First came the cough, then the fever.

The boy struggled for air, and each breath was like a knife to the chest.

After a visit from the doctor, there was no doubt.

It was pneumonia.

And finally, on one icy Chicago day in 1920, Robert Rookheim passed away. He was only seven years old. And yet, his story wasn't over, because as it turns out, little Robert was destined

for a strange sort of immortality.

You see, Robert's grandfather, Frederick Rookheim, was something of an entrepreneur.

And in 1893, Frederick and his brother Louis had started hawking a new snack product at the

Chicago World's Fair. It was a hit, and the brothers began mass-producing

a packaged version of the treat. Now, of course, the product would need a flashy logo,

something to signal wholesome patriotic fun to consumers across the nation. And in 1918,

after a number of less-inspired iterations, Frederick landed on a design that stuck.

He decided to honor his then-five-year-old grandson, Robert, by putting his face on the box,

dressed in a sailor suit with a dog at his feet.

Little did Frederick know that less than two years later that smiling little boy would be dead.

The only thing left of him would be that picture, emblazoned like a memorial on thousands upon thousands

of cracker jack boxes. That's right, Sailor Jack, the kid depicted on the classic baseball game

snack, is actually a drawing of poor little Robert, a boy who never grew up.

But I'll be honest, when it comes to spooky baseball stories, that one is just the beginning.

So today, we'll dig deep into America's favorite pastime,

emerging with prizes more strange and haunted than any cracker jackbox

could ever hold. I'm Aaron Mankey, and this is lore. It wasn't just a good game for Jim Davenport.

...