No one really knows where the nickname came from. Not his wife, Judy—nor his sons Frank or Jim. I asked them at the funeral.

“I think it was when he was a kid. He used to hum a lot. Maybe hummer got converted to Bimmer?”

“He loved Bing Crosby. He was always crooning in school and I think a “Bimmer” might have been a singer. All his classmates called him that.”

I went to every word and phrase dictionary on my shelf, and came up empty. “Bimmer” turned up nada, zero, zilch

Certainly, no one called him Robert.

Of course, Bimmer grew up in an America which produced more nicknames than automobiles.

He was a card carrying member of the Greatest Generation. He was one of five Sculatti boys who joined the army to rid the world of totalitarian regimes which threatened all that they believed in.

None of us know any more about Bimmer’s time in the service, than we know about the origins of his nickname. With Bimmer, it was never “All about me.” He came from a humbler generation which did its duty and kept its mouth shut.

Bimmer was the poster child for a part of St. Helena history which once was but is no more.

Besides, brothers Leo, Chick, Burt and Guy, he had two sisters, Lilly and Alma. Their father, Frank, was Big Louis Martini’s foreman.

They lived down on the ranch which is now Flora Springs. The Sculatti kids were the envy of all the kids in town, because during those long days of summer, Big Louis let them swim for one hour each day in perhaps the town’s only swimming pool. (That may not be historically accurate as Mr. Carpy had a pool, but whether he had it when Bimmer was a boy, I’m not sure).

Bimmer was nine years old in 1936 when Mr. Carpy started Carpy gang. He not only starred for Mr. Carpy he went on to become the first great passing Quarterback in St. Helena High School history.

Long before Superintendent Mel Johns chose George Davis over a young John Madden to be the Saints football coach in 1960 and “the Streak” began, Ralph Ingols coached the Saints to an undefeated season. The year was 1944. Bimmer was his QB. Bimmer’s 80 yard TD pass to Matt Spear was a record for years and is still talked about in barber shops (ok, shop) today.

Upon graduation, Bimmer traded in his Saints’ uni for Uncle Sam’s. When he returned home, he joined his brothers out on the Trail at Keller’s slaughter house. Chick and Burt would haul the cattle up from the auctions, feed ‘em and Bimmer would tend to the nitty gritty. He was a professional butcher, and proud of it.

The day their father, Frank, was to be buried, the brothers were told they couldn’t take the day off to attend the funeral.

Suddenly, there were fewer employees at the slaughter house.

Bimmer became an entrepreneur and made some wise land investments. He was his own boss. His hours were more flexible.

In the late 50’s he began assisting Mr. Carpy with Carpy Gang. A couple of years after Mr. Carpy’s death, Bimmer took over. Artie and Buster joined him and Buster’s wife, Kay ran the show.

For over 40 years he devoted himself to our children.

Like Mr. Carpy, Bimmer was rough and gruff. An original, he looked like a French Foreign Legionnaire with a scarf attached to his cap to protect his neck from the sun.

Modern helicopter moms, hovering over their little angels, had a particularly difficult time with Bimmer’s vocabulary. He might have learned some words in the army.

But the kids loved him. And most parents enjoyed watching their boys become men.

Names were not his strong suit. Nicknames were. Political correctness—another minor weakness.

Location and physical attributes substituted for baptismal monikers. His troops were Irish, Pin Head, Mousey, Monkey, Napa, The Big Guy, Calistoga or the last name of a kid’s relative—Saladin was “Wilson”—because Diane Wilson was his grandmother.

My kid, JJ, was simply, “The Boy.” I was, “Hey.” As in “Hey. How’s the boy doing?” In 40 years, Bimmer never called me by my name. He was quite fond of “the wife” however. And she adored him.

Of course, no kid could complain that Bimmer insulted him, for he never attached the right nickname to the correct kid. When he wanted Pin Head, he’d call him Mousey.

But the kids deciphered his code and loved him for it.

His favorite play was the Baltimore spread, a secret double pass designed to fool the opposition. As he started each and every game with that play, we weren’t too sure how many teams were fooled, but we loved it.

He watched NFL games on TV, and would come to practice and show “The Boy” his new pass plays. Plays were named after the NFL teams who used them. The "Bimmer Special" and “JJ’s Pass” were exceptions.

(A favorite was Washington Power: Every player lined on the left side of Center—so the center was technically and end, and an eligible receiver. I’m not sure he got that from Bill Walsh).

Old school, Bimmer wasn’t for everyone. Yet my kid (who suited up two years at Notre Dame) says Bimmer was the best coach he ever had—-high school or College. “The Boy’s” opinion was not a minority one.

Like all great coaches it was hard for Bimmer to leave the game. The transition was difficult. Today a new generation is carrying on his tradition. His former players are coaching Carpy Gang to new heights.


Bimmer couldn’t remember names but he never forgot the boys. And he can rest assured that those boys, Pinhead, Monkey, the Boy and hundreds more will never forget the man who made them men.




















Jeffrey Earl Warren
James Warren & Son
1414 Main St.
St. Helena, Ca.
94574
707-963-2748