California Golden Seals left a short-lived, but colorful legacy in the Bay Area
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A documentary about the Seals is in the works, as well as a book. The? San Jose Sharks are comfortable enough with their place in the league that they've started to embrace their Bay Area family tree, flying in a group of former Seals for a celebration of the team a few weeks ago.
Before the 1967-68 season, the NHL underwent the single biggest expansion in its history, doubling in size by adding six teams. In addition to the Seals, the? Pittsburgh Penguins, Philadelphia Flyers, Los Angeles Kings, Minnesota North Stars and St. Louis Blues?also joined the league, all playing in a newly formed West Division.
This resurgence has made Len Shapiro popular because he's the unofficial keeper of the Seals' stories -- stories that you wouldn't believe if they weren't later confirmed by the folks involved.?
Shapiro covered the Seals both as a member of the media and then as part of the team's public relations department. He has plenty of theories as to why the franchise -- initially named the California Seals, then rechristened the Oakland Seals partially through the 1967-68 season before becoming the California Golden Seals in 1970 -- never really had a chance. Among the theories are that the Seals started out in Oakland instead of in San Francisco, drafted too many American Hockey League players when hockey fans in the area were more familiar with Western League players and a lack of commitment from ownership from the start.
"They started with a win and lost 13 straight games, and soon after that the crowd went right down the tubes," Shapiro says. "[Owner Barry] Van Gerbig was looking immediately to move the team to Vancouver."
That's not exactly how to win over the local fans.
But in the short time the Seals existed -- from 1967 to 1976 -- they left quite a legacy. It was a legacy of vivid colors, most notably green and gold, and colorful figures. Shapiro is the keeper of many of those stories. Like counting fans one Christmas Eve and finding 976 people in the building. Or the time a woman called the front office to ask what time the game started, only to be asked right back, "What time can you get here?"
Shapiro laughs while recounting the story of the time when the Washington Capitals came to town sporting an 0-39 road record. They beat the Seals to end the losing streak, and then the Caps passed around a trash can labeled "Trash Cup" afterward as part of a postgame celebration.
The Seals might have been a disaster financially, but the franchise gave many hockey players an NHL opportunity they might not have otherwise had, and by all accounts, those players enjoyed it to the fullest.
After the Seals made forward Dennis Maruk a second-round pick in 1975, the 19-year-old was immediately plugged into the lineup.
He did what any kid would do after moving to California during that era. He bought a 1973 Corvette T-top and drove to practice in flip flops.
"I'd get the loudspeaker from the police behind me saying, 'You are going to drive slower, aren't you?'" Maruk says now, laughing. "I never got tickets. I lucked out."
The best times came when the Seals went on the road. They'd travel in the back of the big DC-10s, in which they could smoke cigars and drink the whole trip. If you made the mistake of falling asleep or passing out, your tie might get cut to shreds or half of your shoe would be cut out. Players would hide teammates' luggage or destroy the suits inside.
"It's like, 'OK, I'm going to walk around the airport with half a shoe gone. I have no tie and one arm [of my suit] is gone," Maruk said. "This is my first year, and it was like, 'Is this really the NHL?'"
One time, the Seals took off for a road trip in a 747, a plane with a second level. One of the players went upstairs, stripped down, splashed water on himself, returned to the lower level of the plane and declared to his teammates, "Hey! The pool up there is great!"
Defenseman Bert Marshall played more games for the Seals than anyone in franchise history, and he has a story as unique as anyone's. He was the captain of the team when he got a letter in the mail from Sonny Barger, a founding member of the Hells Angels.
When Marshall?opened the missive, he found very strict instructions from Barger about how the Hells Angels wanted to attend a Seals game.
"It said, 'Mr. Marshall, I would like for you to make arrangements for motorcycles. We would like to come up the ramp and park them on the ramp. On one end I'd like $15 seats and on the other I'd like $10 seats," Marshall said, recounting the story.
Imagine current Sharks captain Joe Pavelski getting ticket and parking requests from the Hells Angels. To Marshall, it was just as puzzling, so he took the letter to a highway patrol friend of his for advice.
The advice he got was simple -- give it to the front office and see what they can do. There's no reason to get on the wrong side of the Hells Angels. And it all worked out.
"They were fans," Marshall said. "They liked the game."
Winger Ernie Hicke was playing in Salt Lake City when he got a call from Frank Selke Jr., who was running the Seals at the time. Hicke's brother, Bill, was already on the team, and Selke knew Hicke well from their time together in the Montreal Canadiens organization.
Hicke was owned by the Canadiens. He remembers going to Montreal training camp with 300 other players who were trying to make the team, looking around and seeing Henri Richard and Jean Beliveau. "That's a little tough, to break into that lineup," he said.
Selke called Hicke and asked if he was interested in being traded. He didn't have to wait long for an answer.
"Of course I was," Hicke said. "I don't think I was going to break into Montreal's lineup."
So Selke struck a deal with Montreal, sending the Seals' first-round draft pick to the Canadiens for Hicke. Montreal had the option of picking the draft year -- either 1970 or 1971.
They chose 1971 and got a kid named Guy Lafleur with what would have been the Seals' pick, the No. 1 overall selection in that draft.
"At the time, I didn't think it was too bad. I could score goals," Hicke said. "I had no idea who Guy LaFleur was. I sure found out quick."
After the slow start in 1967, Seals partner Potter Palmer brought in Bill Torrey. Palmer wanted someone from outside the organization to take a look at how things were going. Torrey spent 10 days in Oakland and couldn't believe how the operation was being run.
Team offices were housed at the Edgewater Hyatt Hotel in Oakland, where the team had five suites. The box office was in the bathroom of one of the suites. They stored all the tickets between the toilet and the sink.
"It was the most rinky-dink setup you could imagine," Torrey said.
He gave his report. The players weren't as good as the management thought they were. The team was being run like a second-class operation. San Francisco hockey fans had no interest in going to Oakland for games. The team couldn't win.
Torrey was offered a job -- to join the franchise and help turn things around. He ultimately accepted and made changes for Year 2, including hiring a new coach in Fred Glover. The Seals went on to make the playoffs.
Given time, Torrey might have built a winner like he would later go on to do with the? New York Islanders. He had a contract with league president Clarence Campbell and the NHL that gave him final say in player transactions, and he understood the value of developing with young players.
Then came Charlie Finley.
"He was crazy," Torrey said.
In 1970, Finley bought the Seals to go along with his major league baseball franchise, the Oakland A's. He was the Seals' third owner in four years, and Finley came in with a self-professed complete lack of knowledge of hockey, which inspired his idea to put names on the back of the jerseys. We can at least thank him for that.
Some of Finley's other ideas weren't so inspired. Like, say, the now-legendary white skates -- inspired by his white-cleated A's -- that he insisted his Seals players wear.
"The worst thing about the white skates was that I wasn't the best skater in the world, and I always thought they made me look slower than I really was," Marshall said.
The black puck would, of course, scuff the white skates, so the Seals trainer was instructed to paint the skates to keep them pristine.
"Those suckers got to be pretty heavy," Marshall said. "It wasn't like you could peel it off or wipe it off."
Finley gave each player a green jacket and green-and-gold Pullman suitcases so they looked good when they traveled.
But he was running the organization on the cheap. He didn't want to pay players, and more importantly to Torrey, Finley wanted to sell off the good ones. When it came time to negotiate Torrey's next contract, Finley offered him a raise but wanted to remove the clause that gave him final say on player moves. Torrey knew this would lead to players he didn't want leaving being jettisoned for financial reasons.
Ultimately, Torrey and Finley parted ways. After seriously considering a job with the expansion Atlanta Flames, Torrey instead took a job helping construct the Islanders. He built a dynasty that would win four straight Stanley Cups.
It might have gone differently for the Seals.
Maybe if they had started out in San Francisco, rather than in Oakland, with a built-in fan base, the stands would have been full from the start. Maybe if they had drafted Guy Lafleur and given Torrey free reign and the support to build the right way, the dynasty would be in the Bay Area instead of Long Island.
But the Seals wouldn't be the Seals without chaos, character and a little heartbreak. It's not a Stanley Cup legacy, but it's a legacy that could only have existed in that era in that sport. And it's a legacy that continues to live on decades later.
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