Copyright © 2014 by Bill Parcells and Nunyo Demasio
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Crown Archetype, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.
www.crownpublishing.com
Crown Archetype and colophon is a registered trademark of Random House LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Parcells, Bill, 1941–
Parcells : a football life / Bill Parcells, Nunyo Demasio.
pages cm
1. Parcells, Bill, 1941– 2. Football coaches—United States—Biography. 3. New York Giants (Football team) I. Demasio, Nunyo. II. Title.
GV939.P35A3 2014
796.332092—dc23
[B] 2014027830
ISBN 978-0-385-34635-1
eBook ISBN 978-0-385-34636-8
Jacket design: Christopher Brand
Jacket photograph: Getty Images
v3.1
TO MICKEY CORCORAN,
a perfect role model for an aspiring young coach.
TO DORCAS DEMASIO,
a special woman who started calling her oldest son a writer several years before he officially became one.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
PARCELLS
A FOOTBALL LIFE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Photo Insert
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Acknowledgments
The Coaches
All-Parcells Team
Bill Parcells’s Unsung Opponents
Note on Sources and Book Website
1
Tucked between two volcanic areas in southwestern Italy, the coastal city of Naples at the turn of the twentieth century was among the poorest regions in Europe. Baldassare Naclerio was thirteen when his family moved from Naples to New York City in 1900, part of a tidal wave of Italian immigrants flooding the United States in search of economic opportunity. Like many others embracing assimilation, Baldassare Americanized his first name, becoming Harold.
The Naclerios lived in the upper Manhattan neighborhood of Harlem, which wouldn’t become an African-American enclave for several more decades. Within months of his arrival, Harold used his woodworking skills to find employment as a cabinetmaker. Several years later he met Julie Ferrioli, another native of Naples. The two teenagers fell in love, married, and moved to tiny Wood-Ridge, New Jersey, to raise a family. Perched atop a hill, their house was weather-beaten yet cozy, with a small yard and garden that Harold kept immaculate.
Harold found a full-time job with the American Bell Telephone Company. He supplemented the family income with part-time employment as a mechanic and barber while applying woodworking and masonry skills on his home. By age nineteen, Julie Naclerio had a brood of three, which would grow to five and include an energetic, outspoken girl named Ida. After graduating from high school, Ida decided against attending college and landed a job at Lever Brothers, a Britain-based soap manufacturer with subsidiaries in several countries. Of Ida’s $5 weekly salary, she contributed $3 to her parents for expenses; like most women of her generation, her best hopes lay in marrying the right man.
On August 10, 1913, Charles O’Shea was born to an Irish couple in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Within a few years the boy’s father died in his sleep and his mother succumbed to the influenza epidemic of 1918. One of the deadliest in history, the pandemic killed about 50 million people, wiping out one-fourth of America’s population. Orphaned at age five, Charles was adopted by his aunt Esther St. George. When she married a man whose surname was Parcells, her nephew also took the last name. After purchasing two rooming houses on a downtown block, the family moved to Hackensack, New Jersey. Lucinda Whiting, a black cook and maid at the establishment, helped raise Esther’s quiet nephew, doting on him so much that he came to view her as a mother.
Charles grew up to be a six-foot-one, wiry teenager with blazing speed, ramrod posture, and an incongruous nickname: “Chubby.” During the late 1920s, Chubby’s athleticism and passion led him to become a three-sport phenomenon at Hackensack High. Also academically inclined, Charles was pursued by several top colleges, and the 195-pounder accepted a football scholarship from Georgetown University, where he would also run track and play basketball. For most of his college football career Charles was coached by Jack Hagerty, who had once played for the New York Giants, helping them capture the 1927 NFL title.
At Georgetown, Hagerty discarded the Notre Dame Box, a single-wing offense that had flourished during the 1920s under Knute Rockne, the Fighting Irish legend, in which the running backs lined up in a box formation. Instead Hagerty installed the single-wing offense used by the Giants, based on a long snap and four backs: tailback, fullback, quarterback (blocking back), and wingback. The line was unbalanced: two players lined up on one side of the center and four on the other. The formation, which resembled a wing, emphasized chicanery more than power. Playing in this Giants-style offense, Charles Parcells became one of the top halfbacks in the East. He was also versatile enough to line up at quarterback and to make point-after kicks.
When Charles Parcells graduated in 1935 he entered Georgetown’s law school, where he earned his Juris Doctor before taking a job as an agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. On returning to Hackensack he met Ida Naclerio in nearby Wood-Ridge. Ida’s diminutive size belied her forceful nature. Often heard before being seen, the boisterous Italian woman provided a dramatic counterpoint to the tall, reserved Irishman. Where Ida turned the smallest issues into melodrama, Charles was quick to shrug and smile. The soft-spoken G-man was smitten, and after an ardent courtship he persuaded Ida to marry him. The couple moved to Hackensack, where Ida loudly worried about her husband’s safety as a law-enforcement officer. Those concerns were only heightened by the birth of their first child.
Duane Charles Parcells arrived at Englewood Hospital in New Jersey on August 22, 1941. Astrological signs for the newborn indicated that he would be ambitious, autocratic, caring, excitable, generous, proud, strong-willed, and destined for big things. From Napoleon to Barack Obama, Leos have tended to be natural leaders, energetic taskmasters to whom others gravitate for guidance; those born between August 15 and August 22 are considered particularly hotheaded and impatient. Fond of the spotlight, they turn sullen when upstaged. Complex and volatile, Leos can be egomaniacal one moment and grounded the next, cocksure yet thin-skinned; despite being detailed-oriented, they are better at organizing the lives of others than their own.
Duane “Bill” Parcells’s earliest memory places him in the backseat of the family car on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. His younger brother Don is crying as their father barrels through the turnpike’s d
ark tunnels, but three-year-old Duane feels only excitement. Their father’s FBI job has taken the family to Des Moines, Iowa, then Joliet, Illinois, which means occasional road trips east, like this one, to see relatives. In time, Charles will capitulate to Ida’s badgering and return to New Jersey, taking a job at the United States Rubber Company as director of industrial relations, commuting to the company’s office in midtown Manhattan.
Charles and Ida decided to settle in suburban Hasbrouck Heights, slightly north of Wood-Ridge and south of Hackensack. Charles paid $8,000 for a gray-and-white, single-story house on Columbus Avenue, where he converted the attic into a bedroom for Duane and Don. Only a few blocks away in the quiet, tree-lined neighborhood, Frank Sinatra lived with his wife, Nancy, and their newborn girl. Singing for the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra, the Hoboken native had established himself as one of America’s most popular vocalists. The white exterior of Sinatra’s seven-room clapboard home was often smeared with red-lipsticked messages from infatuated girls. On sunny days Sinatra and his wife walked their baby stroller past Charles Parcells’s new home.
When Duane turned five Charles bought him a Rawlings baseball mitt and a Louisville Slugger, knowing that his boy didn’t need to go far to use them. Across the street from their home sat a one-acre lot dubbed Army Field, just a few miles from the swamplands that would become the home of Giants Stadium. “Don’t confuse it with anything like a park,” Parcells says. “There were just patches of grass out there.” But for Duane and his pals, the lot was a field of dreams where they gathered after school. Although most players were older than Duane, the five-year-old joined in with them right away. His brother Don, twenty-one months younger, got into the action several years later for a similarly early start.
Blacks were a rarity in Hasbrouck Heights, an otherwise diverse community. Italian-Americans composed the largest ethnic group, along with families from Poland and Ireland. At a time of social tension among those groups, Army Field promoted camaraderie. Duane’s interactions with blacks were limited to visits with his great-aunt in Hackensack. Most of her roominghouse employees were African-American, and had worked there for decades. Charles taught Duane to treat them like family. Lucinda Whiting, who had helped raise Charles, was paid the same deference as Esther Parcells herself.
Despite being fond of Lucinda, Ida, who hardly knew any blacks while growing up, didn’t quite share her husband’s racial outlook. “My mother comes from an Italian background, where there’s a lot of prejudice,” Parcells says. “My father? None, because he was raised a little bit by a black woman. I’m not trying to tell you that I’m devoid of prejudice, but he raised me with the philosophy ‘Every man is your equal. Every man is your brother. You take people for who they are.’ And that served me well in my lifetime because I’ve gotten along with all kinds.”
Duane began attending Euclid Elementary School, only a few blocks from home. One day, an older boy, scowling, approached him in the sandbox: Danny Astrella was displeased to find his usual spot near the swings occupied, and by a new kid at that. Duane, bigger than most boys his age, declined to move. Danny, even more of an exception in size and strength, shoved Duane and punched him in the face. When Duane stepped forward to counterattack, Danny flipped him on his back, swiftly ending the scuffle.
Duane cried all the way home. As soon as Ida saw her son she turned apoplectic, vowing to find the perpetrator the next day, but when Charles returned from work and heard about the incident, he calmed his wife and went upstairs to speak with his downcast son.
“You weren’t looking for trouble, were you, Duane?”
“No, Dad, I wasn’t.”
“You should never look for trouble, but if it comes your way, you have to be ready to deal with it.”
“I tried real hard, Dad, but I couldn’t do much. He’s bigger, older, and stronger than me.”
“Well, that may be, but you’re going to have to go back out there tomorrow.”
“No, Dad!”
“Well, if you don’t go tomorrow, you’re going to keep hiding from this kid. You have to go face him. Don’t go looking for trouble, but go.”
The next day Duane reluctantly returned to the scene of his beating. When Danny approached him Duane’s heart raced, but he stood his ground. To Duane’s surprise, Danny just walked on by. Seeing the benefits of confrontation, Duane embraced the approach. Most kids, even older ones, wilted in the face of his increased assertiveness. Inevitably this new mind-set led to more fisticuffs with Danny, but before long the two boys became best friends. Every morning they’d meet with several other kids at a candy store five blocks from Bill’s home for the walk to school.
Duane Parcells disliked his first name because it was unusual. That sentiment was confirmed during the fourth grade, when a substitute teacher took attendance. “Duane Parcells? Duane? Is she here?” The gaffe embarrassed Duane, but had no effect on his sense of his own masculinity. By the fifth grade, the future Tuna weighed 160 pounds and was one of the neighborhood’s most imposing boys.
As big as you are, there’s almost always someone bigger. In this case Richie Jones, a herculean eighth grader, dwarfed even Duane. “He was a monster,” Parcells recalls. One day Richie came to Army Field with a couple of hulking classmates. Normally football teams at Army Field were evenly matched, with as many as ten players on a side, but this time Richie and his two buddies skewed the talent level so drastically that a new agreement needed to be made: Richie and company would play together—against everyone else. Duane and his teammates became swarming Lilliputians against the zany power offense. “It was one of the most fun games I ever played in my life,” Parcells recalls, laughing. “It took eight of us to get Richie down. And when he’d fall it was like a sequoia going down. If you were underneath him, it hurt.”
A sense of innocence and safety permeated daily life in Hasbrouck Heights. Mothers patronizing the local butcher shop often left their babies in carriages outside the store. Drug use appeared to be nonexistent, and violent crime seemed restricted to New York City. Paradoxically, the sense of law and order in Hasbrouck Heights was partly due to the Mafia.
Parcells says of his childhood: “I wouldn’t trade it with anybody. I could go anywhere. You knew who the bad guys were. You just couldn’t go completely crazy.”
Duane tested that limit a few times. Once, while visiting his great-aunt in Hackensack, he scaled the side of the church next door until he reached his goal: the steeple. He perched there, grinning at bewildered pedestrians, one of whom recognized Duane and related his daredevil antics to Charles Parcells. As usual, Charles didn’t need to raise his voice to get through to his son. “He steered the ship at our house,” Parcells says. “My mother was more in operations. She dealt with the nuts and bolts—the day-to-day battle.”
Duane inherited Ida’s explosive temperament, leading to frequent battles between the two. She often said about her son, “Gli piace mescolare la pentola,” which translates from Italian into, “He likes to stir the pot.” Unabashedly confrontational, Ida didn’t hesitate to beat Duane for misbehaving. Parcells recalls, “She was a good-hearted woman with a short fuse. I got that from her.” He adds, “I do like to stir up trouble. I believe that sometimes chaos and confrontation are the real mothers of invention, not necessity.”
Ida occasionally tied up her son with a cord and walloped him. One of Duane’s worst punishments came after he stole a pack of cigarettes from his father and took them to school. Although he didn’t smoke, possessing them made him feel cool. When Ida discovered the cigarettes in her son’s coat pocket, she pinned him to the floor and pummeled him with her fists. If Duane resisted, Ida used whatever was within reach to restore order. She once broke a plate over his head. “She wasn’t abusive,” Parcells stresses. “She threw things here and there to get me to snap out of it when I was young.”
Charles generally spared the rod, unless he heard one of his boys giving lip to Ida. Then he took the perpetrator, usually Duane, out to the backyard f
or a spanking.
Due to Charles’s long workdays, during the week his family didn’t spend much time together outside the home. Special entertainment consisted of Ida driving her children to nearby Teterboro Airport. With scarce air traffic, it gave cars access right up to the runway, where the Parcellses parked to watch the planes taking off and landing. Duane’s quality time with his father also involved aircrafts. The pair took occasional trips to the Hackensack River, east of Teterboro, to observe the single-engine seaplanes navigate the water on their slender pontoons. Charles would park his car close to the dock, from where father and son watched the action.
On the first such trip Duane spotted oil tanks emblazoned “Hess” across the river, prompting him to ask his father about the name. Charles gladly provided the colorful, Horatio Alger story: A Jewish boy, Leon Hess lived down the road in Asbury Park, helping his Eastern European father dig and sell clams in summertime. During the Great Depression the family saved enough money, $24, to buy its first oil-delivery truck. As a teenager, Leon acquired five more trucks before buying the oil refinery he would parlay into a billion-dollar company. Charles Parcells, who preached meritocracy and drive to his kids, appreciated Hess’s life story.
Ida also took her boys to Bischoff’s, a popular ice-cream parlor in Teaneck that featured employees in white hats and black bow ties, concocting exotic combinations of forty available flavors. Duane’s favorite sundae, the Broadway Flip, included chocolate sauce, almonds, and pecans. It cost thirty cents, although Ida often talked her way into a discount.
The longest family outings occurred during summer visits to the Jersey Shore, where Charles joined the family on weekends. Ida would rent a garage apartment a few blocks from the beach. Don and Duane built sand-castles and swam for hours. Nightfall was the only thing that prompted their departure.
Ida was a shrewd negotiator who refused to pay retail. She began by feigning ignorance about the price. After the salesperson announced the amount, whatever it was, Ida unleashed a derisive response: “Ha!” She claimed that a nearby competitor was selling the same product for much less. To the embarrassment of her children, Ida wouldn’t let up until the price was markedly reduced. The boys disliked going shopping with her, but Duane would never forget the effectiveness of her methods. He learned the benefits of actively collecting information, and selectively giving it.
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