Autograph collection validates baseball ritual

The Great Dodger Autograph Controversy has ended.

Good for the McCourts for having the sense to pay attention when they are pushed into a corner. Good for our intrepid pit bull reporter, T.J. Simers, for pushing them there.

The Dodgers’ new policy at Dodger Stadium that kept lower-paying ticket-holders and their children away from field-level access near the dugouts and expensive seats where players linger and sign, is history.

It was a bad idea, and we have the story of the universal kid to explain why.

It comes from a man named George, who lives in New York City. George is in possession of something he has titled “The Kid’s Collection,” and had the McCourts been running things 70 years ago at Yankee Stadium, Ebbets Field and the Polo Grounds, its existence might have been in jeopardy.

George is 55, runs a video production company and has minimal interest in sports memorabilia, although what he has may be one of the bigger mother loads unearthed in that category in some time.

George doesn’t even want his last name used because, by withholding it, his story cannot be construed as a “for sale” sign. Something isn’t for sale if there’s no name and phone number attached.

A few months ago, he had “The Kid’s Collection” authenticated by James Spence’s JSA Authentication, a New Jersey firm that is among the leaders in that. The next step was to auction it off, but that never felt right, and still doesn’t.

Now, George just wants to tell the story of “The Kid’s Collection.” The McCourts might even read it and understand much better why they got hit so hard on this issue and why their reversal was such a good call.

George’s grandfather, George I, was a sports bookmaker in the golden days of New York sports, the 1920s and ‘30s, when bookmaking was a legitimate job and when the Yankees, Dodgers and Giants played baseball there, and the best boxers in the world fought at Madison Square Garden.

“My grandfather lent money to Tim Mara [also a legal bookmaker at that time] to buy the New York Giants,” George says. “He didn’t want any part of the ownership because he didn’t think pro football would ever amount to anything.”

George I took his son, George II, along to baseball games and the fights. George II started collecting autographs, bringing them home and pasting them down with newspaper clippings of the game that day, or of the player who had autographed. Some of the signatures were displayed alongside George II’s New York City elementary school books.

George II gave his son, our current George III, his collection at age 12, about the same age he had gathered most of it. George III tossed it in a drawer, where it has remained for more than 40 years, until recently, when friends saw it and speculated on its worth, both monetarily and historically. George II died 14 years ago.

“To this day, only a handful of people have even seen it,” George III says.

Those who have are treated to 223 vintage signatures, 36 of them Hall of Famers. Included are Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Walter Johnson, Pie Traynor, Mel Ott and Mickey Cochrane, among many others.

On one page, with six other autographs, are signatures of both Ruth and Tom Zachary, the pitcher who gave up Ruth’s 60th home run.

“Today, the players are more like marketing machines,” George III says. “But in those days, the players were just men going to their jobs. They’d play, go in and shower, then walk out and sign a few autographs for the neighborhood kids on their way home.

“One day, my father and a few others were waiting after a game and Babe Ruth came out. He stopped to sign, and my father handed him a piece of paper and a pen.

“The pen didn’t work, so Babe gave it a shake. The ink spurted out all over Babe’s white silk shirt. Babe looked down at my father and my father thought he was dead. Babe looked at his shirt, took a deep breath and signed, then handed it to my father, told him never to ask him for another autograph, and went back into the clubhouse to get a new shirt.”

The collection includes autographs of many lesser-known players, and George III’s research has led to interesting story lines about them.

One was Sam “Sammy” Byrd, who was known as “Babe Ruth’s Legs” because he pinch-ran so much for the Bambino in Ruth’s waning years. Byrd later became a pro golfer and lost the 1945 PGA title, in match play, 4 and 3, to Byron Nelson.

Another was a Dodgers outfielder named Len Koenecke, who got drunk and unruly on an airplane, got into a ruckus with one of the pilots, and died when the pilot hit him over the head with a fire extinguisher.

George III says his research made the name on the sheets of paper come alive.

“I have this great shrine to this magical time of sport,” George III says. “It all taps into this universal kid, who was my father.”

On any given night this summer, autograph seekers will include hundreds of universal kids at Dodger Stadium. They will remain the backbone of a romanticism that carries baseball from year to year and generation to generation.

Without that romanticism, spring training is the fraud we all know it to be.

Without it, the sport does not bounce back from labor stoppages and Mitchell Reports and Roger Clemens in front of Congress.

Without it, the McCourts might still be feeding their family on profits from parking lots.

The Great Dodger Autograph Controversy came and went so fast that most people didn’t even notice. But for those who did, and those who understand and appreciate the rituals of the game, it was truly a signature moment.

--

Dwyre can be reached at bill.dwyre@latimes.com. For previous columns, go to latimes.com/dwyre.