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Luckiest Man

By Dr. John D. Eigenauer
January 12, 2007

Jonathan Eig’s biography of Lou Gehrig, Luckiest Man, is as solid and as memorable as Gehrig himself. It tells Gehrig’s life easily, thoroughly, and engagingly despite working with a personality that was genuinely modest and consistently self-effacing. Luckiest Man is easy to read, completely enjoyable, and without a trace of hyperbole or adulation.

Eig treats Gehrig’s early life quickly, which I think is appropriate. He does not make too much of Gehrig’s childhood, but he does tell us enough that we see Gehrig’s adolescence, college years, and adult life as derivative of that youth. This is especially true of Gehrig’s relationship with his mother, which Eig relates objectively. It would be easy to attribute too much of Gehrig’s personality or habits to this relationship, or to psychologize too freely. Eig chooses a nice middle ground in which he allows the story to come out in verifiable anecdotes.

Likewise, Eig captures Gehrig’s college years and transition to the majors without mythologizing. Gehrig, like DiMaggio, could be treated as larger than life; the contemporary press did so with both of them. As he does throughout the book, Eig lets the primary sources speak, moderating them with appropriate interpretations. In doing so, he writes as Gehrig may have done himself, lessening the import of supposedly spectacular achievements in the name of fair journalism. For example, after a prodigious home run out of Wrigley Field as a high school player, the Chicago press dubbed Gehrig, “Babe” Gehrig. Eig could have highlighted the contemporary raves and fanfare that followed, but instead he emphasized Gehrig’s own perspective: he couldn’t believe that he had hit a ball out of a major league park. And in his dying days, Gehrig pointed out that the grand slam came with an 8-6 lead in the final inning of a game in which the runs were not needed to win. Selecting these comments out of hundreds available demonstrates that Eig truly understood his subject and wrote with objectivity and empathy.

Iron Man A contemporary picture of Lou Gehrig (colorized by Patrick Mondout).

The bulk of the book, of course, tells the story of Gehrig’s major league career. Eig correctly depicts the young Gehrig as being nearly unwilling to believe that he had the talent to play next to the likes of Babe Ruth and Ty Cobb. Eig uses this theme of personal insecurity throughout the book, and it seems an accurate way to characterize Gehrig. Even as his achievements mounted, Gehrig rarely knew his own value, especially when it came to contract negotiations and meeting women.

Beginning in chapter 12, “Courtship”, Eig introduces Gehrig’s future wife, Eleanor. Eig portrays her as quite unlike anyone Gehrig had ever met—she was certainly more cosmopolitan and liberal than his mother would have liked. To Eig’s credit, he gives Eleanor a primary place in Gehrig’s changing persona without attributing too much to her. We see how Gehrig broke out of his shyness somewhat after marrying Eleanor, trying out movie parts, speaking unabashedly about some of his records, and becoming more aggressive in contract negotiations. Eig claims that Eleanor “envisioned her role as that of manager, agent, and promoter” more than “wife”. Taken alone, this statement seems a rather crass assessment. However, Eig does a nice job showing how deeply Eleanor cared for Gehrig in her own way—her way just didn’t include being demur and subservient.

As he approaches the 1938 season (in which Gehrig’s skills and accomplishments began to decline slightly), Eig portrays Gehrig as reaching his peak—a portrayal that I found accurate. Indeed, Gehrig’s ’34, ’36, and ’37 seasons were among his best. About this time, Eig writes, the media began to take note, promoting Gehrig’s streak and statistical achievements even while they bemoaned that he would never be as quotable as Ruth or DiMaggio. These are good, solid chapters. But the most moving ones come at the end of the book.

While everyone knows about Gehrig’s illness and premature death, Eig does a terrific job portraying the confusion and hope that surrounded Gehrig as his illness advanced quickly after the 1938 season. He shows Gehrig stubbornly resisting the idea that something could be wrong with him, insisting that he needed just to work out the kinks in his swing; at the Mayo Clinic, trying to figure out why his powerful and reliable body was failing him; with his teammates, supporting them any way he could; in New York searching for miracle cures from vitamins to histamine injections; and working for the state of New York in one last effort to be useful and viable in the face of an unintelligible enemy. Here, Eig writes economically, letting the story itself draw out the pathos. It is a sad and beautiful part of Gehrig’s story and Eig tells it well.

I recommend Luckiest Man to casual baseball fans and serious researchers alike. It is well written and well researched (as can be seen by numerous references to primary sources). It is a great story, and Jonathan Eig tells it well.

John Eigenauer can be contacted at jeigenauer@yahoo.com. A complete list of his reviews and more about him can be found here.