NFL Hall of Fame, 50th Anniversary By CHUCK SUCH Behind the Scenes…a determined force

We changed the face of Canton beyond expectations. It was a humble beginning compared to today, but historically significant. Meanwhile, the television industry orbited taking the NFL, Canton and the Pro Football Hall of Fame with it.

What a ride for 50 unimaginable years! Not to be brushed aside are those years when the onetime cradle of pro football was dusted off and became part of the sports world again. Behind the scenes, those with a Midas touch set some lofty goals far above the pedestrian knowledge in the community.

It all started with a Dec. 6, 1959 story in The Repository, which drew wide and immediate reaction under its 8-column headline, “Pro Football Needs a Hall of Fame, and Logical Site Is Here.” We’ll take you on a trip behind the scenes from the embryo to the diaper stages of the establishment of what today is the crown jewel of the sports world, and Canton in particular.

At dawn on a Monday morning, after the Sunday story appeared, the phone rang at the Repository sports desk and the voice identified itself as Henry Timken, Chairman of the Timken Roller Bearing Co. “Chuck, I read your (Sunday) story and I would like to discuss it with you today either at your office or mine,” Timken said. “I’m busy putting out today’s edition but will be free at 11:30,” I replied as we agreed on the Timken office as a meeting place.

After a briefing on the strength of Canton’s potential to gain approval, Timken summoned company president, William Umstaddt and recreation director Earl Schreiber to his office. “I want Chuck to have every resource he needs to make this a success,” Timken stated. “With one proviso, this not to become a Timken hall of fame. I want this to be a community affair. I want to contribute up to $250,000 if needed and that should remain between us. I want this to be a community effort.”

As it turned out, Timken made a contribution of $100,000 while $278,026 was raised from the rest of the community.

Upon parting, Timken asked what the next move should be. The reply was to assemble all of the power brokers who could make it happen. Timken suggested a dinner at Congress Lake Country Club and Timken would host it.

Three days later, the dinner had been organized, and a week later held with all invitees present except ’ who sent Assistant Coach Chuck Mather to represent him. The others included , Pittsburgh Steelers’ Art and , Detroit Lions’ Edwin (Andy) Anderson, Pete Calac (former Canton Bulldog), Oscar Barkey, Repository’s Chuck Such and Clayt Horn and Timken’s William Umstaddt, Earl Schreiber and Henry Tobey.

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The significance of this dinner was considerable. The Rooneys had driven from Pittsburgh in a snowstorm. Brown likewise drove in the snow from Shaker Heights. Timken’s commitment was sealed, and our strength within the NFL ownership fraternity was powerful. Overwhelming enthusiasm to launch a full-power campaign to gain NFL approval was contagious. The elimination of the political fraternity was deliberate and not by accident. This wasn’t an effort to run through a political quagmire.

After getting the attention of the NFL in a big way, it was time to to get the local movement in gear. The Repository’s Clayt Horn and Chuck Such handpicked a steering committee consisting of six members of the Chamber of Commerce --- Malcolm Kienzle, Oscar Barkey, Bill Belden, Richard Jones, Earl Schreiber and Horn and six Jaycees---Bob Colaner, Norm Jackson, Eli Jaksick, Stu Wilkins, Bob Forthsye, and Harry Price. Sheldon Fantle and were named co-chairmen of the fund raising committee. Dick Kempthorn later became a long-time member of the Hall’s board of directors. Forthsye, whose firm designed the building, became a quasi (unpaid) member of the Hall of Fame staff, escorting celebrities on tours, making speeches and climbing onto the building and patching a leaky roof. Money was still scarce.

The push with the NFL continued nonstop. A much-later second dinner at Congress Lake, which included golf, was much more open and a total public relations event with sports heavyweights such as baseball’s Tommy Henrich, ‘ Pete Calac, Notre Dame’s famed Four Horsemen, and some former Browns on hand to reflect high level support for Canton. Halas spun stories of his playing days against the old Canton Bulldogs, and , much to the delight of Paul Brown, a history buff and former history teacher.

Within days after the first Congress Lake dinner, arrangements were made with old friend Sid Keener, executive director of the Baseball Hall of Fame for a visit. The importance of four days I spent at Cooperstown can’t be over emphasized.

Keener loaded us down with an armful of files, including their bylaws, history of their original days, financial books, operational procedures, promotions, enshrinement programs and sources of revenue.

A tongue-in-cheek story is related to this warm gesture. Some months later, several over-zealous Hall of fame volunteers decided on their own to go to Cooperstown in quest of these same documents. Marching in unexpectedly, with some self- appointed importance, they made their demands of the baseball staff, which sent them away empty-handed. They explained their woes to Umstaddt who used his chairman’s office to obtain the documents, all of which were in a desk drawer in the Repository and had been since they were used for stories in the past.

My trip to Cooperstown resulted in a lengthy four-day series on the Baseball Hall of

2 Fame operations in the Repository designed to enlighten Cantonians of what an asset a hall of fame could be to the community and the NFL. More important, it fostered a score of ideas to be incorporated into a football hall of fame.

One that rooted deeply with this writer was Keener’s surprise revelations that a baseball game was held each year in conjunction their enshrinement. It never was publicized. Upon returning to Canton, I called Commissioner and said we wanted to have a commitment from the owners for an annual Hall of Fame game as part of the enshrinement program. Rozelle initially balked at the suggestion, pointing out that west coast owners would reject it because the cost to bring their teams to Canton would be prohibitive.

Having already cleared the idea with Brown, Halas, Rooney, Anderson, Giants and Cardinals, I said if it was turned down, we would remove our proposal off the table. Rozelle rallied behind the idea and it passed.

The first hall of fame game is a story within itself. Ground had not been broken for the hall of fame, and we had no money and no bank account. However, in those days each team arranged its own pre-season games. I called Paul Brown and asked if he would bring the Browns to Canton to play the first hall of fame game. He said, “You can have the Browns and Steelers any time you need us, but why not try a couple other teams” and suggested a call to Wellington Mara of the .

A phone call to Mara lasted less than five minutes and he was on board. Asked to suggest an opponent, he said try Charlie Bidwell (St. Louis Cardinals). A call to Bidwell was met with unexpected enthusiasm. He yelled across the room at Coach Wally Lemm “Chuck Such is on the phone and wants us to play in the first hall of fame game. Hell yes, we’ll be there.” So three long distance phone calls on the Repository‘s bill, totaling less then 15 minutes and the annual hall of fame game was born. It can’t be done today.

Each team paid its own expenses. All that has changed. Today, the Hall of Fame receives about $700,000 from that game, but just about all of it is used to pay the expenses of the participating teams.

Another important product of the baseball visit was an in-depth review of the gift shop operation. When we presented the board of trustees with the importance of making a revenue-producing gift shop part of the new building, Executive Director Dick McCann bristled, “No way. You are not going to turn this into a Five and Ten (store).” McCann didn’t prevail. Today, a much enlarged gift shop provides a whopping $4 million in annual revenue.

One of Cooperstown flaws was and is its selection system for enshrinement. It fell victim to pressure from the media and has cost it dearly since. Some years, baseball doesn’t elect anyone to be enshrined. Many years only one or two are chosen. Voting is open to more than 500 sportswriters and media members across the country, the

3 vast majority never stepping foot in a major league park in any official capacity.

This subject resulted in some intense conversations with Commissioner Pete Rozelle, a brilliant administrator. Our conclusion was that the Pro Football Hall of Fame would establish a system that would be comprised of one media representative from each NFL city. Those representatives were to be elected by their peers, thus assuring the most qualified sports authorities. As the league grew, the election committee grew from the original 14 to 36 under then P.R. Vice President Don Smith. The original concept was further enlarged under Smith’s successor, Joe Horrigan, climbing to 46 with some added from the electronic media and a number of at-large appointees. Horrigan points out that the size of the selection committee is capped at 46 in the shrine’s bylaws, which prohibit the participation of any member of the hall of fame organization.

The selection process looms as one of pro football’s strengths. While baseball had provided us with an operational format, there was at least one major event missing from the enshrinement ceremonies to complete a top-drawer weekend of national prominence.

The idea of a premier celebrity-studded banquet first received a cold shoulder. Foremost, the shrine didn’t have the staff and the Chamber of Commerce lacked the money and leadership. That was all solved when Raymond Koontz, dynamic Diebold president, agreed to serve as chairman of a major banquet. Diebold had a national reputation as class organization. And that is what this event demanded.

Koontz established an office for me at the downtown Chamber of Commerce, and we were off and running. The date was Sept.11, 1965. Meyers Lake Moonlight Ballroom was the largest place in Canton to accommodate such an event. Invitations went out to the White House, Frank Sinatra, NFL owners and a host of other prominent people. Some 300 tickets were sold the first day and 900 within three weeks.

The result was an overflow crowd of 1,200 which included movie stars Pat O‘Brien and Jane Russell, New York’s Peter Donald as master of ceremonies, some 100 bank presidents from across the country as Diebold’s guests, Hoover Company’s elite list of customers and Timken’s most prominent associates plus the Washington Redskins and Detroit Lions entire teams, and the enshrinees from previous years. Steak dinner and an orchestra added to a positively star-studded civic banquet as planned. It was a smash. A highlight of the annual festival for 48 years, the banquet has improved annually in amazing fashion.

An offshoot of the first civic banquet was a cry by the Chamber women that all of the events were tailored to men. Thus the women’s luncheon was born. It was simple to recruit the bevy of beautiful Cleveland Browns wives for a style show. Among them was an array of college homecoming and bowl queens. It was a hit, and lived on to bigger heights.

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Behind the scenes, the infant era of the shrine provided some intrigue which certainly is related to the times. In addition to the early Monday morning call from Henry Timken, there was a steady flow of supporting letters and phone calls, both locally and from far reaches of the country. The biggest surprise was the arrival at our sports desk of former Cantonian Jack Cusack. Now a wealthy independent oilman in Forth Worth, Texas, he played a major role in pro football, particularly in developing the sport to national prominence starting in 1915.

At age 21, he was general manager of the Canton Bulldogs. A brilliant mind, Cusack recruited the fabulous Jim Thorpe, some of his fellow teammates, Pete Calac, and Little Twig at Carlisle Indian School. Bringing them to Canton, they became the toast of professional football. Upon reading about Canton’s campaign to establish a hall of fame, Cusack’s interest brought him back home.

“What do you have for a centerpiece in the rotunda of the building,” Cusack asked. “It should be a statue of Jim Thorpe. I‘ll pay for it.” He got no argument there.

Escorted to the Ole King Cole plant to meet artist and sculptor Jack Worthington, Cusack was armed only with photos of Thorpe, but Worthington assured him they would suffice for a statue. Cusack wrote a check for $13,000 to cover Worthington’s work and the bronze cast over the seven-foot statue. In essence, Cusack became a permanent fixture in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. Worthington went on to sculpt more than 150 busts of enshrinees that now are displayed at the shrine.

While Paul Brown’s participation in the hall of fame effort was always taken for granted, his effectiveness should not be minimized. In his quiet demeanor, he was a powerful force both with the NFL owners and in arranging things to happen. Brown was always short on conversation. The last time we met at a reception, he winked as we parted and said to me, “We know, don’t we?”

When Pete Rozelle was named NFL commissioner, Brown was on the phone and suggested a trip to Philadelphia to get acquainted. “He’s a brilliant young man. You’ll like him” Paul said. He had already greased the way. Umstaddt, Schreiber and I flew to Philadelphia in Timken’s converted World War II bomber. Rozelle was everything Brown said, and became Canton’s strongest supporter. Once a week phone calls over the years were never turned down. Strong on promotions, the new commissioner revealed early in our relationship that he was totally in support of Canton’s effort. Later, he teamed with Art Modell to power their way through the owners with special agendas.

Rozelle never considered Latrobe, Pa., Green Bay, Detroit or Los Angeles as viable contenders for the hall of fame. They lacked organization and leadership. We counted votes together and it was a lock. At the first formal presentation to the NFL in New York, Rozelle sneaked me into the room with the owners and asked me to brief them on Canton’s presentation in five minutes. A half hour later, Umstaddt

5 received a round of applause for his speech. Architect Bob Forsythe’s scaled model of the proposed building made a hit. It was unique and appealing.

The only area of doubt about approval for a hall of fame centered on the NFL’s financially strapped bank account. Umstaddt substantially erased that with the assurance of Timken’s pledge of support and the city’s commitment to maintain the park system in which the shrine was to be built. The NFL owners were adamantly against a hall of fame in a downtown location. County Engineer Joe Sturrett had chosen 14 acres of parkland as the site at $1 a year for 99 years.

It was a slam-dunk but stretched out over tedious months of campaigning. So many hands and so much effort pieced together the mosaic that materialized into Canton’s and the nation’s crown jewel of sports. Which had the most impact? At least four stood out.

Restoring Jim Thorpe’s greatness as a Canton Bulldog and simultaneously re- establishing Canton as the cradle of pro football both left lasting and effective impressions in pursuit of the shrine. The 1920 formation of the NFL in Canton was no less important. Paul Brown’s strong and persuasive motivation to strive for the shrine and his power brokering within the NFL owners’ circle played a major role. The Repository’s relentless and endless barrage was without a doubt central to it all.

Above all stood the early Monday morning phone call from Henry Timken and his all-out pledge of resources and a substantial financial package. The proposal without Henry Timken’s community dedicated offer would have most certainly been futile in days when cash-strapped pro football was struggling to meet expenses and certainly in no position to build a hall of fame with fund raising in Canton no cake walk.

Henry Timken opened the door and forged success. Sadly, he didn’t live to see it.

Thank you for listening.

Sincerely,

Chuck Such Journalist Friend of the Retired NFL Players Congress [email protected]

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