A Gridiron Call Never To Be Forgotten

By Tom Morrow

On my “Most Unforgettable Character” list, the late Fred Swearengen of Carlsbad had all of the qualifications to hold that title. When he entered a room all eyes went to him because we all knew there would be a few good stories and some very funny jokes on the way.
Fred led a colorful life both as a World War II decorated Navy dive bomber pilot and as a National Football League official.
When not on the gridiron officiating a game Fred operated Swearingen’s Sporting Goods in Athens, Ohio. He spent his retired years here in Carlsbad. Fred was born Sept. 25, 1921, and was an official for the National Football League, serving as both a referee and field judge from 1960 through 1981. Fred officiated Super Bowls III and XIII, but he’ll be most remembered by sports fans for making the controversial call during a playoff game that has become a legend in football history. It is known as “The Immaculate Reception.” It was a touchdown play by Pittsburgh Steeler running back Franco Harris when his team played the Oakland Raiders in an AFC Divisional playoff on Dec. 23, 1972, at the old Three Rivers Stadium in Pittsburgh.

With 22 seconds remaining and Oakland leading 7-6, Pittsburgh was at its own 40-yard line on 4th down and 10 yards to go. Quarterback Terry Bradshaw threw a pass to John “Frenchy” Fuqua, but Oakland safety Jack Tatum collided with Fuqua sending the ball wobbling backward. Pittsburgh rookie running back Franco Harris scooped up the ball, running untouched into the end zone, scoring the winning touchdown.
Under the rules of that time, there could not be a legal catch if the ball touched two offensive players in succession. If the ball either bounced off both Tatum and Fuqua, or hit only Tatum, the catch would be legal. Swearingen consulted with umpire Pat Harder and field judge Adrian Burk, but then went to a sideline phone to consult with NFL supervisor of officials Art McNally, who was in the press box. Swearingen emerged and made his ruling that the play was a touchdown. The Steelers went on to win 13-7, much to the outrage of Oakland fans.
“Because of that call, my name is boldly written on every crapper wall in Oakland. (Then) Oakland Raiders head coach John Madden has never forgiven me,” Fred told me with a hearty laugh.
During World War II action in the Pacific, Navy dive bomber pilot Lt.(jg) Swearengen held the Navy Cross, the highest battle honor of the service, right below the Congressional Medal of Honor. He also, was awarded four Distinguished Flying Crosses, and four Air Medals.
“You got an Air Medal for every five times you flew against the enemy,” Fred told me. “I guess the Navy figured if you survived that many flights, you deserved it. Hell, if you got to chow on time, the Navy recommended you for a medal.”
During the War, Fred was stationed aboard Vice Adm. Marc Mitscher’s carrier flagship, the USS Bunker Hill. He took his dive-bombing training at North Island Naval Air Station and, because of the war time shortage of accommodations, he was berthed at the nearby historic Hotel del Coronado.
Fred recalled life at sea in the Pacific during the War was chaotic at best.

“When not flying, pilots would gather in the ship’s ready room and play cards. If there was an attack, we’d just keep right on playing, but when those 20 milimeter shipboard guns starting firing, we’d usually stop because that meant the enemy was getting damned close.”
May 11, 1945 during the battle for Okinawa was a fateful day for Fred. He recalled the Officer of the Day came in the ready room calling for some pilots to move 10 planes forward on the flight deck so that an incoming squadron could land.
“I tried to get out of the detail by hiding behind a big high-backed chair, but I got caught and the O.O.D. ordered me to go topside and move planes.”
Fred said when he got up on the flight deck, a Japanese kamakazi plane came straight out of nowhere, slamming into the Bunker Hill. Everyone left in the ready room where Fred had been just 10 minutes before was killed in an exploding ball of fire. Another kamakazi hit about 20 seconds later.
In all, 393 sailors were killed, with 254 wounded and the Bunker Hill nearly was lost. Fred survived one of the Navy’s worst battle casualties.
We lost Fred on Dec. 16, 2016, but what a character we had while he was in our midst. When you hear sportscasters mention the “Immaculate Reception” as they often do during football season, think of Fred.
WWII ACRONYMS – Of all the G.I. verbiage created during World War II, there were two or three that became prominently known throughout the Allied Forces: “SNAFU” and “FUBAR,” and to a lesser extent: “SUSFU.”
Troops and Sailors used these phrases from the lowest of enlisted to the highest commanders. It is believed to have started by the U.S. Marines.
Earliest use of the acronym appeared at the beginning of the war. Editors used SNAFU in a September 1941 issue of “American Notes and Queries.” That same month, Time magazine used the term in the June 16, 1941 issue: “Last week U.S. citizens knew that gasoline rationing and rubber requisitioning were SNAFU.”
Keep in mind when you get a group of service personnel together, especially males, they can come up with some rather creative lingo. “SNAFU” became so prominently used that today it has become common place in our everyday commentary. It’s been used by radio and television commentators, but if they knew what it actually meant, they might take pause.
Most reference works, including the Oxford English and Random House Unabridged dictionaries, place the origin date of SNAFU in the early 1940s, generally attributing it to the Marine Corps. FUBAR came later during the chaotic days of WWII.
The acronym “SNAFU” was originally used to sum up particular chaotic situations, especially when referring to military strategy or unclear commands. “SNAFU” means “Situation Normal: All F***** Up.” It became so common place that a G.I. comic strip was titled “Private SNAFU.”
The lesser-used of the two, but still understood on all Allied fronts was “FUBAR.” It doesn’t take much imagination to decipher: “F***** Up Beyond All Recognition.” It too can be found in most dictionaries. But the two acronyms aren’t alone. A lesser-used one is “SUSFU” – “Situation Unchanged: Still F***** Up.” It was (and still is) used by the military as well as in the civilian business world.
Needless to say, most of the folks using these acronyms today probably have know idea of what they mean or from whence they were derived.