These were a few among hundreds of similar interrogatories forced upon me. I told the reporters that I would call another meeting for next day, to be open to the public, to which I would issue a challenge to Andrew Freedman to appear and engage with me in an open discussion of the Base Ball situation. I would then show them how Mr. Freedman was to be disposed of. "In the meantime," I added, "Mr. Freedman is out of it. I have read him out."
Next day all newspaperdom was on hand—and then some. I called the meeting to order, explained that it was not a regular League affair, but a meeting at which Mr. Freedman and I were to engage in a joint debate concerning League matters. I then asked Mr. Freedman to come forward. There was no response.
"Has anyone seen Mr. Freedman?" I asked. "Have you seen him?" I said to a prominent newspaper man.
"Not on your life," was the reply.
"Will somebody kindly step to the doorway and ascertain if Mr. Freedman is awaiting an invitation to come in?"
Those present smiled, then grinned, then laughed, then shouted.
Very seriously I explained my great surprise and disappointment that the President of the New York Club was not present to represent the cause of the proposed new Base Ball Trust. Doubtless something serious must have occurred to prevent him from taking advantage of such a splendid opportunity to exploit his enterprise. However, I felt that, being there, I ought to say something in
