It cost $1.10 for bleacher seats, and we loved them and thought ourselves so lucky to be there. Buddy and I would arrive at Yankee Stadium at around 5:00 a.m. and talk baseball with everyone around us. Talk isn't quite right. We would argue our cases that our favorite ball players were the best at their positions.
They would let us into the ball park at around 11:00 a.m. and at noon out would come a marching band to entertain us. Right before the ball game started, the so called "Clown Prince of Baseball" would come out and do some stunts with a baseball in right field. He would end up at home plate with another ball player on third, and they would start to steam the ball at one another all the while closing the gap between the two. The crowd just roared with every throw.To get the day's action started, Buddy and I would get up at 4:00 a.m. to take the subway to the ball game. We would bring sandwiches my Mom had made for us the night before and at least a pound of peanuts. We weren't going to get ripped off at Yankee Stadium and pay a dime for a lousy bag of peanuts that cost around two bits a pound at the grocery store.
My Mom would give me a $2.00 to cover the whole shebang; $1.10 to get into the game, 10¢ for carfare and all the treats you could get for 80¢. Hot dogs and cokes were a dime each...although we complained loudly that a dime for a coke was a total rip off. We weren't just "making do", we were having a great time (the term "having a blast" hadn't been invented yet). This was the Great Depression, and my Mom walloped me for the one and only time when I used the 15¢ change from buying a Sunday newspaper to buy candy.
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