RichH55
12-19-2001, 07:59 AM
From Today's Sun-Times
Fall of the Old Roman Empire?
December 19, 2001
BY FRAN SPIELMAN CITY HALL REPORTER
Comiskey Park is a household name in baseball circles. Soon, White Sox fans might have to get used to another household name--literally.
The confidential Comiskey makeover that Sox chairman Jerry Reinsdorf shared with Mayor Daley last week includes a center-field scoreboard that reads, ''Welcome to Household Field.''
That's ''Household'' as in Household International, the 123-year-old financial company headquartered in Prospect Heights and better known to consumers as HFC. Sources close to the Sox and the Illinois Sports Facilities Authority acknowledge the team has discussed a potential naming-rights deal with Household.
They insist that no agreement has been finalized, that two other near-deals have fallen through and that premature publicity might kill this one, too. But if a naming-rights deal isn't in the works, why would the Sox show the mayor a rendering that says, ''Welcome to Household Field''?
''It was just to give the mayor some idea of what the stadium would look like with somebody else's name on it,'' said a team source, who asked to remain anonymous. ''You've got to put someone's name on it. So you take a shot on somebody who's a possibility.''
Household spokeswoman Megan Hayden did not return phone calls about the potential deal. Pressed about the status of talks with Household, the Sox official said the team should know more by the end of January.
''I'm not going to lie to you,'' the source said. "We have had discussions with a couple of people in the company. [But] there's been no discussion of [naming-rights fees]. There is no deal, and nothing is imminent.''
Three years ago, Reinsdorf raised the possibility of selling naming rights to increase the team's payroll and raise the $50million he needs to soften Comiskey's much-maligned upper deck. He called naming rights ''the trend these days'' in professional sports and said if the Sox ever do it, ''we'd like it to have a Chicago flavor.'' Reinsdorf also told the Sun-Times, ''If we had any intention of changing the name, [grandson] Chuck Comiskey would be the first person we'd call.''
Since then, the Sox have run the idea past Charles Comiskey III, and the reaction was one of resignation, if not approval.
''He understands,'' a team source said this week. ''He also knows that, somewhere in the facility, there'll be an appropriate tribute that recounts the history of the Comiskey family and the ballpark.''
Charles Comiskey III could not be reached for comment. Charles IV, great-grandson of Charles A. Comiskey, ''the Old Roman" who founded the team in 1900, didn't like the idea one bit.
''I would feel absolutely horrible, and so would half of Chicago,'' said Charles IV, 20. "The half that doesn't like the Cubs would be in a state of uproar.
''This is not some expansion team that's being sold for the highest dollar. My great-grandfather was one of the founding fathers of the American League. There's so much tradition in that name. I'm still upset that we don't own the team. The only thing we have left standing is our name on that national monument. The White Sox play at Comiskey Park. The Cubs play at Wrigley. That's the way it's always been, and that's the way we always thought it would be. Changing that name would be a sacrilege to baseball.''
It wouldn't be the first time, though. When Arthur Allyn Jr. purchased controlling interest of the Sox from Bill Veeck in 1962, Comiskey Park was renamed "White Sox Park,'' though it still was commonly referred to as Comiskey. The name officially was changed back to Comiskey Park when Veeck bought the Sox again in 1975.
Mayor Daley, a lifelong Sox season-ticket holder, reportedly was not thrilled when he saw the new name on the stadium rendering. But he also knows that without the tens of millions of dollars from corporate naming rights, the Sox have no way to finance Phase III of the Comiskey makeover.
It calls for lopping off eight rows of the upper deck, flattening the stadium roof and creating a home-run porch in right field that hearkens back to the days of old Comiskey Park. A grand entrance would be created on Wentworth in response to complaints that Comiskey lacks the glamorous entryway that's a fixture at other new stadiums. A center-field restaurant might be part of the mix.
''It's not preferable, it's not an ideal situation,'' said a top mayoral aide, who asked to remain anonymous. "But how else are they going to finance it? This plan needs to be financed.''
Twice before, the Sox were on the verge of selling the naming rights to Comiskey, only to have the deals fall apart. In one case, the CEO of an undisclosed corporation resigned two days after reaching an agreement with the Sox. In the other instance, the stock of an undisclosed company took a nose dive, dooming the naming-rights arrangement.
Sixty-two major-sport arenas have sold their names to private companies that collectively have coughed up $3.4 billion for the steady stream of publicity, according to records compiled by consultants who specialize in naming-rights deals. The Bears recently bowed to pressure from veterans groups and agreed to forfeit the $300 million they could have earned by selling naming rights to the renovated Soldier Field.
Earlier this month, the demise of Enron Corp. prompted a Wall Street Journal article about the ''naming-rights jinx''--a curious string of bankruptcies, stock plunges and corporate takeovers involving companies that affixed their names to sports stadiums.
That, coupled with a recent Barron's story that questioned whether aggressive accounting at Household International perhaps painted too rosy a picture of the company's finances, might spell trouble for the prospects of ''Household Field.''
Despite the stoic front Charles Comiskey III apparently has put up for Sox brass, Comiskey descendants hope the deal falls through.
''My great-grandfather would be rolling over in his grave,'' Charles IV said.
Fall of the Old Roman Empire?
December 19, 2001
BY FRAN SPIELMAN CITY HALL REPORTER
Comiskey Park is a household name in baseball circles. Soon, White Sox fans might have to get used to another household name--literally.
The confidential Comiskey makeover that Sox chairman Jerry Reinsdorf shared with Mayor Daley last week includes a center-field scoreboard that reads, ''Welcome to Household Field.''
That's ''Household'' as in Household International, the 123-year-old financial company headquartered in Prospect Heights and better known to consumers as HFC. Sources close to the Sox and the Illinois Sports Facilities Authority acknowledge the team has discussed a potential naming-rights deal with Household.
They insist that no agreement has been finalized, that two other near-deals have fallen through and that premature publicity might kill this one, too. But if a naming-rights deal isn't in the works, why would the Sox show the mayor a rendering that says, ''Welcome to Household Field''?
''It was just to give the mayor some idea of what the stadium would look like with somebody else's name on it,'' said a team source, who asked to remain anonymous. ''You've got to put someone's name on it. So you take a shot on somebody who's a possibility.''
Household spokeswoman Megan Hayden did not return phone calls about the potential deal. Pressed about the status of talks with Household, the Sox official said the team should know more by the end of January.
''I'm not going to lie to you,'' the source said. "We have had discussions with a couple of people in the company. [But] there's been no discussion of [naming-rights fees]. There is no deal, and nothing is imminent.''
Three years ago, Reinsdorf raised the possibility of selling naming rights to increase the team's payroll and raise the $50million he needs to soften Comiskey's much-maligned upper deck. He called naming rights ''the trend these days'' in professional sports and said if the Sox ever do it, ''we'd like it to have a Chicago flavor.'' Reinsdorf also told the Sun-Times, ''If we had any intention of changing the name, [grandson] Chuck Comiskey would be the first person we'd call.''
Since then, the Sox have run the idea past Charles Comiskey III, and the reaction was one of resignation, if not approval.
''He understands,'' a team source said this week. ''He also knows that, somewhere in the facility, there'll be an appropriate tribute that recounts the history of the Comiskey family and the ballpark.''
Charles Comiskey III could not be reached for comment. Charles IV, great-grandson of Charles A. Comiskey, ''the Old Roman" who founded the team in 1900, didn't like the idea one bit.
''I would feel absolutely horrible, and so would half of Chicago,'' said Charles IV, 20. "The half that doesn't like the Cubs would be in a state of uproar.
''This is not some expansion team that's being sold for the highest dollar. My great-grandfather was one of the founding fathers of the American League. There's so much tradition in that name. I'm still upset that we don't own the team. The only thing we have left standing is our name on that national monument. The White Sox play at Comiskey Park. The Cubs play at Wrigley. That's the way it's always been, and that's the way we always thought it would be. Changing that name would be a sacrilege to baseball.''
It wouldn't be the first time, though. When Arthur Allyn Jr. purchased controlling interest of the Sox from Bill Veeck in 1962, Comiskey Park was renamed "White Sox Park,'' though it still was commonly referred to as Comiskey. The name officially was changed back to Comiskey Park when Veeck bought the Sox again in 1975.
Mayor Daley, a lifelong Sox season-ticket holder, reportedly was not thrilled when he saw the new name on the stadium rendering. But he also knows that without the tens of millions of dollars from corporate naming rights, the Sox have no way to finance Phase III of the Comiskey makeover.
It calls for lopping off eight rows of the upper deck, flattening the stadium roof and creating a home-run porch in right field that hearkens back to the days of old Comiskey Park. A grand entrance would be created on Wentworth in response to complaints that Comiskey lacks the glamorous entryway that's a fixture at other new stadiums. A center-field restaurant might be part of the mix.
''It's not preferable, it's not an ideal situation,'' said a top mayoral aide, who asked to remain anonymous. "But how else are they going to finance it? This plan needs to be financed.''
Twice before, the Sox were on the verge of selling the naming rights to Comiskey, only to have the deals fall apart. In one case, the CEO of an undisclosed corporation resigned two days after reaching an agreement with the Sox. In the other instance, the stock of an undisclosed company took a nose dive, dooming the naming-rights arrangement.
Sixty-two major-sport arenas have sold their names to private companies that collectively have coughed up $3.4 billion for the steady stream of publicity, according to records compiled by consultants who specialize in naming-rights deals. The Bears recently bowed to pressure from veterans groups and agreed to forfeit the $300 million they could have earned by selling naming rights to the renovated Soldier Field.
Earlier this month, the demise of Enron Corp. prompted a Wall Street Journal article about the ''naming-rights jinx''--a curious string of bankruptcies, stock plunges and corporate takeovers involving companies that affixed their names to sports stadiums.
That, coupled with a recent Barron's story that questioned whether aggressive accounting at Household International perhaps painted too rosy a picture of the company's finances, might spell trouble for the prospects of ''Household Field.''
Despite the stoic front Charles Comiskey III apparently has put up for Sox brass, Comiskey descendants hope the deal falls through.
''My great-grandfather would be rolling over in his grave,'' Charles IV said.