The Gruesome Suicide of a Ballplayer

 

In the summer of 1917, a 26-year-old pitcher took the mound for Williamport's Pennsylvania Railroad baseball team. It was joyous occasion for the struggling P.R.R. club, who welcomed their star twirler with open arms. But for Arthur "Rosin" Salada, it was a giant fall from grace. Just five years earlier, Salada had been the property of the Philadelphia Phillies of the National League; now he was property of the railroad, playing ball for the company team on weekends, competing in an independent league of local teams whose lineups were comprised of blue-collar ordinary Joes who poured concrete or shingled roofs by day. 

But if Rosin Salada thought he had reached rock bottom, he was gravely mistaken. He would make headlines years later, not for his fastball or slider, but for committing one of the most shocking suicides in the history of the small town of Lykens.

The Rise of Rosin

Born in Berrysburg, Dauphin County, in 1891, Arthur Harrison Salada was one of thirteen children born to Mary Jane Salada and her husband, Cyrus, a Civil War veteran who had been wounded at the Battle of Gettysburg. Of the six Salada boys, Arthur shone the brightest on the baseball diamond, and it wasn't long before scouts began turning up at neighborhood ballgames. In 1911, Salada, who had earned the nickname of "Rosin" by this time (rosin powder is often used by pitchers to keep their hands dry, thereby allowing for a better grip on the ball), caught the attention of the Philadelphia Phillies.

 In February of 1912, Salada signed a minor league contract with the Atlantic City Lanks, which was Philadelphia's new affiliate in the Tri-State League. The Lanks (so named because the team had relocated from Lancaster, Ohio, in the middle of the season) were managed by John Castle, who was also the team's star outfielder. Unfortunately, Salada never really had a chance to shine under Castle; while the Atlantic City Lanks would exist for just two seasons before being disbanded, Castle had a stable of superstar hurlers. The 1912 roster included seven pitchers, three of whom would don major league uniforms-- Huck Wallace, Buck Stanley, and Stan Coveleski, who would go on to compile a 215-142 record pitching before being inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1969.

Salada pitched in four games with the Lanks, but then, in November, the National Baseball Commission ruled that Philadelphia's signing of Salada had been "irregular" and voided the contract. The reason for this was that Salada had also signed a contract with the Troy Trojans of the New York State League just a few days earlier. As a result, the commission declared that the Berrysburg native belonged to the Troy Trojans. Salada was so angered by this decision that he refused to report to training camp in the spring.

Nonetheless, Troy fans had high hopes for the young hurler going into spring training. Matty Fitzgerald, the team's catcher (and former New York Giant), took Salada under his wing, and told reporters that Salada was "one of the best recruit pitchers he had ever seen". High praise, indeed, considering that Fitzgerald had been a catcher on a 1906-1907 Giants team that included two future hall-of-fame pitchers-- Joe McGinnity and Christy Mathewson, arguably the greatest pitcher in baseball history. Just days after Fitzgerald's statement, Salada struck out four batters in two scoreless innings against Waterbury. And then, on April 22, Salada was traded from Troy to Waterbury for third baseman Bill Glennon. 

The Downfall Continues

Salada struggled mightily in Waterbury, and less than four months after his arrival, he was sent packing for Middletown, New Jersey. In less than a one year's time, Rosin had fallen several rungs down the ladder and now found himself pitching in the New York-New Jersey League-- and not pitching particularly well. Throughout their existence, the Middletown Middies never had a player that reached the major leagues. His dreams seemingly dashed to pieces, Arthur Salada returned to Dauphin County and took up residence in Lykens, taking a job in the coal mines.

At 23 years of age, Arthur still had plenty of love left for the game. Pitching for the local Elizabethville team in 1914 in a game against Halifax, Salada struck out fifteen batters. He repeated this feat again on Labor Day in a game against Lykens. The "Mighty Salada", as he was dubbed by local papers, continued his domination the following spring. But his famous fastball had lost much of its zip by summer. He continued to pitch for local ball clubs in Sunbury and Williamsport in the following years, but became better known for wild pitches than strikeouts. And then he lost his control entirely.

The Private Life of Arthur Salada

Maybe it was the domestic life that had changed him; no longer the up-and-coming young athlete but a middle-aged coal miner, Arthur found himself living in a small house in Lykens at the corner of Ninth and Pine streets, and coming home to his wife, Kathryn, and their four children. Their marital life was marked by frequent quarrels, usually concerning money. According to Kathryn, the family had been living in "dire circumstances", often depending on neighbors and aid workers to bring them the food which they could not afford to buy for themselves.

 When they weren't fighting over money, Arthur regularly accused his wife of infidelity. Arthur was an insanely jealous husband, and insisted that his wife had been sleeping around with the baker who had often donated bread to the struggling Saladas. In the winter of 1927, Mabel Grimm, who lived next door, visited the Salada home and encountered the 36-year-old ex-ballplayer threatening to shoot his wife with a shotgun. Kathryn managed to hide the gun from her husband, which undoubtedly saved her life while extending his-- for a short while, at least. 

On Tuesday morning, December 6, 1927, the Saladas awoke at four o'clock. While Arthur got dressed for another grueling day down in the mines, Kathryn dutifully packed his lunch box. Though he had been in good spirits the night before, Arthur was in a sour mood that morning. In the kitchen he found his wife finishing packing his lunch, and he said to her: "I'm going to shoot you and then do away with myself." When he asked Kathryn where she had hidden his gun, she lied and said that she had given it away. He began overturning furniture and opening cabinets, searching for the weapon. By the time he found it, Kathryn had already made it to the front door.

James, their three-year-old son, pleaded with him not to shoot, but as Kathryn opened the door Arthur fired the shotgun three times, shooting her in the neck and ripping off her right ear. She staggered into the street, her screams waking the neighbors. The buckshot also managed to strike an innocent bystander, Michael Sass, in the abdomen. Sass, who had been standing on the corner waiting for a ride to work, was rushed to the home of a local physician. Kathryn was carried to the home of Charles Gayner, where she was given medical aid before being sent to Harrisburg Hospital by train in serious condition. She would not be released until late December. Several of the slugs had injured her spinal column, passing dangerously close to the jugular vein. Physicians held out little hope for recovery at first, but within a few days she rallied and showed signs of improvement; however, she would suffer from paralysis for the remainder of her life. Ironically, if the former minor league pitcher hadn't lost his aim, Kathryn Salada would've been killed instantly.

After shooting his wife, Arthur placed the barrel of the gun in his mouth and ended his life with a blast to that tore off the top of his head. His body was found lying in the living room of the home when Constable Clarence Enders arrived, and Deputy Coroner James D. Helt was summoned to the scene. The Lykens Standard described the sight:

No spot was large enough on the ceiling to place a hand without touching blood. Bone and brains hung from the plastering and the side walls were literally covered with blood. 

Kathryn was not made aware of her husband's death until the following day, and the funeral services were held inside the Salada home on Thursday afternoon. After the tragedy, Kathryn Salada and her children moved to nearby Wiconisco, where she remained until her death in 1941 at the age of 45. Her death was attributed to an illness caused by her paralysis. She was laid to rest at Calvary United Methodist Cemetery in Wiconisco, in a plot next to Arthur.

Sources:
Scranton Times-Tribune, Nov. 22, 1912.
Binghamton Press, March 15, 1913.
Scranton Truth, April 8, 1913.
Binghamton Press, April 17, 1913.
Hartford Courant, April 22, 1913.
Scranton Tribune, Aug. 13, 1913.
Harrisburg Courier, July 26, 1914.
Elizabethville Echo, Sept. 10, 1914.
Carlisle Sentinel, Dec. 6, 1927.
Harrisburg Evening News, Dec. 6, 1927.
Elizabethville Echo, Dec. 8, 1927.
Lykens Standard, Dec. 9, 1927.
Lykens Register, Feb. 14, 1941.