1947 Nicknames

With a last name that rhymes with a word for poop, at an early age I knew I was in a world of crap when it came time to dole out nicknames.

Sure enough, on the first day of first grade, the first day, I received a new name. “Kenny Heard, the big bird turd,” came the chant from some little booger-grabbing classmate. And so it stuck. Years later, when I reached adulthood, a friend’s father always greeted me with “Turd,” when he saw me. His name was Richard, so I always responded with “Dick.”

I wasn’t so stunted as to not hand out nicknames as well. In that same first grade, we had a girl whose last name was Lauderbaugh. I ended up calling her “Little Turd Ball.” I know, nice. With our combination of early nicknames it was a wonder we didn’t end up together in some fecal matrimony. Later, a really obnoxious girl got her hair fixed at some salon. Most of us in that class got our trimming from our mothers, electric shears and a bowl for edging. This girl thought she was pretty special and, because it was in northern Minnesota, she didn’t fit into that humbleness for which we all strived. We ended up calling her “Ozob,” which is Bozo spelled backwards, which we said her hair looked like.

And, when I moved to Arkansas while in high school, I burned my foot battling a large woods fire near our home. I still had a strong northern accent and limped around like an Arctic bird. Of course, I became known as “Penguin.”

So, it is with interest and long tradition that I pay attention to the nicknames of the baseball players that are in our APBA replay games. The game company creates cards for players that we use in recreating seasons and lists their names, position, ratings, demographic and, in some cases, their statistics for the year. The cards also include given nicknames.

In 1947, the year that I’m currently replaying, those who gave nicknames were pretty creative.

A few of the names focused on players’ sizes or lack of and some, apparently, were made in irony.

There was Clyde “Big Un” Vollmer, an outfielder with Cincinnati who, at 6-1 and 187, seemed sort of average in size in comparison to other players. He was a mere shadow when facing Pirates pitcher Ernest “Tiny” Bowman who stood 6-2 and weighed 215 pounds. There was also Bill “Big Bill” Voiselle, a Boston Braves hurler, who was 6-4 and weighed 200. Another odd nickname was Del “Skinny” Ennis, a Philadelphia Phillies outfielder. Ol’ Skinny, at 6-0 and 195 pounds, was actually heftier than “Big Un.”

Nicholas “Jumbo” Strincevich, a Pirates pitcher, was 6-1 and all of 180 pounds.  William “Hoss” Cox, a Pirates shortstop, was 5-10 and weighed 150 pounds, which is the lightest player carded for the 1947 season. He is even smaller than Harold “Pee Wee” Reese, the Dodgers’ shortstop who tipped the scales at 169 pounds.

Nationalities were also handed out as names. Earl Harrist, a Chicago White Sox pitcher, was nicknamed “Irish” and was born in that Celtic hub of Dubach, La. Apparently  the Phillies weren’t all that creative when doling out names.  Both pitcher Emil Leonard and second baseman Emil Verban were nicknamed “Dutch.” Both were born in Illinois. Must have been the first name connection. Hometowns didn’t mean much in those days. Andrew “Swede” Hansen, a New York Giants pitcher, hailed from Lake Worth, Fla.

Others were given names based on animals. I imagine Giants first baseman Johnny “Big Cat” Mize overpowered St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Harry “The Cat” Breechen when the two met based upon size alone. Swamps may have been prevalent at the ballparks in Pennsylvania and Ohio. William Dietrich, a Philadelphia As reliever, was known as “Bullfrog” and Cleveland Indians outfielder George Metkovich was called “Catfish.”

Some nicknames played on the player’s actual names. There’s Donald “Cab” Kolloway, a White Sox second baseman who was named as such perhaps for jazz singer Cab Calloway. Detroit Tigers’ pitcher Virgil “Fire” Trucks was a natural as was Boston Braves outfield John “Hippity” Hopp.

And then there were odd ones. William “Puddin’ Head” Jones, the Phillies third baseman, took the cake, or at least the pudding.  Braves reliever Clyde “Hardrock” Shoun should have trademarked his name in light of the successful restaurant franchise of the same name of years later.  John “Bear Tracks” Schmitz, a Cubs ace, was named such because, I read somewhere, of his large size 14 feet and his bearlike shuffle when taking the mound to pitch.

Then there was Giants pitcher Sheldon “Available” Jones. He only pitched in 16 games – six starts and 10 in relief -- in 1947. I can see him in the bullpen when the manager calls for a reliever. “I’m available,” he’d say sadly when someone else was summoned to the mound. I guess he could commiserate with Sam “Sad Sam” Zoldak, who won nine games in 35 contests as a pitcher for the 1947 St. Louis Browns.

Paul Lehner, an outfielder with the Browns, was named “Gulliver,” in 1947, which foreshadowed his future travels. He ended up playing with six teams in seven seasons.

Of course there’s the “Reds” and the “Leftys” that are commonplace for teams back in the day. And in 1947, there were at least three “Spec” or “Specs” and three “Babes,” none who had the power of George Ruth. But there are scores of unique nicknames in this season as there are in any era. They are as reliable as double plays, strikeouts and home runs in baseball. Just ask Yankees outfielder Thomas “Old Reliable” Henrich.