Despite what I thought when I profiled Peanuts Lowrey, he was not the only child actor appearing in the 1952 Topps checklist. He wasn’t even the only player who had been part of the Our Gang comedies of the 1930s. Johnny Berardino of the Cleveland Indians had served as a 6-year-old extra in a trio of silent-era episodes.
Berardino played six seasons of replacement-level ball with the St. Louis Browns, interrupted with a three year absence for military service. The Browns, seeking to improve their last-place fortunes, attempted to trade Berardino to the Washington Senators straight-up for Jerry Priddy, a transaction heavily lopsided in Washington’s favor. Berardino, for his part, felt Washington would never be competitive and decided to retire and focus on acting rather than complete the deal. The 1947 trade fell apart as Berardino set up in Hollywood. Former Browns’ owner Bill Veeck, a personal fan and previous employer of Berardino, talked him back into playing baseball with the Cleveland Indians in 1948, a year in which they became World Series champions. Berardino played baseball while simultaneously keeping a full acting slate in the off-season.
Part of the deal that brought him out of a few weeks of retirement was a contractual clause requiring teams employing him to carry a $100,000 insurance policy against any disfiguring baseball injury that may occur. Berardino essentially played the last five years of his career with his face insured.
More common among stage and screen performers: Betty Grable’s legs famously had a $1 million policy to ensure their continued ability to attract audiences. Specialty policies like this have also had their place in Major League Baseball. Mark McGwire played his first full season for the St. Louis Cardinals with his balky ankles insured against injury for $12 million. The catch? Terms of the policy dictated he follow specific routines to protect against injury, notably the regular use of androstenedione.
The entity underwriting the safety of Berardino’s face found this a favorable transaction as he escaped any sort of lasting injury in his remaining five seasons of part-time play. His acting career took off when he was cast as the lead in the ABC Network’s first major soap opera: General Hospital. He played the role of Dr. Steve Hardy and continued to do so until his death in 1996.
Adding Berardino to My Set Building Project
Like many of the players appearing in the ’52 Topps checklist, I had already given a cursory look at Berardino’s background before actually landing a copy of his card for my set. While not in a hurry to cross his name off my want list, finding his card in a bin of vintage commons prompted me to make it the first purchase of the day at the June 2023 Chantilly card show. Aside from one more card from the same box, this was followed by a 90-minute card buying drought. It took extensive searching (and an excellent Peruvian dinner down the block) before I was able to locate the rest of the cards that made the trek through Northern Virginia traffic worth it. Still, this card alone would have made a trip to a local show a success.
Berardino was not the only higher profile actor to appear in a 1952 baseball card. Chuck Connors of The Rifleman had a decent career playing in the Pacific Coast League, eventually making single season appearances with the Brooklyn Dodgers (1949) and Chicago Cubs (1951) and appearing as a member of the Los Angeles Angels in the 1952 Mother’s Cookies food issue shown below.
Connors is sometimes mentioned as an intriguing “what-if” in discussions of who else could have been included if Topps had increased the size of its checklist beyond 407 names. Some of this speculation has included guesses as to how much demand this card would receive from collectors. While Connors had a rather extensive acting career, much of it came in supporting roles or lower budget productions. My guess is his on-field performance and acting resume would put demand for his fictitious ’52 Topps card right in line with that of Berardino.
