Fenway Park and the Golden Age of the Baseball Park,

1909-1915

Robert F. Bluthardt

Between 1909 and 1915, major league baseball built or reconstructed

thirteen new ballparks. T h i s expansion program, unprecedented in major
league sports, established baseball as the national pastime. Newspapers
describedthese new parks as magnificent and mammoth, or capacious
and commodious. One writer declared that a new park ushered in a
fresh and scintillating page in the annals of the horsehide sphere.
Starting with Shibe Park in Philadelphia, the new steel and concrete
stands brought baseball into the modern age. Time, however, has not
been kind to those trend-setting parks. Of the thirteen, only four survive:
Tiger Stadium (formerly called Navin Field and Briggs Stadium) in
Detroit, Wrigley Field and Comiskey Park in Chicago, and Fenway Park
i t 1 Boston. Only Fenway Park has endured in a condition that is remotely
close to its original state.2
These ballparks reflected their time and culture through their
locations, construction and appearance, special features, and effects o n
their neighborhoods and the game itself. Due both to its longevity and
its intrinsic aspects, Fenway Park serves as a fine example of that golden
age.

Although pastoral in its origins, baseball, by the turn of the century,

had become a n urban game. With the growth of baseball as a commercial
venture, the park had begun to move closer to key populations and near
to the center of the urban area from which it drew its audience.3 Club
owners, balancing urban and rural settings of the game, gave great
attention to selecting a site. When a site was chosen, four factors were
considered: accessibility, neighborhood, room for expansion, and
availability.
Fans found the new parks quite accessible. Pittsburgs Forbes Field
one of the first steel and concrete parks, had an ideal location for a
ballpark, near the center of the city. To reach Detroits Navin Field
required only a ten minute walk from City Hall. Brooklyns Ebbets
Field, served by a dozen streetcar and subway lines, posed the most extreme
example of convenience. As far back as 1890, Brooklyn fans were known

43
44 Journal of Popular Culture

as trolley dodgers. Although trolley fell i o m the name, and the

streetcars disappeared from Brooklyn within a generation, the Dodger
tag has endured through seventy years and a franchlse r e l o c a t i ~ n . ~
Red Sox fans thought that Fenway park was equally convenient.
Several streetcar lines served it, and two years after its opening, a nearby
suhway was extended past the park. At many ballpark sites, engineers
leveled or created streets to permit maximum public travel. Large crowds,
as one newspaper noted, came by automobile, motor cycle, bicycles,
baby carriages, streetcars, and every other means of p e r a m b ~ l a t i o n . ~
T h e quality of a location, as much as the convenience, had to suit
the fans. Barney Dreyfuss, owner of the Pittsburgh Pirates, emphasized
the problem of a poor location. . .

The game was growing u p , and patrons were n o longer willing to p u t u p with
nineteenth century conditions. Besides, the park was located in a poor neighborhood,
arid many of the better class of c-itizens, espec-ially when accompanied by their womenfolk,
were loath t o go

Dreyfuss put his new park in a fashionable residential neighborhood,

which unlike neighborhoods today welcomed ballparks. Local
newspapers noted that the new park smelled better without noxious rivers
nearby, and that the field was not bothered by traces of smoke.
While catering to the urban audience, ballparks still tried to evoke
images of nature and rural beauty. Critics praised Forbes Field as a
scene to make participants forget the business cares of a manufacturing
city. T h e Brooklyn Daily Eagle proposed that Ebbets Field gave beauty
to nearby hills, Jamaica Bay, and the pretty homes and foliage of
Flatbush.
Fenway Park, located in the undeveloped Fenway section of Boston,
initially had few neighbors. Like Forbes Field, Fenway occupied a
fashionable site. T h e walkways, gardens, and waterways of the nearby
Fenway landscape separated the ballpark from the urbanized Back Bay
and South End.
A potential site required loom for future expansion, and Comiskey
Park in Chicago met this criterion. Its large lot allowed the park to
expand its seating capacity without going into the air for it8 by erecting
costly additional decks. Other parks were restricted by the original plot
of land, or they were trapped by swift neighborhood development. Fenway
Park occupied a large but misshapen plot, with the end corners owned
by other concerns. Lacking adjacent land, Fenway could never expand
beyond the original site.
 Golden Age of the Baseball Park, 1909-1915 45

However ideal the location, the land had to be available, and some
parks arose from questionable real estate deals. Charlie Ebbets had picked
his site, but the land was subdivided among dozens of owners who would
have sold it at double the property value had they known his intentions.
Ebbets quietly formed the comically named Pylon Construction
Company, placed a friend as its president, and patiently waited three
years to acquire the necessary parcels. T h e Fenway Realty Company
owned Fenway Parks future home, and John I. Taylor, president of
the Red Sox, had a controlling interest in the ~ o m p a n y . ~
Sometimes club owners had to compromise. In Detroit, residents
near the wooden stands that would become Navin Field refused to sell
their property. They like the crowds and excitement, and one property
owner stated that he wanted to die near the ballpark. Griffith Stadiums
center field wall respectfully skirted the houses of several holdouts. Fenway
Park also had a n irregular plot that looked as if it were cut from a
jigsaw puzzle with seventeen different walls, facets, and barriers that
hugged the contours of the site.IO
T h e new parks boasted steel and concrete construction, thus
eliminating the major concern o f fire. In 1894 alone, ten wooden parks
burned. T h e new stands in Washington, New York, and St. Louis rose
from the ashes of wooden grandstands. Fire remained on everyones minds.
A t Comiskey Parks first game, a small fire occurred near a box seat.
T h a t incident would have sent a shudder of fear through the crowd
at the old park, but steel and concrete are a different matter.
T h e new parks did not completely replace wooden construction.
Shibe Park had wooden stands o n top of a steel grandstand. All the
parks had wooden bleachers or large sections of wooden construction.
Fenway had more wood than the ideal stadium. Its main grandstand
was concrete and steel, but the first and third base pavilions had iron
skeletons with wooden construction, and the bleachers were primarily
wood. Fenway was not immune to fire; the left field stands burned in
1926 and were not replaced.
Fenways single deck construction distinguished it from its peers.
With the exception of Braves Field, another Boston park, all new ballparks
of this era had two or three decks. T w o reasons explain this. First, Fenway
was built o n filled land, and a double-decked stadium probably could
not have been built without massive and expensive piles: secondly,
although the concept of a double deck was not new to Boston, local
fans did not consider it ideal. T h e South End Grounds, home of Bostons
National League team from 1876 to 1915, had a double deck until its
destruction by fire in 1894. T h e Sporting News observed that Boston
never took kindly to the double decked stand idea. Fans preferred a
46 Journal of Popular Culture

ground floor view that would enable them to better follow the action
on the field.lZ
In general appearance, the new parks strove for an impressive, massive
look. Comiskey Park copied the Colosseum in Rome, and it was decorated
like a Roman temple. Cincinattis park emulated the classical arena.
Shibe Park in Philadelphia presented a massive, three story front with
Ionic pilasters flanking recessed arches that were one story high o n both
sides of the building. Fenways exterior, in contrast to its contemporaries,
had a modest facade of traditional red brick.
Fenway did have some decorative motifs that allude to its function.
T h e brickwork and concrete form a series of diamonds and baseball bats
that ring the grandstand facade. Less subtly, a n iron fence of balls and
bats surrounded Comiskey Park. Patrons who entered the main foyer
of Ebbets Field could see a massive chandelier whose arms were shaped
like bats and whose bulbs were fashioned after baseballs.
Fenways interior was plain and simple. It never boasted a marble
entrance as did Ebbets Field. Some objected to the trend to decorate parks
excessively. T h e Detroit News praised the new Navin Field as the best
arranged for baseball while criticizing parks like New Yorks Polo
Grounds where money was spent on Cupids and flubdubs. . .that may
make them more pleasing to the artistic eye.l3 Then, as now, some
fans wanted the game without the frills.
T h e classic image of a baseball park has the interior covered with
advertising. While Fenway subscribed to this trend, many parks did not.
Pittsburgh and Washington initially did not permit ads on their fences,
preferring to keep the walls painted green, thus providing hitters a better
background for seeing the ball. Cincinnatis new park banned all ads,
saying that they did not bring in enough revenue for spoiling the artistic
appearance of the yard. Cincinnati criticized parks where fence
advertising was profitable. It contrasted its pristine park to the Polo
Grounds where every chance to grab a few dollars is gladly taken.I4
Fans probably cared more for the view of the field than the appearance
of the park. A major study of baseball stadiums in 1930 gave three criteria
for a proper vantage point: a well-elevated viewpoint, lack of obstructions,
and nearness to the play. Fenway and other parks sloped their grandstands
to provide all fans with a good view. Like Shibe Park and others, Fenway
banked the outfield surface u p to the restraining wall to provide a decent
sightline for the temporary seats and standees allowed on to the field.
In Boston, this slope became known as Duffys Cliff, named after the
great Red Sox outfielder, Duffy Lewis, who mastered the art of scampering
u p and down the incline to field f l y balls. Fenway eliminated the slope
and practice of permitting fans on the field after the parks reconstruction
in 1934.l5
 Golden Age of the Baseball Park, 1909-1915 47

T h e new parks had obstructions to the sightlines, but they reflected

construction considerations. A series of columns supported Fenways roof
and blocked the view in many points of the park. Steel trusses kept
the number of posts to a minimum. Comiskey Park used a more advanced
system o f cantilevers to support the upper deck and eliminate all except
a single row of uprights without seriously blocking the view.16
T h e larger size of the new parks pushed the fans farther from the
game. In Chicago, the huge ballpark was said to dwarf the arena of
combat, but owner Charles Comiskey assured the fans that it was a n
optical illusion. A Philadelphia cartoon has fans in the upper deck
complain that they were three miles from home plate. Fenway had
its critics, too. Bleacher fans complained that their sections had been
placed farther back to make room for the more expensive grandstand
scats. A cartoon in the Boston Globe showed two bleacher fans using
it telescopr to see the action in the infield. T h e S$orting News reviewed
a lew of the new parks arid called the view from the bleachers a counterfeit
game. 7
T h e capacities of the new stadiums changed the standards of ballpark
crowds. Before the 1909-1915 era, a crowd approaching ten thousand
was good, and fifteen thousand was an exceptional throng. Fenways
seating capacity doubled that of the former field, and as happened with
larger parks in both leagues, the perception of large crowds changed.
For example, in Washington, with the old equipment, five thousand
was a good crowd, but in the new place, five thousand is light.*
The new parks unveiled many new facilities and features, but one
o f the most heralded improvements was a better method of crowd control.
T h e larger crowds now attending baseball games obviously frightened
team and city officials. T h e thought of thirty thousand people converging
upon a single building prompted the development of new, specialized,
and efficient means of controlling and directing the crowds.
Turnstiles provided the most effective means of proper crowd control.
Team officials attached great importance to the number of turnstiles
;I park had, Forbes Field had ten, Shibe Park possessed sixteen, and Fenway
proudly boasted eighteen, more then any other park except the sprawling
pol() G I O U I I ~ S . ~
Next, came the issues of stairs versus ramps. A study of American
stadiums determined that ramps were far superior to stairs which are
dangerous and should be avoided at all costs. Shibe Park did not have
the benefit of this report, as it had winding stairs that subsequent parks
eliminated from their plans. Forbes Field and its system of ramps so
impressed Charles Comiskey that he adapted it for his park in Chicago.
Forbes Field also had two elevators to bring fans to thc second and third
48 Journal of Popular Culture

decks. Fenway built neither stairs nor elevators, but its ramps then and
now quickly move the fans into and out of the grandstand.20
To insure greater crowd control, League Park in Cleveland printed
the turnstile entry number on the ticket. Comiskey Park used color-coded
tickets. All the new parks published meticulous sets of instructions telling
fans how to buy tickets at the park and enter the stadium properly.
If you follow these directions, claimed the Cleveland Plain Dealer,
there will no occasion for confusion.Z1
T h e ability to handle the crowds impressed, and, in some cases,
surprised worried park officials: Even at the last minute the usual
experience of being crushed at the gate was lacking. Crowds melted
in short order assisted by well planned facilities. Fenway Park met its
pre-game boast that access to the park (would) be ridiculously easy
when the Boston Post declared that the struggles to get in the Red
Sox park are a thing of the past.22
Once again, efficiency had its price-a loss of atmosphere. T . H .
Murnane, the Boston correspondent for the Sporting News, thought that
Fenway had changed the interaction of the fans. T h e separate entrances
of the larger ballpark divided the fans into groups while destroying much
of the former sociability. At the old Huntington Avenue Grounds, all
ticket holders passed through the same runway to be distributed like
a lot of mail to various sections. At Fenway, the bleacher, grandstand,
and pavilion fans entered and left the park by their own separate entrances.
T h e new line of stadiums and their seating layouts divided the larger
crowds by distance, ticket price, and entry points.23
Whatever the fan lost in atmosphere, he or she gained in convenience
and comfort. Charlie Ebbets set the standard with Ebbets Field: he wanted
a home for the fans that provided the utmost in safety and comfort.
Of course, comfort could be good business too. T h e Sporting News
observed how the improved facilities of the new parks were attracting
thousands of new fans.24
Players benefitted from the increased attention to park facilities.
Cincinnatis new stadium had reading and billiard rooms for the home
team. Detroits players enjoyed the comforts and luxuries known only
to modern architects. And in Philadelphia, hoth the visiting and home
teams could use a special runway leading from the field to the lockers;
now the players would not be forced to mingle with the crowds.25
All the new ballparks greatly improved the facilities for the visiting
teams. Gone was the traditional trip by the visiting team in uniform
to the park; that journey had often turned into a parade with out-of-
town supporters in tow. That circus-like spirit and spontaneity
disappeared as the players entered and left the ballpark in civilian dress.
 Golden Age of the Baseball Park, 1909-1915 49

T h e faris received many new conveniences including automobile

parking. In 1913, the Sporting News declared that the club management
that does riot provide some space for automobiles outside its grounds
these days is not u p to the times. Auto parking naturally developed
from the custom of carriages standing in the outfield. Shibe Park built
a garage under its bleacher section. Ebbets Field provided valet parking
under the stands as well as a comfortable waiting room. Fenway had
a parking section in right field near the pavilion, but by the 1920s seating
areas had replaced it.26
Inside the park, fans enjoyed comfortable and well-marked seats.
Fenway combined practicality with style by numbering all the reserved
seats with gold leaf. Pittsburgh fans noted that the stylish seats in Forbes
Field surpassed the beriches and crippled chairs of the former place.
I n Philadelphia, Harry Hammerstein, son of the showman Oscar
Hammerstein, was as qualified as anyone to comment o n the theatre-
likc comfort of the ballpark. After seeing the first game at Shibe Park,
he exclaimed that it certainly has grand opera beat to a frazzle. T h e
parks did not forget the growing female audience: Cincinnati had a
womens retiring room with attending maidsz7
One group seemingly left out of the picture was the sportswriters.
Midway through the ballpark building boom, the Sporting News
complained that the press facilities in the modern parks were not
matching the advantages offered the bugs (fans). It also suggested
having a n independent access way t o their work area, a position isolated
from the fans, and a desk for rach writer.?*
No ballpark would be complete without a scoreboard, but some
c.lubs hesitated to build one fearing that their lucrative scorecards sales
would suffer. Shibe Park generously provided free scorecards, but most
parks ronsidered them a source of concession income. T h e Sporting News
criticixd those parks that failed to elect a decent scoreboard. N o theatre
in the country charges for its program argued the paper, and it did
not see how baseball could be any different.29
T h e development of advanced scoreboards further depersonalized the
game by eventually reducing the players to convenient numbers. T h e
role of the umpire changed considerably. No longer did the homeplate
umpire have t o call out the balls and strikes with vigor, nor did he
have to announce the substitutions. A few men in black, noted the Chicago
KPcord Herald, havent parted company with their vocal powers, but
t l i t ure installation o f public address systems would permanently strip
the umpires o f their audio duties.30
Overall, the new ballparks had a lasting effect on particular cities,
hasehall franchises, and the game itself. New parks rescued questionable
franchises in Cleveland and Detroit where fan support was in doubt.
50 Journal of Popular Culture

In every city, a permanent, sturdy structure gave the team a sense of

stability that wooden stands could never provide.
Fenway Park gave the Red Sox the security that they never had
at their former location, the Huntington Avenue Grounds. There, they
rented the land from the Boston Elevated Railway Company, and the
Boston Elevated could give the team a years notice by paying them
$3,000.
T h e entire American League became better established in the eyes
of its older rival, the National League. It is no coincidence that seven
of the first ten new parks were built in the American league. By 1911,
the S p o r t i n g N e w s could claim that the American League had a better
business standing than ever before in its h i ~ t o r y . ~
New ballparks gave franchises tremendous added value. Bostons
National League team was a m o n g the last clubs to erect a new park,
and the teams value suffered accordingiy. After the club was sold for
a modest price in 1910, i t was explained that i t would have brought
a higher price if it had a new park or a larger one. Also, the new
parks raised the stakes for baseball expansion. One of the reasons the
Federal League, the challenging third league to established baseball in
this period, folded was its inability to afford building the larger parks
that the era arid the fans were demanding.32
In their cities, the parks served as special attractions. Forbes Field
was a mecca for baseball fans who would come by the thousands on
a Sunday (Sunday baseball was yet to come) just to look at the place.
In Boston, crowds o f people came to the site to watch the park being
built. Cincinnati really did not need a new park, but erected one anyway,
said one writer, solely to give Cincinnati something for future
generations to talk about. However overdone the praise may be, these
parks definitely strengthened civic- pride in a n era of rapid urban
expansion and development . 3 3
Sometimes, the ballpark directly influenced that development. T h e
mayor of Philadelphia, in his speech at the opening day of Shibe Park,
cited swift growth of homes and businesses in the parks neighborhood.
Potential customers received attention too. O n the opening day of Ebbets
Field, a realty company placed a n advertisement in the B r o o k l y n Daily
Eagle inviting fans new t o the area to examine the neighborhood and
consider buying property there. Ironically, the overdevelopment of
Flatbush forced Walter OMalley to movr his team t o sunny, spacious
California forty-four years later.34
Feriway Park had a minimal impact on its neighborhood in its early
years. T h e park occupied a lot in a n undeveloped, ten block district,
and ten years later that section had not changed. T h e few patterns that
can be seen in the parks area were established before the park arrived.
 Golden Age of the Baseball Park, 1909-1915 51

T h e proliferation of garages in the area may have been influenced by

the park, but several garages and stables dotted the landscape before
1912 to serve the growing needs of the developing residential district
to the south and the hotel district to the north. Both of these sections
had begun their growth patterns several years before Fenway Park entered
the neighborhood.33
Fenway and its peers in the golden age of baseball parks had their
greatest effect on the game itself. New facilities standardized and
depersonalized the sport while allowing more fans to see the game. They
attracted new spectators, especially women. T h e modern structures further
separated the players from their fans, and generally removed much of
the previous informality. Even something as simple but symbolic as the
knothole became a thing of the past.3'j(A knothole is an opening in the
structure of a piece o f lumber used to build a fence around the field.
ITsually one or more non-paying fans could view the game from this
vantage point.)
These new parks served the next two generations and as swiftly as
they were built, they were destroyed. Ideals of comfort, convenience,
location, and purpose radically changed, rendering most of the parks
obsolete. T h e super stadiums o f the last decade have intensified the
depersonalization and conformity that the steel and concrete parks have
begun. Fenway had survived more because of its long-time former owner,
T o m Yawkey, rather than for any intrinsic superiority of its facilities.
Nevertheless, it exists as an ironic statement in that its major drawbacks
today were its major strengths seventy-five years ag0.~7

Notes

lPhzladelphia Inquirer, April 13, 1909.

'League Park in Cleveland, used by thc Cleveland Indians from 1910 to 1946,
partially remains, and it is bring restored.
SBill Shannon, George Kalinski, The Ballparks (New York: Hawthorn Books,
l97.5), p. 9.
The Sporting Neuis: March 18, 1909; April 22, 1909.
'Washington Post, April 13, 191 1.
hFred Lieb, T h e Pittsburgh Pirates (New York: G. P. Putnarn, 1948),p. 132.
71'zttsburgh Post, July 1, 1909; B r o o k l y n Daily Eagle. April 9, 1913.
" T h e Sportirzg News, February 3, 1910.
g B r o o k l y n Daily Eagle, April 9, 1913; Fred Lieb, The B o s t o n Red Sox (New
York: C.P. Putnam, 1947). p. 91.
'"Detrozt " V ~ s Aptil, 19, 1912; L i b , B o s t o n Rrd Sox, p. 91.
"Philadelphia Inquzrer, April 13, 1909; Chicago T r i b u n e , July 2, 1910.
' ? T h eSporting N e w s , ApIil I , 1909.
IjDetroit NeruJ, April 17, 1912.
52 Journal of Popular Culture

'4C2iicinnatz Inquirer, April 10, 1911.

L5My~-on Serby, TheStadium, (New York: American Instituteof Steel Construction.
1930), p. 24.
IGChicago Daily Tribune, July 1, 1910.
'?ChicagoDaily T r i b u n e , July 1, 1910; Philadelphia Record, April 13, 1909;Boston
Globe, April 10, 1912; T h e Sporting Neuis, December 22, 1910.
lRWashzngtonPost, April 14, 1911.
IgBoston Globe, April 18, 1912.
ZOSerby, T h e Stadium, p. 48.
21Cleveland Plain Dealer, April 21, 1910.
22Chicago Record-Herald, July 2, 1910; Phzladelphia Inquirer, April 13, 1909;
Boston Globe. April 18, 1912; Boston Post, April 22, 1912.
2sThe Sporting News, March 16, 1912.
2 4 T hSporting
~ News, April 11, 1912.
25Z)etroit Free Press, April 19, 1912; Philadelphia Inquirer, April 12, 1909.
26TheSporting hfews, April 10, 1913.
27Pittsburgh Dispatch, July 1, 1909; Philadelphia Inquirer, April 13, 1909;
Philadelphia Inquirer. April 12, 1909.
2"The Sporting News, December 28, 1910.
' 9 T h Sportiug
~ NPWS, July 21, 1910.
'aChicagoRecord-Herald, July 3, 1910.
3 1 T h eSporting N P W S April
, 16. 191I .
"The Sporting N e w s , December 28, 1910.
"The Sporting News, May 6. 1909; April 1I , 1912.
34Philde2ph2a Inquirer, April 13, 1909; Brooklyn Daily Eagle, April 9, 1913.
"George Washington Broniley, Atlas of the City of Boston (Philadelphia: G.W.
Bromlcy 8c Co., 1902, 1908), City Proper: #8, 10.
36PhiladelphiaInquirer, April 13, 1909; Detroit News, April 23, 1912.
"Economic realities have caught u p with Fenway Park. T h e park now features
a srnall srcond deck fronted with luxuiy boxes, and thc last single deck ballpark
in the game is a memory.

Robert F. Bluthardt is a member of the Society foi American Baseball Research.

Hr has chaired the research committee on ballparks since 1982. This article grew
from work done in an internship with the Smithsonian Institutution in Washington.
D. C. He is now' the directoi- o f education for the Fort Concho National Historic
Landmark in San Angelo, Texas.