4 | AUGUST 19 • 2021 

E

arlier in the summer, the talk 
around Southeastern Michigan was 
about Bo Schembechler and when 
did he know that Dr. Robert Anderson 
allegedly sexually assaulted numerous male 
student athletes and some 
women during his tenure 
at University of Michigan 
(1966-2003).
As the legendary baseball 
manager of the Yankees and 
Mets Casey Stengel used 
to say about the deceased, 
“they’re [Anderson and 
Schembechler, in this case] dead at the 
present time.” 
The University of Michigan’s athletic 
director from 1968-1988, Don Canham, 
could have and should have fired 
Anderson. But he’s dead at the present 
time, too.
Glenn Edward “Bo” Schembechler came 
to the University of Michigan as head foot-
ball coach in 1969 after coaching under 
Ohio State’s legendary coach Woody Hayes. 
After a brief marriage to Hayes’ secretary, 
Bo married a nice lady named Mildred 
(Millie) in 1968 and adopted her three 
sons. (They subsequently had another son 
together.)
Adding fuel to the Anderson contro-
versy was a news conference with Bo’s 
stepson, Matt, and some former students 
who claimed that they were abused by 
Anderson. Matt claimed that when he was 
10 in 1969 and needed a medical check-
up, his stepfather recommended that he 
should make an appointment with Dr. 
Anderson.
Matt came home and reported to his 
stepfather that Anderson touched him 
inappropriately. “That was the first time 
that he [Bo] closed fist punched me,” Matt 
told the media. “He knocked me all the way 
across the kitchen.”
Matt’s mother went to see Don Canham, 
and we don’t know what the conversation 
yielded as she’s also deceased. None of us 
can be sure what happened and what Bo 
Schembechler did or didn’t do. But here’s 
what I do know, based on the numerous 

times (maybe a hundred) that Bo and I 
were only a few feet apart.

THE BO I KNEW
Bo was a bully and worse, but very likable 
with tons of charisma. You’ll find a similar 
opinion in my late good friend Joe Falls’ 
1997 book, 50 Years of Sportswriting. Chapter 
11, titled, “Boo on Bo,
” chronicles the times 
Bo lied to Joe.
Bo was named president and chief oper-
ating officer of the Tigers early in 1990 by 
team owner Tom Monaghan. Jim Campbell 
had the title previously and was easing into 
retirement but wanted to come around 
whenever he wanted and wanted someone 
who relied on his advice. Campbell was 
happy an experienced baseball man wasn’t 
put in charge.
I was hoping that Bo would meet his new 
employees by calling them into his new 
plush, paneled office, get to know them and 
possibly hear some new ideas. He never did. 
Bo wasn’t much of a listener and came with 
preconceived notions. I had access to him 
in the morning roundtable coffee schmooze 
sessions in the dining room before we went 
to our workstations.
I sent ideas to Bo via inter-office memos 
delivered by our mailroom guy. One idea 
I wanted to see implemented quickly was 
transforming the sidewalk around the 
exterior of the stadium into a baseball-style 
Hollywood Boulevard, hand and autograph 
impressions in cement. Time was the enemy 
as the most popular first basemen in Tigers 
history died in 1986, Norm Cash and Hank 
Greenberg.
Bo never responded to any of my memos. 
One time we were the only ones in the 
dining room, and I brought them up. “The 
trouble with you, Cohen,
” Bo bellowed as he 
pointed his finger at me, “is that your ideas 
cost money.
”
One Friday January morning in 1992, I 
walked past Bo’s office as he was pacing back 
and forth. “Cohen,
” he yelled, “do you know 
how to drive? If you do, let’s go.
” 
We rode the elevator down in total silence 
and headed to his shiny, new black Cadillac. 
His usual driver wasn’t around, and Bo got 

behind the wheel. I quickly figured out that 
he was headed to the airport to fly to New 
York to appear on one of those Saturday col-
lege football pre-game shows.
Over and over Bo kept saying, “I’ll never 
make it.
” 
We did make it without much conversa-
tion. As he was exiting the Caddy, he said, 
“Take it back and tell the driver he’s fired.
” I 
obeyed half of the commandment. 
We all have Jewdar — Jewish radar. Mine 
told me not to trust Bo. One morning I was 
the first one at the roundtable and reading 
the paper. The headline screamed, “Scuds 
Fall on Israel” (during the Iran-Iraq war).
Bo entered, stopped in his tracks while 
reading the headline. “Cohen,
” Bo boomed 
in capital letters as he pointed to me, “You 
are going to get us,
” as he pointed to himself, 
“into a war.
” 
As I was rising out of my chair to confront 
Bo getting ready to say, “You mean me, the 
Jew?” the phone rang. Bo picked it up and 
said, “
Alice, [his secretary] I’ll be right up.
” 
Bo didn’t come down again for several 
days, and I never got into my first physical 
fight.
I have many fond memories of my Tiger 
days. I loved and respected Tom Monaghan, 
but not so bellicose Bo. 

Author, columnist, public speaker Irwin J. Cohen head-

ed a national baseball publication for five years and 

interviewed many legends of the game including Joe 

DiMaggio and Hank Greenberg. He earned a World 

Series ring while working for the Tigers in a front office 

position in 1984. He may be reached in his dugout at 

irdav@sbcglobal.net.

Irwin J. 
Cohen

PURELY COMMENTARY

wise & otherwise
My Time with Bo

Bo Schembechler

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