​Here’s a look back at what happened in the Chicago area on July 12, according to the Tribune’s archives. Do you think an important event from this date is missing? Email us with details. In sports, a flashback to July 11, 2016 highlights an all-Chicago Cubs infield—Anthony Rizzo, Ben Zobrist, Addison Russell, and Kris Bryant—taking the field at Petco Park to start the All-Star Game. It was the first time since the 1963 St. Louis Cardinals that an entire team infield began the game. The Cubs boasted seven All-Stars in total, with five elected as starters, although center fielder Dexter Fowler was sidelined by an injury.
In weather notes, the National Weather Service in Chicago recorded a high of 97 degrees (set in 1995) and a low of 53 degrees (1999) on this date, with precipitation totaling 6.16 inches in 1957 and a trace of snowfall in 2017. The day’s historical highlight in 1979 centers on a doubleheader at Comiskey Park between the White Sox and Detroit Tigers that devolved into a debacle. The Sox lost the first game 4-1 and were unable to play the nightcap. Up to 50,000 people—admitted for just 98 cents and a disco record—turned out for a promotion in which radio personality Steve Dahl blasted thousands of disco records onto the field between games.
White Sox organist Nancy Faust, who played for 41 seasons, recalls the moment: “I was playing ‘Disco Sucks’ along with people chanting it until it turned unruly. I was to play ‘Do You Think I’m Disco’ for Steve Dahl, and he started singing it without the intro or anything. So then I just fell into place with him. I remember Bill Veeck pleading with the fans, and how pathetic that was.” Faust adds that flames appeared in the stands shortly after the detonation, reminding her of the seriousness of the situation: “I realized this was kind of serious when I remember looking across the field and seeing flames in the stands. So I thought, ‘Oh my goodness, this is serious.’ But I don’t think I realized the full impact until I watched the videos more recently of it.”
After the disturbance, Dahl’s supporters flooded the field. Tribune columnist Paul Sullivan described the surreal scene: “It was crazy running around on a Major League Baseball field, sliding into the bases and standing on the pitcher’s mound. I grew up going to games at old Comiskey and never dreamed I’d ever be on the field.” Sullivan also recalled a makeshift scene where someone pretended to be an umpire at home plate, calling people safe or out as they slid home one after another. People looked at each other in disbelief, wondering how this could be happening. The excitement extended to a chaotic moment when someone dragged a batting cage out from center field and set it on fire; spectators jumped over the flames, the blaze growing fairly large, and, remarkably, no one was burned. In the midst of the uproar, Harry Caray and the owner, Bill Veeck, used the public address system in an attempt to coax everyone back to their seats and to encourage a return to normalcy, with a request for fans to sing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” This event remains one of the most infamous promotions in Chicago baseball history, a moment that unioned sport, spectacle, and a city’s shared memory in dramatic fashion.