A FOND FAREWELL TO THE JOE
It’s like going to see an old friend one last time.
Climb the steps to the entrance of Joe Louis Arena for Saturday’s and Sunday’s finales. Careful, those steps are steep and can leave you winded.
Through the metal detectors. Down the concrete concourse — it might be ugly, but it’s our ugly.
Take one last look around before the Detroit Red Wings move to Little Caesars Arena, a new home that will open in September.
Duck through one of the stiff, red plastic curtains — and the memories and emotions come flooding back.
Suddenly, it is June 7, 1997, and Steve Yzerman, with hismissing front tooth, lifts the Stanley Cup — the organization’s first in 42 years. The Captain hands the Cup to owner Mike Ilitch as a song blares over the loudspeakers: “We are the champions, my friends. And we’ll keep on fighting ’ til the end.” FIGHTING? It is March 26, 1997, and Darren McCarty is hammering the Colorado Avalanches’ Claude Lemieux — revenge for Lemieux’s hit from behind on Kris Draper a year earlier. Sticks and helmets are littered across the ice as Brendan Shanahan intercepts goaltender Patrick Roy.
And then, the moment that still lives on YouTube — it can’t get any better than this — as Red Wings goaltender Mike Vernon and Roy lock up, trading punches, knocking the stuffing out of each other. Roy leaves with blood streaming down his face.
Oh, it does get better, in a different way. It is June 13, 2002, and a chant rises through The Joe: “WE WANT THE CUP! WE WANT THE CUP! WE WANT THE CUP!” A horn goes off, and bodies are flying and hearts are soaring and confetti flitters down and the Red Wings have done it again.
Yzerman hands the Cup to coach Scotty Bowman, from a future Hall of Famer to a present Hall of Famer, and Bowman skates around the ice in his final moment as a coach. They all sprawl across the ice for a picture, the Hockey Gods and Mr. I, who raises three fingers. The third Cup since 1997.
This gray, sterile box at 19 Steve Yzerman Drive has hosted it all, from Cups and rock shows and the 1980 Republican presidential convention of Ronald Reagan to the circus — and by circus, we mean, the biggest, strangest, wackiest moment in figure skating history.
It is Jan. 6, 1994, and Nancy Kerrigan, moments after leaving the practice rink at neighboring Cobo Arena, is sobbing and screaming on the red hallway carpet after being attacked by a large man in a black leather coat and a black hat. She crunches
over, holds her knee and cries out, “Why me? Why now?”
Two nights later at The Joe, Tonya Harding easily wins the U. S. nationals as Kerrigan watches from a skybox. The conspiracy to injure Kerrigan soon unravels, and Harding eventually pleads guilty to a felony charge.
This is where Al Sobotka, the Zamboni driver, twirled the octopus over his head and Karen Newman sang her heart out, just about every night like clockwork, and everybody joined along with Journey, screaming at the top of their lungs: “Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit.”
This building is 15 million cubic feet of quirks — the springy boards, the thin, steep steps with the yellow paint, the worn, red plastic chairs, the stairwell that must have come from a giant erector set and the shots- on- goal scoreboard that looks like something from amiddleschool gymnasium — a seriously old gym.
This building is like an old friend. The one you raised a whole bunch of hell with.
It might be weathered and wrinkled and have a bunch of scars, but it holds your secrets.
And now, it is time to say goodbye. THE PONTIAC RED WINGS? When the Red Wings moved to this arena in December 1979, it was known as “Joe LouisWarehouse” because it was so cold, vast and bleak.
There weren’t enough bathrooms. Fluorescent light bulbs hung on bare wires in the concourse. Merchandise was sold on card tables, and the team was in disarray under Bruce Norris’ ownership.
Nobody seemed happy that the Red Wings were trading the charm of Olympia Stadium for the coldness of this $ 34 million building wedged between two expressways, a parking structure, a series of ramps and bridges and the Detroit River.
“It really wasn’t renovated and ready to go,” former Red Wing Paul Woods said. “It didn’tmake sense. You looked at the two buildings, and we were like, ‘ Why are we doing this?’ ” The players didn’t care for it. “We weren’t a real happy bunch,” said Woods, a left wing for Detroit from 1977 to 1984 and a Red Wings radio analyst since 1987.
The Red Wings had played at Olympia Stadium since 1927, at one point finishing first in the league for seven consecutive years and winning four Stanley Cups in six years.
Detroit Mayor Coleman Young started to construct a 20,000- seat arena on the riverfront in 1977, even though he had no tenants or financing.
Suburban developers tried to lure the RedWings to Pontiac, next to the Silverdome, offering millions in profit to a franchise that was losing money constantly. The potential Pontiac arena was called Olympia II, and the Red Wings had started selling suites.
They might have ended up in Pontiac if not for an extraordinary meeting between Young and Lincoln Cavalieri, then president of the Red Wings and Olympia. It lasted an hour or so.
“The first thing Coleman said was, ‘ I don’t want you to move to the cornfields. We want you downtown,’ ” Cavalieri told the Free Press in 1989. “It was quite an experience with the mayor. He didn’t screw around. ... I outlined five or six things we needed. Right there, we agreed on them all.”
The RedWings reneged on their Pontiac agreement, stayed in Detroit and walked away with a widely criticized sweetheart deal, scooping up all of the profits from The Joe as well as Cobo Arena and a parking garage for 30 years.
When the Red Wings tried to celebrate 50 years of Norris family ownership on opening night of the 1981- 82 season, Bruce Norris was booed vehemently, which he later described as the final straw. He sold everything to Ilitch for $ 8 million the following June.
Ilitch immediately tried to warm up The Joe by renovating the offices, dressing rooms and press room. He put in new lighting fixtures and ordered fresh paint on the walls.
A Little Caesars Pizza outlet was built under the stands. Ilitch gave away an American- made car at each home game.
On opening night for the 1982- 83 season, the fans gave Ilitch a rousing standing ovation.
“That was too much; I was all choked up,” Ilitch said. “It was a very, very touching thing. Ever see a grown man cry?”
His really significant improvement was how he changed the culture of the organization.
“It’s my job as leader of the franchise to produce the proper environment,” Ilitch told the Free Press in 1982. “This is my way of doing things. …
“I want to do things that are going to stimulate the fans along with the team members and the staff.”
He kept doing things, right up until his death at 87 on Feb. 10. ALWAYS ABOUT THE HOCKEY So, take it in one last time.
Look at the banners hanging over the ice, and yes, that sparks another flood of memories. Powerful, lump- in- your throat memories. Gordie Howe’s visitation and Yzerman’s jersey retirement ceremony.
Over the years, they have tried to spruce up the concourse with banners, ads, murals, souvenir stands and kiosks, trying to pull a different revenue stream out of every inch of space.
During The Joe’s final season, the floor was decorated with the names of the most famous acts to perform there: The Who, Bob Seger, Kid Rock, Madonna and Diana Ross.
But this building always has been about the hockey.
From the Russian Five to the Grind Line. It’s Stevie. Shanny. Drapes. Ozzie. Sergei. Vladdie. Probie. Pavel. Z.
This place isn’t special because of the steel and concrete.
It’s special because of the people and the memories.
So, cherish the memories from The Joe. The sights and sounds. Hold on to the mental pictures of the Stanley Cups and the dazzling players and rock-’ emsock-’ em fights and those crazy nights — “Hey, hey, Hockeytown!”
But the building itself? It was born ugly, and it will die ugly.
So be it. Hockeytown is not a building. It’s a story that flows from generation to generation, from Olympia to Little Caesars Arena, and the wonderful stop on the riverfront will live forever.