“What are your three favorite movies?”
My friend Steve Nicewanger posed that question to me one night as I sat at his dinner table with his bride, Paula. As we moved from the feast and into the living room to watch some TV, I pondered the question. I tossed out two favorites after a short time: “High Noon,” with Gary Cooper, Grace Kelly, and Katie Jurado; “The Hustler,” with Paul Newman, Jackie Gleason, George C. Scott and Piper Laurie. I added a quirky film recorded in Western Pennsylvania when I was in art school: “Night of the Living Dead.” I cannot remember what movie I watched with Steve and Paula that night, but I remember when Steve handed me a Christmas present: three VHS tapes of my favorite movies.
I told someone — or wrote to everyone — that Steve had an uncanny memory for movies. I joked that I merely had to mention a part of a line uttered in a film and Steve could name the movie, the people in starring roles, the director and what, if any, awards it had received. He had a massive library of film and DVDs, and when I moved back to Indianapolis, he invited me to sit on the couch and watch TCM (Turner Classic Movies) with him. I met Steve when I worked with his bride, Paula, in the advertising department at L.S. Ayres. A casual conversation with Steve could produce immense benefits. I griped to him that, when I drove to visit my brother in Pittsburgh, I was unable to find a street map of the city. I visited many gas stations on that quest, but no maps were being sold. Shortly after I aired my complaint, Steve gave me a city street map of Pittsburgh, and as a bonus, a framed black and white 14” x 20” graphic of the city.
My youngest granddaughter, who is also my roommate, came down to my room in the basement and discovered what she perceived to be a toy. I could not explain to a 3-year-old that the “toy” was a 1998 action figure of Jim Harbaugh, who played quarterback for the Indianapolis Colts from 1994 to 1997. It was a gift to me, from Steve. When my schoolmate, Francis Peay, came to the Colts as an assistant coach, I remember telling Steve that I knew “Franny,” who intimidated me into giving up football. Despite that, my first bride and I would visit with him and his family in Chicago, when he was the coach of Northwestern University. Steve was glad to hear that I knew Franny.
I cannot recount here all the many times that my life was enriched by my contact with Steve. We had movie nights at his house, and he always knew every line in the movie, though his failing hearing often kept the dialogue from him. He would point out something in a movie and give me a detailed description of how that moment came to be. He was always generous in sharing his life with me, generous in sharing gifts with me, unsparing in sharing his love for me. When his bride conscripted me into the service of her newspaper, she placed my column on the same page with Steve, the sport columnist and friend. And nothing I write here will adequately describe the love I felt for the man.
Steve was in a hospital, battling the debilitating effects of diabetes, the failing of his kidneys and his heart, when his body sighed, shrugged, and his great heart gave up.
Good night, Steve. Thanks for the memories.
cjon3acd@att.net