October 7th, 1939
Charles Crawford didn’t want to make a decision. He mulled over it for seven months, keeping the paper that just needed his signature on top of his desk the entire spring, summer, and then into fall. Thankfully for him, he didn’t need to choose. As the clock struck 9 am on the east coast, a phone call came through to the third story of the Hubert Square office building in Philadelphia. It was a personal assistant from the office of the president of the American League.
“Will Harridge’s office, this is Doris Jenkins. Mr. Harridge has an important message for you, will you please hold for him?”
Crawford paused a moment, plunging into thought about the content of the incoming message. “Yes, I will.”
Will Harridge came on the line four minutes later. It was a quick phone call. And at its conclusion, the American League ceased to exist.
Charles Crawford didn’t want to make a decision. He mulled over it for seven months, keeping the paper that just needed his signature on top of his desk the entire spring, summer, and then into fall. Thankfully for him, he didn’t need to choose. As the clock struck 9 am on the east coast, a phone call came through to the third story of the Hubert Square office building in Philadelphia. It was a personal assistant from the office of the president of the American League.
“Will Harridge’s office, this is Doris Jenkins. Mr. Harridge has an important message for you, will you please hold for him?”
Crawford paused a moment, plunging into thought about the content of the incoming message. “Yes, I will.”
Will Harridge came on the line four minutes later. It was a quick phone call. And at its conclusion, the American League ceased to exist.



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