E-Mail This Article to a Friend Game faces Fenway Lives introduces players behind the scenes at the Red Sox shrine BY TAMARA WIEDER

THEY DON’T HAVE the multi-million-dollar contracts or the on-base percentages. They don’t speak at the post-game press conferences or sign autographs by the players’ parking lot. But if you’ve ever been to a Red Sox home game, you’ve witnessed the work of the hundreds of people who toil behind the scenes at Fenway Park.

Now, thanks to Fenway Lives: The Team Behind the Team (Rounder Books), by Rounder Records co-founder Bill Nowlin, you’ll meet them. Nowlin spent more than two years interviewing 200-plus men and women — from grounds-crew members to physical therapists, ushers to peanut vendors, camera operators to carpenters — who work in and around the park.

The lifelong Red Sox fan, whose own father was a hot-dog vendor at Fenway for two summers in the 1930s, has had a busy year documenting his team. In addition to Fenway Lives, Nowlin’s Mr. Red Sox: The Johnny Pesky Story (with a foreword by Ted Williams) and The Fenway Project (co-edited by Cecilia Tan), both published by Rounder Books, are new to the shelves.

Q: Where did you get the idea for this book?

A: I had been working with two friends on another book that came out in 1999, called Fenway Saved. It was a book about the ballpark, and as we were going around thinking, what do you say about Fenway Park as an edifice, as a shrine, as a ballpark?, I kept coming across human stories, too. So I started asking questions, and I came up with a couple interviews that I thought were good ones. I got fascinated with the idea, and in the end, I ended up talking to a couple hundred people, because I tried to figure out every single job that was done. We all know about the ballplayers; that part didn’t interest me as much for this particular story. And I figured people like the GM, they get a lot of publicity as it is, so they didn’t necessarily need more. But some of these other people are unsung.

Q: You didn’t go through the Red Sox organization to contact most of them, right?

A: For the most part, I didn’t. I was afraid they’d say no if I did.

Q: So how did you find everybody?

A: Mostly just walking around. People love talking about their work. And then they would mention other people, and I would say, "Oh, do you know how I could reach them?" I would explain what I was doing, and I’d say, "Hey, think of an obscure position at Fenway Park or with the ball club that you think I might not know about." And people would say, "Well, did you know that we have a staff carpenter?" or something like that.

Q: How many people did you interview whose stories don’t appear in the book?

A: Probably about 25 or so. For the most part, I found something of interest that most people said, but some of them, it was a little repetitive. You know, you get five ushers, and you only need four, because the stories start blending together a little bit too much.

Q: Did anyone refuse to be interviewed?

A: Two people. One person simply declined, Helen Robinson. She was the receptionist from 1941 up until the day she died, actually, which was a couple years ago. She just didn’t want to. I thought that maybe I could eventually get her to do it, but it kind of fit her persona: she was a crusty — not at first, I suppose, but over the years became a crusty old lady. She’d answer the phone, "Red Sox!" Not, "Good afternoon, this is the Boston Red Sox, how may I help you?" There were always these stories that she knew everything that went on there, and knew all the stuff behind the scenes and whatever. I thought it would be fascinating to hear how many calls a day do you get, all that kind of stuff. And then another person, I don’t even know his name, but he’s called the Sausage King, and he sells sausages outside. When I asked him about doing an interview, he said, "Well, how much are you going to pay me?"

When the Sausage King wouldn’t do it, then I found the Sausage Guy. And the Sausage Guy was really happy to talk. He went into all kinds of details about the Board of Health and the inspection process, how they show up unannounced and this and that. It was one of the more fascinating interviews. The other guy, I don’t know what the story was.

Q: He must not be making enough money on the sausages, if he wants to get paid for an interview.

A: Some people, actually, I think make too much money. It’s a cash business, and maybe they don’t want other people to know how much they really make, like the IRS, for instance. I can’t say; my guess is he’s just that kind of personality.

Q: Do you have a favorite interview in the book?

A: Well, I like the Sausage Guy, actually. He’s behind the left-field wall. He’s gotten hit by baseballs flying over the wall; that was kind of a comical thing. Or talking about running out of mustard and having to flag down a taxi and send them to the Star Market to go buy some mustard and come back again, and the taxi driver’s looking at him like he’s an idiot. But he did it.

Jim Parry, who sold sunglasses over there, was one of my favorite interviews, because he’s an anthropology student by background, so he had a lot of observations about life outside the park.

Q: It’s interesting that the two people you mentioned first both work outside the park.

A: I know. In a way, some of them I found very fascinating. I’m not sure any of them really need to be there, although I think some of them make pretty good money. All these people work very hard, and they’re out there in all kinds of different weather. Nick Jacobs I liked, the outside peanut vendor. I remember his father, and then his father’s father also sold peanuts, theoretically from 1912, when Fenway Park first opened. I’ve seen some pictures that go back to at least the 1920s of his grandfather selling peanuts. There really are these traditions. I loved that, when I would find somebody that had three generations, or who had six brothers and sisters who worked there.

Q: You talked to a number of people who’ve worked at Fenway for many years. What is it about Fenway Park and the Red Sox organization that keeps people there so long?

A: I really think to some extent there’s a sense of family that grows up there. A number of people left under the new ownership here, but it’s been gradual. These people enjoy each other, it seems like. I don’t know. I mean, there is a glamour associated with it. A lot of these people don’t see their own job as all that glamorous, but other people come up to them [and say], "Wow, you work there? Do you get to hang out with Manny?" [But] some of these people, if they actually approached a player, would maybe get in a little trouble for it.

Q: You mention that some people stay there for a long time because they enjoy working with each other. How many of them do you think also really enjoy baseball?

A: Some of them are really into it. Rob Barry, who sells peanuts there, he got suspended during the 1986 World Series. He sat down to watch the game. He was supposed to be selling hot dogs or something at the time, and he got in trouble and actually lost his job temporarily because of that. But he was such a fan, he didn’t want to be selling hot dogs when he could be watching the Red Sox in the World Series. As he said, when would that ever happen again? And it did take from 1986 to 2004, so he was right, in a way.

There’s a guy named Bob Levin who’s worked there about 15 years or so, and he tells me he’s never watched a whole inning. He works at the gate. I mean, they get breaks, but he doesn’t really take his break, and when he does, he doesn’t really go up to watch the game. But he loves all the people there; he’s there chatting with people coming in. It’s surprising.