1918 flu pandemic did not spare baseball

With the horrors of World War I in their final year, a life-and-death battle on a more microscopic level was also taking place around the globe. The influenza pandemic of 1918 was a highly contagious strain that viciously attacked the respiratory system. By the time it had spread across the United States, the deadly event had killed an estimated 675,000 Americans.

And baseball was not immune.

The “Spanish flu,” as it was sometimes called at the time, lasted just 15 months but killed, according to best estimates today, between 50 million and 100 million worldwide. It infected an estimated 500 million people around the world, about a third of the planet’s total population.

The obituaries for O’Loughlin, who allegedly received his nickname as a child due to his silky blonde hair, often remarked that he was one of the most “picturesque” figures in the baseball world, “his ‘Ball tuh,’ his long, drown out ‘S-t-r-i-k-e!’ and snappy ‘Fouled-er!’ known the country over.”

“In the death of Silk O’Loughlin the country has lost a worthwhile citizen, baseball has lost a remarkable character, and I have lost one of my dearest friends,” said umpire Billy Evans, a 1973 Baseball Hall of Fame electee who worked games with O’Loughlin. “If there ever was an umpire who gave the plays as he saw them, O’Loughlin was that individual. He had a heart of oak, a keen intellect, and the courage to do what he believed was right, regardless of the opinion of others. Through 17 years of service as a member of the American League staff of umpires he gave the best he had. He never shirked. He never grumbled over an assignment, always accepting them as they came as part of the game.”

The Rochester, N.Y., native got involved with professional baseball with the help of relative Stump Weidman, a big league pitcher from 1880 to 1888. Soon he was umpiring in the Atlantic League, then the Eastern League, before making his Junior Circuit debut in 1902 at the age of 29.
A pair of veteran baseman men, Connie Mack and Clark Griffith, had kind words for their fallen comrade.

“O’Loughlin was original and always a hard worker,” said Mack, Philadelphia Athletics owner and manager, “and his death will be mourned by all baseball fans.”

“His death is a real loss to baseball,” said Griffith, manager and part-owner of the Washington Senators. “No squarer or more honest official ever made decisions in a ballpark. He had the courage of his convictions always, and was admired and respected by players and fans alike.”

Called “the little indicator holder with the megaphone voice,” O’Loughlin, who, when a played disagreed over a call would tell him that he had made over a million decisions in his day and had never missed one, shared his umpiring philosophy in the September 1911 issue of Baseball Magazine:“Be boss of the diamond. An umpire, like a player, must think in advance. He must know each man’s peculiarities, his strength and weakness,” O’Loughlin wrote. “He must so plan that he is in the most advantageous position to render instant decision upon every play and at the same time must not interfere with the play.

“Running his own game does not mean surliness. It means the umpire is sent onto the field to represent the league, to decide plays and interpret the rules. He may not tolerate interference; he may not permit a player to ‘show him up.’ He must retain his dignity and not permit an argument.
“He should not make his decision too quick or he may have to change it. It isn’t a good thing to have to change decisions, and earn a reputation for being premature.

“Ballplayers are human, and when they realize an umpire is stern, but just, they are less apt to kick over the traces even in the heat of a hotly contested game than if they have reason to believe they can gain anything by attempting to bullyrag. Of course umpires make mistakes, not being infallible, but on the whole their decisions are correct, as the players admit when off the field, although sometimes they find it hard to do so when the battle is raging.”

The veteran arbiter, known for his the sweeping gestures and pronounced exclamations, had a sharp tongue and a ready wit. It was said that his favorite expression was that there were no close decisions in baseball.

“I have never made a wrong decision. At least, if I did I never admitted it, which amounts to the same thing,” O’Loughlin once said. “If I ever do make a mistake it would be idiotic for me to tell it. Of course there are lots of times when ballplayers and fans don’t agree with me, but I’ve found that what I say always goes so it must be right.

“My skin is think enough to shed the criticisms heaped upon me. I don’t stop speaking to newspapermen when they roast me, and I don’t find fault with the players who grumble in the heat of battle.”

O’Loughlin’s funeral in Rochester on December 23, 1918, was said to have been one of the most largely attended in the history of the city.