Once (Again) Upon a Whoopee Feburary 11, 2002

By Ed Grisamore
Telegraph columnist

"Another bride. Another June. Another sunny honeymoon. Another season, another reason. For makin' Whoopee."

In its 74-year history, the song "Makin' Whoopee" has been recorded by everyone from Eddie Cantor to Doris Day, Ray Charles, Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Judy Garland, Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald.

In recent years, it has been background music in Cadillac commercials. Actress Michelle Pfeiffer sang it in the movie "The Fabulous Baker Boys." Dr. John and Rickie Lee Jones recorded a version for "Sleepless in Seattle," starring Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks.

We should get chill bumps every time we hear that whimsical song. Although we imported the tune from a New Yorker named Walter Donaldson, and the lyrics from a German songwriter named Gus Kahn, it is a musical footnote in our city's heritage.

It is why we have a hockey team called the Macon Whoopee. It is why we are part of sports folklore, the answer to a question in Trivial Pursuit.

Our icy namesake - the one that draws chuckles from around the sports world - was not derived from whoopie cushions, whooping cranes or Whoopi Goldberg.

It was birthed 28 years ago by a group of pioneers determined to take a town, a team, a song and a dream and give rise to the "Slippery Rock of professional hockey."

Sports Illustrated hailed it as one of the classic nicknames in sports. Johnny Carson mentioned it on the Tonight Show. President Richard Nixon had his own Whoopees T-shirt.

Lately, I've been deep thinking about the state of hockey in our city. Maybe it's because this week marks the 28th anniversary of the demise of the original Macon Whoopees.

It was Feb. 14, 1974. Valentine's Day. A day that became known for our own St. Valentine's Day Massacre.

Macon's four-month romance with hockey ended in divorce. We weren't ready for an Ice Age wedding.

The team left behind a trail of debt from Poplar to Pio Nono. Agents from the Internal Revenue Service went to the Coliseum and seized everything from aspirin to hockey sticks.

Over the years, I became interested in those ice-breakers and their place in local lore. In 1998, I co-authored a book, "Once Upon a Whoopee", with Bill Buckley, the team's former business manager.

Fortunately, hockey was not an epitaph in this town. When it triumphantly returned in 1996, I was convinced it was here to stay. Unlike the failures of its forefathers, the sport was no longer an odd fit in the South. We learned there was more to this game than the fights.

Now, six seasons later, our hockey franchise is in a fight - for its life. There is considerable discussion about the team's future - how to attract more fans and increased support from the business community.

I can only hope Macon will wake up and smell the Zamboni fumes. It won't do much for our quality of life and our city's image if we lose the Braves and the Whoopee in the same year.

It all started with a song.

I would hate to see it become another swan song.

Home