OT: The Latest News On My Health

[Velo]

Klein was a d**k!.

Barron Hilton, who founded the Chargers, often said in later years his biggest regret was selling the Chargers. He sold the team to Eugene Klein in 1966 at the insistence of the board of the corporation his father hand founded, the Hilton chain of hotels. The chain was struggling at the time and the board wanted Barron to give his full attention to the company and not be distracted by owning a football team.

I often wonder what different path the Chargers might've taken if Barron Hilton had remained in control of the Chargers. The Chargers were a relative juggernaut in the AFL when Hilton owned the team, with coach Sid Gilman at the helm. Barron Hilton lived a long time, dying just a few years ago, and he might have remained in control of the team well into this century. I think, I like to think anyway, that he would not have been the cheapskate owner that Klein, followed by Alex Spanos, turned out to be.

[WindsorUK]

Certainly would have been a diferent future.
Shame.
How's Thursday shaping up Roo?

[chargeroo]

Certainly would have been a diferent future.
Shame.
How's Thursday shaping up Roo?

Too much pain in my chest! I'm patiently waiting for God to heal me.

I want to add this, I've never felt closer to Jesus than I do now. That's the good side of dying slowly, plenty of time to love the Lord.

[Velo]

Too much pain in my chest! I'm patiently waiting for God to heal me.

I want to add this, I've never felt closer to Jesus than I do now. That's the good side of dying slowly, plenty of time to love the Lord.

Thinking of you today Roo. I've had some heart issues recently so have contemplated the possibility of dying and have prepared myself spiritually for that possibility.

[Fleet 1]

Prayers bro

[Geezbolt]

Roo, as a long-time Charger fan, like me, going back to 1961, I remembered a story former Bolt position coach, Tom Bass, told a group of us once, which I thought you would enjoy.
The team was flying back from a win back east. The pilot, thinking he was just talking to the stewardess' station, pushed the wrong button, and by mistake, came on the intercom to the entire cabin. He said, "Honey, could you bring us some coffee and a little lovin'"? In a panic, the head stewardess ran up the isle to the cockpit to tell the captain he could be heard throughout the plane. She got about halfway up when Ernie Ladd, sitting on the aisle, reached out with his big arm, blocking her way and stopping her in her tracks. Ladd, with a big smile on his face, looked at her and said, "Honey, you forgot the coffee".

[Bolts&noles]

Too much pain in my chest! I'm patiently waiting for God to heal me.

I want to add this, I've never felt closer to Jesus than I do now. That's the good side of dying slowly, plenty of time to love the Lord.

Need to spend more time with the lord.
iam growing closer to him, not nearly enough though.
Said a prayer for both of us Roo.
Always seems right when I pray or read the Bible or am speaking with other believers.
Always at peace in that moment.

[Craig440]

Roo, as a long-time Charger fan, like me, going back to 1961, I remembered a story former Bolt position coach, Tom Bass, told a group of us once, which I thought you would enjoy.
The team was flying back from a win back east. The pilot, thinking he was just talking to the stewardess' station, pushed the wrong button, and by mistake, came on the intercom to the entire cabin. He said, "Honey, could you bring us some coffee and a little lovin'"? In a panic, the head stewardess ran up the isle to the cockpit to tell the captain he could be heard throughout the plane. She got about halfway up when Ernie Ladd, sitting on the aisle, reached out with his big arm, blocking her way and stopping her in her tracks. Ladd, with a big smile on his face, looked at her and said, "Honey, you forgot the coffee".

That's a great story, thanks for sharing.

I went to school with a few of George Pernicano's cousins. We always went to Pernicanos Pizza place in El Cajon after football games and stuff. I talked to one of my buddies today for the first time in about two years. He told me some stories about Mr. Pernicano and the Spanos's I'll tell them soon Roo. I don't have time right now. The Pernicano familly still owns a small percent of the Chargers.

[ChargersPowderBlue]

Need to spend more time with the lord.
iam growing closer to him, not nearly enough though.
Said a prayer for both of us Roo.
Always seems right when I pray or read the Bible or am speaking with other believers.
Always at peace in that moment.

I wish we can have a thread about the bible. It's more than just something you read. It's the truth to wake people up about the reality of the world we live in. If no one wants to do it, I'm willing to. Also, I think it would be great to have it to honor Chargeroo.

[Bolt-O]

Sorry, we can't, unless Fleet changes the rule on religious discussion.

[Craig440]

I invited my friend here who is George Pernicanos cousin and has stories. He's 68 years old like me. I hope he shows up because you will like his stories.

[Craig440]

This is long I know but Sam (the cousin) sent this to me so I thought I'd share it. I have one more he shared also. It's ancient history so if that isn't interesting just skip it.

The man who owns Pernicano's and Casa di Baffi is Geroge Pernicano. Mr. Pernicano is both the oldest Owner of the San Diego Chargers (98 years young) and the longest-tenured Owner. Today, he owns just 3% of the team, but he owned 7% when he helped bring the team to San Diego from Los Angeles in 1961. For his efforts, Mr. Pernicano was inducted into the Chargers Hall of Fame in 1996 as just the 3rd non-player inducted behind Sid Gillman and Don Coryell. In the 60s and 70s, George Pernicano was very well known around San Diego. He was famous for a few things: his restaurants (famous for their veal cutlets and pork chops), his mustache (Casa di Biffi literally translates to "House of the Mustache", just look at the door handles), his love of cigars (he still enjoys handing them out to Chargers players after a win) and his fandom. It would be difficult to find a bigger Chargers fan than Pernicano, who has attended all but 2 Chargers games (both home and away) since 1961. Despite owning a chain of pizza restaurants, Pernicano's crown jewel was the Casa di Baffi location in Hillcrest. In its heyday, you could walk in on any night and see half of the Chargers' roster eating dinner or enjoying drinks there along with players from whatever team was in town that week to match up against the Bolts. Of course, this wasn't by accident. "The first month Casa di Baffi opened, he let the players eat for half price," Ron Mix said. "But he forgot to say it was just for the players, and all the guys would bring in their guests. I lived with (ex-Chargers quarterback) Jack Kemp on Fifth Avenue in Hillcrest and I must have eaten there five times a week." Shocking? Yeah, that Mix was somewhere else the week's other two days. But Pernicano didn't just feed the Chargers. Whenever a visiting team came through San Diego, they would exit with a Pernicano care package. Once, Pernicano ran out on the Lindbergh Field tarmac and halted the New York Jets' plane. Seems Joe Namath wouldn't leave without Pernicano's unique veal cutlet sandwiches. "Those veal cutlet sandwiches were so good they tasted like dessert," Mix recalled. Today, the Hillcrest location sits as a dusty, vandalized reminder of Pernicano living his dream as Owner of his favorite sports franchise and Owner of the choice restaurant of the stars. George still attends every Chargers game, sharing a luxury box with his former co-owner Barron Hilton. With just 3% ownership of the team, Pernicano undoubtedly has very little say in the day-to-day operations of the team. However, to know that one of the team's most die-hard fans has a direct line to Dean Spanos or A.J. Smith gives the rest of us hope. Maybe, one day, we can own a part of our favorite sports team and live the dream that George Penicano was able to live.
EnterYou sent

Don't know

[Craig440]

One more he sent. Just some history. He has stories better than this (personal against Spanos) but he's dealing with a broken pipe in his house right now.


Nick Canepa, Union Tribune Senior sports columnist. This is a tough write, Because George Pernicano, an American original, has passed away, as everyone must, I suppose, except it seems strange with George. I can honestly say that I have known no one of this earth more full of life, who enjoyed every single moment of it, who was more generous, more fun without strain, than George Pernicano. The calendar says he was 98. He lived to be 196. There were at least two long lives packed into the Chargers’ minority owner. George always said he was re-born, which I will get to, and I imagine he was. He had an incredible battery. On the road with the Chargers, we spent dozens and dozens of hours together, most of them over a fine meal followed by cognac. Story upon story. Many of them repeated, but who cared? Up to a few years back, when he became ill, he hadn’t missed a Chargers game anywhere and had been to every Super Bowl. He told me a thousand times. “Football. I love football.” George said the Spanos family had tried to buy him out — I believe he owned 3 percent of the team, once owning 5 percent when the club moved here from L.A. in 1961 — and he went Moe Greene. “You buy me out?” He considered it an insult. “This is my life,” he always said, usually following it up with curse words. And it was. He traveled with the team, and on the road, he would be up all hours of the night, often out in front of the team hotel puffing away on a cigar. Hence his nickname, “Road Warrior.” I have lost a friend, a companion, and San Diego is missing an icon. The Chargers have had one great, recognizable face throughout their history, and it has been this mustachioed cherub from Punxsutawney, Pa., who came here with wife Belle and his large family by way of Detroit in 1946 after serving in the Army Air Corps during World War II. George was famous for his handlebar mustache (which had an ever-present cigar under it), hence the name of his famous Hillcrest steak and chop restaurant, Casa di Baffi (house of the mustache), which he opened behind his original pizza parlor. You may or may not be aware George first brought pizza to San Diego in the late 1940s, originally setting up shop on University Avenue Then, one New Year’s Eve, he and friends and family carried the bar across the street to his new, permanent Sixth Avenue digs. Even after he closed Baffi more than 30 years ago (his chef retired and George didn’t care to trust or train another one), he refused to sell, much to the chagrin of his Hillcrest neighbors. He didn’t give a damn. He kept the water, gas and electricity on in what he called “my joint.” There were times, many years ago, when he would invite us over for “Monday Night Football,” and he would cook and entertain. He enjoyed company, and we enjoyed him. Years later, he took me on a tour of the place. In the large basement, he opened a locker. A Lance Alworth game jersey appeared. The refrigerator still had ancient prosciutto hams hanging in it, huge wheels of parmesan on the floor. Casa di Baffi was famous throughout the NFL. Joe Namath and George became fast friends. It was known for its pork chops, and he had the meat flown in, from Iowa, I believe, and would pick the stuff up from the airport himself. Coaches, players, owners, writers all made themselves at home in Baffi, which closed at 2 by municipal law but not George’s law. He entertained after hours for as long as friends wanted to stay. Jackie Gleason, when in town, basically lived in the place. George had a home away from home on the grounds and often stayed there rather than drive back to his Santee ranch. This, let me tell you, was an extraordinary human being. I believe it was in 1958 (close enough) that George flew to Vegas with some family members. The plane crashed outside of Palm Springs. As he recalled, the most serious injury came to one of his brothers, who suffered a broken leg. In that the crash took place close to a hotel, he led his group into the bar. George. “After that plane crash, my second life began,” he always said. And so it did. And so much of it revolved around football. And food. When Barron Hilton planned to move his Chargers here from L.A. in 1961, George got wind Hilton was looking for investors. He found out where. It was downtown, and, unsolicited, he attended the meeting, full of local power brokers who didn’t know him from, given his mustaches, Hercule Poirot. George was so picky about food. Eating with him usually resulted in a lesson. He didn’t like a lot. I was in Minneapolis for the 1992 Super Bowl, with my boss Tom Cushman and Chargers beat man Clark Judge (both also were great friends of his) and we ran into George in the hotel lobby. He asked us where we were headed. We told him a steakhouse. “I already ate,” he said, “but I’ll go with you.” So, we’re in the cab and Judge innocently mentioned the restaurant is supposed to have the best pork chops. Well, George went nuts. “I wasn’t going to eat,” he shouted, “but I am now!” He liked the pork chops. Which was astonishing. He spent a good portion of his life searching for the perfect “calamari fritti”. He never found it. He judged a great steakhouse by the quality of its onion rings. “If the onion rings aren’t any good, the joint ain’t, either,” he reminded me. I never really saw much difference in him after a Chargers game, win or lose. He just loved football. He loved being there. When stadiums banned smoking, it infuriated him. He would go into Hilton’s stadium box and smoke cigars with Barron. He brought pizzas to Padres games at Lane Field, where he supplied the beer cups, which advertised his restaurant. He wore patent leather shoes. He was stubborn. He was cantankerous. He was loving. He knew someone everywhere he went. Alas, I’m never going to do George Pernicano justice, no matter how much space I have to try. So I’ll stop here. I loved him. George was a part of my life for so long. He cannot be duplicated. Physically, he was not a big man. But, believe me, we have lost a giant

[chargeroo]

Thanks, Craig for sharing those stories.

I once had the pleasure of eating a meal with Mr. Pernicano while attending a Chargers-49ers game in SF. Joel Price of the Chargers PR Dept. arranged it. Mr. Pernicano was an absolute pleasure. He enjoyed everything. As he ate, he shared some delightful stories with us.

In the late 1960's my wife and I frequented Casa di Baffi too. They served melt in your mouth food! Gosh it was good. Back then Hilcrest was a busy area for good food and night clubs.