Sportsfan Magazine
950 W. Addison Street
By Sheila Cull
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
In Dedication to Bob, ‘Softie’: 1964–2004.
With a red face, Pat points his right forefinger at the tip of the nose of the impostor. Pat looks him straight in his eyes and yells, "You’re not supposed to be here. We could get you arrested. Leave now, you idiot. Get out of here right now before I do something you’ll regret."
Pat is an employee of Gold Coast Tickets.
"Bleachers, box seats, who needs tickets? Box seats, bleacher seats, who needs tickets? We’ve got tickets. Who’s selling tickets?" This is the mantra that’s repeated 2-3 hours before to at least one-and-a-half hours after the game.
It’s 11:00 a.m. and a red fire truck flies by east on Addison sporting two large flags, one above each of the back tires. An American flag and a Chicago Cubs flag blow in the wind.
Pigeons waddle around the Broker’s feet in circles.
"Tickets, who needs tickets?"
The Brokers stop for twenty seconds, aware that their shouting would be useless. The sound of the ‘L’ train comes to a screeching halt, up and to the left of them. Hundreds of people spill out and descend the stairs at the CTA station. Seconds later, the fans all reach the sidewalk on the north side of Addison Street. They follow it a half a block west to Wrigley Field, America’s most loved ballpark.
Ernie Banks once said, "The Park is one of the wonders of the World, like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon."
Wrigley Field is the oldest ballpark in the National League. It is a monument reminiscent of a simpler time.
The bellowing resumes. "Tickets, who needs tickets?"
Hats, thousands of hats -- sunhats, Irish hats, caps with yellow and purple yarn balls on the top, hats adorned with buttons, Cubs headgear in every size, shape and color, even Yankees hats. And a Bachelorette celebration parades past. These young women wear head -pieces sprouting ‘Cubs’ slogans on either side, bobbing with springs, every step they take.
Brokers are on the sidewalk, yelling with one arm in the air, fanning their tickets.
"Hey Eddie, you got any more bleachers?" Max yells from the bottom step up towards Eddie. Eddie darts downstairs towards the waiting wife and husband. He joins Max and they focus on a seating chart on the old brick wall at the left of the steps. They exchange cash and Cubs tickets. Eddie Cressy, owner of Shamrock Seats and Max Weisvisz, of Gold Coast Tickets, are legal in their buying and selling because they’re involved in the lease at 950 W. Addison.
It’s noon, and lots of diehard Cubs fans take the many steps down the stairs at the CTA station and turn right. They pass two narrow but long late 18th Century homes. At the third house, 950 W. Addison, people look up the stairs or walk by talking, alone and/or smiling. Or, they negotiate the selling and buying of tickets. The only other business they walk past before reaching the Stadium is the bar, Sports Corner.
Mark, with Shamrock Seats, shouts to the lonesome Ticket Broker across the street, "Is that all you can do to get people to come to your side of the street? That’s lame, man." Mark shakes his head at the Broker on the south side of Addison, he holds his tickets above his head and his other arm, supports a broom. He’s yelling, "Watch the Mets get Sweeped today! Tickets, Sweeped, Tickets, Sweeped! Watch them get Sweeped, Tickets!"
******
Weegham Park, owned by Charles Weegham and designed by famed architect Zachary Taylor Davis, was made intentionally fan friendly and it opened in 1914. The first official Chicago Cubs game was in 1916. Wrigley Field was dedicated in honor of the chewing gum magnate, William Wrigley Jr. in 1924. In 1926 more renovations were made and the expanded facility drew over 1 million fans, making Wrigley Field the first team to reach that milestone.
After debate between neighbors, city administrators and fans, the first night game was held in 1988.
Lovely fresh green ivy, Japanese Bittersweet and Boston ivy vines adorn the outfield walls. The ivy was planted against the red brick walls in 1937.
To this day, the centerfield scoreboard is still manually operated.
The surface of Wrigley Field is natural grass.
Because of the winds from the vast great Lake Michigan, several blocks away, no other major league ballpark is affected by wind conditions as much as Wrigley Field.
******
This world-renowned Field, smack in the middle of a residential neighborhood, is bounded by North Sheffield Avenue, Addison Street, North Clark Street, Seminary Avenue and West Waveland Avenue. 950 W. Addison Street is at southeast side of Wrigley Field and it is steps away from the intersection of North Sheffield Avenue and Addison Street. This is the most desirable area for a licensed Ticket Broker to be during a Cubs home game.
People walk past, children on top of parent’s shoulders, even piggyback, and one of Chicago’s finest trots by on his horse. Headphones, portable radios, walking canes, Catchers mitts and people with posters, glide past into the Friendly Confines.
The 'L' above Addison. (Sheila Cull)
Pat leaves the office and bounds down the stairs. On the sidewalk, he points and threatens another man as they both walk towards Sheffield. This man Pat targets is one he’s seen before and he was interfering with his expensive ticket casino. Max darts down the steps while making a deal by speaking into his wireless phone. He was shuffling tickets into the hands of a regular customer at the same time. All of a sudden, Eddie, jangling his many keys from his jean shorts, flew down the stairs and was out of sight.
It’s 1:05 p.m. and the energy is electric, happy. It flows past 950 W. Addison, right to letter Gate D of Wrigley Field.
The diehard Cubs fans saunter west underneath white clouds zipping above them. The clouds and the fans both headed in the same direction.
All of the people, in anticipation of seeing America’s favorite pastime, appear from the ‘L’ train or nearby parking to feel the wonder that is Wrigley Field.
Most Chicagoans already know of the area surrounding the outside of the ballpark: It’s called Wrigleyville. For a lot of Brokers, Wrigleyville is more than a Chicago neighborhood -- it’s their passion and their livelihood.
"Get out of my way Stupid." The woman screams from her wheelchair to an inebriated gentleman trying to make his way east. This man wears an expensive tailored suit and has his head bowed as he pushes himself into the front of people’s bodies. Unfortunately for him, he chooses the wrong side of the road, unfortunate also for the lone Ticket Brokers on the south side of the street.
It’s 2:00 and the National Anthem will be sung in 10 minutes.
The swarm of bodies that walks past thickens.
It’s 2:10, Game time. The Brokers’ pace is intense.
Alex Bendersky, Broker for Shamrock Seats says, "What I love most about this business is the action and the money."
With a sleepy grin, Max from Gold Coast says, "It’s the people. It’s all about the people."
"O’er the land of the Free…and the home of the Brave…."
A thunderous roar is heard from next door.
The game begins, and the slight-of-hand increases. With practiced speed, they deal by talking into their phones and at the same time barter tickets into anticipating hands extending downward, palms up.
It’s 3:10 and the rush is over until tomorrow’s home game. In place of running up the stairs, the Brokers begin to quell their movements for well over an hour.
Pat stops for a second and looks at me sitting on the top step, "Too bad Bob couldn’t see how much money we did today but on second thought he wouldn’t care. He’d already be downstairs barbecuing steak sandwiches with the game on. And drinking a beer."
Eddie sits down on the stairs next to me and says to Pat. "Or he’d be yelling at anybody who’d listen."
Eddie pulls the big wad of cash from his back pocket and starts counting. He folds it in half, shoves it in his front pocket, sits on the bottom step and starts talking about all the vacations he expects to take once the season is over.
Eddie stands up, smiles and walks up the stairs into the ticket office that Bob proudly managed for as long as anyone can remember.
******
Bob Dahl, ‘Softie’, was a Ticket Broker for Shamrock Seats for most of his adult life. Everyone who knew him said he was the biggest Cubs fan ever. At his funeral, we all said if the Cubs make it this year, it’ll be because of Bob’s spirit. We’ll see. Maybe even Bob’s spirit is not enough to do away with the curse. Still, we’ll always remember Bob.
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Sheila Cull is a writer based in Chicago.
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