mesaSteeler
05-17-2010, 10:44 PM
'Franco, Mr. Rooney And Me: A True Tale Of The Immaculate Reception
http://www.behindthesteelcurtain.com/
by Michael Bean (Blitz) on May 17, 2010 10:07 PM EDT Comment 6 comments
(see link for pictures - mesa)
A true treat to conclude our series of posts highlighting some of the contents of the preseason publication I did last year for MSP. We wrap things up with an amazing story from Mike Silverstein, a native Pittsburgher with all sorts of fascinating stories to share about his personal and professional life. Some of you may have read in the Post Gazette the tribute he wrote to his brother Lewis following his sad passing last summer. It was a touching piece that shes light on the type of caring person Mike is. You're probably also familiar with one of his cousin's, a Silverstein by the name of Shel who instilled life lessons in countless numbers of kids with his poetry. For us regulars at BTSC, you may simply know Silverstein as the quick witted and wise Homer J.
Silverstein is a life long veteran of the TV and radio industries - first in his native Pittsburgh, for a brief while in Cleveland, and for the past 30+ years, Washington D.C. Truly an honor to have him hanging out around the site and to have included him in the publication last year. I'm also pleased he'll be writing about Myron Cope in this year's edition. I hope this makes you look forward to reading what he has in store for us all next.
Thanks to all of you who purchased a copy last year. I hope this series of posts hasn't discouraged you from doing so again this year - I struggled with the decision to share these for those of you who were so kind as to check it out last summer. Though I'll probably share a thing or two again next year, I'm hoping that the decision to do so this year doesn't prompt you to hold off until this time in 2011, but instead convinces you to pick up a copy when it's available later this summer.
Enjoy and pass along to your friends in the Nation. This one's a gem.
-Michael Bean
****************
'Frano, Mr. Rooney And Me: A True Tale Of The Immaculate Reception'
by Mike Silverstein
This story begins in the summer of 1972, in the green hills of Westmoreland County. Not at the Steelers training camp in Latrobe, but down the road in Ligonier, at the exclusive Laurel Valley Country Club.
I was a 24-year old kid working my first real radio job as summer relief fill-in at WJAS Radio, an NBC owned and operated station in Pittsburgh that featured a news and talk format. I was a 24-year old kid working my first real radio job as summer relief fill-in at WJAS Radio, an NBC owned and operated station in Pittsburgh that featured a news and talk format.
Laurel Valley was hosting a PGA event, and had bought time on our station. We were not only running commercials, we were also covering the devil out of the event and promoting it any way we could.
It was the long-forgotten PGA National Team Championship, an event in which golfers competed in teams of two. Of course, the event was held in Arnold Palmer's backyard of western Pennsylvania, and Arnie was teamed with Jack Nicklaus. Skeptics - and there were many - called it The Arnie and Jack Open, and said it was simply a way to guarantee Arnie another victory in front of the hometown folks. After all, Arnie and Jack had won three of the last four years the event had been played.
Two things happened on the tournament's first day: one, Jack's aching back acted up and he had to cancel, leaving Palmer scrambling to find a partner. He ended up picking a young fellow from Wake Forest, his alma mater, who was a fine lad but not the caliber of partner The Golden Bear would have been. And two, there was a call in the press tent for someone to provide on-air updates for ABC Radio Sports.
One of my bosses, also hanging around the press tent, suggested I step up and offer to help. I was just a part-timer and WJAS was in the middle of being sold to new owners. Even though it meant helping out a competing network, I might as well take advantage of any opportunities that come my way, he advised.
I told the tournament's media relations director that I'd be willing to do updates for ABC, and he put me on the phone with John Chanin at ABC Radio Sports in New York. Chanin told me I'd be on the ‘World of Sports' show with Lou Boda, which ran six minutes past the hour. I'd simply have to do 25 second reports, consisting of a quick preview of the leader board, and I'd get paid $25 bucks a pop. And $25 bucks for any usable tape of the winner, the runner-up, or whatever. Easy money.
The tournament was less than a rousing success. Palmer and his partner Jack Lewis finished far back from the winners, the immortal team of Kermit Zarley and Babe Hiskey. Crowds were disappointing and the event was scrubbed from the PGA calendar, never to be played again. But the folks at ABC were apparently satisfied with my work and they asked me if I would be available to cover the Pirates and maybe even the Steelers on occasion. I eagerly accepted their offer.
The Steelers began the 1972 season with the smart money considering them the ‘same old Steelers.' They had gone 6-8 the year before, and 5-9 the year before that. This was a franchise with a solid tradition of losing.
The season began with a home opener at Three Rivers against the Oakland Raiders. My producer, John Chanin, was a big Raiders fan. He asked me to cover the game.
Chanin was a former high school offensive lineman who was slightly overweight, wore rumpled short sleeved white shirts, with the shirttails often hanging out from his pants. He had a crew cut when everyone else was sporting big hair and polyester clothes. He looked and acted like Lou Grant. He was a proud graduate of Passaic High School in New Jersey, where he had played alongside his lifelong friend, Raiders defensive coach Ray Malavsi. Both were big fans of another Passaic grad, Oakland defensive back Jack Tatum.
The Steelers got out to a big lead in the season opener, leading 27-7 after three quarters. But mad bomber Daryle Lamonica came off the Oakland bench to lead a furious fourth quarter comeback before the Steelers eventually held on for the victory, 34-28. I didn't do any live reports during the game, but I did manage to get some taped interviews afterwards. It was my first time in an NFL press box. There were free hot dogs, soda and beer in the press lounge at halftime. I could get used to this pretty easily, I thought to myself.
The next three games of the 1972 season were away from Three Rivers Stadium before the Steelers returned home for an October 15th contest against the Houston Oilers. Once again, Chanin asked me to get some post-game interviews. During the game, Pittsburgh's starting running back Preston Pearson was injured and replaced by a still untested, first round draft choice named Franco Harris. Franco rose to the occasion, carrying the ball 19 times for 115 yards. The Steelers steamrolled the Oilers, 24-7.
By this time, I was no longer working as a summer vacation replacement at WJAS. I had, in fact, been given a three hour evening talk show on the network to compliment my game day duties for ABC. It was a big promotion, though only temporary, while everyone nervously waited for the sale of the station to be completed. At the same time, I was also preparing to move out of my parents' home and into my own apartment. Franco Harris, remarkably, was living in a second floor walkup apartment on Graham Street, in Pittsburgh's Garfield or Friendship neighborhood. It was maybe two blocks out of my drive to work. I had heard he was taking the 71 Negley Bus to practice because he did not own a car. After the Oilers game, I asked him what time he usually left for practice. Turned out that on either Mondays or Tuesdays, we went in at the same time. He gave me his phone number and over the course of the next few months, I picked him up and gave him a ride into town on several occasions.
Two more wins against New England and Buffalo had set up a midseason showdown against Kenny Anderson and the Cincinnati Bengals. Both teams were 5-2, meaning this one was for the division lead. On Monday of that week, I got a call from Chanin:
"Mike," he said, "We're gonna have a phone installed in the press box for you, and you'll do live hourly updates - starting with a set-up at 12:06. We'll use you every hour, for our featured game of the day."
The Steelers crushed the Bengals, 40-17, in a game that confirmed to the world that these were not the same old Steelers.
For the remainder of the season, there was a phone in the press box for me, and ABC Radio ‘World of Sports' was covering the Steelers every week.
At about that point in the season, somebody in the Steelers ‘family' put Franco in contact with a Chrysler or Dodge dealer. They hooked the rookie up with a car. That meant I did not drive him into town any more, but since I had his phone number, I called him on occasion to be on my Sunday night show - which began at 11:05 PM. He would graciously talk on the air for a few minutes about each week's game. One Sunday, obviously aching, Franco said, "Mike, you know, I'm really tired."
It was at that moment that I realized that Franco Harris, the most recognized and celebrated young athlete in Pittsburgh, had better things to do than talk on the radio at 11:05 on a Sunday night. I never called again, realizing that what he needed and wanted most at that hour was sleep.
The Steelers finished the regular season 11-3 and were set for a rematch of their early season shootout against the Oakland Raiders. The game would be at Three Rivers Stadium, and Steelers media relations director Joe Gordon informed me that because of the overflow of national media descending on Pittsburgh, I would be working out of the baseball press box. I had no idea of it at the time, but Gordon had just done me an enormous favor.
December 23, 1972 was an unseasonably warm day in Pittsburgh. I arrived to the stadium early to find my seat in the press box. The football press box was on the 50-yard line, but the one for baseball where I would be working from was closer to the end zone. It was also right next to the elevator. (Hold that thought). In the second row was a seat with my name on the ledge in front of it. There was a game program, a few pages of statistics and other information for each team, as well as a large cardboard roster and depth chart. There was also a telephone installed at my seat.
I unscrewed the mouthpiece and attached a small device with two alligator clips to the prongs inside the phone. Then I took the mini-plug from the device and plugged it into my Sony tape recorder. I pushed play and was pleased to hear clearly through the receiver a recent interview I had conducted. The phone not only worked, but I could even play the tape through the phone.. No problem. I was good to go.
As the stadium filled, you could see the beginnings of what would become Steeler Nation. Gerala's Gorillas were in the end zone. Jack Ham's ‘Dobre Shunka' banner was hanging from the second deck. And the red, green, and white banners of Franco's Italian Army were everywhere.
Franco Harris, the rookie who had gained just 28 yards coming off the bench in the season opener against Oakland, was the talk of the football world. Al Vento, who owned a pizza shop in East Liberty next to Peabody High School, and Tony Stagno, who ran a bakery out past Larimer Avenue, had started the Army with a sign, a helmet, and a flag. The idea caught fire. Myron Cope even flew Al and Tony out to Palm Springs to meet with Frank Sinatra to formally induct The Chairman of the Board as Commanding General of the Army.
At about 11:45 a.m. I called New York to check in. John Chanin told me had had talked to his friend Ray Malavsi. Malavsi told him this would be no repeat of the early season shootout, and the Raiders were more than capable of stopping the Steelers this time. I didn't want to debate my boss, so I simply said I was ready to go and awaiting orders. He said I would be live at six minutes past each hour, beginning at 12:06 p.m. and continuing until the end of the game.
At about 11:45 a.m. I called New York to check in. John Chanin told me had had talked to his friend Ray Malavsi. Malavsi told him this would be no repeat of the early season shootout, and the Raiders were more than capable of stopping the Steelers this time. I didn't want to debate my boss, so I simply said I was ready to go and awaiting orders. He said I would be live at six minutes past each hour, beginning at 12:06 p.m. and continuing until the end of the game.
Malavsi was correct about the game not being a shootout. Both defenses dominated, and the first half was scoreless. The Steelers finally mounted a serious drive on offense in the third quarter, taking it down to the Oakland 2-yard line. Unfortunately, they had to settle for a Gerela field goal. Pittsburgh took the lead on the game's first score, 3-0.
The Steelers defense continued to stifle the Raiders after intermission. Pittsburgh was not exactly marching up and down the field on offense, but in the middle of the fourth quarter, the Steelers once again moved the ball into Gerela field goal range. His kick was true, making it 6-0 Pittsburgh.
The Raiders offense, quiet all game, finally came alive with time running out in the fourth quarter. Kenny Stabler, who had replaced Daryle Lamonica at quarterback, led Oakland on a desperation drive into Pittsburgh territory with less than two minutes remaining. With Oakland on the Pittsburgh 30, Steelers defensive coordinator Bud Carson dialed up a blitz, but Stabler slithered his way around the inside rush and circled left for a touchdown. George Blanda's extra point made it 7-6 with 1:13 left in the game.
http://www.behindthesteelcurtain.com/
by Michael Bean (Blitz) on May 17, 2010 10:07 PM EDT Comment 6 comments
(see link for pictures - mesa)
A true treat to conclude our series of posts highlighting some of the contents of the preseason publication I did last year for MSP. We wrap things up with an amazing story from Mike Silverstein, a native Pittsburgher with all sorts of fascinating stories to share about his personal and professional life. Some of you may have read in the Post Gazette the tribute he wrote to his brother Lewis following his sad passing last summer. It was a touching piece that shes light on the type of caring person Mike is. You're probably also familiar with one of his cousin's, a Silverstein by the name of Shel who instilled life lessons in countless numbers of kids with his poetry. For us regulars at BTSC, you may simply know Silverstein as the quick witted and wise Homer J.
Silverstein is a life long veteran of the TV and radio industries - first in his native Pittsburgh, for a brief while in Cleveland, and for the past 30+ years, Washington D.C. Truly an honor to have him hanging out around the site and to have included him in the publication last year. I'm also pleased he'll be writing about Myron Cope in this year's edition. I hope this makes you look forward to reading what he has in store for us all next.
Thanks to all of you who purchased a copy last year. I hope this series of posts hasn't discouraged you from doing so again this year - I struggled with the decision to share these for those of you who were so kind as to check it out last summer. Though I'll probably share a thing or two again next year, I'm hoping that the decision to do so this year doesn't prompt you to hold off until this time in 2011, but instead convinces you to pick up a copy when it's available later this summer.
Enjoy and pass along to your friends in the Nation. This one's a gem.
-Michael Bean
****************
'Frano, Mr. Rooney And Me: A True Tale Of The Immaculate Reception'
by Mike Silverstein
This story begins in the summer of 1972, in the green hills of Westmoreland County. Not at the Steelers training camp in Latrobe, but down the road in Ligonier, at the exclusive Laurel Valley Country Club.
I was a 24-year old kid working my first real radio job as summer relief fill-in at WJAS Radio, an NBC owned and operated station in Pittsburgh that featured a news and talk format. I was a 24-year old kid working my first real radio job as summer relief fill-in at WJAS Radio, an NBC owned and operated station in Pittsburgh that featured a news and talk format.
Laurel Valley was hosting a PGA event, and had bought time on our station. We were not only running commercials, we were also covering the devil out of the event and promoting it any way we could.
It was the long-forgotten PGA National Team Championship, an event in which golfers competed in teams of two. Of course, the event was held in Arnold Palmer's backyard of western Pennsylvania, and Arnie was teamed with Jack Nicklaus. Skeptics - and there were many - called it The Arnie and Jack Open, and said it was simply a way to guarantee Arnie another victory in front of the hometown folks. After all, Arnie and Jack had won three of the last four years the event had been played.
Two things happened on the tournament's first day: one, Jack's aching back acted up and he had to cancel, leaving Palmer scrambling to find a partner. He ended up picking a young fellow from Wake Forest, his alma mater, who was a fine lad but not the caliber of partner The Golden Bear would have been. And two, there was a call in the press tent for someone to provide on-air updates for ABC Radio Sports.
One of my bosses, also hanging around the press tent, suggested I step up and offer to help. I was just a part-timer and WJAS was in the middle of being sold to new owners. Even though it meant helping out a competing network, I might as well take advantage of any opportunities that come my way, he advised.
I told the tournament's media relations director that I'd be willing to do updates for ABC, and he put me on the phone with John Chanin at ABC Radio Sports in New York. Chanin told me I'd be on the ‘World of Sports' show with Lou Boda, which ran six minutes past the hour. I'd simply have to do 25 second reports, consisting of a quick preview of the leader board, and I'd get paid $25 bucks a pop. And $25 bucks for any usable tape of the winner, the runner-up, or whatever. Easy money.
The tournament was less than a rousing success. Palmer and his partner Jack Lewis finished far back from the winners, the immortal team of Kermit Zarley and Babe Hiskey. Crowds were disappointing and the event was scrubbed from the PGA calendar, never to be played again. But the folks at ABC were apparently satisfied with my work and they asked me if I would be available to cover the Pirates and maybe even the Steelers on occasion. I eagerly accepted their offer.
The Steelers began the 1972 season with the smart money considering them the ‘same old Steelers.' They had gone 6-8 the year before, and 5-9 the year before that. This was a franchise with a solid tradition of losing.
The season began with a home opener at Three Rivers against the Oakland Raiders. My producer, John Chanin, was a big Raiders fan. He asked me to cover the game.
Chanin was a former high school offensive lineman who was slightly overweight, wore rumpled short sleeved white shirts, with the shirttails often hanging out from his pants. He had a crew cut when everyone else was sporting big hair and polyester clothes. He looked and acted like Lou Grant. He was a proud graduate of Passaic High School in New Jersey, where he had played alongside his lifelong friend, Raiders defensive coach Ray Malavsi. Both were big fans of another Passaic grad, Oakland defensive back Jack Tatum.
The Steelers got out to a big lead in the season opener, leading 27-7 after three quarters. But mad bomber Daryle Lamonica came off the Oakland bench to lead a furious fourth quarter comeback before the Steelers eventually held on for the victory, 34-28. I didn't do any live reports during the game, but I did manage to get some taped interviews afterwards. It was my first time in an NFL press box. There were free hot dogs, soda and beer in the press lounge at halftime. I could get used to this pretty easily, I thought to myself.
The next three games of the 1972 season were away from Three Rivers Stadium before the Steelers returned home for an October 15th contest against the Houston Oilers. Once again, Chanin asked me to get some post-game interviews. During the game, Pittsburgh's starting running back Preston Pearson was injured and replaced by a still untested, first round draft choice named Franco Harris. Franco rose to the occasion, carrying the ball 19 times for 115 yards. The Steelers steamrolled the Oilers, 24-7.
By this time, I was no longer working as a summer vacation replacement at WJAS. I had, in fact, been given a three hour evening talk show on the network to compliment my game day duties for ABC. It was a big promotion, though only temporary, while everyone nervously waited for the sale of the station to be completed. At the same time, I was also preparing to move out of my parents' home and into my own apartment. Franco Harris, remarkably, was living in a second floor walkup apartment on Graham Street, in Pittsburgh's Garfield or Friendship neighborhood. It was maybe two blocks out of my drive to work. I had heard he was taking the 71 Negley Bus to practice because he did not own a car. After the Oilers game, I asked him what time he usually left for practice. Turned out that on either Mondays or Tuesdays, we went in at the same time. He gave me his phone number and over the course of the next few months, I picked him up and gave him a ride into town on several occasions.
Two more wins against New England and Buffalo had set up a midseason showdown against Kenny Anderson and the Cincinnati Bengals. Both teams were 5-2, meaning this one was for the division lead. On Monday of that week, I got a call from Chanin:
"Mike," he said, "We're gonna have a phone installed in the press box for you, and you'll do live hourly updates - starting with a set-up at 12:06. We'll use you every hour, for our featured game of the day."
The Steelers crushed the Bengals, 40-17, in a game that confirmed to the world that these were not the same old Steelers.
For the remainder of the season, there was a phone in the press box for me, and ABC Radio ‘World of Sports' was covering the Steelers every week.
At about that point in the season, somebody in the Steelers ‘family' put Franco in contact with a Chrysler or Dodge dealer. They hooked the rookie up with a car. That meant I did not drive him into town any more, but since I had his phone number, I called him on occasion to be on my Sunday night show - which began at 11:05 PM. He would graciously talk on the air for a few minutes about each week's game. One Sunday, obviously aching, Franco said, "Mike, you know, I'm really tired."
It was at that moment that I realized that Franco Harris, the most recognized and celebrated young athlete in Pittsburgh, had better things to do than talk on the radio at 11:05 on a Sunday night. I never called again, realizing that what he needed and wanted most at that hour was sleep.
The Steelers finished the regular season 11-3 and were set for a rematch of their early season shootout against the Oakland Raiders. The game would be at Three Rivers Stadium, and Steelers media relations director Joe Gordon informed me that because of the overflow of national media descending on Pittsburgh, I would be working out of the baseball press box. I had no idea of it at the time, but Gordon had just done me an enormous favor.
December 23, 1972 was an unseasonably warm day in Pittsburgh. I arrived to the stadium early to find my seat in the press box. The football press box was on the 50-yard line, but the one for baseball where I would be working from was closer to the end zone. It was also right next to the elevator. (Hold that thought). In the second row was a seat with my name on the ledge in front of it. There was a game program, a few pages of statistics and other information for each team, as well as a large cardboard roster and depth chart. There was also a telephone installed at my seat.
I unscrewed the mouthpiece and attached a small device with two alligator clips to the prongs inside the phone. Then I took the mini-plug from the device and plugged it into my Sony tape recorder. I pushed play and was pleased to hear clearly through the receiver a recent interview I had conducted. The phone not only worked, but I could even play the tape through the phone.. No problem. I was good to go.
As the stadium filled, you could see the beginnings of what would become Steeler Nation. Gerala's Gorillas were in the end zone. Jack Ham's ‘Dobre Shunka' banner was hanging from the second deck. And the red, green, and white banners of Franco's Italian Army were everywhere.
Franco Harris, the rookie who had gained just 28 yards coming off the bench in the season opener against Oakland, was the talk of the football world. Al Vento, who owned a pizza shop in East Liberty next to Peabody High School, and Tony Stagno, who ran a bakery out past Larimer Avenue, had started the Army with a sign, a helmet, and a flag. The idea caught fire. Myron Cope even flew Al and Tony out to Palm Springs to meet with Frank Sinatra to formally induct The Chairman of the Board as Commanding General of the Army.
At about 11:45 a.m. I called New York to check in. John Chanin told me had had talked to his friend Ray Malavsi. Malavsi told him this would be no repeat of the early season shootout, and the Raiders were more than capable of stopping the Steelers this time. I didn't want to debate my boss, so I simply said I was ready to go and awaiting orders. He said I would be live at six minutes past each hour, beginning at 12:06 p.m. and continuing until the end of the game.
At about 11:45 a.m. I called New York to check in. John Chanin told me had had talked to his friend Ray Malavsi. Malavsi told him this would be no repeat of the early season shootout, and the Raiders were more than capable of stopping the Steelers this time. I didn't want to debate my boss, so I simply said I was ready to go and awaiting orders. He said I would be live at six minutes past each hour, beginning at 12:06 p.m. and continuing until the end of the game.
Malavsi was correct about the game not being a shootout. Both defenses dominated, and the first half was scoreless. The Steelers finally mounted a serious drive on offense in the third quarter, taking it down to the Oakland 2-yard line. Unfortunately, they had to settle for a Gerela field goal. Pittsburgh took the lead on the game's first score, 3-0.
The Steelers defense continued to stifle the Raiders after intermission. Pittsburgh was not exactly marching up and down the field on offense, but in the middle of the fourth quarter, the Steelers once again moved the ball into Gerela field goal range. His kick was true, making it 6-0 Pittsburgh.
The Raiders offense, quiet all game, finally came alive with time running out in the fourth quarter. Kenny Stabler, who had replaced Daryle Lamonica at quarterback, led Oakland on a desperation drive into Pittsburgh territory with less than two minutes remaining. With Oakland on the Pittsburgh 30, Steelers defensive coordinator Bud Carson dialed up a blitz, but Stabler slithered his way around the inside rush and circled left for a touchdown. George Blanda's extra point made it 7-6 with 1:13 left in the game.