Ralph Kiner led the National League in home runs seven consecutive seasons before being dealt to the Cubs in 1953 to be teamed with another power-hitting outfielder, Hank Sauer. Center fielder Frankie Baumholtz had to cover a lot of territory between the two. Neither Kiner nor Sauer were known for their speed, and Kiner says he’d beat Sauer in a footrace any day. Funny, but Sauer says he could outrun Kiner. Anyway, Kiner loved Chicago but disputes a story that Baumholtz once caught a ball in foul territory. Kiner also challenges Phil Cavarretta’s claim about who got the Cubs to eliminate seats in center field and install a dark hitter’s background at Wrigley Field. Kiner joined the Mets as a broadcaster in 1962 and had a front row seat to the ’69 pennant race.

If Frankie did that [caught a ball in foul territory], he didn’t do it when I was there. He was a good center fielder. Sauer was the left fielder and when I came, they moved him to right. He resented the fact that he was demeaned about his defensive ability. I don’t think neither one of us was as slow as everyone thought. When you hit home runs, you don’t have to be fast.

I enjoyed playing for the Cubs. Of all the cities in the east, that’s my favorite by far. And the fact that you could play all day games, which I loved. The only problem with that was that it was really a tough park to hit in because the fans were in center field and they were wearing white shirts and it was really difficult to find the ball.

In a game at Wrigley, you could have four at bats and you’d lose six or seven pitches that you’d never see. If they happened to be at your head, you didn’t have time to get out of the way. All the players in the National League were complaining about the fact that it was tough to see the ball with all the white shirts out there.

I was the player rep for the National League. I went to Jim Gallagher, who was the general manager at the time, and I made a presentation that they make a change. His response was that it would cost the Cubs a lot of money because they’d lose the seats. We weren’t drawing a lot of people at that time. From a legal standpoint, I was the guy who got it done. Cavarretta had nothing to do with it.

You’ll never believe this, but at one time, Ernie [Banks] never said one thing. When he joined the Cubs, he was really a quiet guy and obviously he had a lot of talent but was very raw. He gives me credit—although I don’t think I had much to do with it—but he gives me credit for helping him learn about major league pitchers. He was a shortstop then. At that time, he was really a pretty raw player, but he, of course, developed into one of the great ones.

I remember in spring training we used to talk a lot about what the pitchers were trying to do, and trying to get him out, and the things he had to learn about the opposing pitchers, and what have you. It was something he didn’t have any idea about. When you look at that ballclub, we had a lot of talent. We just didn’t have enough pitching to carry us through.

I don’t remember anybody getting on Ernie Banks at all. Let’s put it this way—they didn’t get on him any more than they did on any of the rest of us. Ernie was just a player coming in and the Cubs had Gene Baker at second base. It wasn’t that big a deal. He did handle it well, whatever there was, but by ’53 it was not unusual to have half black players on the field.

We had Sauer and Ransom Jackson, and Cavarretta was the manager. He was the first guy to ever get fired in spring training. He went in to see Wrigley and I guess they asked, “Where is this team going to finish?” and he said, “Last.” And Wrigley didn’t think that was too smart and that’s the reason he got fired. He was a hard-nosed player and a great one. Then Stan Hack took over the job. He was a very easygoing guy and a good guy to have around. Phil hated to lose and he was very honest, and that was the reason he got fired.

One thing I remember about Hank—every time he did well they would shower him with tobacco in right field. Bags of tobacco. He chewed tobacco. When I hit a home run, they’d throw Wrigley spearmint gum to me. I tried tobacco once and got so sick, I never did it again.

Hank was the No. 1 favorite, there’s no question about that. When I came, it was with mixed emotions, because in ’52, Hank and I tied for the home run championship. When I got there in ’53, maybe there was fan resentment against me that I was going to replace him.

We used to pal around together. We went to this place in Chicago, Eli’s, and that’s where all the players used to hang out. I still go there. It was a real political hangout. All the top politicians would hang out there.

It was common for all the guys to get together and pal around together. Now they don’t do that. We did it because we traveled by train and the team was always together. You’d have your own private dining car, and talk baseball, and play cards, or whatever. It was like family talk. Did anybody tell you about the psychologist? It was ’53 or ’54, and Wrigley called in a psychologist to talk to the players. We had to attend these lectures about the “will to win” and how you should think. I remember one player, who was not really a star but a player on the team, and as this psychologist was talking about how you’re a pitcher on the mound, you’ve got to think about getting that batter out. We’re sitting there listening and I’m thinking, this is junk. This one guy said, “What if you’re pitching to Stan Musial and he thinks he can hit you?” That was the end of the meeting.