"JEFF" TESREAU
Dartmouth's Fun-Loving Baseball Coach, Who Turned Out Smart Teams for 28 Seasons Prior to His Recent Death, Had a Heart to Match His Mountainous Frame
JEFF" WAS BORN Charles Munroe Tesreau 57 years ago on March 5, 1889 in Roselle (near Ironton), Missouri, located in the Ozark Mountain area. On September 19, 1946, he and his long time buddy, Harry "Rip" Heneage, former Dartmouth athletic director, started out in great spirits for a three-day camping and fishing trip at Reservoir Pond, Lyme, New Hampshire. As they transferred their equipment from car to rowboat Jeff in his clowning way said, "Rip, can you row?" and Rip's reply was, "Sure." So Jeff kiddingly said, "You row, I think I'll swim over today." As Jeff was about to unfasten the boat chain his last words were, "We're all set, Rip, let's go." When Jeff bent over to unlock the rowboat chain he suffered a stroke which paralyzed his right side and vocal chords and he toppled into the shallow water. Somehow, "Rip" finally managed to pull Jeff ashore, and after summoning aid, Jeff was removed to Dick's House where he succumbed Tuesday, September 84, 1946.
From his early youth, Jeff was destined to be a great pitcher. He was abnormally strong and had a great competitive heart and never knew the meaning of the word fear. He was a good man to have on your side when the chips were down. As a kid his strength and pitching ability were widely known in his locality. In his early days, he worked in the lead mines of Perryville, Missouri, and pitched for the mine team; and I honestly believe that's where he got his training as a "money player" because those miners backed their teams with hard earned money and they bet for "keeps." Believe me, there was no place on their teams for a "chicken-hearted" ball player.
A friend of Jeff's advised him, when he was about 17, to go to Texas and take a fling at professional baseball. He soon wound up with Shreveport, and in an exhibition game with John McGraw's New York Giants he pitched so sensationally that McGraw bought him after the game for $3000. Jeff finished that year, 1910, with Shreveport and McGraw "farmed" him out to Toronto for the 1911 season specifically to learn how to throw a "spitter" under the capable tutelage of the Toronto manager, Kelly.
In 1912 McGraw brought big Jeff up with the Giants and paid him $1800 for his first major league salary. What a first year he had! For a "rookie" pitcher he won 17 and lost 7 for a very respectable .708 average; he pitched a no-hitter against Philadelphia, and I understand that Jeff to this day is the only big leaguer to pitch a no-hitter in his first year; and to top everything Jeff had the best earned-run average of 1.96 runs in 243 innings that year.
After such a phenomenal first year, McGraw skyrocketed Jeff's salary to $8500 in 1913, and in the same year the new star was married to Helen Elizabeth Blake of New York. Jeff, Christy Mathewson and Rube Marquard were the regular Giant pitchers. Jeff pitched for the Giants for seven years, 1912 through 1918, and during that period appeared in six games in three World Series. He. went around the world with the Giants on their baseball exhibition tour of 1914., and at the close of other seasons he used to go barnstorming with Babe Ruth. Jeff was one of the top hurlers in a day of great pitchers and established the following excellent record for which he was idolized in New York:
Won Lost 1912 17 7 1913 22 13 1914 26 10 1915 19 16 1916 18 14 1917 13 8 June 1918 4 4 119 72
When Jeff left the Giants he was years old, just in the prime of his pitching career, and it always had puzzled me why he quit the Giants. Those of you who knew Jeff, know how impossible it was to get Jeff to talk about himself or his deeds. In fact it was like pulling teeth to get any information at all out of him. During the last baseball season, when we were returning from West Point, I asked JefF why he had left the Giants and here is the story he told me, which I am sure very few people have heard.
Back in those days, it was the policy of the big league clubs to send their pitchers, catchers and "out-of-condition" players on ahead to training camp to get advance conditioning, and in Jeff's last year McGraw sent the advance group with Jeff in charge to Hot Springs, famous for its sulphur baths. In this group was a third baseman, whose name slips me now, who was a very good man with the "bottle." After two weeks of workouts, sulphur baths and conditioning, McGraw showed up and asked Jeff how everything went. Jeff replied, "O. K." McGraw asked him, "How about the third baseman?" Jeff replied, "He's O. K." McGraw then asked him, "How about his night life and drinking?" Jeff replied, "I don't know anything about that. All I know is that he showed up every day for practice sober and participated cooperatively in all the workouts." McGraw bellowed, "What the hell do you think I put you in charge of this group for?" Jeff replied, "If you think for one minute that I'm going to snoop and check on the 'off field' actions of these men, you're mistaken. I'm afraid you've got the wrong man in charge here."
From that episode on, there was a strained feeling between Jeff and McGraw. Jeff told me that from then on McGraw rode him unmercifully and any old-time ball player can vouch for McGraw's ability along those lines. On June 15, 1918, the major leagues suspended operations because of World War I and the 4-4 record that Jeff had at that time seemed to reflect McGraw's "riding." Just before the league suspended activities Jeff failed to show up for a game because he had left McGraw and taken a defense job with Bethlehem Steel until the Armistice was signed.
McGraw hoped and wanted Jeff to report for spring baseball in 1919 but Jeff was just as determined not to play again for McGraw. This infuriated McGraw and he told Jeff he'd never play ball for anyone else. Christy Mathewson had become manager of Cincinnati and he tried to make a deal with McGraw for Jeff but it was no go. Jeff even went to McGraw and told him, "I'll never play for you, and as I'm no good to you this way I want to be traded or sold, or I'll buy my own release." It was a futile attempt.
While at Bethlehem Steel, Jeff became acquainted with the company's recreational executive, Tom Keady, who wrote Dartmouth's "As the Backs Go Tearing By," and it was he who recommended Jeff for the Dartmouth baseball job. Jeff first reported to Hanover in March 1919 and coached successfully for 28 years.
In his first two years as coach at Dartmouth, Jeff came up just for the baseball season and stayed at the Hanover Inn. In 1930 the Ivy League was formed and after that move Dartmouth won the championship in 1930, 1935 and 1938 and was runner-up seven times. The following Tesreau-coached players played professional baseball after leaving Hanover:
Foster Edwards '25 (p), Boston Braves Jim Picken '27 (c), Yankees, Easton Bob Walsh '29 (ss), Nashua
Bill Breckenridge '30 (p), Athletics "Red" Rolfe '31 (3b), Yankees Lauri Myllykangas '31 (p), Montreal Ray Ratajczak '37 (ss), Akron, Joplin Ted Olson '36 (p), Red Sox Hal Wonson '40 (p), Minneapolis or St. Paul Chuck Sweeney, Navy V-12, '43 (lb) Stan Zarod '44 (3b) Bob Callan '44 (p), Chattanooga, sold to Washington for 1947 spring tryout
The most successful of these players, of course, was "Red" Rolfe. Red almost went with Connie Mack's Athletics, who at that time offered him more than the Yanks and who, with Grove, Earnshaw, Simmons and Cochrane, were assured of getting into the World Series; but Jeff advised Red that if he made good in professional baseball his future from a long-time point of view would be better with the Yanks and that's the way it turned out.
No article about Jeff would be complete without recalling some of the hilarious, humorous stories woven around him. Following are a few that I recall and which show his lovable, affable ways.
1) Harry Hillman, Jeff's old crony, partner in many crimes, and long-time office mate, used to love to have Jeff tell this story. Years ago when Jeff pitched for the Giants, he always had good days against Brooklyn, which was Harry's home town, and every time he'd be on the mound he'd hear this same voice repeatedly boom, "Get that big bum out of there." Jeff never could spot the voice until he came to Hanover as coach; at a party Harry let go with his Brooklyn battle cry, "Get that big bum out of there," and Jeff wheeled around and yelled, "So it was you. I'd recognize that voice anywhere." Harry was so pleased over this story that no matter how many times he made Jeff tell it he got a great kick out of it.
2) As you all know, Harry Hillman and Jeff were like two big, happy kids in their association. One day their office was crowded with so many of Jeff's friends that Harry could hardly push a pencil. He finally got up, grabbed a piece of chalk, and said, "Tesreau, I'm entitled to a certain amount of floor space here, and hereafter I want you and your friends to respect this boundary line." Then he proceeded to draw a dividing line across the room and he left a narrow break in the line which was a special border-line concession for Jeff to walk through when he had to leave the office.
3) Back in 1930 the Ivy Baseball League passed a ruling that the captains would run the team and the coaches would sit in the stands. One day Jeff, the Princeton coach and the League Commissioner were sitting together watching the game. The Princeton pitcher, Bowman, I believe, was supposed to be quite the "hot-shot" but we made life miserable for him with scratch hits and delayed steals and the climax came when we cleared the bases with a squeeze play bunt because the Princeton players threw the ball all over the field. Finally, when we stole home the Princeton coach astonished Jeff by blurting to the commissioner, "Look at Jeff, Commissioner, h e's running the team from the stands by giving signals with his pipe."
4) Jeff always delighted in kidding newspaper men and invariably introduced the nearest stranger as the coach of the Dartmouth team. While on a southern trip in 1940, he introduced Hal Wonson, the team captain, to a southern newspaperman and told him that Hal was a full-blooded Indian and was chief of his tribe back home. Ever since then Hal became Chief Wonson to all of us.
5) Jeff used to love to tell the story about how he got in the dog house with Frankie Foster. It seems Frankie was a lad of limited baseball ability but who had unlimited confidence that he really had the stuff as a pitcher to go far in baseball. He never played much for Jeff but he reported for practice religiously. One day at the University of Vermont, Jeff was catching and "warming up" Frankie. Finally, Jeff asked him if he was good and warm and when Frankie replied, "Yes," Jeff said, "Now wind up and let me really have your fast one with everything you've got." Frankie obliged and as he threw Jeff nonchalantly tossed off his mit and caught the ball barehanded. This slight to Frankie's speed so infuriated Frankie that he walked away in disgust and didn't speak to Jeff for weeks.
6) One day when Jeff was in St. Albans, Vermont, running their summer team, he had a visit from his old sidekick, "Rip" Heneage. Jeff had an apartment in sort of a dilapidated tenement house and there was a kid next door who was filthy from top to toe, so just for the hellery and against the kid's wishes Jeff and Rip kidnapped him and got him acquainted with two strange substances, soap and water. They told me the kid screeched like a "stuck pig" when he got this surprise bath but the two of them proudly boasted that the kid smelled better.
7) One year Jeff had some fun with a "heeler" who may today be a banker for all I know. Heelers, being freshmen, are pretty green and gullible and, of course, believe most everything a coach tells them until they get wise to the coach. It was the day before the Harvard game in Hanover and just before Dartmouth completed practice, this unknown heeler asked Jeff if there was anything else. Jeff said, "Son, I'm glad you asked that because I happened to overhear some Harvard wise guys say that they were coming down after dark and swipe the pitcher's plate. I think it would be a good idea if you went in and got some tools and removed the plate for safe-keeping overnight. Otherwise, we may have to postpone the game." So the kid disappeared and we all went into the showers. About fifteen minutes later Jeff sent his manager out to stop the heeler from mutilating the mound and to set the boy straight.
8) At the start of every season Jeff always had slight contract trouble signing up the team mascot. For the past four years his regular mascot has been Billy Orcutt, who is nine now and is the son of Stan Orcutt, local architect, who has lived next door to Jeff for years, with the result that Billy practically grew up with Jeff. Last year while in the cage, Dicky Hoehn, who is eight and the son of Red Hoehn, Dartmouth's tennis and squash coach, approached Jeff for the job of mascot. Jeff had a real heartto-heart talk with Dicky and finally said, "You realize that Billy has been the regular mascot for years and the final decision for an assistant mascot will be up to him. Also, if Billy approves, will you promise to report faithfully to practice every day and not mess around with that tennis?" Dicky promised he'd report faithfully ■every day right after school and as he turned he made this afterthought remark, l'm sick." Then Jeff called Billy, who had been within earshot taking everything in and told him of Dicky's desire and wanted to know if he, the head mascot, approved of Dicky as an assistant and if he thought they would get along because Jeff wouldn't tolerate any clashing of temperaments between mascots on the field. Billy approved the appointment of Dicky, so Jeff OKed the deal and Billy immediately wheeled around and yelled the momentous decision to Dicky at the end of the bench, "It's O. K., Dicky," and you should have seen the grins on their faces.
Following is Billy Orcutt's contract, which is the most wholesome, sincere, amusing yet serious document one could ever read. To me it's a treasure.
DARTMOUTH BASEBALL CLUE AGREEMENT
Memorandum of agreement made this 27th day of March, 1946 between Jeff Tesreau, Coach, party of the first part and Billy Orcutt, party of the second part, to act as mascot of the Dartmouth Baseball Team.
Party of the second part agrees to take good care of bats and balls, to get good marks in school, never to get fresh with the coach, and not to drink more than four bottles of Coca-Cola or have more than two hot dogs at any game.
In witness whereof the parties hereto have affixed their signatures this 27th day of March, 1946.
By Jeff Tesreau, Coach (Seal) Bill Orcutt, Mascot (Seal)
Witness Hal Chalmers (Seal) Harry R. Heneage (Seal)
To me, Jeff was a typical Peck's Bad Boy who never grew old and was always up to some mischief but was loved by young and old, rich and poor. His jovial, good-natured company was treasured by all. I knew the "big boy" for twenty years. As an undergraduate, he was coach, father and adviser to me. Later, I worked as his assistant in baseball and eventually had the pleasure of sharing his office. In all my experience with him, I never heard him say anything bad about anyone. Under that barrel chest of his was a mountainous heart of gold. He was so kind and considerate of others. He was never too busy to listen to other people's problems and became sincerely and personally concerned with them and went out of his way to lend a helping hand. He was a lovable guy and will be sorely missed by those who knew him.
To show you Jeff's unselfish and considerate nature, I quote part of a letter written by our beloved former president, Ernest Martin Hopkins, to Jeff's son, Charlie, who graduated from Dartmouth in 1938 and is now a lawyer in Lebanon, N. H.:
There is one story in which you are involved as a principal which I think you ought to know. Nearly three decades ago after Harry Hillman had told me that he thought the seasonal arrangement with your father could be made a permanent one I asked Harry to make an appointment for us to meet during the summer in Hanover which he did. Driving back from Maine for the engagement 1 picked up a Boston paper and read under big head-lines that the Braves had sent a contract to your father, having at length after long effort secured his release from the Giants. The figure quoted was so far outside the range of academic salaries that I was tempted to turn back, doubting if your dad would even want to keep the appointment in view of the sudden turn of events.
That evening however he was on hand and we discussed the whole matter, he saying that he was very much interested in coming to Dartmouth. I asked him about the Braves offer and said that was outside our possibilities. He said he knew it but that he and your mother had figured out on what they could live in Hanover and that if the college could pay that he would come. I have forgotten the figure but it was a modest one. I then told him we could and I thought would meet that but first I should like to know what he thought Dartmouth offered in the way of possibilities that made him willing with your mother to forego the financial advantage of the Braves' offer. I loved him right off for his answer, "I want my little boy to grow up in surroundings like this, and an opportunity to have him do so is worth more than any money to me."
When Jeff was laid to rest next to Harry Hillman in the Pine Knoll Cemetery in Hanover, I couldn't help thinking that here were two swell guys, old cronies, office mates and practical jokers for some 26 years, now resting side by side. To me it was a comforting thought.
A CHARACTERISTIC DUGOUT VIEW of Jeff Tes- reau, Dartmouth's senior coach, who suffered a fatal shock in September. With a series of mys- terious signals he master-minded his teams to many a sparkling performance on Memorial Field.
WHEN HE FIRST CAME TO HANOVER. Jeff with the late Harry Hillman, track coach. This early pic- ture shows Tesreau's close resemblance to boxer Jim Jeffries, which caused the nickname Jeff.
A WILY MENTOR in all departments of the game, pitching still remained Jeff's first love. He is shown here giving some pointers to one of the many hurlers he developed in his 28 years in Hanover.
JEFF WITH HIS SON CHARLIE, Dartmouth '3B, whose upbringing in Hanover was the big reason Jeff deserted the major leagues for coaching.
COACH OF HOCKEY
