Joe DiMaggio, the flawless center fielder for the New York Yankees who, along with
Babe Ruth and Mickey Mantle, symbolized the team's dynastic greatness across the 20th
century and whose 56-game hitting streak in 1941 made him an instant and indelible
American folk hero, died Monday in his home in Hollywood, Fla. He was 84.
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In a country that has idolized and even immortalized its 20th-century heroes, from
Charles A. Lindbergh to Elvis Presley, no one embodied the American dream of fame and
fortune or created a more enduring legend than Joe DiMaggio. He became a figure of
unequaled romance and integrity in the national mind because of his consistent
professionalism on the baseball field, his marriage to the Hollywood star Marilyn
Monroe, his devotion to her after her death, and the pride and courtliness with which
he carried himself throughout his life.
DiMaggio burst onto the baseball scene from San Francisco in the 1930's and grew into
the game's most gallant and graceful center fielder. He wore No. 5 and became the
successor to Babe Ruth (No. 3) and Lou Gehrig (No. 4) in the team's pantheon. DiMaggio
was the team's superstar for 13 seasons, beginning in 1936 and ending in 1951, and
appeared in 11 All-Star Games and 10 World Series. He was, as Roy Blount Jr. once
observed, "the class of the Yankees in times when the Yankees outclassed everybody
else."
He was called the Yankee Clipper and was acclaimed at baseball's centennial in 1969 as
"the greatest living ballplayer," the man who in 1,736 games with the Yankees had a
career batting average of .325 and hit 361 home runs while striking out only 369
times, one of baseball's most amazing statistics. (By way of comparison, Mickey Mantle
had 536 homers and struck out 1,710 times; Reggie Jackson slugged 563 homers and
struck out 2,597 times.)
But DiMaggio's game was so complete and elegant that it transcended statistics; as The
New York Times said in an editorial when he retired, "The combination of proficiency
and exquisite grace which Joe DiMaggio brought to the art of playing center field was
something no baseball averages can measure and that must be seen to be believed and
appreciated."
Grace on the Field, Sensitivity Off It
DiMaggio glided across the vast expanse of center field at Yankee Stadium with such
incomparable grace that long after he stopped playing, the memory of him in full
stride remains evergreen. He disdained theatrical flourishes and exaggerated moves,
never climbing walls to make catches and rarely diving headlong. He got to the ball
just as it fell into his glove, making the catch seem inevitable, almost preordained.
The writer Wilfred Sheed wrote, "In dreams I can still see him gliding after fly balls
as if he were skimming the surface of the moon."
His batting stance was as graceful as his outfield stride. He stood flat-footed at the
plate with his feet spread well apart, his bat held still just off his right shoulder.
When he swung, his left, or front, foot moved only slightly foward. His swing was pure
and flowing with an incredible follow-through; Casey Stengel said, "He made the rest
of them look like plumbers."
At his peak, he was serenaded as "Joltin' Joe DiMaggio" by Les Brown and saluted as
"the great DiMaggio" by Ernest Hemingway in "The Old Man and the Sea." He was
mentioned in dozens of films and Broadway shows; the sailors in "South Pacific" sing
that Bloody Mary's skin is "tender as DiMaggio's glove." Years later, he was
remembered by Paul Simon, who wondered with everybody else: "Where have you gone, Joe
DiMaggio? Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you."
Sensitive to anything written, spoken or sung about him, he confessed that he was
puzzled by Simon's lyrics and sought an answer when he met Simon in a restaurant in
New York. "I asked Paul what the song meant, whether it was derogatory," DiMaggio
recalled. "He explained it to me."
When injuries eroded his skills and he could no longer perform to his own standard, he
turned his back on his $100,000 salary -- he and his rival Ted Williams of the Boston
Red Sox then drew the largest paychecks in sports -- and retired in 1951 with the
dignity that remained his hallmark.
His stormy marriage to Marilyn Monroe lasted less than a year, but they remained one
of America's ultimate romantic fantasies: the tall, dark and handsome baseball hero
wooing and winning the woman who epitomized Hollywood beauty, glamour and sexuality.
He was private and remote. Even Monroe, at their divorce proceedings, said he was
given to black moods and would tell her, "Leave me alone." He once said, with disdain,
that he kept track of all the books written about his storied life without his
consent, and by the late 1990's knew that the count had passed 33.
Yet he could be proud, reclusive and vain in such a composed, almost studied way that
his reclusiveness contributed to his mystique. In the book "Summer of '49," David
Halberstam wrote that DiMaggio "guards his special status carefully, wary of doing
anything that might tarnish his special reputation. He tends to avoid all those who
might define him in some way other than the way he defined himself on the field."
Quietly Doing It All For 13 Seasons
DiMaggio joined the Yankees in 1936, missed three years while he served in the Army
Air Forces in World War II, then returned and played through the 1951 season, when
Mickey Mantle arrived to open yet another era in the remarkable run of Yankee success.
In his 13 seasons, DiMaggio went to bat 6,821 times, got 2,214 hits, knocked in 1,537
runs, amassed 3,948 total bases and reached base just under 40 percent of the time.
For decades, baseball fans argued over who was the better pure hitter, DiMaggio or
Williams. Long after they had both retired, Williams said: "In my heart, I always felt
I was a better hitter than Joe. But I have to say, he was the greatest baseball player
of our time. He could do it all."
And he did it all with a sureness and coolness that seemed to imply an utter lack of
emotion. DiMaggio was once asked why he did not vent his frustrations on the field by
kicking a bag or tossing a bat. The outfielder, who chain-smoked cigarettes and had
suffered from ulcers, replied: "I can't. It wouldn't look right."
But he betrayed his sensitivity in a memorable gesture of annoyance in the sixth game
of the 1947 World Series after his long drive was run down and caught in front of the
415-foot sign in left-center field at Yankee Stadium by Al Gionfriddo of the Brooklyn
Dodgers. As DiMaggio rounded first base, he saw Gionfriddo make the catch and, with
his head down, kicked the dirt. The angry gesture was so shocking that it made
headlines.
In the field, DiMaggio ran down long drives with a gliding stride and deep range. In
1947, he tied what was then the American League fielding record for outfielders by
making only one error in 141 games. He also had one of the most powerful and precise
throwing arms in the business and was credited with 153 assists in his 13 seasons.
His longtime manager, Joe McCarthy, once touched on another DiMaggio skill. "He was
the best base runner I ever saw," McCarthy said. "He could have stolen 50, 60 bases a
year if I let him. He wasn't the fastest man alive. He just knew how to run bases
better than anybody."
Three times DiMaggio was voted his league's most valuable player: in 1939, 1941 and
1947. In 1941, the magical season of his 56-game hitting streak, he won the award even
though Williams hit .406.
In each of his first four seasons with the Yankees, DiMaggio played in the World
Series, and the Yankees won all four. He appeared in the Series 10 times in 13 seasons
over all, and nine times the Yankees won. And although he failed to get enough votes
to make the baseball Hall of Fame when he became eligible in 1953, perhaps because his
aloofness had alienated some of the writers who did the voting, he sailed into
Cooperstown two years later.
Whitey Ford was a rookie pitcher in 1950 when he first saw Joe DiMaggio, and he later
remembered: "I just stared at the man for about a week."
Baseball Blood in a Fisherman's Family
Joseph Paul DiMaggio was born on Nov. 25, 1914, in Martinez, Calif., a small fishing
village 25 miles northeast of the Golden Gate. He was the fourth son and the eighth of
nine children born to Giuseppe Paolo and Rosalie DiMaggio, who had immigrated to
America in 1898 from Sicily. His father was a fisherman who moved his family to North
Beach, the heavily Italian section near the San Francisco waterfront, the year Joe was
born.
The two oldest sons, Tom and Michael, joined their father as fishermen; Michael later
fell off his boat and drowned. But the three other sons became major league
outfielders by way of the sandlots of San Francisco. Vince, four years older than Joe,
played 11 seasons with five teams and led the National League in strikeouts six times.
Dominic, three years younger than Joe, was known as the Little Professor because he
wore eyeglasses when he played 10 seasons with the Boston Red Sox, hitting .298 for
his career. Of the three, Joe was the natural.
He started as a shortstop in the Boys Club League when he was 14, dropped out of
Galileo High School after one year and joined Vince on the San Francisco Seals of the
Pacific Coast League, the highest level of minor league baseball. It was late in 1932,
and Joe was still 17 years old.
The next year, in his first full season with the Seals, he hit .340 with 28 home runs
and knocked in 169 runs in 187 games. He also hit safely in 61 games in a row, eight
years before he made history in the big leagues by hitting in 56. He tore up the
league during the next two seasons, hitting .341 and .398. But he injured his left
knee stepping out of a cab while hurrying to dinner at his sister's house after a
Sunday doubleheader and was considered damaged goods by most of the teams in the big
leagues.
He got his chance at the majors because two scouts, Joe Devine and Bill Essick,
persisted in recommending him to the Yankees. The general manager, Ed Barrow, talked
it over with his colleagues. And for $25,000 plus five players, the Yankees bought him
from the Seals.
DiMaggio was left in San Francisco for the 1935 season to heal his knee and put the
finishing touches on his game, then was brought up to New York in 1936 to join a
talented team that included Lou Gehrig, Bill Dickey, Tony Lazzeri, Red Rolfe, Red
Ruffing and Lefty Gomez. It was two years after Babe Ruth had left, and an era of
success had ended.
But now, the rookie from California was arriving with a contract for $8,500, and a new
era was beginning. It was delayed because of a foot injury, but DiMaggio made his
debut on May 3 against the St. Louis Browns. He went on to play 138 games, got 206
hits with 29 home runs, batted .325 and drove in 125 runs. In the fall, the Yankees
made the first of four straight trips to the World Series -- they would go on to play
in 23 out of 29 Series through 1964 -- and the rookie hit .346 against the Giants and
made a spectacular catch in deepest center field in the Polo Grounds before a
marveling crowd of 43,543, including President Franklin D. Roosevelt.
DiMaggio's luster was sometimes dimmed by salary disputes. In 1937 he hit .346 with 46
home runs and 167 r.b.i. and the following year he held out for $40,000, but was
forced to sign for $25,000. DiMaggio's holdout lasted a couple of weeks into the
season; when he returned, he was booed. When he began the 1941 season, he had missed
four of his first five openers because of injury or salary fights, and many fans
resented it. "He got hurt early in his career, more than he ever let on," Phil Rizzuto
once said.
He also had to endure the casual bigotry that existed when he first came up. Many of
his teammates called him the Big Dago, and Life magazine, in a 1939 article intending
to compliment him, said: "Although he learned Italian first, Joe, now 24, speaks
English without an accent, and is otherwise well adapted to most U.S. mores. Instead
of olive oil or smelly bear grease he keeps his hair slick with water. He never reeks
of garlic and prefers chicken chow mein to spaghetti."
But he energized the fans by leading the league in hitting in 1939 (at .381) and again
in 1940 (with .352). Then in 1941, he put together what has since been known simply as
The Streak, and fashioned perhaps the most enduring record in sports. Streaks were
nothing new to DiMaggio. He had hit in those 61 straight games for the Seals, in 18
straight as a rookie with the Yankees, in 22 straight the next year and in 23 straight
the year after that. In fact, in 1941, he hit safely in the last 19 games in spring
training, and he kept hitting for eight more games after the regular season opened.
Forging a Record Still Unchallenged
The Streak began on May 15, 1941, with a single in four times at bat against the
Chicago White Sox. The next day, he hit a triple and a home run. Two weeks later, he
had a swollen neck but still hit three singles and a home run in Washington. The next
week against the St. Louis Browns, he went 3 for 5 in one game, then 4 for 8 in a
doubleheader the next day with a double and three home runs. His streak stood at 24.
On June 17, he broke the Yankees' club record of 29 games. On June 26, he was hitless
with two out in the eighth inning against the Browns, but he doubled, and his streak
reached 38. On June 29, a doubleheader against Washington, DiMaggio lined a double in
the first game to tie George Sisler's modern major league record of hitting in 41
straight games and then broke Sisler's record in the second game by lining a single.
On July 1, with a clean single against the Red Sox at Yankee Stadium, he matched
Willie Keeler's major league record of 44 games, set in 1897 when foul balls didn't
count as strikes. The next day he broke it with a three-run homer.
As DiMaggio kept hitting safely, radio announcers kept an excited America informed,
Bojangles Robinson danced on the Yankee dugout roof at the Stadium for good luck and
Les Brown recorded "Joltin' Joe DiMaggio . . . we want you on our side."
The Streak finally ended on the steamy night of July 17 in Cleveland at Municipal
Stadium before 67,468 fans. The pitchers were Al Smith and Jim Bagby Jr., but the
stopper was the Indians' third baseman, Ken Keltner, who made two dazzling backhand
plays deep behind third base to rob DiMaggio of hits. It is sometimes overlooked that
DiMaggio was intentionally walked in the fourth inning of that game, and that he
promptly started a 16-game streak the next day.
In 56 games, DiMaggio had gone to bat 223 times and delivered 91 hits for a .408
average, including 15 home runs. He drew 21 walks, twice was hit by pitched balls,
scored 56 runs and knocked in 55. He hit in every game for two months, and struck out
just seven times.
The Yankees, fourth in the American League when the streak began, were six games in
front when it ended, and won the pennant by 17.
DiMaggio was passing milestones in his personal life, too. In 1939, he married an
actress, Dorothy Arnold. In October 1941, his only child, Joseph Jr., was born. He is
survived by his son; his brother, Dominic; two granddaughters and four
great-grandchildren.
On Dec. 3, 1942, DiMaggio enlisted in the Army Air Forces and spent the next three
years teaching baseball in the service. Along with other baseball stars like Bob
Feller and Williams, he resumed his career as soon as the war ended, returning to the
Yankees for the 1946 season and a year later leading them back into the World Series.
His most dramatic moments came in the season of 1949, after he was sidelined by bone
spurs on his right heel and did not play until June 26. Then he flew to Boston to join
the team in Fenway Park, hit a single and home run the first two times he went to bat,
hit two more home runs the next day and another the day after that.
The Yankees entered the final two days of that season trailing the Red Sox by one
game. They had to sweep two games in Yankee Stadium to win the pennant, and they did.
There were poignant moments before the first game when 69,551 fans rocked the stadium
and cheered their hero, who was being honored with a Joe DiMaggio Day. He was almost
too weak to play because of a severe viral infection, but he did, and he hit a single
and double before removing himself from center field on wobbly legs.
A Second Career: DiMaggio the Legend
After the Yankees won yet another World Series in 1951, he retired and eased into a
second career as Joe DiMaggio, legend. It included cameo roles as a broadcaster, a
spring training instructor with the Yankees and a coach with the Oakland Athletics,
appearances at old-timers' games, where he was invariably the last player introduced,
and a larger role, with surprising impact, as a mellow and credible pitchman on
television commercials.
He had long since created an image of a loner both on and off the playing field,
particularly in the 1930's and 1940's when he lived in hotels in Manhattan and was
considered something of a man about town. He once was characterized by a teammate as
the man "who led the league in room service." But he spent many evenings at Toots
Shor's restaurant in Manhattan, where he hid out at a private table far in the back
while Shor protected him from his public.
But his legend took a storybook turn in 1952, the year after he retired from the
Yankees, when DiMaggio, whose marriage to Dorothy Arnold had ended in divorce in 1944,
arranged a dinner date with Marilyn Monroe in California. They were married in San
Francisco on Jan. 14, 1954, and spent nine months trying to reconcile their
differences before they divorced in October. DiMaggio always seemed tortured by
Monroe's sex goddess image. He protested loudly during the making of Billy Wilder's
"The Seven Year Itch" when the script called for her to cool herself over a subway
grate while a sudden wind blew her skirts up high.
But when the actress seemed on the verge of an emotional collapse in 1961, DiMaggio
brought her to the Yankees' training camp in Florida for rest and support. And when
she died of an overdose of barbiturates at the age of 36 on Aug. 4, 1962, he took
charge of her funeral and for the next 20 years sent roses three times a week to her
crypt in the Westwood section of Los Angeles.
When DiMaggio made an unexpected and dramatic return to the public scene in the 1970's
as a dignified television spokesman for the Bowery Savings Bank of New York and for
Mr. Coffee, a manufacturer of coffee makers, he did it with remarkable ease for a man
who had been obsessed with privacy, who had once confided that he always had "a knot"
in his stomach because he was so shy and tense.
Gone was the stage fright that had rattled him during earlier sorties into
broadcasting. Instead, he was the epitome of credibility, the graying and trustworthy
hero who had hit his home runs and was now returning to extol the virtues of saving
money and brewing coffee. He soon became a familiar and comforting presence for a
generation of baseball fans who never saw him play.
For some years, he lived in San Francisco with his widowed sister Marie in a house in
the Marina District that he had bought for his parents in 1939 and that he and his
sister had shared with Marilyn Monroe. When the damp San Francisco climate troubled
the arthritis in his back, he began to spend most of his time in Florida, where he
established his home. He played golf and made selected excursions to Europe and the
Far East, where the demand for his appearance and his autograph returned high
dividends.
But he seemed to take the most pleasure in establishing a children's wing, called the
Joe DiMaggio Children's Hospital, at Memorial Regional Hospital in Hollywood, Fla. And
he seemed to relish the invitations back to Yankee Stadium, where he frequently threw
out the first ball on Opening Day, tall but slightly stooped, dressed elegantly, as
always, in a dark business suit, walking to the mound and lobbing one to the catcher.
It was there on the day the season ended this year, as the Yankees set a team record
with their 114th victory, that he was acclaimed on yet another Joe DiMaggio Day, the
timeless hero and the symbol of Yankee excellence, acknowledging the cheers of Yankee
players and fans.
It was the kind of cheering that accompanied him through life and that he had quietly
come to expect. It recalled the time when he and Marilyn Monroe, soon after their
wedding, took a trip to Tokyo. She continued on to entertain American troops in Korea,
and said with fascination when she returned, "Joe, you've never heard such cheering."
And Joe DiMaggio replied softly, "Yes, I have."
