My new book, Cooperstown at the Crossroads, offers a nine-point plan to reinvigorate the National Baseball Hall of Fame. (The book is now available from Niawanda Books.) I went into detail about each of my nine proposals on successive Fridays over the past two months. Today — a summation.
Thousands of halls of fame dot the American landscape, celebrating national, regional, and local excellence in a myriad of fields, occupations, and sports. They span the alphabet from the Alabama Jazz Hall of Fame, Burlesque Hall of Fame, Candy Hall of Fame, and Disc Golf Hall of Fame to the Television Academy Hall of Fame, United States Figure Skating Hall of Fame, Vocal Group Hall of Fame, and Women in Aviation International Pioneer Hall of Fame.
All of these organizations share a common godfather, Henry MacCracken, who served as chancellor of New York University more than a century ago. MacCracken was the driving force behind America’s very first hall, which he conceived to honor the nation’s preeminent artists, authors, educators, inventors, politicians, scientists, and soldiers. The Hall of Fame for Great Americans conducted its first election in 1900 and established itself on the Bronx campus of NYU.
“Hall” was actually a misnomer, since MacCracken’s brainchild was an outdoor colonnade. Its setting along the Harlem River — and the busts of honorees lining its walk — attracted a steady stream of tourists from the start. Its elections and installation ceremonies were heavily covered by newspapers across the country. The hall was accepted with surprising rapidity as an institution of national significance.
MacCracken had good reason to be satisfied. “It is, by itself, a most delightful memorial to great Americans — not only in its architecture and the names inscribed, but also in the surpassing landscape which it commands throughout its 500 feet of length,” he wrote happily. The Hall of Fame for Great Americans seemed to be perfectly situated for long-term prominence.
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Other fields paid tribute to MacCracken’s creation by copying it. Ford Frick admitted that the idea for the National Baseball Hall of Fame popped into his head as he strolled through the Bronx colonnade. It was the first of thousands of imitations. “If athletes could have their own halls of fame, why couldn’t cowboys, policemen, businessmen? Today they do, in Oklahoma City, Miami Beach, and Chicago, respectively,” wrote author Richard Rubin.
MacCracken’s concept remains as popular today as ever, with dozens of fledgling halls joining the ranks each year. But his prototype has not been as fortunate. The Hall of Fame for Great Americans, despite its early success, has lapsed into disrepair and irrelevance.
Its decline was evident as early as 1970, when its latest election went virtually unnoticed. The imperious Robert Moses, the former economic-development czar of New York City, voiced his dismay. “The truth is that this shrine is neglected,” he wrote in 1971. “Meanwhile, the National Baseball Hall of Fame at Cooperstown, an out-of-the-way place, attracts immense crowds.” It was a distressing comparison for him to make, given his disdain for spectator sports.
Moses was a man of action. He had been directly responsible for the construction of seven major bridges, 15 expressways, 658 playgrounds, 20,000 acres of parks, and 148,000 apartments during his reign as New York’s chief developer between 1924 and 1968.
He now exhorted New York University — and the public at large — to save the Hall of Fame for Great Americans, a challenge that he posed as a question: “Is there no one sufficiently interested in the makers of our America to provide a Westminster Abbey to celebrate them, at least as significant, attractive, and inspiring as a waxworks dedicated to muscle-bound gladiators?”
The answer was no.
NYU abandoned its Bronx campus in 1973, selling it to the City University of New York, which located a community college on the site. Funding for the hall of fame dwindled to a trickle after the sale, as did the flow of tourists. No elections were held after 1976. The busts of four of the final inductees were never commissioned. Hopes were briefly rekindled by restoration efforts in the 1990s, but deterioration soon regained the upper hand.
The Cultural Landscape Foundation added the Hall of Fame for Great Americans to its list of “at-risk landscapes” in 2018. The preservation group reported that MacCracken’s beloved structure had been ravaged by “water damage, pollutants, and the effects of weathering,” while the colonnade had been discolored by “deep stains from biological contaminants,” a polite term for bird droppings. The hall remains open to visitors to this day, though hardly anybody ever comes — and, indeed, nobody really cares.
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This sad story is not offered as a prediction; it does not imply a direct link between the Bronx and Cooperstown. But it does serve as a cautionary tale. The Hall of Fame for Great Americans once enjoyed remarkably robust health. It took its prominence for granted, it failed to keep pace with the times, and it eventually paid the price. Halls of fame may promise eternal glory, but they are not guaranteed eternal life.
The National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum would seem to be fairly well-situated. Its elections continue to draw wide media coverage. Its induction ceremonies still attract thousands of fans. Its plaque gallery remains a year-round tourist attraction.
But clouds are gathering over Cooperstown, as we have discussed throughout this series.
Baseball has lost its central place in the nation’s heart. The Hall of Fame has become more a subject of controversy than an object of veneration. The plaque gallery has failed to adequately convey the greatness of its inhabitants or the excitement of the game they played.
The nine-point plan that I’ve outlined offers a way for the hall to retool itself. If you’re interested in revisiting the introductory story about my platform and the nine planks that followed, here are the links:
The sooner the revitalization process can be started, the better. A pair of centennials are on the horizon: 2036 (100 years since the hall’s first election) and 2039 (a century since its grand opening). It would be ideal if all of the proposed changes — the Selection Committee, the separate galleries for players and contributors, the inductions of great teams, the Elite 100 — could be implemented by then.
Baseball has been in the doldrums, but recent rule changes offer hope. The major leagues are finally facing their shortcomings; they are finally laying the groundwork for a renaissance. The shrine in Cooperstown must do the same.
Bill James has been correct about so many things during his long career as a baseball analyst and historian. His 1995 warning, which I cited earlier, was especially prescient. If the Hall of Fame doesn’t seriously address its problems, he predicted, “something else will come along and push them aside.”
The danger is real. The time for action is now.