Stephen Iwasko knew professional baseball players when they also worked as butchers, car dealers, bank tellers and even Christmas tree salesmen.
The former Rio Grande summer resident was a bat boy for the legendary Phillies’ teams known as the “Whiz Kids.” Iwasko, a retired U.S. Navy industrial superintendent, retrieved bats and balls from 1949 through 1951.
Now 75, Iwasko peers with sharp recollection at the images of nostalgia that graces the walls of his Deptford home and part-time Florida residence. He has glorious photographs, historic bats and a lifetime of memories of his special and long-maintained relationships with Phillies’ heroes of an era gone by.
“Ball players were much friendlier then,” said Iwasko. “They weren’t the rock stars that they are today.”
Born and raised at 23rd and Lehigh, Iwasko lived just around the corner from North Philadelphia’s legendary Shibe Park, later known as Connie Mack Stadium. He made his way into a job at the park by using a friend’s birth certificate to enhance his actual 15 years and secure working papers.
“You had to be 16 but I got the papers and wound up selling peanuts at the ballpark,” said Iwasko. “I used to arrive early and shag flies for the pitchers who were taking batting practice before the gates opened.”
Iwasko, who studied in night school to earn bachelor’s degrees in industrial management and psychology from Rutgers University when he was almost 40, used that determination earlier in life to secure the bat boy spot.
“The clubhouse man was a guy named Russell Henry,” said Iwasko, a Korean War veteran. “When I asked about being a bat boy he told me to come around again in the spring, but I wasn’t going to chance that.”
Iwasko showed up at the park every chance he could, even during winter re-construction of some seating areas. Finally, he showed up on opening day and insisted to Henry that he’d been promised the bat boy job even though they’d hired someone else.
What followed was the beginning of special friendships that endured until the passing of some of the team’s greatest players, including Granny Hamner and Rich Ashburn.
“They invited us to Dream Week in Clearwater in 1992 and that’s the last time I played baseball,” said Iwasko, who was on numerous South Jersey ball clubs through his middle-age years. “I played all of my life until they got tired of seeing me.”
Iwasko spoke fondly of the first reunion of the Whiz Kids in June 1963 at Connie Mack.
“Some thought no one would care to come see us or even remember,” he said. “But 35,000 people showed up that day. They brought us to the park by bus and you couldn’t move in the crowd. We walked out onto the field to a huge ovation.”
Iwasko called the 1970 closing of Connie Mack Stadium “very sad.” Among his treasures is a well preserved photograph of the stadium’s last day.
Phillies’ owner Bob Carpenter used to insist that Iwasko, a bat boy you’ll recall, refer to him as “Bob” and not “Mr. Carpenter.”
“That was the kind of guy he was; he treated you as an equal,” said Iwasko. “But I had to tell him that if my parents ever heard me call him Bob I’d be whipped to the bone.”
Iwasko, whom the players called “Whitey” because of a youthful scalp of blond hair, said similar things about Whiz Kids’ manager, Eddie Sawyer.
“Skipper Sawyer was quiet but forceful,” he recalled. “The guys loved him and many maintained a relationship with him long after their playing days. They’d go to his house and play tag football before the Eagles game came on television.”
Iwasko laughed as he recalled star outfielder Del Ennis selling Christmas trees in the off-season.
“They called Andy Seminick ‘meat cleaver’ because he was a butcher after the season,” said Iwasko with a chuckle. “The most he made was $36,000 playing baseball.”
The team treated Iwasko’s parents to their choice of box or press level seats.
“My dad wanted press level because they served the writers beer and sandwiches, but my mom thought that was too high up so they sat in the box seats,” said Iwasko.
He recalled one day when the occasionally volatile Hamner said something rude near the front row seats, not realizing Iwasko’s mother was present.
“I had to tell Granny that my mother was mad at him,” said Iwasko. “So, the next day he shows up with candy and flowers for my mother. Imagine that happening today.”
Reach Joe Rossi at joerossi61@comcast.net
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