"The management of the company is to be placed for a term of years in the hands of not more than five men, to be selected by the stockholders and designated as a Board of Regents. From this board of managers a President and a Treasurer are to be chosen, though the Secretary need not necessarily be a member of the Board of Regents. The salary of the President must not exceed $25,000 per year, and the Treasurer not over $12,500. As the eight clubs will lose their identity by being merged into and becoming a part of the National League Trust, the different clubs will be under the direction of the managers, who will each receive a salary of $5,000 per year."
Of course, this newspaper clipping, startling as it was, did not convey to the world in general what it did to some of us who had long been identified with the game, both as to its playing and its management. To us it meant the immediate syndicating of Base Ball along lines identically the same as those which have disgraced control of the theatrical business in America for many years. It meant the introduction of a system whereby one man qr a half-dozen men, working with him to a single purpose, might dominate the entire business—and with villainous brutality. It meant the blacklisting of players without cause; the boycotting of cities without excuse. It meant, in short, what has been aptly termed "Syndicate" methods, and the general demoralization of our national sport in its every interest.
It was at this juncture that the managers of the Chicago, Philadelphia, Pittsburg and Brooklyn Clubs appealed to me to come to their aid. Before I arrived at the Convention, without my connivance, knowledge or consent, the name of A. G. Spalding had been placed in nomination for the Presidency of the National League. I did not desire that office. I had quite enough on hand to engage all my time and attention without the added cares
