The Summer of ’47

When I read David Halberstam’s Summer of ‘49 recently, I thought of my dad many times.  We talked about it one day and he told me about his brilliant Summer of ‘47.  I told him to blog about it and he did.

Life in America was different then.  For a total of $3, he had an amazing summer based around the New York Yankees and the New York Giants.  His day started at Geller’s Candy Store every morning at 8am and ended on his local baseball field in the Bronx each evening when it got dark.  He tells the story well and it’s a great compliment to his story Jake the Pickle Man.

If you’ve been thinking about tech a little too much, or the absurd H-1B visa situation is bumming you out, go read these stories.  If you are a baseball fan, you’ll love them.

50 years later – as my dad says – “… some things have changed in America.  We now know the price of everything and the value of nothing.”

Food for thought.

  • Gards

    Thanks for encouraging your Dad to tell the story. It provoked a lot of memories of summers gone by.

  • edzschau

    Brad, baseball is a game that bridges generations and we’re fortunate to have authors like David Halberstam who has written classics that each generation can enjoy. Summer of ’49 and October 1964 are two great works but to me his last book, Teammates, tells a great story about how baseball builds relationships and creates a lifetime bond among players (in this case Boston teammates Ted Williams, Johnny Pesky, Dom DiMaggio, Bobby Doerr). It’s a great read that you and your dad would enjoy.

  • My dad used to tell me stories of seeing the Giants and Dodgers play in Ebbets Field in the 1950’s. He was a Giants fan. Six years after he died, Doris Kearns Goodwin told the whole world the stories my dad had told me in “Wait ‘Til Next Year”.

    Ironically, I was an L.A. Dodgers fan as a kid as my favorite team, the Chicago White Sox, were too far way for any coverage in my childhood home town. The Dodgers were one of the two closest Major League teams, only 350 miles away. Though the Dodgers were (are) the bitter rival of “his” team, my dad loved telling me stories of the glory days of 1950’s New York City baseball.

    With all respect to your dad, I disagree with him. I believe a majority of Americans do know the value of most things, but have to know the price of everything. Just because the cynics (as Oscar Wilde called such people who “know the price of everything, and the value of nothing”) get all the press and media coverage, it doesn’t mean they are the majority in America.