Maybe I was predestined to reach the NHL as both a player and referee. It's a family tradition of sorts, along with the work ethic -- and sheer refusal to give up on a dream -- that makes it possible. My family has been deeply involved in sports for much of the last century, wearing many different hats: player, referee, coach, you name it.
You may not know this unless you are a hockey history buff, but my grandfather was a genuine pioneer for Americans in the NHL. Anything I've accomplished professionally in the game pales in comparison to the trails he blazed.
Bill Stewart was the first U.S. born and trained referee in the NHL, officiating from 1927 to 1937 and again from 1939 to 1941. In between, he became the first American NHL coach to win the Stanley Cup, leading the Chicago Blackhawks to the championship in 1937-38. He also represented the country as the coach of the U.S. national team in the late 1950s.
Bill Sr., who died in 1964, was inducted into the U.S. Hockey Hall of Fame in 1982; one year before I embarked on my second career as a referee.
There's an interesting story behind his NHL coaching stint with the Blackhawks. The Blackhawks first owner and general manager, Maj. Frederic McLaughlin, is an inductee in the Hall of Fame in Toronto. I don't want to speak ill of the deceased, but for lack of a better term, the man was a nut. McLaughlin hired and fired 18 coaches in as many years, and he got along with virtually no one.
McLaughlin hired my grandfather because they shared a background as World I veterans and a strong sense of patriotism. Then they had to work together, and it was a volatile mix. Bill Sr. wasn't about to be pushed around by his boss, and McLaughlin hated to employ anyone with a strong personality as much as he hated to employ anyone with a weak personality.
They co-existed for one season. The media dubbed Bill Stewart "the Miracle Man" for leading the underdog Blackhawks -- by the way, the club had eight Americans on the roster at a time when the NHL was otherwise almost entirely Canadian -- to the 1938 Stanley Cup.
Early the next season, McLaughlin fired his coach. What happened was that the team got off to a slow start and the owner took it upon himself to come down to the locker room and holler at the players. The coach defended his own turf (dealing with on-ice issues was his job, after all) and also stood up for his players.
In retribution, McLaughlin ditched Bill Stewart as his coach less than halfway into the season following its championship. My grandfather returned to refereeing a year late.
Apart from his long officiating career and brief-but-successful coaching career in the NHL, Bill Stewart also had a prolific career in pro baseball. He pitched and managed professionally in the 1910s and 1920s. He became a National League umpire in 1938, and worked 714 consecutive games in a career that spanned to the mid-1950s. His umpiring career included working four World Series and four All-Star games. Afterwards, he worked as a scout for the Cleveland Indians and Washington Senators.
My father, Bill Jr., and my brother, who is also named for my grandfather, also had deep-running hockey ties in New England and various capacities, including coaching, officiating and/or the administrative side of the game. I'll share some of their stories another time.
As for myself, it was always my dream to be a professional hockey player. I have an Ivy League education, attending the University of Pennsylvania and majoring in Asian history. However, hockey has always been my true passion. Nowhere do I feel more alive and happier than when I'm at the rink.
That's where my exuberance on the ice came from, both as a player and a referee. If it seemed like I was having a blast, it's only because I was!
After my WHA and brief NHL playing career was over, I fell into a personal rut. I didn't want the dream to be over. Pursuing a career in professional officiating helped me find the sense of urgency and inspiration I needed to live my life at the time. I got a chance to live the dream out a second time in the NHL, and this time it lasted from the mid-1980s to early 2000s!
Every player, coach and referee who has ever appeared in the NHL has his own story to tell about his first game in the League. The tale of my first game reffing in the NHL is an unconventional one (for whatever reason, nothing major in my life ever seems to happen the "normal" way).
I enrolled in Bruce Hood's referee training school in 1983, and worked my way up through the minor leagues over the next three years. The first NHL game I worked was in my hometown of Boston, but it wasn't a game I was assigned beforehand to referee.
On Thursday, March 27, 1986, one of the great NHL rivalries was renewed when the Montreal Canadiens came to the Boston Gahden (umm, sorry, Garden). The referee for the game was veteran Dave Newell.
If you read my
Tales from the End of the Bench blog yesterday, you may recall that Newell was the referee of the game in Boston where I got a game misconduct for three separate fights against the Bruins during my NHL playing stint with the Nordiques. It's funny how paths keep crossing in life and hockey.
Anyway, I attended the Habs-Bruins game. The NHL hadn't sent me to work the game, although I was sitting next to John McCauley in the stands. I was there as a fan of the game who didn't want to miss a clash of storied Original Six rivals.
Early in the second period of the game, Newell suffered a rib injury. They needed another referee, and I was asked by John if I would like to work the rest of the game. I thought it over for -- oh, a tenth of a millisecond -- and the next thing I knew, I was out on the ice with my heart racing and the adrenaline pumping.
I entered the game at the 3:20 mark of the second period, and refereed the rest of the match.
Now, every referee hopes that the game goes by without any major problems. Contrary to what some people said about me over the years, I NEVER consciously tried to call attention upon myself nor did I want to be "the story" of a particular game. I was enthusiastic and aggressive because I love the game and that's just my personality to wear my heart on my sleeve. The fact that the sleeve happened to have an orange horizontal stripe on it had nothing to do with my demeanor.
Alas, it has always been my lot in life that nothing can ever just sail along quietly. In that very first NHL game when I substituted for Newell, I made a call that sparked controversy.
Here's what happened: Late in the second period with the Bruins leading 3-2, Boston forward Steve Kasper put a shot on net. Montreal rookie goaltender Patrick Roy made the save. I was in good position to see the play and the puck momentarily disappeared under Roy.
Just as I went to blow the whistle to call for a stoppage of play and an offensive zone faceoff for Boston, the puck squirted free and Geoff Courtnall poked it in the net. The goal light went on, the sellout crowd and Bruins began to celebrate.
Now I had to be the bearer of bad news to the Bruins: the goal didn't count.
The NHL rulebook states that a referee has the discretion to blow play dead when the puck exits his view. It is the point when the referee DECIDES to blow the whistle -- and not when the whistle is blown, which happened simultaneously to Courtnall scoring in this case -- that is the determining factor for whether a goal is allowed or disallowed in a covered/loose puck scenario.
Truthfully, I probably made the decision to blow the whistle too hastily. If I had waited just a fraction of a second longer to make sure Roy maintained control of the puck, the goal would have counted. That was my one and only regret on the play.
The Bruins and the Boston fans were livid with me. I got an earful from coach Butch Goring and pretty much everyone on the Boston bench and the stands. I didn't take it personally. Look, if I had been a player or coach on that bench, I'd have reacted the same way to the quick whistle and called myself every filthy name in the Book of Filthy Names (which, rumor has it, is soon to be published in Kindle version).
The fact that the game ultimately ended in a tie, rather than a Bruins victory, made me the unwanted focus after the game. I was skewered in the Boston newspapers for the first time -- not the last -- but I willingly stood in front of reporters and explained my ruling the same way I did to the Boston bench.
Here's a fact of life about officiating : a referee can explain the rulebook ruling until he's blue in the face, but the emotion of the game is always going to take over.
I have seen the game from all sides. When I legitimately, flat out made the wrong call, no one felt worse about it than I did. I could eat crow and be man enough to say I messed up. That went a long way toward my acceptability. In this instance, I did not make the wrong call but I made too hasty of a decision, and therein was the difference.
At any rate, that crazy night in Boston was the first of many crazy nights to come over the next 17 years. I think my grandfather would have related perfectly.
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Paul Stewart holds the distinction of being the first U.S.-born person to make it to the NHL as both a player and referee. On March 15, 2003, he became the only American-born referee to officiate in 1,000 NHL games.
Today, Stewart is a judicial and league discipline consultant for the Kontinental Hockey League (KHL) and serves as director of hockey officiating for the Eastern College Athletic Conference (ECAC).
The longtime referee heads Officiating by Stewart, a consulting, training and evaluation service for officials, while also maintaining a busy schedule as a public speaker, fund raiser and master-of-ceremonies for a host of private, corporate and public events. As a non-hockey venture, he is the owner of Lest We Forget.
Stewart is currently working with a co-author on an autobiography. 
Blogger •Former NHL Referee • 
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