Joe Schmidt fondly remembered 1957 Detroit Lions and revealed what made them special

Editor's note: This story was originally published in September 2017, when the Detroit Free Press covered the 60th anniversary of the Detroit Lions ' last championship team : The 1957 Lions. That team's captain, Joe Schmidt, died at 92 years old Wednesday, Sept. 11, 2024. In 2017, Free Press columnist Jeff Seidel visited the all-time great's house in metro Detroit — his basement was filled with memorabilia — to chat and reflect upon the era when the Lions were a juggernaut .

Joe Schmidt stands by the front door, looking out the window. The sky is filled with storm clouds and dark shadows creep across the porch, making his outline appear vague, like a faded image from forgotten time.

Back when the Detroit Lions were champions .

“I was wondering if you got lost,” he says, opening the door, his voice strong and clear.

You shake hands. His grip is still strong and powerful.

Schmidt is 85 years old, one of the greatest players in Lions history, and he was a captain of the 1957 championship team, the last one in team history.

The 60th anniversary of that championship season creates a mix of feelings — nostalgia for some and a heavy dose of frustration for others. The anniversary reminds once again that this franchise remains 60 years removed from greatness, and Schmidt represents everything that once was.

“Want something to drink – a water, a beer?” Schmidt asks, walking toward the kitchen.

He's had one hip replaced, the other one is probably due, and he gets injections in both knees to soothe the aches and pains. But he walks without a walker or a cane.

Schmidt lives in a small subdivision in Bloomfield Hills. He made most of his money in the auto industry, not as a player. He worked as an auto supplier for 30 years, forming a company that sold rubber and plastic to the Big Three.

OH BOBBY: Is Curse of Bobby Layne real? 1957 Detroit Lions say team is jinxed

He lives in a house that is airy and comfortable with a refined, understated elegance.

And yet, you find something surprising. Throughout the main floor, there is no sign that he ever played in the NFL. Or is a member of the NFL Pro Football Hall of Fame. Or that he revolutionized the game, as a middle linebacker. Or that he worked for the Lions for 20 seasons – 13 as a player, one as an assistant coach and six as a head coach.

“Do you have Lions stuff anywhere?” I ask.

“In the basement,” he says. “Do you want to see it?”

Scattered memories

Schmidt walks gingerly down the carpeted stairs, taking his time, careful with his steps.

He holds the railing, pausing at the halfway landing, before reaching the basement floor.

He flicks on a light, and you feel like you are peeking into a time capsule.

“My wife has been telling me to get rid of some of this stuff,” he says, apologetically. “It’s very messed up.”

His words ring with hyperbole; it’s not really that messy. You’ve seen far worse. But if he put all of his stuff on the walls, if he hung up all of the programs and plaques, if he displayed all of his trophies — this could be the greatest man cave in the Motor City.

“I gotta get organized,” he says. “I got all of this stuff I want to hang up.”

Most of his memorabilia spills out of boxes, leans against the walls or is spread out across the pool table. Schmidt picks up a black-and-white photo of the on-field celebration after the 1957 championship game. “They came on the field and picked me up,” he says. “That was (he laughs) quite a thrill.”

Schmidt pulls his old Lions jersey from a cardboard box. Trainers cut the jersey off his body because he had separated his shoulder. “I came off the field,” he says. “I couldn’t raise my arm and the doctor wanted to examine me. So they cut the thing off.”

Schmidt holds the jersey in the air, trying to piece it back together. He can’t quite remember the year. He had several shoulder injuries while playing for the Lions. “It was a preseason game,” he says. “We played New York Giants. Frank Gifford had the ball. I was coming up and I got twisted up some way. I hit the ground and he fell on my shoulder. It came right out – boom!”

He puts the jersey down and picks up a vinyl record.  “We made a record,” he says.

“Dick LeBeau was a singer, you know. It was the Joe Schmidt Trio, so we had a song that Dick LeBeau wrote. Bruce Maher, me and him, there’s a record there.”He pauses for the punch line that you figure he’s told more than once: “We sold about 10 records.”

Scattered across the pool table, across the green felt, there are several Pro Bowl programs — he was elected to 10 straight. “These are programs from various games,” he says with self-deprecation, as if he’s embarrassed. “I don’t know why I got them, but I got them.”

You feel like you are being led through a museum by a famous character from history.Schmidt is wearing dark dress pants and a golf shirt. HisHe head seems sunken into his body – he always joked that he started out in the NFL standing 6-foot-3 but all those hits against fullbacks pushed his head down into his body, leaving him at 6 feet even.

Now, he’s probably even less than that. But he still looks fit.

Schmidt retired in 1965 after 13 years with the Lions, at a time he sensed something changing. “I didn’t see that they were doing the right things, as far as an organization,” he said.

Funny, no?

How many Lions fans have ever said over the last half century or so?

OK, so it’s not funny.

“Don Shula (a Lions assistant in 1960-62) should have been the head coach,” Schmidt said. “He knew what the hell he was doing. I told them, ‘Don’t let this guy get away. He’s going to be a good coach.’ He took off. I don’t blame him.”

After retiring, Schmidt became an assistant coach in 1966. The next year, Schmidt was named the head coach.

He looks at a picture on the wall. It’s a black-and-white photo of the Lions coaching staff in the late '60s.

“That was my whole coaching staff when I started,” he says. “This is Chuck Knox ... “

Schmidt rattles off all the coaches with ease. His mind is quick, his memory strong.

Schmidt had a 43-35-7 record as a coach and his .547 winning percentage is tied for fifth in Lions history.

As a coach, Schmidt experienced something he still struggles to put into words – the death of Chuck Hughes, a flanker who died in 1971 after suffering a heart attack while playing against the Chicago Bears.

“It’s like losing one of your own, in a sense,” Schmidt said. “He was such a good guy, worked his butt off.  It was a tough situation to overcome, to continue to play. It was pretty difficult.”

Life reflections

Schmidt moves to the other side of the pool table and looks at a picture of his family.

“This is my lovely family,” he says. “Five kids. You know what? It’s tough to raise kids.

"Probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life."

His children, he says, are scattered around the country.

He walks around the room and looks at a radio.

“Let me show you something,” he says. “You might get a kick out of it. This radio here. When the (Japanese) bombed Pearl Harbor, I was laying on the floor at home (in Pittsburgh), listening to the reports coming on this radio.”

He looks at it and smiles. “I’m gonna get it fixed up.”

'They are all dead'

Still, it’s surprising. There are Lions fans who have more memorabilia than this.

“I got a little something in the back room,” he says.

He walks through the basement, into the next room, set up like an office.

Three of his four team Most Valuable Player awards are on a desk.

Just sitting there. Like paper weights or something.

“My own team voted me MVP three times, or whatever it was," he says. "That means a lot to me, from my teammates.”

At the far end of the basement, past the exercise area, there is a poster-sized photo of the 1957 championship team stuck on the wall.

He studies the photo. “Good guys on that team, I’ll tell you that,” he says.

He leans against the wall and studies the faces.

“They are all dead,” he says.

He drags his finger across the top row, pointing out the 10 remaining living members of the team.

“We had this feeling of togetherness, confidence in the team, confidence in each other,” Schmidt says.

He says there was something special about that team. Something this organization has been trying to recapture for the last 60 years . It had talent, to be sure. But there was something else. It had a team spirit, a feeling that it could beat anyone. That team also knew how to win, having played in three consecutive NFL championship games in 1952-54, winning two.

It was a team filled with smart football players, including several men who later became extremely successful off the field.

“Very intelligent guys and smart football players,” Schmidt says.

Bust in bronze

Maybe, in your basement, tucked up on a shelf, you have an old lamp or a cardboard box full of VCR tapes.

In Schmidt’s basement, there is the plastic mold, which was used to make his bust that is on display at the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

“They gave that to me, at the Hall of Fame,” he says. “I think they made the regular casting off of that. I think. They give it to you if you want it. Of course, it’s bronzed in the Hall of Fame.”

“That’s awesome,” you say.

“You should tell my wife that,” Schmidt says.

You ask him to go stand by it, to take a picture.

“Nah!” he says, not wanting to fuss.

The memorabilia in that basement represents winning and accomplishment.

But he carries the losses with him to this day. There is one game, in particular, that still haunts him. It was the 9-7 loss against Green Bay on October 7th, 1962.

He runs through the game, able to see the plays, as if his memory runs in crystal clear HD. All the Lions had to do was kill the clock. All they had to do was run the ball. But an interception lost the game.

“How long did that loss stay with you?”

“Till now,” he barks. “Oh, (heck) yes.”

You can sense his blood pressure rising.

“It still bothers you?”

“Oh, (heck) yeah,” he says. “Every time I see Green Bay play on TV, I’m (ticked) off.”

He is convinced that if they would have won that game, the Lions would have won another championship.

If only they had run the ball. If only they hadn’t made a series of mistakes.

But that’s been the story of the Lions ever since, right?

Schmidt walks up the stairs, trying to put it all into perspective. How this kid from Pittsburgh, a seventh-round draft pick, not even expected to make the team, became one of the greats in the game.

“It was a dream of mine to play football,” he says. “I had so many people tell me that I was too small. That I couldn’t play. I had so many negative people say negative things about me —  that I couldn’t play, too small, you know — that it makes you feel good inside. I said, ‘OK, I’ll prove it to you.’”

He reaches the top of the stairs.

Back on the main floor. Back in the present. And the Lions are still 60 years removed from greatness .

1957 Detroit Lions: Reliving tales from franchise's last championship

He walks you to the front door and you go down the driveway, feeling inspired and excited. It felt like meeting football royalty. It felt so special talking to him. Beyond an honor. Like meeting football royalty.

How long will it be before we meet somebody like him again?

A Lion who can actually call himself a champion?

Contact Jeff Seidel: jseidel@freepress.com . Follow him on X @seideljeff . To read his recent columns, go to freep.com/sports/jeff-seidel .

This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: Joe Schmidt fondly remembered 1957 Detroit Lions and revealed what made them special