George Halas looms over the building that bears his name.
Anyone who walks into the main entrance of Halas Hall must first pass by a statue of the Bears’ Pro Football Hall of Fame founder, player and coach, his arm pointed out as he shouts directions. Players who enter through a hallway off to the side stroll past a light show that displays their retired numbers, including his No. 7. Halas’ fedora — one he wore in many of his 324 career wins —sits on display in the lobby.
Upstairs is his houseplant.
Seriously.
Inside a building that so cherishes the Bears’ connection to the past sits a golden pothos whose vines and bright green leaves — it’s known in some parts of the world as a money plant — cascade down from a hand-painted navy and orange pot. A small black tag stuck into the dirt spells it out: “George Halas Plant.”
The plant was inside Apt. 1802 of the Edgewater Beach Apartments before Halas died 41 years ago this month. It’s still alive — though it’s had to be resuscitated over the years.
“It’s a living connection to George Halas, more so than a picture … “ said Bears board member Brian McCaskey, who inherited his grandfather’s plant and keeps it in his office. “It’s something that’s living and growing. And people can, in turn, share it with somebody else.”
That’s because, amazingly, it has genetically identical offspring in pots throughout Halas Hall, the result of a propagation program started by Cliff Stein, the franchise’s former salary cap manager, contract negotiator and lawyer.
President Kevin Warren and coach Matt Eberflus each have one, but so does any employee who asked for one over the past few years.
General manager Ryan Poles has one in his office.
“It’s remembering where we are from and what it is today …” Poles told the Sun-Times. “It’s symbolic. The roots are from George Halas — but if you don’t water it with the water of today, it dies.”
Stein called the golden pothos “the most hardy house plant I’ve ever come across,” but it still needs care. When Poles asked for one, Stein stalled at first, telling him that the GM needed to prove he could take care of his other plants first.
He’s proven to be more than capable.
“I have a couple quotes written on my whiteboard,” Poles said. “But I also have: ‘Water your plants.’”
When Halas died in 1983, his daughter Virginia McCaskey and her husband Ed asked their children if they wanted any small mementos of their grandfather.
As a student at North Park College, Brian McCaskey lived near “Papa Bear.” When his parents held family dinners and celebrated holidays in Des Plaines, Brian McCaskey would pick him and drive him back home.
Brian McCaskey remembered liking one of the plants he’d seen inside Halas’ home, and asked for it. When he moved into his first apartment the next year, he took the plant with him. It followed him from house to house when he moved.
When Brian McCaskey and his family decided years ago to relocate from Island Lake to Lake Bluff but keep their old house, the plant didn’t make the move with them. It sat in the windowsill in Island Lake, getting plenty of sun but in need of care.
“We weren’t there very much,” Brian McCaskey said, “and it got neglected.”
He eventually brought the plant to Joanne Willing, who owned Angelo Florist in Lake Forest. Brian would use the company for corporate events and buy Virginia a corsage there every Mother’s Day.
“I, frankly, was a little skeptical as to whether it would survive,” Willing said.
She repotted the plant, fertilized it and slowly brought it back to life. She returned it to him after a year.
Stein, who in 22 years with the Bears served as the team’s senior vice president and general counsel, was known inside Halas Hall for having a green thumb. He took interest in the plant inside Brian McCaskey’s office, which he joked had a vine that grew long because it was trying to run away.
When Halas Hall began renovations and Brian had to move to an interior office, he left his plant with Stein, who had a window. Stein started adding fertilizer, coffee grinds and even cinnamon to the soil. Every Friday, he’d water it and turn it a quarter turn. The plant grew stronger.
Eventually, Stein asked if he could propagate the plant. He’d cut a vine, put it in water until it grew roots and plant it.
Brian and his brother George, the team’s chairman, were dubious at first but eventually acquiesced.
“The plant lives on in No. 7 flower pots,” chairman George McCaskey said.
Stein began painting pots in Bears colors, often with Halas’ retired number on them, and giving the plants to employees who signed up on the team’s inter-office web site.
“They’re all genetically identical,” said Stein, who is now an adjunct professor at Northwestern. “They’re all from the original.”
John Tarpey, the team’s vice president of security, has one of the first plant offshoots. He said if there were ever a fire in his office, it’d be the first thing he saved.
When Stein parted ways with the team in January, he’d fulfilled at least 50 orders from coworkers in his free time, complete with a unique hand-painted pot.
“I haven’t met anyone that didn’t want a part of that,” Stein said, “to make them feel like a part of history.”