I guess I missed it. Surely,...
I guess I missed it. Surely, there must have been an all-century list
of sports’ most influential personalities.
It’s an honor category which might embrace such names as Dwight F.
Davis, George Halas, Billie Jean King, Jack Kramer, Kenesaw Mountain
Landis, Dr. James Naismith, Branch Rickey, Jackie Robinson, Pete Rozelle,
Babe Ruth, Jim Thorpe and Peter Ueberroth.
The list also should include Glendale’s Willrich R. (Bill) Schroeder
(1904-1987).
Bill was a little guy, born in Texas, who lived most of his life on
Allen Avenue in Glendale.
The Los Angeles Coliseum’s Memorial Court of Honor displays a large
Bill Schroeder plaque alongside those of Rozelle, Jim Murray and a chosen
few others whose lives were spent in the top echelons of sports
influence.
Schroeder played on Hollywood High’s 1921 city champion baseball team,
but didn’t do much else on the field. Later, he was a sportswriter and
broadcaster and was president of pro baseball’s Sunset League.
However, there’s a phrase most often associated with Schroeder’s name:
hall of fame. As a young adult, Schroeder was aware that, since 1900, the
nation has had a famous hall of fame (at New York University) and the
Capitol in Washington has had its famous Statuary Hall.
In 1936, when baseball named five original inductees (Cobb, Ruth,
Johnson, Wagner and Mathewson) to pro sports’ first hall of fame at
Cooperstown, New York, Schroeder already was creating what he knew would
become the first international all-sports hall of fame.
His hall would be a shrine for honorees and a locale for his expanding
collection of sports memorabilia.
Eventually, at Schroeder’s behest, the Los Angeles based Helms Bakery
created the Helms Athletic Foundation and Hall of Fame, which Bill
headed.
His monthly awards to Southern California area athletes, his yearly
local, national and international awards and his Helms Hall of Fame
became universally recognized.
Athletes from everywhere formed a steady stream of visitors at Helms
Hall on L.A.’s Venice Boulevard. World class and local high school
athletes often appeared side by side in Schroeder’s office, sharing a
common respect for Bill’s respect for them. (bullet)
With the demise of the Helms Bakery, the Hall temporarily was kept
alive by other support companies, and eventually it was absorbed by the
Amateur Athletic Foundation, which is supported by surplus moneys from
the 1984 Los Angeles Olympic Games.
Schroeder’s name is not prominent in the AAF’s current activities,
but thousands of honored student-athletes still display their trophies
and citations earned in sports effort and recognized by Helms Hall and
its successor organizations.
Bill called everybody ‘dear,’ and meant it, and his wife, Iona,
understood. Sports were dear to him and so was everyone who felt the same
way.
Schroeder’s graciousness touched thousands. Immediately after any
gathering at his home or at Helms Hall, Bill picked up a pen and wrote
notes to thank each guest.
Bill gave -- and gave -- and gave. When a tragic plane crash decimated
a San Luis Obispo college football team, Bill came up with a Mercy Bowl
benefit game which raised a large sum for the school and for the families
of the tragedy.
When paraplegic veterans needed equipment to improve their mobility,
Bill instituted an annual series of Junior Rose Bowl games for their
benefit.
Schroeder was the leader in a long-term movement to bring the Olympics
to Southern California for a second time, and he spent his own money on
international trips on behalf of that dream.
(bullet)
Finally, as the years began to catch up with Bill, his Olympic dream
came true. His friend, Glendalian John Argue, led a successful bid for
Los Angeles to host the 1984 Games, after Schroeder’s dream had kept
L.A.’s hopes alive for 50 years.
Another close friend, Peter Ueberroth, carried out Bill’s dream in
1984 by mastering the best organized renewal in Olympic Games history.
The glory of the success went to Ueberroth and his thousands of dedicated
volunteer workers.
The accolades all were well deserved, but, by then, Schroeder’s health
was poor. The spotlight, which he never had sought for himself, now would
by-pass the reclusive man who had meant so much to so many athletes and
fans for half a century.
Glendale’s Bill Schroeder long will be remembered for the Helms Hall
of Fame. Its enshrinees and thousands of other men and women who have
received Helms honors will agree that Bill Schroeder, himself, was a Hall
of Famer.
Chuck Benedict may be reached at 241-4141 (voice mail 974) or by
24-hour fax at 549-9191.