January 20-26, 2005

naked city

Griller Instinct

The 'Gate Keeper: Tailgate Russ Stevenson is Lord of the gameday parking lot. Photo By: Michael T. Regan

How Philadelphia's tailgate king keeps hundreds of hungry fans -- and a family -- smiling.

by J.F. Pirro

Tailgate Russ is easy to find in the lobby of the Acme Market in Lansdale: He's the only shopper wearing a tall white chef's hat with scripted initials ("TGR"), a white apron and a strand of Mardi Gras beads around his neck.

Some of his beads are green, which is important. Philly Mayor John Street declared last Friday "Eagles Spirit Day" and encouraged everyone to dress in green and white. (The gambit worked: One more win, and it's off to Super Bowl City, Jacksonville, Fla.)

Grabbing a shopping cart, Tailgate Russ, aka Russ Stevenson, one of the most prolific tailgaters in a town known for blacktop cookery, says he has a "route." "Take a left," he says as an Eagles fight song pipes over the loudspeaker. "Produce is first."

Tailgate Russ tosses a box of mushrooms, stalks of asparagus and a bag of huge jalapenos (green of course) into his cart. All the ingredients on the list he holds in his mouth are sure to make anyone pass gas.

At 46, though, can Tailgate Russ continue to pass muster when it comes to passing the mustard? It's been three Eagles seasons since the city unceremoniously shut down his unruly, unrestricted parking lot parties. And as his children grow up, he's finding a balance.

"Each of the five years [1997-2001], we took it to the next level," says Russ. "We created a living room. We brought in a big-screen TV and couches. The crowds grew from 50 to 200, then 400, 500 and 750."

In 2002, a WIP Wing Bowl competition and a Web site under his belt, Russ made his goal 1,000 for the home opener. As always, he pre-bought 125 parking spots in Lot H4 between the Spectrum and what was then the First Union Center. The outlook was promising — until the city called in the Licensing and Inspection Department.

"They thought I had this speakeasy going," he says, explaining how he peacefully agreed to cease and desist, then return the checks he'd collected. "All the front pages said Tailgate Russ thought of everything — except the law."

Truth be told, the real-life advertising sales rep (no surprise, he calls mostly on grocery retailers) has mellowed a bit. Like the Eagles' starters who boldly took time off before the postseason, Tailgate Russ sat out last weekend, save for the $150.15 "assault on the Acme" in preparation for tailgating before this weekend's watershed game. On Vikings game day last Sunday, his kids, "Tailgate James" and "Tailgate Julie," needed him. On Sunday, James, 12, a Junior Olympic-caliber distance runner, required a chauffeur to a 6 a.m. ice hockey game in Oaks, then an invitation-only indoor track meet in New York, and after that, an open swim meet in Princeton. Julie, who turns sweet 16 today, needed a party consultant.

"I'll blink, and she'll be off to college, so that's in the back of my mind," Tailgate Dad says. "But I can also hear all the guys from the old 700 level at the Vet telling me I'm becoming a pussy."

Don't worry. Russ' motto remains "Life's a Tailgate." His calling card still labels him as a CET (Chief Executive Tailgater). He still has a smokin' 5-foot boiler grill mounted to his trailer and proudly boasts of once using his pesto to bribe his way out of paying a parking ticket. He continues to grow rosemary and basil at home, even if the neighbors "think it's weed."

This Sunday, he'll team with other tailgate terrors like "One Crazy Fan," "Chef Clarke" and "Cleaning Dave" in the lot of Lincoln Financial, then hopefully weasel his way into a ticket to the actual game.

He still strives to be Everyman Philly Fan. Once a distance runner — he's run 14 marathons, including Boston five times — Tailgate Russ insists he's not at the tail end of his tailgating career.

He's heading to Florida, regardless of the Eagles' fate, to cook beside Jacksonville tailgater "Truck Spike Joe." It was in Jacksonville in October 2002, two weeks after Philly exiled him, that he threw his first road-trip tailgate, the sort of event he continues to offer with all the fixings: keg beer, masseuses, an inflatable Moonbounce, sand sculptors, clowns, Elvis, mobile cigar trucks. He's even had a Chicago buddy's wife masquerade as Miss Argentina 1999. ("Since we're telling the truth here," Russ says, "she's never even been to Argentina.")

Russ' offseason plans include teaching tailgate and grillin' classes for The Cooking School at Mermaid Lake in Blue Bell, with a promise that students will "all be doing the Mummers strut" (he's a member of the South Philly String Band) before the final class.

Not too bad for having no formal culinary training, although his mother did give him a Crock-Pot for graduating college.

"I went to [cooking] school in the parking lot," Tailgate Russ jokes. "Of course, [thanks to the city] I've also been taken to school in the parking lot."

Tailgate Russ' Tailgating Tips

1. Use tinfoil pans for easy cleanup.

2. Double-bag when marinating.

3. Always have olive oil on hand.

4. Shrimp are numbered: The lower the number, the bigger the catch.

5. There's no rhyme or reason to using seasoning. Just shake it on.

6. Encourage others to bring an appetizer.

7. Plan on a half-pound of food per person.

8. Spend less than $3 per pound of food.

9. Beverages: Soda, water and beer are best, but a Bloody Mary bar isn't a bad idea.