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Marge Schott; NY Times obit

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Mar 2, 2004, 11:46:36 PM3/2/04

March 3, 2004
Marge Schott, Eccentric Owner of the Reds, Dies at 75
By RICHARD GOLDSTEIN

Marge Schott, who evoked the image of a charming eccentric
when she bought the Cincinnati Reds in 1984 but became a
baseball pariah for offensive racial and ethnic remarks,
died yesterday in Cincinnati. She was 75.

Her death was announced by Christ Hospital, where she had
been treated for several weeks. She had lung-related
problems in recent years, The Associated Press said.

When she took control of the Reds, Mrs. Schott, a socially
prominent widow and heir to an industrial fortune, was the
only female owner in the major leagues who had bought a team
in her own right. Joan Kroc of the San Diego Padres and Jean
Yawkey of the Boston Red Sox had inherited their franchises
from their husbands.

She appeared at her introductory news conference with her
170-pound St. Bernard, Schottzie, who, clad in a Reds cap,
perched on the feet of Manager Pete Rose. She maintained
that in purchasing the team, she might have prevented its
move out of Cincinnati. It seemed that she might be an
astute baseball promoter, and she was a formidable
contributor to Cincinnati area charities.

But a series of gaffes and intolerant remarks caused Mrs.
Schott to lose control of the Reds in 1999. In her 15 years
as owner, a franchise that had thrived in the 1970's as the
Big Red Machine had seven managers but only one
pennant-winner, the World Series champions of 1990.

Mrs. Schott's image first soured in November 1992 when
several former Reds executives said that she had referred to
players and business associates using racial and ethnic
slurs. In an interview that month with The New York Times,
she said that "Hitler was good in the beginning, but he went
too far."

Mrs. Schott denied she was a racist, but acknowledged she
had sometimes used a racial epithet.

Asked in a deposition for a lawsuit brought by a former Reds
employee if she was prejudiced against Jews in light of
possessing a Nazi armband - a war souvenir - she responded:
"No. They are not smarter than us, just sharper." The uproar
over Mrs. Schott's remarks prompted baseball's leadership to
suspend her from day-to-day oversight of the Reds for the
1993 season. After she made a similar comment about Hitler
in May 1996, she was forced to relinquish her daily control
of the Reds again and she never regained it.

In October 1999, Mrs. Schott turned over control of the team
to a group headed by Carl Lindner, one of the limited
partners, in a $67 million deal. She remained in Reds
ownership as a limited partner.

Mrs. Schott was a major contributor to local charitable
causes, including Children's Hospital and the Cincinnati
Zoo.

"Marge was a paradox," Mayor Charlie Luken of Cincinnati
told The Cincinnati Enquirer upon her death. "While there is
no excusing some of the indelicate things she said, there
was a kindness to Marge that made her a woman of the
people."

She was born Margaret Unnewehr, the second of five daughters
of Edward Unnewehr, a Cincinnati native who made a fortune
in the lumber business.

"My father was Achtung-German," Mrs. Schott recalled in
1992. "He used to ring a bell when he wanted my mother. When
I was 21 and went to vote, he told me who to vote for. I
said, `Yes, Daddy.' "

She married Charles Schott, a member of a wealthy Cincinnati
family, in 1952, and gained notice for the parties she held
for friends and charities at her mansion in the suburb of
Indian Hill.

When her husband died of a heart attack in 1968, Mrs. Schott
inherited auto dealerships in Cincinnati and interests in
insurance, brick manufacturing, concrete products and
landfills.

She became a limited partner in the Reds' ownership in 1981
and was named the general partner on Dec. 21, 1984, when she
purchased the controlling interest held by the brothers
James and William Williams and shares held by two other
limited partners, reportedly for $11 million.

Mrs. Schott called her purchase of the Reds a "Christmas
gift to the people of Cincinnati." She said she was
concerned that the Williams brothers might sell the
franchise, which reported $4 million in losses in 1984, to
an out-of-city group.

Mrs. Schott promoted the team at functions, and she loved to
take part in the Wave from her box seat at Riverfront
Stadium. But the allegations in 1992 concerning offensive
remarks tarnished her image.

The next February, baseball's executive council suspended
Mrs. Schott for the 1993 season and fined her $25,000 for
"the most base and demeaning type of racial and ethnic
stereotyping."

Mrs. Schott had apologized for any offensive remarks, but in
an interview for ABC-TV's "Primetime Live" after the
suspension, she suggested the inquiry was a "witch hunt" and
said, "I think if I had been a man this would never have
happened."

A month after that suspension was imposed, baseball's
executive council banned Schottzie 02 - another of her St.
Bernards - from the Riverfront Stadium field, citing
"numerous complaints by the players."

Mrs. Schott had no children, to her great regret. She
bestowed great affection on her dogs and delighted in
parading with her St. Bernards around the Reds' ballpark and
rubbing the dogs' fur on her players.

In yet another incident, Lou Piniella, who had taken the
Reds to the World Series championship in his first year as
manager, rejected a two-year contract extension after the
1992 season. He said later that a major factor in his
leaving was the failure of the Reds' management to support
him in a defamation suit - later dropped - that was filed by
Umpire Gary Darling and the Major League Umpires
Association.

Another embarrassment for Mrs. Schott arrived in 1996.

After the season-opening game at Cincinnati had been called
off when Umpire John McSherry sustained a fatal heart attack
in the first inning, Mrs. Schott told The Cincinnati
Enquirer: "I feel cheated. Nobody feels worse than me."

She compounded that gaffe with her sympathy offering to the
umpiring crew; according to published reports, it was a
recycled bouquet given to her by the team's television
affiliate.

On June 12, 1996, Mrs. Schott agreed to give up daily
operation of the Reds through the 1998 season, having been
told by baseball's executive council that she would be
suspended again if she did not do so. She turned over
day-to-day affairs to John Allen, the team's controller.

Mrs. Schott is survived by her sisters, Charlotte Crane,
Winnie Fraser, Caroline Paddock and Mary Elizabeth Unnewehr.

"I guess I always thought of her as a tragic figure," the
former baseball commissioner Fay Vincent told The Associated
Press. "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."

Bill Schenley

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Mar 3, 2004, 2:23:28 AM3/3/04

> March 3, 2004
> Marge Schott, Eccentric Owner of the Reds, Dies at 75
> By RICHARD GOLDSTEIN

FROM: The Cincinnati Enquirer ~

http://www.enquirer.com/editions/2004/03/03/loc_schottmain.html

She called everyone honey.

And everyone knew her as Marge.

Now, at age 75, she is gone.

Marge Schott, a genuine Cincinnati character with loads of
character, died today.

"Her death leaves me heart-broken," said restaurateur Tom
Gregory. His late father, Ted, always greeted Schott with a
hearty "Hi-ya Used-Car Margie!" when the Buick dealership
owner and former Reds chief owner entered one of his
Montgomery Inns.

"She made her mistakes in baseball," Gregory noted. "They
were well-documented. And she may have gotten a raw deal.

"But she loved this town. Her passing robs Cincinnati of one
of its biggest boosters."

In her life, Schott brought fame and shame to her beloved
hometown. She did that as the good Marge and the bad Marge.
And the former just may outweigh the latter.

"Marge was a paradox," said Cincinnati Mayor Charlie Luken.

"While there is no excusing some of the indelicate things
she said, there was a kindness to Marge that made her a
woman of the people."

The good Marge was a generous benefactor of good causes for
kids, animals and baseball. The bad Marge was the poster
child for politically incorrectness and racist comments.
Both Marges completed the total package of this
controversial woman.

To the outside world, Schott will be known forever as the
cantankerous dog-loving, chain-smoking Cincinnati Reds owner
whose intemperate remarks about Hitler and blacks dunked her
into an ocean of hot water.

The New York Times dubbed her "Baseball's Big Red Headache."

The baseball world knew her well. For nearly 15 seasons, she
was the quirky team owner who scrimped on the front office,
turning out lights and copying machines to save pennies,
while spending big bucks on the field for the services of
players with dubious skills.

"She was a crusty old broad, and I say that affectionately,
because she treated me well," said Marty Brennaman, the
Reds' Hall of Fame radio broadcaster.

"For the most part during her watch she spent whatever it
took when it came to putting personnel on the field to make
this a better ball club."

Her success with the Reds cannot be denied. The 1990 team
went wire-to-wire to become the franchise's most recent
World Champs. But, her loose lips ultimately sank her.
Schott's comments left Major League Baseball with no
alternative. The commissioner's office forced her to sell
her majority interest in the home team she willingly bled
the Reds' shade of crimson.

The man she sold the team to, Carl Lindner, called Schott
"tough but fair." And plain-spoken. "What was on her heart
was on her tongue."

Lindner found out what was on Schott's mind when she sued
him in February 2003 over the placement of her seats at
Great American Ball Park. The suit was settled in July.

Schott and Lindner last met three weeks ago at a meeting of
the Reds' partners - she still owned about 1/13th of the
team.

Despite their differences, Lindner called her "a skilled
business person. No question about that."

Schott pocketed $67 million from the sale of the Reds.
Making a fortune on the deal compared to her initial
investment, she plowed millions back into the community.

"Selling the ball club was a blessing in disguise for the
community as a whole," Brennaman said. "Look at all of the
contributions she's made since then. She has never gotten
enough credit for all of the money she's donated to causes
in this city."

Cincinnati knew - and benefited from - the good Marge. While
many in the Queen City reviled her for her racist remarks,
many others revered her for her charitable contributions.

"Marge has done more than any other citizen to improve the
quality of life in Cincinnati," said Bill Heckman, president
of the Children's Heart Association.

For the last 41 summers, Schott held a Reds Rally shindig at
her home. The combination auction, dinner and Reds players
meet and greet raised more than $1 million for the
association that aids heart research at Cincinnati's
Children's Hospital.

Giving away millions of dollars, Scott loaned her name to a
school building on St. Ursula Academy's East Walnut Hills
campus, an 18-acre lake at Clermont County's Dan Beard Scout
Reservation, a Boys & Girls Club in Covington, and a
pavilion at the Milford Spiritual Retreat.

Anyone making a fuss over her generosity would be waved off
by Schott. Usually with a smoldering Carlton in one hand.

"It's only money, honey," she liked to say.

The school building, the lake, the club and the pavilion
bear the name: Marge Unnewehr Schott.

Unnewehr is her maiden name.

"Kids used to tease me unmercifully about that name," Schott
once said in an interview.

"They'd call me 'Un-aware.' And 'Underwear.' "

But they didn't call her poor.

She was born Margaret Unnewehr on Aug. 18, 1928, the second
of five daughters of Cincinnati lumber baron Frank Unnewehr
and his wife, Charlotte, a classically trained pianist.

Margaret Unnewehr graduated from Clifton's Sacred Heart
Academy with a high school diploma and a head for business.

"Daddy wanted a boy," she fondly recalled during an
interview in 2000.

"So, he took me to all of his businesses."

She became his right-hand daughter and he nicknamed her
"Butch."

Marge married well - to wealthy industrialist Charles Schott
in 1952. But the marriage ended tragically.

He died in 1968, suffering a heart attack at the age of 42.
His death left his 39-year-old widow to run his car
dealership, his pig-iron empire and his brick plants, to
roam their 70-acre estate in Indian Hill and regret that she
was childless.

Being childless preyed on Schott. It colored her taste in
charitable donations. And, in the end, it helped generations
of Cincinnatians.

"Charlie and I were never blessed with children," she said
in 2000.

"When you don't have kids and you're in a Catholic family -
one of my sisters had 10 children in 11 years - she's part
rabbit - you feel kind of guilty about that. So, I want to
do things for other people's children."

Children and animals were Schott's great passions.

Her love of her St. Bernards, the Reds' four-legged mascots
Schottzie and Schottzie 02, is legendary. Wherever Schott
went, her dogs were sure to follow.

When she ran the Reds, she rubbed their fur on managers and
players for good luck.

The dogs ruled Riverfront Stadium, going everywhere and,
occasionally, going on the Astroturf.

The Schottzies also ruled her home in Indian Hill. In his
new book, My Prison Without Bars, Pete Rose recalled a trip
to Marge's mansion. The dog of the house drooled on his lap.

Rose protested.

Schott replied: "The dog lives here, Pete. You're just
visiting."

Schottzie died in 1991. Schottzie 02, whose name graces the
$500,000 athletic field Schott gave to St. Ursula, died in
2001.

The younger dog wore a Reds cap when it was buried. Schott
tossed a replica of the 1990 World Series ring into her
pet's grave.

Losing Schottzie 02 broke Schott's heart.

"I don't know if there'll be a Schottzie 03," she said.

There never was.

Instead of getting another dog, and instead of throwing good
money after a sore-armed pitcher or a third-rate outfielder,
Schott devoted her time and funds to two of her favorite
homes for animals, the Cincinnati Zoo and the Warren County
Humane Association.

"Anything where children or animals are involved, Marge is
there for you," said Mari Lee Schwarzwalder, the Humane
Association's director.

In 2003, Schott donated $25,000 to the Warren County
facility. After that, Schwarzwalder and Schott became fast
friends. That was a dream come true for the association's
director.

"Marge has been an idol for me," she said. "She's always
been so tenacious. She's a woman in a man's world and she's
had the courage to succeed."

Schott's success in business, the money she made in what she
liked to call "the good old boys' club," enabled her to be
one of the top two or three benefactors in the history of
the Cincinnati Zoo.

"That's saying something," said Gregg Hudson, the zoo's
executive director. "We are the second-oldest zoo in the
nation."

For decades, Schott supported the zoo's elephant and cheetah
programs. In 2000, she donated the lion's share of the money
for the elephant's new $6 million home, the Schott-Unnewehr
Vanishing Giants Pavilion.

Hudson marks his third anniversary as the zoo's executive
director in April. He admitted that when he came to town and
before meeting with Schott, he had "all of the stereotypes
in my mind."

He figured he would be meeting with a woman who was rough
around the edges, prone to making inappropriate remarks and
tough to deal with.

"She was a lot of what everybody thinks," he said.

"She called me honey.

"She was brash. And smoked a lot of cigarettes.

"But the thing I never really knew is that she had this huge
heart. She loved animals and children. She did great things
for this zoo.

"And this city."

What she did for Cincinnati, the causes she supported, will
be her most enduring legacy. Her donations helped far more
people than her comments hurt.

Frances Reardon Romweber, St. Ursula's principal, said,
"When all is said and done, people will recognize that Marge
Schott made Cincinnati a most wonderful place to live."

Her donations came with no strings attached. Or any ulterior
motives.

Schott knew people talked behind her back every time she
gave away some money. She heard them saying she was currying
favor, hoping to restore her good name, trying to get in
good with the angels and the Big Guy up above.

"Let them talk," she said.

"Let them give something."

She knew why she was giving away her money.

"You feel good, honey," she said, "making people happy."
---
Related links from the Enquirer:

'A woman of the people'

http://www.enquirer.com/editions/2004/03/03/loc_schottmain.html

Daugherty: She was a true original

http://www.enquirer.com/editions/2004/03/03/loc_mar1daugherty.html

Insensitivity defined reign over Reds - and ended it

http://www.enquirer.com/editions/2004/03/03/loc_schott.controversy.html

Schott gave millions for kids, pet causes

http://www.enquirer.com/editions/2004/03/03/loc_schott.kids.html