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By Ron Grossman Chicago Tribune In the spring of 1945, many a Tribune reader must have blinked in disbelief at headlines suggesting that World War II was coming to a close and the Cubs were already favorites to win the National League pennant. The last time the Cubbies had made it to a World Series was during the depths of the Great Depression of the 1930s. Then came the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, and years when a Gold Star flag in a bungalow window marked that a hometown GI had been lolled on a distant battlefield. By midsummer, a homemade memorial plaque on the 4900 block of South Princeton Avenue listed six servicemen from the 48th Precinct of the 4th Ward who died defending their country. That tiny slice of the South Side had sent 139 residents off to war. In 1945, the Cubs held their preseason drills at a resort in French Lick, Ind., because wartime travel restrictions prohibited the team from using its training facility on Catalina Island in California Indeed, the '45 season, and others during the war years, almost didn't happen. Some officials thought professional sports an unnecessary drain on resources needed for the war effort Fortunately for fans, President Franklin Roosevelt had overruled them, with a letter in 1942 to Kenesaw Mountain Landis, the commissioner of baseball. "I honestly feel that it would be best for the country to keep baseball going," Roosevelt wrote in what became known as the "green light letter." "Everybody will work longer hours and harder than ever before. And that means that they ought to have a chance for recreation and for taking their minds off their work even more than before." Even so, only a dozen players initially showed up in French Lick. Others were still in the military. Hiram Bithorn, a pitching ace serving in the Navy, didn't get back until September. Outfielder Dominic Dallessandro, who hit .305 in 1944, was in limbo, his status having been changed from 4-F, medically deferred, to 1-A, fit for service. Pitcher Hank Borowy, acquired from the Yankees in midsea-son, had a similar problem with his draft board. That was worrisome in a year when, as a Tribune headline noted: "Majors Expect 4-F Players to See Them Through." Bill Nicholson, a slugging outfielder, didn't join the team until opening day. He wanted to hang on to his job in a defense plant as long as possible, given the uncertainty of the times. Second baseman Don Johnson had a draft exemption as a father of three. But he didn't get the hero worship that fans accorded players before the war, as he later recalled to a Tribune reporter. "When we traveled, there would be lots of troops on the trains," Johnson said. "GIs would come up and ask why you weren't in the service some jocularly, others not" Though he never saw a battlefield, Johnson got a close-up view of the war's toll when the Cubs played an exhibition game at a military hospital. The stands were unnaturally quiet. War had left many of the patients deaf. Things began to look up when the Nazis surrendered on May 7. James Gallagher, the Cubs vice president, hailed V-E Day with a baseball metaphor: "The unconditional defeat of Germany has put our armies on second base. One more hit against the Japs and we can send all the boys home." When the Japanese surrendered on Aug. 14, the Cubs were on a roll, playing the Brooklyn Dodgers the next day. "We didn't get to bed until 3 or 4 in the morning, but we beat the Dodgers by maybe 16 runs," Johnson said with a bit of hyperbole. By then, Americans had overcome whatever reservations they had about watching baseball while others were fighting and dying. Fans and players were closer then, physically and financially. Megamillion-dollar contracts and thousand-dollar game tickets were unknown. A player was lucky to earn $12,000 for a season. Nicholson had delayed joining the team because he made more in the defense plant than he would have earned for spring training. Baseball's "reserve clause" made it difficult for players to move from team to team, as they now can. Cubs fans heard pretty much the same names from one year to the next, when Pat Pieper, the Wrigley Field announcer, intoned his famed mantra: "Have your pencil and score cards ready, and I'll give you the correct lineup for today's ballgame. Batting first and playing third base, Stan Hack …" Hack spent his whole career with the Cubs. So, too, did Johnson, the second baseman. First baseman Phil Cavarretta was a Cubbie for 20 years. He came to the team from Lane Technical High School, just west on Addison Street from Wrigley Field. After his playing days, he worked in a clothing store on Cicero Avenue. "You know, taking shoulder measurements and pants lengths," he said. Given their modest salaries, players had to be penny-pinchers. Pitcher Claude Passeau and center fielder Andy Pafko lived at the Sheridan Plaza Hotel at Wilson Avenue and Sheridan Road. Both farm boys, they walked to and from Wrigley Field. That allowed admirers a close-up view. "Sometimes, fans would keep us company for a block or two," Pafko once recalled to a Trib reporter. "I liked to save streetcar fare because I was sending money home to help Dad pay off the mortgage on the farm." Pafko's parents had emigrated from Slovakia to Boyceville, Wis. Hardworking farmers, they had never seen their son play until one day that season, neighbors insisted they would milk the cows and the Pafkos should go down to Chicago. That day, Pafko hit a grand slam, and screaming fans leaped to their feet. Pafko's parents didn't know if the fans were yelling for or at their son until a man in the next box leaned over and explained: "Your son did the best thing a ballplayer can" On the next to the last day of the season, the Cubs clinched the National League tide with a 6-5 win over the Have a Flashback idea? Share suggestions with Lara Weber at lweberchicagotribune.com or 312-222-3440. Cardinals. "Ray Prim, whose relief pitching restored order in a threatening eighth inning, was mobbed by manager Charlie Grimm and the Cubs when the last Card was out," the Tribune reported. "There were more congratulations for the 38-year-old southpaw after he and the other Cubs had been cheered hysterically by hundreds of fans lining the ramp to the clubhouse." In the World Series that followed, the Cubs took an early lead over the Tigers, winning two of the three games played in Detroit Then the series shifted to Chicago, where the Tigers took two games in a row. The Cubs won the sixth game in extra innings. But in the first inning of the final game, the Tigers exploded for five runs, and they won the game 9-3, making them the 1945 World Series champions. The Cubs were left with regrets for what might have been and memories of having almost made it to baseball's mountaintop. Upon returning to Boyceville, Pafko was greeted by an airplane trailing a banner proclaiming: "Our hero is back home." The town honored him with a banquet, and then he changed into overalls. "The cows had to be milked," Pafko recalled. Shortstop Lennie Merullo was determined that his memories wouldn't fade. For the World Series, he was replaced by a more experienced player. But he got into the sixth game and was spiked, leaving him with a 3-inch gash on his forearm. In the clubhouse, a doctor had no sooner sewn him up than Merullo started pulling out the stitches. For weeks he picked at the scab, determined to have a flesh-and-blood souvenir. "Even now, 50 years later, I'll stare at that scar," Merullo told a Trib reporter in 1995. "And I'll say to myself: Tfou were there, Len. You played in a World Series.' " rgrossmanchicagotribune.com

1945 Chicago Cubs