Writer details getting to know childhood hero
By Regis Behe
February 1, 2003

Stephen Dubner was walking through Times Square in New York City a few years ago when he saw a familiar face. At a newsstand, on the cover of Black Enterprise magazine, beamed the image of Franco Harris.

Dubner flashed back to his childhood. As a young boy in upper New York state, Dubner had anointed the Steelers Hall of Fame running back as his hero. He'd worn a black-and-gold jersey with Harris' number, 32, to school. He collected articles and books about Harris. And almost every night, Dubner had the same dream, which he considered to be in the same realm of the shepherd children's vision of the Virgin Mary at Fatima:

Franco came to his house near Albany. His mother made spaghetti and meatballs, and afterwards Dubner and his hero went outside to play an imaginary game of football against another team. Franco falls, hobbles back to the huddle and tells his young admirer "Kid, you're going to have to take it from here yourself."

For 20 years, Dubner, a writer who lives in New York City, did just that. But in Times Square, his fascination with Harris was rekindled. In "Confessions of a Hero-Worshiper" (William Morrow, $24.95), he recounts how he tracked down, met and started a relationship with his childhood hero.

"Part of the excitement for me was to find out what he was doing and what kind of life he was living now," says Dubner, who will sign copies of his book at the Barnes & Noble Bookseller in Squirrel Hill on Monday. "But a big part of it was also finding out everything I could about the man who I thought I knew."

Dubner began his quest by flying to Pittsburgh. He was greeted at the airport by Harris, his hair a bit thinner, wearing a red flannel shirt, khakis and looking like "a big shiny magnet." Dubner writes that he felt like a "scrap of iron filing."

They talked, they dined, drove around the city and talked some more, went to another restaurant, dined again. Dubner compiled a list of 10 things he wanted to accomplish with Harris, and one ¡X telling Harris that he called himself "Franco Dubner" as a kid ¡X was crossed off within hours. He would eventually do more, including walking through Three Rivers Stadium with the ex-Steeler, and spending time at his house.

Yet, a cryptic comment Harris made that day ¡X "I think your part is more interesting than me" ¡X initially was missed by the writer.

"If you wanted to boil this book down into a koan or aphorism," Dubner says, "it really is a little bit of 'to thine own self be true,' and a little bit of 'don't look for the answer without looking for the answer within.' And I felt really ridiculous for not having recognized the message of that theme until I was really into writing this book."

Before that revelation, Dubner pursued Harris with the zeal of a blitzing linebacker, dogging Harris' secretary at his Super Bakery company with countless phone calls. As he did on the football field, Harris dodged, feinted and evaded his pursuer.

Dubner persisted. He bought a ticket to a charity event where he knew Harris would be. He sulked when his phone calls weren't returned. Desperate, he bought information about Harris' personal life via one of those Internet sites that promises to find data on "anyone, anywhere."

That's when Dubner started to question himself. Was he stalking Harris? He had profiled other celebrities as a writer for the New Yorker, The New York Times Magazine and Time. Every celebrity he had interviewed had at least one stalker.

"I kind of had to keep reminding myself to stay on the right side of the line," he says. "I never felt like I really was about to cross it, but I was tempted, certainly."

As Dubner began to look into the origins of his fascination with Harris, he began to find answers. Raised a Catholic, he had converted to Judaism as an adult, reversing a conversion his parents had made.

"We're told in the Talmud to get dirty sitting at the feet of our great sages," he says. "And yet, we're also taught to know that nobody's perfect. And that obviously is the distinction, which is you can revere someone, but the minute that you remove them from the realm of reality, and therefore imperfection, that's what gets you into trouble."

Dubner backed off from his quest a bit, although he did strike up a relationship with Harris' mother. Dubner and his wife had their first child, a son, and Dubner has found the resolution to this story in fatherhood and family.

And in Franco. He finally got his much-desired second interview with Harris at his hero's home. They watched football and CNN, and talked about Harris' business. Suddenly, Dubner saw him not as a hero, but, he writes, "as a man who got tired, whose shoulder ached, who liked to fall asleep on Sunday afternoons." He wasn't the soul mate Dubner had been searching for all those years.

"But I think he measured up quite favorably against his 30-year old public image," he says. "And I don't think there are a lot of people you could say that about."