BubbaRay
11-18-2007, 07:05 AM
There are alot of members here that do not and never heard of Andy Varipapa. Some of us here have heard of him. This is a very good read and I hope you enjoy it.
Andy Varipapa: Bowling's greatest showman
http://www.bowl.com/cms/images/1727.jpg
For seven decades, Andy Varipapa worked tirelessly to promote the sport - and spectacle - of bowling. Born in 1891, he was bowling's first ambassador, and gained bona fide celebrity status as a national touring star. He wowed spectators with his stunning trick shots and silenced his critics with his legitimate bowling prowess.
Bowling writer Chuck Pezzano summed up Varipapa's spectacular career in this 1982 American Bowling Congress Yearbook article, two years before Varipapa's death in 1984.
When you reach the age of 90 in this country you seem to take on some majestic qualities you never had before. Just check out your daily newspaper. Seldom does a week go by without the local nonagenarian being queried about life, love and the most delicate military and political situations.
They are quoted as though the words came straight down from the heavens. And that's the way it's been with Andy Varipapa and bowling these days as he nears completion of his 91st year.
But there is a big difference; that's the way it's been with Varipapa for more than 50 years, and his thinking doesn't age, it seems to get sharper.
No man in any sport has for so long captured the attention, fancy and imagination of friends, foes and fans as has Varipapa. Some called him a clown, some thought he was a showboat, but nobody ever doubted his talent or his genius. He came into bowling centers in almost every state and many foreign countries as a hero or a villain, but in victory or defeat, he always left a hero.
As Vic Kalman put it so well almost 30 years ago, "Varipapa astounded, affronted and entertained."
When he wasn't supplying comic relief and relaxation, he was ever teaching, creating interest and enthusiasm, the traits he has carried as far back as he can remember, even to those farm chores in Italy when he had to watch the cows go round instead of the pins go down.
He came to this country with his mother and brother, and the thing he knew best was that he didn't know enough. His formal education was practically nil, but that gave him a lifelong yen to learn.
"I wanted to learn so badly," recalls Varipapa. "I went to day school, night school, I took correspondence courses, and the proudest moments of mine came when my son and two daughters and their children received the best college training. I love to sit at the family table and be surrounded by doctors, lawyers, pharmacists, scientists and teachers, and know I had something to do with instilling the need for learning in them."
It wasn't all that easy. Andy worked from the time he was 10 years old, at whatever was available. He was a delivery boy for a butcher shop in his early teens, and as he made his rounds in the winter he would toss and kick ice down the street, making believe it was a bowling ball.
"Bowling wasn't my first love in sports," Andy said. "I loved baseball and I was a pretty good infielder. Like everything else, I taught myself, so when I felt I was ready to play with some of the good teams, I put an ad in the paper, and I got a tryout and made one of the better semi-pro teams, even got paid a few bucks a game."
His baseball career ended when he broke a leg, and though many know about the broken leg, few know how it happened. It came riding a bike to work during a strike, and Andy lost his concentration while riding.
Andy had a try at boxing, too, and he was pretty good, winning five in a row. Why did he quit? He points to his teeth, "I like them the way they should be, nice and neat and even, and in one fight I got hit in the mouth and I didn't want to lose or damage them. Besides, even though the pins can be aggravating, they never hit back, do they?"
Varipapa, with his natural athletic ability and will to win, also became a good golfer and a pretty fair man with a cue stick.
"I soon realized that second best was no good. You are the best or you are a nobody. After a number of jobs I became a machinist third class at the Brooklyn Navy Yard around 1917. In a few years I was a machinist first class, and from then on I was first class in everything I did."
He began to build a bowling reputation in the 1920s, averaging 207 for 90 games in 15 different centers, and 212 and 213 for other outings of 150 games in different bowling centers. In an earlier period he also operated a billiard parlor with 11 tables and a 10 lane bowling center. He seldom bowled in leagues but did get involved in pot games and matches, though the latter were never his cup of tea.
"I never cared much for the gambling part of match play bowling. I really didn't want to take money from other bowlers and I didn't want them to take mine. I wanted to be paid for my bowling talent, and that's why so many of my matches were productions. I wanted guarantees because I wanted to earn money to support my family. But don't get me wrong, though I didn't look for matches, I never backed out of any either."
Varipapa never tires of telling the story when then world champ Joe Falcaro took Andy as a partner in a doubles match against famed Philadelphia bowlers Charlie Riley and Jim Murgie, back in 1930.
Varipapa was introduced as though the was just a casual visitor, and when he ran into a 6-7-10 split on his first toss, the crowd figured he was just another flash in the pan. He then tossed 17 consecutive strikes, averaged 260 plus for seven games, and fired three 279 games in the process.
"That was the birth of Andy Varipapa as a major figure and Falcaro should get all the credit," says Andy. "Falcaro and me bowled quite a bit and believe it or not I was known as the unassuming Varipapa. That didn't last too long. I began to speak my mind when I felt conditions were not right or anything else, and I spoke out for everyone, not just myself.
"I knew that you couldn't make any money bowling matches and there wasn't that much in tournaments so I worked hard to perfect my trick shots, and with it I worked hard on my presentation too. Many a year I drove more than 40,000 miles, and as I drove I didn't waste my time, I worked on my speaking, and polished my showmanship."
It was that genius for showmanship, combined with a passionate will to win and be the best that made him one of the game's most respected figure He also was controversial, but those who came to heckle were as welcome as those who came to cheer. Both paid for the right, and Varipapa was making big money in days when most bowlers were getting crumbs.
He could truly be called the sport's first pro bowler, though his good friend and the man whose style he liked most, Jimmy Smith, had toured the country before Andy. Hollywood called in 1934, and Varipapa feels that Elmer Baumgarten, American Bowling Congress executive secretary from 1933 to 1951, was the man most responsible.
Andy once said he could make a bowling ball do anything but talk. But he did make them talk in a unique way. Picture a line of chorus girls standing on a lane, feet spread apart to allow enough room for a bowling ball to roll through. Or visualize another narrow path created by delicate and expensive lamps on each side. Then marvel at the Varipapa magic as he sends the ball accurately through the legs or the lamps, and it clears those obstacles to make a left hand turn and topple all 10 pins.
Then the favorite shot of many, when Varipapa rolls a ball slowly down the lane, and it stops, then returns to whence it came, back to Andy on the lane approach.
If those bowling balls could talk, they would tell of the many years Varipapa spent performing his skills, from the unpredictable rolls of the ball to the banter and patter that went to make up the complete show.
That first movie was a smash, and some 25 others followed, and in 1981, Andy was still performing as millions saw him on the popular "That's Incredible" TV show.
Varipapa the showman kept an audience in the palm of his hand. He was quick witted, could handle any heckler, and always seemed to be able to come up with the right retort.
On one of his trips two priests came to see him three nights in a row, and the show was the same. One of them politely informed Andy that they were planning to see him in the next city on his tour and asked if he would do the same trick shots. Andy answered the question with his own: "Father, when you go to a different town, do you change the prayers?"
Varipapa the showman also was Varipapa the family man. Though he took off every September to be gone months at a time, his children - son Frank and daughters Connie and Lorraine - had nothing but praise for him and even his lifestyle.
"He was our father, and this was his job," said Frank. "My mother (Andy's late wife Alice) ran a pretty tight ship and my father made a good living. And when he was home he spent a great deal of time with us. We went to the beach a few times a week, he had time to play baseball and golf with me, and I just couldn't think of how anyone could be a better father."
Daughter Lorraine adds, "We knew that he was famous and that in order to do what he had to do he had to travel. But we always knew we were first in his thoughts, wherever he was. It wasn't always easy, but it was our way of life."
Lorraine, a fine bowler in her own right, worked with her father, and also helped him with many of his instructional clinics. More than 30 years ago Andy and Frank started a bowler's pro shop, one of the first and most modern established, and it still operates today, with Frank and namesake grandson Andy, as the proprietor.
Andy Varipapa: Bowling's greatest showman
http://www.bowl.com/cms/images/1727.jpg
For seven decades, Andy Varipapa worked tirelessly to promote the sport - and spectacle - of bowling. Born in 1891, he was bowling's first ambassador, and gained bona fide celebrity status as a national touring star. He wowed spectators with his stunning trick shots and silenced his critics with his legitimate bowling prowess.
Bowling writer Chuck Pezzano summed up Varipapa's spectacular career in this 1982 American Bowling Congress Yearbook article, two years before Varipapa's death in 1984.
When you reach the age of 90 in this country you seem to take on some majestic qualities you never had before. Just check out your daily newspaper. Seldom does a week go by without the local nonagenarian being queried about life, love and the most delicate military and political situations.
They are quoted as though the words came straight down from the heavens. And that's the way it's been with Andy Varipapa and bowling these days as he nears completion of his 91st year.
But there is a big difference; that's the way it's been with Varipapa for more than 50 years, and his thinking doesn't age, it seems to get sharper.
No man in any sport has for so long captured the attention, fancy and imagination of friends, foes and fans as has Varipapa. Some called him a clown, some thought he was a showboat, but nobody ever doubted his talent or his genius. He came into bowling centers in almost every state and many foreign countries as a hero or a villain, but in victory or defeat, he always left a hero.
As Vic Kalman put it so well almost 30 years ago, "Varipapa astounded, affronted and entertained."
When he wasn't supplying comic relief and relaxation, he was ever teaching, creating interest and enthusiasm, the traits he has carried as far back as he can remember, even to those farm chores in Italy when he had to watch the cows go round instead of the pins go down.
He came to this country with his mother and brother, and the thing he knew best was that he didn't know enough. His formal education was practically nil, but that gave him a lifelong yen to learn.
"I wanted to learn so badly," recalls Varipapa. "I went to day school, night school, I took correspondence courses, and the proudest moments of mine came when my son and two daughters and their children received the best college training. I love to sit at the family table and be surrounded by doctors, lawyers, pharmacists, scientists and teachers, and know I had something to do with instilling the need for learning in them."
It wasn't all that easy. Andy worked from the time he was 10 years old, at whatever was available. He was a delivery boy for a butcher shop in his early teens, and as he made his rounds in the winter he would toss and kick ice down the street, making believe it was a bowling ball.
"Bowling wasn't my first love in sports," Andy said. "I loved baseball and I was a pretty good infielder. Like everything else, I taught myself, so when I felt I was ready to play with some of the good teams, I put an ad in the paper, and I got a tryout and made one of the better semi-pro teams, even got paid a few bucks a game."
His baseball career ended when he broke a leg, and though many know about the broken leg, few know how it happened. It came riding a bike to work during a strike, and Andy lost his concentration while riding.
Andy had a try at boxing, too, and he was pretty good, winning five in a row. Why did he quit? He points to his teeth, "I like them the way they should be, nice and neat and even, and in one fight I got hit in the mouth and I didn't want to lose or damage them. Besides, even though the pins can be aggravating, they never hit back, do they?"
Varipapa, with his natural athletic ability and will to win, also became a good golfer and a pretty fair man with a cue stick.
"I soon realized that second best was no good. You are the best or you are a nobody. After a number of jobs I became a machinist third class at the Brooklyn Navy Yard around 1917. In a few years I was a machinist first class, and from then on I was first class in everything I did."
He began to build a bowling reputation in the 1920s, averaging 207 for 90 games in 15 different centers, and 212 and 213 for other outings of 150 games in different bowling centers. In an earlier period he also operated a billiard parlor with 11 tables and a 10 lane bowling center. He seldom bowled in leagues but did get involved in pot games and matches, though the latter were never his cup of tea.
"I never cared much for the gambling part of match play bowling. I really didn't want to take money from other bowlers and I didn't want them to take mine. I wanted to be paid for my bowling talent, and that's why so many of my matches were productions. I wanted guarantees because I wanted to earn money to support my family. But don't get me wrong, though I didn't look for matches, I never backed out of any either."
Varipapa never tires of telling the story when then world champ Joe Falcaro took Andy as a partner in a doubles match against famed Philadelphia bowlers Charlie Riley and Jim Murgie, back in 1930.
Varipapa was introduced as though the was just a casual visitor, and when he ran into a 6-7-10 split on his first toss, the crowd figured he was just another flash in the pan. He then tossed 17 consecutive strikes, averaged 260 plus for seven games, and fired three 279 games in the process.
"That was the birth of Andy Varipapa as a major figure and Falcaro should get all the credit," says Andy. "Falcaro and me bowled quite a bit and believe it or not I was known as the unassuming Varipapa. That didn't last too long. I began to speak my mind when I felt conditions were not right or anything else, and I spoke out for everyone, not just myself.
"I knew that you couldn't make any money bowling matches and there wasn't that much in tournaments so I worked hard to perfect my trick shots, and with it I worked hard on my presentation too. Many a year I drove more than 40,000 miles, and as I drove I didn't waste my time, I worked on my speaking, and polished my showmanship."
It was that genius for showmanship, combined with a passionate will to win and be the best that made him one of the game's most respected figure He also was controversial, but those who came to heckle were as welcome as those who came to cheer. Both paid for the right, and Varipapa was making big money in days when most bowlers were getting crumbs.
He could truly be called the sport's first pro bowler, though his good friend and the man whose style he liked most, Jimmy Smith, had toured the country before Andy. Hollywood called in 1934, and Varipapa feels that Elmer Baumgarten, American Bowling Congress executive secretary from 1933 to 1951, was the man most responsible.
Andy once said he could make a bowling ball do anything but talk. But he did make them talk in a unique way. Picture a line of chorus girls standing on a lane, feet spread apart to allow enough room for a bowling ball to roll through. Or visualize another narrow path created by delicate and expensive lamps on each side. Then marvel at the Varipapa magic as he sends the ball accurately through the legs or the lamps, and it clears those obstacles to make a left hand turn and topple all 10 pins.
Then the favorite shot of many, when Varipapa rolls a ball slowly down the lane, and it stops, then returns to whence it came, back to Andy on the lane approach.
If those bowling balls could talk, they would tell of the many years Varipapa spent performing his skills, from the unpredictable rolls of the ball to the banter and patter that went to make up the complete show.
That first movie was a smash, and some 25 others followed, and in 1981, Andy was still performing as millions saw him on the popular "That's Incredible" TV show.
Varipapa the showman kept an audience in the palm of his hand. He was quick witted, could handle any heckler, and always seemed to be able to come up with the right retort.
On one of his trips two priests came to see him three nights in a row, and the show was the same. One of them politely informed Andy that they were planning to see him in the next city on his tour and asked if he would do the same trick shots. Andy answered the question with his own: "Father, when you go to a different town, do you change the prayers?"
Varipapa the showman also was Varipapa the family man. Though he took off every September to be gone months at a time, his children - son Frank and daughters Connie and Lorraine - had nothing but praise for him and even his lifestyle.
"He was our father, and this was his job," said Frank. "My mother (Andy's late wife Alice) ran a pretty tight ship and my father made a good living. And when he was home he spent a great deal of time with us. We went to the beach a few times a week, he had time to play baseball and golf with me, and I just couldn't think of how anyone could be a better father."
Daughter Lorraine adds, "We knew that he was famous and that in order to do what he had to do he had to travel. But we always knew we were first in his thoughts, wherever he was. It wasn't always easy, but it was our way of life."
Lorraine, a fine bowler in her own right, worked with her father, and also helped him with many of his instructional clinics. More than 30 years ago Andy and Frank started a bowler's pro shop, one of the first and most modern established, and it still operates today, with Frank and namesake grandson Andy, as the proprietor.