Harry “Yo-Yo” Shifren

When Harry Shifren was born in a lower Manhattan tenement in New York, his mother, Gussie, had only been in America about a year. Her husband, Isaac, came from Russia two years earlier and sent for her and their first son, Max. As Isaac’s bakery grew, so did his family, which would include not only Max and Harry but another son and two daughters.

Advancing Harry’s timeline to the 1970s, he achieved a level of local acclaim when he would dance between innings at the Philadelphia Phillies baseball games. He became famous as a Phillies fanatic before there was a mascot named the “Phillie Phanatic.”

All that is known of his early years is by the time he reached adulthood Harry appeared in Philadelphia. The only basis for that is a friend’s statement that he had known him for more than a half-century. There’s no evidence that he ever had a wife, car, home, taxable income, or even steady employment. 

As the Great Depression dragged on through the 1930s, it wasn’t uncommon for strangers to help others who were down on their luck. Apparently Harry never moved out of his  circumstances, but Lou Naimoli didn’t mind. He was a South Philadelphia barber who would give him a shave and a haircut, some food, or let him act as “night watchman” by sleeping on the floor. But Harry was free to come and go as he wished, sweeping a floor somewhere or running an errand somewhere else, accepting cash or barter.  

Perhaps because he was the son of a baker he leaned toward an occasional odd job at bakeries in exchange for sleeping in the basement. In good weather he’d be satisfied with a park bench or unlocked car. He wasn’t a bum or vagrant, just unattached. And he was jolly, with a friendly nature that endeared him to others. If he ever truly felt as though he was down on his luck, his friends said he never showed it.

As time went on, he acquired the nickname “Yo-Yo” because whenever people said hello, he responded with a hearty “Yo!” and they soon learned to greet him that way. He used his contacts with bakers to share with others, bringing leftovers to a woman who would distribute it to her needy neighbors. In return she’d offer him meals or sometimes collect clothing for him. In his last few years, her daughter even helped Harry qualify for Social Security benefits.

When he had some money he’d try to take in a basketball game, and if he was short on cash, he’d try to get in anyway. It may have been his love of the game that led him to his new hometown. A team of well-known Jewish players from the South Philadelphia Hebrew Association played ball in a number of early leagues in the 1920s. Harry admitted to sneaking into the Broadwood Hotel on occasion to watch the team with the unpronounceable name of SPHAS. They were frequent champions and extremely popular in the Jewish community.

In 1955 the Philadelphia Big 5 was formed, an association of five local colleges competing for the city’s basketball championship. It wasn’t recorded if Harry ever preferred one team over another, but he was more than just a regular spectator. As he collected enough cash he would take public transportation to where the games were always played, at the Palestra on the campus of the University of Pennsylvania. He would come onto the court at halftime to do a little dance, then attempt a free throw which he usually missed.

It wasn’t until the Phillies moved to Veterans Stadium in 1971 that Harry began to love the sport that would carry him through until basketball season returned. At least that’s when he became a fixture and fan favorite after network TV captured his Mummers-like dances. Eventually the Phillies’ organist would accompany the Yo-Yo cheerleading routine.

It wasn’t long before Phillies vice-president Bill Giles came up with a promotion to capitalize on Harry’s popularity. May 11, 1974 was “Yo-Yo Night.” Thousands of yo-yos were given away to the kids and Harry was invited to a home-plate ceremony where he was given a lifetime gold pass to all Phillies home games.

He regularly took his place behind the Phillies dugout but, over time, his popularity waned. Other teams began introducing mascots as entertainers, and the Phillie Phanatic stole the spotlight as soon as it was introduced in 1978. Harry attended his last game in May of the 1979 season before suffering a fatal heart attack.

The Phillies, the players’ association, and the Big 5 all picked up the tab for his funeral and burial here, and a stonecutter donated this marker to memorialize the little round man who was dubbed the “number one fan.”