove to the doubting easterners that he is far superior to anything they have brought west.” (Chicago Times, quoted in Cleveland Plain Dealer, September 16, 1893) He did just that, running three successive heats in the seventy-five-yard dash at seven-and-four-fifths (7.8) seconds — a mere one-fifth of a second off the world record.  Two days later, at the A.A.U. Championships in Chicago, he won the hundred-yard dash in a time of ten-and-one-fifth (10.2) seconds and the 220 in twenty-two-and-one-fifth (22.2) seconds.  Then three days later, at a meet in St. Louis, he tied Jewett’s world’s record in the 220 with a time of twenty-one-and-three-fifth (21.6) seconds.  In the first heat of the 100, several timers had him again tying the world mark, but he fainted at the conclusion of the race and did not do as well in subsequent heats. (Outing, October 1893 (23, 1), A3; Chicago Tribune, September 20, 1893)

This extraordinary month of performances naturally prompted much discussion about the law student, and he was hailed as “the phenomenon of the year,” “the sensation of the day,” “the most wonderful sprinter turned out in years” and “a veritable wonder on the cinder path.” (Chicago Times, quoted in Cleveland Plain Dealer, September 16, 1893; Cleveland Plain Dealer, September 3, 1893; St. Louis Post-Dispatch, quoted in the Cleveland Plain Dealer, September 20, 1893; St. Louis Post-Dispatch, September 20, 1893) What may have been most satisfying was that he was one of two recipients of a prestigious gold medal for track excellence that had been offered by the New York Times — the newspaper that had written so condescendingly of Stage three years earlier. (Bizarrely, the medal was cut in half because the board of governors could not decide between Stage and a runner who had won the low and high hurdles events.) (New York Times, November 21, 1893)

His distinctive sprinting technique also attracted considerable attention. Stage was a lanky six-footer who ran “in an unusually erect attitude for a sprinter and is as graceful as he is swift.” (Massillon Independent, September 28, 1893) According to another, “he runs with the ease and grace of a fawn, with head and shoulders erect, and a terrific stride that gives a motion as near flying as any human being could attain.” (St. Louis Post-Dispatch, September 20, 1893) And a later sportswriter noted that he “gets his speed more on form than strength, and when in condition runs with scarcely an apparent effort.” (Chicago Tribune, September 2, 1895)

But for all that he was the talk of the track and field world, after his amazing month Billy Stage quietly returned to Cleveland and his law classes. When the school year ended, he was in need of a steady income over the summer months and heard that umpires were needed for college games. Finding good umpires was a problem at all levels of play, but the situation was particularly dire at the college level, where the notorious “you rob me and I rob you” style of umpiring often left visiting clubs with little chance of winning. (Outing, August 1894)

In an effort to resolve this thorny problem, National League president Nick Young had been asked to appoint umpires for that year’s college games. Young must have been thrilled when he got Stage’s application because the young law student was everything he could have asked for in an official. Having to work by themselves and put up with abuse from players and fans, umpires needed to be tough, determined and, above all, command authority, or they would not survive. Billy Stage possessed all of these attributes, and his celebrated track accomplishments would surely earn him respect from both spectators and players. An added bonus was that his legal training was also likely to come in handy, as the National League rulebook was still filled with knotty complexities and another one had been added that spring in the form of a new rule that became known as the “infield fly rule.”

Even Stage’s blazing speed was a valuable asset. National League umpires still almost always worked alone, placing them in the impossible position of having to make calls at all four bases. While no one man could possibly see everything that went on when there were several runners on base, a fast umpire at least had a far better chance of getting in position on plays at the various bases. As a result, speed was considered an important requirement. Noted arbiter Tim Hurst had been a renowned sprinter before taking up umpiring, and continued to run ten to twelve miles a day to prepare for each season. (Cleveland Plain Dealer, April 8, 1894) Meanwhile, slow-footed umpires were roundly criticized; American Association umpire Robert McNichol was once denounced for being “too lazy to run to bases when a close play is made and a close decision is to follow, unlike [John Kelly], who covers more ground than a sprint runner under similar circumstances.” (Columbus Times, August 12, 1883)

So Young named Stage as one of seven National League umpires for the 1894 campaign. (Brooklyn Eagle, March 22, 1894) He prepared for his new responsibilities by officiating in numerous college games in April, and Young also assigned him to several exhibition games involving major league teams. Reviews of his work were universally favorable, with Cleveland manager Patsy Tebeau saying that Stage had the makings of a star after he worked a game between the Spiders and his own college nine. (Cleveland Plain Dealer, April 13, 1894) The Leader noted, “The players seem to be perfectly contented when he is behind the bat and there are few players who ever are happy with the umpire.” (Cleveland Plain Dealer, April 13, 1894) His speed was the subject of particular comment, with the Plain Dealer pronouncing, “Stage, as an umpire, is destined to be a success. He is quick in his decisions, covers second base in person and not at long range, and generally gets there about as soon as the ball and runner.” (Cleveland Plain Dealer, April 10, 1894)

With twelve National League teams and only one umpire typically assigned to a game, a seven-man staff meant that there was a spare umpire as long as all of them were healthy. So Stage spent the first week of the season at home in Cleveland without an assignment. (Brooklyn Eagle, April 19, 1894) Then, one week into the season, Nick Young assigned Billy Stage to umpire a game between Philadelphia and Brooklyn on April 26.

Newly hired chief of umpires Harry Wright was on hand to observe and “expressed himself as satisfied with the work of Umpire Stage.” (Sporting News, May 5, 1894) While that might not sound like high praise, it was coming from the staid Wright; as one sportswriter explained, “the conservative old gentleman was quite enthusiastic [about Stage’s work.]” (New York World, reprinted in the Cleveland Leader, April 29, 1894) Wright’s positive assessment was echoed by sportswriters.

The New York World’s sportswriter provided this description: “There was a ripple of pleasurable excitement when a slim, well-built, handsome young fellow came out to umpire yesterday’s game in place of Jim O’Rourke … The cranks did not know what Stage could do, but thought almost any change an improvement. The sprinter made a great hit, and if he can come near duplicating his work of yesterday on the circuit will be the favorite on the League staff in a short while. His style is a revelation. He is quick as a cat, gives his decisions clearly and instantaneously, and showed several times during the afternoon that he has given the revised rules careful study.” (New York World, reprinted in the Cleveland Leader, April 29, 1894)

The Sporting News pronounced him “an athletic young man who runs to the bases to see every play. He gives his decisions in a quick, not-to-be-disputed way, and is apparently always correct. Stage made a very favorable impression.” (Sporting News, May 5, 1894) The Philadelphia Press reported that Stage “gave great satisfaction. He is active, has a good voice, uses good judgment, and is decided. Stage is a fine umpire.” (Philadelphia Press, reprinted in the Cleveland Leader, April 28, 1894) The New York Press wrote, “he has good judgment on strikes and balls, his decisions are prompt and he is always ‘there’ to see how plays are made … He will be as popular as an umpire as was [John] Gaffney in his best days.” And the New York American added, “Umpire Stage has a good presence, a good voice, and gets all over the field to watch the different plays. There is quite a contrast between his activity and the slightly cumbersome movements of O’Rourke.” (Both reprinted in the Cleveland Leader, April 29, 1894)

His extraordinary speed continued to attract the most attention. According to the Press, “Once he ran so fast to first base that he beat out the batter and waited for him.” The Brooklyn Eagle reported that even his stance reminded onlookers of a man preparing to sprint: “He stands well back, with his legs stretched out like an inverted Y. As soon as a hit is made he is off toward first base like a shot, reaching the bag before the runner.” (Brooklyn Eagle, April 27, 1894) Perhaps Stage enjoyed some quiet satisfaction from the knowledge that the New York Press was finally acknowledging his speed.

More amazingly, even the Brooklyn fans joined in the chorus of approval for the new umpire: “The bleachers felt moved on several occasions to propose ‘three cheers for the new umpire.'” (New York American, reprinted in the Cleveland Leader, April 29, 1894)

Despite the universal praise, it was subsequently discovered that the novice umpire had made a critical error. Gus Weyhing had been listed on Philadelphia’s lineup card at the start of the game but was then substituted for by another player. That made him ineligible to reenter the game, but Stage allowed him to do so. The umpire maintained that he had done so because he did not yet know the players well enough to realize what had happened. As a result of the mistake, Brooklyn appealed Philadelphia’s win, and the game was eventually thrown out. (Cleveland Leader, May 5, 1894; Brooklyn Eagle, May 22, 1894) But by that time Billy Stage had become a fixture behind home plate at National League diamonds.

Less than a week into his tenure, Stage faced a crisis as a result of a courageous but controversial ruling in a May 1 game at Washington. The home team had been voicing complaints about Stage’s rulings throughout the game but was still clinging to a 2-0 lead over the visiting Brooklyn team when the sixth inning started. Then a close call enabled Brooklyn to score its first run, and, “The entire Washington club crowded around Mr. Stage and disputed all at once. [Piggy] Ward, who was coach, and not in the game, had the most to say.” (Brooklyn Eagle, May 2, 1894)

Such mob scenes had long plagued the National League, and they were only getting worse. As Henry Chadwick observed, “The moment an umpire takes his position in a game he finds opposed to him at the very outset eighteen contesting players on the field. Then, too, among his special foes are the ‘Hoodlums’ of the bleachers, who go for him on principle; besides which there are his partisan enemies in the grand stand.” (Sporting Life, May 5, 1894)

To its credit, the National League was making some effort to relieve the umpire’s burden. The hiring of respected veteran manager Harry Wright to fill the newly created position of chief of umpires was intended to ensure greater consistency among umpires and thereby reduce the constant bickering. While Young still retained ultimate authority, it was hoped that, “Harry Wright will take a great load off President Young’s shoulders, though he will be under the direction of the chief executive of the league. It will be his duty to keep the umpires up to their work and, therefore, he will visit the various cities. Before the season opens he will call the umpires together and go over the rules so as to secure uniformity of interpretation, as well as to emphasize the points that will most need attention.” (Sporting News, March 3, 1894)

One of the points stressed by Young and Wright that spring was that umpires should do whatever was necessary to limit disputes, even if it meant forfeiting the game. So in his very first National League game, Stage had “borrowed a watch and threatened to declare the game forfeited if they did not take the field in two minutes.” (Brooklyn Eagle, April 27, 1894) This proved effective, so Stage had started bringing a watch to subsequent games. After being surrounded by the Washington players, “Mr. Stage calmly took out his watch and gave [Washington captain Bill] Joyce three minutes to return to the field. Joyce continued to kick and defied Stage to declare the game forfeited to Brooklyn by 9 to 0. When Joyce saw that Stage was in earnest he took the field but it was too late. The kicking continued, but the umpire was firm.” (Brooklyn Eagle, May 2, 1894)

Even the Brooklyn players expected that Stage would relent and let the game resume, but both sides had underestimated the new umpire’s determination. He stood by his decision, and most of the large Ladies’ Day crowd went home disappointed. Some of them refused to leave and threatened violence, so Stage had to be escorted from the grounds by policemen. (Brooklyn Eagle, May 2, 1894) Upon reaching the safety of the dressing room, Stage “was assaulted with torrents of abuse and called the filthiest names by the Washington players.” (Boston Herald, reprinted in the Cleveland Leader, May 5, 1894)

The decision naturally sparked considerable discussion. Stage’s hometown paper stuck up for him, commenting, “Umpire Stage showed his metal [sic] yesterday in a way that will gain him still more popularity. Calling the game and giving it to Brooklyn by a score of 9 to 0 because Washington continued to kick over the allotted time after being admonished to play is something almost unprecedented, but it is right. Players are quick to kick on an umpire when they believe they can kick without danger, and Stage being new the Senators naturally thought they could bulldoze him. They found to what extent the bulldozing would go, and it is probable that they have learned to let our Billy alone. Stage’s determination is the one thing that has made him a thorough success in everything he has undertaken, and has marked his career since he first became known.” (Cleveland Plain Dealer, May 2, 1894) And a New York paper echoed the sentiment, informing its readers that Stage “had the courage to assert his authority and put a stop to the hoodlum tactics that have proven a blight on baseball.” (New York Commercial Advertiser, May 2, 1894, reprinted in Cleveland Plain Dealer, May 5, 1894)

Nick Young was a native of Washington and must have heard an earful about the decision, but he too defended Stage. Young pointed out that the umpire had merely followed instructions and blamed Joyce for the debacle, while also giving Washington manager Gus Schmelz “a piece of his mind.” Meanwhile he called Stage, “a man of intelligence, a perfect gentleman … perfectly honest in every decision” and compared his work to that of the highly esteemed John Gaffney. (Boston Herald, reprinted in the Cleveland Leader, May 5, 1894; Brooklyn Eagle, May 5, 1894) This provided all the support the firm-minded umpire needed. When another player started to argue with him the following week, “Mr. Stage drew out a watch and looked at the time. It had the desired effect.” (Brooklyn Eagle, May 10, 1894)

Most observers in Washington, however, had a different perspective on the forfeit. The Washington Post maintained that Stage had blown the call and that Brooklyn was responsible for the dispute and should have been the team that forfeited. But even its account credited Stage with being “as fair and square a man as has ever been seen on a Washington ball field.” (Washington Post, May 2, 1894)

The Post soon revised that charitable verdict and began a vendetta against the young umpire. A headline later that month screamed, “Mr. Stage Presented 6 Big Runs to Boston; We Cannot Beat Ten Men.” (Washington Post, May 29, 1894) Schmelz continued to complain about Stage’s umpiring, and the Post started to regularly make scathing comments about the new arbiter. (Brooklyn Eagle, June 1, 1894)

Stage had been scheduled to continue umpiring in Washington, but after the controversial forfeit Nick Young sent him to Baltimore instead. There his umpiring and blazing speed were once again warmly received. The Sun observed, “Stage is the best umpire who has appeared at Union Park this season. His judgment of balls and strikes was as accurate as [John] Gaffney’s in his best days, and the new man’s base decisions were also indisputable. He is a very fast runner, having a record for a hundred yards in ten and a fraction seconds, and he manages to be on hand at the spot where his decision is to be given.” And the Herald concurred, “Baltimore had the pleasure of seeing Stage umpire yesterday. He is a fine, gentlemanly fellow, and clearly understands his business.” (Both reprinted in the Cleveland Leader, May 5, 1894)

As Stage made his way around the circuit, he also had his share of unpleasant experiences. In a game in New York he ejected Johnny Ward (who, like Stage, had studied law during the off-season) and was cascaded with shouts of “Kill the Umpire.” (Brooklyn Eagle, June 23, 1894) He made an odd ruling in another game and afterward admitted that “he was new to the business and was not yet up to the tricks.” (Brooklyn Eagle, May 10, 1894) At least one other game in which he officiated was protested to the league, but this was on the rather nitpicky ground that he had called a game a rainout after twenty minutes instead of the thirty minutes mandated by the rulebook.

These disputes really said far more about the difficulties faced by all National League umpires than they did about the quality of Stage’s work. In fact, the new umpire had more defenders than critics. The Cleveland papers predictably stuck up for him, but so did many of the Eastern sportswriters. The Boston Globe described him as the “fairest member” of the National League staff, while the Brooklyn Eagle regularly commended his fairness and impartiality. (Boston Globe, July 1, 1894; Brooklyn Eagle, May 4 and 15, 1894) Brooklyn captain Mike Griffin pronounced him “one of the best umpires in the business.” (Brooklyn Eagle, May 10 and 12, 1894) Stage himself reportedly claimed that he had only been criticized by a few “soreheads,” a remark that further infuriated the Washington Post. (Washington Post, July 1, 1894)

The official protests about Stage’s work were also sadly typical of the era’s contentiousness. As A. G. Spalding later explained, many league owners expected Nick Young to fire any umpire who displeased them for any reason. “Umpires who did not give [these owners’ clubs] the best of every close decision would be protested and changed. The telegraph wires were kept hot with messages from such magnates demanding that this umpire be sent here, and that umpire be sent there, and the other umpire be sent elsewhere, to meet the whims and caprices of these persistent mischief-makers.” (A. G. Spalding, America’s National Game, 412)

Thus early in the 1894 campaign, the Brooklyn Eagle remarked, “If President Young continues to agree not to send umpires to each town that protests, there will not be enough men to go around. Washington objects to [Tom] Lynch, Stage and [Tim] Hurst, with a few more to be heard from; St. Louis objects to [Ed] Swartwood, Boston and Brooklyn draw the line at [Jim] O’Rourke, New York is down on Stage and Louisville can’t stand [John] McQuaid. The season is only a month old.” (Brooklyn Eagle, May 22, 1894)

In response to the barrage of protests, Young added two new umpires to his staff in June: hiring Jack Hartley from the college ranks and persuading the popular John Gaffney to end a brief retirement. But this only served to prove that umpires are best liked when retired; by July, Young reported that he had received far more complaints against Hartley and Gaffney than he had against the umpires who had started the season. (Brooklyn Eagle, July 18, 1894) Clearly he was in a no-win situation.

He was also in a no-win situation when assigning umpires to specific cities. If he caved in to the owners’ “whims and caprices,” it only encouraged more of the same. Yet if he sent an umpire back to a city where a protest had been lodged against him, it ensured a hostile situation and might even jeopardize the umpire’s safety.

Presumably Young decided that this was the most important consideration, and Stage never again umpired in Washington after the controversial forfeit. Instead, over the next eight weeks all of his work was done in Baltimore, Brooklyn, New York, Boston and Philadelphia. After two months of exclusively officiating in the east, Stage was assigned to umpire a lengthy home stand in Cleveland beginning on June 27th. This too was a risky decision for Nick Young to make, since the National League was making a conscious effort to distance itself from the accusations of favorable hometown umpiring that had plagued the league since its inception. Indeed, at one point the league had instituted a rule that its umpires could not hail from a league city, although this proved impractical. (Cleveland Herald, May 24, 1883)

As a result, Stage’s Cleveland debut was awaited anxiously, with the Plain Dealer predicting that he was “so much a favorite here that he will probably be as great an attraction as the game itself.” (Cleveland Plain Dealer, June 26, 1894) And in the first inning of his first game, play was interrupted as Stage was presented with a handsome bouquet of flowers. (Brooklyn Eagle, June 27, 1894)

Placed in an inherently difficult situation, Billy Stage bent over backward to avoid being accused of a hometown bias. “Stage seemed anxious,” observed the Plain Dealer after Brooklyn swept a doubleheader, “to prove that his personal feelings toward his home club would not influence his decisions and he did it. Cleveland got the worst end of it all through.” (Cleveland Plain Dealer, June 28, 1894) The Leader similarly grumbled, “There is a slight tendency in Stage’s work in trying not to give the Clevelands the best of it, to give them a little the worst of it. Every umpire must know that the club which cannot get any close decisions on its own grounds cannot get them anywhere.” (Cleveland Leader, July 8, 1894) Naturally, the Washington Post was far less measured in its commentary, crowing that Stage had “roasted” the home team. (Washington Post, July 1, 1894)

Before Cleveland’s long home stand was over, Stage’s umpiring career was in serious jeopardy. He had already had to leave a game in Brooklyn on June 23 due to an undisclosed illness. (Brooklyn Eagle, June 24, 1894) Then in a game on July 5, he was struck in the head with a foul ball and again forced to withdraw. He was back behind the plate for the next two games but continued to suffer from head pains, and finally was given a week off. On the 13th Stage “happened to be present at the game” in Cleveland and came out of the stand to replace injured umpire Tom Lynch. But then two days later he again had to relinquish his umpiring duties in the middle of a game in Philadelphia. A week later, Stage submitted his resignation, citing ill health. (Boston Globe, July 6, 17, 18 and 24, 1894; Cleveland Leader, July 14, 1894; New York Times, July 18, 1894) Nick Young reported that he was very sorry to lose the services of the young law student. (Brooklyn Eagle, July 28, 1894)

His resignation from umpiring prompted speculation that he would return to sprinting, but this raised a thorny question. Had Stage forfeited his amateur status by working as a professional umpire? Stage maintained that he hadn’t, and announced his intentions to compete in the A.A.U. championships. (Marion Daily Star, July 9, 1894) Others, however, were less sure, noting that the decision would be made by easterners with little ability to empathize with a butcher’s son who was working his way through law school. Rumors flew that Stage would bow to the inevitable and turn pro. (Chicago Tribune, September 12, 1894) In the end, he decided not to run at all that fall, instead concentrating on his studies and umpiring one more National League game on September 28 in Cleveland.

The issue of Stage’s eligibility was revived again as the end of the school year approached. Members of the Cleveland Athletic Club expressed outrage at the idea that Stage could be disqualified from amateur sports for his work as an umpire, and promised to champion his cause with the Amateur Athletic Union. (National Police Gazette, February 23, 1895; Fort Wayne News, February 26, 1895) But Stage chose instead to concentrate on studying for the bar, while also umpiring a handful of National League games. His short-lived return to umpiring brought the usual howls of protest from the Washington Post, which falsely claimed that Stage had “resigned his position because he was convinced of his incompetency.” (Washington Post, July 7, 1895)

After passing the bar exam, Stage went back into training and attempted a return to sprinting. He joined the New York Athletic Club, which was preparing for a much-anticipated meet against the London Athletic Club scheduled for September 21st. (Massillon Independent, August 1 and 15, 1895) And on September 14th he made his return to competition at the A.A.U. championships, where he finished third in the 220-yard dash. (Fort Wayne Journal, September 15, 1895)

On the strength of this, he was selected for the team that would represent the New York Athletic Club a week later against the British athletes. But each side could only enter two athletes in each event, and as the third-place finisher at the A.A.U. championships, Stage was named an alternate. So he cheered on his teammates as they stunned the visitors from London and the track and field world by sweeping every event. (New York Times, September 17 and 22, 1895)

The following week he competed in the New York Athletic Club’s games, which again included the London athletes and were held on Travers Island in front of over 5,000 spectators. When B. J. Wefers, the American sprint star of the previous two weekends, elected not to compete in the fifty-yard dash, a British runner became the overwhelming favorite. Instead Stage sped past him in the home stretch to win by two feet. (Brooklyn Eagle, September 29, 1895; Cleveland Leader, September 29, 1895)

It would prove to be his last involvement with organized athletics. In November, the Amateur Athletic Union held its annual meeting and took up Stage’s case. The A.A.U.’s president was already on record as saying he saw no reason for Stage should be barred. (Brooklyn Eagle, February 9, 1895) But eastern hard-liners — denounced by the Plain Dealer as “a handful of men” — carried the day and Billy was ruled to have permanently forfeited his amateur status as a result of his stint as a professional umpire. (Cleveland Plain Dealer, November 25, 1895)

The decision struck many as unduly harsh, with one sportswriter terming it, “decidedly more radical than any legislation ever considered on the subject.” (Chicago Tribune, November 19, 1895; “On Its Ear: The A. A. U. Jumps In and Starts All Kinds of Trouble,” Cleveland Plain Dealer, November 19, 1895) There were rumors that the athletic clubs in Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago, Pittsburgh and Detroit would drop out of the A. A. U. and form a rival organization. The timing of the ruling seemed especially suspicious since it came more than eighteen months after Stage’s umpiring career began and had been delayed until after Stage had represented the New York Athletic Club against its London rivals. (Cleveland Plain Dealer, November 21 and 25, 1895)

Billy Stage, however, kept his opinions to himself. He spent the next week busily coaching the Cleveland Central High School football team and refereeing two college football games. (Exemplifying his unquestioned integrity, both games involved Adelbert College yet the opposing coaches made no objection to Stage officiating.) And Stage also celebrated his twenty-seventh birthday.

In the absence of comment, we can only speculate about how he reacted to the A. A. U.’s ruling. He may well have been shared the widespread outrage about yet another snub from the Easterners and just let others speak for him. But given that he was ready to enter a new phase of his life, it is also possible that he had already decided that it was time to retire from track and field. At any rate, this ended his active involvement with athletics and never had any reason to look back.

Stage’s legal practice expanded quickly over the next few years, with Nick Young even hiring him to represent the National League in a legal matter in 1896. (Sporting News, September 5, 1896, 2) He also became deeply involved in politics after the 1901 election of Cleveland mayor Tom Johnson, a progressive Democrat and a disciple of single-tax advocate Henry George. As it happened, Johnson also had ties to baseball — his brother Al had owned Cleveland’s franchise and been one of the prime financial backers of the Players’ League of 1890 (which just happened to be the first league to assign two umpires to each game). The Johnson brothers had made their fortunes in streetcars, and their chief Brooklyn attorney was none other than John Montgomery Ward, the primary force behind the Players’ League and the man whom Billy Stage had ejected from an 1894 National League game. (Stevens, 186)

It is unlikely, however, that baseball had anything to do with bringing Stage and Johnson together. Stage was already serving on the Democratic state executive committee when Johnson was elected mayor and the two men’s paths must have crossed many times in numerous capacities. (Cambridge Jeffersonian, July 25, 1901) While Johnson was fourteen years older than Stage, he had a gift for attracting younger men to his view of his administration as “a great experiment in democracy.”

Frederic Howe, one of the young men who shared Johnson’s vision, later explained: “Mr. Johnson called his ten years’ fight against privilege a war for ‘A City on a Hill’. To the young men in the movement, and to tens of thousands of the poor who gave it their support, it was a moral crusade rarely paralleled in American politics. The struggle involved the banks, the press, the Chamber of Commerce, the clubs, and the social life of the city. It divided families and destroyed friendships. You were either for Tom Johnson or against him. If for him, you were a disturber of business, a Socialist, to some an anarchist. Had the term Red been in vogue, you would have been called a communist in the pay of Soviet Russia. Every other political issue and almost every topic of conversation was subordinated to the struggle.” (Howe, 113)

Tom Johnson’s passion enabled him to surround himself an extraordinary group: “The young men whom he drew about him always treated him as if he were of their own age. There was no reserve or awe. The men who formed this early group were Newton D. Baker, his law director, who succeeded him as mayor and was later secretary of war under President Wilson; Charles W. Stage, a brilliant young lawyer, who was the centre of any group, and whose gaiety and courage made him a universal favorite; John N. Stockwell, who took to any adventure like a duck to water; and W. B. Colver, an able newspaper man, who was later appointed chairman of the Federal Trade Commission by President Wilson.” (Howe, 128)

Howe’s assessment of the talents of this coterie has been confirmed by historians. George Mowry, for instance, observed that Johnson “attracted a remarkable group of educated and liberal-minded young men around him as subordinate administrators, and at the end of his political career he left Cleveland, according to [journalist] Lincoln Steffens, ‘the best governed city in America.'” (Mowry, 64; Lincoln Steffens, Autobiography (New York, 1931), 473-481)

Soon after Johnson’s election, Stage took on new responsibilities as an acting police court judge and as a state representative. (Mansfield News, August 1, 1902; Delphos Daily Herald, January 29, 1902) In the latter capacity, he earned a reputation as a solid “Johnson man,” but also showed a knack for nonpartisanship, delivering a moving tribute after the assassination of Republican President William McKinley, a native Ohioan. (Delphos Daily Herald, January 29, 1902; Sandusky Evening Star, September 2, 1902) Perhaps it was that capacity that pushed him toward working behind the scenes rather than seeking elected office. At any rate, after an unsuccessful campaign for probate judge in 1905, that was the course he pursued. (Van Wert Daily Bulletin, November 9, 1905)

This new direction may also have been the result of a change in his personal life that occurred when Stage married Miriam Kerruish on August 27, 1903. His new bride came from a background just as extraordinary as his own. Her father, William Kerruish, was the son of emigrants from the Isle of Man and proved such an excellent student that he was admitted to the sophomore class of Western Reserve College. As would be the case for his future son-in-law, money was tight so he worked his way through school “by making beds, sawing wood and doing anything else that he could find to do.”

Kerruish brought an infectious spirit and a strong social conscience to the campus. Although American-born, he took great pride in his heritage and taught his language teachers how to speak Gaelic. He also became deeply involved in the abolitionist movement and convinced his fellow students to invite Frederick Douglass to deliver a commencement address in 1854, a choice that stirred up considerable controversy. Kerruish then finished up his education at Yale — once again teaching the Gaelic language to his instructors — and returned to Cleveland to practice law. He became the head of one of the city’s best law firms and continued to practice law until his death at age ninety-six. He also found time to marry Margaret Quayle, an emigrant from the Isle of Man, and raise a large family.

Their daughter Miriam was born in Cleveland on November 7, 1870, and shared her father’s probing intellect and social conscience. After receiving a bachelor’s of arts degree from Smith College in 1892, Miriam enrolled at Wooster Medical College and graduated in 1895. She became the first female doctor ever to practice at Cleveland City Hospital, where she specialized in obstetrics and pediatrics.

Dr. Kerruish soon became convinced that poverty was responsible for the illnesses of many of the children she was treating. She emerged as a champion of child welfare, organizing the Women’s Protective Association of Cleveland and serving on the board of trustees of the Woman’s Hospital, the Maternity Hospital Council and many other noble causes. She also became active in the woman’s suffrage movement, starting the Cuyahoga County Woman’s Suffrage Party and spearheading its activities. In the midst of all these endeavors, she also found time to give birth to and raise four children — three boys and a girl.

Billy Stage’s career also continued to be a very busy one that remained closely tied to Tom Johnson’s. By 1906, Stage was serving as county solicitor and as director of the Municipal Traction Company, the holding company overseeing the city’s street railways. This latter position was an especially important responsibility as it formed one of the cornerstones of Johnson’s efforts to replace the large corporations that looked out for their own profits with municipally owned entities that put the people first by keeping fares low. (Elyria Reporter, January 25, 1906; Johnson, 224; Howe, 125)

But then after eight years in office, Tom Johnson was upset in the mayoral election of 1909 by Republican Herman Baehr. To the men for whom his mayoralty had been a sacred cause it was a devastating turn of events. “The city had lost,” wrote Howe. “A great movement was ended. The dream of municipal ownership, of a free and sovereign city, was set back indefinitely.” It was also, according to Howe, “Tom Johnson’s death-blow … His health failed, his fortune was dissipated, and when he died, within two years, he questioned not the truth of his great economic vision but the value of his own effort, whether any good had come out of it all.” (Howe, 126)

While we do not specifically know Stage’s feelings, it must have been a crushing blow for him as well. Over the next few years, his civic involvement seems to have entirely given way to his legal practice, to raising his four young children and to serving as a trustee of Tom Johnson’s estate.

In 1911, Newton D. Baker — who had been one of the young men who made up Tom Johnson’s inner circle — was elected mayor and Billy Stage was soon once more a familiar face at City Hall. Baker immediately appointed Stage to his cabinet as the city’s director of public safety. (Newark Advocate, January 13, 1912) Two years later, Stage was selected as Cleveland’s first utility director under the city’s new charter. (Cleveland Plain Dealer, May 18, 1946)

The Republicans recaptured the mayoralty in 1915, and thereafter Billy Stage concentrated on the practice of law. His highest-profile work was as general legal counsel for brothers Oris P. and Mantis J. Van Sweringen, Cleveland’s most prominent real estate developers of the era.  After establishing the Cleveland Interurban Railroad in 1913, the two brothers became railroad barons by assembling a labyrinth of holding companies and interlocking directorships that gave them control over the Cleveland and Ohio Railroad, the Nickel Plate Road system, the Erie Railroad, the Pere Marquette Railway, and the Hocking Valley Railway. Stage was particularly involved with their interests in the Union Terminal and in some of their holding companies. (Harwood, 105; Cleveland Plain Dealer, May 18, 1946)

This new role was ideal for a man with Billy Stage’s experience and determination and undoubtedly brought him the kind of challenge he clearly craved. But it also raises intriguing questions. On the face of things, his work for the Van Sweringens seems difficult to reconcile with his many years as a loyal “Johnson man.” Some certainly saw it that way, including Peter Witt, a Johnson loyalist and outspoken opponent of the Van Sweringens, who tried unsuccessfully to persuade Stage to see it that way. (Harwood, 63-64)

But Stage was a longtime friend of O. P. Van Sweringen and believed in him. During the years of the Johnson administration, with the city hopelessly polarized between the mayor’s admirers and detractors, O. P. Van Sweringen had managed to gain allies. One of his key allies in the mayor’s camp was Stage, who later recalled his first meeting with the future real estate tycoon as being a very strange one: “[Van Sweringen] was so doggone timid about the matter that when he left I remarked ‘That young man will never make a real estate salesman.’ But a short time later [he] came back. He spent several hours outlining what he saw for the undeveloped land … At first I was not interested, but when he left I joined his little syndicate.” (Quoted in Harwood, 13-14)

Stage introduced Newton Baker to the Van Sweringens and became a staunch backer of them. So it was only natural that he would eventually go to work for them, presumably feeling that he could do more good on the inside than on the outside. Tom Johnson and his brother Al had themselves reconciled being streetcar line owners and proponents of lower rates, and Stage in all likelihood had a similar belief that there was no inherent contradiction. Streetcar companies, after all, have to be run by someone and they might as well be managed by people with the best interest of the public at heart.

In addition, one of Tom Johnson’s most important legacies was a safeguard against price-gouging. As Frederic Howe explained, after Johnson’s election defeat, “The street-railway lines went back to the old companies. Their victory was an empty one, for their dividends were limited to six per cent and could not exceed a fixed amount, while the rate of fare started at three cents and rose or fell as earnings might determine.” (Howe, 126) So Stage, it would appear, did not have any reason to see his work for the Van Sweringens as a refutation of his principles. Perhaps he even saw it as a sort of sacred trust; as his way of making sure that Tom Johnson had not had any reason to doubt “the value of his own effort.”

Once her children were old enough, Miriam Stage returned to practicing medicine. She joined the staff of the Cleveland Clinic, a medical center formed upon novel principles. It was founded by Drs. George W. Crile, Frank E. Bunts, William E. Lower, and John Phillips, three of whom had served overseas during the First World War and been impressed by the benefits of having medical specialists from a variety of disciplines working together. While serving in France, Crile marveled in his journal: “What a remarkable record Bunts, Crile and Lower have had all these years. We have been rivals in everything, yet through all the vicissitudes of personal, financial and professional relations we have been able to think and act as a unit.” (Clough, 19)

Upon returning to Cleveland they decided to open a clinic based upon a similar cross-disciplinary, cooperative approach to medicine. Central to their mission was an emphasis on research and education, as the founders believed that patient care and teaching went hand in hand. As Crile’s son later described it, the clinic was based upon a shared ideal of “an institution in which medicine and surgery could be practiced, studied and taught by a group of associated specialists. To create it, the four founders began to plan an institution that would be greater than the sum of its parts.” (Clough, 32)

Their clinic at Euclid Avenue and East 93rd Street opened its doors in 1921 and three years later a 184-bed hospital began to admit patients. At the 1921 opening, Crile articulated the vision of the founders. One of the pinnacles was ongoing education that was not departmentalized as in a university but in which doctors communicated new findings tow one another through a schedule of daily conferences and lectures. This dialogue, Crile explained, was “not only our duty to the patient of today, but no less out duty to the patient of tomorrow.” Just as important was the commitment to ensuring that, “the patient with no means and the patient with moderate means may have at a cost he can afford as complete an investigation as the patient with ample means.” (Clough, 39-41) It is easy to see why the setting was a perfect fit for Miriam Stage and she became one of the leaders of the Clinic’s Women’s Hospital.

In 1929, tragedy struck the Cleveland Clinic. On May 15, nitrocellulose x-ray films overheated, causing at least two explosions and sending lethal fumes through the building. One hundred and twenty-three people lost their lives, including Dr. Miriam Stage.

Billy Stage never remarried. While he was still in mourning, the stock market crash brought an end to the Van Sweringens’ empire. He retired in 1939 and passed away on May 17, 1946, at the Cleveland Clinic where his wife had practiced and met her untimely death. His death occurred on the seventeenth anniversary of his wife’s funeral.

Stage led a long and extraordinary life. His life spanned another fifty years after he was banned from amateur athletics in 1895, and during those years he seems to have put competitive sports behind him. When another Cleveland native named Jesse Owens electrified the sports world in the 1930s, the man who first put Cleveland on the track and field map — and who along with his wife did so much to provide better lives for local youngsters from humble backgrounds such as Owens — must have derived some satisfaction from the younger man’s accomplishments. But by then his own achievements had been forgotten and he was not the type of person to draw attention to them.

Billy Stage has similarly been long since forgotten by the baseball world, as was illustrated by a self-deprecating story that he liked to tell about himself. It seems that around 1904 he went to a game at Cleveland’s League Park and approached Clark Griffith of New York, saying, “Guess you don’t remember me? I put you out of a ball game on these grounds ten years ago.” Griffith looked him over closely and replied quizzically, “Did you?”

“Yes I did,” replied Billy. “My name is Stage. Don’t you remember? You said I was rotten.” Griffith continued to look at him and then responded coolly, “Oh yes, I do remember. You were rotten.” With that, he turned on his heel and marched away. (Syracuse Post-Standard, January 12, 1907)

Yet memories of an umpire who routinely outran batters to first base didn’t fade quite that easily. In 1901, Hughey Jennings recalled how Stage “would always run with the ball and nearly always reached the bag before the runner. Whenever a man would slide Stage would do the same and on arising he would brush himself off remarking as he did so, ‘That was a fine slide you made old man but you were out.'” (Trenton Times, July 12, 1901)

So the next time somebody brings up the topic of the fastest man ever to appear on a baseball diamond, make sure to bring up the name of Billy Stage. His involvement with the national pastime was brief but he made an unforgettable impression on those who watched him umpire — and on the batters he outraced to first base!

Sources

George E. Mowry, The Era of Theodore Roosevelt and the Birth of Modern America, 1900-1912 (New York: Harper and Row, 1958)

Chadwick Scrapbooks

John D. Clough, ed., To Act As A Unit: The Story of the Cleveland Clinic, 4th ed. (Cleveland: The Cleveland Clinic Foundation, 2004)

Herbert H. Harwood Jr., Invisible Giants: The Empires of Cleveland’s Van Sweringen Brothers (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2002)

Ian S. Haberman, The Van Sweringins of Cleveland: The Biography of an Empire (Cleveland: Western Reserve Historical Society, 1979)

Tom L. Johnson, My Story (1911) (published as an e-book by Cleveland State University at http://clevelandmemory.org/ebooks/johnson/index.html)

“Manx-American’s Splendid Career,” Cleveland Plain Dealer, October 30, 1911 (about William Kerruish)

Miriam Kerruish Stage entry, National Cyclopedia of American Biography, vol. 21 (New York: James T. White & Co., 1931)

Frederic C. Howe, The Confessions of a Reformer (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1925)

David Stevens, Baseball’s Radical for All Seasons (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 1998)

Obituary of C. W. Stage in the Cleveland Plain Dealer, May 18, 1946

contemporary newspapers, as noted

vital records and censuses

The author extends a special thanks to Scott Longert of the Western Reserve Historical Society.

The Abolition Movement in Northeast Ohio

The Abolition Movement in Northeast Ohio from the Encyclopedia of Cleveland History

The link is here

ABOLITIONISM. The contribution that Clevelanders made to the cause of black emancipation was related to 2 geographic factors: the location of the city in the Puritan New England environment of the WESTERN RESERVE, and its position on Lake Erie opposite the shores of Canada, destination of many hundreds of fugitives from the slave South. The village, town, and city that Cleveland became during the antebellum years did not wholly reflect the hard piety and humanitarian zeal for which the surrounding counties of Yankee settlers were long renowned. Instead, Cleveland was like most other fast-growing northern centers of trade: crass, money-conscious, pragmatic, and chauvinistic about Flag, Work, and Progress. Clevelanders were generally skeptical of plans to rearrange society, but like most northerners they had little regard for slavery as a system. In time they came to despise the slaveholders’ arrogance and pretensions to political power. Although Cleveland did not rally to the cause of root-and-branch abolitionism, its record of sympathy and help for the black man’s plight in America matched, if not exceeded, that of any other metropolitan center in North America, with the exception, perhaps, of Boston and Toronto.

Abolition. At the outset, abolitionism was the most radical of several positions on slavery. The doctrine of “immediate emancipation,” disseminated in the 1830s, was the product of eastern reformers. According to the theory of Boston’s Wm. Lloyd Garrison and the American Anti-Slavery Society (1833), slavery was a personal and social sin requiring immediate repentance of slaveholders and all others who had failed to witness against the institution. Although the reform was theoretically akin to the temperance pledge and other conservative Evangelical goals, so extreme a position was bound to excite anger and fear because it threatened the existence of the Union and foretold a shattering of racial customs and prejudices.

In Cleveland, a more popular organization was the American Colonization Society, founded in Washington in Jan. 1817 to repatriate blacks to Liberia. According to conservative supporters, such as Elisha Whittlesey of nearby Tallmadge, Afro-Americans were too benighted and whites too antagonistic for both races to flourish in freedom in the same country. The county chapter of the organization was founded in 1827 by Jas. S. Clark, Samuel Cowles, and other town fathers. Although returning the entire southern labor force to Africa was hopelessly impractical, Cowles naively dreamed that American blacks would bring “the arts of civilized life” to the allegedly savage heathen there. The city elite soon heard from the rising Garrisonian reformers hoping to quench colonizationist enthusiasms and implant their own doctrines. In May 1833, Rev. Chas. Storrs, abolitionist president of Western Reserve College, Hudson, spoke at the Cuyahoga County courthouse on “the immediate emancipation of Slaves.”

In Cleveland, indifference more than outright antagonism greeted the abolitionists, whose postal campaign of 1835 aroused fierce mob action against the mailed propaganda and itinerant lecture agents. Protest was confined to a single meeting on 10 Sept. at the courthouse, where participants resolved that abolitionism threatened “the peace and permanence of the union” and assured southerners that they alone had “the right to free their slaves.” Not until 1837 was the first chapter of the American Anti-Slavery Society established. SOLOMON L. SEVERANCE†, W. T. Huntington, and JOHN. A. FOOTE†, all Cleveland business and social leaders, took the chief posts, but the society left few traces. The circumspection contrasted with the high-mindedness and sermonizings of the students and professors at nearby Oberlin College, a center of abolitionist influence, founded in 1834.

Fugitive Slaves. If abolition gained few converts, less radical approaches took root along the Cuyahoga. Most important was the operation of the “Underground Railroad.” The completion of the Ohio Canal in 1832 enhanced the strategic importance of the city in this regard, though the numbers assisted to freedom, especially by whites, were far lower than legend long claimed. For instance, the belfry of ST. JOHN’S EPISCOPAL CHURCH served as an occasional hiding place. Folklore, however, laid claim to a tunnel under the church that housed scores of slaves. Early 20th-century investigators exposed the fiction.

Not until passage of the rigorously enforced Fugitive Slave Law in 1850 were Clevelanders aroused to concerted action. Antislavery meetings drew crowds, particularly when fugitives told their dramatic stories of punishment, escape, and freedom. A typical gathering was held at the Disciple Church in Solon on 17 and 18 June 1847 where Wm. Ferris, “a fugitive slave of Oberlin, addressed the afternoon meeting.” Such incidents, as well as the denunciations of politicians such as JOSHUA GIDDINGS† at Cleveland rallies, encouraged otherwise law-abiding citizens to defy the hated Fugitive Slave Law. In 1855, for example, Jas. Adams of Big Kanawha, VA, fled with a cousin through Ohio, along a route used the previous year by 5 other fugitives from his neighborhood heading for Cleveland. A Cleveland antislavery clergyman, and then a white shoemaker whom the black travelers met on the outskirts of town, arranged their passage to Buffalo and from there to Canada. Such assistance kept the antislavery cause very much alive, but it rested largely on personal difficulties with which one could identify, not upon larger matters of polity and justice for the race as a whole.

Cleveland’s most dramatic signal of white protest against southern high-handedness grew out of the famed OBERLIN-WELLINGTON RESCUE. Oberlinites mobbed a jail in nearby Wellington to rescue a fugitive long resident in their community. Some 37, including Simeon Bushnell, a Cleveland store clerk who had helped to whisk the slave to Canadian freedom, were indicted by a federal grand jury in Cleveland and held in jail in the spring of 1859. Thousands attended a rally in the square, where Giddings, Benjamin Wade, and others denounced the Fugitive Slave Law, Democrats, and southerners. As Cleveland whites grew increasingly distressed about slavery and slave catchers, blacks also became more militant. For instance, in Nov. 1859 Deputy Marshal Wm. L. Manson took into custody Henry Seaton, a Kentucky slave. Although the prisoner was returned to his master without incident, one Geo. Hartman, who had betrayed Seaton by luring him into a trap, had to seek refuge from an angry black crowd, finding safety in the city jail. John Brown, a native of Hudson in neighboring Summit County, was the most famous beneficiary of Clevelanders’ pride in protecting the hunted from their pursuers. At the time of the Oberlin rescuers’ release and celebration assembly, Brown sojourned in Cleveland 10 days, planning his assault on Harpers Ferry. There was a price on his head for his Kansas guerrilla activities and killings at Pottawatomie, but although he passed the federal marshal’s office daily, no one turned him in.

By and large, such black activists as the Ohio canal boatman JOHN MALVIN† and some white church people cooperated in aiding fugitives, but some local blacks, influenced in part by the record of race relations across the Canadian border, adopted the idea of emigration, one formerly held by the Western Reserve’s colonization-minded elite–though for quite different reasons. On 24 Aug. 1854, the Negro Emigration Convention assembled in Cleveland to discuss plans for colonizing abroad. It could be said that the meeting was the birthplace of black nationalism–that is, a new consciousness of Afro-American culture. Although the CLEVELAND LEADER accurately surmised that “the objects of the convention met with but little favor from our colored citizens” of the city, Cleveland black spokesmen agreed with the convention’s protests against “insufferable Yankee intrusion,” civil and social discrimination, and abuse–in Ohio as elsewhere in the nation.

Political Antislavery. Neither Cleveland nor Cuyahoga County played a decisive role in the development of 3rd-party antislavery radicalism. Joshua R. Giddings, the dynamic though eccentric antislavery Whig congressman, represented Cleveland throughout the 1840s, but his base of strength lay in the rural villages. In 1852, despite the Ohio legislators’ gerrymandering to oust Giddings by removing Cuyahoga County from his district, Clevelanders helped elect Edward Wade, another staunchly reform-minded Ashtabulan. Yet the 2 Free-Soilers, Wade and his brother, Benjamin, elevated to the Senate in 1851, and Giddings were careful to restrict their reform leanings to such popular matters as “Free soil” in the Mexican Cession territories and in “Bleeding” Kansas.

On the whole, the press was also relatively conservative on slavery issues. But in contrast to the wildly proslavery and Democratic PLAIN DEALER, the Leader usually took a reform position and helped build a strong local Republican party. WM. DAY†’s ALIENED AMERICAN(est. 1852) served abolitionism in the black community, but the paper lasted only 2 years. Since there was no major college like Oberlin or Western Reserve at Hudson to give intellectual vitality to the antislavery impulse, and since political abolitionism was confined to conventional Republican efforts, abolitionism had no strong institutional base of support in the city.

Church Abolition. The only permanent bastion of rigorous immediatism was in a handful of churches. Though SAMUEL AIKEN† of FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH (OLD STONE) helped launch the local antislavery society chapter, he was not dedicated enough to suit the abolitionist members of his church. Thereafter he became increasingly hostile. In 1837 reform members of his church formed Second Presbyterian Church; a larger antislavery group left in 1850 to establish Free Presbyterian Church (later Plymouth Church of Shaker Hts.). It was said that in 1850 Aiken hid behind a pillar when authorities dragged a fugitive from sanctuary in the church. Like Aiken’s church, the First Methodist congregation also experienced antislavery defections in 1839 in protest against slavery and other matters of concern; soon afterward the dissidents formed the Wesleyan Methodist church. The larger church bodies–the Cleveland Presbytery and the Methodists’ Erie, (later North Ohio) Conference, and the Cleveland Congregational Conference–made increasingly bold antislavery statements, especially after the Fugitive Slave Law was enacted. Yet there was no major abolitionist church leader in the city who commanded national attention.

The sole candidate to head local radicalism was JAS. A. THOME†, a veteran church abolitionist and former Oberlin professor. His First Church (Congregational) in Ohio City was an oasis of pure emancipationism. In 1862 Thome brought Theodore Weld out of retirement to address a throng on the meaning of the war effort. The occasion, though, was largely an exercise in nostalgia of youthful abolitionism 30 years before when the pair had traversed Ohio lecturing for black freedom. Tragically, guns and blockades were accomplishing more for racial justice than Garrisonian rhetoric did. In any event, the reform contribution of Cleveland–largely the work of its black residents–lay more in helping fugitives from slavery than in any other aspect of the humanitarian movement. Yet one may safely guess that Cleveland’s record of relative racial harmony owed something to the spirit of interracial cooperation in that cause. In 1865 the Cleveland Leader noted that “colored children attend our schools, colored people are permitted to attend lectures and public affairs,” and had done so for years even before the war. Not many northern centers could boast of a similar attention to racial justice.

Indeed, any final assessment of Cleveland’s antislavery position must acknowledge that its racial reform tradition more than matched that of most other northern cities. With their ethnic diversity, cities such as Boston, Cincinnati, New York, and Philadelphia, and smaller places such as Utica and Rochester, were sporadically torn by riots against blacks and abolitionists, a lawlessness that Clevelanders happily did not share. Whatever the failings of Cleveland’s civic leadership regarding formal abolition may have been, the commercial climate of the port and its locale in the heart of the Western Reserve made possible a relatively smooth transition from the era of slavery to the epoch of free-labor capitalism, to which Cleveland blacks and whites made their significant contribution.

Bertram Wyatt-Brown

McTighe, Michael J. “Embattled Establishment: Protestants and Power in Cleveland, 1836-60” (Ph.D. diss., Univ. of Chicago, 1983).

Peskin, Allan, ed. North into Freedom: The Autobiography of John Malvin, Free Negro, 1795-1880 (1966).

Reilley, Edward C. “The Early Slavery Controversy in the Western Reserve” (Ph.D. diss., Western Reserve Univ., 1940).

Ralph J. Perk from the Encyclopedia of Cleveland History

Ralph J. Perk from the Encyclopedia of Cleveland History

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PERK, RALPH J. (19 Jan. 1914-21 Apr. 1999) a Depression-era ice peddler who organized and headed the American Nationalities Movement rose to the city’s highest office with the support of blue collar, ethnic voters. He was born in Cleveland to Mary B. (Smirt) and Joseph C. Perk, a tailor. He graduated from eighth grade from Our Lady of Lourdes School, dropped out of high school, and later took correspondence courses to earn a high school diploma. He studied history, political science and math at the Cleveland College of CASE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY and St. John College.

As a teenager, Perk worked as a pattern maker before joining his brother, George, in operating the Perk Coal & Ice Co. During World War II, each branch of the Armed Forces rejected Perk as a result of past problems with kidney stones. Perk returned to pattern making to help the war effort. Shortly before reaching the voting age of 21, he joined the 13th Ward Republican Club. He was elected a GOP precinct committeeman in 1940 and led the Southeast Air Pollution Committee to fight industrial pollution in the Flats in the 1940s. In 1953, he was elected councilman from Ward 13, which at the time represented the Broadway-E. 55th St. neighborhood. He served five two year terms on council. During this time, he organized the American Nationalities Movement, an umbrella agency for 35 nationality groups. In 1962, with his election as Cuyahoga County auditor, Perk became the first Republican elected to county office since the mid-1930s. He was re-elected twice and remained the only Republican county official until 1970. In 1971, Perk defeated James M. Carney and Arnold Pinkney, both Democrats, with just 38.7 percent of the vote and succeeded Carl B. Stokes† as mayor of Cleveland (See MAYORAL ADMINISTRATION OF RALPH J. PERK). Perk was re-elected mayor twice: in 1973, when Carney, the Democratic candidate, withdrew two weeks after the primary and was replaced by Council Clerk Mercedes Cotner; and in 1975, when he easily won an election against Pinkney. In 1974, he ran for U.S. Senate and was soundly defeated by John H. Glenn. In 1977, Perk lost his bid for re-election as mayor, coming in third in a non-political primary behind Edward F. Feighan and Dennis Kucinich, who won the run-off. After leaving electoral politics, Perk set-up a consulting business, Ralph Perk & Associates. He advised small businesses and governmental bodies about federal grants.

As mayor, Perk was instrumental in negotiating the 1974 agreement between CLEVELAND CITY COUNCIL, Cuyahoga County, and suburban officials that created the GREATER CLEVELAND REGIONAL TRANSIT AUTHORITY as a replacement for the Cleveland Transit System. He also helped establish the Emergency Medical Services, the Police Department’s Community Response Unit and the NORTHEAST OHIO REGIONAL SEWER DISTRICT. He initiated a significant expansion of CLEVELAND-HOPKINS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT and numerous downtown office, commercial, and public building renovations, including the Bond Court Hotel, the Willard Parking Garage, and completion of the Justice Center and the Park Apartments. Perk started the Republican Mayors caucus of the U.S. Conference of Mayors.

Perk and his wife of 59 years, Lucille Gagliardi, had six sons and a daughter: Ralph Jr., Thomas, Kenneth, Michael, Richard, Allen, and Virginia Bowers. Perk died from complications of prostate cancer at the Cleveland Clinic Hospice Unit of the Corinthian Skilled Nursing Center in Westlake. He is buried in Holy Cross Cemetery.

Ralph Perk Papers, WRHS

The Glenville Shootout from the Encyclopedia of Cleveland History

The Glenville Shootout from the Encyclopedia of Cleveland History

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The GLENVILLE SHOOTOUT (23-28 July 1968) was a violent episode that began the evening of 23 July as an action against CLEVELAND POLICE DEPARTMENT by an armed, purposeful black militant group, which resulted in casualties on both sides. Although it was not clear who shot first on the evening of 23 July, there was an exchange of gunfire between police and Fred “Ahmed” Evans and his radical militants.


Ohio National Guard soldiers on duty in Cleveland following the Glenville shootout, July 1968. CPL.

Before the night was over, 7 people were dead: 3 policemen, 3 suspects, and 1 civilian; and 15 were wounded. When it became clear that the police were neither trained nor equipped to handle the disorders, Mayor Carl Stokes requested and received the assistance of the Natl. Guard that following day. Stokes believed that putting AFRICAN AMERICANS in control of their own community would prevent further bloodshed, and the afternoon of 24 July he decided only black policemen and black community leaders would be allowed in Glenville with the rest of the police and the guard stationed on the perimeter of the cordoned-off area. There was no more loss of life; however, there was continued looting and arson in the 6 sq. mi. area. After the Natl. Guard and the police reentered Glenville the following day, a curfew was established and the vandalism gradually diminished and order was restored 3 days later on 28 July. During the violence, 63 businesses were damaged with a total loss set at $2.6 million. Evans surrendered to the police the morning of 24 July, a day after the shooting began.

The Hough Riots from the Encyclopedia of Cleveland History

The Hough Riots from the Encyclopedia of Cleveland History

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The HOUGH RIOTS, 18-24 July 1966, were a spontaneous outbreak of violence characterized by vandalism, looting, arson, and sporadic gunfire. Although there had been racial disturbances earlier in the summer, these events proved to be more serious and widespread. The riots were sparked by a dispute over a glass of water at the Seventy-Niners Cafe at Hough Ave. and E. 79th St. on the evening of 18 July, which escalated until the police were unable to deal with the situation. As the crowd grew larger, rock throwing, looting, and vandalism gradually spread throughout the Hough area. The following evening the violence was repeated, with fires set in the area as well as reports of sniper fire.

At the request of Mayor Ralph Locher, the Natl. Guard moved into HOUGH on the morning of 20 July to restore order, and the mayor closed all bars and taverns. After a major fire at Cedar and E. 106th on the 21st, things slowly returned to normal. On Monday, 25 July, those stores in the Hough area that had escaped serious damage reopened, and the Natl. Guard was gradually released from duty. During the riots, 4 people were killed, about 30 were injured, close to 300 were arrested, and approx. 240 fires were reported. There was no evidence that the riots had been planned or controlled by radical groups in Cleveland. However, once they began extremists were in a position to exploit them. The events in Hough were part of a national pattern of racial tension and frustration which produced violence in many parts of the country in 1966.

Carl B. Stokes from the Encyclopedia of Cleveland History

Carl B. Stokes from the Encyclopedia of Cleveland History

The link is here

STOKES, CARL B. (21 June 1927 – 3 April 1996) became the first black mayor of a major U.S. city when he was elected mayor of Cleveland in November 1967. He later became a news anchorman, judge, and a United States Ambassador. He was born in Cleveland to Charles Stokes, a laundry worker who died when Carl was two years old, and Louise (Stone) Stokes, a cleaning woman who then raised Carl and his brother Louis in Cleveland’s first federally funded housing project for the poor, Outhwaite. Although a good student, Stokes dropped out of high school in 1944, worked briefly at Thompson Products (see TRW, INC.), then joined the U.S. Army at age 18. After his discharge in 1946, Stokes returned to Cleveland and earned his high school diploma in 1947. He then attended several colleges before earning his bachelor’s degree from the University of Minnesota in 1954. He graduated from CLEVELAND-MARSHALL LAW SCHOOL in 1956 and was admitted to the Ohio bar in 1957. For 4 years he served as assistant prosecutor and became partner in the law firm of Stokes, Stokes, Character, and Terry, continuing that practice into his political career.

Elected the first black Democrat to the Ohio House of Representatives in 1962, he served 3 terms and narrowly lost a bid for mayor of Cleveland in 1965. His victory two years later drew national attention. Able to mobilize both black and white voters, he defeated Seth Taft, the grandson of a former U.S. president, with a 50.5 majority. He was reelected in 1969. During his two terms as mayor, Stokes opened city hall jobs to blacks and women, and introduced a number of urban revitalization programs (see MAYORAL ADMINISTRATION OF CARL B. STOKES). Choosing not to run for a third term in 1971, Stokes lectured around the country, then in 1972 became the first black anchorman in New York City when he took a job with television station WNBC. He returned to Cleveland in 1980 and began serving as general legal counsel for the UNITED AUTO WORKERS union. From 1983 to 1994 he served as municipal judge in Cleveland. President Clinton then appointed him U.S. Ambassador to the Republic of Seychelles. He was awarded 12 honorary degrees, numerous civic awards, and represented the United States on numerous goodwill trips abroad by request of the White House. In 1970, the National League of Cities voted him its first black president-elect.

Stokes married Shirley Edwards in 1958. They were divorced in 1973. In 1981, he married Raija Kostadinov, whom he divorced in 1993 and remarried in 1996. He had three children from his first marriage: Carl Jr., Cordi, and Cordell, and a daughter, Cynthia, and stepson, Sasha Kostadinov, from his second marriage. He was diagnosed with cancer of the esophagus while serving as Ambassador to the Seychelles and placed on medical leave. He returned to Cleveland and died at the Cleveland Clinic.

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