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| Courtesy of the Philadelphia Inquirer |
by Bob Herpen
Phanatic Hockey Editor
Let me start off by saying, there are only two things I didn’t know about the untimely death of Flyers goaltender Pelle Lindbergh’s death 40 years ago today which prompted the documentary, “The Swede of Philadelphia,” from filmmaker Charlie Minn.
The first is that the star of the documentary is Minn himself. The second is that it would be a painful exercise in remembrance that left me and some of my fellow movie-goers stretching and checking their watches.
I saw “Swede,” which is enjoying a limited release this week in certain theaters in the Delaware Valley, last night at twilight in a movie theater roughly 1 mile from the Lindbergh crash site in South Jersey. It was half full but respectfully silent throughout the 100-plus-minute exercise, which definitely felt much, much longer at times – including a preamble which pimped two of Minn’s other documentaries.
Excepting anyone under the age of 45 who remembers, or who had an older brother, uncles or father who was into the Flyers at that time and who passed down the story and the lessons from the crash, it’s not really necessary to see “Swede.”
There’s no new information that came to light as a result of Minn’s efforts. Only a certain number of those involved who knew Pelle best or had a hand in the rescue and resuscitation efforts of Pelle and his two passengers, finally spoke on the record for the first time in 40 years.
That, at least, was a nice touch. Kevin Cady, who knew Pelle since he arrived in North America and played for the Maine Mariners of the American Hockey League, spoke at length. There were multiple testimonials from police officers and EMT personnel who arrived on scene at the former Somerdale Elementary School.
There was a considerable amount of time and space given to Kathyleen McNeal, who rode in the passenger seat of Pelle’s ill-fated Porsche and sustained the least life-threatening injuries. And it was clear the burdens still carried decades later by Pelle’s backup, Pastor Bob Froese, who would be thrust into the starting role in the worst way imaginable.
Everything a Flyers fan needs to know about Pelle Lindbergh’s impact on the franchise, the fondness and attachment fans of the era have for him, as well as the events of Nov. 10 through Nov. 14, 1985 could be explained in full by doing the following: Reading Jay Greenberg’s Full Spectrum, his later voluminous work on the franchise’s 50th anniversary released in 2016, or from the English version of Thomas Tynander’s book, Behind the White Mask, co-authored by “Swede” speaker Bill Meltzer, which was released in 2010.
Minn’s effort really didn’t fill in any blanks in a shorter time frame in any meaningful way.
I found Minn’s filmmaking at times stiff, sensationalist, amateurish, rushed and detached. And that was before it was painfully obvious that the doc, in a noticeable way, was about Minn’s experiences shooting the interviews, asking the questions, driving the routes Pelle drove and visiting the sites germane to that fateful early morning.
There were two odd sections that I assume were filler but didn’t need to be: one devoted to remembering all personnel from Flyers history who had died before the documentary was produced, as well as a strange interlude where a clip was shown from a December 1984 game against the Pittsburgh Penguins which featured a full-length resuscitation by Flyers players and coaches of “‘Twas The Night Before Christmas.” Both presented without context.
And then, another section dropped in about the Spectrum that really didn’t expand much on why the crowd and Pelle’s play would have energized sellout crowds. This part was led not by Lou Nolan’s or Gene Hart’s voice, tying to the Flyers theme, but by legendary Sixers PA announcer Dave Zinkoff.
The only thing I won’t fault Minn for, was the need to either re-shoot or add on some scenes due to the death of Pelle’s mentor and all-time franchise great Bernie Parent in late September. This addendum was made extra poignant when Parent, on camera, expressed how much fun it would be in Eternity to be reunited with Pelle again…but, as he said, not for a long time.
From the perspective of someone who was alive and aware of these events, Pelle’s position in franchise history and who also understands how the accident affected the club and its fans four decades on, it’s a shame that Justin MIrigliani couldn’t finish off his planned doc, “Keenan’s Kids.”
Mirigliani, born in South Philadelphia and raised in South Jersey, poured a considerable amount of time and effort into interviewing as many principals as he could over the years, even completing a trailer and some live documentary footage with several of Pelle’s teammates, before the project stalled prior to COVID.
It would have been much more interesting, and dare I say it…comforting…to have a local, one of us, like Mirigliani tackle a subject as sore as Pelle’s death. Such is the provinciality and parochiality that still defines a corner of the Philadelphian blue-collar mindset.
When I started planning on pieces to mark the 40th anniversary of Pelle’s accident and death, I encountered resistance from certain former members of the organization who knew the situation firsthand. More than one admitted to me, straight out, they refused to speak to Minn when asked to contribute.
They wouldn’t speak to me, either, for anything I planned to write to mark the anniversary. I respect their consistency.
Although Rick Tocchet, Murray Craven, Mark Howe, Brian Propp, Dave Brown, Froese and former Inquirer Flyers beat Al Morganti added their perspective, I couldn’t help but think where things might have ended up if team captain Dave Poulin – referenced multiple times by his former teammates – could weigh in. Or to hear from Brad Marsh, by all accounts the player who bonded closest with Pelle, so much so that Marsh's first-born son was named after him.
Or if Minn might have tracked down Pelle Eklund or Thomas Eriksson, the only other fellow Swedes on the club at that time. It was Eriksson who had to provide comfort and support to Lindbergh's family once they landed in the US, and accompanied Pelle's body back to Sweden for burial.
Whether due to a need to narrow the focus of the piece or just poor research, Minn chose to hone in on the man in the moment and the decisions he made that led to his demise. Telling the whole story is worth so much more than what was committed to celluloid, but I figure it would have meant a more painful, rather than poignant, cinematic experience.
Regrettably, I have to say “The Swede of Philadelphia” is a skip. I paid $15.50 so you don’t have to.
If young casuals, sons and grandsons, daughters and granddaughters don’t know the tragedy of Pelle Lindbergh, it’s time to sit them in front of YouTube and revisit history, video by video. Or buy the book. Or maybe even resurrect the ancient art of verbal storytelling face-to-face. That kind of investment is a better use of your time.
