As one who has been connected with both ends of the Base Ball problem—with reasonable success I may fairly claim—it has ever been my fixed belief that, like every other form of business enterprise, Base Ball depends for results upon two interdependent divisions, the one to have absolute control and direction of the system, and the other to engage—always under the executive branch—in the actual work of production. The theory is as true in the production of the game of Base Ball as in the making of base balls or bats.
As a surface proposition, it was true, of course, that nobody would give up money to the "office force" of Base Ball for its services alone. But it was equally true that the game had to give up something to the men in these positions; for the man in the box-office, the man at the turnstile and the man at the grandstand are just as essential to the game's prosperity and perpetuity as is he in the pitcher's box or he on first base. And especially is the man absolutely essential who has a bank account to meet pay-rolls, ground rents and the multiplied expenditures on account of the game, which those not called upon to face them are too prone to overlook.
The National Brotherhood of Base Ball Players had been originally organized by John M. Ward in 1885. Its declared purpose, at the beginning of its career, was simply fraternal, and had to do rather with the relations between players, as such, than with those between players and the clubs to which they belonged. The effect of this organization, however, was to breed dissatisfaction; for its meetings afforded most excellent opportunities for the