On Wednesday, October 5, 1921, the New York Giants and the New York Yankees met at the Polo Grounds in New York for the first game of the World Series. The New York Times called the people with tickets “the lucky 37,000 of the 6,000,000.” Everybody else had to wait for the news. Out in the farm towns of Indiana and Ohio, that usually meant waiting for tomorrow’s paper. That fall, a newspaper in Richmond, Indiana, had a better idea. It sent the games out over the air.

1921 Richmond Palladium story Wireless Telephone Gives Series Plays to Suburban Fans, about World Series reports sent by radio to Eaton, Ohio

“Wireless Telephone Gives Series Plays to Suburban Fans.” The Richmond Palladium, Richmond, Indiana, October 7, 1921, page 16. Library of Congress, Chronicling America. Click the clipping to read it full size.

The lucky 37,000

New York went baseball crazy that week. For the first time, both teams in the World Series came from New York City, and both played their home games in the same ballpark. The night before the first game, the Times said fans “debated the relative chances of the Yanks and the Giants until the small hours.”

The first fan in line was Charles Kierst, “a city fireman of Auburn, N. Y.” He got to the gate at 10 o’clock in the morning, a full day before the game. He was still there at midnight. Bleacher seats were “$1 each,” plus a 10-cent war tax. About forty people were waiting with him by then. It “was shivery long before midnight,” the paper said, and many fans spent the evening “hunting up mid-Winter apparel.”

1921 New York Times front-page story Scores in All-Night Vigil for 1st World Series Game Today, about the lucky 37,000 fans who could fit in the Polo Grounds

“Scores in All-Night Vigil for 1st World Series Game Today.” The New York Times, New York, October 5, 1921, page 1. Internet Archive; published 1921, public domain. Click the clipping to read it full size.

1921 New York Times paragraph First Fan at Gates at 10 A. M., about fireman Charles Kierst of Auburn, New York, waiting for a one-dollar bleacher seat

“First Fan at Gates at 10 A. M.” The New York Times, New York, October 5, 1921, page 1. Internet Archive; published 1921, public domain. Click the clipping to read it full size.

Fans in hats and caps crowd the outfield seats at the Polo Grounds in 1921, with big painted ads on the wall behind them

Fans in hats pack the outfield seats at the Polo Grounds during the 1921 World Series. Bain News Service, Library of Congress. Click the picture to see it full size.

A telephone with no wires

Richmond sits near the Ohio line, nearly 600 miles west of New York. Its paper, the Richmond Palladium, had put in a “wireless telephone” that spring. Today we’d just call it a radio. It sent voices and music through the air, with no wires in between.

One Tuesday night that April, a small group sat in the Palladium building and listened to a record of “Carry Me Back to Old Virginny” played far away in Washington, D.C. Some of them had come ready to say “I told you so” if it didn’t work. It worked. The paper put it this way: “They came to scoff but remained to wonder.” It also promised to bring “baseball scores” to “the outlying districts,” meaning the farms and small towns around Richmond.

1921 Richmond Palladium story Palladium Installs Wireless Telephone, about listeners hearing a phonograph record sent from Washington, D.C.

“Palladium Installs Wireless Telephone to Gather News and Serve Its Patrons.” The Richmond Palladium, Richmond, Indiana, April 6, 1921, page 1. Library of Congress, Chronicling America. Click the clipping to read it full size.

How the game got to Indiana

Here is how it worked. The Associated Press had a box at the Polo Grounds. A telegraph wire ran from that box all the way to the Palladium office. As each play happened, it came clicking down the wire. The same wire ran an “electric scoreboard” in front of the office.

Then the Palladium did one more thing. It sent the game out, play by play, over its wireless telephone “for the benefit of all stations within a radius of 50 miles.” The game started at 2:30 in New York, which was 1:30 in Richmond.

1921 Richmond Palladium notice World's Series Starts Wednesday, about a wire from the Polo Grounds and a radio report for stations within 50 miles

“World’s Series Starts Wednesday, 1:30 P. M.” The Richmond Palladium, Richmond, Indiana, October 3, 1921, page 7. Library of Congress, Chronicling America. Click the clipping to read it full size.

One wire across the street in Eaton, Ohio

Few people owned a radio in 1921. So the listening happened where people gathered. In Eaton, Ohio, the town paper, the Eaton Democrat, set up a set in its front office. “A single wire aerial is stretched across the street,” the Palladium reported. The man at the dials was Manager Bates of the Eaton telegraph office. He had been “a radio man, in the army during the war.”

Each half inning came in from Richmond and was called out to “the waiting fans” in the office, then posted in the front window. In Greenville, Ohio, an amateur named Carl Stocker picked up the reports on his own station and sent the news down to two poolrooms. In Cambridge City, Indiana, Fred Rowe ran a station too. They all said the voice was “coming in” very loud, and “easily understood.”

1921 news story Radiophone Gives Eaton Series Fans Games Play by Play, from Eaton, Ohio

“Radiophone Gives Eaton Series Fans Games Play by Play.” The Richmond Palladium, Richmond, Indiana, October 10, 1921, page 13. Library of Congress, Chronicling America. Click the clipping to read it full size.

Eaton’s own report was the best part. Radio was “very much of a mystery to the layman,” it said. In other words, most people had no idea how it worked. They didn’t much care, “so long as he gets full reports hot from the seat of battle.”

The play nobody in Eaton saw

The photo at the top of this story is the real first game. In the fifth inning, Mike McNally of the Yankees ran in from third base and crossed the plate before the catcher could tag him. The Palladium’s play-by-play put it in four words: “McNally stole home.” The Yankees won that first game. Nobody in Eaton saw it. They heard it.

1921 play-by-play of the fifth inning saying McNally stole home

The fifth inning of the first game, from the play-by-play. The Richmond Palladium, Richmond, Indiana, October 5, 1921, page 1. Library of Congress, Chronicling America. Click the clipping to read it full size.

Letters from the parlor

The series ran eight games. The Giants won it on October 13. Then the mail started coming. The Palladium called it “a chorus of appreciation,” and it printed some of the cards and letters.

A listener in Somerville, Ohio, wrote: “It is certainly a pleasure to sit in our own parlor and listen as the world’ series games progresses.” A listener in Cincinnati wrote, “My sons and I appreciate your broadcasting.” Someone in Greenville heard the scores “on a crystal detector set.” That was the simplest radio of all. It ran without batteries and needed headphones to hear.

1921 Richmond Palladium column of letters from radio listeners in Indiana and Ohio thanking the paper for the World Series reports

Letters from listeners. The Richmond Palladium, Richmond, Indiana, October 18, 1921, page 2. Library of Congress, Chronicling America. Click the clipping to read it full size.

A listener in Waynesfield, Ohio, said, “We have no ticker in this burg.” A ticker was a telegraph machine that printed the news on paper tape. So this fan copied down the radio reports and passed the news around town, “several hours ahead of the newspapers.” At Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, “most of the games were heard by a roomful of boys.”

A young woman wearing radio headphones sits at a table with a pencil and paper, about 1920 to 1925

Marion Smyth takes notes while listening through radio headphones, about 1920 to 1925. She is a stand-in for the listeners in this story, not one of them. Bain News Service, Library of Congress. Click the picture to see it full size.

From Goshen, Ohio, came the plainest thanks of all: “The hams out here in the sticks certainly appreciate such broadcasting by radio, because otherwise we would not get the dope until we got the papers the next day.” Hams were radio amateurs. The dope was the news.

The practice game

The Palladium tried out its plan on a high school football game a few days before the series. A radio station in Hamilton, Ohio, reported Richmond’s game there, quarter by quarter. At 2:21 the first word came through: “Richmond team just went on field. They look pretty cocky with their new uniforms.”

1921 newspaper lines: Richmond team just went on field. They look pretty cocky with their new uniforms.

The first report from Hamilton. The Richmond Palladium, Richmond, Indiana, October 3, 1921, page 7. Library of Congress, Chronicling America. Click the clipping to read it full size.

Richmond lost, 33 to 7. The last report was a kind one: “No one injured, and no arguments. Clean game, with Richmond delighted by their treatment.”

1921 newspaper lines giving the 33 to 7 football score and No one injured, and no arguments

The last report from Hamilton. The Richmond Palladium, Richmond, Indiana, October 3, 1921, page 7. Library of Congress, Chronicling America. Click the clipping to read it full size.

Two ways to see a ball game

That October, Charles Kierst stood at a ballpark gate from 10 in the morning to midnight for a one-dollar seat. Hundreds of miles away, a family in Somerville, Ohio, just pulled up a chair in the parlor. Both of them got the World Series. Only one of them needed a winter coat.

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