Читать книгу No Money, No Beer, No Pennants. The Cleveland Indians and Baseball in the Great Depression онлайн

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The man in charge of concessions, Robert Hamilton, anticipated an enormous day for himself and his vendors. The night before they had roasted a massive amount of hot dogs. Once the game started, Hamilton had twenty-five boys standing by to reheat the dogs and slap on the mustard. As soon as the food was ready, there were seventy-five men and boys to peddle it around the park. All told, there were six hundred pounds of hot dogs ready to be devoured. For those that needed a coffee fix, Hamilton brewed over two hundred pounds’ worth. To complement the hot dogs and coffee, roasted peanuts, popcorn, and potato chips were stored in hefty containers.

A number of fans were disappointed when they were told that soda pop was not on the menu. Concessionaire Hamilton decided that the receipts from previous years did not warrant serving any Coca-Cola. This news was happily welcomed by the American League umpires working League Park. Baseball fans had a long tradition of showing what they thought of bad calls by the umpire. After a few minutes of loud boos, the people in the stands took aim and heaved empty pop bottles at the hapless men on the field. An umpire had to be nimble to avoid the shower of glass coming at all speeds. At least for 1928, the men in blue at League Park could relax and worry only about flying peanut shells or an occasional hot dog.