by Jim Bouton
“I couldn’t get anybody to come tonight,” she said. “They all wanted to stay home and vote.”
Dusty Bahlman of the Eagle was standing near the empty dais.
“Hi, Dusty,” said Chip, as we approached. “What’s new?”
“As long as you asked,” said Dusty, with a very slow grin, “Larry Bossidy has an option for a New York–Penn League team. He wants to play in Wahconah Park for a year or two until a new stadium can be built.”
I knew it was coming and I still felt a jolt.
Even when you know the bad guy is in the closet, it’s still a little scary when he finally jumps out.
This was the August surprise that Chip and I had predicted and that Murphy had confirmed with his phony announcement that there weren’t going to be any more proposals. Of course, Murphy knew what Bossidy was up to. Can you imagine Bossidy shopping for a franchise without telling anyone in the mayor’s office? Call Murphy the Oracle of Deceit.
“Okay, what’s your reaction?” asked Dusty, flipping open his notebook.
“No surprise to us,” I said, like nothing bad had happened. “We always believed that Fleisig was a stand-in, a place holder, for a new stadium. Fleisig was just being used by the mayor to block us from getting a Northern League franchise.”
“It explains the postponements and delays over the past few months,” said Chip. “As a new-stadium wannabe, Fleisig now becomes irrelevant.”
As Dusty scribbled in his notebook, a guy from WBRK radio held out a microphone and asked us the same questions about Bossidy’s return.
He’s baaaack!
Bianchi hadn’t even heard the news. We filled him in as he took his seat on the dais, about to assume his duties as moderator. Bianchi didn’t seem surprised either. He smirked and slowly shook his head.
Without mentioning Bossidy, Bianchi addressed the audience, explained Fleisig’s absence “due to scheduling problems,” and described the phone poll as “something unusual.” He said the audience could ask questions, and he gave out the Council chamber phone number, in case viewers at home wanted to ask questions. Spotting Commissioner Jim Conant in the audience, Bianchi invited him to sit on the dais to field questions, but Conant declined.
Bianchi then invited us to make a brief opening statement, and I jumped in, leaning into the microphone perched in front of me. I began by breaking the news that Bossidy was now back in the game. I explained that it did not surprise us, nor did it change anything. In fact, it only sharpened the issue—give us Wahconah Park for the long term, or give it to Fleisig or Bossidy for the short term until a new stadium can be built.
A handful of people stepped to the open mike to ask questions, none of which was difficult to handle. Conant himself asked the toughest questions, which we relished, of course, because it gave us one more chance to highlight the unique aspects of our proposal.
While Conant was at the podium, I took the opportunity to ask him a question: “What is the risk to the city if we live up to the commitments we’ve outlined?”
Conant’s answer: “I think it is just the process that we are in now is a due diligence process.”
While Conant was demonstrating why the commissioners don’t want to field questions, Chip and I passed notes back and forth about how to handle the Bossidy situation, since we did not have a separate phone number for him. Our solution? Have one phone number stand for our two competitors—Fleisig and Bossidy. Total their scores and we’d still win decisively. Two against one.
“That’s fair,” I said, my jock confidence trumping my tech fears.
By nine o’clock, the public had been heard and it was time for our phone poll. The plan called for a guy named Jay at 7 West Communications to give me the running totals on my cell phone as the calls came in. I’d tell Chip and he’d announce it to the audience in the Council chamber.
“We’ve decided to use two toll-free numbers tonight,” Chip explained to the audience. “Fleisig and Bouton. There are three reasons to dial the Fleisig number: (1) if you’re in favor of the Fleisig proposal, (2) if you’re in favor of the Bossidy proposal, or (3) if you’re not sure of either of those but you would like a new stadium. And there is only one reason to dial the Bouton number, and that’s if you’re in favor of the Bouton proposal.”
On his own, Chip had added the new stadium as a third reason to dial the Fleisig number, but that was okay with me. At this point, I would have given Fleisig “people who like puppies.”
“We’re going to leave the lines open for one minute,” said Chip. “Then we’re going to cut them off and give you the results.”
Now we were ready to proceed.
The TV guys signaled that the phone numbers were on the screen, and the clock started ticking. With me holding my cell phone and Chip ready at the microphone, we looked like precinct captains waiting to announce the downstate election results.
“We’re going to have instant gratification,” Chip announced, while the people at home were dialing, “because a minute after the polls close, we’re going to know the result.”
I studied my watch. Twenty seconds went by—but it seemed like two minutes because Jay at 7 West wasn’t saying anything.
“What’s happening?” I said into the phone.
“Nothing yet,” said Jay.
“Nothing so far,” I said to Chip.
A mildly quizzical look came over Chip’s face.
“What’s happening now,” Chip explained to the audience, “is that my partner is waiting to get the results.”
I checked my watch. A minute had passed. With the phone still pressed to my ear, I smiled as if nothing were wrong.
“It’s more than a minute,” I said to Chip, “and still no calls.”
“Can that be possible?” said Chip, anxiety in his eyes.
“No calls?” I said into the phone, uncomprehending.
“No calls,” said Jay.
Seeking instant gratification myself, I pictured beach chairs jumping with voltage, electrifying their CEO occupants.
“We seem to be having some technical difficulties,” Chip said very calmly, in the manner of a British Airways pilot announcing a small fire on the wing. “This is somewhat embarrassing, I must say,” he added.
Embarrassing? We were having a meltdown in the City Council chamber!
On live television.
“What the hell’s going on?” I said to Jay. My face felt flushed and I was sweating.
Jay left the phone to see what the problem might be. Meanwhile, the audience in the Council chamber had been sitting there quietly. Very quietly, since they were mostly our supporters. Suddenly, a phone rang in the room next door to the Council chamber. Dan Bianchi got up to answer it. Then it rang again. And again. Dan answered the calls and returned to his seat.
“Calls are coming in next door,” said Bianchi, “from people who are all getting busy signals.”
Chip announced that the lines would remain open because people were getting busy signals. Five minutes had gone by since they were first opened. I called 7 West again. Jay had some numbers. Bouton 151, Fleisig 122. He said that was all he had.
We were crushed.
Chip couldn’t even bring himself to announce the results. He wrote the numbers on a piece of paper and handed it to Dan Bianchi. Bianchi read the results to the audience. Then Dan closed the meeting.
Within five minutes the Council chamber was empty.
In the car on the way home, Chip and I were too devastated to stop for ice cream. We had planned to celebrate at Ben & Jerry’s. I called Paula on my cell phone to give her the bad news about Bossidy and our phone poll.
“I’m so sorry for you, Babe,” she said.
“But we’re still not going away,” I said, defiantly. That’s what you say right after you get your ass kicked.
“I’m so pissed off at 7 West,” said Chip, spitting out his words. “They assured me they could handle this. They guaranteed it.”
“Fucking assholes,” I s
aid.
Back at Chip’s house, we went up to his office to holler at 7 West Communications. Chip got Jay on the phone and let him know how embarrassed we’d been. How much we’d been damaged. Jay said they didn’t understand what happened and that they’re still trying to figure it out. He said he’d call us back.
“We’re going to get killed tomorrow,” I said. “The Eagle is going to have a field day.”
Chip and I just sat there, exhausted. Too angry to think straight. Too distracted to come up with solutions.
Ten minutes later the phone rang.
It was Jay. Chip put him on the speaker phone.
“The problem was,” said Jay, “that there were so many calls it jammed the system.”
“But you said that couldn’t happen,” said Chip.
“We’ve never had this many calls,” said Jay.
“Do you have any idea how many people may have called?” asked Chip.
“Sure,” said Jay. “We record the busies as well as the connects.”
“So how many were there?” asked Chip.
“I’ll check,” said Jay. Then he hung up again.
With our hearts beating a tad more rapidly, Chip and I speculated on what the results might be.
“The same ratio will probably prevail,” said Chip, sadly. “55/45 in our favor.”
“But what if the two phone lines are like two doors into a room,” I said. “There could be a thousand people lined up behind one door and a hundred behind the other. Both doors would yield approximately the same number of people at first. But the ultimate total could be much different.”
The phone rang again. It was Jay.
“The computer is still counting them,” he said. “The number is in the thousands. I’ll have to call you back.”
Thousands!
What the hell does that mean? It could be good, or bad, or anything in between.
“Maybe I was right about the two doors,” I said. “Or maybe Andy Mick and the boys used a speed dialer.”
It was eleven-thirty. I called Paula to tell her I’d be a while. She said that was fine, she was watching a movie on TV.
“Do they record the phone numbers of the individual callers?” I asked Chip. “So it can be checked and audited?”
“Yes,” said Chip. “And you can eliminate the repeats.”
“That means any speed dialers will be exposed.” I said.
“That’s right,” said Chip.
Fifteen minutes went by. What was the problem? Was 7 West still counting? We couldn’t stand it any more. So Chip called Jay.
That’s when we heard the magic words.
“Your man Bouton won in a fucking landslide,” said Jay. “And we don’t usually use that word around here. So far, the numbers are 3,209 to 437.”
So far.
Hallelujah!
The people have spoken. And evidently they’re still speaking.
Chip immediately called Dusty Bahlman to tell him about the new poll numbers and promised to email him tomorrow with the final results.
Chip and I shook hands and hugged each other. Then he walked me to my car. As I pulled away, I could see that he was hollering something. I rolled down my window to hear what it was.
“Drive carefully,” he said. “An accident now would be a real bummer.”
We laughed into the cool Berkshire night.
AUGUST 23
THURSDAY
I must have been sleeping lightly because at about 4:00 a.m. I heard the fax machine. Slipping quietly out of bed so as not to disturb Paula, I tiptoed in the dark to my office, took the papers off the fax, and carried them into the bathroom. Seated appropriately enough on the toilet lid, I read the online version of today’s Eagle. Under a full-page headline STADIUM II: IT’s BACK IN PLAY, Bill Carey had written:
Lawrence Bossidy Jr. said yesterday that he has signed an agreement to purchase a New York–Penn League franchise and will renew the effort to build a downtown stadium…. The team would use city-owned Wahconah Park until a downtown stadium is built.
Bossidy said he has discussed reviving the stadium with MediaNews Group CEO William Dean Singleton, Berkshire Bank, Mayor Gerald S. Doyle Jr. and City Council President Thomas E. Hickey Jr.
Aside from the thought that one of my problems could be that I’m not a Junior, I suddenly understood the “scheduling problem” that Hickey said had prevented him from moderating our public hearing.
In a smaller story, under the headline: BOUTON, ELITZER ‘NOT GOING AWAY,’ Dusty Bahlman covered our public meeting “attended by about 20 people, a half dozen of whom rose to ask questions or make comments.” At the end, Bahlman mentioned our phone poll, and quoted me saying that the 151 to 122 result was “unofficial.” It could have been worse. But not much.
Our extremely slim victory, and the sparse number of attendees and callers, suggested precisely the level of apathy over Wahconah Park that the Eagle has been trying to peddle. Left unexplained, the numbers destroy our most important claim—namely that we are the people’s choice. How the hell are we going to get this straightened out? I went back to bed, sleeping even more lightly than before.
At 5:30 a.m. I heard the fax again. Chip must be an insomniac. That’s in addition to maniac.
I slid out of bed in the dark and made the now familiar trip from the bedroom to the office to the bathroom. The papers in my hands were proof positive that you do not want to challenge Chip Elitzer at any time, on any matter, that has anything to do with anything.
Ready for faxing and emailing—to a list that included every media outlet, politician, committee chairman, and green grocer within a hundred-mile radius of Pittsfield—was the following letter:
Ladies and Gentlemen:
In conjunction with the live telecast from the Pittsfield City Council chamber last night, the following attempts (completed calls or “busy” calls) were tallied between approximately 9:00 p.m. EDT and 9:15 p.m. EDT to two separate toll-free numbers: 3,209 (88%) in favor of the “Bouton proposal” 437 (12%) in favor of the “Fleisig proposal” (which included, according to televised instructions at the start of the call-in period, supporters of the new Larry Bossidy proposal or anyone interested in keeping alive the possibility of a new baseball stadium for Pittsfield).
These results can be confirmed by calling 7 West Communications in Minnetonka, MN (888-XXX-XXXX) and speaking with Adam Boroughs, Director of Operations, or Jay Aupperle, Assistant Director of Operations and Programming.
For Pittsfield’s elected and appointed officials to ignore this clear indication of public sentiment would be highly corrosive to public trust. My partners and I commend Mr. Bossidy for his abiding interest in the welfare of Pittsfield, but ask that he follow the sportsmanlike example set by the New England Collegiate Baseball League Commissioner yesterday in leaving the pitcher’s mound. The call has gone in to “Bulldog” Bouton to close out this game and win it for Pittsfield.
Sincerely,
Chip Elitzer
I almost got a tear in my eye.
After going back to sleep again for a few hours, I awoke in time to listen to the Dan Valenti Show. This is not so easy because the Pittsfield station wasn’t designed to reach South County. I have to stick the radio in an open window in our kitchen and crank up the volume. Even then there’s a lot of static, but Paula is pretty good about it. She just sighs and reads her book while eating her yogurt with granola and strawberries.
Today’s question by Valenti was this: “Imagine the best incarnation of a new stadium and a restored Wahconah Park. What side are you on?”
Almost every caller was in favor of our plan for Wahconah Park. One complained about the deceptive slogan, “no stadium, no baseball,” that BS&E had used to scare people. Another caller said he had heard a rumor that the team Bossidy has optioned is the Utica Blue Sox, a minor league affiliate of the Florida Marlins.
Then I heard a familiar voice.
“Hi, Dan, this is Chip Elitzer. I thought your listener
s might want to hear the latest results of our phone poll last night.”
I turned up the volume on the radio, which squawked like a World War II battle update from the BBC. Paula winced.
“The latest figures,” said Chip, “are 4,665 for Bouton and 488 for Fleisig—which also includes those who preferred the Collegiate League, Larry Bossidy, or a new stadium. That makes 91% in favor of our proposal for Wahconah Park, and just 9% for everyone else—combined.” (Correction: Fleisig got 388 calls, giving us 92%.)
Hooray! The Germans were being routed on the northern front.
Then Chip got a call inviting us to be studio guests on the Larry Kratka radio program at eleven. Since we have no other life at this point, I threw on a T-shirt and jeans, picked up Chip, and we headed for Pittsfield. On the way we talked about the phone poll.
“Fleisig actually had 606 calls,” said Chip. “11 were one-time repeats, but 144 came from one number and 63 from a second number. That means there were two speed dialers at work.”
“We should have somebody call those numbers,” I said, “and find out who they were. Wouldn’t it be great if they belonged to someone at Cain Hibbard or the Eagle?”
“I gave them to Dan Valenti,” said Chip. “He’s on the case.”
“Does that qualify as fraud?” I said.
“No. Dirty tricks.”
“The roller coaster is back up again,” I said.
“I predict Bossidy will bow out,” said Chip.
“No way.”
“He didn’t get that far in the business world without knowing when to cut his losses,” said Chip.
After the Kratka show, which went very well, we decided to visit a guy named Ray Parrott, whom we’d heard wanted to be one of our investors. Parrott owns the A-Mart near Wahconah Park. We called him, and he invited us over.
With our color posters in hand, Chip and I were led to a spartan office in the back, crowded with boxes, a metal desk, and some steel beer kegs. Parrott is a beefy guy, about forty, friendly and direct, an outdoors type, definitely not a suit-and-tie guy.
