At 5-foot-5, the diminutive Hurst was known to some as “Tiny Tim.” But true to the words of an iconic Star Wars character, he proved that “size matters not.” The pugnacious Hurst was known to keep players under control with both words and fists. Hailed by a writer from the The Sporting Life for “having the finest brand of keen-cutting, kill-at-a-thousand-yards sarcasm of any umpire in captivity,” his fiery temperament would eventually drive him out of baseball.
Born to Irish parents in Ashland, Pennsylvania, Hurst learned to fight at an early age. His father worked in the wholesale liquor business then purchased a horse and wagon to deliver coal. Young Tim was expected to help support the family and, as a youth, he picked slate for a local mining establishment. Rounds of fisticuffs were common among workers during lunch hours and Hurst was sometimes in the mix. His love of boxing led to multiple stints as a fight referee in the years that followed.
At twenty-two years of age, Hurst became a professional umpire in the Central Pennsylvania League. He called plays in the Southern League and Western Association before taking a job as manager of the Minneapolis Millers. The Millers came close to winning a championship on his watch, but Hurst failed to endear himself to club executives and ended up being replaced. In 1891, he joined the umpiring crew of the National League.
Hurst was well-suited to the rowdy days of early baseball. Hall of Fame arbiter Bill Klem recalled: “[Hurst] was so tough that if a ballplayer did not like one of his decisions and challenged him on the field, Tim would say ‘OK, we’ll stop the game and go right under the stands and settle it now.’”
With a reputation for making highly accurate decisions, Hurst had an interesting way of maintaining order behind the plate. “Never put a catcher out of a game,” he told a New York Herald reporter. “If the man in back of the bat is sassy and objects to your calling of balls and strikes, keep close behind him while doing your work and kick him every time he reaches out to catch a ball. After about the third kick, he’ll shut up.”
Sometimes Hurst’s feisty temperament led to amusing results. According to historian Fred Lieb, Hurst made a call that went against Cincinnati’s third baseman, Arlie Latham, one day. Latham tore off his glove and kicked it in protest. It landed at the feet of Hurst, who promptly kicked it right back to Latham. The festivities didn’t end there. According to Lieb: “taking turns, Arlie and Tim booted the glove all the way to the outfield fence.”
On a number of occasions, Hurst’s outbursts were less than entertaining. In 1897, he was arrested in Cincinnati after he picked up a beer stein that had been tossed onto the field by an angry fan and whipped it back into the stands. The projectile hit a local fireman named James Cartuyvelles, opening a deep gash over his eye. Several years later, Hurst got into a physical altercation with New York Highlanders manager Clark Griffith during an on-field dispute. Though Griffith denied being punched when questioned afterward, his swollen lip lent little credence to that claim. Both men were suspended for five games.
In addition to his violent outbursts, Hurst was known to generate prolific streams of profanity. In 1900, multiple NL owners requested that he be banned from their ballparks due to his “ungentlemanly language.” The final straw for Hurst came on August 3, 1909. During the second game of a doubleheader between the A’s and White Sox in Philadelphia, Hurst made an uncharacteristically erroneous call on Eddie Collins. Collins was evidently safe at second base, but Hurst ruled him out, believing there had been some sort of interference on the play. When Collins protested, Hurst resorted to reprehensible behavior. In the colorful language of Philadelphia North American sportswriter, Jimmy Isaminger: “…the umpire distributed a mouthful of moistened union-made tobacco in the direction of youthful Eddie, who immediately called Tim’s attention to the Board of Health ordinance which prohibits expectorating in public places.” Fans went ballistic, throwing cushions and bottles in Hurst’s direction after the game. It took police nearly half an hour to safely escort the embattled arbiter out of the stadium.
After a full investigation of the spitting incident, Hurst was fired by AL President Ban Johnson. He had already tested Johnson’s patience earlier in the season when he traded punches with infielder Kid Elberfeld. Few sportswriters were terribly surprised by the outcome. A correspondent from The Sporting Life remarked: “Umpire Tim Hurst’s excessive pugnacity has at last landed him outside the major league breastworks—as had long been expected.”
Cast out of baseball, Hurst turned to other sports as a promoter. He later made a living selling real estate. In 1915, he died suddenly after a bout with food poisoning. He had been ill for some time before then though his condition was not considered terribly serious.
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