Meet Hal Ferraro
Henceforth, whenever I see that smiling face atop the tall
torso up there in the front left pews, I’m going to instantly think of Roy
Williams.
But, more of that later. Be patient.
And if there is one defining element of the Hal Ferraro personality, it’s that.
The man with the slow, sweet Carolina drawl that delivers his words at its own
quiet pace is patience itself. Job was a nervous wreck compared to Hal Ferraro.
“I guess you can say I’ve always been able to roll with it and not get upset,”
says the four-time St. Peter’s senior warden as he sits comfortably in his warm
and modest Belton home.
The home could be bigger and flashier because Hal and Sue have certainly earned
ego-massaging surroundings. He was an executive with General Motors, a star
basketball player on a national champ-level college team, a Marine, a Christian
man with a long history of volunteer and community service. Sue, like her
husband, is a graduate of the University of North Carolina, has worked in the
insurance business, raised four children and, for 37 years, St. Peter’s
Episcopal Church.
They have done it all, well, quietly. “Graceful” is a word that comes to mind.
Like a Carolina accent, one that flows gently. Not sharp and irritating like
those Texans. And that couldn’t have been easy because Hal has always been
around people with large and quirky egos: owners of car dealerships, corporate
executives, star athletes and star coaches.
It could have, or it should have if you look at the facts and averages, been
different.
Hal, now 78, for instance, isn’t even from North Carolina. He was born and
raised in the southeastern Kansas berg of Arcadia. His parents weren’t humble
peasants. His father owned a grocery store and a clothing store. “My dad was a
dresser,” says Hal. “Always looked like a band box.” Hal was a big basketball
star in a small arena, setting all kinds of records; some may still stand, in
that part of the state. He once scored 38 points in a game at a time when whole
teams struggled to notch up that many.
But he was, as he says without any pretense, “a clean-living kid” who didn’t put
on airs, didn’t bully those less talented in sports or schoolwork and who cared
about the kids who weren’t graced with what he had. He says he has felt close to
“The Good Lord,” to religion and to church all his life. During his spiritual
journey there has never been a single defining moment, a crashing epiphany. It’s
sort of always been there.
He was really the toast of southeast Kansas when he accepted a basketball
scholarship to one of the Mecca schools of the game, the University of North
Carolina at Chapel Hill, in 1947. He played for Tom Scott on heralded teams and
was on the court for the first televised basketball game from Madison Square
Garden. “I was just an average college player (in those days a 6-footer like Hal
was a forward),” he insists.
He picked up a degree in Business and a lifelong Carolina accent during his four
years in Chapel Hill. He also picked up a drop-dead beauty named Sue Joyner, a
true southerner from Wilson, N.C. whose family tree reached back to
pre-revolution times in that state. She had attended St. Mary’s College, an
Episcopal women’s school in Raleigh, before transferring to UNC. She was also a
Cradle Episcopalian and they were married in the Wilson parish church.
“I grew up in the Methodist and Christian churches,” says Hal. “My mom was a
Methodist and my Dad was a Roman Catholic. There was no Catholic church in
Arcadia but my dad was a good Christian man who did a lot for a lot of people.
It was easier for me to change (to the Episcopal church) than for her (a
grandfather was an Episcopal priest). She had three brothers and we all got
along great. I was bigger than they were.”
Hal had joined the Marines when he graduated in 1951 and because he was a known
basketball star and because commanding generals love to field winning sports
teams, he found himself playing for the San Diego Marines while he was still in
boot camp.
“I am probably the only recruit who was picked up every day by a general’s staff
car and driven to practice ” he quips. “The drill instructors weren’t too happy
about that.” But again, Hal let someone else’s ego (and those of some Marine DIs
are legendary) just roll off his back. After boot camp he played for the Camp
Pendleton Marines. He was discharged in 1953, a few months after he and Sue were
married.
A good family friend was a General Motors dealer in Arcadia and he helped steer
Hal to a GM clerk-training program located on the Kansas City Plaza, where he
and Sue set up their first home.
Over the years Hal advanced up the GM managerial ranks from clerk to assistant
distribution manager to district manager (in St. Joseph and Springfield) and
then to metropolitan district manager in Kansas City in 1970. Later, he was
department manager for trucks in the Kansas City zone.
If this sounds like a simple progression in a simple profession, think again.
District managers must work directly with the owners of car dealerships and the
executives of the manufactures. Car dealers, what with the wild madras coats,
cowboy hats and boots astride elephants and kangaroos are men (and they were
then mostly that) of astonishingly peculiar personalities and self-esteem.
Corporate auto executives can be legends in their own minds.
Caught in between, men like Hal could be road kill.
“I had the type of personality that could roll with it and not get upset,” Hal
smiles a little sheepishly. “A lot of guys couldn’t handle the pressure put on
them.”
If you want some examples of the eccentricities of dealers and executives,
including some that shouldn’t be printed in a church newsletter or website, just
ask Hal.
Needless to say, Hal became a master of adaptability, a talent that was
invaluable as a senior warden in an Episcopal parish.
There was the tobacco-chewing dealer in Plattsburg who like to spit his juice
into the potted plant on his desk. “I had a weak stomach then,” recalls Hal. “I
learned to schedule my interviews with him in the late afternoon rather in the
morning.”
Then there was the visiting GM vice president who liked his beer and pop very
cold so a window in the Muhlbach Hotel’s Presidential Suite had to be removed
and a crane hired to hoist a refrigerator through it.
Through it all, Hal and Sue served the community and St. Peters. And there were
times when their patience was taxed.
“The demographics of St. Peters has changed a lot since we started in 1970,” Hal
says. “The average age was much younger and we had more families. Being a senior
warden is not easy. He or she has to get along with people. You have to run a
tight ship but you must treat people with respect. But above all, you have to
pay attention to the congregation. If the church (vestry) decides on a program,
you can’t dictate it to the congregation and be confrontational. I’ve got a hide
like an alligator but not everyone does.”
And the Roy Williams analogy? The Roy Williams who coached the University of
Kansas basketball Jayhawks? Who swore that he would stay in Lawrence despite an
offer from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill?
In 1947 Hal Ferraro, the stud from Arcadia, Kansas, accepted a basketball
scholarship from KU’s legendary coach Phog Allen. Hal had been enrolled and
assigned a dorm room. But then UNC’s Coach Tom Scott (a native Kansan, by the
way) called and sweet talked Hal to take a lil’ ol’ train ride for just a
friendly visit to Chapel Hill. Hal, like Roy Williams, changed his mind.
Unlike Hal Ferraro, a lot of Jayhawk fans have some troubles with letting some
tribulations roll off their backs.
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