Byline: Tom Reed
CANTON, Ohio _ Howie Long stood on the front steps of the Pro Football Hall of Fame three years ago and supplied his sport with its most memorable sound byte.
Speaking on his induction day in 2000 and before the greatest collection of living gridiron legends ever assembled, Long succinctly put into words a belief that had been growing among this nation's sports fan base for quite some time.
'Baseball may be America's pastime, but football is America's passion,' Long said.
Perhaps nowhere is that love of the game better displayed, more often renewed or more continuously redefined than at the Hall of Fame, the heart of pro football.
The fabled museum located at 2121 George Halas Drive turned 40 years old this year. Seldom has middle age looked so invitingly hip.
This story focuses on the origins of the museum and the induction ceremonies that have made it famous.
The Canton shrine has inducted 221 members and welcomed more than seven million visitors since opening its doors Sept. 7, 1963. It has managed to keep up with the changing times, while not turning its back on the past.
Any wonder that 114 of its 144 living members already have committed to attending Sunday's 40th anniversary enshrinement at the adjacent Fawcett Stadium?
NFL Films, which has grown up alongside the Hall of Fame, has been labeled pro football's 'keeper of the flame.' But its executives are quick to pay tribute to the hall's vital link.
Canton is to football what Athens is to the Olympics.
'It is at the Hall of Fame where that flame is ignited and burns the brightest,' NFL Films senior producer Phil Tuckett said.
NFL Films czar Steve Sabol is coming to this weekend's festivities. It is only at Hall of Fame enshrinements that Sabol says, 'your ultimate football card collection comes to life.'
The community, the civic pride and the thousands of volunteers have made Canton synonymous with the Hall of Fame.
'I'm not sure there is another city in America that could do it like Canton,' former hall executive director Pete Elliot said. 'Canton is big enough to get the job done and small enough that everyone cares.'
THE HISTORY
Canton began its crusade in 1959 after the Repository newspaper published a front-page editorial detailing why the city would make a logical home for such a museum. The paper was acting on the ideas that Browns coaching icon Paul Brown had discussed with its reporters.
Brown, who also coached the Massillon Tigers, championed the city's cause and even helped delay a league vote on the hall's site in 1960 when he realized Canton wasn't ready to make its bid.
Los Angeles, Green Bay, Detroit and Latrobe, Pa., were the other towns under consideration. The NFL had actually given Latrobe _ the birthplace of pro football _ its blessing to build a hall in the 1950s, but city officials there weren't organized enough to seize the opportunity.
Canton won on the strength of its history and community support.
The NFL was founded in Canton in 1920 and one of the league's early powers was the Canton Bulldogs, which featured the talents of Jim Thorpe.
Local attorney F. Stuart Wilkins said influential Canton area businessmen such as Henry Timken, William Timken, William Umstattd and Earl Schreiber immediately rallied behind the Repository's editorial. These men were eager to alter Canton's image of a mob town.
The Timken Company pledged $250,000. The Hoover Company and Diebold also were soon on board. A community fund-raising effort gathered $378,026. The city leased the land for $1 a year for 99 years.
'It was very much like a good football team, everyone working together,' said Wilkins, the only surviving member from the original board. Canton was awarded the rights in 1961. Then-NFL Commissioner Pete Rozelle, a major proponent of the hall, helped turn the first spade of dirt on Aug. 11, 1962.
Though Rozelle and league owners supported the hall's efforts, the NFL offered little financial backing in the early years. The league was in a costly battle with the rival AFL and could not afford to contribute.
Wilkins and Bill Belden, owner of Belden Brick Co., once had to sign a promissory note at Canton's First National Bank just so the hall could meet its payroll in the mid-60s.
As the hall struggled to gain financial solvency, its first executive director, Dick McCann, attempted to legitimize its role as a national player. The former Washington Redskins general manager was not fond of small towns like Canton and had the reputation of being abrasive.
But McCann's ability to 'see the big picture' proved invaluable, said current Executive Director John Bankert. It was McCann's idea to let writers in each NFL city select the Hall of Famers. Empowering the national media gave the hall important exposure.
The enshrinement ceremony and game gradually received more attention each year. By 1999, the ceremony was being televised live in its entirety by ESPN.
THE CEREMONIES
While the hall is open year-round, induction day consistently creates the biggest buzz.
The museum is a tribute to the game's greatest players and the enshrinements are their moments in the spotlight.
Canton native Dan Dierdorf was at the hall in `62 when Rozelle and others broke ground and came back to accept his induction in 1996.
No major sports hall of fame gets a better turnout from its membership. During the past 10 years, it has averaged about 50 enshrinees.
'I think football to a greater extent than in other sports has that sense of camaraderie,' Hall of Fame lineman Tom Mack said.
They cherish their time together and treat each other as equals. Offensive linemen are afforded the same honor as quarterbacks.
'Football players play for each other, not a city or a franchise,' Sabol said. 'In that sense, they are very similar to Marines. There is a special bond among them.'
The honor humbles men, sometimes reducing them to tears. Stoic Minnesota Vikings Coach Bud Grant cried during his 1994 induction.
The personal touches often make for moving speeches.
Two years ago, Nick Buoniconti was introduced by his son, Marc, a former college football player paralyzed by a spinal cord injury. Jim Kelly dedicated his address to his terminally ill son, Hunter, last year.
Induction day runs the gamut of emotions. Tommy McDonald shocked spectators by juggling his bust in 1998 and Kellen Winslow used the forum as an attack on Newt Gingrich.
The inductees' remarks have grown in length since Red Grange spoke for 45 seconds at the inaugural `63 ceremony.
Perhaps the most well-known and humorous speech belongs to Terry Bradshaw. The former Steelers quarterback joked about 'what I wouldn't give right now to put my hands under Mike Webster's butt just one more time.' In `97, Webster was elected to the hall and obliged by hiking the ball to Bradshaw, his presenter.
The most memorable recent ceremony occurred in 2000 when NFL Commissioner Paul Tagliabue for the first time invited all of the living Hall of Famers to Canton at the league's expense. More than 100 members accepted the invitation, prompting Tagliabue to do the same for the hall's 40th anniversary.
An ailing 89-year-old Sid Gillman, who died in January, attended the 2000 ceremony against the advice of some. Gillman was asked if he were healthy enough to travel to Canton and return home.
His response reflected the passion for the game that Long described so vividly that day.
'Just get me there,' Gillman said. 'I'm not worried about getting back.'
___
(c) 2003, Akron Beacon Journal (Akron, Ohio).
Visit Akron Beacon Journal Online at http://www.ohio.com/.
Distributed by Knight Ridder/Tribune Information Services.
_____
ARCHIVE PHOTOS on KRT Direct (from KRT Photo Service, 202-383-6099):
Canton+Ohio
