Voices of Summer: Ranking Baseball's 101 All-Time Best Announcers (28 page)

Next month Harry did Missouri football, stopped at a hockey game, and
headed to a hotel to eat. Crossing the street, he turned "to see what was
coming from my left"and flew 40 feet in the air. Shoes landed 25 feet from the
hotel. Nearly dying, Caray abided a broken nose, shoulder separation, and
multiple fractures of both legs below the knees. The driver had gotten engaged
a day earlier. "Maybe that's what caused him to drive so wild."

Harry mended at St. Petersburg Beach. Casing his bill, a Busch family
member noted phone calls to the home of August Busch III. A bell went off.
A detective stalking Caray found an affair with Busch's wife. "Not exactly the
best job security," snorted Jim Woods. "Here he is, screwing the boss's
daughter-in-law."

On Opening Day 1969, Caray walked on the field, shucking a pair of
canes. Canned that October, "Hell, I preferred to have people believe the
rumor than keep my job. I was so irresistible that a beautiful starlet would
go for me over the 25-year-old millionaire heir to the crown. All I said was
that I never raped anyone." The public knew that he was gone, not why.

"After 25 years I was expecting a gold watch. Instead, I got a pink slip,"
before slipping out of town.

In 1952, Ronald Reagan used Cardinals radio to plug his film The Winning
Team. "Harry, I've had so much fun, but I have another appointment," said
Dutch, leaving. In 1988, Reagan called a half-inning on WGN TV. "Harry, it's
been so much fun," said the president, "but I have another appointment." In
1970, Caray was appointed Voice of the Oakland A's.

"I got Harry to sell baseball," said owner Charles O. Finley, axing him
that fall. "That shit he put out in St. Louis didn't go here." Nothing sold the 56-106 1970 White Sox. Next year Caray became their Voice. "There were
years," said Bill Veeck, rebuying them, "when Harry was all we had."

"Holy cow!" had owned St. Louis. He milked a fortune at 35th and
Shields. "I took less money as a base-but the more they drew, the bigger
bonus I got." In 1971, attendance nearly doubled to 833,891.The 1973 fifthplacers drew 1,316,527. The first seats to go were under Caray's booth.
Looking up, you heard the only song that he knew.

"I've always sung it, but nobody heard me" before a 1976 seventh-inning
stretch. Organist Nancy Faust began "Take Me Out To the Ballgame." Veeck
saw Caray mouthing the tune. Next night he hid a P.A. microphone, booming
Harry's voice above the crowd's. "I've been looking 40 years," Bill said, "and
as soon as I heard you, I knew you were the guy."

Caray beamed. Veeck then stuck the lance. "As soon as I heard ya, I knew
any fan knew he could sing better and'd join in. If you had a good voice, you'd
intimidate them into silence."

Instead, holding the mike, Caray bellowed, "All right, lemme hear ya,
everybody!"-never letting interest die, even when the Pale Hose did.

The Bicentennial Sox lost 97 games. In 1979,Veeck had visitors turn in disco
records: using LPs as frisbees, hundreds gutted the field. Two rock concerts
made its landscape approach Bull Run's. Only Caray kept the team from scuttling on Lake Michigan. "He owns the town," The Arizona Republic wrote of
packed bars, forays on Rush Street, and bathing in the bleachers. If diamonds
are forever, Caray seemed forever tied to Comiskey Park.

Then, suddenly, in November 1981, theTribune Company revealed that he
would announce its new subsidiary, the cuddly, lowly Cubs. "Each year I get
bigger in the media," Harry later said. "I owe it all to [that year's Sox sale to] Jerry
Reinsdorf and Eddie Einhorn. I never trusted 'em-snake-oil." Since 1968, the
Hose had aired at least 64 freeTV games a year.The new owners liked pay. "I kept
thinking of their move to cable"-less than 50,000 Greater Chicago homes"I'd be Harry Who." One day he picked up the phone and dialed Wrigley Field.

For a time the old warhorse shocked people by his presence. TV flung the
Cubs' schedule into every corner of the city: "Bars, homes, my guys!" Increasingly, cable technology beamed it by satellite from Alaska to Key West. Soon
WGN carried the Cubs to more than 20 million homes. "Once they belonged to
the North Side," a columnist said. "Now even North America isn't big enough.
Cable television has made the Cubbies more than a home-town team."

In 1984, baseball's munchkin dealt one image (sadder, not wiser, losers) for
another (Our Cubs). In Idaho, Cubs Power fan clubs took root like spuds. The Costa Rica Key Largo Bar flagpole flew the Cubs and City of Chicago pennants. In
June, St. Louis crashed Wrigley: Cards, 9-8, ninth inning. "Sandberg hitting . 327
now. The pitch. There it goes! Way back! It might be! It could be! It is! Holy cow!
The game is tied! The game is tied! Ryne Sandberg did it! Listen to the crowd!"

Next inning St. Louis, having fronted, 7-1, re-led, 11-9. Again Ryne hit.
"The [two-out, one-on] pitch. There's a long drive! Way back! Might he outta
here! It is! He did it! He did it again! The game is tied! The game is tied! Holy
cow! ... Everybody is going bananas! ... What would be the odds if I told
you that twice Sandberg would hit home runs off Bruce Sutter?" An inning
later Dave Owen singled. "Cubs win! [ 12-111 Cubs win! Cubs win! Holy
cow! Cubs win! ... I never saw a game like this in my life!" roared Harry.
"And I've been around a long life!"We remember, even now.

The Cubs drew a record 2,107,655. The Loop traded "Hey, Harry!" for a
gladhand and drink. "Cubs win!" Harry howled of one triumph. "The Good Lord
wants the Cubs to win!" Deacons: Sandberg (MVP), Leon Durham (96 RBI),
and Rick Sutcliffe (16-1). Paradise found: September 24, 9:49 P.m. "One more
and it's over. The Chicago Cubs will be the new Eastern Division champs! Hey, it's
in there! Cubs are the champions! The Cubs are the champions! The Cubs win!
Rick Sutcliffe-his thirteenth in a row! He pitched a two-hitter! Let's just watch
it! The fans are getting on the field! ... Now our lives are complete!"

Not quite. Beer and sympathy: Chicago blew a 2-0 best-of-five-game
L.C.S. lead.

"All my life, I've believed in miracles," said Reagan in 1984. "Now after 39
years of waiting, the miracle is happening." One more victory would have put
the Cubs vs. 1907-08-35-45 Series foil Detroit. "Holy cow!" tried to atone
with a miracle of his own.

For 41 years, Caray never missed a game. In 1987, he had a major stroke. For
three months Bill Murray, Bill Moyers, and George Will, among others, did playby-play. Harry then refetched the booth, like a long-playing record loved for long
wear. "Clearly not as good-slower, more mistakes," mused Bob Costas. "But
who cared? He was still Harry Caray, better at 50 percent than most guys at 100."

In 1988, Wrigley became the last bigs park with lights. A pact limited
night games to 18 (30, by 2004) a year. "Good!" brayed Caray, "because don't
forget what made the Cubs. Each generation a kid leaves home, gets on the
el, gets off at the park, and sees the game. By six he's home and can you
imagine his excitement?"

You could next year: Harry made Cooperstown. British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher said, "I may go on and on and on." We hoped nothing less
for him.

Let some bozo urge Caray to pack it in. Wrigley bashed him like Marines
storming Normandy. The Cubs neared 2000 hoping to forget the last century. Caray was looking forward to the next.

"Lots of guys doing games, kick 'em to see if they breathe. Who can't say,
`Strike one. Ball one'? It's not life or death. Make it fun. It's a game." Caray's
ended in 1998. Dancing, he fell on Valentine's Day, had a heart attack, bore
a coma, and died February 18.

Funerals stop traffic. Harry's stopped Chicago's. Thousands viewed his
coffin at Holy Name Cathedral. WGN TV beamed his service and cortege.
Passersby saluted. Workers removed hard hats. A wake filled Harry Caray's
Restaurant. Flowers, hats, and cards blitzed Addison and Clark. At a statue
outside Wrigley, Cub fan/ Bud fan put a beer can in its hand.

"I was amazed," said grandson and new Cubs Voice Chip Caray. "How do
you react with anything but total and complete gratitude?" Today VIPs pine to carol "Take Me Out To the Ballgame" in the seventh-inning stretch. Unlike
Harry, some can even sing.

HARRY CARAT

Ethel Merman was asked if Broadway had been good to her. "Yes," she
said, "but I've been good to Broadway." Baseball was good to the man who
quaffed sundaes as a child. Towering, his memory is as good to us.

JACK DUCK

Jack Buck died June 18, 2002, of Parkinson's disease, lung cancer, and other
disease. By reputation, he put forth irony, a fluent phrase, and brave front
under pressure. The rep was right.

Buck called 11 World Series, 17 Super Bowls, and the 19S4-2001 Cardinals. Expert at social intercourse, he was always ready with the winning
gesture and winsome word.

Say Bob Wolff, and see a briefcase. Howard Cosell changed the parameters of his profession. Curt Gowdy mimed Jack Webb's "Just the facts,
ma'am." Buck used humor vs. absurdity and incongruity.

As TV's Matlock, Andy Griffith said, "Ain't nothing easy." Nothing was
easy for John Francis Buck. The wonder is that he made you swear it was.

Buck was born August 21, 1924, in Holyoke, Massachusetts, to Kathleen and
Earle Buck, a railroad accountant who commuted weekly to New Jersey.
Their third of seven children loved radio. "I was a Red Sox fan, and Jimmy
Foxx was my hero," Jack mused. "I'd get Mel Allen, Red Barber on network."
At night, from Havana, he heard Spanish play-by-play.

Ain't nothing easy: "Cereal for breakfast, soup for lunch, bakery leftovers
for dinner." In 1939, dad got a job in Cleveland with the Erie Railroad. Next
year he died, at 49, of high blood pressure. Already the teenager had taken
odd jobs-"two, often three at once. Didn't leave much time." Baseball got
the balance.

In 1935, Buck watched the All-Star Game: A.L., 4-1; Foxx homered. On
July 17, 1941, the bigs' then-largest night crowd, 67,468, packed Municipal
Stadium. "From the bleachers I saw [third baseman Ken] Keltner rob Joe D.
twice," ending the 56-game streak. A year later Jack hoarded a great Lakes iron
ore boat as porter, painter, cook, deckhand, and crane operator.

Buck feared never seeing land again. Then, in 1943, he became a corporal and instructor with K Company, 47th Regiment, 9th Infantry Division. On March 15, 1945, crossing the last (Remagen) bridge into Germany, Jack
took shrapnel in the left leg and shoulder, earned the Purple Heart, and years
later learned that Lindsey Nelson was also wounded-- same spot, and day.

"I'd say, `Yeah, but you weren't dodging bullets carrying a hand grenade
on your chest,' " said Buck, who, almost losing his left arm, spent V-E Day in
a Paris hospital. He supposed a prologue. "I've always had a fondness for
Italian women. In fact, (luring World War II an Italian woman hid me in her
basement for three months. Of course, this was in Cleveland."

In 1995, Jack visited Normandy's D-Day cemetery, where he felt not
guilt, but gratitude, and tearfully penned a poem: "They chatter and laugh as
they pass by my grave, and that's the way it should be. / For what they have
done, and what they will do, has nothing to do with me. / I was tossed ashore
by a friendly wave with some unfriendly steel in my head. / They chatter and
laugh as they pass by my grave, but I know they'll soon be dead. / They've
counted more days than I ever knew, and that's all right with me, too. / We're
all souls in one pod, all headed for God, too soon, or later, like you."

In Germany, Buck had panted to be a paratrooper. Entering Ohio State
in 1946, he panted to make up for lost time.

"If you want something done," said Lucille Ball, "ask a busy person." Jack paid
for college by working at an all-night gas station. He graduated in three
years, majored in Radio Speech, and took a course in football theory from
Woody Hayes. A broadcast professor told him "to find something else to do
for a living." At WCOL Columbus, he recalled the saw: Those who can't do,
teach.

Buck's first game was Ohio State-DePaul hoops. Next: Ohio State football and Cardinals Triple-A Columbus. Joining WBNS, he met comic
Jonathan Winters, did a variety show, but missed baseball. "Thankfully, the
Cardinals had another Triple-A team." At a 1952 dinner, Rochester Voice Ed
Edwards told a dirty joke. "Destiny or bad taste-I'm grateful for his lapse."
Jack replaced him. "Like a player, I was working my way up."

In August 1953, Buck took the subway to the Polo Grounds. "The Cardinals didn't call it an audition, but hadn't asked me there to sell socks."
Harry backed Chick Hearn. The future hoops star declined. Hired, Jack got
a Caray tape. "`Copy him,' they said. I could no more do that than with any
other guy." Harry treated calm like leprosy. His new aide tried to "get
excited, but not lose control."

St. Louis did both. "I'd get letters from Oklahoma, Tennessee." Weekend lots paraded license plates: Kentucky, Georgia, Florida. "Skip Atlanta. We're
America's Team," riding Anheuser's 14-state network Redbird wave of love.
In 1958, the Bums and Jints left for California. "Suddenly, there's a void
which Anheuser hoped to fill."A year later it aired 44 of their games on WOR
New York: The city felt Buck deliverance. "I'd do 'em, then rejoin the Cardinals. The reaction in New York was bananas, but the Yanks started bitching
about territorial rights."