William T. Halls

Bill Halls of Age 86 of Pleasant Ridge Passed away June 20th. He was the beloved husband of Margaret. Dear Father of Leslie Margaret (Rodney) Green, David Richard Wallace (Ann, Carolyn (Thomas) Halls-Bernardi. Grandfather to Robby, Michael, Andrew, Jack. Visitation Tuesday 2:30 pm til 8 PM with the Funeral services Wednesday 11 Am at the Wessels & Wilk Funeral home 23690 Woodward Ave. Pleasant Ridge. Memorials are Suggested to the Royal Oak Boys and Girls Club.By Mike O'HaraBill Halls lived life full out, and by any measure it was a full and enriching life for a man of no pretense who was admired and revered by others.He was a sportswriter with a limitless curiosity to pursue stories big and small and get the facts, a storyteller with a wit well oiled from frequent use and a family man with a large and warm heart that welcomed newcomers to his large circle of loyal friends.Halls, known simply as "Hallsy" to most friends, passed away on Thursday, June 20 after a long illness. He was surrounded by family members.He was 86 and a long-time resident of Pleasant Ridge, Michigan, with his wife Margaret - whom he lovingly called "Magic Margaret." They had celebrated their 60th anniversary on June 6.He is also survived by the couple's three children: son David Halls of Midland and daughters Leslie Green (husband Rodney) of Livonia and Carolyn Bernardi (husband Tom) of Grand Ledge. There are four grandchildren - Jack Bernardi and Robby, Michael and Andrew Halls - and numerous nephews and nieces.As tributes and comments rolled in on social media, one former colleague posted on Twitter that Halls was "a newspaperman's newspaperman."That is high praise, and richly deserved. He was that and more."Hallsy was one of the best - he really was," said retired Detroit Free Press sportswriter Curt Sylvester, whose friendship with Halls stemmed and grew from covering many of the same beats on competing newspapers."He told the funniest stories that made people laugh - including himself."Whether sitting in the newsroom, press box, a local watering hole or at home with family and friends, Halls would hold court telling stories with his eyeglasses pushed back on top of his head.It was a pose that long-time friend and Detroit News colleague Norm Sinclair often referred to "near-sighted hair."There was nothing near-sighted or short-sighted about his work.Halls grew up in Highland Park and graduated from Highland Park High School. He attended Highland Park Junior College and Northwestern University. He graduated from Wayne State University.His calling was journalism, and he rose through the ranks.Halls was best known for his tenure at The Detroit News from 1968 until his retirement in 1998. His primary beats were the Detroit Pistons, the University of Michigan and Michigan State football and basketball, and major championship tennis. Halls' diligence, fair-mindedness and good humor earned him the respect of colleagues, competitors, players, coaches and executives.A reflection of the high regard he was held in was the honor bestowed on him by former NBA Commissioner David Stern on his 80th birthday.Stern sent to the family's home a framed citation extolling Halls' coverage of the NBA, and the fact that he was a leader with a handful of writers who founded the Professional Basketball Writers Association."Our league and team PR people aren't sure if you should be thanked or blamed for that!" Stern joked.Halls covered numerous other beats, including the Detroit Lions and Tigers, and he was assigned to the business department at the time of his retirement from The News.Halls came to The News from the Detroit Bureau of the Associated Press. Before that, he worked at the Highland Parker, at the time a highly regarded community weekly, and the Royal Oak Tribune.At the Associated Press Halls scored a major scoop with one of the titans of the business world - Henry Ford II, then chairman of the Ford Motor Co. There was a strike against the auto company, and Halls had gotten Ford's private telephone number.Halls called Ford, identified himself, and asked how long Ford expected the strike to last. Rather than answer, Ford asked Halls how he'd gotten his number.That didn't matter, Halls replied, asking again how long he expected the strike to last."I give it two days," Ford replied, slamming down the phone.Halls had his quote, and a national scoop. And, Halls recalled in telling the story years later, the strike was over in two days.Halls was on the other end of a major story years later. He delivered the news to the late Bo Schembechler, the iconic head coach of the Michigan football team.Michigan had rallied to tie Ohio State, 10-10, in the season-ending game in 1973 that left the two teams tied for the Big Ten championship and a trip to the Rose Bowl. Michigan was clearly the superior team, and it was a given that Michigan would get the Rose Bowl bid in a vote of Big Ten athletics directors, as was the procedure in those days.Surprisingly, the vote went to Ohio State.Schembechler was not aware that the vote had gone against Michigan when he arrived at a television station in downtown Detroit to tape his weekly show.Halls broke the stunning news when he approached Schembechler on the sidewalk, asking for his reaction to the vote. The reaction was obvious when Mount Schembechler erupted.Adding to the story, Halls was one of the reporters covering the Big Ten who discovered and reported that Michigan State athletics director Burt Smith had not voted for Michigan, thus giving Ohio State a Rose Bowl bid. It was a major sidebar to the story, and an example of Hal Halls' diligence in reporting every detail possible.While he covered sports, Halls was an accomplished athlete as a young man, playing baseball, basketball, golf and tennis.He also managed the Detroit Press Club softball team in the Weary Wordsmith's League. He ran it as thoroughly as if he were a major league manager/owner, keeping detailed box scores on every game and updating stats for every season and career of each player.Away from work, Halls' humor and good nature produced comical incidents that could have made up a TV soap opera.He once called and asked for help starting his rider lawnmower. When I arrived at his home he was resting comfortably on the seat eating a ham and cheese sandwich.Have another for his guest worker?"I only had enough for one," Halls said, continuing to munch contentedly.Some years before that, I asked if he'd stop at my house in Highland Park on his way home and put some meat on the fireplace mantel to thaw for dinner that night.No problem, he said.He called back an hour or so later.Big problem, he informed me, laughing."I put the meat on the mantel, and your dog (a large Irish wolfhound) jumped up and ate it," he said.Why not stop him?"Too big," Hallsy said. "He ate it in one big bite."He repeated the incident many times, like he did with others, and it always got a big laugh.But the best stories were the ones at home, where Bill Halls left eternal imprints as the benevolent king of his court.He delivered a warm toast, with humor and fatherly philosophy, at the reception of daughter Leslie's wedding to Rodney Green.Near the end of the night, Leslie reflected on the day."My father tells the best stories," she said, aglow from the touching toast.He did.He really did.

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