introduction myths in concrete

It’s a hazy, hot summer Saturday afternoon. The Cubs have just finished off an opponent—or, more likely, been fin- ished off by one. As the sun’s beams slant down , fans spill out of the venerable ballpark on the city’s North Side. Those sticking around Wrigleyville have plenty of options: bars, restaurants, theater, shopping. Some fans simply head home. Others board a crowded Chi- cago Transit Authority elevated train a block away to head north toward Evanston or south toward downtown. Some take the Street bus north or south. Others hop the Addison bus go- ing west. Still others head to their cars, docked all around the park, both legally and illegally, for $30 here and $40 there, in a yard, in a lot, or at a metered space. Many fans, especially kids from schools or Chicago Park Dis- trict programs, congregate outside the left field wall on Wave- land Avenue, playing in groups or looking cool just standing there, waiting to board yellow buses. Other groups of fans wait near the Cubs’ parking lot on Waveland, carrying pictures, pro- grams, baseballs, and baseball cards, hoping to snare autographs. Others hang around the gate near the right field corner, near Ad- dison and Sheffield, hoping to get a signature and a word from a visiting player heading for the team bus. It’s an almost perfect scene—the local baseball park serving as a meeting place for fans of all stripes, for locals and visitors from far-flung towns. But Lake View has only in the past three decades become a swinging area and tourist haven, and the area around the park has been called “Wrigleyville” only since the 1970s. One hundred years ago, there were no ballpark, no nightlife, no trains or buses, no ball club, and no fans. No Wrigleyville. No Wrigley xiii anything, except for a chewing gum company. Until 1916, Major League Baseball was never played north of downtown in Chicago, and the beloved “North Siders” actually played on the near West Side. There are plenty of tales to tell about the evolution of the seemingly ageless ballpark, the teams that have inhabited it, and the neighborhood that has supported, tolerated, profited from, complained about, and—most of all—grown up with it. A cen- tury of ball at has given birth to thick and murky legends that overrun the truth. Are the following statements truth or urban legend? • Wrigley Field was built for the Cubs. • Wrigley Field’s walls never had advertising until the late 2000s. • Wrigley Field has always been nothing but an open-air bar. • William Wrigley invented Ladies Day in the 1920s. • Philip K. Wrigley never would have permitted lights in his park. • P. K. Wrigley never came to see the Cubs play. • P. K. Wrigley hated artificial turf. • Wrigley Field never hosted a night game until 1988. • Fans have always sat on the rooftops across from Wrigley Field. • Bill Veeck planted the ivy at Wrigley Field overnight. • Wrigley Field has long stood alone against the grim forces of modern baseball, resisting money-driven changes. Myths, every one of them, demonstrably wrong. And, in each case, the myth masks a far more interesting reality. This book lays bare the myths. It outlines how the ballpark n o i t c u d o r t n i was built, why it was constructed at Clark and Addison, and who built it. More broadly, it shows what the park was like and how it was constantly changing, inside and out, as the park and the neighborhood have influenced each other over the decades. Every Opening Day saw a slightly—and sometimes not so slightly— xiv different park and a different world around it. Wrigley Field has seen an endlessly passing parade of people, events, changes, comedies, and tragedies. This most perfect of ballparks has a history as colorful and dra- matic as that of any other sports arena in this country, including Yankee Stadium, Churchill Downs, Fenway Park, the Rose Bowl, Ebbets Field, or the Boston Garden. Wrigley Field has seen a lot of sports and various other events, but mostly baseball, good and bad, glorious and embarrassing. Come watch the show. myths in concrete

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