In 1953 Franklin and Gorman were playing for San Diego in a game against Hollywood. After hitting two doubles in two at-bats, Gorman trotted out to his left field position in the sixth inning with his wife watching from the stands. Within minutes he slumped to the ground and was helped to the clubhouse where his heart stopped (the 28-year-old Gorman was pronounced dead at the hospital later).
Dell recalled the scene inside the clubhouse. “Players were weeping and you could hear Herbie’s wife, Rosalie, hysterical outside of the clubhouse door. It was a hideous scene. Everybody loved Herbie.”
That season also marked the end of Murray Franklin’s 16-year pro baseball career. The family continued to reside in southern California. Franklin, who died at 63 in 1978, wasn’t a religious man according, to his son. But he never played on Yom Kippur and always was a staunch defender of Israel and Jews.
Growing up in Chicago, Murray learned to fight back early on when confronted by Jew-baiters. He became quite adept at boxing and didn’t hesitate when it came to teaching anti-Semites a painful lesson.
Murray experienced anti-Semitism while rising in the minors in the late 1930s and especially while playing for Beaumont in the Texas League in 1940.
Dell had written down his father’s account in an old taped interview:
“There was this big teammate of German background who belonged to a Nazi bund. He rode me hard all year. Jew this. Jew that. I didn’t want a reputation as a troublemaker as it was very hard to make the major leagues at the time. There were only sixteen big league teams and many more minor league teams then. The competition was fierce. I was a second baseman at the time, and Detroit had the great Charlie Gehringer.
“The manager and coaches were racists, too. They knew I was being needled with Jew-baiting, trying to goad me into a fight, talking all this Nazi [garbage] about how the Jews were ruining Europe and Hitler was rounding them up for the good of mankind.
“The guy had no idea I could fight (Golden Gloves boxer), and I let him talk, pretended I was afraid of him. I let my rage build up over time and let some of the guys on the team think I was yellow.
“It happened in Tulsa after we finished a road trip, waiting for a bus to take us to the train station. As I came out of the hotel, he was waiting for me on the sidewalk and ambushed me with a wild punch, knocking me down. This is what I’d been waiting for. I jumped up and we went at it.”
Murray’s training as a boxer paid off against the big Nazi sympathizer. His fancy footwork, weaving in and out while landing an occasional punch, stunned and wore down his opponent. Murray moved in and landed many blows to the head of his long-time tormentor. Teammates tried to separate the combatants, as most were rooting against Franklin.
Murray finally stepped away but not before he damaged the anti-Semitic ballplayer so badly that he never played pro ball again.
Let’s hear it for Murray Franklin.
To order Irwin Cohen’s informative book “Jewish History in the Time of Baseball’s Jews,” send a check for $24.95 (includes shipping), payable to Irwin Cohen, and mail to: 25921 Stratford Place, Oak Park, Michigan, 48237-1027.
