Friday, 31 August 2018


1987 Mother's Cookies Dodger Stadium trading card (US Public Domain)

In early 1957, O’Malley--his back to the wall--decided to play both ends against the middle by cleverly switching minor league franchises with Cubs owner Phil Wrigley. It cost O’Malley $3 million. For that, he received the Los Angeles Angels of the Triple A Pacific Coast League and their stadium, in exchange for the Fort Worth Panthers of the Double A Texas League. O’Malley’s transaction then gave him exclusive rights to any future major league move to Los Angeles. The reason: O’Malley knew that Los Angeles officials were still intent on bringing the Dodgers west and he didn’t want to miss out if the opportunity presented itself.

Back in New York, at a private meeting where two powerful figures locked horns, Robert Moses informed O’Malley that a better stadium spot loomed in Flushing Meadows, Queens, the site of the 1939 World’s Fair and where Shea Stadium was eventually built a decade later. Moses’ vision saw all three New York major league teams using the facility. O’Malley wasn’t the least bit interested in Queens or sharing any new park with the Giants and Yankees.

“Dodger fans won’t go for it,” he told Moses, bluntly. “It’s not Brooklyn.”

Moses wouldn’t budge. Faced with the “take it or leave it” Flushing Meadows ploy, O’Malley made preliminary plans, should the California relocation scheme become reality. He also knew that he needed another team to head west with him. The most obvious was his crosstown National League rival New York Giants, owned by Horace Stoneham, whose club had been plagued with dismal attendance figures at the 55,000-seat Polo Grounds, a park equally dilapidated as Brooklyn’s Ebbets Field.

Since his 1954 World Series championship year, Stoneham had considered moving the Giants to Minneapolis where he owned a Triple A club in the American Association. O’Malley convinced Stoneham to relocate to San Francisco instead, where the Dodger-Giant rivalry would continue unabated. The customary train travel for the six opposing teams was now out of the question. It would be beneficial for them to fly in and play both the Giants and Dodgers on any western swing, thus cutting costs for the other teams around the league. Stoneham agreed with O’Malley and the two made the moves with the right people in the respective California cities.

Then it happened: And it was a news shocker, to say the least. League owners approved the move of both New York teams in August 1957, with a few weeks still to go in the season, leaving National League fans in both New York and Brooklyn in a state of depression that lasted for years. From then on, O’Malley was loved in Los Angeles and loathed in Brooklyn.

While playing their home games at the massive, unfit-for-baseball Los Angeles Coliseum beginning in 1958, the offensive-minded Dodgers with their over-the-hill roster finished a distant seventh. Changes had to be made. For 1959, they turned to speed and defense with younger players and won their first pennant and World Series in Los Angeles. And there were more championships to come in the early- to mid-1960s.

In 1962, O’Malley moved his club to his new 56,000-seat Dodger Stadium, a $23 million open-air facility tucked inside the hills of Chavez Ravine, the first privately-financed park since Yankee Stadium had opened in 1923. At the junction of Hollywood and Pasadena Freeways, it had 16,000 parking spaces. That first year, 2.75 million fans filed through the Dodger Stadium turnstiles to set a major league attendance record. No dome, but O’Malley got a beautiful stadium built for his Dodgers and he would fill the place for years.

* * *

Dodger owner Walter O'Malley (US Public Domain)
In 1965, the all-purpose, air-conditioned Houston Astrodome opened amid much fanfare. The Harris County Domed Stadium, as it was initially called, took on the title of “The Eighth Wonder of the World.” At a cost of $35 million ($275 million in 2018 dollars), it soared 18 stories high and spanned 710 feet in diameter. Inside, the 208-foot ceiling structure rose above a playing field that had been dug 25 feet below ground level. Seating capacity for baseball was 42,000, another 8,000 more for football.

After all the pizazz and glamor died down, serious glitches quickly emerged. The translucent roof (installed to allow sunlight in) was causing a significant glare for the defense on most popups. Uncaught balls were dropping at will. For fear of getting knocked out or worse, some safety minded players even resorted to wearing batting helmets in the field.

Then, during a May 23, 1965 afternoon game, with two out and two runners on base in the top of the first inning, Houston Astros center fielder Jimmy Wynn lined himself up to catch an arching fly off the bat of Jim Ray Hart of the San Francisco Giants. The scene was a fiasco waiting to happen. Wynn lost the ball against the bright glimmer above. A few seconds later, the dying missile plunged to earth between him and the fence. Three runs scored, compliments of a Hart inside-the-park home run. The Giants went on to win the game 5-2.

As a result of this incident and many others before it, technicians were forced to climb the Astrodome roof and spray-paint the individual, clear panels. But by doing that, the natural grass below eventually turned yellow and died from lack of sunlight. This led to the installation of fake grass: what we now know as the iconic AstroTurf.

In the midst of these misadventures, the Astrodome drew 2.1 million baseball fans in its inaugural year, more than half a million better than any American League club and second overall to O’Malley’s Los Angeles Dodgers, even though the Astros finished ninth in the National League standings with a 65-97 record. Since 1965, many other domes have sprung up such as the Superdome, AT & T Stadium, the Rogers Centre in Canada, and NRG Stadium in Houston that replaced the obsolete Astrodome in 1999. In 2014, the Astrodome was listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

* * *

The Houston Astrodome (US Public Domain)

Walter O’Malley’s Dodger Dome could have been the first of its kind and receive all the glory, instead of the Astrodome. Yet, some historians have conjectured that the idea of a dome in the 1950s was so outrageous that by O’Malley demanding such a huge, seemingly unworkable project for Brooklyn led to 
the perfect excuse for him to vacate Ebbets Field and the borough itself, which he had possibly wanted to do as early as 1951. Was the dome his way of getting what he wanted? Ultimately, Los Angeles gave O’Malley everything--the land and the park. Or, was he really serious about the dome and wished to stay? Was he a visionary or a con-artist? A hero or villain? Both sides have substance.

One thing’s for certain, O’Malley and his technicians would have been the first ones dealing with the clear panels and the grass problems had the translucent structure been built. Was the 1950s ready for artificial grass? Who knows? But, I’m sure American ingenuity would have risen to the occasion as it always does.
Many people believe that Robert Moses should’ve shouldered at least half, if not most or all the blame for the Dodgers departing Brooklyn. Then again, maybe, neither he nor the local fans and politicians ever expected O’Malley to actually leave. Soon after the exodus, O’Malley jokes spread throughout the proud borough of Brooklyn. One was…“Who were the three most-hated persons of the twentieth century?” Answer…Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and…Walter O’Malley. Another was…“If a Brooklyn man was in a room with Hitler, Stalin, and O’Malley, but had only two bullets in his gun, what would he do?” Answer…shoot O’Malley, twice.

We will never know Walter O’Malley’s true intent. Although, to his dying day in 1979, two months shy of his 76th birthday, he always maintained that he had preferred to stay in Brooklyn and build his majestic dome on his home turf. Instead, what he did accomplish by heading west--maybe without realizing it at first--was take major league baseball kicking and screaming into the modern age of jet travel, thus changing the game forever from a regional eastern sport to that of a national one.

Thursday, 2 August 2018


Early 1950s postcard of Ebbets Field (US Public Domain)

The great American pastime of baseball has evolved over the years in many respects. One example is the venues where they playAlthough most parks still feature the open air, sunshine, and the smell of fresh grass, several indoor domes have emerged since the first one appeared on the scene in 1965But, unbeknownst to many, had certain details been worked out a decade priorBrooklyn, New York was set to introduce the original indoor baseball complex and their team--the beloved Brooklyn Dodgers--would not have considered moving to Los Angeles in 1958.     

How close was 
all that to actually happening?  

s soon as he assumed majority control of the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1951owner Walter O’Malley wanted a modern stadium for his power-hitting, pennant-winning teamHis 40-year-old bandboxEbbets Field, with its meager 33,000 seats and limited parking for only 750 carswas badly in need of repair and unable to lure fans anymore through the turnstilesStairs were steep, seats and aisles were narrow, washrooms stunk to high heavenand the rusted-out steel girders obstructed views of the playing field. O’Malley’s GM at the time, Buzzy Bavasi, admitted years later: “Ebbets Field was a great place to watch a game if you were sitting in the first 12 rows between the bases.”  

he surrounding neighborhood saw noticeable changes by the time the “Fabulous Fifties” rolled aroundHouses were not being properly maintained, crime was on the rise, and the fans with money that had previously purchased the more-expensive box seats were shuffling off to the Long Island suburbs and avoiding trips into town to catch games, especially the night contests.  It was far easier and much safer to listen to the Dodgers on the radio or to watch them on the new phenomenon called television.  

A born and bred 
Brooklyn mana lawyer by trade, Walter Francis O’Malley was a shrewd businessman with no ordinary ideas. He was a mover and a shaker, a true visionary. He didn’t want just any new ballpark for his Dodger boys, one of the best teams in baseball. Far from it. Thinking big, hforesaw a domed stadium on the corner of Atlantic and Flatbush avenues in the west end of downtown Brooklyn, adjacent to the Long Island Railroad (LIRR) terminal.  

It would be the first
 domed stadium in the world. In O’Malley’s mind’s eye, this all-weather, year-round multipurpose translucent dome would seat at least 50,000 fans and house a retractable roof, restaurants, retail shops, a supermarket, a movie theatre, a convention center, underground parking, and escalators taking fans to their seats, all on a 500-acre prime piece of property. 

The indoor 
stadium would be the showcase for the majors and put baseball on the international map. Directly opposite the Long Island Railroad terminal was an ideal location. The LIRR had hundreds of miles of rail connections across Long Island and could bring in fans by the thousands from the suburbs, many of those the same ones who had been fleeing the Ebbets Field neighborhoods earlier in favor of the Long Island burbs.  

Artist depiction of Walter O'Malley's "Dodger Dome," courtesy Collier's Magazine, 1952 (US Public Domain)

Initial estimates and various sketches from people whom O’Malley contacted released their specifics. It would take $6 million to build (later changed to $12 million). A 300-foot-high enclosure, it would be 750 feet in diameter, and have a uniform distance to the fences in fair territory from home plate--380 feet. Many of these niceties were confirmed in a 1952 Collier’s Magazine issue and four years later in a 1956 Mechanix Illustrated piece, both magazines depicting an artist’s drawing accompanied by an article on this futuristic edifice dubbed the Dodger Dome. Also in 1956, Street and Smith Baseball Yearbook had published photos of a grand, tabletop modelwith one of the pictures flaunting the smiling faces of Walter O’Malley, architect Buckminster Fuller of Princeton University, and Professor Robert McLaughlin, Director of Princeton’s School of Architecture. 

 based his covered stadium idea on the two-thousand-year-old Roman Coliseum, which, according to his research, had a retractable canvas roof that covered two-thirds of the area high above the inside. Operated by a series of winches attached to long canvas stripsthe mechanisms fanned the spectators, kept the hot sun off them, and at the same time forced warm air to be released through the large, open hole in the middle. It was an early form air conditioning. 

When Dodger beat reporter Roger Kahn heard the 
dome proposal straight from O’Malley himself in the spring of 1953 (the incident verified in Kahn’s 1993 book, The Era), he typed up a draft on the subject for his newspaper, the New York Herald Tribune.  But his editor, Bob Cooke, talked Kahn out of publishing the article by informing the impressionable, 25-year-old Kahn: “You’re supposed to be writing baseball, not Walter’s fantasies.”   

When the press--
at least the majority of them--got wind of O’Malley’s progressive plan, they thought the owner was joking. Some referred to the concept as “O’Malley’s Pleasure Dome.” By this time, not enough people were taking O’Malley seriously on two counts: building the Dodger Dome, and his subtle hints at relocating the Brooklyn Dodgers if a new stadium deal wasn’t worked out.  

Days after 
the Dodgers won their first and only World Series in Brooklyn in 1955, O’Malley called a press conference to announce that well-respected architect Buckminster Fuller of Princeton had been hired to design the team’s new home as a geodesic dome. Instead of asking specific questions about the proposed stadiumthe reporters preferred to talk baseball, specifically the plans for different players in 1956. One reporter in particular asked if pitcher Johnny Podres, the Game Seven winner of the World Series that fall, would receive a sizeable raise.  

Frustrated, O’Malley carried on. 
Meanwhile, regarding the Dodgers’ struggles in securing a proper venue, Los Angeles officials--spearheaded by Councilwoman Rosalind Wyman--contacted O’Malley and his staff that winter of 1955-1956 about a possible move for the Dodgers to sunny CaliforniaO’Malley gave it consideration, but not whole heartedly at first. He still wished to keep the team in his hometown Brooklyn and work out a deal there 

Whether staying or leaving, O’Malley
 put a potential scare into Brooklyn city officials by selling Ebbets Field to real estate developer Marvin Kratter for $3 million on October 30, 1956then agreed to a three-year lease, with the option of another three. A year earlier, O’Malley had sold minor league parks in Fort Worth, Texas and Montreal, Quebec for $1 million each, with the intention that the money from the parks be put towards the construction of the new Dodger Dome. O’Malley also cut a deal to play seven home games in New Jersey, at Jersey City’s Roosevelt Stadium for 1956, with another eight games in 1957. Although the 24,000 seating capacity was smaller than Ebbets Field, Roosevelt Stadium was twenty years newer and had 10,000 parking spaces available. 

To make the covered stadium a reality, O’Malley needed the support of New York parks commissioner Robert Moses, the “urban planner guru” of the New York City area, a powerful non-elected government official. 
O’Malley let it be known that he’d pay for the stadium’s construction and the parking facilities, while the taxpayers subsidized the land. But Moses didn’t care for O’Malley’s idea because he had the Atlantic-Flatbush area earmarked for a giant parking garageFurthermore, once he heard that O’Malley showed interest in the land, Moses blocked any sale of it.  

Part II to come September