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KNOXVILLE, Tenn. -- Over a plate of beef brisket and Texas toast, a business associate of Jimmy Haslam delivered a statement so provocative that all the sweet sauce in the crowded barbecue restaurant couldn't mask its audacity.

"Jimmy will be totally committed to that team and community," Bill Nolan said on Monday. "Cleveland is the luckiest place I can think of right now."

Forty-eight years of sports history suggests otherwise. Cleveland is lucky? Maybe to John Elway and Michael Jordan, but good fortune has been fleeting for two generations of its fans.

Nolan is a former Sigma Chi fraternity brother of the 58-year-old Haslam and serves as a lobbyist for the truck-stop magnate and incoming Browns owner. He's paid to present the most positive image of the man and his Pilot Flying J empire.

But spend any time in this East Tennessee city where Brigadier Gen. Robert Neyland whipped boys into national-champion football players and you're likely to find plenty of folks who believe Haslam will be a transformative figure for the Browns. They tout his business acumen, attention to detail, humor and competitive drive. They laud the philanthropic work of his daddy, "Big Jim," the patriarch of one of the state's most powerful and politically connected families.

The Haslams count U.S. presidents and Peyton Manning as friends. They occupy seats on corporate and academic boards as well as the one in the governor's mansion. They work hard, play hard and die hard for their beloved University of Tennessee athletic programs.

Now that passion will extend to another orange-clad team.

"We're going to devote whatever time necessary it takes to get things right in Cleveland," Haslam said. "I believe we're on the right path now. We're going to take whatever steps necessary to bring winning football back to Cleveland."

Those who know Jimmy Haslam said his $1 billion acquisition of the Browns was a logical step for a sports lover and deal maker who has held a minority stake in the Pittsburgh Steelers since 2008. Haslam, who took control of Pilot from his father, may have been born on second base, but he's rounded third and headed for home with the determination of Pete Rose bearing down on Ray Fosse.

He has turned a successful filling station business into America's 11th largest privately owned company with revenues of $17.8 billion last year, according to Forbes. He has a reputation for doing his research, hiring quality management and making it accountable.

Even in love Haslam has found a partner who works ceaselessly at her craft. Susan "Dee" Bagwell Haslam is co-owner of RIVR Media, which has produced programming for 17 cable networks and is responsible for shows such as "Whale Wars," "Trading Spaces," and "The World Series of Poker."

Haslam said he will pour himself completely into the Browns' cause, a promise that many fans found lacking in former majority owner Randy Lerner.

Former NFL quarterback Archie Manning, whose sons Peyton and Eli are Super Bowl champions, sees this venture as a great deal for the Browns as well as Haslams.

"The league will be excited to have a family like this on board and they will be great partners for Cleveland," said Manning, who has spoken at corporate events for Pilot Flying J. "The Haslams are some of the finest people I know."

The Patriarch

Former UT halfback and football coach Johnny Majors sat on a brown leather sofa Tuesday morning overlooking the Volunteers' indoor practice facility. The $12 million venue is located on Johnny Majors Way, which is congested by construction of a new football training complex. Rocky Top might be the preferred song at Tennessee, but the soundtrack of summer has been the clang of heavy machinery moving earth and erecting skeletons of campus buildings.

Majors, 77, his voice but a whisper, marvels at how times have changed. In 1987, the coach could not get the administration to fund new practice facilities like the ones rising at Alabama, Georgia and Oklahoma.

"Tennessee was big, but it was old and getting older," Majors said.

Fortunately, he had an ally in James Haslam II, a UT board of trustees member from 1980 to 2007. Majors took Big Jim and one other board member on a three-day, nine-campus tour.

"When we returned they told the administration to 'get it done,'" Majors said. In 1989, a year after the new training grounds were dedicated, the Volunteers went 11-1 to begin a 10-season run that produced four SEC titles and a 1998 BCS championship.

"Big Jim is a man who knows how to get things done around here," Majors said.

Browns fans will get to know the 81-year-old former UT offensive tackle, a member of Neyland's 1951 national title team. He might be the first one on the field the next time Pittsburgh's James Harrison hits a Browns quarterback a tad late and high.

Big Jim is revered by his three children -- Jimmy, Bill and Ann Bailey -- and admired by countless others for his generosity. He has donated millions to the university, city and state. The family name adorns a UT practice field, business building and soon-to-finished music center. Big Jim and his second wife, Natalie, donated $32 million in 2006, the largest gift ever to the university from individuals at that time.

"He is still the guy in Knoxville," Haslam said of his dad. "If you want to raise money, if you want to do something with your company, if you want to run for political office, he's the guy who everyone still comes to see. "

The chairman of Pilot Flying J remains vibrant and engaged, a entrepreneur who makes weekly trips to their suburban Knoxville truck stop to chat up employees.

He started Pilot in 1958, paying $6,000 for a corner gas station in Gate City, Va. While the company expanded to 50 gas stations within 15 years, Big Jim was calling every employee on their birthdays, reminding them how valuable they were to the organization. He still does it.

His political sphere of influence is vast and he contributes heavily to the Republican Party. He was a major supporter of President George W. Bush's campaigns, and has been appointed finance co-chair in Tennessee for presumptive Republican presidential nominee Mitt Romney.

His son, Jimmy, also is active and right leaning. He serves on Romney's statewide "leadership team," and was finance chairman in 2006 as his best friend and UT fraternity brother, Bob Corker, won a U.S. Senate seat. The family's crowning political achievement came two years ago as Bill Haslam, 53, was sworn in to Tennessee's highest office.

"It is interesting to see your little brother elected governor," Haslam said, laughing. "It was fun, rewarding and a great experience for the entire family."

Bill worked for two decades in the private sector, including a stint as Pilot president, before successfully running for the mayor of Knoxville in 2002 despite claims he was an oil company puppet.

By then, Big Jim's oldest son had built the family business into a powerhouse.

'Trusts but verifies'

Details, details

Jimmy Haslam has made a fortune sweating the small stuff. The Pilot Flying J CEO is detail-oriented. Here are a few nuggets about the Haslam Family.

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A word of caution to Browns coaches and players: Beware the Jimmy Haslam handshake. It's firm and sometimes is accompanied by an invasion of personal space. The new majority owner will draw a recipient close to him so as to almost go nose to nose.

"I think it's his way of checking you out," said USC football coach Lane Kiffin, who coached the Volunteers in 2009. "He wants to see what you're made of."

There is an unmistakable intensity to this 6-foot-3, 210-pound man built more like a drill sergeant than a captain of industry. Everything is a competition, whether its negotiating a petroleum deal, racing his brother on a bike, or playing a game. He's a fitness fiend who is known to take business calls while jogging.

Jeff Cornish, a chief financial officer at Pilot Flying J for 14 years, recalls Haslam's drive surfacing at company picnics.

"Somebody would get hurt playing volleyball and Jimmy would have the attitude of 'pull 'em to the side and let's keep playing,'" Cornish said. Friends and associates agree Haslam has little tolerance for losing, especially when it involves a lack of preparation.

Cornish watched the CEO take his father's filling station and convenience store business and reinvent it through mergers, ingenuity and pluck. The corporation boasts more than 600 retail sites in North America, all seemingly within driving distance of Knoxville.

Haslam will allow his family to fly to a vacation site while he sometimes takes a car to visit Pilot and Flying J locations on the way home, Nolan said. Yes, he pays managers to ensure the Snickers bars are properly stacked and the citizens band radios are prominently displayed, but the leader who sets the standards wants to see them met with his own eyes.

In driving from Knoxville, a Plain Dealer reporter stopped at Pilot stations in Walton, Ky., suburban Cincinnati and Columbus and attendants at each site said Haslam had inspected it.

"To use the old Ronald Reagan phrase, Jimmy trusts, but verifies," Cornish said.

All the kids worked in Pilot stations as the corporation was on the come. Haslam and his brother pumped gas. During family vacations the boys rode in the back seat and were quizzed on the competition's gas prices as the open road unfurled.

Family tragedy forced Haslam to grow up rapidly. His mother, Cynthia, died in 1974 when he was a 20-year-old undergraduate at UT. While finishing his business degree, Haslam also assumed his mother's seat on the Pilot board.

"It was stunning, you think 'this can't be happening to us,'" he said of his mother's death. "It was obviously one of the worst things that can happen ... but four times a year I was going to board meetings with senior people from [former partner] Marathon. It was a great eye-opener for a 20-year-old who was in a fraternity drinking beer."

From a young age Haslam learned the importance of proper study habits. He is known as a good listener and someone who peppers his audience with questions. Before Haslam and his wife gave UT a $10 million donation in 2008, he spoke to academic advisors nationwide to see how the money could be best spent. They used a $2.5 million portion to start the Haslam Scholars Program, which offers select students a full grant, a laptop computer, study abroad and research stipend for a senior thesis project.

Haslam hopes many of the graduates will remain in state to curb the flow of brain drain, said Margie Nichols, UT's vice chancellor of communication.

Despite his prominent position, Haslam can be self-effacing and disarming. "Jimmy never acts like he is the smartest guy in the room," Nichols said. "He wants your opinion and he has a way of making you feel important and what you say counts."

Haslam's business practices have been called into question on occasion, however.

The U.S. Department of Labor announced in 2005 Pilot had agreed to pay $720,000 in back wages and damages to 110 assistant managers in a case that involved overtime pay, the Knoxville News Sentinel reported.

Three years later, Pilot was accused of price gouging in the wake of Hurricane Ike after the disaster disrupted fuel supplies across the nation. During a chaotic time, Haslam admitted the company mistakenly raised its prices at some stations before selling through its old inventory, which put them in violation with regulators.

An investigation ensued and Pilot settled price-gouging allegations in three states, the News Sentinel reported, including a $100,000 fine in Kentucky and a $20,000 fine in Georgia. Pilot was one of 16 companies that agreed to civil penalties, but the Haslams' involvement made it a political issue in the 2010 gubernatorial race.

"Did we do something wrong? Yes," he said. "But think about it, we made our living for 50 years being the low-price guy on the street. Are we going to raise our price in a time like that and try to take advantage? No. But did we mess up? Yes we did. Do we have controls in place where that won't happen again? The answer is yes. ...

"It will probably make us be better NFL owners because you get used to taking a little grief, right?"

Sporting interests

In the summer of 2009, Kiffin recalls a lunch meeting with Haslam in the weeks before the season. The executive ran through a checklist to gauge Kiffin's readiness without referring to notes or a single sheet of paper.

"He was going through these bullet-point items like he was reading them from an itinerary and he was doing it from memory," Kiffin said. "That's how organized and on top of things Jimmy is."

The former high school receiver and defensive back takes the same meticulous approach to sports as he does to the truck stop business. While his family will live in Knoxville, the Haslams are shopping for property in Cleveland. Friends and associates don't expect him to grant many interviews, but his presence in Berea will be felt. Haslam has a history of recruiting quality managers, letting them do their jobs, Cornish said, and "holding their feet to the fire."

There is a fine line between a "hands-on" approach and micro-managing and Haslam must learn to walk it in the NFL.

"The biggest difference here is I've worked for Pilot Flying J for 35 years and I think I understand it," he said. "I don't know that much about this business. ... I've got a lot to learn [about] everything from the business side to the football side."

Athletics has played a significant role in his life. Big Jim took the kids to Super Bowls and World Series. More recently, the family purchased a minor-league baseball team in Knoxville. Haslam trumpets the correlation between sports and business. Each year, his company hires summer interns and one of the prerequisites is the candidates had to play prep sports.

"I think that competitive aspect comes through and I think it's important in business," he said.

In his four seasons as a Steelers' minority owner, he came away with more than a Super Bowl ring. He watched how the Rooney family conducted its affairs and how its members treat so many with respect. But friends in Knoxville knew Haslam would never be satisfied with gaining access to an owner's box without having a final say on decisions.

"Jimmy is the CEO type," Cornish said. "He wasn't going to be a second or third fiddle for long."

As they turn their attention to Cleveland, the Haslams will never lose sight of their hometown and the Volunteers. Big Jim helped legendary women's coach Pat Summitt establish her foundation with its focus on Alzheimer's awareness and treatment. Former men's coach Bruce Pearl said the family's attendance at basketball games added validity to a program fighting the perception that UT is a "football school."

The Haslams have been praised for their loyalty and Pearl experienced it first hand after being fired last spring for alleged unethical conduct. As others stopped returning calls, Big Jim and his oldest son refused to ostracize Pearl, the coach said.

"That's a testament to their friendship and character," Pearl said. "It might not have been the most politically correct thing to do, but they did it. I made a mistake, yet they judged me on the good I tried to do over the years for UT and they knew I was sorry for letting her down."

Haslam was asked Friday at his introductory news conference in Berea how he will find time for so many ventures in Knoxville and Cleveland. He joked about not having any hobbies before acknowledging the awesome challenge ahead.

Folks in Knoxville who have watched Haslam evolve from a gas-pumping teenager to a corporate titan talk of a strength passed down from the father. Big Jim built a legacy on knowing how to "get things done."

Jimmy Haslam hopes to do the same with the Browns. If he does, Cleveland will consider itself lucky after all.