Posted on 07/04/2003 7:40:26 AM PDT by Theodore R.
Remembering Joe: 'I think about him every day, and how life would be if he were still around' Former football great a hero to many
Brian Vernellis / The Times Posted on July 4, 2003
HAUGHTON, LA - Tall weeds obscure the dirt road that juts from Louisiana Highway 157.
Only a silver sign indicates what lies at the end of the path. The lettering on one side is faint from years of sun and rain; the other side reads, "Hawkins Memorial Cemetery."
A horseshoe of tall firs and elms protect the cemetery from the roar of semi-trucks bustling up and down the highway. A light summer rain begins and beads form on top of the 4-foot-tall gravestone. The drips trickle down its face - past the photograph of a young man at the pinnacle of his life.
The rivulets continue past the carved name - Delaney, Joe Alton. They flow past a pair of dates - Oct. 30, 1958 - June 29, 1983, past the names of the wife and children left behind and down to the Scripture passage inscribed at the base.
"Greater love hath no man than to lay down his life for another."
At the end of another rutted dirt path, there is a modest mobile home. It is the home of the matriarch of the Delaney family - Eunice Delaney Kennon.
She sits on her bed and stares at a wall, remembering her son Joe.
"I don't need photos to remember Joe, when I got him right here," she said, pointing to her heart.
The Delaney family will gather today at the end of that dirt path she calls Delaney Boulevard. They will barbecue and honor the Fourth of July like other Americans, but their day has deeper significance for it is both a celebration and a memorial.
Twenty years ago today, the Delaney family buried Joe. He died trying to save three children from drowning at a pond in Monroe's Chennault Park.
Twenty years later, his widow, Carolyn, still remembers everything from that June day. She remembers her last words to him. She will never forget the black hole of grief she descended into when she was informed at the hospital of her husband's fate.
Yet, she can't remember a thing about the funeral when thousands crammed into Haughton High School's gymnasium to remember Joe.
For LeMarkits Holland, the sole survivor of the accident, Delaney gave him a second chance at life. Twenty years later, he's getting his third chance.
"It was a heroic, unselfish act in an era of great selfishness in this country by a young man at the peak of his career," Northwestern State Sports Information Director Doug Ireland said.
Growing up, Joe was the scrawniest kid in the neighborhood. So when one day after school, he announced he wanted to play football, it stunned his family.
There was no way he could survive football. His strict father forbid him. Besides, there were more important things like his chores to do.
His mother turned her eye. She shared her love of music with him and hated to see him miss the joys of being a kid. She and his sisters did his chores, sometimes loading 200 bales of hay onto a trailer. His older sister Alma shuttled him back and forth from home and the field.
Shortly afterward, he made another announcement. He wanted to play pro football.
"His childhood really shaped him," Carolyn said. "Coming up in that household full of kids, he saw his mother work so hard. He wanted to take care of her. He used to talk about that all the time."
He was a starting wide receiver by his junior year at Haughton High School. Major Division I schools like Texas, Oklahoma and LSU pined for him because of his unbelievable speed.
Northwestern State head coach A.L. Williams knew the competition to get Joe was tough. He missed the big-name recruit to more prominent schools all too often. On signing day, he bumped into the LSU recruiting coordinator who gloated he had Joe all but sealed up for Baton Rouge.
Oh well, Williams thought, there's another one we lost. But this time, it was different. Northwestern was what Joe searched for. It was a small campus and he would get an opportunity, something other schools couldn't offer.
It was the perfect fit between school and student. It was home.
"Joe loved coach Williams," Kennon said. "He loved that school."
After Joe made it official, the two sat on the fender of Williams' car and talked about his future.
"Coach, do you ever think I could play pro football?" Joe asked.
"Joe, I have no idea, but you've got a lot of things going for you," Williams said. "I'll make you a commitment if you make me one. I'll do everything in my power to help you get there, if you do everything in your power."
"Coach, I promise I will."
Instant contributor
Delaney was a sensation before he arrived on the Northwestern State campus. Many students couldn't believe it was him when they actually met him.
He was a quiet, but engaging young man who didn't fit the mold of a college football player.
He could make friends walking through the cafeteria. His blinding plaid pants, shabby shirts and beat-up tennis shoes befit a struggling college student.
He and Carolyn married and had two kids by his senior season. Money was tight.
It was his freshman season however that altered his life. Injuries hit the Demons hard, prompting him to ask Williams if switching to running back from receiver would help the team.
Williams listened and agreed to it, though he kept a cautious eye on his progress. Slowly, Joe's skills developed and it was evident he had the instincts of a running back. He was constantly in the weight room building his frame, running sprints, anything to make him a better player.
"He just had this explosion with those sprinter's legs of his," former NSU teammate Jack Britton, Jr. said. "If you just stayed with your block long enough, he had the speed and explosion to get through there and score a touchdown on every run. Woom! He was gone."
After each game or practice, he sat by his immaculate locker, quietly undressed and hardly spoke a word to either his teammates or the media unless approached.
By his senior season, Williams was getting phone calls from NFL scouts about Joe. Their presence at practices noticeably increased.
Delaney sat in Williams' office on the day of the 1981 NFL Draft, patiently waiting for the phone call which would make his dream come true. The phone kept ringing with well-wishers, but no call from the NFL.
Finally, Kansas City head coach Marv Levy called. The Chiefs had selected him in the second round.
As the two talked, Kansas City backfield coach Bobby Ross called Williams on another line. Ross pecked Williams with questions. Could Joe start? Is he big enough for the pros? What do you think about him?
"It was unusual because of all the kids we had drafted, never had anybody talked to me like that after the kid had already been drafted," Williams said.
He discovered why Ross peppered him with questions later that day. The Chiefs traded away their top running back. Delaney was their man.
Amazing work ethic
Delaney had fulfilled his dream. The first purchase for himself was a blue and white 1982 Mercury Cougar, conspicuous among the Mercedes and BMWs at training camp.
Like Natchitoches, Kansas City embraced Joe. It was easy to. He visited with children, constantly signing autographs after practice and games.
On the field, he was incredible. In one game against Dallas, he broke loose for a 75-yard touchdown run, but an offside penalty brought it back. On the next play, he was gone for an 80-yard touchdown.
"Levy called me one day and said he was amazed with his work ethic," Williams said. "I told him Joe was going to outwork anybody and Levy said he did. As a rookie, Joe had a bunch of the veterans coming in with him to work out."
He finished with 1,121 yards on 234 carries, one of the best seasons ever for a rookie running back. The humble young man was the team MVP, a Pro Bowl starter, and AFC offensive rookie of the year.
He spent his summers back in Haughton, rustling up kids for pick-up football or basketball games. Afterward, he'd take everyone out for ice cream or ICEEs. If he saw someone walking alongside the road, he'd pick them up in the Cougar.
An eye operation and a strike shortened his 1982 season, but it only fueled his optimism for the 1983 season. Five days before his visit at Chennault Park, he gave one of his last interviews and talked about his future.
Three years into his professional career and already he was thinking of life beyond football - maybe a recreation coordinator, a youth counselor or a teacher, something working with kids.
"He's on his way to becoming a possible Hall of Famer, but that didn't mean that much to him," Ruston Daily Leader Sports Editor Buddy Davis said. "You could tell with him he was unfazed by the numbers."
Tragic June day
That June day was like so many other Louisiana summer days. The rising temperatures and brilliant sunshine enticed hundreds to Chennault Park for a TV station's free promotion.
As Joe left home to make an appearance, Carolyn said her final words to him.
"Be careful," she said.
Harry Holland Jr., Harry's younger brother LeMarkits and their cousin Lancer Perkins were in the massive crowd. The trio wandered about the park eventually coming to a pond.
The pond wasn't intended for swimming. The land that was scooped out built a foundation for a water slide in another area of the park. Only ducks and turtles swam in the pond.
What the boys didn't know was a steep drop awaited them a few feet from shore. The three disappeared in an instant, stepping off the cliff.
Sitting in the shade of a nearby tree, Delaney didn't hesitate. He was an inexperienced swimmer, but he reacted in his unselfish fashion. He jumped in and grabbed LeMarkits, pulling him to the surface. He submerged to find Harry and Lancer.
When emergency crews finally arrived, they pulled Harry and Lancer out.
"There's another person down there," someone said.
Joe had been underwater for several minutes before divers reached him.
Paramedics rushed the three to St. Francis Medical Center in Monroe. Joe died at 3:40 p.m.; Harry died seven minutes later. Lancer died the next morning.
Delaney's sister, Joann, felt an incredible pain in her chest that afternoon. The pain stung as if thousands of pins jabbed her heart.
She was Joe's twin sister, and like many twins, they shared a unique connection. Any emotion Joe experienced, she felt it too. When Joe was nervous before a game, her stomach got queasy.
This intense pain was something completely different. She asked her boss if she could leave work early. She became drowsy when she arrived at home and laid down to take a nap. One of her sisters telephoned her with the news before she could fall asleep.
The news was across the state within hours. Soon, the nation learned of what happened in Chennault Park. The three national networks had it on their evening newscasts.
Williams received a phone call from a television station breaking the news. He and his wife drove to the hospital and found Carolyn inconsolable.
"She was devastated," Williams said. "You can imagine how she could be. She had just gotten there and was not in good shape. My wife and I were concerned."
Tremendous pain
The week has been tough for Carolyn as have the years. She hasn't remarried since Joe's death, raising three daughters on her own.
The 20th anniversary of Joe's death has brought phone calls from reporters across the nation asking for a few minutes. ESPN and Sports Illustrated called to request interviews. Each time, she has to relive the day.
"I think about him every day, and how life would be if he were still around," she said, her voice trembling.
LeMarkits Holland got his second chance at life when Joe rescued him. Twenty years later, he's looking for another rescuing hand.
On May 2, he bonded out of Ouachita Parish Correctional Center after pleading guilty to counts of distribution of cocaine and conspiracy to distribute cocaine.
Carolyn has not spoken to him or his family in years.
"If Joe were around, I think he would have kept in contact with him and tried to get help for him," she said. "I understand he was having some difficulties and didn't get therapy."
The family has experienced tremendous pain. Joe's oldest daughter, Tamika, lost her fiance when he was killed in a drive-by shooting outside a Los Angeles nightclub a few years ago.
Joe's oldest sister, Alma, lost her son, Sharlon, three years ago when he drowned.
"Keeping my belief in God has got me through, and remembering that everything happens for a reason," Carolyn said.
Delaney's legacy
Like his mother, many people have kept Joe alive in their hearts.
"Every time I drive past Haughton on I-20, I think of Joe," Williams said.
In Kansas City, the 37 Forever Foundation works with the American Red Cross to provide swimming lessons for underprivileged children. They have raised $157,000 toward water safety awareness.
The foundation hopes to expand its swimming and safety programs for Haughton and Natchitoches.
Joe's No. 84 jersey hangs in the lobby of Haughton High School's gymnasium. A photo of him in his Kansas City uniform adorns the display too.
Northwestern State has several memorials about campus. There is a shrine in the concourse of Turpin Stadium. His No. 44 jersey is on display in the field house.
The football team captains receive the Joe Delaney Memorial Leadership award and the team's annual spring game is renamed for him. Some school presidents aren't memorialized as much as Joe.
At Chennault Park, by the pond, there is no plaque honoring the heroism from June 29, 1983. Only a sign put up immediately after the accident. It reads, "No Swimming."
Friends
reminisce
"Joe was very well-liked and respected. He was a hard-working, good family guy. He far exceeded the expectations."
- Marv Levy, former Kansas City Chiefs head coach
"I remember the talk around the newsroom. They knew it was Joe, but when I heard it I thought, 'Nah, what would Joe be doing in town?'
"It was just a great family. Every time I passed Haughton on I-20, I think, 'Damn, that's where Joe lived."
- Don Hudson, Jackson Clarion-Ledger managing editor, a former Monroe News-Star reporter and college classmate
"He talked about his future what he wanted to be known as in life outside of football. He wanted to be remembered as a good person, a family man."
- Buddy Davis, Ruston Daily Leader sports editor on one of Delaney's last interviews
"NSU and Natchitoches had a bad time. The school pretty much closed up. We're such a small town, we take a lot of pride in people that do good like that. We don't have an awful lot of celebrities but Joe was one of them. Natchitoches loved Joe."
- Ed Dranguet, Delaney's banker on the aftershocks of his death
"Joe grew up in Haughton where discipline was important. He was somebody who came from the country and taught not to be loud. Listen not talk, and you learn a lot more.
"He was someone with a God-given talent of speed and he took advantage of it."
- Jack Britton Jr., NSU teammate
"He was the same in high school as in college, and even after he made it to the NFL."
- David Causey, Haughton teammate
"Before I knew Joe Delaney, I knew all the good things about him. Not just as a player but as a person. When I think back, he really was, and maybe more, of what everybody had said about him."
- Bill Johnson, Atlanta Falcons assistant coach and former college teammate
"It was obviously stunning news, but I wasn't in the least bit surprised. Given that situation and knowing Joe Delaney, there is no question that he would have gone into that pond. Knowing he wasn't a strong swimmer had no bearing on what he was trying to do."
- Doug Ireland, NSU sports information director
Mark
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