Long-time radio and television broadcaster Harry Caray has become something of a cartoon character since his death in 1998. Will Ferrell’s impression on Saturday Night Live became a standard for mimicry of Caray, spawning numerous other takes (many by ballplayers) on his wobble-headed mannerisms. This absent-minded and grandfatherly Caray character meets with his trademark over-the-top black framed glasses and tall shock of white hair to create a sort of baseball-mad, goofy and wide-grinning Teddy Bear.
But during his broadcasting days, Caray was not so universally-beloved. In fact, he had something of a reputation for pissing people off. Caray got his start with the St. Louis Cardinals in 1945. He spent 25 years in the booth for the Cards and was as much a part of summertime in St. Louis as Bob Uecker in Milwaukee. But he was abruptly fired following the 1969 season after rumors circulated that he’d had an affair with the wife of team owner August Busch’s son. After a year with the Oakland A’s, he was hired by the Chicago White Sox. In Chicago, he became one of the city’s most popular figures, occasionally calling games from the bleachers beside a cooler of beer. He also was not shy about criticizing the lackluster play of the White Sox, going so far as to call out players and coaches by name. In late 1975, Sox owner John Allyn had grown so sick of Caray’s style that he tried to fire him during a live TV interview. Instead, Allyn waited until just after the season to can Caray, who responded by publically calling Allyn “a stupid man.”
Stay on top of the news of the day
Subscribe to our free, daily e-newsletter to get Milwaukee's latest local news, restaurants, music, arts and entertainment and events delivered right to your inbox every weekday, plus a bonus Week in Review email on Saturdays.
Harry Caray on the field before the infamous Disco Demolition Night promotion at Comiskey Park in 1979.
But that offseason, Allyn sold the struggling White Sox to the flamboyant Bill Veeck, who immediately rehired Caray. Seeing the connection Caray had with Chicago’s Southside, Veeck made Caray the face of the franchise and introduced the practice of Caray leading the home fans with his off-key rendition of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” during the seventh inning stretch. Started on a lark, the song quickly became a staple at Comiskey Park. By 1978, the tradition had become so popular, Caray had thoughts of taking it on the road.
And so started the great Bud Selig-Harry Caray beef of 1978. The Brewers and Sox had a short, but strange history at this point. By the late 1960s, interest in the White Sox had become so tepid in Chicago that Selig – trying to prove Milwaukee was still a Big League after the loss of the Braves – staged a total of 19 White Sox “home” games at County Stadium. The Milwaukee series, held in 1968 and 1969, proved so popular that Selig nearly purchased the team and moved it north, but missed out when Allyn pledged to buy the team and keep it in Chicago. By the time the Brewers came to town in 1970, the White Sox still had enough of a fan base in the area – as well as a fair number of Chicago-based fans willing to make the 90ish minute drive to Milwaukee – that Sox-Brewers affairs at County Stadium were often played in front of crowds that seemed to have a nearly even partisan split.
Harry Caray sings “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” at Wrigley Field.
So it was almost natural then for Caray to want to open his road show in Milwaukee. In mid-July, the Sox came to County Stadium for a four game series and Caray asked permission from the Brewers to sing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” over the public address system during the Sunday afternoon game and to be allowed to call the game from the loge seats in front of the broadcast booth. Caray reasoned that such a series – opening on a beautiful summer weekend – would draw a large number of Sox fans, and he wished to be nearer to his people.
To the Brewers, the request was out of the question. 1978 was a breakthrough season for Milwaukee. The team was off to a surprise 51-36 start, good for second place in the AL East. They were on pace for their first winning season as a franchise and set to shatter the team’s attendance record. In other words, the Brewers were finally beginning to legitimize themselves as a Major League Baseball team. The last thing the team needed was a stunt to please the fans of a rival club. “We’re not selling tickets to the Harry Caray show,” Brewers Vice President Dick Hackett told the White Sox. Furthermore, Hackett told Caray he would have to call the games from the booth like every other visiting team’s broadcaster. As for “Take Me Out to the Ballgame,” Hackett said that the stadium organist would handle it.
|
|
A breakout performance from slugger Gorman Thomas had the Brewers off to their best start ever in 1978.
During the Sunday afternoon game, which the Brewers won 10-1, Caray abided by the team’s wishes, but did appear on the sun deck in front of the booth during the top of the seventh inning, waving his arms to the cheers of the Sox fans in the stadium. Perhaps buoyed by the response, Caray took a few shots at Selig before Monday’s game.
“It just shows you how petty Mr. Selig is,” Caray told the Milwaukee Journal the next day. “We bring 10,000 fans up here and they won’t let us use the P.A.” Selig initially refused to comment on the situation, merely saying that “there is no one person that is bigger than the game itself.”
After a 6-1 pounding by the Brewers on Monday, Caray let loose on Tuesday night, peppering his broadcast with shots at Selig. He said the robust attendance during the series was nearly half Sox fans, saying that “an owner like Bud Selig lucks out and draws the benefit of the Chicago fans.” He suggested that his listeners stay home the next time the Sox were in Milwaukee, “rather than let Bud Selig profit so handsomely, because he doesn’t deserve it.”
Brewers owner and president Bud Selig drew Caray’s wrath over “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.”
Caray avoided criticizing the Brewers as a team, who were in the process of a 7-2 win to complete the four-game sweep, commending manager George Bamberger and general manager Harry Dalton. “I guess that’s why the situation has improved,” he said in reference to the Brewers winning record. “Selig doesn’t have to put his two bits’ worth into the baseball operation. He can just count that money his father left him… What did Bud Selig ever do except have money?”
Caray’s issues with Selig actually stemmed back to 1975, when Veeck took over the Sox and gave Caray his job back. Selig and other owners initially objected to Veeck buying the team because of his limited financial situation. Selig allegedly favored shifting the franchise to Seattle to settle the pending litigation over his moving of the Seattle Pilots to Milwaukee in 1970. “What burns me up is that a jerk like [Selig] benefits from the attendance of this club while a poor guy like Veeck is struggling his butt off,” Caray said during the broadcast.
Bill Veeck (seen here in 1965) recognized Harry Caray’s appeal to White Sox fans.
After the game, Selig returned fire. “Harry Caray has been known through the years to create self-aggrandizing controversies to feed an ego that is already five miles wide,” Selig told the Journal. All Harry Caray cares about is Harry Caray… we’ve been here nine years, and, the Lord willing, we’ll be here many years after Harry Caray has left the Chicago scene.” Of Caray’s request to sing over the PA, Selig referenced the broadcaster’s habit of calling mid-summer games at Comiskey in his boxer shorts. “He can sing nude in Chicago if he wants to,” Selig said, “but he won’t sing here.” Selig declined to comment on the situation any further.
Bob Uecker singing at Wrigley Field in 2011, honoring his old friend Caray and irritating the Cubs’ faithful.
The incident blew over pretty quickly. The Sox didn’t play in Milwaukee again for nearly a year and, by then, the beef seemed to have been forgotten. After the 1981 season, Caray jumped to the cross-town Cubs and, with the growth of the WGN Superstation, which carried Cubs games, Caray and his rendition of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” became nationally-known. Caray died before the 1998 season, but the Brewers still generated a bit of “Ballgame” controversy that year. To honor Caray, the Cubs invited special guests throughout the year to sing during the seventh inning stretch. During a June game with the Brewers, Bob Uecker took the mic and serenaded the Wrigley faithful to “root, root, root, for the Brewers…” The home crowd booed, but Uecker said his old friend Caray would have found it amusing. The Cubs must share that sense of humor, as they’ve invited Uecker back many times to do the song, with him plugging his Milwaukee home team every time.
Check back next week when Brew Crew Confidential counts down the 25 coolest Brewers cards of all-time.
