A night at the bar with MSU's 1965 football legends

EAST LANSING – Tommy Dorsey and Duke Ellington played here, and so did the Michigan State football team, at a rocking roadhouse just outside the city limits of East Lansing.

The home of Michigan State University was dry from 1907 until 1968, no alcohol allowed per the city charter, but The Coral Gables on East Grand River Avenue had plenty of it. The line to get in by early afternoon on a Friday wrapped around the building, which stood a half mile from campus and a few feet east of the line separating East Lansing and Meridian Township.

Built in the 1920s, it attracted Dorsey, Ellington and other big-band acts in its first couple of decades, and then Little Richard and Chubby Checker helped bring rock and roll to the Gables in the late 1950s. There was a drinking side and an under-21 side, and there are stories of future spouses meeting there and Timothy Leary speaking there and more than 500 people at once dancing there.

If you stopped by on a night in the mid-'60s, you might have heard the Kingsmen playing their popular version of "Louie Louie." You might have seen college football players with names like the Brazilian soccer stars of today – only one word required. Bubba and Mickey and Viney and Gene and Clinton and Goovert and Apisa and Juday and Thornhill. That's the late Charlie "Mad Dog" Thornhill, middle linebacker, 1965 national champion Spartans.

They played for Duffy, who followed Biggie. This weekend, MSU is celebrating their 50th anniversary. And tonight, Coral Gables is the place to be again.

It's 6:50 p.m. Thursday, and the Gables is filling up. It has transformed into a family restaurant and banquet hall over the years under the ownership of the Vanis family, which bought it from longtime owner Tom Johnson in 1968. But a few dozen Spartans hovering around age 70 will show it can still rock.

There are more teammates due to arrive Friday for a total of more than 70, and there are formal events ahead, including a reception with MSU President Lou Anna K. Simon; a Kellogg Center dinner featuring Mark Dantonio, Mark Hollis and a presentation to the two living coaches from that team, Hank Bullough and Vince Carillot; and on-field recognition during No. 2 MSU's homecoming game against Purdue.

This is beer and pizza, and stories. So many stories. Some of them are well-worn, such as Thornhill tearing off the MSU locker room door at Notre Dame Stadium before No. 1 MSU beat the No. 4 Irish, 12-3.

He had caught wind of Notre Dame students scuffling with MSU band members and, as the story goes, he knocked on Notre Dame's locker room door and invited the Fighting Irish out for some punishment. MSU clinched the national championship that day in one of the two major polls, UPI, by holding Notre Dame to minus-12 yards rushing – after stuffing Ohio State for minus-22 and Michigan for minus-39.

"Our defense was unbelievable," says Steve Juday, that team's senior quarterback and captain, nursing a beer and shaking his head. "Duffy (Daugherty) was our offensive coordinator, he was an offensive guy, but he believed in the best talent on defense. His philosophy was, 'Before you can win a game, you have to keep from losing it.'"

Daugherty also believed in recruiting and playing the best players, period, and he ignored the unwritten, racist rules of the North at a time when Southern schools were still segregated. His players talk of the preseason meeting when he called out the starters, 11 of them African-Americans – unheard of at the time.

"We made history," says Ernie Pasteur, who planned to attend a black college in his home state of North Carolina when Daugherty found him. "We were a close team, black and white, and that's why we were great. And we took advantage – we got our degrees, we've had good lives."

In fact, according to Tom Shanahan's book "Raye of Light," Daugherty recruited 44 black players from the segregated South between 1959 and 1972, and 68% graduated. That's long before graduation rates were scrutinized like quarterback ratings and academic support staffs emerged.

Pasteur, a longtime educational administrator who organized much of the reunion weekend, holds in his hand a letter he recently wrote for a campaign to get recognition for Daugherty's recruiting "Underground Railroad" included in the Congressional Record. It is addressed to Gregory J. Reed, CEO of Detroit's Keeper of the Word Foundation, along with President Barack Obama and U.S. Rep. John Conyers.

In the letter, Pasteur writes: "Our team formed a bond of meaningful, lifelong friendships and respect for each other that helped heal the racial divide in America."

He also tells of meeting Micki Chappell in a class and forming a relationship with her, at a time when interracial dating was widely frowned upon. Even among the white students who readily accepted black football players socially, Pasteur wrote, there was an "unwritten rule" against those players dating white women.

There were also laws in many states prohibiting interracial marriage, until the Supreme Court changed that in July of 1967 with Loving v. Virginia. A few months earlier, on Jan. 28, 1967, Ernie and Micki were married at St. John Catholic Church in East Lansing. That marriage is approaching its 49th anniversary, having yielded three children, three grandchildren and successful careers for Ernie and Micki, a lawyer.

And it yields laughter tonight. The wedding took place right after one of the biggest blizzards on record in Michigan, a snowfall so heavy that Ernie was unable to dig out Bubba Smith's fancy Buick Riviera to use for the wedding as promised. He arrived at the church an hour late, where his mother awaited his explanation on the phone from North Carolina. The storm kept her from attending, but she wanted to know why Ernie was an hour late.

That was a few months before Smith, George "Mickey" Webster, Clinton Jones and Gene Washington occupied four of the top eight spots in the 1967 NFL draft. That's never been matched, and when Jones officially joins the College Football Hall of Fame in December, those four will be the first black teammates from the same senior class to be in the Hall together.

Right now, Pasteur is sitting next to Jones at one of several tables filled with members of those teams, and they're laughing at how Jones transported alcohol from Meridian Township – remember, East Lansing was dry – to the reception at Micki's house on River Street.

"You had a sled, man!" Ernie says.

Those two are sitting at a table that includes Ron Goovert, Robert Simon and Don Bierowicz. Washington enters the room, spots Bierowicz and gives him a hug.

"I haven't seen this guy in 50 years," says Washington.

Washington takes a look at the pizza buffet and says: "I think I may have to order something with vegetables – gotta have more balance."

Indeed, this scene isn't quite what it might have been a half century earlier with the same participants. Many favor water over beer, and the beers are going down slowly. But the room is still packed and noisy, and it isn't confined to 1965 team members.

This weekend is really a joint celebration of the 1965 and '66 teams that combined to go 19-1-1, and others such as MSU basketball great Stan Washington and wrestling great Gary Smith have joined the celebration.

Some brave spouses are on hand as well, such as Pat West, wife of Jerry West, an All-America offensive tackle who came up with the idea for this Coral Gables timehop. When Micki Pasteur arrives, the room sings happy birthday to her and her eyes well up in tears.

Pat Gallinagh is there, and so are Don Weatherspoon, Keith Redd, Dwight Lee, Boris Dimitroff, Jerry Jones, Regis Cavender, Phil Hoag, Bill Feraco, Bob Lange, Tony Angel, Wade Payne and Eddy McLoud. They talk about the good old days – "Back when everyone didn't have their nose in a phone," Simon says – and about the teammates they have lost. Thornhill, Smith, Webster, Don Japinga and Tony Conti all have passed in recent years.

They talk about the legendary Duke Waldron, who owned the Shell gas station at the corner of Michigan and Harrison avenues, where the Harrison Roadhouse now sits. "Duke's Shell" was where athletic director Biggie Munn and the coaches frequented, where MSU players often could be found helping out.

"We volunteered," Bierowicz says with a smile.

Eric Ruben Marshall approaches Jones and Pasteur. Daugherty recruited him to play quarterback out of Oxford, Miss., but he never got on the field. He was an undersized scout-team quarterback with a strong arm who would regularly give the starting defense fits. He was one of the memorable "White Rocks," the name given to the scout-team players who didn't get to play.

"He was our Rudy," Jones says.

"He was awesome," Juday says of Marshall. "He had a huge arm. I don't know why he wasn't with the first team, but I'm glad he wasn't."

There are other "White Rocks" across the room, and John Mullen and John Whalen are trying to explain what it was like to take a beating every day while getting little outside recognition in return.

"Duffy used to say 'There's a big difference between an injury and pain -- you don't have to play with an injury, but you have to play with pain," Whalen says.

"One of the reasons this was one of the best teams ever put on a field," says Mullen, yet another quarterback on that team, "is that the 'White Rocks' made those first teamers as good as they were."

After the 1964 season, MSU assistant John McVay got the head coaching job at Dayton and offered Mullen a chance to go with him. Mullen wasn't going to beat out Juday, and Jimmy Raye was being groomed as Juday's successor. Mullen decided to stay, and he left MSU with two letters, a national championship ring and a successful future in business.

"One of the best decisions I've ever made," Mullen says. "I would have started at Dayton, but I never would have been able to say I was on two national championship teams. And that you can't buy."

Jim Proebstle, the starting tight end on the '65 team, sits down at the table.

"The 'White Rocks' had the toughest schedule of all," Proebstle says. "They had to play a national championship team every single week."

At the next table, they're talking some trash. Ted Bohn is wondering about McLoud's lack of hair these days.

"Bald is in this year," McLoud says to Bohn. "So is gray."

"Fat, too?" Bohn asks.

Juday remembers a fight at Penn State in the second game of 1965, with some of those scout teamers actually coming onto the field from the stands after driving to the game to support the regulars. That 23-0 win, a week after beating UCLA 13-3 in the opener, "allowed us to start to believe in ourselves," Juday said.

That belief was unquestioned after the win at Notre Dame, the UPI national title clinched and the Rose Bowl ahead. Bowl games were still seen more as rewards for great seasons at the time, but the Associated Press started that season to wait until after bowl games for its final vote. So when UCLA upset MSU 14-12 in the Rose Bowl rematch, 9-1-1 Alabama got the AP share of the title by beating Nebraska in the Orange Bowl.

"We fell victim to the distractions," Juday says.

Or maybe it was offensive lineman John Karpinski's jersey. One of his superstitions was to work his jersey out of his pants through the course of the game to help the Spartans win, but the special Rose Bowl jersey was too long. Angel recalls several other superstitions that year, such as Webster always making sure he at least had his pants on by the time MSU's skill players took the field for pre-game warmups.

Before every game, kicker Dick Kenney would rub analgesic on his legs, wash his hands and then do it again. Between breakfast at the Kellogg Center and the team meeting on game day, Jerry Jones would run out to the Spartan statue and touch its heel.

"Duffy had a superstition," Angel says. "He would say, 'It's bad luck to be behind at the end of the game.'"

It's near 10 p.m. now. Just time to get things cranking in 1965. Pushing bed time in 2015. Coral Gables co-owner Stuart Vanis stands in the back of the room watching as the crowd starts to thin.

"This era is coming to an end," Vanis says. "These guys, there's such a bond, it's incredible."

The last three in the place are Jim Summers, Dave Techman and Sterling Armstrong. Summers is recalling the other regret for those teams, the 10-10 tie with Notre Dame in the "Game of the Century" to end the 1966 season.

Summers, a starting cornerback, still blames himself for Notre Dame's lone touchdown. It was a 34-yard pass just beyond safety Jess Phillips, but Summers says he saw Notre Dame setting up the play earlier in the game. He just drifted a few steps too far the other way to react in time.

Summers remembers sitting and crying in the locker room after that game when Daugherty sat down next to him.

"You know," Daugherty said, as Summers recalls, "that might have been your best game."

Summers went on to a starting job as a rookie with the Denver Broncos, until a game against the Houston Oilers and his good friend Webster. Summers says he was trying to emulate Webster when he came up to deliver a hit to Houston running back Hoyle Granger. The blow removed part of a nerve from his spinal cord, left him briefly paralyzed and ended his football career.

He went on to become a probation officer in the San Francisco area. Now he is talking about Webster and Smith. So many of the Spartans' stories still go back to them, two of the greatest players in program history.

Armstrong tells of the time he and Smith returned to campus for a game and nearly parked a few blocks away from the stadium. Smith told him to drive up to a restricted lot, and Smith popped his head out of Armstrong's car. The parking attendants yelled "Bubba!" and let them through. This kept happening until they got closer and closer.

"We parked in the tunnel," Armstrong said.

Smith used to challenge the defensive backs to races before practice, and sometimes he'd win. But the biggest freak of all was Webster, whose pro career started strong with Rookie of the Year honors and Pro Bowls in his first three seasons, but faded with mounting injuries.

Webster is why Summers came to MSU – they were high school rivals in South Carolina who became friends, and Webster recommended Summers to Daugherty – and he's still the best player any of these guys have seen. And one of the best guys. Webster and Jones were MSU's two captains in 1966, two tremendous leaders who happened to be black.

Techlin, a starting offensive lineman, tells of the time he did everything right in pass protection on a play in practice but still got flattened by Webster.

"I see you met Mickey," assistant coach Gordon Serr said, standing over Techlin.

It's quiet now in Coral Gables, 10:40 p.m., the night winding down, as Techlin looks at Summers and Armstrong.

"He was like a cobra," Techlin says of Webster. "Mickey, there's no way you can possibly exaggerate him."

Contact Joe Rexrode: jrexrode@freepress.com. Follow him on Twitter @joerexrode. Check out his MSU blog at freep.com/heyjoe.

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