By ANDREW MCGINN
a.mcginn@beeherald.com
It was the dunk that broke the Internet over the weekend: Orlando Magic forward Aaron Gordon lifts off the ground, soars over the fuzzy head of his team’s mascot and slams the ball through the powder-coated orange rim during the NBA All-Star dunk contest.
A grayish white Morton Building nestled behind AAI/Spalding’s main factory in Jefferson is wildly remote even by NBA D-League standards, but there’s a good chance the next great basketball rim will be created there, capable of withstanding anything the dunk contest can throw at it.
Inside, where the cigarette smoke lingers with remarkable hang time, you’ll find 63-year-old Neal Squibb, a guy who would look more at home at the Sturgis motorcycle rally than he would sitting courtside.
This would seem to literally be the last place on Earth to find an engineering department specializing in the development of world-class athletic equipment.
And Squibb, a guy with the best beard this side of the “Sons of Anarchy” series finale who’s wiry enough to wear his late son’s high school class ring, would seem to be the last person to have anything to do with the world of professional sports.
“Can you dunk?” Squibb asked rhetorically one recent morning.
The longtime Scranton resident, who holds a dozen patents, is arguably the unsung hero in the storybook saga of American Athletic Inc., the homegrown equipment manufacturer that made a cozy little rural Iowa town known to the wide world of sports.
Production of Spalding-branded basketball backstops and volleyball systems was added at AAI, a company long legendary for its gymnastics equipment, after American’s 2004 acquisition by Russell Brands for $13 million.
AAI founder Bill Sorenson, a 1948 graduate of Jefferson High School and a member of the USA Gymnastics Hall of Fame, goes so far as to say Squibb deserves “the majority of credit” for AAI’s many innovative products, the likes of which have been used at the highest level of competition, including the 1984 and 1996 Olympics.
Squibb, however, had to think for a moment when asked the last time one of his accomplishments found its way into the local newspaper.
“1972,” he answered matter-of-factly. “I got picked up for public intox.”
Squibb doesn’t consider himself an engineer despite the fact he’s the sole inhabitant of the Morton Building that is AAI/Spalding’s engineering model shop.
He said he’s known plenty of engineers during his 46 years at AAI.
“Some of ’em are bookworms,” he said. “Some of ’em are slugs.”
At the same time, though, he’s far outgrown his role as a welder, which is what AAI thought it was getting in the summer of 1970, when it hired a 17-year-old graduate of Paton-Churdan High School to weld together trampolines on the night shift.
“He just had the knack,” said Sorenson, who in 1954 established what would become AAI in the basement of a downtown Jefferson hardware store, “and that’s how we ended up giving him more and more responsibility.”
“I think of myself as a worker,” Squibb insisted.
He’s not even altogether sure the name of his department.
“They’ve got a name for it, but I can never remember it,” Squibb said. “So I just say I invent toys.”
One of those toys — a patented breakaway basketball rim that flexes from all sides — is on the market as Spalding’s Slammer Competition 180 Goal, a more economical version of the $955, 180-degree breakaway rim in use at last weekend’s NBA All-Star dunk contest.
“Two-year warranty, for Christ’s sake. Lot of faith in that one,” Squibb muttered as he pointed to his rim in the current Spalding catalog.
Before the 2009-10 NBA season, the league’s breakaway rims only flexed from the front.
In order to improve player safety, the league switched to Spalding rims that flex regardless of where the load is received, giving players’ fingers and hands 180-degree protection.
Squibb drew up the design for his self-described “cheap-ass 180” in a bar one night in Los Angeles, where he and co-worker Tim Mobley were sent to install locally-made portable basketball units purchased by UCLA.
“We came up with that idea on a bar napkin,” Squibb said. “He had a couple of beers. And I had a couple of rum and Cokes.
“A lot of ’em come out that way.”
It’s now on file with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office as U.S. Patent No. 6,447,409.
The invention ironically enables and encourages the kind of look-at-me, in-yo’-face individualism that makes Squibb bristle, despite the fact he has an entire Morton Building to himself.
“My dad used to tell me there are only two types of people who are easily impressed,” Squibb explained. “The very young and the very foolish.”
But it’s undoubtedly the slam dunk — which until the mid-’70s was considered showboating in basketball — that made the NBA what it is.
Arthur Ehrat’s 1982 patent of the original breakaway rim ushered in the age of the monster jam.
Squibb, on the other hand, might very well be the guy on the team content to lead in assists.
“I don’t take criticism that well,” he said, “and I don’t take compliments that well.”
“He’s just a very modest person,” Sorenson said.
Squibb’s improvement on the breakaway rim, patented in 2002, equalized the strength of the side portions of the rim with the front, increased the speed at which the rim springs back into a horizontal position after a dunk and simplified the design for quicker production.
“There’s not much difference between one rim and another except the guts that control it,” Squibb said.
Sorenson calls Squibb a “marvelous craftsman” and “great inventor.”
“He’s a materials expert and he’s an expert in all of the equipment in a modern machine shop,” Sorenson said recently from his home in Westport, Conn., where he relocated in the early 1970s after AAI’s acquisition by AMF, the company that also owned Harley-Davidson from 1969 to 1981.
“I am very serious when I say this,” Sorenson said. “He deserves enormous amounts of credit.”
For his part, Squibb is the type of guy who loves to read patent filings like other people read Chaucer.
“A further object of this invention,” reads a patent for a balance beam by Squibb and co-worker Mark Lane, “is to provide a reflex action utilizing a urethane spring wherein various durometer values can be used to create different degrees of balance.”
“These and other objects,” it continues, “will be apparent to those skilled in the art.”
When AAI wanted to break into baseball products, Squibb and co-worker Sue Sherlock won a patent in 2000 for their improved ball pitching machine.
“We could shoot a baseball from the office to the four-way stop,” Squibb said.
Basketball products initially started emerging after AAI’s acquisition in 1996 of Basketball Products International, or BPI, which had been the very first company to sign a licensing agreement back in 1983 with Arthur Ehrat, the inventor of the breakaway basketball rim.
Back then, the invention was known as a “deformation-preventing swingable mount for basketball goals,” as Ehrat’s original patent called it.
Before Ehrat’s invention, fixed rims that didn’t flex posed an injury risk to players.
“It’s to keep these multimillion-dollar guys from jamming a finger,” Squibb said of flex rims.
The first collapsible rims, however, had to be put back manually.
Ehrat’s breakaway rim snapped back into place automatically thanks to a spring he swiped off a John Deere cultivator.
If anything, visiting Squibb’s Morton Building is about as close as anyone in rural Iowa will get to visiting Skunk Works, Lockheed’s famous experimental engineering department that slipped us the U-2, the SR-71 and the stealth-fighter.
“A lot of this stuff I do is very confidential,” Squibb confessed.
He would neither confirm nor deny whether a stack of papers laying face down on a table contained drawings for the next great basketball rim or balance beam.
Photography is strictly off limits.
Squibb, who also has a side business installing basketball and volleyball systems, doesn’t worry himself with the corporate activity behind the scenes, which has included acquisitions, mergers and even a bankruptcy through the decades.
Current owner Russell Brands — which in turn is owned by Fruit of the Loom — could ostensibly ship production to China or Mexico with relative ease.
“Do you worry about being hit by an asteroid?” Squibb asked.
Again, rhetorically.
Besides, even if production went away tomorrow, there’d still be a need for the prototypes and special orders he produces.
Squibb was practically born in a machine shop, and was only 5 when he started running his dad’s lathe/milling machine.
“Ever played with Lincoln Logs? Can you ever make everything you want with Lincoln Logs?” he asked.
He’s been modifying things — from Lincoln Logs to breakaway basketball rims — ever since.
His dad, Walter, had welding shops in Jefferson and Churdan, having learned the art during World War II after journeying West to join father-in-law Oscar White in the shipyards of Oregon.
“If your dad was a farmer, what did you do when you grew up? You wanted to be a farmer. I wanted to be a welder,” Squibb said.
Squibb, who turned down an offer to take over his dad’s shop, now has the second-longest tenure of anyone at AAI.
“Most people who work here stay here,” he said.
“I’ll probably get a toe-tag retirement,” he added. “I enjoy work.
“I enjoy this.”
At first, getting a patent was a novelty.
“The first one was kind of exciting,” he said, recalling how he hung it on a wall at home, eventually replacing it with a hunting trophy.
“Maybe the 10th one was kind of exciting, too, because it was double-digits,” he added.
Now, “I’ve got 12 or 13 of those stupid things,” he said.
Keeping tabs on who’s using the equipment he’s invented or redesigned “would be a nightmare.”
They’re in use globally.
“He is really a very important part of American’s success,” Sorenson said.
“If I were to go back into a similar business,” Sorenson added, “he’s the first man I’d pick.”