The Mack-Carter TV Interview – A Baseball First?

By Bob Warrington

Collecting baseball photography has grown in popularity in recent years. All of the major auction houses feature baseball photography in their catalogues, and prices can range from quite modest for images of ordinary players to incredibly expensive for photos of major stars of yesteryear. Even a book on collecting baseball photographs has been published. (Marshall Fogel, Khyber Oser, and Henry Yee, A Portrait of Baseball Photography, (MastroNet, Inc. Publication, 2005.)

The intrinsic appeal and monetary value of a baseball photograph most times are driven by the scene it shows. Who can deny the touching humanity of Babe Ruth, his body wracked by disease, leaning on a bat for support during his final appearance at Yankee Stadium in 1948? Or, the unbridled fury of Ty Cobb as he slides spikes high into third base at Shibe Park in 1909, slashing Philadelphia A’s third baseman Frank Baker on the arm.

In these cases, the image determines a photograph’s appeal, without the need for research and explanation to interpret its meaning and importance.

But, there is another class of photographs that show scenes which appear quite ordinary but are, instead, extraordinary. The stories they tell are not immediately or obviously apparent by what the image shows. Their significance originates from the context in which the photograph was taken, rather than in the content of the photograph itself. Research and explanation are necessary in discovering and appreciating what a scene portrays.

The photograph that accompanies this article appears unremarkable. Two men are sitting at a table while a third man stands behind some equipment—presumably recording the conversation that is taking place. The men’s poses and the setting are quite ordinary, suggesting none of the pathos of a dying Babe Ruth or the ferocity of a base-stealing Ty Cobb. This photograph is far more significant than it appears at mere glance, however. The “hidden” history of the photograph documents an important milestone for baseball that, as will be shown, can only be revealed by going beyond what the image shows.

The Carter-Mack Interview

As is often the case when analyzing a baseball photograph, its original paper caption can offer critical clues about the circumstances surrounding what the image shows. The caption on the back of this photograph is such an example. It reads:

“America’s No. 1 News Commentator Interviews America’s No. 1 Base Ball Manager…Connie Mack (left) engaged in first Television sports interview with Boake Carter, famous Philco news commentator, in Philco Television Demonstration at Philadelphia, February 11th, 1937.”

This caption identifies the men at the table; provides a date and location for the photograph; and, gives some indication of what the scene shows—with an especially intriguing reference to a “first Television sports interview.” The caption sheds important light on the circumstances surrounding the scene the photograph shows, and by using this information as a starting point, research can provide a deeper understanding of the significance of what the image shows. We start with Boake Carter.

Boake Carter

A fascinating character, Harold Thomas Henry Carter was born on September 28, 1899 in Baku, Russia. His father was a member of the British Consular Service and was stationed in Baku when Carter was born. There are competing versions of how Carter wound up with the nickname Boake. According to one story he related, the name was bestowed on him in honor of the city in which he was born (Baku). In another story, Carter said Boake was an old English name from his mother’s side of the family. As this example illustrates, it was never quite clear where Carter drew the line between fact and fiction in telling colorful stories about his childhood.

Carter first came to the United States in 1920 when his father was assigned to the British embassy in Mexico City. Carter had begun his journalistic career at that point, working for press associations both as a newspaperman and a foreign correspondent. He wanted to ply his craft in the United States because he thought it was a more likely place to gain a prominent position in his profession. By March 1932, Carter was working as a reporter and commentator at radio station WCAU, a CBS affiliate in Philadelphia.

In January 1935, CBS asked WCAU to send a mobile unit to Flemington, New Jersey to cover the trial of Bruno Richard Hauptman, the man charged with kidnapping the infant son of famed aviator Charles A. Lindbergh. Boake Carter was dispatched, and his British accent caught the fancy of a national radio audience yearning for reports on the “trial of the century.” His style stood out from all other reporters, especially in his description of the lurid details of the crime. Carter became an instant celebrity.

The Philco Radio Company subsequently sponsored him to host a national news program on CBS, and Carter could be heard throughout the country broadcasting from the WCAU radio studio in Philadelphia. He became one of the most influential commentators of his time, and his program was twice voted by listeners as the most popular on radio—beating out such luminaries as Edward R. Murrow and Lowell Thomas.

Carter’s star began to dim as he became increasingly vitriolic in his criticism of President Franklin Roosevelt and the New Deal. Both CBS and Philco grew uncomfortable with Carter’s strident denunciations of the New Deal and his championing of conservative isolationism for America in world affairs. When Carter’s contract with Philco ended in August 1938, it was not renewed and CBS dropped his program from its lineup.

Carter spent his remaining years writing a syndicated column that appeared in 67 newspapers, touring the lecture circuit, and hosting a news program on the Mutual Network that reached far fewer listeners than his previous CBS-affiliated show. With his influence waning, Carter died of a heart attack on November 16, 1944.

Connie Mack

No reader of the Philadelphia A’s Historical Society newsletter should require a tutorial on the baseball life of Connie Mack and his hallowed place in major league history. When this photograph was taken, Mack was beginning his 37th year of managing the Philadelphia Athletics. The previous month, January 1937, he had been elected as the A’s president to run the franchise from the front office as well as the team from the bench.

Mack had won nine American League pennants and five World Series titles with his Athletics by 1937—the year in which he would be elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Although no more championships would come Mack’s way, he had already achieved iconic status in major league baseball and was a legendary figure in Philadelphia.

While referring to Connie Mack as “America’s No. 1 Base Ball Manager” and Boake Carter as “America’s No 1 News Commentator” may reflect a bit of hyperbole, the wording on the photograph’s paper caption was correct in asserting that these men were widely known and highly respected throughout America in 1937.

The Philco Company

The Philadelphia Storage Battery Company was formed in 1906 to produce storage batteries for electric automobiles, trucks, and mine locomotives. When, by 1911, the means of starting a gasoline-powered automobile using an electric motor had been developed—eliminating the need for a hand crank—the company expanded its manufacturing line by making batteries for these vehicles.

The Philadelphia Storage Battery Company started a national advertising campaign in 1919, choosing The Saturday Evening Post and National Geographic Magazine to publicize its products. The firm handling the account suggested the company shorten its name when advertising merchandise to make it catchier and more easily remembered. Hence, “Philco” was born.

During the 1920s, a device once regarded as a toy for the well-to-do began gaining wider acceptance—the radio. By 1923, the number of radio broadcasting stations had grown to over 500, and 200 manufacturers were producing radio receivers. Philco got into the radio battery business that year. It produced low-voltage, high-current “A” batteries to light radio tube filaments, and high-voltage, low-current “B” batteries to supply needed voltage for a radio to operate.

Philco’s role in radio grew over the years. In 1925, it developed the “Socket Power Unit,” which allowed radios to operate from light sockets without the need for batteries. In 1928, the company began manufacturing its own line of radio receivers, encased in stylish furniture model cabinets. The next year, Philco began sponsoring the “Philco Hour,” one-hour radio broadcasts of the Philadelphia Orchestra under the direction of Leopold Stokowski. Philco’s sponsorship of Boake Carter’s national news program followed later.

Television

As radio had once been considered a novelty for the rich, another entertainment technology for the masses was emerging in embryonic form by the 1930s—television. In 1932, the Philco Television Research Team was organized, headed by Philo Farnsworth. That same year, Philco Company was granted license W3XE to operate Philadelphia’s first experimental television station. (Prior to the opening of commercial television stations in 1946, the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) issued licenses to a number of experimental stations to allow testing of over-the-air transmission of television technology that was being developed in laboratories.)

Philco’s experimental television station, called W3XE after its license designation, was located in the company’s radio factory located at “C” and Tioga Streets in Philadelphia. The television research team broadcast the Mickey Mouse cartoon “Steamboat Willie” over and over on its prototype receiver, while making adjustments to improve the quality of the transmission. Philco funded its experimental television work with proceeds from its highly successful radio and electronic businesses.

One of the challenges of early television was to improve the definition of the screen image. The primary way to do that was to increase the number of lines that together comprise the image that is shown on an analog television screen. (Keep in mind that screens were small back in the 1930s. Philco’s 1937 model television had a screen that was 7 ½ inches by 10 inches.)

The first experimental television developed in 1929 featured a 60-line picture. By 1932, the number of lines had increased to 120. Further expansion followed: 240 screen lines in 1933, and 343 in 1934. Each improvement provided greater picture detail intended to allow television transmissions to become commercially feasible for companies wishing to sell television sets to the public. But, newspaper and radio reporters still complained that television picture clarity did not equal that achieved in movie theaters.

The next great advancement in television image definition came from Philco, the advent of which brings us back to the Carter-Mack interview.

To display its technological great leap forward, Philco held a demonstration at which a 441-line definitional screen image was unveiled to an invited audience of highly important members of the media and communications industry. The date of the demonstration was February 11, 1937—the date on the photograph of Boake Carter interviewing Connie Mack. The broadcast originated in the company’s Philadelphia experimental television station.

The Carter-Mack television interview was mentioned in the June, 1937 issue of The Etude Music Magazine, (pages 359-360) in an article titled, “Television, When?” The article featured the same photograph that appears here, and its author described the event this way:

“We recently attended a private demonstration in which the Philco Company presented to publishers and editors from all parts of the United States the “last word” in the advancement of television. The program lasted one hour and was given in the ballroom of the Germantown Cricket Club. The pictures were reproduced in what is known as 441 lines, a big advantage over the 335 lines previously possible. One of the striking pictures was a television interview between Boake Carter and “Connie” Mack, well known news commentator and famous baseball manager, who were televised three miles away from the receiving set.”

How well did the demonstration go? The reporter who witnessed the transmission of the Cater-Mack interview and wrote of it in The Etude Music Magazine, commented, “The pictures came in with surprisingly little flicker and light variation, but they are not yet as steady in this respect as the ordinary good movie. That they are as good as they are is so marvelous that one continuously feels a desire to pinch himself to realize that it is all actually happening.”

The reporter and other individuals assembled at the Germantown Cricket Club saw the demonstration on a screen measuring twelve inches in diameter. The image shown was seven and one half inches by ten inches. A black border around the picture covered the rest of the screen. The reporter also noted that the television set “required twenty-six tubes, different in size and character,” to show the pictures.

Given that “publishers and editors from all parts of the United States” attended the demonstration, it was a hallmark event in displaying a significant advancement in television technology. But, who actually saw the interview that was broadcast with unprecedented clarity using 441-line definitional television screen imaging? There were those invited for the demonstration who witnessed it at the Germantown Cricket Club. In addition to the media, invitations to publicize technological innovations in television typically would have been sent to senior company executives and FCC officials.

What about the general public? Were there others who tuned into W3XE to enjoy watching the interview? The answer is yes, but not many.

In 1937, less than 200 television sets were distributed throughout Philadelphia. Most sets were in the homes of officials, technicians, and engineers employed by the companies that were actually involved in the development of television technology. Some were in the homes of well-off private citizens who could afford to pay for what was regarded as an exotic toy of questionable entertainment value. (In 1937, it is important to remember, radio and movies were kings, and America was still slowly working its way out of the devastating economic times of the Great Depression.)

Television sets also could be found in the display windows of stores selling home entertainment products. They were put there by the companies, such as Philco, developing television technology for commercial purposes. Crowds would gather around the storefronts to watch with amazement the flickering images of television transmissions. The public displays were intended to promote interest in television technology among American consumers, all of whom were viewed as potential buyers by companies hoping to make a profit on television sales.

The 441-line definitional screen image was state of the art in 1937, but it didn’t hold onto that status for long. On July 1, 1941, the FCC authorized the 525-line standard for television picture screens. It remains the industry standard to this day, although analog television technology has become obsolete and is fast fading into history.

World War II would delay the onset of the commercialization of television and the availability of television technology as a mass consumer product. But, once the war was over, television took off in America. Philco’s W3XE experimental television station was granted a commercial license to broadcast regular programming in Philadelphia and changed its call letters to WPTZ-TV.

Placing the Carter-Mack Interview in Historical Perspective

Now, let’s take all the information that has been presented about the photograph’s content and the context in which it was taken to judge its historical significance.

The Philco Company wanted to publicize its latest technological advancement in television image definition with, understandably, the greatest amount of fanfare possible. The place would be dictated by the location of its experimental television station—Philadelphia. To generate the greatest amount of publicity for a broadcast interview intended to showcase groundbreaking television technology, the company brought together two of the most famous national personalities residing in the city and available to appear on screen for the demonstration. First, Boake Carter—a nationally known and highly influential radio newscaster under contract to Philco whose flagship station was located in the city. Second, Connie Mack—the preeminent sports personality in Philadelphia and a man known throughout America as one of the game’s greatest managers.

(Whether Mack was paid for the interview is unknown. He may have done it for free, regarding his appearance as good publicity for the A’s and as quid pro quo for Philco’s purchase of advertising space for its products in Athletics’ scorecards. Perhaps the company showed its appreciation by giving Mack a Model 37-9X Philco radio. Introduced in January 1937, this floor model radio featured a nine-tube console, three tuning bands, an improved automatic tuning mechanism, all housed in a handsome mahogany veneer cabinet. Selling price: $100.)

Sadly, there is no evidence that an audio or video recording of the interview survives. It’s reasonable to assume that Carter asked Mack some baseball-oriented questions and requested the A’s skipper’s assessment of his team’s prospects for the upcoming 1937 season. (An awful seventh place finish at season’s end.) The two also may have discussed the Athletics’ upcoming spring training in Mexico City—Mack’s first venture beyond the continental United States to condition his team for the campaign. (A less-than-happy experience for the players and Mack never to be repeated.)

The First Baseball Interview on Television?

Baseball historians, trivia buffs, and fans of the National Pastime, are intrigued by the question of who was the first baseball personality interviewed on television. This photograph and background information compiled about the image portrayed on it offer important evidence that the answer to this question is Connie Mack.

A strong case can be made that the Carter-Mack interview on February 11, 1937 was the first interview of a baseball personality (most likely any sports personality) for television broadcast in Philadelphia. But, was it also the first interview of a baseball personality for television anywhere in the United States?

It is difficult to answer this question with complete certainty. There were other experimental television stations during the period, including those in New York, Chicago and Los Angeles. It is possible they also interviewed baseball personalities during the same timeframe, although whether such interviews actually took place and details regarding their dates and the individuals involved are lacking. Nonetheless, based on the photograph and the research that’s been done by this author, Connie Mack has a persuasive claim to being the first baseball personality ever interviewed on television.

This photograph is historically significant because it documents a milestone in the evolution and confluence of television and baseball. The multiple, pervasive links between the two we now take for granted were still years away in 1937. The emergence of television as a mass consumer product was postponed by the obligation to win World War II; by the need for further advancements in transmission receiver technology; and, by the requirement for television sets to proliferate throughout American society. But, all of that eventually happened, which brought television and baseball—together and individually—to the relationship they have today…for better or worse.

A Final Thought

Baseball photography offers individuals the chance to combine acquisitive passion and investigative pursuit in amassing a superlative collection. Obtaining photographs based primarily on what their images show will, no doubt, continue to dominate the field. But, there is more to collecting baseball photography. As this article has attempted to demonstrate, discovery of the “hidden” history of a photograph—made apparent only through research and analysis—can transform a seemingly ordinary photograph into something special. The photograph becomes more important not for the image it allows you to show, but for the story it allows you to tell.