Part 1 of this series, focusing on important figures in Packers history with ties to Ireland, is posted here.
Back in the hard-scrabble days when players wore little more than leather helmets and flimsy pads and sometimes never left the field for 60 minutes, bone-jarring collisions were the stuff of legends. And perhaps no other player in the entire league was more famous back then for delivering snot-bubble hits than Clarke Hinkle.
More significantly, Hinkle was one of the all-time greats of pro football's Iron Man era, doubling as a fullback on offense and what's now called a linebacker on defense for the Green Bay Packers from 1932-41.
With the NFL having awarded the Packers international marketing rights to Germany, fans there could rightfully boast that two of the greatest players on the league's most storied and successful franchise were of German descent.
The prevailing belief among those today who address the subject and rank players of bygone times strictly on their numbers – most of whom they likely never saw play – is that Don Hutson and Bart Starr were the greatest players from the Packers' two most dominant periods.
But based on a consensus of judgments from those who went to battle with and against the players of those eras, Hinkle was the greatest of Curly Lambeau's players during the years when the Packers won six of their NFL record 13 championships, and Paul Hornung was the greatest of Vince Lombardi's years from 1959-67, when the Packers won five more NFL titles.
A small number of former players who predated Hinkle have suggested they'd take Verne Lewellen, star of the Packers 1929-31 three-peat champs, as Lambeau's best, but that's another debate.
Born in Toronto, Ohio, in 1909, Hinkle's bloodlines were rooted in Germany based on what Mary Jane Herber, head of the local history and genealogy department at the Brown County Library, could determine by digging into his family history as far back as the 1840 United States census. She was able to trace Hinkle's ancestry to his great grandparents: George Hinkle, born about 1828, in Silver Springs, Md., and Mary Curfman Hinkle, born about 1835.
Katie Foust, archivist for Green Bay Packers Hall of Fame, Inc., also found in a 1940 program bio that Hinkle was identified as being of German descent.
More specifically, Hinkle's ancestors were likely Pennsylvania Dutch – or Pennsylvania Germans – who immigrated from German-speaking regions in Europe to Pennsylvania, starting in the 17th century.
Hornung's father was German based on my research with confirmation from Greg Bond, sports archivist at the Hesburgh Library at the University of Notre Dame, where Hornung went to college.
In Hinkle's day when Lambeau ran the Notre Dame Box, his fullback not only needed to be a battering ram as a runner but also a blow-'em-up blocker and capable passer and punter.
Playing a position then referred to as a defensive fullback, Hinkle's primary duty was to back up the line and stop with brute force the off-tackle runs that were the foundation of almost every opposing team's offense.
Thanks to his versatility, Hinkle could do it all. But toughness was his earmark and his ticket into the Pro Football Hall of Fame as a member of its second class in 1964.
"Meaner than a rattlesnake," was how former teammate Bob Adkins described him.
Admittedly, Hinkle's star power was diminished some because he was a contemporary of the Chicago Bears' Bronislau "Bronko" Nagurski, another steamrolling fullback.
Because Nagurski was bigger – 6-foot-2, 226 pounds to Hinkle's 5-11, 202 – with a 19-inch neck and came from Minnesota, where he was often identified with the state's folk legend Paul Bunyan, he was the more celebrated of the two.
But even some of Nagurski's teammates admitted Hinkle packed a more lethal punch.
"Bronk weighed about 240, even though they listed him at 225 pounds," said former Bears quarterback Bob Snyder, who played with and against Nagurski and faced Hinkle 10 times. "It's hard to explain, but when Nagurski hit you, it was 240 pounds of power and then there was a big surge forward. Bronk never really hurt you, if you got him on the line of scrimmage.
"But, ol' Hink, he'd sting you. He had extreme take-off speed and leverage. He was always square to the line. And, boy, when he hit you, you knew you had been hit."
Bears Hall of Fame center and linebacker Clyde "Bulldog" Turner, who weighed 240 pounds and played for 12 seasons, agreed with Snyder.
"He was the hardest runner I ever tried to tackle," Turner said of Hinkle. "When you hit him, it would just pop every joint all the way down to your toes."
Collisions between Hinkle and Nagurski were etched in many a memory, especially a thunderous head-on smash-up in 1933 that Hinkle walked away from as Nagurski was carted off on a stretcher. Paul Mazzoleni, who was the Packers' water boy in 1921, their first season in what is now the NFL, and then saw almost every home Packers-Bears game from 1923-87, was sitting in the stands at old City Stadium that day.
"Both guys were going full force," Mazzoleni later recalled. "It was like two engines hitting head on. That was one of the greatest collisions you'll ever see. They both went down. Nagurski was completely flattened out. His nose was broken."
Not only was Hinkle overshadowed by Nagurski but also by Hutson, his teammate and Packers' record-breaking offensive end.
Take nothing away from Hutson. His statistics and records were unmatched in his time. His big-play impact was unsurpassed throughout the NFL during the 11 years he played with the Packers from 1935-45.
But it seems to me, it would be absurd for any of us today to argue with the following voices.
"Clarke Hinkle was the greatest all-around football player of all time," guard Buckets Goldenberg, who played 13 years for the Packers during all of Hutson's career and nine of Hinkle's 10 seasons, said in 1965. As for Goldenberg's own pelts on the wall, he was an NFL 1930s All-Decade selection.
What's more, Goldenberg settled in Milwaukee after he quit playing in 1945 and served on the Packers' board of directors when Lombardi was coach, thus, allowing him to observe those Packers teams.
Goldenberg's fellow guard, Pro Football Hall of Famer "Iron Mike" Michalske, was asked to name his choice for greatest Packer in 1967.
Michalske was Hinkle's teammate for five years; Hutson's for two. Following his retirement after the 1937 season, Michalske scouted for the Chicago Cardinals while living in Green Bay in 1939; and then served as an assistant coach at St. Norbert College in neighboring De Pere in 1940 and '41.
All three years, he got to watch Hinkle and Hutson play.
"As far as Hinkle, I believe he was the best player the Packers ever had," said Michalske. "He could punt and pass, he could kick off, he could back the line, and he could carry the ball as many times as you wanted him to. He was in fine shape and always came to play. I think he was the greatest all-around player we've ever had."
Lewellen, who practiced law in Green Bay after his playing days ended and then became general manager of the Packers in the 1950s, also rated Hinkle No. 1 when asked in 1948, but with a qualifier.
"Clarke Hinkle was the greatest all-around ballplayer I've ever seen," said Lewellen. "Without question Don Hutson was the greatest offensive threat we have ever seen."
When Bud Jorgensen retired after working for the Packers as trainer and property manager for 46 years from 1924-70, a period that covered all of Vince Lombardi's coaching career and almost all of Lambeau's, he too was asked to name the Packers greatest player of all-time.
"Clarke was just the best, offensively or defensively," Jorgensen answered.
What endeared Hinkle to his teammates as much as anything was his competitive spirit. Player after player that I interviewed from the 1930s gushed about it.
"He was a very friendly guy," Herm Schneidman, a blocking back for Hinkle, told me in 2000, "but the day of the game, he'd get his ankles taped, his wrists taped and if you walked in and said, 'Hi Clarke, how you doing?' He'd jump up and he was ready to fight. He didn't talk to anybody. He was ready for the game. He was tough."
"I loved the guy," Harry Jacunski, one of Lombardi's college teammates at Fordham and an end who played opposite Hutson in Green Bay, told me in 1996. "He was a great football player. I just admired the hell out of the guy as a person and an indestructible football player. I don't think the guy ever got hurt. At least, he never showed it. He wasn't one of these rah-rah guys. He was a quiet guy, but he sure as hell could play football."
"I've never known a man who wanted to win like Hink did," record-breaking passer Cecil Isbell once said. "Before the game, he'd get glassy-eyed, he'd be so fired up and eager to play. After the game, if we lost, he'd sit at his locker and cry like a baby."
In 1989, Paul Zimmerman, a former college football player and one of the most insightful pro football writers ever, wrote about Nagurski and Hutson after watching whatever film existed of the two and tried to capture what made them special in an article for Sports Illustrated.
But Zimmerman left the impression that Hinkle jumped off the films more than Hutson.
"As I was watching the early footage of Hutson, another figure kept emerging, number 30 on the Packers, Hinkle," wrote Zimmerman. "Seven years after his last season, 1941, Hinkle's career rushing record of 3,860 yards was still the best in NFL history. I watched his running style – nifty on the sweeps but able to turn up-field with a great burst of speed. It was the same burst he showed when he got near the line on an inside play.
"Phase Two of the running game, as (former coach) John Robinson calls it – the ability to break out of the pile. Hinkle was 210 to 215 pounds, a big back in those days. What stood out most in the old films was his power, then his defense. On one sweep by an opposing runner, he came up like a maniac and sent the runner flying into the bench. Pete Rozelle once said the difference in the game is that in the old days, they really didn't hit the way they do now. Well, this guy did."
Much like Hinkle whose rushing record now pales in comparison to today's backs, Hornung's stats don't translate at all to today's game. Plus, like most running backs his shelf life was shortened by injuries.
But in 1960, he led the NFL in touchdowns with 13 and scored 176 points in a 12-game season, a league record that stood for 46 years, as the Packers won the NFL's Western Conference championship for the first time in 16 years. In 1961, despite being called up for active Army duty and playing the last five weeks on weekend passes without practicing, Hornung was named the league's MVP and then MVP of the NFL Championship Game.
Hornung tore ligaments in his right knee in the fifth game of 1962 and played sparingly thereafter, but still made the biggest offensive play of the NFL title game, a 21-yard option pass that set up the Packers' only touchdown in a 16-7 victory over the New York Giants.
Hornung dealt with injuries again in 1965 and the Packers' offense sputtered without him – it scored 13 points or fewer in five of six games at midseason – but when he returned for a do-or-die showdown in the second-to-last week of the regular season, he scored five touchdowns, including on pass receptions for 50 and 45 yards, as the Packers erupted for 42 points in a victory against Baltimore that allowed them to regain the Western Conference lead by a half-game over the Colts.
Then in the 1965 NFL championship, Hornung led the Packers in rushing with 105 yards, averaging 5.8 per carry, and scored the clinching touchdown on a 13-yard run in a 23-12 victory over Cleveland.
Again, take nothing away from Starr and especially his postseason heroics in the 1966 and '67 seasons, but it would seem foolish to argue with what Hornung's contemporaries said about him.
Lombardi himself said in a public speech before his ninth and final season as coach of the Packers that Hornung was "the greatest player I ever coached."
In 1959, before Lombardi's first training camp, he made it clear he had built his offense around his left halfback – not the quarterback – and that was Hornung's position. What's more, on Lombardi's signature play, his famed power sweep – Red Right 49 – the left halfback was the ball carrier.
Here's a sampling of what teammates said about Hornung, who played for the Packers from 1957-62 and again from 1964-66, and was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1986.
Hall of Fame guard Jerry Kramer: "He was always the star of our team, even after he stopped being the best player."
Hall of Fame cornerback Herb Adderley: "Vince called him our money player and he was just that. He should have been the first player from our team in the Hall of Fame."
Starr, Packers Hall of Fame quarterback: "He was one of the finest clutch players ever."
Here's what two rivals said.
Chicago Bears Hall of Fame defensive end Doug Atkins: "I've always said Hornung was probably the best all-around back in modern-day football. He could pass. He could run. He could kick. He could catch. He could block. They say, 'Well, he couldn't run as good as so-and-so. He couldn't do this.' I say, 'Who the hell could do all those things?' He could run like hell and do these things in key situations."
After the Packers finished second by a half-game in 1963 when Hornung was suspended for a year for gambling, these were the words of Norm Van Brocklin, future Hall of Fame quarterback for Philadelphia when it beat the Packers in the 1960 NFL title game, and then head coach of the Minnesota Vikings from 1961-66: "The difference between the Packers with Hornung and without him is the difference between first and second place."
Arnie Herber, pro football's first great long-ball passer and a 1966 Pro Football Hall of Fame inductee, was half-German and half-Belgian.
The architect of the third and latest period of Packers prosperity – starting with the 1992 season – was general manager Ron Wolf, whose father's family also was German.
Wolf, by the way, told the story not long after his arrival in Green Bay how he asked three of the scouts he inherited – Red Cochran, Dave Hanner and Ray Wietecha – who they'd draft No. 1 from Lombardi's teams. All three had been assistant coaches for Lombardi and all three answered Hornung. "For them to give that kind of praise to a player, that's remarkable," Wolf said back then.
Then there's Dick Afflis.
While he wasn't as tough on the field or anywhere near as good as Hinkle, Afflis, also of German descent, was one of the biggest characters in Packers history before he became far more famous as pro wrestler Dick The Bruiser.
Afflis was a so-so tackle for the Packers from 1951-54. As a pro wrestler, he was famous for his signature hold that he used to incapacitate his opponents, the "stomach claw."
"He played some, but, hell, he couldn't touch his hands over his head, he was so muscle-bound. He was top heavy," Dave Hanner, then a defensive lineman and one of Afflis' teammates, said in a 2002 interview. "Hell, he wore a size 32 pants and a 54, 55 coat. He wasn't a player. He was strong as hell. He could do a one-handed push-up. But he couldn't play. He couldn't change direction."
Others also vouched for Afflis' one-handed, upside-down pushup.
"He'd do that all day long," halfback Billy Grimes told me in 2000. "Just put his hand on the ground, go down and touch his nose and put his feet straight up in the air. I've never seen anybody do that before. He was that strong."
Afflis also could make an impressive entrance during his playing days, much like he did as a showman in wrestling.
"He walked in through the revolving doors at the Northland Hotel," former fullback Fred Cone recalled when Afflis first reported to training camp. "He had a tan, camel's hair sport coat with extra padding in the shoulders. They were about three-feet wide on either side. He was about my height, 5-11, and weighed about 270, which was big in those days.
"Anyway, he walked up to the counter and reached in his coat and pulled a .45 out of one side and then reached in the other side and pulled another one out. Then he said, 'Check these.' That was the beginning of Dick Afflis as far as we were concerned."
Sit Afflis down on a barstool and he could become the center of attention there, too.
"He said to me, 'Well Deral, let's go downtown and have a beer,'" linebacker Deral Teteak told me in 2007. "There was one place with kind of a basement, the Labor Temple. I said, 'OK.' So we had a beer and after his first beer, he took the can and smashed it right over his forehead. Whap! I said, 'What the heck is wrong with you? After one beer are you that drunk?' He said, 'No, I just like to do that kind of stuff. Show people I'm tough.' That was Dick Afflis."
But there also was another side to him.
"He was really a nice guy," said end Gene Knutson. "He just didn't look the part. He had the damndest face, a crewcut and all these muscles that guys in those days didn't have. He drove a Cadillac, and he always had the top down in Green Bay, even in bad weather. When we'd eat at the cafeteria there, Dick would say, 'Come on Gene, I'll take you to practice.' I used to ride to practice with him all the time and got to know him a little bit."
Offensive end Bob Mann, the Packers' first modern-era Black player, also never forgot how Afflis stood up for him when the Packers played in Baltimore in 1953 and he couldn't stay at the team hotel because of Jim Crow laws.
"I had to stay at another hotel, a Black hotel," Mann told me in 2001. "I couldn't stay with the team. I went to a meeting and after the meeting I had to go back to my hotel. Dick Afflis walked out with me and he called for a cab.
"So the cab pulls up to the curb and when the driver finds out that Dick The Bruiser or Dick Afflis wasn't going to get in the cab, he told Dick he couldn't take me. So, The Bruiser reached in and snatched him out of the window and said he better take me. He pulled his whole body out the window. The cabbie said, 'I'll take him.'"
Editor's Note: The third and final part on important figures in Packers history with ties to the United Kingdom will be posted in the near future.
