Chicago Tribune from Chicago, Illinois • Page 206

Chicago Tribune, Friday, February 27, 1998 Section 9 5 Harry Caray HARRY CARAY The Chicago years Sox lure a standout to broadcast booth, bleachers OWN WORDS Harry's partners in the broadcast booth Harry Caray's broadcast partners could form their own broadcasting All-Star team. They include: St Louis Cardinals, 1945-69 WIL radio TT wvioa radio KMOX television Jack Buck Joe Garagiola tGus Mancuso Miller I it tf Mike Shannon Jack Buck, Gabby Street Caray's main partner, made the Hall of Fame in 1987. Oakland Athletics, 1970 KNBR radio Monte Moore White Sox, 1971-81 Tribune file photo June 1974: Harry Caray and Sox manager Chuck Tanner are all smiles after settling one of their many feuds during Tanner's tenure. WEAW radio WTAQ radio WMAQ radio WBBM radio WSNS television WGN television Caray replaced Bob Elson, also a Hall of Famer. By Bob Vanderberg Tribune Staff Writer The date was Jan.

8, 1971. At the Bismarck Hotel, the White Sox staged their annual midwinter press luncheon and unveiled their new red-pinstripe uniforms. They also unveiled their new radio announcer. And baseball in Chicago never would be the same. The new announcer was the colorful, bombastic Harry Caray, for 25 years the exciting voice of the St.

Louis Cardinals and for one year, 1970, the exciting albeit lonely voice of the Oakland A's. The Sox had played before only 495,353 fans during the 56-106 disaster that was 1970. Stu Holcomb, the front-office boss who had brought in Chuck Tanner as manager, Johnny Sain as pitching coach and Roland Hemond as player personnel director, added Caray with the idea of boosting the gate. The only problem was the Sox had no major radio outlet. Holcomb ended up having to patch together a network that included one AM station WTAQ in LaGrange, a that faded to 500 watts at night and several FM stations.

It wasn't exactly what Harry had been used to at KMOX in St Louis, but even so, people quickly became aware of him. From the start, he made it obvious he was going to be the opposite of his predecessor, the legendary but unexcitable Bob Elson. At the 1971 home opener against defending AL West champ Minnesota, Caray, already pumped by the Sox's double-header sweep the day before at Oakland and by the presence of 44,250 fans in the ghost town that had been Comiskey Park, shouted in joy as the Sox rallied to win 3-2 in the ninth on Rich McKinney's pinch single. "Perranoski from the belt the pitch Here it is Base Left Sox Win! Sox Win! Ho-lee Cow! The White Sox Win!" "He came over in '71, when we had a really young club, and he really made it exciting around here," recalled former third baseman and No. 1 Caray whipping boy Bill Melton, who works for the Sox in community relations.

"I mean, we'd been drawing nothing. We're playing one year in front of 450,000, and two years later we're playing in front of million-two." It helped that the Sox were improving on the field, from 79-83 in '71 to 87-67 and pennant contention in '72 when Dick Allen joined the already assembled cast of Melton, Carlos May, Wilbur Wood, Terry Forster, Bart Johnson, Rick Reichardt, Pat Kelly, Jimmy Piersall worked with Caray from 1976-81. the ball in the sun? He's from Mexico." There were the live Chicken Unlimited commercials, with Caray eating in the booth: "Crisp on the outside, moist on the inside. Marinated with an old family recipe. Need I tell you, it tastes delicious!" And there were the nights when names would mystify him.

"Funny thing," he began, noting two young Toronto outfielders. "They have this Juan Bernhardt. His first name sounds Latin, his last name sounds German. And Otto Velez his first name sounds German, his last name sounds Latin. You would think it'd be Juan Velez and Otto Bernhardt" Then there were the years with Jimmy Piersall, who was every bit as uninhibited as Caray: "Hey, Coach, Soderholm looks like he's running the bases with a piano on his back.

That's terr-ible." Once Caray complained about lefty Richard Wortham's wildness. "Bal-l-M-1-1 three. C'mon Rich, throw strikes!" Piersall's explanation: "He's a-scared of him, Harry." The two of them drove Bill Veeck to distraction and new manager Tony La Russa and new owners Jerry Reinsdorf and Eddie Ein-horn up a tree. But Caray wasn't all that comfortable with the new owners, either. Finally, after the '81 season, came the announcement that Caray was leaving to do the Cubs games.

Sox fans everywhere were shocked Some felt betrayed. Caray had left a huge impression on the South Side. So much so that, in the end, even Melton had come to appreciate him. "I was back here with a friend of mine from California I want to say 1986," he said. "And we were in a place on Oak Street.

And I ran into Harry at the piano bar. And we both sang 'Take Me Out to the Ball The hatchet, thus, was buried. "Whatever hatchet I carried for Harry was for those three months in '75," Melton said. "I remember it was hard to dislike him. He was very humorous he was always laughing.

The hard thing about disliking Harry was he could say something to you, and it'd be like a knife, a digging thing, but he would laugh. And you would laugh, too, 'cause he was right. That's what he had. "He'd come out on the field before the game and say the damnedest things about you, and you'd end up laughing with him. "And that's unique.

Very unique." Unique. Yep, that was Harry Caray. Radio partners Ralph Faucher Joe McConnell Bill Mercer Osborn Television partners Lou Brock Lorn Brown (radio-televison) J.C. Martin Jimmy Piersall (radio-television) Bob Waller Cubs, 1982-97 enabled him to put 33-homer seasons back to back in '71 and '72, by 1975 had become Caray's favorite target The two engaged in a memorable shouting match that July in a hotel lobby in Milwaukee. "I didn't mind him getting on me," Melton said.

"But we had a young ballclub Bucky Dent Terry Forster, a bunch of young players. He was getting on the whole team, the whole organization. Tanner, Hemond. It was building up. I had to confront him.

I had reached my point' The Melton-Caray relationship didn't improve Melton "had made up my mind I wanted out of here" and was traded to the Angels at season's end. Nor did the Sox, who finished fifth. As the club's fortunes sank, Caray nonetheless kept the broadcasts fun, sometimes unknowingly. Notes would be sent up to the booth and he would read them alt unaware someone might be playing games with him: "Leon Russell, Stephen Stills and Jethro Tull are here drinking Falstaff." There was the afternoon in Detroit when second baseman Jorge Orta, blinded by a bright sun, let a popup fall for a double. Caray: "Ya' know, I don't understand it.

The last couple years, we've had Latin American infield-ers who've had trouble catching pop flies. First Luis Alvarado, now Orta." Sidekick Bob Waller: "I think he lost the ball in the sun, Harry." Caray: "Aw, how could he lose Stan Bahnsen and the rest. But it didn't hurt to have Caray leading the cheers, singing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" during the seventh-inning stretch (for several years without the public-address mike), shilling for Falstaff beer oh boy, what I wouldn't do right now for a nice plate of barbecue rib and an ice-cold Falstaff'), checking out the women Anaheim, walking down the aisle below us and broadcasting from the center-field bleachers. With an improved club (and an improved paycheck Caray went from a base salary of $50,000 with attendance incentives to $100,000 and from radio only to TV and radio in 73) came higher expectations. And when the Sox failed to live up to them, Caray came down hard on them, even Allen, a player he truly admired despite his insistence on skipping pregame drills: "Little tap, easy out And it's none of my business, but Richie Allen looks like he could use a little batting practice.

And he didn't set any speed records running down to first base, either." There was disgust for Melton: "Str-r-r-uck him out and made him look ftorr-ible." There was anger with the middle of the lineup: "One-two-three, nothing across, and our better hitters aren't hitting a lick." And, in later years, frustration with Eric Soderholm: "Soderholm refuses to hit the ball to right field." Melton, who'd had back trouble and never recaptured the form that WGN radio WGN television CLTV Caray replaced baseball legend Jack Brickhouse, also a Hall of Famer. Radio partners Boudreau Vince Lloyd Steve Stone worked games with Caray on WGN-TV. Ron Santo Television partners Steve Stone Middle-inning television partners Milo Hamilton, Bob Brenly, Thorn Brennaman, Wayne Larrivee, Josh Lewin, Dewayne Staats. Sources: WGN-TV, White Sox, KMOX-TV Chicago Tribune 'Ryne Sandberg is the greatest second baseman I've ever seen. Whether you are talking offense or defense, he's the best' Reaction to being elected to the Hall of Fame: 'For an orphan kid from the wrong side of the tracks in St Louis, this is a great moment I only wish my father and mother could be here to witness this, for they might be proud.

I never knew who they were, and dont still, but that's From his Cooperstown induction speech: 'I think of the fans, and perhaps that's who I represent today. We are all fans, and I know it's the fans who are responsible for my being here. They are the unsung The great thing about baseball is that the impossible is possible and the unbelievable is 'It doesn't matter how many listeners you have. Whether there are a million people out there or a hundred, you know the game has started and your job is to make it as interesting as you On the origins of Holy Cow: The reason why I used it is that profanity is very common in my neighborhood. I had to develop something that wasnt profanity.

I trained myself to yell, "Holy Cow," instead of something On his home run call: 'I see a ball hit, and I think, "It might be." Then I see the left-fielder move back, and I think, "It could be." Then I see the ball go over the wall, and I say, "It 'There's no more loyal fan than the Cubs 'I have a feeling somewhere along the line, someone will say, "The Cubs just won the World Series; isn't it a shame Harry's not here to see i 'I think people will remember me as a guy who brought a little enjoyment while he broadcast I know that you only come around in this world one time. You had better try to enjoy yourself and try to find as much happiness as you possibly can." "rTA v' N- 'P Lr.J w- 1 Stephen GreenChicago Cubs WBBM-TV's Johnny Morris (left) interviews Harry Caray, along with (from left) Lioyd McClendon, Shawon Dunston and Andre Dawson after the Cubs clinched in 1989. Ageless legend's age a mystery to the very end By Fred Mitchell Tribune Staff Writer Harry Caray's age was more than a number. It was an intriguing mystery. The enigma surrounding his date of birth lasted until the day he died.

The prayer card at his wake in Palm Springs, listed the birth of Harry Christopher Caray as March 1, 1914, which would have made him 84 years old on Sunday. The Cubs' media guide listed him as 78. The legendary broadcaster's attempt to shave a few years off his actual age probably was more a reflection of his personal insecurity than a commentary on his vanity. Bob Ibach, the Cubs' former media relations director, theorized that Caray wanted to appear younger than colleagues Vince Lloyd and Lou Boudreau, who were ushered out of the booth by WGN in the late '80s. Ibach once confronted Caray with the high school yearbook of a former classmate in St.

Louis, which proved Caray was older than his listed age. "Harry would have to have been 10 years old when he graduated from high school to be the age he says he is," the former classmate told Ibach. Truth be told, Caray's chronological age had nothing to do with how he was perceived by fans and players alike. "I would never think about his age, because his spirit was always there as a young person," Hall of Famer Ernie Banks said. "That transcends baseball.

Roy Cam-panella used to tell me many years ago: 'To play baseball, you have to have a lot of little boy in You have to be fun and playful and view it that way. "Any player can put on a uniform and walk on the field, and their personality will change like night and day. WelL Harry, to me, was always like, young. It was like time stood stilL When he walked down on that field before a game, he would yell: 'Hey! How are you doing?" He came alive. He always was forever young." Whether acknowledging a group of senior citizens at the ballpark or flirting with a pretty young fan, Caray related to baseball enthusiasts of all ages.

And he had a special relationship with his colleagues, some of whom were less than half his age. "Harry was one for the ages," said former WGN-TV announcer Thom Brennaman, 35, whose father, Marty, has broadcast Cincinnati Reds games for years. "I will miss him. I never met a man who knew more about the game of baseball. His mind was sharp, whatever age he was." North Side address held keys to nation By Stephen Nidetz Tribune Staff Writer When Harry Caray was named the Cubs' new broadcaster late in 1981, it was a surprise.

Over the previous 37 seasons, Caray had become one of the great announcers in a business filled with good ones. But he had spent much of that time as a pesky presence on the edge of Cubdom. In 1969, Caray was working with the St Louis Cardinals on KMOX-AM, a radio station easily picked up in the" Chicago area at night. As the Cardinals and Cubs fought it out for the National League East title, Caray would playfully mock the Cubs' bid by crowing "The Cardinals are coming, tra-la, tra-la" whenever St. Louis won.

As it turned out, neither the Cubs nor the Cardinals won that year. And neither did Caray, who was fired during the offseason after 25 years in St. Louis. Caray spent the next season in Oakland, working for A's owner Charlie Finley. In 1971, he got closer to Wrigley Field but no closer to Cubs fans' hearts by joining the White Sox.

If there was one team Cubs fans disliked more than the Cardinals, it was the White Sox. So 11 years later, when Caray accepted an offer from Tribune Co. to leave the South Side and replace another legendary voice of the game, Cubs telecaster Jack Brickhouse, more than a few eyebrows were raised. As it turned out, Caray was leaving Comiskey Park one step ahead of the sheriff. The sheriff being new Sox owner Jerry Reinsdorf, who never warmed to Caray's broadcasting style.

He was too critical, especially of the new owners, who were trying to change the atmosphere of Comiskey from the "World's Largest Outdoor Saloon" days of Bill Veeck to a family entertainment complex. Caray's move to the North Side also didn't sit well with Milo Hamilton, whom the Cubs had hired just months before on the recommendation of Brickhouse. According to Hamilton, there was an agreement that he, not Caray, would be the man to replace Brickhouse. Caray's arrival at Wrigley Field stirred some controversy, but it was the place from where he achieved fame and fortune beyond his wildest dreams, from the opening of his own Rush Street (albeit at the corner of Kinzie and Dearborn Streets) restaurant in 1987 to entree into the broadcasting wing of the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1989. When the Cubs added lights in 1988, they seemed to spotlight Caray's popularity more.

He became not only Everybody's Grandpa but a Friend of Presidents as well, from Ronald Reagan to Bill Clinton. While Reagan actually visited Caray's Wrigley Field perch in 1988, Clinton sent wife Hillary to do the honors six years later. When Caray suffered a stroke in 1987, celebrities (George Wendt, Bill Murray, Mike Royko) came from near and far to pay their respects and to take turns filling his chair at Wrigley Field. Through the then-new technology of cable television, Caray had become as distinctive a personality to national viewers as CNN's Bernard Shaw or ESPN's Dick Vitale. He had become, like his eyeglasses, bigger than life, more valuable as an entertainer than a sportscaster.

So when he interviewed Steve Goodman of New Orleans," "A Dying Cub Fan's Last about a new WGN Radio promo and asked the Chicago singer songwriter, "You from around here?" everyone laughed. But by the final years, he became a parody of himself. His routines here from became routine. His play-by-play abilities, especially after his return from the stroke, began to suffer. His mispronunciation of names, ignorance of game situations and constant greetings to bartender friends would drive some radio listeners up a wall.

When a few critics suggested he give up part of his duties and gracefully take on other tasks, such as doing pre- and post-game shows, Caray bristled. When it was suggested his best days were behind him, he got angry. He could not understand why all writers were not like those who covered baseball and were his pals, or why some media critics would write about his failings. They would suffer his ire. Steve Stone remained a steady (and steadying) on-air sidekick for 15 of the last 16 years of Caray's time with the Cubs.

But play-by-play partners came and left: Hamilton, Dewayne Staats, Thom Brennaman, Wayne Larrivee and Josh Lewin. Sometimes, when these foibles were pointed out in print, Caray would wonder aloud if his Tribune Co. bosses were trying to get rid of him. Nothing could be further from the truth. His bosses, whether Jim Dowdle or Dan Fabian, loved him.

And not only because he brought people to WGN-TV and radio. They loved the man. When Caray got into trouble a few years ago for making what was perceived as a racial slur toward Asian-Americans, Fabian, then WGN general manager, said, "He has a kind of transcendent warmth. He is who he is. If you watch the guy make it up the ramp (at Wrigley Field or watch him walk down the street there's something special" And with Caray, even in his declining years, there was a lot to love.

His enthusiasm. His cantankerousness. His loyalty to friends and family. Even his critics admired his persistence. Harry Caray always talked about having no plans to retire.

"I hope to keep going forever," he said. "I'd like to die with my boots on." Instead, his last conscious moments were spent having a Valentine's Day dinner with his beloved wife, Dutchie, at a hot new Southern California nightspot listening to crooner Tony Martin. Harry Caray, through all the years, good and bad, was a romantic. Not a bad way to go..