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Love and Loss: The Short Life of Ray Chapman
The son of a coal miner from a small Illinois town, Cleveland Indians shortstop Ray Chapman lived the American dream until his untimely death at age twenty-nine. In his brief life, he reached the pinnacle of baseball success as the best shortstop in the American League. While many professional ballplayers struggled with meager salaries, the handsome Chapman had married heiress Kathleen Daly, one of Cleveland’s wealthiest women. With a child on the way and an executive job in the offseason, Chapman was moving toward a privileged place in society until an errant fastball fractured his skull and ended his life the next day. Late in the 1920 pennant race, the Indians were in New York for a key series against the Yankees. New York pitcher Carl Mays threw a high hard one that Chapman could not evade. He was taken to a nearby hospital, where doctors tried in vain to save his life. The tragedy did not end there. His widow took her own life eight years later, and their daughter, Rae, subsequently died from meningitis. Today, people visit Chapman’s impressive grave in Cleveland’s Lake View Cemetery, leaving baseballs and gloves in his memory. Though gone over a hundred years, he is well remembered as a Cleveland icon. This book goes far beyond the well-worn accounts of Chapman’s untimely death to illustrate the fullness of his short life.
190 pages, Paperback
Published September 3, 2024
About the author
Scott H. Longert
8 books6 followersScott H. Longert, an avid baseball historian, has an undergraduate degree from the Ohio State University and an M.A. degree in American History from Cleveland State University. He has spent many years in the history field serving as the Sports Archivist for the Western Reserve Historical Society and Site Manager for Shandy Hall, an 1815 home in northeast Ohio. Scott was a Park Ranger for the National Park Service, stationed at the James A. Garfield National Historic Site until his recent retirement.
Scott has been a freelance writer for twenty- five years, publishing news articles on baseball history for The Cleveland Plain Dealer Sunday Magazine, The National Pastime, The Baseball Research Journal and TimeLine Magazine.
In addition to writing, Scott is an accomplished speaker, presenting talks on Cleveland baseball history and League Park. He spoke at the 100th anniversary ceremony of Addie Joss's perfect game, held on the grounds of historic League Park. Scott enjoys speaking to groups and organizations all around northeast Ohio. Check the home page for dates and times.
As a huge Indians fan Scott and his wife Vicki attend many games each summer, patiently waiting for another World Series appearance. Although it finally happened in 2016 both Scott and Vicki will remain loyal fans until the end of time.
Scott has been a freelance writer for twenty- five years, publishing news articles on baseball history for The Cleveland Plain Dealer Sunday Magazine, The National Pastime, The Baseball Research Journal and TimeLine Magazine.
In addition to writing, Scott is an accomplished speaker, presenting talks on Cleveland baseball history and League Park. He spoke at the 100th anniversary ceremony of Addie Joss's perfect game, held on the grounds of historic League Park. Scott enjoys speaking to groups and organizations all around northeast Ohio. Check the home page for dates and times.
As a huge Indians fan Scott and his wife Vicki attend many games each summer, patiently waiting for another World Series appearance. Although it finally happened in 2016 both Scott and Vicki will remain loyal fans until the end of time.
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September 30, 2025
In “Love and Loss: The Short Life of Ray Chapman,” Scott H. Longert tells the story of the only man in the history of Major League Baseball who was killed by a pitched ball. (He may be the only player in Major League history who died as a result of injuries sustained during a game, but that is less clear.) Cleveland Indians shortstop Ray Chapman was hit on August 16, 1920 by a beanball thrown by Yankees pitcher, Carl Mays, while the two teams were in the midst of a heated pennant race; Chapman died in a New York hospital the following day. While I long have been aware of this incident, the story turns out to be more complex, more interesting, and much sadder than I ever imagined – in part because the Indians achieved Chapman’s lifelong dream of winning the World Series just a couple of months after his untimely death at the age of 29.
Longert is the author of several books on Cleveland baseball history. He earlier wrote a biography of Addie Joss, the Cleveland pitcher who died of meningitis in 1911 – coincidentally, a year before Chapman played his first Major League game. So, one might argue that Longert has a penchant for the morbid in his choice of baseball topics. As with all of Longert’s books, “Love and Loss” is meticulously researched and extremely detailed.
The level of detail in the book is both a blessing and a curse. In the century that has passed since his death, Chapman has become essentially a footnote in the history of the game – the guy who was killed by an errant pitch. Longert gives us the full picture. Chapman had a fascinating life and career -- a classic rags to riches story. Virtually every page contains memorable details about Chapman – star player, fan favorite (especially among kids), respected teammate, and all-around good guy – and the “dead ball” era in which he played. But Longert sometimes gets lost in the details. The book contains countless descriptions of Chapman’s daring base running, sparkling fielding, and timely hitting. Those accounts might be of interest if you were reading about a game you attended yesterday. But it’s hard to stay focused when you’re reading game-by-game descriptions of contests played before you were even born.
Ray Chapman was born in Kentucky in 1891. His father, a coal miner, moved to Herrin, Illinois in search of higher wages when Ray was still a child. Ray was more interested in baseball than in school and frequently played hooky. While still in his teens, Ray played for a succession of minor league teams until landing in Toledo in 1912. There began a series of developments that made it appear that Chapman was destined to lead a charmed life. As luck would have it, the Toledo team was owned by the same man who owned the Cleveland Naps (soon to become the Indians). Recognizing Ray’s potential, the owner brought Ray to the big leagues at the end of the 1912 season. He remained there for the rest of his playing days.
Good luck followed Ray to Cleveland. He met and later became engaged to Katy Daly, perhaps the most “eligible” young woman in town at the time. Katy was the daughter of Martin Daly, president of East Ohio Gas and a confidant of John D. Rockefeller. Those were different times. Ballplayers at the turn of the 20th century were not independently wealthy; they lived in rooming houses and needed to find off-season jobs. Although Ray was a blue collar guy, Martin – a devoted baseball fan -- did not see Ray as unworthy of his daughter. Nor did Martin – a devout Catholic – hold Ray’s Protestant faith against him. Ray’s connection to Martin conferred advantages that other players did not have. At the time of Ray’s death, Martin was building an elegant home as a wedding present for Ray and Katy, and Martin had secured for Ray a job as secretary-treasurer of the Pioneer Brass and Alloy company so that he could support Katy in the manner to which she had become accustomed.
The wedding in the fall of 1919 was the social event of the season, extensively covered by local and out of town newspapers. For Katy, there were several weeks of nonstop elegant bridal parties. Ray’s bachelor party was hosted by Tris Speaker – then player-manager of the Indians and Ray’s best friend – at the elegant Hotel Winton. Guests were served top-shelf Italian food prepared by in house Master Chef Boiardi – yes, THAT Chef Boiardi.
But everything changed on August 16, 1920, when the Indians were at the Polo Grounds playing the Yankees. Late in the game, Yankees pitcher Carl Mays threw a pitch high and inside to Chapman. Accounts of the incident consistently report that Ray made no effort to get out of the way. No one knows why Ray failed to take evasive action. Speculation is that Ray didn’t pick up the ball as it neared the plate – the day was overcast – or that he was expecting a different pitch. Whatever the explanation, the pitch hit Ray squarely in the temple. Remember that there were no batting helmets in those days. After lying in the dirt for several minutes, Ray managed to sit up and was then helped to his feet. On the way to the clubhouse, Ray again collapsed and was carried to the clubhouse by his teammates. A couple of doctors saw him there, recognized the seriousness of the injury, and called for an ambulance. X-rays showed that the pitch had fractured Ray’s skull. Several procedures were performed at the hospital, but to no avail. Ray died the following day.
Whether Mays intended to hit Chapman has never been determined; Mays denied it. But Mays had a reputation among players as a headhunter. So, while Mays may not have intended to hit Chapman, throwing high and tight was in keeping with his reckless approach to the game. There was initial outrage directed to Mays in the aftermath of Chapman’s death, but it didn’t last long. The standards for acceptable conduct at the time were very different than they are today. Spiking other players was considered fair play. Runners routinely ran over fielders. Fights were common. And brushback pitches were viewed as part of the game. That explains why Ray, although he was one of the most aggressive players in baseball, was still well liked by his peer. So, when Ray was fatally injured, the consensus judgment became that this was just an unfortunate accident.
Ray’s funeral was held at St. John’s Cathedral. Thousands of people crammed the church and lined the streets. Indeed, the crowd was so dense that it was difficult to get the hearse from the mortuary to the cathedral and then out to the cemetery. While the Daly family – all devout Catholics -- would have preferred to have Ray buried in the cemetery associated with their parish church, Ray was not eligible to be buried in “sacred ground” because he was not Catholic (although he spoke of converting). Instead, Ray was buried in Lakeview Cemetery, with a huge monument marking his grave.
Here’s where the story really becomes a tear-jerker. Katy was several months pregnant with Ray’s child when he died, and she never got over Ray’s death. The day before the ill-fated trip to New York, Ray and Katy inspected the house that Martin was building for them, which was just about ready for occupancy. But after Ray’s death, Katy could not abide the thought of moving into that dwelling and never lived there. For the next several years, Katy lived in relative seclusion. The woman who had been the city’s leading socialite rarely left her parents’ home.
Roughly three years after Ray’s death, Katy moved to Los Angeles and married her much older cousin. The wedding came as a complete surprise to her friends in Cleveland. A couple of years later, Katy had another child with her second husband. A month before the birth, however, Katy’s beloved father died of a heart attack. Devastated by yet another death in the family, Katy began seeing a therapist. She was in and out of sanitariums. But the deaths of Ray and Martin proved too much for her to endure. In 1928 – less than 8 years after Ray’s death – Katy took her own life. But that wasn’t the end of the heartbreak. Within a year of Katy’s suicide, the daughter that Katy had with Ray – named Rae Marie in honor of her father – died of meningitis.
Although it may seem a bit unseemly given what occurred, one final issue merits consideration: Just how good a baseball player was Ray Chapman? Longert suggests that Chapman was one of the game’s all-time great players. It may be, however, that Longert became too invested in his subject. The statistics suggest that Ray was a good player, but not Hall of Fame caliber. To be sure, Ray is fifth all time on the Indians’ career scoring list and ranks 18th in runs scored -- impressive totals considering that he spent only seven full seasons and parts of two others on the team. But to assess Longert’s claim that Ray was a legend, I compared his statistics to those of Hall of Famer Tris Speaker -- the player-manager of Ray’s team. Chapman had a .278 lifetime batting average, compared to Speaker’s .345. Ray’s on-base percentage was .358 compared to Speaker’s .428, while Ray’s slugging percentage of .377 falls far below Speaker’s .500. Many baseball aficionados consider OPS (on base percentage + slugging percentage) to be the true test of batting; by that measure, Chapman’s .735 OPS pales in comparison to Speaker’s .928.
Longert also lauds Ray’s ability to field his position at shortstop – one of the key defensive roles on a baseball team. That judgment is based on Ray’s athleticism, which enabled him to field balls beyond the reach of other players. But Ray also averaged about 50 errors per season during his career – a number that would have gotten him a bus ticket to Columbus (where the Indians’ top minor league affiliate plays) in today’s market. So, the claim that Ray was a legend ultimately must rest, not on what he actually accomplished, but on his unrealized potential.
If you’re a baseball fan – and especially if you’re an Indians fan – “Love and Loss” is a must read. It provides a captivating account of the game at a time when it was very different than it is today. Most of all, you should read this short tome – It’s only 170 pages long, including the epilogue – because it provides terrific background information on one of the most infamous moments in the game’s history. Although Ray Chapman may not have been a legend, he deserves better than to be remembered for a two second interval in which – for whatever reason – he failed to duck.
Longert is the author of several books on Cleveland baseball history. He earlier wrote a biography of Addie Joss, the Cleveland pitcher who died of meningitis in 1911 – coincidentally, a year before Chapman played his first Major League game. So, one might argue that Longert has a penchant for the morbid in his choice of baseball topics. As with all of Longert’s books, “Love and Loss” is meticulously researched and extremely detailed.
The level of detail in the book is both a blessing and a curse. In the century that has passed since his death, Chapman has become essentially a footnote in the history of the game – the guy who was killed by an errant pitch. Longert gives us the full picture. Chapman had a fascinating life and career -- a classic rags to riches story. Virtually every page contains memorable details about Chapman – star player, fan favorite (especially among kids), respected teammate, and all-around good guy – and the “dead ball” era in which he played. But Longert sometimes gets lost in the details. The book contains countless descriptions of Chapman’s daring base running, sparkling fielding, and timely hitting. Those accounts might be of interest if you were reading about a game you attended yesterday. But it’s hard to stay focused when you’re reading game-by-game descriptions of contests played before you were even born.
Ray Chapman was born in Kentucky in 1891. His father, a coal miner, moved to Herrin, Illinois in search of higher wages when Ray was still a child. Ray was more interested in baseball than in school and frequently played hooky. While still in his teens, Ray played for a succession of minor league teams until landing in Toledo in 1912. There began a series of developments that made it appear that Chapman was destined to lead a charmed life. As luck would have it, the Toledo team was owned by the same man who owned the Cleveland Naps (soon to become the Indians). Recognizing Ray’s potential, the owner brought Ray to the big leagues at the end of the 1912 season. He remained there for the rest of his playing days.
Good luck followed Ray to Cleveland. He met and later became engaged to Katy Daly, perhaps the most “eligible” young woman in town at the time. Katy was the daughter of Martin Daly, president of East Ohio Gas and a confidant of John D. Rockefeller. Those were different times. Ballplayers at the turn of the 20th century were not independently wealthy; they lived in rooming houses and needed to find off-season jobs. Although Ray was a blue collar guy, Martin – a devoted baseball fan -- did not see Ray as unworthy of his daughter. Nor did Martin – a devout Catholic – hold Ray’s Protestant faith against him. Ray’s connection to Martin conferred advantages that other players did not have. At the time of Ray’s death, Martin was building an elegant home as a wedding present for Ray and Katy, and Martin had secured for Ray a job as secretary-treasurer of the Pioneer Brass and Alloy company so that he could support Katy in the manner to which she had become accustomed.
The wedding in the fall of 1919 was the social event of the season, extensively covered by local and out of town newspapers. For Katy, there were several weeks of nonstop elegant bridal parties. Ray’s bachelor party was hosted by Tris Speaker – then player-manager of the Indians and Ray’s best friend – at the elegant Hotel Winton. Guests were served top-shelf Italian food prepared by in house Master Chef Boiardi – yes, THAT Chef Boiardi.
But everything changed on August 16, 1920, when the Indians were at the Polo Grounds playing the Yankees. Late in the game, Yankees pitcher Carl Mays threw a pitch high and inside to Chapman. Accounts of the incident consistently report that Ray made no effort to get out of the way. No one knows why Ray failed to take evasive action. Speculation is that Ray didn’t pick up the ball as it neared the plate – the day was overcast – or that he was expecting a different pitch. Whatever the explanation, the pitch hit Ray squarely in the temple. Remember that there were no batting helmets in those days. After lying in the dirt for several minutes, Ray managed to sit up and was then helped to his feet. On the way to the clubhouse, Ray again collapsed and was carried to the clubhouse by his teammates. A couple of doctors saw him there, recognized the seriousness of the injury, and called for an ambulance. X-rays showed that the pitch had fractured Ray’s skull. Several procedures were performed at the hospital, but to no avail. Ray died the following day.
Whether Mays intended to hit Chapman has never been determined; Mays denied it. But Mays had a reputation among players as a headhunter. So, while Mays may not have intended to hit Chapman, throwing high and tight was in keeping with his reckless approach to the game. There was initial outrage directed to Mays in the aftermath of Chapman’s death, but it didn’t last long. The standards for acceptable conduct at the time were very different than they are today. Spiking other players was considered fair play. Runners routinely ran over fielders. Fights were common. And brushback pitches were viewed as part of the game. That explains why Ray, although he was one of the most aggressive players in baseball, was still well liked by his peer. So, when Ray was fatally injured, the consensus judgment became that this was just an unfortunate accident.
Ray’s funeral was held at St. John’s Cathedral. Thousands of people crammed the church and lined the streets. Indeed, the crowd was so dense that it was difficult to get the hearse from the mortuary to the cathedral and then out to the cemetery. While the Daly family – all devout Catholics -- would have preferred to have Ray buried in the cemetery associated with their parish church, Ray was not eligible to be buried in “sacred ground” because he was not Catholic (although he spoke of converting). Instead, Ray was buried in Lakeview Cemetery, with a huge monument marking his grave.
Here’s where the story really becomes a tear-jerker. Katy was several months pregnant with Ray’s child when he died, and she never got over Ray’s death. The day before the ill-fated trip to New York, Ray and Katy inspected the house that Martin was building for them, which was just about ready for occupancy. But after Ray’s death, Katy could not abide the thought of moving into that dwelling and never lived there. For the next several years, Katy lived in relative seclusion. The woman who had been the city’s leading socialite rarely left her parents’ home.
Roughly three years after Ray’s death, Katy moved to Los Angeles and married her much older cousin. The wedding came as a complete surprise to her friends in Cleveland. A couple of years later, Katy had another child with her second husband. A month before the birth, however, Katy’s beloved father died of a heart attack. Devastated by yet another death in the family, Katy began seeing a therapist. She was in and out of sanitariums. But the deaths of Ray and Martin proved too much for her to endure. In 1928 – less than 8 years after Ray’s death – Katy took her own life. But that wasn’t the end of the heartbreak. Within a year of Katy’s suicide, the daughter that Katy had with Ray – named Rae Marie in honor of her father – died of meningitis.
Although it may seem a bit unseemly given what occurred, one final issue merits consideration: Just how good a baseball player was Ray Chapman? Longert suggests that Chapman was one of the game’s all-time great players. It may be, however, that Longert became too invested in his subject. The statistics suggest that Ray was a good player, but not Hall of Fame caliber. To be sure, Ray is fifth all time on the Indians’ career scoring list and ranks 18th in runs scored -- impressive totals considering that he spent only seven full seasons and parts of two others on the team. But to assess Longert’s claim that Ray was a legend, I compared his statistics to those of Hall of Famer Tris Speaker -- the player-manager of Ray’s team. Chapman had a .278 lifetime batting average, compared to Speaker’s .345. Ray’s on-base percentage was .358 compared to Speaker’s .428, while Ray’s slugging percentage of .377 falls far below Speaker’s .500. Many baseball aficionados consider OPS (on base percentage + slugging percentage) to be the true test of batting; by that measure, Chapman’s .735 OPS pales in comparison to Speaker’s .928.
Longert also lauds Ray’s ability to field his position at shortstop – one of the key defensive roles on a baseball team. That judgment is based on Ray’s athleticism, which enabled him to field balls beyond the reach of other players. But Ray also averaged about 50 errors per season during his career – a number that would have gotten him a bus ticket to Columbus (where the Indians’ top minor league affiliate plays) in today’s market. So, the claim that Ray was a legend ultimately must rest, not on what he actually accomplished, but on his unrealized potential.
If you’re a baseball fan – and especially if you’re an Indians fan – “Love and Loss” is a must read. It provides a captivating account of the game at a time when it was very different than it is today. Most of all, you should read this short tome – It’s only 170 pages long, including the epilogue – because it provides terrific background information on one of the most infamous moments in the game’s history. Although Ray Chapman may not have been a legend, he deserves better than to be remembered for a two second interval in which – for whatever reason – he failed to duck.
January 5, 2025
A must read for all fans of the game.
Well written, the stories and stats allow the reader the feel of the game and the country - a very different world existed in the early part of the 20th Century than exists today. Fascinating, well researched and the feeling of truly knowing what a wonderful soul Ray Champlain possessed! I will root for Cleveland when they play anyone but my Orioles. Great read, easy read and very informative read.
Well written, the stories and stats allow the reader the feel of the game and the country - a very different world existed in the early part of the 20th Century than exists today. Fascinating, well researched and the feeling of truly knowing what a wonderful soul Ray Champlain possessed! I will root for Cleveland when they play anyone but my Orioles. Great read, easy read and very informative read.
October 15, 2024
An interesting story ofvthe life of Ray Chapman but drug on at the end after the accident.
October 23, 2024
Sad story but very informative. Definitely worth the read, especially if you are a Cleveland badeball fan, which I am.
July 31, 2025
It was nice to read about Ray Chapman's life along with the tragedy of his death. Well researched.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews