From the Vault of Art Shay: That Green Light From Wisconsin

Green Bay\'s second most important industry after the Packers, used to be lumber processing. The sick-sweet smell of chemical preservatives used to (and for all I know, still) permeate Green Bay as it did the lovely, officially neutral Stockholm I flew in and out of during WW2. I learned from a Swedish relative recently that the ostensibly neutral Swedes did business with us in those hectic days, but also with the Germans, whose forests and mining industries contributed to the war machine the Nazis mustered against us.

The grand panjandrum of Packer and Green Bay history was coach Vince Lombardi. I share with you, as I did with artist Boris Chaliapin (related to the great Russian singer), my 1962 picture of Vince, which became a National Portrait Gallery cover. Lombardi coached the Packers from 1959-70, amassing an amazing 106-34 record. He once told me why he converted Paul Hornung from fullback to halfback: \"So he could work my power sweep play.\" He also told me he fired several physically gifted players for being dumb. \"Dumb can cost you ball games,\" said this tough old owl. The Super Bowl trophy that will be awarded in a few weeks in Dallas, is named after this compulsive winner who, in the end, sad to say, died at 57.

My favorite Green Bay day of all time came the summer morning of 1966 when I appeared at the North Central Airlines assigned by \<em\>Sports Illustrated\<\/em\> to shoot some formal portraits of the Green Bay team- principally Coach Vince Lombardi, quarterback Bart Starr, Cajun swamp-cat Jim Taylor, playboy Paul Horning and tough Forte-like newcomer Jim Grabowski. The weather looked threatening, but traffic was rough and I arrived at 8:20 a.m. I hustled to the exit gate only to be told by a bored gatekeeper, \"The pilot thought no one else was coming- so there he goes...\" He waved towards the tarmac at the departing plane. I raced out the door and tried to flag down the pilot with two North Central clerks coming after me. The plane slowed, but the clerk waved him on and he departed. \"Call security!\" the other clerk yelled. \"Security, your ass !\" I cleverly riposted and set off across the tarmac to a commercial flying service. Some fifty minutes and $400 later a chartered plane landed me at Green Bay in time for my shoot. The cover had another half to it- becoming SI\'s very first fold-out cover (with Bart Starr and Jim Grabowski bringing up the rear page), a technique pioneered by Hugh Hefner with Bunnies. In those days I was writing a column for the \<em\>Des Plaines Journal\<\/em\>, and had the pleasure of writing how screwed up North Central Airlines was. I described some of the above and I also remember my first sentence: \"The symbol for North Central Airlines is a wild duck with its head seemingly detached from its body by a white neckband. I think I\'ve discovered why that is.\" Bottom line: North Central sent me an apology for leaving early, paid me $400 for my charter flight, and enclosed a round trip ticket to Green Bay. By the time they had filled in the neckband on their fleet so the head didn\'t look disembodied, they had gone belly-up for other cupidities.

In the mid sixties SI sent me to cover the NFL trade negotiations in downtown Chicago. The magazine\'s interest was largely in the horse trading between Vince Lombardi and Bears owner George Halas. But this picture became my favorite. It sounded a personal note for me that still rankled my ego! The younger trader on the left looked suddenly familiar. Then I remembered! He was non other than Allie Sherman, the coach of the New York Giants! The very NFL star back who a mere quarter century ago had beaten me out of the job of first string quarterback for the Brooklyn College freshman team a mere quarter century previous, in 1942!\r\nIt was two eras before the male hug so we just shook hands- and I had the pleasure of describing to Lombardi our first day of practice: \"It was muddy- and Allie who weighed what I did - 170 - and was an inch taller, was wearing mud cleats.\r\n\" Yes. Mud cleats ! From high school. About an inch long.\" \r\nHe slapped his brow. \"I remember! We both punted and my cleats caught - and I went down on my ass...!\" Lombardi roared . \"Punting with mud cleats!\" Then I told the rest of the story as Allie smiled. \"The Brooklyn Dodgers trained on our field,\" I began- \r\nAllie picked up the memory. \"Drummond-\"\r\n\"Bulldog Drummond,\" Lombardi put in. \"He wrestled.\" \r\n\"Bulldog stood there five yards away and put out his arms sideways. \"Run at me, kids,\" he said then shook his head and grimaced.\"\r\n\"It was like hitting a horizontal steel post,\" I said.\"We both doubled up over his giant arms.\"\r\n\r\nIn that moment I knew I\'d never amount to much as a football player-but Allie went on to become an NFL running back and to successfully manage the NY Giants for eight years. I went on to war instead.

SI came along in 1954. Luckily I was the only Chicago photographer who owned several long telephoto lenses. I had adapted them to various camera bodies for tracking the Mafia. This was the first time I tried to use my 400mm Novoflex telephoto on a non-Mafia member, to blur the charging Bears and focus on Lombardi and players Taylor and Hornung across the field. Camera fans: would you believe it was a slow F:9 lens! Today\'s best 400 Nikon and Canon lenses are five times faster- and cost 40 times as much! The Novoflex line had a great feature- it focused with a pistol grip that looked like a machine gun mount. One night while using the 240mm model at a McCormick Place Democrat rally I saw President Johnson point at me- and in two minutes I was thrown out. Johnson had suspiciously figured I had a gun with a two-inch scope sighting in on him! But it was sure easy to focus.

This was coach George Halas on the firing line with his new stalwart, tight end Mike Ditka. In his first year as a Bear Ditka would make 58 receptions, about the same as he now bonifaces every week at his various Chicago restaurants! My favorite Halas story involved Mugsy Halas- who was in charge of press ticketing. One day the not-too-bright editor of a medical magazine I did covers for called the Bears. He wanted a press ticket for a photog \"you guys know- Art Shay.\" \"No problem,\" said my friend Mugsy. \"You see,\" said my editor, \"we want to get a good picture of a football injury and...\" Of course Mugsy hung up on him, then called me to chew me out for working for such a putz. By the time my editor called to say, \"I think I used a wrong tactic,\" I had a plan. I phoned Mugsy the next day and, een zee baist accent-Francaise I could fake- I asked for Ze pass to covair zee Americain football game zees Sunday. And that is how come I have moldering in a drawer, my press pass for zat day: \"Aristide de Segonzac - French Sports Illustre...\". And why my competitors on the sidelines all looked at me funny. It is also why, thanks to a stroke of photographer\'s \"luck,\" I got a smashing cover of poor injured Brian Piccolo being helped off the field by two trainers. I say poor because Brian would shortly die of cancer at the age of 26.\r\nThat is zee only magazine zat credits me for a cover with an alias, albeit a regal one from the Dordonne wine country.

Old Soldier Field never died. It was, after all, where champion Gene Tunney beat challenger Jack Dempsey before 104,000. It was known as \"The Long Count\" fight. Dempsey had forgotten that, after knocking down an opponent, he was supposed to go to a neutral corner before the referee could begin counting. Thus, having knocked the champion down - on approximately the 50 yard line- Dempsey was confused why it took the ref 13 seconds to start his count over a distressed Tunney on the floor. Tunney went on to win. For me, the rainbow I chased over Soldier Field long after Tunney won and before its renovation for the Bears, has come to symbolize hope, especially with that patch of blue sky opening up in the south.