| | CINCINNATI -- The 1990 World Series was set to start within the
hour, and in her private box above Riverfront Stadium, Marge Schott
paced and smoked without a pause. Her nervousness was understandable.
This would be her defining moment as owner of the oldest franchise in
professional baseball.
Her team, the Cincinnati Reds, would ultimately do its part in high
style, sweeping the much-favored Oakland A's for a resounding triumph
that, under less compromising circumstances, would have bestowed upon
Schott the unofficial title that she so evidently craved -- queen of
the Queen City.
|  | | Marge Schott and Schottzie were sometimes inseparable in Cincinnati. |
For her, the world championship was a double-jeweled crown, a
sacred artifact for Cincinnati and a glittering symbol for the
personal achievement of a bold woman in an old-boys' world.
It would be, she hoped, the centerpiece of her legacy.
And yet, as she paced and puffed that early October evening nine
years ago, Schott couldn't imagine how defining the moment would turn
out to be. Now, just days after she grudgingly signed the team over to
Carl Lindner and his partners, we can look back over her 15
controversial years and see that the 1990 World Series was Marge
Schott in a nutshell.
Fay Vincent, the commissioner of baseball, was with her on the
memorable night of Game 1. He was there as she marched back and forth
in the box, awaiting the arrival of two particular dignitaries -- first
lady Barbara Bush, who was coming to throw out the first pitch while
her husband attended to the matters of the Gulf War, and Schottzie,
her beloved St. Bernard.
The first lady arrived first, and when Schottzie was brought to the
room moments later, Schott approached Mrs. Bush and formally
introduced them. "Schottzie," she said, "say hello to Barb. This is
Millie's mom."
Vincent was also there when Schott made her way toward the field
microphone just before the start of the game. Because of her thirst
for publicity and her penchant for saying the wrong thing, baseball
and CBS had conspired to keep Schott away from the microphone.
She had foiled them once, before the TV cameras were rolling,
dedicating the Series to the American soldiers "in the Middle West."
Apprised of her error, she was determined to make amends in front of
the entire nation. When the crowd was asked to rise for the national
anthem, Schott made her move.
"I tried to stop her," Vincent recalled. "But she had a very
choice word, then went onto the field and made a fool of herself."
What she did, specifically, incredibly and unforgettably, was pay
homage "to our wonderful women and men over in the Far East that are
serving us ..." The words slurred, but that much was unmistakable.
"I think she was not in control of herself that night," said
Vincent, who would be astonished one more time before the evening was
out.
It was when Mrs. Bush asked Schott when she initially began to love
baseball.
"Mrs. Schott said, 'I hate it.' Barbara Bush was really stunned,"
Vincent said.
The whole episode was all very Marge -- the irrepressible desire to
get the public's attention and endear herself to it, the brass to
verbally flip off the commissioner, the cigarettes, the dog, the
startling obliviousness to the world around her, and the slurring and
staggering that observers couldn't help but notice.
Even as the Series ended in unexpected glory, Schott couldn't step
aside and let the legacy write itself. She was so angry that the Reds
won in four games -- owners don't start making most of their money
until the fifth -- that she refused to buy food or drinks for the
celebration party. She fussed and fumed all the way home.
A few days later, Schott declined to provide Eric Davis with a
medically equipped airplane so he could return to Cincinnati to nurse
the kidney he lacerated while diving for a fly ball in the Series.
At first blush, it was an odd but simple case of a fiscally
conservative owner taking a hard line with an injured ballplayer. But
it would become much more than that when the big issue hit the fan.
In retrospect, it was probably inevitable that one of her own
employees would precipitate her undoing. Schott was notoriously
cold-hearted toward those in her trenches, firing many and making
others uncomfortable with her demands and personal inquiries. But when
she dismissed controller Tim Sabo late in 1991, Sabo retaliated with a
wrongful-firing suit that would throw open the doors of Schott's
office, revealing glimpses of her that brought shudders to baseball,
Cincinnati and America.
The most damning testimony was about Schott's reference to Davis
and Dave Parker as her "million-dollar n------." That remark was the
leading edge of a whole new persona for Schott, who, through
insensitive characterizations that she inexplicably continued to
spout, was depicted across the country as a chronic bigot.
There was the swastika arm band in her drawer, the complaint about
Asian-born children outperforming American-born students in American
schools and her reference to men with earrings -- "fruits," she
called them.
Eventually, it was the critical mass of intolerance -- along with
allegations of improprieties concerning her automobile dealerships --
that prompted baseball to suspend Schott from her executive duties and
ultimately force her to relinquish the team.
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“ |
I think it will be a long time before the short-term impressions
fade. Unfortunately, most of those are negative. I
think Mrs. Schott tried hard to represent her town and her fan base,
and a lot of the fans did love her, but we all have demons and hers
were overwhelming.
” |
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—
Former baseball commissioner Fay Vincent
|
Thursday's official transaction formalized an outcome that she
doggedly delayed but had no chance of preventing.
For a while, at least, the ignoble conclusion to Schott's eventful
ownership is bound to dominate her legacy, much as Richard Nixon's
presidential resignation obscures the rest of his.
"I think it will be a long time before the short-term impressions
fade," Vincent said. "Unfortunately, most of those are negative. I
think Mrs. Schott tried hard to represent her town and her fan base,
and a lot of the fans did love her, but we all have demons and hers
were overwhelming."
It's possible, of course, that Schott's image will benefit from
public forgetfulness and the passage of time. It's possible that, in
retirement, she will seem a more likable character, much as she was
before she bought the team at Christmas-time 1984 and during the
honeymoon thereafter.
As a minority partner, she had been a blithe spirit, a fan-minded
personality whose antics and openness were a refreshing contrast to
the previous owners -- the button-down, button-mouthed Williams
brothers.
Her purchase of the team shortly followed Pete Rose's return to it
-- an event for which she had publicly campaigned -- and with both of
them in place (Rose as player-manager), Schott seemed to view the town
as his and hers.
There is cruel irony in the fact that both were ultimately kicked
out of baseball, fighting their fates to the bitter end. Both were
Cincinnati icons brought down by bad judgment, stubbornness and
deep-seated habits they acquired growing up here.
Like Rose, Schott was very much a product of her Cincinnati
upbringing. She came from a German, Catholic heritage, old-fashioned,
proud and conservative to the bone. Although she and her deceased
husband, Charlie Schott, never had children, Marge's family
orientation was basic to her personal and management style.
In that light, her greatest service to Cincinnati may have been the
manner in which she resisted a contemporary, corporate environment at
the ballpark. There was some charm in that, although the players may
not have appreciated it as they watched carefully where they stepped
on the field. Between her and Schottzie, the Reds were a mom-and-poop
organization.
"At some level," said John Helyar, author of the "Lords of the
Realm," a book about baseball executives, "Marge was the kind of
owner people like. She was indigenous to her community. She was
emblematic of the old hands-on owner who wrote every check and checked
every paper clip.
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“ |
People will remember she did some very negative things, but I think
they're going to focus on the fact that she was willing to hold down
prices for tickets and hot dogs and she continued the family
atmosphere at the ballpark.
” |
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—
University of Cincinnati historian Kevin Grace
|
"She was also a character, with the things she said and those
silly St. Bernards."
Many of Schott's management eccentricities -- the dimming of lights,
the recycling of gifts, the disdain of scouts, the interest in wives,
the disinterest in baseball (she thought the Kansas City Royals were
in the Reds' division) -- will be largely forgotten in a few years.
Even now, Schott has a chance to at least take some of the edges off
her legacy.
"It'll all soften in time," said historian Kevin Grace, who
teaches social history of baseball at the University of Cincinnati.
"People will remember she did some very negative things, but I think
they're going to focus on the fact that she was willing to hold down
prices for tickets and hot dogs and she continued the family
atmosphere at the ballpark.
"I really believe that if she plays her cards right, she could go
out as the grand old lady of baseball. If she can go back to being a
fan, that will help her image tremendously."
The fact is, Schott's legacy may not yet be complete. Among other
unfinished business, there is the unfolding matter of the current ball
club and its improbable pursuit of a playoff spot. She had virtually
nothing to do with its inspired formation, of course, but posterity
will not realize it.
In that respect, Schott's legacy is likely to benefit from the
suspension she has served since 1996. With her gone from the
day-to-day scene, the Reds have begun to rebuild their scouting
department and restock their farm system. The record will show that
she left the organization in good shape. Much better than the state it
was in when she took over.
She can even say that in 1990 she took the team to a world
championship, although it might be wise not to bring that up.
Lonnie Wheeler writes for the Cincinnati Post. | |
ALSO SEE
Attorneys seek to question Schott about racial views
Schott in the foot: Marge's reign of error
Schott era ends as owners approve sale of Reds
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