Marge Schott’s outspokenness is her legacy

Talking facility maintenance inside the boiler room at Tabor Correctional Institution are (from left) Creative Corrections Vice President Rene´ S. Greenwald, La Gran Joya Director General Jorge Luis Alema°n A., Panama Ministry Advisor Gerardo Pelaez, TKC facility manager Bart Sellers, TKC Division Manager Jason Hahn, and TKC Director Michael Cox.

Talking facility maintenance inside the boiler room at Tabor Correctional Institution are (from left) Creative Corrections Vice President Rene´ S. Greenwald, La Gran Joya Director General Jorge Luis Alema°n A., Panama Ministry Advisor Gerardo Pelaez, TKC facility manager Bart Sellers, TKC Division Manager Jason Hahn, and TKC Director Michael Cox.

CINCINNATI (AP) — Marge Schott loved her baseball team and her dog. She never cared much for holding her tongue.

As owner of the Cincinnati Reds, she readily shared favorable opinions about Hitler and inflammatory comments about minorities, drawing suspensions from baseball for giving the game a black eye.

When Schott died Tuesday after a brief illness, her lip was her legacy.

Schott, 75, won a World Series and led baseball through a series of public relations fiascos during her 15-year run as owner. She used racial slurs and insisted that Hitler was good in the beginning.

Every time she opened her mouth, baseball cringed.

“She was a straight-shooter,” former Reds manager Jack McKeon said.

Schott kept a low profile after she sold control of the team in 1999, spending her time on philanthropic ventures in her hometown.

Schott, a chain smoker, was hospitalized several times for lung ailments. She entered Christ Hospital about three weeks ago because of breathing difficulties. A spokeswoman declined to release the cause of death.

To Reds fans, she was known simply as “Marge,” someone who acted more like a middle-class fan than a wealthy owner. She mingled with fans, doted on her dogs and kept ticket prices down.

“Probably a lot of people remember her for some of the stuff she said,” said Bill Pennington, 45, standing on the downtown square where Schott celebrated the 1990 World Series title. “But I think what she did for the city of Cincinnati and what she did for the Reds was just really good.”

Schott referred to minorities with slurs and praised Hitler despite baseball’s admonitions to keep quiet. She picked fights with the Reds’ limited partners, who repeatedly took her to court to enforce their ownership agreement. Her inflammatory remarks tainted the franchise for nearly a decade.

With the limited partners ready to oust her once the ownership agreement expired, Schott sold control of the team in 1999 for $67 million.

“I guess I always thought of her as a tragic figure,” former baseball commissioner Fay Vincent said. “I think she tried very hard to do the right things for baseball, but she had some enormous limitations and she had some difficulty overcoming them.”

Her stubbornness and outspokenness overshadowed her charitable works and her fan-friendly manner.

“I think people are remembered for the good things they do when they’re gone,” Reds shortstop Barry Larkin said. “Now that she’s gone, they will remember the parties she had to raise money for kids, her involvement with the zoo, her giving to minority programs. She gave to minority programs before her racist comments came out.”

The Reds plan to honor Schott on opening day.

Schott inherited and expanded her husband’s business empire after he died in 1968. Until she bought control of the Reds in the mid-1980s, she was known primarily as a car dealer who made campy television commercials featuring her beloved St. Bernards.

Once she got control of the front office, she became one of the most prominent figures in the history of baseball’s first professional team.

She was involved in every aspect of the team. She started making baseball decisions, even though she didn’t know the players’ names. She settled one contract dispute by flipping a coin.

She allowed player-manager Pete Rose to make the headlines through 1989, when he accepted a lifetime ban for gambling. Once he left, she went front-and-center.

The Reds won the 1990 World Series, sweeping the Oakland A’s while Schott rubbed dog hair on manager Lou Piniella and his players for good luck.

Two years later, her use of racial slurs created a national controversy. Baseball officials ordered her to watch her comments, but she continued to publicly praise Hitler — saying he was “good at the beginning” but then “went too far” — and make disparaging remarks about minorities.

She was suspended twice for her remarks, and faced yet another suspension from baseball when she sold her control of the franchise.

While Schott created problems for herself, her franchise crumbled. She scrimped on the farm system and scouting, eliminated fan promotions and did away with the marketing that made the Reds a regional draw.

They also started struggling at the gate as Schott’s offensive language made headlines. Attendance began falling after 1993, when she was suspended the first time for her remarks.

Baseball commissioner Bud Selig noted that Schott loved baseball, her team and her city.

“Though not without controversy, she should be applauded for her many humanitarian efforts on behalf of the people of Cincinnati,” Selig said.

McKeon, the Reds manager when she sold control of the team, recalled how Schott would give him envelopes with leftover hair from her then-deceased dog for good luck when the team struggled.

“I’d have quite a bit of dog hair,” said McKeon, who managed Florida to a World Series title last season. “I was hoping we didn’t lose too many because she would always come down.

“She had two real loves — the Reds and her dog.”