Musings, observations, and written works from the publisher of Eckhartz Press, the media critic for the Illinois Entertainer, co-host of Minutia Men, Minutia Men Celebrity Interview and Free Kicks, and the author of "The Loop Files", "Back in the D.D.R", "EveryCubEver", "The Living Wills", "$everance," "Father Knows Nothing," "The Radio Producer's Handbook," "Records Truly Is My Middle Name", and "Gruen Weiss Vor".
If he were still alive, today would be Wolfman Jack’s birthday. If you don’t remember the Wolfman, he was one of the most famous disc jockeys in radio history. In the 70s he starred in the film American Graffiti and hosted a weekly television show. He also filled in on WLS-Radio in Chicago. John Landecker mentioned that little episode in his Eckhartz Press book, Records Truly Is My Middle Name. We present this free excerpt for you today in honor of Wolfman Jack’s birthday…
THEY’RE GONNA PUT ME IN THE MOVIES
In the ’70s, one of my hobbies was making movies. I shot lots of home movies on Super 8mm film and taped soundtracks to play with them. They were good enough to show at parties for my friends from the radio station. We called these screenings “The Clique Film Festivals.” Everyone who saw those films loved them, but that was probably because they were often the stars of the movies. I filmed quite a few of them at WLS.
My favorite home movie starred Wolfman Jack. Yes, the real Wolfman Jack.
Bob Sirott was on vacation, and Wolfman Jack was brought in to fill in for him. I probably drove him crazy running around and filming while he was on the air, although Wolfman and I also shared a common bond. As nighttime rockers we hated a lot of the lame music that AM radio played. The Wolfman had been on the air less than an hour when he decided that our playlist was crap.
“This is not what the Wolfman plays!”
Of course, after a few tunes of his own selection, the Wolfman was visited in the studio by our program director. I was filming from the control room through a glass window and captured that moment on film. Radio people always get a big kick out of watching that particular part… even the Wolfman had to put up with program directors. The Wolfman also gave me a great way to end the movie. He led a conga line out of the studio and into the hallway as the O’Jays sang “Love Train.”
(Epilogue: I was on the air after Wolfman that night, and noticed that he left an open pack of Kool cigarettes on the console. When I peeked inside the pack, it was filled with these funny looking cigarettes with twisted ends on them — certainly not Kools. I tried them later. I remember getting very hungry. And sort of horny too.)
I never met him, but he was featured in our book "Records Truly Is My Middle Name". John Landecker is quoted in Robert Feder's column below...
Marty Greenbergis being remembered by Chicago radio colleagues as an outstanding broadcast executive and a generous mentor. As vice president and general manager ofWLS 890-AMfrom 1973 to 1979, he led a revitalization of the Top 40 powerhouse and restored its dominance in the format over WCFL. Greenberg, who was 79, died of pancreatic cancer Tuesday at his home in McKinney, Texas.John Records Landeckercalled him “one of the finest GMs I ever worked with.” Among his early hires at WLS was a fledgling program director named John Gehron,who later would rise to general manager himself. “Marty was brought in to change the culture and I was lucky to be part of the team he put together,” Gehron recalled. Following his success at WLS Greenberg was promoted to president of ABC FM Stations and also held top jobs with Belo Broadcasting, Duffy Broadcasting, Genesis Broadcasting and Emmis Broadcasting.
The end of this poem during the inauguration knocked me out. Absolutely beautiful.
Somehow we weathered and witnessed A nation that isn't broken but simply unfinished There is always light if only we're brave enough to see it if only we're brave enough to be it.
Can I call him former President Trump yet? (Technically no, I'm writing this before noon)
President Trump has been impeached twice. He has been banned from all social media. He is a pariah with no friends, looming financial collapse, and potential criminal exposure. All of those things are bad.
My youngest son Sean is 18 years old now. A senior in high school. He's still a good kid, but he's also a typical 18-year-old in most ways--rebellious, belicose, and absolutely sure he's right about everything.
That's why when I run across these old columns in my time line, I stop and read them with a big smile on my face. I wrote it on this day in 2009 as my weekly Father Knows Nothing column. It didn't make it into the Father Knows Nothing book, but it's a very fond memory for this aging pop.
Sean and I bundle up against the elements, and walk to school together every morning. We are easy to spot, especially on cold winter days when we are literally the only ones on the sidewalk. He’s the short one. I’m the one wearing a giant Russian Army hat (a gift from my friend Kim–who got it in Russia).
I’ve seen the looks in the mini-vans driving by: “Who is that crazy dork in the Russian hat that makes his kid walk to school in sub-zero weather?”
It’s me. But it’s not my idea. It’s Sean’s. He sees it as a badge of courage.
“Dad,” he’ll say, “Look. Nobody else is walking again today.”
Nothing makes him happier. He sees us as the toughest dudes on the block. I love the walk to school too, but not for the same reason Sean does. I love it because it seems like he saves up his questions and thoughts for this special Dad & Sean time. This is a sampling…
*”Who came up with the word for ‘grass’?”
*”Why don’t you ever tell me to shush? My teacher says it all the time.”
*”I wish there was a button you could push that would make you learn how to read like (snap) that. Like a remote control or something.”
*”Did you know that basketball shoes make you a teeny bit faster? They don’t help you jump though.”
*”I had a dream last night that Tommy, Johnny & me were inside a video game. You weren’t in the dream, Dad. But maybe I just woke up too soon. You might have been in the next level.”
These conversations are my favorite. He is starting to question the world around him, but is still completely unafraid of sounding silly or strange, and (unlike his brothers) he still likes his father. And after a spirited debate across the frozen tundra about the best outfielder on the Cubs, or the legal ramifications of neglecting to put salt down on an icy sidewalk, he’ll always ask me the same thing at the corner before we reach school.
“Dad, can I wear your hat for a few seconds?”
I hand it to him, he puts it on over his coat hood, and sighs like someone dipping into a hot tub. “Aaah.”
“OK, that’s enough,” I respond after a few seconds. “The bell’s going to ring. Time to get into school.”
He waves to me as he crosses the street, and I wave back, trying desperately to savor every moment of our tough-guy time together.
He has been hinting at this possibility now for many years, but Rich King finally made the announcement this weekend. He has decided to retire from broadcasting. This news came via his facebook page. He wrote…
it is finally official. i am calling it quits on June 15th. the end of a 48 year career that wildly exceeded every dream I had when it began on that warm summer day in 1968. It is fitting it will end where it began, at WGNTV where I started out as an intern. Sandwiched in between was a 24 year run at CBS radio and TV. I plan to enjoy each day in the final five months hoping the Bulls and Blackhawks will send me out with a nice playoff run. I told my boss ,Jen Lyons , that it will be hard to give it up but at the same time I am finally at peace with my decision. The timing is right. I still feel I am in top form and could go on for a year or two, but it is better to go out on your feet instead of being carted out the door feet first on a stretcher. Had I not met April I would have retired six years ago. She gave me new life and restored my taste for living and working. We have exciting plans now. More time for travel, more time to enjoy with old and new friends. More time to enjoy each other.
King, 68, a native of Chicago’s South Side and graduate of De La Salle High School and the University of Illinois at Chicago, first joined WGN as an intern in 1968 and was hired as a writer and producer in 1969. He spent more than two decades at CBS-owned WBBM AM 780 and WBBM-Channel 2 before returning to WGN as sports anchor and reporter in 1991.
“For nearly 25 years, he’s been a rock in our sports department,” said WGN news director Jennifer Lyons. “Everyone knows Chicagoans are serious about their sports and they trusted Rich to bring them a front row seat to all the big moments. . . . Beyond a talented journalist and sports anchor/reporter, Rich is one of the kindest men in the business. Hard working is an understatement. Whether it was chasing the Cup at 1 in the morning or surviving sub-zero temps in Green Bay, he always took on every assignment without a complaint.”
In 2014 King was inducted in the Silver Circle of the Chicago/Midwest chapter of the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences.
His good friends at Eckhartz Press wish him the very best. Rich’s wonderful books about his life and his storied career (“Back in the Game” and “My Maggie“) have been an inspiration for his many many fans. Maybe we can convince him to write another one after his broadcasting days are officially done.
The great record producer Phil Spector died in prison over the weekend. It's hard to come up with someone who tarnished an impressive life more than he did. The lead sentence in his obit is that he died a convicted murderer...which he did. But in his younger days he produced some of the classics of the rock and roll era with his wall of sound. To me, this one will always be his best.
Posted today on the Eckhartz Press "Studio Walls" blog...
Some beloved Chicago media figures have passed away during the month of January over the past decade. Eckhartz Press co-publisher Rick Kaempfer is also the media scribe for Illinois Entertainer, and in that role, he’s been lucky enough to interview some of these greats who are no longer with us. Today we present a few of those interviews. They may be gone, but they are not forgotten.
Barry Keefe was the morning newsman at WTMX for thirty years. For the last decade or so of that time, he was part of the Eric and Kathy show. He left the show in April of 2008, and he passed away in January of 2016. In his interview with Rick, which was posted his last day on the air, he reflected on his time with the show that would later be inducted into the Radio Hall of Fame…
I told our then-PD Barry James on the Friday of Eric’s first week that this thing was going to blast off. I still remember walking into the traffic office and seeing him and making sure he knew that. When Eric arrived, he and Kathy ignited the phones. And the targeting of women over and above what people had ever imagined before! What the hell did your average radio programmer out there THINK women talked about everyday? Purses, lipstick, cosmetic surgery, celebs and goofy domestic stuff. That’s especially true pre-parenting. As for memorable highlights? I once had a lot of attractive nurses dine on my belly ala some famous French café. Yes – the guy serves food on his massive torso to women willing to pay for it. We completed the stunt, live on the air…with me doing the news on my back. 60 minutes later, in walks Bruce Reese, the Bonneville CEO. I had no idea he was even in town. He touched me on the shoulder and said ‘Barry…THAT was ‘taking one for the team!’ I also enjoyed Melissa giving me a spray tan. Everyone should be spray-tanned by Melissa.
Ron Smith was a legendary music programmer for Oldies stations in Chicago including Magic 104.3 and Real Oldies AM 1690. He was also the author of several great reference books “Chicago Top 40 Charts 1960-1969”, “Chicago Top 40 Charts 1970-1979”, “Chicago Top 40 Charts 1980-1990”, “WCFL Top 40 Charts 1965-1976” and “Eight Days a Week”. He passed away in January 2020. Rick interviewed him in 2011, and asked him why he was so passionate about the Oldies.
Obviously, the music’s been groundbreaking. The rock revolution of the mid-‘50s and the British Invasion of the mid-‘60s were earth-shattering sociologically as well as musically. And the personality radio of the times had a lot to do with it. The two were intertwined and synergistic (am I getting too intellectual here?). Most of all, though, it was “our music.” We went out and bought those 45s and made them hits with our hard-earned allowances. Nowadays, stations play the latest tunes the record labels are “working” and the audience has little say in the matter. Often they can’t even buy the tunes. There’s nothing “timeless” about music you’re force-fed.
Jim Edwards/Jake Hartford was a producer for Walter Jacobsen at WBBM-TV, and later became a talk show host at WLS-AM and WCPT-AM. He passed away in January of 2013. His name was Jim Edwards in television, and Jake Hartford in radio. Rick interviewed him in 2009 and asked why he had two different names in the same market…
I was at Channel 2 and Roe Conn was there at the time too. When WLS went to talk, Roe was doing stuff for them part time, and he asked me to come over and do a few shows with him. This was at a time when networks were really protective of their staffs, and didn’t like the idea of their people working for two different networks, even if one was radio, and the other one was television. The WLS GM Tom Traddup and the PD Drew Hayes were OK with it, but they thought that WLS-TV people might be upset, so I used a family name on the air as my pseudonym. It was only supposed to be a couple of times, radio was supposed to be a lark, so I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Plus, I later found out that I couldn’t be Jim Edwards because there was another one at AFTRA. So, anyway, they started liking what I did there, and they asked me to do more and more, and by then people at WLS knew me as Jake Hartford, so I had to retain that brand. I mean, eventually people at Channel 2 found out about it, and they didn’t care. It seems the only ones that did were the WLS-TV people.
Twitter announced that they are removing all accounts associated with Q-Anon, one of the leaders of the insurrection against America. They deleted upwards of 70,000 accounts so far.
What I find humorous about this is the number of conservatives on Twitter who are complaining about the many followers they lost this week. Let's see here, who were they purging again? Oh, people who were encouraging an insurrection against America.
I got several e-mails over the weekend asking why we didn't post a new episode of Minutia Men the last two weeks. Well, the first week we took off for a holiday, and last week we were scheduled to record the show, but didn't because an armed insurrection was underway at the U.S. Capitol. It didn't feel like a good time to be wacky.
Barring another armed insurrection this week, we'll post a new episode this coming Saturday.
On the other hand...
New: @FBI now reports in a bulletin "Armed protests are being planned at all 50 state capitols from 16 January through at least 20 January, and at the US Capitol from 17 January through 20 January,” @AaronKatersky reports.
This week's Free Kicks episode includes my tribute to Gerry Marsden, the singer of the Liverpool anthem "You'll Never Walk Alone" https://t.co/ig3j4DkcYp
In Robert Feder's column today he highlights two reader comments from the day before. I love the second one from my old pal John...
Wednesday’s comments of the day: Mark Goldsmith:No disrespect sir but who in their rite mind listens to John “records” Landecker. You must b the only one.
John Landecker:I’m not looking for people who are in their “rite” mind. Just everybody else. And get those fucking quotation marks off my mother’s maiden name.
A new feature on the Eckhartz Press website, The Studio Walls...
Eckhartz Press co-publisher Rick Kaempfer is a former radio producer and host and still writes about the media regularly as the media columnist for Illinois Entertainer. He has written about more than 200 current and former Chicago radio stars, including the following people who are celebrating birthdays this week...
WSCR and WBBM Radio’s Mark Grote (interviewed in 2015) is the sideline reporter during Chicago Bears radio broadcasts. At the time of the interview he was the third man in the booth for Cubs radio broadcasts with Pat Hughes and Ron Coomer. Rick asked him about his broadcasting partner, former Cub Ron Coomer…
“Everyone in baseball knows and likes Ron. He’s one of those legitimately good guys. He’s been absolutely great to me here in my rookie season. He introduces me to the people I need to know, and makes sure I don’t make a fool of myself by telling me the little etiquette issues involved in the broadcast booth and the clubhouse. Coomer has been the most important person for me, to get me through this year.”
(Mark’s birthday is January 9th. To read the entire interview, click here.)
WGN Radio’s Mary Van De Velde (interviewed in 2009) has been the morning and afternoon traffic reporter at WGN. Rick asked her about some of her favorite moments in that role.
“Working with Bob Collins was a great experience. He was hard to get to know at first, but I found him to be a very compassionate and generous man. Whenever he went out-of-the country, his wife Christine would pick us out very thoughtful gifts. I once got a silk jewelry case from China, which I cherish to this day. I’d have to say though… my all-time favorite memories are the early morning “meetings” with (host) Spike O’Dell, (news anchor) Andrea Darlas, and (producer) Jim Wiser. We rarely discussed what we were going to do on the show because Spike always had us cracking-up about something he usually found on YouTube or Sky-Cam….or he had some new gadget to try out on us. His homemade beef jerky helped us wake up in the morning!”
(Mary’s birthday is January 5th. To read the entire interview, click here.)
Judd Sirott (interviewed in 2011) is currently the radio voice for the Boston Bruins. At the time of the interview Judd was with WGN Radio doing pre and post-game shows for the Blackhawks and the Cubs, and did a one-inning stint every Cubs game, filling in for Pat Hughes. Rick asked him how he prepared for that.
“Do it accurately, descriptively, and provide some banter. Every game is different. I used to joke that nobody could call three up and three down like me, but then all of a sudden it would go the other way, with an eight run inning and three pitching changes. I think the key is that I always prepare myself as if I am doing the entire game. Sitting shotgun, watching Pat Hughes do his thing has been an incredible help. Ron used to call him the professor, but to me that’s really what he was. I watched and listened to him, how prepared, how quick, how descriptive, how mellifluous he is. He’s got the whole package–his timing, his wit, his description. Every day it really was like watching the professor. I watched every lecture. Every game was a learning experience.”
(Judd’s birthday is January 6th. To read the entire interview, click here.)
Eckhartz Press note: Both Grote and Sirott are also featured in Kaempfer’s book “EveryCubEver”
Great piece in The Reader about Eckhartz Press author Vicki Quade. Here's a short excerpt...
She's authored a book: Close Encounters of a Chicago Kind, published last month by Eckhartz Press. Quade (who started out as a journalist and was a Reader contributor) has been posting brief stories on Facebook for about ten years. She met Eckhartz's owners, Rick Kaempfer and David Stern, in February, when they interviewed her about the Easter Bunny show for a podcast they also hosted. It occurred to her to ask if they'd be interested in a book that would be a selection of these posts. They were.
The result is a brisk walk with Quade through daily life in Chicago, presented in bite-size chunks addictive as a sack of Garrett popcorn. We're on her arm as she perambulates (or drives), often around the north side—think Reza's, Dinkel's, the Dunkin' Donuts at Wilson and Broadway—without letting the driver who calls her a "stupid bitch" or the "low life" who steals her cane out of a grocery cart when she turns her back at the Jewel cramp her style.
She also takes us into the theater, where she deals with audience members who turn surly, and hands out Infant of Prague cards as a combination bingo prize and fertility charm. The major encounter, of course, is with Quade herself, a shameless people watcher, celebrant of the small moment, and exposer of the selfish and willfully ignorant.
On the other hand, if you're a kid who's zipping a gun into your backpack but dreaming of being on stage, or—like the couple she watched score a free meal at Manny's—either totally hapless or a very talented scammer, she's fascinated.
Quade's planning to adapt some of these stories for the theater after live performances resume, possibly as soon as Labor Day, "if enough people get vaccinated; my arm is ready."
After dispensing the only financial assistance she's received so far—a grant that allowed her to pay employees into May—she had to furlough stage managers, actors, and office help. But she expects to survive the shutdown because, unlike many of the midsize theaters she worries about, she doesn't own her performance space and also hasn't had to pay rent while the shows are closed.
She says she can see now that the random vignettes in her book are all about coming in touch with people: "I didn’t plan it this way, but it points out what we've been missing this past year, which is the ability to go out and witness something, meet someone, talk to people on the sidewalk."
Close Encounters of a Chicago Kind is available at eckhartzpress.com.
29,508...and that doesn't include anything after the election. Stop comparing him to anyone else. He's in his own league. The biggest liar in history.
After weeks of intensive work, we have cleared past all of Trump's campaigns rallies and updated our database of Trump's false and misleading claims through Nov. 5. The current total: 29,508 claims: https://t.co/rZaAOI0gjd
For those of you claiming the election was stolen by the Democrats, I give you this thought experiment.
If the Democrats really did steal an election without leaving evidence, aren't they exactly what we need right now to combat foreign hacking and distribute the vaccine? They are amazingly efficient.
Today is former White Sox slugger Ron Kittle’s birthday. In his book “Your Dime, My Dance Floor” Eckhartz Press author Chet Coppock devotes an entire chapter to Kittle and his former teammate Greg Luzinski. In honor of Kittle’s birthday, we are posting that chapter as a free excerpt.
Two Sox That Never Matched: Kind-Edged Kittle and Crab-a-Bull Luzinski
On a steamy August night in 1984, Ron Kittle, “The Gary Strong Boy,” hit one of his prodigious moon shots over the roof at old Comiskey Park.
I happened to be leaving the ballpark at the time and was walking down the lower concourse aisle, maybe half way between the Sox dugout and the left-field wall. Suddenly, the bell went off in my cranium. The Eagle Scout in me determined that Ron would probably like to put the ball on the mantle of his fireplace. So, I turned up the motor and dashed out behind the left-field roof where, lo and behold, a kid maybe 14-15 years old, ran up to me and said, “Mr. Coppock, I’ve got the Ron Kittle ball, do you think he’d want it?”
And the kid didn’t ask for a thing, which told me he was a lousy negotiator.
I examined the ball. The scuff mark from the roof told me it was legit and, if it wasn’t, who was going to holler “Fix!” about a free baseball?
I told the kid Kitty would be thrilled. Now, the game was a blowout and in the 7th or 8th inning, so I told my new pal I’d take the ball to Ron and get him an autographed bat in return. The lad was thrilled.
Game over, 10-minute cooling-off period finished and I walk over to Kittle in the Sox locker room and showed him his grand prize.
His response, “What the hell would I want that for?”
That was Ron. He never took himself or the game all that seriously. However, Kittle clearly enjoyed signing one of his 34-ounce bats for the youngster back of left field. By 1987, the Kittle blast was a memory.
Clarification time: The year 1984 may have been the most tumultuous one of my professional life. I’d been drop-kicked by WMAQ-Channel 5 in November 1983, which meant an annual dip of $85,000 in salary.
I did get a life preserver. I moved over as Sports Director of WMAQ-AM (670). I debuted “Coppock on Sports” (“COS”) in January 1984 to a fabulous reception. But Tom Hoyt, the general manager of WMAQ radio and a standup guy, knew “COS” was going to go dark all too many nights during the summer while the station carried Sox baseball.
Tom suggested I do the pre- and post- for the White Sox gamers. I took the assignment with mixed emotions even though I had always yearned to do a full year of baseball with one club.
No. 1, I thought it would it would take me inside a baseball world where a whole different language is spoken. Two, I wanted to see if I could pass the endurance test. Hoyt wanted me to do 150 of 162 games.
I bought into a year that was so surrealistic that the club should have hired Andy Warhol or Yoko Ono to conceptualize the season with Jimi Hendrix – dead or alive – providing the musical backdrop.
Let me give you another reason why I figured the MLB grind figured to be a kick. Ron Kittle was a sound-bite circus who had a gift very few MLBers publicly possess: He wouldn’t hesitate to laugh at himself.
Ron and I first hooked up in 1982 when he was a late-season call-up from the Sox farm team in Edmonton. The guy was so loose and exuded such vibrant, happy-go-lucky charm that I actually asked him to flex his muscles during a live TV sportscast before he played his first game. He did it – quite happily!
Kittle tore up American League pitching in 1983. The 25-year-old rookie hit 35 home runs (he would have hit 42 to 45 in homer-friendly Wrigley Field) and drove in 100 runs while running away with the American League Rookie of the Year award.
We aren’t done yet. The White Sox hosted the 50th anniversary All-Star Game that summer. The festival, a glowing tribute to the pastime, brought together what I believe has to be the greatest gathering of past and present All-Stars in baseball history.
You could bounce from Willie Mays to George Brett, Stan Musial to Mike Schmidt or Joe DiMaggio to Robin Yount.
Where did Ron Kittle fit with the past and present diamond stallions? Ron was given a roar and a standing ovation during player intros. Kittle, believe me, got louder cheers that Mays and Joe D.
Kitty was appreciative but not overwhelmed. Sometimes I wondered if the ice water in his veins also ran through his spleen and brain. No, he was never arrogant. Dare we suggest that he was actually grounded?
Listen, Kittle had worked in a steel mill in Gary. Maybe he thought that the other shoe had to fall sometime and he would be back in a blast-furnace sweat shop sporting a union card along with his hard hat and safety goggles.
I recall a magazine asking me for quotes on Ron Kittle during his majestic ’83 season. The mag also wanted to know what I thought Kittle’s career numbers would be. I knew Ron was strong but not overrun with “muscularity.” He wasn’t going to get fat and lazy.
I projected he would play 12 or 13 years, most of those as a D.H., which meant his legs weren’t going to buckle. So, I told the guy on the other end that I thought Ron Kittle would hit at least 325 homers with 1,100 RBIs. I was wrong, as wrong as the Bears wasting so many football seasons on an inconsistent brat named Jay Cutler or Bruce Rauner thinking he could beat Mike Madigan in the hard clinches. Kitty would end his 12-year career with journeyman numbers: 176 homers, 460 ribs.
The 1983 White Sox – “Winning Ugly” – ran away with the old American League West, winning 99 games. They took the division by a staggering 20 games. Sox Park then looked one heck of a lot like Wrigley Field did during the 2016 curse-ending season.
As for the playoffs, the Sox flamed out 3 games to 1 against Baltimore. They won Game One. Then, the O’s Mike Boddicker threaded the Sox in the second game, going the full nine while recording 14 strikeouts.
After the game, I went to get a sound bite from Ron about Boddicker slamming the door on the South Siders. He addressed me with a grin: “What are you askin’ me for? I couldn’t hit a beach ball tonight.”
The Sox scored one run in the final 30 innings of that series while batting .211. Now that’s “Losing Ugly,” like getting body-shamed on match.com.
So, we arrive at baseball 1984. The White Sox on paper have the best pitching staff in the game, with LaMarr Hoyt, Rich Dotson, Floyd Bannister, Britt Burns and, good morning, the off-season addition of Tom Seaver.
However, sometime around the ides of March, the Sox became just another club. After scuffling before the All-Star break, the Sox plummeted during the second half. My team of destiny closed the year 76-86 and about 20,000 meters out of first place.
Let me tell you, there is nothing as thrilling as doing a baseball post-game show on a Monday night in mid-September when you know your club is playing out the string. Catching early falling leaves with an upside-down rake is more engaging.
Kittle hit 32 homers. But his RBI count and batting average slid downhill.
Meanwhile, Chet Coppock vs. Greg Luzinski became a pretty hot media topic. I had been in training camp with the Sox and knew that Luzinski, the 1983 American League Designated Hitter of The Year, was in terrible shape, at least 25 pounds overweight. Bull looked like a 260-pound catcher on an over-50 16-inch softball team. I think he wheezed when he tied his shoelaces. His idea of a full-blown workout was doing 20 minutes on the exercise bike. There should have been a sign over his locker that read, “One Pair of Pants to a Man!”
The book says Bull retired after the 1984 season. The book is wrong. Greg called it quits around April 24th of his final year. He brought new postage to the phrase, “Mail it in.” The Crabby Bull was a complete liability and murder in a very frail and notably insecure clubhouse. I began ripping him on the air on a regular basis. That took some stones given the fact that I was a so-called “home team” broadcaster. But the club knew Luzinski was worthless. They were more disgusted with him than I was.
I’ve had feuds before. You can’t work my side of the street without exchanging verbal taunts and dagger eyes with guys you’re competing against. In 1982, Johnny Morris and I had a dandy skirmish.
Remember the Lee Elia rant? Sure you do. On a Friday when the Cubs were in their traditional state of spring confusion and losing to the Dodgers, I told Mark Giangreco to hop over to Cubs Park with the notion that somebody might blow up after the ballgame.
My guess was Larry Bowa would burn a hole in Mark’s mic. I was wrong. Elia went into a tirade for the ages.
“Eighty-five percent of the [effing] world is working. The other fifteen come out here.”
Lee at his peak. Even Richard Nixon must have reacted with more restraint after finding out no one had ditched the White House Watergate tapes. We were the only TV station that had taped Elia’s eruption. Later that night on the 10’clock news, I called for both Elia and Cubs general manager Dallas Green to be fired.
Had I gone overboard? C’mon, of course I did. Two days later I was apologizing to both guys who, to their everlasting credit, didn’t break my jaw.
Morris called and tried to bulldoze me into giving him the Elia material. I said no way. Johnny was just getting warmed up. He called our station manager Monte Newman demanding the tape.
Newman told him to get lost. Johnny and I, never friendly to begin with, began to slug it out in the press. What, you think the newspapers weren’t going to find out about Channel 5 Sports rejecting this handsome former Chicago Bear with 356 career receptions (and a rarely seen but extremely explosive Greek temper)?
That was a different era: Coppock, Tim Weigel and Johnny. We were not friends. We didn’t even speak to each other. We played hard ball seven days a week. We lived to beat each other on stories.
These days sportscasters work in packs with the golden rule being: “Don’t break a story unless you tell me about it so I won’t look bad and I’ll cover your ass too.”
Johnny never got the Elia tape from us.
Kittle’s injury problems also began in ’84. He would never have another year that would resemble his magnificence of 1983, but he never lost the ability to laugh at himself. I can still remember him telling me, “I’m probably the only guy that ever wrote a book who never read a book.”
Kittle doesn’t have to apologize. He hit a record seven roof-top homers at good old Comiskey Park.
In the late 1990s I had a role in hooking Ron Kittle with a manager’s lineup card. Brad Saul, a close friend and superb broadcast syndicator, called looking for a favor. It was a simple task. A foul ball by the name of Richie Ehrenreich was going to launch the Schaumburg Flyers. He did do some things very well. He helped to build a gorgeous small stadium and gave his patrons free parking. Years later, Ehrenreich would be evicted from his ballpark over non-payment issues. Richie wanted to sound me out about hiring a manager. That led Ehrenreich to have Brad call me. Ehrenreich and I met over dinner.
Richie tried to play the role of Branch Rickey, talking about the kind of “Hands on, no-nonsense skipper who knew when to employ the drag bunt” he wanted.
I told Richie that sadly, Casey Stengel was dead. I said the guy to hire was Kittle. I told him Kittle was no threat to the legacies of Earl Weaver or Herman Franks but I brought up one key point:
“No one knows your team is alive. You’re an independent, minor-league ball club. You need a popular face for your operation.”
Kittle was a salesman. He would generate media interest, sign every program and cut every ribbon at every shopping center. He may even have appeared at Schaumburg-area garage sales.
As for the nuts and bolts, I told Little Richie to get Ron a bench coach which, of course, he never did.
I knew there were guys who would take the bench gig at 50-grand a year just to get away from their wives.
Kittle was terrific. He worked the gig for three or four years and played the role of ambassador to the hilt. He also knew he was underpaid.
Now, its 1997 and I’m at the old Sports Channel studios in Oak Park taping a series of my “Back Table” interview shows. One of our guests was Ron Kittle. We greeted each other with big hugs. Then Kitty popped the question:
”Do you still have that roof-top ball I hit in, what was it, 1984?”
I said yes, and that it was handsomely displayed on a stand with gold baseball bats.
Kitty then told me he wanted to show the ball to his kids.
I was happy to oblige.
I’ve been preaching this gospel for 25 years. Kittle remains a baseball character who was put on earth to be a color announcer. I have no doubt fans would fall in love with this guy. Ron’s life wasn’t based entirely on hitting rockets over third base and then telling boring tales of the glory days. He’s also a master craftsman who designs sofas, chairs and other bric-a-brac using baseball bats. No kidding.
Ron Kittle is and was cool, northwest Indiana cool. Would he have posted bigger numbers if he had poured himself into the game with the zest of Ron Santo or Bo Jackson?
Who’s to say? Because Ron Kittle only knew how do to things his way. And he’s got a precious gift: He can still laugh at himself.
Plus, now he has that roof-top baseball…and the Zen-like peace of a steel-edged, kindly, kindly craftsman.
Rest in Peace, Gerry Marsden. You were good friends with John, a Merseybeat legend and a kind and proud champion of Liverpool. Our love and condolences go to Pauline, Yvette and Victoria love, Yoko and Sean. pic.twitter.com/eaLq8WLOPw
The January issue of Illinois Entertainer is out and includes my interview with WLIT's Melissa Forman. Thanks to Melissa for doing the interview, and thanks to Robert Feder for mentioning it in his column today.
It was a tough year on so many people around the world. We lost 7 fellow Hall of Famers from our tight knit club. They will never be forgotten. Wishing everyone a Happy, Healthy, and better 2021. (📸:@MLB ) pic.twitter.com/yKFNVAUekF
My marriage proposal to
Bridget didn’t go exactly as planned . My buddy Dave and I had an
elaborate scheme planned. We bought rings for our respective girlfriends
together, and we planned to unveil them simultaneously on New Years Eve as the
clock struck Midnight.
But I made a fatal mistake.
I told some of my friends at work about my plan, including one of my bosses. I don’t
know why I told him–I guess I just couldn’t contain my excitement. Plus, even
though Bridget worked in the same office, I figured there was an unwritten code
about ruining a surprise of this magnitude.
I was wrong.
The boss told her all
about it.
I still have no idea why
he would do such a thing, but he did. I’m just happy he did it in front of
someone else, because that other person told me that the secret had been
revealed. If not for this friendly onlooker, my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity
would have become a ho-hum-I-knew-it-was-coming moment.
I decided immediately to
scrap the plan.
The first thing I had to
do was come up with an alternate date and time. Should I wait until after New
Years Eve (which would have crushed Bridget because now she was expecting it),
or should I do it before New Years? That seemed like an easy choice, except for
one thing. It was already December 30th.
“Very well, then.
Tonight it is.”
Without much time to
plan, and that night’s arrangements already made (dinner at a neighborhood
Chinese restaurant), I really had to get creative. My brainstorm was to propose
via fortune cookie. I typed “WILL YOU MARRY ME?” on a tiny scrap of paper about
the size of a typical fortune before I left the office, and then as soon as we
got to the restaurant, I pretended to go to the bathroom. I circled around to
the other side of the restaurant instead, found my waiter, and asked him to
insert the note inside a fortune cookie for me before he brought it out to the
table.
“I can’t do that,” he
said.
“Why not?”
“They come pre-wrapped,”
he pointed out.
Now what?
As dinner was ending I
still didn’t have a plan. I was considering scrapping the whole thing until
after News Years. But when the waiter brought us the fortune cookies, I decided
to go for it right then and there. I opened my cookie while she wasn’t paying
attention, and slyly made the switch with my little pre-typed fortune.
“What does your say?”
she asked me.
“I’m not sure what this
means,” I said. I looked at it like it was written in Chinese.
“Let me see it,” she
said.
I handed it to her and
she stared at it for about three seconds before looking up. I thought she was
going to pass out when we met eyes.
“Is this what I think it
is?” she asked.
I nodded, and put the
ring box on the table.
She started crying even
before she opened the box. It looked like happy tears, but I wasn’t 100% sure.
I do remember one thing very clearly about that moment. It took her forever to
give me an actual answer. I don’t think she ever actually said the word yes,
she just nodded through her tears.
It really was a great
moment. It ended up being even better than it would have been had I gone
through with the original plan. But while I was thinking about that original
plan, I remembered that I hadn’t yet told Dave.
When I called him, he
wasn’t pleased.
“What am I supposed to
do now?” he asked.
“You can still do it on New
Years Eve,” I said.
“No way,” he spat. He
was ticked. “Now it just looks like I’m copying you.”
“What was I supposed to
do?” I asked.
“You could have waited
until after New Years,” he said.
Before I could explain
my thought process to him, he swore at me, and hung up the phone.
Needless to say, Dave
didn’t propose on New Years Eve. Despite already having the ring, he also
didn’t propose on Valentine’s Day. He didn’t propose in March. He didn’t
propose in April, and he didn’t propose in May.
He didn’t propose until
late June, and he was still mad at me when he told me the news.
I guess he eventually
forgave me because he asked me to be his best man.
But if you ask him about
it even today, he’ll tell you that he was the first groom in history that had
to settle for an “OK man.”
