PITTSBURGH TRIBUNE-REVIEW
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Fans remembered Ernie "Fats" Holmes as a defensive lineman who didn't just play the game, but waged war in the pits from 1972-77 while helping the Steelers win their first two Super Bowls.
"He put fear in everybody," said Carl Vitti, 72, a season-ticket holder from Stanton Heights.
"When he was in the lineup, you knew the Steelers defense was going to be there that day," Vitti said. "I saw him play many games in person, and I wouldn't want to be on the other side of the line when Ernie was in there."
Holmes died in a car crash Thursday night near Lumberton, Texas. He was 59.
A two-time Pro Bowler, Holmes said after his retirement that he never received his share of credit for his role on the star-studded "Steel Curtain" defense.
At Ike's Barber Shop on East Ohio Street on Friday, Holmes was remembered for more than being one of the toughest tackles in team history.
"I liked him as a person," said Tom Harrison, 73, a 50-year resident of the North Side. "He had a good spirit. I didn't call them the Steel Curtain. I called them the Iron Curtain because they were men of iron."
Feared for his strength and ability to find the ball in traffic, Holmes lined up next to 10-time Pro Bowler and Hall of Famer Joe Greene during an era when every star had a nickname.
The quartet -- Ernie "Fats" Holmes, "Mean" Joe Greene, L.C. "Hollywood Bags" Greenwood and Dwight "Mad Dog" White -- not only won the hearts of Steelers fans, they wound up on the cover of Time magazine early in their Super Bowl run.
For a two- or three-year span, some felt Holmes was the best of the bunch.
Looking out from behind his facemask, with his eyes as narrow as slits, Holmes, who wore No. 63, had a fearsome presence. He once held a pro football reporter about a foot off the ground so he could lecture him while looking him in the eye.
Practices were intense, and Holmes credited Hall of Fame center Mike Webster for getting him ready to play on Sundays.
"Easy, Fats, easy," more than one teammate said to Holmes while heading off potential trouble.
"Around the locker room, you could say Ernie was well-feared," said Al Vento, 80, of Vento's Pizza in East Liberty.
Vento had rare access to the Steelers locker room after he and Tony Stagno founded Franco's Italian Army in the early 1970s.
It's the brighter side of Holmes' personality that Vento vividly recalled.
"He was a fun guy," Vento said. "In a lot of ways, he was the spark of that group. Despite all the stories, he was very well-liked by his teammates.
"Ernie was the guy everybody depended on for laughter in the dressing room," he said.
Holmes made no secret of his dislike for former coach Chuck Noll's military-style approach to training camp. Holmes was almost impossible to block for 5 yards around the line of scrimmage, but probably couldn't run a 40-yard dash in six seconds. Running before and after practice wasn't what he did best.
It says something about Holmes' impact on the team, however, that Noll and team president (now chairman) Dan Rooney testified as character witnesses when Holmes went on trial for firing a shotgun at a police helicopter.
Holmes had gained a considerable amount of weight and walked with the use of a cane during his last visit to Pittsburgh in 2003.
He described his knees as bone rubbing against bone, and said he suffered from constant headaches, all a result of his playing days.
"Ernie probably didn't get the notoriety he deserved," Vento said. "But he was like a lot of the guys on that defense. They changed the whole concept of football."
Rick Starr can be reached at rstarr@tribweb.com or 724-226-4691.
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