Rebellious Roy Jefferson still cherishes ties with Steelers

Chase Claypool barely set foot in the end zone for his fourth touchdown on Oct. 11 when Roy Jefferson’s phone began ringing like a pizza carryout on Super Bowl Sunday. 

It had been 50 years since the outspoken receiver they called “Sweet Pea” last wore a Steelers’ uniform. Fifty years since Jefferson went from worst to first in a trade whose genealogy is more remarkable than anything found on Ancestry.com. 

Claypool’s fourth TD of the game against the Eagles tied a franchise mark shared by Jefferson, who did the same against the Falcons in 1968. As his name and image flashed across social media, it offered younger fans a portal to the late 1960s and early 1970s when Jefferson ranked among football’s top receivers and best-dressed rebels. 

Calls and text messages poured in from all corners of the country. Longtime friends and teammates reached out to the 77-year-old grandfather who makes his home in Virginia. 

“I even got an email from some guy that my wife and I met on a cruise,” Jefferson said. “It was a great feeling. Right after you retire, (the recognition) isn’t all that, but when you have been away from the game for as long as I have, it becomes ‘all that’ again.”

For many Steelers’ fans, the history of the team is divided into two categories: The Super Bowl era and the dark ages. Players who excelled before Art Rooney Sr. raised his first Lombardi Trophy in 1975 might as well have their achievements scrawled on cave walls.

“When you’re a good receiver on a team that’s never in contention, you often go overlooked,” Hall of Fame wideout Paul Warfield said. “That’s probably what happened with Roy during his time with the Steelers (1965-69). They were always kind of a second-division team in those days. But in my mind, Roy was one of the best receivers of our era. He just had to wait to get to Baltimore and Washington to get his due.”

Before Antonio Brown and Hines Ward, before Lynn Swann and John Stallworth, there was Roy Lee Jefferson — the first Steeler to register back-to-back 1,000-yard receiving seasons (1968-69). He was big, brash and bold. “Straight Outta Compton” decades before N.W.A. put lyrics to paper.

Jefferson stood up to NFL power brokers on labor matters, feuded with Chuck Noll on practice fields and battled the Klu Klux Klan on the big screen. His only movie credit, “The Brotherhood of Death,” is a favorite of legendary filmmaker Quentin Tarantino. 

“Roy Jefferson was his own man,” former Steelers quarterback Dick Shiner said. “He was a great receiver and he was never afraid to speak his mind.” 

FASHION FORWARD 

Monday night afforded Jefferson and his wife Candie a rare treat. They got to watch their two favorite teams in the same game. 

While the 12-year pro won a Super Bowl with Baltimore in 1970, he spent only one season with the Colts due to a contract dispute. It’s why Jefferson most closely identifies with Pittsburgh and Washington. 

Time and tragedy have softened many of his rough edges. His oldest son, Marshall, died three years ago of a heart attack — Jefferson still has difficulty discussing it — and he’s dealt with heart ailments of his own. 

But get him talking football and his opinions become as pointed as elbows. Jefferson loves the Steelers’ defense and is a big Ben Roethlisberger fan. The team’s short-passing game, however, does not meet with the approval of a receiver who led the NFL in 1966 with 24.1 yards per catch

“Oh, man,” Jefferson said laughing. “I hate it like I don’t even know what.”

The three-time Pro Bowler said he hasn’t watched Claypool with a critical eye because TV broadcasts don’t focus on a receiver’s route running every play. But he appreciates the rookie’s production and his ability to make contested catches. 

Claypool is an imposing combination of size and speed. Jefferson, who played at 6-foot-2, 195 pounds, gave the Steelers a similar skill set in the 1960s.

“Roy had really good top-end speed and great body control for a man that big,” said Warfield, who won an NFL title with the Browns and two Super Bowls with the Dolphins. “In our era, we didn’t have many receivers that size who were also that quick and athletic.”

Jefferson grew up in Los Angeles and attended Compton High School. A two-way standout at the University of Utah, he was a second-round draft pick of the Steelers and the San Diego Chargers of the fledgling American Football League in 1965. 

Blessed with options, he chose the established NFL over a sizable pay day in San Diego. Jefferson said the Chargers were offering a $150,000 signing bonus as opposed to $15,000 from the Rooneys. 

“Financially, that was probably the dumbest thing I could have done,”Jefferson said. “But I loved Pittsburgh. We lived near Shadyside, and I’m telling you it seemed like we knew all of our neighbors in a five-mile radius. I love it here in Virginia, but we don’t have personal relationships with a lot of people the way we did in Pittsburgh.”

The NFL has changed dramatically since Jefferson ran his last route  — especially when it comes to salary. Claypool, like Jefferson, entered the league as a second-round pick. His signing bonus was $2.37 million. 

Claypool has players such as Jefferson to thank for his earning power. Jefferson was a union rep for the Steelers and the Washington Football Team when players went on strike in 1970 and 1974.   

“There were some long nights at hotels trying to negotiate,” he said. “It was a fun thing when you look back at it, but it was harrowing to go through. We were scared the league was going to come back at us and hold it against (the player reps).”

Jefferson, who made $17,500 as a rookie, racked up Pro Bowl honors during the fall and spent off-seasons toiling at temporary jobs to supplement the family’s income. He had a sports show at radio station WAMO and worked in the human resources department at U.S. Steel, which paid for him to finish his degree at Utah. 

One of his favorite gigs was serving as a fashion clerk in the men’s department at Gimbels. His sartorial splendor and gift for gab made him a natural salesman.

“I was the man,” Jefferson said. “Frenchy Fuqua didn’t know anything about how to dress next to me. I was stylin’.”

PITTSBURGH STEELERS

Roy Jefferson was among the NFL's best receivers in the late 1960s and early 1970s.

COLLSION COURSE

One of the first big branches from the Paul Brown coaching tree crash landed on Jefferson in 1969. That’s when Noll became head coach of the Steelers. 

Determined to turn around a perennial loser, he brought a disciplined and unflinching approach to his task. It didn’t take long for the team’s best player to feel the wrath of Noll.

Jefferson was a dynamic playmaker on an offense badly in need of them. He also was a headstrong personality who wasn’t keen on curfews or running every pattern as it was drawn up in the playbook. Jefferson thrived on subtle, improvised moves that allowed him to break free from defenders. 

He believes Noll saw them as acts of defiance.

“One day in practice, I cut inside then went back out and caught a long pass,” Jefferson recalled. “Homeboy (Noll) stopped practice and started reaming me out. I gave it right back to him. I was like, ‘we just gained 20 yards and we might have gained 40 if you didn’t blow your whistle.’”

Over his final two seasons, Jefferson caught a combined 125 passes for 20 touchdowns and a league-leading 2,053 yards. His brilliance was obscured, however, by a team that went 3-23-1 in that span. 

Jefferson wasn’t a disruptive force on the level of Antonio Brown  but, according to media reports, he showed up to several 1970 training-camp practices without his helmet and repeatedly parked his car in the circle in front of the St. Vincent College dorms, an area Noll had established as off limits to players. 

Quarterback Terry Hanratty thinks the Steelers' star receiver had grown tired of losing, didn't believe in Noll's vision and wanted a fresh start elsewhere.

Midway through camp, the uneasy relationship between Jefferson and Noll boiled over on a hot and humid August afternoon. 

The receiver was sick and given the day off by the medical staff. However, Jefferson joined in some passing drills because he feared several young receivers were working themselves to the point of exhaustion. One player was stretchered from the facility, he said, and transported to a hospital by ambulance. 

Jefferson and Noll exchanged heated words.

“He told me he was tired of me questioning his authority,” Jefferson said. “He wanted guys to be afraid of him and I wasn’t that way. I told him one of those players could have died out there. I got so mad that I said, ‘I don’t want to play for you. Why don’t you just trade me?’ And, that’s what happened.”

Hanratty doesn't recall the specific incident, but said football training camps at all levels were "brutal" in that era.  

Jefferson and Noll, who died in 2014, spoke on several occasions after the receiver was dealt to Baltimore. The conversations were brief and always cordial, Jefferson said, but the relationship was never repaired. 

“Chuck Noll is a great coach and his record speaks for itself,” Jefferson said. “But he was always on me. I just never felt he knew how to handle me.”

TRADING PLACES 

The Steelers’ decision to trade Jefferson wasn’t about improving the roster for the immediate future. It was about jettisoning a disgruntled veteran from a club building around youngsters like  Joe Greene and Terry Bradshaw. 

Pittsburgh acquired 29-year-old receiver Willie Richardson and a 1971 fourth-round draft pick in the deal. The genealogy of that trade, as pieced together by footballperspective.com in 2012, proved to be a masterclass in asset management. 

The Steelers used the fourth-round pick to select Dwight White, a mainstay in the Steel Curtain. Meanwhile, Richardson never played a down for Noll. He was shipped to Miami for a 1971 fifth-round pick that became safety Ralph Anderson. The defensive back played 21 games over two seasons only to be moved to New England for a fourth-round selection in 1974. 

That’s the pick the Steelers used to draft Stallworth. White and Stallworth contributed to four Super Bowl titles. 

“It turned out pretty good for the Steelers,” Jefferson said. “They already had Joe Greene and L.C. Greenwood and added Dwight White to that defensive front. . . . Stallworth and Swann gave them two great receivers.”

The trade also enhanced the career of Jefferson. The flashy dresser added a Super Bowl ring to his jewelry collection during his one season in Baltimore and played for another title with Washington in 1972, losing to Warfield and the Dolphins. 

In his final seven seasons, Jefferson reached the playoffs six times and became a beloved figure with Washington, earning Pro-Bowl honors in 1971. 

He finished his career with 451 receptions, 7,539 receiving yards and 52 touchdowns in 162 games. 

“Roy was as talented a receiver as you were going to find," Hanratty said. "He was a bit obstinate and he had an edge to him, but there's no denying he could play."  

Jefferson harbors no regrets or ill will about leaving Pittsburgh just as the Steelers were building toward a dynasty.

“I think it worked out well for everybody,” he said. 

ROY JEFFERSON

It's family first for Roy Jefferson, far right, who now lives in Virginia.

KEEPING A LOW PROFILE 

In the summer of 1976, Jefferson sat in a Pittsburgh movie theater, squirming in his seat and trying to hide his embarrassment. 

A year earlier, Jefferson had been approached about starring in the low-budget flick, “Brotherhood of Death.” He was one of several Washington football players cast in a film about three young men who fight in the Vietnam War and return home to battle racial injustice. The soldiers end up in bloody all-out war with members of the Klu Klux Klan.

A highlight reel of the Steelers’ 1-13 season from 1969 might have been easier on Jefferson’s eyes and ears.  

“It was bad,” he said. “I remember watching it and scrunching down in my seat as far as I could go.”

The movie was part of the “Blaxploitation” genre that found niche audiences in the 1970s. Produced at a cost of around $250,000, the budget didn’t allow for much authenticity. Spaghetti sauce reportedly was used for blood.

Jefferson was paid $7,500 and promised a half-a-percent of the profits. 

While most critics panned “Brotherhood of Death,” Tarantino reportedly loved it. Years later, the “Pulp Fiction” director added the movie to one of his film festivals, and it eventually grossed about $1 million.

“I never saw any of the profits and I never appeared in another movie,” Jefferson said. “Jim Brown wasn’t a great actor, but he was cool. He wasn’t all hopped up like I was. I never had any acting lessons, and you could tell by the way I delivered my lines.”

After his playing days, Jefferson worked in a variety of fields, operating barbecue joints and trying his hand in the mortgage business. He and Candie recently celebrated their 57th anniversary, and the couple has five grandchildren from three kids.

Jefferson doesn’t get back to Pittsburgh often, but is still close with former teammates such as Greene. Despite his contentious exit, he remains on good terms with the organization. In 2007, Jefferson was named to the Steelers Legends, which recognizes the 24 best players from its pre-1970 era.

The former first-team All Pro plans to keep close watch on Claypool this season and is rooting for a seventh Super Bowl title. 

His rebellious streak retired, Jefferson nowadays stays in his own lane and parks in his designated spots. He looks back with pride at stretching defenses at old Pitt Stadium and improving working conditions for the next generation of players.  

“I did my thing when I did it,” Jefferson said. “And few did it better.”