Beloved hot dog vendor a staple at games
James “Jimmy” Graff sold hot dogs the oldfashioned way: from a steamer with separate compartments for the pork links and the buns, plus a tray on top that held fancy mustard, sauerkraut and sliced jalapeños.
The longtime vendor was a staple at Oakland A’s and San Francisco Giants games until he died unexpectedly on Christmas morning. He was 49.
The San Francisco medical examiner’s office said Sunday that its investigation into the cause of death is ongoing.
Fans knew Graff for his crisp redandwhitestriped uniform, complete with a bow tie and patch sewn where the breast pocket might have been. “Jimmy,” the patch said, in slanty cursive.
He started his career at UC Berkeley’s Memorial Stadium in 1980. Graff, then 10 years old, was tagging along with his dad, a veteran who once hawked newspapers at the minor league Oakland Oaks and San Francisco Seals games. Bill Graff put young Jimmy behind a soda machine, pouring giant cups of Coke for 20 cents each.
By the end of the day, the kid’s pockets jangled with nickels.
“We paid Jimmy 1% of the gross receipts on his first day, which was about $20,” the elder Graff recalled. “For a 10yearold, that was pretty good.”
A secondgeneration Mission District native, Graff attended Thurgood Marshall Academic High School but didn’t much care for his studies. Instead, he ran concession stands at Candlestick Park for Giants games and concerts, at the Cow Palace for the Grand National Rodeo and even at Stanford Stadium for the 1984 Olympics.
“We worked everything there
was to work,” said Bill Graff, who later became a teacher but kept vending on nights and weekends.
As he got older, Jimmy Graff approached his work with a level of discipline and seriousness that’s uncommon in the world of food concessions. While peers wrapped their dogs in foil and placed them in a warmer, he preferred more traditional methods. He became a familiar figure in the bleachers, posing for selfies with a 24pound metal box of franks slung over one shoulder. People talked to him about the game, and he remembered to ask what else was going on in their lives. He seemed to know everybody’s name.
“When you’re trying to make the most money vending, you pick an item that’s quick to sell and everyone wants it — ice cream on a hot day or hot chocolate on a cold day,” said Hal Gordon, a ballpark vendor who began working with Graff in 2016. “Not Jimmy. He had all these regulars. He’d talk to them about the game and make their hot dog fresher. I’d hustle my butt off to sell $1,000 worth of hot chocolate, and sell $300 or $400 worth of hot dogs, but he’d bring home more than the rest of us in tips.”
In a job where most people cut corners, Graff was a consummate businessman. During Game 3 of the 1989 World Series, he was working the stands at Candlestick Park, selling souvenir programs. Suddenly the ground began began to rattle, with the earthquake knocking out power in the stadium and causing the concrete pillars to sway.
Graff got up on a soapbox and yelled. “This is a historic game,” he told bystanders. “You’re going to want a program to say you were here.”
“And he probably sold every program in the stadium that day,” Gordon laughed.
In recent years, the Oakland A’s decided to resurrect an old ballpark shtick: hot dog vendors with striped uniforms and folded paper hats, who lugged their wares through the stands in the big steamers.
Graff took it seriously. He and Gordon had their outfits tailored at Al’s Attire, a North Beach clothier. He went to the grocery store before each game and spent $50 to $75 on condiments: dill relish, special sauerkraut, spicy mustard, onions, ketchup from a bottle instead of a packet. The trays he and Gordon carried at the Oakland Coliseum soon resembled elaborate plates at a tapas bar.
But Graff wasn’t persnickety. His high standards were mostly a way to look out for other people. Over time, ballparks began selling craft beer, sushi and pizza — highend meals could be purchased with an app — but fans still waited for Graff to come by with the hot dog steamer.
“If you didn’t say anything, he might give you normal ketchup and mustard — but if you asked for something else, he’d show you the goods,” recalled Christopher Ray, an A’s season ticket holder for more than 20 years. Ray had a predilection for Bertman Original Ballpark Mustard from Cleveland, which Graff always remembered.
He lived with and cared for his 77yearold father in a Mission District apartment, where he also helped out as a handyman. Outside of sports arenas, Graff seemed most at home in the Mission, sitting on a stoop with his coffee and cigarette, laying drywall or sheetrock for a home remodel, or fixing the ice machine for his close friend and landlord, Frank Gonzalez. On Halloween he’d set up a cotton candy machine on the sidewalk and spin pink, fluffy cones for the neighborhood kids.
When Gordon and his wife needed to find housing in San Francisco, Graff asked every friend and neighbor. Eventually, he found an empty spot in the building next door.
“You know, it’s really not supposed to be this way,” Bill Graff said Saturday, his voice shaking. He found his son in the bathroom Wednesday morning. Now he’s trying to stay out of the apartment as much as possible — everything reminds him of Jimmy.
He does, however, cling to a favorite memory. Jimmy was a baby lying on the bed of his dying grandfather, who beamed down at the infant with pride.
“Someday he’ll be somebody,” the grandfather said.
In addition to his father, James Graff is survived by four children and two grandchildren. Donations may be sent to UCSF Benioff Children’s Hospital.