Among the spectators that day, as might have been expected, were many magnates of both major and minor leagues. Chairman Herrmann, of the National Commission; President Lynch, of the Nationals, and President Johnson, of the Americans, together with other old-time and modern Base Ball lights, were present in the best places in the grandstand.
The gathering of such a galaxy of celebrities naturally attracted the camera fiend, and he was there, conspicuously, and in large force. The teams were engaged in preliminary field practice, while the batteries were warming up and onlookers were watching the play and singling out their favorites, when a very active photographer, with paraphernalia of his craft, appeared before the grandstand directly in front of the central and most crowded section. For some moments he plied his art, snapping groups here and there, when a murmur of protest began to be heard from those whose view he was obstructing. The umpire had taken his place and was about to make announcement of batteries, when the hub-bub increased.
"Down in front," "Move on," "Cut it out," "Bounce him," "Throw him out," were some of the ejaculations hurled at the artist.
The picture-taker paid no attention for awhile, but finally the remonstrance became so widespread and general that he was forced to take notice. Removing his hat, the photographer said, politely but firmly, "Gentlemen, I am within my rights here. I have the permission of President Johnson to make these exposures."
