Unassuming and bespeckled, George Ulmer took to the mound to face his first batter of the summer afternoon. Entering into his windup, Ulmer unfurled a scorching fastball that screamed towards the plate. The batter took the only split second available to size it up: home run ball, right down the center. Swinging for the fences, he brought his lumber around to connect… with nothing but the breeze. The ball had betrayed him, inexplicably dropping a foot and a half before scraping the dirt. Strike one, and the beginning of a long day for Ulmer’s victims… er, opponents.
Ulmer was the centerpiece of a Flatiron team (Port Richmond/Fishtown neighborhood whose field is said to have resembled a flat iron) that dominated the world of softball in the 1960’s and 70’s. How good were they? Records tend to speak for themselves: 254-45 between 1960 and 1963.
In his book, A Century of Philadelphia Sport, Rich Westcott writes: “[Flatiron’s] most prominent player was pitcher George Ulmer, whose risers, drops, and hang-ups were virtually unhittable.”
Ulmer has been called one of the greatest athletes to be produced from the city of Philadelphia, and easily one of the greatest softball pitchers to ever throw. While softball nowadays might conjure up images of lazy, beer filled Sunday afternoons, there was a time when it was a highly competitive inter-neighborhood pastime. If you’re younger, ask your folks about Eddie Feigner, the King and His Court, or George Ulmer and Flatiron. They’ll tell you. These ballplayers were serious athletes, and their games were huge draws across the city. And there was no bigger ticket in Philly than George Ulmer and his Flatiron squad.
Beginnings
Ulmer’s story starts on the backlots and street corners of Port Richmond. His urban childhood fostered a street-wise city kid, and admittedly, he found himself in trouble a few times. He credits the Police Athletic League with getting him onto the right path, saying, “I owe them everything for introducing me to the game and keeping my nose clean” before adding with a laugh, “… but they didn’t give you much slack.”
In other words, if you were signed up to the team, you better show up to practice. “If you skipped, the cops would come and find you, give you a good talking to, maybe take you for a ride and drop you off somewhere far off to walk home.” Sounds a bit strong in our politically correct world of lawsuits and coddling, but this was a different era.
The team didn’t have much equipment, just a bat and a couple of balls. “We just learned as we went along.” In contrast with their dazzling future as ballplayers, Ulmer and his crew didn’t get off to such a stellar start: “We couldn’t win a game…2 seasons of getting blown out, so we switched things up,” recalls Ulmer, “One day Ed Hangy said, ‘I’ll catch,’ and I said, well, then I guess I’ll pitch.” Turns out to have been a good move.
Hengy and Ulmer stuck in those positions together throughout their careers, and built a lifelong friendship, and an ultra successful pitcher-catcher dynamic.
Domination
Fast forward to the glory days of Flatiron authority, and those losing seasons of the squad’s past are only distant memories. With many of the same neighborhood kids playing for Flatiron, they were now a nationally recognized powerhouse. The team was built around the strong pitching of Ulmer, although he credits the talent surrounding him. Despite his modesty, it was impossible to ignore the skill that he brought to the mound.
“He’s in there throwing 120 mph,” says Hangy, “imagine trying to hit that from only 45 ft.” “Naw it was more like 110, he’s always exaggerating,” responds Ulmer when I ask him about speed. 120 or 110, you’ve gotta feel for Hangy’s catching hand, an appendage at the receiving end of plenty of broken bones courtesy of that Ulmer fastball.
“Best drop-ball you’ve ever seen…if not the best”, remembers Hangy, “it was just incredible how much movement was on it.” Jack Moore, chairman of the Fishtown Alumni Association, remembers Ulmer’s feats well, saying: He’d fool a guy with a drop-ball, and then the next pitch would look like it was going to be in the dirt, and just like that it would swoop up and Hangy would be catching it over his head. One of the greatest pitchers ever, and one of the nicest guys you could hope to bump into.”
“Top 3 pitchers in country…no, the world back in the 60’s. George had the combination of speed and movement,” says Walt Lucas, statistician for Flatiron who holds an encyclopedic memory of the team’s batting averages and results, “he wasn’t afraid of pitching against anybody, and everybody respected that skill. His pitching record speaks for itself.”
“The best thing about it for me was seeing how many people were coming out to see my dad play. They packed them in to those stadiums…that was softball,” remembers Harry Ulmer, one of George’s sons.
Ulmer’s step-daughter, Donna Gormley, remembers those Flatiron games intertwinded with the fondness of her childhood, saying: “I remember almost every weekend traveling to Reading, Lancaster and Baltimore to watch and cheer on George. I would sit right behind him on the bleachers and as soon as he was finished striking out just about every hitter I would run up to the fence and watch his routine of sitting in his designated spot and putting his pitching arm in the sleeve of his jacket, no matter how hot it was his arm and shoulder would be kept warm. He never broke a sweat. I was always excited and mesmerized by how calm he always remained no matter how much pressure he was under. He never ran to the mound he took his time and walked with such confidence.”
Iron Man
Perhaps even more incredible than the sheer velocity and curve on Ulmer’s pitch was the endurance that his arm showed. It was not uncommon for Flatiron to play multiple games in a single day (sometimes as many as six), and it was equally as rare if Ulmer didn’t pitch all of them. How did his throwing arm hold up to these endurance days? Sometimes they didn’t. “I remember after one doubleheader,” says Ulmer, “I couldn’t raise my arm to wash my face.”
After one marathon of four games in which Ulmer performed the inhuman feat of throwing every pitch, the team stopped for a cold pint in a nearby bar. “As we were sitting there, this guy says to us, ‘I’m in trouble! I told my wife that I was stopping by for one game and I couldn’t leave, you guys were too much fun to watch…she’s gonna kill me!” Hangy remembers with a chuckle.
Pressed, Hangy can remember only one game where his pitcher couldn’t finish, a match up in Foxhill Virginia in which Ulmer suffered from heatstroke.
Off the Field
While his passion for pitching is colossal, Ulmer is actually quicker to reminisce about the good times spent with his friends and teammates. “Sitting around with the guys for a beer after the game telling stories, we had so many laughs, joking around about all of the stuff that we did. They were fantastic guys and great ballplayers… I wouldn’t change those days for anything. They were great times” George remembers, with more than a hint of reminiscence in his voice.”
Flatiron’s softball exploits unfortunately didn’t afford them a paycheck, and the responsibilities of work, family, and ball were a delicate juggling act. Ulmer says: “They were all married, all worked, all had responsibilities… but they all showed up for each and every game, ready to play ball. It was a commitment.”
That balancing of career, family and pastime did not exclude George, who worked at the Acme bakery from the time that he was 20 years young. “It was nice to work with the same people all throughout my career,” says Ulmer, “you get to see each other grow up and raise families. In a big way we were part of each other’s families.”
Ulmer’s son, Harry, had nothing but praise for his father’s work ethic, saying, “He had, and still has, such an amazing passion for the game, but he was also a great dad, worked hard every day to be a provider for his family…he always did what he had to do.”
Ulmer is the proud father of seven, Richard, George, Joanie (who has sadly passed), Harry and Ralph with wife Joan (the two parted ways), and two with Honey (to whom George has been married to for 28 years), step-father to Donna and Chris. Ulmer’s kids have grown up, many starting families of their own, and he now has 22 grandchildren and 5 great-grandchildren. Honey and George have since retired to sunny Davenport, Florida, but Ulmer admits that his heart will always be right here in the riverwards. “You can’t beat the weather down here, but I spent pretty much my whole life in Philadelphia, my friends and family are there, and so many memories.”
Ulmer’s health has taken a turn for the worse in recent years, and after being diagnosed with brain tumors he faces a difficult battle. Never one to complain, he says, “There’s not too much pain, I’m doing pretty good. The other day they stuck me in the MRI, and we’re getting ready to get started on another round of chemotherapy.”
Although this is, of course, a terribly difficult situation, if there’s one guy with the determination and endurance to fight this illness, it’s certainly Ulmer, and he has plenty of support. It’s amazing to see just how many fans Ulmer still has here in the riverwards. While researching his history, there was no shortage of stories about the iron armed pitcher and his teammates on Flatiron. George Ulmer still has a lot of followers here in Port Richmond and Fishtown who treasure the memories that he provided on the playing field, and there are certainly some batters still suffering chronic nightmares of that wicked drop-ball.
