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I was nine years old when my father first took me to Yankee Stadium. When we arrived, the ticket lines seemed endless. Banners championing the team’s many pennant and World Series’ victories hung from the Stadium walls. We went past the ticket takers, and wended out way upward. Finally, we exited through a dark passageway and stood high above a baseball diamond surrounded by a field of dazzling green grass. Thousands of other fans moved looking for their seats. A plane snaked slowly through the sky. The game would soon begin.
Another four decades later, I began photographing Yankee Stadium. The place is known as the House that Ruth built, but for me it is a place that holds strong memories from my childhood. My images of the Stadium try to re-capture what it was that left such a deep and lasting impression upon me as a young boy.
In December, 2007, the New York Historical Society acquired prints of “Stadium Memories” for its permanent collection.
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