Tabbed with one of the most unusual and recognizable names in sport, there may not be a more appropriate moniker for the Toledo Mud Hens of recent vintage.
A bird native to swamps and marshy areas, Mud Hens are bottom feeders, subsisting on plants and insect life in shallow ponds or among the cattails.
With the exception of a second-place finish in 1980 and a third-place finish in 1984, baseball's version of the Mud Hen has been at or near the bottom of the International League standings since 1969.
In the past 37 seasons, the Hens have won more games than they lost only eight times.
It wasn't always that way.
Before baseball returned to the Toledo area in 1965 after a nine-year hiatus, teams known as the Blue Stockings, Toledos, Sox and, yes, even the Mud Hens, were above .500 some 29 out of 68 times.
Yet (and some locals would say thankfully), Toledo's professional baseball history is so much more than wins and losses.
It's the story of major league baseball and a catcher who broke the color barrier before Jackie Robinson.
It's the likes of Casey, Mickey and Willie.
It's the history of a converted horse racing track, a place where the Mud Hens often came up lame.
It's memories of a ballpark once considered to be among the finest in baseball and the potential for another, the new Fifth Third Field, to reclaim that distinction.
Imagine a modern-day American League Central Division with the Cleveland Indians, Detroit Tigers, Kansas City Royals, Minnesota Twins, Chicago White Sox and the Toledo Mud Hens.
Sound farfetched? Not really.
Toledo was in the big leagues once; actually, twice.
In 1884 a team called the Toledos was one of 12 franchises in the American Association, a major league that included the Cincinnati Reds, Baltimore Orioles, St. Louis Browns and New York Metropolitans.
The Toledos catcher that year was Moses Fleetwood Walker. An African-American who graduated from Oberlin College, it was Walker, not Jackie Robinson, who is credited by baseball historians with being the first player of color to play in the major leagues.
Robinson is actually the third. Walker's younger brother, Welday, appeared in six games that season with Toledo as well.
The Toledos left the majors after one year because of poor crowds and returned in 1890 as the Black Pirates, only to again leave after one season because of money problems.
Professional baseball's early years in Toledo were fluid, with teams jumping from league to league and facility to facility. Crowds were sparse at times to watch players like Moses Walker catch the ball with their bare hands.
By 1901 the sport began to stabilize in the city. After playing in nine facilities during the first 14 seasons, the team now known as the Mud Hens settled in at Armory Park in downtown Toledo.
They stayed at the Spielbusch Avenue location until July 2, 1909. The next day the Hens moved to the corner of Monroe Street and Detroit Avenue, where construction had been completed on an 11,800-seat ballpark.
Although the Mud Hens would never again play in the major leagues, the city of Toledo finally had a big league ballpark.
Some fall in love when they're in their teens or early 20s.
Tom Clark was smitten with his first romance at the age of 9.
“It was beautiful,” said Clark, now a 63-year-old Toledo sports bar proprietor. “The grounds were unbelievable.”
Swayne Field was a grand old dame of 38 years when the Washington School student made the daily mile-and-a-half walk from his home to the ballpark at the corner of Detroit and Monroe.
He fell in love with her fastballs and curves.
“330 feet down the left-field line, 325 down the right field line and 400 to dead center,” said Clark in rapid-fire fashion. “We'd sit behind third base when the players were coming out and they'd tip their hat to you.”
Frank Gilhooley used to collect hats and bats at Swayne Field.
A batboy for the Hens from 1937-40, the retired WTVG television broadcaster spent another four years after that working as a clubhouse boy.
He began going to games with his father when the legendary Casey Stengel managed the club, from 1926 to 1931.
“Casey was big in the stock market,” said Gilhooley, 78, who still broadcasts Hens' games on the radio with Jim Weber. “They won the pennant in 1927 and came back with pretty much the same club in '28. They got off to a terrible start and they were in seventh or eighth place.
“One day they were ready to hand out the paychecks and Casey said, `I've never told you too much about the stock market, because I didn't know if you fellows could afford it. But if you've got a few extra dollars, I've got a tip for you. Grab all the New York Central [railroad] stock you can, because about 10 of you donkeys are going out of here on it!'”
If the train the players were riding needed coal for power, all its engineers had to do was go outside the left-field wall at Swayne Field. There, below a smokestack that read, “Light, Heat, Power,” was a coal pile for a Toledo Edison Co. substation.
Whether it was the neatly manicured field, or the billboards that promoted the likes of Gem safety razors and Folger's Wieners, there was something special about the ballpark, which was named after attorney Noah Swayne for his leasing of the land where the park was located.
Perhaps it was the chance to see visiting players like Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays or Toledo notables like Stengel, Bill Terry and lengendary multi-sport star Jim Thorpe, who batted .358 for the 1921 Hens.
Then again, it may have been the 1937 outfield of Babe Herman in left, Chet Morgan in center and Ed Coleman in right. The light-hitting Morgan was a regular because of his glove; he spent much of his time chasing down the balls that Herman and Coleman couldn't reach.
One day against St. Paul, the visitors exploded with a 10-run inning. Even Morgan couldn't chase down everything hit into the gaps.
“Morgan must have run 10 miles that inning,” Gilhooley said. “He came back in the dugout and told our manager, Fred Haney, `I don't mind playing all three positions, but on the first and the 15th, I'd appreciate all three checks.'”
Clark hadn't yet earned his first real paycheck when the love affair ended for the 17-year-old senior at Scott High School.
The Toledo Sox - who replaced the Mud Hens in 1953 when the Hens relocated to Charleston, W.Va. - moved to Wichita after the 1955 season and the wrecking ball moved in on Swayne Field one year later.
“I can remember going back down there when they were getting ready to tear her down,” Clark said. “A few tears came out that day.”
There were nights when the sound generated by the lights that illuminated the field at Ned Skeldon Stadium was louder than anything heard coming from the stands during a Hens game.
On many evenings, the loudest noise coming out of the former Fort Miami Fairgrounds harness track, which had been renovated in 1965 into a baseball field, was a tornado siren that was on the grounds and occasionally checked during games.
“When I pitched for Louisville, we'd turn in the pass list to [Mud Hens general manager] Gene Cook and I'd have 25 or 30 names on it,” said Stan Clarke, a 1978 Woodward High School graduate and South Toledo resident. “My catcher, Ray Stevens, saw the list one time and said, `You've got more names than they have fans coming to the games.'”
Lucas County Stadium, which was renamed in 1988 in honor of the now-deceased president of the county commissioners who spearheaded the drive to bring pro baseball back to Toledo, was part of a larger plan by the commissioners to provide recreational opportunities for the community.
The 125-acre fairgrounds was being used only once a year when Skeldon and others developed a physical plant that included claiming 75 acres for swimming, tennis, soccer, football and softball facilities.
The centerpiece of the Lucas County Recreation Center plan was a new home for professional baseball.
To say that Skeldon Stadium wasn't overly popular with many players and fans is akin to saying the Mud Hens weren't very competitive during their time in Maumee.
While the losses mounted, the complaints from players and fans grew. Athletes complained that crowds were too small, the center-field backdrop made it difficult to see the ball and the dressing rooms were out of date.
To get to the field, players had to walk through areas with fans. That was great for autograph seekers but something that's unheard of at the highest levels of pro ball.
When the occasional big crowd was attracted by promotional giveaways like shetland ponies or kazoos, fans made noise about long lines at the restrooms and concession stands.
“You know, I had no problems with that park at all,” Clarke said. “I thought it was fine.”
Clarke, who played in the major leagues for Toronto, St. Louis, Seattle and Kansas City, saw the facility as a player and as a fan.
Now 41, the left-hander went to games at the Rec Center as a child and then pitched there for Louisville and Syracuse, as well as for the 1988 Mud Hens.
“There weren't many that came out to the park, but that's not unusual for most cities,” said Clarke, now a sales representative for J.M. Packaging. “It's nice if it happens, but it doesn't usually happen in the minors.”
Winning is something that rarely happened at Skeldon for the Hens.
They won the IL playoff crown in 1967 after ending the regular season in third, then finished first in the regular season in 1968 but lost in the playoffs to Jacksonville.
Since then, Toledo finished higher than third just once - the 1980 edition managed by Cal Ermer that came in second.
The winningest manager in local baseball history, with 540 victories, was a grandfatherly type who spent eight seasons at Skeldon.
A life-long baseball man, Ermer would occasionally become so focused during the game that he'd forget things.
“In the fifth inning one night, [relief pitcher] John Verhoeven told Cal that he was leaving because his wife had gone into labor,” recalled Bruce MacPherson, a pitcher for the Hens from 1979-81 who now lives in Holland. “In the eighth inning, Cal called down to the bullpen and said to get Verhoeven warmed up.”
Although many could never warm to Skeldon Stadium, MacPherson never had that problem.
“When you get down to it, they're all pretty much the same,” said MacPherson, 47, a salesman for building materials firm Royalty, Mooney and Moses. “Besides, when you're playing, you don't really care what the park looks like.”
In many ways, Fifth Third Field provides a symbolic new foundation for Toledo baseball.
In the heart of downtown, it stands as a tribute to the city's baseball past, present and future for its fans and its players.
“Is it going to make it nicer for everyone?” Clarke asked. “Absolutely. This in my mind is the most important reason; fans want a major league experience and guys in Triple-A don't want to be in Triple-A, they want to be in the big leagues. They'll say, `If I have to be in the minors, will Fifth Third Field make it better?'
“Sure it will.”
It will also make for many new chapters in Toledo's baseball history.
“You can't forget Swayne Field,” said Clark, his eyes focused on a black and white photograph of the first ballpark he grew to love. “You can't forget the Rec Center either. They were both stops along the way. But I think this is going to be great.”
First Published April 6, 2002, 3:30 p.m.
