Moormanism #27, 9-7-72, from The McLeansboro Times Leader, McLeansboro,Illinois #Moormanisms

Hank Moorman's writings were called 'Humor and wisdom in short takes' by columnist Joe Aaron, Evansville Courier daily columnist.

Moormanisms Ira E. Moorman

One thing about the squirrels. They’re not as nutty as you might think. They’re always trying to bury a few.

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If a person has a wrong or rotten deed done to him, not much of anything is gained by trying to get even. Actually, I think one should get more than even. ..........

Someone told me he didn’t understand why I wanted a two acre pond. If a duck lands, I want him to have room to turn around.

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Many ask me what I am going to stock my pond with. Actually, it ain’t stock. I have sent a telegram to Florida for alligators.

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At a ball game recently someone stated that it was the bottom of the fifth. I never drank that much at a game.

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What was his name, I was asked. I said he still had the same name.

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I passed a truck and on that truck was a sign and that sign stated that this vehicle paid $3,248 in road tax. My vehicle pays none. I pay it.

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A dog that has a short tail should not chase it. (This is an original but I haven’t figured out its deeper meaning yet. If you know, please contact me.) ..........

A man and I were working on traps, and after an hour’s time we completed our task. He told me to come and see us. I told him I already have.

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Someone has stole most of my work tools. Anyone that steals something to work with ain’t got much sense. 

Moormanism #26, 8-17-72, from The McLeansboro Times Leader,McLeansboro, Illinois #Moormanisms

It is a tough situation loaning money to a friend. The Bible gives us direction in several verses. In Matthew 5:42 Jesus tells us to not turn away from someone who wants to borrow from you. In Luke 6:35 Jesus tells us to lend without expecting to get it back, and that if you do this your reward will be great. In Deuteronomy 15:7-8 Moses says to lend whatever is needed. In Exodus 22:25 Moses says to lend with no interest to the poor.

Hank mentions that the Church is a proper place to go for help. Increasingly, this has become true especially in McLeansboro. We have a Ministerial Alliance group that has been and is handling requests from those in need, and this is occurring daily. Funds,however, become low or used up from time to time. In this time of giving gifts, check with your church to see if there are requests from the needy that need to be taken care of.

Straighten up and fly right. I remember hearing this a lot, and I am sure many of us have used this idiom before.

The one about the governor of Missouri is appropriate for today as well.

Moormanisms Ira E. Moorman 

Every time I breathe, I figure up the tax. ..........

Straighten up and fly right, I’ve often been told. Can the birds do that? ..........

This is an old joke. A man hurried into a hardware store and said, “I’ve got to catch a bus and I need a mouse trap.”

“Sorry,” the proprietor answered, “I don’t have a trap that large.” ..........

In 1946 I could run really fast. In fact, I could outrun Lou Brock. Lou Brock was three years old.

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In this day and age, if you have a friend and he wants to borrow money from you, consider him a lost friend, and if you loan him money, then you’ve lost your money, too. The bank, the state, or the church are the proper places to go for help. It’s rough to feel sorry for yourself because you felt sorry for someone else.

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I was talking and told a lady everyone ought to have some kind of marker after death. Her reply: “I don’t want to be bothered after I’m dead.” 

Another old one: a man was about to commit suicide. He held the gun to his head. Then his wife commenced to laugh. “Don’t laugh,” the man said angrily. “You’re next.”

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Perhaps the governor of Missouri ought to make periodic checks on some of his natives. 

Moormanism #25, 8-10-72, From The McLeansboro Times Leader,McLeansboro, IL #Moormanisms

When you get into trouble no matter how young or old you are, it sometimes feels like you are hit from all directions about what you should have done to stay out of trouble. Also, we are always told we should have known better. The reality is, though, that most of us are harder on ourselves than others are on us.

It is great to know that forgiveness is at hand from someplace. Even when those close to us can be unforgiving for what we have done, there is someone who always forgives us when we ask Him.

I thank Jesus Christ for dying for my sins, so that I may be forgiven. He is the ultimate Lamb of God.

Moormanisms Ira E. Moorman

A man was in deep domestic trouble. I overheard him mumbling. “The government ought to legislate.”

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A man came out of a public toilet and said to me, “It’s all yours.” I didn’t want it and I have reason to believe he didn’t have a deed. ..........

I went by Big Johns in Mt. Carmel. In front was a thirty foot sign of a man carrying a bag of groceries. In ratio to size, he should have been doing the work of two bulldozers or 50 construction workers. He’s worse off than I am if he can only carry a bag of groceries.

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I am having a pond dug. I watch the operator of the big dozer because I don’t want him to go too deep. My great-uncle told my dad that Tecumseh was buried in that spot. ..........

In the 30’s a cousin of mine got into a pack of trouble, and he stated to his grandmother that when one falls into a briar patch, it’s hard to tell which briar scratches the hardest. 

The Gospel According to Hank Moorman

I have a book that I purchased from ebay that is called "The Gospel According to Peanuts". It parallels the Gospel with The Peanut's comic strip about Charlie Brown. During youth group at church when I was younger, our sponsor taught lessons from this book. I have thought about it often over the years, so I bought a copy.

Since I have been posting about Hank Moorman, I have also posted insights from the Bible. These posts have been meant to parallel the posts from Hank. The Holy Spirit speaks to all of us and through all of us to help us get through this terminal illness called ' life here on Earth'.

As I read some great posts from many of my Friends, I think that the Gospel According to You is being posted each and every day.

More later..........

Moormanisms

When Kathy and I interviewed Hank Moorman in the summer of 1976, he did a lot of reflecting on his past. One thing that really stuck in his mind was when his mother had told his dad that she wished he were dead. That one statement had an extreme effect on Hank throughout his entire life.

The other thing that Hank talked about that he regretted was his drinking. He felt that drinking had been a habit that he would have been much better off without. We sensed that he felt things might have been better if he had refrained from drinking.

He also kept saying that he really didn’t think he had anything to leave this world with. I guess he thought he was a failure.

During one of his interviews he presented me with a folder in which he said were all his Moormanisms, published and unpublished. He was very proud of these “paragraph writings”, as Joe Aaron of the Evansville Courier called them. I didn’t think much about them, though, because most of them I just remembered as funny jokes. I guess as I have grown older, I have come to see the deeper meaning of most of his writings.

And now the Moormanisms that I have been, and will be, posting for you. Read them and see the problems with our world and the challenges that we all face. If you try to see these problems and challenges through the eyes of Hank Moorman, maybe you will understand more, laugh more, and think more.

Tuesdays With Morrie made me realize that we all need help through this stressful path called life. And what better way to light the path. Some of these paragraph writings may have come from other authors, but I have no idea. Hank claimed these writings as his.

Hank began publishing his jokes, opinions, and philosophical insights by placing ads or letters to the editor in the local paper, The McLeansboro Times Leader. At first he paid to place them in the classified section and later would be given column space to place his writing

Richard Jackson was editor of the Times Leader. He and his family came to love Hank and befriended him. I think it was Richard who photocopied all the Letters to the Editor and Moormanisms for Hank that were then handed to me in 1976.

Richard must have taken quite a bit of time to put all of Hank's writings together. I think that he and his wife June, or their son Mark, had made plans to write something about Hank.

It might be of interest to some of you that Hank got right with Jesus Christ before he died. I was told by Jennifer Lee Wilkerson that her mom and dad (Reverend John & Wanda Lee) went to see him in his last days in the hospital and Hank said he had been saved and was at peace with dying.

More later..........

Drinking, Softball, Shanghaied, and Cancer

I really wasn't sure if I should post some of the very personal things that Hank Moorman shared with Kathy and I in 1976, but I know that he wanted other people to be helped by what he had experienced in life. Some people have very fond memories of Hank, some never knew him at all, and some do not have fond memories of him. Most of my posts about Hank were written many years ago and I have just begun to share them.

Here is another:

During the summer of 1976 my wife, Kathy, and I had a few taped conversations with Hank. I had come up with the idea of writing something about him. Hank approved of the idea and was very aware that others could read it some day. The stories about Hank were legendary and I thought they would make for a great story, a good book. The interviews were not legendary, though. We found out that Hank Moorman had a fairly normal but troubled life. Hank had always wanted to live ‘like a man is supposed to live ‘.

The first memory Hank had was from 1927, he was three years old, he had fallen out of a buggy, and one of the wheels ran over him. This was a trip to his grandmother’s.

His youth, according to Hank, started out on the wrong side. In 1929, at the age of 5, he was called Gene. Hank’s real name was Ira Eugene Moorman. He was called Gene in his youth. He had known all the bootlegging joints in Hamilton County; his father had taken him to all of them. Gene would drink and drink, just like his father.

His home life was a little less than desirable for a child to grow up with a sound mind. Hank's father was a drunken, sarcastic, gambling man who earned a good living but couldn’t please his wife. Constant arguing filled Hank's ears from his parents. He was constantly being yelled at and beaten.

One thing that always stuck with Hank his whole life was his mother telling his father that she wished he were dead. This happened one night after his father had come home drunk and filthy. That had stuck with him and would hurt him very much every time he thought of it.

Home wasn’t the only place he was yelled at and beaten. At school Gene had a teacher, Gleason Hart, "Who would just as soon knock you over a table as to look at you," Hank said. Gleason and Hank's father traveled, gambled, and drank together. Hank would receive ‘old hickory’ for not getting his lessons. Inman Moore was another teacher. He was a nice quiet man, but Hank still got two whippings from him.

At home his chores included milking the cows, gathering eggs, and working in the orchard and watermelon patch. He was always walking some place. He would use an old rag or string ball, that wasn’t so heavy, and could throw it like a bullet. Everyone practiced and played ball everyday.

While Hank was in high school his family had a good car and he was never out of money. Hank shot pool plenty of nights but wishes he had gone to a lake somewhere instead.

He thought high school was worthless. He thought that softball was invented about that time. Mr. Nation was the coach and would hand them a softball and bat and tell the kids to go and play and get lost. Anyway, he thought that softball had started in the schools around this time. He spoke of Mr. Nation and his coaching ability, “He could sure coach basketball but he sure couldn’t coach baseball!"

During his senior year he was fed up with life and was suicidal, it was constantly on his mind. School was not enjoyable. He wanted to quit and go to the Navy, but his father wouldn’t go for it.

“A lot of people had nothin’ in those days. In 1936, a drought caused crops to be lost and in 1937 we had too much water,” Hank pointed out in the interview. He came to town, McLeansboro, at the age of 12 and stayed with an old lady and her daughter.

He served 6 years, 1942 – 1948, in the Navy. And he served 5 years, 1948 – 1953, in the Army. He wanted to be a petty officer. Somehow he found out the questions to the mechanic’s exam. He passed and had to do mechanic’s work, which he claimed to know nothing about.

Hank got shanghaied into going to Augusta, Georgia. They didn’t like him there. He had lost his personal initiative. The old captain had asked if he wanted a discharge and he argued with him. As a result, he was transferred to Germany as an interpreter. But, he didn’t speak German. He got along with everyone there, they liked him. Then one day, they found that he had done work as a mechanic, so they sent him to marine school.

He was married to a WAC in Germany. Then he was transferred to France and he and his wife had a baby girl, Cathy. It was there that he got fed up with the Army and quit.

Hank’s father had died in 1945 and his grandmother had passed away, so in 1948 in between stints with the Navy and Army, he sold his farm. Later, he could never forgive himself for selling it.

In 1953 he came back to the States with his wife and baby to no home. Hank traveled all over the state of Illinois looking for work, but they would always find out about his not so honorable discharge.

He attended SIU and studied Forestry for 2 years. He couldn’t cut the chemistry, so he dropped out. Hank took a job in the penitentiary at Sheridan. The Colonel, as Hank called him, was warden and the Colonel didn’t want anyone with nerve trouble working for him. And by now, Hank’s nerves were shot. So, the Colonel fired him one day.

Hank was disabled because of his nerves. He didn’t have the stability to take on problems. Everything he tried was wrong. Hank felt that what made him disabled was not the service but being yelled and screamed at as a kid and knowing nothing but a bar and booze. He had an unhappy home as a child and now as an adult he was disabled.

Without a job or money, Hank wrote the VA in Marion. They wanted him to go to Danville to be evaluated psychologically. They locked him up. Over the years, Hank would return to Danville. We always thought he went there to act like he was crazy so he would be able to receive a pension for disability. It was between these visits to Danville that we saw Hank and knew him.

During our interview, Hank confirmed that he had cancer. We had heard it around town but hadn’t believed it. What could we really believe about Hank? There were so many stories about him.

Even before he died, we heard another story about how he had purchased a life insurance policy just before he died. Carl Mauck had visited Hank to show him some game films of Carl playing professional football. Hank had always wanted Carl to play professional baseball, and Carl wanted to show Hank what he did for a living. I think Carl wanted Hank’s approval before Hank died. Hank did tell him that he guessed football was okay. It was during that visit that Hank showed the life insurance policy to Carl. Carl had experience in the insurance business and found that the policy looked legit. He was a true friend to Hank, and there aren’t too many of them to come by in a lifetime. Carl had always made sure that Hank had a ride to every ball game when Carl played during high school. And now he was still showing his friendship and appreciation for Hank.

More later..........

Interstate 57, Itchy Jones, and the Called Shot

Another memory about Hank, and I don’t know when this occurred, was when he drove the wrong way on I-57. It was just another reason for people to say that he really was crazy. It could have been the time that he had attended SIU Baseball Coach 'Itchy' Jones’s baseball camp. Carl Mauck had told me the story about Hank going to Itchy’s baseball camp at SIU one summer. 'Itchy' couldn’t believe his eyes when he did his usual scan of his new crop of campers. In this group was a man that looked like he was someone’s grandpa. When he got to Hank, Hank simply told him that he wanted to learn how to throw a knuckle ball. Itchy couldn’t believe it but Hank stayed the whole camp and did all the drills with the kids.

Another story that Carl jogged my memory with had to do with a ‘called shot ‘. Remember the homerun that Ruth called. Well, something similar happened during an American Legion All-Star game. The game took place in Fairfield, and there was a carnival going on past the centerfield fence. There was the biggest tent that I had ever seen just beyond the centerfield fence. When Hank saw the tent, he proceeded to shout out to everyone that Carl Mauck would hit a ball and hit that tent during the game. And sure enough, Carl did hit that tent with a mammoth shot.

Hank would always ask Kathy, my future wife, if she wanted a Coke. He wouldn’t talk baseball with her, he’d just say, “I don’t know a lot about cheerleading (Kathy was a cheerleader) but I’ll tell you one darn thing, boys just don’t want to practice baseball, too many other things on their minds.” Kathy doesn’t seem to remember, but I keep reminding her that Hank even bought her a coat one time. I believe it was before we were married.

More later.......... 

Life is Baseball

Hank loved baseball. It was his life. Any size or shape person could play baseball. I am sure that is why Hank loved it so much. You didn’t have to be special to play. It was an ordinary person’s game.

Hank was always in pursuit of the perfect swing. He would tell us that a good swing was like chopping wood. “Swing down on the ball,” Hank would always say. “Shift your weight from the back foot to the front foot as you swing. Keep your eye on the ball. Don’t pull your head. Keep it down on the ball. Don’t step too far with the front foot. Step toward the pitcher, don’t step out. Use your wrists.”

Hank would always look at the size of your wrists. He thought that wrist size translated into the power and speed of your swing. Once, he cut out a full-page spread from a newspaper that showed Willie Horton’s swing in stages from beginning to end. He made it a point to unfold it and show it to me on several occasions. As I said, he liked to study everyone’s swing. He even would watch me close enough to see that I would shut my eyes just as the ball was about to hit the bat.

He was constantly coming up with new gadgets or ideas to help with hitting. Hank would go to the local hardware store and have the center drilled out of a baseball. They would then put a nylon cord through the ball, and knot and burn the ends of the cord. So, Hank would leave the store with a baseball on a cord. He brought me one on at least one occasion. Hank would drive up in his old beaten up kelly-green Ford. Each time I would see him pull into my driveway, a surge of pride would swell through my body. I am sure that same surge did not go through my mom and dad. To think that I, ol’ small wrists, was being visited by Hank. Maybe he did think that I had possibilities. Maybe my dream of playing in the Major Leagues was possible after all.

He would begin my hitting lesson by showing me how to attack the ball. “Chop down just like chopping wood,” Hank would stammer. He would raise his front leg and put it down with authority just as he swung the bat down in a chopping manner. He would say, “Imagine a pitcher pitching you a ball. I’ll tell you one darn thing (he would always say that phrase either when emphasizing or lamenting about something), practice swinging, keep practicing.” Then he would take me outside and he would put his ‘baseball on a cord’ on Mom’s clothesline. He would proceed to show me how to practice with it. He would grit his teeth around that ever- present, unlit cigar, lift his left leg into the air, and take a vicious swing. The ball would twirl around the clothesline. Then he would proceed to untie the cord from the clothesline and tell me where I could get one made. Hank didn’t have much money, so one baseball with a cord through it was like gold to him. He wasn’t about to go around handing them out like candy. Hank wanted us to want one bad enough that we would go out and buy one on our own.

Another idea Hank came up with was swinging an old broom handle. He would have someone throw hickory nuts to him, and he would try to hit them. I guess he figured if you could hit something smaller while swinging an even smaller stick for a bat, then hitting a baseball might prove to be much easier. It always made me think of the stick-ball street games of the big cities.

About the other aspects of baseball, Hank would speak of them but not as much as he would about hitting. He would tell us to be aggressive on the base paths and to stay down on ground balls. He would also tell us to catch the ball with two hands. Hank even came up with an idea on how to break in a new ball glove. I think, if I remember correctly, we would soak our new glove in a bucket of water. To get the proper shape, we would put a ball in the glove and then tie a string around it before dropping it into the bucket. We let the glove soak over night, and the next day we would have a glove with a perfect shape.

I, like many other kids, took great pride in owning a new ball glove, the rawhide smell, the whole newness of the glove. We knew each glove had to go through the break-in phase of hours of pitch and catch. But to soak a brand new glove in a bucket of water, well that seemed to go against the religion of baseball! It did work, though, and eventually the glove would dry out.

Hitting was Hank’s favorite topic, but he also talked of throwing and building the arm up. Most of all, he would talk about throwing with accuracy. He would show us out at the athletic field how to work on our accuracy. He would take a baseball and throw it at the brick field house. Hank would aim for a certain brick and hit it with deadeye accuracy. Of course a brick wall didn’t do much for the cover of a good baseball, so our coach didn’t appreciate this idea very much. And our mothers would probably not want us to throw a ball against the house or any other building at home. 

Legion Baseball, Curt Flood, and Gasoline

Hank Moorman was a baseball fanatic, a baseball junkie, but not about facts or statistics. He would say the same things over and over so much that it drove most adults crazy. And if they acted like they didn’t want to listen to him, then he would get mad and he would stomp off for a while.

Hank wanted so badly to coach the American Legion team, but no one would let him. He was, though, pretty good at asking the Legion and local businesses for money for the team. I think they gave him the money to get rid of him.

Each year the Legion team would take in a Cardinal ballgame, usually on Labor Day, and Hank would raise some money to help the team pay for the trip. This also insured him a spot to go on the trip because he was not an official coach.

One Cardinal trip has stuck in my mind for years. I’m not sure what year it was, but it was probably 1963 or 1964. We usually got tickets for a double-header and if I remember correctly, this time was no different. As this trip unfolded, George Edmonds was there and he made a bet with Jim Burns that he, George, would run on to the field to shake Curt Flood’s hand.

Just a little side line about Jim Burns, Jim had played basketball for the Foxes when they won 4th place in the Illinois state basketball tournament when Illinois still had the one class system. He also played basketball at Northwestern University and was drafted into the NBA but it didn’t work out. Jim then pursued his law degree and has practiced in Northern Illinois. He has been a special prosecutor near Chicago and has run for Lt. Governor. He also was a Democratic challenger to Glenn Poshard for governor but lost the Democratic race to him. He, at the time I was writing this, had been appointed by Governor George Ryan as a special prosecutor.

Anyway, back to the bet. Jim bet George one dollar that he would not shake Curt Flood’s hand. Remember the ‘catch’ that Willie Mays made on the fly ball that Vic Wertz hit. Willie made the catch with his back to the playing field as he raced toward the wall. Well, Curt Flood made a similar catch in the game that we were watching. Before we all knew it, George had climbed over the right field wall and was running toward Curt Flood. Security started racing after George from all directions. George reached Curt Flood and stuck out his hand to congratulate him on his fantastic catch. Curt waved him off, told him to leave, but then all of a sudden, Mr. Flood gave in and shook George’s hand. George was sky high, with a grin from ear to ear, and didn’t mind at all being led off the field by security. If I remember correctly George told me he still has the dollar Jim gave him.

Hank would show up at the younger league games, too. It was kind of scary to the younger kids and their coaches. But, by the time the kids and coaches had gone through all the leagues before reaching the level of American Legion baseball, they all knew Hank and thought he was harmless.

Hank’s patience at times was very thin. He would go to great lengths to get a game in after a big rain. Others would automatically cancel the game and say the field was too wet to play on. Hank would find a rake or would try to find new dirt to cover the low areas where it would be the muddiest. But, the best one of all was when Hank decided it would take drastic measures to get the game in. One time it had really rained and no amount of raking or carrying in dirt and sand would help. Hank had a brainstorm. Gasoline! He poured gasoline over the infield and then lit it. What a fire! He kept pouring and lighting, pouring and lighting, until he had the top layer of soil scorched and smelling of gasoline. The field was probably dry enough to play on, but the residue that was left behind kept the game from being played. I think it took days to get the field cleaned up and ready to play on again.

More later..........