Commentary
For all he gave, and suffered, Chic Harley deserves more
Saturday, August 15, 2009
By Mike Harden
File Photo
After his career at Ohio State, Chic Harley spent much of the last 54 years of his life in sanitariums or veterans hospitals.
The twinkle in his eyes made it easy to imagine him as a white-robed choirboy with a black eye. His devilish smile was wrought with undiluted orneriness.
OSU football great Chic Harley had the world on a string, and an adoring Columbus in the palm of his hand in those long-gone glory days when he dazzled the Buckeye faithful with the moves of a water spider on Dexedrine.
My colleague, Dispatch sports columnist Bob Hunter, recounted Harley's life in the compellingly written Chic, published in October.
Now comes Harley's great-nephew Todd Wessell with a biography titled The One and Only.
An abiding melancholy colors both books.
Imagine the mental equivalent of Lou Gehrig's disease, and you have the affliction that dogged the former Ohio State great from the end of his collegiate career to his death.
Diagnosed schizophrenic, Chic grew quiet and withdrawn.
"I knew him as this bashful, kind guy," Wessell said Thursday. "He'd be sitting there wearing a sheepish little smile. He rarely talked."
When the demons besetting him were working overtime, he'd be found kneeling in prayer in snowdrifts, muttering about the end of the world, going missing only to be found at a potato farm in Michigan.
He was no longer the Chic whose feats helped lift Buckeyes football from pasture muggings to a pastime.
In 1919, Harley's stellar play helped Ohio State beat Michigan for the first time in 15 games.