were players, and good players, too, who would not take kindly to the proposed League organization. Such dishonest players were comparatively few in numbers—probably not exceeding five per cent, of those active in the professional game; but they constituted a mischievous and demoralizing element. The new leaders could not expect sympathy or co-operation in their fight against gambling from those who had been in collusion with gamblers. How to secure the confidence and loyalty of this small class, and at the same time retain the respect of the many clean-handed players, was one of many vexed problems that came before the new League organizers. So long as ball-players had been managing the affairs of the game the salary question was not so serious. It resolved itself into a division of the surplus—had there ever been any, after necessary expenses had been paid—be the balance what it might. But, under League control, with club management of teams and fixed salaries; with the essential declaration that players were to play ball and the management would do the rest, there loomed large upon the horizon of the Base Ball game a legal responsibility to be assumed—and by somebody who could be found on pay day.
With these and other problems confronting them, the League managers entered upon the discharge of their onerous duties earnestly and vigorously. One of the first things they did was to dignify the sport by advancing the membership fee from a paltry $10 per annum to $100 for each club. They made certain the possibility of remunerative gate receipts by requiring a bona fide
