Quick Rick Fuhs
You meet a guy like Quick Rick and realize—some people don’t just work at the ballpark; they belong there. Rick’s been at Wrigley since 1978, doing everything from sweeping garbage to trimming the ivy to calling balls and strikes. He talks about the ivy like it’s a living thing—how it breathes, how it sounds. He remembers the beer-can mornings with Harry Caray and the quiet ones alone before sunrise. For Rick, Wrigley isn’t just where he works—it’s where he is. And listening to him, you start to wonder if the park’s heartbeat is actually people like him.
Rick Fuhs—Quick Rick! How many years now with the Cubs?
Forty-seven years total. Forty-five full-time. I started part-time in 1978. My first job was sweeping garbage. Cardinals were in town, big crowd, and they needed guys to help clean up. My buddy Roger Beard called me, and that’s how I got my foot in the door.
From sweeping garbage to the ivy and the scoreboard—how does that happen?
Luck, mostly. I started cleaning the press box—sat with Lou Boudreau and Vince Lloyd, cleaned up after Harry Caray. Beer cans everywhere! (laughs) When the Tribune bought the Cubs, they gave us new jobs—maintenance, bathrooms, scoreboards. Eventually I got picked to work the scoreboard, then the ivy. Foreman said, “You’re a good worker, you want to try trimming the ivy?” I said, “Yeah, I’d love to.” That was the early ’90s.
Do you ever sit back and think: what a life—to work at one of the most iconic ballparks in America?
All the time. When fans run up those stairs and see the grass, the ivy, the scoreboard—they’re in awe. I’m lucky enough to walk in there every day. I don’t take it for granted. I keep pinching myself—how did I get here?
What keeps it sacred for you, after all these years?
It’s the feeling when the park’s quiet. Early morning, cup of coffee in my hand, birds chirping, trains going by, and you hear “Next stop, Addison.” It’s peaceful. You remember being a kid, running up the stairs with your parents, smelling the cut grass, the suntan lotion, the beer. That smell is baseball.
Tell me about the ivy—how do you even learn that?
It’s a handed-down job. The new guy gets the clippers, and the old guy shows you. You start in left field and trim across to right. Takes about eight hours. Every two weeks or so you cut it back. We water it, spray it for fungus and bugs. The ivy doesn’t like cold, rainy nights—it loves hot, sunny days. You can hear the leaves swishing when you move the hose back and forth. I have ivy on my garage at home—it’s Wrigley Field ivy.
And now you’re the guy calling balls and strikes on the manual scoreboard. What’s that like?
My eyes are on the umpire the whole time. About 300 pitches a game. Harry Caray once said, “He’s got the ball or strike up before the ump even calls it!” That made me a celebrity for a while. Everyone at the bar was buying me drinks. (laughs) He kept talking about me all season. That was nice.
How’d you get the nickname Quick Rick?
Tribune reporter. I had the right count, umpire Jim Quick had the wrong one. They called it a “quick call by Jim Quick,” and it stuck—Quick Rick.
What’s a typical day like?
For a night game, I’m at the park by one. I fix the visiting bullpen, check the scoreboard, raise the Ernie Banks flag, set up for BP, do the infield. Then balls and strikes during the game. Afterward, back to the bullpen. Every day’s different, but every day’s Wrigley.
What’s the emotional connection you have to this place?
It’s joy. I tell people I keep score and trim the ivy at Wrigley, and they say, “That’s a dream job.” And it is. Every morning I still feel lucky. When I’m there early, it’s like a church before the service starts—quiet, sacred. And when fans pour in, that energy—you feel it. It’s baseball’s heartbeat.
And after all these years?
I still love walking through that gate. It’s beautiful—the ivy, the scoreboard, the sunshine. I owe it to guys like Cotton Bogran who gave me a shot. I get to see my family and friends here all the time. I get to show kids how the scoreboard works—see their faces light up when their number goes up there. That’s what it’s all about—making people feel the magic of the place.
NOTE: The above was edited for clarity and length.
You can read the full transcript here.