Pheras Zimmerman has been a Bears season ticket holder longer than anyone.
Pheras Zimmerman has been a Bears season ticket holder longer than anyone.

Among Bears fans, ‘Zimmie’ sits alone

He and the rest of the pre-Christmas Giant Center crowd were barely in their seats when the host Hershey Bears gave them reason to stand.

Just one minute, 38 seconds into the American Hockey League game, the Bears grabbed a 1-0 lead against the Syracuse Crunch.

Clad in a gray cardigan, he raised his right arm and stood at his seat, on the top row of section 126, echoing the cheer being led from the center-ice video board by a man wearing a foam puck on his head: B-E-A-R-S!

He was just like any other fan, including his grandson, who sat to his left, and the vast majority of the 7,833 fans in attendance on that night.

But it’s a pretty safe bet that no one in the building that December night had celebrated as many goals for so many seasons as has Pheras Zimmerman.

Season tickets since 1948

Zimmie, as he is known, saw his first Bears game (he went by himself) in 1940, when what is now affectionately known as the “Old Barn” was all of four years old.

Hersheypark Arena marked its 75th birthday in December with a public event – “A Night at the Old Barn” – that featured a video of fans sharing their memories. Zimmerman was one of them.

Zimmerman, 89, is the Bears’ longest-tenured season ticket holder, having bought two seats for every game since 1948, two years after returning from Germany and World War II, where he served in the Army artillery.

Sixty-four consecutive years of team loyalty aren’t a record for a sports team, but they put Zimmerman in rare company. WBZ-TV in Boston posted a story on its website in May 2011 about a Boston Bruins season ticket holder of more than 70 years.

Zimmerman with goalie stick presented to him at 2011 AHL all-star game.

Zimmerman’s loyalty to the Bears was recognized during the 2011 American Hockey League all-star game, held in Hershey. Dave Andrews, the AHL’s president and CEO, presented Zimmerman with a goalie stick signed by the Eastern Conference all-stars.

“And I told this here president of the American Hockey League,” Zimmerman recalled, “I told him, I said, ‘I was coming down here in 1940.’ He said, ‘I wasn’t even born then.’ He was a really nice man.”

That’s a sentiment that Bob Ancharski feels for Zimmerman.

Ancharski, the Bears’ manager of season ticket sales, said in an email that he makes a point of connecting with Zimmerman “on a game-by-game basis.” He called Zimmerman a “fantastic person, one of the best I've met, not just with the Bears, but in life.”

Born in 1922 near Harrisburg, Zimmerman quit school and went to work for Miller’s Furniture Store in the capital city. He kept reading in the newspaper about hockey in Hershey.

“And I thought, ‘I want to find out what this is about,’ ” he said. “Well, I went there, I went to another game, another game. And from then on I was hooked. I loved it from that time on.”

Beer and Babe Pratt

Drafted into the Army in December 1942, he served in the 924th Field Artillery during the Battle of the Bulge. Discharged in 1946, he returned to central Pennsylvania, to Miller’s Furniture – and to the Bears, buying tickets for six games at a time.

He would go by himself, then with his brother and his wife, a sister, and their mother. The Bears won their first Calder Cup championship in 1947, the year he married the former Betty Chronister, with whom he had daughters Janell and Joylene.

Zimmerman with a photo of him and his late wife, Violet, sitting in Section 22 of Hersheypark Arena.

He remembered when fans – he and his brother included – would leave the arena during intermission and head to a nearby tavern for a beer and a shot. He recalled a burly Bears defenseman by the name of Babe Pratt, who was in the twilight of what would become a Hall of Fame career.

Hersheypark Arena would have one of the earliest Zamboni ice resurfacers when it arrived in 1956, but until that time, rink crews would pull barrels full of hot water and pour it on the ice between periods.

Legendary Bears player, coach and executive Frank Mathers was behind the bench for the team’s second and third championships in 1958 and 1959. Mathers, who died in 2005, remains a Zimmerman favorite.

“Oh, I’m telling you, he was a wonderful man,” he said, noting that Mathers would stop by Zimmerman’s seats “and talk to me almost every game.”

The Bears won, but 1958 was an otherwise heart-breaking year for Zimmerman. One week after burying Betty’s father, she died from a blood clot in her leg.

'Something he and Vi always did'

Zimmerman worked for Miller’s until 1960, becoming expert at installing wall-to-wall carpet. He later tended bar at various clubs, worked as a volunteer firefighter, and was a custodian at Paxtonia Elementary School from 1984 until he retired in 2008.

He fought fires and played softball until age 50. From 1963 to 1988, he saw every Daytona 500 in person. He remarried in 1970, Violet his companion at Bears games until she died five years ago. He has two stepdaughters, nine grandchildren and 13 great-grandchildren.

Other than constant aching from his feet (frostbitten during the war) and a triple bypass in 1997, Zimmerman said he is in good health. He still drives, whether it’s an errand to a store or a short trip from his Harrisburg-area home to visit family members.

Zimmerman with grandson John Salter.

His grandson John Salter of Dillsburg is his regular companion at Bears games.

When Violet died, Salter said, his grandfather considered giving up his season tickets. Salter helped convince him not to.

“ ‘If you give up those seats, you’re giving up a part of yourself,’ ” he told Zimmerman. “It’s something he and Vi always did.”

Grandfather and grandson sat next to one another on Dec. 21, when the Bears played host to the Syracuse Crunch.

“Come on you guys, let’s go,” Zimmerman yelled toward the rink, Hershey leading 1-0. The period would end with the score knotted at 1; he Bears would go on to win, 5-2.

During the first intermission, Zimmerman and Salter stood at a table in the lobby concession area behind their seats. Two fans fist-bumped Zimmerman.

“Behave yourself, Zimmie,” someone said to him.

“I’m trying,” Zimmerman said. “I’m trying.”

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