The Waterbury Democrat., 1934-04-19
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BY HENRY McLEMORE [ynitcd Prpss Staff COrrcsDOndent1

(Un1te0 FFeSS StaH SOFfGbkOuAcMtp
 New York, April 19--CUP)-- Speaking not only for the down. trodden fraternity of sports writ CTS, but for the general, fun-loying public, your correspondent wishes today to launch a vigorous cam paign.
 This campaign is for the remov- al of the Polo Grounds and the Yankee Stadium to some more more convenient location in New York in order that persons inter csted in baseball may witness same without endangering their lives, their limbs, other peoples proper ty and other peoples lives and limbs. Those jernts should be fetched out of the craggy fasteness- es of the Bronx and put in some logical locality, such as Central Park, or even the Battery.
 It will be necessary at first to gain popular support for the cam raign. A great many of my read CTS, I'm sure, haven't even known up to now whether the Polo Grounds and the Yankee Stadium were in Columbia the gem -of-the ocean or in foreign 'climes. For their parliamentary knowledge. they are to all intents and purposes in far foreign climes. And what climes! Sheer cliffs!
 The mechanics involved in get ting to the Polo Grounds are more abstruse than those necessary to get to the house-that-R -Ruth-buil It is an abomination and curse, an outrage and g. dod-gasted shame. Folks, if this wasn't 8 fam. fly newspaper. I'd say worse thaA that.
 You get on a subway at Grand Central when you want to go out to see the worlds champions give off a game. You get on and you go hurtling under the ground with a guy sitting in the motorman's cab singing 'Take Me Where the Daisies Cover the Country Lane" and beating his hooyes against the steel door to keep time.
 You whammety-wham up the length of Manhattan, go under the Harlem River, past the Yankee Stadium and then you fight your way out to the platform. You maneuver your way beneath tho tracks to another platform to catch what is known as 8 shuttle train" By the time you get on this internal machine, half the buttons are off your coat. you shoes look like you had come through the dismal swamp in a great hurry, you are under an anesthetic from garlic breaths, and your ribs. un- less they are very sturdy, are swinging on rusty hinges.
 En Ar.vS Nt1 n chances are you're standing in the open, on a platform. You go into this tunnel and. a man. grown sud- mouth trying to get inside the car that she wants off and the con- ductor hollers: "Quit hangin' over them doors. you fool!"
 Anyway, you finally get there. You go to the game. It is nice and quiet except for alternate sports writers standing behind you and dropping cigar ashes and orange seeds down your neck while you try to score the plays.
 When the game is over the fun really-really, really, I mean--the fun really begins. It took me three hours yesterday to get from the Polo Grounds to my office, trip which ordinarily takes 25 minutes. Somebody owes me hat. New shoestrings. The topcoat will never see fall weather. My tie looks like an anarchist had chawed on 1t. One did. My dogs are a7frettin' me. Even yet.
 And to think that I got to see, for the second time this year, the worlds champs!
 Phooey!
 Copyright 1894. by United Press)