The Waterbury Democrat., 1934-03-03
BY BILL BRAUCHER NEA Service Snnrfs Writer

A
 NEA Service Sports Writer
 New York, Mar 2--John Mo- Graw must not be portrayed as he was during his last few years with the Giants. The infirmities of age had reduced the man who had been a roaring tartar to a querul- Ous old gentleman.
 The picture of his personality, to be authentic, has to go back to the old days at the Polo grounds and it ought to show him swag- gering from the dugout towards, let us say for example, Umpire Bill Klem. In those days there was fire in the little Napoleon's eyes and burning sarcasm bubbled from his Irish mouth.
 No umpire relished the picture of McGraw on the warpath. The man in the blue coat was pretty sure to come off second best yer bally. McGraw never won an of- ficial decision in these wordy quar- rels, but he scored moral victories that became picturesque part of the Polo grounds panorama. The umpire got the verdict but Mo Graw marched back to his baseball throne with all the honors.
 As long as a player obeyed and followed the run-everythipg-out principles that he demanded, Me- Graw would stick with him. It was his creed and natural disposition to get what he was after by fighting for it. He made many enemies along his blazing pathway, and from them he asked no quarter, nor to them did he yield any.
 McGraw was hard loser. He did not know how to smile in de- feat, and such was his nature that when he left a field of battle beat en; his head was filled with plans to avert the possibility of a repeti- tion. He would not stay licked.
 McGraw admitted proudly that he was not a good loser, because the man who loses with a smile he declared, loses too easily Twenty years ago when Connie Mack's Atheletics beat him in 6 world series, making the score in world championships two to one in Mack's favor, McGraw declared to his friends. "I'll get him yet. He never did even the score with Mack, but he never quit trying.
 He was an unbending taskmas. ter. If he ordered player to bunt and the man hit a home run, that home run would cost the player $100.
 McGraw was tough, but wore a towering dignity. He hated tho nickname "Muggsy" which some times was applied to him, declar. ing that the origin of the name went back to a notorious saloor brawler in Baltimore, and should not be used to designate the man. ager of g ball club.
 Yet for all his boise McGraw could be very comic upon occa' sion. The late Barney Dreyfuss would simmer in his seat in the stands when McGraw hooted al him waggishly from the field When McGraw played off the field he played hard. He could swing a fist or 8 chair in any kind oi company.
 He stood in awe of ma man When Tener was president of ths league McGraw assailed him for de- fending Umpire "Lord" Byron af' ter a fist fight between McGrav and Byron. Tener suspended ant fined McGraw-and heard plent, from the little Napoleon.
 McGraw tore into Presiden' Heydler with Q torrent of words when Heydler upheld Bill Klen and Umpire Clark after McGrav had poured the fire upon theil blue-capped heads.
 He hired snoopers to see tha his ball players were abed bI 11:30 D, m. Once he paid private detective full time to, watch ovel the errant Bugs Raymond. wht was a fine pitcher during hi periods of sobriety.
 He scanned his players mea tickets to see that they were no overeating. McGraw urged then to go in for more spinach and t' forego red meats, though he wa 8 meat-eater himself.
 He was iron to his athletes, bu often supported unfortunate olt players after their baseball day were over and they found them selves with nothing. His charities to these former stars ran int thousands of dollars yearly, som of his friends putting the amount in five figures. He probably always was tn highest paid manager in baseball but many of his investments, sucl as in oil, race tracks and real es tate, turned out tragically. Nc Graw was paying off his friend for several years after he had in vited them in on certain "goot thing in real estate which col lapsed. Power and success were his ob jectives above money. Baseball was his passion. He wanted to b l the greatest manager who eve lived-and he just about was.