From detractor to father figure, Bobby Bell and late Sid Hartman shared special bond
On the occasion of his upcoming 80th birthday over the summer, I was speaking with Chiefs legend Bobby Bell about the arc of his life when we turned to his time at the University of Minnesota.
Moments later, he said, “You ever heard of Sid Hartman?”
Naturally, I knew of Hartman, a legend in the newspaper business who had written for the Minneapolis Star-Tribune for generations. Gosh, I said, he must be 99 years old by now.
“No, no,” Bell said, playfully scolding me. “He’s 100.”
Bell knew that because he remained regretful he had to miss Hartman’s scheduled centennial bash in mid-March as the COVID-19 coronavirus was seizing the country.
He was sorrowful again Monday when I called to offer my condolences about Hartman, who died Sunday even as the Star-Tribune ran what its research showed to be the 21,235th byline of his career some 75 years after the first.
More than a few of those stories were about Bell, who came to cherish Hartman as a father figure and ultimately a lifelong friend who made him a better person … despite an inauspicious start to their relationship.
By Bell’s recollection, a looming issue between them was bubbling before they even met: Hartman objected to the very idea of coach Murray Warmath signing anyone from so far away (Shelby, North Carolina) when there must have been plenty of outstanding Minnesota and Wisconsin kids available.
Moreover, Warmath had signed Bell sight unseen based on the recommendation of a coach in North Carolina, Gerald Allen — who had watched Bell, then a quarterback, throw and knock down hurdles “like dominoes” 60 yards away (per a 1962 Charlotte Observer story.)
“He crucified Coach Warmath,” Bell said, adding that Hartman said Warmath had “wasted a scholarship.”
Bell’s father, Pink, had taught him to always “walk, never run, from a fight.” With that serving more as a guideline than a rule, Bell’s ever-engaging personality compelled him to challenge Hartman in a non-confrontational way.
When Bell saw Hartman passing one day, he called out to him. Hartman barked back, “What?!”
Bell said, “Why don’t you interview me sometime? You’re the man here.”
Imitating Hartman’s voice, Bell said he replied, “You have to EARN the right for me to interview you.”
“I said, ‘Oh, OK,’ ” Bell recalled. “That was that.”
But as Bell became a factor on Minnesota’s 1960 national championship team, along came Hartman saying, “I want to talk to you.”
“I looked at him and said, ‘Sid, you’ve got to earn the right to talk to me,’ ” Bell remembered, laughing. “I stuck him with that and walked away.”
Bell being Bell, though, that was mostly to prankster effect. And then …
“When I finally talked to him,” Bell said, “we just kept on talking.”
Ever since, it turned out.
But it wasn’t just that Hartman came to appreciate the game of Bell, who finished third in Heisman Trophy voting in 1962 and went on to a Pro Football Hall of Fame career with the Chiefs. (In 2015, Hartman wrote that Bell was the “best all-around football player I have covered in my 71 years in the business.”)
He also took a deep personal interest in Bell, one emblematic both of a different era in sports journalism and of Hartman’s own flourishes.
“Sid Hartman was like a dad, away from home,” Bell said. “He was kind of like a dad. A lot of people don’t know that.”
One such symbolic moment resonated more than any other for Bell.
Before the 1961 Rose Bowl, Bell went out for a walk on his own in Pasadena. He stood in front of a ritzy clothes store, gazing in and thinking about how he didn’t even realize he had grown up poor before he left Shelby.
Soon, Hartman happened by, saying “Bell, what are you doing?”
“I said, ‘Man, Sid, look at that sweater in there,’” said Bell, figuring he couldn’t even enter such a pricey place. “ ‘Do you think one of these days I’ll be able to go in there and buy one of these things?’”
Hartman looked at Bell and said, “Come on.” He took him inside, with Bell puzzled and protesting he had no money. Then Hartman bought him that V-necked white sweater that he doubted he could ever afford.
Nearly 60 years later, Bell still has that sweater. And he treasures it as a reminder of a gesture of kindness and respect — and testament to a beautiful relationship that came of an improbable start.
Hartman was many things, including having a decades-long presence on WCCO-AM radio and playing an instrumental role in luring professional sports teams to Minneapolis. On the occasion of his 90th birthday in 2010, a statue of Hartman was dedicated outside the Target Center.
But he was best-known for the infinite relationships he forged, curmudgeonly demeanor notwithstanding.
And that’s definitely the moral of his story to Bell, who by nature has few peers when it comes to forming and nurturing relationships but nonetheless is forever grateful for Hartman’s role in his life.
“I still to this day,” Bell said, “want to ‘earn that right’ with Sid.”
This story was originally published October 21, 2020 at 5:00 AM.