There is something timeless about Opening Day. Fresh grass. Clean uniforms. The crack of a bat echoing through a hopeful crowd. It is a ritual that signals spring, renewal, and community.
But in the summer of 1915, Chicago baseball paused.
When the SS Eastland capsized in the Chicago River on July 24, 1915, the shock rippled through every corner of the city. That included its ballparks.
In the immediate aftermath of the disaster, professional and amateur games were cancelled across Chicago. As reported in the sports pages at the time, President Charles Comiskey of the Chicago White Sox and President Charles Weeghman of the Chicago Whales cancelled their scheduled games on both the South and North sides because of the Eastland tragedy. Many local amateur and semi professional teams did the same.
Baseball, normally a steady summer companion, fell silent out of respect.
It was not only a practical decision. The city was in mourning. Entire neighborhoods had lost sons, daughters, coworkers, and friends. Ballplayers themselves were among the victims. According to newspaper accounts, eleven active amateur baseball players, members of clubs in the Amateur Baseball Managers’ League, were reported to have died aboard the Eastland. Their names were printed in black ink alongside addresses and team affiliations, a sobering reminder that athletes were not separate from the communities they represented.
As reported at the time, several semi pro players were among those lost. They were young men who had spent evenings and weekends on local diamonds, competing for neighborhood pride and simple love of the game.
Yet baseball did not stay silent for long.
In the days following the disaster, plans were announced for benefit games to raise money for survivors and grieving families. One of the most notable was organized by Charles Weeghman, owner of the Chicago Whales of the Federal League.
Weeghman pledged to donate the entire gate receipts of a scheduled game between the Whales and the Buffalo Blues to the Eastland relief fund. The opposing team agreed to forgo its share of the proceeds so that every ticket sold would support victims and survivors.
The game was played at Weeghman Park, the North Side ballpark that today is known as Wrigley Field. In 1915, it was not yet home to the Chicago Cubs. The Cubs would move there the following year, in 1916. But on that day, the park became more than a sports venue. It became a gathering place for collective compassion.
Newspapers described how no passes would be honored. Everyone entering the gates would pay. Grandstand, pavilion, and bleacher seats were offered at accessible prices so as many Chicagoans as possible could contribute. Even baseball writers and club officials were expected to pay their way.
Opening Day reminds us that baseball has always been woven into the civic fabric of this city. In 1915, it reflected both grief and generosity. The diamonds that had gone quiet in sorrow soon reopened as spaces of support.
When we celebrate MLB Opening Day today, we celebrate more than a sport. We celebrate a tradition that has carried communities through war, depression, celebration, and loss.
In the wake of the Eastland disaster, baseball stepped back in mourning and then stepped forward in service.
That, too, is part of Chicago’s baseball history.
As the season begins again, we remember that even in the darkest chapters, this city found ways to gather, to give, and to honor those whose stories deserve to be told far beyond the final inning.
From the Chicago Tribune, July 1915
Learn more about John Froelich here.
Learn more about Frank Rehor here.
Do you have information to share on any of the other players involved in the tragedy? Please contact us at info@eastlanddisaster.org.