The World Was In A Mess

Yet with all the trouble, reports of the WFL's imminent death seemed exaggerated. The turbulence was similar to the growing pains common to most new leagues. The more immediate problem was acquiring capital, the prime ingredient in any business.

Davidson got the WFL off the drawing board and onto the playing field in less than a year by sidestepping most problems of capitalization. Realizing that it would take ages to locate and interest "12 Lamar Hunts," who could sustain losses for years, he settled for finding 12 people or groups with enough money to get the product on the field. He then hoped to sell the product so hard that the promise of success would bring the Lamar Hunts out into the open, eager to buy. In effect, he put the cart before the horse.

For a time Davidson's plan worked beautifully. He found backers, although he admits, "We made mistakes in ownership selection. We let people come into the league because of the time frame that we might have held back on if we had decided to start play in 1975 instead of 1974."

Still, the selling of the league was sensational, highlighted by the signing of Miami Dolphin stars Larry Csonka, Jim Kiick and Paul Warfield. A few days after that breakthrough, the WFL scored another coup by signing contracts with the TVS sports network that guaranteed it a nationally televised game each week. (The ABA and the WHA do not have that yet.) Huge crowds the first week made the WFL seem an instant success.

Here, unfortunately, Davidson's plan ground to a halt. The Lamar Hunts did not materialize. "The timing for the WFL was right and wrong," moaned Jacksonville Owner Fran Monaco, who quickly began to take his lumps. "It's right for football, but this is the wrong time in the economy." Monaco was resourceful. He managed to meet one payroll by borrowing $27,000 from his coach, Bud Asher, whom he then fired. And now Monaco is gone.

"Any new league is going to have problems," said John Bassett, the Canadian who owns the Memphis Southmen, one of the few WFL teams that seemed to have no financial worries, and the man who signed Csonka, Kiick and Warfield. "The only thing that scares me is something I never anticipated, the general economic condition of the country. Money is tight, whether you're running a shoe factory or a football franchise. A couple of years ago people were lined up in droves for the chance to finance a professional team, for ego or whatever purposes. Those people aren't around anymore."

The franchise difficulties ended Davidson's talk of worldwide expansion to an intercontinental league. "I'm more for consolidation and solidification in 1975, rather than expanding to new cities," he said last week. "We probably should have started with 10 teams instead of 12 and made them all solid in ownership and funding."

The remedy the WFL was attempting for its woes—franchise shifts to smaller cities where there is high interest and little or no competition from other professional sports—is common in new leagues, and it was not a sign that total collapse was inevitable. The ABA has endured 12 franchise shifts, yet it is about to start its eighth season. Even Lamar Hunt had to move a franchise. His AFL Dallas Texans became the Kansas City Chiefs.

Relatively speaking, the WFL still seemed a success story. Its television contract with TVS achieved highly satisfying results: during its first 10 weeks approximately 10 million people tuned in WFL action every week. ABC's Monday night show attracts four times as many viewers, but it charges almost six times as much for a minute of advertising. WFL telecasts drew larger audiences this past summer than the National Hockey League did on NBC last winter and had about 75% as many viewers as CBS's NBA telecasts. Advertisers were pleased, and TVS said it expected to pick up the option year on its contract with the WFL—at an increase in fees. Even if WFL ratings did not measure up to the NFL's, they demonstrated to potential investors that football is king.

Moreover, not all WFL teams were drowning in red ink. The Birmingham Americans, in fact, hoped to finish the season in the black, which would be a record of sorts for a new team in a new league. New cities greeted dying franchises with open arms. Charlotte gave the Stars a sweetheart lease on Memorial Stadium and long lines were reported at the ticket windows. Shreveport welcomed Houston with a picnic, two beer parties and a parade. Signings of NFL stars continued. And there still seemed to be a supply of people with at least some capital who wanted to own a professional sports team. One of these was Upton Bell, son of Bert Bell, the late NFL commissioner, who was once general manager of the then New England Patriots. The Patriots fired him in 1972, but Bell became head of the syndicate that bought the Stars and moved them to Charlotte.