If you spent any significant amount of time in Pittsburgh over the past several decades, you were bound to occasionally run into Franco Harris.
About 10 years ago, a small group of us were excited because there was a rare day that the Pirates and Steelers (albeit only a preseason game) both played at home on the same day. We celebrated by enjoying way too many Iron City products at the Pirates game, then hung out at the postgame party outside PNC Park while continuing to enjoy even more Iron City products prior to staggering over to Heinz Field for the Steelers game.
At one point, I see Franco walking toward us. Obviously, you don’t not acknowledge Franco when you’re in his presence, so I make eye contact and stick out my hand to shake his. As I go to speak, I am reminded of how many ounces of Iron City are in my system, as the only thing that comes out of my mouth as he firmly grabs my hand and shakes it is, “Thank you.”
Instead of just blowing off yet another obviously inebriated Yinzer, Franco stops, looks me in the eye, smiles and sincerely responds, “You’re welcome.”
I can’t imagine how many Western Pennsylvanians have a similar story about their own brief yet unforgettable interactions with the man.
Rest in Peace, Franco. And thank you.
Gary Marutiak
Lower Burrell