By David Jordan

Elwood Pierce Wheaton, lefthanded all the way, was born in Philadelphia in 1914, played in 37 games for the Athletics, seven in the outfield at the end of the 1943 season, then thirty games in 1944, eleven of them as a pitcher. In the early 1980s, Woody sat down and talked with writer Harrington “Kit” Crissey about wartime ball with the Mackmen and teammates like George Kell, Bobo Newsom, and JoJo White. Kit has permitted us to reprint the Wheaton interview from his book, Teenagers, Graybeards and 4-F’s, volume 2. Woody Wheaton passed away in Lancaster, Pa., on December 11, 1995.

“I was manager, outfielder, pitcher – anything you can name – for the Lancaster Red Roses of the Interstate League in 1943. It was some team; in fact, some league. Because of the wartime draft situation, there were many former major and high minor league players in that circuit. Les McCrabb, the former A’s pitcher, was with Montreal, trying to get back to the majors with the Dodgers. He was a farmer in the Lancaster vicinity. When his draft status was threatened by a return to Montreal, he stayed close to home and played with us. Other former or future major leaguers on the club included Billy DeMars, Lew Flick, Major Bowles, Steve Gerkin, and George Kell. [Each of these, it should be noted, was a future Athletic.]

“Kell hit .396 for us that year. He was always a good, steady player. He did a jig up there at the plate, and didn’t look as though he should be as good as he was. Ninety percent of the balls he hit were to right field. It wasn’t until later that he learned to pull the ball more. I played every day even though I managed the club. Three out of every four, I was the centerfielder. I hit .325, drove in 103 runs and scored 106. I pitched on the fourth day, and had a 13-3 record, the best percentage in the league. We won the pennant and defeated both the A’s and Phillies in exhibitions. At the end of the season, the A’s bought me, Flick, Bowles and Kell.

“The thing I remember best about spring training in ’44 was our game against the Yankees in a driving snowstorm. It was coming down so hard you could barely tell which of the white blobs was the ball. In Frederick, we didn’t have a training table, where all the players had to eat together. We ate at random during dinner time at the hotel. I was playing right field when practice began, but Jo-Jo White, the veteran centerfielder, asked Mr. Mack if I could be moved to center. Jo-Jo was getting old and wanted less ground to cover.

“I started in center field for the first eight games of the regular season. The A’s won five of them, and I was instrumental in winning four of the five. I broke up the eighth game with a hit in the sixteenth inning against the Red Sox in Boston. We returned to Philadelphia when that series was over and had no game scheduled on Monday; however, we reported to Shibe Park for a workout at 10 a.m. Pitching coach Earle Brucker came out of the dugout, walked up to me, and said, ‘Well, the Old Man just turned an outfielder over to me to make a pitcher out of him. It’s you.’

“I had pitched in high school; in a game with Elmira late in the 1937 season; and the year before at Lancaster, and now I was going to do it in the big time! As it turned out, I had an 0-1 record with the A’s in ’44. After Mr. Mack decided to switch me, I didn’t pitch in a regular game until six weeks later. The first three weeks I pitched batting practice to get into shape. The next three I spent in the bullpen, getting up and sitting down several times without getting the call, until we got back to Boston. I relieved Jesse Flores in the fourth inning against the Red Sox, and proceeded to allow no runs for about the first twenty innings I pitched.

“Later on, we were in St. Louis. The Browns were in the process of winning their first pennant in history, and one of their pitchers, Bob Muncrief, hadn’t allowed us a run in twenty-seven innings. Mr. Mack came up to me after the final game of that particular series and said, ‘My boy, you’ve been doing a wonderful job in relief. I’m going to start you in a game in Philadelphia. I’m not sure which one it will be, but I’ll let you know.’ Jo-Jo White was standing next to me, and when he heard that, he laughed out loud. Having been around for several years, he knew what was going on.

“’What are you laughing about?’ I asked.

“’Don’t you know what he’s doing?’

“’No, I don’t.’

“’Well, you’re going to pitch on a certain day in Philadelphia, but Mack doesn’t know which one it’ll be, right? It’ll be the day Muncrief pitches.’

“He was right. I did face Muncrief in Philadelphia. I pitched a complete game but lost, 4-1. The first batter grounded out, the second one walked, the third went out, and the fourth walked. Up came Junior Stephens, who was having a good year at the plate. I ran the count to two-and-two on him, then threw a pitch that would have hit him in the ear if he hadn’t belted it into the upper deck in left for a three-run homer. That was my one decision of the year.

“I thought Connie Mack was a great man and a good manager, but he was in his eighties and had trouble remembering things. I recall sitting in a Cleveland hotel lobby when he came over and, in all seriousness, asked, ‘Young man, you look familiar. Do I know you?’

“Among the players on the ’44 A’s team, Bobo Newsom stands out. He lost four games in a row by a 1-0 score. Each time he was taken out for a pinch hitter. I was in the bullpen, just after my switch to pitching, when the third of those four games was played. Mr. Mack decided to hit for Bobo in the ninth inning. Bobo asked him who he was going to put up there. Mr. Mack looked around and replied, ‘Well, I have Charlie Metro, Ford Garrison, Larry Rosenthal…I don’t know, I haven’t made up my mind.’ Bobo said, ‘If you’re going to take me out of the game, put in a good hitter. You’ve got the best one on the club sitting down in the bullpen.’ He meant me. After that, I did most of the pinch-hitting the rest of the season. By the way, the A’s rose from the cellar to a tie for fifth place that year.”

Late in the 1944 season, Connie Mack sent Wheaton, Lew Flick, Bill Burgo and Joe Rullo and a bundle of cash to Milwaukee in the American Association for outfielder Hal Peck. Woody Wheaton’s big league career was over at the age of thirty.