Statues were once erected - even consecrated - to immortalize saints, presidents, statesmen and war heroes. Now a change. Athletes are having muscle turned into bronze.
And then there was Larry Wilson.
In Maryland, native Hall of Fame baseball players Babe Ruth and Jimmie Foxx have been honored with statues, leaving five other Maryland Hall of Famers - Judy Johnson, Al Kaline, Frank "Home Run" Baker, Vic Willis and Lefty Grove - without such distinction.
A statue has been created for Cal Ripken Jr., outside the family museum in Aberdeen, and one in Chestertown for Bill "Swish" Nicholson for the most humane reasons - he was deeply admired by his neighbors and townsfolk for the kind of man he was and the life he lived.
Now a statue will be fittingly erected to John Unitas, the paramount quarterback of the NFL. Additionally, he has been a model citizen and a ready spokesman, along with his wife, Sandra, for charitable causes. He was somewhat ambivalent on the statue idea and realized no one was compelled to bring it to fruition. Unitas could never be portrayed as a selfish oaf.
The sculptor is Fred Kail of Baltimore, formerly of Uniontown, Pa., and a graduate of the Maryland Institute-College of Art who built the statue put up at Unitas' alma mater, the University of Louisville. Kail is a friend of Unitas, and his work is first rate. There is not the slightest concern about the quality of his product.
Kail said, "It's a tremendous honor and a responsibility. I respect John so much I want it to be the best that I can give. I have some prototypes I want him to see. But I know what John will say, `Do whatever you want, Fred.' "
It's obvious the Unitas commission is just not another assignment for Kail. The going rate for statues depends on what you're ordering - size especially - but prices of $100,000 to $250,000 and on up prevail. Some work is good, others downright inept, but the landscape, almost all over, is being filled with statues of sports figures.
And then there was Larry Wilson.
St. Louis, in a way, has gone statue-mad. Citizens there are putting everybody in bronze but the hometown batboy. It already has in place statues of Stan Musial, Lou Brock, Red Schoendienst, Enos "Country" Slaughter, Bob Gibson and announcer Jack Buck. Ex-Cardinals Dizzy Dean and Rogers Hornsby have been approved for future inclusion, fitting them into a huge Hall of Fame promenade planned for Busch Stadium.
Chicago has Michael Jordan and announcers Jack Brickhouse and Harry Caray. Notre Dame has a whole building - the Rockne Center - named for coach Knute Rockne, along with an impressive bronze bust. Statues of one-time coach Frank Leahy and athletic director Ed "Moose" Krause have been placed on the campus.
No attempt is being made in this space to recount all of the sports statues and their locations. They are seemingly everywhere, including ones to Oscar Robertson, "Pistol Pete" Maravich, weightlifter Paul Anderson, Arthur Ashe, Bob Feller, Dan Marino and Don Shula.
Henry Aaron and Phil Neikro are bronzed in Atlanta, Hans Wagner and Roberto Clemente in Pittsburgh and Willie Mays in San Francisco. Courtly Connie Mack, looking more the part of a Supreme Court justice than a baseball manager, sits in a huge chair outside Philadelphia's Veterans Stadium.
Other Colts, along with Unitas, present statue potential. The same for the enormously entitled Brooks Robinson, who played longer than anyone else for a Baltimore team and made nothing but friends for the Orioles and the city. And also on the list considered for statues must be Jim Palmer, Earl Weaver, Frank Robinson, et al.
And then there was Larry Wilson.
Who was this Larry Wilson? A country boy, born in Rigby, Idaho, who wore a single digit on his jersey, No. 8, and played 13 seasons at safety for the St. Louis Cardinals before entering the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1978.
In 1973, the year after his retirement, friends wanted to erect a statue to Wilson in St. Louis. He would have been a companion presence to Musial; they could have kept each other company - the best of the baseball and football Cardinals. The fund-raising proceeded effectively. Then Wilson made a strong, impassioned statement.
He didn't, upon reflection, want the honor, but instead asked committee members to convert the money to building a room at the St. Louis Children's Hospital. We once congratulated him for such an unselfish act.
Wilson dismissed the compliment, making light of it, by saying, "Oh, I just didn't want to be a target for all those pigeons who would have worked me over."
And then there was Larry Wilson.
