Читать книгу Bad Boys, Bad Times. The Cleveland Indians and Baseball in the Prewar Years, 1937–1941 онлайн

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In spite of the threatening weather, the Indians front office let fans know the opener would go forward. By late morning the rain let up and a touch of sunshine broke through the overcast skies. The Cleveland fans eagerly marched into League Park, carrying topcoats in case of rain or anything else. They checked the prices at the Lexington Avenue ticket window, which showed box seats going for $1.60, reserve for $1.35, pavilion seats for 85 cents, and bleachers for 55 cents. The people with season tickets strolled behind the outfield walls, where they entered a private gate on Linwood Avenue.

The grounds crew, now run by Emil Bossard, had the field in playable shape. The infield had no large puddles, while the freshly cut outfield grass looked to be uniform in height. The bat boys were stacking the new player bats in two long rows in front of each dugout. The box seats even had new canvas covers. The only thing lacking was the ballplayers’ entrance onto the field.

While ushers in bright new red jackets helped the fans track down their seats, Bob Hamilton, the long-time head of concessions, peered out from his spot under the stands, trying to gauge the exact figure of people he needed to feed. Ready for the vendors were a half-ton of juicy hot dogs, another half-ton of freshly roasted peanuts, 400 cases of beer, 750 cases of soda pop, and, for good measure, 100 large boxes of assorted candy. Modern equipment allowed Hamilton to keep the hot dogs sizzling, the peanuts toasty, and the beer and soda pop ice cold.