From Battalion to Bull Pen: Nellie's Army Interlude

Nellie's baseball career was interrupted when he was drafted into the Army during the first month of the Korean War. He began basic training at Fort Dix, New Jersey in the autumn of 1950. Thanks to a skill he picked up at the Milton S. Hershey Industrial School for Orphaned Boys, he managed to stay far out of the line of fire.

Here is an excerpt from a chapter of his book entitled "Army Interlude":

I was twenty-two years old, pitching for the Charleston (SC) Rebels, in the Class “A” Sally League, and ripe for the military draft when the Korean War broke out on June 25, 1950. Within a month my draft board in Lebanon, PA informed me I had to report for my physical exam. Unable to travel home during the season, it was arranged for me to take my physical at Columbia, SC. The baseball season ended on Labor Day and on September 28, 1950, I was inducted into the Army at Fort Dix, NJ. It was to be another of those defining moments in my life.

After thirteen weeks of infantry basic training I learned to fire every small arms weapon used by a rifleman. I also did a lot of close order marching drills and learned why we did them one day during standing inspection as an orderly for the 60th Infantry Regimental Commander. The Lt. Colonel came up into my face and asked, “Soldier, why do we do close-order marching drills?” Drawing on my baseball team play experience, I replied, “Sir, we do it so we can learn to work together as a unit.” He loudly responded, “No soldier, you do it to learn to take orders. When we tell you to turn left, goddamnit, you turn left. When we tell you to turn right, goddamnit, you turn right. You don’t ask questions—you take orders in the Army!”

After basic training I entered a leadership training program to prepare me to be an infantry rifle squad leader, a position not known for longevity. As a cadre, I was pushing troops and also served on the Browning Automatic Rifle Committee, headed by Lt. Constantine Thomas, a veteran of WWII who was wounded in the early months of the Korean War.

One of my talents, of which the Army was not yet aware, was typing. After a day of training, Lt. Thomas remarked he needed a lesson plan typed and was concerned that nobody at Battalion Headquarters would be available to do the job. I innocently informed him I could type and he immediately took me to Battalion HQ and sat me down behind a Royal typewriter. I began to type the lesson plan, when I suddenly sensed someone was standing behind me. It was Major Jackson, the Battalion Commander. He said, “Soldier, you look like a pretty damn good typist.” I replied, “Yes, sir, I can type about 70 words per minute.” He uttered the words that changed my Army career, “We need a clerk typist at Battalion Headquarters.”

Thus ended my days as an infantryman. I spent the remainder of my two years behind a typewriter, not an M-1 rifle. No KP, no guard duty, no bivouac! I highly recommend learning typing. It’s the most under-rated job in the Army.

During those two years I was able to play baseball on the 60th Infantry Regiment baseball team. Also on the team were then unknown minor league players Frank Torre, Don McMahon, and Arnold Portacarrero. There were only two players, both young pitchers, who had played in the major leagues—Erv Palica, of the Brooklyn Dodgers pitched for the 60th Infantry, and Harvey Haddix of the St. Louis Cardinals was on the 39th Infantry team. The commanding officers of both regiments were baseball fans, which heightened the rivalry of the games.

I was to be discharged from the Army on September 28, 1952. A few weeks before that date, I received a letter from Branch Rickey, the General Manager for the Pirates. Always ahead of the curve in scouting talent, Mr. Rickey wanted to take a look at the young players from the Pirates farm system that were about to be discharged from the service. He asked if I could make it to Ebbets Field when the Pirates would be playing the Dodgers. Could I? Hell, I'd walk all the way to Brooklyn if I had to!

With two other players on the 60th Regiment team, we drove to Ebbets Field early enough to await the arrival of the Pirates’ team bus. When it arrived I introduced myself to Bob Rice, the Pirates’ traveling secretary, and showed him Mr. Rickey's letter. He was unaware of the workout and took me to the clubhouse to meet manager Billy Meyer. Surprisingly, Billy Meyer didn't know anything about the workout either, but told “Doc” Jorgensen, the team trainer, to get me a uniform. I put on a major league uniform and stepped onto a major league field for the first time that day in September 1952 at Ebbets Field.

Pittsburgh Tribune-Review Features the Nellie King Fund

The first newspaper article about the Nellie King Fund appeared in today's Pittsburgh Tribune-Review. Nellie's family and friends thank Mr. Bill Zlatos, the author of the article. Here is an excerpt:

There may not be a bronze statue of late Pirates pitcher and broadcaster Nellie King outside PNC Park, but his family and friends are creating a memorial of their own....

Nellie King grew up in Shenandoah, Penna. during the Great Depression. His father, a coal miner, died when King was 6, and two years later he was shuttled off to the Milton Hershey Industrial School. After graduating from the orphanage's high school in 1945, he began a series of tryouts until he landed a job with the Pirates.

His daughters said the scholarship fund will serve King's twin interests of sports and journalism. There may also be a link to the Hershey School and Duquesne University.

Michael Murray, King's nephew and former president of the Boys and Girls Club of Western Pennsylvania, said King served on the chapter's board and helped raise money for it.

"He was always looking out for the underdog," said Murray.

Family and friends have raised $6,000 to date, but they need $19,000 more to start granting scholarships. Laurie King hopes the family will award the first scholarship in the fall of 2011.

"We think there's enough people who truly like and love this guy that they'll support his philosophy via a program such as this that will help children who are in need get an education," Murray said.

A Warm Tribute to Nellie from his "Brothers" at Milton S. Hershey School

Here is a recent feature about Nellie's passing and his daughters' efforts to establish a charitable fund in his memory from Thy Traditions Dear, the alumni publication of the Milton S. Hershey School.

And here is the Milton S. Hershey School Pledge, which Nellie lived by:

(Click on the images to enlarge them.)

A Wonderful Holiday Gift for Baseball Fans

Nellie loved the holiday season. Thanksgiving was probably his favorite; he always savored a good turkey dinner with all the trimmings! On Christmas mornings he would make pancakes with fresh sliced apples and cinnamon for his daughters, even long after they stopped believing in Santa Claus.

One of Nellie's most treasured memories of childhood was seeing a train set under the Christmas tree when he was four years old. He said that was the greatest thing Santa ever brought his family.

Sadly, Nellie will not be with us this holiday season. But his words, wisdom, memories, and laughter live on in his book. If you are still looking for that special gift for all the baseball fans on your shopping list, consider purchasing a copy of Happiness is Like a Cur Dog. Proceeds will go to support the newly established Nellie King Fund to create scholarships for underprivileged children, student-athletes, and sports journalism majors. Our mission is to create a lasting legacy in Nellie King's honor.

Here is an excerpt from the introductory chapter of Nellie's best-selling memoir:

This is the story of the wonderful journey that took me from the Milton S. Hershey Industrial School for Boys to the minor leagues, and then to a major league career as a relief pitcher for the Pirates. As such, it is a story about finding happiness, or rather, letting happiness find me.

Psychologist Abraham Maslow has a term for those moments in life when your senses are completely open to everything that is going on around you. He calls them “peak experiences.” Your mind is completely at ease and immersed in the “now,” while your senses are soaking up everything in vivid detail. How wonderful it is—and how rare—in a life in which our enthusiasm and energy is all too often sapped by our day-to-day obligations, worries about the future, and fears rooted in past experiences. When love and satisfaction with one’s work come together, peak experiences can happen.

I enjoyed my first peak experience in the summer of 1948. I was pitching for the New Iberia, Louisiana Pelicans in the Class “D” Evangeline League, and enjoying a truly successful season, winning 20 games and pitching 284 innings. I woke up early one morning after another winning game with a feeling of peace and serenity that was new to me. The mugginess of the bayou had not yet engulfed the day. A cooling breeze was lightly stirring the white lace curtains of the window near my bed, wafting in the sweet smells of the flowers opening outside. The pleasing songs of birds only accentuated the quiet.

I lay there for several minutes, completely enthralled with the sensation of profound contentment. “This is how life should be lived,” I thought. But the more I tried to hold on to the experience, the faster it ebbed away, until it finally evaporated. Yet, it was such a wonderful moment that I can relive it in my mind to this day. I've enjoyed other peak experiences in baseball, when moments are simply allowed to just happen and unfold. As a pitcher, I was deeply involved in “the now,” with no anxiety.

In my years of association with Pittsburgh Pirates’ baseball from 1948 to 1975, I’ve seen the organization go through the whole gamut of human emotions. Pittsburgh is no stranger to hardship, and the Pirates have known their years “in the cellar.” Like the city itself, the team emerged from the darkness and soot of the 1950s to enjoy two shining decades that Bob Prince called “the halcyon days” of Pirates baseball.

Surely, it was a peak experience for the entire western Pennsylvania region to be a part of Bill Mazeroski’s dramatic home run at Forbes Field, clinching the 1960 World Series. Pittsburghers also enjoyed the honor of witnessing the excellence of legendary players like Roberto Clemente and Willie Stargell. How lucky I was to have played and broadcast during these halcyon days of Pirates’ baseball!

In this book I attempt to capture an era in baseball that is rapidly fading. During my brief major league career I played against such Hall of Fame greats as Stan Musial, Ernie Banks, Hank Aaron, Eddie Matthews, Jackie Robinson, Frank Robinson, Ken Boyer, Roy Campanella, Duke Snider, Pee Wee Reese, Don Newcombe, Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Warren Spahn, Robin Roberts, and many others. As a broadcaster I was privileged to view and describe the excellence of Roberto Clemente, Bill Mazeroski, Willie Stargell, Bob Gibson, Johnny Bench, Joe Morgan, Tony Perez, Lou Brock, and many more.

Committing these memories to paper has been personally satisfying. I hope you will enjoy reading them as much as I did living them.