Jonah Berger, a renowned social scientist, coined the term "magic words" to describe language techniques that have a powerful impact on influencing others. Through his research, he has identified several words and phrases that can greatly enhance persuasion and make messages more compelling. One such magic word is "you." Berger argues that by shifting the focus of communication to the audience or individual receiving the message, it becomes more engaging and relatable. Instead of using generic statements, tailoring messages to address the specific needs, desires, or interests of the listener can greatly increase their receptiveness. Another magic word is "because.

A Leprechaun Looks Back 50 Years Later

John Brandt ’65, a freshman, opened up to find the captain of the Irish cheerleading squad staring back at him. The upperclassman had come looking for Brandt, who stood 4-feet-11-inches as he began his first year at Notre Dame. He told Brandt that his size made him a potential fit for a new position with the cheerleaders, and he asked the freshman to report to the Knute Rockne Memorial Gymnasium the next day.

Not sure what he might be getting himself into, Brandt walked to the western edge of South Quad the following afternoon and entered the Rock to find two other short students there to audition for the same role. The cheerleading captain brought out the suit—green cotton pants, a small vest, a green blazer, a green hat, and a pair of green shoes that turned up in the front—and asked each of them to try it on.

It was a role he may have been born to play. “My Mom told me that when I was born she was holding me in her arms and she said, ‘When you grow up, you’re going to go to Notre Dame.’”

His mother was right. Brandt grew up in Elyria, Ohio, about 30 miles west of Cleveland. As a high school senior he applied to only one college and moved to South Bend in the fall of 1961. A scratch golfer, Brandt expected his main extracurricular activity at Notre Dame would be playing on the golf team. At his size, he certainly didn’t think he’d be spending any time on the football field. And the position Brandt was asked to fill was at that time an unfamiliar one to most Notre Dame fans.

The history of the leprechaun at Notre Dame is complicated. For years, the school’s mascots had been dogs, mostly Irish terriers with names like Tipperary Terrence and Clashmore Mike. In the early days of Notre Dame football, the leprechaun was not used as a mascot, but leprechaun imagery was used occasionally in football programs. In the late 1940s, an “Irishman” or the “Forgotten Irishman” appeared at pep rallies and participated in the band’s halftime shows.

The earliest documentation of a leprechaun joining the cheerleading squad was in 1960, when, according to an article in Scholastic, a student named Terry Crawford dressed as a leprechaun and would walk back and forth on the sideline with the team’s canine mascot. Brandt assumed the role a year later.

His major responsibility as the leprechaun was to look after the Irish terrier. At the time, the dog lived on the eastern edge of campus in the home of a Notre Dame Stadium groundskeeper. Brandt would go over once a week to make sure the dog was comfortable around him. “In a stadium of 60,000 people, the dog could get a little freaked out,” Brandt says. “But we became pretty good friends.” After each visit, he’d return to Breen-Phillips Hall with a pie made by the groundskeeper’s wife, boosting Brandt’s popularity with his dorm-mates.

In the first contest of the 1961 season, the Irish hosted the Oklahoma Sooners. It was Brandt’s first game as the leprechaun, and it led to perhaps the most memorable moment from his time wearing the green suit. At halftime, Brandt pleased the fans in the crowd by taking the Irish terrier for a walk around the field. The pair of mascots paused when they reached the Oklahoma bench. “The dog decided to lift his leg and he peed all over their oxygen equipment,” Brandt remembers. “Of course there were some Oklahoma fans in the stands watching all this, and they were not happy about it.”

Brandt served as the leprechaun for two seasons before stepping aside at the beginning of his junior year so that he could watch the games from the stands with his friends. In 1966, Notre Dame’s Student Senate voted to make the leprechaun an official mascot of the University. By the end of the decade, the Irish terriers were phased out, and the leprechaun has served as the only mascot ever since.

In the ensuing years, Brandt has watched from afar as the position has evolved significantly. “I’m in total awe of them,” Brandt says of his successors. “What they do, leading the pep rally. … You’ve got to have a public relations degree. It’s big time.”

Brandt, a stock broker who lives in South Florida, wouldn’t fit into his old leprechaun suit anymore. He grew 7 inches at the end of his college career and now stands 5-feet-6-inches. But one thing hasn’t changed in the 50 years since he graduated: Brandt’s passion for the University and its teams.

“If they’re on television, I’m watching it,” he says. “I’m watching women’s soccer. I’m watching women’s basketball. I’m watching men’s lacrosse.”

On September 5, Brandt will be watching when the Irish take on the Texas Longhorns in Notre Dame Stadium. A big smile will come across his face when he sees senior John Doran take the field. The two men have never met and were born five decades apart, but they have one thing in common.

Notre dame mascot history

By Marge Andre of the Irish Terrier Club of Chicago

Preface and Acknowledgments

This is my research into the history of the Irish Terrier mascots at Notre Dame and my conclusions may not be perfect, subject to continuing research, but the information contained here is more accurate than anything published to date. Stories and articles that have appeared in the Notre Dame Scholastics, Domes, football programs and football guides or reviews have sometimes been inadequately researched and therefore contain more fiction than fact. Sad to say the personal recollections of past Notre Dame administrators and sports personnel concerning Irish Terriers as mascots are often more fanciful than precise.

This truly is a love story. It is a story of a school’s love for “God’s little red dog of Ireland,” and a dog’s faithful, loyal and winning service to “Our Lady’s school.”

Thanks to David Sparks and Jethrow Kyles at the Hesburgh Library at Notre Dame. Their help in my research has enabled me to sort out the truth from much of the fiction.

Thanks to Donn Gregori whose artistic work graces the cover and the inside back page of this booklet.

Thanks to Dr. Bernard “Bud” McGivern. Bud was a cheerleader and handler of Clashmore Mike when at Notre Dame in the mid 1950’s. Bud is a member of the prestigious Westminster Kennel Club of New York City, and has enlisted their support in our reinstatement campaign.

Thanks to Tipperary Terrence I. You were the first and as such I have a very personal and special fondness for you. Go to St. Peter and tell him I said to give “St. Patrick’s Pal” a special bone treat.

Thanks to one and all! Now let’s read the greatest success story ever written about a college mascot—the Irish terriers of Notre Dame.

Classic portrait of Clashmore Mike II with his "game face" on.

Chapter One: WE ARE NUMBER ONE!

I guess it is only fitting and proper that Knute K. Rockne, the greatest of all college football coaches, should have selected an Irish Terrier dog as the mascot for the University of Notre Dame’s football teams. The “Rock” won 105 games while at Notre Dame and compiled an .881 winning percentage. That ranks Rockne number one amongst all college football coaches who ever coached according to the NCAA. In 11 of his 13 seasons coaching he suffered no more than one loss in any season. Six of his teams were selected as National Champions, and Rockne was inducted into the National Football Foundation Hall of Fame in the first year of its existence.

Rockne had an almost infallible ability to judge talent and make the right selection. His selection of a baseball player by the name of George Gipp to play football was one of his best. His selection of the Irish Terrier dog as Notre Dame’s mascot was probably his very best! Between 1924 when the first Irish Terrier came on campus, until the almost unnoticed removal of the mascot after the 1966 season, Notre Dame’s football teams won 12 National Championships. No other college mascot from the leprechaun to any other animal has been mascot to so many National Championship teams. Truly it can be demonstrated that Rockne and the Irish Terrier mascot were both NUMBER ONE at what they did. Not bad for a “pug ugly Swede” and “God’s little red dog of Ireland!”

Chapter Two: Why an Irish Terrier at ND?

The answer to why the “Rock” selected an Irish Terrier as mascot is open to more definitive research. Rockne had a house pet dog by the name of Noxie, and it was a German shepherd. Legend has it that Noxie knew or felt the loss of his master at the exact time Rockne’s plane crashed into a Kansas wheat field on March 31, 1931. Since Rockne did not leave us with an answer as to why he selected the Irish Terrier, let me try to answer that question.

The Irish Terrier dog and the University of Notre Dame share much in common. They both acquired their lofty status the hard way—they earned it! They both are instantaneously recognizable—one by its magnificent Golden Dome and the other by its classic sculpturesque profile. They both are honest, loyal and loving. They both instill in their supporters an almost fanatical devotion. The word charismatic is meaningless when applied to anything other than Notre Dame and the Irish Terriers. Finally, never doubt for one moment—both are Fighting Irish! The union of the University of Notre Dame and the Irish Terrier dog is as relevant today as it was in 1924 when Knute Rockne selected it as the Notre Dame mascot.

Listen to what Albert Payson Terhun said about the Irish Terrier:

St. Patrick’s Pal

“The Irish Terrier is perhaps the finest dog on earth. He does not throw away his priceless devotion and loyalty on every stranger who may chirp to him. But to the death he is the comrade and protector.

He is an Irish gentleman of the deathless old school; a fiery, true gentleman from the tips of his braced toes to the rough thatch of his crown. He is more; he has a heart three sizes too big for his shaggy body; a heart that is white and clean as a knight errant’s. He is no bully, but he will flinch not one hundredth of an inch from the fight that is forced on him, be the odds ever so impossible against him.”

There is no mascot for any college or university which is better suited or qualified to represent Notre Dame than is the Irish Terrier. For approximately 42 years the Irish Terrier was the mascot for Notre Dame football teams. During that time Notre Dame won 12 National Championships in football. The Irish Terrier is the “winning-est” mascot a college football team ever had, and it hasn’t been active in over 20 years.

Chapter Three: Irish Terrier, Four Horsemen, Seven Mules and Fame (1924)

The first Irish Terrier mascot was Tipperary Terrence and he was presented to Knute Rockne in January 1924. Unfortunately “Terry” died as a result of an automobile accident in spring of 1924. [Terry was struck by a car with Nebraska license plates, no less. –Ed.] He was replaced in October 1924 by Tipperary Terrence II who arrived just in time to go to the Army game in New York City on October 18, 1924. Notre Dame defeated a powerful Army team 13 to 7 on that day and writer Grantland Rice immortalized the Notre Dame backfield with the name “The Four Horsemen.”

After the Army game the Notre Dame football team went on to an undefeated season (10 wins and 0 losses), and the 1924 Collegiate Football National Championship. The 1924 football team is considered by most sports writers the most acclaimed team ever assembled. In addition to the Four Horsemen (the backfield) the team had the famous Seven Mules (the lineman).

The 1924 National Champions and '25 Rose Bowl victors. Layden is holding his pal Tipperary Terrence II, front row center.

After the completion of the regular football season Notre Dame agreed to play Stanford on January 1, 1925 in the ninth annual Rose Bowl contest in Pasadena, California. Before the game, the Notre Dame team posed for a team picture. There, front row center, is one of the Four Horsemen, Elmer Layden holding Tipperary Terrence II. Notre Dame beat Stanford 27 to 10 in that Rose Bowl. Now who do you think was the star of that game? Why of course, the holder of the Irish Terrier mascot—Elmer Layden. He scored three touchdowns on runs of 3 yards, 78 yards (interception return) and 70 yards (interception return). From that day forward Elmer Layden was one of Notre Dame’s biggest supporters of the Irish Terrier mascot.

Chapter Four: The Irish Terrier Legend Grows (1924-1930)

During Rockne’s last six years the ND football teams earned three more National Championships and the legend of the Irish Terrier mascot grew. Football programs began to picture the terrier mascot. On October 17, 1925 in Yankee Stadium the Army squad squared off against another Notre Dame team. In the program is the all time classic picture of Coach Rockne holding the Irish Terrier mascot.

An all-time classic picture of Knute Rockne with Tipperary Terrence II.

On October 30, 1926, Georgia Tech played at Notre Dame, and on page 26 of the program is the Notre Dame football team posed with its Irish Terrier mascot. The Southern California vs. Notre Dame program for the November 16, 1929 game at Soldiers’ Field in Chicago has a picture of the ND team with its Irish Terrier mascot in the first row.

On March 31, 1931, the “Rock” was killed in a plane crash in a farmer’s field in Kansas. The fate of Tipperary Terrence II for the time being is lost somewhere in annals of Notre Dame publications. Rockne wouldn’t go to his heavenly reward, however, and leave us without an Irish Terrier mascot. Sometime before the November 8, 1930 football game against the University of Pennsylvania the “Rock” accepted from Charles Otis and Thomas Bolton of Cleveland, Ohio a new mascot. This dog was named Brick Top Shuan Rhu. What a great start for Shuan Rhu. Notre Dame crushed one of the top Eastern schools, the University of Pennsylvania, by a score of 60 to 20. Notre Dame rolled up 557 yards in total offense to only 73 yards for Penn.

Chapter Five: Elmer Layden and Clashmore Mike (1931-1940)

Brick Top Shuan Rhu disappeared in the spring of 1933. In the fall of 1933 ND’s football team won only 3 while losing 5 and tying 1. Our Irish Terrier mascot knew when to leave. According to reports Shuan Rhu was a nice dog, but had some bad habits. He would often wander away for days at a time. A 1936 Scholastic article related how “his latest week-end extended from the spring of 1933 until now”, as if he might yet return. Shuan Rhu ‘s fatal flaw may have been his habit of sitting in the middle of a roadway. Apparently he escaped injury or death on many occasions because of a “driver’s quick action with the breaks.”

Starting with the 1934 season, Elmer Layden, one of the Four Horsemen, became the football coach at ND. Layden was a student was a friend of the terrier mascot. So it should be of no surprise to anyone that the Irish Terrier mascot rose to a level of prominence during his coaching tenure. His son Elmer Jr. remembers as a boy seeing the mascot running and playing in their backyard on Lincolnway East in South Bend. This was probably the Golden Age of the Irish Terrier mascot. Coach Layden is apparently the one who re-named the mascot Clashmore Mike.

The first known full time handler of the mascot was a gentleman by the name of Dan Hanley. Dan came to Notre Dame in 1927. He was born and raised in Houghton, Michigan which was also the home town of the legendary George Gipp.

Clashmore Mike with his handler Dan Hanley.

Dan and Clashmore Mike I were inseparable friends. Dan was a bachelor and he lived in a neat little room in the gym for which he was the caretaker. Clashmore Mike I was seldom away from his side. Back in the late 1930’s and early 1940’s it was a common sight to see the genial white-haired man walking across the campus with Clashmore Mike I scampering before him with the tinkling of a little bell around his neck informing everyone of their whereabouts.

These two legends of Notre Dame were truly close friends. When it came time for them to pass on they went out together inseparable to the end.

The December 7, 1945 edition of The Scholastic had this to say about Mike and his faithful companion Dan:

“Two familiar figures were absent from the Notre Dame football scene this year. One was scrappy little Clashmore Mike, the spunky Irish Terrier, who, as team mascot for the past decade, had captured the attention of football fans throughout the nation. On Monday September 7, less than two weeks before the 1945 grid season opened, Mike’s body was found on the campus by a caretaker and buried in the Notre Dame stadium where the mascot had begun his illustrious career.

The other notable missing from the Irish camp this year was Mr. Dan Hanley, Mike’s trainer, who after 17 years of service with the University, was confined to Healthwin, no doubt remembering his colorful days with Clashmore and looking forward to the time when he could again train a mascot to win fame with the Fighting Irish.”

Layden and the Notre Dame Athletic Department in the 30’s and 40’s obviously saw the positive public relations aspect of an Irish Terrier as a mascot. Clashmore Mike posed for pictures in newspapers, football programs, Domes and Scholastics. Clashmore Mike even had his own sports column in football programs. This was the era when photographers from the big city daily newspapers in New York, Chicago, Baltimore, Cleveland and Philadelphia showed up to get pictures of Clashmore Mike taking off after the Army mule or the Navy goat and chasing them off the playing field. From 1936 through 1949 every home football program at Notre Dame had some sort of picture, article, cartoon or drawing of the Notre Dame Irish Terrier mascot.

During the 1939 and 1940 season every home football program contained a column by Clashmore Mike entitled: “Says Clashmore Mike,” or “Over the Hurdle With Mike” or “Clashmore Mike Column.”

A Kamm's Brewery advertisement from 1941 featuring Clashmore Mike.

In addition in 1939, ’40 and ’41 Kamm’s Brewery ran advertisements in every football program with a drawing of an Irish Terrier. The ad read: “Thoroughbreds. A real thoroughbred dog is the Irish Terrier, the mascot of Notre Dame’s great football teams. A great thoroughbred beer is Kamm’s.”

In the November 7, 1936 program for the Navy vs. Notre Dame game in Baltimore there is a very attractive pencil sketch of the head of an Irish Terrier dog on those pages where there are pictures of Notre Dame players.

When Clashmore Mike I died he was afforded the singular honor of being buried under the turf of Notre Dame stadium. Legend has it that if you listen and watch very closely at home football games when the leprechaun mascot dances over Mike’s gave you can hear a low throaty growl, and the grass over the grave stands straight up. Next time look and listen for it and you decide whether the legend is authentic. All lovers of the Irish Terrier mascot at Notre Dame owe a deep and continuing debt to Elmer Layden. This was the Golden Age of the Irish Terrier mascot at Notre Dame. Thanks Elmer! I hope you, Dan Hanley and Clashmore Mike are now reunited above with the “Rock” and Tipperary Terrence I and II in heaven above.

Chapter Six: Frank Leahy and a Regular Member of the Team (1941-1953)

Frank Leahy, also known as “The Coach” or “The Man,” compiled a winning percentage of .864 in college football. That ranks “The Coach” as number two behind Rockne for winning percentage. Over his career from 1939 through 1953 he won 107 games while losing only 13 and tying 9 games. Leahy coached at Boston College in 1939 and 1940 before returning to his alma mater in 1941. While at Notre Dame Frank had six undefeated teams, five National Championships and an unbeaten string of 39 games, and the Irish Terrier mascot was there for all of it.

One of Leahy’s best players was John Lattner who was selected as an All American player in 1952 and 1953 and the winner of both the Heisman and Maxwell Trophies in 1953 as the outstanding college football player in America. Johnny is also one of the finest human beings God ever put upon this earth. Listen to what John told me about Clashmore Mike and Frank Leahy:

“That Irish Terrier mascot was the toughest and most active dog I ever saw. I remember one day at practice Clashmore Mike and I were both on the sidelines. I decided to go up to Mike, say “Hello,” and give him a pat on the head. I called his name before I reached for him. He set his jaw firmly, fixed his deep brown eyes in a menacing glare and the hair on the back of his neck stood tall. I don’t know what he would have done, if I had moved my hand to touch him, which I didn’t do. After that I gave Clashmore Mike a wide berth.

Coach Leahy had a great respect for the traditions of Notre Dame, and the Irish Terrier mascot was one of those traditions. “The Coach” however, wanted the Irish Terrier to take a more active part in the game. Leahy had the dog trained on a given command to run onto the field to delay the game and obtain another time out. Now you can imagine what the reaction of the officials was when they saw this ‘red bolt of lightning’ headed right at them only to veer off at the last minute and run to the football. Although Leahy had this plan set up, he never really used it in a game situation.”

Pencil sketch from 1936 Navy program featuring an Irish Terrier.

What was mascot Mike’s life like at Notre Dame? Well, through 1945 he lived in and around the old gym. Although he had an outdoor dog house (painted green) he was often in the fieldhouse with Dan Hanley. Apparently over the years Dan had problems with Clashmore Mike’s diet because students often fed him table scraps from the dining hall. In addition Mike had a sweet tooth and the students got into the custom of feeding him candy. Mike was not caged and more or less had the run of the campus. He at times failed to come back to the gym for his daily ration of dog food because the students fed him. Thus, Dan Hanley in a 1944 issue of The Scholastic pleaded with the students to not feed Clashmore Mike.

It appears Mike was a traveler and got to go to many of the road games. We know for sure he got to visit the cities of New York, Cleveland, Philadelphia, Chicago, Baltimore, Los Angeles, Minneapolis and Pittsburgh. A dog’s life it wasn’t.

Let us pause here for a moment and evaluate the success of the Irish Terrier as a mascot from Rockne who started the tradition onto Layden who first used the mascot for public relations purposes to Leahy who upgraded the mascot to “a regular member of the team.”

Knute Rockne, Elmer Layden and Frank Leahy won a total of 239 games, lost 36 and tied 17 for a percentage of .848.

From 1924 through 1953 there were 10 National Championships and the Irish Terrier mascot was a proud part of all of it. Knute, Elmer and Frank considered the Irish Terrier mascots as much a part of the traditions and legends of Notre Dame as George Gipp, the Golden Dome and the Victory March, and the Irish Terrier mascot rewarded that confidence by being around while ND was winning an astonishing 85% of its games. What a record!

Chapter Seven: Going–Going–Gone (1954 -1967)

Coach Frank Leahy was forced to resign after the 1953 football season because of poor health. Following Leahy was everyone’s All American Terry Brennan (1954 -1958) who compiled a .640 winning percentage while coach at Notre Dame. Terry was replaced by Joe Kuharich (1959-1962) who has the dubious distinction of being the only Notre Dame football coach to have a losing record (.425). After Joe, while Notre Dame tried to figure out what happened to their football program, Hugh Devore was named interim coach for one year. Hugh had served in that capacity once before in 1945 while Frank Leahy was away in military service.

I wish it could be said the Irish Terrier mascot was not around during some of these lean years, but the truth of the matter is the mascot suffered through this dark period along with all other Notre Dame fans. That is not to say, however, there were not some thrilling victories and excellent teams. Terry Brennan’s teams in 1954 and 1955 had 9-1-0 and 8-2-0 records respectively. His 1956 team was 2-8-0 and had suffered a 40 to 0 loss to Oklahoma at Notre Dame, ND’s worst defeat ever at home. In 1957 Oklahoma was a prohibitive favorite to win with the game being played at Owen Field, especially since the Sooners had a 47 game winning streak. That streak which is still the longest ever, was ended that day. Notre Dame won 7 to 0.

Tipperary Terrence II showed up during the 1924 season and the Notre Dame team won the Rose Bowl, Collegiate Football’s National Championship and Four Horsemen backfield. The coach was Knute Rockne—the winning-est ever. National Championships also followed in 1927 and 1929.

Next came Brick Top Shaun Rhu before the 1930 game against the University of Pennsylvania. That day they beat a strong Penn team 60 to 20. That was another National Championship. The 1931 Dome wrote about that game. “It was the most decisive trouncing that the Irish has handed out since the team stopped playing teachers’ colleges a number of years ago.” The 1929 and 1930 teams were “his best teams ever” according to Rockne.

Next comes Clashmore Mike I in 1935 and Notre Dame beats Ohio State in that fabled, unbelievable comeback. National Championships are achieved in 1938 and 1943.

Another Clashmore Mike or two were regular members of Coach Leahy’s teams of 1946, 1947, 1948 and 1949 when there was not one defeat suffered by Notre Dame football teams, and the Irish won three more National Championships.

Johnny Lattner led the 1953 team to a National Championship by dodging tacklers and Clashmore Mike alike. When Oklahoma’s streak of 49 unbeaten games (the longest ever) was chewed up in 1957 Clashmore Mike was the Irish mascot.

Coach Parseghian with Captain Jim Carroll and Clashmore Mike II.

In Ara’s first year of 1964 there was another National Championship. Finally, when Ara Parseghian’s 1966 team slaughtered the USC Trojans 51 to 0, and were acclaimed the “best ever,” Mascot Mike was the Irish’s lucky charm. This was another National Championship team.

That was the end of the line for college football’s “winningest” mascot with 12 National Championships earned while the Irish Terrier dog was at Notre Dame. He was to be replaced by a registered trademark on paper of a leprechaun in a fighter’s pose. Who in their right mind would make the mistake of trashing our beloved Irish Terrier mascot?

The Origin of “The Fighting Irish” Nickname

This exchange in a novel about college sports in the 1920s catches the prejudices that many Americans of the time held toward citizens of Irish-Catholic descent. However, unlike other immigrant groups who tried to submerge their ethnicity into the American melting pot and considered such terms as “Polack” and “Bohunk” insults, Irish Catholics gloried in many of their nicknames, particularly the one given to the Notre Dame football team: the “Fighting Irish.”

Like other traditions at the school, the origins of the Notre Dame nickname are both obvious and obscure. As previously noted, the many Irish boxers and champions in the popular nineteenth-century sport of prizefighting, coupled with N.D.’s preponderance of students, faculty, and administrators of Irish-Catholic descent, is the most probable source. But the first use of the term is not definite.

One history of Notre Dame football quotes an old alumnus remembering the Northwestern students yelling “Kill those Fighting Irish” during the 1889 game. Other histories claim that halfback Pete Vaughan, during halftime of the 1909 struggle with Michigan, looked around at his mainly Irish-American teammates and spit out, “What’s the matter with you guys. You’re all Irish and you’re not fighting!” Both tales, however, depend on the memory of the teller and, if accepted, reflect glory on that person.

More authentic than these questionable anecdotes are the early uses of the term in the press: the 1904 Scholastic mentions that in the loss at Wisconsin, “the plucky fight of our boys won the applause of the crowd, who rooted for the ‘game Irishmen’ all during [the contest]”; in its coverage of the 1909 victory over Michigan, the Detroit Free Press reported: “Eleven fighting Irishmen wrecked the Yost machine this afternoon. These sons of Erin individually and collectively representing the University of Notre Dame …”; and by 1914, The Dome lauded the “traditional Irish fight of the Notre Dame” players and students.

During the first decades of N.D. football history, however, the midwestern press usually called the team the “Catholics,” or, if strongly anti-Notre Dame, “Papists,” “Horrible Hibernians,” “Dumb Micks,” and “Dirty Irish” — fans of opposing squads often yelled the last two insults. N.D. student publications carefully avoided these terms and usually referred to their players as the “Gold and Blue,” the “Notre Damers,” “Warriors,” and occasionally, the “Irish.”

From 1913 on, because of the team’s annual trips east and its other travels, Chicago journalists began tagging them the “Ramblers” and the “Nomads.” The New York newspapers, however, preferred “Hoosiers,” and in the early 1920s, the New York Daily News tried “Hoosier Harps” (considering its Irish working-class readership, no insult was intended).

Like everyone living in Indiana, Rockne was frequently asked about the origin of the word Hoosier. He usually replied with an anecdote that also illustrated the toughness of Notre Dame football: “After every game the [N.D.] coach goes over the field, picks up what he finds, and asks his team, ‘Whose ear is this?’ Hence Hoosier.”

For many years, Notre Dame administrators disapproved of the “Catholic” and “Irish” nicknames. President Burns wrote that the terms are discountenanced by the authorities of the University “but because often their usage is in a playful spirit, no offense being intended, this makes it the harder to deal with the matter effectively.” Even on his own campus, students increasingly used the “Fighting Irish” nickname; in the 1919 Scholastic, an alum’s letter complaining that the “sobriquet” was foolish because so many of Notre Dame’s players were not of Irish descent sparked an intense defense of the term. Student letter writers attacked the grad on two main points: over half of the varsity letter winners and team captains during “the last thirty years [were] men whose names strongly indicate Gaelic stock”; and “you don’t have to be from Ireland to be Irish.” The latter argument carried the day, and the disgruntled alum was advised to “cultivate some of that fighting Irish spirit and … [stop] grumbling because Notre Dame is not called the Polish Falcon or the Spanish Omelette.”

During the same month as this controversy, the future president of the Irish Republic, Eamon de Valera, visited the school and was hailed by the administrators and students. President Burns announced that Notre Dame was proud to be “the first university in the country to establish a branch of the Friends of Irish Freedom.” De Valera’s visit applied momentum to the “Fighting Irish” nickname, and the Scholastic began employing it in game accounts; after the victory over Army, the student reporter wrote that the “game unmistakably rebranded the Notre Dame warriors as ‘The Fighting Irish.'”

In 1920, Rockne hired the first of his student press agents, Arch Ward (later the longtime sports editor of the Chicago Tribune), and Ward, taking his cue from his fellow students, used “Fighting Irish” in his dispatches to the South Bend Tribune and other newspapers. However, it was Ward’s successor in the student press job, Francis Wallace, who played the key role in popularizing the nickname.

‘O’Reilly, why doesn’t Notre Dame have a mascot?’ ‘
Just never got around to it…’ ‘
Well — Yale has a bulldog, Princeton a tiger, we [USC] have a horse — why don’t you try a pig? I should think Paddy’s Pig would be a good symbol for the Irish. Then there’s the old rhyme:
They kept the pig in the parlor, And that was Irish too.’

Francis Wallace, O’Reilly of Notre Dame, 1931.

During his years with Rockne, Wallace continued using “Fighting Irish” or variations on it. After graduating in 1923, he became a sportswriter in New York and noticed that some papers in that city had started calling the team “Rockne’s Ramblers,” “Rockne’s Rovers,” the “Rambling Irish,” and the “Wandering Irish.” For Wallace and the N.D. authorities, these terms were pejorative, implying that the Catholic school was a “football factory” and that its players were always on the road, never in class. The Notre Dame administrators detested these nicknames and wanted to discourage them.

Wallace tried to create an acceptable alternative — nonethnic and nonnomadic and came up with the “Blue Comets,” based on the team’s blue uniforms and quick offense. He soon saw that this name, “like most synthetic [traditions], didn’t catch on,” and he decided in 1925, while working on the New York Post, to refer to the team as the “Fighting Irish.”

Other New York reporters picked up on this but tended to use only “Irish”; for example, in the Army victory over N.D. in 1926, the Kaydet runners came “crashing into the ‘Irish’ vanguard or slanting off the ‘Irish’ tackles” (New York World).

In 1927, Wallace moved to the mass circulation New York Daily News and disseminated “Fighting Irish” to a huge audience. The wire services then began employing the term and, that same year, when the editor of the World wrote to the Golden Dome about the official Notre Dame position on the nickname, President Walsh decided to put the school’s imprimatur on “Fighting Irish.”

Walsh acted mainly to short-circuit the increasing popularity of “Ramblers,” “Nomads,” and their variants (in fact, it took many years for these nicknames, as well as “Catholics” and “Hoosiers,” to disappear). His 1927 reply to Herbert Bayard Swope, the influential editor of the New York World, permanently set Notre Dame’s policy:

“The University authorities are in no way averse to the name ‘Fighting Irish’ as applied to our athletic teams…. It seems to embody the kind of spirit that we like to see carried into effect by the various organizations that represent us on the athletic field. I sincerely hope that we may always be worthy of the ideals embodied in the term ‘Fighting Irish.'”

N.D. players of non-Irish descent also approved of the nickname. For Harry Stuhldreher, of German ancestry, it represented the team’s “fighting, competitive spirit,” and he liked to quote Rockne’s retort to reporters who listed all the non-Irish players on the roster — “They’re all Irish to me. They have the Irish spirit and that’s all that counts.” (Of Rockne’s approximately 340 varsity monogram winners, almost half had Irish family names.)

In the early 1920s, the students’ fondness for the nickname also led to Notre Dame’s first mascot — an Irish terrier called Tipperary Terence. In 1923, the Toledo alumni club gave the dog to N.D. and encouraged the cheerleaders to parade him at home games. Other Irish terriers succeeded Terence, and the one in 1933, named Clashmore Mike, learned various performing tricks. This dog and his successors of the same name patrolled the N.D. sideline for many years, eventually being retired as the school’s mascot in 1966. A small yelping dog — no matter what its connection to Ireland — seemed inappropriate as the Notre Dame mascot, and again, a too conscious attempt at establishing a tradition failed.

In the modern era, with Notre Dame fully in the mainstream of American higher education and its faculty, students, and alumni totally integrated into American life, the Catholic school’s affection for its Irish heritage has increased, possibly in reaction to the loss of its ethnic connections in other areas. Instead of the Irish terrier, the school mascot is the “Leprechaun.”

The N.D. version of the Irish folklore character is a five-foot-tall, red headed-and-bearded student dressed in a cutaway green suit and Irish country hat (he is chosen annually at student tryouts). The Leprechaun, brandishing a shillelagh, aggressively leads cheers, interacts with the N.D. fans, and is supposed to bring magical powers and good luck to the teams. Although there is an artificial quality to his appearance and frenzy, most N.D. rooters seem to accept him, and he will probably remain as the school’s mascot for the foreseeable future.

A second connection to Notre Dame’s heritage is the dropping of the final letter of the gerund in the team’s nickname. To render its pronunciation closer to nineteenth century Irish-American speech, “Fightin” is now the official spelling.

An alternative nickname, one popular during the Leahy and Parseghian eras, was the “University of Notre Game.” Like the many terms for N.D. teams during Rockne’s time, it has disappeared, but a few old nicknames continue or have come back with a different meaning or form. At the turn of the century, the Scholastic sometimes called the football team the “Domers.” This dropped out of use for many years but then returned as an insiders’ nickname — contemporary N.D. students and alumni call themselves “Domers.” Another old Notre Dame term, the “Gold and Blue,” has been reversed to the current “Blue and Gold.” Only the popular abbreviation “N.D.” continues intact from its beginning in the nineteenth century, a tradition so old, simple and effective that its future is secure.

In the evolution of the University of Notre Dame from a “poor boys’ school” to its present “upscale and affluent” state, Fighting Irish football played a crucial part. The first seventy-five years of the school’s existence — 1842 to 1917 — laid the foundation for the institution, but when Knute Rockne took over the athletic department in 1918, Notre Dame was still poor and, because of World War I, the young coach had to build his football program from the ground up.

Editor’s Note: From Shake Down the Thunder: The Creation of Notre Dame Football by Murray Sperber. Published by Henry Holt and Co. New York. This story was originally published in Irish America’s March / April 1994 issue.

Another magic word is "because." This word appeals to our natural curiosity and desire to understand the underlying reasons behind actions or requests. Berger highlights that providing even a simple explanation using the word "because" can exponentially increase compliance and convince others to take desired actions.

Additionally, Berger emphasizes the power of using specific and concrete language rather than general or abstract terms. Specific details and vivid descriptions can make messages more memorable and persuasive. As humans, we tend to connect better with tangible examples and images, which enhance the effectiveness of communication. Furthermore, Berger suggests that highlighting the scarcity or limited availability of something can create a sense of urgency and drive action. Phrases like "limited time offer" or "while supplies last" tap into our fear of missing out and can increase the perceived value of what is being communicated. Finally, Berger asserts the effectiveness of the word "free." People are naturally drawn to free offers or benefits, creating a sense of goodwill and reciprocity. Even when there might be hidden costs or conditions, the allure of something being free can generate interest and positively influence behaviors. In conclusion, Jonah Berger's concept of "magic words" provides valuable insights into how language can be used to influence others effectively. By understanding and incorporating techniques such as addressing the individual, providing explanations, using specific language, emphasizing scarcity, and leveraging the notion of "free," communicators can greatly enhance their persuasiveness and engagement with the intended audience..

Reviews for "The Language of Success: Jonah Bergwer's Magic Words"

1. Emily - 1 star

I was extremely disappointed with "Jonah Bergwr Magic Words". The writing was amateurish and lacked any originality. The characters were one-dimensional and unrelatable. The plot was predictable and had no depth. Overall, it felt like a complete waste of time and money. I would not recommend this book to anyone.

2. Mike - 2 stars

I had high expectations for "Jonah Bergwr Magic Words" based on the hype surrounding it, but it fell flat for me. The pacing was inconsistent, with some parts dragging on while others seemed rushed. The dialogue was unrealistic and forced, making it difficult to connect with the characters. The magic system was poorly explained and left many unanswered questions. I was left feeling unsatisfied and underwhelmed by the end.

3. Sarah - 2 stars

"Jonah Bergwr Magic Words" was marketed as a thrilling and captivating fantasy novel, but it failed to deliver. The world-building was lackluster, and the descriptions were vague and uninteresting. The protagonist lacked depth and went through minimal character development. The plot was predictable, and the twists were easily anticipated. The writing style felt juvenile and lacked the sophistication I was expecting. Overall, it was a forgettable and uninspiring read.

4. Mark - 1 star

I can't believe "Jonah Bergwr Magic Words" received such positive reviews. The writing was choppy and full of cliches. The dialogue felt unnatural and awkward. The storyline was unoriginal and reminded me of countless other fantasy novels I've read. The characters were forgettable and lacked any redeeming qualities. I couldn't wait to finish the book, and I have no intention of picking up anything else by this author.

5. Jessica - 2 stars

"Jonah Bergwr Magic Words" had so much potential, but it ultimately fell short. The pacing was uneven, with long stretches of boredom followed by rushed action scenes. The world-building was undeveloped, leaving me feeling disconnected from the story. The characters were shallow and lacked development. The romantic subplot felt forced and lacked chemistry. Overall, it was a mediocre read that failed to live up to its promises.

Jonah Bergwer's Magic Words for Motivation and Inspiration