In July of 1923, the imperious Commissioner of Baseball, Kenesaw Mountain Landis, wasted no time informing he baseball world that the acquittal of the Black Sox in a Chicago courtroom a day earlier might free the accused from the jail cell, but not from their lifetime banishment from the game. His controversial decision imposed at the close of the 1920 season turned the careers of eight ballplayers upside down and our National Pastime in dire straits. Public sentiment continued to weigh heavily against the “Eight Men Out” despite their acquittal, the result of the mysterious disappearance of key evidence, including records of confessions and other incriminating statements made to the grand jury in the early stages of the investigation. When Jackson, Williams, Felsch and Weaver appeared together in a semi-pro game, The Sporting News was unsparing in its derision of the 3,000 spectators. “Just Like Nuts Go to See a Murderer,” it wrote.
The most visible figure in the greatest scandal in baseball history was arguably its most innocent. Considered by many to be the elite power hitter of his era, Joseph Jefferson Jackson had grown up poor and uneducated in rural South Carolina, working 12-hour shifts at a textile mill from the age of six. It was with the mill’s industrial league team that Jackson got his start in baseball, leading to his eventual escape from the stifling poverty of the region. But a life traveling between the great cities of early 20th century America did little to bring sophistication to the superstar slugger. Long after, baseball historians would characterize Jackson’s participation in throwing the 1919 World Series as ranging from “confused” to “unwilling.”
Many point to Jackson’s stats in the 1919 Series as proof of his innocence, his .375 average leading the way for the losing White Sox and his Game Eight homer the only long ball posted. But Landis remained unmoved by these apparent mitigating factors, and with the presented typed letter he ended any hope for Jackson that he might return to Major League competition anytime soon. Preserved for years to come in a PSA/DNA jumbo holder, the Commish’s bold black ink signature at the bottom has been graded Mint 9.
Estimate: $80,000 - $120,000