Sweetness_ The Enigmatic Life of Walter Payton - Jeff Pearlman [251]
In other words, I am a caveman. But, luckily, I keep great company.
I am continually blessed to work with the A-Team of literary support groups. Casey Angle, my researcher, is the Hannibal Smith of misplaced statistics, and Michael J. Lewis, Queens College’s finest, reads through material in the same manner with which B. A. Baracus mourns for fools. My spiritual guru/tax attorney, Stanley Herz, knows absolutely nothing about sports, but his keen eye and instinctive sense of timing remain invaluable. I cannot say enough amazing things about Don Pierson, the former Bears beat writer for the Chicago Tribune, who took my calls and e-mails without once cursing me out. If I gained nothing else from this book, combing through years of Don’s clips introduced me to one of the true masters of the trade.
David Black, my Brooklyn-based agent, is the king of righteous representation, and David Larabell and Allison Hemphill are dukes of decency. Paul Duer, thirty-feet-from-the-hoop huckster, and Gary Miller of the Raleigh Canine Book Club & Donut Shop, continue to offer sage advice. This was my first book for Gotham, and I’d like to thank the whole crew for a fabulous experience. Patrick Mulligan, the quiet editor who was initially described to me as a “mystery man,” was nothing of the sort. His deft touch will forever be appreciated. Equal gratefulness goes to Travers “I’m the Man!” Johnson and Gary Mailman.
From Columbia to Jackson to Chicago and all points in between, I interviewed 678 people for this book. Some were thrilled to talk. Others, ahem, not so much. But I am forever indebted to anyone who helped me complete this journey. Early on I was fortunate to have audiences with Charles Boston, Bud Holmes, and Bob Hill, three quirky/unique/bighearted men who I am better for knowing.
I encountered three cornerstones in Ginny Quirk-Alberts, Kimm Tucker, and Linda Conley—the women who knew and loved Walter most. Ginny and Kimm could, in all seriousness, double as Walter Payton encyclopedias. Linda, meanwhile, is working on her own Sweetness memoir, but was kind enough to step away from her notes and speak freely. I am grateful beyond words to all three.
Forrest Dantin, Walter’s former high school teammate, was a marvelous source, and my belated condolences extend to his family for his passing. Vernon Perry and Robert Brazile surrendered precise details on the Jackson State years, and Jack Pardee, Neill Armstrong, Mike Ditka, Bob Thomas, Bob Avellini, Roland Harper, Johnny Roland, Jay Hilgenberg, Jim Covert, Willie Gault, Thomas Sanders, Calvin Thomas, Steve Fuller, and so many others followed suit when it came to the Bears. Matt Suhey, Walter’s blocking back and, later, the executor of his estate, walked cautiously throughout, but with genuinely righteous intentions. I had the pleasure of lunching with two of Walter’s children, Jarrett and Brittney, as well as with Eddie Payton, his brother. All three should be very proud of the man they represent.
I spent the majority of my time working on Sweetness in a cornucopia of Westchester, New York, eateries and coffee shops. The employees became my coworkers, and I theirs. To Cosi’s Anthony Bocchino; Donna Massaro of Mahopac’s amazing Freight House Cafe; Starbucks’ Yvonne Parks, Laurie Belfiore, and Sara La Marca; Panera’s Anthony Gibbs, Cynthia Reeves, and George Kutty; Michelle Thompson of the Mirage Diner (A note to all the drunk Iona students: Tip more than $1. Really.)—huge thanks for the banter and kindness. Oh, and big ups to Mandy, the tattooed, late-night waitress at Howley’s in West Palm Beach. Those twenty-three coffee refills kept me sharp.
As a New Yorker, I grew up with a certain perception of Mississippi