Lifestyle
With the DNC underway, a historian explains how 'The Stadium' became a public square
President Biden speaks during the Democratic National Convention Aug. 19, 2024, in Chicago’s United Center Stadium.
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On Monday night, around 50,000 people filled the Chicago United Center as President Joe Biden addressed the Democratic National Convention. Columbia University historian Frank Andre Guridy says these massive monuments to sports, entertainment and politics serve as public squares in American culture.
In his book, The Stadium: An American History of Politics, Protests, and Play, Guridy chronicles the role that arenas have played in American history and culture. From a 1920s pro-Nazi rally at Madison Square Garden, to Colin Kaepernick taking a knee in 2016 to protest police brutality, Guridy says that stadiums are where Americans battle over race, class, gender and sexual inequities.
“We fight our political battles in stadiums,” Guridy says. “Because they’re large, because they can accommodate all sorts of people, … they become ideal places to stake your claims on what you want the United States to be.”
Guridy says the country’s first “stadiums” — which took the form of circus tents or wooden ballparks — arose in the late 19th and early 20th centuries and were typically funded by entrepreneurs. In recent decades, however, there’s been a trend toward taxpayer-funded stadiums — though Guridy notes: “This notion that stadiums are places that help generate economic development … [has] been debunked over and over and over again.”
Guridy adds that as more stadiums are built or replaced, they are becoming increasingly generic, with corporate names and a cookie-cutter-style. “I would argue that most of these facilities feel like no place, because they all have the same sort of arrangement of ads and same types of scoreboards, same sorts of rituals,” he says. “They all look the same.”
Interview Highlights
The Stadium
Porchlight Books
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Porchlight Books
On how it came to be that taxpayers pay for new stadiums
Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal helps begin the process by which public funds are building stadiums. … But it isn’t until after World War II, when we see the exploding growth of both the sport and the entertainment industry. When the United States really becomes a nationally sports-crazed nation, where sports franchises start to make the case to politicians that … if you want to have a team in your city, you need to build a stadium for us. And politicians discover that they can gain a lot of political capital by bringing a major league team to the city. And that accounts for the exploding growth of publicly financed stadiums in the 1960s and ‘70s, and really, until this day. …
Because sports leagues are de facto — and also legislatively — monopolies in the United States, they can command that sort of power. It’s become this kind of convergence between aspiring politicians and sports leagues that have been able to make the case that, in fact, the stadium is something that should be funded by taxpayer public funds.
On the role stadiums played in the country’s desegregation
Ballparks like Ebbets Field [in Brooklyn] become places of this enormous cultural and social and political transformation. Now, it’s not just because Jackie Robinson shows up in a Brooklyn Dodger uniform. It’s because people have been agitating for the desegregation and the elimination of Jim Crow for decades. … And we see this all across the country, particularly in the South when … the college football stadium becomes this kind of shrine, this temple, that is designed in part to not just stage football games, but to actually exemplify and celebrate the Jim Crow South and its imagined legacy in the Confederacy and slavery.
Stadiums up until the mid 20th century, particularly in the South, were all-white affairs, or certainly designed to sort of exclude people of African descent and non-white people. But because of the impact of the freedom movements across the South and in other parts of the country, we see this major shift playing out in public at stadiums across the country. So Americans are able to experience that, live, at your local facility.
On how the American national anthem and flag became part of stadium culture
It starts in the early 20th century, where we start to see performances of Francis Scott Key’s anthem in public places. But it isn’t till 1931 when it becomes the national anthem, and it really isn’t till the 1940s, where we start to see the kind of regular performance of “The Star-Spangled Banner” before sporting events … not coincidentally, in the aftermath of wars, in the aftermath of World War I, in the aftermath of World War II. And then later on, we start to see the proliferation anthems like “America the Beautiful” and others performed after 9/11, in moments, not coincidentally, where the United States is at war, when the U.S. government really has to make the case of national loyalty to its citizens, and the ballpark and the stadium and the arena becomes one of those places where that loyalty is cultivated.
On the militarized nationalism of stadium culture, and Colin Kaepernick’s protest of police brutality in 2016
By the time Kaepernick takes his knee at Qualcomm Stadium [in San Diego] in August 2016, eight years ago, you, at that point, had 15 years of jet flyovers. Fifteen years of honoring the military and law enforcement. And that’s the thing that’s interesting after 9/11: The ways in which these, you know, celebrations of the military become celebrations of law enforcement, which [happens] almost immediately, partly because of those who died among the first responders at the Twin Towers, but it’s more than that. It becomes a policy of pushing pro-police politics, I would argue, across the country. By the time Kaepernick does what he does, it’s now 15 years of that in which patriotic expression is narrowed and dissent is less tolerated in public.
Certainly athletes have been persecuted before Colin Kaepernick — most famously Tommie Smith and John Carlos when they make their Black Power salute at the 1968 Olympic Games in Mexico City. … But you do see the absolute intolerance and the vilification of Colin Kaepernick, which I would argue was unprecedented, and I think it’s because we have converted the stadium into a pep rally for the military and for law enforcement. Just the questioning of any sort of police action becomes intolerable, especially when a Black athlete does it. …I think that that’s why the stadium becomes this interesting theater, to look at the way in which we make sense of our world and of American politics. And I definitely think that there’s a much more repressive political culture that ensues after 9/11 than what existed before.
On the “Gay Games,” in part as a response to homophobia within stadiums
One of the most famous cases or infamous cases of [homophobia in a stadium] was the 1979 Disco Demolition event that happened at Chicago’s Comiskey Park, in which a local disc jockey, Steve Dahl, decided to create the ceremony in the middle of a baseball doubleheader to blow up disco records. And this is at a moment when the kind of anti-disco movement was emerging in the United States and [it] was very much an anti-gay movement. It was very much fueled by homophobia and racism. … That event turns into a riot where literally people charged the field and the games are canceled. The second game of the doubleheader was canceled on that evening in 1979 in Chicago.
So the ballpark becomes this battleground, and … gay activists take their struggle to the stadium, and they do that in San Francisco with the advent of the Gay Games movement, which is created by Tom Waddell, among a host of other organizers, who decide to create kind of an anti-Olympics … athletic competition that showcased the athletic talents of gays and lesbians. And that’s what they do in San Francisco in the early 1980s. And their first Gay Games happens in Kezar Stadium, another public controlled stadium, in the summer of 1982.
On how the prevalence of VIP sections negates what stadiums were designed to do
Seating capacity is much smaller now, so you have large parts of the stadium real estate devoted to the VIP crowd, to the corporate crowd. And you have less space devoted to the average sports fan. And this is something that sports fans lament over and over again. And you could say, well, people could just watch sports or watch whatever they want to watch on their device. But what we discovered in 2020 is that the fan really matters. … There were people actually writing articles before 2020 like: Do we really need fans in stadiums anymore? And the 2020 showed we do need them. And that the athletes want them there and that the public wants to be there. …. Think of stadiums as institutions. Think of them as places where, you know, people want to go and congregate, with good reason. And I think that, that’s the stadium at its best when we actually use it for that purpose. So why not open it up to a wider swath of people?
Sam Briger and Thea Chaloner produced and edited this interview for broadcast. Bridget Bentz, Molly Seavy-Nesper and Meghan Sullivan adapted it for the web.
Lifestyle
Sunday Puzzle: Five plus two, two plus five
Sunday Puzzle
NPR
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NPR
On-air challenge
I’m going to give you two five-letter words. Add the same two letters at the end of the first one and the start of the second one, in each case to complete a familiar seven-letter word.
Ex. Later Ready –> LATERAL/ALREADY
1. Habit Tempt
2. Laten Press
3. Blank Ching
4. Since Venue
5. Shack Groom
6. Surge Stage
Last week’s challenge
Last week’s challenge came from Rawson Sheinberg. of Plymouth, Mich. Think of a U.S. city with a two-word name. Add a letter to the first word, without rearranging letters, to name a country. Then, without adding a letter, rearrange the letters of the second word to name another country. What places are these?
Answer: Los Angeles –> Laos, Senegal
Winner
Elaine Neel of Derby, Kansas.
This week’s challenge
Next weekend will be the 186th convention of the National Puzzler League, in Bloomington, Ind., which I’ll be attending as always. Two other people who will be there are Henri Picciotto and Joshua Kosman, who created this week’s challenge. Name two words that are opposites. They share a single letter. Remove that shared letter from each word, put a hyphen between the two starting words, and you’ll get a term you sometimes see in food ads. What are the two words?
If you know the answer to the challenge, submit it here by Thursday, July 9 at 3 p.m. ET. Listeners whose answers are selected win a chance to play the on-air puzzle. Important: include a phone number where we can reach you.
Lifestyle
But first, coffee: The drink that energized the American Revolution
An illustration of the Boston Tea Party, when colonists dumped British East India Company tea into the harbor on Dec. 16, 1773. Some accounts say this marked a pivotal moment when Americans started loving coffee. But one historian says Americans were drinking lots of coffee before then.
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A consequential act of defiance secured tea’s place as perhaps the most iconic beverage of America’s colonial era.
The Boston Tea Party became an essential ingredient in the recipe for revolution in the following years.
But tea wasn’t the only hot beverage with a prominent role in America’s fight for independence.
Coffee was an important part of American culture from the start. And coffeehouses were essential, too — serving as hubs for brewing ideas of independence.
As the United States celebrates 250 years, here’s what to know about America’s early history of coffee.

Colonists were drinking coffee long before the United States existed
Europeans brought coffee with them when they came to America.
“The first documented example of a mortar and pestle used to grind coffee beans was on the Mayflower” in 1620, says historian Michelle Craig McDonald, the author of Coffee Nation: How One Commodity Transformed the Early United States.
“The fact that coffee was present so early is not surprising if you think about it,” McDonald says. “A number of those who were on the Mayflower came to North America from Amsterdam, which was a major coffee trading center in Western Europe by the 17th century.”
The first coffeehouse in the colonies opened in 1676 in Boston, a century before the U.S. declared independence, she says. Some taverns sold coffee even earlier.
The Boston Tea Party probably wasn’t the dramatic turning point toward coffee that some claim
On the night of Dec. 16, 1773, disgruntled colonists boarded three ships moored in Boston Harbor and threw overboard more than 92,000 pounds of tea owned by the British East India Company.
Tensions had been building between the Crown and the colonies over the previous decade, as Britain tried to levy taxes on its colonies to recoup war debts.
The Boston Tea Party protest was targeted at the British government’s passing of the Tea Act in 1773, which granted the East India Company a monopoly over tea sales in the colonies. While the British had removed some unpopular taxes in the preceding years, they left tea taxes in place. Colonial merchants were especially upset that the act allowed the East India Company to undercut their tea business.

To build solidarity for their cause of sovereignty, some patriots called on colonialists to swear off tea in favor of coffee. It’s why many histories point to the Boston Tea Party as a turning point when Americans switched from mostly drinking tea to mostly coffee. The anti-tea sentiment was immortalized in a founding father’s now-famous letter.
In July 1774, John Adams (before he became the second U.S. president) wrote to his wife Abigail, recounting an incident during his travels. After a long day, he asked the proprietor of the house where he was lodging for a cup of tea, provided it was smuggled and free of British taxes.
” ‘No sir, said she, we have renounced all Tea in this Place. I cant make Tea, but I’le make you Coffee.’ Accordingly I have drank Coffee every Afternoon since, and have borne it very well. Tea must be universally renounced. I must be weaned, and the sooner, the better,” Adams wrote.
Despite John Adams claiming a newfound patriotic duty to appreciate coffee, McDonald says colonists had been drinking lots of coffee all along.
She studied advertisements from the 1760s and ’70s to estimate how many shops sold coffee versus tea. Even before the Boston Tea Party, she says, “coffee is definitely more broadly available than tea is.”
A big reason? It was cheaper. “Its price again per pound is significantly less, which tells you about its availability, its accessibility to drinkers.”
Historians say it’s hard to definitively compare tea with coffee consumption, though, as official records from before America gained independence were inconsistent.
And smuggling was rampant, making official records even less reliable.

“There is a vast amount of smuggling,” says Joyce Chaplin, a professor of early American history at Harvard University. “So they’re not paying formal duties on tea that they get from the Dutch. They’re probably not paying formal duties on coffee from the French Caribbean.”
And Chaplin notes that people who loudly proclaimed a new appreciation for coffee over tea weren’t always doing what they said. It could have been political pandering. “I do not drink tea that comes via the East India Company,” she posits someone of the era saying. “But, you know, other sources are fine. Ditto for the coffee.”
Coffeehouses were a hub for revolutionary ideas
A coffeepot with cover, circa 1795. It has an American eagle motif, made in China for the American market. Coffee was part of a growing trend of globalization in the colonial era.
Heritage Art/Heritage Images via Getty Images
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In the colonial era, coffeehouses were hotbeds for seditious thought — where people planned acts of revolution.
“Coffeehouses are kind of famous for being places where people think and plot things,” says Mark Pendergrast, author of Uncommon Grounds: The History of Coffee and How It Transformed Our World.
A coffeehouse called the Green Dragon served as one of the locations for planning the Boston Tea Party. Years earlier, the Old London Coffeehouse in Philadelphia was a meeting place for strategizing responses to another British tax, the Stamp Act of 1765.
In Britain, coffeehouses were nicknamed “penny universities,” Pendergrast says: “because for a penny you could go and learn a whole lot by sitting around in a coffeehouse and discussing everything.” The same attitude traveled across the Atlantic.
Early American coffeehouses would commonly have city business directories, libraries of newspapers and currency exchange information. People could get maritime insurance there or buy things at auction.

“There’s a reason why coffeehouses become places of colonial protest … in the 1760s, in the 1770s, and it’s because it is the place where traders and merchants tended to gather,” historian McDonald says. “That’s where they heard about the economics of the day.”
Taverns were more likely than coffeehouses to have rooms for rent and stables for travelers’ horses. They were also more likely to have food.
Interestingly enough, coffeehouses could serve alcohol and taverns could serve coffee.
But the vibes at each were different. While women and men could “riotously drink together” in taverns, coffeehouses often didn’t allow women, according to Chaplin of Harvard.
“The sense was the coffeehouse was the place where you had a clear head — to argue about politics, to find out what was going on in the business world, to cut a business deal,” she says. “Whereas taverns were places where, in a sense, you refueled.”
Still, she says, the lines between the two “weren’t completely clear.”
The cost of America’s revolutionary drink
Coffee (and tea for that matter) was part of a growing globalization of trade around this time.
Much of the coffee in the colonies was grown in the Caribbean, while tea came from China.

Supply was up and coffee was easier than ever to drink. “Trade and frankly, imperialism, are making it possible for … colonial products to be produced and transferred to other parts of the world in greater and greater quantities,” says Chaplin.
As a result, by the time of the American Revolution, both coffee and tea were in reach for many common people. “They’re both becoming affordable luxuries,” Chaplin says.
Fancy coffee and tea paraphernalia were also part of this increasingly global market. Middle and upper-class people would have wanted special implements for drinking these beverages and a place to drink it. That meant they needed wood for coffee tables, silver for coffeepots, and porcelain for teapots.
“These two beverages are encouraging people to consume all kinds of new stuff,” says Chaplin. “The mahogany that comes out of the Caribbean, the china coming out of China, silver that is mined principally in South and Central America and processed in a lot of the parts of the world.”
There’s a dark side to coffee’s history, too. The plantations that supplied the crop ran on the labor of enslaved people. By 1790, half of the world’s coffee was being grown in the French colony of Saint-Domingue, in what is today Haiti, Pendergrast says, where slaves were routinely mistreated, raped and murdered.

The Declaration of Independence, signed in 1776, is infamous for a contradiction. It proclaimed that “all men are created equal,” but failed to acknowledge the hundreds of thousands of enslaved people living in America at the time.
Coffee carried a similar contradiction. The beverage that fueled conversations that inspired America’s fight for independence — centered on the ideals of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness — depended on enslavement.
“Coffee had this paradoxical effect, that it did promote revolutionary thought,” Pendergrast says. “But it was also grown by slaves.”
Lifestyle
You know the Mayflower. What about the White Lion? Here’s the story of ‘Two Ships’
Just in time for a contentious 250th anniversary of the United States of America, historian David S. Reynolds’ latest book, Two Ships, helps us realize that any country that couldn’t agree on its own origin story is destined for divisive times.
Two Ships is about the complicated, conjoined legacy of the landings of the Mayflower, which carried the Pilgrims to Plymouth, Mass., in 1620, and the White Lion, which arrived in Jamestown a year earlier, bringing the first enslaved Africans to Virginia.
As Reynolds demonstrates, it’s not so much the facts of these two voyages, as it is the meanings ascribed to them, that made them such a powerful metaphor for two conflicting visions of American identity.
To simplify, the Mayflower’s passengers were separatist Puritans, dissenters to the reign of the English king, James I. As the United States developed, the Mayflower was credited with carrying the seeds of a radical democracy to the New World, one in which all men (in theory, at least) were equal before God.
In contrast, the European settlers of Jamestown were Royalists, also known as Cavaliers. Loyal to the monarchy, they believed in a strict hierarchy.
But the meaning of the images of the two ships shifted depended on who was invoking them and when. Not surprisingly, the metaphor was deployed most vigorously during the Civil War. In abolitionist speeches and writings, the White Lion or the “Slave-Ship,” as it was commonly called, was condemned for infecting America with the “plague-spot” of slavery.
Reynolds says that Frederick Douglass resorted to the “two ships” metaphor frequently, while Lincoln avoided it, hoping to preserve a unified ship of state. Meanwhile, Southern descendants of Cavaliers invoked the Mayflower to emphasize the intolerance and “cruel, persecuting” character of the Puritans. In a comment that resonates for our own times, Reynolds says:
It didn’t matter to the South that … by the mid-nineteenth century, the North had become a kaleidoscope of religious denominations, …, few of which resembled the faith of the Plymouth colonists. Distortion is intrinsic to cultural memory, especially when amplified by sectional or political bias. For Southerners, the Mayflower had brought Puritanism, which had yielded fanatical movements like abolitionism, now a dire threat to the Union.
In a brief-but-fascinating digression into the unpredictable power of literary fiction, Reynolds observes that the South’s fondness for Nathaniel Hawthorne’s anti-Puritan novel, The Scarlet Letter, and, even more, for the medieval historical romances of Sir Walter Scott, bolstered its nostalgia for a largely-imagined feudal society.

Reynolds quotes the always-quotable Mark Twain, no fan of Scott’s, as saying that Scott “did measureless harm; more real and lasting harm, perhaps, than any other individual that ever wrote …”
Two Ships is a dazzling survey of some three centuries of American history through a close reading of a metaphor. By the 1890s, Reynolds says, the interpretive tide had turned again: “Southern and Northern whites, feeling threatened by people of color and by an array of European immigrants, were retreating to a cocoon of racial solidarity that Mayflower celebrations helped reinforce.”
By the later-20th century, the image of the Mayflower was depoliticized and commercialized into Pilgrim hats and Black Friday sales. The powerful metaphor of the two ships receded into the mist.
Seven years ago, however, the 1619 Project piloted the White Lion — “The Slave-Ship” — back into view and anchored it at the center of debates about slavery’s place in the national story. The 1619 Project has been faulted for its historiography, and it does lie outside of the chronological boundaries of Reynolds’ book; still, it seems too momentous a reappearance of the White Lion not to at least acknowledge in this book.
That criticism noted, I think reading Two Ships would be an excellent way to observe this particular Fourth of July. It’s wise for all of us to have a more informed awareness of how Americans have understood, misunderstood and, often, flattened each other into stereotypes. Or, as Ernest Hemingway, one of the Mayflower Pilgrims’ more cynical descendants, might say in response to that sentiment: “Isn’t it pretty to think so?”

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