Stan Mikita, arguably the greatest player in Blackhawks history, died Tuesday after a long illness. He was 78.
Mikita lived life the way he played hockey. He did it his way, and he never stopped caring about what he did.
“He was more prepared than anybody I ever played with,” said Dale Tallon, executive vice president and general manager of the Florida Panthers, remembering the seasons they spent together skating for the Blackhawks from 1973-74 to 1977-78.
“His preparation was impeccable. His style of play was unique. He had great skills and drive and passion. He was hardworking. He was unselfish.
The little man who came from the little town of Sokolce in what then was Czechoslovakia and became one of the biggest superstars of the NHL and the Chicago sports galaxy died surrounded by his family.
The family said in statement that details of services will be announced later. “We respectfully ask for privacy at this time,” the family said.
In January 2015, Mikita’s family said he had been “diagnosed with Lewy body dementia,” a progressive disease with symptoms similar to those of Parkinson’s or Alzheimer’s.
He is survived by his wife, Jill, a native of Berwyn whom he married on April 27, 1963, and their four children, Meg, Scott, Jane and Christopher.
Like Ernie Banks of the Cubs and Walter Payton of the Bears, Mikita spent his entire professional career in Chicago and is remembered as one of its sports icons.
In 21 seasons, Mikita set franchise records that still stand with 1,396 regular-season games, 1,467 points, 926 assists and a plus-329 rating. His 541 goals rank second behind his junior hockey and Hawks teammate Bobby Hull’s 604.
When the 20-year-old Mikita and 22-year-old Hull led the Blackhawks to the 1961 Stanley Cup championship, Mikita scored six goals and led all players in the playoffs with 15 assists and 21 points in 12 games.
Mikita stood 5-foot-9, and his weight ranged from 160 to 165 pounds.
Known for his easy skating style, deceptive moves and stickhandling guile, he had an uncanny ability to set up scoring chances for his teammates, and he excelled at winning faceoffs.
His offensive attributes made it easy to overlook his defensive ability. One season when the NHL had a 70-game schedule, his line was on the ice for only seven even-strength opponents’ goals.
Mikita earned the Hart Trophy as the NHL’s Most Valuable Player in 1967 and ’68, the Art Ross Trophy as the league’s leading scorer in 1964, ’65, ’67 and ’68, and the Lady Byng Trophy for sportsmanship and gentlemanly play in 1967 and ’68. He was the first player to win all three trophies in one year and the only player to win all three in consecutive years.
He was inducted into the Hockey Hall of Fame in 1983, the same year as Hull.
That toughness manifested itself game in and game out. Playing with injuries was the norm for Mikita during a career that began when he appeared in three games as an 18-year-old in 1958-59. His back pain sometimes was excruciating, and it finally forced him into retirement after the 1979-80 season, in which he played only 17 games.
During the 1971 playoffs, when the Blackhawks went to the seventh game of the Stanley Cup Final before losing to the Canadiens, Mikita suffered a severely injured right middle finger when it was struck by a stick. He could barely hold his stick, and it seemed he would be lost for the rest of the playoffs.
Amazingly, Mikita kept playing. He would reveal years later that — without the team doctor’s knowledge — a private physician who was a friend injected the finger with Novocain before the next game, then sat next to the bench and froze the finger whenever the pain returned. Mikita estimated he received 20 injections.
Mikita’s dedication to contributing to the community was as steadfast as his commitment to his team.
The rookies thought they were going to have lunch and a few beers. Instead they went to a charity event at a nearby church, where they signed autographs and had their pictures taken.
Mikita’s creativity in finding ways to give back was akin to his ability to produce points.
Lex Tiahnybik, the son of Mikita’s friend Irv Tiahnybik, was born partially deaf. Lex’s special needs as a young man inspired Mikita to start a hockey school for the deaf at the ice arena in Northbrook and enlist his teammates as fellow teachers. The school was held annually and evolved into the American Hearing Impaired Hockey Association.
Because of his life experiences, Mikita could identify with kids who felt scorned and rejected.
Born on May 20, 1940, Stanislav Gvoth came to Canada at 8 to live with his mother’s oldest brother, Joe Mikita, and his wife Anna in St. Catharines, Ontario. Young Stan was given the name of the uncle who adopted him.
When Mikita arrived in the English-speaking province of Ontario, he didn’t know a word of English. The boy, who as a man would speak the language fluently and with no trace of an accent, felt out of place: “I was miserable for a while.” He fantasized about becoming a pilot so he could fly back to Czechoslovakia.
But Mikita found something that could fill the void in his life and win him acceptance, and that something was hockey. His introduction to the game came when he began playing on the street with a rubber ball serving as the puck on the pavement. When he was 9, he learned to skate and began playing ice hockey.
By the time Mikita was a teenager, two things had become clear: He was an intense competitor, and he was a natural athlete. In addition to hockey, he played football, soccer and lacrosse.
“I think the first time I saw Stan Mikita he was across the rink from me in St. Catharines,” Hull reminisced. “I was playing for the St. Catharines Teepees’ junior team and he was on the midget team. He had on a leather jacket, and he had that boogie haircut. I’d heard he was pretty good.
They were separated in 1957-58, when Hull went to the Blackhawks and Mikita remained with the Teepees, and reunited in 1959-60 when Mikita played his first full season in the NHL.
Skating on different lines, they led the Hawks to their Stanley Cup conquest the following season. They remained the most dynamic duo in the NHL until 1972, when a $1 million signing bonus and a $250,000 yearly salary enticed Hull to jump to Winnipeg of the upstart World Hockey Association.
Mikita was offered $1.5 million over five years to play for the Chicago Cougars of the WHA — much more money than he was making in the NHL — but he accepted what he described as “a nice raise” and stayed with the Hawks.
Although Mikita’s fame came because of his hockey achievements, he also was an exceptional golfer. He carded three eagles while shooting a 34-34—68 in qualifying for the State Amateur Championship in 1972. In 1979, he won both the medal- and match-play championships at Kemper Lakes in Long Grove, where he would spend time working as a golf pro after retiring from hockey.
For all the intensity and commitment Mikita brought to his athletic endeavors, and for all he accomplished, he always kept the games he played in perspective.
After the Hawks were swept from the playoffs one year, a reporter asked Mikita how it felt to be “killed” in four straight games.
“Not very good, but then again while we were playing games here tonight I wonder how many guys really were killed in Vietnam,” Mikita answered.
After his retirement, Mikita attended Hawks games regularly, slipping in and out of Chicago Stadium and then the United Center, exchanging pleasantries with fans, trying to enjoy a little hockey.
The bad vibes had nothing to do with the hockey, but rather a culture that had turned away not only much of the team’s fan base but also some of its biggest stars, including Mikita, whose retired No. 21 hangs from the United Center rafters.
What did that mean to Mikita?
Mikita was one of many impressed by the Hawks’ turnaround, which began when Rocky Wirtz took over the chairmanship from his late father, Bill, in 2008 and continued when Rocky lured John McDonough away from the Cubs to become team president.
“To be successful, there has to be some harmony, there has to be happiness among everybody, and that includes the ticket office, the PR department, the guys selling beer,” Mikita said.
Unlike his predecessors, McDonough understood how important it was to have your franchise’s biggest names feel welcome.
Chicago Tribune’s Joe Knowles contributed.
Neil Milbert is a freelance reporter for the Chicago Tribune.