ITEM: Newspaper clipping from May 19, 1947

DESCRIPTION: Obituary of Hal Chase

BIOGRAPHY:   Hal Chase, a name synonymous with baseball from 1905 to 1919, stood out as the most controversial figure in the sport's annals. Remarkably, many who witnessed his prowess on the field dubbed him the finest defensive first baseman of all time. A native Californian, Chase ascended as the inaugural superstar for the New York Highlanders, the precursor to the Yankees. Yet, over time, he consistently overstayed his welcome with nearly every team he played for during his decade and a half in the major leagues.

While his dubious actions came to the forefront, legends of the game—names like Babe Ruth, Pants Rowland, Ed Barrow, Cy Young, and Bill Dinneen—unequivocally remembered him as the unmatched first baseman of their era. Nevertheless, his life came to a tragic conclusion in 1947, leaving behind a trail of broken marriages, an alienated son, and what many deem a baseball career brimming with squandered potential.

Born on February 13, 1883, in Los Gatos, California, Harold Homer Chase was the fourth offspring of James and Mary Chase, Maine natives who later settled in California. Shunning the family enterprise, Hal recognized his prodigious athletic prowess as his potential gateway to success. His early years were marked by playing stints with semi-professional teams surrounding San Jose, leading him to Santa Clara College—a bastion of West Coast collegiate baseball.

Santa Clara witnessed an anomaly in Chase. He frequently positioned himself as a second base or catcher, quite unconventional for a left-hander. Yet, his talent was undeniable. So profound was his impression that in 1903, the Los Angeles Angels of the Pacific Coast League offered him his inaugural professional contract.

The ensuing year saw Chase donning the Angels' colors, putting up a commendable .279 batting average as a first baseman, and invariably capturing the attention of eastern major league scouts. His transition to the Highlanders wasn't smooth, with the Angels initially resisting. However, compromise won, and Chase soon became the Highlander's foremost first baseman.

His time with the Highlanders seemed preordained. The team's proprietors, Frank Farrell and Big Bill Devery, embodied the murky ethics of early 20th-century New York. Farrell ran the city's preeminent illicit casino, while Devery's reputation was tarnished as a rogue police captain intertwined with the infamous Tammany Hall. Chase, their rising luminary, seamlessly assimilated into New York's fabric.

Chase's time with New York spanned eight and a half memorable seasons. He not only cemented his status as one of baseball's elites but also boasted accolades like ranking in the AL's top ten for RBIs four times, batting average thrice, and stolen bases twice. Moreover, his knack for mastering the hit-and-run earned him unparalleled respect as the league's premier batter in that discipline.

Back in 1907, Chase, feeling a tad audacious, dangled the possibility of skipping over to the renegade California State League. Farrell, not wanting to lose him, upped his paycheck. But a year later, in September 1908, Chase bailed on the Highlanders, making a beeline back to California. The rumor mill churned with tales of his discontent — mainly that Kid Elberfeld, not Chase, had been tapped to step in for Clark Griffith as the Highlanders' temporary manager. The drama didn't end there. By 1910, Chase abruptly abandoned the squad on a road trip, hurtling back to New York with one demand: Farrell had to sack manager George Stallings. Stallings, fiery as ever, countered by accusing Chase of slacking off. Farrell, choosing the lesser of two evils, showed Stallings the door and let Chase fill the void. That decision? Let's just say it raised quite a few eyebrows. Jimmy Austin didn't mince words, remarking, “God, what a way to run a ballclub!”

Prince Hal's stint as manager? Far from stellar. Post the 1911 season, he took a dignified exit. Fast forward to 1913, Chase clashed with the new sheriff in town, manager Frank Chance. Chance openly accused Chase of double-crossing both him and the team. At last, Farrell conceded; it was time for Prince Hal to pack up. They traded him to the White Sox in exchange for Babe Borton and Rollie Zeider. Borton's performance? Mediocre, to put it kindly. Zeider? Let's just say his feet weren't really in the game. Mark Roth put it colorfully: “The Yankees traded Chase to the White Sox for an onion and a bunion.”

Yet, Chicago wasn’t home for Chase for long. He swiftly transitioned to Buffalo's Federal League. Flipping the script, Chase cleverly leveraged baseball's “ten-day clause.” His interpretation irked organized baseball, but a court finally weighed in, labeling baseball's structure as a form of restrictive control.

In the Federal League, Chase sparkled. He finished the 1914 season with a .347 average and topped the charts in 1915 with 17 homers. But, as the Federal League crumbled post-1915, Chase's notoriety meant the American League gave him the cold shoulder. Redemption, however, came with the National League's Cincinnati Reds. There, in 1916, Chase truly shone, topping the NL in batting and hits and making notable strides in RBIs and slugging.

Yet, the wheel turned again in 1918. Reds' new manager Christy Mathewson suspended Chase, accusing him of game-fixing — even attempting to bribe players. During a tense hearing, with Mathewson overseas and key witnesses absent, Chase found an unlikely ally in John McGraw. Heydler, cornered, had no option but to let Chase slide. The drama, it seems, never really left Chase's side.

In a move that raised few eyebrows, freshly cleared Prince Hal swiftly joined McGraw's Giants, a team scrambling for a solid first baseman. McGraw opined in the spring, “I have found him a most agreeable chap, and I am sure we will get along without a hitch,” As fate would have it, Mathewson, fresh from France, hopped aboard the Giants as a coach.

But McGraw's sunny forecast? It went south pretty fast. By September 1919, Chase found himself benched. Officially, it was a pesky wrist injury. Unofficially, word was he'd tried bribing teammates, Zimmerman included. And just like that, his major league innings were over.

Come 1920, Chase was in California, swinging for semipro teams, when a bombshell dropped. Former teammate Lee Magee alleged that he and Chase had schemed to rig games back in 1918. August saw Chase in the limelight again, this time for allegedly bribing Pacific Coast League players. This led to him being blacklisted from California's organized baseball. But the real shocker? The eruption of the Black Sox Scandal in September. Chase's name was implicated, though he sidestepped the legal trappings in Chicago. Testimonies surfaced, some suggesting he'd profited big from betting on the 1919 World Series, but these claims soon faced scrutiny. Intriguingly, baseball's top dog, Kenesaw Mountain Landis, never officially kicked Chase out.

The 1920s found Prince Hal in Arizona, juggling semipro stints in places like Nogales and Douglas. It was in Douglas, in 1926, that the tale of Aimee Semple McPherson, the radio evangelist, unfolded. She alleged abduction by Mexican bandits, only for the plot to thicken, suggesting she'd eloped with her radio engineer. There was even talk, courtesy of reporter S. L. A. Marshall, that Chase toyed with the idea of blackmailing McPherson. Chase later shifted to Texas in 1927, and California in the subsequent years, all the while trying his luck as a gold prospector in Sierra Nevada.

Life, as they say, has a way of catching up. Chase's hard-partying ways, combined with a debilitating 1926 car crash, left him a shadow of his former self by 1933. Those who saw him in Tucson described a man seemingly broken.

The twilight of Chase's life was far from golden. He spent his years in Williams, California, on his sister Jessie's ranch. Her husband, Frank Topham, had little love for Chase, even building him a separate cabin. Hospitalized in the '40s, Chase gave interviews to The Sporting News, reflecting on his tumultuous life and hoping to set the record straight. While Chase denied arranging the Black Sox debacle, he admitted he’d had knowledge about it prior to happening and said he regretted keeping silent about it: “I did not want to be what I then called a ‘welcher.’ I had been involved in all kinds of bets with players and gamblers in the past, and I felt this was no time to run out.”  He added, “I’d give anything if I could start in all over again…. I was all wrong, at least in most things, and my best proof is that I am flat on my back, without a dime.”  While grudgingly admitting to mistakes in judgment, he was adamant, "I never bet against my own team." Chase's life came to a close on May 18, 1947, with his final resting place in San Jose's Oak Hill Memorial Park.