His Voice Set Tone for Frugal Games

To Peter Ueberroth went a large share of the credit and a lofty position as the commissioner of Major League Baseball.

To Rafer Johnson went the glory and a place in history as the man who lit the torch at the Olympic Games that will serve as a shining light economically for generations to come.

But the man who gave a big, crucial push to get the ball rolling for the successful 1984 Olympic Games of Los Angeles somehow got lost in the avalanche of dollars that made that event possible.

And today, he is a forgotten face, working in anonymity as a starter at the Sepulveda Golf Complex, securing tee times for a seemingly endless stream of golfers.

No problem.

Henry Konysky is not looking for a memorial plaque at the Coliseum. Oh, if you ask him, he will be happy to talk about his role in the ’84 Games. It’s certainly a major source of pride for Konysky, but he is not likely to be the first to bring it up in conversation.

Even though the effort to bring the Olympic Games back to Los Angeles crystallized only a decade ago, a totally different mind-set was operating at that time.

The Winter Games of ’76 had been turned down by Denver because of local opposition. The Summer Games in Montreal that year bombed financially, losing an estimated $1 billion.

The Games had become so popular that the only competition Los Angeles had in its bid to be named host city for ’84 came from Tehran.

Us or Iran.

Enter Konysky, a longtime local newsman who was KABC radio’s nightly sports talk show host.

“We didn’t have money to fix the streets or build schools here,” recalls Konysky while taking a short break from yelling out tee times, “and these guys were talking about having the Olympics here.

“We did some checking and found that none of the Olympics, with the possible exception of the other L. A. Olympics in 1932, had ever made a penny of profit.”

So Konysky started using his microphone as a weapon against what he saw as a threat to city coffers.

“What we wanted to do,” he explains, “was to put the city on guard that having the Olympics here would be great provided it was staged with a lot of common sense. We just could not grant these people everything they wanted. The princes and earls who ran the Olympic movement were used to getting what they wanted. They’d just tell the host city, ‘Put a venue here, put a venue there.’ Montreal was a financial disaster. We felt if what we had was not up to their standards, so be it.

“They wanted to build a rowing channel right here in the Sepulveda Dam area. What for when we already had the ocean and plenty of lakes? We felt we ought to use what we had.”

Konysky’s only constituency consisted of his listeners. So he called on them for support. How did they feel? He wanted to know.

He found out. And then some.

Konysky received 10,000 letters and telegrams in a few weeks advocating financial restraint by city politicians in staging the Olympics. He made calls to the governor’s mansion and the White House, asking how much they would add to the kitty.

“Governor Brown laughed at me,” Konysky says. The Carter Administration wasn’t any more receptive.

The Los Angeles City Council, however, was. Using the 10,000 responses as ammunition, council members Ernani Bernardi and Bob Ronka pushed through an ordinance and eventually a charter amendment that severely limited the amount of money the city could contribute to the Games.

“He made a few enemies like the rest of us,” Bernardi says of Konysky. “KABC and Hank were very important factors in getting that legislation through. It seemed like not a day went by when he wasn’t talking about it on the air and the other councilmen heard it from their constituents.”

Insists Konysky: “We were never anti-Olympics. If they were put on, we just wanted to make sure we did not lose money. I think a lot of other cities were lulled into maybe building venues they didn’t need.”

Although he was backed by his superiors at KABC--Ben Hoberman and George Green--Konysky still found himself in an awkward position because he worked for ABC, the network that landed the broadcast rights to the ’84 Games.

“There was a lot of pressure,” Konysky says. “ABC in New York was calling KABC and asking, ‘Who is this guy?’ But we were not trying to sabotage the Games.”

In fact just the opposite occurred. Forced to devise a new financial game plan, the Los Angeles Olympic Organizing Committee went to corporate sponsorship. The result may have saved the Olympic movement. With the backing of private enterprise, the ’84 Games not only avoided losing money but showed a profit estimated at slightly less than $240 million.

This year’s Winter and Summer Olympics are going the same corporate route and, according to estimates, the Calgary Games wound up $100 million to the good.

“I think it was quite a feat,” says a beaming Konysky of the ’84 effort. “It set a pattern, a model for all to follow.” After nearly four years in sports, Konysky ached for the action of hard news. He had covered everything from earthquakes to fires to shoot-outs to the assassination of Sen. Robert Kennedy. But after about a year back in news, he retired in 1981 after his second heart attack.

Now 71, Konysky has been a golf starter ever since, working 20 hours a week in a sport he loves while still managing to find tee times for himself.

But nudge him a bit about those heady days of a decade ago and a look of self-satisfaction crosses his face. A lot of people deserve credit for the ’84 Games, from the many who protested the old order and passed the legislation that effectively ended it like Bernardi and Ronka to those who set up the new model. But Konysky has his special place.

“I think it was the high-water mark of my life,” he says. “The idea was to help protect this city from the disastrous things that have happened to other cities. I’m very proud. I’m proud of those who supported us and very proud of those who listened and understood and responded. It’s a good feeling. A damn good feeling.”

But enough of that sentimentality. He excuses himself. There is a long line of golfers out there who could care less about a battle over Olympic funds. All they want to know is, “When is your next tee time?”