Bill Giles, the Phillies executive who helped invent the Phillie Phanatic and guide the club to its first World Series title, has died at his Pennsylvania home at age 92.
The New York Post said Bill Giles died Friday at his home in Gladwyne, Pa., just 18 days after turning 92, according to the Phillies.
Giles joined the Philadelphia club in 1969 as vice president of business operations. He became known as an architect of the 1980 World Series championship team, the franchise’s first title club, built around Mike Schmidt, Pete Rose, and Steve Carlton. He also pushed the Phillie Phanatic onto the field in 1978, aiming to entertain families and reach younger fans.
Phillies managing partner and CEO John Middleton framed the loss in plain terms.
"The Phillies family lost an icon today. Bill helped to reshape our franchise from a traditional baseball club into a highly visible entertainment and business operation. His profound impact in overseeing one of the greatest eras in franchise history, both on and off the field, will forever be his legacy."
Giles treated the ballpark like a stage. He wanted people in the seats once, then again, then as season-ticket holders. Unusual promotions were the bait.
On Opening Day in 1972, he tried to have “Kiteman” soar a hang glider from a ramp in the upper deck to the mound and hand a ball to then-Philadelphia mayor Frank Rizzo. The glider crashed into the upper deck. The performer survived. The point was made: this was not a quiet afternoon at the park.
In 1973, Karl Wallenda, first of the famed Flying Wallendas, walked a nearly 640-foot tightrope several hundred feet above Veterans Stadium with no netting and finished the crossing. He did it again in 1976. Giles kept finding ways to make fans look up.
He later spelled out the business logic himself.
"My goal was to do unusual things, cash scrambles and giveaways and all that stuff. If we could get them to the ballpark once, particularly when we opened the Vet, they hopefully will like it enough to where they would come back enough to become a mini-season-ticket holder for 10-15 games a year and then eventually a full season-ticket holder. It was that stepping stone of developing a fan base that started by doing a lot of nutty things."
That is old-school showmanship with a ledger behind it. Get the customer in the door. Give them a reason to return. Build the base from there.
The Phillie Phanatic debuted in 1978 and grew into one of the most recognizable mascots in pro sports. Giles believed the club needed a character that could hold a family’s attention and connect with kids, not just the regulars in the hard seats.
The bet worked. The Phanatic became a franchise signature, part clown, part salesperson, all local color. It fit the same pattern as the tightrope and the hang glider: make the night bigger than nine innings, then convert curiosity into tickets.
Two years after the Phanatic arrived, the 1980 Phillies won the World Series. Schmidt was named series MVP. Rose and Carlton stood in that same championship core. Giles was tied to that era on the field and off it, the executive credited with turning a traditional club into a louder entertainment and business operation.
Schmidt, calling Giles a dear friend, put the personal side on the record.
"Sad news today as we learned of the passing of a dear friend of the Phillies family, Bill Giles. Bill was the heart and soul of the organization for over two decades. He was a close personal friend to so many of us. He will always be a big part of Phillies history. Prayers go to the Giles family in this time of mourning."
Over more than two decades at the center of the operation, Giles left fingerprints on the product fans actually bought: the mascot, the promotions, the habit of treating the park as a destination. The championship was the peak result. The lasting habit was packing the place.
He died at home in Gladwyne, days after his 92nd birthday, with the franchise he helped reshape still carrying the Phanatic and the memory of that first title run.
Baseball runs better when the people in charge chase paying fans with nerve and common sense instead of lectures, and Giles spent a career proving the seats fill up when you give them a show worth the ticket.