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Icons: The Voice of God
The booming baritone of John Facenda, legendary Philadelphia newscaster and signature of NFL Films, has popped up selling everything from Campbell’s chili to video games. Now his son Jack is fighting to reclaim it
By Matthew Teague
- In his Poconos cabin, Jack Facenda walks through memories of his father. / Photo by Ben Leuner
LISTEN
Hear an audio excerpt from John Facenda's November 24, 1963, broadcast of John F. Kennedy's funeral.
Hear an audio excerpt from John Facenda's November 24, 1963, broadcast of John F. Kennedy's funeral.
JACK FACENDA FIRST heard the voice of his father’s ghost not long after his father died. It was more of a chat than a banshee wail. The voice spoke to him through a telephone.
Earlier that day in 1986, Jack had bumped into a friend, who congratulated him. Jack’s father, John Facenda — probably the most famous newsman in Philadelphia’s history, and the legendary voice of NFL Films — would soon be honored by the Football Hall of Fame.
Jack was stunned. “What?”
The friend said, “I read it in the newspaper.”
Jack couldn’t believe it: the Football Hall of Fame? And no one had called the family to let them know? From his home in Lansdowne, he called the Hall of Fame to confirm the story. Someone there explained that the award was being accepted by Steve Sabol, head of NFL Films. Apparently, the Hall of Fame had no idea Facenda had a son.
Jack staggered again: Why would this Steve Sabol guy try to hijack his father’s legacy?
John Facenda had died just more than a year before, and Jack’s mother had died even more recently. So at the time, the son was still struggling to sort out their estate, settle their affairs and somehow handle his own grief. A middle-aged orphan.
The Hall of Fame person asked Jack to hold. “Yeah, sure,” he said. That’s when a recording of his father came on the line.
His voice sounded deeper and broader than anything else on earth — people called it the Voice of God — and it described the glory of football, autumn warriors, the clash of gladiators on the frozen plains of Lambeau Field.
In the coming years, Jack would be summoned again and again to protect the Facenda legacy, as his father’s voice cropped up posthumously selling Chunky Chili, and then later a video game, and eventually who knew what. That voice meant a lot to various corporations — credibility, recognition, commodity — but to Jack it meant much more.
The son didn’t hear a useful piece of intellectual property, as he stood there waiting for the Hall of Fame person to come back on the line. He didn’t hear the Voice of God. He heard a message all his own, and kept the phone pressed to his ear:
Dad.
Earlier that day in 1986, Jack had bumped into a friend, who congratulated him. Jack’s father, John Facenda — probably the most famous newsman in Philadelphia’s history, and the legendary voice of NFL Films — would soon be honored by the Football Hall of Fame.
Jack was stunned. “What?”
The friend said, “I read it in the newspaper.”
Jack couldn’t believe it: the Football Hall of Fame? And no one had called the family to let them know? From his home in Lansdowne, he called the Hall of Fame to confirm the story. Someone there explained that the award was being accepted by Steve Sabol, head of NFL Films. Apparently, the Hall of Fame had no idea Facenda had a son.
Jack staggered again: Why would this Steve Sabol guy try to hijack his father’s legacy?
John Facenda had died just more than a year before, and Jack’s mother had died even more recently. So at the time, the son was still struggling to sort out their estate, settle their affairs and somehow handle his own grief. A middle-aged orphan.
The Hall of Fame person asked Jack to hold. “Yeah, sure,” he said. That’s when a recording of his father came on the line.
His voice sounded deeper and broader than anything else on earth — people called it the Voice of God — and it described the glory of football, autumn warriors, the clash of gladiators on the frozen plains of Lambeau Field.
In the coming years, Jack would be summoned again and again to protect the Facenda legacy, as his father’s voice cropped up posthumously selling Chunky Chili, and then later a video game, and eventually who knew what. That voice meant a lot to various corporations — credibility, recognition, commodity — but to Jack it meant much more.
The son didn’t hear a useful piece of intellectual property, as he stood there waiting for the Hall of Fame person to come back on the line. He didn’t hear the Voice of God. He heard a message all his own, and kept the phone pressed to his ear:
Dad.
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