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He was a hero to me. by mkovac
When my daughter was little, I would tell her bedtime stories.
One time, we talked about her guardian angel. I asked her if she would like Knute Rockne to be her guardian angel. She liked that idea, so we voted together to give Knute the job.
When she was in high school, she was driving her Bronco and had her friend Heather with her. Neither were wearing their seat belts. My daughter, Laura, was looking down to change her CD player. Heather yelled, “Look out!” Laura looked up but could not brake in time and clipped the backward facing forks of a hay press and hit the curb in front of Joe Korn’s house on Panorama Drive. The Bronco flipped end over end twice and landed on its roof in Joe’s front yard.
Inside, Laura and Heather were pinballing around like tennis balls.
I got a cell phone call about the accident and raced to the scene. Her Bronco was there, and her high school friends who had been following her were there. They told me that 2 ambulances had taken Laura and Heather to the hospital.
I arrived and the trauma doctor told me that Heather had a small cut on her right hand and that Laura had a deep thigh bruise on her right leg. He said that if she had broken her femur she could have bled to death internally in 10 minutes.
I believe in guardian angels, and I believe that Knute Rockne paid our family back that day.
You see, before his last game in the LA Coliseum, he took the ND team to the Cocoanut Grove lounge at the Ambassador Hotel. My father was there when Rock walked in with the team. My father was a brash 21 year old guy back then. He frequented the clubs and dated a few starlets and Mickey Cohen and his boys would come up to the ranch to shoot dove during dove hunting season. My dad said they would show up in suits and patent leather shoes and try to hunt dove with their .45s and an occasional Thompson sub machine gun, and that they were terrible shots.
At the club that night in 1930, my dad walked up to Coach Rockne and introduced himself and shook Rock’s hand. Rock was polite and told my father that the Maitre d’ wasn’t going to seat him and the team.
My father walked over to the Maitre d’ and said, “This is Knute Rockne and the entire Notre Dame team! Why won’t you seat them?”
The Maitre d’ said, “It’s none of your damn business.”
My father said, “I’m making it my damn business and if you don’t seat them right away, I’m going to make a telephone call.”
The Maitre d’ scowled and said, “Oh yeah? Who are you gonna call?”
My father said, “I’m gonna call my friend, Joe Sica.”
The Maitre d’ turned pale, walked over to Rock and said, “Right this way, Sir. We will seat you now.”
Rock thanked my dad and that was that.
Joe Sica was one of Mickey Cohen’s enforcers, to put it mildly.
Photo of the Cocoanut Grove dinner lounge...
