MILLER BARBER FROM SHERMAN, TX AND HOWARD COSELL

     I moved from Sherman to Indiana with Melvin Simon and Associates in the early-70’s and soon joined Big Brothers.  This organization works to provide a nurturing male figure in a young boy’s life when one is not present.  I signed on for this role with a young fellow and served on the board of the Marion County Indiana Chapter of Big Brothers.   

     One of our board members was a friend of famous Green Bay Packer, Paul Hornung, who obtained major sports figures as speakers for our big fundraiser each year.  The pricy tickets included drawings for big prizes, great food and revelry in an all male setting, with the focus being to spread the gospel of Big Brothers.

    In the early 80's we were told Hornung had secured Howard Cosell as the speaker for our event.  He was on a tight schedule and would need a private plane to get  from New York to Indianapolis and back the same night.  I went to my boss, Fred Simon, and asked about getting one of the company jets to pick up Cosell.  Fred grew up in Brooklyn like Howard and religiously kept up with everything he reported in sports journalism.  He and Irv Katz (also with the company and from Brooklyn) agreed to go to New York on the jet, do business for the day and bring Howard home with them.  He would speak at the dinner and we would send him back alone on the jet.

Great!

     They arrived on the appointed day.  I picked everyone up at the airport and took them back to our offices.  We had a couple of hours, so everyone gathered in Fred’s office.  He loaded Howard’s pockets with Cuban cigars and poured him copious amounts of vodka.

     Howard Cosell is one of the most interesting individuals I have met.  He was in his element, holding court with about a dozen men hanging onto his every word.  He would drag on his cigar, look out the window and slowly say, “Jackee…Roooose-velt Robinson, Number 42…April 15th, Nineteen and Fordy-Seven…Ebbets Field, Brooklyn, New York.   Arguably one of the greatest days in the history of major league baseball!   Think about it!”  

     He would drift off and start again on an entirely different topic…”The Pittsburgh Steelers, a dynasty and a hallmark in the world of professional football”….Howard drank, smoked Fred's cigars, and talked about everything…(“You’ve never seen real football until you saw the Dayton Bulldogs of the mid-40’s!”)   When there was a pause in the conversation, he would fill it with “Jackee…Roooose-velt Robinson, Number 42…April 15th, Nineteen and Fordy-Seven…Ebbets Field…the beginning of the true history of baseball!”   More cigars, more vodka.   

     He looked over at me and said, “So where are you from, kid?”  I said, “Mr Cosell, I am from a town you never heard of.  I’m from Sherman, Texas”.    

     Without missing a beat he said, “Sherman, Texas, home of Miller Barber, arguably one of the most underrated golfers in the sport today…Miller Barber who has defeated the likes of Jerry Pate, Arnold Palmer, Billy Casper and Gary Player…MILLER BARBER, MR X, his unorthodox swing, his sportsmanship, ALMOST WINNING THE 1969 U.S. OPEN WHEN MISFORTUNE TOOK OVER IN THE LAST ROUND!   Miller Barber, a legend on and off the field!…SO DON’T YOU… TRY AND TELL ME… ABOUT SHERMAN, TEXAS!”   He broke into laughter (heh, heh, heh), placed a newly trimmed Fred Simon cigar in his mouth, as his glass of vodka was refilled.

     We loaded Howard up in Fred’s car and went to the Big Brothers’ dinner.  Now I was getting concerned.  Howard had been drinking a lot of liquor.  I explained what we were trying to do and the purpose of the pitch, to secure more Big Brothers and more funding.  He had a few more drinks, held court with the crowd of men, got on the stage and gave the best speech for Big Brothers in the history of the world.  He was compassionate, articulate and anytime there was a pause, he filled in with, “JACK..EEE  ROOO-SEVELT ROB-OSON…Ninteen Fordy Seven…The color barrier is destroyed and on the shoulders of the great number 42…a truly outstanding American.”  

     Standing ovation, we get him out the side door, as the drawings for the big prizes commence and Fred and I took him to the airport.  The plan is to load Howard up with the two pilots, drop him off at the La Guardia Airport in New York, the plane turns around and comes back to Indianapolis.  We go on the plane with him, Fred gives him a few more cigars and shakes his hand.  I thanked him, congratulated him on a great job and got ready to leave.  Fred says, “Go with him…be sure he is OK, get him anything he needs, take the plane back tonight and we’ll see you tomorrow.”     

     Oh, no…no, no, no.   I want to go home, I want to go to bed.  Cosell says, “Yeah, come on kid…you can tell me more about Sherman, Texas…(heh, heh, heh).  I fly to New York with Howard, serving as bartender and lighting his cigars.  “You know Bob, (“Buck”), Oh yeah, Buck…you know Buck until a viable contender can surface to challenge Muhammad Ali, boxing is just a shadow of what it was under the reign of JOE LOUIS…THE BROWN BOMBER, TAKING ON HITLER AND THE ENTIRE THIRD REICH FOR THE FIGHT OF THE DECADE WITH MAX SCHMELING, JUNE 22, 19-THIRDY-EIGHT…IN REALITY IT WAS FACISM AND HITLER VS. DEMOCRACY…THE WORLD HELD IT'S BREATH AS DEMOCRACY WON OVER TYRANNY AND OPPRESSION!  (A lengthy pause…Howard looks out the plane window…)  “Jackie ROOOOSEVELT ROB-A-SON, number 42…he changed the world and the way we think about it.”

     We land.  Cosell’s limo pulls by the plane and he kind of makes a weaving motion to me and says, “Come on Brad, let’s go get a drink.”  (“Buck”)   Oh yeah, Buck…let’s go get a drink.”   

     “I can’t do it Mr. Cosell, we have to get back.” 

   

     The pilots piped up and said, “Buck, you might as well go with him, we are in a holding pattern for at least couple of hours…call us from wherever you are and we will call you back when we are cleared to leave.”   We take his car to Mickey Mantle’s bar across from Central Park.  Howard walks in and it is like Moses parting the Red Sea.

     I call the pilots and give them the number at the bar.  Howard sits and begins receiving homage from EVERYONE.  He is smoking Fred’s cigars, drinking, holding court and I am parked by the bar phone.  This goes on for about an hour and the singer, Eddie Fisher walks over.  Howard remains articulate and coherent.  Fisher says, “Mr. Cosell, I just wanted to say hello…I am a big fan.”  

     Cosell does not miss a beat…”Eddie Fisher, January 22, 1973, Kingston, Jamaica -  the Frazier-Foreman fight, you sang the Star Spangled Banner!"   

"TO THIS TRAINED OBSERVER, Frazier should be victorious in this Slug-fest brouhaha, but in the first round, Foreman delivers a devastating blow to Smokin’ Joe…DOWN GOES FRAZIER, DOWN GOES FRAZIER, DOWN GOES FRAZIER!  Foreman technically knocks Frazier out in the 2nd round, establishing himself as one of the great pugilistic artists in the sport today…AND makes ready for MUUUUHAMMMAD ALI AND THE RUMBLE IN THE JUNGLE!”

     Howard kind of waves in my direction and says, “Sit down Mr. Fisher and meet…Bruce??, Bob?, Bud??? …FROM SHERMAN, TEXAS, HOME OF MILLER BARBER, ARGUABLY ONE OF THE MOST UNDERRATED GOLFERS IN THE SPORT TODAY!”

     Eddie Fisher is stunned into silence and stares incredulously at Howard Cosell.  At that moment, the phone rings, the pilots say we are ready to go.  I shake Howard’s and Eddie’s hands, hail a cab and get back to the airport for the trip to Indianapolis.  

     It was a long, memorable night and one that would have made a great public service announcement for the Sherman Chamber of Commerce.