Everybody seems to have a story about Franco Harris.

I have one as well.

While working for a newspaper in Steubenville, Ohio, I had the opportunity to meet Franco and did a one-on-one interview with him. He had been retired for a couple of years and was promoting a frozen fruit bar product. That company sent him to Steubenville as part of a promotional advertising campaign for that product and I was assigned to cover that press conference.

Our staff photographer, Ray Smith, took pictures at Steeler games and had some of his favorite Steeler photos made into posters for display in his home. One such photo was of Franco leaping over a San Diego Charger defender.

Ray brought that poster — rolled up in a canister — to work and asked if I would get Franco to autograph it for him. I happily obliged.

After my interview with Harris, I told him about the poster and he wax anxious to see it. I took it out of the canister, unrolled it — and he absolutely loved it.

“This takes my breath away,” he gasped. “That may be the best action photo of me I’ve ever seen. Please ... I have to have that.”

While I desperately tried explaining to him that the poster wasn’t mine to give, Franco took the poster and the canister from my hands. jotted down an address on a slip of paper and handed it to me.

“Just have your photographer send me a bill. Thank you so much,” he said.

And with that, he was gone.

So was Ray’s poster.

When I returned to the office, I explained to Ray what happened. He wasn’t angry — he was flattered that Franco loved the picture enough to take it the way he did.

When I handed Ray the address and told him Franco expected a bill, Ray almost decided not to bother. I talked him into it. I could tell Franco was sincere about wanting to pay him.

All Ray did was bill him for the cost of making the poster, $150 or so. He received a check in the mail for, if memory serves me correctly, a few thousand dollars, along with a letter of gratitude.

That’s Franco Harris.

It’s odd ... people across America remember him for the Immaculate Reception like they remember Bill Mazeroski for his 1960 World Series home run. People in the Pittsburgh area know both of those guys are much more than being in the right place to catch a deflected football or a well-timed swing of the bat.

They’re Hall of Famers — as athletes and as men.

While the Immaculate Reception will be warmly recalled and honored this weekend at Acrisure Stadium, the stories related about the kindness and good nature of Franco Harris stands out above all.

To think, he wasn’t even the No. 1 running back in Penn State’s backfield when the Steelers made him the first running beck chosen in the 1972 NFL draft. Then he rushes for 1,000 yards his rookie year, makes the most incredulous play in NFL history and the Steelers dynasty of the 1970s was kick-started.

A magical run started by a majestic man.

John Enrietto is sports editor of the Butler Eagle