Former Steelers running back Franco Harris passed away hours before the 50th anniversary of the most celebrated play of his career—”The Immaculate Reception”—and one of the most remarkable plays in NFL history. Quarterback Terry Bradshaw launched a last-second pass that pinballed off several players to land into Harris’s hands, inches from the turf. The running back had “wandered” downfield and was in the right place at the right time to grab the ball and plod into the end zone for the winning touchdown, leading to the Steelers upsetting the Oakland Raiders to win a playoff game.

Although the Steelers would lose the following week to the unbeaten Miami Dolphins, the play could be seen as the catalyst for the great Pittsburgh teams of the 1970s. They were known as the “Steel Curtain” defense and captured four Super Bowl titles.

Harris was also beloved because he so embodied the Pittsburgh ethos. His father, an African-American soldier, met his mother, an Italian native, at the end of WWII, bringing her home as a war bride.

Harris wasn’t flashy but workmanlike, an above-average player with a hard-nosed, lunch-pail mentality. Although he’d actually grown up in New Jersey, he “came home” to Pennsylvania, matriculating at Penn State University, where he, along with teammate and future pro Lydell Mitchell, combined to rush for over 2000 yards. They helped the Nittany Lions to an 11-1 record in their senior year, a top-ten finish in the rankings, and a Cotton Bowl victory during which they drubbed the host Texas Longhorns 30-6.

Image by Will O’Toole of Otoons Cartoons.

The “home town” Steelers selected Harris in the draft and immediately inserted him into the team’s starting lineup. The Steelers desperately needed winning ballplayers because the franchise had spent years, indeed decades, as the league’s moribund ”cellar dwellers.” Even though the Steelers did not capture the AFC title in the 1972 season that saw Harris’s ”The Immaculate Reception,” the play was perhaps the catalyst for the club’s success during the 1970s.

From Harris’ first appearance in the lineup in 1972, Pittsburgh would fashion a 176-121 (684) regular season record and a 14-6 record in the playoffs. The Steelers won four Super Bowls from 1974 to 1980, finishing first in their division seven times and making eight consecutive playoff appearances. In comparison, in the first 39 years of their existence (whether they were called the Pirates, the Steagles, or the Rooneymen), the Steelers finished first only once, in 1947, when they tied with Philadelphia. Philadelphia then defeated them in the playoffs.

After 1972, Harris garnered some individual accolades (e.g., Rookie of the Year / 9X Pro Bowl) and was an integral part of the Steeler offense. Like many of his Steeler compatriots who were associated with this dynasty team (14 in all, including administration and coaches), Harris received a plaque in the NFL Hall of Fame.

Harris never stood out as the league’s premiere player, unlike Jim Brown, O.J. Simpson, or Walter Payton. He was not pretty or electrifying but what mattered was that he was assembly-line efficient and blue-collar effective.  The Pittsburgh fans’ love for Harris’s play and persona would evolve into a group called “Franco’s Italian Army.”

Typically for Harris’s persona, after he retired, he didn’t become the owner of a fashionable or trendy restaurant or nightclub. Instead, he opened his own bakery and built it from the ground up:

After Franco Harris’ retirement in 1984, he entered the foodservice business by opening Super Bakery in 1990, per Forbes. His flagship product was the Super Donut, which, according to Yahoo, was packed with minerals, vitamins, and proteins, a fact the brand was very proud of. The store, built in Pittsburgh, saw Harris’ dedication as he worked to load boxes and other tasks he deemed “challenging.” “To build a brand takes a lot,” he said to Forbes. “I’ve been lucky that I’ve been able to hit some niche things at the right time.” As a Hall-of-Famer, he was often recognized as he stocked shelves in local supermarkets. He admitted this process made him “just as sore as any football game,” according to Yahoo.

R.I.P., Franco Harris. You’ve earned it.