mesaSteeler
08-30-2009, 11:38 AM
The 'Terrible Towel' that changes lives
In 1975, Myron Cope introduced the towel that united the Steeler Nation and now supports care at Allegheny Valley School
Sunday, August 30, 2009
By Robert Dvorchak, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Chris Hondros/Getty Images
A member of the Pennsylvania National Guard sits on a Humvee draped with a Terrible Towel in January 2005 in Camp Habbaniyah, Iraq.
When some Tennessee Titans gleefully trampled yellow terry cloth last season -- scenes of which are being hyped by NBC to promote the Sept. 10 rematch at Heinz Field -- their coach said they were unaware of the story behind the Terrible Towel.
"They don't understand the significance or meaning of the Towel itself to the organization, the Steelers history or the Steelers fans," coach Jeff Fisher said at the time, adding that the episode "isn't a big deal to me."
Yes, the Terrible Towel is the battle flag of a city and its football team, and every quadrant of the Steeler Universe is about to throttle up to a setting of Full Towel when the NFL season kicks off.
But since 1996, at the behest of the late Myron Cope, royalties from the sale of hundreds of thousands of Towels have raised $3 million for a school that serves some of society's most vulnerable individuals -- those with severe intellectual and developmental needs who are unable to care for themselves.
"Myron's generosity has been a godsend, and that's no exaggeration," said Regis Champ, president and CEO of Allegheny Valley School. "Every time we sell a Towel, his legacy grows as our special benefactor, and our residents benefit."
The charitable contributions are earmarked for high-end wheelchairs, computer technology that gives voice to those who cannot speak, a mechanized lift in the swimming pool or something as mundane as fixing a leaky roof.
Outsiders may not be the only ones unaware of the story, however, and the powerful threads that connect two of the most colorful figures in the city's sports history.
In a hallway at the school's corporate center in Coraopolis, two displays hang side by side. One has a portrait of Myron Cope -- who had a Hall of Fame career as the color announcer on Steelers broadcasts -- and The Towel. The other depicts the late Bob Prince and his own icon, the Green Weenie, which benefited the school from its earliest days. And it was The Gunner -- as he was known during his Hall of Fame career when he was the voice of the Pirates -- who helped enroll Myron's son Danny into the school.
"Bob Prince raised a lot of money for Allegheny Valley School. It was his favorite charity. Our gymnasium and pool complex is named after him," said Mr. Champ. "This is a story of how Pittsburgh takes care of its own, which makes it the place that it is."
A legacy of voices
Allegheny Valley School was born in 1960 because an orphanage closed. When adoptive families could not be found for 10 children from the Pittsburgh Home for Babies, philanthropist Patricia Hillman Miller established the school.
"Bob Prince was a close friend of hers, and he was a founding member of the board of directors. Whatever money he made from the Green Weenie, he donated to the school," Mr. Champ said in a recent tour.
Baseball fans of a certain age will recall that the Green Weenie, like the Terrible Towel, had special powers, or so its inventor claimed. At crucial moments in a game during 1966, The Gunner would exhort fans to help the Pirates by shaking a green plastic hot dog at opponents. Honest. (Damn this takes me back a long way. I'd forgotten about the Green Weenie. - mesa)
The Terrible Towel, meanwhile, became part of the local sports scene in a 1975 playoff game. The blend of color and motion had special powers to lift the Steelers at crucial moments, or so its creator maintained.
Then fate brought the two icons together. In 1982, Mr. Prince heard through the grapevine that Mr. Cope was looking for a new school for his son, who had been living in Philadelphia. Diagnosed with severe mental retardation when he was an infant, the boy required 24-hour care.
There was some friction between the two ego-driven announcers. But when The Gunner pitched Allegheny Valley School as the place for Danny Cope, a friendship blossomed.
"After the ice was broken between them, they became fast friends," Mr. Champ said. "Suddenly, they were supporting each other by raising funds for AVS."
Life works in astonishing ways. Danny Cope, now 41, has never spoken a word in his life. The two best known benefactors of his school were known for their distinctive voices.
Quality of life
Early on, the Cope family came to grips with the heartbreaking reality that the demands of taking care of Danny were too much for them. His father placed him in a home, and it was thought that he would never have a productive life.
"He's pretty much in a world of his own," said Elizabeth Cope, 38, Danny's younger sister who has served as his legal guardian since she was 15. "He has many limitations, but the love isn't limited.
"You can get to know him. He laughs. He cries. And even if he's never spoken a word, he makes his feelings be known," she added. "He definitely has his own personality. He's his own person -- as much as my dad was almost. I know he feels loved."
She's working to get her brother a computerized device that will allow him to speak. Meanwhile, in the years that he has been at Allegheny Valley School, Danny developed skills that enable him to hold down a job, earning a small paycheck for sorting things like parts for electrical switches. He and three roommates live in a supervised home. He goes to some social events, but it would be a stretch to say that he understands what football is.
"Things changed dramatically for Danny. He's leading a quality life," Mr. Champ said. "Myron could not get over Danny's growth. His mind was at ease when he died."
When Mr. Cope passed away in 2008, his daughter draped his coffin with a quilt made from Terrible Towels that were sewn together by a fan. She chose the quilt because it represents the many different people who touched their lives.
"There aren't many things in life that bring people together, but the Steelers are one of those things," Ms. Cope said.
But she wrestles with mixed feelings because twirling towels remind her of the father she lost. Her mother, Mildred, died in 1994.
"There's a mixture of pain and pride," she said. "I miss my dad more than anyone will ever know. I miss hearing his voice at games. He was way more than a towel. But I know [the towel] helps the school, and I'm grateful for everything they've done. I wouldn't be able to take care of my brother myself. He's the only family I have left."
:
In 1975, Myron Cope introduced the towel that united the Steeler Nation and now supports care at Allegheny Valley School
Sunday, August 30, 2009
By Robert Dvorchak, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Chris Hondros/Getty Images
A member of the Pennsylvania National Guard sits on a Humvee draped with a Terrible Towel in January 2005 in Camp Habbaniyah, Iraq.
When some Tennessee Titans gleefully trampled yellow terry cloth last season -- scenes of which are being hyped by NBC to promote the Sept. 10 rematch at Heinz Field -- their coach said they were unaware of the story behind the Terrible Towel.
"They don't understand the significance or meaning of the Towel itself to the organization, the Steelers history or the Steelers fans," coach Jeff Fisher said at the time, adding that the episode "isn't a big deal to me."
Yes, the Terrible Towel is the battle flag of a city and its football team, and every quadrant of the Steeler Universe is about to throttle up to a setting of Full Towel when the NFL season kicks off.
But since 1996, at the behest of the late Myron Cope, royalties from the sale of hundreds of thousands of Towels have raised $3 million for a school that serves some of society's most vulnerable individuals -- those with severe intellectual and developmental needs who are unable to care for themselves.
"Myron's generosity has been a godsend, and that's no exaggeration," said Regis Champ, president and CEO of Allegheny Valley School. "Every time we sell a Towel, his legacy grows as our special benefactor, and our residents benefit."
The charitable contributions are earmarked for high-end wheelchairs, computer technology that gives voice to those who cannot speak, a mechanized lift in the swimming pool or something as mundane as fixing a leaky roof.
Outsiders may not be the only ones unaware of the story, however, and the powerful threads that connect two of the most colorful figures in the city's sports history.
In a hallway at the school's corporate center in Coraopolis, two displays hang side by side. One has a portrait of Myron Cope -- who had a Hall of Fame career as the color announcer on Steelers broadcasts -- and The Towel. The other depicts the late Bob Prince and his own icon, the Green Weenie, which benefited the school from its earliest days. And it was The Gunner -- as he was known during his Hall of Fame career when he was the voice of the Pirates -- who helped enroll Myron's son Danny into the school.
"Bob Prince raised a lot of money for Allegheny Valley School. It was his favorite charity. Our gymnasium and pool complex is named after him," said Mr. Champ. "This is a story of how Pittsburgh takes care of its own, which makes it the place that it is."
A legacy of voices
Allegheny Valley School was born in 1960 because an orphanage closed. When adoptive families could not be found for 10 children from the Pittsburgh Home for Babies, philanthropist Patricia Hillman Miller established the school.
"Bob Prince was a close friend of hers, and he was a founding member of the board of directors. Whatever money he made from the Green Weenie, he donated to the school," Mr. Champ said in a recent tour.
Baseball fans of a certain age will recall that the Green Weenie, like the Terrible Towel, had special powers, or so its inventor claimed. At crucial moments in a game during 1966, The Gunner would exhort fans to help the Pirates by shaking a green plastic hot dog at opponents. Honest. (Damn this takes me back a long way. I'd forgotten about the Green Weenie. - mesa)
The Terrible Towel, meanwhile, became part of the local sports scene in a 1975 playoff game. The blend of color and motion had special powers to lift the Steelers at crucial moments, or so its creator maintained.
Then fate brought the two icons together. In 1982, Mr. Prince heard through the grapevine that Mr. Cope was looking for a new school for his son, who had been living in Philadelphia. Diagnosed with severe mental retardation when he was an infant, the boy required 24-hour care.
There was some friction between the two ego-driven announcers. But when The Gunner pitched Allegheny Valley School as the place for Danny Cope, a friendship blossomed.
"After the ice was broken between them, they became fast friends," Mr. Champ said. "Suddenly, they were supporting each other by raising funds for AVS."
Life works in astonishing ways. Danny Cope, now 41, has never spoken a word in his life. The two best known benefactors of his school were known for their distinctive voices.
Quality of life
Early on, the Cope family came to grips with the heartbreaking reality that the demands of taking care of Danny were too much for them. His father placed him in a home, and it was thought that he would never have a productive life.
"He's pretty much in a world of his own," said Elizabeth Cope, 38, Danny's younger sister who has served as his legal guardian since she was 15. "He has many limitations, but the love isn't limited.
"You can get to know him. He laughs. He cries. And even if he's never spoken a word, he makes his feelings be known," she added. "He definitely has his own personality. He's his own person -- as much as my dad was almost. I know he feels loved."
She's working to get her brother a computerized device that will allow him to speak. Meanwhile, in the years that he has been at Allegheny Valley School, Danny developed skills that enable him to hold down a job, earning a small paycheck for sorting things like parts for electrical switches. He and three roommates live in a supervised home. He goes to some social events, but it would be a stretch to say that he understands what football is.
"Things changed dramatically for Danny. He's leading a quality life," Mr. Champ said. "Myron could not get over Danny's growth. His mind was at ease when he died."
When Mr. Cope passed away in 2008, his daughter draped his coffin with a quilt made from Terrible Towels that were sewn together by a fan. She chose the quilt because it represents the many different people who touched their lives.
"There aren't many things in life that bring people together, but the Steelers are one of those things," Ms. Cope said.
But she wrestles with mixed feelings because twirling towels remind her of the father she lost. Her mother, Mildred, died in 1994.
"There's a mixture of pain and pride," she said. "I miss my dad more than anyone will ever know. I miss hearing his voice at games. He was way more than a towel. But I know [the towel] helps the school, and I'm grateful for everything they've done. I wouldn't be able to take care of my brother myself. He's the only family I have left."
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