“How good was Stan Musial? He was good enough to take your breath away.”– Vin Scully1

Twenty-eight miles south of Pittsburgh, roughly along the Monongahela River (Western Pennsylvanians call it the Mon and the Mon Valley) lies the town of Donora. Donora and the surrounding communities were once a fairly thriving multi-ethnic area made up of Eastern Europeans, Slavs, Italians, and Blacks that turned out steel, zinc, and world-class athletes. The Great Depression and management chicanery took care of the steel industry. A thermal inversion brought about a deadly smog that finished off zinc. Because of the overall poverty of the area, many young people left before having children, athletic, or otherwise.

It was glorious while it lasted, though. “Deacon Dan” Lee Towler went to nearby Washington and Jefferson College and then to the old Los Angeles Rams, where he led the National Football League in rushing in 1952 and finished in the top four three other times. All-American quarterback Arnold Galiffa piloted Red Blaik’s undefeated 1948 and 1949 teams at Army, leading to election to the College Football Hall of Fame. Buddy Griffey didn’t make it to the top, but his son (Ken) and grandson (Ken Jr.) did well. And Stan Musial stood out above them all.

According to Musial biographer James N. Giglio, Lukasz Musial, age 19, left “the [Polish] village of Mojstava in the province of Galicia, at that time part of Austria-Hungary”2 in January 1910 on thePresident Grantout of Hamburg, landing at Ellis Island six days later. Claiming to be 5-feet-7 and 150 pounds, deemed much smaller by people who knew him, but physically strong, Lukasz went straight from New York to Donora, where he worked at a variety of unskilled jobs. Among other things, he was what was called a “machine helper” and a porter at the Public Hotel. Early on he met Mary Lancos, 14 years old and the daughter of Czech immigrants (who had a Hungarian surname) from the Austro-Hungarian Empire. One of 10 children, Mary, born in New York City, was close to 6 feet tall, big-boned, and although untrained, a good runner and probably athletic. Not unusual for the time and place, she had become a housekeeper when she was 8.

Mary and Lukasz married in Donora on April 14, 1913; he was almost 23, she 16. The marriage certificate said she was 21, suggesting that she hadn’t received her parents’ permission to marry, as was the law in Pennsylvania for people under 21. They had four daughters (Ida, Victoria, Helen, and Rose or Rosella as she is listed in the 1920 census) in six years, and then Stanislaw Franciszek (named by his father) came along on November 21, 1920. In addition, Lukasz gave the little fellow the nickname Stashu, which was quickly shortened to Stash, usually pronounced “Stush,” as in “push.” Once he entered public school, Stash’s name was anglicized to Stanley (or Stan) Francis (or Frank). Family and Donora locals pronounced the family name “MU-shill” as opposed to “MU-si-al,” as Stan came to be known. Edward John (presumably named by Mary) was born two years after Stan, completing the family.

Life in Donora, in the whole Mon Valley, was harsh in the two decades between world wars. Lukasz and most men had trouble finding steady work, and what they did find was tough, dangerous, and dirty. Making matters worse, Lukasz developed a drinking problem. Mary managed the home, looking for bargains of any kind, buying in bulk when possible, and mending and re-mending clothes until they were outgrown or finally unwearable. At the same time, she was a loving, nurturing mother who made “baseballs” out of whatever she could wrap an old sock around and encouraged and played catch with little Stashu, who was showing athletic ability at an early age.

Going through the public schools in Donora, taking the nonacademic curriculum, and by his own admission not studying much, Stan (a bit shy and with a slight stutter) was only an average student, although his constant winning smile and easy disposition made him popular with everyone. He excelled in wood shop, but he just wasn’t interested in schoolwork. His passion was sports, starting with the skill in gymnastics that he had acquired from the almost obligatory training he and many boys had received from the Polish Falcons Society. In high school he was beginning to make a name for himself in basketball and baseball, playing not only on school teams but also on local clubs. A frequently told story in the Musial legend has it that the University of Pittsburgh, coached by the legendary Dr. Henry C. “Doc” Carlson, offered Stan a basketball scholarship. The story goes on that Lukasz tried to force his son, who wanted to play baseball professionally, to accept the scholarship. Only after tears and lamentations on Stan’s part and Mary’s dramatic intercession (“Lukasz,” she reportedly said, “this is America, and he has the right not to go to college.”) in true Hollywood fashion, did the stern father relent and give his son his blessing to pursue his dream.3 There was no immediate happy ending, however, as father and son barely spoke for several years.4

It’s a fine story, but it’s more likely that Lukasz wasn’t pleased with his son’s playing basketball, baseball, or any sport. From his point of view, he was making a tremendous concession in allowing the boy to finish high school (Stan was the only one of the six Musial children to graduate from high school) before getting a “real” job in the steel mill or zinc works. Moreover, as Giglio has shown, Stan was already a professional ballplayer even before high-school play, having “signed a contract with the St. Louis Cardinals’ Monessen ball club of the Class-D Penn[sylvania] State League on September 29, 1937, several months before the start of the … high school basketball and baseball seasons and about two months before his seventeenth birthday.”5

The signing wasn’t made public until the following February. In addition, while he promised considerable potential, Stan hadn’t really shown what he could do on the basketball floor, so a scholarship probably wasn’t yet in the offing. In any case, his having signed the contract would have rendered him ineligible to play basketball at Pitt or any other college.

At the same time, Stan’s having signed the contract by no means ended the maneuvering, much or most of it on his part. In the first place, he had some misgivings about the Cardinals organization after CommissionerKenesaw Mountain Landis, having found St. Louis general managerBranch Rickey’s  machinations (among other byzantine activities, owning more than one ballclub in the same minor league) illegal, ordered the release and free agency of 74 players in St. Louis’s farm system. Exacerbating the situation, Musial worked out with the Pirates and waited for what he thought would be a tryout with the Yankees. Then again, maybe he’s just stay home and pitch for the local zinc works team.6

The fiasco ended in the late spring of 1938 when Stan reported to the Williamson (West Virginia) Colts of the Class-D Mountain State League. He could have gone to the nearby Greensburg Green Sox of the Class-D Pennsylvania State Association but chose Williamson, for two likely reasons. First, Greensburg (the Monessen team ceased to exist after the 1937 season) was managed by Ollie Vanek, who had signed him and incurred the wrath of Mary Musial, who never failed to remind him that he hadn’t given Stan enough money. Second, and perhaps even more important, Williamson was considerably farther from home in case he failed.

Musial’s first season with Williamson didn’t presage a brilliant career on the mound or at bat. As a pitcher he finished 6-6 with an ERA of 4.66 in 20 games. What stuck out, and not well, were 114 hits, 80 walks, and 66 strikeouts in 110 innings. Things weren’t much better at the plate, 16 hits in 62 at-bats for a .258 average, with 3 doubles, a homer, 7 strikeouts, and only 3 walks.7 At 17 years old and nowhere near his full height or weight, Stan’s being overmatched comes as no surprise.

Even though he was playing minor-league ball, Stan was also playing for Donora High. Donora’s coach was Michael “Ki” Duda, a man wise enough to know what he didn’t know, and that was baseball. Duda brought in Charles “Chuck” Schmidt, himself just a few years out of high school but a fine shortstop in local leagues, to help coach the team. Musial and Schmidt remained friends until Schmidt’s death.

Musial, said Schmidt, “was a born natural.” “Even then,” he told interviewer Gregory Ryhal, “you could tell he was going to be one of the greats.” Asked what made Musial so good, he answered simply, “God.”8 Perhaps, but Musial deserves some of the credit, too.Curt Flood, a teammate late in Musial’s career, describes a man who worked to develop and sharpen his inherent talents: “Musial also helped – mainly by working as hard as he did on his own perfect swing. If this immortal felt the need for frequent extra practice, how could I hope to prosper on less effort?”9 The picture that emerges – one not often seen by the public – is of a Musial with raw, bleeding hands, the result of time spent in the batting cage honing his “natural” or “God-given” abilities.

Not all of Stan’s time was taken up with sports. He was playing good basketball in the winter and pitching well in the spring and summer, helping to lead his teams to regional championships, not to mention dazzling everyone at the Ping-Pong table and on the dance floor. Not surprisingly, someone had caught his attention. In her last year at Donora High, only a few weeks older but a year ahead of Stan in school, was a petite brunette named Lillian Susan Labash. She was of Russian ancestry (with a touch of Czech), one of eight children, and called “Shrimp” by her family; her father, Sam, had a grocery store where Stan worked occasionally and could grab a quick bite. She was also stunningly beautiful.

Some things had changed when Stan returned to Williamson in 1939. No longer the Colts, the Williamson team was now the Red Birds and part of the Cardinals organization. Too, Stan was a year older, maturing nicely, and possessing more confidence. With a better team behind him, he improved to 9-2 in 13 games, 12 of them starts, but some signs again suggested he might not have a great future as a pitcher. The 4.30 ERA in 92 innings was tempered by his surrendering 71 hits; while his 86 strikeouts looked good, his 85 walks did not. He was now playing the outfield when he wasn’t pitching, and his .352 batting average (25-for-71) was almost 100 points better than his 1938 performance. He showed some extra-base power with 3 doubles and 3 triples but again hit just one home run. Two red flags emerged from the numbers: 16 strikeouts and just one walk. The young man had a lot to learn.

Now 19, Musial was eager for the 1940 season to begin. Having graduated from high school, he’d be able to play a full season for the first time. It wouldn’t be easy, as Giglio shows in his description of the circle of events that spring:

The Albany ball club, which owned his contract and had optioned him to Williamson in 1939, now sold him to Asheville, North Carolina, of the Class B Piedmont League. Following spring training for Cardinal Class B and C clubs at Columbus, Georgia, Asheville optioned him to the Class D team in Daytona Beach, Florida. His salary rose from seventy to one hundred dollars a month, but the demotion proved a disappointment to Musial, who, believing he could pitch at B level, felt that he was given no chance of making the Asheville club.10

Disappointment aside, 1940 was a pivotal year, and a blessing, for the young man came under the wing of one of the great benefactors of his life, Daytona Beach managerDick Kerr. As a rookie southpaw in 1919, Kerr had won two games for the White Sox in the World Series, no mean feat since three-quarters of his infield and two-thirds of his outfield had conspired to throw games as part of the infamous Black Sox scandal. Kerr, a small man, brought to managing the same backbone that had helped him in the Series, and combined it with insight, wisdom, patience, and compassion. He and Musial hit it off from the start.

Kerr and his wife, Cora, took such a shine to the young man that they stood up as witnesses when Stan and Lil were married in St. Paul’s Roman Catholic Church in Daytona Beach on May 25, 1940. The young couple’s son Richard (named after Kerr) was born within a year and was followed by sisters Geraldine (Gerry), Janet, and Jean.

Musial gave everything he had under the watchful eye of the fatherly Kerr and improved dramatically. He finished 18-5 with a 2.62 ERA in 223 innings with 19 complete games, but there were danger signs. Although he gave up only 179 hits while striking out 176, he also surrendered 145 walks and 43 unearned runs. Nevertheless, he was one of the top southpaws along with Frank Hudson (19-12, 2.91) of Sanford in the Florida State League. Because the team had only 14 men on the roster, Stan – and the other pitchers – would play in the field when he wasn’t pitching. It was there that his talents really began to show. Hitting line drives all over the field, he batted .311 in 113 games, striking out just 28 times in 405 at-bats. Ten triples and 70 RBIs balanced out his meager 17 walks and single home run.

Everything came crashing down on August 11 in the second game of a doubleheader against Orlando. Playing center field, Musial went after a low, sinking line drive to left-center and attempted a somersault catch, something he’d been able to do from an early age due to his tumbling and gymnastics training. This time, though, his spikes caught, sending him shoulder-first to the ground. The pain and swelling in his shoulder were almost immediate, and it was soon determined that Musial was finished as a pitcher. Missing more than 20 games and trying to pitch only once, he played out the season as best he could, and finished what should have been a joyful year with a wife, impending fatherhood, and a dead arm.

Fortunately for all concerned, Kerr and Branch Rickey had seen the obvious: Stan Musial was not a pitcher, he was an outfielder. Because of the injury, his throwing arm would keep him from being a so-called “five-tool player” (he could certainly hit, hit for power, run, and field), but he compensated for the weakness by getting rid of the ball quickly and accurately.

Musial’s stance was all his own, one he’d adopted because he believed it allowed him to cover the outside of the plate. Early in his career, teammateHarry Walker looked at him and said he’d never last in the majors with it. Hall of Fame pitcherTed Lyons likened his plate appearance to a kid peeking around the corner to see if the cops were coming, a description that writers of the day took up with alacrity. Opposing pitchers thought he looked like a coiled rattlesnake. However Musial looked, he became a great hitter at age 21. Paul Warburton’s description is spot-on:

A lefty, he dug in with his left foot on the back line of the batter’s box, and assumed a closed stance with his right foot about twelve inches in front of his left. He took three or four practice swings and followed up with a silly-looking hula wiggle to help him relax. He crouched, stirring his bat like a weapon in a low, slow-moving arc away from his body. As the pitcher let loose with his fling, “The Man” would quickly cock his bat in a steady position and twist his body away from the pitcher so that he was concentrating on his adversary’s delivery out of the corner of his deadly keen eyes. He would then uncoil with an explosion of power. His line drives were bullets.11

The Musial the world came to know emerged in the 1941 season. His work under Kerr had won him a promotion to Springfield, Missouri, in the Class-C Western Association, where he was reunited with Ollie Vanek. Free from pitching and now a full-time outfielder, Musial proceeded to tear the Western Association apart with a league-leading .379 average, 27 doubles, 10 triples, a league-best 26 homers, 94 RBIs, and 100 runs scored in a mere 87 games. Promoted after a July 20 doubleheader to Rochester, New York, in the Double-A International League, he kept up the pace, hitting .326 with 3 homers and 21 RBIs in 54 games. Clearly ready for the big leagues, he made his debut with the Cardinals on September 17, getting his first hit, a double in the second game of a doubleheader sweep (6-1, 3-2) of the Boston Braves. In 12 games he hit .426, and nailed his first home run, a two-run shot off Pittsburgh’sRip Sewell atForbes Field in the nightcap of a doubleheader on September 23. As a bonus he struck out just once in 47 at-bats. Despite Musial’s contributions, the Cardinals came up 2½ games short of the pennant-winning Dodgers in a wild finish to a close race.

Given Musial’s performance, it’s difficult to understand why the Cardinals waited until mid-September to bring him up. Talking to Donald Honig forBaseball When the Grass Was Real,Johnny Mize provided a cynical explanation for the delay:

In ’41 [Enos] Slaughter collided  withTerry Moore, and Slaughter broke his shoulder. Here we’re fighting the Dodgers for a pennant. [Branch] Rickey said we didn’t have anybody in the minor leagues to help us. Then in September he brings up Musial. Why didn’t he bring Musial up earlier? That’s what all the players wanted to know. We might have gone ahead and won the pennant. I’ll tell you what the talk used to be about Rickey: Stay in the pennant race until the last week of the season, and then get beat. I heard some talk to the effect that that was what he preferred. That way he drew the crowds all year, and then later on the players couldn’t come in and ask for the big raise for winning the pennant and maybe the World Series. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but that was the talk.12

That Musial rose from Class C to the majors in one season is unusual. However, lending credence to Mize’s reading of the situation is the fact that after the season Rickey traded him to the Giants, a move that some might see as an effort to weaken the Cardinals just enough to keep them out of the throne room in 1942.

Rickey’s machinations backfired. Even without Mize, the 1942 Cardinals (withJohnny Hopp andRay Sanders splitting first-base duties) were so good that they stormed the National League, winning 106 games to finish two games ahead of the Dodgers. They then polished off the Yankees, winners of 103 games themselves, in a five-game World Series that was considered an upset at the time. Musial made a solid impact with 10 homers, 72 RBIs (10th in the league), and a .315 average that was second to Slaughter’s league-best .318.13 He started the season in April batting second. By mid-May he was batting third. After shuffling around in the third through sixth spots in the lineup for about a month, Musial settled into the cleanup spot in late June, remaining there the rest of the season and through the World Series.

The Cardinals’ confidence was well-placed. Stan’s 32 doubles and 10 triples (third in the league) – the first of seven consecutive seasons he reached double figures in that department – showed that he got out of the box fast even with his unique peekaboo stance.

Musial didn’t have a good Series against the Yankees, hitting just .222 with a double and a Series-best four walks. He was of no help inGame One, a 7-4 loss that the Cardinals almost pulled out with a furious rally in the bottom of the ninth, making the first and third outs of the inning. However, in the bottom of the eighth in Game Two, he drove in Enos Slaughter with the winning run after the Yankees had rallied from a 3-0 deficit to tie the game in the top of the inning.

With many stars gone to war in 1943, Musial established himself as the premier player in the National League if not the whole game. He led the league in hitting (.357), slugging (.562), on-base percentage (.425), doubles (48), triples (20), and various other categories in the first of a string of years amassing eye-popping statistics. Not surprisingly, Musial’s performance on a pennant-winning team led to his first Most Valuable Player Award. Once again, though, he didn’t fare well in the World Series, posting just a .278 average with no extra-base hits as the Yankees took the Cardinals in five games.

During the offseason, Musial took part in the war effort, working at the American Steel & Wire Co. back in Donora. In addition, he and several other players went on a goodwill trip to the Aleutians to visit the troops. (The War Department had canceled a scheduled trip to the Pacific in September of 1943.) No evidence suggests that Musial sought or received any special treatment concerning the draft. Being a father and coming from an area with many draft-age men probably kept him out of military service for most of the war.

For Musial and the Cardinals, the 1944 season was largely a repeat of the previous two. The Cardinals won 100 games for the third straight year, a feat previously achieved only by the 1929-1931 Athletics and duplicated by the 1969-1971 Orioles and 2002-2004 Yankees. Musial hit .347 and led the league in hits (197), doubles (51), on-base percentage (.440), and slugging (.549) while increasing his RBIs to 94 and walks to 90. ShortstopMarty Marion became the third consecutive Cardinal to be named Most Valuable Player, followingMort Cooper and Musial.

Meanwhile, the St. Louis Browns, perennial doormat of the American League and landlord ofSportsman’s Park, which they shared with the Cardinals, sneaked past the many war-decimated teams to win their first (and last) pennant of the twentieth century. Musial had his best Series as the Cardinals defeated the Browns in six games. He tied for the Series lead with seven hits that included two doubles and his only Series home run, while hitting .304. More important, he turned the Series around inGame Four after the Browns had surprisingly taken two of three games. His two-run homer over Sportsman’s Park’s right-field pavilion offSig Jakucki in the first inning gaveHarry Brecheen all the runs he needed in a complete-game 5-1 win.

Musial enlisted and entered the Navy on January 22, 1945, spending the next 13 or so months in the service. Luckily – a word he used frequently – he was able to spend most of his stint playing ball and never saw combat. Indeed, at Pearl Harbor he played in an eight-team league that was largely staffed with major leaguers. Accordingly, even though he missed the 1945 season, he didn’t suffer the considerable loss of career numbers that older contemporaries –Hank Greenberg,Bob Feller, Johnny Mize,Joe DiMaggio, andTed Williams, among others – experienced.

Assigned to Bainbridge, Maryland, for basic training, Musial got into a few games and played first base for the first time, not knowing it was to become his second position. Upon completion of basic training, he was sent to Shoemaker (California) Naval Base, a place he didn’t like at all. Assigned to Special Services, he was shipped to Honolulu to serve with a ship repair unit in the 14th Naval District. As Thomas E. Allen explains, “His job was to run a liberty launch transporting men and officers from the dock out to the ships needing repair and back. He did this in the morning and played ball in the afternoons. He was named to the 14th Naval District’s all-star team while playing for the ship repair unit team. Musial was still stationed in Hawaii when VJ Day occurred.”14 One aspect of Musial’s wartime service had an impact on his later career: Because his fellow sailors wanted to see home runs, he made a slight adjustment to his stance that gave him more power. National League pitchers wished he had spent the war at home.

Later in the year Lukasz became gravely ill, and Musial’s mother requested and received an emergency leave for Stan. Lukasz survived, but Musial remained in the States, having been transferred to the Philadelphia Navy Yard to work in another ship repair unit. He didn’t repair any ships in Philadelphia, either, asking for and receiving a transfer when he was assigned to take apart a destroyer, a task for which he had no training or experience. Musial was honorably discharged on March 1, 1946, at Bainbridge, thus coming full circle.

Back from the service, his skills undiminished, Musial approached spring training in St. Petersburg in 1946 in his usual fine shape. Devoted to keeping in condition during the offseason, he had no trouble maintaining his weight, having started his career at 175 pounds and perhaps weighing in at 180 in his last seasons. Not everything was rosy, though. Slipping on some sandy soil that spring, he strained some ligaments in his left knee, causing a problem that would haunt him the rest of his career.

As the season progressed, it was becoming evident that rookieDick Sisler wasn’t developing as hoped at first base, prompting managerEddie Dyer to ask Musial to move there temporarily from his left-field position. The move wasn’t as temporary as originally thought, as Musial wound up playing more than a thousand games at first base, making him the first player to appear in at least a thousand games at two different positions. Warming to the position and being a first-rate athlete, he became a solid first baseman, almost as comfortable there as he was in the outfield.

Distractions abounded off the field, too. The reserve clause that eternally bound players to their team, combined with a lack of bargaining power and the absence of either a minimum wage or a retirement plan, led to discontent if not outright rage in the players, especially those who had sacrificed a large portion of their careers to the war effort. The prospects of change and unionization were in the air. So, too, was temptation from south of the border with the Mexican League, the brainchild of importer-exporterJorge Pasquel and his five brothers. Musial took a cautious approach to the former and seriously considered the latter, which was sweetened by a $50,000 signing bonus. Fortunately, he stayed put, as the players who went south were punished to the tune of five-year suspensions.

Things went much better on the field. Showing National League pitchers that he’d lost nothing by being away, he led the league with a .365 average, a .587 slugging percentage, and 228 hits. Fifty doubles and 20 triples showed he was off and running from the batter’s box and was still the Donora Greyhound. In addition, he topped the 100-RBIs plateau for the first of many times with 103. It all added up to his second Most Valuable Player Award and another pennant for the Cardinals, their fourth in the four full years he’d been with the club, a run equaled only by the Joe DiMaggio Yankees of 1936-1939. The Cardinals took the World Series from the Red Sox in a seven-game thriller, but the anticipated matchup between league MVPs Musial and Ted Williams didn’t materialize as the two stars hit .222 and .200 respectively.

The legendaryRed Barber described the 1947 season as the “year all hell broke loose in baseball.” Barber, of course, was referring to the arrival ofJackie Robinson and the integration of the game. As hard as it is to understand the furor after many decades, the advent of Robinson was traumatic both in and out of baseball, certainly in St. Louis, as the Cardinals’ enormous radio network that blanketed the whole South made them America’s “Southern” team. St. Louis didn’t have a monopoly on bigotry, but some players and fans were particularly virulent, and rumors have long since persisted of a possible player strike.

James Giglio notes that although Stan wasn’t impressed with what he saw as Robinson’s “short, choppy swing and his lack of grace in the field,”15 he remained aloof from the ugliness and became supportive. He’d had Black teammates Buddy Griffey and Grant Gray back in Donora and had stood up for them in difficult times.16 With two Most Valuable Player Awards under his belt, he was clearly the best player in the National League, making Robinson no threat to him. Indeed, Robinson himself mentioned Musial and Hank Greenberg as two of the players who had encouraged him during that terrible, courageous year.

For all kinds of reasons vitriol ran especially high between the Cardinals and Dodgers, with Robinson the catalyst or lightning rod. A potential flashpoint at which Musial and Robinson’s careers intersected on a personal level came in the seventh inning of a game on August 20 in which Enos Slaughter (depending upon which of the myriad versions one believes) did or did not deliberately spike Robinson, who was playing first base that year.17 Robinson was under orders from Branch Rickey not to retaliate or fight back, but he was seething when he got to first base later in the game. He growled to fellow first baseman Musial what he’d like to do to Slaughter, to which Musial quietly replied, “I don’t blame you. You have every right to do so.”18 While Robinson was articulating but controlling his anger, Musial was saying that playing the game right trumped team loyalty. With nothing to show for it in the box score, the situation was a defining moment, showing two great players at their best.

All hell was breaking loose for Musial, too, so much so that he would refer to the season as “that lousy year.” Starting slowly, he had a miserable April, hitting .146. Something was clearly wrong, the culprit turning out to be an inflamed appendix and tonsilitis diagnosed on May 9 by St. Louis physician and surgeon Robert F. Hyland, whom former Commissioner Landis had dubbed “the surgeon general of baseball.” Hyland “froze”19 Musial’s appendix, a procedure that allowed him to finish out the year before having his appendix and tonsils removed during the offseason.

Stan took five days off before returning to the field, but his recovery was slow. He was down to .139 on May 19 after a streak of 24 hitless at-bats. He didn’t reach .200 until mid-June and didn’t get to .300 until he recorded five hits in an August 10 doubleheader. Finally starting to hit, Musial finished at .312 (his lowest average since his first full year) with 19 homers and 95 RBIs. His on-base percentage of .398 and slugging percentage of .504 were good but not up to the standard he had set. The tear that got Musial to .312 included a five-hit game in an 11-1 win over the Cubs on September 3. Given Musial’s final numbers, it’s hard to work up much sympathy for his “lousy” year.

At the same time, having won four pennants and three World Series in five years, the Cardinals were beginning a barely perceptible decline, finishing in second place five games behind the energized Dodgers and remaining in the bridesmaid’s position through 1948 and 1949 before falling all the way to fifth in 1950 (albeit with a 78-75 mark). Few would have predicted it at the time, but the Cardinals neither rebounded nor returned to the World Series during Musial’s career.

His appendix and tonsils removed, unquestionably stronger than he’d been in a long time, and apparently feeling that his subpar 1947 season was better than most players’ good ones (Joe DiMaggio won the American League MVP Award with almost identical numbers: .315-20-97), Musial held out, finally signing on March 4 for $31,000. Teammate and fellow holdout Harry Brecheen and the Cardinals agreed to a $16,500 package the next day. As it turned out, Musial and Brecheen were bargains, Brecheen finishing 20-7 with a league-leading 2.24 ERA and Musial putting together not only his greatest season but one of the greatest seasons anyone has ever had.

For openers, he more than doubled his highest home-run output, belting 39, one behindRalph Kiner and Johnny Mize, who tied for the league lead. At that, he lost one and possibly two homers, one to a rainout, another on a strange play that Peter Golenbock quotes from Musial: “In ’48 I came within one home run of the Triple Crown. I had one rained out, actually, andRed Schoendienst reminded me that I hit another ball inShibe Park in Philadelphia that hit the speakers of the PA system above the fence, and [umpire]Frank Dascoli called it a two-base hit. Red said it should have been a home run, or else I’d have led the league in everything.”20 Had Musial received credit for a homer in either case, he would have achieved the Triple Crown with his career-best .376 average and 131 RBIs. In addition, he led the league in hits (230), total bases (429), doubles (46), triples (18), runs (135), on-base percentage (.450), and slugging (.702) – every significant batting category except home runs.

Few hitters since have so thoroughly dominated a major league. His dominance included four games in which he picked up five hits (April 30, May 19, June 22, and September 22), tyingTy Cobb’s twentieth-century record for five-hit games in one season. For the havoc he raised inEbbets Field that year, Dodgers fans christened him “Stan the Man,” the name by which he’ll always be known.21 All he did was hit .522 with on-base and slugging percentages of .560 and 1.022 in Brooklyn and improved (.523/.632/1.114) in 1949. To the surprise of no one, he picked up his third Most Valuable Player Award. But his magnificent season wasn’t enough to boost the Cardinals over the hump, as they came in second once again, a decisive 6½ games behind the Boston Braves, who were led by former Cardinals managerBilly Southworth.

Not every moment of the season was wonderful for Musial, however. The September 7 game in Pittsburgh was one such exception. In the top of the first, withFritz Ostermueller on the mound, Red Schoendienst and Marty Marion reached base for the Cardinals. With the runners moving, Musial lined a 3-and-2 pitch to Pirates shortstopStan Rojek for the first out. Rojek stepped on second to double up Schoendienst, then threw to first baseman Johnny Hopp, who nabbed Marion to complete the triple play. It was St. Louis’ first and last gasp, as the Pirates won, 6-2.

The year ended on a sad note for the Musials. A thermal inversion at the zinc mill in October unleashed a smog over Donora that left people dropping in the street. Among the many affected was Lukasz Musial, who at 58 years old had been retired for four years, suffering from black lung disease and the effects of several strokes. He and Mary moved in with Stan and Lil in St. Louis to escape the deadly air, but it didn’t help. Lukasz suffered a stroke on December 17, lapsed into a coma, and died on December 19.

For the next 10 years, 1949 to 1958, Musial was eerily consistent, putting together seasons that were essentially interchangeable. His average season consisted of a .335 average, .426 on-base percentage, .582 slugging percentage, 189 hits, 38 doubles, 7 triples, 29 home runs, 104 runs, and 105 RBIs. Not surprisingly, he led the league in all these categories except homers at least once. As would be expected, he always placed high in voting for the Most Valuable Player Award. (Bill James has pointed out – before the emergence ofBarry Bonds – that Musial garnered more shares than any other player in Most Valuable Player voting.)22

During these years there were many remarkable days and at least one rib-tickler. On September 28, 1952, Musial took the mound for the only time in his major-league career and faced off againstFrank Baumholtz of the Cubs, who was comfortably second to Musial in the batting race. Baumholtz, a lefty hitter, switched to the right side and reached base on an error. A gracious Musial maintained that it was as clean a hit as he ever saw. Baumholtz was the only batter Musial faced that day, or any other day in the majors – but his one mound appearance is in the books.

Musial’s greatest single day on the diamond came onMay 2, 1954, in a doubleheader in St. Louis against the eventual pennant and World Series winners, the New York Giants. He went 4-for-4 in thefirst game with three homers, including the game-winner, a three-run shot offJim Hearn, and 2-for-4 in thesecond game (a Cardinals loss) with two more homers. Coincidentally, witnessing the five homers was an eight-year-old namedNate Colbert, who as a San Diego Padre would match Stan’s record of five home runs in a doubleheader, in Atlanta on August 1, 1972.

TheAll-Star Game was a showcase for The Man, who played in 24 of them. The 1955 game in Milwaukee’sCounty Stadium was particularly sweet. The National League had fallen behind, 4-0, when he was inserted in the fourth inning. The deficit reached 5-0 before Musial’s mates rallied to send the game into extra innings. Finally, in the 12th inning, Stan took the Red Sox’Frank Sullivan deep to win the game, 6-5. It was his fourth of a record six homers in All-Star Game play.

Not only was Musial stellar, but he was durable, playing in his 823rd consecutive game on June 12, 1957, breakingGus Suhr’s National League record. The streak ended at 895 on August 22, when he tore a muscle and chipped a bone swinging at a pitch in the fifth inning of a 6-5 win in Pittsburgh.

On May 13, 1958, he pinch-hit a double offMoe Drabowsky in Wrigley Field to become the eighth player (and the first sincePaul Waner on June 19, 1942) to reach the 3,000-hit mark. The milestone hit helped the Cardinals to a 5-3 win. It seemed appropriate, too, that number 3,000 was a double, since in the eyes of more than a few fans the image of Musial is a line-drive double off the wall.

After 17 years terrorizing National League pitchers, the decline came quickly and suddenly for Musial. His batting average fell all the way to .255 in 1959, and he bettered it to .275 and .288 in 1960 and 1961. He had a brief resurgence in 1962 with marks of .330-19-82 but fell back to .255 as he finished his brilliant career in 1963.

Despite the low numbers, Musial had some good moments in 1963. On September 10, after waiting up all night with Lil for the birth of their first grandchild, he homered in his first at-bat to become the first grandfather to homer in the majors. On September 25, Cardinals ownerAugust Busch Jr. named Musial a vice president of the team and announced that his number 6 would be retired. He bowed out on September 29 with two hits against Cincinnati, the first a single in the fourth inning past a rookie second baseman namedPete Rose and the second a groundball single off 23-game winnerJim Maloney to drive in his last run before leaving for a pinch-runner.

Musial’s career numbers are stunning: .331 average, .417 on-base percentage, .559 slugging percentage, 3,630 hits, 725 doubles, 177 triples, 475 homers, 1,949 runs, and 1,951 RBIs. He’s the only player to finish his career in the top 25 in all these categories and owns or did own a slew of records and achievements. Several stand out. For example, he had 1,815 hits at home and 1,815 on the road, a feat that must have required years of planning. He hit .336 at home, .326 on the road, a barely significant difference. Of his 475 home runs, 252 came at home, with 223 away, in a total of 12 ballparks. He hit 318 homers off right-handers, 157 off southpaws, a high number that dispels any notion that he may have had problems with lefties. Indeed, his favorite victim was Warren Spahn (whose career coincided almost exactly with Musial’s), 17 of whose pitches he helped leave the ballpark. It all gives the impression that Musial didn’t care who was pitching or where he was hitting: He just hit. Even though he never led the league in homers, his 12 game-ending home runs are equaled (through 2024) only byBabe Ruth,Jimmie Foxx,Mickey Mantle,Frank Robinson, andAlbert Pujols – and topped only byJim Thome’s 13.

The triple – that rarest and most exciting of all hits – was something of a subspecialty for Musial. He holds several National League records for triples: most with the bases loaded (7,Shano Collins has the American League record with 8); most seasons leading his league in triples (5); and is tied with many other National League players for twice unloading 20 triples in a season (he’s also the last, having done so in 1943 and 1946).

Musial received the ultimate reward for his magnificent career on January 21, 1969, with election to the Hall of Fame on the first ballot. Named on 93.2 percent of the ballots (317 of 340), he was the first player to receive 300 votes on a Hall of Fame ballot. One can only wonder what 23 presumably knowledgeable writers were thinking.

Musial held a position in the Cardinals’ front office for a few years. He was named general manager on January 23, 1967, but resigned in less than a year, on December 5. He’s the only general manager of a team that won the World Series in his sole year on the job. One gets the impression that he was never comfortable in management, his having more than once remarked, “I have a darn good job, but please don’t ask me what I do.”23

It was said of Ty Cobb when he retired that he left the game with more money and fewer friends than anyone before him. The line on Musial was that he left with more money and more friends than anyone before him. His friends weren’t just any friends, either. Having been somewhat active in Democratic politics at state and local levels through his friendship with activist and businessman Julius “Biggie” Garangani, he became acquainted with President John F. Kennedy, who presented Musial with a PT-109 pin, prompting The Man afterward to refer to the president as “my buddy.” Although they didn’t see each other often, the two men seem to have been genuinely friendly. Lyndon B. Johnson, having succeeded Kennedy, on February 26, 1964, named Musial his physical fitness adviser, an appropriate choice since Musial had always kept himself fit during and after his playing days.

Moreover, having been advised well and making many connections in the St. Louis area, Musial became active in business. His interests were diversified, but his primary focuses were on real estate and Stan and Biggie’s, the steak and seafood restaurant he and Garangani owned. In essence, Garangani ran the business while Stan made himself available to the patrons. Longtime friends, the two were involved in several other restaurants and the Ivanhoe Hotel in Miami Beach. Among other ventures, Musial owned a bowling alley withJoe Garagiola, called the Redbird Lanes.

In addition, Musial stayed in the public eye, going to major sports events like the Kentucky Derby and the Indianapolis 500 while maintaining his connection with the game that made him famous. He went to spring training to work with Cardinals hitters and promote goodwill talking to fans and signing autographs. He even joined the Society for American Baseball Research (SABR), in which he must have been the only member to list his expertise as “Hitting a Baseball!” Anyone who’s seen Stan’s ever-present smile and laughing eyes knows it’s his private little joke. Besides, it happens to be true.

As a general thing (to quote Missourian Huck Finn), the years treated the Musials well. As would anyone in his financial position, Stan was involved in numerous deals and investments, most of which worked out nicely. There were the inevitable health problems. Lil spent much of her time confined to a wheelchair, the result of heart trouble and arthritis. Stan suffered through a gastric ulcer (1983) and prostate cancer (1989) but recovered completely. He walked with a limp, though, owing to the removal of ligaments in his left knee. He made it to Cooperstown for most Hall of Fame inductions, serving for many years on the Veterans Committee, always smiling, and entertaining all with his harmonica.

Well into their 80s, Stan and Lil lived comfortably, reconnecting with Donora while enjoying their extended family in the city where he achieved fame and the adulation of baseball fans everywhere. The honors kept coming. In a correction of one of the great blunders in baseball history, he belatedly made the Mastercard All-Century Team in 1999.24 More significantly, he received the Presidential Medal of Freedom from Barack Obama in 2011.

Lillian Musial died in St, Louis on May 3, 2012, survived by four children, 11 grandchildren, and 12 great-grandchildren. She and Stan had been married for almost 72 years. A funeral Mass celebrating her life was held in the Cathedral Basilica of St. Louis on May 7.

Ravaged by Alzheimer’s and under hospice care, Stan Musial died in St. Louis on January 19, 2013, and lies with his beloved Lil in a private family crypt close to the Mausoleum at the Bellerive Heritage Gardens in Creve Coeur, part of Greater St. Louis.

The statue of Stan outside Busch Stadium reminds all who go to Cardinals games that he was “the perfect warrior … the perfect knight.”

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to Mark Armour, who toiled as my first editor, and to Bill Nowlin, who steered me through this updated version. Glen Sparks provided a superb late edit. Carl Riechers did a spectacular job of fact-checking. Len Levin’s final edit was, as usual, masterful. Their wisdom, kindness, and gentle prodding made this a better piece. It’s been a joy having their company along the way.

Jonathan Finkel found Derrick Goold’s article that explains the procedure of freezing Musial’s appendix.

As always, Judy is my best reader, my best editor, my best friend.

Thank you, all.

Photo credits

SABR-Rucker Archive.

Sources

In addition to the sources cited in the Notes, the author also consulted the Stan Musial files at the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown, New York. 

Bearce, Stephanie.Stan Musial: From Donora, PA, to St. Louis, MO and the Big Leagues.

(St. Louis: Reedy Press, LLC, 2016).

Benson, John. “Stan Musial–1948,” John Benson and Tony Blangino, eds.,Baseball’s Top 100: The Best Individual Seasons of All Time(Wilton, Connecticut: Diamond Library, 1995).

Broeg, Bob. “The Mystery of Stan Musial,”Saturday Evening Post,August 28, 1954.

Bullock, Steve. “The Statistical Impact of World War II on Position Players,” inThe National Pastime: A Review of Baseball History.23 (2003), 97-105.

Burns, Bob. “On the Field or Off, Stan Musial Is Everybody’s Favorite,”Catholic Boy,May 1963.

Burnes, Robert L. “Story Infuriates Musial,”St. Louis Globe-Democrat,July 14, 1980.

Cobb, Ty, with Joe Reichler. “Here’s Why Musial Tops ’EmAll!,”Baseball Stars,1953.

Crichton, Kyle. “Ace in the Hole,”Collier’s,September 13, 1947.

Flood, Curt, with Richard Carter.The Way It Is(New York: Pocket Books, 1971).

Huard, Kevin. “Stan ‘The Man’ Musial,”Sports Collectors Digest,March 15, 1991.

Johnson, Lloyd, and Miles Wolff, eds.The Encyclopedia of Minor League Baseball.2nd ed. (Durham, North Carolina: Baseball America, Inc., 1997).

Kahn, Roger. “The Man: Stan Musial Is Baseball’s No. 1 Citizen,”Sport,February 1958.

Lansche, Jerry.Stan the Man Musial: Born to Be a Ballplayer(Dallas: Taylor Publishing Company, 1994).

Mead, William B. “The Surgeon General of Baseball,” inThe National Pastime: A Review of Baseball History.22 (2002), 95-98.

Miles, Jack. “Milestones in Sports: Stan the Man,”Catholic Boy,October 1967.

Musial, Lillian (Mrs. Stan). “My Life with Stan,”Parade,July 13, 1958.

Musial, Stan, as told to Bob Broeg. “The Man behind the Man,”Look,April 21, 1964.

Musial, Stan, as told to Bob Broeg.The Man Stan Musial: … Then and Now (St. Louis: Bethany Press: 1977).

Musial, Stan.Stan Musial:“The Man’s” Own Story as told to Bob Broeg (Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1964).

Musial, Stan, Jack Buck, and Bob Broeg,We Saw Stars(St. Louis: Bethany Press, 1976).

Newman, Mark, and John Rawlings. “Man to Man,”The Sporting News,July 28, 1997. (Conversation on the art and craft of hitting with Musial and Tony Gwynn).

O’Neil, Paul. “Sportsman of the Year For 1957 the Editors ofSports IllustratedChoose Stan Musial,”Sports Illustrated,December 23, 1957.

Peary, Danny, ed.We Played the Game: 65 Players Remember Baseball’s Greatest Era, 1947-1964(New York: Hyperion, 1994).

Reichler, Joe. “Stan Musial’s Ten Greatest Days,”Sport,October 1954.

Robinson, Ray.Stan Musial: Baseball’s Durable“Man”(New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1963).

Ryhal, Gregory. Interview with Charles “Chuck” Schmidt at Beverly Healthcare of Bloomington, Indiana, October 6, 2003.

Selter, Ron. “Sportsman’s Park’s Right-Field Pavilion and Screen,”The Baseball Research Journal.32 (2004), 77-80.

Stanton, Joseph.Stan Musial: A Biography(Westport, Connecticut, and London: Greenwood Press, 2007).

Stewart, Wayne.Stan the Man: The Life and Times of Stan Musial(Chicago: Triumph Books, 2010).

Stockton, J. Roy. “Rookie of the Year,”Saturday Evening Post,September 12, 1942.

“That Man,”Time,September 5, 1949.

Treder, Steve. “War Begone,”The Hardball Times(www.hardballtimes.com). March 8, 2005.

(Web article projecting season statistics for Musial and other World War II veterans and Willie Mays).

Vaughn, Gerald F., “Jorge Pasquel and the Evolution of the Mexican League,”The National Pastime: A Review of Baseball History.12 (1992), 9-13.

Vecsey, George.Stan Musial: An American Life(New York: ESPN Books, 2011).

Vincent, David, Lyle Spatz, and David W. Smith,The Midsummer Classic: The Complete History of Baseball’s All-Star Game(Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press, 2001).

Weintraub, Robert.The Victory Season: The End of World War II and the Birth of Baseball’s Golden Age(New York, Boston, and London: Little, Brown and Company, 2013). E-book edition, 2013.

Notes

1 Paul Dickson, ed.,Baseball’s Greatest Quotations: An Illustrated Treasury of Baseball Quotations and Historical Lore,Rev. Ed. (New York: HarperCollins e-books), 390. From Dodger telecast from summer of 1989.

2 James N. Giglio,Musial: From Stash to Stan the Man (Columbia and London: University of Missouri Press, 2001), 4.

3 Giglio, 26-27.

4 Giglio, 27.

5 Giglio, 24-25.

6 Giglio, 27-28.

7 All statistics are from Baseball-Reference.com. Play-by-play game reports are from Retrosheet.org.        

8 Interview with Charles “Chuck” Schmidt at Beverly Healthcare of Bloomington, Indiana, October 6, 2003.

9 Curt Flood with Richard Carter,The Way It Is(New York: Trident Press, 1971), 47.

10 Giglio, 34-35.

11 Paul Warburton, “Stan Musial’s Spectacular 1948 Season,”Baseball Research Journal.30 (2001), 99-104.

12 Donald Honig,A Donald Honig Reader(New York, London, Toronto, Sydney, Tokyo: Simon & Schuster, Inc., 1988), 85.

13 Some sources list Boston’sErnie Lombardi with a .330 average as league leader, but he had only 309 at-bats.

14 Thomas E. Allen,If They Hadn’t Gone: How World War II Affected Major League Baseball(Springfield: Southwest Missouri State University, 2004), 63-64.

15 Giglio, 151.

16 Giglio, 155.

17 Peter Golenbock,The Spirit of St. Louis: A History of the Cardinals and Browns(New York: Avon Books, 2000), 383-386.

18 Giglio, 157.

19 Derrick Goold, “Checkup: Stan Musial’s ‘Frozen’ appendix [sic],”St. Louis Post-Dispatch,April 8, 2011.

20 Golenbock, 392. Schoendienst or Musial’s memory may have been a bit off because no such play can be found in

The Sporting News, New York Times,or Retrosheet.org.

21 As often happens with things mythical and legendary, the origins are cloaked in mystery. This seems to be the prevailing view, but St. Louis sportswriterBob Broeg remembered Brooklyn fans conferring the epithet on Musial in June 1946 after he had ravaged the Dodgers with an 8-for-12 performance in a three-game series. In a similar vein, Hall of FamerJoe Morgan told ESPN viewers that the name had come from Chicago fans after Musial had beaten up on the Cubs. Morgan’s is a minority view in that all other accounts give Brooklynites the honor. What is clear is that in baseball – as in the worlds of Homer, Virgil, King Arthur, Charlemagne, James Fenimore Cooper, and so on – honors, titles, and epithets are earned.

22 James,Historical Abstract,379-380.

23 “They Said It,” Sports Illustrated, June 20, 1988, 16.

24 Mastercard sponsored the selection of the All-Century Team as a popular vote. Unfortunately, many voters lacked sufficient knowledge of baseball history and elected several outstanding but lesser players over Honus Wagner, Lefty Grove, Warren Spahn, Christy Mathewson, and Stan Musial. Mastercard appointed a panel of baseball historians to correct the oversights.