Chick Stahl is a dead ballplayer. That, in and of itself, is not all that unusual. There are many dead ballplayers. Babe Ruth and Ty Cobb, for example. So don’t focus on that part.
Chick Stahl died while he was still a starting Major League ballplayer. That places him in rarer company. We’ll discuss his death at greater length further into the essay. But first, a look at the lives of others who have come and gone.
Catherine Billeaud Piper
From Annapolis.
Died on April 23, 2008 after a long battle with melanoma cancer.
She was an Inspector for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms from 1976 to 1995.
She was 63.
William Cyders
Born on June 23, 1945.
Died peacefully in his sleep on Christmas Eve, 2007.
Lived in San Francisco.
He had recently retired from a job in information technology that he had held for over 25 years.
Dorothy N. Hulme
From Chickasha, OK.
Passed away on July 8, 2008.
Enjoyed riding horses, golfing, and water skiing.
She was a substitute teacher and volunteered at the library.
She was 96.
It is said that human beings are exceptional as a species because we have developed written language. This allows us to pass down our knowledge and document our history for successive generations.
It is said that human beings are exceptional as a species because we are the only creatures aware of our own mortality. Every day that we are alive, we know one day that we will die. This makes us unique.
Let us continue.
Stephen Baine Mitchell
Of Deland, FL, passed away on January 8, 2008.
He was a Speech Language Pathologist.
Had a Masters in Communicative Disorders.
His mind was always on the surf.
He was 35.
Ella Byram Maynor Burrus
Passed away in Hendersonville, TN on December 25, 2007.
A wise southern lady who loved to garden.
She was 101.
Grandmother to 22 children, great grandmother to 45, and a great great grandmother of one.
Malachi Apilado
Born June 24, 2007.
Passed away August 18, 2007 in Citrus Heights, CA.
He was ten months shy of turning a year old.
He will be missed by his twin brother, Camron.
Obituaries are an intersection where our ability to create a written documentation of our history connects with the recognition of our own mortality. We search for meanings in a person’s death. We search for descriptions and summaries. We look backwards, examining their life, cataloging their contributions. We write obituaries as a form of record-keeping, and as a form of remembrance. As a form of notice, and as a form of tribute.
We carry on.
Nathan Webster Michaud
From Bangor, ME.
Helped developed an online method for tracking Maine lobsters.
His initiative was featured in the New York Times and CNN.
Passed away on July 29, 2008.
He was 36.
Louis Sanfilippo Sr.
Passed away on June 1st 2008, in Plum Boro, PA.
He was 83.
He grew up in the Depression Era, fought the Battle of the Bulge under General Patton, and was awarded the Purple Heart.
He was a self taught bricklayer and stone mason who worked on homes for 55 years.
Kristen Casey Boles
From Lufkin, Texas.
Passed away on April 28, 2008.
She had a lifelong battle with kidney and liver diseased.
She loved playing golf and showing livestock.
She was 22.
Here is a list. These are the names. Catherine Billeaud Piper, William Cyders, Dorothy N. Hulme. Stephen Baine Mitchell, Ella Byram Maynor Burrus, Malachi Apilado. Nathan Webster Michaud, Louis Sanfilippo Sr., and Kristen Casey Boles. I don’t know any of these people. And, I suspect, neither do you. But because their lives were described – in tribute, in remembrance – we can learn a little something about them, even after they’ve gone.
She had a long battle with melanoma cancer… He died on Christmas Eve after recently retiring... She was 96 years-old and loved water skiing... He was a Speech Language Pathologist who loved the surf... She was 101 years-old and had 45 grandchildren… He was almost two months-old and had a twin brother... He tracked lobsters online... He fought at the Battle of the Bulge… She was a 22 year-old who loved showing livestock...
These lives passed through the world. They touched people, they mattered.
Chick Stahl. Let me return to Chick Stahl. He’s dead now. But he used to be a Major League ballplayer. A good one.
In the New Historical Baseball Abstract, Bill James wrote that Stahl “hit .354 as a rookie and .351 in 1899. He was a left-handed hitter with Sam Crawford type power, hitting 16 to 19 triples a year, as well as a few homers.” He helped his National League team to two pennants, then helped his American League team win two more. James ranks him ahead of Willie Wilson, Garry Maddox, Mickey Rivers, Brady Anderson, Paul Blair, Matty Alou, Lloyd Moseby, Steve Finley, and Ellis Burks in center field.
I am looking at Chick Stahl’s obituary. It has been written down, passed down to us, preserved through time. I never saw him play. And, I suspect, neither did you. But here, in this obituary, is a chance for us to learn about him. And as I learn, I start to wonder. I have questions. But I get ahead of myself. First, the obit:
From the New York Times, March 29, 1907:
“Charles Sylvester Stahl, known to baseball “rooters” throughout the country as “Chick” Stahl, the centerfielder, and until two days ago the manager of the Boston American league team, committed suicide to-day in his room at the West Baden Springs Hotel by swallowing carbolic acid.
When Stahl arose to-day he was in his usual good spirits… When the time came for going to practice Stahl was not on hand… Collins went to the room, and Stahl told him he had just drank some carbolic acid. In a few minutes he was in terrible agony, and to some of the members of the team whom Collins called to the room Stahl said:
“Boys, I couldn’t help it; it drove me to it.”
The players did not know what their comrade meant.”
As I mentioned before, I have questions. He was in good spirits. He was Boston’s starting center fielder. I am left wondering why he drank the acid. I am left wondering why he killed himself. And I am left wondering what his last words meant. But I’ll never know. Because the only person who can resolve those questions is the one who is no longer around to answer them. It’s the survivors who are left to try and put together the pieces of the puzzle. It’s the survivors who are left behind to write the story.
“Boys, I couldn’t help it; it drove me to it.”
The players did not know what their comrade meant.
Bill James wrote about him in the New Historical Baseball Abstract because he was the fifty-first greatest center fielder of all time. I wrote about him because he was a starting Major Leaguer who committed suicide by drinking acid.
Some men are interesting for the lives they lead. Some men are notable for the circumstances of their passing. In the case of Chick Stahl, I have given it a good deal of thought, and in the end, I remain uncertain which one carries the greater weight.
If you have any thoughts you want to share, I would love to hear from you. I can be contacted at roeltorres@post.harvard.edu. Thank you.