Move from Philadelphia?

Baseball fans have a simple faith: they worship winners. They also deem it their solemn duty to give advice to losers. In Chicago last week, looking at the American League statistics, Investor Arnold Johnson found the Philadelphia Athletics limping along with one foot in the cellar, and was ready to give them the word. "Nothing wrong that a few million dollars won't cure," said Johnson, vice chairman of Automatic Canteen Co. of America. His proposal: shift the franchise to Kansas City, Mo., where Johnson happens to own the only big baseball stadium in town. He is willing to pay $4,500,000 for the privilege of giving the A's that Midwestern cure.

Even in the old days, when Connie Mack himself was around to see that the fans got their money's worth, Philadelphia was not always enthusiastic about the A's. Between 1901, when the American League was founded, and 1950, when he finally stepped down as manager, the Grand Old Man of Baseball won nine pennants. But even when the team was winning, there were empty seats in the ballpark. In 1914 Connie broke up his famous $100,000 infield ("Home-Run" Baker, Jack Barry, Eddie Collins and Stuffy Mclnnis) for ready cash.

Things looked up for a while in the late '203, when Connie fielded such fine competitors as Mickey Cochrane, Lefty Grove and Al Simmons on first-division teams.

Then Pepper Martin and the Gas House Cardinals of 1931 whipped the Athletics in the World Series, and the fans deserted Connie Mack Stadium once more. After World War II there were a couple of good seasons; then everything went to pot. Connie today is too old (91) to help his team; his two sons, Roy and Earle, have neither the talent nor the money to keep the A's fighting.

Now that the Milwaukee Braves and the Baltimore Orioles have taught the big leagues that shifting a franchise can spruce up a team, most baseball men agree that the Athletics could do worse than make the sleeper jump to Kansas City. But Roy Mack is a stubborn loyalist. When the Athletics' board of directors meets this week to consider Johnson's offer, Roy will be on hand with some last-minute support from a syndicate of Philadelphia businessmen. If Co-Owners Connie, Roy and Earle agree to sell their stock, Harry Sylk, president of Philadelphia's Sun Ray Drug Co., promises that he and some friends will match Midwesterner Johnson's price. Such well-heeled sentimentality may delay the Athletics' departure for a while, but Connie Mack, for one, is willing to face the truth. A move, he says, is inevitable.

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