Bob Harlan

Where do you even begin to say thanks?

Never had many occasions to call Packers president Bob Harlan during my time on the job, but the one time I did the man, as advertised, answered his own phone.

His death this week is the latest in a string of those involving huge figures in Wisconsin sports: Bob Uecker who turned a forgettable MLB career into an entertainment career and an unmatched passion for baseball into a professional life behind the Brewers radio play-by-play mike. Bruce Froemming, who loved a game so much that, when he realized he couldn’t play it at the highest levels pivoted to becoming one of baseball’s best umpires.

Bob Harlan came to Green Bay when the Packers collective operation was taking on water both on the gridiron and in the black and white lines on its financial statements. Years before, there’d been whispers about Green Bay not being big enough to support an NFL team. Esteemed Sports Illustrated sports columnist Frank Deford chronicled Green Bay’s post-Lombardi struggles—an era some of us call “The Gory Years”—in a May 1987 column, concluding, “The answer to Green Bay’s dilemma is simple. It should sell the franchise to Milwaukee for $60 million or whatever.”

Upon his arrival, Harlan fixed the dysfunctional relationship between the football and business operations by making Ron Wolf the team’s general manager and complete pigskin overlord. No more Executive Committee members calling football shots, thank you very much. Harlan then turned his attention to the Pack’s financial footing—improved with the team’s return to onfield sucesss thanks to Wolf, coach Mike Holmgren and others—but still a tad wobbly looking forward. His first call was to bring to an end the team’s duel Wisconsin residency—a schedule that split home games between Green Bay and Milwaukee’s County Stadium which was starting to cost the team money. In his wisdom, Harlan didn’t cold-turkey the longtime Milwaukee faithful—he folded them into the existing Lambeau season ticket plan..

Harlan then played his next cards, spearheading the club’s first stock sale since 1950 and then becoming the face of a push for a Brown County sales tax to help fund his stadium renovation dream: a Lambeau makeover that wouldn’t just add seats and creature comforts but also put the team on a course others in sports would copy. He sought to expand the Lambeau footprint well beyond the gates and into the nearby strip-mall parking lots many a fan had tailgated in, turning blacktop used a few Sundays each fall into revenue-generating, team-owned square footage. It passed, but not without a bit of blow-back from locals. Hello to what would later become the Titletown district and new, off-field revenue streams. Those who best knew the team’s financial straits would later admit that a potential fiscal brushfire was avoided before it became a five alarm existential calamity because of Harlan’s forward-thinking approach.

Other teams faced similar dilemmas since, virtually none featuring Green Bay’s oh-so-unique circumstances. An ongoing example? The University of North Carolina where Tar Heels basketball rivals Packers football in the realm of unofficial state religions. Chapel Hill is in the midst of a venue struggle that’s splitting the fan base wide open, where the storied “Dean Dome” is in dire need of either costly renovations or complete replacement.

There are those who want to adhere to tradition—fix the hallowed on-campus grounds—and those who want a whole new off-site venue with all of today’s modern gee-gaws, do-dads and (most importantly) badly needed revenue streams. The Athletic’s Brendan Marks tells of back room meetings where the powers that be pretty much decided on the second option without a whole lot of outside input, the kind of message mishandling that gives PR people fits, that adds a whole lot of ill-will to an already emotional debate. Officials have since admitted they messed up and are now opening the tent to include others. Feelings remain raw, and it’s safe to assume that not everyone will be happy with the outcome, if and when one arrives.

Bob Harlan’s Lambeau drive wasn’t without acrimony, for sure, but his honesty, straightforwardness, proactivity and—most importantly—respect for those clapping back at his plans eased the community toward a landing all could agree on. The results speak for themselves, the ongoing development of the Titletown district will serve as a living legacy to Harlan’s forward thinking while also helping the club’s NFL competitive prospects.

The plaza outside Lambeau already bears his name, but it would seem only right that an artist be commissioned somewhere (if they haven’t been already) to create a Bob Harlan statue to add those of Lombardi and Curly Lambeau outside their stadium. That someone be tasked with finding a spot for his name on that inside wall beside those of on-field legends. A guy who wore a suit instead of pads and a helmet did some incredible off-field heavy lifting for a team that’s more than just another football franchise. Bob Harlan didn’t just make sure the Green Bay Packers were in a position to win during on his watch. He made sure the Packers stayed in Green Bay.

Then. Now. Moving forward.