Scandal, Survival, and the Century League’s Great Reckoning: The Tumultuous Season of 1877
By any measure, 1877 was a year unlike any other in the young history of the Century League. What began with optimism and full schedules ended in chaos, controversy, and the dissolution of nearly half the circuit. If 1876 was the league’s grand coming-out party, 1877 was the hangover that followed.
At the center of the storm stood William Whitney, ever the resolute steward of his baseball brainchild. The Chicago magnate had guided the Century League through its inaugural season with firm leadership and a clear vision. But even he could not have foreseen the storm that gathered in Detroit.
The Woodwards’ Fall from Grace
The Detroit Woodwards, owned by the conservative and profit-minded Horace Sutherland, entered the season with what many considered the most balanced roster in the loop. But talent failed to translate into wins. Detroit dropped 11 of 12 games in one confounding stretch, drawing whispers that something was amiss.
The whispers became shouts when pitcher Patrick O’Hanlon and outfielder Jake Sherman confessed to intentionally throwing games for gambling interests. They implicated two teammates, backup infielder Ray Preston and outfielder Ed Peacher, the latter hitting just .188 on the season, in a scheme that scandalized the league. Sutherland swiftly suspended all four players.
Whitney, with support from club owners and league loyalists, upheld the suspensions and declared a lifetime ban on all four men. It was the first major disciplinary action in league history, and one that sent shockwaves through the baseball world. Appeals were filed, but Whitney’s word was final. “The Century League will abide no dishonor,” he declared.
The damage, however, was done. Sutherland, never one to tolerate bad investment, folded the Woodwards after the season’s end. Their absence would be keenly felt, on the field, and on the ledger.
Boston and New York Bow Out
The Boston Pilgrims fared no better on the diamond, finishing dead last once again. Owner Ezra Whitcomb, wearied by two years of futility, attempted to fold the club in July. Whitney intervened, coaxing Whitcomb to complete the season, though Boston went dark for nearly two weeks before returning to the field.
Despite Whitney’s efforts, the writing was on the wall. Boston disbanded at season’s end, joining the New York Knights, who folded not due to failure but financial misfortune. Owner Lucius Belmont, a Wall Street man more than a base ball man, saw his fortune collapse in a market downturn and chose to withdraw from the sport altogether.
That left Whitney with a league in tatters: only three clubs remained, the stalwart Chicago Chiefs, the ever-steady Philadelphia Centennials, and the scrappy Brooklyn Unions. Two of the largest cities in the country, New York and Boston, were suddenly without professional clubs.
The Fight to Survive
Whitney responded the only way he knew how: rebuild and press on. A new version of the Boston Pilgrims was quickly arranged, though none of the previous players would return. Two entirely new clubs were hastily assembled, one based in Baltimore, the other in Washington. While they provided short-term relief, neither would last.
On the field, however, there was some continuity. The Chicago Chiefs, under the dual leadership of pitcher-manager Fritz Handelman, claimed their second straight pennant, edging out the Centennials by two games. Handelman, who had started every game in ’76, scaled back his workload but still won 29 of the club’s 37 victories. Rookie Steve Robertson filled in admirably when called upon.
Offensively, second baseman Jack Lewis remained the league’s most reliable bat, hitting .317, good for second-best behind Philadelphia catcher Jack Wakeham, who captured the batting title at .320.
Legacy of a Turbulent Year
The 1877 season will be remembered not for its champions, but for its scandals, stumbles, and the stern justice meted out by William Whitney. The league's very survival was in question, and yet, survive it did.
As the sun sets on a year that tested the mettle of base ball’s young institutions, one thing is certain: the Century League, scarred though it may be, lives on, and so too does the vision of the man who built it.