1
★ ★ ★
Men stand in the concourses of Allen Fieldhouse in 1988. In Plank's years at the fieldhouse, he saw many of the ins and outs of the building.. Photo courtesy of University Archives
apparently aiming to disrupt it. The meet director, afraid that sending police would fuel their fire, sent Plank alone to stop them.
Coincidentally, Plank knew the leader of the protesters. He told him that if they would control themselves, he would let them march around the track during the afternoon intermission. The group's leader announced this to the protesters, and they cheered wildly.
"They were very well-behaved," he says. "I let them in, directed them around the track, they walked around and walked right back out with no trouble at all."
"It was a strain on the knees, and if you fell on that thing you got skinned up," he says.
The alarm suddenly goes off again in the fieldhouse, and on the court two of the young men in polo shirts gesture to each other while another shouts into his cell phone. Plank gazes down to the big Jayhawk on the center of the court.
"At one time that was an artificial floor like they have on the track now," he says.
In 1974 a synthetic floor was put in, but it would only last through 1979. It was a bad idea.
In the 1972-1973 season, the Jayhawks lost 18 games, winning only eight. But the next year they miraculously went 23-7, including 13-1 in the Big Eight Conference, winning the conference championship, a testament to Ted Owens' resilience.
Plank became acquainted with Owens. He also got to know one of Owens' longtime assistants, Sam Miranda.
"He was more outgoing than Ted," he says. "Ted was very professional. He talked basketball all the time. Sam had more diverse interests than just straight basketball."
About this time, Kansas outsourced its events staffing to a company called Manpower, and Plank started getting paid. Up until then he had worked for free, receiving two tickets to all football and basketball games as compensation, which he often gave to his wife and son.
Back in Baldwin City, he sold his appliance store and started carrying a rural mail route for the U.S. Postal Service, which he would do for the next 20 years.
After the 1982-1983 season, Ted Owens was controversially fired following a decade of up-and-down seasons, and a new coach by the name of Larry Brown took over.
The 1980s was also a time of change for Plank, who by then was in his mid-60s. Plank's job shifted to checking in members of the media as they came through the door and handing them their media passes. During the game he watched their equipment. Afterward he would check credentials as they headed into the postgame press conference.
into his postgame into With his new job in the fieldhouse, Plank wasn't able to see as much of the games. But one perk of the job was becoming acquainted with some media personalities who were, well, interesting.
He remembers an encounter with a reporter from ESPN named Dick Vitale. A Lawrence news station had asked to do an interview with "Dickie V" after a game he was there to announce.
Plank set up the interview in a hallway of the fieldhouse and says Vitalite was shouting so much that the microphones in other press interviews picked up his voice.
"He was so loud that I had to ask him to quiet down," Plank says. He recalls Vitale saying, "That's my personality," to which he responded, "I know it is."
Plank also got to know legendary Kansas radio announcer Max Falkenstein, his counterpart Bob Davis and *Toppea Capital* Journal executive editor Pete Goering.
More changes would be made throughout the years. Starting last spring, Plank was required to wear khakis, a white burton-down shirt and a red sweater vest, instead of the sports coat and tie he had always worn.
always wore
The times changed, but Plank remained a fixture and somewhat of a reminder of bygone days. Everybody knew him.
"Oh, yeah, Fred," says Debbie Luman, track office administrative assistant. "I just know him as Fred. He's just one of those friendly faces."
"He has such a nice smile, and he likes to visit with people," says Louise Ecord, Williams Fund administrative assistant.
Earlier that day while walking to the fieldhouse court, Plank paused to talk to a young woman at the front desk of the media relations office. "It's working with people like her that keeps me feeling young," he says with a grin.
Plank's sense of humor is evident after more than an hour of sitting in the bleachers. He is aked to have his picture taken, to which