[Congressional Record Volume 141, Number 129 (Friday, August 4, 1995)]
[Senate]
[Pages S11479-S11480]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]


                         RECOGNIZING TED BONDA

  Mr. LAUTENBERG. Mr. President, over a period of years, one comes to 
know a great many people, some of whom make an impression, some of whom 
fade from memory.
  It was some years ago that I met Ted Bonda. He made an impression. 
And over a period of years, we have remained in touch. Ted has had an 
unusual career. World War II interrupted his education and he never 
graduated from college, until recently when Cleveland State University 
awarded him an honorary degree. My hat's off to them.
  Although Ted was not a college graduate, he was a member of the 
Cleveland Board of Education for 5 years and president for 3 of those 
5, an extremely challenging position. He also served as a member of the 
Ohio State Board of Regents for 9 years, 4 of which he served as its 
chairman, as well as 4 years as chairman of the Board of Fellows at 
Brandeis University, and a member of its board for more than 20 years.
  But his community involvement was far greater than his educational 
involvement. Ted was a great lover of baseball who saved the Cleveland 
Indians from leaving the Cleveland community. He personally took over 
the leadership and the financial commitment to save the Indians who, as 
of today, are leading the American League Central Division by 18\1/2\ 
games.
  His baseball exploits were recently described in the Cleveland Plain 
Dealer in an article by Russell Schneider called, ``The Man Who Saved 
the Tribe.'' His generosity, compassion and old-fashioned goodness have 
been beautifully described in the same paper by Herb Kamm, former 
editor of the Cleveland Press. And the warm feeling of the Ohio Board 
of Regents for him is aptly described in a Plain Dealer article by Lou 
Mio in which the Board of Regents ``called upon its accomplished and 
learned former chairman to deliver on his longstanding promise'' to 
provide tickets the next time the Cleveland Indians play in the World 
Series. Bonda told them that at a time when a World Series for the 
Indians looked possible.
  Ted Bonda has indeed made an impact. He is the kind of human being 
that every city in this country would be proud to have as a part of its 
leadership.
  Mr. President, I ask that each of the articles be printed in the 
Record.
  The articles follow:
  Time to Collect--Regents Tell Ted Bonda To Cough Up Promised Tribe 
                          World Series Tickets

                              (By Lou Mio)

       Alva ``Ted'' Bonda had a running joke during his nine years 
     on the Ohio Board of Regents.
       It went like this: ``The next time the Cleveland Indians 
     play in the World Series, you are all invited.''
       Ha, ha. Fat chance.
       ``He probably invited several thousand people during his 
     nine years here,'' said William Napier, the board's vice 
     chancellor. ``Some people thought he was serious. Some did 
     not.''
       Bonda, a former president of the Cleveland school board, 
     had more than a hometown fan's interest in the Tribe. He 
     owned the club in 1977 and 1978. But no matter. The Indians 
     hadn't been close to the World Series since 1954.
       Seen the American League standings lately? The regents 
     have. That's why they unanimously adopted a resolution 
     Thursday concerning Bonda. He had served four years as 
     regents chairman, leaving the board in 1993.
       First, they congratulated Bonda for his honorary degree 
     from Cleveland State University and for his ``irrepressible 
     faith in his beloved city, its people and its baseball 
     team.'' Then they got to the serious stuff.
       ``The Ohio Board of Regents hereby calls upon its 
     accomplished and learned former chairman to deliver on his 
     longstanding promise; and . . . expresses its deep 
     appreciation to Professor Bonda for the tickets--and for the 
     instructive lesson . . . that good things do indeed come to 
     those who wait.''
       Napier said he has Indians home and away baseball caps. 
     ``I'm ready as soon as I hear from him.''
       Bonda enjoyed a hearty laugh when he learned of the 
     resolution.
       ``I told them every year for nine years because it was 
     safe,'' Bonda said. ``But this year I told them I can't do 
     it. This year they really are going to win.''
                                                                    ____

            [From the Cleveland Plain Dealer, June 12, 1995]

                         The Quality of the Man

                             (By Herb Kamm)

       Cleveland State University has measured Ted Bonda for an 
     academic cap and gown, but it will take more than a piece of 
     tape to measure the man.
       CSU recognized a lifetime of good deeds by awarding Bonda 
     an honorary doctorate of humane letters at its graduation 
     ceremonies Sunday afternoon.
       Humane? Bonda has ennobled the word. He is a towering 
     figure of generosity, compassion and old fashioned goodness. 
     He is truly a favorite son.
       It may be trite to say so, but in honoring Ted Bonda, CSU 
     honors itself. The recognition is long overdue, and it is to 
     CSU's credit that it has taken upon itself to correct this 
     omission.
       Ted--they named him Alva Theodore at birth 78 years ago in 
     the Cleveland he has loved and nutured--has had a thing about 
     education, possibly because his own formal schooling ended 
     with his graduation from Glenville High School.
       But it goes beyond that. Bonda sees learning almost as 
     important to life as bread. It explains why, at a time when 
     he could well have luxuriated in retirement, he took on the 
     onerous duties of president of the Cleveland Board of 
     Education; why he served on Ohio's Education 2000 Commission 
     and the Ohio Board of Regents; why he has given so much of 
     himself to Brandeis University as president of its National 
     Fellows and a member of its board of trustees.
       The great Depression saw to it that Bonda never went to 
     college. But there are those who are endowed by Providence 
     with compensating virtues: good sense, good judgment, good 
     instincts. Ted is among them.
       He of course has his critics. He brought so much passion to
        his role as president of the Cleveland Board of Education 
     in the early '80s that he offended almost all his 
     colleagues at one time or another.
       Surely he has irritated others in pleading and fighting for 
     his causes. Bonda tends to be impatient with those who are 
     slow to see things as he sees them or to join his crusades.
       And it stands to reason that he had his critics and rivals 
     in business. A man doesn't lift himself up by his bootstraps, 
     or make the journey from poverty to wealth, without courting 
     controversy. But such foibles should matter little against 
     Bonda's record of caring and doing, of his countless 
     contributions to the civic and charitable missions of this 
     community and some beyond it.
       He has been known to step in where angels fear to tread, as 
     when he was inspired, during his tenure as president of the 
     Indians, to name Frank Robinson as the first black manager in 
     major league baseball; as when he broke down another barrier 
     and brought Fred Holliday to Cleveland as superintendent of 
     schools.
       Both deeds typified a commitment Bonda must have made early 
     in life, because those 

[[Page S 11480]]
     who know him have never known him to flinch in the face of prejudice.
       The citation Bonda received, as the title of doctor is 
     conferred on him, speaks of his ``outstanding accomplishments 
     in commerce,'' his ``unwavering support of education'' and 
     his ``tireless efforts to make Cleveland a better place.''
       Dr. Bonda has done it all, and then some.
                                                                    ____

            [From the Cleveland Plain Dealer, June 8, 1995]

                      The Man Who Saved the Tribe

                         (By Russell Schneider)

       If you're old enough to have been a fan of the Indians in 
     the 1970s--make that the dreadful 1970s--surely the name Alva 
     T. ``Ted'' Bonda will ring a bell.
       And if you're not of that vintage, you are hereby notified 
     that had it not been for Bonda's efforts and perseverance 
     during those frustrating seasons from 1972-77, not only would 
     the current Indians not be doing as well as they are, they 
     also would not be the Cleveland Indians.
       By the same token, neither would we have that downtown 
     jewel called ``Jacobs Field,'' or even Gateway's neighboring 
     Gund Arena.
       It was Bonda who pledged his personal finances and agreed 
     to take command of the faltering franchise as its chief 
     operating officer in 1973 when the club was not only 
     insolvent, but also teetering near bankruptcy under the inept 
     Nick Mileti.
       As it was reported to the 50-plus investors/partners in the 
     ownership of the Indians at the time, the club's losses were 
     $500,000 in 1972, $1.4 million in 1973, $500,000 in 1974, 
     $1.1 million in 1975, $680,000 in 1976 and $1 million in 1977 
     for a not-so-grand total of nearly $5.2 million.
       Despite the red ink that threatened to drown the franchise, 
     it was Bonda who steadfastly refused to consider selling the 
     club to Donald Trump, the wealthy New York developer.
       Bonda insisted that Trump and other vultures offering to 
     buy the sick franchise sign an agreement that they would keep 
     the Indians in Cleveland. They all declined.
       Thus, Bonda was stuck with the franchise, so to speak, and 
     made the best of it, as Art Modell, then the Indians' 
     landlord, acknowledged in a 1978 speech:
       ``The man (Bonda) is a miracle worker. He was able to 
     successfully employ his talents to keep the banks and other 
     creditors from closing in. He was able to sell small pieces 
     of the partnership interests to new people to keep pumping 
     the club with an infusion of capital.
       ``When a franchise--any kind of a sports franchise, be it 
     baseball, football, basketball, hockey or what have you--is 
     in trouble as the Indians were for so long, the quickest way 
     to cure the trouble is to move it, or sell it and allow it to 
     be moved.
       ``History is full of franchises moving to greener pastures, 
     and as long as there is a New Orleans or a Washington--any 
     major city with an empty stadium--there's always the prospect 
     that somebody will come along and lift your franchise, move 
     it away.
       ``But Ted Bonda never let that happen. No matter how dire 
     the straits were, and they were very dire, he was able to 
     keep the sheriff from the door, to keep juggling all the 
     balls until something could be done.
       ``Above all, Bonda did an outstanding job of keeping the 
     Indians franchise in a condition that would allow a new group 
     to come in and take over,'' and keep the team in Cleveland.
       Which is what happened on Feb. 3, 1978, when native 
     Clevelander F.J. ``Steve'' O'Neill purchased control of the 
     franchise, ensuring it would remain in Cleveland.
       When O'Neill died in 1983, his estate sold the club in 1986 
     to Richard Jacobs, under whose ownership the franchise has 
     flourished, financially and artistically.
       All of which is relevant now because, on Sunday, Cleveland 
     State University will bestow the honorary degree of doctor of 
     humane letters upon Alva T. ``Ted'' Bonda.
       It is an honor well-deserved by a 78-year-old guy who was 
     too poor to go to college, whose business career began as a 
     clerk in a shoe store and as a parking lot attendant, and who 
     became one of the most influential civic and political 
     leaders in Ohio--as well as having saved the Indians for 
     Cleveland in the '70s.
       And if--when?--the Indians win the American League pennant, 
     or even the A.L. Central Division championship, I can't think 
     of anyone who'd be more deserving of the honor of throwing 
     out the ceremonial first pitch than Ted Bonda.
       Without his involvement 20 years ago, there probably 
     wouldn't be major league baseball here.
       P.S. In view of his recent and ongoing ``no-threat'' threat 
     to sell the Browns and allow them to be moved to another city 
     if taxpayers don't renovate the Stadium for his team, it 
     would be prudent for Art Modell to re-read the comments he 
     made in 1978 praising Bonda.
     

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