ChiTrib votes George Connor 16th-best Bear of all time.
by G.K.Chesterton (2019-08-21 12:14:59)
Edited on 2019-08-21 12:18:47

Here's the ND-specific stuff, more or less:

Connor, a Chicago native, was born two months premature. Weighing 3 pounds, he was given a grave prognosis. His doctor advised he be fed boiled cabbage juice with an eyedropper in addition to his mother’s milk. Connor’s mother, a nurse, and his father, a general practitioner, took turns caring for him by his bedside for a year until he improbably gained full health.

“Boiled cabbage juice and faith are a strange mixture,” Connor told Rosenberg, “but they saved my life.”

Connor entered De La Salle High School on the South Side still on the small side at 5-foot-3 and 135 pounds, but by the time he graduated he was 6-1, 215. His coach, Joe Gleason, kept him out of contact drills so he wouldn’t hurt his teammates.

An all-out recruiting battle followed, and while Connor wanted to attend Notre Dame, he followed his family’s wishes and went to Holy Cross, where his uncle and namesake, Monsignor George Connor, was president of the alumni association. As a freshman in 1942, Connor dominated, and he led the Crusaders to a 55-12 shocker against No. 1 Boston College at Fenway Park.

Connor joined the Navy in 1944 and was stationed in the Pacific during World War II with Notre Dame coach Frank Leahy, who re-recruited Connor with the promise that he would become an All-American and the Irish would win a national title. Both came true when Connor’s tour ended as he became the first Outland Trophy winner as the nation’s best lineman in 1946 and Notre Dame was voted national champion in 1947.

The Giants drafted Connor with the fifth overall pick in 1946, but Connor informed them he wouldn’t play anywhere but Chicago and went back to Notre Dame. After the 1947 season the South Sider hoped to join the Chicago Cardinals, who had won the NFL title that year, but coach Jimmy Conzelman said the team was full at tackle.

So, Connor went to Halas, who told him, “Stick to your guns, kid, and I’ll get you.”

By that time, the Boston Yanks had acquired Connor’s rights from the Giants, and eventually Halas sent them tackle Mike Jarmoluk for those rights. Halas wanted Connor so badly that he broke his rule of not acquiring a player who employed an agent for one of only three times in the Bears’ first 45 years; the others were Red Grange in 1925 and Dick Butkus in 1965.

Before the 1948 season Connor signed for an unheard-of $13,000 per year for three years with a $6,000 signing bonus. When his new teammates learned Connor made more than established stars such as Bulldog Turner and Ray Bray, they took it out on the rookie.

“When I went to my first training camp, I found out just how poorly that sat with the other players,” Connor told Whittingham. “They really gave me a bad time. Most of the scars I have on my face today are from my teammates that year.”

Connor took the abuse in stride, and his talent and toughness became apparent. At the end of camp Turner said: “Kid, you’re all right. You took everything we gave you. Welcome to the team.”


Also:

He stayed with the team as a broadcaster, teaming for years with Grange, and he was a salesman for a corrugated box company. One of Connor’s greatest skills was public speaking, and he was a regular emcee at local charity events for much of the rest of his life. Connor died of a variety of ailments at 78 on March 31, 2003, in Evanston.

Connor’s sons, George Jr. and Al, never saw him play football but were in awe of their father’s other talent, the Tribune’s Don Pierson wrote on April 1, 2003.

“He was probably just as accomplished as a public speaker,” George Jr. said. “We used to marvel at how little preparation he did. He’d show up at the Notre Dame Club or wherever he was speaking, talk to a few people, jot down some notes and just talk. And he’d be great at it.”





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