First job, at age 14, was at the stadium "hustling" for Harry M. Stevens. Started working in the commissary at $1.25 and hour. Eventually worked my way up to peanuts, scorecards, coke (it was only soda in those days), and hot dogs. Left for college before turning 18, so got up to beer. I remember there were some legendary hustlers who would triple and quadruple whatever anyone else made. A great job for a teen. Sometimes brought hom more money than my father. Unlike what people may think, we never really watched the game since we were too busy trying to make money. However, I was there when Maris hit his 61st homer. I was behind the plate, so any fantasy of me catching the lucky ball never materialized. Anyone else out there work the stadium in the early 60s?
Originally posted by jeff in pai: First job, at age 14, was at the stadium "hustling" for Harry M. Stevens. Started working in the commissary at $1.25 and hour. Eventually worked my way up to peanuts, scorecards, coke (it was only soda in those days), and hot dogs. Left for college before turning 18, so got up to beer. I remember there were some legendary hustlers who would triple and quadruple whatever anyone else made. A great job for a teen. Sometimes brought hom more money than my father. Unlike what people may think, we never really watched the game since we were too busy trying to make money. However, I was there when Maris hit his 61st homer. I was behind the plate, so any fantasy of me catching the lucky ball never materialized. Anyone else out there work the stadium in the early 60s?
All my friends did. What was the name of your boss?
Recession is when my neighbor loses his job, Depression is when I lose my job.
My memory is a bit fuzzy, but I think it was Carnessa. Also the head honcho was a guy named Doyle. They made you buy some sort of a union card that allowed you to work, but offered no union benefits.
Originally posted by jeff in pai: My memory is a bit fuzzy, but I think it was Carnessa. Also the head honcho was a guy named Doyle. They made you buy some sort of a union card that allowed you to work, but offered no union benefits.
Did you have a shape-up before every game? The big earners went in first.
Once one of my friends was sliding his heavy hot dog basket along the railing, and ran over a womens hand. As he flew by he yelled sorry. When he came in the women reported him. His boss typed an apology letter and he had to sign it.
when I have time I'll tell you more.
Recession is when my neighbor loses his job, Depression is when I lose my job.
yea...we had these huge wicker baskets with a reservoir of hot water with the franks in the middle, the rolls on either side, and a small pot of mustard. Had to sell them within 15 minutes or they started to get cold. We made them up on the spot. Take out as many rolls as ordered and place them on a piece of wax paper. I could do about 5 at one time. Spear the franks, put them in the rolls and slop on the mustard, hand them over and hope you got the right amount of money. They were overpriced at the time...25 cents...when Gorman's and the delis were selling real beef franks for 15 cents. Trunz was the manufacturer of the franks, and I'm sure there wasn't all that much meat in any of the dogs. Lots of filler and whatever animal product were used wouldn't be eaten by humans in their unprocessed form. Still, a good amount of mustard made them passable.
If I'm correct, they didn't count the dogs, just the buns. That's how they figured out how much money you had to turn in. If you barganed right you could get two dogs on a bun.
My friends who worked there would get in on their days off. There were fellow vendors that they didn't like. The would yell out HOT DOG while the guy was bent down making a few up. The guy would stop what vhe was doing and look up. They would do this all thru the game.
Recession is when my neighbor loses his job, Depression is when I lose my job.
In the winter we worked the Giant and the Titan games. They introduced hot dogs wrapped in aluminum foil. They were held in a metal box heated with a few cans of Sterno. During one of the coldest days at the Stadium a customer asked me how much for the Sterno. I told him a buck. The guy at the commissary only counted the hot dogs and we could grab as many of the Sternos as we wanted. It became a very lucrative endeavor when the home town fans learned they could keep their feet toasty warm for a dollar.
I just read an article in the Times about Cracker Jack. I remember selling them along with scorecards. I see they come in foil pouches now. That seems to eliminate tossing a box 15 seats or rows. I suppose you can toss a bag, but the resistance would limit the distance and accuracy. Another art lost to 'progress'. I don't remember one time that the money didn't make its way back to the vendor. Baseball fans always seemed to be an honest lot. Also...they used to be 15 cents a box for over 5 ounces. Now it's $4 for a little less than 3 ounces. The Times referred to vendors as 'hawkers'. We used to refer to ourselves as 'hustlers'. After all the more you hustled the more the 12 1/2% commission added up. One more thing. I remember some of the regulars who had season tickets. One, an elderly gentleman used to come to every game in a sport jacket and tie. The view from his seat was slightly obscured by one of the poles, which probably made it affordable to him. He was a true fan. He brought a score card he made up himself and tracked every play for the entire season. The present price structure of tickets for sports today most likely eliminates the possibility of fans like him to enjoy being at every game. Of course, in those days players arrived by taxi, subway, or walked down from the Concourse Plaza. Yogi used to work in the hardware department of Sears in St. Louis in the off season. Willie Stargell said it best when he thanked the Pirates for paying him to do what he would have gladly done for free. I don't think you'll ever hear those words come out of Alex' mouth.
