A Little Luck and a Lot of Talent
91-year-old “Handsome Ransom” Jackson, BBA ’47, talks about his journey from The University of Texas to Wrigley Field and beyond.
As told to David Canright
I’m not a planner. I’ve always just gone with the flow. But I’m a mighty lucky guy. I never played formal sports during my boyhood in Arkansas — just pickup games in vacant lots — but I wound up in the majors.
After high school, I joined the Navy, enrolling in their officer training program. They sent me to Texas Christian University, and we were required to take 21 credit hours each semester: three Naval courses and three regular ones. If you failed even one class, you were gone. Shipped out to sea.
I didn’t have much spare time, but coach Dutch Meyer persuaded me to join the football team. We ended up winning the Southwest Conference title and a spot in the 1945 Cotton Bowl. Then I joined the baseball team, and surprised both the coach — and myself — by leading the Southwest Conference with a .500 batting average.
In May 1945, the Navy sent me to The University of Texas at Austin. I joined the football team, and we won the Southwest Conference again! I became the only player in history to play in two consecutive Cotton Bowls for two different winning teams. I also played baseball at UT; in two seasons, I hit .349 and .400 to win the league batting title for three straight years. I majored in business and graduated with a BBA in 1947. Then a scout for the Chicago Cubs invited me to come up for a tryout at Wrigley Field. They offered me a two-year contract at $6,000 a year. In my wildest dreams, that would never have happened.
That’s how I became an accidental big leaguer. They called me “Handsome Ransom,” a nickname that had less to do with my looks than the sportswriters needing something to rhyme with Ransom. Everyone had to have a nickname in those days.
After five seasons with the Cubs, I was traded to the Brooklyn Dodgers to back up and ultimately replace Jackie Robinson at third base. Jackie was a great guy, as well as a great ballplayer. And he and I shared one thing that set us apart: We were both college graduates at a time when very few ballplayers were.
As it happened, I was the last Brooklyn Dodger to hit a home run. It was at the end of the 1957 season before we became the Los Angeles Dodgers. Then a series of injuries began affecting my game. I was batting .185 when I was sold to the Cleveland Indians in August 1958. I was eager to play again after too much time on the bench, but at my first start for Cleveland, I pulled a leg muscle. I was sidelined again. After I recovered, back at third base, I felt honored to face Ted Williams, maybe the greatest hitter to ever live. He always hit to right field, so I was surprised when he shot a drive right for me that hopped and smashed into my right shin, leaving a knot and a memory to last a lifetime.
In 1959 I was traded to the Chicago Cubs, back where I started. There were a few more moments of glory with the Cubs, but I wasn’t playing or contributing much. I decided to quit baseball for keeps.
Now I had to face the question, “Where do I go from here?” I had just enough experience as a sports commentator to know that there wasn’t a future for me in broadcasting. But I got lucky again. And it didn’t hurt that I had a business degree from UT. A friend introduced me to some people starting a new company: Georgia International Life Insurance. They invited me to join them as a sales agent.
My dad made a living through the Depression selling life insurance, and I turned out to be good at it too. After the major leagues, I knew a lot of people. They trusted me, and I could offer them good products. Between commissions and stock options in the growing company, I made more money than I ever did as a baseball star.
I’m modest, but not that modest. I did pretty well for my time spent in the majors. I played for two storied teams: the Cubs and the Dodgers. I was elected to represent the National League twice at the All-Star Game and played in the 1956 World Series. Baseball always was a job, but it was also a game, and being able to play for a living was really something.
From the Fall 2017 issue of McCombs, the magazine for alumni and friends of the McCombs School of Business. Full PDF
