Keith Magnuson

by Doug Feldmann

  In the final round they would face the Montreal Canadiens, also known as the Habs in reference to les habitants, the nickname given to French settlers in Quebec in the 1600s. The Canadiens had acquired the unfamiliar role of being underdogs all season long, after their first playoff absence in 22 years the season prior. Comparisons of their aged roster were now being made to George Allen’s “Over-the-Hill Gang,” the NFL’s Washington Redskins of the same era, as Canadiens coach Al MacNeil utilized a roster of veterans. Greats such as Jean Beliveau, Frank Mahovlich, John Ferguson, Henri Richard, and others were well into their thirties, and the current season’s sunset was expected to be the last for many of them. But it also marked the first postseason for rookie goalie Ken Dryden—the same netminder Magnuson had faced in the NCAA championship game versus Cornell just two years earlier.

  Originally drafted by the Bruins in 1964, Dryden was unlike most any goaltender to enter the league for some time. At 6'4", he not only played with a lanky, unorthodox style but also presented himself with distinctive articulation and engaged in cerebral pursuits off the ice. Dryden was concurrently enjoying an impressive start to a career outside of hockey as well, having already gained his bachelor’s degree in history at Cornell. By 1971 he was working on a law degree from McGill University, asking friends to take notes for him in classes while the Canadiens were out of town. (In later years, Dryden would be elected as a member of the Canadian Parliament.) Like Magnuson, Dryden had bypassed the Juniors after college and instead came straight to the NHL. Playing in only six games for the Canadiens in the spring of 1971, he had won all six and thus had wrestled the starting job away from Rogie Vachon for the playoffs.

  “Chicago isn’t an easy rink for a visiting goaltender, especially a rookie just starting,” observed Montreal general manager Sam Pollock after Dryden had beaten the Hawks 2–1 in the Stadium back in March, one of Dryden’s first appearances in the league. “Anyone who was there couldn’t have been surprised at him starting the first playoff game…Our other goalies, [Phil] Myre and Vachon, had been inconsistent.”

  The decision to go with the rookie Dryden as the man in the nets was another bold move for MacNeil, a former Hawks player under Reay in the mid-1960s (and at that time, a roommate of 1971 Hawks center Lou Angotti) who had replaced Claude Ruel as the Montreal coach just 23 games into the season. Heading into the series with the Black Hawks, MacNeil had rejuvenated his roster of older players, leading them to play like inspired rookies. They had been on a recent tear across the league to end the regular season, winning two-thirds of their games in the final weeks of the schedule before ousting the Bruins and then the Minnesota North Stars in the first two rounds of the playoffs.

  The Hawks looked like a team of destiny as the Finals commenced against the Canadiens, dashing toward the Cup with two rousing victories at the Stadium to open the championship round. The first contest was a 2–1 overtime thriller on May 4, followed by a more conventional 5–3 win two days later. With the series moving to the Forum in Montreal for Game 3, Chicago showed no signs of relenting, building a 2–0 lead in the first period thanks to goals from Cliff Koroll and Bobby Hull. “For 20 minutes this afternoon it was a team with championship poise,” Damata penned ominously in the Tribune, “a finely-tuned machine geared for a third victory in a row in the World Series of professional hockey.

  “It looked at the time as if Chicago’s Black Hawks might, just might, do the seemingly impossible: make a four-game sweep of the Montreal Canadiens. That was a wishful dream, a fantasy that evaporated before the winds of reality.”

  The team’s fortunes changed, in the minds of many of the Hawks, when the highly regarded referee Ashley—the man in the middle of the Chicago-Boston brawl back in December—began blowing his whistle with great regularity. Fourteen infractions were called during the second period alone, and a total of 27 throughout the contest. Sixteen of them were against the Black Hawks, which nearly matched the meager number of 18 shots they could muster on Dryden. Damata noted that in that middle period, Stan Mikita, Martin, Pappin, Angotti, White, and Bobby Hull all spent time in the box, which in his words “destroyed the rhythm” that had led to Chicago victories in the first two games.

  On one even-strength shift, Pete Mahovlich beat Magnuson to a puck in the corner in the Chicago zone. Mahovlich, who at 6'5" towered over most of his opponents, slashed at Magnuson’s legs, an illegal move which permitted him to gain control of the puck. He then wheeled around quickly and fired a low-angle shot at Esposito that crept past him for the Canadiens’ first goal. Ordinarily, Magnuson would respond to such a slash with a drop of his gloves; but he did not do so this time, for fear of getting a fighting-major and thus putting his team in a deeper hole. “If Magnuson had retaliated,” Reay said afterward, “he probably would have drawn a double penalty.”

  Pete’s brother, Frank Mahovlich, soon tied things up at 2–2, and later added another goal after Montreal had already grabbed the lead for a 4–2 victory. The final tally for Frank was his 13th goal of the playoffs, which matched the record set by Boston’s Phil Esposito the previous year.

  While the Canadiens appeared to take the physical toll of the season and playoffs in stride, the Hawks were showing signs of infirmity by Game 4. Mikita and Esposito were both nursing leg injuries, and Stapleton still had over 100 stitches in his face thanks to an extensive laceration from the blade of a Canadiens skate four days earlier. While the origin of Mikita’s soreness was a mystery, Esposito suffered his blow when Canadiens defenseman Guy Lapointe—who would bump into Magnuson for a brief bout in the fourth contest—knocked him down when Esposito and Lapointe both raced after a loose puck in Game 3. The Hawks played like the tired team they were, dropping another contest in the Forum 5–2 to even the series at 2–2.

  The Hawks responded in fine fashion before their home crowd, with Esposito gaining his second shutout of the playoffs in blanking the Canadiens 2–0. The win put Chicago one win away from the championship. In a confrontation many were anticipating, Magnuson was finally challenged to a fight by Montreal strongman John Ferguson, who like Beliveau was at the very end of his career. But even in his record-breaking season of penalty minutes, Magnuson once again backed away from a fight—not out of fear of throwing fists with Ferguson, but to avoid spending time in the penalty box in such a critical game.

  Even so, it was evident that the Hawks were trying to ramp up their physical play in the series, especially at the Stadium. Inserted into the lineup for four of the games in the Finals—despite playing only two regular season games during the year—was Rick Foley. Foley was another young defenseman in the Korab mold, big and strong at 6'4" and 225 pounds, and a player who, it was assumed, would also take some of the checking duties away from Magnuson and Doug Jarrett.

  Much to the dismay of Montreal’s fans and players, as well as general hockey onlookers, Canadiens star forward Henri Richard inexplicably “spent most of the game anchored to the bench” in Game 5, according to writer Todd Denault. Consequently, Richard—who, along with Beliveau, had spent more time in a Montreal uniform than anyone on the current roster, and who would play in as many games in the Stanley Cup Finals as anyone who has worn skates—blasted MacNeil publicly in the locker room afterward, as Ferguson had similarly done earlier in the series. Richard called his young coach “the worst he ever had,” adding tension to an already edgy team environment with the Canadiens one loss away from elimination. The story even took a cultural turn in the press “with the French-speaking Henri, the younger brother of the still-worshipped [Maurice] ‘Rocket’ Richard, on one side and his English-speaking coach, Al MacNeil, on the other.”

  When the two teams returned to Montreal in preparation for Game 6, MacNeil—who originally had intentions of becoming a priest instead of a hockey coach—received death threats at his office at the Forum. Montreal police officers stood by MacNeil’s side as he took his place behind the bench. Somehow, the coach and his team remaine
d focused on the task at hand as the Canadiens took a 4–3 victory to force a winner-take-all seventh game back in Chicago.

  * * *

  The sports darlings of Chicago in the past few years had been Leo Durocher’s Cubs, a talent-laden roster of friendly players that nonetheless disappointed the city by losing a large divisional lead in 1969. On the afternoon of May 18, 1971, at Wrigley Field, the Cubs and pitcher Milt Pappas fell to the San Francisco Giants 7–3, thanks to a couple of hits by Willie Mays and a home run by Bobby Bonds. The loss dropped the Cubs to a 19–18 record, and the end of Durocher’s tenure seemed to be imminent. A meager crowd of just more than 12,000 had witnessed the event; while such a figure was perhaps typical for a Tuesday afternoon at Wrigley at the time, the city was that day focused on another event.

  For that evening, almost twice that number would cram into Chicago Stadium.

  The structure on Madison Street began gradually filling with patrons as the gates opened around 5:00 pm. Heading into the 7:00 hour, regular programming on the CBS television network was preempted for live coverage of the decisive game, just as it was on national television in Canada; the game ultimately reached an estimated 27 million households. For those milling around Chicago that evening with errands to run or for those otherwise unable to watch, their game coverage was also on WMAQ radio, in its first season as the Hawks’ flagship station after the team had been on the airwaves of WGN for several years. Greeting the listeners as always was Lloyd Pettit, the voice of the team since 1964. Pettit began his remarks that night by mentioning how, in his memory, the excitement of the semifinal series with the Rangers was matched only by this final round with the Canadiens. He was joined in his opening comments to the audience by his sidekick Harvey Wittenberg, who had covered the Black Hawks in the local media since 1961 and who also served as the Stadium’s public address announcer (in the latter role, Wittenberg became famous for his alert three times a night of “One minute to play in the period,” as well as his other regular lines).

  Pettit and Wittenberg gave the pertinent pregame information to the fans on WMAQ as the drop of the puck neared at the top of the hour. As the tension mounted for the imminent action, the first to appear out of the gate and onto the ice was referee John Ashley. He was booed loudly by the Stadium crowd as a result of the multitude of penalties he had called on the Hawks in Game 3 in Montreal. And despite the fact that linesmen do not issue penalties, Ashley’s colleagues, Matt Pavelich and John D’Amico, would get the same response as well. (All three men would one day be elected to the Hockey Hall of Fame.)

  A rhythmic cry began to rain down from the first and second balconies of the old barn: “Ash-ley’s a bum! Ash-ley’s a bum!”

  Then the Canadiens took the ice, knowing that their season, as well as the career of one of their storied icons, would end that night. News had leaked out in the Montreal press earlier that day that, win or lose, this would be Beliveau’s last game. The hockey giant was the first NHL player to appear on the cover of Sports Illustrated—15 years earlier—and like Orr and Hull, seemed to be encircled with a halo while dashing around on his skates. He was a regal, larger-than-life presence in the sport.

  After a few seconds of silence with the Stadium noise in the background, Pettit suddenly broke in again to inform the listeners that the local heroes had arrived: “A standing ovation at the Chicago Stadium…as the Chicago Black Hawks come on the ice before the 20,000 people jammed in this edifice.”

  As Magnuson led the team out—as he did every game—the view and sound that the players experienced was like none other. The fight song “Here Come the Hawks!” once again bellowed out of the speakers on cue, and the overflow crowd was, almost in a literal sense, hanging from the rafters at nearly the highest reaches of the building. As Pettit estimated, there were indeed more than 20,000 spectators present, but compliance with the fire code required the Hawks to list the official attendance for each sold-out home game at the Stadium as “16,666.”

  The fans were there for a coronation, not a game; this was the Hawks’ year. It was to be a May crowning to which they were entitled, a splendid moment for the franchise, and it was only a couple of hours away after 10 years of waiting. It was to be a special gift for the strong-willed Magnuson, who had led the team as a youngster with his blood, sweat, and fighting spirit; a gift to Reay, who had been eluded by the Cup for so long; a gift to Mikita, the deft playmaker and loyal subject of the team for a decade; and a gift to Bobby Hull and his underrated brother, Dennis, the former of whom had passed Maurice Richard for second place behind Howe on the NHL’s all-time goals list back in February with his 545th. (A week after passing Richard, Hull would get his 27th hat trick, also surpassing Richard in this category.)

  It would be fair to say that at that time, there had never been such an air of expectation at one Chicago sporting event. The Bears had taken the NFL championship eight years earlier over the New York Giants at a frozen Wrigley Field, but that was a hard-fought battle with uncertainty going in; this, however, was to be the Hawks’ night for sure. All knew it.

  While pandemonium reigned inside, no one in the Stadium gave much thought to the conditions outside. A turbulent late-spring day in the Midwest had produced an unstable atmosphere, with temperatures reaching the 90s in the afternoon and forecasters calling for the possibility of severe storms in the area into the night hours during and after the game. Even though it was claimed to be the first indoor arena with a comprehensive air conditioning system, the Stadium had absorbed the cumulative effects of the outside conditions over the past several hours. By faceoff, a stifling heat began to rise inside. “The temperature outside the Stadium read 85 degrees at game time,” reported Damata. “And the massed humanity inside sent the thermometer soaring.” Later that night, Damata would amend his remarks in describing the worsening conditions: “By the third period it seemed it wasn’t a matter of temperature but of steam pressure.” On the WMAQ airwaves, Pettit would periodically make mention of the growing warmth. His broadcast was being sent worldwide on Armed Forces Radio, which included the war-torn area of southeast Asia known as Vietnam. By May 1971, the 10-year war raged on despite the fact that U.S. troops in the region had been reduced to fewer than 200,000 soldiers.

  Beliveau and Mikita, two of the great centermen in the game, glided to the dot at the red line for the drop of the puck. Just before the start, Wittenberg chimed in with one of his various plugs of WMAQ sponsors: “Get power to clean and power to burn with STP.”

  For the first portion of the game, Reay placed the team’s fate in the hands of his best players, including Magnuson, the Hull brothers, Mikita, Pappin, Maki, Martin, White, Stapleton, Jarrett, and Koroll. According to writer Gare Joyce, Bobby Hull “was on the ice for seven of the first 10 minutes of the first period, more than four minutes in one stretch.” The Hawks immediately took the play directly to the Canadiens, and forced a holding penalty on Montreal’s Terry Harper within the first two minutes when he illegally restrained Maki’s rush up the ice. The power play resulted in no shots; even so, the crowd remained as raucous as any Pettit could recall at the Stadium. He felt compelled to apologize to his listeners on WMAQ for continuing to describe the play on several occasions after an offside infraction had been called seconds earlier by linesmen Pavelich and D’Amico—Pettit could not hear their whistles.

  As much as anyone else, Magnuson fed off the enthusiasm of the crowd. He was playing in tremendous pain, the result of a gradually worsening right knee injury which would require surgery in the off-season. But for now, his teammates needed him. And near the 5:00 mark of the first period, he announced his presence. After Esposito gloved a Montreal shot and held on, Magnuson nudged Canadiens center Jacques Lemaire in front of the crease. Lemaire turned and shoved Magnuson back but no punches were thrown, as Magnuson displayed the same restraint he had offered earlier in the series in the run-ins with Ferguson and Pete Mahovlich. But Ashley sought to maintain a t
ightly controlled game—at least as opined by Pettit and Wittenberg—and he gave both players minor penalties for roughing at 4:09. The fans once again booed Ashley vociferously, this time in direct support of Magnuson, as Wittenberg struggled through the crowd noise to get in another advertiser’s message with the break in the action.

  “Why buy a dull car when a full-sized Pontiac is only 57 dollars more than America’s most popular lightweight car?”

  The first period played out with few scoring chances for either side. With seven minutes to go, Mikita fed Eric Nesterenko on a dazzling pass into the Montreal zone on the right side, and he fired a low shot that seemed destined for the inner half of the right post—but Dryden stretched out his left leg as far as he could and barely nicked the puck with his skate to send it dribbling harmlessly past the pipe.

  Bobby Hull was still playing heavy minutes on the ice toward the end of the first period, and midway through the opening frame he had missed on a tremendous scoring chance when he rushed past Montreal defenseman J.C. Tremblay and charged in on Dryden. Unfortunately for Chicago, the puck hit a rough patch of ice as Hull carried it, and as a result, he was able to only push a soft shot on goal which Dryden stopped easily. Hot on Hull’s tail at every turn was Canadiens rookie forward Rejean Houle, assigned by MacNeil as the defensive stopper on the Hawks legend during the series.

  After Hull’s thwarted breakaway, Pettit again commented on the heat of the building: “A moment ago I thought I saw some steam coming from the ice.”

  Five years earlier, Houle had been in his first season as a rising star in the Quebec Juniors when he attended a game between the Hawks and the Canadiens at the Forum. Outside the arena after the game, the teenaged Houle walked over to the Hawks bus, climbed right up the stairs past the confused driver, and directly addressed the Golden Jet as the rest of the team stopped, fell silent, and stared at Houle. “Mr. Hull, one day I’ll play against you,” he said simply, and then walked back out of the bus as Hull politely smiled and nodded encouragingly to the youngster. Not long thereafter, Houle was being hailed as his franchise’s next superstar, scoring 53 goals in 54 games for the Montreal Junior Canadiens in 1969.